Durge chugged his ale.

Ryder swallowed and stuttered over his words, “Well we got to Rock Hollow and then she started reanimating the dead but she made the cavern collapse and-

“Those tyrants died!” Durge exclaimed, slamming his drink on the counter, “Rotten bastards killed themselves with their idiocrity!”

“Idiocy,” Ryder corrected, wryly smiling at Rose.

She folded her lip and started tapping her foot, “Hm. Okay.”

The duo looked at one another, “So we’re okay?” Ryder asked.

“Oh! You guys are fine. I’ll just have to explain this to the Manager. Brass-Ranks are still valuable, after all,” Rose smiled.

“What about Clay-Ranks?” Durge smugly said.

Rose awkwardly chuckled and ignored the question, “So with your Party Leader… deceased, the next one on the list who is still alive will become the Leader, which would be Durge.”

Durge nudged Ryder’s shoulder, “And don’t you forget it!” he cockily said.

Ryder shook his head, “So does he get all the money now?”

“Oh, no. We reward every party member as equally as we can, if you have any qualms with it you’ll have to exit the Guild Hall. We like to keep it fair for all of our members.”

“Lame,” Durge muttered.

Ryder stomped on his foot.

Rose equally dispersed 17 gold and five silver to Durge and Ryder.

“How close are we to ranking up?” Durge asked, fingering through his coins.

Ryder shook his head.

She awkwardly chuckled again and gave the same spiel about how information on the Glory System was classified.

“Right, right,” Durge said.

“What about this ‘F.C.’ researcher, can we meet him?” Ryder asked.

Rose tilted her head, “The quest patron? They usually don’t arrive until the time frame for the quest is met, but I suppose you could always ask around town if he’s here.”

“Well you two can keep at it for the rest of the night but I’ll be at a proper tavern with a good-sized meal,” Durge said, walking out the door.

“You’re not allowed to take the tankard outside!” Rose exclaimed to no avail. She huffed and shook her head. “You should probably go catch him,” she said.

Ryder chuckled, “Yeah, I probably should. But before I go, how much were those dog tags again?”

Rose’s eyes gleamed, “They’re a gold each! I really recommend one!”

He took out two coins and gave them to her, “For him and I.”

“That’s so sweet,” she said, holding her heart. “They’ll be ready by tomorrow! Once you’re Diamond-Ranked and your portrait is on one of our walls, you’ll fondly look back at the clay tag and remember your origin.”

Ryder instead envisioned himself sitting in an old rocking chair and puffing smoke from a curly wooden pipe, “Maybe if it doesn’t crack in two when slaying beasts.”

Rose laughed, “That’s why I don’t recommend wearing the talc dog tag on excursions.”

The two yawned their farewells and separated for the night. Ryder easily heard Durge from down the street, mumbling a joyous song and heading to their chosen tavern, the Delicate Drink.

Surprised to see his previous window seat available, Durge ordered the dinner special for Ryder and himself along with the common brew for five silver.

Ryder was already seated at the table, “Surprised you actually counted your coins this time.”

Durge rolled his eyes, “The coins don’t feel as dirty anymore after working for them. We’re still going to need to find a bed for tonight after all.”

Ryder pondered out of the same window, only seeing his reflection amidst the dim city.

Durge licked his lips as he saw the food being carried over by the esteemed orc.

While they were setting down the duo’s food, Ryder asked, “Do you know of any inns nearby?”

The orc brightened their expression, “It’s a matter of fact that my nephew owns one just around the corner.” The orc chuckled, “It’s called Dreadful Dreams, just mention the name ‘Baird’ and he’ll give you a discount.”

Ryder smiled and bowed his head as Durge chugged his tankard, “Thanks!”

Baird nodded and returned to behind the bar.

The food in front of them was an entire roasted mackerel topped with an array of spices and served with parsley, sliced lenks, and fresh spring onions.

Ryder was squeezing the lenks, infusing the mackerel with the tanginess while Durge ate the slices whole after demolishing the fish.

With bellies full, they waddled down the street until they were met with a sizable stone building that hung the sign Dreadful Dreams, which illustrated a skeleton sleeping on its side.

“This can’t be good,” Ryder muttered.

Durge laughed, pushing open the dark wood door.

Inside they immediately noticed an orc at the counter sharpening his tusk in a hand mirror.

He stopped and squinted at the two humans staring at him, “What? D’you need to sharpen yours too?” he said in a gruff monotone voice.

Ryder grinned, “We were told we’d get a quality room if we mentioned the name ‘Baird’.

Durge was touching his own canines, wondering if they’d get any sharper.

The orc seemed surprised, “Well then, you can call me Skel. Any friend of Baird is sometimes a friend of mine. Just don’t fuckin’ ruin my rooms, alright?”

