From a distance, Gdius seems like something of a medium sized city. Not too big nor too small. It should hold a retively det-sized popution. Unfortunately, that poputio include the visitors who live on ships within the port. It is because of these numerous visitors that the streets are packed with bodies.

  [Nobles], [Merts], [Traders], [Gamblers], [Merary’s], [Captains], and any other manner of acceptable css and job prowl the streets in stant search of profits. And profits there are many to be made.

  But before that, there is the matter of information. Ignorance is all good and fun, but they rarely result in huge profits.

  A plump short man raises a finger and points at a tavern called the Screaming Sword. “That one looks like a good one.”

  Myers looks at the name and frowns at the peeling paint of the tavern and ck of windows. “Why there?” he asks.

  Just then, a man is yeeted out of the front door with such force that his body bouwice before sliding to a stop in the middle of the road. To only Myers and Cy’s surprise, the body is ignored and people tinue on their way.

  “That’s why.” Cillian says with a grin.

  “Isn’t that a bit dangerous.” Myers starts walking behind him.

  “A little, but that’s why we have hes.”

  “I will devour all that dare raise a hand upon my .” The monstrous multi-legged Phytonid threatens while Cy giggles at the threat.

  Upoering ihe tavern's residents turn towards the ries. They s the old man, plump human, and child, like wolves who smell easy prey. Theaphysical maion of a bear in the form of a Phytoers with the steely gaze of a predator. Immediately, the prey have just bee far too dangerous to even sider. The threatening gazes leave the group, all to the disappoi of the Phytonid who hungers for an excuse to enact violence.

  The group arrives at the end of the room where the [Barkeep] shines a gss. The man is tall, fit, and quite muscur. He’s got a dirty gray beard and wears a staiank top. He also just so happens to be a Buxon.

  As they take a seat at the ter, the [Barkeep] leans down, opens a bottle, and pours a red liquid into the gss he was shining. He then pushes the gss in front of Cy.

  “Juice,” He says before moving his attention to the others.

  “What’s your poisons?”

  “Information,” Myers says. His answer has the Buxon frowning.

  Cillian clears his throat, “What the old man is saying is that I’ll take something strong and he’ll have something that’s not going to kill him.”

  The Buxon nods. He then g hes. “And you?”

  “Meat,” the Phytonid hisses while making eye tact with everyone else in the room.

  “How do you want it prepared?”

  “Raw.” She answers.

  The Buxon has the slightest grin before he leaves.

  Buxon are easily the most physically adept of all other species. They are stronger, faster, and generally smarter. This be seen by the Buxon carrying aire skinned carcass of a pig-like animal in one arm and a tablecloth iher. The entire room is silent as he spreads the cloth on the ter in front of hes, and then sps the bloody carcass in front of her.

  Without missing a beat, he brews up a drink for Cillian and a much weaker one for the old man.

  By the time he pces the drinks in front of them, hes rips off a leg and bites into it. The sound of bone g under her maw sends a shiver down every spine except for the Buxons.

  “How's the meat?” The Buxon asks.

  “It is nutritionally dense and surprisingly soft. What animal is this?”

  “Young repugnans boar. It’s a Buxon favorite. They 't produce adrenaliil they are older, so the meat is always soft.”

  hes takes another bite, to the grimace of the crowd.

  “Normally I charge extra for information- but you all are an odd group,” he g hes, “with a member that actually enjoys Buxon cuisine.”

  Cillian nods while watg hes take a third bone-shattering bite. “I ’t argue with you on that. By the way, I get a refill?” Cillian wiggles his empty mug.

  The Buxon stares at the empty mug in surprise for a moment. He takes the mug and refills it. “What’s your name?”

  “Cillian,” the scot accepts the full drink. “Yours?”

  “Ragnar.” The Buxon pours himself a drink. “Ask your questions.”

  Cillian grins. “I hear there is a great deal of to be made- more than the usual gambling.”

  “The Gangs don’t py fair,” Ragnar warns. “You’re more likely to wind up dead than rich.”

  The Scot chuckles. “The upside is always better when your life's on the line.”

  Ragnar slowly nods. He takes a sip of his drink while Cillian takes a gulp. “That’s true enough.” Leaning off the ter, Ragnard strides to the bad returns with a bnk bck card. Whispers throughout the building rise up upon sight of the card, only to quickly go silent from the Buxons gre.

  He slides the card to Cillian without removing his fingers off of it. “You’ve got the look of someone who’s pyed with big boys and survived.” Ragnar removes his finger, allowing Cillian to pick up the card.

  “At night, you’ll find alleys guarded by armed [Guards]. Show them the card and they’ll let you pass to the undercrust.”

  “.” Cillian pockets the regle.

  Ragnar shifts his gaze o the old man. They lock eyes. “What's your question?”

  “Falntine. How does the kingdom fare?”

  “General information ing from the is that other than increased pirate activity, it is doing very well.”

  “And information not from the ?” Myers asks.

