Heading into the depths of the thriving city alone after Gaston ran off, saying he had some errands to take care of anyway, the adolescent adventurer found himself cutting through an alleyway. There was a swarm of carriages at that time of day, ruling the streets, with some led by dutiful horses, some by wingless dragons, and even some by fur-clad felines of colossal status.

In the shady alleyways, conspicuous individuals loitered–some were beggars, some thugs, up to no good. The ground was littered in garbage, with tattered blankets in which those without homes of their own slept on. It reeked of old booze and unwashed odor, though to him, such smells were fragrant in comparison to the dank depths of dungeons he was used to exploring.

Though he received sharp looks from the misfortuned, he wasn’t fearful of being attacked; he had made himself known in the dark corners of the bright city.

“Bastian, boy.”

Calling the young man’s name with a hoarse voice was a withered, elderly man that sat in the alleyway, perched on a dirty rug with a barrel next to himself. The wizened person wore rags that looked a decade unwashed, with skin not far from it, layered in dirt, with a smile of most teeth missing, but a smile nonetheless.

“Manu,” Bastian responded, walking over as he knelt in front of the seated man.

He reached into one of his pockets, taking out a glistening, silver coin before handing it to the denizen of the cramped alley.

The old man accepted it gratefully, bowing his head, “As generous as always. Now this ancient soul can buy himself a nice, warm cup of mead.”

“You deserve it. Anyway, is Bilo in today?” Bastian asked.

Looking side-to-side as if making sure there were no unwelcome listeners prying into the conversation, the seemingly aloof elder straightened his expression before whispering, “They are. Actually, they said they had something to discuss with you. The usual spot.”

“Gotcha. Thanks,” Bastian nodded before standing up.

It felt like an entirely different world from the thriving, packed streets just a few strides away, though the shadows weren’t anything he minded. He walked past the old beggar, finding a few rats scurrying away from crumbs on the stone pavement.

He ventured to the back of the alley, stopping just before the wall before turning right. It appeared as though it was a dead end, though he knew better, using his hand to brush aside a curtain that veiled a staircase leading down to a door.

As he walked down the short steps, he stopped in front of the inconspicuous door of old wood.

‘Two pounds, two knocks, one more pound,’ he recalled.

The adventurer lifted his fist, loudly smacking his hand against the door twice, then following up with two, subtle knocks then one more, hard slam against the door.

He stood there for a moment as silence followed before suddenly, the sound of locks retreating was muffled from behind the door as it swung open.

“Who is it?!” A perturbed voice boomed, as deep as a chasm.

Standing in the doorway was a mountain of a man, looking down at the visitor to the suspicious residence. The wizened man with a bald head and bushy, white eyebrows had a slight hunch, but that didn’t stop him from towering over the adventurer well over double.

The man, clearly of giant’s blood, relaxed as he smiled with his scarred lips, “Oh, it’s you, lad. Come on in.”

Setting down the man-sized axe that he so easily wielded with one hand, the giant, elderly man stepped away from the door, back into the room behind it.

“Thanks,” Bastian muttered, releasing an exhale.

Even though he knew he wasn’t an unwelcome guest, the adventurer couldn’t help but feel relieved that the towering, club-wielding man recognized him.

The giant man scratched his chin while walking behind the counter of the tucked-away establishment.

“Seeing that yer alive, guessin’ the dungeon Bilo scouted for you is all cleared out?” The towering man asked while grabbing one of the bottles from the highest shelf, along with a pair of glasses.

Though they were normal sized cups, they looked like nothing more than shot glasses in the monstrous, tanned fingers of the giant owner of the establishment.

It was an odd combination of a bar and shop, with blades displayed on the walls and booze on the shelves.

Bastian glanced around at the wares, always finding that there were new items on display each time he visited, “Yeah. I almost got wiped out by some skeletons, but I’m in one piece.”

“Hah! Ya know, back in my day, I wouldn’t even bother using my axe to deal with skeletons in those dungeons. My companions would place bets on how many I could take out with my bare hands,” the old man reminisced, raising and looking at one of his hands, which were large enough to palm a human head easily.

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“I bet you could still do some serious damage in the tower, Vol,” Bastian said, leaning on the counter as he watched the towering figure tilt the bottle of amber liquid over the mug.

Vol chuckled with his hoarse throat, “Maybe, but my place is here with the Veil. Besides, don't think my back would agree with me goin’ through cramped dungeons anymore.”

“I can’t disagree with you there. Nobody’s going to want to start trouble here when they see your mean mug,” Bastian lightly joked, accepting the glass of mead poured for him.

“Ya got that right! Reminds me,” Vol said before gulping down an entire mug of the unruly beverage in a single drink, letting out a mighty belch before continuing, “Had some thugs snooping around earlier, actin’ like they wanted to buy somethin’. They had a whole plan sketched out and everythin’: one would talk to me to keep me busy while the other pocketed the gemstones on display.”

“How’d that work out?” Bastian asked, trying to look the other way as the breath of the towering man was anything but pleasant.

“Well, I took it easy on ‘em. Must be my age gettin’ to me,” Vol said, “So, I smashed the hands of the thief and the jaw of the talker. Fair enough punishment, I’d say.”

