The general store is little more than an ordinary house, with its living room refurbished into a reception area. If not for the wooden sign outside reading, “Alola’s Wares, for adventurers of all levels and classes!”, 11 will have walked right past it. She pushes open the door, and a curvy brunette greets her warmly from behind the counter.

“Welcome to Alola’s Wares!” The girl’s smile is fetching, but a few shades dimmer than Aralyn’s. “What can I help you with today, adventurer?”

11 glances at the swords and shields displayed across the walls. Basic materials crafted with crude craftsmanship, she notes with disappointment. It’s probably too much to ask for anything involving gun powder or electricity.

“What kind of bladed weaponry do you have?” she asks the girl, whom she assumes must be Alola.

“Anything you want, I have!” Alola beams. “Are you looking for a hidden blade for self-protection? Or a ritual dagger for your spells?”

“Um. A big one, for cutting things apart?” 11 holds her hands apart to indicate roughly the length of her nanoblade. “It needs an edge on one side, but I can use anything that isn't too wacky.”

Alola’s smile falters for a second. “If it’s a side weapon you want, a dagger will do nicely. Anything larger will bring you more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I don’t want a side weapon,” 11 corrects her. “I’m using this weapon as a primary source of damage.”

“So, are you… not a mage?” The confusion on Alola’s face is vivid. “What class did you say you are, again?”

“Reaper- ah, no, I mean…uhm, I am….a…” 11 recalls Allastair’s introduction when they first met in the forest. “Fighter. I am a Fighter. Class.”

“O-kay,” Alola says, nodding slowly. “Sure. I mean, I just thought you were a healer, or sorcerer or something. Which guild approved you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

11 feels an incredible urge to run. Maybe I do need to work on how to lie better. She again casts her mind back, through all the things Aralyn has said to her, and makes an educated guess.

“The one in Kesrock city?”

“The Heroes’ League?”

“…Yes.”

“Oh.” Alola seems to be convinced, somewhat. “I guess they came up with a new class? So, are you some kind of sword-wielding spell caster?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

Alola barks out a sudden, hearty laugh, making 11 jump. “Alright, let's stop kidding around.” The girl leans across the counter. “You don’t have to lie. I’ve done business in the cities before. I’ve seen your kind many times already.”

11 stares at her. “My kind?” Does this shopkeeper also know more than she seems? Is this village just full of people like Lawheim?

“Uh-huh,” Alola nods. “Sure have. Class-jumper, Re-ranker, whatever you call yourselves these days. You’re trying to multi-class. You regret following the stereotypes set upon you, fed up with people seeing you as a class and not a person. So, you’re challenging the status quo, going to prove them all wrong by picking up a sword instead of a staff, a shield instead of a spellbook.”

11 finds herself speechless.

"So, how close did I get?" Alola asks, grinning at 11 like a puppy waiting for a treat.

11 gives her a thumbs up. “One... uh, hundred percent."

“Ah-hah! And they say I can’t be a good sleuth!” Alola flips a thick lock over her shoulder. “I’ll show them. Once I make enough money here, I’m going to get back out there and solve all the greatest mysteries in this world. Just you watch!” She hops from the counter, giving 11 a wink as she says, "Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Now, let’s see what I have for someone like you.” She then disappears into the room behind her.

11 lets out a long sigh. “Disaster averted.” She turns from the counter and wanders around the store, studying the crests and badges lining the walls. There is not a single symbol she recognizes anywhere, but she is not surprised by that anymore. Instead, she takes note of all the many different sigils – roaring lions and three-headed manticores – for future reference. Perhaps one of them might be the descendants of her creators.

After a few minutes, Alola emerges with a bundle of cloth in her arms. She places it triumphantly on the counter, unwraps it, and reveals a short sword sheathed in a black leather scabbard.

“A Mage-blade,” she announces like it is the main course of a lavish meal. “Go on, try it. Don’t be shy.”

The sword unsheathes smoothly with a satisfying zing. 11 holds the blade to the sunlight filtering through the windows, marveling at its simplistic double-edged beauty. Iron and steel, tempered in a coal-powered forge and coated with plant-based oils; ergonomic handle crafted from oak wood; leather grips made from genuine animal hides; the design is rudimentary and the materials are basic, but the weapon gleams with a weight of reliability.

“Give it a swing.”

The sword glides effortlessly through the air, so light it seems to want to fly. 11’s fingers perform a hundred micro-adjustments and calculations in the span of a single swing, working out exactly how heavy the sword is, its balance point, and even where the imperfections within the metal are.

"Very, humble." 11 sheathes the sword and places it gently back on the counter. "Uncomplicated."

“Do you like it?” Alola asks. “It’s thinner than the average sword, which makes it much easier on your arms. While I do not recommend you clash steel with this, cutting through flesh and the occasional bone won’t be a problem. So, decent damage with none of the cumbersome weight. A perfect choice for someone branching out of the mystical arts, don’t you think?”

11 nods, feeling a pang of sadness in her chest. Her nanoblade could cut through mountains.

“I’ll take it,” she says.

“Wonderful!” Alola claps her hands together with delight. “That will be forty-five silvers, sheath and belt included." Then she adds quickly, "It's a bit much, I know, but fine steel doesn't come around too often these days.”

11 fishes out the animal-skin pouch in the backpack, and places it on the counter. “Will this cover it?”

Alola blinks. She reaches over for the pouch, opens it, and peeks inside. Then, with a smile spreading across her entire face, she looks up at 11 and asks,

“Would you like to buy another one?”