“These are the best candidates,” Koyl declared robotically, handing ten sheets of paper to Zoyvrao’er. The man took the papers, flipped through them, took four out, and lit those four on fire. Koyl and I both watched, puzzled, as the four sheets slowly turned to ash in his hand.

“We only need six,” Zoyvrao’er remarked.

“So those four were-” I began to ask.

“The least lucky,” Zoyvrao’er shrugged. “Looks like you favor Steelheart, but I don’t. Too tied in with official business like guard work. Still got two of them on the team though, but I figure you can keep those two away from anything they’re not supposed to see.” What an absolutely stupid thing to do, I thought, my opinion of Zoyvrao’er falling considerably.

“Is eight people really going to be enough to defend the caravan?” Koyl asked. “Not to be pessimistic, but there are a bunch of bears and other dangerous animals around outside the walls, you know?”

“Naalfay fear fire,” Zoyvrao’er said, reminding me that I had heard that fact before. “Bears are another thing, but that’s your problem, not mine.” But you’re going to be with the caravan, so it is your problem, I wanted to reply.

“Then we need more-” Koyl began, gesturing with his hand.

“My budget says eight, I am paying for eight,” Zoyvrao’er declared with an air of finality. “If you need more, be my guest, but you will be the ones paying their salaries.” Koyl froze, then let his hand drop. “Go on back to your inn, get ready for tomorrow, be here before sunrise,” Zoyvrao’er commanded, and without any further conversation Koyl and I left the office. I only need to get outside the walls, I reminded myself, having six scapegoats for the animals to go after before Koyl and I is fine for that purpose.

Koyl and I split up on the way back to the inn, with Koyl going off to do something nondescript that he wouldn’t talk about. Probably visiting a brothel, I figured, so I let him go without any protest. On my own way back I decided to take a detour through the commercial district and look at some of the weapons and armor available, since my own armor was quite tattered and I had a better idea of the kind of weaponry that worked well on the local humans after fighting Yaavtey. There were some stalls out in the street selling low-quality swords, knives, and axes, but I wasn’t interested in those. Instead, I looked for businesses based in buildings.

Baatayao Arms stood out to me, its sign looking quite flamboyant in a font that was so hard to read that it almost looked like another script entirely. A two-story building, its large front windows made of near-transparent glass glowed with the light of the lanterns inside. I walked up the stone steps to the elevated door and entered, my movement of the door causing a small bell to jingle above my head. The door closed on its own behind me, pulled by a weight system using pulleys and rope.

The majority of the bottom floor was empty space, with weapons lining the walls and a high ceiling. At the back, a wooden spiral staircase with a desk and chair beside it led up to the second floor. Nobody seemed to be present on the first floor, so I walked to the nearest wall and started examining the swords. It wasn’t as though I wanted a new sword, but I did want to examine everything in case something caught my eye. When I was around one-quarter of the way down the wall, I heard footsteps descending the staircase and turned around.

“Oh, a customer!” a young-looking man chirped. I did a double take at him, momentarily shocked by his appearance. His dress was normal for a man in Pehrihnk, but his skin and hair were the same color as mine. Even his eyes were brown, and his facial features better resembled my own than the sharper features of the Luwahriy. However, the most shocking thing about him was that he was at least a hand’s span shorter than most men I had seen, making him appear almost childish if not for his facial hair.

“You are Gwahlaob,” I remarked, instantly gaining an understanding of why people could so easily believe I was of the same ethnicity as him. The man looked up at me, then furrowed his brow.

“I don’t know where you’re from though,” he said, “never seen a man who looks like you before.” This could be a problem, I thought, but also a good opportunity to stress test my backstory.

“I am half Gwahlaob,” I replied, “my father was from… Uwlsayniyah.” I had to pause for a moment and remember the nation Koyl had told me about when we discussed my backstory almost two months prior. The man looked at me sideways, then shrugged.

“So you take after your father then,” he joked.

“I do,” I replied. “Were you born here? I don’t detect much of an accent.”

“Oh that’s funny, coming from someone with your accent,” the man laughed. “My family came to Pehrihnk when I was two years old. I do have an accent, but not nearly as strong as yours.” I chuckled politely in response, then waited for the man to continue speaking. “I’m Baatayao,” he said, introducing himself.

“Yuwniht,” I responded.

“That's very regional,” Baatayao joked. “You don’t have an Uwrish name?”

“Haven’t needed one,” I replied, to which the man nodded and stroked his chin.

“So, you’re looking for swords then?” he prompted, gesturing to the merchandise behind me. I looked back to the wall, then grunted.

“Not really,” I replied, “I’m not sure exactly what I might be looking for. I’m on a bit of a budget, but I need good equipment for fighting wildlife.” Baatayao walked closer to me, then began searching the sword wall for something.

“So you’re going out then?” he asked. “Caravan guarding I’m guessing? Guess they need a bear to fight one, right?”

“Yes,” I replied. Baatayao pulled a sword down off the wall and drew it from its sheath. Looks almost like a katana, I thought, probably not very durable.

“Well this will cut off a bear’s arm or leg if you know how to use it,” he said, giving the sword a few test swings. It was strange to see such a small man using a weapon that was obviously much too big for his frame. In response, I drew my own sword and showed it to him.

“I think that one might be a bit delicate for me,” I remarked. Baatayao winced when he saw my blade, then put the katana-like weapon back on the wall.

“That thing looks like it’s seen better days,” he remarked. “Isn’t that sword for performances? It looks like it weighs a lot.” I flipped the sword around, catching it by the blade with just a hint of assistance from force magic, and presented the handle to Baatayao. He took it, and the moment the blade left my grasp it dipped towards the floor before he managed to catch it. “Okay, well, anything I have that’s this heavy will be made for two hands,” Baatayao laughed, using both his hands to present the handle for the sword back to me.

