FIRST ENCOUNTER

Marcus was carefully measuring rose oil for their latest batch of soap when he heard the shop bell chime above, followed by an enthusiastic voice calling out from upstairs.

"Good morning, Aldric! I brought fresh rags and cleaned the front windows like you asked!"

"That's Sara," Aldric explained, looking up from the account books he'd been reviewing. "She comes in once a week to help with cleaning and organizing. Good worker, energetic."

Marcus heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later, a young woman appeared in the basement doorway. Sara was perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with brown hair pulled back in a practical braid and clothes that marked her as working class but clean and well-maintained. What struck Marcus immediately was the way her entire face lit up when she saw Aldric.

"Oh! I didn't know you had someone working down here today," she said, but her eyes remained fixed on Aldric with obvious adoration.

"Sara, this is Marcus, my new business partner," Aldric said, completely oblivious to the way Sara was practically glowing at him. "Marcus, this is Sara. She's been helping me keep the shop organized since... well, since I could afford to pay someone to help with cleaning."

"Nice to meet you," Marcus said politely.

"Business partner?" Sara's eyes widened with excitement. "That's wonderful! I mean, not that your business wasn't wonderful before, Aldric, but having a partner must be... wonderful." She was practically bouncing on her toes.

Marcus watched this interaction with growing amusement. Sara's infatuation was so obvious it was almost painful to witness. She hung on every word Aldric said, found excuses to stand closer to him, and generally behaved like someone completely besotted.

Aldric, meanwhile, seemed entirely unaware of her feelings. He treated her with friendly professionalism, the way he might interact with any helpful employee.

"We're working on a new product line," Aldric explained to Sara. "High-quality soaps with custom fragrances. Marcus has some innovative ideas that could set us apart from the competition."

"That's brilliant," Sara breathed, gazing at Aldric like he'd just announced he was personally going to end the war. "You're so clever, Aldric. I always knew you'd find a way to make the business successful."

"You've been working the streets more lately," Aldric said, changing the subject. "Everything safe out there?"

Sara's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Actually, it's been... different. There's been an increase in criminal activity around the city. People are more desperate, I think. More willing to take risks."

She glanced around nervously, then lowered her voice. "And some of the criminals... they're not just using knives and clubs anymore. I've heard stories about people using... other methods. Dangerous ones."

"Other methods?" Marcus asked, though he suspected he knew what she meant.

"Magic," Sara whispered. "I know it sounds crazy, but some of the robbery crews have people who can... do things. Change themselves, throw fire, make things happen that shouldn't be possible."

Marcus felt a chill. If criminal gangs were starting to employ magic users, that changed everything about the city's safety.

"Are you certain about this?" Aldric asked, his expression concerned.

"I've seen it with my own eyes," Sara said firmly. "Last week, I was delivering some cleaning supplies to a shop in the merchant quarter. Three men tried to rob the place, and when the shopkeeper resisted, one of them... his hands caught fire. Real fire. He didn't get burned, but everything he touched did."

"What happened?" Marcus asked.

"The shopkeeper paid them," Sara said simply. "What else could he do? You can't fight fire with ordinary weapons."

Marcus and Aldric exchanged glances. This was exactly the kind of information that could be crucial for their business planning.

"Sara," Aldric said carefully, "if you hear more about this kind of thing, will you tell us? We need to know what we're dealing with if we're going to operate safely in this city."

"Of course," Sara said eagerly. "I'll keep my ears open. I know lots of people who work in different parts of the city. If there's trouble brewing, I'll find out about it."

After Sara had finished her work upstairs and left with promises to return the following week, Marcus couldn't resist commenting.

"You know she's completely in love with you, right?"

Aldric looked genuinely surprised. "Sara? Don't be ridiculous. She's just... enthusiastic about her work."

"Aldric, she practically melts every time you speak to her. You're making it obvious that you don't notice her interest."

"Even if that were true," Aldric said, returning to his account books with a slightly uncomfortable expression, "it doesn't matter. I can't think about romance with common girls when I'm trying to prove myself worthy of someone like Lara."

Marcus felt a moment of sympathy for Sara. "You mentioned Lara before. The merchant's daughter you're hoping to marry."

Aldric's expression grew wistful. "Lara Brightmore. Most beautiful woman in Drakmoor, from one of the wealthiest merchant families. She gave me her handkerchief at the Harvest Festival last year, and we've... exchanged words at social gatherings."

"A handkerchief?" Marcus tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"It was embroidered with her family crest. Personal. She wouldn't have given it to just anyone."

Marcus decided not to point out that giving someone a handkerchief wasn't exactly a declaration of love. Instead, he said, "What about Sara? She seems like a genuinely kind person."

"Sara is lovely," Aldric agreed. "But she's a commoner, Marcus. I need to marry someone who can help rebuild my family's position. Someone with connections, wealth, social standing. It's not about feelings. It's about survival."

Before Marcus could respond, Sara's voice drifted down from upstairs. She'd apparently returned for something she'd forgotten.

"Oh, Aldric?" she called hesitantly. "I was wondering... that is, if you don't mind me asking... what girl were you talking about? The one with the handkerchief?"

Marcus and Aldric exchanged glances. Apparently, Sara had overheard more of their conversation than they'd realized.

