When I rouse, I feel remarkable. My back doesn’t hurt from an uncomfortable bed frame with minimal padding. My wings aren’t stiff from sleeping upright in my chair. And my tail isn’t cramped from coiling into spaces that had grown slightly too small for me over the years.

  The bed is soft, the blankets are cozy, the room is warm, and the sunlight coming in from outside appears to be being filtered with an enchantment by the windows to be gentler since this side of the building faces the sunrise. Looking out, I feel like I probably got maybe eight or ten hours of sleep -- worlds better than I would normally manage. And without any nightmares.

  That thought gives me pause and makes me think. I haven’t had that dream since two days ago, when I took on my parents' spirits. Sure, I’ve only slept twice since then, but it’s been a daily occurrence my entire life. Is it my ability to now access the gates? Being in motion? Having a goal? I don’t know. But I’m beyond thrilled at the realization.

  The sun is higher in the sky, but not quite to its midday peak for this time of year, so the day is still plenty young enough to get things done.

  As I sit up, I realize I’ve been entirely captured by the blankets and sheets. Wrapped and coiled this way and that around this thing or that. It takes a bit of doing, but I eventually extract myself and stand.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Good morning.” I hear Olly’s sedate, sleepy voice from across the room and see he’s journaling again. Or, probably reviewing, as is his norm for the mornings.

  “Mornin’ Olly. Got up early?” I pad my way over and drag a chair to sit next to him. I have to spin it around and sit in it backwards, leaning over the rear of the chair to accommodate my body. I take him in and realize I really need to get him new clothes while I’m out and about today. The hastily modified clothes still fit him poorly — being shorter and broader than me, they are about the worst possible fit I could imagine on him. Somehow baggy and tight in unflattering ways at the same time. Luckily, Lilly was able to magic away the tidal wave of blood, but they’re still nothing to write home about, especially in comparison to the gleaming golden sleeve he’s wearing.

  “Woke up feeling well rested at daybreak. Decided to doze for a while while reviewing my notes.” He gestures with his little journal and I realize he’s made it probably halfway through it already. I mentally add a newer, bigger, journal to the list. “I also organized our things, and gathered up all the coin into a single place to make that easier. I did notice that the coins I had on me when you found me are the same style as the ones you had, so at the very least they’ll be usable, I think. Make sure to take as much as you need. It’s not like I’m in need of it for anything in particular.” He offers with an almost dismissive wave towards the bag. The action gives the impression of being disdainful of the money, which makes me wonder if that’s a feeling from before his memory loss.

  “Wow. Thanks for taking care of all of that. Did you polish my boots too?” I give him a lopsided smile that he sheepishly returns with a noncommittal noise and a shrug. “In that case, I’m probably going to head out before things get too busy. Want to be back here before noon when people are out in force.”

  I stand, walking over to my gear. But as I walk past Lilly’s bed, something strikes me as odd. I turn and lean towards her, trying to figure out what caught my eye.

  Her face is screwed up into a grimace, looking pained. She also has both of her arms wrapped around her midsection in a pretty clear indication of discomfort alongside the expression. As I look closer, I see she has bruising on her arms and legs. I stand and look at Olly. “Did something happen to Lilly while I was asleep?”

  He looks up from his book, joining me in sudden concern as he stands to walk over. He doesn’t get quite as close as me, but he peers over all the same and I see his neutral expression drop into a frown. “No, I’ve been the only one awake since sunrise.” He reaches to presumably prod her awake, but I put a hand on his.

  “Nah, let her sleep. Whatever happened happened, and if she’s going to heal herself she’ll need to be rested. She’s obviously okay enough to have survived whatever’s gone on and without feeling the need to have woken us.”

  Olly’s frown deepens, but he nods after thinking for a little bit. “I’ll keep a closer eye on her until she wakes while you’re out.” He walks over, picking up his chair and bringing it over to set it down softly next to Lilly’s bed.

  That sorted, I move over and start donning my armor. If someone catches a glimpse underneath my cloak I’d rather they see scalemail, not scale… me. It takes a little work, but I eventually get everything on, drawing my wings in for a full day of tremendous discomfort and constant wariness. I hope to just make myself as unapproachable looking as possible to dissuade casual interactions like what happened last night.

  Armored, cloaked, and mentally girded, I grab my glaive, intending to carry it with me to add to the facade of unapproachability. I look over at Olly, who keeps looking back and forth between his journal and Lilly with regularity. “How do I look?”

