When Muriel Claudius had first adopted Dollar during his first life on Earth, his grandmother had put aside two hours a week and had him undergo training with security forces. It wasn’t anything crazy, they’d just taught him the basics of safety. Spotting attackers. Watching for suppressed tension and hostility. Covers vs barricades. Distance of cover vs target. How to move and change positions. Rolling out. At the time he hadn’t seen a reason for it. Later, he’d wondered if she had the power of foresight. Kidnapping was something to be avoided at all times, but most of all it had helped him keep calm and learn to read people.

Which is exactly what I need to do today. Dollar thought. These baby murderers will never know what hit them.

All of his old training was coming back to him. The bandits he’d encountered on the way to Zendria had started the process, and he was discovering a lot of his grandmother’s teachings were still relevant.

Smell. Sight. Quick reactions. What do I hear? Dollar recalled each lesson carefully.

Scents of delicious foods and the drumming and cheering sounds of celebration wafted in from the looming City of Tiber, washing over Dollar as he stood along the beach. The abandoned port lived up to its name, with nobody around to see them arriving. Dollar paused as he examined the surrounding buildings. All of them were empty and filled with debris, so it wasn’t hard to find a place for him to change. Blonde hair flashed past Dollar’s vision as Mitsy bounded past him and into the nearest building with a hop and a skip, pushing its partially burnt door open with a creak.

Huh. She sent me to the spot with the best cover but picked the building with the greatest vantage point. Was that on purpose, or a coincidence? Dollar wondered.

“You take that one,” Mitsy pointed to the next closest section. “Make sure to be silent, and to stay out of sight of windows. I’ll be able to see anyone coming for us.”

On purpose, then.

A deluge of lake water hit the dried floor as he stepped into what had once been a shed, closing the door behind him. Tiber City was still visible through a half-crushed wall and any furniture was long gone, either burnt to ashes or stolen by scavengers.

Flourishing his fingers, Dollar conjured the notebook of the Unseeing into his hands and quickly found the pages with darkness symbols. Dollar activated [Transcriber of Reality] immediately, moving half a dozen symbols from his notebook onto the walls of the shed. With a single thought Dollar conjured a curtain of darkness large enough to cover half the room. Only the light of the flames prevented the curtain from crossing the threshold, shadow, and light clashing together as the two elemental symbols fought for supremacy.

Next, he took out a rock as big as he was from his storage ring.

“[Activate],” Dollar said.

The tip of the rock burst into flames. A wave of heat washed over him, and the walls of the shed groaned in protest. Dollar used [Defy Death] to make sure the flames would survive the symbol’s destruction.

Soon there was a hearty flame roaring in the middle of the shed.

It’s a good thing my notebook is waterproof. And the paint I use too. Dollar gazed at the notebook in his hand, the pages dripping with lake water. I guess I better stop using chalk for now unless I’m sure it won’t get wet.

“Hey! Are you okay?” Mitsy’s voice was a half-shout, half-hiss.

Dollar blinked in surprise.

Oh. She’s talking about the darkness symbols. Not the fire. Dollar chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all on purpose.”

“Well, it’s really noticeable,” Mitsy said. “Not compared to a fire, but if the right person is looking…”

Dollar nodded. On Earth, light had been one of the things that he’d been taught could give away his presence. He hadn’t considered that in Ioa, even darkness and extra shadows could be an indicator of an enemy presence. Where there was magic and symbols, even things like invisibility might not be an impossibility.

“Heh, keep it up now,” Mitsy said. “But don’t do it again.”

Mitsy was still her usual, flighty self, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness to her actions rooted in necessity. Grisham had been there to protect her before and keep her in line. Now that he was gone, she’d was adapting to take on the responsibility her father normally provided.

Adaptable. And also able to maintain calm in a crisis. Dollar frowned. These were the exact qualities I looked for in a business partner in my past life.

A blue box interrupted his thoughts.

[Symbol Communication has reached level 8.]

Good. Dollar smiled.

