My destination was the city’s largest tavern, the ‘Blazing Rose.’ During the carriage ride here, I’d often chatted with Emily, picking up basic knowledge about this world—like how taverns were the best places to trade and buy information.
I needed two targets: a Mage skilled in Illusion magic, and an Alchemist Master who specialized in human-skin crafting. I hadn’t dared ask Lawrence—he was too shrewd, and I feared he’d see through me. But in a rough crowd like this tavern? Much safer.
The Blazing Rose stood on Main Street, not far from the Merchant Guild. Saxton City resembled a circular cake with a slice missing. The Merchant Guild, Mages Association, and the Blazing Rose all sat near the center of that main strip. Stretching roughly four kilometers, the street bustled with luxury jewelers, designer boutiques, and endless streams of pedestrians.
To the southeast, a towering lighthouse peeked into view—the missing slice of the cake: Saxton Harbor. Nestled at the continent’s southern tip, Saxton never froze over in winter. Its natural ice-free port handled most of Cerolos Empire’s sea trade, making it the empire’s second-busiest city.
Pushing open the tavern door, heat and sweat hit me. Near nightfall, the place was packed. Some patrons sat shirtless with massive swords strapped to their backs; others bore strange tattoos across their faces and skin. A few huddled in shadowed corners, swathed head-to-toe in black robes. My own odd attire drew little more than curious glances before they turned back to their drinks.
I slid onto a stool at the bar. A young server approached. “What’ll you have?”
“I’m here to buy information.” My voice came out low and gravelly.
“And how much is that information worth to you?”
I jingled a handful of gleaming gold coins.
“This way, sir.”
Behind the tavern lay a storeroom. Tucked beside it was a small door leading downstairs to a cramped basement room—just a table and a few chairs. The server gestured for me to wait.
Three minutes later, a masked figure in black robes descended the stairs. They sat across from me, voice raspy and genderless: “What do you seek? For the right price, even palace secrets are mine to share.”
“I’m not after gossip. I need people.”
“Oh? Go on.”
“One: a Mage specializing in Illusion magic. Two: an Alchemist Master skilled in human-skin crafting. Both are in Saxton City. I need their whereabouts.”
“Heh heh… interesting.” The robed figure waggled five fingers. “Five gold coins.”
Five gold wasn’t trivial. A farmer’s yearly earnings here barely reached a few dozen silver coins. Shop clerks earned about twenty silvers a month. One gold equaled a hundred silvers—this demand was five hundred silvers. Steep. But for my goal? I gritted my teeth and tossed over the coins.
“Good, good.” The figure pocketed them smoothly. “Reliable intel says Alchemist Master Cavendish will personally present items at the Scott Clan’s auction in three days. We’ll confirm his seat and arrange for you to sit beside him. The rest is up to you.”
“Is Cavendish truly skilled in human-skin alchemy?”
“His work ranks top three in the Cerolos Empire, at minimum. Most imperial spies wear skins he crafted.”
Skins good enough for spies meant exceptional quality—lives depended on their realism.
This was acceptable, but I pressed further: “I also need a Mage skilled in Illusion magic. Anyone near Saxton?”
“Tricky. Mages guard their movements closely. Three gold coins. We’ll hunt for a month—you can check progress anytime.”
“Fine.” I tossed over three more coins, feigning indifference while my heart bled. Real gold!
The figure slid a charcoal-gray card across the table. “Show this to the bartender next time.”
After finalizing details, I followed them out of the basement. In the storeroom, their figure blurred—and vanished.
No mood for drinks now. Dusk hadn’t fully fallen, so I wandered Main Street, soaking in this world’s atmosphere. Most locals had golden hair and sharp noses, but many had black hair and dark eyes too. Emily had mentioned it once: 120 years ago, the fertile Eastern Continent fell to the Demonkin. Refugees flooded west, settling across nations. After a century of blending, their descendants fit seamlessly here—only hair and eye colors hinted at their roots.
Beneath the glittering surface, hunger and poverty festered. A half-naked boy begged along the street—until guards swatted him away with muskets. In a shadowed alley, ragged vagrants scavenged through trash bins, a stark contrast to Main Street’s polished crowds.
Not my problem. My only goal was finding a perfect way to change my face—then returning to Earth.
My strange clothes drew stares. This plastic mask was a nuisance too: only two small holes for eyes narrowed my vision. I couldn’t eat or drink in it, and the heat made it stifling. But I knew my face’s danger here. With questionable city security, staying hidden was survival.
I ducked into a bustling jewelry shop, handing a clerk a pouch of cheap trinkets I’d brought from Earth. “No questions. Appraise them.”
The clerk emptied the pouch, examined each piece, then sneered as he pushed it back. “We don’t deal in low-grade fakes.”
*Right. Underestimated their metallurgy.* Face burning, I turned to leave—then spotted a delicate silver bracelet in the display. Thin, elegant, etched with intricate patterns. Emily was still setting up my new home. She’d be happy with this.
Silver meant affordable: fifty silver coins. After buying it, I grabbed a box of pastries from a nearby bakery before heading home.
