Something small, warm, and much too heavy for its size was resting on my chest. The rough scratch of fur under my chin. Then the steady thump of a tiny heartbeat resting right on top of my chest. By the time my eyes opened fully, the ceiling above me had gone from strange to familiar, and the weight on me shifted, stretched, and made a pleased little purring sound.
Tama opened one eye. It was not the eye of a creature burdened by shame. "Morning," I croaked. She yawned right in my face, as her whiskers twitched. "You breathe too much in your sleep. Very disruptive." I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "You were sleeping on my chest."
"And yet you survived. You should be grateful I even decided to share my warmth with you." I stared at her for a second, then snorted despite myself. Tama stepped lightly off my chest and onto the bed beside me. Sunlight slipped past the edge of the cheap curtain and painted a pale strip across the floorboards. Somewhere below, wood knocked against wood. Voices drifted up through the building in a muffled blur, and from outside came the early pulse of the city waking properly, wagon wheels, someone shouting for fresh bread, boots on stone.
Yesterday, getting inside the city had been the goal. A bed with four walls and a door that locked. That had been enough to count as victory. A room for one night only solved the problem of last night. I sat up slowly and rubbed sleep from my face. My body reminded me I had, in fact, done a lot of walking the previous day. Nothing ached, but there was still a dull heaviness in my legs and shoulders that made me very aware of where the mattress bad Quality.
Tama sat beside me, tail curling neatly around her feet. Her ears twitched. "You are thinking again. Don't worry too much, we got this."
"I know im just deciding what our priority should be today." I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I cinched the pouch back into place and pulled on my boots. "Plan?" she asked. "Food first. Then figure out what I actually need." I said stretching. "Weapon, probably."
"Not probably. Definitely," she corrected. I glanced at her, and Tama raised a tiny paw and ticked off the points with all the authority of a battle-hardened veteran trapped in a body that people would describe as adorable right before getting stabbed. "Weapon. Something to carry things in cause pulling things from your clothes is only going to work for some stuff. Tools. Information. Preferably in that order, oh, and getting our first monsties. And preferably without telling anyone where we actually came from. If you tell them we fell out of another world because a divine being decided to bring us here, I will bite you." I nodded rapidly. "Good. We're on the same page." She finished as she eyed me.
I tied my hair back and splashed water from the washbasin onto my face. Then I looked at the door. A day in Orario waited on the other side, and I wasn't going to keep it waiting. So we made our way out of the room, and the inn's common room had the smell of old wood and boiled tea. A few people were already eating. A pair of travelers with dust still clinging to their cloaks sat bent over bowls of something that smelled faintly of onions. Two men in plain work clothes were arguing about a cart wheel. The innkeeper looked up from wiping down. "Heading out early," she said.
"Trying to, "I admitted. She nodded toward the street with the rag still in hand. "Morning market's livelier. But try not to get yourself's killed out there."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said. We stepped outside into cool morning air. Carts rolled past loaded with vegetables, sacks of grain, barrels, cheap pottery, and once, alarmingly, a cage full of geese. The smells were worse and better all at once. Fresh bread, Smoke, Sweat, River damp, Frying oil and Sweet fruit somewhere nearby. Babel rose above it all, visible whenever the buildings opened enough to allow it. I still looked at it every time I caught sight of it. I couldn't help it.
Tama noticed. "Your going to walk into something if you keep doing that." There was a food stall set just off a corner where two streets widened enough to create a pocket of early business. A charcoal grill smoked over skewers of meat glazed in something dark and sweet. Beside it, a flat pan hissed with little cakes of batter and onion. People crowded around him. Workers mostly. A few armored backs. One woman in a light breastplate eating while checking the edge of a knife with her thumb.
My stomach tightened the moment the smell hit me. "Food first," Tama said, as if I had ever been considering anything else. We edged into the side of the crowd. The stall owner gave me a quick, assessing glance, then one at Tama. "Two skewer and two cakes," I said. He named the price. I paid it. Tama accepted one of the cakes and skewers with dignified seriousness and took a bite. I ate slower I wasnt really in a hurry. The skewer was salty, greasy, the cakes were soft inside, crisp at the edges, and vanished almost instantly.
There were three adantures near by. One was broad-shouldered and still wearing a dented helmet pushed back on his head. Another had a bow leaning against the stall with her breakfast wedged in one hand. The third, a wiry man with a spear across his back. "I'm telling you," Helmet said around a mouthful of food, "it wasn't normal."
