Outside the Council Office building, I looked right, remembering all I had gone through yesterday when I chose that path, and turned left. After a few minutes of walking, I realized that there wasn’t that much difference between the main branches from the main street. Both looked well off and decently maintained. Maybe the area around the main street belong to the wealthy, the well-off merchants and nobles if they existed. But the town looked so small and poor in general to really have a noble in it. Maybe a jumpstart.

The first branch off was to my left, taking me away from the gate to the town. It looked a little less sophisticated compare to the street I was following. Knowing my previous foray into the deeper parts of the town, I ignored it and walked ahead. I wanted a branch to the right. And I got it, a few minutes later.

And I immediately turned around and walked back to the left turn I had passed earlier. Let’s just say I wasn’t dress for it. That, and a lot of other things. I clutched my staff a little harder for reassurance as I walked in the less fabulous street. It was filled with shops on either side of the street. Most of them offering food produce. I saw grains and legumes I didn’t know, but given the fact that I didn’t know what wheat looked like, it was safe to assume it could have one of those. Of the cereals I had dealt with in my previous life, the main ones I saw on a daily basis were maize, otherwise called corn in some parts of the world; beans, kidney beans mostly; then the pigeon and cowpeas. Oh, and sorghum and millet. I knew things like wheat, barley, rye, rice and the others existed, but I had never seen them as they looked like fresh off the farm.

I also saw fruits and vegetables. I moved closer to a stall that appeared to be offering fruits. Maybe my dream would come true and I would be able to feast on fruits. Of the fruits on display, I could only identify the apples and mangoes. The others looked foreign to me. Purple long fruits, red studded oblong things that looked like they had poison in the them.

I went to [Identify] them, but a voice interrupted me.

“Are you interested in an [Apple], or [Mango]? Perhaps a [Cantaloupe]?” a man said.

I tore my gaze away from the fruits and directed it to him. He was a middle-aged man, taller than me but not by much. Lean of build and tan of skin, like I had seen on all people in the town. Given, I hadn’t seen that many. Was I the only brown skinned person in the area?

“No. Just browsing,” I said. That had come off so well, I could pass for a natural.

It didn’t seem to bother him at all. It bothered me a lot when customers came to the store just to browse. But it was normal, and he was a professional at it. Better than I had ever been. It made me wonder, how many people were in the town? How did it survive? From the area I had estimated the wall encompassed, I had put it at around ten thousand inhabitants. But now that I had been inside, that number had dropped to nearly half, maybe even lower. Most of the buildings were well spaced and the population sparser than I had expected.

On second thought, I decided to purchase something at least. Just to help out the economy.

“How much?” I asked while pointing to one of the apples.

“Two a copp,” he answered.

I had expected something else entirely. Like two coppers for one of them. Apples had been something of a treat in my old life. And comparing the amount of money I had spent up until then, my estimate seemed like the right price. Either they weren’t that rare, or I had been squandering money. I quickly handed him the copper, and received my prize. I walked off deeper into the street and decided to reevaluate how I was spending my money.

There was a reason I had chosen the apple. And it wasn’t because I wanted it. Of all the fruits, I only knew about the apples and the mangoes. And the two were notorious for having larva in them if not properly taken care of. But the mango had the downside of being messy with all those juices. Thankfully, the apples were free of larva. And delicious.

After passing several shops, some of which appeared to be offering tailoring services, I decided to give one a shot. I chose a less glamorous looking one for several reasons. One, I didn’t want to spend too much; and I also didn’t want to be kicked out on entering. My clothes weren’t that bad. Of the few farmers I saw, I assumed so based on the tools they were carrying, they all appeared to be wearing clothes just as bad as mine. Most weren’t even as clean as mine were.

Inside, the shop had different pieces of cloth hanged on the walls. In the middle, there were displays of average looking readymade clothes and to the left of the door, there was a sewing machine with a woman busy at a cloth.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” she said. And it left me wondering, did they have clocks in the Realm? And if so, where were they? I hadn’t seen one yet.

I used that time to scan through the displays. There were pants and shirts of all sizes, shapes and colors. I also saw dresses and skirts, but those were few in number. Understandably, I had seen most females dressed in pants too. When I came across one pant that looked like it could fit me, I decided to [Identify] it.

‘[Pant] – Size: medium. Material: wool.’

‘Clare, is there anything else you can tell me about? Like quality, estimated price? Something that can actually help me.’

‘That is all there is on the piece of clothing.’

‘What about magical properties?’ Clothes in a magical world were supposed to have some magic in them. Something to make them stronger, lighter, feel smoother; anything really.

‘No.’

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‘Protection against physical attacks?’

‘It is made of wool. That should tell you everything you need to know.’

“Found something you like?”

The question surprised me so much that I jumped, squeaked and swung my staff around at the same time.

Of course I found air, the woman nimble on her feet. She had easily sidestepped the swing and created distance between us, putting her out of the staff’s range.

“Sorry,” I apologized fast. “I… you…”

Nothing else came to mind.

“It’s okay. No harm, no foul,” she placated. Approaching again after I lowered my staff. “So, do you like it?”

I stared back at the pants. The grey color wasn’t inviting. It reminded me of the ones I was wearing, which were only brown-grey because of the blood that had been on them. Normally, I preferred clothes in either of three colors: black, sky blue or turquoise. I mostly mixed up the three in all my outfits.

Sadly, she didn’t have clothes in those colors that I could buy. There was no turquoise in the shop at all. The few sky-blues I had seen were on the smaller side, and the blacks, although plenty, were in designs I wasn’t interested in. But I felt guilty for attacking her and decided to buy at least one thing before I left.

