As Dave stared at Cedez's sharp-toothed smile, Sherlock's violin began to play a discordant melody in his head. The notes seemed to highlight various oddities about the foxgirl that he had previously overlooked.

As the violin's melody grew more insistent, Dave relocated all of his points from Charisma into Wisdom staring at the foxgirl.

There was something distinctively off about her. Dave slowly moved his Wisdom-sharpened gaze across her figure, noting arrays of blue gemstones draped across her black leather collar, chest and black leather gloves.

How the hell did she know about frequent flyer miles in a world of magic and dragons? The concept seemed oddly out of place in this otherwise medieval-looking setting.

Dave's mind went over her modern speech patterns, her knowledge of marketing and merchandising, and talking about getting chopped up at night with a big smile.

A chill ran down Dave's spine as the violin's notes became more urgent, almost frantic. Something wasn't right here, and Sherlock was agreeing with this assessment.

Dave swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "Thank you for the cake and latte. It was... enlightening."

He slotted all of his points into Strength and started to back away from the snail café, his eyes darting between Cedez and Murdoc. "I should probably head to the gates now."

Cedez's tail swished playfully. "Of course, Dave. Don't be a stranger now! Come buy a latte once you've settled in my lovely town!"

As Dave retreated, he could feel Cedez's brilliantly blue eyes following him. The violin in his head continued its agitated melody, urging him to move faster.

Did he even tell her his name? How did she know his name?

He quickened his pace, weaving through the queue of fantastical beings, his heart pounding in his chest. The gates of Shandria loomed ahead, promising safety – or at least, a different kind of danger than the somewhat unsettling foxgirl behind him.

As he arrived at the impressive Adventurers Gate decorated with carvings of men and women armed with swords and bows fighting monsters, he cleared his throat, and launched into his introduction, switching most of his points into Charisma.

"Good evening," Dave said with fake charismatic cheerfulness. "I have acquired exotic metallic specimens in the wilds, which I have been advised your smiths would pay top coin for."

The disinterested guards exchanged a glance before letting the portcullis up to allow him entry.

"Step forward to the counter and clearly state your name," the guard said. "Do note that any attempts to sway our minds with Charisma magic will result in denial of entry."

Dave gulped, glancing at the drawing of what looked like a nine-eyed beast with a crown on the guard's winged helmet.

He quickly moved most of his points back into Wisdom and walked to the counter, noting that some kind of a sparkly snake-thing with big eyes was wrapped around the left side of the man's helmet, stretching its head to his right ear.

He opened his mouth to say a fake name when the violin in his soul sang a warning. At the same time increased Wisdom helped draw his eyes to an odd, small, cute, gray creature sitting on the table of the guard's booth, staring at him.

"What is that creature?" He asked looking at what he presumed was the guard's pet.

"Kitlix Veritix," the guard replied briskly. "Lying will result in denial of entry."

"And that thing on your helmet?" He pointed at the violet critter on the guard's helmet.

"Kitlix Infix," the guard replied without further elaboration.

"Some kind of lie-detector and information-gathering creatures?" Dave thought, Wisdom helping him guess what the critters did. "Thanks, Sherlock."

He cleared his throat and tentatively took a step forward. "My name is Dave," he said. "I have metal-bug scraps to trade."

Dave opened his bag, showing off the dead metal bugs. The Kitlix Veritix suddenly rushed from the booth up Dave's body and settled on his shoulder, pale, silver eyes staring at him. Dave gulped. The liquid-solid critter barely felt like anything, was almost weightless.

The guard glanced at the Veritix who's entire body suddenly became painted with sprinkles of green stardust, large eyes and crystals on its tail and spine turning green.

"Are you a criminal? Do you intend to cause trouble in Shandria?" The next question came.

"Trouble?" Dave replied, feeling somewhat perturbed by the strange if somewhat cute Veritix intently staring at him from his shoulder. "No. I'm not a criminal.”

“Unless, of course, one can count my disobedience of the laws of cosmic reality by being bloody reincarnated in this ridiculous place,” he thought to himself.

The Kitlix Veritix remained green.

"State your primary skill," the guard pressed.

"I'm a… programmer," Dave replied briskly.

The guard sighed, clearly unimpressed as the magenta-cyan snake-critter wrapped around his helmet hissed something into his ear.

"I'm afraid that won't do," the guard said. "My Infix tells me that you're a mage. What is your core magic skill?"

"Listening to bugs," Dave replied, squinting at the skill-identifying snake that stared at him from the guard's helmet.

"You're not a necromancer?" The guard asked.

"A necromancer?" Dave blinked, feeling somewhat nervous as the Veritix sparkled on his shoulder with green gems, wide green eyes never leaving his face.

"Are you planning to raise the dead?" The guard asked. "We don't take kindly to necromancers around these parts. Know that there are no graveyards in Shandria, nor morgues or prisons. Any attempts to raise the recently deceased will result your immediate execution by the law of her Divine Shadow."

"Raise the dead? Execution? Divine Shadow?" Dave thought, the corners of his mouth sagging.

