Chapter 13 Just a Little Snack for Your Thoughts

I was still standing there, coins warm in my palm, my face burning with humiliation, when Fiona's voice drifted back to me from the stairs. 

"Take a break, Kuzu-kun. Go into town. And while you there, buy supplies for the dungeon."

 She reached down and grabbed a small leather pouch from a hook by the stairs, tossing it to me.

"That's my magic item bag. Everything you buy goes in there. Food, water, whatever you think we'll need. We'll try to reach floor ten today, and we'll stay there for a few days. So, make sure you get enough supplies for at least three days."

What did she just say?! Three days in the dungeon? Floor 10! Monsters there were supposed to be level 20 and above! And she wanted me to fight them? To reach floor 10 in three days?! She's insane!

"And try not to spit in any of the food you buy, okay? We're going to be eating that. Oh, and Kuzu-kun? Don't get any ideas about running away. The town boundaries are clearly marked. If you try to leave, the collar will..." She made a small popping sound with her lips, "Boom."

I felt my blood run cold.

"Not that I think you'd try anything. But I figured I should mention it... Just kidding, silly. You should have seen your face. Or... did I. Just a little snack for your thoughts. Don't take too long."

She laughed and turned to climb the stairs while I stood there, holding the bag in one hand and the coins in the other.

She's lying! No way it's just a joke! Wait, but what if she's lying about that too. She's just saying that to scare me. But what if she's not? What if the collar actually does explode? What if—

I shook my head. I didn't have the luxury of doubt. I had to assume she was telling the truth. Eather way couldn't risk it.

I'll follow her rules for now. I'll go into town. I'll buy supplies. I'll come back. And when the time is right, when the moment is perfect, I'll find a way out. One way or another, I'll escape. I will find a way to get this damn collar of my neck!

I shoved the coins into my pocket, slung the magic item bag over my shoulder, and headed out the door.

The town was alive with the bustle of morning trade.

I walked through the crowded streets. Sun was warm on my face, and for a brief moment, I could almost pretend I was just another adventurer going about his business.

 Almost.

The first stall I found was a food vendor, an old man with a thick beard and a friendly smile. He was selling dried meats, hard bread, and preserved vegetables. The kind of food that would last for days without spoiling. His price was reasonable. I paid without haggling.

Next was water, I bought three large jugs, enough to last three days with room to spare. He offered me a discount if I bought a fourth, I took the deal.

I passed by a stall selling camping gear and grabbed a few extra torches. Fiona had said her magic light would work fine, but I'd learned enough in this world to know that I need to be prepared. Better to have a backup. I also bought a coil of rope, the kind that was strong enough to hold a person's weight.

Just in case I get stuck somewhere. Just in case I need to climb or lower myself down a ledge. Just in case I find an opening to tie Fiona up.

The thought came unbidden, and I pushed it away quickly. It was a nice fantasy, but I knew better than to actually try it. She would see it coming. 

I was about to head back toward her house when I noticed the blacksmith shop.

It was a modest building, its stone walls darkened by years of smoke and soot. A wooden sign hung above the door, creaking gently in the breeze. A simple anvil was painted on it, along with the name.

 GRIMSTONE FORGE.

I stopped walking. I found myself drawn to the open door. The shop was cluttered but organized. Racks of swords lined the walls. Shields of various sizes hung from hooks. Armor sets stood on mannequins. The craftsmanship was incredible. Each piece looked like it had been made by master blacksmith.

 I wandered through the aisles, my eyes lingering on the blades, my fingers itching to touch them.

The prices were posted on small wooden tags beside each weapon. I had studied the coin system during my shopping spree. 100 copper coins to a silver, 100 silver coins to a gold. A simple short sword, the cheapest thing in the shop, was marked at 2 silvers.

I looked at it on the wall. It was beautiful. The blade was perfectly straight, the hilt wrapped in dark leather, the pommel set with a small gemstone. It looked like something out of a fantasy novel. It looked like something that could actually protect me.

But I had only one silver left.

I stood there, looking at the short sword, and felt a surge of frustration rise up in my chest.

 Damn it! I'm one silver short. One silver. If I had just a little more, I could buy a real sword. A real sword made out of steel. I could finally throw away this useless wooden toy Fiona gave me as a joke and fight with something that actually felt like a weapon.

Just imagine how strong I could be with a real one. I can already cut through monsters with this wooden crap. How awesome would I be with an actual blade? How much faster could I kill? How much stronger would I be?

I let out a long, heavy sigh, the sound echoing softly in the quiet shop.

"What's the matter, young man? Having difficulty choosing the right tool for the job?"

I turned. The voice had come from behind the counter; an old man was sitting on a worn wooden stool. He was old but he was also built like a mountain. His arms were thick with muscle, and his shoulders were broad. He looked like he could bench press me without breaking a sweat.

"No... Not difficult. I'm Just broke. I'm short one silver for your cheapest sword. Can't even afford that."

The old man chuckled.

