They left the herb merchant’s stall, their coin pouch noticeably heavier. As they walked through the marketplace, the world felt less hostile. The shadows less menacing. Even the stench of Mudtown seemed less overpowering. He was starting to see it differently, through her eyes— a place of opportunities, of challenges.

A new kind of excitement hummed within him. They were making a life, here, a life he’d never dreamed of. He still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed, hadn’t left. She could have easily abandoned him. But she hadn't. This fragile bond they’d forged. The warmth of it. A dangerous thing to cling to. But as her shoulder bumped against his, he found himself smiling again. It wasn’t the shard. Not the System. It was… something else.

Yareeth glanced around, her gaze sharp, her scales catching the flickering light. The girl was… impressive, her focus shifting from stall to stall. He watched, amazed, as her mind processed. This place— a battlefield of deals and tricks, and yet she was… thriving.

They passed near a stall draped with an eclectic mix of leather armor and worn weapons that gleamed dully in the lamplight. Kael paused, his hand instinctively going to the club-hammer at his side. His new weapon, acquired in the market days ago, had already proven its worth, but seeing the other weapons now, the craftsmanship, the intricate designs of daggers, swords, and intricately woven chainmail, sent a wave of longing through him. It wasn’t just their beauty—it was the promise of better defense, a way to mitigate his frailty.

"Look, Kael,” she said, her gaze settling on the nearby stall overflowing with leather goods - belts, pouches, and pieces of armor hanging from hooks, a jumble of textures and colors. "You need better protection. That rag you call a shirt won’t do much against a real attack.” She gestured towards his chest, her claws delicately tracing a rough, uneven line along the ragged edge of his tattered shirt.

The touch of her claw against his skin, the warmth of it, made his heart skip a beat, his body tensing. But her words, sharp, a practical assessment, calmed his fear, her gaze already assessing the quality of the leather, its potential. He could see the calculations swirling behind her eyes, a silent symphony of profit and strategy. This wasn’t a threat, a cruel reminder of his failings. It was… concern. He’d been so focused on himself. He’d forgotten how vulnerable he’d been. They both were.

He’d forgotten what it felt like, to have someone watching out for him. His crew, before the betrayal, had relied on each other. Shared strategies, a desperate, sometimes violent, solidarity against the world that sought to consume them. The thought of Taris' face made his chest ache with a strange mix of anger, sadness, but mostly relief that Yareeth was still there, beside him.

Kael grinned, a lightness he hadn’t felt since his crew turned on him. He'd been so focused on leveling up. He hadn't considered what they needed. Or, he realized, what she needed.

“Lead the way, then.” He gestured with a sweeping bow, following her lead, grateful for her guidance, her knowledge.

The armour stall's proprietor, a man whose frame was nearly as broad as that of the Blightmaw, grunted as they approached, his gaze sharp and suspicious, his calloused hands resting on the worn surface of a battered shield. His expression was gruff. This stall offered a different challenge from the soft silks, the scented herbs. A language spoken with iron, steel, and the thick, oiled stench of treated leather.

“You look like you could use a new set of clothes, boy,” he said. The rough-spun wool of his own clothing, the leather vest, the weathered, scarred face— the man was a warrior, or maybe just a survivor who knew what he was looking at. “Got just the thing.”

He reached under the counter, pulling out a leather tunic, its surface rough but supple, the seams neatly stitched, the smell of fresh leather filling the air, the tang a stark contrast to the pervasive scent of the market. He handed the tunic over with a grunt, and Kael caught Yareeth’s gaze, saw the approval in her eyes.

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He tried on the simple tunic, a basic design with reinforced shoulders. It was stiff at first, but as he adjusted the leather straps, as he felt the weight of it against his chest, a sense of security settled upon him, warmth and protection a counterpoint to the chill that always lingered. The leather’s aroma was both familiar and alien—a scent of woodsmoke and animal musk that reminded him of the realms, but there was a smoothness to it, an oiled richness.

Yareeth's voice sounded out, “And what about boots for my companion?”

He smiled, and the vendor’s eyes narrowed, sensing a change, but not understanding the source. The vendor shrugged it off and then pulled out a worn set of leather boots and a simple, sturdy backpack.

“Two iron and four bronze for the lot, if you've got the coin. Take it or leave it.” Kael balked, “That’s ridiculous! You’re trying to—“ His words were met with a wave of the vendor’s hand.

“Take it or leave it. It’s the best you’ll get in Mudtown.” His words a challenge.

Yareeth stepped in front of him, a faint smile on her lips.

“Two iron and four bronze? For a scuffed tunic, a tattered backpack, and those boots?” She chuckled softly, a sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with a strange combination of apprehension and excitement. It was as if she’d activated a switch, a hidden strength.

“Those boots are barely worth a bronze! Look at the stitching! And that bag,” she scoffed. “It looks like a rat’s nest! Let’s talk numbers.”

The world spun, his vision blurring at the edges, but her words, sharp and precise, cut through the fog, reminding him that he was not alone in this battle, in this marketplace.

“Maybe you have something else we could trade. This…” She put down the coarse hides he’d given her, “and these.”

She pulled out the fresh hides — the supple, still-wet skins of the Grass Prowlers and the tiny, almost comical, pelt of the Meadow Nibbler. The teeth gleamed beneath the flickering light of the stall’s lamps, the faint scent of the realms clinging to them— blood, musk, and a hint of ozone. The merchant’s eyes widened, a spark of greed flickering in their depths.

Her gaze lingered on the pile, a question hanging in the air.

Kael knew what was coming.

The bargaining began. This time, he was a spectator, her calm voice a soothing melody against the din of the market. She spoke of quality, of rarity, of the potential for crafting higher-tier goods. Her voice was smooth, confident, and the way she weaved her arguments…

The words wanted to emerge, but they were lost against the back and forth of bargaining, prices tossed into the air like a challenge, acceptance of an offered 18 bronze, then 15 for the tunic.

It wasn’t just the tunic. He had boots. An actual, proper set of boots!

"Those’ll protect your feet right good; might just take you a bit to get used to ‘em,” The vendor said with a gruff chuckle. He nodded towards the boots he was holding, their leather worn but sturdy.

Kael stared at the boots, dumbfounded, speechless. “I… I’ve never had a pair before,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He’d been walking barefoot for as long as he could remember, the city's cobblestones hardened his soles, but he knew a proper pair of boots could mean the difference between survival and a twisted ankle when navigating the realms, where every step was a risk.

This, he understood now, was what she’d been aiming for. This feeling. Relief, yes, but more than that…

Care.

He could feel tears pricking at his eyes, but he blinked them back, embarrassed by this sudden, unexpected surge of emotion. It was as if… as if she’d seen a need he hadn’t even acknowledged, a vulnerability he'd been trying to ignore.

“They’re… beautiful.” His words a soft murmur. His gaze caught hers, and for a fleeting moment, he saw a genuine warmth flicker in her eyes, an understanding that transcended words, a bond forged in their shared journey. They were in this together now. He knew that with a certainty that had nothing to do with the system's logic.

Her expression softened. “You’re welcome,” she whispered.

Merchant +1

Negotiation +1

Equipment Acquired:

Rough Leather Tunic (Common)

A simple tunic made from rough leather, offering basic protection.

Rough Leather Boots (Common)

Basic leather boots, sturdy enough for light travel.