Bastian let out a wry laugh, knowing it wasn’t an exaggeration from the shopkeeper, “Well, I doubt anyone will be trying that again anytime soon. Word gets around. Speaking of which, I was hoping you’d have a word to say about something I found in that dungeon earlier.”

“Oh, yeah? Lemme see,” Vol set his mug down, planting his hands on the wooden counter.

The adolescent reached into his pocket, retrieving the ruby-implanted ring before placing it on the large hand of the shop owner.

Vol brought it in front of his gaze, inspecting it, “...Hmm…”

When it came to getting his findings from the dungeons appraised, there was nobody else he could trust more than Vol. Of course, being the owner of a shop that buys and sells just about anything brought back from the tower makes one’s eye for value true, though that’s not the main reason why Vol is the go-to: unlike the greedy peddlers that run the market, he knew Vol was a genuine appraiser, who wasn’t a fan of underhanded tactics.

“So?” Bastian asked.

Vol set the ring back down on the counter, “Could get four gold pieces for it, I’d say. Ya found this one in the dungeon?”

“Yeah, it was in one of the orc’s pockets. Snagged it off of him,” Bastian responded.

“This didn’t come from the dungeon,” Vol stated.

“What? I picked it up from–” Bastian began to retort, repeating what he already had said.

The giant shopkeeper clarified, “What I mean to say is that ya may have found it in that dungeon, but it came from outside of it. Specifically, this belongs to Franz Audrigal. Big name.”

“Franz Audrigal? Sounds familiar,” Bastian replied, picking up the ruby-implanted ring as he inspected it for himself.

“He’s a nobleman with a lot of power in this region. Even has a seat on the High Table. Get what I’m saying here? Caught with this, and they’ll get the wrong idea,” Vol warned, tapping his large index finger against the table.

“Gotcha. So, interested in buying it?’ Bastian asked, placing the item back down.

Vol laughed, “‘Course I am. Offer is two gold pieces and one silver.”

“That’s way less–”

“I’m including the fee of getting this hot piece off yer hands, mind ya. Try selling this anywhere else and yer risking yer own head. I’m giving ya a good price, all things considered,” Vol explained to him, shrugging his burly shoulders.

After a bit of consideration, the lowered price was swallowed as he knew the value involved with selling an item mistaken as stolen goods.

“Alright,” he accepted.

Vol laughed heartily as he placed down the payment as the coins bounced against the smooth, wooden counter, “Nice doin’ business with ya’!”

“Yeah, yeah…Anyway, I need to head down, actually. I almost forgot, but I did come here to talk to Bilo,” Bastian said, taking the payment as he stuffed the coins into his pocket.

“Sure thing. Let me get the door for ya,” Vol said.

Though the half-giant passed right by the wooden door, he instead moved over to the arrangement of shelves in the left wing of the shop, passing by the assortment of potions as he stopped in front of the dusty rack of weapons.

Bastian stood and watched as Vol stretched his tan, scarred hand out, grabbing the handle of the greatsword displayed high on the wall, a place only the shopkeeper could naturally reach as it was lightly tugged–click.

The stone bricks began to rumble before a doorway revealed itself as a false wall retreated downward, pulling away as a secretive passageway was presented.

“There ya go,” Vol said as he stepped aside.

Bastian walked to the unveiled passage with a nod, looking up at the wizened shopkeeper, “Thanks. Actually–I’ll leave my findings from today with you. Just give me the payment later.”

The adventurer took the blueish pouch off of his belt before opening it up as it expanded to its much larger size, waving it around and allowing its contents to spill onto the floor of the shop. An assortment of jewelry rained down, piling up as the half-giant looked as though he was seeing pure gold.

“A-ha! Now that’s a real haul!” Vol reacted.

“Can I leave it to you? I take it you’re fine with buying it all,” Bastian asked.

The shopkeeper nodded, “Oh, of course! Keep it comin’!”

Leaving that to the old half-giant, Bastian entered the hidden passageway as the entrance closed itself behind him, leaving no trace of a door to begin with. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to him, though the abundance of cobwebs was something he would live without.

There was a tunnel leading downward, supplemented with wooden steps embedded into the carved out stone.

It was quite a lot of steps, dozens, hundreds; perhaps not a considerable amount normally, he did find himself somewhat worn by the long day he had, especially with a warm meal on the horizon. After descending the secretive tunnel, the sound of endless chattering filled his ears with a refreshing ambience, mixed with the echoes of countless fast-paced steps.

As he reached the bottom of the steps, a vast scenery stretched out before him: an underground city of its own, with hundreds, if not thousands, of people occupying the society beneath the city. There were buildings of their own, made of unkempt stone and shoddy wood; not remarkable architecture, seeming as if a single strong gust might knock the structures over, but outstanding for its location.

Amidst the uneven, gravelly ground were makeshift streets, finding themselves occupied by people hauling in large crates, looking to be lifted from merchant carriages, not coming from any proper means, most likely.

‘The Veil: if you need something illegal, this is the place to go,’ he thought.