The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The two strangers wound a lengthy path through the foggy streets of the town, the rain growing steadily heavier all the while. Coin had hopped onto the roof of one of the squat buildings as he followed, clinging to the chimneys and spires for coverage.

Eventually their pacing brought them to the eastern edge of town, a region dominated by an assortment of rundown structures. Coin halted on his perch, watching the two venture into the crumbling husk of an abandoned building.

Coin waited for several moments, debating whether or not to go further in pursuing the two. It was entirely possible he was wasting his time, driven by his own paranoia. But one group of criminals had already gone after him, and it was entirely possible there were more of them out there.

Just a little more, he told himself. Just to put his mind ease.

He drew biomass toward his legs, his muscles growing larger and more defined. A harsh leap flung him from his perch, crossing the gap between the streets. He landed atop the scorched ruin of a windowsill across the street, flakes of ash crumbling under his heels and floating away.

The interior of the building was just as much of a ruin as the exterior. Fire had gnawed and blackened every wooden surface, while the stone walls were rife with mildew and moss. A general scent of decay hung in the air.

Coin crept forward in silence, passing the abandoned room and reaching the crest of the stairs. He peered down, the crumbling, collapsing walls giving him a clear view of a large cellar door being watched over by a burly man in a flowing blue coat. He perked up as the two men from the alehouse approached.

"Coris. Andrele," he said, glancing to the man in green, then to the burlier man.

"Bernard," Coris replied, nodding. "The sword rises in the east."

"And is sheathed in the west," Bernard replied. He paced away from the door and wrenched it over. The metal was thick, sturdy, and clearly newer than the rest of the ruined building. "Go on through. Big things tonight."

"I'd imagine so. Goodness, it's about time we got to see something impressive for how long this project has been talked up," Coris said, his voice a hoarse growl. Bernard stood by as the two men stepped down into the cellar and then closed the way behind him.

A tiny curious hum rose in Coin's throat. It seemed, at a glance, that these men were no threat to his group. As strange as all this was, it really wasn't any of his business. But, on the other hand, now he was curious. Whatever was going in down there, he wanted to see.

But how best to do so? He probably could just brute force his way through, of course, but with how secretive everything was Coin was certain that would put an abrupt end to the meeting, He pondered the words the two men had exchanged. Some kind of password? Maybe. But it seemed unlikely even that would grant entrance to a total stranger.

What if he didn't look like a stranger? Certainly, Coin could change his face to mimic that of any human. If he had a better idea of who else came by here, he could have a way in...

As the thought crossed his mind, another man stomped in from the rain, grunting as he shook the moisture from his oiled coat. "Damnation," he barked as he trod toward Bernard. "Bloody wet night. Go figure."

"Usually happens whenever these meetings are going on," Bernard said, lazily shrugging his broad shoulders.

"Hear it's a big one tonight," the strange said, removing his cap and wringing some of the moisture from it. "Saw the wagon coming in earlier today."

"Ay, well, if you're here, Toller," Bernard wrenched the trapdoor open again, and held it open until Toller gripped the metal. "Means you're my relief. So I get to see what all the fuss is about."

"Yeah, it's exciting and all, but..." He screwed his face in disgust. "Bein' down there in the dark, with all them... critters. Gives me the creeps."

Bernard shrugged and slowly made his way down the stairs. A faint light embraced him in the darkness. "Ain't so bad when you get used to the smell," he called back.

Coin stroked his chin as the trap door was closed. Now he was even more curious. And it wasn't as if he was in any hurry to get back to the inn.

Bernard may have seen Coris, but... Toller hadn't. Coin grinned and paced toward a puddle that was steadily forming in the floor, rainwater rushing from the gaps in the ceiling above. His reflection was dark and murky, but he was still able to see clearly enough to sculpt his face.

