I awoke the next morning to a chorus of birds, a little over an hour prior to the sunrise, and I shot up to look at the door as if my brain had been left with an unfinished command. Nobody. I was happy to see that my adventure could still continue. While I was checking my armor and getting dressed, a memory of the thrilling chase arose in my mind. Perceiving the magical power all around me had been enlightening, to say the least, and I wanted more. I wanted to delve deeper into the mysteries of this world, mostly because I knew they would grant me greater power.

The first thing I had to do was to evoke again that state of awareness. I emptied my bag onto the bed, picked up the five scrolls and the brooch which I knew had magical power and spread them as randomly as I could throughout the entire room; that is, I closed my eyes, jumped spinning around twice, walked two steps to the front and placed the brooch on the ground before tossing the scrolls in every direction, then I walked two steps backward and sat on the floor, still with my eyes shut. I focused on my breathing for several minutes, trying to clear my mind of any thoughts before focusing on the memory of that enhanced state of awareness. I remembered how it had made my body feel charged with energy, I remembered the bloodlust, the certainty that I was unstoppable, the thick flow of power in the air.

At first it was faint, but then I felt the presence of each magical object like a bundle of signals all competing for attention. I stood up, still with my eyes closed and sustaining this awareness, and walked toward the nearest source of magic guided by my sensations. Thus I picked up one of the scrolls and repeated the process until every item had been gathered. It was real. Although alternative explanations came to me, I chose to believe that I was a sorcerer without questioning the source of this magical gift.

Satisfied with my experiment, I finished preparing my equipment and went downstairs to eat breakfast. The hall of the tavern was empty, dark and silent, and the barkeep was asleep on a chair behind the counter. He woke up when he heard me approach, and without even a hint of surprise told me:

"Here for breakfast? The kitchen opens again at dawn, but I can offer you some bread."

"I eat bread then. You not sleep on bed?"

"I do the night shift, then I go home to get proper sleep when my brother and his wife take over at dawn."

While I ate my bread and made small talk with the barkeep, I kept thinking about magical power and what other spells might be available to me. How could I test my abilities? I paid for the bread and went outside just as the first rays of the morning began to emerge, and I looked for a removed place to sit and practice. The girl who'd awakened my sorcery seemed to hate her blessing, which must have been due to unfavorable reactions from other people. If that was the case, I had to be discreet. Walking toward the edge of town I began to think about my next experiment. Making fire would be fun, and possibly useful, but it was dangerous, flashy and certain to provoke some frightful reactions. Perhaps I could move objects, wouldn't that be a sight.

I climbed a tree in the forest just outside of town and began to focus while sat on a branch. I thought about plucking a leaf and holding it in the air, visualized an invisible force doing it and tried to channel my energy toward it, but to no avail. Perhaps that sort of ability was out of my reach at the moment, or my concentration wasn't strong enough to make it happen. What if I needed to take another hit from a spellcaster to unlock more power? How would I even confirm that such a thing was needed? I didn't want to run about provoking every mage in sight.

After many tries and no successes, I began to get hungry. The morning had already bloomed and I could hear faint voices in the distance, it was time to go back to eat a proper breakfast. Upon returning to the tavern I found it active, although not bustling as it had been at night, and saw a man who wore no cloak, but had to be Giorgio: he was sitting at the same table in the same seat, had the same posture, the same eyes and was joined by the same woman. They were both unarmed and wearing plain clothes, which made me think that perhaps walking around in armor all day was a strange thing to do, even in this world. Still, I was an adventurer and being always ready was part of the job; or so I told myself.

As soon as he saw me, Giorgio shouted in my direction:

"Oi, Bawb! Come, sit with us!"

The woman looked annoyed, but I waved at them and approached. As we exchanged greetings, a wench passed by our table and I ordered stew and vegetables, the same thing that Giorgio and Alice were eating.

"I see you're eager to begin our journey, my friend," said Giorgio glancing at my armor.

"I am ready, but want better things. This armor is orcs."

"What, you mean to say that it was made by orcs? It doesn't surprise me, seeing how crude it looks," Alice replied.

"Not know who make it, but orcs dead and I take armor. Want better now."

"Worry not, this town has a fine blacksmith. I left my axe in his care, it needed to be reshafted after a fight with some bandits on the way here. I'm sure you'll find something adequate in his shop," said Giorgio with a beaming smile, and I got envious and excited at the idea of defeating bandits. Perhaps he and I would get along better than anyone expected.

