I rolled out of my rented bed to the sound of a person pounding on my door. Contrary to my initial expectations and assessment when I arrived in the room, the inn was not quiet nor soundproof. There had simply been no people in the rooms because they were all downstairs eating, drinking, or playing games. Once they began to filter up into the rooms later in the night the combination of snoring, coughing, vomiting, grunting, and general movement noise kept me from entering any sort of deep sleep. Every time some human would roll over anywhere in the inn I could hear it, and if I was at all close to sleeping I would awaken immediately.

“Don't tell me he died in there or something,” a muffled voice said outside my room. I took a few deep breaths and focused my eyes, trying to get myself to full alertness before I answered the door. Right, I should pick these up, I thought as I reached down for my spear and crossbow. I strapped them to my back where they had been before, grabbed my key from the table, and walked to the door. “I can hear him mov-” the muffled voice said as I approached and opened it.

“Is there a problem?” I asked curtly. My patience had worn quite thin over the night.

“It's halfway to noon,” the fat innkeeper said angrily. The cook, whose name I had already forgotten, stood behind her with a mop and a bucket. The innkeeper reached out to take the key from my hand, and I held it forward to allow her to do so.

“I was meaning to leave anyway,” I croaked. “Do you have a place for people to defecate here?” The fat innkeeper sighed and the cook behind her looked away.

“There's a shitter downstairs, just go into the enclosed part of the foyer,” she said. I nodded to her and walked past them to the first floor. After taking care of my business in the “shitter”, which turned out to just be a series of deep holes dug into the ground that were filled with waste, I exited the inn. I nearly walked right into the opposite wall of the alley because I had forgotten that it was so narrow. I guess I should either try to find a map, or try to sell off some of this extra gear, I thought. I walked through the alley back out to the main road, which was already abuzz with activity and noise again. One of the large beasts of burden almost ran me over at the exit to the alley, but thankfully it was slow enough that I managed to avoid it.

“If you've got a gold bar I'll get you a map, kid,” a merchant laughed at me from behind his stall. It took tangible effort on my part not to allow my body's rage impulse to overwhelm me at his jeering, possibly due to fatigue. This is going nowhere, I thought, damnit I really wanted to figure out where exactly I am in the world. After giving the merchant a cold stare I vanished into the street traffic, letting myself move with the flow northward. Well, at least I managed to get a few pointers on the layout of the town, I thought whole talking behind a chattering group of the blotchy-skinned humans.

In general, the south of Frahmtehn was more of a commodity trade hub while the north had other kinds of wares for sale, as well as services. The area that I had stayed in, the southwest, was on the cheaper side and usually dealt in things like wood, fresh produce, fertilizer and seed, and animal sales. In my effort to find a map I had moved into the northeast section of the town, which was known for dealing in higher-priced items like artwork, precision tools for crafting, books, fine clothing, and other such things. The architecture and general atmosphere of the town changed dramatically once I entered the northeast, with most buildings being visibly more well-made and the average pedestrian wearing at least one piece of colored clothing.

Since I had tried and failed for at least two hours to find anyone who would sell me a map for a decent price, I decided to head west again to go to a different section of the town. That guy said the northwest was where the mercenary groups did their dealings, right? I asked myself while dodging between pedestrians heading in the opposite direction as I was, That means there are probably stores that deal in weapons and salvage there. I reached the main road, or sehpmtpehz as the locals apparently called it, and looked to the sides before darting through the perpendicular foot traffic.

Reaching the other side of the road and entering the northwest section proper was once again like stepping into a different location entirely. The first thing that I noticed was that fully half of the pedestrians were armed with some variety of melee weapon, and at least one in five were wearing armor of some sort. There are also fewer people here, I thought, but there are more guards. Wait, are those even guards? Outside many of the buildings, armed humans in uniform stood around, their uniform styles varying by building. The signs also had less text on them, and while walking by I observed that almost every building had some kind of pictogram on it. Animal motifs are very popular, I noted as I examined a sign that had a drawing of a skull with two rats on it, also weapons.

My appearance was also attracting more attention than it did in the other sections of town. In the northeast I had been stared at a few times by humans wearing fancy clothing, but nothing appeared hostile. The northwest, however, appeared to not take kindly to my presence. Armed humans outside their stores gave me threatening looks which I could recognize easily, and some of those passing by me turned up their noses in visible disgust, while others sized me up. So long as I make sure I don't do anything illegal they should leave me alone, I thought, now if only I knew the laws here.

“My my sir, you do look rough,” came an amused observation from my left. I glanced over and saw a small blonde man in very tight-fitting garb looking at me. His shirt had a checkerboard pattern to it, alternating red and yellow squares, and was buttoned down in the center. His pants were dark black and made of some kind of fiber, and his shoes were polished leather. His red eyes glinted in the sunlight as he smiled widely and approached, long hair flowing behind him. I looked around, suspecting a trap of some kind. “Do you speak Uwrish?” the man asked.

