Two days later, draped in the bronze-trimmed cloak of a junior guard, Azrakar walked through the gates of Oakhaven.
Oakhaven was a bustling trade hub, a city built into the side of a mountain where the Iron Crown Kingdom met the neutral territories. It was a place of vibrant colors and sharp smells. Dwarven smiths hammered away at enchanted steel, their Aura-infused hammers ringing like bells. Elven traders moved with unnerving grace, their Mana-robes shimmering with protective spells.
Azrakar wasn't here for the sights. He was here for Star-Silt.
In his past life, Star-Silt was a legendary catalyst, long since mined to extinction. In this era, it was considered a "nuisance" byproduct of silver mining—too volatile for Knights to use and too "dirty" for Wizards.
He found a small, cramped shop owned by a Grey Dwarf named Thrum. The shop smelled of grease and old parchment.
"What's a pup like you doing in the 'Rough Quarter'?" Thrum grumbled, not looking up from a broken clockwork device.
"I'm looking for the slag from the Moon-Peak mines," Azrakar said. "The dust that glows blue when you put it near fire."
Thrum stopped working. He looked at Azrakar, his one good eye narrowing. "Star-Silt? That's rubbish. It eats through leather bags and ruins good iron. Why would a Vileth brat want that?"
"I collect curiosities," Azrakar said, tossing a single Silver Mark onto the counter—half his monthly allowance.
Thrum's eyebrows shot up. A Silver Mark for a bag of waste? "Right then. Curiosity. I've got a crate of the stuff in the back. I'll give it to you for two marks, and I'll even throw in the lead-lined jar so it doesn't burn a hole in your floor."
"One mark, and you tell me who else is buying it," Azrakar countered.
Thrum chuckled. "Calculating little devil, aren't you? Fine. One mark. And to answer your question: nobody. Except for a strange old man who lives in the woods by the Black Lake. He buys a jar every full moon."
Azrakar's mind immediately began to process this. The Black Lake... that's where the 'Hermit of the Void' was said to have lived during the Golden Era. If he's already there, he might have the Moon-Vine I need to stabilize the second stage of the Trinity Circuit.
As he left the shop with the heavy jar, he noticed three men following him. They weren't from the clan. They wore the mismatched armor of "Iron-Snatched" bandits—mercenaries who targeted noble children for ransom.
Azrakar didn't speed up. He turned into a narrow alleyway that led toward the city's sewage runoff.
Kindness is for those who do me good, Azrakar thought, his hand drifting to the small dagger at his belt. But for those who hinder me... I suppose I can practice my Aura-sharpening on something other than training dummies.
He stopped in the center of the dark alley and waited.
"Hey, kid," the lead bandit said, pulling a rusted shortsword. "That's a heavy jar for such a small whelp. Why don't we carry it for you?"
Azrakar turned around. His face was devoid of fear. In fact, he looked almost... bored.
"You have three seconds to leave," Azrakar said. "One... two..."
The bandits laughed and stepped forward.
"Three."
Azrakar's silhouette blurred.