Dave's slumber was abruptly interrupted by the cacophony of clamorous banging that reverberated throughout the lighthouse's timeworn structure, originating from the depths below. He opened his eyes, blinking the lingering remnants of sleep away, only to discover that his shadowy companion had vanished into the ether.
"Well, at least I haven't been devoured, so I have that going for me," Dave muttered as he stretched languidly, his muscles protesting the exertion after a night of uneasy sleep. Squinting against the dazzling brilliance that pierced the gloom, he marveled at the kaleidoscope of colors that danced across the chamber, refracted through the dust-laden panes of the stained glass windows.
He descended the ancient spiral stairwell, each step echoing faintly within the confines of the lighthouse, a testament to the countless souls who had tread upon these well-worn stones before him.
Soon, he arrived at the lofty chamber on the ground floor, where he saw the dragoness blacksmith fully absorbed in her metallurgical labors at the forge. She was wearing a different apron made from some sort of dark fabric that looked metallic at a glance and her iridescent scales were tinted blue.
"Morning," Dave ventured.
The draconic artisan cast a cursory glance in his direction, her expression unreadable, before resuming her work with single-minded determination.
Undeterred, the ex-programmer waited, his eyes tracing the sinuous lines of her muscular form as she toiled, her movements a mesmerizing ballet of strength and precision. Eventually, the relentless cacophony ceased, and Remicra turned to face him.
"Yes?" she inquired, her tone brusque. "Why do you still linger? I clearly stated that you were to depart by sunrise."
As the words hung in the air, Dave found himself torn between gratitude for the shelter he had been granted and annoyance at the curt dismissal. He knew that the path ahead would not be an easy one, and that he would need all his wits if he were to navigate the treacherous waters of making the blacksmith his companion.
"I haven't gone anywhere as I don't have anywhere to go," He admitted.
"And pray tell, how does this concern me?" Remicra retorted.
"Don't you want to be free from your collar?" Dave asked.
Remicra's gold-violet eye visibly twitched.
"What?" she hissed through clenched teeth, her scales turning dark red. "What are you insinuating? How could a pathetic, clueless, tearful, weak manling such as yourself even... No, the very notion of someone like you offering to break my collar is absurd!"
Dave couldn't help but feel like an interstellar spaceman, marooned on a distant world and beset by a decidedly inhospitable creature. He wondered if all dragonkin were as cantankerous as Remicra.
"I am a stranger in a strange land," Dave said, striving to maintain his composure "I am without friends, finances and resources in an unfamiliar land, and I would really prefer not to become some beast's dinner in the wilds."
At his words, Remicra snorted dismissively. "And what exactly is it that you seek? A charitable gesture? A means to exploit me further with some trickery? I have provided food and shelter for the night. Depart and cease to vex me with your presence, human!"
Dave felt an unwelcome twinge of guilt.
"I promise, I'm not trying to trick you," he said sincerely. "I just need a safe place to stay while I figure things out. In return, I'll be your friend and help you get rid of that annoying collar."
"Out," the dragoness commanded, her scaled finger pointed imperiously towards the door.
Dave exhaled a heavy sigh, feeling as though he failed.
Gathering his courage, he tried to reason with her, his words filled with heartfelt honesty. "I get why you're hesitant. Maybe being trapped for so long made you forget what freedom feels like. But please believe that I only want to do what's best for both of us — to free you from your chains and help me improve my skills as a mage and survive."
Remicra fixed him with a fiery glare that made Dave rue the absence of a trusty fire extinguisher. "Do you truly presume that you can waltz in and conjure my emancipation with a mere wave of your hand? That it's that easy? Listen up, human: it's not!"
Dave flinched at the harsh words.
"Just give me a chance," he implored, his eyes locked onto hers. "I won't let you down. I'll happily do whatever jobs you need. In return, I just ask for a place to stay in the room upstairs, and maybe a small share of the wyvern meat—or any food you can spare."
"No," Remicra huffed. "Out."
Dave's gaze fell to her clawed feet, which scratched at the floor with pent-up aggression, as if she longed to rend him asunder.
Before he could say another word, in a swift motion, she seized Dave and propelled him out the door with such force that he felt as weightless as a feather.
Sprawled upon the grass, Dave gazed up at the dragoness with a sense of defeat, a nagging suspicion that he had overlooked something crucial gnawing at his thoughts. His eyes scanned the meadow, taking in his own footprints etched in the muddy path. He noted the tracks left by other boots, yet there was no trace of Remy's distinctive clawed footsteps past a certain perimeter.
