This city buzzed with knowledge, with scribes and scholars rushing about, clutching their scrolls as if their lives depended on them, whether en route to a library or locked in heated debates. Here, discussions of knowledge were so open to interpretation that one could likely write a dozen contradictory books on the same subject.
As always curious, Mana was drawn to a blacksmith built like a rock, with forearms that seemed to have been forged alongside the weapons he sold. His stall was adorned with swords, axes, and other sharp objects.
"Wow, Sparko, look at that! It's an enchanted weapon!" exclaimed Mana, pointing at a saber, tiny flames dancing around it.
Sensing a potential sale, the blacksmith puffed up with pride. "Ah, you’ve got a good eye, lad. This is a flaming sword, enchanted with a fiery ruby that gives it that sparkle. Here in Gyptia, under our burning sun, it gets an extra offensive boost, especially in the desert. You won’t find a better sword!"

The blacksmith leaned in, lowering his voice as if revealing a great secret. "It's yours for only 600 gold coins."
A small crowd of non-Gyptians, all curious and eager, began to gather around the stall, drawn by the sword's appeal and perhaps by the thought of later bragging that they had almost bought a legendary weapon.
However, Mälwe was not so easily impressed. "It is indeed very beautiful," she began, her tone measured, "but you failed to mention that it’s about as practical as a chocolate teapot near by the river Sêt or anywhere with water, my friend."
The blacksmith’s expression fell, and Mana, sensing the atmosphere souring, quickly added, "Maybe another time, good sir. I’m a bit short on gold at the moment."
But the damage was done. The blacksmith’s frown deepened, and Mälwe’s remark had scared off the customers. Some were even openly mocking the vendor, accusing him of being a swindler. He had been humiliated. The blacksmith muttered something to his associates, and Aranon, pragmatic as ever, decided it was time to intervene. "We’d better leave before we cause more trouble. It’s not wise to anger the locals, especially influential blacksmiths. Let’s head to that tavern over there."
They handed their aquatic camels to a camel keeper and headed toward the tavern.
The establishment they entered was lively, and fortunately, less grim than the previous one. The tavern keeper, a large man with a genuinely warm smile, welcomed them heartily. Mana couldn’t help but notice that Aranon’s reputation didn’t seem to carry as much weight here; no one whispered his name or even looked at him with more than polite indifference, which was, in the end, rather refreshing.
They settled in as Mana helped Mälwe place their order, the bar bustling with patrons in various states of joviality.
While they waited, Mana’s curiosity got the better of him. "Mälwe, why are you so obsessed with this sapphire? I know it’s important, but—"
"Not so loud, you fool!" hissed Mälwe, her voice low but urgent. "The walls—no, scratch that—everything here seems to have ears!" she added, casting a glance at the curious onlookers who suddenly turned away.
"Here’s your order!" the tavern keeper joyfully announced, probably trying to dispel the awkwardness of the moment. Mälwe signaled to Mana that she would explain later.
Aranon, displaying an appetite as large as his stature, dug into his meal with enthusiasm, and the four companions savored their food, which, for once, didn’t threaten to kill them.
"Let’s stay here for the night and resume our search tomorrow," suggested Mälwe after finishing her meal, her eyelids drooping in that universal language of post-meal drowsiness. "The sun is setting," she added, more to herself than anyone else.
"Good idea," agreed Mana, following her lead.
They retired to their respective rooms, each drifting off into a peaceful sleep, completely unaware that tomorrow would be anything but peaceful. But after all, it wouldn’t be an adventure otherwise, would it?
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