Bronze City sparkled in the morning sun. The glare from the walls was bad enough to force him to avert his eyes, and the smog cloud above the city did surprisingly little to block out the harsh rays.

The large multicolored tarps hanging over the market did a lot to block out the sun. Rays of light snuck through the gaps, illuminating some unlucky vendors with their light.

Angel’s nose twitched as the smell of oil and deep fried dough reached his nostrils. His stomach growled and his feet changed his path of their own volition. The marketplace was already crowded, but he’d walked these streets so many times that he knew the side roads like the back of his hand.

Most of the Vendors didn’t even bother calling out to Angel as he slipped by them. They, especially the ones near Fence’s shop, knew who he was. Seekers that lived in the lower districts of Bronze City didn’t often have enough money to bother with.

Angel emerged from a small alley and stepped into a market square with around a dozen shoddy scrap metal carts. All sorts of food sat on display across their carts, ranging from meat pies to fried pastries. The center of the square was full of metal stools. Several people sat on them, eating breakfast and talking amongst themselves.

One cart in particular caught Angel’s eye. Nestled in the corner of the square was a cart laden with meat pastries glistening with grease. Angel licked his lips and walked over, ignoring the vendors that waved their food in his face as he passed.

“Angel!” the thin woman manning the cart exclaimed, glancing up and wiping her flour covered hands off on her apron. Her clothes were stained from grease and oil, but the woman’s eyes twinkled. “That was a fast job. Only two days!”

“It was an older catacomb,” Angel replied, grinning. “The defenses weren’t very good. It wasn’t much trouble at all. I stopped by another one on the way back. Nearly joined the Buried gods in the process, but it was pretty easy.”

“Sure it was,” she replied, grabbing a golden brown pastry stuffed full of a mixture of meat and vegetables. She wrapped the bottom half in a napkin and handed it to Angel, who eagerly took it. “I hope you actually sold something this time. You need to move out of that disgusting shop already.”

Angel reached into his pocket and gave her a single bronze coin. It vanished into her apron and he gave her a sheepish grin.

“One of the monsters had a green core. I sold that,” Angel said.

“But not the artifact?”

Angel shrugged. She rolled her eyes and grabbed a thin metal tube. She started rolling out the ball of dough on the small counter in front of her.

“I don’t know what your obsession is with Old Magic, Angel. It nearly ended the world. Maybe it should be left alone and kept within the artifacts. No good is going to come from trying to learn it.”

“The world already ended. I’m just trying to help rebuild it,” Angel replied. He took a bite out of the pastry. Juice dripped down his chin and his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the explosion of flavor. The rich, fatty meat paired perfectly with a plethora of spices and vegetables that he couldn’t even begin to think about naming.

“I’m worried about you. Nothing good has ever come from messing with Old Magic. Even the Scholars just try to identify the artifacts. If they can’t figure out how to use it, how can you?”

“They’re greedy,” Angel replied. He took another bite of the pastry and swallowed before speaking again. “Artifacts break if you use them wrong, and they’re too scared to lose the power they’ve gotten from them. Imagine what we could do if the magic weren’t trapped within hunks of metal.”

“Probably blow each other up with it again,” she replied, giving him a small grin.

“Bah, we can already do that. It’s not like New Magic is scarce. Everyone and their mother has a gauntlet now, and the newer models can even recycle the cannisters. It wasn’t the Old Magic that destroyed the world. It was the people that wielded it.”

The merchant rolled her eyes and reached over the cart to flick Angel on the forehead.

“Just don’t blow yourself up. I’d hate to lose my best customer.”

Angel grimaced. His mouth opened. Then he closed it again. If people realized he’d disappeared at the same time as the Magistrate’s daughter, it wouldn’t be hard for them to track down his acquaintances.

“About that,” Angel said, frowning. “I’m going on a mission. A long one. Few weeks, maybe more. I don’t really know.”

“Really? That’s new. You never leave Bronze City for long,” she said, cocking her head. “Where are you going?”

“Red Trellis,” Angel lied, a knot forming in his stomach. The city in question was in the exact opposite direction from where he was heading. “I probably won’t be in the city much though. Mostly just exploring.”

“I see,” the merchant said. She gave him a small smile. “Well, I expect to see you back soon enough. You’re not allowed to die, you hear me?”

“Yes, mom,” Angel said, laughing. He pulled a Vei from his bag, hiding it within his palm. He reached out to shake her hand. She accepted, her eyebrows raising as she felt the coin press against her skin.

Angel held a finger to his lips and winked. Then he pulled away and slipped back into the crowd before she could say anything. He finished off the last of his meal as he walked, licking the tips of his fingers before crumpling the napkin and tossing it into a small bin at the side of the road.

He wiped the last of the grease off on his pants and made his way towards his original destination – The Hunter’s Rest. The top of the huge building acted like a beacon as Angel weaved past people and merchants.

It was four stories high and towered over the surrounding buildings. Pipes wove in and out along its wall, belching out steam. The smell of liquor emanating from it was strong enough to burn Angel’s nostrils.

He pulled out his thick scarf and wrapped it around himself, concealing the lower half of his face before pushing past the small crowd at the building’s door and stepping inside the large room.

Dozens of tables had been arranged in neat rows wherever they could fit. A huge bar covered the entire back wall, and several bartenders in matching black uniforms moved to and fro from their patrons. Many of the tables were occupied by hardy looking men and women covered in weaponry.

Beside the bar was a massive board covered with papers that were pinned to it with daggers. Angel walked up to the seat in the bar closest to the board and pulled the metal stool out. He sat down and rested one arm on the thick divider as he waited.

It didn’t take long for a bartender to show up before him. The man was clean shaven, with a pointed moustache and a thin face.

“What can I get for you today?”

“Water, please,” Angel said. “And I’d like to hire a Hunter.”

The bartender reached under the divider and pulled out a metal cup. He pulled a hose up and filled the cup with water, then set it on the table before Angel.

“The board is behind you. You’re free to put up a request.”

“I need something a little more discreet,” Angel said. He didn’t bother lowering his tone – it would have made him look more suspicious, and it was already so loud in the building that he doubted anyone could hear him anyways.

“Ah,” the bartender said. “I see. That would be different. Do you have the coin?”

Angel nodded. “I’ve got enough.”

“What’s the job?”

“I need an escort to Molten Cliffs.”

The bartender’s eyebrows rose. “Buried gods. That… thins the pool of Hunters significantly. Not many are willing to cross the Barren on foot, and for good reason. Are you sure you’ve got the coin?”

“Starting offer is five Vei,” Angel said. “And I’d consider counteroffers.”

The other man did a remarkable job of not looking surprised. His features only changed for a moment before he got them back under control.

“You might be able to get some bites for that,” the bartender allowed. “How soon do you need a Hunter?”

“Tomorrow.”

“…I see. I’ll put out the word that someone is seeking a Hunter for a dangerous trip, then. Would you like to accompany me to a private room?”

“That might be best,” Angel said.