The sun hanged high in the heavens and spilled its light above Borhael. The city was like a frying pan and the streets were full with people despite the unnatural heat for this time of the year. The trade district was turned into a blend of people of all ages and social statuses, into a march of colorful clothes and countless slangs. The simple dialects of the commoners mixed with the elegant way of talking akin to aristocrats, and even with different languages. Most of the people in this part of the Outer Fantasy were raven-haired and light-eyed, with fair skins, but amongst the masses there were a few exceptions and they were all men and women from faraway lands. People of all professions crossed the streets – from the young builders’ apprentices to the knights, clad in armor covered with silver ornaments, and the travelers with their dusty hats and old cloaks.

Among all of the crowds and the thousands of people was Ehrir. It was the second day since he began sweeping around the trade district and the seventh since the awakening of his power. Now he looked like someone from the lower ranks of nobility with his green coat, knee-high boots and silk shirt. His beard was trimmed and his hair was plaited. The Brand on his palms was hidden by a pair of leather gloves. The way simple people treated him was astonishing. Commoners made way for him in the crowd and respect was shining in their eyes when they looked at him. Nobody could guess that this attractive man was one of Borhael’s lowlifes just a week ago.

A slight smile was dancing on Ehrir’s face. He was enjoying this kind of lifestyle quite a bit. For the first time since coming to this city he was seeing its good side. He was seeing the good side of life for a first time in a long while, actually.

Ehrir looked around him and focused his gaze on a nearby store. It was rather small and a simple picture of a hat and cape was engraved on the signboard above its door. It was a tailor’s shop. And it was just what Ehrir needed.

He went towards the store with confident steps. A tall and muscular young man – probably the son or niece of the owner – was guarding the door against any unwanted intruders. He just looked at Ehrir with an indifferent gaze before letting him enter with a slight nod.

The inside of the shop was bigger than Ehrir expected. It was just one room and its walls were covered with racks packed full with clothes and different fabrics. The storekeeper – a skinny man in his fifties – was standing behind a counter near the door. His eyes brightened when he saw his potential new client.

“What can I help you with, master?” he said with a wide smile on his face. The clothes he wore definitely weren’t very impressive for a tailor. But those on the racks surely were nice.

“What clothes can you recommend me for seafaring? Or for traversing the south in general?”

“Oh…” The tailor put his fingers on his chin and went silent for a second. “A garb and a good ol’ cloak can be useful on any trip. I would also say you’ll need a sea jerkin and a silk headband or straw hat – these two are necessary for us nordlings. The weather in the south can get pretty scorching, milord. Another good choice – if you’re travelling by sea, at least – would be a pair of trusty seafarer boots, although I cannot offer you those. They are quite special and you should probably order them at a shoemaker’s workshop.”

Ehrir nodded and smiled. It was better to trust the man’s opinion. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to clothing. He did spend the past eight years in rags and whatever clothing he could snatch off the other homeless men, after all.

“If you have the clothes you’ve suggested me and their size matches mine, I would like to buy them right now”, he said and watched with joy as the tailor gazed at him with surprise and happiness.

It didn’t take long before Ehrir left the shop with a sturdy leather bag containing all of the clothing that the tailor offered him, along with a big piece of simple cloth. Now he was poorer with a bunch of silver coins but he could easily restore the money. He would simply the turn the cloth in the bag into silk and then sell it to another tailor. That was the way that he multiplied his wealth over the last several days – through Changing fabrics. For some reason he couldn’t turn silver into gold nor any other metal into a precious one. Otherwise he would be filthy rich, but what he had right now was more than enough for him. Actually, just enough copper coins to afford a roof above his head and hot food was good for him, but now Ehrir had more wealth than he could ever imagine while he was still homeless.

He stopped by a few more shops and came out of every one of them with new purchases. When he finally left the trade district he had acquired a pair of seafarer boots (they were a little big for his feet but still fitting enough), new gloves – thin and made out of silk – and a nice white scarf, along with several new bags which could fit his baggage from the inn he stayed in. He then stopped at one of the healers’ workshops where they treated his wounds from the battle with the Seven Stars Gang members in the past days. Under the careful care of the healer – old man with friendly face, who was pale and skinny as a skeleton – the bloody scratches on his chest and arms and the deeper wounds on his elbow and shoulder were all healing nicely.