  He looks up with a small smile. As he begins to speak, I see his eyes defocus a bit, looking through me. “Like someone who doesn’t want to be talked to. If you hunch a little bit more it might help. If you stand that tall, you look confident and that might draw more eyes, especially from other confident freelancers looking to talk and trade stories.”

  I nod, the explanation makes perfect sense…just not coming from Olly. But I don’t see any point in digging into it now. The advice is sound. “Thanks, Oll’. I’ll be back in a few hours, maybe earlier if I can find multiple things at once.”

  With all of that taken care, I snag the coins and head out. The halls and stairs are empty all the way until the bottom, whereupon I see dozens of people noisily ordering food, shouting, laughing, arguing, and the full breadth of emotions people might get up to over breakfast. All of the food smells wonderful as I see sizzling plates of meats and vegetables coming out from a kitchen in the rear of the space from a small group of merkyn children, all moving at the behest of one of the oldest people I think I could ever imagine.

  He’s better dressed than anyone else in here, and is directing the servers while serving himself, so I assume he must be the innkeep. He stands barely four feet tall due to a rather extreme hunch in his back, but it doesn’t seem to be slowing him down at all — if anything, he seems to be outpacing the younger servers.

  I step around everyone, trying desperately not to get bumped or to bump anyone else, but people seem to dutifully avoid contact, so I just follow in the wake of the spry old man to make my way out the door unobstructed and into the open air of the town square.

  Now that it’s not the dead of night, the town feels much warmer and more inviting. People are bustling to and fro wearing warm and puffy clothing. Many big jackets, sturdy boots, and warm gloves. It reminds me that I should probably make a point of appearing cold…

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I make a point of following Olly’s advice, adopting a grumpier posture, and set off to visit the couple stores I recall from prior visits. With any luck, they’ll still be around and won’t remember my voice.

  As I walk, I try to listen in to conversations around without really stopping to listen. I catch snippets here and there —mostly boring local fare or talking about the sudden dive in temperature over the last two days, but a couple of things stand out to me as being worth investigating.

  I pass a group of freelancers discussing their next plans, and they mention a “job board” that they intend to visit on their way to a town called Meadowfields to look for something to do along the way.

  The other is a separate group talking about an interesting individual who came through recently. They describe them as being well over nine feet tall, belonging to some “order”, and moving towards that same town — Meadowfields — with a purpose.

  I stop and ask them where Meadowfields is located, and receive a look of general disbelief before they explain that it’s a town about five days down the road the opposite direction as Kharbon. Off the main road heading to a nearby nation, but still the only thing of note in the area. Thanking them for their time, I bustle myself off into one of the side streets to make it to the general store I was aiming for — The Thinker’s Trove.

  From the outside, it doesn’t look like much. No different than any of the other buildings here, really. A red wood-walled storefront with large glass windows stretching across the front, some seating on a little patio beneath a garishly colored cloth overhang with cogs inscribed onto it. A small handful of people are sitting and eating small lunches that, despite their size, look quite good.

  Last time I’d been here, about a year ago, the owner had been kind enough to throw in some extras since I was a bit light on money after trading the pelts that I had brought. Seemed like a kind soul, if a bit erratic. I hoped to return the kindness with repeat business, much as the idea of returning to the same place again gives me a bit of anxiety. But, since I’m not in a glamour I don’t imagine there’s any chance of being recognized.

  Nodding at the people eating, I push the door open and am a bit stunned by the inside. About three steps in from the door, I see a glowing, translucent blue, board floating about four feet in the air. It’s about six feet wide and three feet tall, and I see a scrawling list of things that are apparently available in the store. As I watch the list go by, I notice that it’s broken into sections and each is labeled in clear Eldaran common.

  FOOD

  GENERAL PRODUCTS

  SPECIAL ITEMS

  The panels that seem to make up the essence construct (At least, that’s the only thing I can imagine it is) react as I look at them, stopping scrolling whenever I settle my eyes on a specific item. It indicates a certain kind of complexity in design that is, frankly, unfathomable to me. Looking at it, I can understand the idea behind it — but it’s just so excessive. The shelves are lined with goods all the same, and the store counter appears to still be the hub of business, so it’s purely… aesthetic?

  I turn away from it, and walk to gather the few things I need: new clothes for Olly and me both, a new backpack, road stable food, some odds and ends like rope and light sources, and a few other scattered bits and bobs.