"She is unable to venture beyond the lighthouse proper," Sherlock's violin suddenly intoned. "The ward and the collar must be confining her to a specific territory surrounding it—approximately five meters outside the door."
A sudden spark of inspiration ignited within Dave as he rose to his feet and tentatively positioned himself just beyond the invisible boundary of the ward that held the blacksmith captive.
"Look," Dave implored, gesturing towards the demarcation line. "I can go to places you can't. I'll fetch things for you and bring whatever you want. I can even kill more metal bugs for you, or anything else. Isn't that valuable to you? I doubt that your owner would do all this for you."
The dragoness' violet-gold eyes glinted with a smoldering ire, and Dave mustered every ounce of his resolve to resist the instinctive urge to take a step back.
"Fine," Remicra finally conceded, her voice laced with bitterness, her sharp teeth bared in a menacing snarl. Her scales turned orange. "Buy some Wyrmak Oil and Arboria fruit from the market."
She flashed back into the smithy and with a masterful flick of her wrist flung a pouch laden with a few coppers at his feet. Then, the dragoness retreated into the depths of the lighthouse, the click of her claws against the stone floor echoing ominously throughout the shadowy smithy.
Despite the lingering tension, Dave couldn't suppress a feeling of triumph.
"Marvelous," Sherlock's violin chimed in his ear. "I have always maintained that humanity's greatest asset lies in its ability to broker agreements with even the most obstinate of creatures."
Dave grinned, reveling in the sense of camaraderie he now shared with the detective. "Alright, let's go find these items, shall we?" he declared mentally, striding confidently down the muddy path.
He checked within the small bag offered by the dragoness, discovering exactly seven coppers inside it.
With a sense of purpose, Dave made his way to the bustling market. As he navigated the throngs of people, he found himself lingering in the more crowded areas, listening to the murmur of conversation and the clatter of commerce that surrounded him. He had learned from Sherlock the power of deduction and the importance of paying careful attention to the minutiae of human behavior.
Rather than seeking out the Wyrmak Oil and Arboria fruit that Remicra had requested, Dave turned his attention to a more ambitious endeavor. He sought to identify a pattern, a particular item that he could acquire for a pittance and subsequently sell for a considerable profit. This, he reasoned, would not only allow him to fulfill his obligation to Remicra but also provide a means to amass the funds necessary to chart his own course in this alien world.
As he meandered through the labyrinthine marketplace, Dave scrutinized each stall and vendor with a discerning eye. He took note of the ebb and flow of customers, the fluctuations in their expressions, and the subtle cues that betrayed their true opinions of the wares on offer. To the casual observer, he might have appeared to be a mere window-shopper, but in truth, he was engaging in a meticulous process of elimination, gradually narrowing his focus until he could pinpoint the ideal commodity.
Through meticulous observation and application of his borrowed powers of deduction, Dave gleaned several noteworthy insights:
1. Members of the city watch bore tokens that were similar to the Adventurer's gate pass, distinguishable only upon closer scrutiny.
2. Mana crystals, which functioned as both energy sources and amplifiers, were highly sought-after commodities that many shops dealt in, commanding a premium price. These crystals resided within tools and instruments.
3. The city was characterized by a stark divide between the opulent enclaves of the highborn classes, the prosperous bourgeoisie, the esteemed archmagi, and the squalid, destitute neighborhoods.
Equipped with a wealth of insights, the ex-programmer ventured into a dimly-lit alleyway defined by peeling paint, dubious odors, and shrouded figures clad in tattered cloaks. His attire, pilfered from a deceased adventurer, combined with the scratches and bandages adorning his body, allowed him to seamlessly blend in with the city's downtrodden inhabitants.
In due course, he stumbled upon a dirty, wooden stall laden with an eclectic array of peculiar trinkets. Dave approached the unsavory establishment. The old woman tending the lopsided stall possessed more wrinkles than a deflated balloon, long drooping fox-ears, and a scowl potent enough to curdle even the most hardened milk.
Dave ambled along the front of the stall, scrutinizing each item on display. As his gaze fell upon a slightly bent, copper flute, the metaphysical strings of the violin in his soul began to resonate with a heightened intensity, as if trying to focus his attention.
