The late afternoon sun was hanging low over the water, bathing the entire city in a wash of heavy, liquid gold. The buildings spilled down the hillside like a cascade of white stones, their terracotta roofs glowing like copper. A high stone wall hugged the landward side, bristling with defensive towers, but the city seemed to embrace the ocean like a lover.

  But it was the harbor that stole the show. The water was a blinding sheet of shimmering blue fire where the sun hit the waves. Hundreds of ships were docked there, looking silly from this height, looking a bit like toys bobbing in a bathtub. Very detailed and probably expensive toys.

  I could see the distinct, elegant shapes of a group of ships near the eastern pier. Their over-the-top sweeping lines and gossamer silver sails just screamed ‘elf’. These contrasted sharply with the blocky, iron-plated hulls of what could only be Dwarven barges, sitting low and heavy in the water. There was also a plethora of multicolored sails belonging to what was possibly the human merchant fleets. It was a forest of masts and ropes, bustling with activity. It looked like I should be able to hear the shouts of the sailors, the snap of the sails, and the slap of the waves. But from this height, all I heard was wind on rock and the distant, lonely cry of gulls.

  “Look at that,” Rose said, coming up beside me. She shielded her eyes against the glare, a smile breaking across her face. “This is exactly how I would picture a fantasy port city.”

  “It’s perfect,” I begrudgingly admitted. As much as I hated to praise the makers of this game, this did look like a page from one of my favourite novels had been brought to life.

  “I was told this trade hub,” Rose breathed. “But the reality is just … amazing. Right,” she gave herself a little shake, “The area with the green and white flags — that’s supposed to be the market area. And the ones with the blue flags is the Naval Authority.”

  “Sounds military.”

  “It does Maybe we can maybe find out where the prince is if that is military.”

  The descent into Mare’s Meet was pleasant compared to the climb through the pass. This side of the mountains was less rocky, covered in scrub grass and wildflowers, and the air was fresh with the smell of the ocean. The fact we were walking downhill also helped, though the slope did strange things to my balance. My dead leg was feeling fine, but the normal leg was feeling fatigued.

  As we came down the final slope, the city sprawled out before us, bathed in the heavy gold of the late afternoon sun.

  The guards at the gate seemed mildly surprised to see us. They were leaning against the stonework, looking bored, their pikes resting against the wall. One of them straightened up, adjusting his belt.

  “Name, class, and purpose of visit?” he asked, pulling a clipboard from his belt.

  “Elizabeth. I’m a Barbarian,” I said, shifting my grip to hold Dekka under one arm. If nothing else, me being this big made her look even smaller and less threatening. And she was still wearing her loot box bow on her head. “Here to trade and find lodgings.”

  He grunted and wrote something on paper on the board. Were clipboards an anachronism? Did they have paper mills in this economy? He paused, looking at the dog.

  “Is that… a ribbon? On the creature?” he asked, squinting.

  “It’s fashion,” I said deadpan. “She’s a a dog. And a trendsetter.”

  He blinked, then turned to Rose.

  She hesitated, then stood up straight, brushing dust from her robe. “Rositilda. Necromancer. And like my friend here, I am here to trade and find lodgings.”

  The guard’s pen stopped scratching. He gave her the side-eye. Necromancy was never popular with the general populace; it tended to lower property values. Was being small and cute helpful to her as well?

  “Necromancer,” he repeated slowly. “We have strict zoning laws about raising the dead within city limits. No skeletons except in the sewers and no zombies at all anymore. And if you bring a lich in here, the Paladins will smite you first and ask questions never. Do you understand?”

  “Crystal clear,” Rose smiled innocently. “My skeletons are strictly subterranean and currently on vacation anyway.”

  The guard gave her a weird look. “What do you think, Berti?” the man said to a fellow guard as she walked up from the guardhouse.

  The woman was almost as large as I was. A vertiable tower of muscle in chainmail. She looked us over, her eyes lingering on my warhammer and my dog.

  “They don’t look much like trouble to me,” she said with a rolling accent I hadn’t heard before. She peered at Dekka. “And the little beast is wearing a ribbon. How dangerous can they be?”

