They both stepped out of the modest cottage.
The morning air was crisp, touched with the faint scent of dew on stone.
The town of Bramwell was beginning to stir.
It was the first ti Alaric had stepped outside in the open.
His eyes widened slightly, taking in the scene, so warm yet different from his old world.
He asked Sari a few questions, related to normal goods here and there, as they moved toward the market district, one of the busier quarters of the barony, where the early bustle had already begun.
The sun had barely cleared the horizon, its golden rays filtering through the arched rooftops and timber-frad facades, casting warm slashes across the stone pavents.
The market was nestled in a wide plaza. Stalls of every kind were being set up or already shouting for attention.
To the left, a stout woman arranged bolts of dyed fabric, maroons, forest greens, and sky blues fluttered in the wind like flags.
Nearby, a mustached vendor was sharpening curved knives and laying out cutlery with gleaming edges.
Spices wafted from a stall with tiered trays, filled with crimson pepper pods, saffron strands in wax paper, and pale golden turric.
A little boy ran past them with a bundle of baked flatbread, steam still rising from the cloth.
People moved through the square in a living tide.
Most were dressed in plain but neat tunics or work dresses.
Though there were others among them too—n with traveler cloaks, just like Alaric’s.
A few carried swords openly on their belts or spears across their backs, rcenaries or guards judging by their boots and posture.
Occasionally, a wealthier noblewoman in embroidered sleeves or a rchant in a feathered hat would pass by, trailed by porters or clerks.
Alaric kept his gaze steady, his posture relaxed, but behind his eyes.
Sari leaned in closer as they slowed near a cart selling dyed leather belts and pouches.
"Start from here," she whispered.
Correct content is on .
She gave a faint smirk.
"I’ll circle from the other side."
Then she slipped away into the crowd.
Alaric saw her figure disappear and then looked around, letting his gaze trail across the rows of stalls.
And just as he stepped forward—
[Ding!]
[Side Quest: Locate Gavin Trost’s Network]
—Progress 0/3
[Rewards will depend on host’s performance.]
He paused mid-step, blinking once at glowing panel in front of him.
Then a slow, knowing smirk curled on his lips.
Well... this might be fun.
He just rolled his neck a little, adjusted the drape of his cloak, and stepped into the crowd.
His eyes scanned for soone worth talking.
And then he found one just near the edge of the spice stalls.
A lanky man with a nose like a bent carrot, surrounded by crates of bottled oil, soap cakes, and finely ground powders.
Alaric approached with the slow and asured pace.
"Good morning traveler, looking for sothing in particular?" The man asked, flashing his practiced smile.
Alaric returned a warm nod, picking up a dark green vial and swirling it lightly.
"Not sure yet," he said with calm curiosity. "I like to see what different towns offer... Every place has its own scent, don’t you think?"
The man chuckled. "That it does. And most of them don’t sll half as nice as this stall."
"Is that so?" Alaric replied with a soft, amused sound.
"You’ve got a neat place. It’s pretty organized and clean." He sniffed the vial.
"Not just the stall, but the surroundings too."
The complint was subtle but deliberate bait for pride.
The man straightened slightly. "I run a tight place, yes. Don’t like clutter. But don’t like the trouble either."
"Then you’ve done well," Alaric said, lightly as he held the vial up to the light.
The liquid shimred faintly. "Imported?"
The man gave a small shrug.
"So, yes! This one—" he lifted a small glass vial with a deep amber liquid, "Cos from the lowland valleys. Pressed from bitter almonds and sandal leaves. These are bit pricey, but worth it."
Alaric nodded slowly, lifting the vial, giving it a cursory whiff, then smiling faintly.
"Slls clean. Not much like the ones you get downriver."
"Oh, those?" The man made a face. "They’re mostly boiled piss."
Alaric chuckled softly.
"Must cost a bit to get it this far intact," He mused. "Or do you get it raw and mix it yourself?"
The man looked at him for a mont then spoke, "Depends on the batch. This one’s ready-made. Others, I adjust them myself."
Alaric gave a small nod of appreciation, then glanced to a tray of dried leaves and pale stalks near the edge. "And these? Local or mountain-grown?"
"Bit of both," The man replied.
"The red-veined ones are from the marsh line. The rest are local."
Alaric leaned closer. "Hmm... You prepare them here?"
"Um, yeah, dry house in the back. Nothing special."
Alaric set the last flask down with care and gave the man a polite nod.
"Appreciate the ti," he said. "I’ll co back later. Need to look around a bit more."
"Take your ti," The man replied. "I’m not going anywhere."
Alaric offered a faint smile, then turned away and slipped back into the flow of the market.
He’s clean.
He said to himself. While talking he had been carefully watching him from a corner of his eye, looking for any subtle signs, but he got none.
Then he began wandering for a while, glancing at stalls, pausing here and there, never too long though.
A seller of dyes. A rack of herbs. A talworker hawking bronze-pinned charms.
He didn’t ask much at those, just enough to stay in character.
Then, his steps slowed before a small setup tucked between two leather booths.
The stall was narrow, almost cramped. No flashy banners or perfus here.
Just a spread of pouches, powders, oils, and knotted paper bundles arranged with deliberate casualness.
The man behind the counter had a lean, sun-worn and angular face.
His clothes were plain but clean.
Alaric picked up a thin pouch marked with red string.
"That’s sporeroot, right?" he asked casually, not looking up.
The man. blinked. Just once. Then a smile curled on his lips.
"You got a good eye pal. Not many know that by sight."
Alaric smiled faintly. "It’s not often dried this fine. You grind it yourself?"
The man nodded, slightly too quickly, "Better that way. Keeps the oil in."
"Mm." Alaric weighed the pouch in his palm, then set it back.
"Where’d you find a batch this fresh? Doesn’t look like from Riverden. I had tried them, not been the best experience."
The man hesitated, just for half a second.
"Not Riverden," he said. "They are from further inland. There’s spots there, if you know where to look."
"Inland?" Alaric lifted a brow, playing curious. "Didn’t think anything decent still grew there. Land’s gone half-sour, hasn’t it?"
The man tapped his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm. "Used to be. So patches are better now. You know how it goes."
Alaric gave a casual shrug.
The man kept his smile, though, his finger twitched lightly.
Alaric then picked up a vial filled with green shimr. "This is clean. You make this?"
The man scratched his jaw. "I finish it. Base tincture’s not mine, but I blend the rest."
Alaric tilted the vial, watching the liquid swirl. "Slls, almost cold."
"Touch of frostmoss," the man said, then paused.
"Mmh." Alaric set it back down gently. "Most don’t bother with frostmoss unless they’re chasing potency. That’s expensive."
The man spread his hands. "People pay for what works."
Alaric smiled faintly, not breaking eye contact. "Do they?"
The man shifted behind the stall. "Listen, I run a clean business. Always have been. Not like so others around here with their water-downed piss and roadside weeds."
"Of course," Alaric nodded.
He picked up a pouch at random, gave it a light sniff, then tucked it back into place without comnt.
Then, as he turned to leave, he glanced back with a relaxed expression. "You’ve got decent stock. I’ll co back later."
"Take your ti," the rchant said. "I’ll be here."
Alaric turned and walked away, behind him, the rchant exhaled like he’d been holding his breath the whole ti.
Alaric put his hand in his pocket and smirked.
Got you.
[Side Quest: Locate Gavin Trost’s Network]
—Progress 1/3
[Rewards will depend on host’s performance.]
[ 50 DP]
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