Dave noted a crystal within the flute coated with several layers of filth.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Dave greeted the old fox with a disarming grin, his tone conveying an air of casual amiability. "I couldn't help but notice your impressive collection of... er, unique items. Might I ask about the origins of some?"
The woman's scowl deepened, her lips puckering into a bitter grimace. "No funny business, boy," she sneered, her eyes darting to the bone knife secured at Dave's belt. "I don't take kindly to those who ask too many questions."
Sherlock's violin chimed in his ear, its melody permeating his thoughts like a mischievous sprite. "Be on your guard," the violin cautioned. "This woman likely has ties to the criminal underworld. There is dry blood inside the flute."
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“How much is this flute?” Dave asked.
“A silver,” the woman replied.
"Ah, I see what you're getting at," he said, adopting a playful smirk. "However, I'm afraid I must insist on negotiating a more reasonable price for this musical instrument."
The woman narrowed her eyes, her wrinkled hands clenching into gnarled fists. "What makes you so sure it ain't worth a silver, boy?"
Dave leaned forward. "Because, my dear woman," he said, his voice laced with a trace of menace, "many of these items belong to a friend of mine who was robbed in a recent spate of thefts. And let's just say that he's not one to take such matters lying down."
Dave struck his bone knife into the stall, making the entire structure rattle.
"This flute in particular," he gestured at the item he coveted, "belonged to my associate's daughter, and I would hate to break her little kitsune heart. I’ll give you seven coppers for it and then we can part ways without something misfortunate occurring. It would be a shame to...”
The woman's face paled as she stared at the knife. "Alright, you can have the damn flute for seven coppers. Who you working for, boy? I haven't seen your face round these parts..."
Dave dropped his bag of seven coppers on the table and grabbed the flute, ignoring her queries. He suppressed a smirk at the ease with which he had acquired the item as he pulled his knife out of the stall and rapidly departed with the purchased instrument.
Sherlock's melody adopted a tense note, "Do beware, you're being trailed. Best pick up the pace!"
With the flute clenched in his hand, heart pounding in his chest, Dave sprinted down the dusty streets, his footsteps echoing like a frenzied drumbeat. He weaved between carts laden with exotic fruits as the sound of boots thundering against cobblestones grew louder behind him. The unknown assailants, summoned by the old fox, were steadily closing in.
Sherlock's violin chimed in his ear, a calm and collected counterpoint to the chaos around him. "Left at the next corner," came the detective's sage advice. "There's a short alleyway that should lose them temporarily."
Dave needed no further prompting - he skidded around the edge of the market and plunged into the cramped maze of side streets. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the harsh stench of refuse, and he could feel his chest tightening with the effort of his flight.
"Right! Up the stairs!" The tense music moved him, guiding him ever onwards with a precision that left no room for doubt.
Up he went, clambering up rickety fire escapes and over alleyway walls, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could hear the baying of his pursuers growing louder, their heavy footsteps echoing through the narrow passageways.
But Dave knew that he could not afford to be caught. Not when so much depended on it.
So he ran faster than he ever thought possible. Aided by his companion's advice, he dodged through alleys and bolted across rooftops, evading his pursuers at every turn.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of running and dodging, he stumbled to a halt on a deserted street corner, his chest heaving with exertion. He clutched the flute to his chest, his eyes darting back and forth in search of danger.
"That was...huff...quite a workout, wasn't it?" he panted.
"The universe, as they say, does love a good game of dodge-'em," the violin in his soul replied with a musical note that sounded like dry laughter.
Dave carefully unscrewed the flute, pulled out the crystal and polished the grime and dry blood from it with his robe.
With the mana crystal clutched securely in his grasp, Dave ventured forth across the city in search of the most opulent shop he could find.
As he crossed the shop's threshold, the atmosphere underwent a remarkable transformation. The smell of rotting fruit and street dust gave way to the delicate fragrance of freshly-cut blossoms and lavender. Crystal chandeliers cast a gentle, golden radiance upon the room, while the gleaming items adorning row upon row of shelves instilled in Dave a dizzying sense of lavish extravagance.
"'Ello there!" A portly gentleman greeted him. "What might I do for you today... sir?"
The man's expression rapidly soured as he took stock of Dave's disheveled appearance and the lingering scent that clung to him. Faced with the pristine surroundings and the disdainful scrutiny of the storekeeper, Dave couldn't help but feel woefully out of place; yet, propelled by the gnawing hunger that beset him, he pressed on.
Judging from the man's demeanor, he was on the verge of summoning security, so Dave responded quickly.