Thank goodness he had spent so long staring at Coris in the alehouse. It gave him a solid frame of reference for how he needed to look. A protruding nose, a faded scar on the right side of his forehead, a complexion paler than Coin's normal tone, a chin coated by a ragged scruff of dark hair.

Coin clambered down the front of the building, to the street below shrouded in fog. He ventured deeper into the building, pausing only briefly when Toller looked his way. "Oh, Coris," he greeted, inclining his fat head toward the mimic.

"The sword rises in the east," Coin called, straining his voice to render it harsher, closer to Coris' pitch. Manipulating his vocal chords for precision was much more taxing that just changing his face.

"And is sheathed in the west," Toller replied. He sniffed loudly. "Woulda' thought you'd be here before now. You're usually the punctual sort."

"I got held up on business," Coin grunted, rubbing his neck as he spoke.

"Aye? Another contract?" Toller chuckled and moved to open the trap door. "Feel bad for whatever bastard you had on the end of your knife. Shake a leg, you don't want to miss whatever this is."

"Aye. I really don't," Coin admitted, venturing into the darkness of the cellar. He lingered until the trap door was closed behind him, leaving him barely illuminated in the glow of a nearby lantern.

It was, at a glance, an unremarkable underground chamber, the walls dusty and speckled with cobwebs. But any illusion of normalcy was shattered by the broken wall at the far end of the room, revealing a darkened tunnel that led deeper into the earth. He couldn't see any other people further beyond in the gloom, but he could take in the scent of sweat and ash.

"Now what to do?" Coin murmured under his breath. Maintaining this disguise wouldn't be worth much if he passed by anyone who had seen Coris passing by previously. Or, worse, if he accidentally stumbled onto Coris himself while wearing his face, Yes, something like that was bound to raise concerns, humans didn't like bumping into doppelgangers. And wearing the face of a total stranger, who nobody recognised, would get people asking... questions.

Still, for a mimic, there was no harm in going back to basics.

In an instant his flesh began to bubble and morph. like dripping candlewax, before moving about in a whirlwind of pale biomass. The shifting sludge encompassed his clothing, fleshy tendrils swiftly and neatly folding his garments into a stack. The flesh closed around the bundled clothing, outer skin changing and warping until it adopted a texture and colour like varnished wood.

For the first time in... quite some time, Coin was a walking treasure chest again. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. There was a comforting familiarity to it, a warmth that soothed the worries in his nerves. But, on the other hand, part of him feared that he'd go back to being a brainless monster if he stayed in this form for too long, drawn in by the comforting fog of nostalgia.

An irrational fear, perhaps. But irrationality was a luxury beloved by intelligent species' across the multiverse.

He clambered about on elongated limbs, venturing into the inviting darkness of the tunnel. His eyes and ears, keenly tuned from a lifetime spent living in a ruin, would alert him to any people and give him ample time to assume a hiding spot.

The dirt-lined tunnel wound deeper into the ground, with wooden support struts erected at set points throughout to provide stability. Whatever this place was it had clearly been hidden under the town for some time. A tunnel so long, with branching rooms and pathways, could hardly be erected in a short span of time.

And certainly not unnoticed, unless the builders were cautious and skilled in their work.

Occasionally, when he sensed someone approaching from somewhere ahead, he would scuttle into cover among the many stacks of containers and crates dotted about the tunnel. And they would pass by, none the wiser of his presence once he tucked his limbs under his base.

That comfortable feeling of familiarity only grew stronger. Coin liked being a human, of course, but there was such a thrill to following his old instincts.

But, eventually, his roaming brought him to what seemed to be the heart of the underground structure. A great cavern, illuminated by a myriad of lanterns and torches placed strategically around the chamber. A wooden stage was erected on the far side, a maroon curtain obscuring the backstage.

Coin, wreathed in shadow, clambered atop a series of crates as a makeshift perch. From his vantage point he could a crowd gathered before the stage. Many of them were humans, a few elves and gnomes were scattered among the crowd.

But the majority of the audience consisted of goblins.