”Are you sure this is the place?” Iris asked and pointed at a flimsy wooden door attached to a windowless stone wall that seemed to be a part of the complex system of aqueducts that supplied Valor with water. More fitting to keep the weather out of a barn than be the façade of a shop, the door barely hung in place on a couple of rusted hinges that seemed like they could give out at any moment. There didn’t appear to be any kind of a lock on the door either, which seemed unwise for any kind of an establishment, let alone a shop.

“Space here is expensive, sometimes you have to make do with a hole in the wall.” Anastacia shrugged and nodded at a small wooden advertisement board that had fallen off the wall and now leaned against it, waiting for someone to hang it back up. “It says they sell things.”

Iris mentally prepared herself for more nonsense as she placed her hand on the door handle and pulled on it. The door creaked as it swung and rust cracked off the hinges, but it didn’t reveal anything besides more of the stone wall it had been attached to. Iris sighed, partly out of relief and partly out of disappointment. Just to be sure, she laid her hand on the wall to see if it was some kind of a magically hidden passageway but all she felt was the coldness of the stones. Anastacia figured she was more familiar with the valorian brand of shenanigans and joined in on trying to figure out what the deal with the door was. Pressing on a particular stone tile, some kind of a triggering mechanism between them or a magical seal were all easily on the table, and so she began to fiddle the wall in any spot that seemed even slightly off.

“Assuming this isn’t just a practical joke on someone’s part, is having some level of weird nonsense a requirement for owning a shop here?” Iris asked. “It seems like it would get really tiring.”

Anastacia stopped to think for a bit. “I don’t think so. The inn is pretty normal, unless not being allowed to do pirate puns counts?”

“I feel like if you can’t point out the weird nonsense there, you might be the weird nonsense – you and that owl.” Iris pointed out and took a step back to get a look at the whole wall once more. Though she wanted to hear more about the pirate pun ban, now was not the time.

“I’ve been told to not bother people more than enough times, but we do have a gravity impaired spriggan that specializes in that. Come to think of it, I probably should warn you about her – don’t accept any money from her.” The adventurer advised while reminiscing of her first days in the city.

The necromancers continued poking and prodding the wall, opening and closing the door and pondering their predicament for a while longer, before a very intentionally audible sip behind them broke their concentration.

“You ladies are awfully fond of the wall, eh? Sadly, it’s guild property so I can’t sell it, but I do have some premium rocks I could part with, if this is what you two are about.” A voice only a couple of meters behind them said without a hint of jest or mockery in it. “Engraved artisanal bricks as well.”

Both of the necromancers immediately realized that the adventurers that had been wandering the street around them were now gone, as were the cold wind and the noises of the city. On the account of not having her cheek slightly stuck on the freezing cold wall at the time like her partner, Iris was the first to turn around and realize that they no longer stood on one of the many streets of Valor, but in a dark, almost dungeon-like room. Only lit by a couple of candles laid on the floor, it took a moment for Iris’ eyes to adjust to the dimness before she could see the broken and trashed remains of wooden furniture that had been strewn about the fairly large space. Several tables, shelves and showcases laid shattered all over the floor, and seemingly only a singular large chest had survived whatever had happened in the dusty basement. The walls and the floor were made from large stone blocks, not that unlike the castles and keeps of Mournvalley iris was familiar with, and the only ceiling the room had was an endless black void the candles had no chance of illuminating. Among the remains of a shop stood a smartly dressed man with dark red skin, cloven hooves for feet, dimly glowing blue eyes and a pair of backwards slanted slightly curved horns growing out his head, the left one being seemingly either cut or broken off, and decorated with a golden cap that matched with the few other pieces of jewelry he was wearing. He seemed completely unperturbed by his surroundings and calmly sipped from a cup that contained some kind of an herbal tea based on the mellow scent quickly wafting over to the necromancers.

“I also have some books on architecture.” He seemed to remember out of the blue and took another sip.

