Seventh groaned as the consequences of his actions violently made themselves clear by haunting his every move, slowing his speed of thought to a halting crawl, and making his head thrum with suffering.

  This hangover was one for the legends.

  Sitting at a table in the Bloated Badger, all he could do was look enviously at Reese the Drunkard lying on the cool stone floor. The man was peacefully snoozing on the floor, tankard as a pillow and an empty bottle of wine as his cuddly toy.

  He looked so serene that Seventh considered just sliding down for comfort. Still, since every little move of his head brought untold agony, he had stayed where he was, watching the peacefully sleeping Drunkard.

  Annise had laughed her ass off at Seventh’s sorry state when he had dared to come down, and assured she had a surefire cure. The banging and clattering of metal against wood echoing from the kitchen didn't help Seventh’s delicate senses.

  When she walked to his table, she was triumphantly carrying a tin pitcher full of brownish, lightly steaming liquid with the pungent smell of an out-of-date spice rack. Placing it on the table, she gave Seventh a playful slap on his back. It felt like an assault.

  ”There ya go, Sammy-boy, the Pitcher of Life! Drink it in full, and in half an hour you're gonna feel much better— or pass out and soil yourself,” she said with a wide grin. ”It took a while, but you're finally a proper patron! Congrats!”

  ”I live to please...” Seventh weakly mumbled, peering cautiously into the pitcher. ”What's in this?”

  ”Oh, you know,” Annise said with a nonchalant wave of her hand. ”Grease, leftover spices, more grease, bits of bacon, moldy bread, a lump of sauce from the brown bowl, a raw egg, and so on. Warmed over medium heat, stirring gently until slightly burnt. The exact recipe is an ancient secret, passed down from tavernkeep to tavernkeep in grave secrecy.”

  Her eyes had a mischievous glint in them. ”Also, if you survive that, we can get rid of your spellcasting fees. How’s twenty silver pieces per week for rent sound?”

  Seventh grabbed the pitcher and sniffed. The spices almost covered up the deathly stench of ancient grease. ”Can I pay three gold and not drink this?”

  ”Nope. This is entertainment ya can’t buy anywhere.”

  ”Okay then, for health,” Seventh toasted mockingly and started to gulp down the disgusting concoction.

  The first mouthful was mostly floating lumps of spices cracking open in his mouth, coating his tongue with grainy fragrance. After lumps had gone down the hatch, the overpowering taste and smell of greasy bacon with bits of stale bread took over. Seventh steeled his resolve and bravely forced himself to swallow the viscous liquid down.

  For the rent! For the fine-free world!

  After the last drop had been swallowed, Seventh slammed the pitcher to the table and doubled over. His stomach was on fire, and he groaned weakly after a fetid burp.

  ”There, there. Don't ya feel better now?” Annise asked and slapped again at Seventh’s back. Still like an assault.

  ”I can hear Death calling for me. Please bring flowers to my urn,” Seventh groaned and slowly lowered his head. His stomach felt like it was filled with eels trying to find a way out, nibbling at his guts.

  ”Nah, tha's probably just ya imagination. I'll take the rent from yer tab.”

  Seventh weakly raised his head. ”I still got tab left?”

  ”Oh, yeah. After the fourth round ya bought, the folks started paying yer drinks. Me thinks most of ‘em just wanted to see how drunk they could get ya.”

  ”Oh.”

  It was an oddly warm feeling to know Seventh had received some modicum of kindness from people he didn't know. Sure, it was more or less transactional— and twisted adventurer dinner theater— but it was still social interaction.

  Or maybe that fuzzy, warm feeling is my intestines slowly melting. At least the eels are gone.

  Annise balanced a tray full of empty mugs, cups, and bottles in her hand, walking towards the kitchen. ”This tavern takes care of its patrons. If you need help, I’ll get someone to carry you to bed.”

  “Ergh, no need. I can just have a minion or two to drag me up.”

  “Undead?”

  “That’s what I have.”

  Giving Seventh a displeased stare, Annise kicked in the kitchen door. “Warn me if ya gonna bamf some o’ those things from yer inventory. I’ll find something to do far from ’em.”

