It’s not quite as crowded this morning. I notice this as Nora and I first step out the door. Then again, the sun hasn’t quite come up yet. Comically, the humanoids resembling nocturnal animals seem to make up a hefty sum of the early-bird population.

   “Cyr— I’m sleepy,” mutters Nora, tiredly rubbing her eyes.

   “You slept for twelve hours, how are you still tired?” I say.

   She shrugs.

   “Alright, wanna sit on my shoulders again?”

   She nods. I kneel down and lift her over my head. I balance her legs with my arms as I stand back up.

   “First stop... What was it, again...? Ah, Han’s Smithy, in the...”

   “Second... rung,” she replies. We set off.

   “Right. And on the way how about some food?”

   She doesn’t say anything, and I realize it’s because she’s nodding. I just couldn’t see her.

   “I smelled something great on the way in. Keep a nose out for me, why don’tcha.”

   “Cyr?”

   “Yes?” I pause in my stride.

   “What are we going to do?”

   “Hm—? Well, I’m going to go join the Adventurers Guild. That’s how I’ll get money,” I say.

   “N-No... After,” she mutters.

   “After what?”

   “...Never mind.”

   “You sure?”

   She doesn’t say anything. I sigh, and again pick up a steady walking pace.

   “We’ll get a permanent home,” I continue. “Where you’ll be safe when I’m off doing things for the guild.”

   “Wh...What...? B-B-But you said... You said you would never leave, not never ever!”

   “I won’t leave leave, it’s just for a little bit. I—“ She grabs my hair with each of her hands and angrily pulls. “—Ow-Ow—! N-Nora, quit it—!”

   “You promised—! You said never ever ever!” she bursts, twisting her fists with tufts of my hair still in her grasp.

   “N-Nora, listen to me—! Ow, stop—!” I stammer. She lets go. “Look— I know I said I wouldn’t leave you. What I meant is I’d always come back, y’know?”

   “That’s not what I meant!” she cries.

   “Nora, how am I gonna work if I can’t ever let you on your own?”

   She wraps her arms around the top of my head and squeezes me frustratingly, making it near impossible for me to be able to see.

   “N-Nora— Nora—! I can’t see. W-We’re gonna fall if you don’t let go,” I mutter. “H-How about this? We’ll take it one step at a time, okay? L-Let’s not worry about that now, and let’s just get food. S-Sound good?”

   She lets go. Suddenly, I can feel her perk up. She points forward.

   “See something?” I ask.

   “Smell,” she replies. “Good.”

   “Something smells good, eh?” I put my nose up to the wind, but all I catch a whiff of is the smell of inefficient plumbing.

   “Over there,” she says.

   I begin to move in the direction she points, which takes us down a side street to the main road. The architecture as we go is similar, retaining the rustic look of fantasy-medieval structures more or less throughout.

   “This way,” she points as we approach an intersection. I take a left. I’m immediately faced with rows upon rows of various stalls and miscellaneous shopfronts. Unfortunately, most of them seem closed.

   “I think we’re a bit early, Nora,” I say.

   “There,” she says. She points again.

   “There’s nothing over th—“

   Toward the end, a large window is slid open by a pair of feeble old hands. It’s only then that I’m hit with the overpowering smell of various cooked goods. I don’t know how Nora was able to smell it from so far away, though, if I hadn’t even been able to smell it till now.

   The frail old man at the stall window sees us, and beckons us closer with a wave of the hand. He wears a   greasy hempen shirt and a stained cotton bandana over his head.

   “Come closer, pleas-s,” he says through a mouth missing many teeth. “Take a look, buy what you need, pleas-s.”

   There are various steaming meat products all around the stall. Most of all I see is fish, some in neat pastes, some balled, and others dried in long strands. Noting this— and how Nora is part feline, I find it hard to figure the two being coincidence.

   “W-Well, Nora?” I ask. “What do you want?”

   A faint trickle of something falls atop my head, and I realize Nora’s salivating over something or another.

   “...Are you gonna pick something, or are you just gonna keep drooling on me...?” I mutter.

   She perks up and frantically wipes at her face with her forearms.

   “Buy now, pleas-s. Good food, pleas-s,” says the frail old man, waving at the display. Evidently, this language is his second.