"You say that every time something bites you," Bow replied. Spear made a noise in his throat that sounded like agreement with the bow girl. I lowered my gaze to my food and listened. Helmet jabbed his skewer through the air. "Formation would've been fine if Dano hadn't frozen. We had two ants, maybe three. Then the wall starts moving, and suddenly there are eight. One on the ceiling. One in the crack to the left. I swear the damn thing was waiting for us."
"First floors punish slow hands," Spear said. "That's all."
"Easy for you to say. You're not the one replacing arm guards."
"No," Bow said mildly, "you're the one replacing arm guards because you let your gaurd down." Helmet guy glared at her. She took another bite and ignored him with professional ease. Spear leaned an elbow on the stall and added, "At least it wasn't goblins. New kids panic worse around goblins. Too human, makes them hesitate. Ants, kobolds, little lizards, people can deal with those."
Bow wiped her fingers on a cloth. "Most novices die because they cheap out on the wrong things anyway." Helmet snorted. "Novices die since they all act like the dungion isnt some death trap. All in a hurry to try and make a name for themselves."
"That too." Spear tipped his chin toward a group farther down the street. "You see them every season. Fresh blessing, one borrowed solid weapon between three idiots, all of them convinced the Dungeon will make them rich."
I took the last bite of my skewer without tasting it. Tama had finished her cake and was licking one paw with careful efficiency. "You heard that," she said without looking at me.
"I heard all of it."
"Good."
"We were already planning on getting a weapon." I added. The stall owner took my empty skewer and jerked his chin toward Tama. "Well behaved," he said. "Mostly," I answered. "Better than some adventurers." He threw a dark look at Helmet guy, who ignored him in the way of regular customers who had long ago made peace with a vendor's opinion. "If you're buying gear, don't start on South Iron Street." I looked grateful. "Where should I start?"
He named a narrower lane I hadn't heard of, tucked two turns over from one of the broader market roads. "General goods first if you need cheap starter gear but I wouldnt go down past the first floor with those."
"Thanks," I said. The man shrugged and turned to the next customer and so we moved on. Orario during the day had a different kind of pressure than it did near sundown. People flowed around us with the confidence of routine. Couriers cut through gaps. Apprentices carried bundles bigger than they were. A group of women in matching work aprons hauled baskets of laundry while gossiping. Adventurers stood out less than I expected. One elderly woman looked Tama up and down.
Tama, for her part, ignored the stares."You are enjoying this," I murmured. "A little." She admitted. The lane the stall owner had mentioned was narrower than the main road and easy to miss unless you were looking for it. The first general goods shop came into view with a rack of rope, chipped lanterns, travel blankets. A bell chimed when I stepped inside. The man behind the counter was thin with dry expression. His gaze flicked to me, then to Tama, then to the pouch at my belt.
"Help you?" he asked. "I'm looking for a backpack," I said. "And tools. Picks if you have them." His brows moved a fraction. "Cheap I have," he said. "Good, no."
"Cheap is fine." I figured any way to same some money wouldnt hurt. He came around the counter and led us to a wall stacked with packs. Leather, patched leather, and one hideous green thing with too many buckles. I chose plain leather one because it looked durable enough. The straps were rough, the stitching thick, and the flap fastened with a simple brass buckle. "Secondhand," the shopkeeper said. "One broken side loop repaired."
I turned it over. The repair was obvious once pointed out, but solid. "Price?" He named one and It was more than I wanted but I still needed it. "And picks?" He took us to a barrel near the back where iron-headed tools stood bundled by twine. Most were mining picks, narrow and practical. A few were small hand mattocks better suited for hard soil than stone. I picked up one of the iron tools and tested its weight. Not reallly balanced, but good enough. The wood handle had been sanded down by use and repaired near the base with a dark wrap of cord. Tama put both paws on the edge of the barrel and peered in like a tiny foreman inspecting questionable inventory. "Get two."
I looked at her. "Two?" I asked looking at her. "If one breaks, having a second one wouldnt hurt." The shopkeeper glanced between us and, to his credit, did not ask why a small cat person was with me. "Two's sensible," he said.
So I bought two, a backpack with a coil of thinner utility cord. When the coins changed hands, the pouch at my belt felt lighter. It was still fine. Annoying, but fine. This was what money was for. I slung the pack over one shoulder, tucked the picks through the straps, and stepped back into the street feeling more prepared.