He turned around to face the wall, [Symbol Negation] activating automatically to let him see in the dark. With a flourish a bundle of clothes fell out of his storage ring and onto the floor.

A soft green shirt with matching pants, a long red sash twice his height in size, and coarse brown cloak appeared. Each was made of thin materials, with the shirt and pants made of Ioa’s cotton equivalent. Both were also a little bit too large for him, with the intent being that he could use them even after hitting a growth spurt. The cloak had a hood he could drape around his head if he felt like he was in trouble of being discovered. He also had a couple of pads of leather and metal that he placed on his shoulders, providing a bit of extra warmth and protection.

The red sash was a fashion choice his mother had picked out for him. Dollar liked the way it looked when he draped it around his shoulder and waist as though it was a toga. It also helped cover Agni when he needed to carry it close, his dagger lying dormant in his storage ring for now.

Brown shoes and socks completed the look.

Before he left the shed, Dollar glanced from side to side, checking that the coast was clear. Then he deactivated his darkness symbols and squinting as light flared back into the shed. [Symbol Negation] let him see through the darkness, but his eyes still needed to adjust to the light after.

The fire was still heartily roaring on the stone, kept alive by the [Defy Death] charge.

Hmm. An oversight. Okay, soon I’ll learn to change my common sense to match this world’s version.

Dollar knocked quietly on the door of Mitsy’s chosen building. It was half destroyed, and he was worried it would break at his tough.

“Are you decent?” Dollar asked.

“No, I’m gorgeous,” Mitsy’s reply came instantly.

Dollar rolled his eyes as she walked out. Mitsy had changed into a buttoned white cotton shirt, zesty black shorts, paired with a black leather jacket draped lazily over her shoulders as she tied her hair into a bun with a pair of pristine silver needles. Topping off the look were white socks and black combat books. Only the bottom of her white shirt was left unbuttoned, allowing the heat of the sun to dry off any loose water from her stomach.

A gruesome scar the size of his hand ran down the left side of her body, right between her ribs.

I’ve seen this before. Dollar thought. When the bandits attacked us.

“You’ve been doing a good job keeping one eye on your surroundings at all times,” Mitsy patted her ribs, right where her scar was, and Dollar grimaced. “But always remember that surprise attacks are deadly to adventurers. Even the experienced ones. It’s not a common problem, but it happens.”

“Will do,” Dollar nodded. Seriously, what happened to her?

“I used to sneak around like this when I was little,” Mitsy said, covering the scar. “Me and my dad, I mean. It feels nostalgic. I might even get to knock a few heads around.”

A single glance toward Mitsy revealed to Dollar a menacing grin, and muscles vibrating with adrenaline.

She was ready for a fight.

“You know we’re going into Tiber to find information, not to hurt anyone, right?” Dollar asked.

“Hurt people? Me?” Mitsy’s face was a perfect picture of innocence. “Maybe just a tiny little bit of vandalism.”

“Definitely not,” Dollar shot her down instantly.

“Fine, but on a more serious note, we won’t be getting into fights. At all. Even if someone else is the one starting them,” Mitsy pursed her lips. “People have died for less.”

In Ioa, people were killed over artifacts and family feuds. Or worse, they were set upon by monsters that had no concept of right or wrong, only survival. If he wasn’t careful, any number of unknowns could force him into a deadly situation without warning. This world’s version of common sense was far different from his own.

Mitsy glanced at Dollar’s serious expression, her eyes flashing with amusement. “Relax, nobody knows we’re here. When you’re chewing on life’s gristle, give a whistle.”

Back to her usual, cheerful self. Dollar thought. Yeah. She’d have done well in business.

“You’re a hard person to read, Mitsy,” Dollar replied. “And trust me, that’s a bigger accomplishment than it sounds.”

“Just remember that I’m wise, and awesome, and you should listen to everything I say,” Mitsy replied.

“I will not,” Dollar said, turning toward the end of the port. It was a long walk. “But I will listen to you about this stuff. Let’s go. Don’t worry, the fire will put itself out.”

