Mug guided me through the city of Advalence with the kind of expertise that only came from years of experience. It made sense; he had spent years acting as Edvald’s live-in retainer, so he had probably been all over with his former master. He was happily telling me interesting facts about the city with the same vibe as an overly upbeat tour guide.

  “Here is where the first King Adval struck down the dark elven ruler Jillati with his mighty sword! Ten feet over, right under that fruit stand, is where the head landed! Oh, and if you look to your left, you’ll see the original stockade used to torture the head of the Peasant Uprising! It’s actually very comfy as far as stockades go!” I would have to take his word for it.

  Eventually we found ourselves in front of what looked like a giant circus tent. It was striped in blue and yellow and shabby, and the front entrance had a crude orange cat effigy stitched onto it. It wasn’t all that large. Merri’s office over at the mines had been bigger. I couldn’t help but feel a little confused. Was this really the best place for magic items in the city? Had the princess tossed me to the lowest quality magic shop in town?

  Well, I guess it was a start. Mug held open the tent flap and I walked inside, immediately realizing that when magic was involved, the rules could get a bit… loose.

  It was gigantic. Seriously, there were rows and rows of shelving that seemed to stretch for infinity, or at least a few football fields. The shelving went well over fifty feet up, and every inch was crammed with tomes, grimoires, scrolls, and various glowing, humming, or in some cases walking items.

  There were patrons of all shapes and sizes as well. Humans, orcs, trolls, wolfmen, kobolds, and species I hadn’t even seen before were all quietly perusing the vast storage space. Each individual had one thing in common: the look of someone who preferred books and scrolls to living, breathing people. Wide, floppy-brimmed hats seemed to be the rule rather than the exception.

  Near the front there was a large area filled with couches and tables, and more ‘traditional’ warrior and adventurer types lounged and ate fresh pastries there. They were probably waiting on their nerdier party members to show their faces with some rare tome or enchanted spoon or something like that. It was like the boutiques at the malls that had spaces for husbands to wait for their wives.

  Mug ushered me over to a lone desk manned by a tall, elegant elf woman in pristine white robes. Her hair was tied into a severe bun, and her small glasses were barely staying in place on her pointed nose. She gazed at me expectantly. There was a nameplate hovering just over her station with the word ‘CONCIERGE’ glowing in neat, silvery script.

  ‘Er, Mug. Forgive me for being ignorant, but this is my first time in a place like this. What’s the etiquette here? Do I tip first? Should I give her an earring, or would a note be fine? Or would that be rude?’ Before Mug could answer, she tapped her delicate fingers on the desk to get my attention.

  “Indeed, it would be rude as I can hear you quite well. Welcome to the Wandering Waystation, this realm’s foremost shop of magical artifacts, scrolls, spells, curios, trinkets, and curses. Since it is your first time, would you be needing any assistance today?” Another person who could hear me quite well despite my lack of voice. I had to remember to be careful with what I said about other people, even if most didn’t know I was talking.

  ‘I think that help would be appreciated, yes. Only, I don’t really know what I’m looking for? I came here looking for, you know, battle spells. Like fireball or lightning strike or things like that. Can you tell me where those would be? And how much do they cost?’ Her lip curled slightly when I asked about price; I guess it was considered tacky to mention money.

  “Of course. Battle spells will be on aisles 234 through 278. Elemental abjuration is mostly on 256. Prices vary, of course, but for a standard fireball memorization scroll, the cost starts at roughly 147 gold. Will you be needing a guide?” 147 gold? That was almost three times what I had right now! Vivi had given me chump change, not a windfall!

  ‘Ah, yes, that’s all well and good then. 147 gold, yes, that sounds about right. Unrelated, but do you happen to have a, how do you say, discount section? Like, spells for 50 gold and under? I’m going to a white elephant party for mages, and I don’t wanna be the one to break budget. I’m sure you understand.’ Her look of disgust told me she did in fact understand.

  “Of course, sir. In that case, I would direct your attention to aisle 33, just down past the Animated Armor display. I believe you will find objects there more in your budget.” Her voice was as flat as her expression.

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  “A warning though, sir: all items there are strictly as-is. We have a no-return policy on all items here, but especially on our discount items. We advise you to not touch, rub, smell, or eat anything in the discount section unless you are sure you want to buy it. Any curses acquired fall under the customer’s liability, and any extra appendages grown or appendages lost are not factored into any pricing. If that is understood, then you are free to attend to your own business. Good luck finding a… suitable present. Oh, and we clocked your Devour spell the moment you entered, so don’t even think about trying that with any merchandise.” With that thinly veiled threat, she shifted her focus back onto the entranceway, treating me and Mug as if we didn’t exist, which was fine by me.