  Seventh groaned as an answer, and continued his mostly silent suffering. Contrary to his private assumption that Annise was just messing with him for her own private amusement, his condition actually started to get noticeably better over the promised half an hour, and Seventh dared to brave the outside world after a quick test of how his legs worked again.

  To his immense displeasure, it was a beautiful, warm day of summer with plenty of sunlight. It made Seventh’s eyes feel like they were melting and full of needles.

  Grumbling to the sun and cursing all the light, Seventh headed towards the Merchant District surrounding the main market. He had visited a shop there multiple times during his first week. At the first visit, he had bought his armor and weapons, and a special kind of friendship between a merchant and an adventurer was made. Seventh would spend his hard-earned coin at the shop while the merchant would provide him with proper gear that hopefully would keep Seventh alive enough to spend even more money.

  It was maybe a couple of hours to midday, a lot later than Seventh usually got up and went to the sewers, and the streets were filled more than he was accustomed to. To his surprise, ducking and weaving through the busy streets, dodging carriages and carts, townspeople and adventurers alike, felt easier than usual.

  He was just one of the normal people walking around the city, doing some mundane errands, and just... was.

  Before arriving at the familiar sturdy iron door, Seventh was positively smiling at the bustling city and the warm day. He still shook his fist towards the sun, their beef wasn’t done yet.

  An iron bell above the door announced his arrival— trying to split Seventh's skull with its sharp jingle— and a gruff but friendly voice called from the back, ”Just a second!”

  The shop was a single square room filled to the brim with stuff. Armors, weapons, backpacks, mountains of dry rations, pots, kettles, pans, clothes, pouches of all sizes, and a myriad of other knick-knacks hanging from thick iron hooks or stuffed onto sturdy shelves surrounding Seventh. You wouldn't just walk around and peruse, the client had to state what they were looking for, or spy something interesting on display.

  The counter was angled into a horseshoe shape, boxing the client away from the wares. It was an odd piece of furniture, starting at knee height on the left to almost six feet at the right, vaguely resembling a stairway. In the section meant for average humans in the middle was a glass display, proudly presenting the few magical items the shop had to offer.

  Seventh leaned in to check if something new and interesting had appeared. Same old lightly enchanted dagger, a collection of weak rings, and amulets were present, and soon he was looking over the shelves and racks, checking if something caught his eye.

  After a long moment that was closer to a minute than a second, a dwarf wearing a thick leather apron over his green tunic appeared from the backroom. He had rolled the sleeves up to showcase his thick and muscular arms, more fitting for a smith than a shopkeep.

  His pitch-black beard and hair were long as dwarves liked to have them, and a carefully stylized mustache was the only indicator of where his mouth might be. Engraved iron and bronze bead lines brought the style together to a sophisticated and respectable end.

  His eyes sparkled, and the mustache shifted upwards, indicating a smile. ”Seventh, my favorite customer! Ready to buy that Withering Touch tome? Only one thousand gold, a steal of a price!”

  The dwarf was Krauta. His prices were fair, he bought almost anything non-perishable, and most importantly, he was guild-affiliated, meaning Seventh could walk in with a voucher from the Guild and use it as payment or even receive gold from the shop. Because Seventh had an inventory Skill, he had always taken his payments from the Guild, not bothering with the voucher system.

  ”Not today. I have just some armor to fix, potions and weapons to buy,” Seventh said.

  ”Ah, the usual then? Slap them to the counter, and we'll see what we can do to that armor.”

  Seventh's voidspace flashed repeatedly, and soon the countertop was dominated by a pile of armor, a halberd with a split shaft, and a ruined utility knife. The last item dropping from the void was a chain mail Seventh had kept from one of the bandits.

  Krauta inspected every item with care, and only slightly raised his majestic eyebrows while looking the bloodstained armor over. He had been in the business long enough to know what it meant when a client walked in with such weapons and armor they didn't have the last time.

  ”Fixes to the gambeson and leather armor are minor. I'll take it you care more about them doing their jobs than looking nice?” Krauta asked while checking the chain mail quality.

  ”Yes, please. And you can just get me a new knife— same size and feel— new shaft for the halberd, and can you do something to the chain mail? It's medium armor, but can it be modified into light armor instead?”

