"A hundred golden suns upfront?” Jack asked the ursan, doubtful.

Only a few hours ago the drakarian had been oblivious to golden suns, silver moons, and even copper stars. Back in his time, crystals and gemstones were the currencies, not these thin circle-shaped objects made of metal. Jack hated the coins, they were so impractical. Someone with a pouch of them was just asking to get robbed, what with all the sound they made when you walked. Crystals and gemstones didn’t sing a tune every time you moved, and they were definitely a lot more interesting to look at too. All of the coins had the same symbols; the sun, the moon, and stars. Crystals came in different colors and shades, and would sometimes even cast lights of their own. As for gemstones; some could keep you warm on the coldest of winter nights, while others could have a cool refreshing touch for hot summer days. What did coins do? All they were useful for was leaving a funny smell on your fingers and alerting your enemies.

“Of course, and another hundred at Clotera upon the delivery of the goods, my good sirs, and lady.” Replied the merchant. Jack had never seen an Ursan before, definitely not one in such flamboyant clothes; the humanoid bear wore a dark blue vest with intricate designs, such as the golden buttons set at its front and gray fur at the sleeves. Jewels lined his fingers and he wore cream-colored trousers that complimented his vest. His dark brown fur seemed as though it was regularly brushed and shined in the yellow hues of the shop. He smelt of lavender and his fangs were a pearly white as he addressed Jack’s party with a smile.

“That, and a night’s stay at the finest establishment in Clotera, with everything paid upfront; rooms, food, drinks, and of course, companionship.” The merchant’s mouth grew into a wide smirk as he said the last part.

The job definitely sounded like a good idea to Jack. The pay was very generous along with the added bonus of a night of resting at the best inn Clotera had to offer. The latter was already getting Kirkley excited, the little goblin couldn’t help but hop in the air at the sound of the offer. Hasib was a shade more suspicious of the job than the others of his party, and Jillian didn’t care much, as long as they were being paid a good sum.

Jack eyed the large pouch on the counter for a moment and then said, “Ok, we’ll take the job.” He took the pouch.

“Very good.” The merchant’s smirk grew wider to Jack’s response.

The ursan then pulled out a scroll from beneath the counter, “After your arrival at Clotera, you will deliver the shipment of apples to Thalindor Stonehelm, a partner merchant, he will give you the rest of the promised suns. Remember to also hand him this scroll as proof of our agreement,” the merchant finished explaining as he handed the piece of rolled-up parchment to Jack.

“Got it.” he replied, taking the roll of paper and shaking the ursan’s hand.

“Splendid, I shall have the cart and horse ready in an hour. In the meantime feel free to spend as much or as little of that hundred suns in the city, I’ll have one of my men escort you of course, I’m sure you can understand why.” The merchant still held his smile, but his eyes weren’t smiling, they were cold, and bore a certain air of menace. He stared at Jack in silence with the same expression for a brief moment and the drakarian quickly understood–this merchant wasn’t as big a fool as Jack had initially thought.

With that, the ursan shouted for someone from the back room, as a young blue-eyed man, armored in padded clothes and wearing a sheathed sword at his belt appeared. He bowed, his movements shaky and unsure. He introduced himself shyly, “I-I I am F-Fitz, it's a p-pleasure to make your acquaintances, m-my lords.” Jack could see right through the young man, he didn’t have much experience in this line of work, and was surely not used to dealing with people like them. He was certain, with a glance, that the man had never used his sword in real combat, let alone taken it out of its sheath. The ursan gave an awkward laugh over the air of silence, still trying to hold a friendly smile over the exchange.

“Fitz, be sure to show our new friends here the city, I bet they have many places they would like to visit before they head out.” The ursan slapped the young boy forward with a hairy paw. He stumbled forward and managed to catch himself just before he fell. “Y-y-yes of course.” the young lad let out, his head down.

“Well then, I’ll see you folks in an hour.”

The party then left Gavric's Emporium of Rare Wonders and Curiosities, followed by the shy young man and stepped out into the cobbled roads of Nayulik.

The city was large, and housed many, from queer folk to the rich people of high societies. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and peoples of other races breathed life into this bustling hub of trade, and furnished it with their rich cultures. The city was filled with the yell of merchants trying to sell their wares, the smell of freshly baked Elven breads and the roasting of various meats. But above all else, the sound of iron pounding on iron rang most prominently across the streets. If Nayulik had one thing, it was an abundance of smiths. It pleased Jack to have such a wide array of choices to choose his weapons from.

“P-p-perchance you’d like to see the market place first, my lords?” Fitz blurted out.

Jack ignored him and huddled the group together, “At my signal, we all start running in different directions and try to get this guy off our tail.” He told the rest as he handed them each a handful of suns. They all nodded. “Ready? NOW!” He yelled. In an instant, all of them sped in opposite directions. All except Jillian who simply stood there, blankly staring at a panicking Fitz.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They looked at each other in silence for a few moments before she asked, “Tough day at work, huh?”