“How much a night?” Ryder asked.

Skel shrugged, “one gold a night seem reasonable enough?”

Ryder enthusiastically nodded.

They both handed him one gold each and two keys were exchanged in return.

“Second door on the left and right,” Skel said, returning to his tusk maintenance.

The rooms were small but made up for it in quality; there was a window, a dusty oil lamp, and a trunk at the foot of the bed. The beds were a standard mix of furs and wools with two soft pillows and a large silky blanket.

Ryder felt comfortable but unnerved by sleeping alone; he was by himself for the first time in 11 days. He could hardly sleep without the white noise of Durge’s snoring now, so he stared at the ceiling until his eyes fell gracefully.

Durge, on the other hand, was fast asleep and drooling on his feathery pillows.

Light from the midday sun seeped through the brown curtains. Ryder slept soundly through the night, better than outside with the bugs on his neck and roots sticking in his back. But he jolted awake when the sun reached his eyes.

He felt as if the innkeeper would bang on the door and scream at him to get out, but when listening closely for footsteps, none came. He caught his breath in the stuffy room, drawing back the curtains and opening the window. Commonfolk and stagecoaches passed by on the bright summer day.

He sighed and exited his room, from across the hall he saw that Durge’s door was still closed. He’d sleep through the entire day if he could, he thought to himself. He decided to leave him be for the morning, Ryder needed to bathe and liked the idea of exploring by himself.

Upon entering the main lobby, no one was around. It was quiet; spare for the noise outside and creaking floorboards. Ryder observed the interior, the walls were painted red and axes hung above the mantelpiece while two worn leather chairs sat in front of a doused fireplace.

He left the building and headed to the bathhouse.

The Soaked Sponge was busier than the dreary morning the last time he went in, but he didn’t mind, Ryder was just happy to get the dirt and oil off him. He let his thoughts and memories of the past adventure turn into steam and float into the air.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Sindara. Hadic. F.C. Kincaid. Undead. Screams. Death... Mother. It’s all over. New adventures await. Rid the bad and cherish the good. For new adventures await.

Ryder breathed steadily while in the steaming pool, battling the drowning feeling as before when he heard the crackles of fire that heated the bathhouse. All manner of species were here, but the sea elves and scale-beasts seemed the most delighted.

He retrieved his steamed and flower-scented linens and casually strolled through the city. Some vendors hawked at him, pointing out his worn clothes and lack of weapons but the only merchant that caught his eye was a street vendor selling a skewer of chicken and grilled vegetables for a single silver. While browsing the market district, he took note of an alchemist, armorer, and supply store for Durge and himself to look at together.

Arriving at the inn again, Ryder saw Skel writing in a ledger with tiny spectacles on. “You planning on staying another night?” he asked.

“We might. We have to find another quest first before we leave.”

Skel raised an eyebrow, “Adventuring is a nasty business,” he said before returning to his ledger.

Ryder tsked and walked back to his room. He put on his ruined armor before going to wake Durge.

It was already past noon, the chance of acquiring a quest today was near impossible but Ryder didn’t feel like it warranted an entire waste of a day. He went to knock on Durge’s door but before his knuckles met the wood, the door opened.

Exiting was an entrancing female cosmic with dark violet skin, curled horns that advanced from black to white, purple eyes, and freckles all over, she was an embodiment of the entire cosmos.

She was surprised at the figure blocking her path.

Ryder was stunned while looking at the otherworldly woman.

She scoffed, “What? You’ve never seen a Starora before?” she said, pushing past him.

He unintentionally stared at her while she was walking away, her black shoulderless dress flowed behind her as her iridescent tail swayed back and forth. Once he regained focus, Ryder looked into Durge’s room and saw the oaf snoring peacefully.

“How much did you spend on her!?” Ryder yelled.

Durge groaned and turned over.

“If you keep spending your coins you won’t have a bed to sleep in.”

Durge moaned something unintelligible, but it sounded to Ryder like the phrase “Fuck off, It’s my money.”

He scoffed, “We have to buy supplies today.”

“You go do it. Coins are in the smaller pocket if she didn’t take all of them.”

Ryder went through his bag, “You got 12 left.”

Durge acknowledged with another groan.

“Don’t you want to buy a shield or some armor? Or food?”

Durge didn’t react much, but the mention of food opened his eyes.

“Meet me at an armorer called Bellows before it gets dark,” Ryder said, shutting the door.

He shook his head and went to the lobby, Skel was sketching in a ledger. “I suggest paying for those rooms tonight if you want to keep it,” he suggested.

Ryder gave him the two gold and went to the Marian streets again.

“Ugh, I should’ve just taken his bag and bought the supplies myself, that oaf doesn’t know the difference between silk and straw.”

Ryder looked past his irritations and went to the alchemy shop he took note of.

