Ow! My head! My poor aching head! Melly thought as she awoke the next morning.

The sun was already climbing in the sky, and she could feel its warm power on her back as she lay on the ground, face-planted into the grass. Had she been thrown from the wagon? Around her, birds were twittering away, creating a less than delightful chorus.

She opened her eyes gingerly and squinted at the surrounding scene. The first thing she noticed was that the magical vehicle had gone. The second was Clemiticus. He had passed out and was sprawled over a large brown sack. He showed no visible signs of life.

I suppose I should at least attempt to feel a pulse, Melly thought rather hopefully.

But then Clemiticus kicked his shoe off and caught it mid-air. A radiant smile spread over his sleepy face as his new 'pillow' caressed his cheek with yesterday's crud.

Melly carefully pulled herself upright. Her muscles ached from the strange sleeping posture her drunken stupor had landed her in. 'Where the hell are the others?'

"Derrick?" she called as she searched the grassy roadside. "Nuecus?"

She had difficulty focusing on the somewhat blurry mess of shapes around her. She shut her eyes once more and shook her head to clear her foggy brain. She opened her eyes and the scene before her finally unfolded.

Much further down the road was a sight that looked like a construction graveyard. There were the ruins of hundreds of old and incomplete towers and buildings. They all encircled a much smaller complete town in the centre. Melly marvelled at the odd sight, imagining that each grey stoned structure looked like old, forgotten tombstones.

This was definitely the place architecture came to die. They had somehow made it to Bluehill Town, even after the drunken spree of the night before.

"Morning!" Clemiticus sang, as he sat up and dusted himself off. He looked at his makeshift pillow and chuckled.

Melly grumbled in response, "Morning." Her mouth was full of bile and her throat was sore.

Clemiticus looked his usual, all too enthusiastic self.

Does this guy ever have any downtime? Melly wondered.

"If you're looking for the other two, they went on ahead after you passed out last night," he said.

She shrugged and nursed her forehead. The hammer behind her eyes kept up a steady rhythmic clanging. The hangover was genuine enough.

Clemiticus rummaged through the large brown sack he had only just recently been using as a bed and pulled out a strange ball. He flung it towards her and winked.

"Hangover cure,” he said.

She obediently caught it and desperately shoved it in her mouth, ignoring the grotesque flavour of the all too familiar mud ball. The relief was instantaneous, as she felt cool tendrils spread across her scalp. The feeling was sensual, the taste horrible. At least the medicine sent small trickling rivers of pleasure from the base of her skull to the furthest reaches of her limbs.

Melly gasped at the unexpected feeling and felt herself blush. The hangover cure was working just a little too well.

"Feeling buzzed?" Clemiticus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not sure buzzed, quite describes it," she said, panting. "That's one hell of a hangover cure! It that even legal?"

Clemiticus shrugged. "No idea, it's kind of all-rounder cure. Anyhow, it works, and we need you in tip-top shape. It's time to go exploring. What is this place?"

Melly turned back to the Town and its muddle of dying projects. She knew a bit of the history of the place.

"Bluehill was once a rich, beautiful and vibrant town. But it went through a drastic change in the last few decades. Corruption here was a real problem, and the place kept going from bad to worse. Most of the high-rise buildings and keeps that you can see are still supposedly under construction,” she explained.

Clemiticus nodded then said, “They all look abandoned.”

Melly shrugged.

"They were all started a long time ago, never to be finished. The local governors treat the buildings like debt and allocate different projects to enthusiastic young entrepreneurs who get hopelessly enslaved by the tax system. The result is a large border around the town that resembles a graveyard of unfinished projects. Nowadays the town is just full of bankrupt people and crooks."

Clemiticus wrinkled up his nose in disgust.

"The terminal construction and the people have given the town the nickname of Broken Hill City," Melly saind mournfully.

“Where's the hill? I can only see a valley.”

“They dug it up to make more buildings,” she replied.

"Well, this place is certainly buggered!" Clemiticus stated flatly.

Melly stared at him. All the pain and suffering she knew the locals had gone through had just been roughly summarised in the worst way possible.

"I just told you the whole sad history of this once beautiful city and all you can say is that it looks buggered?'" said Melly, annoyed at his insensitivity.

"But this place looks buggered," he said in an attempted to soften the statement. It only seemed to affirm the simpleton preconception that she had for him.

Melly sighed.

"I guess that's the best I could expect from you. Come on, let's get this over with!" she conceded. She had learned the hard way not to expect too much from the man.

"Now I know that this is almost impossible for you but, please, try not to go around causing a ruckus!" Melly pleaded with Clemiticus. "The guards are desperately corrupt here and they look for any excuse to profit from us." She clicked her fingers. "Just like that. So don't give them any reason. Okay?"

"Righto!" chirped Clem.

After a while, they found themselves in the centre of town, within the market district. They could see what town would have looked like in its prime. The road was paved with well-worn cobblestones and the buildings on either side of the road ran parallel for many blocks.

