"Guess it won’t be long before I’ll be able to finally advance to normal Red."

With his session complete and the moon still hanging on high, he breathed out the flickering light that remained in his room. Then he turned himself in for the night.

***

The sun had yet to rise, but the city of Dun-Shatter seemed well on its way to becoming a bustling landscape once more. Resven had stayed at the inn for the night and decided to leave early in the morning.

With a sigh of warm breath flickering in the cold air, he turned towards the eastern side of the lower docks. He had heard much about the city in the inn and from a few kinder travellers.

The city was tiered in layers, which was not unexpected. When Resven entered the city, he could see a clear difference between the housing and infrastructure of the lower and upper areas, split by the main road.

The lower area was called the lower docks to most, and it housed a variety of places, slums, merchant areas, markets, blacksmiths, and other smithing shops and the like, not to mention the docks at the lowest point.

The upper tier, or more commonly known as the silver tier, was where the wealthier nobles and houses, merchants, and people of more renown and status lived and conducted business.

Not many townsfolk were able to even visit unless instructed to do so.

With a goal in mind, Resven continued on with his journey, swerving between the oncoming traffic of people. He headed to the lower dock merchant market. He had a few materials from the Moss ape to sell.

And most important of course... gather information. And merchants would probably know more than just a few drunken men visiting the tavern for pleasure and food.

Slipping through the streets with ease, it did not take long before he was able to reach the market street. Shops lined the street, and voices filled the atmosphere, shouting all kinds of things. Mostly advertising their products.

The whole street was already bustling with people when Resven came upon a shop called the Heavy Haunch. Stepping inside, he took a look around. There were a large number of shelves lining both sides of the walls with different beast parts such as pelts, hides, claws, teeth, and even beast meat.

’Should be one of the more prominent businesses, ’ he smiled to himself as he thought back to the rather luxurious storefront. At least compared to the rest of the street he had seen so far.

"Ah, a customer! Welcome, welcome! What can I get ya? Step in, step in - don’t mind the drip, that’s just the freshness talkin’! You look like a soul with an eye for quality, and boy, have you stumbled into the right larder today!

Looking for a hide to keep the mountain chill out of your bones? I’ve got Highland Bear pelts so thick you’d think the beast was still wearing ’em! Or maybe you’re after something for the pot? I’ve got prime cuts of Forest Stag, bled properly and marbled like a lord’s manor! Or perhaps... oh, I see you looking at the shelves! Need a set of Crag-Cat claws for a new dagger? Or a bit of Drake-scale to patch up that armor? Just say the word, friend, just say the word! I’ve got the best prices in all of the Sunder-Coast, and that’s a promise on my mother’s apron!"

Before Resven could even really take the store further, a loud and energetic voice sounded from the counter in the middle, and the man continued to barrage on in a monologue, leaving Resven stunned.

"Ah, sorry ’bout that! Old habits die hard, I guess—once you start talkin’ shop, the stream just starts flowin’ and there’s no dammin’ the river! My wife says I’d try to sell a pair of boots to a fish if I stood by the water long enough, ha! But come, come, step closer to the counter! Tell me what ya need?" The short man, only a little taller than the countertop, spoke with an embarrassed chuckle.

For the first time since the man began speaking, Resven took a careful look at the small man.

"A halfling?" his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Aye, indeed! The name’s Balkas Wiseglide, and this here’s my humble larder! First time layin’ eyes on a halfling, is it? Well, I’d wager a prime haunch o’ venison you’re a foreigner then, ’cause round these parts, folk know me better than they know their own shadows!"

"Sorry, I meant no offense." Resven raised his hand in a flurry.

"None taken, now let’s get to business. What do ya need?" the man chuckled, his hazel eyes glued to Resven in amusement and a hint of what seemed like mischief underneath.

"Well then... you interested in buying some beast materials?"

"Buying? Buying, he asks! Ha! Does a wolf have teeth? Does the rain fall down? My friend, you’re talkin’ to the man who’s kept half the hunters in this territory from starvin’ through the winter! If it’s got quality, Balkas has the coin!

But let’s see the goods, then—don’t keep ’em hidden under that cloak! Is it fresh? Is it rare? I’m hopin’ for something with a bit of spirit still clingin’ to it! If you’ve got pelts without too many holes from a messy blade, or claws that haven’t been blunted on stone, I’m your man. Lay it out on the table, let me get a look at the grain and the scent—and if the gods are good and the harvest is rich, we’ll strike a bargain that’ll leave us both grinnin’ like a pair of tavern drunks! What’ve ya got for me? Don’t be shy now!"

The man’s eyes practically sparkled with interest. Resven gave the man a look, and he seemed exhausted. The little man could not keep his mouth closed for a second before he started speaking a whole book again.

’Like a damn river flowing into the water,’ he sighed, exasperated, before pulling his satchel closer and, with a swift movement, showing the treasures lurking within.