Upon entering the small building, a bell rang but no bell was present.

A distant female voice said, “I’ll be right out!”

Ryder was surrounded by the world of the arcane. Trinkets, knickknacks, and enchanted doodads lay on the shelves as a variety of colored potions swirled and pulsated a bright hue behind the counter.

There were open crates with any herb and ingredient one might need, as well as an enchanted display case that housed an ornate dagger, multiple rings, and a pair of steel gauntlets.

This was a dream come true for Ryder, even if he couldn’t cast, he felt as if he’d been a mage his entire life.

The shop owner looked amused at the bewitched boy, “You new around here?” she asked.

Ryder was examining a crystal orb that housed a cluster of fog, shaking and twisting the orb made the fog bounce around violently. “Huh?” he asked.

She smiled and shook her head, “Make sure not to drop that.”

Ryder cocked an eyebrow.

“They’re fairy souls.”

He looked shocked and immediately placed it back on the counter.

“Just don’t tell any elves.”

Ryder was wide-eyed but cracked a smile.

“Hey, I didn’t trap them. They’ve been in there so long I don’t know what’d happen if they were released. Anyway, what can I do for you?”

“I’m just looking, I’ve never been in a proper alchemy shop before,” Ryder said.

“You’ve stopped at a good one. You an adventurer or just wearing that mail for fun?”

Ryder looked down at his ragged chainmail, “I suppose.”

“You suppose?” she laughed. “Well, I suppose I’m a seller of the finest and most reasonably priced arcane goods in this town. Whether it be ingredients, wares, potions, or enchantments. If you’re new to adventuring and to the arts, I would recommend buying a health potion. It’s handy for any situation.”

“How much is it?” Ryder asked.

“For the vial, it’ll be 10. The flask is 25.”

“Silver?” Ryder asked.

The clerk belted out a laugh, “Gold, you fool! Potions take long to make and I’m practically ordering from glassmakers every moon!”

Ryder sucked his teeth, “How effective is it?”

“Effective!? I would be insulted by this comment but you obviously haven’t the refined palette of elixirs like I, so I’ll let it pass. Here at Rhena’s Remedies we only brew the finest and purest potions. No water dilution, no ingredient substitution, only the best, from the best.”

Rhena brought out more potions, these ones were dark as if shadows were contained. “Drink one of these and you’ll feel like a wraith forever tormented by the loss of a lover!”

She brought out a potion covered by cloth and as soon as she revealed it a blinding light filled the store, “Or drink this and be forever a light in the darkness, never ceasing to dim or dwindle, for you will be the light of our lives.”

For her last demonstration, a glass keg slammed on the counter, full of vibrant red liquid that sloshed around. “Or drink this and forever be cured of all wounds for a week, but beware this is not for the meek. A belly full of this will make you piss, not once or twice, but 400 times to be precise!”

Ryder was amazed and entranced by the song and dance. He would start to rhyme if he had the time, but alas… he had to halt and deny her offers. Although Rhena looked disappointed, she understood his financial woes and gave him the tiniest vial of a health potion on a string.

“It won’t last long, but it’ll make you feel a little better than before. Just remember to still treat your wounds. This only halts the bleeding and pain.”

He said his thanks and bid his farewells, promising to return when he had the extra coinage to do so.

The small vial swayed next to his sapphire necklace as he walked to the blacksmith’s shop. Ryder was surprised to see Durge leaning against a post in front of the store. He scoffed when he saw him eating a familiar skewer of chicken and vegetables.

“About time,” Durge spewed. “I was thinking about getting dinner if you weren’t going to show soon.”

Ryder squinted at the skewer in Durge’s hands, “What meal is that supposed to be?”

“Breakfast, of course.”

“We might not afford dinner after we buy supplies.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Durge asked.

“You need a shield, for one. I need an actual weapon, for two.”

Durge rolled his eyes at the idea of carrying another piece of equipment but opened the door to the shop.

As they entered the storefront they were met with a muscular dwarf wearing leather goggles and an apron without an undershirt. “Took you long enough, any longer of you loitering outside my store and I would’ve had to bludgeon you with ol’ Brenda.” the dwarf said behind the counter. Behind him was a colossal maul with a plaque underneath it.

Sweat from Ryder’s brow formed, “We were just discussing—”

“You got any shields?” Durge asked.

The dwarf stroked his braided beard, his bald head reflecting the setting sun’s light.

“Want small or—” The dwarf grew wide-eyed and gasped at Ryder’s armor, “What the fuck are you wearing!?”

Ryder looked down at his chainmail, it’s true it was worse for wear; the metal rings were rusted in spots and a gaping hole was left in the center.

“I can’t let you walk out of here wearing that. I’m embarrassed just from you walking in here. If I don’t forge you anew then I’ll be tarnished for the rest of my days!”