"I find another man for quest, he give blessings. Name is Galian."

"A priest?" Alice asked with a hint of surprise on her expression that only lasted a moment.

"Yes," I said.

"That could be excellent for us. Where is this fellow?" said Giorgio.

"Not know. Was here yesterday."

"Well, we should go look for him, this town must have a chapel. We'll stop by the smithy too."

"Then you two have fun. I'll go take care of the important matters. Giorgio, try to not get yourself killed, will you?" Alice said. She got up and walked away without waiting for an answer. When she was out of view Giorgio said to me:

"Don't judge her too harshly. Sometimes pride gets the better of her, but she's a brilliant girl. It's no coincidence that our lord entrusted such an important mission to her."

"I not care, only care about quest."

"A pragmatic fellow, aren't you?" Giorgio said, laughing. We talked for a little while until we finished our food and promptly set off to visit the blacksmith. Giorgio told me about Alice's job as a stewardess under lord Furubasta, her unsurprising interest in gossip and his own distaste for spiced fruits; he asked me about my own background as well, but I avoided giving specific answers with the excuse that my vocabulary was too poor for a detailed explanation. To be fair, it was.

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On our way to the blacksmith, we came across the fat man who had sent me and the others off to rescue the sorceress. He approached us and, in a demanding tone, said to me:

"So you were in town after all. What happened to the girl? Her mother has been screaming in my ear since you lot left! I already have much to do without her constant pestering."

"Girl was sorceress. She dead."

The fat man stared at me in shock and Giorgio looked slightly troubled, so I continued:

"I almost die, drink potion, then rogue die, then father die, then wizard woman die," and I pointed to the gash in my armor where the lethal strike had cut me.

"You... you're the only survivor? Did you run away?" the fat man said.

"No. I am strong."

"Then why didn't you save them? Why didn't you save the girl?!"

"Girl use bad magic, she die," I said, and it was technically true. The fat man began to rub his forehead and mumble to himself:

"By the... by the Light. With all that's been happening we don't even have the manpower to give them a proper burial. Oh, what if more monsters come? We'll be doomed!"

"Worry not, my friend. We're going on a mission to secure the southern forest, so you may rest easy," Giorgio said, placing his hand on the man's shoulder with a solemn expression.

"I hope you succeed, for all of our sakes. What am I going to tell that poor woman? Her family's been destroyed," said the man, and I remembered something that Bastian had said before opening the wolf door.

"That woman have magic blood. Ask her, she hide secret. Good luck," I said, and began to walk away, mostly to avoid further questions. I heard Giorgio trying to reassure the fat man, and after a few seconds he followed. When we were out of earshot, he asked:

"What was all of that about? Magical blood?"

"Yes, daughter was sorceress, mother hide secret. Orcs want magic door, people die because it."

"That might become a problem in the future, you'll have to tell me more about it."

"Not know more about it. Woman know."

"She must be facing difficult circumstances, this might not be the time to ask her. For now the mission comes first."

"Where is blacksmith?"

"Ahead, we're practically there."

As if on queue, a mass of grey smoke rose up from behind a building to my right, and a few paces later we stopped in front of an open doorway to a building that reminded me of a storehouse. The inside looked like someone had gotten comfortable in his own disorder. On every wall was a line of tools that seemed to blur together, save for one where the furnace and the chimney were, and in the middle was a pair of anvils mounted on wooden blocks among chains that hung from the ceiling and some buckets and racks and a grindstone and a large wooden wheel that for some reason was leaning against one of the anvils. I seached for a clear space to look at, but even the floor was covered in a layer of black dust with pebbles littered everywhere.

Two men were working there, one at the bellows and the other polishing a knife, but none of them bothered to give us a proper greeting when they saw us enter. The man with the knife, whose body was thin and head was covered in short greying hair, shouted without looking away from his work:

"Your axe is ready, right there on the rack. Just gotta clean 'er up a bit and she'll be good to go."

"Thank you, I'm eager to use it again. Bawb, this is the man about whom I spoke, he will surely be able to help you," said Giorgio, and the blacksmith gave me a curious look saying:

"Must be looking for some new gear, eh, lad? Yours is barely holding together."

"It be true. What do you have?"

"The finest weapons and armor, take a look."

