Damian woke with a start. Another bad dream. He’d had them nearly every night since leaving Bekham, but he could never remember what they were about—probably stars, and dead faces. To his surprise, the room was warm despite the lack of a fire and what he at first thought was an open window. Then he realized the window wasn’t open at all, it had glass.

  Did that mean every window in the inn had glass? In Bekham, only a few lodges had glass windows, and usually just one. If your lodge had one; it was a mark of pride.

  After a moment spent marveling at the glass, Damian quickly packed his things and headed downstairs. He’d slept in for once—whether from the comfortable bed, his exhaustion, sleeping indoors, or some mix of all three, he wasn’t sure. The woman from last night greeted him with a smile and another small, hard loaf of bread. As breakfasts went, it wasn’t terrible.

  “How much for the bread?” Damian asked, already reaching for his coin pouch.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” the woman said with a wave. “It’s on the house, sweetheart.”

  Damian frowned. “On the house?”

  “Hrm? Oh, just means you ain’t gotta worry about paying for it.” Her smile widened even more.

  After a second, Damian thanked her and headed for the door. Had Father Garm exaggerated how bad the world was? Everyone he’d met so far had been kind. Or maybe that was thanks to his new skill, [Natural Charm]. After feeling it out, it didn’t seem to be an active skill. Skills didn’t come with instructions, but this one seemed simple enough from the name.

  Skogheim was, unsurprisingly, much more active during the day. What had been closed and shuttered storefronts the night before were now thrown open; goods on display beneath colorful awnings meant to draw the eye. Even the people were striking with brightly dyed clothes, gold and silver jewelry on display, and many wearing simple iron chains around their necks. Just walking down the road, Damian was practically assaulted by skills.

  “[A Moment Of Your Time] sir!” called a voice, and Damian turned on a dime toward a nearby shop.

  “[Hear Me]!” shouted another, and Damian paused as the first skill broke. “Good deals on fruit! Fresh fruit—last of the season!”

  “Leatherworking! Finest leatherwork in Skogheim!” shouted another. “[Stop And Look]! You’re missing out!”

  The barrage gave Damian such whiplash he felt nauseous, stumbling down the road as if fighting against an invisible current. He’d never been the target of so many skills at once, and it felt like pushing through a blizzard. When he finally escaped the market, a small twinge of disappointment lingered. He had wanted to see what was for sale. But he didn’t want to be taken advantage of. Besides, he had a quest, and he could feel he was getting closer.

  Following the pull in his chest, Damian soon found the southern gate out of the city. Carts rolled in and out, each stopped by the guards for a brief inspection. Foot traffic wasn’t being questioned, but Damian lingered to watch anyway. The guards never detained anyone, and he noticed a few people catching rides on outgoing carts. That would be his plan.

  It was just a matter of choosing who to hitch a ride with.

  All sorts passed through. Some hauled goods like furniture or jewelry; the richer ones had large chests, which Damian assumed were chests of holding. He ruled those out immediately. People with things to lose weren’t likely to offer rides to strangers, even if Damian looked harmless enough.

  He picked out a cart loaded with boxes of candles. Damian had always thought being a [Chandler] might be fun, so the driver stood out to him. As the cart joined the short queue, Damian made his approach.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  The robed person driving the cart looked over, then down at Damian, and he balked when he saw a decidedly feminine face. He hadn’t been able to tell from her outfit: a cream-colored robe with a heavy hood pulled low. Her only distinguishing feature was the small iron chain around her neck.

  The woman gave Damian an impassive look. “Yes?”

  “Sorry,” Damian muttered. “I was wondering if I could hitch a ride. I’m not sure where you’re headed, but I need to go south.”

  “Where south?” she asked.

  Damian didn’t know, so he shrugged. “Just south. I’ll know it when I see it.”

  “Hm.” The woman hummed thoughtfully. “Following a skill?”

  “Yes,” Damian answered, walking alongside as the cart rolled forward a bit. Best to be honest.

  The woman studied him for a moment longer, then patted the seat beside her. “Climb up. Let me do the talking at the gate.”

  Damian clambered up beside the woman, and within a minute they rolled to a stop beside the guard for inspection. As the man walked past, Damian heard him muttering skills under his breath. Mother Revna had said you didn’t need to speak skills aloud, but it helped with control.

  “[Inquisitive Eye], [Cold Read].”

  After glancing over the boxes, the guard turned to Damian. “What’s your purpose here, sir?”

  Damian frowned and turned to the woman, who leaned around him with a scoff. “He’s my [Apprentice]. Just a local [Merchant] out of Jahrmarkt, returning with some goods. Nothing to declare—no contraband.”

  The guard blinked in surprise, then chuckled softly. “You know your stuff, miss. Apologies for the mix-up. Be on your way.”