 "Ah! Looking for a backup sword, eh? In case you lose your main? Well, let me tell you, we have a great deal on—"

"Oh no, you got it wrong. I'm not looking for a backup weapon. It's kind of... I mean, I've been fighting with this wooden toy sword, and it'd be nice to have a real weapon. I mean, my life's at stake here."

The old man looked at me for a moment. Then he burst out laughing.

"Young man, are you joking with me?"

"What?"

 "That 'toy' you're holding, that would cut this cheap steel sword in half like it was made out of butter."

"Not possible."

"Do you not know what you have there? That's not a toy. That's an artifact, a rare drop from the dungeon. Ancient Woodsteel Sword. Even from all the way over here, I can tell it has at least a +10-sharpness enchantment on it. Kid, are you messing with me? Or what? Are you going to tell me next that your armor is junk too?"

"Hey, old man, just because I'm broke and going around with junk gear doesn't mean you need to make fun of me."

Old man's laughter faded into something more serious.

 "Kid, are you out of your mind? Junk gear?" He gestured at my clothes, "That tunic is B-rank. Those pants? B-rank. Those boots? B-rank. That sword? B-rank artifact. I'm afraid you won't be able to afford anything to replace what you've got for a long time."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he kept going.

"Assuming you're a rookie adventurer, and I can tell you are from that look on your face, let me give you some advice. Buying this cheap steel sword would be a big downgrade for you."

 He beckoned me closer.

 "Come here, kid. Let me get a better look."

I walked toward him. He leaned down, squinting at my gear. 

"Wait. Is that a slave collar on your neck?"

I froze.

"Hold on a minute. I know this gear. I'd recognize that enchantment anywhere. Kid, are you a new slave of Fiona's?"

 "Ummm... Yeah. I got myself tricked by her."

The old man let out a long, low whistle.

 "Well shit. Now that explains it. No wonder I haven't seen Garry in a while."

 "Who's Garry?"

"What, she didn't tell you? He was the slave before you. Haven't seen him in a few weeks. Now that I see you, it explains it. He must have died. One hell of a stupid bastard, Garry was. Foul mouth too. I don't even know how she could stand him."

He gestured at a sword hanging on the wall, a wicked-looking dagger with a dark, curved blade.

"Oh well. I guess he won't be needing his ordered weapon anymore. Goes into the stands for sale."

 "Wait! He ordered a weapon?"

"Yep."

"Fiona gave him money for it?"

The old man laughed, "No, kid. He saved up. Selling monster cores, mostly. He ordered that poison dagger about a month ago. Never showed up to pick it up. Well, to be fair, even if he'd had it on hand, it wouldn't have helped him. Let me tell you that."

"Are you telling me that even with such a powerful-looking weapon, he would still struggle fighting monsters?"

The old man looked at me. His expression changed, becoming something more serious.

 "What? No, kid. He didn't order that dagger to fight monsters. He said he needed it to kill Fiona. What a stupid bastard. She's a wizard. She has healing magic. That wouldn't work on her."

 "Are you serious? He ordered a weapon to kill her? And you're telling me this so casually, like it's nothing?"

The blacksmith's cheerful demeanor finally faded. He studied me with a new expression, one that was almost alerting. 

"Kid... you're not from around here, are you?"

I didn't answer.

"You're another otherworlder. I was thrown off for a moment, thought you were local. But yeah, that can't be right. After all, you're Fiona's slave, and she only goes after your kind."

I opened my mouth to respond—

Suddenly shop door swung open, and a man walked in.

He was tall and handsome, with chiseled features and a confident stride. A white cape flowed behind him, and his body was clad in part-plate armor. A massive claymore was strapped to his back, the kind of weapon that looked like it could cleave a man in half with a single swing.

"Gandor!"

 He strode up to the counter, ignoring me completely.

"Where is our shipment? It was due one week ago. You're late to deliver."

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "ah shit, here we go again."

The knight finally noticed me. He turned, offering a polite nod.

 "Ah, my apologies, young man. For cutting in line like that. Urgent matters of the Knight Order, I'm afraid. I hope you can forgive my rudeness."

I shook my head quickly. 

"It's fine, sir. I was leaving anyway. Um, I've got some training to do in the dungeon."

The knight's eyes lit up with interest.

 "Ah, a rookie dungeon crawler! An adventurer!" 

He studied me, taking in my gear.

 "With such magnificent equipment you carry yourself, I expect you'll do great things. We need more good adventurers to finally end that filthy dungeon. It's long overdue."

I forced a smile.

 "Thank you, sir. But I'm far away from being able to help with that." 

I backed toward the door.

 "So, yeah. Good day, sir. I'll be leaving now."

I turned and walked out with fast steps. 

I need to leave; I need to get out of here before I get myself into trouble. That blacksmith knew Garry. He knew Fiona. He knew everything. What else does he know? What else am I missing? I need to talk to Fiona. But who I'm kidding, she won't tell me!