Asdras turned a corner and found himself face-to-face with the circus, a garish spectacle sprawling across the main square of Duskmoor.

The massive red-and-white striped tents loomed menacingly, their fabric rustling like whispers. Twinkling lights strung above cast a haunting glow, illuminating the faces of wooden cutouts and grotesque statues scattered throughout the grounds.

The architecture of the tents and stalls was a chaotic blend of whimsical and macabre; their bright colors faded and tattered, while grim gargoyles perched atop sagging poles.

Everything had an unsettling air of neglect thanks to the weathered wood and peeling paint, as if someone had recently revived the circus after abandoning it.

The main entrance, with its exaggerated archway and grimy marquee, added to the eerie ambiance.

The sights and sounds all around Asdras overwhelmed his senses. Sales stalls lined the paths, hawking strange and dubious wares.

Vendors called out in singsong voices, their faces painted with garish smiles that never reached their eyes. The scent of roasted meats mingled with the sweet aroma of candied apples.

Further in, he saw twisted versions of familiar carnival games. A ring toss booth featured rings of bone, while a dart game used preserved insects as targets.

A freak show tent advertised "Wonders of the Night," with illustrations of deformed creatures and other monstrosities.

In front of another tent, performers dressed in ragged, multicolored costumes juggled knives and torches.

Asdras's gaze drifted to a group of townspeople. Their faces were pale, eyes wide and darting nervously, hands fidgeting or clutching each other tightly.

Asdras turned the corner, eyes wide, as he took in the bizarre scene before him.

‘What is this place?’ He strained to recall any mention of a circus in Duskmoor, but nothing surfaced from the depths of his memory.

‘Is it like the troupe Merida told me about?’ he wondered, lowering his head in contemplation, his brow furrowed.

The scent in the air hit him next, and his stomach growled, a sharp pang of hunger twisting in his gut.

‘This... it's making me hungry,’ he realized, rubbing his abdomen as he glanced around, trying to catch details from the corner of his eye.

He moved with purpose, seeking the shadows where the lights didn't reach. His steps were quick but measured, his eyes flicking left and right to ensure no one followed his movements.

Finding a strategically darker spot behind a weathered stall, Asdras crouched down. He kept his back to the wall, his ears straining for any sound that might indicate someone approaching.

He slid his backpack off his shoulders and opened it just enough to slip his hand inside. The cold metal of the coin bag brushed his fingers, and he pulled it out.

He glanced around once more, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the area. Satisfied that he was alone, he opened the bag, the coins within glinting faintly in the dim moonlight.

‘At least I still have this,’ he thought, relief washing over him.

Asdras counted the coins in his palm, tracing his fingers over their cool, silver surfaces. There were fifteen in total, each bearing familiar markings. He saw the number 5 on three of them, while the remaining twelve bore the number 1.

‘It must be the same currency used in my world,’ he thought, feeling a small measure of relief at the familiar sight.

He pocketed five coins, muttering, "Both worlds..." Closing the bag carefully, he tucked it back into his pack and slung it over his shoulder.

Rising from his crouch, Asdras melted back into the throng of circusgoers.

‘Questions can wait until I find my group,’ he resolved. For now, he needed to prioritize finding something to eat.

He navigated the crowd and the narrow spaces between stalls, his eyes scanning the various foods on display. A young girl was running one particular stall that caught his attention. She was smiling, but her eyes held a deep sadness.

Asdras approached her and asked, "Hi, what are you selling?"

The girl was startled, her smile faltering for a moment before returning with an awkward intensity. She shifted nervously, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her apron.

"Hi, sir," she stammered, "I mean, hi... Ah, we, no, I mean, I. I'm selling cakes."

Asdras noted her unease, his own hunger momentarily forgotten as he offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her nerves. "Which flavors?" he asked.

His mind drifted to memories of past meals, recalling a time he tasted a cake on his birthday. The sensation was a hazy, sweet blur in his memory, but it brought a faint smile to his lips.

The girl replied, "It's sweet and tastes like honey and apple."

"How much?" Asdras asked, his hand slipping into his pocket to feel the coins he had set aside.