"Pay no heed to my attire, sir," he explained, channeling Sherlock's authoritative speech pattern. "I am presently engaged in a mission of some urgency and have had no opportunity to change out of this thespian garb or wash away the remnants of my stage makeup. Alas, crime doesn't sleep."
The portly gentleman blinked, momentarily taken aback.
"I am a member of the Shandria City Watch," Dave disclosed, rapidly brandishing his gate token with an air of authority. Before the proprietor could discern the token, Dave deftly concealed it once more.
"Ah," the man exclaimed, sudden comprehension dawning upon him. "You're an undercover... Watchman?"
"Indeed," Dave played along, nodding sagely. "Now, if it's not too much trouble, I would like to discuss a particular item that has come into my possession," he continued, striving to maintain an air of officialdom.
The man arched an eyebrow, his expression a blend of curiosity and skepticism.
"This mana-amplifying crystal," Dave pronounced, placing the gem with a flourish upon the glass display case that separated them. "Is evidence in a case involving a ward-breach perpetrated against a rather affluent individual in town. I am currently conducting an investigation in connection with it."
The gentleman's eyes widened as the implications of Dave's words sank in. "Well, I, uh... we deal in a vast array of high-end merchandise here, and it's difficult to keep track of every item. We don't typically handle goods of this nature."
"No matter," Dave dismissed, shaking his head. "Could you possibly direct me to a noble establishment that deals in crystals such as this one?"
The proprietor hesitated for a moment before replying, "The Glasnovia shop on 187 Main St specializes in crafting artifacts from crystals like these."
"Thank you," Dave acknowledged. "Additionally, if you could provide an estimate of this item exact type and value, it would greatly assist in the resolution of this case."
The man wavered, his gaze flitting between Dave and the crystal. He pulled on a steampunk-looking magnifying glass and examined the crystal through it.
"It's a bit dirty and the runework is hard to see, do you mind if I clean it?" the proprietor asked.
"Go ahead," Dave nodded.
The man dipped the crystal in some cleaning fluid that made the previously muddy crystal shine like a diamond and examined it once more with greater patience.
"I would venture to say that this Krynergon mana-amplifier with 12 Enjiras runes is worth somewhere between five and seven silver pieces. The clerks at Glasnovia should be able to furnish a more accurate appraisal."
Dave inclined his head, striving to project an air of self-assured poise. "I am grateful for your assistance in this matter. Rest assured that I shall return in my official uniform should I have further inquiries."
With that, Dave hastened his departure from the shop, feeling as though he had just executed the most audacious heist of the century.
Next, he made his way to the Glasnovia shop.
Upon entering the establishment, Dave was greeted by the sight of gleaming shelves adorned with an array of exquisite crystal artifacts, each more resplendent than the last.
"Welcome to Glasnovia," a melodious voice called out, drawing his attention to a blonde female, blue-eyed clerk with slightly elongated ears who approached him with a warm smile, white robes fluttering in an unseen wind. "I'm a crystallographer mage, Megaliss Hor. How may I assist you today?"
Dave cleared his throat, steadying his nerves as he prepared to spin his new tale. "Greetings. Don't mind my outfit. I am an Adventurer," he began, showing her his token with a slow, casual flourish. "After my escape from a rather nasty monster today, I happened upon this crystal in a nearby river." He presented the crystal for her inspection.
The clerk's eyes widened as she regarded the gem, her expression that of mild intrigue.
"An interesting find," she marveled, her fingers deftly caressing the crystal's delicate facets. "I can give you twenty coppers for it."
"Twenty coppers? Who are you trying to fool?" Dave retorted, his voice dripping with theatrical incredulity. "Please, my uncle's a crystallography mage! This is a genuine Krynergon mana-amplifier adorned with twelve Enjiras runes. It's worth as much as seven silver pieces to a discerning buyer such as yourself. My uncle could give me five silvers for it with ease, but as you can see," he gestured to his bruised and battered form, "I'm far too worse for wear to journey to his distant residence. I need to shed these damned blood-stained garbs, torn up by a vile beast in the wild-lands, as soon as possible. Thus, I am willing to part with this amplifier for a more reasonable sum."
The clerk hesitated, clearly weighing the merits of Dave's made up connections to crystallography and the proposed transaction. After a moment's deliberation, she countered, "I can offer you three silver pieces."
