The market district is alive with energy, the chatter of haggling voices blending with the occasional clatter of wooden carts and the laughter of children darting through the crowds. Merchants shout over one another, each praising their goods with practiced fervor. "Fresh fruit! Best in the city!" "Steel tools, sturdy and sharp!"

  I stop by a stall selling dried meats, the rich, smoky aroma irresistible. I buy several strips and bite into one hungrily, the salty texture delivers satisfaction I haven't enjoyed in a long time. After days of chewing stale bread, it feels like the best thing in the world.

  Wiping my hands, I weave through the various of stalls, my eyes scanning the goods. A new cloak catches my attention, its deep green fabric looking particularily fine in the sunlight. Though... it'd be a shame to part with Emily's.

  Instead, I turn my attention to a pair of boots resting on a wooden crate. They’re nice, not new, but far better than the wrecks clinging to my feet. Mine are split at the seams, full of holes, borderline useless in the rain.

  I lift one of the boots. The leather’s supple, still strong, but scuffed around the toe and worn smooth inside the heel. The sole is solid, though slightly warped from use.

  "Three silver," says the merchant, an older man with a rough wool cap. "Or thirty-six copper. Worth every coin."

  I glance up. "They're used."

  He snorts. "Lightly. Worn in. Comfortable from the start. You want rawhide that’ll blister you for weeks?"

  I turn the boot over again, tapping the inner lining. "Heel's rubbed thin. And the arch’s soft. Twenty copper."

  He scowls. "That’s robbery. These boots are easily worth thirty-six, if not forty."

  "Maybe new, but you're not selling new. I’ve got twenty-eight copper to my name, and that needs to last me through the week."

  “I can do no lower than thirty."

  "Didn’t you hear me? I only have twenty-eight. Look, I can spare twenty-five. That leaves me enough for bread and not much more. You're not going to sell used boots for that price to begin with."

  He shakes his head, grumbles, then waves a hand. "Twenty-seven then. But treat 'em well. Don’t come crying if you wear 'em out."

  I nod, handing over the coins and taking my goods. I quickly flick off my old boots and step into them. They fit snug, warm, already shaped to someone else’s stride. But they’re a world better than what I had before.

  "I'll be purchasing here again."

  He nods, waving me off. With a slight jaunt, I step away, comfortable in my new boots. He was right, worth every coin, even used. I doubt I'll have to replace these in some time.

  That's most of my money spent though. Well, except....

  I feel for the heavy gold coin in my purse. So valuable... but what should I do with it? It's worth far too much to spend here...

  Then I recall...

  Lucien’s store: Draegmore Hall.

  A fine store, surely selling fine goods. I didn't bother to browse when I was there, and the idea of interacting with that uppity merchant again isn't particularily appealing.... but I am curious.

  I make my way to Lucien’s store, pushing open the fine wooden doors. The sound of a small bell chimes above me, announcing my arrival, yet the counter stands empty. No sign of Lucien.

  Shrugging, I wander further in, letting my eyes roam over the wares. Everything here exudes quality, the kind that only wealth can afford. Fine meats hang neatly on display, their marbling almost artistic. Cloaks and clothing, impeccably crafted, they look comfortable, enviably so. I scratch my neck, feeling the itch of my own rough tunic.

  But what truly captures my attention are the scrolls. They’re presented proudly, prominently displayed on polished stands. My gaze falls on two in particular. Thin and elegant, their ends are capped with iron spikes connected by a spine of the same metal. There’s something magnetic about them, my hands reach out to pluck one off the stand and unfurl its secrets.....

  "Ah, peasant. Back again," Lucien sneers, stepping into view with a woman at his side. Her hair is a silver-grey, with a strange tint of blue... though, she shows no signs of age. She might even be younger than me.

  Her face is an unusual sort, it sparkles... in the literal sense, as though someone dusted her cheeks with glitter. Her lips are painted blue and the shadows around her eyes are of the same hue, complimenting the ice cold color of her irises. She’s clad in an unusual garb, a dress that consists of various straps that show off more of her body than is proper, or practical for that matter, given the cold.

