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I didn't really know what I expected to greet me when I stepped outside, but the smell of fish definitely wasn't it. Empty alleyway? Check. Sombre atmosphere? Check. But fish? Not on the list. A strange detail to be hung up on, sure—but there it was.
I began wandering the surrounding streets, trying to make sense of where I had landed. The people around me wore worn Victorian-era clothes, which made me stick out like a sore thumb. (More on that later.) Though, there were inconsistencies—most of the women wore trousers, which contrasted sharply with my own world's history. Don't get me wrong, women did wear them back then, but rarely, and almost never among the commoners. Then there was the technology: boats with strange engines, the architecture itself radiating that unmistakable steampunk aesthetic.
As expected of a dockyard in a pseudo-Victorian society, most of the people looked dirty, their appearances marked by long hours of hard labor. And then there was me—hoodie, jeans, and all. The stares that followed me only added to the feeling that I was some kind of walking spectacle.
I gingerly approached a vendor. You know that feeling when you suddenly forget how to walk while on stage, or right before speaking in public? That's exactly what it felt like as I shuffled toward a gruff-looking man selling—of course—fish. He sized me up from head to toe as though I were some bizarre piece of abstract art. Not in a flattering way, either. More like the way people look at a banana duct-taped to a wall and wonder how anyone could call it art.
"Morning," I greeted, putting on my best stereotypical British accent.
The man huffed in response, suspicion still lingering in his eyes.
"I find myself in need of some… assistance," I continued. Nothing.
"I am a humble merchant who, sadly, lost most of my wares and my ship to a storm. I seek a place to sell what little I salvaged—along with any permits that might be required. Might you know where I can arrange such things?"
An uncomfortable silence followed as the vendor studied me. I was about to move on when he finally spoke.
"You're an odd one," he said flatly—not an insult, more a statement of fact.
"Well, I'm not from around here, so to speak," I replied. Another pause.
"What are you selling?" he asked at last.
"Trinkets, odds and ends, food, water… oh, and these." I slipped my hand into my pocket and produced a cigarette pack. Opening it, I revealed the contents.
The man's eyes widened. He glanced sideways, then leaned closer.
"I have an associate who might be interested in that. How much do you have?"
"Twenty-five boxes. Twenty each."
He counted in his head, folding fingers one by one, before nodding. Then he handed me a couple of coins and pocketed the pack.
"Take this and buy some proper clothes. This line of work requires subtlety, and you're distracting enough looking like a lunatic. Meet me here at six this evening. Don't be late. I'll take this to my associate—they'll want a sample." He waved me off.
The next few hours were spent navigating the dockyards, searching for a place that would sell me clothes. To clarify—there were shops aplenty, but few willing to sell to me. Too expensive, too suspicious of me, or both.
Finally, I found one—though I almost wished I hadn't.
The instant I stepped inside, the cashier caught sight of me and nearly fainted. An attendant caught her in melodramatic fashion, gasping as though on cue. He cradled her and pointed a trembling finger at me.
"How dare you show that visage before a lady? Have you no shame?"
"Fine, I'll leave." I muttered as I turned to leave only to be flanked by a trio of ladies wearing similar clothes as the receptionist.
"No, you do not. You will either leave this emporium in presentable attire, or my name is not Archibald Haversham, co-owner of Haversham & Featherstone's Fineries!" the man declared, his index fingers raised and trembling slightly with each word.
The women applauded his proclamation, and before I knew it I was being dragged into the back of the store. My clothes were stripped away, my body measured (molested, really), and soon exchanged for what they deemed more 'appropriate' garments. They even shoved a few extra sets into my arms before literally kicking me out the back door. They didn't even take gold. Either they forgot to charge me or they are too busy patting themselves on the back for correcting a fool wearing weird clothes. Judging by the pop of a champagne bottle being open , I am leaning towards the latter. At least I got free clothes out of it.
I lay in the alley, feeling both violated and thoroughly confused, before picking myself up, dusting off, and briskly putting as much distance between myself and that cursed shop as possible.
As I moved through the streets, I eavesdropped on the passersby, trying to piece together where I had ended up. Several scenes I had witnessed since arriving here gnawed at some half-formed memory, but the answer kept slipping from me. That was, until I heard one of the pedestrians mention the name Dunwall—and suddenly everything made sense.
I was in Dunwall. One of the main locations from the Dishonored games—city of violent gangs, a looming plague outbreak, coups depending on the year, and, of course, an actual inquisition. And behind it all, the very subject of whispered blasphemies: the Outsider, once a boy sacrificed into the Void who returned as an eldritch god.