  Rose smiled at her, the ‘harmless cute hafling’ act turned up to eleven.

  “Yeah, but coming overland? Just the two of them?” The suspicious guard narrowed his eyes at us. “Seems unlikely.”

  I glanced at the larger woman. “Does your friend here think a couple of women can’t handle themselves out in the wilderness?”

  A grin spread across Berti’s face before she remembered to be professional. Before she could speak, the male guard sighed, defeated. “Fine, fine.” He stepped back to let us pass. “No, that wasn’t what I was thinking,” he muttered as we walked by. “I just hate paperwork for incident reports.”

  Once through the gates, I was stunned into coming to a complete halt.

  The city was a painter’s dream and a rogue’s paradise. The light caught the white stone buildings, turning them a warm honey color, while the slate roofs shimmered like dragon scales. They were all bunched up along cobbled streets that wound their way down toward the water. Balconies overflowed with flowers, and laundry lines crisscrossed the narrow alleys like bunting. I could just imagine a shadowy figure running along the rooftops at night, jumping from eaves to eaves.

  I turned and caught glimpses of masts and sails bobbing as I looked down one of the long streets.

  “Focus,” Rose said, though she paused for a second to admire the view herself. “Pretty boats later. Wizard now. I’ve got maybe forty minutes to find and purchase you an artifact.”

  “As gorgeous as this place is, it isn’t exactly wheelchair friendly. Even if I could find a wheelchair.” I looked around at the stairs, the steep curbs, and the uneven cobblestones. It was a nightmare for accessibility.

  Mare’s Meet lived up to its name—it was a chaotic, smelly, vibrant collision of trade. And horses.

  There were horses everywhere. Massive draft thorses with long hair over their hooves pulling carts piled high with barrels of ale. Finer boned palfreys dancing nervously as squires tried to calm them in the press of the crowd. Weary-looking, sturdy ponies hitched outside a dwarven bar, looking like they’d seen too many miles. The air smelled of brine, tar, roasting meat, and the unmistakable, earthy tang of manure.

  “Watch your step,” Rose warned, steering me around a steaming pile on the cobblestones.

  “I’m good,” I said, sidestepping easily. I looked down at Dekka, who was now trotting along beside us. “No snacking!” I told her.

  She ignored me, nose high, as if it would be beneath her to sample the horse droppings. I caught an image in her mind. A distinct desire to roll in it.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “No rolling in it either!”

  She gave me a little sneeze of defiance. But I wasn’t fooled, she had been planning a good roll in the shit. Dogs could be so gross. But still we loved them. There was a message in that somewhere.

  We had to walk through a residential section to get to the market area, which was closer to the docks. Even with it being early evening, the market was awash with textures, color, and movement. I was mesmerized by even the small selection of the stalls that I could see.

  The crowd was a mix of NPCs of all sizes, shapes and colours going about their programmed lives. I saw a group of children watching some street performers. They clapped and giggled as the flags on the buildings snapped in the wind.

  Suddenly, my dead foot caught on a raised cobblestone. I stumbled, pitching forward. I almost caught myself but slipped further on something that was probably deposited by an equine.

  I flailed, grabbing onto a nearby stall to steady myself. The stall, a flimsy structure selling dried herbs, creaked under my weight. The merchant, a wizened gnome, shrieked.

  “Watch it, giant!” he yelled, brandishing a ladle. “You break it, you bought it! And that Basil is premium!”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, righting myself. I rubbed my shin. The lack of sensation was disorienting; I couldn't feel the ground to correct my balance. And now I had horse poo on the bottom of my new fancy boots. We really needed to find me an artifact.

  “Okay, scan the signs,” Rose instructed, steering me away from the angry gnome. “We need a magic shop. But not the ‘sparkles and potions for newbie adventurers’ kind. We need the ‘dark alley, dubious legality’ kind.”

  We pushed deeper into the trade district. The immersion was almost perfect, until a guy in full plate mail ran past us, jumping repeatedly in place like a kangaroo, likely glitching or just bored. A group of elves argued over the price of silk nearby, ignoring him completely. It was loud, overwhelming, and perfectly normal, if your normal was a video game.