   Nora starts to point to something,, which looks like a large ball of bright-colored ground salmon covered in a glaze, but retracts her hand and instead seems to reluctantly point to a much smaller portion of the same cut.

   “She’ll take that big one there,” I say, motioning to the first one she’d pointed at.

   “C-Cyr–!” she says. “N-N-No, I—“

   “You’ll take it, won’t you?” I ask.

   “B-B-But—“

   “I’d say you deserve it,” I nod. “So yeah, we’ll take that one.”

   “Ahh, excellent choice, pleas-s,” bows the frail old man. “Two Jeul, that. Yes, pleas-s.”

   I fish out the coins and hand them over. In exchange, the man hands me the steaming-hot meat ball wrapped in a woven bamboo-fiber cloth. “Alright, Nora. I’m gonna set you down so you can eat while we’re—“

   She squirms and again wraps her arms tightly around my face, preventing me from seeing.

   “Ow— H-Hey, Nora—! Do you want it or not? I can’t have you eat it up there!”

   I end up letting her eat it up there, anyways. I try to ignore it when little crumbs drop down over my shoulders. The frail old man waves at us as we leave the market street. I try to look appreciative, but all my mind goes back to is the fact that I’ve lost two arguments with a child in the last twenty minutes.

   The Second Rung of the Capital City is a lot more serious than I’d expected. The gate to it is just as guarded as the main gate to enter the city, and maybe more. By the looks of it, this country really likes to keep their social hierarchies well-defined.

   The line to enter the Second Rung is much shorter than the line from yesterday. Further, the richer people seem to have some sort of pass that allows them to skip the line just by waving an emblem in the face of a guard. Unfortunately, I lack such emblem, and as a result, I’m forced to wait.

   “Ah— Friends!”

   I turn around. The man from the line yesterday, William Breadkneader, is running towards us while holding a plump hat on his head with a hand.

   “Must be hard to run in that getup,” I say, mostly meant for myself, but I spoke it out loud anyways.

   “That I am graced with thine presence once again must very well confirm fate has bestowed upon me the grasping hand which surpasses all and—“

   “Yeah yeah, nice to see you too,” I mutter. “...Any luck selling those wares of yours?”

   “But of course!” he exclaims. “In fact, the Trademaster hast summoned me forth to compensate mine effort!”

   “O-Oh, uh... Congratulations,” I say.

   “Come, friends! I have been gifted the noble seal which grants me free access forward to the upper levels!”

   “You’ve got one of those? Well hell, thanks.”

   I follow William past the line. He takes the pass, a metal badge, from his pocket and begins to raise it to a guard at the gate.

   “Oy,” the guard interrupts. “The little rat in’t fit for entry. Change ‘er rags and come back.”

   “Huh? O-Oh, I—“ I begin to say.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

   “Fret not, noble young man,” says William, stepping forward. “It is simply that nothing to purchase in such drab quarters as this rung are fit to present within such grand company. Therefore we will be taking her promptly to a clothier there in the second. You see, my good accomplice here is in fact a wealthy individual of the Third Rung who has unfortunately misplaced his seal. But I assure thee, the wealth in his pocket is sure to prove his stature, and in turn— that of the young lady, as well.”

   The guard looks to me in mild suspicion. His eyes then drift down to the coin pouch at my side, and he nods slowly. I nod back.

   “Righ, you’re free to pass. Throw those drapes in the sewer soon‘s you can.”

   “A very healthy thank you, sir. May you have a blessed day,” William bows respectfully, or at least as much as he can with such a round belly.

   We pass through the gate, William giving a nod and a bow to every soldier and guard he passes. Once safely through and walking down a long tunnel, he again turns to me.

   “Say, friends— Might I ask what business thou hast in the Second Rung?”

   “That probably would’ve been smart to ask before you smuggled us in,” I mutter.

   “‘Smuggle’ is such a filthy word, sir. I simply provided reverent aid to friends in need.”

   “Ah, well... I’m actually registering as an adventurer,” I say. “I, uh... don’t actually know where I can sign up though, now that you mention it. But I’m also here to visit a certain shop; Han’s Smithy. Know the place?”

   “Eek—! H-How wouldst thou possibly deem it wise to make venture there...?!”