I should have remembered that my haggling skills were awful. By the time she was done with me, I had two pants; one grey one brown, and two shirts, both charcoal grey. And a simple cloth bag on top of it all. In return, I lost eight silvers. She directed me to a cobbler who took another two silvers for a pair of black boots, and four coppers to exchange the ones I already had for a smaller pair.

The cobbler in turn directed me to a healer a few shops in another street. I was disappointed to find it was a woman. Though I didn’t think I would have liked it any better if it had been a man. The healer’s shop was divided into two rooms that I had seen. The reception room where a young man had listened to my bubbling before sending me in to the healer’s room, after taking two silvers from me. At least there was a modicum of privacy there.

It took me a while to gather up enough courage to express what had brought me. The healer had been patient, asking nonsensical questions the whole time.

“Here,” I finally said, pointing in the general direction of my down below.

“What is the problem?” she asked in that inquisitive tone of hers.

“Infection.”

“Can you describe it to me?”

Why would she ask me a question like that? We had already established that I could barely make four-word sentences. I tried remembering what I had seen on the bandit leader’s down below. I first removed the blood, that most definitely came from the crushed torso.

“Blackened,” I began. Had the lumps being boils or pimples? Boils sounded like something big, “Pimples. Ripe.”

I tried returning the blood and removing it again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, “Ooze, yellow ooze.”

“For how long have you had this infection?” she asked.

“Not me,” I told her, before I held my pants demonstratively to her. “Owner of pants.”

“And you engaged in intimate relations with them?”

“No,” I tried my best not to answer harshly. She wasn’t judging, just getting information. I consoled myself. I began slowly, “He was dead. I needed pants. I took them. Then, I saw infection. But I still needed pants.”

Technically, he was dead by the time I took them. So, it wasn’t a lie. And I think I managed to squeeze in a five-worder there.

“Okay. I think I understand. I’m going to [Inspect] you around the suspect area. It is going to feel a little warm. That is okay,” she said.

And after I nodded, she had me lie down on the bench I had been sitting. She moved from behind her desk and hovered her hands over my lower torso. I began to feel warmth seep into me, and it was way too much than just a little. She moved lower, [Inspect]ing everything down below. The [Inspect]ion lasted for a few seconds, but for me, it felt like eternity.

She went behind the desk and settled down again. “Good news, you appear to be clean of any infections in your nether regions. You must have gotten lucky. I didn’t even detect any pathogens on the pants themselves.”

I guess my decontamination routine paid off. I quickly left off after losing another three silvers to her. Apparently the two silvers at the receptionist where admittance fee, and the rest was consultation fee. These people were most definitely stealing from me. Out in the street, I walked right into the middle of an argument.

There were two men, young men? Late teenagers? I wasn’t sure. But they were a few meters off the healer’s shop. One of them, short, stocky and black haired, was carrying what appeared to be a bag of grains from inside a store to the displays outside.

“You promised you would be working with us today,” the other one continued arguing.

He was taller than his fellow, and lean. Black hair too, apparently it was the most common type of hair color in the town. I had barely seen any browns. And definitely no blondes or redheads.

“But I’m getting better pay here,” the short-stocky one said as he placed the bag on the display platform by the wall of the shop. “Plus. I like this work. And you know I don’t like farming.”

“But you left without warning. Where am I going to find someone to help out today?”

“The whole time we were working together, I kept telling you I was looking for better work,” he said as he opened up the bag for the contents to be clearly visible, a small brown grain. “You should head to the farm and get as much done as you can, instead of wasting time here trying to convince me to come. We both know that will not happen.”

And he walked back in to the shop. Probably to retrieve another display bag. The taller one was left dejected on the street. He stared at the shop for a while before he turned and walked away.

I couldn’t let an opportunity like that pass me. So, I quickly followed him before he could walk too far.

“Hey,” I called out. But it came out weak, I barely heard it myself.

But he turned, and stared at me in askance. “What?”

Okay, he was still on edge for the betrayal. I needed to approach cautiously. Why didn’t I bother learning people skills?

“I heard you. There,” I pointed to the shop that was barely in view. Wow, we had walked a distance, hadn’t we? “You need help. I can help.”

Direct and straight to the point. There was no way I wasn’t scoring high points in my [Language Proficiency] Skill.

He looked me from top to bottom. Then back to my face, “Are you sure you can help?”

“You no choice.” Shit, that had come out all wrong.

“Sometimes people are more trouble than they are worth,” he replied. At least he wasn’t walking away. I took that to mean that I still had a chance, if only I could convince him.

“Prove trouble. Sent me away. You lose nothing.” I paused, gathering myself for the next part of my argument. I really needed to level the [Language Proficiency] Skill soon. “Prove good. You gain help.”

He looked at me for a while, as if scrutinizing me. Trying to figure out whether I was worth it or not. I was sure that I had sold myself the best I could, given the tools I had at my disposal. That had to count for something. That which scared me a little was the fact that I might have sold myself short too. Made myself look less valuable than I was. But I knew how to farm, not the tractor kind of farming you find in the farms of developed countries, or the gardening they enjoy in their backyards. No, the other kind of farming. One where I spent more than eight hours a day in the sun with a hoe, or a machete, or sickle; depending on what time of the season it was. I would prove my worth in the field, I just hoped that the farming styles weren’t that different. And that the pay wasn’t as bad as the shorty-stocky young man made it out to be.

“Okay. Come with, but today is only a trial. If you proof yourself capable, tomorrow you get paid,” he said as he began to walk away, two hoes on his right shoulder.

And I hurried up to follow him.