Eric blinked, and his vision showed the light gray walls of the Archives once more. The single window of text appeared before his eyes with the usual ding, and he read it quickly. So the books were part of some series, he thought. He used the Inspect feature and found that all nine books, including A History of Ahya, were all written by the same author, Samuel Bragg. That damned wizard was everywhere, he thought.

He noticed the Relic of Discovery and quickly located it within his inventory. It had taken the place of the Relic of Antiquity but still had no value. Curious, he used the Inspect feature on it as well. The description was brutally vague, though interesting, and potentially useful.

He tapped on the item in his inventory, and a simple silver necklace chain appeared coiled in his hand, holding a small clear stone in a silver fitting. The stone had some misty essence at its direct center, which seemed to be spinning slowly. It was quite cool to the touch and did not warm in his hand.

“Well?” Emma asked, making Eric jump. He’d momentarily forgotten that she was there. “How did it go? Did you receive a boon?”

Eric got up shakily from the desk chair and turned to face her. She and the Archivist were watching him with interest. When Eric held out his hand to show them the relic, the Archivist’s eyes widened in surprise, and she seemed to look him up and down quickly, as if measuring something he couldn’t see.

“That’s a relic!” Emma said, a little surprised herself. “Those are rare.”

“You know what this is?” Eric directed his question at the Archivist.

She nodded, still regarding him with a surprised sort of impressed expression. “That is the Relic of Discovery. It is a prime tool in knowledge-gathering. It is a very rare gift, indeed. Congratulations on your favor.”

In spite of the confusion and disorientation he’d gone through, Eric couldn’t help but feel a little better at the Archivist’s comment, as if the small necklace was giving him a head-start in this strange world. He lifted the chain over his head and settled the stone in the collar of his dusty clothing, noticing for the first time that day just how filthy it was.

“I should probably find some new clothes,” he said to Emma. “I’m surprised they even let me in, looking like this.”

“We don’t judge on appearance,” the Archivist said with another smile. “You should see how often Master Samuel comes in, covered in filth.”

Emma let out a laugh at that, and even Eric managed a weak smile. But, looking down at his dirt and blood-stained clothing again, he shook his head tiredly.

“Still, I’ll have to find some new clothes tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Market day,” Emma replied, still chuckling softly. “You can find a lot of good options then, though you can easily grab something tonight, on your way back to the Heron.”

“Ah, the Heron,” The Archivist said, a fond look of nostalgia in her eyes. “I miss her coffee. I’ll have to stop by after I get off here.”

Eric looked between the two women, his expression bemused. “It’s weird how much the people in this town worship coffee. It’s almost more important than beer.”

“It’s weird that you don’t like it,” Emma threw back. “I’ve never seen someone that dislikes it.”

“I like the strawberry tea,” he said, almost defensively.

“Everyone likes the strawberry tea,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “But coffee is the only thing that gets you up and going in the mornings.”

Eric resisted the temptation to roll his eyes back at her, but only barely. The Archivist led them back to the entrance, and within a minute, she was bowing them back out into the College’s main building. The Archivist standing there in her place also gave a little bow.

“Thank you for visiting the Archives, Eric,” she said. “You are welcome back any time.”

Eric waved farewell as he followed Emma, who was walking down the black and white checkered marble floor at a brisk pace. Eric had to jog to catch up to her, just as she was heading downstairs for the lobby. Just as he drew level with her, she stopped in her tracks, and a look of exasperation crossed her face.

“Damn,” she muttered. “We took too long.”

Eric followed her gaze, and quickly identified the source of her irritation. What had previously been a mostly empty lobby was now packed, as streams of people came and went from the many doors leading in and out of the space. They wore robes of all colors, and they were talking amicably amongst each other, discussing lessons, bemoaning difficult tasks, and making dinner plans.

“These are all students of the College?” Eric asked, his eyes wide. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Yes,” Emma said, with a sigh. “And they’re the slowest walkers I’ve ever known. We’ll be stuck behind them the whole way out of the campus until we’re on the Queen’s Road.”

She turned out to be quite right. The crowd of students, tired from a day of studying, and relaxing on their way out of the college, moved very slowly. Many were talking jovially to those next to them, though some had their noses buried in books or scrolls, moving slowly to avoid bumping into unexpected obstacles. Now that they were out of school, they were reverting back to their lazy, relaxed selves, and Eric and Emma were stuck behind them for nearly half an hour.