   “How would I— What...? Err, I got it recommended to me,” I reply. “Why? Something wrong with that place?”

   “Not such the place, and more the... owner,” he breathes. “Needless to say, heed mine concern, I bid you.”

  “A-Alright, I’ll... consider myself warned,” I mutter.

   “Else— An adventurer, says thee? Nay, I cannot discourage enough. Dangerous work, friend. Yes, dangerous.”

   “But it brings in money, and that’s all I really need at the moment,” I say. “Know where it is?”

   “Err... Yes, I do. The vendor thou seeks spawns directly beside the guild hall.”

   “And you know where said vendor is, right?”

   “Y-Yes, as well. Follow the main road to the furthest east point, then relocate west towards the Third Rung. Thou shouldst find the beast in its cage not far from there.”

   “Wow, that’s the most straightforward thing you’ve ever described to me,” I say. “Uh— thanks.”

   “Well, I should best seek housing under the Trademaster till prior arrangements meet their due. Fare thee well once again, friends. And forget not my concern, I bid thee— I implore thee.”

   “Y-Yeah, you too. Again.”

   “And take in the sights, see? Here we are!”

   As if just realizing, I look out as the long white tunnel opens out into a sprawling sector of the wealthy city. This is where the elegant buildings of white stone begin. The streets are clean, made of yellow brick with potted flowers and metal benches lining the center way. All around us, people of all races dressed in high-end luxury clothing stride past without a worry in the world. They enter and exit the buildings that border the polished street, splurging in fancy stores and breakfasting in expensive-looking restaurants. I stand at the entrance for a few moments in sheer bewilderment, and I probably would’ve for longer had Nora not begun to fidget on my shoulders.

   “C-Cyr— let’s go,” she says.

   “Right, sorry,” I reply. William has already left, though I didn’t notice him walk away. “New change of plans, I guess. We need to find you some clothes the people here won’t scoff at.”

   Three hours pass. In that time, I’ve done all of three things; manage to find an outfit simple enough for Nora to agree to wear, buy and split a delicious pastry treat from a nearby bakery, and indulge in a fancy bath fit for a spoiled little prince.

   In the clothing shop, we came to find that Nora hated just about everything they had to offer. We eventually settled for a simple white dress with a bow on one shoulder strap and plain frills at her ankles. I didn’t have her put it on right away as, come to find out, she was a bit filthy. After stopping for a pastry, we found ourselves at a large establishment I could’ve sworn was just a regular bathhouse.

  Come to find out, I got a little more than intended. We were given a private bathing area with two tubs and various places for washing along the walls. What I wasn’t expecting were seven or eight young women in maids’ uniforms to come in with brushes and sponges in-hand. So yeah, I was more or less forced into a tub by six women and washed from head to toe while two other women did the same to Nora. By my integrity as a responsible adult, I promised myself I wouldn’t look in her direction— but the noises that came from that corner sent chills down my spine. She was fine of course, she just wasn’t used to getting washed like that. Neither was I, though— so we both came out of it with mixed feelings.

   That brings us back to the now, following William Breadkneader’s vague instructions of traveling to the furthest eastern point before going west. Nora fiddles annoyedly with her dress as we walk. I forbade her from sitting on my shoulders while wearing a dress for... obvious reasons. As an already sketchy-looking man walking around a city with a little girl who’s evidently not his by blood, I have to take steps to ensure I don’t come off as something illegal. Also, this world doesn’t seem to consider the idea around ‘underpants’ very practical. So there’s that, too.

   Vivian purses her lips and looks up to me. She tugs on a fold in my clothing.

   “Huh? What’s up?” I ask.

   She points forward to an outcropping in the walk. It acts as a balcony to the First Rung, which sits far below us on the upward spiral of the second.

  “Did you wanna go take a look?” I ask. “...Alright, we can go look for a bit, but I’m—“

   She shakes her head. “It’s gone.”

   “What?”

   “It’s gone. Never mind.”

   She begins forward again without further thought. I can’t help but feel a little creeped out, but at this point I have little choice but to follow her.

   Not long later, we finally come to the large westward diversion from the main road that William had mentioned. There are plenty of road signs pasted every which way, but being an illiterate idiot in this world, I have no hope of deciphering their contents. Best I can do is hope it’s the right one.

