Lucid looked utterly pale, like a fish. He wanted to buy the item anyway. It gave him nostalgia in a sense, though he couldn't quite pin down why.
"He spotted a flashlight lying on the vendor's table." It looked worn but not broken, its glasses were still intact.
"How much is that?" he asked.
"Hmm, not quite sure what it is," the vendor admitted. "Since I don't know its particular function or what purpose it serves, I'll give you a price. Two hundred platinum."
'Daylight robbery,' Lucid thought, though time spent haggling alongside Valen had taught him considerably more than he'd initially given credit for.
"That's probably what you told my blue-haired companion too," Lucid remarked.
"I offer you a single plat, one hundred gold, for that price."
The man sighed. "Sharp one, kid."
"Fifty."
"Eighty."
"Sixty," the man announced.
"Fifty-five."
"Deal!"
"You're a talent, kid! Whoever taught you to haggle like that is one heck of a teacher."
Lucid stretched the back of his neck, rubbing it while looking away with feigned modesty.
"What can I say? The Monolith of Trade and Commerce taught me well."
"You mean Mercyros?! No way, a Monolith hasn't been seen in ages."
Lucid looked at the man. "You mean," he started, then trailed off, catching himself before revealing too much.
It seemed even the presence of a Monolith remained hidden from ordinary citizens of Vex. But if the wealthy could access the domain, and if Fennwick or Valen had known about Mercyros's existence, then how had word failed to spread further into common knowledge?
"The Monolith of Commerce was rumored to wander around the Shenzhou area," the vendor continued. "Though sightings of Monoliths are usually rare. We consider them nothing but blessings wherever they go."
"Though there's a rumor recently that the Monolith of Sorrow and Wrath, Neptune, has disappeared from the void."
"Her echoes are no longer heard."
Lucid stiffened at the mention, careful not to let his reaction betray too much, the weight of that particular memory pressing uncomfortably against his chest.
"There are others as well," the vendor continued, oblivious to Lucid's internal turmoil.
Lucid nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue.
"The Monolith of Memory and Remembrance, often called Script Weaver, resides within Everlight," the man explained, warming to his subject now.
Lucid listened carefully, filing away every detail.
"There have been rumors that things have been altered due to the churches' meddling because of the Transcendence," the vendor said.
"Memento has imposed their scripts upon citizens more than ever."
"It's more ruthless than ever, though they haven't been seen in a long while. There are citizens of Everlight dying much earlier than expected, losing their thread of fate much sooner than anticipated. Citizens killing each other over matters that shouldn't warrant such violence."
Lucid furrowed his brow. "Why?"
"Because of that script."
"What script?"
The old man looked toward Ayame, searching her expression for some kind of answer he apparently expected her to provide.
"My companion is psychologically unwell," she stated confidently, as though this explained everything relevant about Lucid's line of questioning.
"Oh, poor Lucid," Alice remarked within his mind, amusement threading through her tone. "You might be going mentally insane, according to your own companion's assessment."
He didn't bother shooting back a response to that particular jab.
The man continued, undeterred by the strange exchange.
"Anyways, acolyte presence in that area is heavier than ever. They believe the script Memento issues to its citizens is an act of sacrilege against proper faith."
"But Memento is a child of Alisia herself."
The man shrugged. "The priestess has her ways, I fear. The High Church doesn't always operate according to logic mortals can follow."
Lucid took the flashlight after slamming a fat pouch of gold coins onto the counter, which the vendor took with visible, if grudging, satisfaction.
Before Lucid could fully turn away, the man offered a wave to call him back one final time.
"And be careful," he added. "Acolyte presence in Port Vexis has increased lately."
Lucid looked around, actually noticing now the scattered figures throughout the market, women and men wearing white robes, carrying ornate staffs, conversing with various inhabitants of Port Vexis with practiced, patient smiles. He hadn't registered their presence before this moment.
He looked away and spotted, much further down the road, someone delivering what appeared to be a passionate speech to a gathered crowd.
He walked toward it, curiosity pulling him forward despite everything else demanding his attention.
He saw children, men, elderly people, familiar faces he recognized from throughout his time in Port Vexis, all gathered to listen.
Ayame followed close behind him. She brushed his hand once, briefly, then stepped back immediately.
"What is it?" he asked.
She glared, though the expression carried less hostility than usual assessment.
"Oh yes," she said. "Forgive you. You still carry memory of that village."
