Market Bazar
The morning bustle of Bastrelheim's central market was in full swing by the time the party split into two groups. The market team, Gabyola, Fuhiken, Adiw, Sakura, Fahleena, Jessica, and Yuuna, headed for the bazar, while the rest remained behind at the inn. Kyle and Sinryo had both collapsed into their beds moments after breakfast, slipping back into dreamland without resistance. Yetsan, meanwhile, was kneeling beside his open magic bag at outside inn, carefully reorganizing armor fittings and polishing individual parts with an almost sacred reverence. As for Orchid, still caught between sleep and mischief, Gigih unceremoniously dragged her back to the girls' room, flopped her onto the bed like a sack of potatoes, and quietly closed the door behind her before heading to the boys' room to sort his own inventory.
The streets of Bastrelheim's capital market buzzed with life. Music, clanking tools, sizzling oils, and laughter interwove into a symphony of organized chaos. Colorful stalls lined both sides of the wide, cobbled roads, many of them overflowing with food, trinkets, textiles, weapons, and magical oddities. Several eateries boasted the scent of grilled meat, spiced stews, and freshly baked bread that danced above the crowds. On one corner, a one-man circus performer balanced on a giant ball while juggling lit torches, attempting to win over a group of unimpressed noble children.
The market operated around the clock, and even at mid-morning, it was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Every merchant barked deals with the enthusiasm of a traveling bard, hoping to out-sing the stall next door.
Fuhiken and Adiw walked slightly ahead of the group, eyes scanning the crowd with professional vigilance. Fuhiken kept a hand near the hilt of his short sword, gaze calm but constantly moving. He had no intention of allowing even a minor disturbance.
Adiw, on the other hand, marched forward like a tower of muscle in motion. His broad frame and scowling face served as a living warning sign: pickpockets beware. Even the more unscrupulous-looking types gave the group a wide berth. It didn't help that Fuhiken's composed demeanor and sharp looks radiated an aura of nobility. To the untrained eye, he might have looked like a marquis' son being escorted by his personal guard.
Some young women among the passing crowds began whispering.
"Is that a high-elf heir?" one of them said aloud, not realizing Adiw had excellent hearing.
"He's so dignified! Look at that posture!" said another.
Adiw rolled his eyes and muttered to himself, "Fantastic. Now I'm a bodyguard for Prince Prettyface."
He trudged behind the girls, weighed down by more than just their growing collection of purchased goods. Each time they paused to examine a new stall, a new item, or five, was handed to him.
Meanwhile, Sakura had taken full command of the food-hunting expedition. She weaved through the market like a guided missile, eyes scanning for colorful signs, steam trails, and anything with the word "sample" written on it. From sweet bean buns to sizzling skewers of meat marinated in mysterious spices, she tried them all.
The rest of the group followed in her wake.
Fahleena darted from stall to stall, sketchbook in hand, furiously drawing whatever caught her attention, whether it was the dazzling fruit arrangements, a merchant with a particularly impressive mustache, or a set of glittering gemstone earrings. She was quickly overwhelmed by the sights and colors, wandering dangerously far from the group until Gabyola reached out and caught her by the collar.
"Jessica, stay on her left. Never let go," Gabyola said calmly.
Jessica nodded, resigned. She gripped Fahleena's wrist with one hand and her katana sheath with the other.
Yuuna trailed near the rear, her eyes absorbing more information than she let on. She quietly noted how merchant pricing worked, observed customer behavior, and took mental notes of items not native to Etheria.
Despite the chaotic pace, Gabyola remained the group's nucleus, balancing curiosity with responsibility. Her calm presence ensured no one wandered too far, and no stall was visited twice, except by Sakura, who insisted some samples warranted a second "quality test."
As the shopping bags grew heavier, Adiw's patience grew thinner.
"I feel like a pack mule dressed for tea service," he muttered to Fuhiken.
Fuhiken chuckled quietly. "Consider it strength training."
Adiw groaned. "Next time, I'm staying at the inn. Let Kyle be the shopping butler."
They passed an ogre-run stall selling handcrafted accessories, rings, pendants, and amulets forged from bone and crystal. What stood out was the ogre clerk's approach: instead of bartering like ogres typically did in their own regions, this one accepted coins with exact change. It was clear the merchant had adapted to human and dwarven customs.
"Coins only," the ogre said gruffly. "No chicken feathers. No enchanted turnips. No puddings. Learned that the hard way."
Sakura marveled at a deep-blue gemstone ring, only to be dragged away by Jessica, who gently reminded her they were here for food, not fashion.
