Of late, the Hartwood Grove had become a hive of activity. The population living on the island wasn’t that high, but to Sadie, it felt crowded. At times, she loved teaching the children what she knew about combat, but she could admit to herself that she lacked the maternal instinct that came so naturally to so many other women. At most, she envisioned herself as a cool aunt who came and went as she pleased, imparting wisdom and gifts upon the kids who looked up to her.

  Did that make her selfish?

  Didn’t she have a right to be? After all, most of her efforts went toward championing the greater good. She’d just spent more than a year to reach the Red Marsh and conquer the Primal Realm, all so Earth could avoid excisement. Most of her spare time went toward helping other people, either through healing at one of the local clinics or training so she could meet the next challenge as strongly as possible.

  Was it accurate to refer to herself as selfish, just because she didn’t want to be responsible for children? Rationally, the answer was a resounding no. However, either because of cultural norms or due to some leftover evolutionary trait, she felt at least a modicum of shame at her attitude.

  Not that she was in any place to embrace a maternal role. With everything going on, her discomfort at the idea should have been far down the list of worries. After trying to push it aside, she decided to simply remove herself from the setting that was causing so much issue.

  That was how she found herself first in Ironshore, where she busied herself with buying supplies for the upcoming expedition. As she strode through town, she couldn’t help but notice the nods of respect following her around. Word of her actions in the Red Marsh had spread through the whole city, and even though she had chosen not to wear her armor, she was more than recognizable.

  Along the way, she also saw a few familiar faces. She didn’t know the names of all the legionnaires who’d fought under her, but she knew most of their faces. She took the time to stop and speak to each one.

  Most of the time, she confined the conversations to simple greetings, asking how they were doing in the wake of the Primal Realm. Many still bore evidence of their trials. Scars. Missing limbs that had been replaced by prosthetics. The twitchiness of a combat veteran recently returned to civilian life.

  She greeted her former soldiers warmly, though with stoic authority. She couldn’t be one of them. She couldn’t show her own scars. Instead, the situation required strength and outward fortitude. They needed to believe she was an immovable mountain, that if they were called to battle sometime in the future, she would be there to lead them to victory.

  So, Sadie played her role, but all the while, she could only concentrate on all the faces she didn’t see. So many had been lost in the Red Marsh. So many had failed to return from that all-important mission. And while many of the survivors could trace their return back to her actions, every single one of the dead could blame her for their fate.

  After all, she’d chosen to send Elijah away.

  There was no doubt in her mind that that choice had come with a steep cost in lives. Sadie would never forget that. And while she chose not to dwell on it, she refused to push it aside, lest she make the same mistakes all over again.

  Instead, she’d vowed to recognize her limits and try to remove arrogance from her decision-making. Whether or not she would be successful in that endeavor was a mystery that had yet to be solved, but she knew that the first step to solving any problem was to recognize the issue.

  Greeting so many of her former soldiers slowed her progress through the city, so it was nearly nightfall by the time she found her way outside of Ironshore and to her intended destination. The Spires loomed over her, glittering with the light from dozens of ethereal lamps.

  She stepped inside, and immediately, she felt the atmosphere change. It was almost like stepping into an electrical storm, the air was so charged. Though instead of lightning, it drew its characteristics from the local ethera. It still felt like any other part of the grove, dense with natural vitality that was like being hugged by Elijah. Or suffocated, if she’d regarded him as hostile.

  But there was more to it.

  Clearly, there was a lot of energy flowing through the Spires, and it surged each time they were activated. Feeling that, and knowing that Hu Shui would soon become one of her companions, she couldn’t help but wonder how such a force could be weaponized. She’d heard Elijah’s stories about the blue dragon, so she had some ideas, but she also lacked the context to understand the limitations. Moreover, Hu Shui was not a Sorcerer by archetype, so it remained a mystery how his powers would manifest.

  Buying passage through the Spires was an uncomplicated process, and it wasn’t long before her turn came. Soon enough, she was teleported hundreds of miles. Immediately, the smell of the sea gave way to the scent of the nearby olive groves, and she found herself stepping out of the compound to see Argos sprawling in the distance.

  The city had grown since the last time she’d visited, and not by a little. It was a commercial hub unrivaled throughout the world, and that prosperity had given its people leave to develop the city well beyond its former constraints. Before the world had changed, it had hosted a little more than twenty thousand residents, but now, it was a city whose population had long since reached six figures.

