Julian awoke to the smell of stale wood, wet fabric, and a slime resting on his face.
"Blobby," he mumbled, "we talked about this."
The slime slid off with a cheerful squish and flopped onto the pillow. Julian sat up, hair in full explosion mode, and stared at the wooden ceiling.
"Okay. New day. Prophecies. Possibly cursed ruins. Time to look like less of a disaster."
[Unlikely.]
Julian pulled on his gear—boots still caked with yesterday's slime, shirt with a mysterious burn mark on the sleeve—and realized, to his dismay, that he had nothing resembling a proper adventurer's outfit.
Lira knocked once and walked in before he could answer. "You look like a rejected scarecrow."
"Morning to you too."
"I'm taking you shopping."
"Do I get a choice?"
"No."
They left the tavern and headed toward the marketplace, where stalls overflowed with fabrics, weapons, roasted nuts, and far too many versions of "healing elixir" sold by suspiciously happy old ladies. Lira led him straight to a tent that looked more like a monster's nest—fur, feathers, leather straps, and cloaks hung from the rafters like oversized bats.
An old man with one eye and a face like a melted boot greeted them.
"You need armor or fashion?" he croaked.
Julian opened his mouth, but Lira answered first. "He needs something that makes him look less like a lost soup vendor."
"Right this way."
The merchant rummaged through a pile and pulled out a cloak. It shimmered faintly, black with silver edges, and stitched with a runic pattern that moved when Julian squinted at it.
"Ooooh," Julian said. "Shiny."
[Warning: Magical item. Unknown enchantment. Possibly sentient.]
"Wait, sentient?!"
Julian reached out anyway. The cloak reached back.
"Okay no no NOPE—"
It wrapped around his shoulders in one smooth motion, then tightened like a hug from an overenthusiastic octopus.
"Get it off!"
[Too late. It has accepted you.]
The merchant smiled. "That's the Cloak of Mild Defiance. It likes to argue."
The cloak whispered in Julian's mind: *You are unworthy.*
"Excuse me?!"
*Your posture is incorrect. Your stride is pitiful. Your aura is damp.*
Julian stood rigid. "I don't need sass from outerwear!"
Lira snorted. "It suits you."
Julian adjusted the collar. The cloak tightened slightly, as if to say *don't touch me*.
[Compatibility status: Combative. But manageable.]
Julian sighed. "Fine. You can stay. But I'm naming you Blanket."
*Unacceptable.*
"Then I'm keeping it."
The cloak hissed in disapproval.
They paid with three silver coins and left the market, Julian walking stiffly with the cloak fluttering behind him in aggressive patterns.
"Where to now?" he asked.
"We head out to the Sablepine region," Lira said. "The ruins from the tavern vision are about two days away, deep in the forest."
Blobby jiggled from Julian's pouch in agreement.
Julian groaned. "Great. Forests. The one place where every monster wants to eat you and every bush is secretly a trap."
[On the bright side, you have a cloak now. One that thinks you're trash.]
"Yay."
They reached the gates of Elmsmere, packed their gear, and began walking down the old forest road. The trees loomed taller the farther they went, and the sun flickered weakly through the leaves like it was nervous about being there.
Julian pulled the cloak tighter.
"Blanket," he whispered, "if you try to strangle me while I sleep, I swear—"
*Sleep with one eye open.*
He sighed.
"This is going to be a long trip."
[Good. You need the cardio.]