Krow twitched the hem of his new [Albaed Travel Cloak], letting the fall of the cloth hide his revolver. He glanced around, to see no one.

Rumors said that the defeater of the Armored Mothmarmot was a draculkar gunman. Of course, according to a snickering Velinel, the rumors also said he was three meters tall and had large black wings.

Taking no chances, he donned the cloak before leaving the Velinel’s father’s workshop. It was pretty nice, with hidden slits in the sides for a better range of arm movements.

He liked it.

Not that he was ever telling Janggi that.

|:Deliver Painted Glass Samples:|

[Category: Common (Beginner)]

[Karyavan of Clan Iluggei asked you to deliver a pallet of Painted Glass Samples to the glassmaker Adrahj on Tur-Rormessk.]

[You will gain: +2 Reputation Points, +7 Experience Points, +4 Silver Serpens]

Gaining a beginner quest off Velinel’s father wasn’t difficult.

Krow nodded in satisfaction as he saw the Hidden Quest bonus was already evident; the rewards on the Common quest increased.

The quest wasn’t problematic either. Krow already knew which tower was called Rormessk, and it wasn’t a battle quest.

He couldn’t take a battle-related quest. Not for his usual reasons, but because what the hell is a blacksmith that won’t make bullets?!

Apparently buying anything that wasn’t knives or swords or glaives or anything bladed in a draculkar village was more challenging than expected.

” – these days, the gall!” was the reaction of the second blacksmith he visited on Rormessk tower. “Why, in my day people would never insult a craf –”

Krow closed the door behind him, cutting off the tirade completely.

Good soundproofing.

He massaged his temples, staving off a growing headache. He only wanted to get a few errands done on the way to finishing a quest, damnit.

“What was the use of a blacksmith that won’t make your preferred weapons?”

No one in the village made bullets? Impossible.

Nothing in the forums said that battle classes were limited by race.

“I didn’t have this problem the last time!” He complained to no one.

But then again, he’d played a human swordsman, which was the most generic race-class pairing in any game ever. Humans were adaptable, and every race made swords.

Apparently being a draculkar gunman was semi-scandalous.

Yet another reason not to stay in the inner regions of draculkar territory. Yet another reason a lorebook would have been useful.

Krow stalked off, took the steps two at a time to the next level.

By the time he reached a door marked ‘Adrahj’, his irritation had bled off a little. He’d seen a weapons-dealer in the upper plaza, and a few others casually carting rifles around.

He’d just buy bullets from the caravan traders.

“I have a delivery of glass samples,” he greeted as the crystalline door opened.

The man blinked at his abruptness, but nodded. “Bring it here, if you would.”

Krow ejected the pallet from his Inventory, onto the indicated table near the inner door. The place was a shop. Glass sculptures reflected and refracted light amongst themselves, creating a dreamily bright and airy feel about the place.

[You’ve finished the quest |:Deliver Painted Glass Samples:| and have gained +2 Reputation Points, +7 Experience Points, +4 Silver Serpens!]

Adrahj pried open the pallet and frowned at the glass inside. He took one and tossed it into a cauldron just visible inside the inner doorway. The cauldron puffed blue and green smoke like a silent slowly exploding volcano. “Hah. I knew it.”

He started scribbling on paper, stopped, then just stood there, contemplative.

Krow wondered if glassmaking could be used to increase his Smelter rank.

He could try, right? But the glassmaker had fallen into a trance. He knew better than to interrupt a crafter.

Another time, then.

He made his slow way to the door, because the shop really had so many interesting statuettes. Adrahj turned, then blinked at Krow as he leaned closer to a glass vase made of dancing draculkar.

“You have an interest in glassmaking, young one?”

“Your work is beautiful.” Krow pointed at a seadrake sculpture, proudly rising on a stand, fins spread in sheer glee of jumping above the waves. “Is it amber?”