  ”Of course. I can replace some of the rings with leather. It will lose some durability and defense capabilities, of course, but we can look over where we’re gonna keep the iron. Are you going to use it with gambeson only, or with leather armor too? I wouldn't recommend the mail and leather armor combo, very uncomfortable.”

  Seventh stroked his beard in thought. ”I honestly don’t know. Isn't three layers a little bit too much for light armor?”

  Krauta's mustache danced as his expression changed into amusement. ”Not at all. Having multiple armor types is an advantage of having light or medium armor. Gambeson softens the blunt attacks while the chain mail keeps slashes and cuts at bay, and leather armor slows down piercing attacks, so the chain mail and gambeson stop it all together,” the merchant informed Seventh. ”Never trust a single unenchanted armor to do all the work. And, if you allow me to be bold and assume, your light armor Skill should help with the gambeson and leather armor. At higher ranks there will be even some benefits to the medium armor.”

  Seventh already knew some of that after reading his Light Armor Proficiency Skill’s description. ”Okay, that sounds good. How much?”

  ”Two armor repairs, fitting a new shaft for polearm, a new knife, and armor fitting would be... ten gold. And you wanted some potions too? How about rations?”

  ”Oh yeah. Five common potions, full spread. Do you have Semner cheese? I’ll buy all you have.”

  The dwarf leaned behind the counter and produced fifteen potions. Red, blue, and yellow for guild standard Health, Mana, and Stamina Potions. The bottles would fit on Seventh's palm and the design was standardized across the continent of Valeria.

  There was even a large plus sign for health, a circle for mana, and a lightning bolt for stamina worked into the bottle design as raised ridges, so the user could identify the bottles without looking at them directly. Useful in the dark or in the heat of battle when you didn’t want to take your eyes off enemies.

  Alchemists would, of course, produce potions in all colors, and it wasn't uncommon to get pink, brown, green, or colorless potions, but then correct labeling practices became paramount. The bottles also came in a wide spread of shapes and sizes, complicating potion purchasing even further. Bottling a potion in the wrong standardized bottle was, in fact illegal and heavily punishable offense.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Seventh already knew the prices for the potions and started counting his money. Stamina potions were cheap, only five gold, but health and mana potions were the expensive ones. Ten for healing potions and twelve for mana potions.

  And just like that, Seventh spent one hundred and forty-five gold, a hair less than one-third of a yearly earnings of a common worker— but potions were essential to keep him alive and well in hairy situations.

  Although he might have a slight hoarding problem. He hadn't taken a single Stamina Potion in his adventuring career, and they were starting to take up space inside his voidspace. Absently scrolling through his inventory screen while Krauta was checking his payment. Seventh counted twenty-seven potions, most of them Healing.

  It’s not hoarding if nobody knows, right?

  Krauta piled the coins while counting and after confirming the amount, he rolled the armors in a bundle and carried Seventh's other equipment away. Returning from the backroom, he presented Seventh with an almost identical knife to his old one, and the pleased customer fixed it to his belt.

  ”Always a pleasure doing business with you, Mister Seventh. Sadly, I don’t have any Semner cheese, but I can always make a special order for you?”

  ”Okay. Four dozen or so wheels would suffice. If you get a good deal, order more.”

  Both of Krauta’s fluffy, pillowy eyebrows shot up. ”Plannin’ for a siege, eh? I'll see what I can scrounge up. In the meantime, when do you need your equipment back?”

  ”The sooner the better, but if there's a rush, I don't mind waiting for a bit. I might take a couple of days more easily.”

  ”An admirable willingness to sacrifice one’s time for others,” Krauta said as he wrote a short note with coalstick. ”Can I be of any further assistance?”

  Seventh tapped his finger on his lips and made a final scan of the shop. ”No, I think that is all for today. I'll pop in tomorrow or the day after to see if the armor is ready.”

  ”That'll be a fine plan. See you tomorrow, Mister Seventh.”

  Saying his goodbyes and exiting the Krauta's Marvelous Adventuring Gear, Weapons, Armor, and Potions, Seventh looked around. Usually, when leaving the shop, he went to the sewers or back to the tavern, but now he chose one of the streets he hadn’t explored yet at random.

  For the first time in his life, he had a day off. A rare treat indeed.