  Mug led again, and I couldn’t help but gawk at the sheer number of magical items. A tiny, animated doll of a sheep, yelling curses at the empty air… a sword bolted to its display, a single eye on the pommel watching ominously… a book just labeled ‘WOLVES’ that seemed to be faintly howling… there was so much everywhere I looked that it made my head spin. I knew that I was in a world of magic, but this was the first time I had seen so much of it up close. It was humbling—no wonder a walking trashcan didn’t really turn heads. Just on our trip to aisle 33, I saw at least seven separate animated cauldrons mixing unknown stews inside themselves. Two of them had even been singing.

  Aisle 33 was shabbier than the rest of the displays, and a lot more haphazard. Every other aisle had items clearly labeled with prices in front, even on the items that walked. Here, it was just a jumble of items thrown onto shelves. Many of the shelves had burn marks and holes in them, which was slightly foreboding. I began to search; I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I’m sure I would know it when I saw it.

  “Excuse me, Master Lugenhelm, but is it perhaps alright if I were to wait at the Mundane Lounge? They do a really good muffin that I want to get. Master Edva—, that is, Little Ed, who is a weenie, used to let me have one as a treat when we came here, if I could touch five cursed items without expiring.” Another tragic look into Mug’s backstory. I spat out five gold from my storage into his hands and let him go. I’m sure that I had given him four and a half gold too much for a muffin and some tea, but he deserved it. Honestly, based on everything we had been through, I was probably underpaying.

  I don’t know how long I was browsing through the shelves on 33. It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours. There were so many magical items, and all seemed so interesting! Even though most were broken and seemed liable to malfunction and explode at any second.

  Eventually, though, something caught my eye. A tiny book with a cover made from thin stone. The cover read ‘GOLEMS FOR REAL DUMB GUYS by BROCK M. STOME’ and had an illustration of a crude being made of rocks sweeping. The price tag on the back said 30 gold, and after prodding it gently a few times to make sure it was stable, I used my Lesser Telekinesis to grab it. It wasn’t quite Fireball, but making automatons seemed like a good investment.

  I turned to leave when another item caught my attention. It was a small glass cube housing what looked like a piece of human anatomy. Based on the price tag, probably a larynx.

  ‘LARYNX OF LINGUIST—BROKEN—ONLY CONVERTS COMMON INTO COMMON—15 GOLD—MADE WITH REAL LARYNX’

  That was just what I needed. I didn’t mind communicating via note or Earring of Messaging, but sometimes I needed to address more than one person at a time. Even if it was broken, I might be able to Alchemically Recycle and use that to have an actual voice. I had never really been a talkative guy, preferring to spend my time staring at screens, but the lack of normal human interaction had changed me. I grabbed it as well with Telekinesis and walked back to the front desk.

  Mug was sitting on a couch right next to a troll woman roughly three times his size, blushing intensely and staring at his feet as she talked to the minotaur lady across from her. If this kept up, I was going to have to have the birds and the bees talk with my squire within a month. Well, maybe a week, depending on how much time he spent with Aranya. I approached the concierge elf and placed both items in front of her.

  “Very well, sir. One ‘Golems for Real Dumb Guys,’ slightly used, and one ‘Larynx of Linguist’ in poor condition. 45 gold, but if you sign up for our rewards program you can get ten percent off of your purchase today.” I asked her what the rewards program did.

  “Tomes and grimoires are five percent off, enchanted swords ten, and if you buy four non-cursed items full price, we’ll give you one cursed item of equal value half off.” I might be here often in the future, so I opted in for yes. She produced what looked like a disembodied gnome’s head from her desk, then pointed it at me. After a few seconds, the head actually said “Click,” and a small black card slid out of its mouth with a picture of me on a blue background. She handed me the card and my two items in a small burlap sack, which I deposited inside of myself.

  “Thank you for your patronage. Remember, if you can’t find it at the Wandering Waystation, then it doesn’t exist. Enjoy your day.” I called to Mug to let him know we were leaving, and he shot me a dirty look before slowly removing himself from the troll woman’s couch. An ogre woman had joined the conversation while I was talking to the concierge, much to Mug’s enjoyment.

  We exited the Wandering Waystation back onto the busy streets of Advalence. All in all, it had been a pretty good day for me. Got some coin, got some magic items, made a friend—I was feeling like my luck was turning around.

  It wasn’t, but it would take me a while to realize that.