Adrahj’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, crows’ feet prominent. The man was older than Krow thought, maybe even older than Karyavan. At least four hundred years, possibly?

When did draculkar start to show their age? Janggi looked like she was in a human’s thirties or forties. This man looked at least fifty.

“All here is glass, but thank you for the compliment. This color, particularly,” he moved to Krow’s left and touched a gentle finger to the translucent gold and red seadrake. “from a rather volatile mix of dust and monster fur in the kiln.”

He turned to Krow, silver eyes curious. “Unusual, to see a young one of the high mountains who knows what sea-borne amber looks like.”

“I traveled, sir,” he said at the man’s expectant air. “I am Krow.”

“Aha. And I am Adrahj, of the Gremut glassmakers. It’s not often Karyavan sends someone to me who does not wish to join our ranks.”

“I have an interest, but I must also leave. I only briefly assisted Karyavan’s daughter, so he gave me an errand.” Krow shook his head. “The dust and fur you use, do you possibly mean mothmarmot materials? Are there other uses?”

He only knew the golden Flutterpoison Dust was used in anaesthetics.

Common advice told new players to sell low-level materials at the first sign that someone would buy them, but Krow didn’t need the money.

What he needed was materials for enchanting practice.

Or maybe he should sell them before they started to degrade?

Nah, it took a month before low-quality monster materials started to rot. He could just sell them in the lower reaches if he hadn’t started Enchanting by then.

“It’s windrat fur and mothmarmot dust. Not my best idea, but as you say, beautiful.” Adrahj started shoving papers into a folder-satchel, writing furiously on some before binding them with twine and tossing them into a satchel. “You know monster Bones can be used to enchant high-level items, of course? The Crystalwing Bones of the mothmarmots are generally used for Air-aligned weaponry. The Dust, well you’ve already seen the glass it makes. Mostly valuable to apothecaries, though. Popular in scar-removers and Paralyzing Mist potions. As for the fur, you’re better off asking a tailor. It makes for brittle glass.”

Adrahj tossed the last of the papers into the satchel. “Take this back to Karyavan…no, no, not him. He won’t answer immediately. Eh, just send it on then. To Fanthalber. He should be at the market tonight or tomorrow.”

He paused, glanced at Krow. “You don’t mind, do you? Fanthalber’s an elusive one.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Another delivery, meh. But it didn’t seem urgent, so Krow had time to explore the village a bit.

[You have a new quest!]

Adrahj smiled, pleased. “Excellent.”

He trussed the satchel up in ribbon of some kind and stamped a wax seal over the front.

Krow placed the sealed satchel of papers in his inventory.

He took the stairs upward, to the upper market plaza.

Gremut didn’t look like it had the population to support two blacksmiths and an enchanted clothing shop. That meant it was an important stop on the trade trail.

Good.

Krow wouldn’t have a problem finding a caravan headed toward a city or town. The weapon sellers were gone since yesterday though.

“Oh, Tembol’s merchants,” said the human tradeswoman he’d asked. “Saw them pulling out at dawn. Might want a fast horse, if you want to catch up with them.”

Tsk.

“Any others I can buy bullets from?”

She looked him over and shook her head. “Not a popular weapon in these parts. I heard Lachot and his band of crazies were a day behind us, if you can wait that long. He mostly hires riflemen, but he should have good supply for handguns. Better off buying in the great city, though, it’s only a day’s journey away.”

Krow stifled his sardonic response.

A day’s journey with an empty gun?

Lady, don’t you know that players naturally attract trouble?

Walk down a street and bump into an orphan running away from a trafficking ring; get on a horse and discover it was stolen from the royal stables; greet a mysterious woman and be hounded to death by her stalker suitors or guards; go on a trip and get involved in a land dispute between two lords then be accused of being a smuggler and suddenly the two lords are united in their desire to execute you.

Okay, maybe not that bad.

But still.

Godforsaken Norge.

The only reason Krow wasn’t already on a battle quest was that he’d been ignoring the prompts from various people.

