Shane woke up soaked with sweat. The heat of the afternoon sun, blazing directly through the grimy window, had baked the small room and woken him. He had slept straight through the morning and into the next day. His original plan to wake early and find Renee's store was already in ruins; he didn't even know where it was, and now he had lost half the day.
He sat up, the thin sheet clinging to his damp skin. A groan escaped his lips as the memories of the previous night returned—the fiery ale, the even spicier porridge, the elaborate lies. He scrubbed a hand over his face. On the plus side, despite the throbbing in his head and the sweat, he felt a deep, cellular sense of refreshment. It was the first time since waking up in this world that he had slept in a bed, and his body was profoundly grateful for it.
His eyes fell on a large, wooden tub sitting in the corner of the room, a bucket of stale but clean water beside it. A bath. The sight was both a relief and an annoyance.
"If I had known this was here, I would have washed these last night," he lamented, pulling at the grimy, sweat-stiffened tunic he'd stolen from the dead civilian. "Damn it. And I am never drinking that alcohol again."
The vow felt hollow even as he said it. He stripped off the filthy clothes, used the water and a rough scrap of cloth to scrub the grime and dried blood from his skin, and felt marginally more human. But then came the final, unpleasant task: putting the same dirty clothes back on. The fabric was uncomfortable and carried the lingering scent of dust, sweat, and smoke from the ruined bakery.
Stepping out of his room and into the hallway, the desert heat of Duskmor hit him like a physical wall, the common room downstairs was mostly empty, a stark contrast to the chaotic press of bodies from the night before. A few Xerics with their sun-baked skin and horizontally blinking eyes, a hulking beastman with boar-like tusks, and a handful of weary-looking humans were scattered around, minding their own business in the lethargic afternoon heat.
Shane approached the bar where the innkeeper was mending a stool with a hammer and a few rusty nails. He ordered a meal, specifying, "And go light on the spices, please," and a cup of water.
As he ate the bland but thankfully non-incendiary stew, he saw his opening. "About that store you mentioned last night," Shane began casually. "Renee's. Where would I find it?"
The innkeeper stopped his hammer mid-swing and looked up, his expression one of genuine surprise. "Are you serious, kid? Do you actually believe yourself to be an Enchanter??" He set the tools down, studying Shane as if seeing him for the first time. He had clearly written off last night's questions as the drunken ramblings of a sheltered youth experiencing freedom for the first time.
"I didn't say I was an Enchanter," Shane replied, He was consciously building on the sympathetic foundation of the tragic backstory he'd fabricated. "I was just fascinated by the stories my... my father had in his library. I want to see what it's like for myself, before I head out into the world." He looked down at his bowl, playing the part perfectly. "I don't think I can stay in this city. Too many bad memories. I want to go out and explore, see the wonderful things I read about. I suppose this is my first stop."
It was a clever play, framing his dangerous curiosity as a final, nostalgic indulgence before leaving town forever, 'Am quite a good liar if I might say so,' Shane thought as he left the Nightblum Inn, after hearing Shane's 'story' the innkeeper gave Shane the directions to the market district. Luckily it wasn't far from the inn.
'It time to figure out what the hell this Trial is about, I need to get to Renee's store and get the things I need to start trying my ideas, I also need to learn how to protect myself, the recent attack has been nothing to luck for me, I don't feel like it would continue that way' Shane battle with the Dune-dogs and the ants he only escaped through the help of others, he had realized that this world had a lot of unexpected danger, his list of agenda today was to get to Renee and buy everything he could on Enchanting.
The walk through the city was an education in itself. He saw more Xerics than he had before, their desert-hardened forms moving with a purposeful grace. And again, he noticed the looks, the averted gazes, slight shifts in posture, outright stares. He couldn't tell if it was his grimy, ill-fitting clothes marking him as a commoner, or something else entirely.
When he finally reached the market district, the sheer volume of life was overwhelming. The air vibrated with the shouts of hawkers. The press of bodies was a current, and he was caught in its flow.
Suddenly, a small, strong hand closed around his arm and pulled him aside. He looked down to find a young Xeric woman, lean and petite, with smooth, light gold skin and a cascade of dark, sun-streaked blonde hair intricately braided.
"You look wet," she said, her voice a rapid, cheerful patter. "Not used to the heat. At Veni's store, we have the best and affordable low-budget enhanced robes! They have heat-resistant enchantment on them, just for sixteen silvers. It's quite a steal—enchanted materials usually go for much higher, so don't miss this chance!"
Her sales pitch was annoyingly perceptive. The heat was unbearable. Sixteen silver was a significant chunk of his funds, and he had no idea if it was a fair price, but the promise of relief was powerful.
"I would like to get more clothes," he said, seeing an opportunity to solve multiple problems at once. "Can you take me to your shop?"
Her golden eyes lit up. "Gladly! Gabby always has an eye for good customers, and it seems Gabby still does! Follow me, customer, I will make sure you get a good discount!" She beamed, maintaining a firm grip on his sleeve as she expertly navigated the crowd, pulling him along.