  Her head tilts slightly as she studies me. When she speaks, her words come with a lilting, staggered cadence, and an unfamiliar accent. "Strange creature? Who..." She narrows her crystalline eyes, leaning closer as though sniffing the air. "Not handsome... but smells of... something."

  "Wha-" I stumble back, startled, as she wraps her arms around me without warning. Her embrace is possessive, her hands trailing across my back with a curious touch, as though searching for something.

  "Magic," she murmurs, pressing her face against my chest, her breath warm against the fabric of my tunic. Her head tilts slightly, resting on my chest. "No heart. He's so empty..." Her voice is soft, and the words send a shiver down my spine.

  Finally, she steps back. My cheeks burn following the attention of this strange woman. She lifts her hands to my face, I catch a closer look at her nails, elegantly painted in a shimmering aqua that like everything else, mirrors the icy hue of her eyes.

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  "Red eyes... not good," she says, slightly sad. Her gaze lingers for a moment before she releases me. "My shop, later... tell your fortune."

  "Excuse me, if you're quite finished. I'd like to conclude our business," Lucien says, his tone impatient. The blue woman turns to him, sighing. "Both," she replies curtly.

  She retrieves a hefty purse filled with coins, though I'm not sure where she pulled it from given how tightly that outfit clings to her slender body. "That will buy you one, my lady," The merchant says smugly, good to see Lucien looks down on all his customers, not just me.

  She rolls her crystalline eyes. "Fine... this one." Her slender hand moves to one of the iron-bound scrolls I had been eyeing earlier. A strange, unsettling jealousy comes over me as she clasps it in her hand.

  "A pleasure doing business with you once more," Lucien says, his smirk widening as he accepts the purse without even bothering to count its contents.

  Her transaction complete, the woman turns to leave. But just before stepping away, she places a hand on my arm and smiles. "Visit," she murmurs. And then she’s gone, exiting the shop so fluidly it's almost like she just phased through the door.

  "And what can I do for you, peasant?" He snatches the pouch of coins from the counter, giving it a brief glance before tossing it underneath.

  I don't reply immediately, still taken aback by that enigmatic woman. "Who was that?" I ask, curious.

  Lucien’s sneer deepens. "Another stranger. She appeared here a few months past, claiming to have lost her memories. Now she entertains fools with her so-called fortunes and lines her pockets with their coin."

  "What did she buy from you?" I press, but Lucien’s glare sharpens.

  "That, peasant, is none of your concern," he snaps, his voice dripping with derision. "Are you here to make a purchase, or simply to waste my time with your questions?"

  I suppose he's right, I came her to buy something... although, I'm not sure what. Everything here looks like it costs a fortune. I have the gold coin he traded me... but do I want to spend it on any of this? I consider for a moment, my eyes frequently drifting back to those scrolls....

  "What are these scrolls for?" I ask, my hand reaching out to the nearest display. "Hmph. You really are a bumpkin, aren't you peasant? You don't know a magic scroll when you see one?"

  I don't reply immediately, his words taking me off guard. Magic?

  I’ve heard plenty of it, of course. Mostly from the Mistvale villagers hurling accusations at Rose for using it. And also... Zaenith mentioned it from time to time.

  From what I know, sorcery is a relic of the long past, an art that vanished alongside the ancient world in the era of demons. Sure, there are still rumors told today, of men who can blight crops. or women like Rose, who can brew love potions, but I'd always just dismissed them as fanciful nonsense spun by fishwives.

  If there’s any magic left in the world, it’s what Zaenith does with her potions.

  The things I’ve seen...

  I look back to Lucien, skeptical.

  "Don't try to fool me. Magic is a tale told to the common folk to keep them scared-" I stop before finishing, catching Lucien's condescending smile.

  "You are the common folk, peasant. I take it you've never left your little village before now?"

  I pause before replying. "I left it..."