  Ragnard looks the old man up and down. What the Buxon sees is not a frail human, but something akin to a roamihan. “Falntine is in turmoil. The [Prince] cks the skills necessary to keep the ey running adequately. The [knight] orders still loyal to the are predominantly a ground force. They ck the levels to properly ter the growing [Pirate] threat in the skies. Ret sans from Lapis on military goods doesn’t help either- though many believe it to be a pretext for a future war. Lastly- the political situation may once again bee infmed from some ret rumoing about.

  “Ret rumors?”

  “Yes. Though just rumors, so take it with a grain of salt, but apparently the [ Princess] may have beely sighted in Memphis prior to the atta the city.”

  Myers grimaces first, and then grows fused. “Attack?”

  “You haven’t heard? Well, it’s still pretty ret and information is only ing in. [Pirate-Prince Captain] Valeacked Memphis and single-handedly disarmed the isnd.”

  Myers leans forward with a bit of panic. “How? The city’s defenses should be adequate enough to ter any single ship. Even the Bohan ’t withstand a tracted e against such a port.”

  Ragnar shrugs. “The attack just happened, so the information is only now ing in. You’ll have to wait a bit before then.”

  The old man squeezes his e tightly in agitation, only for Cy’s arm to rest on his palm. “Grampa?” the child questions.

  And like that, Myers regains trol of himself. He releases a sigh, and then grimaces when he remembers a woman's face. “What's the death toll?”

  “High if you were at port or on a ship, low if you were iy.”

  Myers slowly nods. He reaches into a poud gives Ragnar fifty Tris. “Thank you.”

  Ragnar takes the money and then turns to hes. “Have you any questions?”

  hes swallows, her feast half plete. “Yes,” she hisses. “You are a warrior, a batant. I see it from your form, your body, and the dense skeleton under your skin. You have sughtered and killed- dismembered foes with arms alone. What is your story? What is yreatest kill?”

  For a moment, Ragnar is taken aback by the odd Phytonid. He is already intrigued by her form that mimisectoids and her desire to e raw flesh. Granted, he knows Phytonids e nearly anything, but few ever would publicly do so. Only Ioids and Buxon have no qualms about such things. And nohytonid that looks built for physical instead of magical bat asks to hear stories of his kills? Absurd! But very intriguing.”

  “I used to be a [Gdiator]...”

  __________________________________________________________________

  “Miss Irmgard, maybe we should go to aore? This one is creepy and people might enter.”

  Irmgards saber inches closer to the panig man's neck. The man, a [Shopkeeper] of a store hidden in an alleyway inches his head slightly from the woman's bde. “No! I swear they aren't fake. They’re legitimate quality crystals.”

  She moves the cutss closer. “My panion is a [Ruh]. Do you expect me to take your word instead of hers?” She growls. “And I know they’re not fake. The problem is that they are of crap quality which you tried to deceive me over.”

  “I-I-”

  Just then, two-burly meer the store with arms and armor ready for battle.

  “Help! Please. This woman is crazy!” the man pleads.

  The two men stare at the se for a moment. They look at Irmgard, Emma, and a masked staff wielding [Mage]. Then they notice the wall crater where a [Guard] was bsted by magic.

  They g each other. “It seems you’re busy. We’ll e back ter.” The two leave, ign the g pleas of the [Shopkeeper].

  “Now,” Irmgard returtention. She pushes the bded edge towards the man, “where were we.”

  “Please…”

  “Irmgard,” Auranta pces a hand on the woman's shoulder. “I know you’re angry and you pn to kill the man for his lies,” the [Shopkeeper] squirms ,“but he may provide us with the information that we seek.”

  “Whatever you want!”

  Irmgard tilts her head but doesn't release the pressure she applies. “We need supplies for our ship and quality crystals for runeing. Where's the cheapest pce to obtain such goods.”

  “T-the undercrust. Bckmarket with no tax and the best prices.”

  “Yea? How do I get there?”

  “Guarded allies at night. You’ll need a card.”

  “What card? Where?”

  The man gnces behind his ter. “My safe. I have a bck card inside. If you let me go, I’ll give it to you.”

  “Emma?” Irmgard calls.

  The Gemma leans down behind the ter and pulls up a runed box. “I found it. It’s locked.”

  “The cards inside. If you let me go, I’ll open the box for you.”

  A hissing sound burns from the box. When Irmgard ghe box is open while Emma holds a stylus. The [Shopkeepers] eyes are wide open. “You destroyed my safe! I paid a fortune for that!”

  Emma frowns. “Really? But the rune is so simple…”

  Irmgard chuckles. “Is the card there?”

  Emma raises a bck regle up.

  Seeing the card, Irmgard removes her cutss from the man's ned then pushes him to the side.

  “Good. let's get out of here.”

  Emma nods. “Ok. But should we take anything else from the safe? He has a lot of Tris.”

  Irmgard shakes her head. “Of course not. We’re not thieves.”

  The three girls leave the small shop and the wide-eyed [Shopkeeper].