Ryder stuttered but the dwarf was gesturing for him to give the armor.

He took off his mail and handed it to the smith. “How awful. No matter how bad adventuring gets, you must always maintain your equipment.” The dwarf spotted Durge’s sword too, “All hollow rock! I can see that blade is duller than my elven neighbor! Give it here!”

Durge squinted his eyes and clicked his tongue but gave the sword.

Ryder offered his dagger as well, but the dwarf refused. “I don’t do mementos, kid. We work to create effective tools of destruction and protection.”

“So am I getting that sword back today or…” Durge said.

The dwarf mocked, “You’ll get it when these calloused hands have sweated over it. For now, peruse my wares and I’ll offer you a discount.”

Durge huffed but turned around and gazed at the rest of the shop. Complete sets of plate armor adorned mannequins that held greatswords, maces, and axes. A multitude of shields with painted designs and emblems hung from the walls—a few bows laid around with buckets full of iron-tipped arrows that were embellished with red fletching.

Durge held a war hammer at first, taking a few swings before Ryder snuck beside him.

“So he’s just holding our equipment for ransom?” he said.

“Good thing we have coins to spend,” Durge said.

“That we’re slowly bleeding out of! We have to acquire a quest tomorrow.”

“Good. Looking at all this gear makes me want to use it on something.”

Durge put the hammer down, “What about you? You better choose a weapon.”

Ryder scoffed, “I’ll just get whatever you do.”

“Weren’t you ever taught rapier lessons or archery?” Durge asked.

“Tsk. I had some practice with a bow but it’s been three winters.”

“Then use one. Not to be crude but you don’t fit to be at the frontline.”

Any criticism about his physique hurt, but he knew from a realistic and logical point of view that Durge was right. Ryder was slightly shorter than Durge and more slender than him. He went over to examine one of the bows.

He first picked up a longbow that towered over him but a noticeable glance from the dwarf made him set it down and pick up another. The other bow he studied was about the size of his torso, he surprised himself when he drew it with ease.

He looked over at the smith, the dwarf shrugged and went back to sharpening Durge’s blade.

“So you got your weapon?” Durge asked.

Ryder nodded, “You still need a shield.”

Durge haphazardly plucked one from the wall, it was a heater shield with metal bracing around the rim; the design on the heavy wood was pure white.

The scratches of metal from behind the counter ceased, “A blank canvas you have there. May you paint it however you please, whether with brushes or blood.”

“How much?” Ryder asked.

“The shield is six shines. the bow, quiver, and three dozen arrows are 12.”

“I still need armor,” Ryder said.

“And do you have anything that’ll match this beast helm?” Durge asked, pulling Kincaid’s helmet out of his rucksack.

The dwarf looked infuriated and infatuated at the same time. He stomped from behind the counter and snatched the helmet away. He was assessing any damage and markings to it while simultaneously looking at the duo.

“How was he killed by the likes of you?”

They both looked confused.

“Killed? We didn’t kill anybody?” Ryder said, perplexed.

Durge nudged Ryder’s shoulder, “Well except—”

The dwarf exhaled loudly through his ringed nostrils and went to grab his Brenda.

“We didn’t kill Kincaid!” Ryder exclaimed.

The dwarf peered at the two of them, looking back and forth between them.

“Only some of those wretched scavengers on the road when coming here.”

“He was slain by bandits? I made this helmet perfect for that damn dog. His ears were snug and his snout was protected. Damn those looters.” The dwarf armorer was on the verge of tears as he inspected the helmet. “If only I made the eye slots bigger, then maybe he wouldn’t have—”

“We don’t know if he’s dead,” Durge added. “We went to look for him but that was all Rye could find.”

The dwarf huffed while staring into the helmet, “I don’t know your affiliation with Kincaid. But all equipment has a lifespan as you and I. They think. They feel. They choose. You are no beast, but I will craft your armor that would suit both man and monster alike. I shall measure you next time we cross.” The dwarf handed back the helmet as well as Durge’s sword on the counter.

“And what about armor for me?” Ryder asked.

The armorer pulled a glimmering chainmail tunic. “This will cost you a promise. A promise that you’ll maintain your gear or wear your damage with pride. By my ancestor’s before me buried in the stone below, promise you both will cherish your equipment… and name them when they are ready.”

Durge and Ryder took a moment to gaze at the heartfelt dwarf, his wares shimmered in the orange glow as dusk was nearing an end.

Ryder grasped his necklace, saying, “I promise on my Mother’s name and the lands I was born.”

Durge held taut to his shield and sword, “I promise on my abilities and the hands that wield your wares that I will care for my gear as if it were my own flesh.”

The dwarf nodded, “I trust you all will come back again. And Rye, tell all that you adorn the touchmark from Irid of Bellows!”