  “There,” I pointed with my staff.

  We turned down a side street, following a hunch and the tang of sulfur in the sea salt air. I saw a crooked sign hung above a recessed storefront: The Obsidian Quill: Arcane Curiosities. The shop looked like it was trying to hide behind the other buildings around it, wedged into the shadows like a bad secret.

  “Something like this one?”

  “Good eye,” Rose said. “Let’s go.”

  The windows of the shop were blackened. At first, I thought this was an attempt at privacy, but when we stepped in, the air was redolent of oily smoke. The windows likely had achieved that patina over decades of poor ventilation.

  I looked over at the man behind the counter. Did the inside of his lungs match the windows? Did this game program in lung cancer for the NPCs? That would be really shitty, but I wouldn’t put it past the sadistic bastard who made this game.

  The shopkeep looked like he had been dried out in the sun like jerky. He was thin, bald, and wore spectacles that magnified his eyes to disturbing proportions. He was currently polishing a skull with a rag.

  “Welcome,” he wheezed, not looking up. “Don’t touch the jars on the left. They are a bit fractious today and might bite. They don’t like the change in weather.”

  The shop was cramped, dimly lit, and smelled like old paper and ozone. Shelves lined every wall, packed to the ceiling with jars filled with everything from colored dust that sparkled to what looked like preserved biological samples. I peered at a jar near my elbow; inside, something that looked suspiciously like a goblin’s ear floated in amber liquid. Along with dried roots, loose bones, and crystals that hummed with faint light, the place felt like a fire hazard waiting to happen.

  I turned slightly, and my furry pauldrons nearly knocked over a stack of dusty tomes. I froze, waiting for them to fall. They wobbled but stayed put. I exhaled. This shop was not built for the size of barbarian hitboxes.

  “Hi,” Rose said, marching up to the counter, not wasting time looking around. “We’re looking for a specific type of artifact.”

  The shopkeeper, whose nameplate read Master Vane, finally looked up. His magnified eyes swept over Rose, dismissed her robes as mid-tier, then landed on me. He looked up at my height and scowled.

  “I have potions for strength, scrolls for fireballs, and a very nice ring of water breathing on discount,” Vane said, his voice bored. He was dismissing us as people not likely to have much coin. “Or perhaps a potion of hair removal for the… larger lady?” He was eying my bear fur covered shoulders.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I like the fur. It keeps me warm.”

  “We don’t need water breathing, or hair removal,” Rose said, leaning her elbows on the counter. She lowered her voice. “We need an amulet. Specifically, one attuned to necrotic mana manipulation. Constant flow.”

  Vane stopped polishing the skull. The shop went very quiet. Even the humming crystals seemed to drop an octave.

  “Necromancy is frowned upon,” Vane said slowly. “The Church of Light has a cathedral two streets over. I don’t deal in… dark arts.”

  I eyed the skull he had been polishing. It looked human. A small hole in the temple suggested a violent end.

  “No necromancy, but polishing a human skull is fine?” I asked.

  “Oh, cut the crap,” Rose said, narrowing her eyes at the man. “I see a jar of Grave Dust on the shelf behind you. And that’s a Soul Prism on the top shelf.”

  Vane narrowed his eyes. “I am a collector of rarities. That does not mean I sell them to just anyone who walks in off the street.”

  “We aren’t ‘anyone’,” I spoke up. I stepped forward, letting head of my war hammer knock against the wood of the counter. “And we aren’t here to raise an army. I just need a battery.”

  Vane looked at me, his eyebrows raised behind the thick glass.

  “I have a problem,” I said. I lifted the hem of my pants to show the blackened and bruised skin of my shin. It looked horrific in the dim light. “We aren’t trying to raise the dead. Just a limb.”

  “Ah,” he said, his expression softening from suspicion to avarice. “That does change things slightly. Was it a curse?” He asked with more than professional interest.