Something about the whole situation seemed familiar to the point where I expected a digital interface to pop up in front of me and show me his wares, but no such thing happened. At least I could be thankful for how immersive this world was. I stood in place and looked around only with my eyes for a moment, wondering where exactly he kept these weapons for clients to examine, until the blacksmith got up from his grindstone and walked to a corner of the shop where a large tarpaulin was laid over a series of bumps. When he removed it, a thick puff of dust came with it and several boxes and two racks were uncovered. He motioned for me to come and see.

"Any of these will do better than what ya got right now," he said.

"How many coin?"

"Lamellar and short chain coat for an 'undred each, scale armor for fifty, breastplate for two 'undred. Each comes with a helmet. For weapons, well, if ya like the spear, a guisarme will fit ya just fine."

"What is a guisarme?" I said, and he replied by pulling something out of the bottom of the rack. It looked like a spearhead, but with a nasty hook to one side and a point on the opposite side. Just from its appearance, I was certain that nobody would enjoy getting caught by such a weapon. I asked him how much, he replied nine.

"Gold?"

"Aye, don't expect me to sell any of this just for silver, lad."

"Then I buy scale armor and guisarme," I said after pretending to examine the armors while I pondered upon their prices. I hadn't known what to expect before coming here, but fifty-nine gold would leave me with a decent amount left over. I considered buying a sidearm, but didn't want to spend all my money just in case I needed to pay for a carriage out of Brimbrom or an emergency potion. Speaking of potions, would I find an alchemist or equivalent in this town? I had little patience for a shopping trip, but it could make the difference between life and death.

"Alright, let's get you that armor fitted and then I'll mount the guisarme," said the blacksmith. He asked me to take off my current armor and stand still while he took my measurements and adjusted the scale coat. The helmet, and my head, seemed to be generic enough to match well without any changes. As my new gear was being prepared, I sat on a box and contemplated my surroundings. Giorgio remained by the grindstone with his arms crossed, casting occassional glances at the weapons rack. It was clear that he wanted to buy something, the only question was whether he wanted another axe or a different kind of weapon. The rack held swords, maces, axes, hammers, bows, a few different models of spearheads, a strange hook with a chain, some spiky flails and even a fan with a sharp metallic frame. Giorgio certainly had plentiful options.

As I took in the wonderful cancerous forge smoke, a feeling of joy sprang up in my chest. I was waiting for a blacksmith to finish my armor. I didn't have work pending in some office, didn't have a dog to feed back home, didn't have a car to maintain or bills to pay, and certainly wasn't bothered by the latest political news. I was waiting for the armor that would protect me in my next fight. Was I worried about coming back alive? Not in the slightest. In my world, we used to spend every moment carrying a thought that hung from our conscience like a heavy chain fastened to the ground: 'Home is a place and if this doesn't get done, I can't go back there.' Our safety could be threatened, our rest could be hijacked and our needs denied. But in this world home wasn't a place and my needs could go ignored, because freedom was more important than life.

When the blacksmith was done adjusting my armor, I took off my previous cuirass, dropped it on the ground and put on the scale coat while he assembled my weapon. The armor fit me well, better than I had expected of a suit that wasn't made specifically for me. With it and the helmet I felt protected, although my legs and hands could've used some attention. Soon after, the blacksmith gave me my guisarme and I was ready. He waited for me to confirm that everything was in order and I offered him my old armor and weapon, saying:

"You want this? I not need it now."

"I'm afraid I can't offer ya gold for those pieces, lad."

"No gold, it be free."

He pondered for a moment, as if wondering whether my donation held any value at all, but eventually accepted it and called for his apprentice:

"Jerry, come here. See what we can save from these, maybe the cords and a few scraps of leather."

"Will do, teach. Pleased to meet you," he said to me in a hurry before skittering off.

"If everything's to your liking, it'll be fifty-nine gold," the blacksmith said.

"Yes, it be good. Here."

"Thanks for your business! Now, let me take care of that axe for ya, ser knight." The man put away his shiny gold in a chest near the forge and fetched the axe from the rack. After a few strokes with an oiled rag it looked bright as a mirror under the glow of the forge, and Giorgio smiled like a kid when he grabbed it. To be fair, it was an appropriate reaction to such a fine axe. I noticed that its new handle had a sturdy look, and the pole of my guisarme also seemed robust when I moved it around. Not a single rattle in the spearhead's base; the man certainly knew his craft.

With our business finished, we bade farewell to the pair and I said to Giorgio:

"Now to Galian, then to buy potion."