As he spoke, the timer of [Defy Death] ran out, and the flames died in the shed he’d occupied.

“Your magic is so cool,” she eyed the rock with energetic fervor.

“Symbols, not magic,” Dollar said.

A tilt of her head and a quizzical expression was Mitsy’s response, “what’s the difference?”

“Symbols are a language. Each is a word, and that word has a concept attached to it. Activating the symbols powers the concept they embody and makes it a reality. For example, a fire symbol birthed those flames.”

Dollar looked up to see Mitsy’s eyes glazing over, a thousand-yard stare within them.

“Magic,” Dollar said. “Its magic.”

“You admit it!” Mitsy said, shooting him a beaming smile.

“You’re incorrigible,” Dollar sighed.

“If that means lucky and beautiful, then you’re absolutely right.”

Sand crunched underneath Dollar’s boots as he made his way out of the shed, scanning the area for any patrols. It wasn’t difficult to find a way into the city. All they needed to do was walk until they found a gate. The problem was the massive structure those gates were attached to.

It was a barrier wall.

Hundreds of symbol arrays containing thousands of symbols radiated light across the surroundings, overwhelming the rays of the afternoon sun. Manning the gate was dozens of guards, and each one was a trained Accensi soldier of House Tiberius. Accompanying each guard was a pair of humanoid golems, their bronze bodies and red crystal heads gleaming in the light of the symbol arrays.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“It’s not going to be easy getting in there,” Dollar said.

****

Entering the City of Tiber was shockingly easy.

Dollar had walked up to the gate expecting half a dozen House Tiberius soldiers to jump him. He did see Accensi, the most common guards of House Tiberius, but when he stepped forward, he’d met with a lazy Accensi guard that barely registered Dollar’s existence, and a single flash of his bronze-ranked adventurer’s badge had gotten him waved through.

“We don’t have to pay to enter?” Dollar asked the Accensi.

His innate business senses were tingling as he spotted the massive weakness in House Tiberius’s potential revenue.

“Not for the next month,” the Accensi replied. “We want everyone to be welcome for the heir appointment ceremony.”

“What’s that, now?”

Before the guard could answer, a crowd of people spewed forth from the gate alongside Dollar, pushing him forward onto the streets of Tiber City. The atmosphere was festive, and the buildings were shockingly garish, draped in ribbons and banners of all shapes and colors. Dollar waited for Mitsy, keeping his head low as he waited for her to exit the gate.

Thankfully, he wasn’t concerned about drawing anyone’s attention.

Ioa’s social customs were fairly simple, and people hardly ever started conversations unprompted. In fact, most of the world was fairly conservative when it came to conversations between strangers. It all boiled down to a single unwritten social law. Dollar’s parents had written him a step-by-step guide on it when he’d been younger.

Step 1: Don’t ask anyone about their [skills] or other abilities.

There was no step 2.

The reason, as with most social conventions in Ioa, was because of The System’s existence. There were many that treated The System as a god and its gifts as sacred. [Skills], [classes], and other abilities were therefore a private matter between The System and the person receiving them. Infringing on that privacy was the ultimate taboo, done only between people that trusted each other implicitly.

“Did I keep you waiting?”

Dollar jolted as Mitsy’s head popped up into his vision, her green eyes sparkling. She poked her tongue out playfully at his shock and flicked him in the forehead.

“Each time I catch you slacking, I’ll do that but harder,” she said. “Always keep one eye on your surroundings.”

Dollar turned to the street. “Did you get stuck?”

With a push Dollar entered the crowded street, raising his hood over his head as he talked.

“Of course not,” Mitsy replied, keeping close and making sure nobody stepped on Dollar. “I was asking him where the fisherman’s guild is.”

“Oh?”

“The inner ring,” she pointed upward. “Right there.”

Dollar followed her finger, but all he saw was the back of a man’s pants, bright orange and made of silk.

He was too short to see what she was seeing.

A giggle hit his ears as a helping hand gently lifted him through the air. With a wriggle, Mitsy placed Dollar on her shoulders, and he gazed out into the city proper.

