Nearly two months had passed since Elena and I had arrived at the desert town of Cutlass.
We’d reached an ambiguous noninterference agreement with the Munza gang’s beastmen—to the extent possible, at least; hot-blooded low-ranking members still stirred up trouble sometimes. In such cases, the Munza would dispose of the bodies free of charge.
Through our agreement with them, the high-grade potions we made would be sold directly to the Hogroth. While that had established funding prospects for us, it had cost us our chance to travel to the Kal’Faan empire with the Kiluri caravans, as we’d inadvertently drawn their ire.
I walked alone down Cutlass’s main street. All around me, under the blazing sun, dark-skinned Krus, tanned dwarves, and beastmen all worked busily.
This didn’t mean they were energetic. In this desert town, food was expensive, and the only way to obtain it more cheaply was to join a faction. But joining meant paying protection fees, thus resulting in the food being expensive anyway. The struggle to make enough money to survive was desperate.
Despite the town looking like little more than a slum, it was rare for the poor and the street children to pickpocket or steal. Getting caught meant getting killed, and anyone driven to desperation by hunger would resort to more violent methods instead. Living here required power, and with power, there was no need to steal. One could simply take what one wanted from the weak.
The town looked to be the same as always, but I was certain there was a faint tension in the air.
My leather boots squeaked against the stone floor as I arrived at my destination. I removed my hood, revealing my face. Murmurs rose from the adventurers at the Hogroth-run guild, then quieted like a receding wave.
In the tense silence, a group of beastmen who were likely aware of my arrangement with the Munza showed a mix of hostility and, more importantly, apprehension as they averted their gazes. Krus adventurers who weren’t familiar with the situation eyed both me and the beastmen with suspicion, but sensing the strange atmosphere, they fell silent as well.
As for the largest force among adventurers in this land, the dwarves...
“State your business, Mercenian,” said the young dwarf blocking my path to the back. He was about my height but probably weighed three times as much as I did.
“Potions,” I said. “I have an appointment. Feel free to check.”
“Didn’t hear anything about that,” he said. “You don’t get free rein here, pasty woman.”
His fist, sheathed in a beetle-shell gauntlet, suddenly roared toward me. He had a combat power of around 400, so somewhere between middle to upper Rank 3. I wasn’t sure whether he was testing my strength or just didn’t like me, but that had been a serious punch, and he’d thrown it without warning, so I figured he could probably read my ability to some degree.
Just by looking at his thick arms, I could tell he had higher muscle strength than I did, even with my Boost at full power. He was skilled. Smart enough not to underestimate female opponents. But that was all.
“Guh!”
I dodged his fist and countered with a palm strike to the underside of his jaw, beneath his short-trimmed black beard, making him reel backward. Though my glove was fitted with magic iron plates, I still couldn’t break his sturdy bones. He spat out blood but grinned and raised his fist again.
Not that I had any intention of standing there waiting for a low-agility dwarf to attack me again.
I wrapped both arms around his and leaned back, pulled his arm forward, then drove my knee with full force into his elbow joint, which yielded with a loud crack.
“Ngaaah!”
The man, his arm now bent backward, writhed on the ground, clutching his arm in agony. Seeing this, the surrounding dwarves, who had been content to observe, rose up angrily.
“What’s going on here?” came a booming voice, echoing through the guild and shaking the angry dwarves.
It was Jilgan—a Rank 4 dwarven heavy fighter and Hogroth authority. His thundering footsteps made not only his fellow dwarves but all the surrounding adventurers grow pale. He approached, looked at me, then down at the man with the broken arm. The younger dwarf began to sweat profusely, though I wasn’t sure whether it was from the pain or fear.
“W-Wait, Mr. Jilgan, sir! This woman—”
“I told you to call for me when the pink-haired woman came.”
“N-No, I was just—”
“I have no need for fools in my ranks.”
Jilgan placed a foot on the fallen man’s knee and pressed down, crushing it with a loud snap. The man’s screams were the only sound in the otherwise silent guild hall. Jilgan didn’t even spare him a glance before turning to me, then gesturing toward the back with his chin.