Now we followed the lane deeper until the general goods gave way to metalwork. This was not South Iron Street. I knew that much because this place had none of the gloss the main trade roads carried. No polished displays meant to lure wealthy adventurers with money to burn and reputations to maintain. Hammering rang from behind the walls. A smith's apprentice came out with a basket of nails on one hip and soot on both arms. A broad rack stood outside one door holding used shields.
I stopped at the first weapons shop. The blades on display were beautiful in the blunt, practical way of objects made by someone who actually respected their craft. Spears leaned in orderly rows. Knives hung from pegs. The woman behind the counter saw me looking and smiled. "First weapon?" she asked.
"Maybe." I admitted. "Then don't buy from fear. Buy for the hand you'll still have in a year." That was annoyingly good salesmanship I had to give her that. She laid out three swords when I admitted I wanted something basic. One was too long. One had a grip that felt wrong the instant I took it up. The third was plain, straight, single-handed, no ornament worth mentioning, fit better than the others. When I asked the price I felt my heart drop and I put it down so fast.
The woman had the grace not to smirk. "Used racks in the next district over," she said instead, sounding annoyed. I muttered my thanks and escaped before dignity could finish bleeding out. Outside, Tama looked up at me. "How bad?" I named the number under my breath. Her ears flattened. "That is theft."
"It wasn't even the expensive one." We stared at the shop together for a second. Then Tama said, with the solemnity of a judge passing sentence, "We are so poor." I laughed once despite the sting. "We are not saying that out loud near merchants."
The used rack district, if it could be called that, turned out to be less a district. Displays were cluttered. Most of the metal on offer had seen things. Some of it had survived them better than others. One stall had shields with cracked wood cores bound in new iron bands. Another specialized in spearheads, old helmets, and stacks of leather bracers sorted by size into bins that looked suspiciously like old produce crates. The third, where we finally stopped, sold blades along one wall and a chaotic mixture of everything else anywhere else it fit. A bell didn't ring when I entered instead something in the back clanged. A voice cursed. Then an older man emerged carrying a bundle of straps and a look that suggested he had long ago stopped caring whether customers found him charming.
He was wide through the shoulders, gray through the beard, and had burn marks on one forearm. His eyes went to the picks in my backpack, the canvas itself, the shoes on my feet, my hands, and then the coin pouch at my side. He missed nothing and said nothing about most of it. "Sword?" he asked. "And a shield," I said. "Budget?" I hesitated. That was enough for him to answer his own question. "Low, then. Good. Saves time." He jerked his head toward the wall. "Don't bother with anything polished. If it's polished in here, it's going to cost you far more then what you have."
I reached for one that looked plain enough to trust. The grip leather was cracked near the pommel. The blade had been sharpened recently, but not expertly. It had weight forward of where I wanted it and a balance that told me this had either been made cheaply or repaired one time too many. Still when I raised it, decent, this was a plain iron sword. I tested a second. Too heavy. A third. Grip too small. A fourth. Better than the first, but nicked badly along one side. The shopkeeper watched me in silence for a while, then walked past and pulled one from farther down the rack.
"That one," he said and I took it from him. The blade was simple, almost to the point of insult. Straight. Single edge. Iron guard a little more than a bar. Plain grip wrapped in dark leather that had been replaced not too long ago. No stamps I recognized. The pommel was a squat disc with a shallow scratch down one side. I gave it an experimental swing, it felt better than the others.
"Used to belong to a porter who wanted to be a swordsman," the man said. "kid died." That was a hell of a sales pitch. "Thats not very comforting," I said. "You want comforting, buy a blanket." He glanced toward the shield racks. "Now decide whether you're buying or not."
"I'll buy I just need a shield too." He nodded and I followed him to the other side of the shop. Tower shields were out immediately. Too much wood, too much weight. Large round ones looked impressive until I pictured myself trying to move quickly. What remained were smaller rounds, bucklers, and one miserable little iron-rimmed shield that looked like it had been built by someone who was clearly a novice. Then I found the one he clearly wanted me to pick. Dinky was the word for it. There really wasn't a kinder word for it. A small round shield with a wood-cored. The leather straps on the back had been replaced recently. The rim was scarred. The boss in the center had a dent shallow enough not to ruin it.
I slid my arm through and I lifted it and turned, testing the drag on my shoulder. Tama made a tiny contemplative sound. "Ugly."
"Yeah, doesnt matter what it looks like so long as it keeps ya alive," the shopkeeper said. He wasn't wrong. But when I moved the sword and shield together, something inside the motion settled. Just enough sense to tell me what common sense had already been screaming: if I went anywhere dangerous, something between me and teeth was better then it looking good.
