Civilisation!

I had recovered five giant red crystals from the centipedes and most of my jerky supply. Worrying that the folks here might get startled by something like a train, I drove up to the village and waited a few dunes away until morning, when I un-summoned it.

Needless to say, I hadn’t slept at all during the night, which is why perhaps the people of Arkkon gave me such strange stares as I entered their town.

Although at first it looked like the sand had spared this place, it became quickly apparent that the dunes surrounding this village were entirely artificial and had been built up from street blowout over months, or perhaps even years, by hard-working and hardened folk.

The houses were made out of rough-cut white limestone, and the roofs were covered in ceramic tiles, the bright red colour of which had been dulled by the sun and blasted away by sand.

The roads were paved with textured cement, although I suspected the actual composition of it was quite different from the roads back in Hiroo. Still, it was nice to see something familiar.

What was much less familiar, however, were the stores that lined the main street. More than a few sold weapons, rolls of fabric, wheels and chariots, and livestock; things I couldn’t have even fathomed wanting back home.

My mouth hung open as I wandered through the streets, dazzled by sights I didn’t recognise and pulled off track by the smells of strange foods drifting from little stands embedded in the walls. I was so caught up in looking everywhere at everything all at once that it took me over half an hour to realise that the only thing that made this possible was the locals who systematically avoided me, stepping aside before we could bump into each other.

I don’t look that weird…

I tried to convince myself. But I was just about the only person not wearing long, layered robes. Among the passers-by, most people dressed in thin, brightly-coloured loose, flowing linens. A dry breeze caught their sleeves and skirts, making them ripple. If one were to squint, they would see a desert, just like the one outside, made of patterned blues, greens, and yellows.

Some of the artisans had adopted a style with shorter sleeves and fabrics held tighter to the body with belts and straps, and very few wore my outdoorsy type of outfit. In fact, only one group dressed like me and Medina.

The five of them were sitting on the ground, under a dead tree. Fabric had been stretched between the branches to create shade, and someone had placed carpets under it, evidently for this exact purpose. A few more people, including a couple of women watching over a toddler, relaxed under that tree.

But my attention returned to the five whose outfits looked like mine and Medina’s. They were eating ice cream!

My eyes darted around before landing on the shop at the corner of the street. I reached into my pocket to confirm what I already knew…

I have no money.

What I did have, however, were the gems from the chickens, which surely were worth something,

“Good morning,” I approached the nearest stand.

The lady that was stitching together large panes of leather didn’t even raise her eyes at me.

“Do you know where I can trade these in?” I asked, showing one of the gems.

The woman looked up from her work. She didn’t put down the carving tool she’d been gliding along the edge of a dark-grey pelt. She looked up and down at my outfit before making eye contact, an unconvinced expression on her face.

“Where did you glean this from them, sister?” She asked.

I tilted my head, somewhat surprised at the honorific. But this was a different world after all.

“I got them from giant chickens out in the desert,” I replied. “I also have several others I'm not from this,” I paused, thinking of a good word that would save me from lying and looking suspicious at the same time, “province, so I wasn't sure how it's customary here to go about these things.”

The leather worker set down her tools and examined one of the gems.

“A cocatrix core, huh? You got very lucky, sister, to find these in the desert.”

“Oh, I didn't find them as much as I cut them out,” I replied, a little embarrassed by the kind of work I had to do.

“Yes, yes, sister, that's what I meant. So what killed the cocktrix then?” The woman set down the gem.

My mind raced as to what the correct answer to the question was.

Honesty is always the correct answer.

“I did,” I confidently pointed my gloved hand at my chest.

“Ha!” The woman chucked. Then, when she realised I was still waiting for my money, she rolled her eyes. “I don't trade with liars."

“But-”

She returned to her work and proceeded to pretend not to see me while I overexplained what'd happened and how I hunted the chickens. I almost knocked down some of her tools while I gestured around, which led her to finally lift her eyes off her work and let out a long sigh.

“If the next thing that comes out of your mouth is that you're a level 40 seasoned adventurer, I will call the guards on you, stranger. Life is tough enough as it is in this town; we don't need you peddlers and swindlers here.”

She shooed me with her hand to accentuate her point.

What happened to being sisters?

I took the gem back. I shifted my focus to the other details she mentioned.

“What level are you, ma'am?”

That's not a sentence I ever thought I'd ask anyone.

She huffed and replied, not without pride:

“Level 8 axe warrior. So I mean it when I say it, don't bother the honest folk here.”

I could have gone the route of begging for money, because I really did need it, but instead I took a deep breath, and the higher road.

“Have a good rest of your day,” I forced myself to say, before walking away.

So everyone has levels, then, and statistics. Can they all just change their clothes? Can everyone use magic? Is my level average? It needs to be for me to blend in.

My stomach growled, reminding me that I had much more urgent issues at hand.

I walked around the corner of the street, and armed with new knowledge, tried again.

“What? This small girl killed a cocatrix? That's nonsense.”

“You found several dead cocatrix just like this in the desert? Don't lie to me, sister. That wouldn't happen with those terrifying scorpions roaming around.”

“A level 32 summoner? Ahahah, that's the best one I heard all day.”

“A level 8 Summoner? What can you even do, throw your pets at them at will? It's okay, you can tell me who you stole the monster cores from.”

After the fifth rejection, I gave up.

I let myself slump under the dead tree and stared up at the rays of sun filtered through the branches.

All in all, this reminded me of my first few days in France, where I got into a remote village to take a few scenic photos, but couldn't find anywhere to withdraw or exchange money. In the end, a boy my age paid for me, and I transferred him back, but that whole ordeal had also been punctuated by rudeness and ill intent.

Medina was friendly, what's up with these people?

“Hey,” a voice called as someone knelt beside me. I recognised her as one of the people I’d noticed earlier under this dead tree. It seemed their group was done with their ice-cream snack, and were now playing some dice game.

This woman had short ginger hair brushed to one side, and a quiver strapped to her back. In one hand, she was holding her bow, which seemed too large to fit over her back in a way that would allow her to squat down.

“You're trying to sell your monster cores, right?” She asked. She sounded friendly enough.

“Yes, I am,” I replied, the exhaustion from the whole situation sipping into my voice.

“I can help,” the archer smiled kindly. “I can sell them for you.”

“Why?”

I straightened myself out, a bit taken aback.

The archer tilted her head. Her expression was a mixture of amusement and mild curiosity.

“We adventurers need to look out for each other. You're young, and even though your equipment is still shiny, you're one of us.”

So the chest plate armour was the issue after all! Well, if people judge me just based on that, they're not good people …

The archer extended her hand, waiting for me to pass her the gems.

“That would be very helpful, thank you very much,” I bowed my head, “But before that, I have a question, if it's alright.”

“About jobs? I'm afraid our charter is full…”

“No, no,” I shook my head. “Is your class ‘archer’?”

“Oh,” the woman seemed a little relieved that I didn't want to join her and her companions, “Not quite, I'm a ranger. My specialisation is bows, though,” she lifted her longbow to demonstrate her point. “Level 27,” she grinned, anticipating my next question.

“Whoa…”

She chuckled.

“You'll get there, don't worry. And don't mind what the people here say. I heard you say you were a summoner. If that doesn't work out, you can train for one of the fighting classes,” she winked.

So people aren't born with a pre-defined class? That's a relief.

“Haha, yes,” I awkwardly scratched the back of my head. “Thank you. Here-”

I handed her the contents of my pockets. I had more gems stored on the train, but not counting Medina’s gift, I had 5 chicken gems and 2 from scorpions.

“See, you're already getting the hang of it,” the archer seemed genuinely impressed at my meager collection.