“Do you know a Fanthalber?” he asked instead.

She scoffed and chuckled, waving him away as someone called her back to work. “Yeah, that’s them.”

Fanthalber was part of the ‘band of crazies’?

Krow scowled at the mass of spices arrayed around the plaza. If Lachot’s caravan didn’t have bullets, he’ll have to buy a bow or something similar.

He wanted a rifle, really, as his secondary weapon. Apart from the general Sharpshooter class abilities, gunman skills and archer skills had different skill trees. Leveling both was folly.

But his chances of buying a rifle in the village shops was smaller than the chances of a devil in heaven.

“Looking for bemayla flowers?” A stallkeeper came to stand at Krow’s side, a neutral expression on his face.

Oh, had he been glaring at the man’s produce? He made an apologetic expression. “Bemayla?”

The siren nodded. “My brother has a cask of the flowers in stock. Or do you want the berrybars directly?”

Oh!

Berrybars were the only food in draculkar cuisine that contained anything close to grains, and didn’t have large hunks of protein. Draculkar preferred meat.

All the draculkar he’d known carried berrybars, as a travel food. According to Gojo, there were many recipes, but they weren’t for outsiders. He’d tried a piece once, and couldn’t get past the unexpected metallic aftertaste.

It tasted differently for draculkar, according to his friend.

This was the chance to experience if that statement was actually true.

“You made them?”

The siren nodded, not even hesitating.

Krow could not deny his curiosity. “If it’s good, I’ll buy some.”

The stallkeeper turned to the wagon his stall was leaning against, light catching against blue-tinged scales. “Oy, the berrybars!”

“What?” came the bewildered answer from behind the wagon, “Someone actually asked?”

The siren made a wordless sound, which was either assent or scoffing.

Both.

Krow grew a bit doubtful. Since when did sirens make draculkar food? Maybe he should wait to buy from vetted sellers?

Another siren came around the stall, carrying a rectangular cask in his arms. His green eyes immediately set on Krow, bewildered. But then he grinned, red-tinged scales flashing. “Want a sample?”

Krow nodded.

The cask was immediately opened, and the siren was offering Krow a finger-size berrybar, wrapped in paper. It looked like old-style candy actually, from those historical movies.

Well, if he was poisoned, all the draculkar around would be baying for siren blood.

The traders didn’t actually look that stupid, so he took the berrybar and bit.

The berrybar texture had a crunch of nuts and a crunch of wafers, with a softness between the types of crunch that emitted the heavy fragrance of flowers and fruit. It was a little sweet and sour, a little savory, very nutty, with an indefinable something that translated to his brain as: yum!

Krow swallowed. “I’ll take everything you have, and the recipe.”

The two looked stunned, then the one with red-tinged scales laughed. “The recipe’s not for sale. But if you want more, our sister Favel is known in the east of Grandshield.”

The one with blue-tinged scales started unearthing casks from the wagon.

Krow’s gaze was caught by the mark on his elbow.

To most players, it would have been innocuous, part of the scales that were strewn across the siren’s upper arm.

Krow wasn’t most players. Krow had, in another life, been an ‘indentured contractor’ to a guild determined to get ahead on the backs of their laborers.

It was a mark that freed slaves gave to each other.

Krow fought the sudden desire to touch where Scare’s mark had been, on the collarbone right above his heart.

He ripped his gaze away, only to meet the other siren’s eyes. The siren smiled charmingly. “Have you ever been there?”

Fake.

Did he catch Krow noticing the freed-mark on his brother?

Sirens were the most beautiful race in the game, and also in Zushkenar. When it came to slavery, they were the most sought out as house servants.

Abruptly, with a void cracking open in his chest, he remembered that draculkar were known to keep slaves.

This siren was evaluating him like he might be one of those scum from Findrakon, with a grin edged with wary hostility.

Krow shoved every bit of emotion in him into a box and locked it with chains.