Iris’ gaze swept over the mess multiple times before she said anything. “Is everything okay?” She asked.

“Got tea, got customers now. I’ve naught to complain about.” The apparent shopkeeper chuckled. “Welcome to The Wants and Needs, where the line between the two is blurred. If there’s anything that interests you between this realm and the divine one, I likely have some in the stock.”

The lack of care about the ruined shop immediately made Iris immediately suspect something was once more afoot. “So you weren’t robbed or anything? This is just how your shop… is?” She asked and touched a nearby bit of a broken table to see if it was an illusion or something, but the tip of the sharp splinter poked her finger just fine.

“Robbed? In this city? Only in the form of guild taxes.” The shopkeeper chuckled and turned his attention to Anastacia, who was still occupied with trying to slowly tear her cheek away from the ice-cold wall. “Does your friend need help?”

“I’m good.” The adventurer declined as she realized she could simply use ice magic to slightly warm up the wall and free herself.

Having done so, she finally turned around to take a look at the shop they had somehow been transferred to – or which had somehow transferred to them. Arranged in a single large room, from wall to wall, was an absolutely gargantuan collection of mysterious items, trinkets, books, baubles, toys, jewelry and much more. The bookshelves lining the walls almost buckled under the heft of the large tomes arranged on them, each with a title more intriguing than the last one. Some of the items were in danger of falling off the vastly overstocked tables and the showcases were chock-full of expensive looking things, lined with gold and gemstones. Mannequins with downright stupidly fancy and opulent clothing were posed at the far end of the room, along with a vast array of gaudy accessories. In the middle of it, on one of the few open spots of the shiny marble floor stood a red skinned woman clad in an elegant dress that only barely showed her hooves and was adorned with silver chains and a dozen blue gemstones, which matched the hue of her glowing blue eyes perfectly. Among her long black hair grew a pair of horns, the right one of which was partly broken but both of which had more silver chains wrapped around them, which then connected to a few piercings in the shopkeeper’s lip and brows. In her hand, she held a somewhat overfilled glass of deep crimson wine, which she kept sipping as she inspected the customers with a carefree look on her face.

“This place is… uh… I don’t know if we should shop here.” Anastacia whispered towards Iris. Even with her considerable savings, everything on display seemed cripplingly expensive to her.

“You know, I was thinking the same.” Iris responded and stared at the dimly lit mess around her. There was definitely something seedy about the shop.

Overhearing the whispers, the shopkeeper laughed. “Nonsense, nonsense! I’ve got everything for everyone. I already know just the thing for both of you!” He or she, depending on the view, exclaimed while ushering the necromancers further into the shop. To Anastacia, it seemed like she was skillfully avoiding the tables full of merchandise that would no doubt topple over at the slightest nudge, and to Iris, it appeared as if he carefully walked around the clutter as he made his way towards the single intact chest in the dungeon.

“You, my dear inquisitor, have wound up in a very strange place for your kind – and stranger yet, intend to stick around for a while. To my understanding, your little troupe is supposed to be awfully busy these days. So, it’s very odd indeed that one would waste their time around here.” The shopkeeper spoke while working on the lock dangling from the chest. “I do have some Mournvalleyan goods around here somewhere, if you end up feeling homesick.”

The comment was enough to immediately put Iris on edge. “How do you know who I am?!” She demanded to know and was about to grab the shopkeeper by his clothes before remembering where she was and who was with her.

“At ease, soldier, at ease. I am one of the few who have seized the opportunity to trade with your reclusive kind in the past months. As a merchant, I would be doing myself a disservice by not knowing the fashion and materials used in particular nooks and crannies of this world of ours. Doesn’t take much beyond a look at your delightfully colorful garments to figure out who you are. The design is obviously from Mournvalley, and there are only a handful people allowed to wear the shade you’ve chosen, which is why I can tell you’re an inquisitor. Now, of the daughters of Coquelicot, I’ve personally seen Celeste, so that rules her out. To my knowledge, Maya isn’t as… approachable as you appear to be. Which leaves us with Iris and Sapphire, does it not?” The shopkeeper explained his thinking in great detail while glancing at the inquisitor. “And based on the tiniest of flinches in your poise as I spelled out the names one by one, you appear to be Iris.”

