Hajin hit the southern road after sunrise, with Juna trailing several paces behind his left shoulder.
She wore his coat buttoned over the blanket, hiking the folds whenever they snagged.
The capital walls rose beyond the next hill, and workers bent over the fields beneath mounted overseers.
Hajin walked backward a few steps to face her, the Ring quiet under his cuff, "So, cities, ever been inside one, or do we start with everything you hate about them?"
"People, too many of them, and they always look at my ears before anything useful," Juna grumbled, ears flattening as she shied toward the verge from a rattling wagon.
"Some will stare, so wear the hood how you like, and I'll stare back twice as ugly," he said, pulling a hideous face.
She snorted and tugged the hood forward herself, then went still at an overseer resting a club across his saddle.
"Hunters carry that kind when they want someone alive, I remember what comes after they lift it." Her voice went flat and small, one hand clutching the coat as she jerked her chin toward the field.
'Shit, okay, no jokes about the club, not one, keep your mouth shut for once.'
"Look where he's parked," he said, shifting his pack to put himself between her and the field, "he hasn't moved off his work, and if he does, we'll see him long before that club introduces itself."
"Salt, once we've got coins, then rope and a pot, so the next fire stops borrowing every rock in sight." He patted the core at his belt with a too-bright smile, offering a smaller subject.
"Salt would help, you burned the outside of that meat before the middle finished," she said, her tail giving one grudging swish beneath the coat.
"Hey, you stole the cooked half and ran, my most experienced critic left before the second batch!"
"I came back, didn't I?" she smirked, chin in the air. "Somebody needed to tell you it was burnt."
The stream counter flickered beside his sight, stuffed with the morning's messages.
[ Stream | ON ]
[ Viewers | 12 ]
[ Comments | 53 ]
[ Viewer donation control | Enabled ]
[ Wallet | 30 Credits, starting funds retained ]
'Twelve watchers, donations enabled, zero donations, so they just enjoy watching me walk, very generous.'
[ ShadowMage44: animation quality is insane ]
[ DarkBlade: missed the opening, where does the plot begin? ]
[ CringeSlayer91: mountain arc over, city episode incoming ]
"Animation? Episode? You people talk like I'm a puppet show at a harvest fair."
'Puppet show with no off switch, unless, wait, is there actually a switch somewhere?'
He stepped aside for a cart and poked the panel until a new row unfolded.
[ Broadcast control | ON/OFF ]
[ OFF | Pauses Soul Energy and Fragment Recovery ]
"Oh, you beautiful little button, where were you all my life?" he breathed reverently.
He flicked it off, and the chat vanished, leaving the recovery marker frozen beside a silent feed.
The bond in his chest stayed warm and steady, so cutting off Earth left his link to Juna untouched.
"If you forgot where we're going, the walls are the tall things in front." She stopped at the verge with a flat stare at his idle hand, then pointed past him at the skyline.
He grinned at her and tapped the switch back on, "Testing something, and your directions beat any city guide, so consider yourself hired."
"Hired with what? You have no coins."
"Details, I'll pay you in bread."
[ Stream | ON, recovery resumed ]
[ CringeSlayer91: did it crash for everyone? ]
[ NewViewer_02: thought my internet died ]
'So privacy costs recovery, not permission, and a room with a door gets the same switch.'
He flipped through the shop as they walked, but every locked listing wanted relics or recovered fragments.
Salve and rations sat within reach, and he closed both, keeping all thirty credits for a real emergency.
'Sell what I already earned first, before the reserve turns into somebody's rent.'
The road widened under the southern gate, crowded with freight wagons, basket carriers, cloth rolls, and tools.
Guards poked through cargo while a flour wagon caught its axle in a rut and coughed powder over everyone nearby. The eastern checkpoints from yesterday's warning weren't posted at this entrance, but Hajin still kept the warning close in mind.
Juna buried both hands inside the coat, her gaze snagging on every club beneath the arch.
"Left side, stay close, and keep watching the carts." Hajin tipped his chin toward the pedestrian lane once the flour wagon lurched free.
"I know how to pass hunters," she muttered, sliding into the gap beside the baskets, "so stop shouting instructions at every stone."
"I wasn't shouting."
"Your face was shouting."
They slipped through behind two laborers hauling an empty basket while one guard questioned a merchant about his cargo.
[ ShadowMage44: walked in, no checkpoint boss fight ]
[ CringeSlayer91: let him buy food before another guy loses teeth ]
The noise of three streets swallowed the gate behind them, vendors bellowing over each other like rival roosters.
He recognized the turn toward the streets where he slept after his exile, a shopfront beside a familiar passage.
"Sleeping outside again, or does the blanket finally get somewhere without roots?"
He pointed down the turning without leading them into it, "A room if the sale covers it, one with a door, and clothes before somebody mistakes my coat for your permanent fashion."
"Your coat smells like you," she said, burying her nose in the collar anyway.
He froze mid-step and lifted his own sleeve to his nose, "...Is that bad?"
"Yes."
Bread drifted from a bakery past the onion carts, and Hajin turned to find Juna stopped behind him.
She stood frozen at the window, one ear lifting beneath the hood as if the loaves were calling her name.
"Bread, that one smells like honey, look how many they have," she whispered, fingertip stopping short of the glass.
'And here I am with one crystal, zero coins, and a wolf about to rob a bakery.'
He touched the closed pouch and nodded up the avenue, "Guild first, sell the core, then we come back with coins, I'm not haggling breakfast with a crystal."
"Sell it here, he can find a buyer later, and I eat the bread while he decides where to put it," she reasoned, practically fogging the glass.
"He buys flour, not monster parts," he said under his breath, keeping the pouch shut, "and flashing this here gets half the street pricing it."
"That's a very long way of saying no," she huffed, cheeks puffing out.
"It's a very smart way of saying no."
He took one step toward the guild avenue and waited for her, "Bread after the sale, honey if there's any left, I'll remember this door, I swear on my mother's pendant."
"If you forget, I'll remember somewhere you can't ignore, that hand looks convenient." She tore herself from the window with a sulky pout and jabbed a finger at the hand on his pouch.
Hajin waggled the threatened fingers over a passing basket, "Fair collateral, but I need it for counting first, so collect after we've paid."
In artisan streets, an armed mercenary brushed too near, and she sidestepped without grabbing Hajin, claws ready beneath the coat.
The guild's doors stood beneath carved hunting scenes, with adventurers lounging on the steps and drinking beside pillars.
Juna stopped at the first step and sniffed under the hood, "Beer, sweat, and old blood, and suddenly those ovens feel very far away."
"Keep your space, and I'll ask the price before anyone decides we already agreed." He nodded at the intake counter inside and stepped up beside her.
"And if they decide anyway?"
"Then I ask again, much louder, and you hold my coat."
"It's my coat now," she shot back, hugging it tighter.
She pulled her hands from the pockets and fixed her hood, and one claw flashed against the canvas before vanishing.
'She's ready to fight, and nothing in the bond says that's my call to make.'
He shoved the door open and stepped through, core tight against his belt, as the hall's noise hit them.