They soon arrived at their destination, and Shane's heart sank. It wasn't a simple market stall. It was a massive, high-standard building with a sprawling showroom in the front, its windows displaying mannequins wearing elegant, elaborate outfits that screamed expense.
'Oh boy,' Shane thought, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. 'This place looks expensive.'
Gabby didn't wait for Shane to respond before dragging him into the store.
"MamaGold, Gabby brings a customer!" she announced the moment they crossed the threshold.
From a back room, the owner of the store rushed out, her face initially arranged into a mask of professional welcome. "Ohhh, welcome custo—" Her tone curdled, the false sweetness evaporating as her eyes landed on the customer Gabby had brought. Shane's dirty and torn clothes immediately made her face change, her lips twisting into a sneer.
"Gabby," she said, her voice sharp as a whip crack. "Why did you bring a low-life human into my store? Take it out. Now." She added a theatrical pinch to her nose, as if she had smelled something disgusting.
The blatant hostility, the dehumanizing "it," sent a jolt of pure indignation through Shane. The innkeeper's skepticism had been one thing, but this was outright bigotry. It ticked him off so completely that he didn't know when he opened his mouth.
"Isn't that a bit much?" he retorted, his voice tight with controlled anger. "A simple 'please leave' would have been okay. What do you mean by 'take it out'?" Even if humans were a minority race in this city, being treated like vermin was infuriating.
MamaGold smiled a little, a cold, mocking thing that didn't reach her eyes. "Ohh, you aren't an 'It'? Then what are you? Do you think a low-life human like you could buy anything from this store? Do you think a grubby child like you can afford a single thread?" She took a step closer, her gaze sweeping over him with contempt. "Now tell me, are you an 'It' or not?"
Shane felt his fists clench. A part of him wanted to empty his pouch of silver right there on her polished counter just to wipe the smirk off her face. But that would be stupid. It would reveal his funds and accomplish nothing. He was here for information and new clothes, not to win a pointless argument with a racist shopkeeper.
He took a slow breath, unclenching his hands. He looked past MamaGold, his eyes scanning the elegant, empty showroom, then back to her smug face.
"I'm a potential customer you just lost forever," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "And you're a businesswoman who judges value by the dirt on someone's tunic, not the silver in their purse. I know which one of us is the bigger fool."
He turned to Gabby, who was watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her cheerful patter utterly vanished. "Thank you for the offer," he said to her, his tone slightly softer. "But I think I'll take my business elsewhere."
Without another glance at the sputtering MamaGold, Shane turned on his heel and walked out of the opulent store, the bell on the door jingling a mocking farewell. The desert heat felt less oppressive than the atmosphere inside. The encounter was a setback, a blow to his pride, but it was also a lesson. This world wasn't just dangerous in its deserts and its beasts, it was dangerous in its prejudices.
He needed to find Renee's store, and he needed to find it fast. But first, he needed to find a much, much less judgmental place to buy a new set of clothes.
He soon found a smaller, simpler stall with racks of plain, serviceable clothing. There were no enchanted robes here, and the fabrics were coarse,. After some quick bargaining, Shane brought a simple blue tunic, a pair of sturdy black trousers, and a black boot, spending a handful of copper marks. The clothes didn't have a shred of magic to combat the heat, and they certainly didn't carry the prestige of the outfits in Veni's store, a fact that irked him more than he wanted to admit.
After changing in a nearby alley, discarding his filthy old clothes. The new outfit was plain, but it was clean and somewhat more comfortable.
Now he resumed his search for Renee's store. Following the innkeeper's directions, he found it tucked between a noisy blacksmith and a spice merchant. The sign was modest, bearing only the name "Renee" in clean, unadorned script.
Pushing the door open, a soft bell chimed. The interior was a stark contrast to the chaotic market outside—quiet, orderly, and filled with a faint, ozonic scent. Shelves and glass cases lined the walls, displaying an array of objects.
The person behind the counter was a dark-skinned woman with long, straight brown hair tied back in a practical braid. She looked up from a ledger, her expression neutral "Welcome," she said, her voice calm. "What can I help you find today?"
As she spoke, Shane's eyes wandered to the items on display, and his blood ran cold. A small, glowing vial labeled "Endless Tear" was priced at 150 Silver Marks. Next to it, a slender wand inscribed with swirling patterns had a tag that read: 1 Gold Mark.
'One gold mark?' Shane's mind reeled, Thanks to the innkeeper's lesson on currency, Most commoners made about 90 Coppers a day. A thousand silver coins make up a gold coin, five hundred coppers equals a silver coin, The sheer scale of the wealth on display was staggering. The three silver coins and handful of coppers in his pocket, which he had considered a modest stake, were a pittance here. He felt a sudden, visceral understanding of the economic chasm in this world.
Swallowing his shock, he turned back to the woman, He needed to be very, very careful with his words and his money.