Lucid turned away from her observation, holding her arm gently as they prepared to walk elsewhere, away from whatever crowd had gathered.
Until a call came from behind them.
"You there!"
Lucid turned around, finding the preacher's attention fixed directly on him now, staff raised slightly, eyes carrying that particular gleam of someone who'd just identified their next potential convert.
"You there, walking away from the truth," the preacher called out, his voice carrying practiced authority. "Have you not heard the good word of the Luminari Convenant?"
"I've heard plenty," Lucid replied dryly. "Mostly about how great everything is if you just believe hard enough in Mother Alisia's providence."
The preacher's expression tightened slightly at the sarcasm lacing Lucid's words.
"Mother Fate offers salvation to all who seek her guidance through faith," he continued, undeterred by the mockery. "Join our congregation and find purpose beyond this chaotic existence you currently navigate."
"Purpose," Lucid repeated, tasting the word skeptically. "Sure. What's the point of following a religion whose mother figure literally abandoned her own children across the Scattered Realms?"
The preacher's face flushed with sudden, genuine fury.
"How dare you speak such blasphemy against the High Church," he snapped.
"I'm just asking questions," Lucid said, raising his hands innocently. "Seems like a fair question, given everything I've witnessed of her supposed divine plan."
The preacher's eyes then landed on Ayame, and his expression shifted from anger toward something approaching open disgust.
"Sacrilege," he muttered, staring at her with undisguised contempt. "Reprobates and their races, the way they consume flesh like demons feasting on the innocent. Humans mingling with such creatures is an eyesore upon Mother Alisia's pure blood."
Lucid felt something hot flare violently in his chest at those words.
"Mother Alisia created them too, didn't she?" he shot back. "Why would we hate what she herself made, if her creation is supposedly divine?"
The preacher sneered, clearly unimpressed by the counterargument.
"Oh, naive little child," he said. "You understand nothing of divine hierarchy, of the natural order Mother Fate established for all thread of fate to follow."
"Enlighten me then," Lucid challenged, refusing to back down despite the mounting tension.
Suddenly light flared at the tip of the preacher's staff, crackling with barely contained fate essence, energy that promised violence should the conversation continue in this particular direction.
The citizens of Port Vexis around them shifted immediately, several stepping forward instinctively to place themselves between Lucid and the preacher's clear line of attack. It seemed the effects of Mercyros's now-collapsed domain had granted them a newfound sense of agency they'd previously lacked entirely, a willingness to intervene that hadn't existed during Lucid's earlier arrival in this town.
"Moreover," the preacher continued, apparently ignoring the crowd's protective response entirely, "aren't you the one who dared lay a finger on my fellow brethren during your reckless intervention here?"
"The church will demand reparations!" he shouted, his voice carrying authoritative weight across the square.
Golden light began fading around his staff, illuminating the immediate area for one brief, blinding instant that made several onlookers shield their eyes.
When the light cleared, several white-cloaked silhouettes that had been gathering near the periphery of the crowd had simply vanished, as though the light itself had swallowed them whole, leaving no trace of their previous presence.
Lucid blinked, disoriented by the sudden shift unfolding around him.
'Alice,' he thought internally, urgency bleeding through his mental voice, 'did you see that?'
"I did," Alice replied, her tone unusually serious now, all previous amusement evaporated entirely. "That wasn't ordinary combat magic drawing on standard fate essence. That was something else entirely, something tied directly to the High Church's deeper reserves."
The preacher lowered his staff slowly, his earlier fury replaced by something calculating, almost satisfied with whatever had just transpired.
"You'll regret defying the church's authority," he said, his voice dropping to something quieter but carrying no less threat despite the reduced volume. "Mark my words, boy. The High Church remembers every slight against its faithful."
Then he turned and walked away deliberately, his robes swishing against the cobblestones with each measured step, leaving Lucid standing there with the gathered crowd of Port Vexis citizens watching the entire exchange with a mixture of concern and quiet, tentative support.
Ayame stepped closer, her expression as blank as ever, though something in her rigid posture suggested readiness for whatever confrontation might follow this uneasy resolution.
"That was reckless," she said flatly, her tone carrying no particular judgment, simply stating fact as she perceived it.
"Probably," Lucid admitted, exhaling slowly. "But someone needed to say it eventually."
"You could have gotten yourself killed."
"Wouldn't be the first time," he replied, managing a tired smile despite the tension still coiling uncomfortably in his stomach.
Ayame studied him for a long moment, something unreadable crossing her sharp features.