  “Hiya, welcome stranger.” The proprietor shouts across the space at me with a warm tone. I look up from the item I’d been inspecting — small bags of colored stones called “trail mix” — and nod in greeting. “Lookin’ for anything in specific, or just browsing?”

  The owner is about my height, dark skinned, wearing a worn and greasy looking apron that’s covering much nicer clothes beneath, and has very light-gray furred and pointy ears sitting atop their head. Most notably, though, they have a set of almost comically oversized glasses that appear to have multiple lenses that can fold down in front of the main frame for…whatever reason.

  “Got a few things in mind, just collecting them while browsing.” I reply simply, “Where do you get all of these enchanted items? Seems like an almost absurd amount of such things to be on sale in a town this size.” I make a point of keeping my head a bit lowered as though I’m looking through everything on this rack intently.

  “I make most’a the stuff here. But I don’t think what I’ve got going on is anything particularly special ‘side from most of it bein’ handmade.” He gives me a polite smile as he gestures around the shop. “Invested in a new distiller and ‘ave been able to put out far more of my projects faster and even iterate on them!” He says with a somewhat wispy laugh.

  I smile along as we continue going back and forth, and I pick things out. The magic items are shockingly cheap — at least the ones I’m interested in are. There are some items that definitely go an order of magnitude past our current funds and then some. But as I make my way around, a final item catches my eyes in the section of the store devoted to wearables.

  It’s a single-strapped backpack, clearly intended to be worn over one shoulder and across the body diagonally. A design I’ve never seen, but not something too out there. I noticed it because I thought it would be a good option for Olly…. But it’s far too small to be practical. It looks like I could barely fit one of my books through the opening.

  I say as much to the owner — logically I know I’m missing some crucial context. “What’s the purpose of this bag? It’s far too small to really be useful, isn’t it?”

  His ears wiggle with apparent delight. “Ah! That is one of my more recent additions! I recently bought some study material regarding spatial manipulation enchantments off of a traveling trader who came through. That, right there,” He pauses for dramatic effect while gesturing broadly and making his way over to me, “Is Sprock’s Spacious Sash!” he wiggles his hands with spread fingers and a showy exclamation of “Tah-dah!”

  I find myself unable to not smile at the display, but my curiosity wins out. “Spatial manipulation enchanting? Isn’t that sort of thing rare? I have a Traveler’s Trunk, but as far as I’m aware that’s been the extent of that field of enchanting. My books say the hardest part is trying to compress a space, but also keeping the weight low, how did you overcome that?” I feel my interest winding up — I love these kinds of things. Magical theory is fascinating.

  His face, however, speaks to him being confused. My interest immediately turns to concern as I realize I must have said something odd. “Traveler’s Trunks are a very crude, and dated method of performing this enchantment. As far as I know, they haven’t really been in use for the last thirty years or longer!” He says, returning to a more genial tone after the bit of confusion.

  “Ah, sorry. I’m…not from here, and haven’t spent much time around the latest and greatest…” My explanation comes across as weak, and I know it, but he seems unperturbed.

  “Well, in that case, I should wonder — you seem well-educated to know of these things. Even if that education is dated, you know more than the average magi on the topic. If you’re interested in the pack, I would throw in the tome I learned from as well. I’ve already taken my necessary notes and have little need for it anymore.”

  My grin comes back in full force. Once again, this felid is proving to be a generous soul above and beyond anything I could ever expect. “I’d be happy to pay for the book if it’s feasible. I’m not the most well-off after the long journey, but this bag would be a godsend for my companion.”

  We go back and forth, and eventually, I manage to convince him to charge me something for the book. All told, after finding everything I needed in one place, I’ve drained our funds by about two-thirds. Which was, unfortunately, expected. But the things I bought will be things that will last, so it’s a worthy investment. We’ll just need to find out how to make more money before we make it to Kharbon, but I’ve got a few ideas for that.

  With everything I purchased fitting neatly, with plenty of space to spare, in the new backpack, my life is made drastically simpler since I’m able to sling that pack over one shoulder without unbalancing myself. I hope Olly likes it and the clothes I picked out. I took measurements the other day when fitting my stuff for him, so it should be comfortable, I think.

  But, I set off. After overhearing people talking about it over the course of the day, it seems like the job board in the center of the town is a good place to try to start making some money. People made it sound like you can pick up a job here with the intent of turning it in at your destination. Just have to find something that will suit the three of us, which shouldn’t be too hard, I think.