  The woman nodded, flicked her reins, and off they went. The ride was pleasant, rolling past farmland where crops had begun to wilt in the cold breath of impending winter. Even the road was better kept, cobbled the whole way along. A few farms still showed vibrant green fields, just ripening or a little before harvest, and Damian wondered if the [Farmers] there had skills to help.

  Probably.

  Every time he saw something that didn’t make sense, he chalked it up to skills. One thing he’d learned in his youth was that skills could do almost anything. There were skills to make bread fluffy, to lift spirits, to heal wounds, even to grant knowledge you hadn’t learned. [Proficiency] skills had been among the most sought-after in Bekham. Or they had been.

  Damian’s mood darkened, and he retreated into his thoughts as the hours passed and the cart moved from farmland back into the wilder, wooded regions. The woman didn’t speak, and Damian felt no need to break the silence himself. But it didn’t last.

  “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked suddenly.

  Damian actually startled, having grown used to the steady rattle of the cart and the occasional passerby. “Er, no. Close, but not. If that makes sense?”

  She nodded. “One of the tucked-away villages, off the main roads, I suppose?”

  “Yeah,” Damian agreed, furrowing his brow. “How’d you know?”

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  “The way you look at things—like you’ve never seen them before,” she said. After a pause, she added, “I’m Mira. You?”

  “Damian,” he offered, a bit uncomfortable with the conversation.

  As if sensing his discomfort, Mira let the comforting blanket of silence settle over them again. Not silence—peace. The horse still nickered, birds sang, and trees whispered as the wind bent their branches and rustled their leaves. Damian’s gaze caught on the gentle clinking of metal on metal: the iron chain around Mira’s neck.

  “Why are so many people wearing those?” Damian asked, nodding toward the chain. He’d noticed quite a few of the Skogheim villagers had similar necklaces.

  Mira glanced down at her chest, then grinned at Damian. “Let me guess—you’re a Nephrite?”

  “A what?” Damian asked, frowning.

  Mira pursed her lips. “A Nephrite? Followers of Nephret? You know, the star goddess?”

  “Oh.”

  Damian’s face darkened, and he looked down at his shoes. What was he supposed to say to that? Yes? It would’ve been correct, but it felt wrong.

  “I guess.”

  “Right...” Mira said, her tone curious but restrained. She didn’t push it. “Anyway, most kingdoms in this region are The Bound, followers of Marduk and the Word. One of Marduk's symbols is an iron chain, so it’s a common object of faith around here.”

  After a moment, Damian pulled himself out of his dark thoughts, deciding it was best to take advantage of a friendly source of knowledge while he could. “I learned about the gods when I was younger, but my family didn’t talk about them much—just offered prayers sometimes. What’s Marduk the god of?”

  “Law,” Mira answered, simple and proud. “God of law, contracts, trade, and order. That’s why we’re called The Bound—because we’re bound to the law of his Word. Keeps civilization upright and respectable around these parts. Much better than Kael or Gnaw. I can see the arguments for the celestial triad, though. But as a [Merchant], I think Marduk suits me best.”

  Damian flinched when she said Gnaw. He was the god of hunger, and saying his name was supposed to be bad luck. Or so his parents had told him.

  At least Damian knew about the celestial triad—Cirael, Lumora, and Nephret, gods of the sun, moon, and stars. Cirael was said to be king of the gods, though Damian had always wondered why that mattered if they were all divine anyway. First among equals, or just another kind of power? He’d always thought such things were beyond him. Now... now he wanted to know more. Maybe Cirael would punish Nephret if he knew what she’d done. But how could he not know? He was king of the gods.

  “And the Word?” Damian asked since Mira seemed happy to share.

  “The book of divine law Marduk gifted to his followers,” Mira explained. “Makes life simple. Knowing the rules that is. It serves as the law in every city of The Bound. Skogheim and Jahrmarkt are both considered Bound, just so you know. Nearly every major city within five hundred miles is.”

  “And Jahrmarkt is important?” Damian asked, noting how well-traveled the road was in their direction. Few people were travelling toward Skogheim, but there was a steady line of travelers ahead and behind them, headed in the same direction as they were, and the occasional carriage sped past them heading the same way.

  Mira nodded enthusiastically. “Trade capital of the region, seat of power for the Jahrmarkt Republic. What’s the biggest city you’ve ever seen, Damian?”

  “Er... Skogheim,” Damian admitted, feeling like she’d expected a better answer.

  “Have you... seen any other cities?” she ventured cautiously.

  “No,” Damian said quickly, a bit embarrassed.

  Then Mira smiled for the first time. “You’re in for a treat, then. Jahrmarkt’s one of the largest cities on the continent. Also—you do know we’ll be traveling a few days, even with the rune-roads, right?”

  Damian hadn’t known that, and his first instinct was to lie. But before he could, he quashed the thought—there was no reason to. “I didn’t, but that’s okay. I might have to stop before Jahrmarkt, though.”

