The wagon rolled to a stop at the town gate.
The two dwarven guards leaned on their halberds lazily until they spotted the familiar crooked posture and thick beard of the wagon driver.
"Oy! Old man Girem!" one of them shouted, his dwarven accent as thick as his forearms. "Ye been busy these days, eh?"
Girem waved casually, puffing on his cigar. "Ain't busy. Just droppin' and pickin' this lad here."
The guards turned their attention to Hazuki as he hopped down from the wagon. He was still barefoot, shirtless, and wearing nothing but the short dwarven pants Girem had tossed him.
The two guards burst out laughing.
"Pwahaha! Look at this human! Oy lad! Them pants be short even fer a dwarf! That ain't style, that's suicide!"
Hazuki scratched the back of his head, deadpan. "I don't have much choice. Everything I had melted."
"Eh?"
"My adventurer ID too. Melted. Poison swamp." He held up his sword. "Only this survived."
The guards stopped laughing.
"...Fer real!?"
Hazuki nodded.