"I have no intention nor the skills to create zombies, vampires or any other sort of other physical undead. I have no desire to build an army of the dead or whatever," he said.

The first guard gave him a suspicious look as his Infix peered at Dave with big, cyan-tinted eyes.

"Ah, yes," the second guard said as his helmet-critter hissed something into his ear. "Your level's much too low for such."

"Right, thanks for noticing," Dave said. "Now can I please enter so that I can trade these metallic bugs for some food and room? I’m quite bruised and exhausted and I would really prefer not to pass out in your lovely gate."

"How did you get bruised?" The second guard demanded.

"A giant bat dropped me from the sky and then I was attacked by metal bugs," Dave explained.

"Were you born on Arx or were you summoned here?" The first guard cut in.

"Summoned," Dave replied.

"By?"

"A fat man that called himself the Golden Dragon God-Emperor," Dave answered, starting to sweat.

"When?"

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"Yesterday," Dave confessed.

"How many people have you murdered?" The second guard asked.

"None," Dave replied.

Both of the guards relaxed slightly.

"Have you ever stolen anything?" The first guard asked.

Dave let out a deep sigh. "The last thing I stole was a cookie from my grandmother when I was six and I got chided for it for an hour. I promise not to steal anything from anyone in town," he said. "Can I go now, or do you need my blood type and shoe size as well?"

The Veritix turned slightly red, eyes clouding up to brown.

The guards visibly tensed up.

"I, urm," Dave gulped. "I took these clothes from an adventurer who perished in the wilds. Sorry, does that count as stealing? He was dead for a very long time. This is his bracelet."

He showed the 2nd dark bracelet on his wrist with the hexagonal token and the iron plate with the dead man's Quest on it.

The guards looked at each other and then back to Dave.

"That's fine," the first one said. "Items found in the wild are free to claim by law of her Divine Shadow."

"So I can go into town then?"

"Yes," the guard said, finally waving Dave through. "Just go to the nearest blacksmith and sell your bugs. Don't cause trouble."

"No trouble," Dave nodded tiredly as the truth-sensing Veritix jumped off him back onto the guard's desk.

Some other kind of cyan-colored Kitlix emerged from a wooden drawer that the first guard opened. It rapidly spun its sinuous, almost fluid, sparkling body around a metal medallion that the first guard presented to it.

"Here's your Adventurers Gate pass, Dave," the first guard said. "Show it to us and tap it on this hexagram at the gate, unless you want to be interviewed again."

The guard handed him a metal medallion as the Kitlix rushed back inside the open drawer. Dave spun the medallion in his hand, noticing that his bewildered-looking face was somehow imprinted on it as a small, shiny portrait burned into the metal with the words:

[LV 3: Dave]

"Clip it to your System bracelet," the guard said. "Do not lose it. It is your ID in Shandria."

Dave quickly unlocked his bracelet and clipped the identification medallion to it. Then, as the portcullis ahead of him opened, he shuffled past the gate and into the bustling streets.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer scale of this place as he looked left and right.

The town looked a lot bigger inside the gate, perhaps it was somehow altered by magic.

"Now, just need to find that blacksmith," he muttered to himself.

Dave made his way through the crowded market, dodging carts and narrowly avoiding getting trampled by a stampeding group of birdkin. He felt like a lost child, suddenly thrown into a circus with no guidance or direction.

The air tingled with the buzz of mages peddling their wares. Arcane amulets and motes of magic danced around in a kaleidoscopic whirl. Looming towers leaned at jaunty angles as if they were caught imparting particularly salacious gossip to one another. The Kitlix critters seemed to be everywhere too, napping inside of lanterns, looking at Dave with big, colorful eyes from round windows, or simply sitting on people's shoulders, adding to the whimsical otherness of the city's interior.

"And to think, programming a smart fridge language model to recognize expired milk was a big deal back home," he muttered staring at a whole basket of wiggling, colorful Kitlix that were being sold by one of the merchants.

He ambled through the bustling streets, gawking at everything odd.

Turning Phantom Sight on revealed that the streets of Shandria were entirely free of ghosts.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him of his need to obtain money, so he asked the nearest wizard directions to the smithy on the hillside.

"Ah, that smithy is down main street, that-a-way over the yonder hill. Head to the end of town cliffside. It's in an old lighthouse building," the wrinkled man replied with a smirk, shaking his pink, pearlescent and absurdly wide hat. A silver Kitlix tilted its head at Dave from the wizard's shoulder, his scruffy face reflected in the critter's big, curious eyes.

Dave nodded, as he thanked the elderly wizard for his assistance and briskly walked through the throng of magical folk heading towards the hill the old man had pointed out. Having conquered far too many stairs with the aid of extra points in Strength, he finally reached the top.

His gaze settled on a rather peculiar blacksmithy, its turreted silhouette having endured the erosion of time and weather. It looked like a semi-crumbling ruin of an old tower that was half-transformed into a functional establishment. The chimney puffed tendrils of smoke. Rhythmic hammering emanated from within.