   Immediately upon turning into the westward roadway, we’re hit with a sudden change of scenery entirely. From lavish homes and storefronts of white stone brick, we’re now surrounded by armor stores, blade vendors, apothecaries— and dozens upon dozens of smithies. The people here are different as well; adventurers, the lot of them. We pass by warrior after warrior, each donning their blade or cudgel or spear on themselves like a badge of honor and carrying themselves with a similarly proud integrity. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alienated while nerding out in my entire life.

   “H-Hello, uh— sir?” I say. The one I’d asked passes me by without so much as a glance. I turn to ask another.

   “Buzz off, piss-puddle,” they scoff, pushing me aside with a shoulder.

   “My first impression leaves much to be desired,” I mutter under my breath. “H-Hey, c’mon, Nora. Let’s find someone who isn’t a jackass to ask for directions.”

   “H-Hey, psst—! Hey—“ hisses a voice. I turn to see a man crouching in an alleyway between a wall and pile of scrap wood. He gives me a rather creepy grin, and beckons me closer.

   “Whaddaya want?” I say.

   “Nasty business, this be. You be needin’ defense teh survive here. Fortunately, Ratton’s got it,” he says.

  “C’mere, and see my wares. Magical swords fit fer a hero, I have.”

   “Yeah— no. But thanks. In fact, I’m actually looking for a more reputable smithy.”

   “Reputable? Ratton’s Wares be perfectly legal, they are.”

   “Yeah, whatever. How about we skip all this and you point me in the direction of Han’s Smithy.”

   The man hesitates. His eyes grow wide as he takes two nervous steps back. “Err— never mind, I needn’t yer money—! I gots no wares—! G-Git outta here, I plead ye.”

   “I just need you to tell me where I can find him.” I take three steps forward, and meet him dead on.

   “N-No, I-I know noth’n—! Err... Stay back—!”

   “Tell me where I can find him, and I’ll leave you alone,” I say.

   “A-Alright, alright— Ratton knows. Ratton knows,” he nods quickly.

   “Who’s Ratton?” I ask.

   “Eh—? Err... Ratton be me. Follow, an’ I take you.”

   “You’d better,” I mutter.

   He scampers off backwards into the alley. He stops down a ways and waves me on. Though it goes against my instincts, I decide to follow.

   “I would’ve thought Han’s Smithy was one of the ones on the main road,” I say as we walk. Ratton hobbles not too far ahead. He is visibly crook-necked, making him look almost more like a beast than a man.

   “No, no, sir. Han be infamous. Scares away other customers,” he replies. “Was forced to move shop behind the rest, she was.”

   “‘She?’”

   “I dare not speak her true name, I do not,” Ratton whimpers. “N-Nasty business. This be very nasty business, this.”

   “How much further?”

   “Not much, no sir. Close. Very close.”

   “Good,” I nod.

   Honestly, I’m a bit worried. Everyone I’ve spoken to about Han seems to have some sort of fear of her. Even Benny had some deep down, though you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking for it. Maybe I’ll have Nora wait outside.

   “Here, sir. That structure there, sir,” says Ratton, pointing a crooked finger at a shack down a ways.

We’ve found ourselves behind all the other buildings. All the debris and scraps from them seems to wind up back here in the dirty grass.

   “Not gonna introduce us?” I ask.

   “I-I-I dare not enter in fear for my life. Ratton stays here, or goes away. Not closer.”

   I can’t help but notice that he sometimes refers to himself in the first person and other times in the third.

   “I’m not stepping into a trap, am I?” I say.

   “N-No, sir. Ratton wouldn’t dare, sir. No, indeed.”

   “Ratton—!!!” booms a heavy voice that carries all the way across the yard.

   “Eek—! The lady comes, I run!” Ratton shrieks, skittering off back the way he came.

   “Ratton! Get your measly arse back here and pay your dues, you skinprick knee-cock!” shouts the voice, but Ratton is far gone by now. Suddenly, out comes a large figure from the shack. “...Oh? And what’s the cat dragged in today, a little birdie?”

   The woman closes the distance between us in what feels like an instant— though it was probably around fifteen seconds.

