New days meant new problems. Ley walked Sasha through Low Monestate on the sidewalk to her apprenticeship as all types of people went on their ways. Some trudged along covered in dust with hands as rough as stones. Others went off to their trades and shops with whatever their nicest clothes were.

Occasionally, rare beastmen would be seen on Monestate’s streets. This was a generalized term for the locals of the fallen tribal kingdom, The Westwinds. When their peoples were conquered one decade prior by this land’s king, they spread across the continent to find new homes. No place welcomed them though. These nomads faced the worst of the worst.

Ley and Sasha passed up a towering laborer with an eagle’s head and talons. From his tools, perhaps an iron worker.

Ley glanced at the strong back of the birdlike man who paid them no mind. Was it difficult for someone so different to live in peace?

They made it to a beat-up shop of oddities on the edge where Low Monestate met the Bazaar District. It was a dusty place with broken windows. The geezer owner didn’t bother to fix the damage. Instead, he draped sheets over the holes.

A wooden sign hung down over the front door displaying Troll’s Treasure. Ley sighed at the many warnings scribbled to trespassers in a red paint that looked like blood. Since the ones robbing the place couldn’t read, who did this scare away other than customers?

They entered the building to find an old Black man in a leather apron standing behind a counter. His mustache was impeccable. He looked at bliss until realizing it was Ley and Sasha. Then he scoffed.

Sasha walked behind the counter, putting on another identical apron a bit too big for her. She put up her hair out of the way to hide under a work cap. “Mornin’ boss,” she said nonchalantly.

“Mornin’. Thought you kids were money,” he responded with a grumble.

Ley showed off the ornamental dagger. “Well, if you’re looking for money, I might have an opportunity for ya, Old Man Randle. Two silver and this relic will be yours. It was found in some tomb guarded by undead. Could be a machina!”

Randle barely glanced at it. “Don’t try to cheat me, boy. I know trash when I see it. And stop calling me old man.”

“It was worth a try.” Ley slipped the blade back into his belt. He faced Randle with bleakness. “But if you could spare a minute, I’d like to talk about something.”

The shopkeeper sensed his change in seriousness. He nodded. “Watch the front for me, Sasha. If any fiends come in, just look mean and swing Primus at them.”

Sasha met his request with worry. She nervously looked at his claymore machina leaning up behind her. The silver blade almost taller than her stared silently with one blue, wide eye.

“Never used a machina before. Looks heavy.”

“Nothin’ to worry about. He’s weightless. Don’t bite either. Usually.”

Primus’s eye twitched, unhinged. On the way out behind Randle, Ley raised his eyebrows. “Usually?”

A pair of customers wandered past them. Sasha welcomed the two. “Thank you for stopping by. How can I help you today?”

The machina, Primus, spoke loudly over her. “I crave blood and glory, humans!”

Sasha struggled to keep her polite work face as the blade rambled on and on to the dread of the business.

She couldn’t silence the damn thing. It sounded like a madman. “I dream every night of my last site of slaughter. We dyed that battlefield in The Westwinds crimson yesterday in my mind. This filthy shop is a tomb, my wielder now soft and senile. Release me!”

She clicked her tongue. “Release you to go where?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“To battle!”

“You don’t have legs. You cannot walk.”

“Not with that kind of attitude about it!”

Like the wind, customers turned and left Troll’s Treasure as fast as they entered. Sasha slammed the counter and then shook her aching wrist, letting her frustration known with a sigh.

In the alleyway outside, Ley and Randle leaned up against the cobblestone wall. The old man spoke up. “What’s on your mind, kid?”

“You know.”

“Have they gotten worse?”

“They’ve caught on to the fact that I’ll never be able to pay up, and now they’ll probably be coming for me soon. I’ve felt eyes on the back of my head recently. It gives me the shivers.”

“Those owls are everywhere here in Monestate. Nobody runs from Rath Ghul, after all. This rotten kingdom’s theirs.”

“It ain’t even my debt. I can only wonder what they’ve got in mind. I’ll just have to grit my teeth and keep Sasha out of it. If they find out about her…” His face curled in hatred.

Randle nodded as he reached for a metal canteen in his pocket. Whatever he swigged smelled like booze.