Unexpectedly breathtaking, the cliffside stretched into the cloudy abyss. There was no water in its depths as far as Dave could see.

"A repurposed lighthouse with no ocean in sight. How... quaint,” he commented.

He made his way towards the blacksmithy with a soft smile. He could not help himself, he liked repurposed, old buildings.

As Dave approached the blacksmithy's entrance, he marveled at the picturesque scene. The flowing clouds cast dappled rays of light on the elegant flower fields that surrounded the building.

Dave ducked through the low doorway of the blacksmithy, and immediately found himself in a coughing fit. The air inside was unbearably hot, akin to being trapped in a Finnish sauna that had been cranked up a few notches too high. Ashes and sparks pirouetted through the shimmering air, performing a delicate dance of heat and light.

Dave swallowed his introduction as he froze in place. He had fully expected to see a heavy dwarf or perhaps a muscular, beardly man manning the forge. Instead, his gaze fell upon a slender, female hourglass figure backlit by the mesmerizing dance of the flames.

Iridescent scales glittered like a thousand tiny stars.

An apron, seemingly made from the very carcasses of the metal bugs Dave had battled, adorned her lithe form, the scales of her tail undulating back and forth as she vigorously hammered something on the anvil.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Dave drank in the sight before him, his senses overwhelmed by the symphony of heat, light, and the surreal vision of this otherworldly blacksmith that looked like a mixture between a... dragon and a girl. Red hair made up from gemstone-like strands glittered atop her head cascading down her shoulders like a ruby waterfall.

Somehow the questionable foxgirl was right on target with her jokes, and Dave found himself utterly unprepared for this realization.

Dave felt his cheeks flush, and not just from the sweltering temperature. He was acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look – disheveled, covered in blood and bug guts, and gaping like a fish out of water. Yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the girl who reached a clawed hand directly into the fire, humming an odd, beautiful melody.

After a few minutes she finally stopped hammering and crossed her arms staring at the fire, a soft smile crossing her lips. There was something utterly alien and yet insanely familiar in her smile, like a song or a painting he's forgotten decades ago and only now was able to remember.

"H-hello," Dave said finally.

"Yes?" the dragoness rotated. Her expression instantly soured when she saw him.

Dave cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "Yes, um, sorry for interrupting your work. I have some Prismatic Beetles here to trade for Shandrian currency."

The girl scowled, revealing sharp teeth that glinted menacingly in the forge's glow.

Dave felt a distinctive sense of being very unwelcome.

"What is up with her?" He thought to Sherlock.

The violin in his soul began to play a sad melody. Dave quickly slotted twenty points into Wisdom.

"Slave," his mind arrived at the answer in a flash as Dave's eyes spotted a dark metal collar on the girl's neck featuring a triangular, slightly glowing red gemstone in its center. Its design was similar to the collars worn by the guards at the Citadel of bones.

The dragoness's voice was cold. "What do you want?" she growled, her eyes flaring up in annoyance.

"Currency?" Dave repeated, trying to maintain his composure.

"You humans are all the same," the dragoness snarled at him.

Dave's jaw tensed, he shuffled his feet and instinctively took a step back, unsure if he was about to be set on fire or flattened with a hammer. He cleared his throat again and tried his best to sound confident.

"Look, I don't want any trouble. I-"

"I don't care for conversation, just trade and leave," the dragoness snapped, the fire behind giving off a menacing look to her figure.

She marched off into a corner and dug through it making lots of noise of metal banging against metal.

"Pour the bugs on the tray," the grumpy blacksmith returned and slammed a metal tray onto a barrel standing in front of him.

Dave emptied the bag of metallic bugs onto the tray. The dragoness scrutinized the bugs, turning them over with her clawed hands.

"These are very low quality... I'll give you two coppers for them," she said briskly.

The color of her scales slowly changed from dark violet to green as she spoke as if they were made from mood rings.

"She's undercutting you," the violin seemed to suggest. "Negotiate."

Dave suppressed a sigh. Haggling wasn't his forte, but he knew he had to try. Two coppers couldn't even buy him a latte from the snail cart. He rubbed his sweaty palms together, noting that a dark red, sleek something stirred within the forge, big eyes staring at him out of the fire. It was probably another Kitlix, he figured, one that was keeping the forge hot or something.

"I'm not sure that's a fair price," he said finally as he re-positioned some of his points from Wisdom to Charisma. "These bugs may be low quality, but I did work... Err, bleed quite a bit for them. How about a silver?" Dave proposed hopefully.

The girl raised her eyebrow, snorting derisively. "Greedy and selfish, like the rest of 'em. Take the deal or leave it. I don't have all day." She gestured impatiently towards the door with a clawed hand.

Dave pushed a few more points into Charisma.

"Don't think that I can't sense Charisma radiating off you," the dragoness snarled suddenly.

"What?" Dave blinked.

"Out," she said, pointing at the door.

Dave blinked.

"I am not going to tolerate Charisma magic trying to change my mind. Get out," she added firmly.