“I see,” Dollar surveyed the surroundings.

Dollar’s father, Marcus, had left the City of Tiber when it was barely functioning and still in its nascent stages. Given that Marcus had never expected Dollar to see the city, let alone enter it, Dollar had never been told what little information his father knew.

Spotting the five guild towers was easy. They were fully visible, rising well over the horizon of a wall that had been built deeper into the city.

That was the inner ring.

Which meant he was traveling through the outer ring.

Tiber City’s final ring was inside the inner ring and was composed of a gigantic wall that wrapped around Mount Halcyon itself.

The stretch of city between the outer wall and inner wall was a walk of several miles without detours, and he could see that the entire outer ring expanded further beyond to the other side of the mountain, countless buildings and even a farming section erected within it. It would likely take him an entire day to cross from one side to the other without stopping.

Most of the buildings were residential, and Dollar could see several large sections of the city were dedicated to housing apartment complexes made of blue stone, and some were even crafted with orange bricks. There were also several markets and specialty stores open all around him, and despite the number of people surrounding him, none of them looked particularly well off. It was clear that the true wealth of the city lay within the inner ring and beyond.

“Damn, those are big walls,” Mitsy said. “Not the biggest I’ve seen, but still impressive.”

“Is that what you see?” Dollar gazed intently at the walls as the duo approached them.

Dollar could sense more than what could be seen on the surface. Within each brick was a symbol, its voice joining thousands more as they formed large symbol arrays. He had felt similar sensations before, but only here, in the City of Tiber, and when he had been fighting Christoff Tiberius.

No, those aren’t walls. Dollar thought.

They were golems.

Dollar became more certain as they neared the inner wall, the structure ominous as it towered over him. Unlike the colorful surroundings, the inner wall had been left untouched by the festivities, its guards standing tall and stoic. Each one emanated the power of an Ino, the silver-ranked soldiers of House Tiberius.

“Ouch, my hair,” Mitsy groaned.

He looked down and saw that his fingers were clamped onto her head, strands of blonde hair gripped between his fingers. They fell away as he forced himself to relax, and he tried his best to fix the hair bun that he’d messed up. It was being held up by her two silver needles, and he noted it was the first time he’d seen them before, or her hair in this style.

“Why the needles?”

Mitsy paused. “Just in case.”

Yeah, she’s definitely keeping them around to stab people.

“That’s one way to do it,” Dollar said.

“If I could make them light up on command, they’d be the perfect adventurers tool,” she replied. “I’ve heard of some that do that.”

“One silver for entry,” a voice interjected.

Dollar looked up to see that they’d already made it to the gate, and a female Ino gazed at the duo closely, her guard not lowering just because they were young.

An Ino? As a gate guard? A shiver ran down Dollar’s spine. They’re the equivalent of a silver-ranked adventurer. The forces of House Tiberius run deeper than I thought.

With a practiced movement Dollar reached into the pocket of his pants, withdrawing a small pouch.

Counting out the coins carefully, he placed ten bronze in the Ino’s hand, and Mitsy followed it up with a silver coin of her own. Neither of them had used their storage artifacts. It was smarter to not give away all their cards.

“Go on through,” the Ino said.

What greeted Dollar on the other side was a lavish feast for the eyes. The smells of delicious foods curled around Dollar’s nose, and he saw stalls painted in gold and silver housing smiling salesman peddling their wares. Each of them beckoned at him temptingly, but beyond them was a whole world of delights. Businesses, both big and small, proclaimed their products to the world with magnificent banners, assistants walking the streets by the fistful and shouting their prices to anyone within sight.

Beyond them were a dozen blocks of houses, each one a magnificent mansion made of brick and marble. Lavish gardens spread forth from their fronts, and deeper into the inner ring Dollar could see gated estates that glittered with symbols with streets patrolled by guards clad in the finest of armors.

It was opulent, and the height of decadence, but it only existed on one side of the inner ring.

The other side was where the guilds were.