  He wasn’t in a hurry to return to the tavern and his hangover all but cured, Seventh started to enjoy the quiet bustle of the slowly winding up city. There wasn’t a set time when Viv would meet with him and Jenn to escort them to this mysterious contact, but Seventh had a feeling it would be late until she appeared. What kind of shady merchant of Essence Stones would make back-alley deals in broad daylight?

  Granted, Seventh’s knowledge of shady merchants and deals was at a surface level. For all he knew, the contact could be a retired grandma dealing with the stone trade on the side while growing chickens. His chuckling smile at the thought slowly waned as Seventh remembered Jenn’s reaction to the whole conversation.

  He’d have to make amends somehow. Jenn had not been pleased at all— especially after Seventh roped her into the whole mess.

  Looking over the shop windows, Seventh wondered if he should buy something, but he dismissed the thought immediately. He didn’t know Jenn well enough to start buying things, and it might be seen as something other than intended. He’d start with an apology and see what to do after that.

  Without a plan, Seventh started walking around, aimlessly wandering in the Merchant District, ogling the more prominent shops adorned with gleaming weapons, armors, and glowing magical amulets in their display windows. Every single piece of equipment had eye-wateringly gargantuan prices neatly listed in small brass price signs. He’d have to slave away and save every copper for a hundred years to be able to even consider buying the cheapest rings on display.

  Seventh exited the district through the Sootway, a street that was almost entirely occupied by smiths and other metalworkers. If Seventh was ever in need of a new weapon with a custom design, this was the place to find or order one. A steady clang of stubborn metal being tamed by repeated hammerblows rang in his ears long after he had cleared from the street.

  Seventh cast subtly a Rejuvenation just in case his eardrums had suffered any damage.

  Noticing the clothes and demeanor of the passerby's started to lean more into the upper echelon of society, Seventh realized he had somehow turned astray somewhere along his wanderings and was approaching dangerously close to the eastern side of the city.

  The rich side of the city. He wasn’t welcome there with his patched trousers and tunic.

  Backtracking a street or two, Seventh was again heading towards the west, where the poorer districts were, like the Western Lip, where he had spent most of his time in the city.

  Keeping the sun at his back and wandering around the narrower streets of a residential district, Seventh saw a glimpse of green at the end of an alley. Curious, he investigated the sight and found himself at the edge of a small park nestled somewhere between the Temple District and a residential area.

  The park was slightly bent, bean-shaped if one would look it from above, and barely the size of a small field. Nevertheless, small trees and bushes were planted on small patches of dirt criss-crossed by stone-slab-paved walking paths. All of the greenery was well kept, and the grass looked luxuriously soft, inviting someone to take a seat.

  Choosing one of the trees at random, Seventh sat in the pleasingly cool shade. With a nonchalant flick of his hand, he broke the membrane between reality and unreality, pulling a children's book from the void. With another gesture, a wedge of soft cheese appeared in his hand. Seventh raised an eyebrow at the obvious bite mark on his snack, but shrugged before taking a bite himself.

  The book was titled Enra the Rabbit Visits the Church With Wesley the Weasel, and the cover depicted the said characters inside a golden cathedral. The rabbit had a sour look on her face as the weasel was yelling something, face red, spit flying everywhere.

  The book was probably from the same author as the book Seventh had received from Garth— not The Infernal Speech, the other one— but since it was slightly more... opinionated, the author’s name was missing, and the quality was slightly worse. The parchment was thicker, and the art was simpler, just enough that the author could point out the differences and claim not to be the author.

  Or maybe the illustrious D.M Florger had run out of capital for a proper printing run and had to settle for a sub-par quality.

  The book talking about Skills had been more entertaining and informative in equal measures, but the book Seventh was now reading leaned heavily more into plain old brainwashing and thinly veiled political opinions. The language was more biting, not quite something you would expect from a children’s book, and argumentative, almost hostile at places.

  Wesley the Weasel was a believer in the Church and was depicted as a hunched, salesman-like character who only cared about the others sharing his own beliefs and tried to convert Enra with passionate speeches, with flawed logic. Honestly, Enra had equally opinionated beliefs of freedom and free will, juxtaposing her own philosophy against the Church’s teachings of the Will of the System and the Path.

  The book ended with Enra throwing Wesley into a well to think about his beliefs and pray to the System to give him rope.

