The main street was a chaotic river of noise and unfamiliar smells. Leon gripped his blue-wood spear tighter. He kept his eyes moving. He didn't want to look like an easy target, but it was hard to blend in.
He was covered in dried mud and river water. Bai was walking right beside him. The heavy wolf hide was draped over Bai's shoulders like a thick, grisly cape. People stepped around them with looks of faint disgust or total indifference.
"Leon, look at the way they're staring," Bai whispered. He shifted the weight of the hide. "It's like we're transparent. Or invisible. Except for the smell."
"It's the clothes," Leon replied. "And the spears. We look like we crawled out of a hole. Just keep moving. We need to find a shop that handles leather or animal parts."
They walked past several stalls. Some sold bright, glowing fruits that hummed quietly. Others sold weapons made of shimmering metals. Leon noticed a pattern.
The people with clean robes and glowing jewelry stayed on one side of the street. The people in rougher, brown clothes stayed on the other. It was a physical divide. The "Muddies" were the workers. They carried the heavy crates. They cleaned the gutters.
'This place has a hierarchy,' Leon thought. 'And we aren't even on the ladder yet.'
After walking for ten minutes, they found a small building with a sign showing a stretched animal skin. It was tucked away in a narrow alley. The air near the shop smelled of lye and old blood.
A man sat on a stool out front. He was scraping a piece of pale leather with a dull knife. He looked up as they approached. His eyes were milky and sharp.
"What do you want, Muddies?" the man asked. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together.
"We have a forest wolf hide," Leon said. He motioned for Bai to step forward. "It's fresh. We want to trade it for clothes and information."
The man stopped scraping. He stood up slowly. He walked over to Bai and rubbed a corner of the charcoal fur between his fingers. He pulled at the skin, checking the thickness. He looked at the jagged holes where Leon had stabbed it.
"Poorly handled," the man muttered. "The cuts are messy. The curing wasn't started. I'll give you five chips for it."
Leon felt a spark of hope, but Bai suddenly stepped back. He pulled the hide away from the man's reach.
"Five chips?" Bai asked. His voice was louder now. "For a forest wolf this size? We saw the guards at the gate. They were impressed we even survived the woods. This fur is thick. It's perfect for winter cloaks."
The man narrowed his eyes. "Five chips is a fair price for two nobodies."
"Wait a second, Leon," Bai said, leaning in. "Think about it. We don't even know what a 'chip' is. It could be the price of a loaf of bread or the price of a house. If he's offering five without even haggling, he's definitely low-balling us."
'He's right,' Leon thought. 'We're walking in blind.'
"We'll keep it for now," Leon told the man. He turned to Bai. "Let's go."
"Suit yourselves," the man spat. "You won't find a better price in the Muddy district."
They walked back onto the main street. The sun was getting hotter. Leon could feel the sweat itching under his collar. His stomach felt hollow again. The adrenaline of reaching the town was fading. It was being replaced by the cold reality of being broke in a strange world.
"Bai, how did you know he was lying?" Leon asked.
"I didn't for sure," Bai admitted. "But in every novel I've ever read, the first merchant you meet is always a crook. Especially if you look like a mess. We need to know the value of things before we sell our only asset we need a bar."
"A bar?" Leon asked. "We don't have any money for drinks."
"You don't go to a bar to drink when you're broke," Bai said. He looked around until he saw a building with a faded wooden mug hanging over the door. "You go to listen. People talk when they drink. We need to hear what things cost. We need to know what a 'chip' actually buys."
The tavern was called The Cracked Cask. It was a low-ceilinged room filled with heavy smoke. The air smelled of sour ale and roasted meat. Most of the patrons were men and women in dusty work clothes. They sat at long, scarred tables. There were no glowing robes here. This was a place for the talentless.
Leon and Bai found a corner in the back. They sat on a bench that creaked under their weight. They kept the wolf hide between them on the floor. Leon leaned his spear against the wall. He tried to look like he was just resting, but his ears were ringing with the effort of listening.
At the next table, two men were arguing over a pile of small, rectangular pieces of bone. The pieces were dyed different colors. Some were copper, some were grey.
"I'm telling you, the price of grain went up to three grey chips a sack," the smaller man said. He slammed a hand on the table. "How am I supposed to feed my family on ten coppers a day?"
"Take it up with the Guild," the other man replied. "They're the ones hoarding the mana-stones for the Academy students."
Leon leaned toward Bai. "Grey chips and copper chips. It sounds like grey is worth more."
"Listen to the other side," Bai whispered.