The merchant cart before me is done with the check and continues its way through the city gate. I pull my hood lower, change my name and identity to that of a travelling peddler and approach the guard standing the closest, holding a heavily wrinkled account book in one hand and a quill in the other.

- State your name please.

So he says unenthusiastically. Must be boring when nothing ever happens on an already dull and mundane job of a guard. I give it to him and we proceed with the questioning.

- What's in the bags.

- My wares, sir. Soap. I make and I sell soap.

- Really now? Then let's check your identity. You have a guild card?

- No, sir.

He takes out a metallic orb. Hey, that's just like the one I have. Except this one has a silver glow around it instead of golden like mine does. I see, I see - an inferior mass produced version for lowly peons to use? Nothing to fear then~

That's what I'd like to say, but... It suddenly glows dark red, guard makes an incredulous face and looks at me as if he seen a monster, then drops everything and screams towards the other guards to help. This is all too sudden so I throw my mind into overdrive to freeze the world to a halt and win some precious time to think.

I'm not sure what happened, but I can readily imagine the consequences - I am considered an enemy and will either be arrested or skewered on the spot by guard reinforcements. Think, think... Mary, mind telling me how the hell he seen through my disguise and looked at my real status?

*He didn't. He thinks that you are a travelling peddler.*

Then what even is this situation?

*He looked at your Crimes&Punishments page, obviously.*

HE WHAT?! Since when there was such a tab? Why didn't you tell me?

*Because you never a...*

Don't you dare finish that sentence, I swear I'll strangle you if you do.

Okay, let's think logically. What got me into trouble in the first place, what crimes could I commit? Oh yeah, theft. Looooots of pickpocketing. Why did I do that? To get money. Good. What's the next link in the logical chain? Money, money, money... Bribe him? Negative, it's too late for that. Weird. Money got me into this mess in the first place, so it should be logical to get out of it with them coins.

*Not everything can be solved with money.*

Not with that attitude. That's what you think and I call bullshit on that. Hmmm... Oh. Eureka!!!

I cancel the thought acceleration and smirk. This is going to be good.

I untie the rope on the sack with all the bandit gold and silver as I shout upon the heavens.

- HEAR YE, HEAR YE! FREE GOLD FOR EVERYONE, LET NOBODY LEAVE UNSATISFIED! MAKE IT RAIN, BITCHES!

And so I grasp handfuls upon handfuls of coins and toss them high in the air all around me, as everyone around gawks in shock, unable to make a move after seeing something that goes against their logic. There must be lots of spendthrifts among the nobility and merchants, but I highly doubt anyone would do something on this level.

I use the momentary distraction, throw the bag that is still half full at a guard close to me, grab the one who questioned me and sounded the alarm by his face, entwine my leg behind his, trip him and apply pressure to the head, making him crash onto the ground. Without losing a single moment I sprint towards the city, only one guard restored his marbles enough to stand in my way. However,

- Haidaraaaaa!

I wrestling spear him, making use of the gained momentum. Note to self: never try to tackle guys in metallic armor ever again, this will surely leave a fine bruise on my arm...

After giving away a free punch to the face just to make sure, I resume running. Other guards have a hard time trying to follow me, as all the onlookers - regardless of age or social standing - piled up over the spilled gold and silver like a flock of hungry magpies. It went from being barely civil to a full on brawl in less than ten seconds. Greed shrouded their eyes to the point where they attack everyone near them indiscriminately, even if those nearby are guards. Heck, some guards themselves join the festivity either to try forcefully calm the crowd down or pinch some coins for themselves in ensuing chaos. It doesn't take long for a full-blown riot to start, with enforcers being taken off duty from other places and sent to deal with the civic unrest.

As the situation was going down faster than Titanic in a whirlpool leading to Atlantis, I was trying to dodge people in the crowd and elbowed away everyone who tried to stop me or was simply too slow to get out of the way. Continuing to run through the main street was a bad idea and there was no way to lose the heat by taking turns in other directions due to vast amount of onlookers. So I took a gamble and jumped into an open wooden window of a residential building. After fumbling around shortly, I managed to find a back door leading to a back alley. There I dumped most of my possessions - cloak, armor, weapons, instruments and the travel bag. The only things that remained were two knives, small satchel, the orb, a pouch with money that I always keep hidden on my person for a rainy day and the shoddy starter clothes. Given my unkempt appearance and the strong B.O, I don't look presentable at all right now. With Mary's help I find the Crimes&Punishments page and revert everything to zero. If you are interested, the price of my head was over ten platinum coins - enough to buy yourself a house in noble district. Feels like this town will be filled with bounty hunters as soon as the news spread out... Afterwards I calmly leave the back alley and ask for directions, then steel myself for a whole day of walking around for mundane shopping just to look (and feel) like a proper human being again.

First order of business was visiting a blacksmith. It appears that the shop was on slow time, no one but me and a female clerk, who seemed to be bored out of here mind, were there. Seeing my sorry state she lazily tried to shoo me away, but after I took her hand and placed four silver coins on her palm with a smile, we quickly found common ground. She tried advertising the wares on the stalls, but I asked her for something that was already visually used and yet had top quality. I may be a bit paranoid from the recent events, but I don't want my equipment look brand new with no specs - as if I was a criminal on the run that just changed clothes or something. It may be stupid, but I'm fine with that as long as it calms my nerves down.