  Closing the finished book, Seventh stared at the cover dubiously. Not quite what I was expecting, but if the author hasn't been burned at the stake for heresy, who am I to judge?

  Exchanging the slightly judgmental book for a fresh one from his inventory, Seventh stretched his legs by walking under a new tree before starting Enra the Rabbit Visits the Devouring Wilds. Judging from the cover, it was a story about an old temple in a jungle filled with veltids, and the fine quality foretold it was a pure children’s book without an agenda.

  The books were a fine way to learn general knowledge about the world. Since Seventh’s head was filled with a hodgepodge of knowledge that wasn’t entirely his own, he wished to know more about the world he was living in and claim his head entirely as his own.

  He had known what a cloud and an ocean were without seeing either, but the names of the continents and a world map had been a mystery to him. It was like trying to remember someone else’s memories, and some of them were inaccessible, blocked from view.

  Disconcertingly, remembering things he hadn’t yet seen felt almost exactly like focusing on his Skills and gaining information from somewhere deep recesses of his brain about their use.

  Lifting his eyes from a delightfully artistic rendition of a Veltid Hive Guardian, Seventh focused on how the light playfully glimmered through the green leaves up in the tree, and slowly pushed his rising worry and trepidation down.

  It was too beautiful a day for philosophical questions of what he was and where he had come from. He’d have time to find answers, one way or another.

  Preferably from a book, not from a suspicious person or a clergyman.

  Ah, crap. The book got me, didn’t it?

  He stayed in the small park, reading a collection of short books and occasionally just enjoying laying on the sunlight. Only when the sun dipped below the roofline, Seventh stood up and shook the loose grass from his clothes. Checking the back of his trousers, he noticed a couple of splotches of fresh grass stains.

  Exiting the park, Seventh mentally mapped his route to the Bloated Badger. It had been a nice, lazy day, and he wanted to do one in the future. Maybe get some crackers and jams to go with the cheese? He would choose something else to read, though. A young mother and her children walking past him when he was finishing the Devouring Wilds had given him questionable looks.

  Seventh had just smiled at them and commented how good the story was, causing the young boy and girl ask their mother to buy one for them. That had earned Seventh a daggery glare from her as she ushered the children away from the suspicious man.

  Back at the Badger, Seventh looked around the tavern, looking for the two women he was expecting to see. Viv wasn’t around, but a very nervous Jenn was sitting at the far end in a corner affectionately known as Rogue’s Nook. For some odd reason, the magical lanterns lighting up the tavern were usually turned off or just refused to work at the elusively dark corner.

  Jenn was staring out of a window with a frozen, worried expression and tapped nervously on a full stein of warmed-up and stale ale. She didn't even react when Seventh walked next to her with a replacement tankard full of mead and greeted the Ranger.

  ”Umm... Jenn? You all right?” Seventh asked worriedly.

  She flinched and looked around, befuddled, and seemed surprised to see Seventh. ”I-ih-wha? Seventh? Yeah, no, I'm good. Just... thinking about stuff, you know? Old stuff.” She gave Seventh a reassuring smile that didn't fool him.

  He felt a pang of regret. Jenn obviously was stressing out, whatever Seventh had gotten her into, and seeing her like this made Seventh worried. For his own sake and hers.

  ”Look, I'm... I’m sorry if I'm making you do something you don't want to. There's clearly something that I have overstepped.”

  ”I said I'm good,” Jenn said with a little bit more reassurance, and took a hefty gulp from her stein.

  Grimacing at the stale taste, she continued, ”The best thing about being an adult is the power not to do shit I don't like or want to do. You need a damn lot more than your puppy dog eyes and quivering lip to get me to do unwanted shit.”

  Seventh raised his eyebrow in doubt. ”Puppy dog...? Okay. Thanks.”

  Seventh sat down at the table across from Jenn. They sat in silence while Jenn fidgeted with her drink.

  ”It's not like I'm scared,” Jenn said out of the blue. ”It's just... if we're going anywhere near who we think we are going, there's some bad memories. Old wounds and shit.”

  ”Jenn, I...”

  ”Shut it, Sammy.” Jenn took another hefty gulp, almost emptying her stein. ”It's just like I told you yesterday, if you let others define yourself, you crumble. I take no shit from ghosts of the past, no matter how bad they are.”