"How much for both?" I asked.
The man named the price and it was all of my money I had left. Perhaps because he saw something change in my face, he added, "That's with the old sheath." He reached behind the counter and produced a scabbard so plain it made the sword look vain by comparison. Hardened leather over wood, worn at the mouth, with a strap good enough to hang from a belt if adjusted properly. Practical. Cheap. Exactly what the sword deserved. I set the shield down. Then picked it up again. Then put the sword back in the sheath and took it back out. "Can you sell it for less?" I asked.
"Can you pay for better quality?" He asked annoyed. "No." I admitted. "Then we're both trapped by circumstance." I narrowed my eyes at him. He shrugged. "I'll knock a little off because the edge needs work." I stood there with the sword in one hand, the shield on my arm.
Tama came to stand beside my boot. "We need them," she said quietly. That was what decided it. So I paid. Coin by coin, the little metal certainty of my remaining safety crossed the counter and disappeared into the shopkeeper's big scarred hand. With every piece, the pouch lightened until it stopped. The last coin left my fingers and my pouch was empty.
The shopkeeper took the empty pouch, "Well," he said, tying the sheath strap shorter for my height, "now you're armed."
Armed and broke, where was I going to stay for the night? I didnt want to sell my potions anymorethen I had too. I swallowed. "You look sick," the shopkeeper observed.
"I'm fine."Tama's tail flicked once as she watched me. "We are officially broken and homeless now." The man barked a laugh. "So new comers to the city then." He held up one thick finger before I could defend my dignity. "Listen carefully, girl. Poor isn't the same as doomed. Poor and proud get people killed. Poor and careful lives long enough to become something." I adjusted the shield on my arm and felt the leather pull. "Any advice for being careful?"
He considered me for a beat. "Don't go alone where you can't afford mistakes," he said. "Don't buy a longer blade because you think it makes you look cooler. And if you're heading to the Guild, take the next street north and cut west. Faster that way." I looked up sharply. "How did you know I was going to the Guild?" He snorted. "Because everyone whos new always head that way."
Fair enough. I thanked him and stepped back into the street with the cheap sword at my hip and the shield on my arm. Tama walked beside me in thoughtful silence for nearly half a block. I let out a breath through my nose. She looked up. "We bought what mattered. Besides its only our second day."
I laughed once despite myself. "You really know how to soothe a person." And since there was nothing for it now except the next step, we headed for the Guild. The Guild building was not the largest structure in the city. The front was broader than the shops we pasted and much cleaner. People came and went in a steady stream. Messengers. Adventurers. A pair of women carrying satchels. Inside, the air was cooler. Stone and paper replaced the city smells. Voices echoed differently here. Counters lined one side of the wide room. Notices hung in ordered rows. Adventurers clustered around boards, arguing about something involving maps and a great deal of finger stabbing.
And behind one of the counters stood an elf with long green hair whose posture was so composed. I knew who she was the second I saw her. Eina. I went forward. Eina looked up as I approached. Her gaze moved over me with quick professional efficiency, then it dipped to Tama. "Good morning," she said. Her voice was calm. "How can I help you?"
"I'm looking to start adventuring," I said. "I wanted to know what I need to do." Eina folded her hands. "Are you already a member of a familia?"
"No," I said. Her expression did not change, like this was more common then I had expected. "Then your first step isn't Dungeon registration," she said. "It's affiliation." I blinked once. "Affiliation?"
"Joining a familia." She spoke with the patience of someone who had explained this many times. "Adventurers operating in Orario require a god's blessing and Guild registration through a recognized familia. Without that, you cannot be entered into the registry as an adventurer."
"So I can't enter the Dungeon alone," I said. "Not unless your an adventurer, no."
"Meaning people still tried," I said. One of Eina's brows lifted slightly. "People do many things the Guild advises against. Some of them even survive long enough to regret it." Her gaze flicked to the cheap sword at my side, then the shield but not with a mocking look. "You are equipped better than some who ask me that question. Worse than I'd like."
That was almost encouraging. "What exactly do I need?" I asked. "A deity willing to accept you into their familia," she said. "After receiving a blessing, you'd return here with your information. We'd register your affiliation, provide the relevant guidance for novice adventurers, and from there you'd be able to work within the normal system."
"And until then?"