“Do you have poisons?” I asked, taking the sword from him. “Blue leaf would-”

“Legal only,” Baatayao interrupted, politely but firmly.

“Ah, here too,” I sighed.

“Indeed,” Baatayao sighed sympathetically. “Say, that spear you have, can I see that?”

“Sure,” I said, pulling my folding spear from my back. I joined the handle, then passed it to Baatayao. Oddly, instead of examining the spearhead, he took to examining the structure of the hinge and locking mechanism.

“This is good work,” he remarked, “where did you get this?”

“Frahmtehn,” I replied. Seeing his confusion, I clarified. “It’s a town on Awsriyah island, west of Vehrehr.”

“Do you know who made it?” Baatayao asked.

“The man who sold it to me said it was a local weaponsmith,” I replied. “I don’t know who. The same man made my armor.” Baatayao looked away from the spear and to my chest, so I slipped the armor off. “There’s a metal plate suspended inside the leather,” I explained. “It covers the heart and some of the lungs, and it’s lighter than a full breastplate.” If only I had been wearing it when Yaavtey caught me, I thought, though I might not have learned force magic so quickly if not for that.

“Not one who’s afraid of a little pain, are you?” Battayao remarked, seeing the multitude of scars across my body. “Still, that armor looks like it’s falling apart. If you want to get something simple, I do have some upstairs.”

“Something simple?” I asked.

“Depends on your budget,” Baatayao explained. “For fifty ngoywngeyt I have-”

“I have… eight,” I replied. There was an awkward silence, then Baatayao smiled and chuckled.

“Alright, that’s not great,” he replied. “If you give me the armor, I can give you a waayngzoyl at the very least. No metal in it, but I don’t think that thing will hold onto you for much longer.”

“What is a waayngzoyl?” I asked. “I’m not familiar with that word.” Some kind of soft armor, obviously, I thought.

“Multiple layers of cloth, sewn together to repel arrows, scratches, you know,” Battayao explained. “Resistant to stabbing, even, just not as much as metal. Don’t get hit with a club or anything though.” A gambeson then, I decided, or something similar.

“Sounds acceptable,” I replied. “You seem interested in the spear, do you want to trade for it?” Baatayao’s face lit up into a grin.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he chuckled. “So the spear is in… moderately damaged condition, but the locking mechanism is quite genius. If you’re willing to keep quiet about selling it to me, I can give you some other kind of spear if you’d like.” I was tempted, but I recalled an inconvenient fact about spears from Awsriyah island. I hardly ever use them, I thought, really only for hunting, and I could just make a javelin or something if I needed one. No, for fighting humans, what I need is-

“Do you have throwing knives?” I asked. Once again, Baatayao looked delighted.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for someone in this city to ask that question?” he smiled. “Throwing knives aren’t exactly popular with Luwahriy, you know.”

“So you do,” I responded.

“My friend, I have not only those, but throwing axes as well,” Baatayao chortled. “I also have specially made javelins, straps of leather for slinging rocks, and even a few crossbows. The latter of that list is slightly out of your price range, but if you’d care to come upstairs, I can get you something to wear and show you the weapons I keep for special customers.”

“Sounds good,” I nodded. I lost my axe on Awsriyah, so a throwing axe would be useful in two ways, I thought.

Baatayao wasn’t exaggerating, he had a wide variety of ranged weapons on the second level, along with a number of different kinds of armor. The top of the store was also divided into two halves, one of which wasn’t visible and possibly filled with even more weaponry. While I looked at the multitude of different styles of throwing knives, Baatayao went into the other side of the level to do something, then came out with a very large piece of upper body wear for me. It was a gambeson, of sorts, though in typical Luwahriy fashion it was made to be slipped on instead of buttoned or tied up to the torso. It fit me snugly, but didn’t restrict movement, which met my needs.

Eventually, I picked out a set of simple shard-like throwing knives with a belt-type holster, and two weighted axes which could also be thrown. Baatayao was more than happy to trade them to me in exchange for the spear and four ngoywngeyt, which I figured was probably either a very good deal or a total rip-off with little in between. It’s always hard to tell with merchants, I thought. Baatayao offered to set up a target on the first floor for me to test the weapons out on, and I agreed, then marveled as the tiny man emerged from the other half of the second floor with a target almost as big as he was.

We walked back down to the first floor, Baatayao chatting to me about the specifics of how the clasp on the spear could be used to help make plate armor that could more easily be donned and offed while I pretended to listen. About a minute after we descended the stairs I was standing a dozen meters away from a flat wooden slab with a head-sized back dot painted on it. The knives hit the dot easily with light throws, sticking a few centimeters into the wood, but one of the axes bounced off. It almost rotates too quickly, I thought, I need to adjust my technique a bit.

“Ah, you can try again if you like,” Baatayao said, looking at the axe on the floor. “You clearly know how to use the knives though, well done.” With a smile, he looked up at the ceiling, and my gaze followed his, drawn to something I hadn’t noticed when I entered.

“What is that?” I asked, gesturing to what looked like lumpy shapes that had been drawn onto the wooden boards with charcoal.

“Oh, that?” Baatayao asked with an air of pride, pointing to the ceiling. “Map of the world, my friend. Had a local artist sketch it up there for me. You like it? She's coming back to paint it next month. I'll be the envy of the street.” I felt as though something dropped out of my body onto the ground, and a strange sensation ran up my spine. In the flickering lantern light, my eyes made out the shapes of continents and borders, not even one of which I could identify. Well, that explains some things, I managed to think through the noise of my mind processing the impossibility I found myself in.