  Mostly, it had grown outward, with its old walls having been knocked down while new, much more impressive fortifications were erected. It had also grown vertically, with many of its buildings reaching ten or more stories. However, it still maintained the old aesthetic, with a predominantly Mediterranean style characterized by white buildings and red tile roofs. She was no expert in architecture, but she’d listened to Elijah’s comments on the subject often enough that she couldn’t help but notice those details.

  Entering the city came with blessed anonymity. The guards could surely identify her, but the fame that followed her in Ironshore didn’t seem as ubiquitous in the formerly Greek city. Of course, some of her soldiers had come from Argos, but they were far fewer in number. That, coupled with nightfall, let her traverse the city without much in the way of attention.

  Thankfully, when she arrived at Atticus Ariti’s shop, she found that it was still open, as denoted by the subtly glowing sign that read “Agora.” Originally, the business had been named Atticus’ Arsenal, then changed to Agora Ariti, and finally, simply Agora, which was written in gold script on a white field.

  She entered, only to be pleasantly surprised by the perfectly temperate air. It had been a long time since she’d felt real air conditioning, and she had to admit that it was a nice touch. Alongside that comfortable atmosphere, she was greeted by a tinkling of unobtrusive music. And finally, she saw that she was not alone in her intention to engage in a nighttime shopping expedition. Hundreds of other shoppers milled about, inspecting the tastefully displayed items.

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  Most of the interesting stuff stood on glass-encased pedestals, but there were racks lining the walls and other displays filling the department-store-sized space. Nothing was crowded, but the area was used quite wisely.

  Scattered throughout the building were uniformed attendants, each one attractive and smiling. One approached her.

  “Miss Song. How can the Agora meet your needs?” the young, curly-haired man asked. His perfect features reminded Sadie of the statue of David in Florence.

  “I need a bag,” she replied.

  “We have a wide selection of containers, both stylish and –”

  “I’ll take over from here, Elias,” came a deep voice. Sadie didn’t need to look to know that the owner of the business had arrived.

  “Hello, Atticus,” she said. She’d only met the man a handful of times, but she knew he was one of Elijah’s closest friends. He was also a bit of a bad influence who had a reputation for debauchery that Elijah had never bothered to dispute. However, his recent marriage had reportedly brought most of that to a halt.

  He spread his arms wide and bowed deeper than a man of his girth should have been capable of bending. He wore a simple white shirt with the first few buttons unfastened to show off a multitude of gold chains amidst a thick mat of chest hair. That, coupled with the rolled-up sleeves, displaying thick forearms and the hands of a man not unused to working with them, gave off the vibe that he was just a simple, hardworking Merchant.

  That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Hardworking he might have been, but he was anything but simple. The man had a developed a stranglehold on the world economy, and in his field, he was at least as powerful – relative to everyone else – as any other combat elite. Perhaps even more so.

  No – simple, he was definitely not.

  “No need for such formality. We’re friends, Atticus.”

  He grinned, saying, “In that case, a hug is in order!”

  Before Sadie could react, he’d wrapped his thick arms around her in an enthusiastic, brotherly embrace that reminded her of what it must’ve felt like to be hugged by a bear. Thankfully, it ended almost as quickly as it started.

  “Elijah always said you were a hugger.”

  “An excusable vice, I hope,” he conceded. “Now, what can I do for you? I assume this is not a social call.”

  Sadie answered, “I’m looking for two things, really. The first is a pack. I need as much space as you can offer.”

  “I can do that. What else?”

  She looked away, a little embarrassed. “I want to get something for Elijah,” she answered. “Something special, but I don’t really know what direction to go.”

  “Hmm,” Atticus said, ignoring the onlookers who’d obviously noticed two of the most powerful people in the world. The Merchant was well-known and a visible figure in Argos, and if he treated Sadie like an equal, then she must be important. That, coupled with the aura of power that surrounded anyone who’d passed level two-hundred was enough to mark her as an extremely important person.

  The attention was not comfortable, but she chose to simply ignore it.

  After only a moment, the Merchant revealed, “I believe I have an idea. Come with me.”

  With that, he offered her his arm. She took it, and he escorted her to the back of the store, where they found an elevator that took them a few floors up. As it turned out, they were heading to his office, where he offered her some refreshments while he went to fetch the items he had in mind. Sadie graciously accepted a cup of tea coupled with what he referred to as koulourakia, which turned out to be twisted cookies with a golden crust that tasted mildly sweet and paired extremely well with the tea.