The buildings were painted in all the colours of the rainbow. Each was of varying in size yet stuck together. A large wooden sign outside each doorstep advertised the wares within while the local guards watched their every move. Melly saw one tapping a sign that read:

Pickpockets, thieves, and shoplifters will be thrown into the Coliseum.

All spectators are welcome and are encouraged to bring their families to enjoy the entertainment of the arena of death. First three rows may get wet!

Children under 5 are half price! Free pastries on Tuesdays!

"Oh, look over there!" Clemiticus cheered as he skipped towards a shop with a gigantic sword in its front window.

Melly turned her look of horror away from the man and the sign and looked at Clem who was acting like a little boy running towards his favourite toy store. He pressed his face into the display window.

"Look! Look!" Clemiticus gasped. "Can we? Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!"

Melly sighed. "Sure," she added like a long-suffering mother appeasing a toddler.

Clemiticus sprinted into the store and squealed with excitement. She followed him in slowly. Moments later, Clemiticus was wobbling an insanely large two-handed claymore like a fishing rod, while the shop attendant cowered under his desk.

"Awesome!" he yelled as he windmilled the blade around the shop. It was a miracle he didn't hit anything.

"Whoa!" Melly cried as she threw her arms up, barely missing the tip of the blade. “Put that down!”

"But I want it!" he pouted.

"That will be one thousand gold, sir," squeaked a voice from under the desk. The shop attendant was still cowering.

"A thousand gold?" exclaimed Melly. "What a rip off!"

"How much do we have?" Clemiticus missed the point completely.

"Twelve gold. Not like it matters! This sword should only cost fifty at max!" Melly argued.

The shop attendant squealed once more under Melly's scrutiny and quickly disappeared out of sight behind a staff door. In a flash, another, more senior shopkeeper appeared, clasping his hands together and smiling. However, Melly has his measure. She knew this man was anything but nice. She had dealt with his type before.

"As my co-worker has just told you. That item has a price tag of one thousand gold pieces. If you do not have the required funds, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave." His voice was flat and expressionless. It was obvious he had practised the line a little too often. “Or we could set up a payment plan instead?”

Clemiticus walked up to the shopkeeper and planted the claymore on the wooden floor in between them.

"You seem to have lost your personality somewhere. Will you grant us the quest to retrieve it?" Clemiticus inquired seriously.

The shopkeeper didn't look even remotely affronted.

He confirmed. "It is not part of my job to have a personality. Now, please! If you don't have the required funds and wish not to set up a payment plan, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave."

"I know. You said that already!" Melly groaned.

Clemiticus smiled and laughed. The shopkeeper's expression didn't waver.

"Melly." Clemiticus interrupted, “can you pass me that bucket?"

Confused, she turned towards the dusty old wooden bucket lying against the wall behind her. Knowing better than to argue, she passed it without protest. He winked and thanked her then performed another 'only Clemiticus' kind of thing.

He blew gently on the bucket, causing a cloud of dust to rise off it. Then he tipped it upside down and lowered it over the shopkeeper's head. Melly could barely contain herself. She didn't know whether it was outrage or laughter, or even if both together cancelled each other out.

Either way, she stood transfixed at the sight of the shopkeeper with the bucket over his head. Contrary to how she thought the man would react, the expressionless shopkeeper was true to his non-existent personality and didn't move a muscle.

Clemiticus waved a hand in front of the bucket much in the manner of a magician, and then he made a few creatively vulgar finger gestures.

"What are you?" Melly asked.

"Shush," he said, berating her. "We are going now! Bye, bye," he announced to the shopkeeper. "Here is your sword back." Clemiticus took out his own rusty old sword and placed it down on the counter with an audible clunk.

"Goodbye, customer. Return when you have funds," The bucketed shopkeeper replied.

Clemiticus picked up the expensive claymore silently and shoved it into his impossibly spacious pocket. The shop keeper did not flinch as the steel vanished into Clemiticus' pocket.

BING! "Clemiticus has obtained the weapon, Claymore," the fairy announced.

"Shush!" reprimanded Melly.

The fairy shrugged indifference. A blue flash signalled from above, confirming that indeed Clemiticus had gained the large two-handed sword. He gestured to Melly to follow as he mischievously tiptoed out of the shop. All the while the statuesque bucket man didn't move a muscle.

"Ok. How the heck did you manage that?" Melly said, laughing in astonishment.

"The guy was a closet case NPC. They are way too easy to fool. Learned the bucket trick in a little old land called Tamriel," he said, smiling.

"And that's where you learned to steal?" she chuckled.

"Yep." He smiled. "Glitches always seem to stick. It's almost too easy to steal..."

"Aha!" A rough voice said from behind them. "You heard that, right? That's an admission of guilt!"

Four large guards, including the sign pointer Melly had seen, followed silently behind them.

"I believe that's a first-degree account of shoplifting and two free tickets to the Coliseum!" said one guard.

"Free tickets? Hurray!" Clemiticus cheered.

The guards laughed. Melly's palm smacked audibly into her forehead.