  “Doubt it,” Mira said earnestly. “If you’re following a skill, odds are it’ll lead you to a big city. There’s just more going on in them. Unless you’re a [Treasure Hunter], or a [Dungeoneer], or an [Adventurer]. Are you a [Treasure Hunter]? Ah, no need to answer that.”

  With his travel partner suddenly opening up, Damian found himself a little overwhelmed by the rush of conversation. He was still trying to think of what to say when the woman frowned. “Sorry, you seem like you’re going through something right now. I won’t pry, but I can leave you alone if you’d like.”

  Damian considered it for a moment—it was an astute observation and a generous offer. But he quickly shook his head. “No, I appreciate you telling me about... er, everything. I’d be happy to hear more about whatever you want to talk about. I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Well,” Mira said, sitting up a little straighter, “I’ll just blab on, and you can interrupt with questions when you have them. Fair?”

  “Okay,” Damian agreed, glad to have an excuse to stay quiet if it got too overwhelming.

  Over the next three days, Damian often felt overwhelmed by the constant stream of words, but less so as time went on. Mira talked about her work, the culture of Jahrmarkt, and her personal connection to Marduk. On that last topic, Damian once asked about her family and upbringing, and it was one of the few times she withdrew. He didn’t make that mistake again. She respected his silence, so he respected hers.

  The more Mira talked about Marduk, the less Damian liked what he heard. In concept, a god devoted to law sounded good. He makes the rules, everyone follows, and society functions. But remembering [Watch Captain] Heidolf’s warning when he’d offered him that small copy of Marduk's Word, one thought lingered in Damian’s mind...

  “What about people who break the law?” Damian asked over a bowl of stew.

  Mira had just been talking about all the minor laws that applied to [Merchants] when the question occurred to Damian. She gave him an odd look. “What about them?”

  “What happens to them?”

  “Depends on what law they broke,” Mira said, waving a hand dismissively.

  A moment passed in silence as Damian just stared at her. When she finally noticed, she froze with a spoonful of stew halfway to her mouth. “What?”

  “Can you explain?”

  Mira shrugged and finished her bite before elaborating. “The punishment fits the crime. Murder usually means execution. Smaller crimes earn fines, paid to the aggrieved, such and such.”

  Damian frowned. He distinctly remembered often taking the blame for the mischief Gunnar and Finn used to cause. “What if someone’s accused of something they didn’t do?”

  “Then the [Judge] figures that out,” Mira said, dismissing the thought out of hand.

  “What if they’re wrong?” Damian pressed.

  That gave Mira pause. For the first time since meeting her, Damian saw a flicker of anger cross her face, like even the idea of a [Judge] being wrong was deeply upsetting. “They have skills for that. And truth stones. It just isn’t a problem.”

  “Really?” Damian asked, unconvinced. “Never?”

  Mira scowled, setting her bowl down hard enough to spill some of the stew still in it. “They aren’t wrong. They’re never wrong, okay? It’s just... how it works.”

  It was the first time Mira had gotten upset, so Damian retreated into the silence where he felt most at ease. They spent the rest of the night in relative quiet, sharing few words. By morning, Mira was back to her usual chatty self, but she didn’t mention their conversation from the night before, and neither did Damian.

  The forests slowly gave way to farmland again, and Damian was surprised by how flat the land was. They’d traveled for three days and barely climbed or descended a hundred feet. He’d seen larger hills along the way, but not by much. Bekham had been nestled in the crook of a mountain, so all this open space made Damian feel... small.

  On the upside, at some point his skill and the road perfectly aligned, confirming what Mira had said—whoever he was looking for was in Jahrmarkt.

  He saw Jahrmarkt long before they arrived. At first, Damian thought he was seeing a mountain, the first since losing sight of the one he’d lived beneath his whole life. But it was too close, too sharp-edged to be natural. Mira grew increasingly amused as Damian’s face shifted from disbelief to shock over the next hour, until he reached the only possible conclusion: the behemoth rising in the distance was made by mortal hands.

  She didn’t say anything, but Damian could tell she was growing more and more eager to comment. Eventually, he broke the silence. “So that’s Jahrmarkt?”

  “Yes,” she said a little too quickly, leaning forward in her seat and beaming. “That’s Jahrmarkt.”

  “But it’s so...” Damian trailed off, squinting as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. If a single story was twice his height, those buildings had to be ten—no, twenty... no...

  They were still so far away. He had no real sense of distance, no scale for how massive those buildings truly were. Even the idea of a castle had been hard to picture when his parents spoke of them. Seven stories tall? Impossible. The stones would collapse under their own weight. But this... this was so much larger.

  Mira nudged him gently, and he tore his eyes from the horizon to look at her. She was grinning from ear to ear. “You should see the look on your face right now.”