The healer was Ehrir’s last stop today on his way back to the tavern where he slept for the last seven days. It had three floors and was used mainly by rich travelers and captains of smaller ships. Its location was near the harbor and the sharp sea winds, bringing a smell of salt with them, could be sensed from its windows. Ehrir soon reached it and his new purchases were handled to two young boys who were servants in the inn. Then the Undone One had lunch up in his room. The food that the inn offered was superb and contained mainly fish and other sea creatures. Ehrir ate it slowly and savored every bite. He still hadn’t got accommodated to eating meat or any other high quality food.

After the lunch he went out again and spent the majority of the afternoon at a scribes’ school in the rich part of Borhael. There he was taking a lessons in writing and reading during the last bunch of days. It was exciting for him as he could never learn to write or read during his beggar years. He couldn’t get very far for half a week – the written language in the most parts of Outer Fantasy was Emhaelic, and it greatly differed from the common tongue. He could grasp the basics of the alphabet, but to even talk in this ancient speech (a remnant of a great civilization from the olden ages when non-humans still roamed the world) was a faraway dream. Today was his last lecture at the school though, as he planned to soon leave Borhael.

Ehrir longed to travel and to see these parts of the world that he couldn’t even dream to in the past. During the eight years since becoming an Undone One he had traversed three kingdoms. All in all he had gotten just a little bit south of his original location, and he hadn’t seen much of the world. And he heard that there were great countries and memorable things down south and on the other coast of the Cargaen Sea.

After leaving the scribes’ school for the last time he returned to the harbor and took a long walk. Then, when the sun started sliding down to the west horizon and turning the aquamarine sea water into an expanse of shining gold and brass, he returned to the inn. Ehrir spent the evening in the dining hall on the first floor, drinking and playing hazard with first mates and captains. And then he slept for twelve hours straight. He had grown to love sleeping now, and he thought that the bed in his room was the most comfortable thing he had ever laid his back upon.

***

A couple of days passed, and finally the morning of Ehrir’s departure from Borhael arrived. He had acquired even more money and items for the travel now, and also bought a place in a second-rate ship in the harbor that was traveling towards the Archipelago of Claws in the middle of the Cargaen Sea. From then on he could find another ship to travel with to the south shores.

Ehrir got out of bed early that day and two hours later was already on the pier where his ship was positioned. One of the boys from the inn helped him move his baggage and for that he rewarded him with a copper coin.

The Undone One got on the ship silently. There were around twenty other passengers besides him, and most of them were already here. The ship was said to start sailing at noon. Ehrir decided to spend the time until then on the deck. He sat on the handrail near the bow and let his gaze venture forth into the sea and the horizon. He returned from his dreamy state after almost two hours and only at the moment that he heard the yells.

They were coming from about two hundred steps westward, where there was marching a large group of elite city guards in black uniforms. After them came dozens of well-armed soldiers and then a group of knights, clad in full armor and on horseback. The first one of them was holding the flag of the kingdom, and the one after him – the banner of the city. And in the center of all of this was a good-looking middle aged man with black breastplate covered in gold ornaments. The city lord.

The yells came from the mouths of the guards who were opening space among the crowd. The procession was in the center of attention of the people of the harbor. It slowly approached a pier with a giant ship besides it. It was a beautiful galley with a strange sign upon its snow-white sails. The city lord stopped before that ship and got off his horse. He slowly got up on the ship and his knights accompanied him.

And then from the insides of the ship appeared an old man in a stylish garb and with expensive-looking cloak upon his shoulders. His grey beard was well kept. He bowed to the city lord and the lord bowed to him as an answer. That was surprising for the commoners. Shocking, even. A noble of this level couldn’t bow before anyone but the royal family.

But Ehrir knew why. He could feel the immense warmth, calmness and might that the body of the old man was radiating. There was no mistaking it. He was strong, tens of times stronger than Ehrir, probably.

The hair on the neck of Ehrir stood up. This man definitely was a mage.