Anastacia laughed at the accuracy of the analysis while Iris grew increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. Somehow this random merchant from Valor not only knew the entirety of the inquisition, but apparently in some detail. None of it was exactly secret, but it shouldn’t have been something that was casually thrown at them while shopping either. Anywhere else in the world, this person would have been extremely suspicious, but in Valor, everything was and it barely stood out from the norm.

“Worry not, worry not! Any merchant worth their salt knows that loose lips sink ships, including friendships and partnerships, and I would quite like for you to put forth a good word or two for me when you get back. Your presence here won’t reach the guild’s ears through me.” The shopkeeper smiled and placed whichever drink they were holding based on the view on the floor to lift the heavy lid of the chest. Iris couldn’t quite see what was inside in the darkness, but to Anastacia, the contents of the chest appeared to be neatly folded clothes that didn’t quite match the look of the rest of the shop in that they were fairly plain. The merchant began rifling through the contents, every now and then lifting up a piece of clothing to get a better look at it.

The merchant’s reassurances didn’t quite put Iris at ease, but should he keep his promise, him willing to trade more in Mournvalley would definitely be useful. “If I am to mention you to Celeste and Cyan, I’m going to need a name.” She stated, still unsure what to make of him.

“Vazeem-Vaz’lisa or Vaz’lisa-Vazeem, I tend to go by both, so either works – of the Oasis Augurs tribe, but that name carries no weight anywhere that matters, so feel free to ignore it.” The shopkeeper gladly obliged. “I assume part of the reason you came here was to get something less conspicuous than bright blue?”

“She needs three sets of indoor clothes, five sets of whatever she wears under them and socks, a layer of something warmer and a cloak – green if you’ve got one.” Anastacia quickly listed off the bare essentials she figured Iris would need for however long she was staying. She figured that it was easier to just decide on her behalf, since letting the newly appointed cleric have a word in the matter would have just resulted in her worrying if she dared to ask for a second shirt for half an hour. “Then she probably needs some random stuff that might be a bit harder to come by.”

Iris, who had indeed expected to get maybe a spare set of clothing in addition to something that wasn’t blue, was without words as Anastacia had listed off what was basically her entire wardrobe back in Mournvalley.

Vaz’lisa-Vazeem grinned widely as she heard the order that much exceeded what she was hoping to sell, but also for something else that she found curious. “Anastacia, the Anastacia is bankrolling this one? It hasn’t been a year since you rid the world of the previous inquisition, and from what I hear, you’re not too fond of the new one either. Is there something… interesting going on that I should know about? Hmm?” She inquired while piling up clothes from the chest onto her lap.

“I’m just paying things forward, don’t read too much into it.” The adventurer sighed and poked Iris out of her stupor with her elbow. “Just say what you need.”

“Is… is that really okay? Wont it be a waste to get that much stuff, and wont it be expensive?” The cleric predictably worried.

Anastacia rolled her eyes. “Not a problem, also I’ve seen your gangly ass naked and I’ve seen napkins with more fabric on them than it takes to make a set of clothes for you. Just ask for whatever you think you need for now, and whatever they confiscated from you at the baths.”

“But the letter already cost-“ Iris kept worrying about the mind boggling amounts of money her host was willing to throw around but was interrupted.

“Also, can you find a warm pair of gloves and a scarf?” Anastacia asked from the shopkeeper while threateningly staring at Iris. “Stop whining, or I’ll move on to jewelry.”