"50 coins, sir," she said, her voice tinged with shyness.

"50?" Asdras echoed with a half-smile. "So, 1 silver coin?"

"Yes, sir."

Asdras remembered Joe teaching him about money. Fairway communities and outskirts usually dealt with coins, and what they called coins were recycled iron.

For each tier of coins — iron, silver, and gold — they were organized in values of 1, 5, and 10, indicating their multiple values. One silver coin was equal to 50 iron coins.

Asdras handed the silver coin to the girl, and her eyes widened with joy. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took the coin, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

She quickly turned to wrap one of the cakes in a small piece of parchment.

"Here you go, sir," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

Asdras accepted the cake, examining its golden, lattice-like appearance. It was dusted with powdered sugar and topped with fresh apple slices. The delicate, crispy edges promised a delightful crunch.

He took a bite, and his eyes lit up as the flavors of honey and apple burst into his mouth. The sweetness was perfectly balanced; the honey's richness mingled with the tartness of the fruit.

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His senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, and for a moment, the world around him blurred into insignificance.

Lost in the simple joy of eating, Asdras barely noticed the bustling circus or the strange sights around him. He finished the cake slowly, savoring every bite.

As the last piece disappeared, he laughed, feeling a lightness he hadn't experienced in a long time.

"Thank you, it was delicious!" he said, looking back at the girl.

Tears of joy glistened in the corners of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away, her smile radiant, as if a weight had been lifted.

"Thank you so much, sir," she replied, her voice catching slightly. "I-I’m glad you liked it... Thank you, thank you a lot!"

He gave her a nod and a warm smile. "Take care," he said, turning away and blending back into the crowd.

Asdras resumed his exploration when a fervent shout drew his attention. Curious, he followed the sound to a nearby stall.

"Step right up! Fresh and delicious! It’ll renew your strength to face any monster! Step right up!" The seller bellowed, his voice booming over the murmur of the crowd.

The stall was a simple wooden structure, unadorned except for the three flasks on the table. Each flask was made of glass and filled with a greenish, dark liquid that seemed to swirl mysteriously within.

The seller was a rotund man, bald, and sporting a thick mustache that twitched with each shout. His face was flushed with excitement, a bead of sweat glistening on his brow.

Asdras smirked as a fleeting memory tugged at his mind.

"This makes me remember him..." he murmured to himself.

The seller noticed Asdras's smirk and, with instinctive swiftness, approached him. He smiled broadly, gesturing animatedly with his hands.

"Step right up, boy," he said, patting his own shoulder as he eyed the straps on Asdras’s pack. "Rough night? Don’t worry, I’ve got just what you need!"

Without waiting for a response, the seller dragged Asdras to his table, placing one of the flasks in his hand. The liquid inside sloshed darkly.

Asdras felt a wave of strangeness wash over him.

"Try it, boy! Your wounds will be healed in minutes! No, in seconds!" the seller exclaimed.

Asdras alternated between looking at the seller and the flask. ‘Is this a scam? Or is this guy an alchemist?’

"Are you an alchemist?" Asdras asked cautiously.

The seller’s smile widened, and he spread his arms wide in a grand gesture. "I’m the solution, the bridge to your problems, boy. And to the problems of the alchemists too!"

He leaned in closer, the unpleasant scent of old herbs and stale breath hitting Asdras's nostrils.

"Alchemists are smart, but they don’t know how to sell... So, I help them out while helping folks like us get a better deal. Good, isn’t it?" He whispered conspiratorially.

Asdras took a step back. "Sure..."

"Try it, boy, and I’ll give you a discount!" the seller coaxed.

"How much?" Asdras asked, scratching his nose.

The seller made a show of rubbing his chin thoughtfully, his eyes twinkling with mystery. "Only five white-ones! My best offer, boy."

‘White-ones? Silver?’ Asdras thought.

"What’s the effect?" he asked, tracing a strap near a wound on his left arm.

The seller’s eyes lit up. "It’ll heal you faster than a blink, boy!"

Asdras scratched his head, pondering. The seller’s persistent gestures pressed for an answer.