Fahleena tried sneaking back to sketch the ogre's nose ring, her sketchbook already flipped open to a fresh page, pencil poised like a dagger of destiny. She tiptoed exaggeratedly, making whooshing sounds under her breath as if slipping through shadows only she could see. Her eyes sparkled with artistic obsession, utterly transfixed by the way the polished ring gleamed against the ogre's rugged green skin. Just as she crouched behind a stack of crates for the perfect angle, a firm hand clasped her shoulder. Without even turning, Fahleena sighed dramatically, caught again. Gabyola stood behind her, expression serene yet immovable, like an elegant mountain. With practiced ease, she steered Fahleena back to the group, the elf girl protesting in whispers about "artistic integrity" and "lost masterpieces."
---
Back at the inn, a very different kind of drama unfolded.
Kyle sat cross-legged in the boys' room, nestled atop a woven mat near the low table, his posture relaxed and one eye half-closed from lingering drowsiness. A slow yawn escaped him as he lazily slid a phoenix-shaped rook across the handcrafted magic chessboard, its carved wings trailing behind like a streak of fire. The board, a quirky artifact filled with jellyfish pawns and horned fox bishops, glowed faintly in the morning light. Opposite him, Sinryo leaned on his elbow, chin resting on his palm, eyes narrowed with sharp focus. He stared at the board in deep contemplation, weighing multiple moves like a scheming rogue eyeing a treasure vault. Around them, the room was quiet save for the occasional creak of wood and the soft clicking of chess pieces, a rare pocket of calm in their otherwise chaotic lives.
"You feel that?" Kyle asked, scratching his ear.
Sinryo blinked. "Feel what?"
"Someone's talking bad about me. My ear twitched."
Sinryo raised a brow. "Maybe it's guilt. Or the ghost of a chore you avoided."
Kyle pointed at him. "Suspiciously specific."
Before Sinryo could retort, the door creaked open.
Orchid entered.
Wide awake now, her eyes sparkled with strange determination. She clutched a small plate in both hands, holding it out like a peace offering.
"I made chocolate sandwiches!"
Both boys froze. Sinryo's pupils shrank.
In a blur, he dove out the window, vanishing with a thud and a groan.
Kyle panicked, reaching into his cloak. He pulled out the Cloak of Blurr, borrowed from Yuuna, and activated it. His body shimmered and flickered like a heat mirage before he vanished from sight. The last anyone saw of him was a faint blur zipping down the hallway and out the back door.
Orchid blinked, still smiling.
"Aww. Must be shy."
Undeterred, she left the room and began hunting for her next targets.
---
Outside, near the inn's side alley, Yetsan was polishing his armor under the sun. Gigih sat beside him, sorting mana stones and scribbling notes into a spellbook.
They sensed her before they saw her.
"Chocolate sandwich?" Orchid offered sweetly, emerging around the corner.
Gigih, without looking up from his notes, raised a single hand and casually flicked two fingers in a practiced motion. A faint glyph pulsed beneath his palm as he muttered the incantation under his breath. In an instant, a burst of controlled flame erupted mid-air, precise, minimal, and efficient. The chocolate sandwich Orchid had been holding ignited with a soft whoof, disintegrating into a puff of smoke and curling ash before the plate even had time to fall. What remained were blackened crumbs drifting on the breeze, and a slight sizzle where the fire had seared the air. Gigih calmly resumed writing, as if vaporizing food had been part of his morning routine.
"Oh," Orchid said. "Lucky I made extras!"
Gigih and Yetsan looked at each other.
They ran.
Disappearing into the crowded plaza, they didn't stop until they were sure Orchid had lost their trail.
But Orchid was unfazed. If anything, she took it as a compliment.
She packed up several containers of her "delicacies" into her magic bag and strolled into the park district of the city. There, among the grassy lawns and cobbled walking paths, she found a new playground: street vendors selling herbs, powdered spices, sauces, and things that should never be mixed together.
Her eyes lit up as she scribbled a list of recipe ideas in her notebook.
"Garlic-jelly stew... Minted eel sandwich... Exploding cocoa..."
Every rejection from her friends had been interpreted not as disapproval, but as overwhelming enthusiasm.
"I must try harder," she said to no one in particular.
Meanwhile, the market team finished their final rounds and prepared to return to the inn, arms full, stomachs fuller. Bastrelheim's day wore on, the sky painted in lazy strokes of afternoon gold.
The wheat in the outer fields swayed slowly in the wind, whispering of calm before the next inevitable chaos.
---
To be continued.