Dave, feigned reluctance as he mulled over her proposal. "I appreciate your offer, but I was hoping for something closer to five silvers? My uncle would give me quite the slapping if I didn't try to haggle about a quality crystal, you see."
The clerk pursed her lips as she considered his suggestion. Finally, with an air of resignation, she assented. "Four."
"Four it is," Dave nodded.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of exceptional triumph as he exchanged the crystal for the silver coins.
Dave left the Glasnovia shop beaming, never mind if his face was covered in dried blood. He had pulled it off – he had haggled like a pro and managed to get a fair price for the mana crystal. He couldn't help but wonder what else he could accomplish with his newfound haggling powers. Maybe he could haggle for a better bed in the night-time dragon's lair or even convince the Shadow Empress to ditch the whole idea of terrorizing people at night with her spooky shadow kittens?
But, of course, he knew such thoughts were fleeting. The reality of his situation was far less cheery – he was trapped in a world full of God-Emperors, monsters and magic, his only hope of survival relying on his still-developing Phantomancy skill, wit and ability to outrun his pursuers.
With a sense of purpose, Dave acquired a set of simple, clean, grey robes at the market and ventured into a public bathhouse for a wash.
The bustling public bathhouse was a veritable microcosm teeming with creatures of all shapes and sizes.
The antlered girl manning the entrance desk sold Dave a week-long package encompassing bath and medical restoration services for a single silver piece. The prices were clearly displayed on an enormous sign for all to see, precluding any attempts at haggling.
It felt like years since he had last experienced the simple pleasure of a soap bar on his skin. After carefully washing his clothes and scrubbing his boots in the designated area, Dave steeled himself to tackle a far more daunting task - the layers of grime encrusting his own skin. He secured his knife and clothes in a locker that opened and closed with his ID token, and attached his two silver coins, bath token and Adventurer's gate ID to his black bracelet. The coins and tokens were cleverly designed with large holes for this very purpose and the bracelet could easily open and close with a mental command [unlock bracelet] as he figured out after a minute of fumbling.
As Dave stepped into the warm embrace of the public bath, any lingering thoughts of insecurity were swept away by the sheer wonder of the scene that unfolded before him.
Mermaids floated gracefully in the water, their tails flickering lazily beneath the surface, while gargoyles perched on the pool's edge, their stony wings outstretched as they basked in the warmth. In the shallower section of the pool, centaurs waded through the water, their equine legs splashing playfully as they conversed with a group of green-skinned girls. The entire interior was an enchanting melange of disparate worlds coalescing and coexisting in relative harmony. Boundaries of species and gender held no sway here, and Dave found himself both fascinated and bewildered by the myriad anatomies displayed in all their naked glory.
"Do you live here?" he inquired, addressing one of the mermaids.
"Nah, I live in town," she replied with an impish grin. "Our job is to cleanse the waters and heal patrons with our innate magics."
"How do you get out?" Dave asked, genuinely curious.
"We don't leave until our shift is over," the mermaid yawned. "Once I pull myself out of the water, my tail transforms into legs. You're looking pretty banged up." She glanced at the color of his bath token, confirming that he had paid for a healing session. "Come into the water next to me; it'll help fix those nasty cuts."
Dave winced as he slid into the water, the liquid's cool embrace sending a shiver down his spine and causing his wounds to sting with a sudden intensity. Yet, almost miraculously, the sharp pain began to ebb away, replaced by a tender, soothing sensation. A soft, healing aura emanated from the mermaid's iridescent, scaled tail, swathing the water around her in a gentle, nurturing embrace.
"Let go of the edge and submerge yourself completely," she instructed, her melodious voice carrying a note of authority that brooked no argument. Her soft voice and presence seemed to harmonize with the whispering symphony of the small faux waterfall pouring from a nearby wall.
With a deep breath, Dave obeyed, allowing the water to envelop him fully as he dove beneath the crystal-clear surface. The mermaid followed suit, her sinuous form cutting through the water with a grace and fluidity that belied the power hidden just beneath her delicate exterior. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace that seemed to bridge the gap between their two worlds, binding them together in a moment of shared vulnerability.
A flash of magic ensued, a burst of ethereal light blossomed across the water. The radiance shimmered and danced beneath the under-waves like the aurora borealis. Dave grimaced as the mermaid's enchantment coursed through his body, his ribs realigning themselves with a series of subtle yet unmistakable pops. The sensation was akin to the snapping of a thousand tiny twigs, each one infused with the essence of life.