Needing time to process this, I slipped into what looked like an abandoned warehouse to catch my breath and wait until evening. I opened the system interface to deposit both the spare clothes and my discarded originals into the inventory. That's when I noticed a small "4" glowing on the corner of the messages and notifications icon. Curious, I tapped it open and read:
–Friends in Low Places–: Build a rapport with the criminal elements of Dunwall
Reward: 2 Silver Item Tickets
–Harlequin Rogue of Dunwall–: Made a fool of yourself in front of the commonfolk
Reward: 1 Gold Item Ticket
–Harlequin Rogue of Dunwall II–: Made a fool of yourself in front of an aristocrat
Reward: +1 Gold Item Ticket, +1 Silver Ability Ticket
–Welcome to Dunwall–: Ascertain your current location
Reward: 3 Bronze Random Tickets
I had to look twice to make sure I was seeing it right. Eight tickets, seemingly out of nowhere. The ones I got from the Harlequin Rogue were glaringly better quality as well, which only made it stranger. How did these two feats differ from the other two? What made them so valuable?
Friends in Low Places was probably thanks to that vendor. His reaction to the cigarettes all but confirmed he had his fingers in Dunwall's seedy underbelly. But his actions raised more questions. Why the cloak-and-dagger routine? I couldn't imagine cigarettes being prohibited, which left only one possibility: taxes.
Cigarettes and cigars in this era were luxury goods, affordable only to the rich. Commoners either rolled their own with low-quality tobacco or stuck to pipes. And how do you control trade in such items? By taxing them, of course. The purpose of those taxes wasn't just revenue—it was to choke out independents, forcing them to sell to the very people controlling the market, and at a meager profit. Moreover, those same tax lords usually wrote loopholes that conveniently exempted their allies. At least, that was my theory.
I looked up at the sky. Still midday—hours before our meeting. I decided to redeem the tickets. No point letting them gather dust.
I started with the bronze tickets.
[Novice Cooking]
Common Skill
You are a novice in the culinary arts. You can cook most basic meals and they will taste decent, but don't expect to get a job as a chef. However, you'll improve much faster than most people if you choose to train.
Great. I can now cook slightly better than before. /s
[Brown Bear]
Common Familiar
A big old brown bear companion. As a familiar, she has excellent genetics and near-human intellect. She's strong enough to shrug off small firearms and crush a man like an apple. By default, she's female.
A furry bodyguard and a comfortable bed.
[Perfumer]
Common Trait
You smell nice. That's about it. Your scent adjusts to whatever the person smelling you finds most appealing.
Is the gacha trying to tell me something?
I stared at my haul. Not the best, but at least I had a furry tank to watch my back.
Next came the silver item tickets.
[Havel's Greatshield]
Uncommon Item
Dark Souls – A shield of enchanted stone once wielded by Havel the Rock. Grants immense durability, and the user can expend energy to cover their body in stone for extra reinforcement.
A shield I can't even lift. Perfect.
[Fairy Powder]
Common Item
Blacksouls – A bag of fairy powder from the Lost Empire. Inhaling it causes instant, deep sleep. Any injury wakes the target instantly. Ineffective against foes more than one tier above you. Restock Timer: 48 hours.
At least this one's useful.
Then came the silver ability ticket.
[Light Trick]
Rare Ability
Allows the user to bend light at will, creating optical illusions to deceive sight. The light can also be solidified for disguises, though touch quickly dispels the trickery.
Now that's more like it.
Finally, the two gold tickets.
[Cruise Ship]
Rare Item
A 350-meter-long luxury cruise ship, fully staffed by automatons who can only perform the duties assigned to them. Runs on infinite fuel.
Thank god my inventory can store large objects. Otherwise, I'd be explaining why a luxury liner just flattened half the city.
[Grimoire of Ice Magic]
Elite Item
Black Cover – A tome from the Clover Kingdom, containing the secrets of Ice Magic. Allows the user to study and master its contained spells. Spell list:
So now I can cast illusions and wield ice magic. Am I Loki? Not the MCU one—the one from the old Avengers animated series.
I placed everything except the Grimoire into my inventory before testing out Light Trick. I created an exact copy of myself and had it walk around.
After that, I settled down with the Grimoire, figuring it would be an excellent way to pass the time until the meeting. By the time evening came, I had made only minimal progress—unable to cast any of the listed spells, but at least I could conjure and manipulate small shards of ice. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.
With that, I placed the Grimoire back into my inventory and set off toward the meeting point.