Huff. Huff.
Ren halted, panting and trying to catch his breath. The convoy was nowhere in sight. He had successfully lost them, thanks to the idiotic driver who couldn't just play along.
Ren cussed once again and kicked the hard concrete, calling more attention to him. It was then he realized people's eyes had been on him all the while. It wasn't every day you saw a young man in a drenched trader's outfit with a black flame tattoo on his forehead.
"Great. Now everyone knows I have a mark on my forehead," he said in a low tone as he threw his hood over his head.
He walked down the street, not knowing where it led or having any destination in mind.
"I'll just wander around here till I can figure out this place."
About six blocks down and more than thirty minutes, Ren began regretting his choice.
It is said "when one door closes, another opens" and literally another door opened beside him. It was the door of a place called Hardyfacts.
"What kind of name is this?"
He grimaced at the sign as if the very sight of it irked his soul.
"Wonder what they do in there? Probably a small broadcast center," he said to himself as he approached it.
Broadcast centers were local media houses established by the Imperium all around the Outlier Region. That was where everyone got news from and could buy their daily papers from.
"I could find information about this ZeCO and the A-Ranked citizens. They could be a particular place I can find them."
He pushed the door open and walked in. He frowned as he looked around.
"Is this what broadcast centers look like?" he said, disappointed at what he saw.
Sculptures made out of copper and bronze, busts of men who had headed the Imperium across different generations with their names crafted on them, oddly looking skulls (probably those of slain Binged), lanterns with designs that were no longer in use.
There were also old weapons, shards of a black metallic material, a small chunk of particle ore enclosed in a transparent case, pendants, totems, masks and paintings.
"What is this place?"
He turned to leave, but someone stepped in front of him.
"Howdy!" The fat, almost bald man leaned forward with a grin. "You can't come in hard and leave soft."
"What?" Ren frowned.
"Welcome to Hardyfacts. A world of the best artifacts you'll ever find in town. If you're buying, we got the best discounts. If ya selling, we give the best rates. Just say the word," the man said, leading him all the way to the counter as he spoke.
He stepped behind the counter. Ren stared at the man. The man stared back. He held his grin wide, while his eyes measured Ren.
Up close, the shopkeeper was worse than Ren first thought. He had thick neck, suspenders stretched tight over his pot belly, his sleeves rolled up to reveal arms dusted with old burn scars and inked runes. He smelled faintly of perfumed oil and something that smelled like old paper left too close to fire.
"You deaf?" the man asked cheerfully. "Or just stunned by quality?"
"I thought this was a broadcast center," Ren muttered it out.
The man's grin twitched.
"…A what?"
"A broadcast—"
"Oh Abyss take me," the man slapped a hand on the counter. "You walk into Hardyfacts—Hardy-facts, mind you—and you think I sell newsprint?"
Ren shifted uncomfortably and bit his lower lips, already regretting his actions and words.
The man leaned closer, eyes narrowing on him.
"Look around. Do I look like I peddle lies for the Imperium?"
Ren hesitated, "You kind of look like you'd yell at someone for burning bread," he said, gripping the arm of his bag tight.
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up.
"Finally. Someone with sense," the man said in a sarcastic tone.
He straightened and spread his arms wide.
"Name's Hardy Manor. I deal in things older than your bloodline and more honest than any noble oath. Now," he jabbed a finger toward Ren's chest. "you buying, or are you wasting my air?"
"I'm not buying," Ren said quickly.
Hardy inhaled slowly and exhaled slower.
"Then you're selling."
"No."
Hardy's smile vanished.
"What?"
"I'm not selling either."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time."
The silence that followed was heavy enough to bend metal as they both stood there staring at each other.
Hardy leaned over the counter, face inches from Ren's.
"So, let me get this straight," he said softly. "You barge into my shop dripping water, wearing a merchant's cloak, marked like a half-baked moron with stinking boots, and you just want to browse?"
Ren bristled. "I didn't say—"
"OUT."
Hardy pointed violently at the door.
"Out. Before I decide to make you an artifact."
Ren flinched, but he didn't move. His fingers brushed the satchel at his side.
Asaph's bag.
The image came back uninvited as his hands gripped the bag. The image of the things he saw in the bag. There were coins stacked beside things that weren't meant to be spent. Things Asaph had collected, catalogued, guarded with his life.
Hardy noticed the pause. His eyes dropped to the satchel.
"Oh," he said, his voice changing, "You are selling."
Ren swallowed. He hadn't thought about that yet.
'I don't want to sell this but I need new clothes and a shoe.'
"Hello, Frozen?"
"Yes, I want to sell."
Hardy barked a laugh. "Congratulations. You've come to the most overpriced place in Zenith."
Ren reached into the satchel slowly and carefully, like he was asking permission from someone who wasn't there. He hesitated with the satchel half-open. Hardy watched him like a butcher watching a hand hover too close to a blade.
"Well?" Hardy said. "Either show me what you dragged in from the sea, or take your wet self and get out."
Ren reached inside inside the satchel. His fingers brushed cold metal, smooth stone, a wrapped cloth and some coins jingled as he searched through.
He pulled the wrapped cloth out. Hardy watched as he unwrapped it. His grin disappeared when Ren was done.
Ren placed the small object on the counter with a dull tap. It was no bigger than Ren's palm. A scarab-shaped amulet, cracked down the center, its surface dulled by age. The wings of the scarab were folded tight to its body, like it had decided flight was no longer worth the effort.
Hardy froze just for a heartbeat, then he laughed again.
"Oh no," he said, shaking his head. "Oh no, no, no. You didn't."
Ren was confused.
"Where did you get that?"
"From a friend. What is it worth?"
He reached out, pinched the amulet between two fingers, flipped it once, then tossed it back onto the counter like it had offended him personally.
"That," he said, pointing at it, "is Khepri trash."
Ren blinked. "Khepri? Trash? What is a Khepri?"
"He is a rebirth god that controls dawn cycles with scarabs and all that nonsense," Hardy snorted.
"You know who buys this?" he pointed at the scarab again, "Historians with too much grant money and temples that haven't heard a prayer since before the Imperium came into the picture."
Ren picked it up again, frowning.
"But it's old and feels heavy. It should be worth something."
Hardy exhaled through his nose and looked away for a moment, like he was choosing which version of speech to deliver to Ren.
"It feels heavy because it is made of metal. This thing doesn't glow, it doesn't unlock anything, and it sure as hell doesn't wake gods. So it's useless, son. Khepri is a closed cycle."
Hardy studied the item for a moment and clicked his tongue.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll buy this because of the material. It is still quality, at least."
"How much?"
"Five crowns. That's a good rate."
"That can't even buy me a shoe."
"Yes, and you badly need one if you don't want people dropping dead around you. So give me something good out of that bag."
Ren sighed and glanced back into the satchel, fingers brushing through the other items. He finally made a decision and picked an emerald ring.
Before he could pull it out, the bell above the door rang.
Hardy looked up and swore softly. Ren turned to see the customers he wasn't happy to see. They were three men in gray coats with a black insignia, guns in their hands. The air in the store changed.
"Hey, you there," one of them pointed at Ren when he turned.
"Put your hands where I can see them."
Ren froze, his heart pounding fast, as his hands slowly went up.
"By authority of Zenith City Overwatch, and the Imperium, you are under arrest."
Hardy backed away slowly.
"Wow. You didn't tell me you were that kind of customer."