She looked unnaturally shocked after hearing the request, then gave me a knowing look and a wicked grin and took out a set of combined scaled-metallic-leather armor with a cape and intricate engravings on it, set it on the counter and stated the price with a brilliant smile. I can almost see illusory fox tail behind her wagging with glee. Care to let me in on the joke? I promise not to tell anyone~

...you aren't just trying to push something troublesome upon me, do you?

The vixen just keeps on smiling with that shit-eating grin, so I ignore her and inspect the set. Looks like its owner was saved by it quite a bit of times, there are signs of repair, yet it is still remarkably sturdy. My eyes can't discern the exact creature that "donated" it, but the leather boots, pants and undershirt are all of top-notch quality. The steel breastplate retains the gray color, it also seems like it was treated with some sort of grinded powder that took away the usual overly bright shine polished metallic armors have. Both pauldrons are treated the same way, each have a picture of some flower engraved on them. Gauntlets are just a tad uncomfortable - either the previous owner was a delicate noble youth or a woman fencer - his or her fingers must've been smaller than mine. Finally, the most eye-catching piece is the cape. I thought of throwing it away immediately, thinking it was a useless, overly flashy decoration, but I was proven wrong. It is made with big scales of dazzling emerald color. I asked the girl if I can test it out and after receiving the permission I tried slicing at it with a knife. Shockingly, there wasn't a single mark - not only are the scales durable, it also feels like the blade just slips off of it on contact.

From her reactions I suspect that there's a non-zero chance that this set of armor has some heat attached, but I'm willing to risk it - it's just that good, even though the price bites.

I put it straight on, buy a new sword for the sake of keeping up appearances, say my farewells and leave.

- I finally found the man worthy of it. Let it serve you well in the nearest future, Little Dragon. ❤

'kay, let's see what is next on the chopping block... Right, I wanted to buy myself a subordinate. Honestly, I've been dreaming of a pack animal for quite a while now - ever since I stupidly decided to flip the bird towards the comfy travel conditions of a merchant caravan and travel by foot for days on end. "It would be nice having a warhorse to lug around both me and all my shit" - I thought, but that way of thinking changed quite fast. It is possible to travel with caravans (for free even, if you sign up as a bodyguard), so the only real problem left is carrying stuff. In addition, it is impossible to alleviate boredom by having a conversation or playing games if your partner is incapable of speech and has hooves for hands. Then we have food problems (can't exactly feed a herbivore meat), random defecation and pisswasser discharges, inability to climb, . You get the idea. Eventually horse seemed more trouble than it's worth, so I decided to settle down on buying a burly hulk of a man and make him my personal porter. If he starts to act up, I can always beat him up and heal him over and over and over again until his will and rebelliousness shatter into pieces - and there you go, a perfect minion that doesn't have a single drawback when compared to beasts of burden.

With that said, I'm at the door of a slave trading shop. Even though it is in the center of the city, it looks quite seedy and unpresentable. A strong looking fellow with far broader shoulders than mine and some fifteen centimeters taller (so... Almost two meters? A respectably high feller.) blocks my way as I try to enter and gives me the stink eye.

- Hey, big guy. Don Quixote is looking all over for you, the hell are you standing here?

- ?

Didn't get it? What an illiterate prick, how dare you not know the classic book that doesn't exist in this world.

- Fine, let me rephrase it so you can understand. I have business in this shop, shove your fat arse to the side. I had enough crap for one day to tolerate any more, so piss off if you value your teeth.

The bearlike individual interprets my humble plea as a threat and places his hand on the axe affixed to his belt. I see that as an invitation to the all-you-can-punch buffet, crack my knuckles and prepare to knock Mr. Windmill out. Both of us are more than ready to throw down, but an annoying fat midget runs out of the shop. Hoh, a halfling? It's my first time seeing one. Why does the first one has to be morbidly obese is beyond me.

Little guy shouts profanities at the oaf and repeatedly kicks him in the shin - highest point he can reach due to his height and beer belly restrictions. Then he approaches me we short quick steps, rubbing his palms at each other, half hunched. As he speaks, I feel as if he is looking me in the shoulder instead of the eyes, I wonder if he's timid or has bad eyesight. Probably the latter, as I already witnessed his "timidness".

- Hello, good sir! Is there any way I can help you? Just say the word, this insignificant one is pleased to serve.

Whoa-whoa-whoa there, buddy! Chill! If you are that desperate to get customers, why did you employ that moody gigantosaurus as a bouncer?

...or did he mistake me for someone? It's not the best idea of taking on the identity of some unknown figure of power, but I can't help myself. For the longest of time I had to be a no-fun-allowed serious adult with serious conduct, just let me have this. World wouldn't collapse if I make an innocent prank. Or two. Or twenty.