"Until then, you are a city resident with a sword." I stared at her. Tama made a tiny sound that might have been a cough or laughter. Eina's eyes shifted down to her. "And your companion?" she asked. I had expected the question. "Tama," I said. "She travels with me."
"I gathered that." The faintest hint of dryness touched her tone and vanished. "Is she an adventurer under a different familia?"
"No."
"A support specialist? Tamer-affiliated?" Tama put both paws on the counter edge, rose just enough to be properly seen, and said with absolute clarity, "I am Tama." To Eina's credit, she handled that better than most people. Her eyes widened a fraction, then settled. "I see," she said.
"Do you?" Tama asked. "Not completely, no. But I have learned not to assume completeness is required for basic courtesy." Tama considered that. Then she nodded once. "Acceptable answer," she said.
I liked Eina a little more right then, which was unfortunate because I was also busy absorbing the fact that I had just emptied my coin pouch for gear I could not legally turn into a proper first dive. Eina's attention returned to me. "If you intend to become an adventurer, then you should focus on finding a familia. Some gods accept new members readily. Others do not. Some look for potential. Some look for numbers. Some look for very specific types of people."
"Is there a list?" I asked before pride could stop me. "Not an official one in the way you're imagining." Her mouth softened at one corner. "Families form around gods, values, reputation, and practical needs. But there are places you're more likely to hear of openings. Taverns. Central plazas. Sometimes directly at the Guild when a deity sends word they are accepting applications."
"What about temporary work?" I asked. "Anything legal that doesn't require a blessing?" That at least seemed to be a familiar question. "Courier work, labor, market hauling, some shop assistant positions, cleaning if you're desperate and don't mind long hours," Eina said. "But if your goal is the Dungeon, don't let short coin push you into bad arrangements. Some deities recruit for numbers."
My hand drifted toward the empty coin pouch again before I stopped it and Eina noticed. Her gaze flicked from the pouch to the old gear and back to my face. "You bought equipment first," she said. I exhaled and nodded. "Yes."
"Most people do. its not a bad first ideao but it would have been better to check with the guild first. After you find a familia we discuss surviving the Dungeon long enough to start making some kind of living."
"Do you have any recommendations?" I asked. "For where to start looking." Eina hesitated. "Start with gods known to accept new children without immediate absurd demands," she said. "Avoid the ones who treat recruitment like a game. You are clearly new to the city. Dont let charm or spectacle decide for you." She reached under the counter and drew out a small scrap of paper. On it, she wrote two street names and one plaza.
"These are places where recruiters or current members often pass word along," she said, sliding it toward me. "It's not a guarantee. But it's better than wandering blindly." I took the note. "Thank you."
"One more thing," Eina said. I looked up as I was just about to leave. Her gaze dropped to my shield again. "Please dont do anything foolish before then." I blinked. "That's your official Guild advice?"
"No. Officially, my advice is not to do foolish things at all. Unofficially, I try to keep reality included." A beat passed. "Especially with beginners." I tucked the note safely into the backpack, thanked her again, and turned away from the counter with the strange feeling of having both gained and lost something important.
As Tama and I crossed the hall, one of the notice boards caught my eye. Recruitments. Requests. Labor postings a few names I recognized. More I didn't. We stepped back out into the sunlight. For a while, we just walked. The shield bumped lightly against my leg with each step. The sword at my hip tugged differently than I expected whenever I turned. My backpack sat square between my shoulders, the weight of the picks a narrow pressure down the center of my back.
At the edge of a small square with a stone fountain at its center, I stopped and sat on the low outer lip of the basin. Water spilled from the mouth of a carved fish. Tama hopped up beside me. For a minute, neither of us said anything. People crossed the square in drifting lines. A pair of boys chased each other around the fountain until a woman who was definitely related to at least one of them stopped the game with a single look. A courier trotted past with a satchel bumping at his hip. Somewhere nearby, someone was selling roasted nuts.
Every smell in this city was trying to make a liar out of an empty coin pouch. I leaned forward, elbows on knees. A breeze moved through the square and lifted the edge of my hair off my neck. I sat up slowly. "All right," I said. Tama's ear twitched. "All right what?"
"All right,We know what we need to do, which is find a familia, which I already have one in mind anyway."
"Good."
The note Eina had given me crackled faintly when I checked that it was still safe in the backpack. We left the square and headed toward the first street on Eina's note. The first street was busier than the note had made it sound. Not in the market sense. A few older adventurers lingered with the easy posture of those off duty. Recruitment, maybe? We didn't approached anyone yet. Instead, I watched.