“Yes,” I replied, “what do you want?” The man smiled even wider than before.

“You appear to be carrying a lot of weaponry sir,” the man observed with a flowing hand gesture. “Are you with the Zmaovshawpmz by any chance?” I blinked a few times as I mentally pulled apart the word he had used, judging the closest approximation to be “steel hearts”. Probably a mercenary group, I figured.

“No,” I said, “I don't know who that is.” The man's smile faded, but only by scant millimeters.

“I see,” he hummed, “in that case would you care to enter my store and browse my merchandise? I believe it might be of interest to you.” As the man spoke, he gestured behind him to the building he was standing in front of. I looked up, seeing a series of unintelligible characters on the sign, and saw that it was shaped like a sword.

“I'm not obligated to purchase something if I enter, correct?” I asked.

“I'd never dream of forcing someone to do such a thing,” the man replied with faux-offense in his voice. “However I do believe you may find yourself compelled to purchase something regardless, as the quality of my wares are exceptional and the prices very reasonable.” After having heard merchants spewing out sales pitches for longer than I would have liked to, I sighed at the one the man was giving me. At least I’m starting to fill out my vocabulary because of them, I thought wearily.

“Weapons?” I asked, my tone clearly communicating that if the answer was negative I would leave.

“Plenty,” the man replied with another smile, his cheeks rising so high that he looked like he was squinting.

“Alright,” I said, “I'll take a look.”

The inside of the shop was almost as big as the first floor of the inn I had stayed in, and had a staircase in the same location. However, instead of being filled with tables and chairs, it was divided up into aisles by wooden holders for different types of weapons and armor. The man had scurried off after we entered, leaving me to browse on my own. Well, I suppose the guard in the back is watching me, I thought as I examined a set of leather and cloth clothing, not that I would be stupid enough to try to rob this place with so many armed humans in the area.

“So just to confirm, sir, you are not with the Steelheart Company?” I heard the man call out from across the room. I looked over and saw that the man had descended from the upper level with a book and quill pen.

“No,” I replied as he approached, “is that a problem?” I saw the man take a short inhale through his teeth.

“May I ask where you acquired one of their tunics?” he asked. “I do believe that sword was made by one of their smithies as well, though I could be mistaken from this angle.” The question made me tense up momentarily, and my eyes scanned the shop for good tactical positions. I could probably kill him and the guard without injury, I thought, but how would I minimize the noise? The yells would have others rushing in to see what happened. “Sir?” the man prompted.

“It's a bit of a long story,” I said tensely, “I was given the sword in Suwlahtk, and the tunic I found out in the forest south of here.” I decided to use my previous story for consistency, in case someone looked into it.

“Ah, I see,” the man said, “am I correct to assume that you are not native to this region?”

“Yes,” I nodded, then I winced internally when I remembered that a nod had a slightly different meaning on the island and was not appropriate for my response. The man clicked his tongue, opening his book and looking inside it for something.

“Without being too forward, would you be willing to part with the sword and tunic?” the man asked, looking up from his book. I took my attention away from the armor I was examining and faced the man, who was watching me with a neutral but respectful expression.

“For the right price,” I replied, “but I need a sword either way, and this is my only clothing.”

“Do you have any preference in clothes?” the man asked, “I could provide you with a suitable replacement tunic if you agreed to trade me that Steelheart uniform.”

“I have no preference, so long as it fits,” I replied. “Does this uniform have some value?”

“Not exactly, not to you anyway,” the man smiled gently. “The Steelheart Company does provide basic remuneration to those who return their equipment if it is lost, and I deal with them frequently.”

“I should just give it to them then, right?” I suggested.

“If you prefer to be shirtless perhaps,” the man chuckled. “However given your... unique appearance and apparent circumstances doing so may cause some misunderstandings, especially given that you also have one of their swords.” They're going to think I stole it, I thought, they wouldn't even be wrong.

“I see,” I replied, “and if I give them to you to return to them, you will give me something of similar value to replace them.”

“Something similar in function, yes,” the man agreed, “we could also include them as part of a larger deal for equipment if you would like. Do you have money?” I held up my pouch and, as I was beginning to develop a habit of doing, jingled it. “Some money, at least,” the man commented.

“I spent some time learning the value of it yesterday,” I said with a fake smile. “I think I can agree to trade with you, if a deal can be made that is acceptable to me. I am also willing to trade this damaged crossbow, and possibly my spear and axe depending on the circumstances.” The man quickly stepped behind me to look at the items on my back, pausing when his eyes crossed the handle of my knife before inhaling.

“You said you needed a sword?” he asked. “We should be able to work something out.”