*Your math is off.*

- Indeed you can, Wilkins. I've heard from an acquaintance of mine that you have wonderful stock of "goods" for sale. However! Mind explaining what this buffoon did? I seen people disappearing for less grave offences, but insulting me like this?! The nerve of this maggot!

Oh boy, I'm overplaying this too much. Darn, looks like I'll have to find another... Hoooh~ Monsieur Lilliput is shaking in his boots. Maybe I was spot-on after all.

- Well?!

- I... My sincerest apologies, sire! Please reconsider and turn the blind eye just this once.

- Humph. As long as you understand. I shall graciously accept the apology. Now enough fooling around, I'm a busy man.

- But of course! This way please.

Wilkins picks up the walking cane he dropped as he ran out and trots up the stairs. He starts telling me all the details I don't want to know about the women he sells here, but I cut him off, making it clear from the get go that I'm here to buy a strong guy with plenty of stamina to act as a porter. Anything else is not important. Clearly puzzled, he leads me the room with men. He tries to sell me some frightened looking little boys, but after I promise to kill him right then and there if he calls me a bugger just one more time, he finally brings out the beefcakes. They all are glaring at me with killing intent, but one of them seems to be frightened of me. As I check closer, it turns out he has Intuition skill. Seems plenty useful if he understood it is better not to anger me on just level one, so I take it. Then I crank up Intimidation to the maximum capacity possible at the moment and pull out the sword from the sheath.

- I don't like how you swines look at me. Hey, Wilkins? It's fine if I kill them all right here if I pay up after the fact, riiiiight?~

He weakly nods his head in fear, clearly on the verge of crying. As for the men... Some fainted, some lost control of their bowels, some cry in fetal position. I silently choose the bravest one, who simply stands there while sweating profusely. I turn Intimidation off and holster...I mean, sheath the weapon.

- Wilkins, I'll be taking that guy. Let's go and finalize the purchase.

He squeaks a barely audible "yes" and we leave the room. The Chosen One is so happy with the honor of serving me, that he falls on his knees and bangs his head on the floor. Others looks at him with pi...jealousy.

Just as I'm about to take out the wallet, halfling drops a bomb.

- Now, maybe sire would like to buy himself a female companion for his nightly needs?

I look at him with disgust. What is this filth bleating about? I admit I'm no saint, but I firmly believe that even evil should have some sort of standards, otherwise you fall far below the gutter level.

- No need, thanks.

- I can even make this good sir a proper discount...

I grab him by the collar and lift up his flabby body with one hand.

- Ever heard about the "hit the fatty" game? It was quite popular in our parts.

- Please, no! Our stock!... We got some good ones recently!...

...for fucks sake. I just release the grip and let him drop on the floor.

- Fine, you bastard. But we are doing it my way. I take a look at them. Nothing more, nothing less. Even if I don't choose anyone, you cut the price for the guy by 10%. Capiche? Comprende?!

- Yes, yes! Thank you very much for your patronage!

Persistent cockroach. I follow him to the other room. And I am not amused with the sight.

Even the girls caught by bandits as playthings looked like they were having a Sunny Sunday when compared to these unfortunate souls. Among them I can see three distinct types: the ones who are scared and shiver like an autumn leaf, the ones with empty eyes of a dead fish without a single spark of life in them as if they gave up on everything and the bored ones - those looked like experienced hookers that somehow ended up in slavery. Most of them have clear signs of beating. Most marks look suspiciously the same shape and length as Wilkins' walking cane.

- Do you fancy any of them, good sir? Some of them are even virgins, I'm sure you'll love them! Of course there will be additional fee for that...

He giggles.

Oi, that's hardly sales pitch worthy you know?

I'm not going to save them. I'm not going to buy them out and make them a new life. I'm not Mother Teresa and I'm no charity. But I swear I'll later brake all of the shmuck's limbs when I find a free minute at night.

As I'm about to leave, my gaze falls onto a girl hunched in the corner by herself. She could've easily grew up into a raging beauty, fall in love and start a happy family, but no such luck. Although I personally don't mind her wounds one bit, I highly doubt there are many men around that have enough of a sack not to initially flinch after seeing a body broken to this extent. She's a shortie, her head would probably only reach to my chest at best if she stood up. Skin of chocolate color; sharp elongated ears turning slightly to the sides - definitely not a human's, but too short to be an elf's either; long, unkempt, messy hair somewhere between white and silver, was it natural or from the intense pain I'll never know; an entire web of scars and nasty burns can be seen everywhere, there are probably even more under that dirty robe-like tunic clearly too big in size for her; a huge vertical scar crosses her milky, lifeless left eye that will never see the light of day ever again. It is a sad sight, sure. But there's just one, one tiny little thing that chains my eyes to her, making me incapable of looking away.

A title. Despite not having anything going for her classes and skill -wise, this tiny little sliver of info firmly seizes my undivided attention. To make matters worse, it shines in pulsating golden color, as if mocking me. Measly five words that changed everything.

Name

Amelia

Race

Dark Elf / Dwarf

Age

16

Classes

Villager lvl.1

Titles

Demon King Kain's Right Hand

...what is the meaning of this?