  “Yes, a curse,” I lied. “A bad one. Can you help?” I didn’t want to get into the whole story of the World Dungeon Event. And his sudden interest seemed creepy, like he was mentally dissecting me.

  Vane hummed. “I might have something. A relic from the sunken crypts of Old Baeloria. It was designed to animate… autonomous guardians.”

  That sounded ominous. But Rose just nodded. I wondered if these were references from another storyline in the game.

  He ducked below the counter. I heard the sound of keys turning and heavy latches sliding. He popped back up, much more spry than he had been before, and was holding a small, silver amulet set with a stone that looked like a piece of the night sky—all velvety blacks and purples with small flecks of shimmering light.

  “This is full of available necrotic mana,” Vane announced. “It should be just what you need.” He gave us a predatory smile.

  “Perfect,” Rose said, reaching for it.

  Vane snatched it back. “Ah, ah. Payment first.”

  “How much?”

  “For a rare, necromantic artifact? And considering the risk?” Vane smiled, revealing yellow teeth. “Five hundred gold.”

  Rose choked. “Five hundred? Are you out of your mind? That’s robbery! I could buy a small house for that!”

  “As you said, you aren’t looking for anything mundane,” Vane sniffed. “Supply and demand, my dear. And currently, I have the supply, and you have the demand.”

  My heart sank. Five hundred gold.

  “We don’t have five hundred,” I said quietly. “We have…” I looked at Rose.

  She nodded at me. “We have two hundred gold.” My heart swelled with appreciation. She was willing to toss all the coins she had from the World Event in. Though I didn’t know how much she had from before that.

  Vane laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. “Two hundred? That would barely buy the chain it hangs on. Come back when you have serious coin.” He started to lower the amulet back under the counter.

  “Wait!” Rose slammed her hand on the wood. “Look, we can do a quest for you. We can fetch ingredients. We can—what time is it?” She glanced frantically at the air, her face paling.

  “I do not need errands run,” Vane sneered. “I run a business. Gold, or get out.”

  “Listen to me, you dried-up prune,” I snapped, my patience evaporating. “We need that amulet now. I can’t walk without it.” I glared at him. I was very sure that artifact wasn’t worth five hundred gold coins.

  “With a shop this well stocked I am sure you can afford to be patient. Can we offer to pay the rest later?” Rose tried diplomacy.

  “Credit is for nobility,” Vane said dismissively. “Not for wandering vagrants.”

  Rose looked at me, concern showing in her eyes. “I’m running out of time. I have like… two minutes.”

  {System Error} - Can we force him?

  I desperately wanted to reach over the counter and shake the little man, and I don’t think it was just my barbarian rage showing.

  {Rositilda} - I don’t like it but I am not sure we have another option.

  She turned back to Vane, her hands glowing faintly green. “Give us the damn amulet.”

  When he just blinked at us, I swung the war hammer off my back casually and smiled at him.

  Still, Vane didn’t flinch. “Violence in a shop? How predictable. I wouldn’t even need to call the guards. At your level, the construct guardian in the corner will vaporize you.”

  I looked to the corner. A suit of armor I had assumed was decoration turned its head toward us. The visor glowed a menacing red.

  Well shit.

  Rose hesitated, then let go of her dagger. “Fine. Five hundred. We’ll get your stupid five hundred.” She turned to me, desperation in her eyes as she opened her mouth to say something else, but then her eyes snapped to the air in front of her face. The timer must have hit zero.

  “Oh shit,” Rose said.

  And vanished.

  Well fuck.

  I collapsed to the floor.

  This was getting really fucking old.

  I stared at the empty space where Rose had been. One moment she was there, the next gone.

  “Well,” I said to the empty air. “That was rude.” My sentiments aimed at the game dev who made the game kick people out when they were clearly needed in game to help their friend.

  “Get up,” Vane snapped. He was coming around the counter, his face twisting into a scowl and his wide eyes magnified behind his thick glasses looked even more bug-like.

  I stared up at him in fascination. Now that he was standing out in the open I could see his legs. Not what he was wearing on his legs. His spindly matchstick like legs, and knobbly knees.

  “This transaction is cancelled. Get out of my shop.”