Ravina’s clenched fist came down hard on Ralf's head, the impact causing a dull "thunk" that echoed in the cool morning air. The two of them stood outside the guild's satellite office, a cluster of buildings huddled together about an hour away from the city. The place resembled a small city block, with a few modest structures—restaurants, inns, and supply shops—each designed to cater to adventurers, but dangerously far from the protection of the city wall.

The faint smell of woodsmoke and the distant clatter of armor mixed with the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. It was a pleasant scene broken by the loud yelp of Ralf “Ow, hey, what was that for?” Ralf winced, his small frame recoiling as he rubbed his head with both hands. He bent his knees, ducking slightly as if expecting another blow. His wide eyes glistened with water, pulled more from the shock of the blow than the force of it.

Ravina crossed her arms, looking down at him with a slight frown, her posture stiff with annoyance. “It’s kýma tératos, not ‘karma potatoes,’ you little brat,” she snapped

“What?” Ralf blinked away the tears, glancing up at her while keeping his hands protectively over his head.

“Mae wouldn't stop laughing at me because of you!” Ravina’s voice softened slightly, but the irritation lingered in her narrowed eyes.

“How’s that my fault?” Ralf straightened up, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

“Because you don’t pay attention,” Ravina huffed, the corners of her mouth twitching

“Oh, come on. I always pay attention, and you’re lucky I do.” Ralf puffed out his chest slightly, a smirk forming on his lips as he reached into his worn, dirt-streaked coat. With a flourish, he held up a small bag, the worn canvas was torn slightly from overuse and was barely large enough to hold two heads. “Thanks to me, I snagged a bag before they all ran out. And while we don’t have Tweety, we do have a cart,” he added, his tone laced with pride. “You’re welcome.”

Ravina’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she glanced at the bag. “What is that?”

“It’s the last aposkevón bag left. I told you there was a raid, and then you disappeared.” Ralf’s voice dropped slightly, a hint of frustration creeping in. “It’s not like I could reserve anything when I couldn’t find you, yeah? With things the way they are now, I barely managed to catch up to you before the raid officially started, so you’re welcome.” he repeated with a slight roll to his eyes.

"That's just..." Ravina sighed, her shoulders sagging with the weight of frustration. She shook her head, causing a few loose strands of hair to fall into her face. She brushed them away with a quick, irritated swipe, running the nail around the back of her ear and enjoying the slightly painful scratch. It was calming enough for her to take a breath and step back. Ralf had been right all this time so there was a good chance that the kid knew something she didn't. After all, she gave up being an adventurer a while ago. "So what does this one do? Spatial storage?"

No magician would make a bag that small without doing something spectacular like making it bigger on the inside. However Ralf just repeated her words back at her while knitting his brow"Spatial storage?"

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"Yeah, like is it bigger on the inside?” This question brought a smile to her face. It was a serious question, not one made in jest to a popular tv show.

Ralf stared at her, the confusion deepening in his dark eyes. "The hell are you talking about?" he asked, his tone incredulous. He held the bag up, shaking it slightly for emphasis. "It just negates the weight of stuff. That's all these guild bags do."

Ravina blinked, taken aback. "Wait, what? They don’t use spatial magic?" She had always assumed that the guild's bags were far more sophisticated.

"I don't know what you're on about, but bags can only be manipulated to lighten the load, carry a portion of the weight—some of them can even float beside you, but they need special stones to function for long periods of time." he gestured with his free hand as if mimicking a bag hovering in the air.

"Eh, maybe you haven’t heard of it." Ravina shrugged.

"Haven’t heard of it?" Ralf scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant stance. "Look, lady, I plan to be the world’s best porter in this city. I’ve done my research, and I can tell you a hundred things about aposkevón bags—not one uses 'space shawls' magic or whatever you’re talking about."

"Pfft, spatial magic." She scoffed and shook her head. She eyed the small bag, and if she was honest, it might be better to just buy a regular one off the street—wait. Her eyes fluttered a few times as she binked. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? "Hey, how much is a bag?"

"A bag? Like 24 Geld, depending on what you want."

"That’s cheap." she muttered.

"Cheap? I mean, I guess?" Ralf shrugged

Ravina narrowed her eyes, feeling like she shouldn’t have to ask but doing so anyway. "What about an aposkevón bag?"

"Oh, that’s like 40 Kasse for one like this," he replied, holding up the small bag with a casual flick of his wrist. "A big bag could run around 190, 200 Kasse, depending on how used it is."

"Well, damn, that’s quite a jump in price," Ravina muttered, more to herself than to him. She chewed on her lip, weighing her options.

"Yeah, magic is expensive." Ravina couldn’t decide if Ralf was a cute kid or just annoying. She especially suspected the latter when she heard him mutter, "dumb bitch," under his breath, though she wasn’t entirely sure she heard him correctly.

"Whatever, let’s just get a bag for now. Something about as big as… two of you," she said with a slightly sinister smile.

Ralf shot her a look of disbelief. "Lady, I can’t carry a bag as big as one of me."

She waved him off dismissively, already turning back toward town. The thought of being prepared for whatever lay ahead was far more appealing than having to return aimlessly because they’d only brought a purse.

"But the raid’s about to start—we need to be here when it begins. Oi… damn it." Ralf glanced back at the dungeon entrance before running after her. His feet pounded against the uneven ground, the sound muffled by the dense air. He stole a quick glance at the city walls in the distance, the towering barrier that stood about an hour away.

"She’s powerful, she’s powerful, she’s powerful," he whispered under his breath, repeating the phrase like a mantra. The words gave him a fragile sense of security, a desperate hope to cling to as he chased after her. He needed to stay close, to ride her coattails until he had enough money to launch his own business. His mind raced with plans and possibilities. Renting from the guild came with regulations, restrictions that kept him from seizing the best opportunities. But with his own cart and bag, he could take the marked items—the rare treasures that promised real money.

He had it all figured out, every detail mapped out in his head. But a Kasse was a rare coin, and the path to earning it felt as treacherous as the dungeon itself.