That side was empty, and barren. There were quiet a few people moving in and out of the towers themselves, but hardly any shops or accommodation except for what the guilds had set up. The five towers were a far cry from the ones he’d seen in Zendria, each one functioning with the barest of paintjobs.

Dollar tapped Mitsy’s shoulder, and she helped him back onto the ground.

“Not exactly a warm welcome,” Dollar’s eyes narrowed. “What’s with the difference in treatment compared to Zendria?”

“Guilds are useful for you and me, but they’re seen as threats to those in power. This is the capital base of a household, I’m surprised the guilds were let in this far,” Mitsy said. “They either paid a lot of money to be able to settle into the inner ring, or House Tiberius is weak enough that it needed the deterrent of the guilds to make sure nobody dares to attack them.”

The five towers in front of him radiated a soft pressure, each one backed by the prestige of a world-spanning organization. Dollar’s eyes quickly found the fisherman’s guild, tucked into the furthest corner of the area, with a small moat surrounding the building.

“Dollar,” Mitsy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Can you go into the fisherman’s guild by yourself? They’ll let you in if you have your adventurer’s badge visible.”

“Huh?”

“I need to get in touch with the old man,” Mitsy nudged her head at the magician’s guild tower. “I can only send him a message from there.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Dollar didn’t hesitate to agree.

The last time Grisham had seen Mitsy, she had jumped into the maw of a giant monster. Of course she’d want to let him know that she was fine.

“Thanks,” Mitsy said. “Try not to get into any trouble.”

“Trouble? Me?” Dollar copied the innocent expression Mitsy had used on him before. “Never.”

Mitsy shook her head, her lips curling upward as she turned and ran toward the magician’s guild.

And then there was one. Dollar thought. Good. That’ll make it easier for me.

The fisherman’s guild was the smallest of the five towers, and Dollar didn’t face a single objection as he walked right in.

Dollar’s footfalls hushed as his shoes touched a grimy grey carpet.

Sitting behind a barebones desk near the entrance was the receptionist. He was a man in rough garb, a crumpled hat on his head, a bronze badge pinned sloppily on his chest, and a paper in his hands. He’d kicked off his shoes, resting his feet on top of the desk as he read. On the front page there were pictures of people from various races, each professionally taken, with a focus on the subjects holding weaponry and casting magic.

[Contestants to watch in the upcoming Tournament of Kings. Number 5 will shock you.]

So, they do have cameras in this world. Dollar noted. Either that or a spell or artifact that functions like a camera.

“Hi,” Dollar said. “I’d like to purchase some information.”

The man ignored him.

“Hey, anyone there?” Dollar asked.

“No,” the receptionist replied.

A flash of bronze hit the air as Dollar held up his adventurer’s badge.

“Listen, kid, I don’t know who you stole that from, but this is a serious establishment,” the man didn’t look away from his paper. “Unless you’ve got proof of coin on you, I’m not listening.”

Dollar exhaled, pulling out his coin purse from his pocket and jingling it, making sure to keep it in full sight of the man.

“All I hear is bronze.”

“There could be anything in there,” Dollar said, keeping his voice calm.

“But there isn’t,” the man said.

If I brought out my symbologist badge…no, that would bring too much attention to me. Dollar shook his head.

Seven-year-old silver-ranked symbologists didn’t grow on trees. House Tiberius would send someone to investigate. Especially since Dollar was younger than Jasper.

It was a risk he couldn’t take. It was also one he didn’t have to take. Dollar had dealt with difficult clients before.

He knew exactly how to handle them.

The clinking of coins on the desk caused the man to pause. He even looked up from his paper, sparing Dollar a curious glance. Four silver coins spun on the counter. Almost Dollar’s entire fortune.

“You have a storage artifact,” the man’s tone changed, becoming almost pleasant. “My name’s Gherm. I think this is as good a time as any to chat.”

Of course you do. Dollar smiled.

“Gherm, I have two things I need to deal with. I have a grec that won’t wake up, and I need a list of local materials for artifact creation. Got any information on that?” Dollar cut right through to the heart of the matter.