“I’ve been informed of what’s happening, ‘Rose.’ Follow me.”
“All right.”
That dwarf’s adventuring days were probably over, I figured. Jilgan’s expression remained stoic despite the fact he’d just destroyed the livelihood of one of his own. I followed him to the back of the guild, walking silently behind him. We climbed stone stairs and proceeded down a dimly lit corridor until we reached a wooden door—a rarity in this town.
“Guildmaster, she’s here,” Jilgan announced.
“Come in,” said a voice from beyond the door.
Jilgan opened it and went inside. I followed him to find a female dwarf waiting there, sitting on a leather couch. He moved behind her and stood with arms crossed. She smiled at me, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
“So you’re the famous Rose. Come now. Sit.”
Kushum, the Munza elder, had figured out that I was Cinders. But the surviving beastmen had apparently begun to refer to me as the “Desert Rose” instead. Perhaps my infamy as Cinders was a problem in itself. I’d thought nobody would care, given everything had happened in another country, but as a high-ranking assassin who’d made enemies of those whom others wouldn’t normally cross and had lived to tell the tale, I was a thorn in everyone’s side.
For the time being, it was worse for them to be hostile to me, so the Munza and the Hogroth had decided to stay out of my business. Still, either of them could turn on me at any moment.
The female dwarf sized me up, an intimidating aura about her. I ignored it and sat directly across from her, meeting her gaze. She snorted.
“I’m Jaysha. Jaysha Hogroth. Old man Kushum told me all about you.”
“I’m Alia. I hear you’re open to doing business.”
“That I am. But is this whole story about high-grade potions true?”
“Yes.”
I pulled one such potion from Shadow Storage, pretending to retrieve it from my bag, and placed it on the table between us. Jaysha leaned forward to examine it.
Jaysha Hogroth... Perhaps a daughter or relative of the leader of the faction? She had a wild bright-red mane and a large build. Usually, dwarf women were small, looking at most like sturdy human girls. Since dwarf men grew thick beards, supposedly to hide their youthful features, it was probably a racial trait.
But unlike typical female dwarves, who were only as tall as a short human woman, Jaysha was about my height—and I was slightly taller than average. She was nearly twice as wide as me, however, resembling a veteran warrior built like a wall of muscle.
“Try it, old man,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jilgan casually stabbed a dagger into the back of his hand, then took the potion from the table and poured it on the wound, not even bothering to consider the possibility that it might have been poison.
“Well?” Jaysha asked.
“Good quality. Nothing like the deteriorated crap the Kiluri sell us. I’d even say the base quality is superior.”
Jilgan wiped away the blood and showed her the stab wound. It had almost completely disappeared.
Jaysha nodded, satisfied. “Good. This destroys one of the Kiluri’s advantages. So, Alia, how many did you bring? How many can you make on a monthly basis?”
Maybe she was in a good mood, since she’d suddenly switched to addressing me by name. I arranged more potions on the table, my expression neutral.
“I have fifteen, and I can make fifty per month,” I said.
“Not a lot. But, considering these are just for our own use, not for selling, that won’t be a problem. Hey, old man? Pay her well, yeah?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jilgan took a leather pouch out of his pocket, put several gold coins in it, and tossed it to me. The money inside was of Kal’Faan mint and about twenty percent more than what the Kiluri would’ve paid.
The ongoing conflict with other factions wasn’t the only reason the Adventurers’ Guild wanted to secure high-quality potions. In the deepest parts of the ruins of Reisveil were dangerous monsters, including Rank 6 lesser earth dragons. If one of those were to emerge, they’d want to have at least a hundred potions as a contingency.
“Looks good,” I said.
As I made to leave, Jaysha casually called me back. “Hey, now, leaving already? It’s not every day two beauties like us get to hang out. Why not stay for some girl talk over fire wine?”
“That’s a funny joke.”
Jaysha made a face at Jilgan behind her, only to see him with his eyes closed as though he were meditating. She put a hand to her face and looked up, exasperated.