He’d forgotten that particular quirk of the draculkar race.

How could he forget?

No. He wasn’t thinking about it now.

Krow was fairly certain Norge only put in the systems of slavery to flavor the worldbuilding of Redlands, to create more conflict for the races, a better game experience for battlers and crafters alike. It wasn’t so pronounced in the game, like an afterthought.

In Zushkenar, that pinch of ‘flavor’ became distressingly, gut-wrenchingly real.

There were laws and legalities, there were rebellions and histories, there was death and tears and blood. Slavery existed, in a way that the transmigrated players had never experienced before.

Krow hadn’t thought about it being so present so early in the game. Didn’t that mean that the players just hadn’t noticed the slave NPCs around them?

He kept his voice steady, face neutrally curious. “Is that anywhere near Cerkanst?”

Krow knew the town of Cerkanst was somewhere in the eastern part of the forest as well.

The siren’s face held no recognition.

That was a good thing, Krow decided. It meant the town didn’t have much trade or visitors. It would be easier to establish himself there without interference from other players or significant NPCs, until the craft update.

The siren shrugged, the piercing gaze changed to contemplation. “If this Cerkanst is near Beetle Lake, then possibly.”

“Oh.” Extreme east then. Beetle Lake was south of Tvarglad, the vargvir capital. Cerkanst was far south of the lake, a bit west, on the other side of the Grandshield Forest.

Not near at all.

But also not that far.

“One drax thirty serpens a cask.” The blue-scaled siren popped up at his brother’s elbow.

There were five casks of crunchy nutty deliciousness, each likely enough for nearly two weeks of food.

Krow eyed them sharply.

[Favel’s Berrybars]

[Made from a recipe created by Favel of Glathul Town for her husband Baayar. A recipe most effective to those of draculkar descent.]

[Freshness: 98%]

[Quality: S]

[Degradation: 1% per week]

That was pretty good, actually.

Food started degrading faster at 60% Fresh, then started rotting at 25% Fresh, to become inedible at 0%, so it would be a long time before the berrybars went bad.

He lifted his brow at the S-grade quality, then studied the two. “Your sister made this?”

She had to be a player-crafter.

One roleplaying a master chef, or something similar.

The game was calibrated so any item higher than A-grade quality could only be crafted by players. Above A-grade, there was S, Epic, and Legendary.

“One drax a cask,” Krow offered. “No higher.”

“Agreed.”

Huh. They really must not have customers.

Krow nodded and offered his arm. The siren with red-tinged scales blinked, then smiled, slightly more genuine than the last several he’d directed at Krow.

They clasped each other’s wrist to seal the deal. Krow did the same to his brother.

“Do you know of any caravans heading down the mountain?”

“Not this time of year,” the siren refuted. “Every trade caravan’s heading to Velkenbragg. If you want to leave the mountain, better to head to the city first to hire armed escort. Several caravans encountered bandits at the foothills.”

“You might get lucky,” his brother added, “And intercept an express mail coach heading to the lower reaches.”

He nodded.

“Ah, wait, do you know where the other well is around here?” The blue-scaled siren jerked a thumb toward the edge of the grounds, where there was a line of people with buckets, casks and other containers. “The main one’s crowded. We need a few buckets of water, but can’t leave the stall for that long.”

Krow wasn’t eager to increase his local RP, but he also didn’t want to waste time. Now that he’d finished this village’s Hidden quest, there really wasn’t a reason to stay apart from getting to Lvl 5.

Once he acquired the bullets he needed, he should explore the areas around Gremut. Being a starting village, there should be a good supply of monsters with low enough levels he could farm for XP without taking quests.

“I can do that for you.” Krow accepted the quest prompt.

He wouldn’t mind a few fetch quests.

He wasn’t so contented when, after the caravan didn’t appear for hours and carefully curating the quest prompts so he wouldn’t accidentally take make Gremut his official hometown, all the quests he could take the whole day were fetch quests.