   “So?” she asks. “What’s your business, little birdie?”

   She is rather tall woman, most likely in her mid to late forties with dark blond hair and menacing greenish eyes. And she’s huge. Not fat, but— Her muscles honestly rival those of amateurs bodybuilders you’d see flexing on the beach, and she towers over me by at least two feet. She wears a rough brown shirt and mucky white apron that’s tied around her back in a knot that doesn’t seem like it’s ever fit to undo. On her face is a sort of soft scowl, or a face that just says she’s not gonna take any shit from me today.

   “I— uh, well, I was—“ I say. Nora cautiously creeps her way behind me. “I— I was, um... Uh, you’re Han, yeah...?”

   “Why’d I see you with Ratton?” she glares.

   “O-Oh, uh— h-he actually showed us here,” I reply. I can’t figure out what’s making it so hard for me to talk properly to her.

   “Eh? That so? Probably broke down at the mention of my name, I’d bet,” she huffs, placing a massive hand on her belted hip. “My bad, I s’pose. Y’see, I caught him thievin’ from my shop ‘bout a year ago, so I clobbered him over the head— a lil’ too hard, I guess. The limp and speech impediment no doubt’re from that. Maybe not hard enough, though. He still got away.”

   “O-Oh, I see. W-Well, I’m Cyr, a-and this is Nora. W-we were recommended this place, s-so I thought—“

   “Eh? By who?”

   Shit, I’ve said too much!

   “N-Nobody important,” I wave dismissively. “I-I’m joining the Adventurers Guild, s-so I need a new weapon.”

   “Ye’ve got speckles of Little Ben’s mana on you,” she says, pointing. “Diffusion essence, ‘course, but means I’ve got ye.”

   “E-Excuse me...? Mana...?”

   “Benny Dineur. Little Ben!” she says, raising her hands. “Ye’ve met him. Spent... a good bit of time in his distant proximity, I see.”

   “B-Benny told me not to say it was him,” I mutter. “He said you two’re—“

   “Mortal enemies, or the like? Hah!” she laughs. “Yer welcome here fer now, little bird.” She turns around and begins back towards the shack.

   “...Th-Thanks...?” I mutter. I follow her inside.

   “So ye’ve rode in with him, eh? And his spawn?” she says. She takes a heavy seat in a large chair beside a rickety wooden table. “Lil softie, that one. Feels bad fer turnin’ me down, I’d bet.”

   “Sorry, what—?”

   “Care to hear the tragic tale of a young maiden?” she guffaws, heartily batting the table with an open hand. “Save it fer when we’re makin’ yer blade.”

   “Really? You will?” I ask.

   “Money don’t grow on trees, little bird. By now, I bet I’d settle with a kill contract fer some Jeul. Know what a kill contract is?”

   “I’ve got a pretty good idea,” I mutter dryly. “B-But you said we’d be ‘making’ one?”

   “Ain’t exactly full on stock at the moment. But I do have plenty o’ scrap from the wasteful neck-grazin’ bastards out front. Should make a fine sword.”

   “A-Alright, hold up. I’m a bit confused here,” I say. “Out there, you’ve been built up as some kinda monster. Is there a catch to this, or are you just nicer than they assume?”

   “Monster, human, what’s the difference,” she chuckles. “I suggest ye don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Unless you want me to treat you like the rest of the piss-wads around here.”

   “Y-Yeah, I guess I don’t.”

   “Cat got yer tongue? Quit yer s-s-s-stutter,” she jeers mockingly.

   “C-Can’t help it. A-Apparently,” I mutter.

   “Y’uh— whatever.” She stands up. The rickety floorboards creak under the weight. “C’mon. Got a hot forge waitin’ for us downstairs.”

   “Seriously? This place has a downstairs?”

   “I don’t do kids, though,” she says. “Lil pipsqueak’ll have to wait up here.”

   To this news, Nora cowers behind me, latching onto me by grabbing a loop in my armor.

   “...Mind if she watches from the side?” I mutter.

   Han looks down to Nora. There’s a bit of a hard look in her eyes, but she nods slowly. “Don’t let her go touchin’ nothin, ye hear?”

   “She won’t,” I reply.

  “Right then,” Han claps. “Let’s get started, why don’t we?”