  "To go where? The next village over?"

  I remain silent as he laughs mockingly. I've always prided myself on being somewhat well-traveled compared to the folk in my village. I wandered the countryside after leaving Zaenith, I journeyed between villages for trade, picking up whatever I could find along the way.

  But truthfully, I’ve never ventured far beyond those familiar patchwork of fields and forests. I’ve never stepped foot in a real town like this before, let alone anything larger. Most of what I really know... I’ve only been told.

  Then again, maybe this is exactly what the merchant is counting on, to peddle me some useless scrap of parchment. If they were truly real, the church would have destroyed them and hanged Lucien by now.

  "Prove it then. If it's magic, show me," I demand, glaring at the merchant.

  Lucien throws his head back and laughs. "Prove it? These scrolls have limited uses, each can cast a spell a maximum of three times. Why would I squander one of those precious uses on a demonstration for the likes of you?"

  I glare, crossing my arms. "If I don’t see it, I won’t buy it."

  Lucien’s sneer deepens. "Don’t get ahead of yourself, peasant. Did you think that measly gold coin you haggled off of me could buy one of these scrolls? The cheapest among them costs three gold coins."

  My jaw drops in disbelief. "Three gold coins? For a single scroll? That’s absurd!"

  Lucien only smirks wider, "For a taste of the old world, it is a more than fair price."

  My gaze drifts to the neatly rolled scrolls. Could it really be... magic? With such a high price, surely no merchant would dare sell a fake. Anyone with the coin to buy one could easily hire killers to punish him if deceived.

  But then... how is he avoiding the church? Even if Father Aldric is too afraid to confront Lucien himself, he could easily send word to the templars. Lucien’s shop would be burned to the ground.

  "How do they work?” I ask, curious and a little hopeful. “Do... do I need to be a sorcerer to use them?" I ask, turning my eyes back to Lucien.

  Lucien’s lips curl into a smile. "Of course not. A sorcerer has no need for scrolls. As long as you can read, you can wield them." His smirk deepens, the mockery in his eyes unmistakable. "Though for a peasant like you, even that might prove an insurmountable challenge."

  I don't respond to his insult, my mind too occupied by the possibility of magic being real and so close at hand.

  After years of being called a sorcerer... could I actually become one?

  "If you're truly interested... Seven." Lucien's use of my name catches my attention, if the imperious merchant is using it, then he no doubt wants something from me. The thought is confirmed when my eyes move from the scrolls to his face, a wide, unsettling smile lining it.

  "I could offer you a... discount," he continues, tapping his smooth chin as he considers, "in exchange for performing a task for me."

  "What kind of task?" His wide smile grows even wider, almost splitting his face. Looking at him makes me feel uncomfortable, I don't like it.

  “A simple delivery, to a friend outside of town. I need another day to prepare the item, return to me tomorrow and we can discuss the details of the... job.” Lucien reaches behind the counter, extracting a long, thin scroll. “And perhaps when it is done, you’ll be able to afford your own little taste... of magic.”

  I’m not sure exactly what he has planned, but the idea of holding magic in my hands... real magic, is too tempting to ignore. And hearing the details couldn’t hurt.

  “Fine. Tomorrow then.” He briefly smiles at my answer, but after a few moments, his face turns sour.

  “Well? Is there a reason you’re still here? Staring longingly at my collection will get you nowhere. If you’re not here to buy, then be gone,” Lucien snaps, impatient. I give the smug merchant a glare. One of these days, someone’s gonna teach him to control his attitude. But... as I’m not currently in a position to do that, I turn away. He’s right after all, if I’m not here to buy, there’s no point being here. No matter how intriguing some of his wares might be.

  “Shut the door on your way out,” he calls after me, his tone dripping with condescension. I ignore him, leaving the door wide open as I step back into the snow. It's petty, but I'm a petty man, and I can't help but smile as I hear him curse me from behind.

  Results

  -29 Copper

  +1 Worn Boots

  Stats