Chapter 51: The Rich and the Poor

I resumed walking down the ramp, feeling a greater measure of trepidation now that I was alone. For all that I had begun to question Gnat’s motives, I had grown used to his constant presence at my side, and suddenly bereft of it, I felt slightly lost.

Stop being foolish, Michael, I scolded myself. You’re not alone. There were plentiful other candidates around to speak to. And more importantly in the safe zone, I would finally have an opportunity to allay my fears regarding Gnat’s motives—or confirm them.

I studied the safe zone more closely. The ramp led down into a wide central avenue. Market booths encroached on either side of the road. Some of the stalls were little more than open wagons parked next to the road, others were elaborate wooden constructions with roofs and walls, but without fail all the booths were boldly painted and covered with symbols.

Every stall was manned too, by merchants of all shapes, sizes, and species—each and every one of whom was presently staring at me.

My brows crinkled. Why are they looking at me like that? My eyes drifted to the figures dressed in shorts and shirts walking between the booths and my frown deepened. Something about the candidates struck me as off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Their gazes, too, were fixed on me.

Alright… I thought, realizing that I had erred in some way, and that my arrival was not going to be as unnoticed as I’d assumed. I took a cautious step off the ramp and onto the road.

No one moved. No one spoke. My thoughts churned. What was going on here? What does everyone find so fascinating about me? The merchants have already met other candidates, so it can’t be that. Why then—

My thoughts ground to a halt, as I finally realized what my brain was trying to tell me: none of the candidates had any gear. They were all in starter kit: pristine white shorts and shirts.

Where is their armor? Their weapons? Now that I had noticed the candidates’ lack of dress, I identified the emotion I saw in their eyes: avarice. Hungry gazes roved over the twin swords hanging on my hip, the pack on my back, and the cloak draped over my shoulders. I gulped. That’s not creepy at all. They look like a pack of starving dogs that have spotted supper.

If this was anywhere but a safe zone, I would’ve run. But I needed information and gear, and had gold to burn. I’m safe here, I told myself firmly, quenching the urge to flee.

Steadfastly ignoring the many eyes upon me, I approached the nearest market stall. It was one of the more elaborate ones. It’s roof and side walls were painted black and embellished with pictures of a bird. A crow, I realized as I got closer. The front of the booth was a wooden counter top resting on a half-wall.

Two cloaked and hooded figures were behind the counter, manning the stall. I couldn’t see their faces, but I could feel their eyes on me. I noticed something else too. There was a haze to the air around the two merchants, almost like an aura, a feeling of death and… rot.

What in the world—? I stopped suddenly. Narrowing my eyes, I studied the shimmer around the pair. It was indistinct, and I couldn’t really be sure I was actually seeing anything. Am I imagining things? A Game message opened in my mind.

This entity bears a Mark of Minor Dark.

This entity bears a Mark of Greater Dark.

Both merchants were Marked I realized, and I was seeing their spirit signatures. Which also meant they were seeing mine. Did that account for their stares? Perhaps. But with everyone else staring at me as well, there was no way to tell.

Given everything else I had learnt of the Dark so far, I was wary of entangling myself further with those associated with it, but I was in the middle of a sector controlled by a Dark faction and couldn’t reasonably expect to avoid the Dark’s minions altogether. I sighed and resumed my approach towards the merchants.

Just as I got to the stall, I saw a flicker of movement further up the avenue. Two candidates were hurrying away, whispering furiously to each other as they headed deeper into the safe zone. The other candidates followed more slowly after the pair, and soon the road was empty but for me and the many merchants in their booths. I frowned.

Now what is that all about?

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” a voice rasped. “A live one finally.”

I turned back to the stall. The merchants were inspecting me. From under their hoods, two sets of burning red eyes studied me as if considering a curious insect.

“And Marked too,” the second noted.

“But what pathetic Marks they are,” said the first merchant.

“Should we serve him?” his companion asked.

“Hmm,” mused the first. “His Marks are lesser ones only. He can be redeemed yet.”

“But does he deserve redemption?” the second asked.

Tired of being ignored and listening to their one-sided conversation, I intervened before the other merchant could respond. “Who are you?” I asked brusquely.

There was a moment of silence as if the pair were startled by my rudeness or temerity. “We are merchants of the Awakened Dead faction,” the first said. “I am Vomer and my companion is Velath.”

“We serve the Master boy,” Velath added. “So you best be careful in how you address us.”

I ignored the implicit threat in his tone and shifted my gaze to the pictures covering their stall. “Is the Master’s insignia a crow?” I asked, recalling that the glass chips I had been given so long ago had also born the symbol of a crow.

“It is,” Vomer said.

I studied the pair again. “Where are your familiars?” I asked.

Velath snickered. “We don’t have any. Only foolish candidates need them.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why, but I bit back the question in time. These two served the Master, I reminded myself, and it was not likely they would be forthcoming on the matter of the familiars. Better not to rouse their suspicions unnecessarily.

“You can see my Marks,” I said, stating the obvious.

“We can,” Velath said. He leaned over the counter and sniffed. “And they stink. You will do well to rid yourself of both. The Master will not take kindly to them.”

I stepped back. I was not the only one who bore a stench.

Before I could respond to Velath, Vomer reached down beneath the counter and pulled out a package swathed in black silk. “But that is why we are here: to help you find your way.” Placing the package on the counter, he unwrapped its silk covering to reveal six gold marbles. “Feast your eyes on these, candidate. “I guarantee you won’t find better in the Sector,” he finished with a trace of amusement.

My gaze dropped to the gold marbles, instantly mesmerized by the sight of them. They were Class stones.

Master Class stones.