As rays of sunshine beamed down through the Veil upon the lively city around them, the pair of adventurers stood by a street corner.

  “So, how’d you sleep? Hopefully that wasn’t the first time you’ve slept in a caravan.” Nikolas asked Clarisse to pass the time as he scanned their surroundings, working out where to go next. Standing next to one of the city’s trade depots, they were in the path of the most foot and saddle traffic at that hour.

  “It was alright…” Clarisse yawned, stretching her arms above herself as she tried not to think about her dream. She was sure that she had instinctively flinched at his question but hoped that he would ignore it. “What about you? Did anything interesting happen overnight?”

  “Not much happened, but the merchant did ask about our encounter with the postmen kidnappers,” Nikolas chuckled, recalling that his mention of the incident was what had initially landed them the job. “Still not sure what their grand plan with that was, but small issues like those help the demand for adventurers in general.”

  Clarisse was confounded at his thought process, but came to realize that it was indeed a positive outcome for them. “Hopefully that doesn’t happen to the postman delivering my letter.”

  “Who did you send that to, anyway?” Nikolas inquired, a rare moment of him being the inquisitive one of the pair.

  “My mother. We agreed to exchange letters every other week when I first left home, so I wanted her to know that I’d be away.” Clarisse left out any mention of her placative description of Nikolas in it, though a thought passed her that she may have underestimated his past entirely due to her latest dream.

  “Ah. I suppose you could still send her letters while we travel,” Nikolas replied, finally setting his eyes on a kid running along the road with a bag full of rolled up papers in it. “She could start a stamp collection that way…” he mentioned, before waving the boy to a halt.

  The boy skidded to a halt, catching his breath as he instinctively pulled out one of the papers from his bag. “Mernilk Daily! The most accurate business news source in Mernilk! Two bronze pieces per newspaper!” He squeaked his sales pitch at them in a hurry, likely behind schedule, yet used to such occurrences.

  Nikolas nodded, though the singular coin he slipped into the boy’s hand as he accepted the paper shined a glistening yellow instead. “The trade depot should be able to help you with keeping the change.”

  The paper runner looked at the gold coin handed to him with an incredulous, captivated gaze before looking up at Nikolas with eyes full of wonder. “Thank you, mister!” He exclaimed, before disappearing into the crowd again, just as fast as he had appeared.

  Clarisse had already been aware of his generosity given that he had paid for her first full set of gear without question, but being reminded of it made her laugh to herself. “Careful, you’ll upset the city’s economy with donations like those!” She mused.

  “Eh… I could spend the rest of my days as a snake-oil salesman and do just fine.” Nikolas joked back, the pay of a full party of adventurers certainly kept him well funded. He unrolled the paper, holding it up so that both of them could read.

  Clarisse took a step closer to read the tiny inked fonts laid out all over the paper in cursive, skimming over all the big stories – most of them mirrored the mercantile nature of the city by comparing the prices of various staple goods over the past month, only interrupted by the occasional trade network advertising their proficiency and connections. Prices seemed to be rising on all items, or at least that was the impression she got from the way everything was portrayed. Thinking about money made her recall the transaction of flesh she had seen in her dream not long ago, and a shiver ran down her spine as she stepped back, looking away from the paper.

  “It’s not that bad,” Nikolas responded, taking notice of her response but not the undertones associated with it. “Despite the increases, things are still cheaper than Junnhaven. Actually, we might find better equipment here.” He lowered the newspaper from his gaze slightly, searching their surroundings for any suitable equipment shops in their vicinity.

  “Why would it be cheaper and better?” Clarisse asked, snapped out of her dreadful mood by the unusual statement. Her gaze refocused on the newspaper, checking the actual values and comparing them by memory. They were indeed cheaper than what she would have expected to pay at her rented home, but she had simply assumed that it meant a lack of artisanal quality in the products themselves.

  “Mernilk is a major production hub,” Nikolas shined light on her conundrum. “Lots of workshops and factories are present to make and package goods for trade and export here. Manufacturers can afford to sell their products for cheap to wholesale buyers since they handle the transportation and advertisements from then on.”

  “Right then! Let’s go find a shop,” Clarisse replied, excited to see what kind of materials they would have in store. She glanced around, reading in the names of the various establishments present on the street where they stood.

  “Not quite,” Nikolas called her attention back to himself, his unorthodox nature leading to an unusual idea. “I’d like to find a workshop, or in your case - a blacksmith’s forge first. It would be better if we got equipment suited for you specifically. I’m not a good judge of blades, either. You need an experienced eye to figure out the ideal tool.”

  “I guess we could do that. Let’s head to a workshop then!” Clarisse called out, reclaiming her enthusiasm for an altered purpose. Yet, there seemed to still be a bustling city to circumnavigate and she had no clue where to begin. She looked towards Nikolas for direction and advice that would usually be bursting from the seams of his mask.