"Just... someone I met at a social gathering," Aldric called back, clearly uncomfortable.

"Oh." There was a long pause. "She must be special."

"Yes," Aldric replied quietly. "She is."

Marcus heard Sara's footsteps retreating, and a moment later, the shop bell chimed as she left. The sadness in her voice had been unmistakable.

"You're going to break that girl's heart," Marcus observed.

"Better a small heartbreak now than ruining both our lives by encouraging impossible dreams," Aldric replied firmly. "Some things are more important than personal feelings."

Marcus wasn't sure he agreed, but he understood the pressures Aldric was facing. In this world, social class determined most aspects of life, including marriage prospects.

They worked in relative silence for the rest of the afternoon, perfecting their soap formulations and discussing plans for introducing their products to potential customers. By evening, Marcus had prepared several small cards on which he'd written key Valdrian characters and their meanings. A portable study system he could use to practice reading during his night work.

"What are those?" Aldric asked, watching Marcus stack the cards carefully.

"Memorization aids. I can practice reading formal script during breaks at my evening job."

"That's clever. Most people try to memorize through repetition, but visual cards allow for more efficient studying."

Marcus smiled. "I've always been good at finding ways to learn more efficiently."

As he prepared to leave for his night work, Marcus reflected on how different his evening routine had become since arriving in Drakmoor. He made his way to the warehouse district, where goods arrived by cart and needed to be sorted, moved, and prepared for distribution throughout the city.

His supervisor was a gruff man named Owen who ran a crew of workers handling shipments for multiple merchants. The work was labor. Lifting, carrying, organizing. But the atmosphere was tense. Drakmoor's economic pressures meant that every business deal was more desperate, every transaction more fraught with potential conflict.

"Evening, Marcus," Owen greeted him as he arrived. "We've got a large shipment coming in from the northern trade route. Luxury goods, mostly. High-value stuff, so we need to be extra careful with handling."

Marcus nodded and joined the crew assembling in the warehouse's loading area. The work was routine at first. Unloading carts, checking manifests, sorting goods by destination. But as the evening progressed, Marcus became aware of tension between Owen and the merchant who owned the shipment.

"This isn't what we agreed on," the merchant was saying angrily. He was a well-dressed man with nervous eyes and hands that shook slightly as he gestured. "These prices are highway robbery."

"Prices go up when risks go up," Owen replied calmly. "You want your goods stored safely and distributed without problems, you pay what it costs."

"But we had a contract..."

"We had an understanding. Understanding changes when circumstances change."

Marcus continued sorting goods while listening to the escalating argument. The merchant seemed genuinely distressed, and Owen's usual fair demeanor had shifted to something harder and more calculating.

That's when Marcus noticed the merchant's companion. A large man who'd been standing silently near the warehouse entrance. As the argument intensified, this man began walking toward Owen with deliberate, threatening steps.

"Maybe we need to renegotiate this understanding," the large man said, his voice carrying clear menace.

"Maybe you need to remember who you're dealing with," Owen replied, apparently unconcerned by the physical threat.

Marcus watched in fascination as the large man's muscles began to visibly swell. His arms grew thicker, his chest broader, his entire frame expanding as if he were inflating like a balloon. This wasn't normal human physiology. This was magic.

"Holy shit," whispered one of the other workers. "He's an enhancer."

The magically enlarged man took another step toward Owen, now easily seven feet tall with arms like tree trunks. "Last chance to be reasonable."

Owen sighed and reached into his vest, producing a small glass vial filled with clear liquid. "This ain't my first tango with your type," he said conversationally, then threw the vial at the enhanced man's feet.

The glass shattered, releasing what Marcus immediately recognized as acid. It sizzled and smoked as it splashed across the floor, eating through wood and stone where it landed.

But when the acid reached the enhanced man's skin, it simply slid off without causing any damage. He smiled, revealing teeth that seemed larger and sharper than they should be.

"Did you think you could scare us with parlor tricks?" the merchant asked, his nervousness replaced by smug confidence.

Owen's expression shifted from confident to concerned. "Shit. A transmuter too. Should have charged extra for that."

Marcus felt his heart racing as he witnessed his first direct encounter with magic. The enhanced man was clearly more than just physically strengthened. He'd also changed his skin's properties to resist chemical damage.

"Look," Owen said, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "maybe we can work something out. I'll honor the original price agreement, throw in a little extra for the inconvenience."

The merchant's smile was unpleasant. "Now you're being reasonable."

As the magical threat subsided and normal business negotiations resumed, Marcus found himself staring at the acid burns in the warehouse floor. Magic wasn't just theoretical knowledge or distant rumors. It was a real, practical force that could be used for intimidation, protection, and coercion.

For the first time since arriving in Valdris, Marcus understood that he wasn't just in a different world. He was in a world with fundamentally different rules. Rules he would need to understand if he wanted to survive and thrive in this new reality.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, but Marcus's mind was spinning with implications. If individual merchants could employ magical muscle for business disputes, what did that mean for his own ventures? How did magic factor into commerce, politics, and daily life in ways he hadn't yet realized?

As he walked home through Drakmoor's quiet streets, Marcus found himself looking at the city with new eyes. Magic changed everything, and he was just beginning to understand what that meant for his plans.