  When she remarked that it was quite good, Atticus explained that koulourakia were generally seasonal, adding, “I remember my mother and aunts cooking huge batches for the Saturday before Easter. It is one of my fondest childhood memories.”

  Sadie only smiled and continued the polite conversation. Atticus quickly moved on from reminiscence to show her what he’d brought.

  The first item was what looked like a simple leather backpack. “It is far more than it appears,” she said. “The creator calls this a Dimensional Sack, and it was made from the hide of a species of goat that, to survive the harsh winters of its environment, can eat more than a hundred times its own weight, storing the excess in a naturally occurring dimensional reserve within its own body.”

  “So, it can hold more than it looks like it can hold?”

  “Far more. One-point-one-three cubic meters, in fact.”

  Sadie narrowed her eyes as she did a quick calculation for context. “That’s about the size of a coat closet.”

  “Indeed. It is the best crafted bag I have in stock,” Atticus explained. “The Leatherworker who makes them has made a few more like it, but the goats are very difficult to find, much less kill.”

  “You said it was the best crafted bag? Are there better available? Perhaps rewards from towers?” she asked.

  “I’ve seen a few,” he answered. “However, I only have one in stock.” As an attendant arrived with a second box, he added, “Ah, here it is.”

  The woman set it down, and Atticus wasted no time in opening it to reveal a purse that bore a striking resemblance to the one Elijah routinely carried. There were two major differences, though. The first was that it had a much rougher design – like what she’d expect to see on a saddlebag from one of her grandfather’s beloved westerns. Not only was the material closer to rawhide than sleek leather, it was equipped with big, brass-looking buckles as well.

  The second major difference was that it looked brand new, while Elijah’s Ghoul-Hide Satchel had clearly seen better days. The latter was fraying at the seams, and bore all the evidence of Elijah’s many battles. In short, it looked on the verge of falling apart, and he’d often expressed his dismay for the inevitable conclusion of his bag’s story.

  “It’s called the Herbalist’s Satchel. It is only a little bigger than the Dimensional Sack, though it is equipped with a unique enchantment that allows it to accommodate living things,” Atticus explained. “According to the previous owner’s notes, while sentient creatures – like animals – will survive being inside, the experience leaves them quite distressed. As the name suggests, it is reasonable to assume it is meant for plants and fungi. The moment it came into my possession, I thought of Elijah.”

  Sadie nodded along, seeing precisely why that was the case. Elijah had always been a bit of a packrat, and he routinely gathered various seeds. However, the nature of his Arcane Loop meant that living plants could not survive inside – not for long, at least. The Herbalist’s Satchel would solve the problem of his fraying Ghoul-Hide Satchel and the issue with his other storage space’s limitations.

  “I think it’s perfect,” she admitted. “What happened to the previous owner?”

  “Stabbed in the back by her business partner,” Atticus replied. “Her son took vengeance upon the villain, but he had no use for the satchel or her other equipment. We gave him quite a generous sum.”

  “So, no one’s going to come looking for it?” she asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Atticus responded. “Though an item like that is incredibly valuable. I would not be surprised if envy prompts some to attempt to steal it, largely because it is not bindable.”

  “I see.”

  That meant that anyone who found it could access the contents and take possession. If it had been bound, that would not be the case unless the owner was dead. Sadie wasn’t certain if that made it more or less valuable.

  “How much?” she asked.

  That was when the haggling began, and she quickly discovered just why Atticus had been so successful as a Merchant. She had some experience in business negotiations, but it was entirely inadequate for dealing with the Merchant. It was almost like his words had a hypnotic effect, though she knew no magic was involved. He was just an extremely affable and persuasive man who knew precisely what to say and when.

  Ultimately, though, he took it easy on her. He obviously knew she wasn’t going to leave without the items, so he could have charged her just about whatever he wanted. However, in the end, he only charged a little more than what Sadie thought they were worth.

  Of course, it wasn’t until she was halfway back to the Spires that she even realized that she’d overspent. Such was the talent of a good Merchant, she supposed. Not that it mattered to anything but her pride. She had plenty of money, so it wasn’t as if she would miss a few extra ethereum.

  And besides, both purchases were perfectly suited to her needs, which was the only thing that really mattered.

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