Iris hesitantly glanced at the shopkeeper for any kind of help, but he seemed perfectly fine with the strange form of blackmailing that was happening and placed a pair of admittedly comfortable-looking mittens onto the pile of clothing he had gathered based on Anastacia’s wishes. She agonized over having to accept such gifts for a good while and just couldn’t justify any kind of luxuries for a failure of an inquisitor. “I can’t-“

“That ring over there, I’ll get it resized if it doesn’t fit.” The adventurer said without batting an eye and pointed at an engraved silver ring on the table by her, very careful not to gesture towards the more expensive looking ones, as her coffers may have been fairly plentiful but they were not infinite. Regardless, she was unrelenting in her misguided attempt to get Iris something nice after being an ass.

Vaz’lisa-Vazeem grabbed two similar rings from what would have seemed like thin air to Iris, had she been able pay attention to that. “It’s actually a set of two, but I’ll just give you the other one because this is deeply, deeply fascinating and dysfunctional whatever type of a relationship you two have forged – and you’re buying more than enough to cover it…” She chortled and placed the rings into a small wooden box to add them to the pile. “Anything else I can get you? I recently received some nice boots that would go nicely with the cloak. There’s also a whole new range of accessories that are quite popular with the ladies in the southern parts of the continent, sheets made out of lysian rabbit wool or perhaps the complete works of some of the most well-known poets in history?”

“Well?” Anastacia asked and demanded an answer out of the other necromancer with a piercing stare.

Iris avoided looking directly at her for as long as possible, but when Anastacia seemed like she was about to open her mouth again, she was forced to say something. “I need stitches made from sinew, powdered bone dust, as many dried blood samples in small glass vials as possible, finger-sized shards of dragon bone, flexible tubing, hollow metal needles, a sewing kit a lot of pins, some rendered fat from either pig or a cow, honey, wax paper and five to ten glass syringes. I know most of those probably aren’t sold any-“ She listed before getting interrupted again, this time by the merchant.

“I should have all that.” He nodded after completing his mental list of the macabre selection of items requested and wandered off to one of the broken tables by the opposite wall and forced a drawer under it open with a bit of effort. “The blood samples I have are mostly from animals, is that an issue?”

“N… no!” Iris exclaimed confusedly. “Why do you even have any of that?”

The shopkeeper placed everything into a small leather satchel bag and smiled to the necromancer. “I pride myself on being well-stocked.” He gave an answer that very clearly meant ‘you don’t need to know’.

Suddenly remembering something, Iris lowered her tone, almost wishing that Anastacia didn’t hear her. “I would also like some candles and something to light them with…” She almost whispered.

Vazeem-Vaz’lisa nodded and tossed a bundle of candles into the bag from the same drawer, as well as a small metal case. He then returned to the pile of clothes, placed the satchel bag by it and grabbed his drink once more. “Will that be all, or do you need something as well, Anastacia?” He asked and took a sip.

Anastacia had been preoccupied by the grossness of Iris’ requested items for a few moments and hadn’t been following what was going at all. However, the mention of her name brought her back down to earth. “What? Oh, I don’t need anything right now – unless you have something you think would really interest me.” She tried to save some money but succumbed to the possibility of getting some neat trinkets.

The shopkeeper calmly walked around the small necromancer a couple of times while sipping her wine. She muttered to herself and every few steps stopped to take a look at something. She also inspected the patchwork on the shoulder of Anastacia’s cloak, her boots and some other pieces of kit she happened to be carrying.

“For you, I have three things that I think would interest you more than anything else in this shop.” She finally declared. “I have a bag of enchanted marbles that only roll uphill, a pair of bracelets that make you unable to clap and a shoe that turns everything you put into it into loose human teeth.”

The necromancer exhaled loudly after hearing the options. “Fuck… I want all of those.” She said under her breath but after biting her lip and pinching her hand for a while she turned down the offer. “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to buy enchanted things without supervision. They don’t work for me like they should.”