  “It can’t be that far…” Nikolas muttered as he implicitly took the lead, tucking the newspaper under his arm and glancing over the crowd for an opening. Soon, the pair were off, trudging through the crowds of Mernilk and their busywork.

  It indeed seemed to be that far.

  “Can we get something to eat? My stomach’s killing me…” Clarisse moped. Nikolas and her were nearing the end of their second hour searching for a weapons workshop or forge, but the city seemed entirely bereft of them. In their place stood numerous goods, fashion and accessory stores, restaurants, merchant and transport enterprises, extravagant houses and exclusive clubs for the affluent.

  Clarisse looked back at the display pieces of a clothing showroom, exhaustion debilitating her mood. The city had proven Nikolas’s instincts to be more fallible than his pride, for he had so far refused to ask directions towards the nearest workshop and any signboards they had come across also suspiciously lacked them.

  “Mhm…” Nikolas replied, puzzled as to how the city operated in this manner. It was true that he had never been to Mernilk before, but this seemed simply absurd to him. There were workers and traders loading and unloading goods from carriages, so their origin left him thinking. “Fine, let’s go. What do you want to eat?”

  “Anything sounds good right now…” Clarisse sighed, letting her olfactory senses lead the way to satiate their stomachs. “I thought I saw a place that wasn’t too posh a street back in the way we came from.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The table they were sitting at was placed smack dab in the middle of the noisy cafe. Surrounded by merchants, traders and all sorts of people looking to do business, it was apparent that even in the open no one was going to pay any particular attention to the pair of travelers.

  Clarisse eagerly dug into her sandwich, famished after their fruitless search through the city. “What are we going to do next, Nik?” She asked with a mouth half full of bread and culinary spread, noticeably in a better mood now that she wasn’t starving.

  “If we really can’t find any workshops, let’s just get on the next caravan out of here.” Nikolas shrugged, munching on his own sandwich slowly. Leaning back into his chair with his head tilted backwards, his posture suggested he was interested in listening in on the nearby conversations. His eyes darted around and his ears twitched intently, taking note of everything but the girl in front of him.

  Clarisse didn’t mind his unfocused gaze much, since something else had caught her attention. The angle at which he was sitting and leaning back, coupled with the removal of the bottom part of his mask had left Nikolas’s face noticeably more visible than usual. She leaned forward, getting close to the table to squint and check if she could finally make out what he really looked like.

  The white mask usually sat snugly on Nikolas’s face, leaving only the underside of his jaw and his neck exposed. With the bottom piece removed however, it only covered his face from right below his nose. The slight raise in its curvature left his mouth accessible and from the angle Clarisse was peering in, showing her his jawline and cheekbones. Even the glimpses of light-colored skin she was allowed were often cut short by his hand raising the leftovers of his sandwich so that he could take another bite from it. Most interesting of all, he seemed to have a tattoo of some sort under his left eye.

  Midway through her visual inspection, Nikolas returned to a proper sitting posture. He terminated what little hope Clarisse had of seeing his real face by clicking the bottom part of his mask shortly after, leaving a nibble’s worth of sandwich on his plate. “I think I have an idea.”

  “Hmm?” Clarisse made a mental note of everything she had been able to see to add to her sketches later. She hadn’t been paying particular attention to the people around them, leaving the source of his stroke of inspiration foreign to her.

  “Apparently, there are some beautiful bridges near the other side of the city. Wanna go check them out?” Nikolas suggested. He laid out a pair of silver coins from his cloak onto the table to pay for their meal, wiping off the breadcrumbs from his attire as he awaited her answer.

  “I’d like that!” Clarisse replied, watching him lay down both coins before rummaging in her pockets for a purse and placing one of her own between them with a grin. “I got paid from the last quest, so let’s split it.”

  Nikolas chuckled as he picked up one of the coins he had placed, tucking it back into a pocket. He got up and waved to the waiter with a gesture highlighting their coins before heading towards the door with Clarisse following shortly after.

  “We’re being followed.” The masked kitsune whispered to Clarisse as she passed by him while he held the door open for her.

  Clarisse’s expression harrowed for a moment as she crossed into the sidewalk outside. It took some effort to not turn her head back and see who he meant. With a gulp, she wore a smile and looked up at him. “Which way are the bridges?”

  “That way, I think,” Nikolas pointed diagonally across the street, walking alongside Clarisse without missing a beat. “I hope it’s less crowded there…”

  There was a pang of concern in the redhead’s heart as she agreed, weaving through the busy road. An intrusive thought about her dream from before surfaced, and she found herself worrying over the prospect of kidnappers coming after them. She glanced at Nikolas for any reassurance, but he seemed as unreadable as ever, hiding all but his eyes behind the mask. At least, she knew that he wouldn’t have a hard time fending them off.