  Seventh nodded along while she spoke, not daring to interrupt.

  ”If I see Viv walking us to a big turd of manure, I can kick you in the shin so you snap out of her siren song and we walk away. Or more like run like a bat out of Hells.”

  It was Seventh's turn to sit silently and tap his mug. His silent contemplation was obvious to anybody, and Jenn was a Ranger first and foremost.

  ”What?”

  ”You don't talk about her like she's a friend,” Seventh noted.

  ”We... she has a tendency to get people in trouble and stew problems that are left for others to solve,” Jenn said and peeked at her empty stein. ”I just know the company she keeps and worry she is finally going to get herself really hurt or entangled too deep she can’t get herself off anymore— and drag a duo of sorry bystanders down with her.”

  Jenn flicked her finger between them just to make sure Seventh understood.

  Seventh sucked in his lips and chewed them lightly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to keep on talking about Viv— Jenn’s annoyed state and all— but he wanted more information.

  ”What does she do for a living anyway? She said she works in a tavern, but that clearly can’t be the full story?”

  Jenn snorted disapprovingly. ”She might claim she is, but that's half true at best.”

  ”Sooo?” Seventh rolled his hand to get Jenn to continue.

  ”She does have a party,” Jenn said with a sigh. “They occasionally go to the dungeon, but only when... erh... when there's a need for a delving team.”

  ”Really? I thought she said she quit?”

  ”Yep. Any other day, she works in a friendly Family tavern a wee bit away to the east, but when an order comes from the top— you smile and jump.”

  There was a certain heaviness in the statement. Jenn was talking from experience, but Seventh didn’t dare to push anymore. He had done enough damage already.

  Next time, when I get drunk, I’ll do it in my own damn room, far away from shady barmaids. Maybe that way my stupid, fat mouth won’t talk me and others into dangerous situations.

  Neither Jenn nor Viv had expressly said that what was going to happen was dangerous, but the writing was on the wall with such bright, cat-sized letters that even Seventh could clearly see them.

  He didn't need to mull for long since Jenn lifted her head and waved behind Seventh. Upon turning his head, Seventh saw the approaching barmaid.

  She wore a dress like yesterday, but today it was deep burgundy with a black vest. Finely embroidered stitch patterns ran through all clothes, making complex interlocking circular patterns.

  This time, Seventh rose up to greet Viv and even pulled a chair for her.

  ”How chivalrous,” she said and gave Seventh a pleased smile. ”But I think we should complete our business before pleasure, no?”

  Seventh gave Jenn a questioning side glance as she was rolling her eyes. ”Yeah, sure. Better to get the tooth pulled out in one go,” Jenn muttered as she rose up.

  ”Come on, Jenn, cheer up. She is busy today, so we're not going to see her today,” Viv said.

  ”Really?” Jenn's mood elevated noticeably, before a suspicion crept in. ”If not her, then who.... ah shite, don't tell me...”

  ”Yep, we're going to see him.”

  Jenn groaned loudly while closing her eyes and letting her head fall backwards. ”Not hiiim. Anything but him!”

  Viv walked next to Jenn to lock arms with the groaning Ranger. “Hey, he’s a viper in a suit, but at least we only have to deal with him for a moment. Hells, you don’t even have to say anything to him! That would make him furious!”

  “Maybe don’t purposefully piss off someone I’m trying to make a deal with? Please?”

  “We’ll be fine. If we’re not annoying him a little, he’ll suspect something’s up,” Viv said as she and Jenn walked towards the door arm-in-arm.

  None of that reassured Seventh about the whole endeavor. “Am I going to get some names at some point? ‘He’ and ‘She’ are hard to keep up with.”

  Viv looked over her shoulder to smile at Seventh. “Soon. What would a shady business deal be without a proper introduction?”

  Outside, Jenn peeled herself off from Viv and followed her a couple of steps behind, putting her hands in her trouser pockets, quietly brooding as the trio walked towards the west, a part of town that Seventh hadn’t yet visited.

  “You know what, Seventh?” Jenn asked without turning towards him.

  “What?”

  “You owe me a shitload of drinks after all this is done.”

  “Deal.”