7th of Season of Air, 57th year of the 32nd imperial era

"I can lend you the money for a weapon and perhaps some basic tools you can't afford, but you have to work it off through missions or pay me with goods or services."

Newt stared at the ceiling, the entire room spinning. A weapon is a bare minimum of what a hedge mageknight needs. Then I need a variety of medicine until I learn the Salamandra's Regeneration ability to burn toxins. What about armor? What about storage items capable of preserving saurian cores? I probably need a ton of other things I don't even know about.

Newt stared at the ceiling as dawn crawled in through the window, and he once more realized just how poor he and his clan were. The list of what he needed seemed endless, the list of what he had, nonexistent.

"Do you really have that kind of money?" he asked finally, unable to believe it. Dandelion had left Hailstown only with enough resources to reenter the third realm, and maybe some pocket money. He had to pay the fines, most of his wealth confiscated by the empire.

"Naturally. I am an alchemist. What do you think I do all night when I only have to sleep once a week and most of the city is asleep?" Dandelion answered Newt's next question even before the youth got to ask him how he had gotten his money.

Newt almost asked why Dandelion was helping him, but stopped himself. The former townlord threatened to beat him senseless the next time he asked that question.

"Thank you," Newt said instead. "Will you help me pick a good short-sword? And the rest of the equipment we need?"

"Sure, but keep in mind that third and fourth realm frostworms infest the cave system. Your technique which shields you from fire should negate the cold, so you will not need as many defenses, but getting struck or bitten by gigantic snakes is no joke. Their jaws are massive and full of needle-like teeth. You could easily die if you get careless."

Newt got up from his bed, while Dandelion remained prone, squeezing every possible second from his enchanted bed.

"Is the mattress really that effective?" Newt asked, curious as he donned his robe.

"Not at all. I estimate it at around three to five percent increase for some ten hours, that makes it an extra half an hour of drawing mana at my average rate at most. Under normal circumstances, I would have made two or three batches of elixirs at the alchemists' guild, but we were stuck here because of pleasantries, and wasting the advantages you have just because they are slim goes against my religion."

Newt mulled over those words.

"It's because of Lady Frostgrave. You only did it because you had no better alternative," he asked, and Dandelion nodded. "Does that mean you would be doing something else instead of clearing a mission with me, if you had a better alternative?"

Newt was somewhat offended by the notion.

"Do me a favor and ask yourself that same question, just switch our places?" Dandelion deadpanned, and Newt silently mouthed the words.

He would definitely do something better and more worth his time if he knew it existed.

"It was a stupid question."

"No, it was an egocentric question," Dandelion frowned in annoyance before quickly adding, "but you are not to blame for asking it; viewing things from our own perspective first is an unchangeable part of our nature. Besides, you are young, and with time, you will learn when to keep your mouth shut and think before speaking. Unlike some."

Dandelion muttered the last two words before glancing out the window. "The sun is almost up, and I promised Lady Frostgrave I would stay the night as her guest. We should get up and go shopping. I will lend you enough manarium to purchase decent equipment at the blacksmiths' guild."

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With that, Dandelion stood and Newt turned around in embarrassment.

"You must have a strawberry in your ancestry." Dandelion said while cloth rustled.

"Are you decent?" Newt asked when the noise stopped.

"Never, but I have my clothes on, and we can go down."

They left the room and met a balding, middle-aged man dressed in pristine, fancy garb of light-blue and gold.

"Lords, I am afraid breakfast is not ready yet, if you could wait another half an hour—"

"Thank you," Dandelion acknowledged the servant with a nod. "We shall eat from a stall. I know several good ones."

They left the building, but instead of going towards the guilds, they headed towards the Quarter of Coin.

"Why aren't we heading for the guilds?"

"Few guilds have enough space to sell their goods on the premises. Land is expensive in the city center, and the guilds own large stores at the fringes of the marketplace. Now, we should hurry. The ladies will be waiting for us by the northern gate at noon."

"Dandelion, my friend!" A merchant fanning coals on a stall which seemed to work all night waved.

"Lurk!" Dandelion waved back. "What are you making for breakfast on this fine morning?"

Lurk called the folded meat-packed pastries Girrettes. Newt couldn't tell anything about them except that they were greasy and spicy. He couldn't even guess the animal the meat came from, let alone anything else.

Dandelion led the way, handling the greasy food on the move much better than Newt, who found it sliding down his hands towards his wrists. Had he been a commoner, he would've gotten grease all over himself, but thanks to his realm and some careful maneuvering, he contained the invading food to his hands.

Meanwhile, Dandelion walked next to him, not a drop of grease left his Girrettes as he bit them in half, using the lower half like a cup from which nothing escaped. Newt tried to mimic him, and by the fifth, he was doing a decent job of it.

"You rarely eat on the move, right?"

Newt nodded.

"It shows. You are handling them like scrolls ready to explode." He popped the lower half of his pastry into his mouth and chewed.

"You do know you can just burn grease off your fingers?" Dandelion demonstrated by summoning a tiny flame to dance atop his fingertips. Whatever was left of the Girrettes sizzled and flaked off his hands.

Newt nodded. "I can do that too, but I would burn the food if I did it with my hands full."

Dandelion frowned and picked up another Girrette from his bag, promptly burning it.

"There's got to be a way," he muttered, leading the way to the marketplace.

As the minutes passed and the sun slowly climbed, people started flooding the streets, a few greeting Dandelion. He greeted back, but kept frowning at his fingers, his thoughts occupied. Most early-risers headed in the same direction as Newt and Dandelion scattering only when stalls appeared abruptly, while to the side shops took place of the private residences and their gated courtyards.

Dandelion was focused on his fingers and the food, ignored the ever-increasing buzz in the street and Newt almost laughed at how single-minded the man had become. He kept at his tests until he almost started colliding with people. With a frown and one final burst of mana, he stopped and popped the last piece of slightly charred pasty into his mouth.

"The blacksmiths' guild shop is around the corner." He pointed at a large building sticking out from behind the shop at the next corner as flames licked his hands burning the oil and crumbs sticking to them.

Newt mimicked the gesture, and Dandelion glanced at him.

"It can be done," he said with absolute conviction, bordering mania. "It will take a bit of time, but achieving such a level of finesse will be worth it."

Newt considered the matter, burning oil, but not burning something right next to it sounded not completely impossible, but very difficult.

"You would have to do something with the heat from burning oil."

Dandelion nodded.

"I have several ideas. The cheat way of doing it is to shield the object you are holding from heat, but that's beating the point. It would be brute-forcing the puzzle rather than applying finesse, learning nothing. I would prefer to redirect the heat, or better yet, to consume it for another process. Anyway, it is something I will handle later, since we have arrived."

Dandelion presented a massive, blocky, three story building made almost entirely of glass, supported by frames of dark stone. It looked imposing and invasive, its bluish-gray color standing out against the rest of the yellowish-brown city. The building had an entrance wide enough for ten people to walk abreast and a yellow metal sign, gleaming like gold, declaring the building 'The Blacksmiths' Market'.

"They sell the guild members' finished products inside, there is a large section on the ground floor where the guild sells what its members turn in, but there are also individual shops selling goods from particular craftsmen who think they deserve better than the guild's standard rates."

Dandelion clapped Newt on the shoulder. "I know a man who makes decent weapons, better than me."

The big man led the way inside. "Are you sure I cannot interest you in a spear or a glaive? They really suit your physique quite well."

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