  As they cut through the cacophony of Mernilk’s ever-busy roads, a sudden emptiness around them signified their arrival next to the river. The wide expanse of water shined brighter than any of the buildings surrounding it despite the perennial shade from the Veil overhead. Crossing over the glimmering water at many locations were a series of elaborate stonework bridges placed at regular intervals apart from each other, held together by large pillars sunken into the river. Each bridge was wide enough to accommodate a pair of lanes for carts and caravans. The slight inwards slope borne from weathering of cobble along the middle even suggested that they saw a lot of use.

  “River Juhani… it’s beautiful…” Clarisse read its name from a nearby sign to satiate her curiosity. She leaned against the short walls next to the shore, casting her sight downstream to take in the view. For a moment, she forgot about their stalker from before as she eyed the water for signs of passing marine life.

  Nikolas had a far more subdued reaction if any at all compared to his companion. He stood by her with his arms crossed, gracing the flowing water with a glare of disdain before shifting his attention to the scenery on the other side. It looked almost identical to the city they had spent all day in, and yet he squinted past the bridges with certainty that there was something amiss.

  Clarisse climbed up onto the short stone railing, taking a seat atop it and looking out at the portion of the city they had crossed. “With such a knack for business, I’m surprised they haven’t thought of turning Mernilk into a tourist destination. They all look so busy when there’s so much to appreciate right here.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they have. We’re lucky we haven’t been scammed by a local yet,” Nikolas eased his demeanor as he glanced back at the city, before his sights settled on one person in particular and he exhaled sharply. “Spoke too soon…”

  Standing among the bustling crowd in unmoving fashion, a pair of bright green eyes were looking at them from afar. Their bearer had a messy crop of spiky blonde hair and matching beard. He wore long, flowing brown and green robes reaching down to his ankles, where thick boots protected his feet. He also seemed to be carrying a large cloth canvas over a small board in his hands. The length of canvas extended from a knapsack tied loosely around his waist. His digits extended through fingerless gloves, inscribing something onto the canvas when he became aware of their combined gaze in his direction. Instead of showing any hint of panic at being found, his expression lit up and he began wading through the foot traffic clumsily to approach them with an excited wave. “HEY!”

  “Let’s go.” Nikolas concluded as soon as he saw the blonde approach, decidedly not in the mood for socializing as he stepped onto the nearest bridge.

  Clarisse seemed to have the polar opposite reaction to her companion, instead getting up from the wall and waving back to the boy. “Hello!” She hollered at him before looking back at Nikolas with a shrug. “Hold up, I want to talk to him. He looks like another artist!”

  The fox’s shoulders drooped as he heard her reasoning, taking a deep breath only to let out a sigh of similar magnitudes as he retraced his steps. He remained standing behind her wordlessly as their unrequited watcher closed the gap, paranoia tingling in the back of his head.

  “Hey! Sorry to interrupt your natural flow– I’ve been looking for a good scene to complete my piece, and then I spotted both of you!” The blonde exclaimed with eyes and a smile so bright that Nikolas questioned if he and Clarisse were cut from the same cloth. “If you could just stay here for a little longer, I’d be able to finish it in no time.”

  Clarisse was overjoyed at the prospect of being a muse, peeking at his canvas to see a half-finished painting of the riverside with the city in the background sunken into the fabric – it was only missing the bridges and someone standing near them. “Of course! We’d love to– ” she gave Nikolas a cursory glance, assuming his compliance for granted as she moved back towards the wall and struck a slight pose with hands placed on either side of her hips.

  “Who are you? And how are you even painting without any colors or brushes?” Nikolas shot at their new artist acquaintance as he stood between him and Clarisse, looking down at the beaming blonde with loaded paranoia. His fears were not unfounded, for the boy indeed held no brushes or bottles of color to etch the canvas he was holding in his hands.

  “Ah, my apologies for not introducing myself first,” The blonde artist was entirely unfazed by the questions thrown at him, instead bowing for dramatic effect. “My name is Bubico Panza. I paint not with brushes and bottled colors, for the world is my canvas – and I, its artiste! Behold, I have been blessed with the gift of color from the soul!”

  Bubico raised his sights towards the ashlar bridge next to them, and pressed his fingers against the canvas. As he shifted them in a single smooth stroke, the white space he moved over shone with varying gradients of cobble. It had been a continuous, unmitigated movement and yet showed great diversity in the colors etched into fabric.

  “And now to fix the important parts…” He turned around so that the pair of adventurers could witness his work as he began adding details and refinements by using his fingers individually for the next few minutes until the entire bridge behind them was inlaid into textile in great detail as if that had always been the case.

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