The auction ended with Elizabeth marking three individuals. One of them had shown great interest in items connected to the Ernest Empire, and she noted him for his repeated failures to secure any Ernest-related artifacts. Most mages favored items from the Ernest Empire for reasons she did not care to question.
Yet he had failed to buy even the cheapest piece. That alone told her enough. He was poor as a church mouse with rent to pay.[1]
Which meant he was someone she could trade with.
The other two were marked solely for the items they were after. One was interested in the God of Dawn, who she already been looking for, while the other sought something tied to the Dream God, a god long dead, whose information was as obscure as it could be.
A secretive group known as the Men in Black had been working to collect as many artifacts as possible tied to the power of Dream. So, she was little bit apprehensive to approach the last one.
Leaving the auction, she followed the first person on her list, the one obsessed with Ernest Empire relics yet too poor to buy even the cheapest piece.
He took the route home. From the auction hall into the outer streets, then through a web of narrow lanes lined with stacked apartments.
The buildings here were old and crumbling, with most of them abandoned.
Yellow fungus crept out of them, resembling the faces of people gazing toward the street in the mist city.
Elizabeth kept her distance. She stopped when he stopped, crossed when he crossed, using reflections in glass and polished metal to track him without looking directly.
He passed some estranged people, nodding at a few and kicking others out of habit, laughing as he did so. He was clearly enjoying himself.
He lived in a narrow three-story building. The front door was scarred from use. Someone had recently repaired the lock. A single lamp burned above the entrance.
There was someone else next to his room, probably a neighbor, with uneven eyes and dressed in grey clothing. He wasn't much to look at. His neighbor wore a crooked smile that never seemed to fade, even as he glanced at the approaching newcomer. The mage muttered under his breath, "Freak!" before stepping inside and unlocking a lock that looked like it had been recently welded back into place.
The freak seemed to notice Elizabeth as well; his expression shifted briefly before he hurried into his room.
'What?! Does he know me...' Elizabeth decided to hang back for now, planning to return if the other two didn't get good results.
Back on the street, she glanced sideways out of habit, even though there were no carriages in the Mist City. As she crossed, she suddenly spotted a horse with a human face charging down the street, pulling a carriage with its curtains drawn.
She leapt out of the way as it slammed into a building, the impact causing the structure to partially collapse.
Elizabeth's eyes widened as a massive section of the roof came crashing down onto the carriage.
When the dust finally settled, she approached, calling out, "Are you alive?!"
No reply came.
She began removing the rubble carefully. Using her ring, she slid her fist into a narrow crevice and conjured a shield, forcing the debris upward and scattering it into the air.
Bit by bit, she cleared most of the wreckage until the entrance of the carriage became visible. The horses were already dead. Their uncanny expressions made her flinch and nearly step back. An overwhelming unease crawled through her, as though something were scratching at her soul. Every instinct urged her to flee.
Yet she forced herself to turn back toward the carriage.
The weight of the rubble still pressing down on its roof was too much for her to remove entirely. She had no choice. She needed to get the person inside out quickly, or they would be crushed along with the carriage.
She kicked the door, but it did not budge. Drawing her blunt sword, she began smashing it against the wood, each strike echoing loudly through the street. The noise announced her presence.
The residents of the Mist City were not known for altruism. If they realized a merchant's carriage had been wrecked, they would swarm like rodents, eager to feast upon its treasures. She needed to be faster now. The sound had already carried.
At last, the door broke inward.
"I am coming!" she shouted as she forced her way inside.
The interior was in disarray. Items had been torn from their cases, weapons pulled from their racks. One sword, heavily ornamented, was embedded deep in the merchant's chest. He was barely alive.
She rushed to him and gripped the hilt, pulling the blade free.
A sudden jolt passed through her the moment the sword came loose. The merchant's body went still.
Before she could fully process what had happened, murmurs rose from outside. Voices. Footsteps. The people of the Mist City were gathering.
She moved quickly, grabbing whatever she could. A few sleepless pills, and for some unknown reasons she could not immediately explain, the sword she had pulled from the merchant's heart. Then she fled, slipping into a narrow alley and vanishing into the mist.
The first man to arrive had his face torn away in a brutal struggle. He forced his way into the carriage, frantically searching for the pills, but found nothing.
Another man soon barged inside. His nose had elongated grotesquely, stretching all the way to his feet. He shouted at the man already within, demanding to know where the pills were.
More followed after him. The carriage filled with shouting and shoving, each person grabbing whatever they could for themselves.
One of them smashed open a locked chest. Inside lay a childlike figure suspended in a vat of dark blood. He reached out to touch it, but an unseen force repelled his hand, throwing him backward.
He left the chest open.
As the chaos continued, the weakened roof of the carriage finally gave way. Under the accumulated pressure, it collapsed inward, burying the last of those inside.
[1] I heard that churches don’t store grains, but I’m not sure if that’s true. If I’m wrong, I apologize for the bad joke.