* * *

Jack was wandering in the Smiths’ Ward of the city. He had seen at least half the smiths in Nayulik by now, yet he still couldn’t find the sword he was searching for. None of the smiths’ works so far were suited to his tastes. He also needed a sturdy set of armor, though he doubted he had the sufficient funds for that.

The way the people lived and the look of buildings were different from his time. But what most surprised the drakarian was how indifferent the people here had been to him. For whatever reason they weren’t frightened or disgusted by his appearance. An elvish woman was even kind enough to give him a smile when he had asked for directions–something Jack wasn’t used to.

But a far more important matter had taken his attention. The party. What was he to do with them? He didn’t trust a single one of them. Jack considered himself a lot of things, but a fool? Never. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The same mistake that got him here in the first place. Were they really searching for the Abyssal Shards? If not, what were they really after? Could it be that they were Axorivim’s spies? No, couldn’t be. Why would the Lord of all devils take such measures just to spy on him? If that were the case, what had stopped him from sending Jack with the other three in the first place? ‘Could be that not all of them are spies.’ Jack thought. Then who could he trust and who would he have to dispose of?

‘I can never drop my guard, never, not for a single second.’ There had to be some way to tell. He’d have to rest on the subject for now. First, he needed to observe.

As he continued walking, something caught his eye; a smith was currently in the process of finishing up on a double-bladed axe. Its edge had a magnificent sheen as the sunlight bounced off of it.

Jack peered at some of the displayed works, they had a different look to them compared to those of other forgers. He decided to approach the man’s station.

“Interesting weaponry you have here.” Jack told the smith.

“Aye, and a good set of eyes you’ve got there,” The old man looked up at him, smirking beneath his white whiskers, “anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yeah. A straight sword, something durable, and on the heavier side.”

“I believe I have just the thing, follow me.” The old smith urged as he turned to enter his shop. Jack quickly followed.

The interior was dark and musty, the walls were lined with weapons, and stands held mail and plate armor. The man stepped behind a wooden counter and entered a room at the back, and came out a few moments later with a sheathed sword in his hands.

“Here we have it.” He said as he handed the weapon to Jack.

It wasn’t anything special, it wasn’t set with any gems or symbols. Nor did it have any intricate designs. Jack unsheathed the sword and gave a thorough look at it, taking a few practice shots to test out the balance. It was balanced nicely and on the heavier side, just like he had asked for. The extra weight always made his strikes feel more powerful.

But then he saw it. Hanging on the wall behind the smith. Its black-leather handle was visible while its blade was wrapped by a thick cloth. The head of a dragon, its maw open as if to release a breath of fire, shaped its pommel.

“What about that one?” Jack asked.

“Caught yer eye it did, aye?” The smith replied, taking the sword from off the wall. “Here. That’s not one of my blades, it was a gift. A beautifully-forged sword nonetheless. Sharp as a razor I’ll tell ya, cut meself with it while polishing it. Strange though. I tried testing its edge on sugar canes. It didn't even go through the first row. It’s like the blade has its own will, like only a worthy wielder may cut with it.”

It was truly a masterpiece of workmanship; its blade was a pure black steel which appeared matte in the darkness. And the weight. Gods, the weight; Jack had never lifted such a heavy sword before, he already started to feel his muscles becoming sore as he took practice swings at the air. It shamed the previous weapon in every aspect imaginable. Its edge was also longer, longer than a standard longsword, but not long enough to be considered a two-handed weapon. They called these blades bastard swords. It was a strangely fitting weapon for Jack Nightbane.

The smith smiled as he watched Jack swinging the blade. “Well try cutting something with it, will ya?”

“Anything?.” the drakarian replied.

A smile appeared on the smith’s face. “See if you’re worthy.”

Jack took a step back and then swung the blade in a swift and powerful motion. He brought the blade down, which only seemed like a mere shadow in the chamber, and slashed at the counter. The blade went clean through, from top to floor. The two men looked at each other in astonishment for a moment and then guffawed at the sight.

Jack couldn’t believe it. This was it. He had found the perfect weapon. With it, he felt as though he could take down any foe.

“I’ll take it,” he said, “how much?”

“Ten moons, and that's for the counter. As for the blade, you can have it, just as long as I get yer name, worthy warrior.” The smith held out his hand.

“Jack Nightbane,” the drakarian announced, shaking the man’s hand, “and yours?”

“Thoran Ironheart, of the line of the great Ironheart smiths.” Thoran roared. “Well, Nightbane, I’m guessing you’re going to need some sturdy armor to go with that sword.”

Jack threw his pouch on the counter. “What can I get for twenty suns?”

Thoran went back into the backroom and returned with a used-looking breastplate, “Doesn’t look like much, but it’ll do the job.”

“I’ll take it.”

Jack then raised the sword upward, pausing for a moment. The faint light shining through the window seemed to get absorbed into the blackened metal of the blade.

“Dhim’faris.” He exclaimed.

Thoran raised an eyebrow, “What’s that?”

“It’s its name, in Drakarish. It means Duskcleaver.”