“Sure, kid, your father was a coward for killing himself. Nothing’s fair in this world though, especially here in Ailmor. You’re gonna have to learn how to carry that weight. If ya make it out in one piece, maybe you’ll grow up into a strong man.”

“My shoulders can only carry so much. I’m so tired. Hungry too. I stopped growing years ago.”

After emptying out the rest of his canteen, the old man sat in thought for a bit. They stood there, sharing a low silence.

Randle eventually broke it with a proposition. “I’ve been thinkin’ about this shit for a while myself too, ya know. There might be a little dingy light at the end of your tunnel. Choose your hell.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“A drinking buddy of mine’s got a colossal crab ship floating somewhere in The Eversea. I could get you on. After your time’s done, I doubt anyone with Rath Ghul would be able to recognize you.”

Ley let a finicky smile show. “I’ll think about it, but if I’m shooting straight, I can’t leave Sasha. The Eversea is the last place I’d ever see myself going too. There’s too much spooky shit going on out in The Deep. Half of what goes into its fog never comes back out.”

“I don’t blame you. Anybody would rather be miserable dry over wet, but there’re some colonies out there, I’ve heard.”

“Doesn’t help that I can’t swim.” Ley crossed his arms, gazing straight down to his feet. He kicked at some pebbles. “To be honest, I didn’t bring you out here for advice. I know what’s coming for me. I’ve got a favor I wanted to ask of you.”

Randle grew rigid. “What is it?”

“When I’m not around anymore, I want you to take in Sasha. You’re the only one I can trust. We’ve got nobody else. Protect her. These are my problems alone. Not hers. If she asks, you’ve got no idea what happened to me. You hear me?”

“Boy, you know how much Sasha hates secrets. With how much you lie to her, she’s bound to hate you.’”

“It’s better this way.”

Ley gave Randle a slight wave, leaving him alone in the alleyway. Even though the old man hadn’t answered his request, he felt oddly calm. Dagger in hand, Ley went into the Bazaar District with hopes as faint as embers.

He went stall to stall and shop to shop over the course of two hours, weaving between clusters of customers and salesmen, trying to sell the dagger to his best ability. Nobody ever bought it though. Everywhere he went, there was another guy selling a dagger fancier or cheaper.

Ley eventually found the light at the end of his tunnel through a Zaiban merchant with a fancy purple hat and hazel skin. The man who looked to bathe in money observed his dagger with enthusiasm only to offer a single bronze regalia. Ley snatched it back, gritted his teeth, and yelled at the man. “Go to hell, you cheapskate!”

Selling the dagger was a bust. Ley fell into the same hole as the adventurer he stole it from. Was it cursed?

The Bazaar District was a different animal compared to the rest of Monestate. Bodies and wagons driven by people seeking their own dreams and riches filled the cobblestone streets. Ley was no different than a grain in a sea of rolling sand as he nudged past shoulders, wedging and slipping his way between strangers.

Even now, desperation building like fog in his head, he had a plan sure to bring him a profit. Ripping off foreigners. Though Monestate was a shithole, it was still the cleanest hole in Ailmor. It attracted many types easy to exploit.

Ley could spot tourists easily. Their fashions, spoken tongues, and skin tones were unique. More than anything else though, they were deaf to the rules. There were just certain things nobody with sense did in Monestate.

For one, nobody greeted each other or let their hands reach too far from their pockets. If someone talked to or sought someone out, it was for a reason. They wanted something.

Ley crept through a huddled-up crowd and came out the other side with his pockets full. He secluded himself away in a nearby alley, hidden behind a dumpster, to go over his reaping. A handful of bronze and silver regalia surprised him. Then there were a few mediocre-looking pieces of jewelry.

Finally, a golden ring housing a purple amethyst-like gem forced a raised brow from him. His breathing lagged offbeat in anticipation. Ley bit the metal and gem too.

Ley stood up to exit the dark ravine of an alley only to bump into the chest of a tall stranger. He stumbled back after seeing the owl’s mask. Rath Ghul’s agents wore black iron masks that mimicked the predatory bird god, Noria, with enormous haunting eyes.

The owl stepped forward, calling out with an easygoing tone and hand wave. His chipper demeanor clashed with his overwhelming animosity. “Long time no see! We’ve been hunting you, Ley.”