The receptionist put down his paper, an inquisitive glint in his eye.

“That’s some very specific information you’re looking for,” Gherm said. “Especially the second request. Care to share the reasons behind it?”

“Sure, if you’re willing to pay for it,” Dollar replied.

The receptionist snorted, adjusting his cap and putting down his paper. His eyes fell onto Dollar for the first time, pushing for information, and Dollar stared right back, not giving an inch.

“What kind of sleeping grec are we talking about? I need details.”

“A sudden collapse, shimmering skin with a slight silver hue, shallow breath,” Dollar recounted all the details he remembered. “And he looked like he’s frozen in place. His horn was unaffected.”

“What about his tongue?”

“His tongue?” Dollar asked.

“Always check a grec’s tongue when it gets ill,” Gherm tutted. “Listen, I’ll get what information I can. Come back in five and I’ll have it ready. As for your other inquiry, listen, kid, I get that materials sell for a lot and you might need quick cash, especially if you have a sick grec, but that’s dangerous work. You’d be better off doing off jobs for coin in a local store. I might even have a few leads on that kind of work, for the right person.”

“Would it help that I’m actually an adult that died and got reincarnated back into a newborn’s body?” Dollar asked.

“Yeah, yeah, write a book about it. Maybe you can sell the rights to us for some of that coin you need,” Gherm gestured toward a solitary room to the side. “Just think about what I said. As for your other inquiry, go check in there. Come back if you find anything you want to buy.”

“Fisherman’s guild bookstore?” Dollar’s eyes flashed with interest. “See you soon, Gherm.”

Dollar swept up his coins from the desk and made his way to the fisherman’s guild bookstore. Despite Gherm’s initial resistance, Dollar had quickly warmed up to the receptionist. The man was a businessman and yet had still warned him about the dangers of material collecting.

Inside the bookstore was dust. A lot of it.

More importantly, there was also a lot of books.

Alchemical solutions to common ailments, Heuristic approaches to the fisherman’s good life, The Magician’s Code: A Mago-thriller for the Ages, How to raise your grec right, Dollar’s eyes roamed each one with a calculating gaze. Yeah, I can work with some of these.

Knowledge was power, and Dollar wanted it all.

Unfortunately, each of the books were impossible to open. Taking them out of the shelf activated something that locked them, and since Dollar didn’t sense any symbols, he was willing to bet the security was magical in nature. When the protection activated, so did a number on the front cover that told him how much the book cost. So, he examined each book carefully, and soon discovered a shelf filled with pamphlets that he was free to read as much as he wanted.

One particularly thick pamphlet caught his eye. It was over three dozen pages long, with each page filled to the brim with small print that he had to squint to read. Dust covered it like a thick blanket, but Dollar blew it off gently when he saw the title.

[Opening your business in Tiber City – the dos and don’ts of the legal system.]

Interesting. Dollar picked it up, rifling through it.

Technically, the pamphlet didn’t actually say the words ‘legal system’, but Dollar was translating based on the intention of the original title. It was a guide on how ordinary people could start up businesses. And it was incredibly detailed.

And one book. Dollar thought.

He took out a single book that cost three silver. Almost his entire fortune.

[Lake Halcyon – A Guide to Common Artifact Materials in the Region.]

A pamphlet on local business, and a book about artifact materials.

With those Dollar intended to reign supreme.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T HELP?”

Dollar smiled as he heard the dulcet tones of Mitsy’s voice plowing into the guild tower. A quick glance into the main area showed him that Gherm had dropped his paper. The man’s eyes were lingering on the silver badge on Mitsy’s jacket.

“Listen, I told you already. You’re describing Dragonsleep,” Gherm’s expression was stoic. “The price for information on the cure is ten gold. If you don’t have it, then there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“What happens if we don’t buy it?” Mitsy asked.

Mitsy’s lips thinned and her eyes smoldered as they bore into Gherm, the man adjusting his cap with a cough.

“I’m sorry, but Dragonsleep is fatal. If you can’t pay, then your grec is going to die.”