“Really? Interesting.” Vaz’lisa-Vazeem said and hid a suspicious smile behind her wineglass. She then grabbed a wooden case that just barely fit on her palm from one of the nearby tables and handed it over. “Well then, let us make a promise that you’ll one day return with adult supervision to peruse my wares again. Until then, I will give you this. It’s a completely normal kit of tools needed for fixing up a small blade. The rusty little sickle you carry behind your back saddens me, so I think you need it.”

Obviously suspicious of the gift, Anastacia quickly checked the contents but found nothing out of the ordinary among them. She placed the case in her bag and in exchange, handed over her purse. “Here’s money for the clothes and so on. You saw how Iris is with this stuff, so just turn around, take what I owe you and give the rest back. I’m kind of worried what might happen if she hears the amount.” She explained, and part of her didn’t want to hear the numbers either.

The shopkeeper understood her worries well, and despite Iris’ vocal protests, did as she was told. After handing over a severely lighter purse, she moved to the stack of clothes, picked up the green cloak and handed it to the inquisitor. “You should wear this out of here. You never know when one of those horn heads decide to make an outing – and remember my name when you get back home!”

“How much was it? It’ll bother me forever if I don’t know!” Iris pleaded to know the price her stay had.

The shopkeeper placed a finger across his lips to show he would not reveal anything. “Remember, loose lips.” He said gleefully, placed down his tea while Iris put on the cloak and handed her the rest of the clothes. “Do enjoy your rest in the city, inquisitor. Cast aside your worries for a while and worry not, calmer winds will one day sway ample fields of wheat in Mournvalley, sooner or later.”

Something about the merchant’s words echoed greater wisdom than his appearances, standing in the middle of a dark ruined shop, gave away, and it did actually make Iris feel a bit better. They said their farewells and the necromancers exited the same way they had entered, by staring at the stone wall while opening and closing the door until they found themselves in the frigid streets of Valor again. Not knowing if they would be heard or not, they stayed their tongues until they left the street the door was on. Even after agreeing that the shopkeeper they had met was both exceedingly suspicious and a weirdo, neither of them was none the wiser about the differences in their experiences. As far as Anastacia was concerned, they had visited a hoard of expensive merchandise and strange trinkets owned by an eccentric lady by the name of Vaz’lisa-Vazeem. Yet, if one was to ask Iris, they had been in a ruined dungeon owned by a man of questionable motivations that went by the name of Vazeem-Vaz’lisa. Either by coincidence or through some impressive spell that had separated their views in the first place, neither of them ever said anything that contradicted what the other had seen.

“So, where do we go next?” Anastacia asked. They had come to the end of her planned route for the day, but had only wasted a few hours at best, and the sun was still fairly high in the sky. “There’s a nice brothel down that way. Could help you relax.”

“Why do you even know that? Wait, why do you know that it’s a nice one?” Iris worried, the exhaustion was apparent from her every word. Even if she wasn’t at her wits end in general, the day in Valor so far had felt like an eternity and she was ready for the bed. “Can we just go back to the inn for today? I think I just want to sit down and not be messed with…”

“Sure. I’ll have Rosie whip us up something great, that always cheers me up. Did you know you’re allowed to put whipped cream inside a pastry?” Anastacia agreed.

Genuinely impressed by the baking factoid, Iris perked up very slightly. “Why? Are they trying to hide it so that others don’t see you’re eating something so expensive? I kind of get that. It’s hard to come by, but Sapphire and I once put a dollop of it on a slice of bread. There wasn’t much and we didn’t know exactly how to make it, so it ended up kind of wet, but we didn’t come down from that high in weeks.”

“It’s rare? I can just walk into the kitchen and ask for some. It only takes Rosie a couple of minutes to make a whole bowl of the stuff – she even puts sugar in. Emilia says it’s probably not healthy but if I’m going to be taken out by whipped cream, so be it.” The adventurer bragged with her standard of living.

“I’m with Lady Emilia on this one.” Iris said, obviously trying to imagine eating a bowl full of sweetened whipped cream at the same time. “I saw your breakfast coffee. Your meal habits worry, intrigue, horrify and make me envious, all at the same time.”