Eugene followed Qlaark through the winding streets of the Bazaar District, keeping a wary eye on the crowd while the toucanfolk led him toward his so-called "guy." Every corner they turned brought a new spectacle—jewelers hawking sparkling wares that shimmered with faint enchantments, street magicians bending fire in mesmerizing patterns, and towering, mechanical contraptions clicking and whirring, attended by gnome engineers arguing passionately over their workings.
"So, this broker of yours," Eugene said, stepping over a suspiciously sticky puddle on the cobblestones, "he's reliable?"
Qlaark flapped a hand at him. "Oh, incredibly. He owes me big time. Saved his tail from a very unfortunate cheese debt."
"Cheese debt?"
Qlaark grinned. "Long story. Very dramatic. Involved a lot of crying."
Eugene sighed. "Right."
After a few more twists and turns, they arrived at a small, dimly lit alleyway squeezed between two towering market buildings. The air smelled like old parchment and burnt sugar. At the end of the alley sat a tiny wooden stall, its surface cluttered with scraps of paper, half-eaten food, and what appeared to be a very lazy cat sprawled across the counter. Behind the stall, wedged between the shelves like he was part of the furniture, was an extremely overweight mousefolk man gnawing lazily on a piece of stale bread.
Qlaark beamed. "Eugene, meet Rasmund. Rasmund, Eugene."
The mousefolk barely spared Eugene a glance, licking crumbs off his fingers. "What do you want, Qlaark?" His voice was high and wheezy, with the unmistakable tone of someone who’d rather be anywhere else.
Eyebrows raised, Eugene looked at Qlaark. "This is your guy?"
With a confident thumbs-up, Qlaark replied, "He’s the best in the business. Trust me."
A heavy sigh followed from Rasmund. "I’m literally the only information broker you know, Qlaark."
"Yeah, but you're good at it," Qlaark admitted with a sheepish grin.
Rolling his eyes and flicking an ear, Rasmund relented. "Fine, fine. What do you need?"
A quick gesture toward Eugene signaled the purpose of their visit. "My friend here is looking for someone. Kind of a mystery wizard. Got anything?"
Stepping forward with another sigh, Eugene explained, "He’s called Bahumbus. No idea what he looks like, but I have this." From his pocket, he pulled out the enchanted coin Krungus had given him and held it up. "It’s supposed to guide me to him, but I figured I’d ask around first."
A squint at the coin and a twitch of his nose showed Rasmund's skepticism. "Hmph. Never heard of him." His gaze shifted to Qlaark. "This worth my time?"
With a wing draped around Eugene’s shoulder, Qlaark reminded him, "Come on, Ras, what happened to the whole ‘owe you big time’ thing?"
Groaning in defeat, Rasmund stuffed a handful of crumbs into his mouth. "Fine, fine. But I got nothing. You’re better off trusting that coin and following where it leads." He waved them away, chewing noisily. "Now scram before I regret this favor."
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As they turned to leave, Eugene noticed Qlaark and Rasmund exchanging a look, something deeper than just an old acquaintance. Qlaark's beak twitched, and suddenly the two of them were speaking—not in Common, but in a rapid-fire, clipped sort of slang Eugene couldn't follow.
"Murkmonger?" Qlaark said, his voice low but sharp.
Rasmund's whiskers twitched. "Lamps flicker, but not all go out."
Qlaark’s feathers ruffled slightly. "Old debts or new promises?"
With a sigh, Rasmund stared down at his paws. "Neither. Just whispers in dark tunnels, Qlaark. Whispers too loud for comfort."
Eugene frowned, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Uh, what the hell are you two talking about?"
Instead of answering right away, Qlaark’s normally expressive face hardened into a tight mask of barely contained anger. He tapped his beak thoughtfully, then leaned in closer to Rasmund. “No rats in the granary?”
"Not yet," Rasmund replied, meeting his gaze with tired eyes. "But the cats are sniffing."
Qlaark stiffened, and for the first time since Eugene had met him, he looked genuinely rattled.
Without another word, he turned sharply and tugged Eugene by the sleeve. “Okay, thanks, Ras, you’ve been very helpful,” he called back, his voice a little too cheerful to match the tension in his posture.
Eugene pulled his arm free once they reached the crowded street. “Alright, what the hell was that?”
Qlaark avoided his gaze, his usual nervous twitching returning full force. "Nothing! Just some... uh, old news. You know how it is. The city’s full of rumors. Probably nothing."
"You don’t look like it’s nothing," Eugene said, narrowing his eyes.
Frustration flickered across Qlaark’s face as he ruffled his feathers. "It’s probably something, okay? But not your problem. My problem."
Crossing his arms, Eugene shook his head. "I feel like I just walked into something way over my head."
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A nervous laugh escaped from Qlaark. "Yeah, welcome to the City, buddy."
Eugene glanced at the enchanted coin spinning lazily in his palm before it pointed them in another direction. "Fine. But if this gets weird, I’m out."
"You’re already in, Eugene," Qlaark said with a nervous grin. "Might as well enjoy the ride."
With a deep sigh, Eugene followed him as they ventured deeper into the city.
Qlaark muttered under his breath, his expression dark and contemplative, and Eugene couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get even stranger.
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Eugene and Qlaark followed the enchanted coin through the City of Cities, and as they walked, it became clear that the journey would be anything but straightforward.
The coin spun lazily in Eugene's palm before pointing them down a narrow alleyway between two towering buildings. The alley smelled of incense and something more earthy—perhaps the remnants of an old spell gone stale. Strange moss clung to the walls, glowing faintly in hues of green and purple, while tiny creatures resembling a cross between lizards and moths flitted about, their translucent wings catching the fading sunlight.