"Okay, I’ll take one," he said, fishing out a silver coin and handing it over.

"Perfect! Perfect!" the seller exclaimed, treasuring the coin. "Drink up, boy!"

Asdras opened the flask, the smell of decaying herbs wafting up, making him wrinkle his nose. He hesitated, then drank it all in one go.

A strange sensation washed over him, making him close his eyes for a moment. The world seemed to slow and spin, and he stumbled, almost losing his balance. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes, only to find the seller and his stall gone.

He blinked rapidly. "What just happened?"

For a moment, he wondered if it had all been an illusion. He looked around, circling his head to take in his surroundings.

"Was I scammed?" he asked himself aloud.

From the corner of his eye, Asdras noticed the silhouette of what he believed was the seller. He bolted after him, stumbling and bumping into people along the way.

“Watch it!” one man barked.

“Hey, slow down!” a woman yelled as she barely avoided being knocked over.

“Get out of the way!” another voice shouted in annoyance.

Asdras turned into a narrow alley, spotting the seller ahead. With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, leaping off a crate to vault over a low wall, then using his feet to spring off the side of a building and clear a pile of debris. He landed smoothly and closed the distance, finally catching up to the seller.

Panting heavily, the effects of the drink still lingering in his body, Asdras grabbed the seller by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall. “Damn you! I want my money back!”

The seller looked bewildered. “What’s the matter, boy?”

Asdras felt a surge of anger, his fingers stretching and closing into a fist. “Don’t dare scam me, old man. I want my money back!”

The seller’s face was twisted in confusion. “What money? What did I do to you? Do I look like your father?”

Just as Asdras was about to push him harder, a voice interrupted. It was the elder guard at the entrance. He eyed them, then broke into a big smile.

“So you met Bardim!” the guard chuckled. “Good, good! For a moment, I doubted you, kid.”

Asdras and the seller stared at each other awkwardly. The guard turned to Bardim. “Old Bardim, I didn’t know you knew someone from the capital. Your contacts really are wide.”

Bardim gestured, startled and confused, but quickly composed himself.

“Yes, yes, guard. I do. I do. I was just taking him to show the circus with my stall,” he said, pointing to his things, including a large wooden mallet with various items inside.

“Good, good!” the guard said, clasping his hands. “Good for you, boy. These days, strange people are showing up. So you know, we need to be cautious about it.”

Asdras scratched his nose, one hand itching to hit Bardim, while the other felt a sense of relief. “Yes, guard. I understand. I’m new here, so I need to learn more.”

“Good, good!” the guard said, walking away. “Good night, and don’t forget to attend the mayor’s talk when the bell rings.”

As the guard left, Asdras kept a firm grip on Bardim, not entirely ready to let go of his anger.

Bardim spoke up, "Well, aren’t we in an interesting situation now?"

“This doesn’t change the fact that you scammed me!” Asdras snapped, glancing around to assure himself that the guard was gone.

“Do you know who I am?” Bardim asked with a sly grin.

“Will you give my money back?” Asdras demanded.

“Why should I? Aren’t you from the famous capital, Fairway in the North, known for its riches?” Bardim replied, his voice dripping with mock innocence.

Asdras let go of Bardim, one hand bracing against the wall as the effects of the drink faded. “Fine. What about a deal? I forgot about it, and you pretend to know me. What do you think?”

Bardim’s smile widened. “Are you sure, boy? That’s not a fair deal. You only lose some money, but pretending to know someone and being from some place in front of the guard can lead to bigger problems than your wounds, I’d say.”

Asdras’s expression twisted with annoyance, his brow furrowing and his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

Bardim pondered for a moment, letting the silence and the wind’s whispers stretch Asdras’s patience. “I’ll do the deal for five more white ones. Good, boy?”

Asdras considered his options, his body tense as he weighed the risks of attacking Bardim and dealing with the consequences later.

But with this being his first day in a foreign place and many tasks ahead, he decided it was wiser to lose some money than invite trouble. He handed over the additional coins, his gaze intense and threatening.

Bardim stepped back, chuckling nervously. “Good, boy. Now, I need to go,” he said, turning and running away before Asdras could change his mind.