Finally they hit the Queen’s Road, and Emma seized Eric’s hand, pulling him to the side of the road and picking up the pace. He went along willingly, knowing it was pointless to refuse. She led him through a side alley, then another, passed through a small collection of pavilions, and back out into the open. Eric was impressed with her knowledge of the shortcut, noticing how they were nearly in the heart of the Market district now. She’d shaved off perhaps a mile and a half of walking.

“I don’t like going through there if I can avoid it,” Emma said irritably, heaving a sigh. “Many thieves and unsavory types are known to roam that area.”

They took a sharp turn into the official Market District, and spent some time leisurely studying the stalls and the wares they offered. Emma’s mood brightened considerably as they passed by the many food stalls, and Eric offered to buy the both of them a snack. They were both tired from walking most of the day, and so devoured the chicken and bread he bought. Their stomachs full and their spirits’ light, Emma told Eric she’d bring him to the Weaver’s Wing.

“I assume that’s where all the clothing merchants are?” Eric asked. It was an easy guess, judging by the wing.”

“Yep,” she replied with a barely suppressed yawn. “The best clothiers are in the Royal District, of course, but you can still find some good items here.”

The Weaver’s Wing was an alley to itself. The buildings on either side had been taken over by the merchants, who set up awnings to protect their goods from the weather. The alley was rather narrow, so the awnings on both sides created a long tent that threw constant shade over the area. The voices of the people here seemed oddly muted as if the fabric on all sides had dampened all sounds.

“Here we are,” Emma proclaimed, waving one hand down the alley. “Everything from cotton to silk. The merchants do good work, and they keep their prices fair.”

It took Eric about an hour, partly because of the great many choices, partly because of every merchant’s insistence on measuring him and fitting their clothes exactly. Eric accepted, knowing nothing about fitting or measuring, and was glad he did. He was even more glad to shed the simple, blood-stained and filthy white cotton clothing he’d arrived in.

At the end of the alley was a stone wall covered in hanging mirrors. For the first time in nearly a year, Eric took his time standing in front of one, studying his new clothes. He’d tried his best to keep it simple. A pair of black breeches, cinched at the tops of his new boots ran into an equally simple light blue tunic. A black leather vest sat atop the tunic, but without feeling uncomfortably tight. It was even thick enough to serve as armor, he knew.

Following the theme, he went back to the merchant who had sold him the vest, and purchased for more sleeves of leather. These were tied around his forearms and calves. He felt a little more confident and secure with the rudimentary armor on, as if he were just a little more prepared to take on any challenges he would find.

“I’m afraid I’m too tired to hang about,” Emma said. “I should be getting home to my father, lest he worry more than necessary.”

“So you do care about him worrying after all,” Eric teased her. “You’re a good daughter at the end of the day, eh?”

She fixed him with a stern look, and his smile faded slightly. There was something unusual in her gaze, perhaps tension or mild irritation. She was staring directly at him without blinking, and despite her claim that she wanted to run home, she seemed awfully hesitant to leave. This confused Eric, but he kept his mouth firmly shut, not wanting to say or do anything stupid. He rather liked Emma and wanted to hang out on another day as well.

“Let’s go, then,” she said after a long pause. She definitely seemed irritated now, though Eric couldn’t put a finger on the reason. So he shrugged to himself and followed.

They stopped again just outside the Heron Tavern, where she laid one hand on his leather-clad arm. A little surprised, he turned to face her, his eyebrows raised. She stepped in a bit closer so that they were eye to eye, and Eric was immediately distracted by her deep green eyes. They were even more mesmerizing at this close range.

“Good night, Eric,” she said softly. “I hope I see you again.”

“U-huh,” he said slowly. His brain seemed to have stopped. “Y-you will.”

He could have kicked himself. Idiot! But she didn’t seem to dislike his reply. In fact, a small mischievous smile formed on her lips. She stood up her tiptoes and kissed him quickly. Then, before he could even think to react, she turned and was walking away. Eric stood, stunned, his brain still stuck in place.

“Come find me at our shop!” She called over her shoulder. “It’s called Willow’s Respite!”

His limbs gained a little more strength, and he shuffled slowly towards the door of the Heron, his mind spinning. He shook himself vigorously, then, too late, thought to stare after her, and watch her walk away. But by the time he’d looked, he couldn’t pick her out from the crowd on the street. Shaking himself again but still dazed, he turned again towards the door, reaching for the handle. It opened before he could grab it, and the person on the other side pushed it open too quickly, smacking Eric in the face.