"Where are we going now?" Eugene muttered, following the coin’s direction as it veered sharply right.
Qlaark, who had been looking up at the intricate carvings on the alley’s archway, whistled softly. “Don’t question it, Eugene. The coin knows more than we do.”
There were layers to this city. In lower sections of The City, you could begin to see them. All of the upper layers were made of wood or some kind of clay. But, sometimes, deep, deep down you could see the oldest layer poking through like a bone through decayed flesh—ancient stone, cracked but unyielding, carved with glyphs long forgotten by the people who now walked above them. These remnants of the city's primordial past jutted from the earth, reminders that no matter how much the city grew, it could never quite bury its own origins.
Emerging from the alley, they found themselves in a bustling district that smelled of salt and strange spices. The streets were lined with massive bronze kettles filled with bubbling stews, their contents stirred by grizzled fishfolk with gills that flared in the humid air. Nearby, a towering minotaur in a crimson apron shouted orders at a kitchen staff composed entirely of goblins, each carrying armfuls of exotic vegetables and slabs of meat that glistened in the flickering torchlight.
Eugene watched, fascinated. "It’s like... a fantasy cooking show on steroids."
Qlaark nodded sagely. “Welcome to the Taste District. They say if it exists, you can eat it here. Some of it might even be food.”
As they moved on, Eugene marveled at the sheer diversity of the city’s inhabitants.
In one corner, a trio of porcupinefolk in finely tailored suits haggled over a shipment of imported perfumes, their quills rattling with every animated gesture. A few steps later, they passed a group of deerfolk, their graceful antlers adorned with delicate chains and charms, engaged in what sounded like a heated philosophical debate.
A pack of ratfolk children darted past Eugene, giggling as they weaved between legs and market stalls, their small paws deftly snatching up loose coins and bits of fruit. Qlaark shot them a knowing glance but didn’t seem concerned. "Pickpockets, sure, but charming ones," he said with a wink.
Eugene sighed. “This city’s like a zoo.”
Qlaark flapped a hand at him. “A sophisticated zoo.”
As the coin continued leading them through districts that ranged from grimy to dazzling, Eugene found himself wondering how anyone navigated this place without magical assistance. At one point, the coin directed them down a narrow staircase into what seemed like an underground market, where merchants sold everything from enchanted masks to bottled nightmares. Moments later, it led them back above ground, only to pass through a district where everything—from buildings to clothing—was dyed in vibrant shades of blue.
"This thing is screwing with us," Eugene muttered. "There's no way this is the most efficient path."
Qlaark squinted at the spinning coin. "Well... sometimes you need to take the long way to appreciate the view."
They passed through the Arena District, where a colossal coliseum loomed, its walls carved with murals of legendary battles. Shouts and roars echoed from within, and Eugene could hear people talking of a fight between a towering ogre and a squad of halflings wielding slings and trickery.
“Let me guess,” Eugene said, watching a crowd roar as the ogre tripped on marbles. “You ever fight in there?”
“Me? No, no, no. I’m more of a commentator.” Qlaark puffed up his chest.
Finally, after what felt like hours of following the coin’s erratic path, the sun had begun its descent. Eugene wiped the sweat from his brow. "We've been walking all day."
Looking over at him, Qlaark said, “I was wondering when you’d say something. Want to find an inn?”
Eugene pulled out the ten gold coins Krungus had left him, weighing them thoughtfully in his hand. “I guess so. Not exactly rolling in wealth, but I should have enough for something decent.”
Qlaark tapped his beak thoughtfully. “Something... average should be good. Too nice and they’ll know you’ve got money, too cheap and you’ll wake up missing your boots.”
As they made their way into what seemed to be a quieter district, Eugene glanced around, wondering where exactly they would place themselves on the massive mural he had seen earlier. “How far do you think we’ve gone on that mural-map thing?
Qlaark laughed. “Oh, probably a few feet at least!”
They finally found an inn that seemed... adequate. The Bronze Goose was a squat, unremarkable building wedged between a clockmaker's shop and what Eugene could only assume was some kind of underground gambling den. The sign above the door was half-burned, but still legible.
Inside, the common room was filled with the usual mix of tired travelers, shady merchants, and locals nursing mugs of questionable ale. A small, wizened goblin woman stood behind the counter, polishing a glass with what looked like more grime than cloth.
“How much for a room?” Eugene asked.
The goblin eyed him up and down. “Two gold a night. Three if you want a door that locks.”
Eugene handed over three gold. “I like doors that lock.”
As he pocketed the remaining gold, he overheard snippets of hushed conversation drifting from a nearby table. A group of laborers, rough-looking types with soot-stained hands and wary eyes, were whispering urgently.
“Did you hear about what happened to the guard last night?” one of them said.
“Ate him right up,” another muttered. “Nothing left but his legs.”
Eugene’s heart skipped a beat.
Qlaark, standing beside him, coughed loudly and started whistling an innocent tune.
“What exactly did they say?” Eugene leaned in.
The laborers looked at each other and lowered their voices further. “They say it was some kinda monster... no one saw it happen, but he screamed something fierce before... you know.”
Eugene swallowed hard, his mind racing. He forced himself to keep his face neutral, but his grip on his coin tightened. Hospitable Rebuke, Cozimia's voice echoed in his mind.
Qlaark nudged him. “Maybe we should, uh, get some rest.”
Eugene nodded slowly. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
As they headed upstairs to their room, Eugene couldn’t help but feel the weight of what he had done settling heavily on his shoulders.