The Shopkeeper's Tale

Cliff sat at his desk, the weight of the quill in his hand heavy. His letters to the beastmasters were carefully drafted. He scribbled each word quickly, as though his mentors might catch wind of his intentions. He half-expected his old professors to storm into the shop, snatch the letters, and drag him back to the university to face the dean. The absurdity of the thought almost made him laugh, but he couldn’t shake the anxiety gnawing at him. After all, opposing the guilds could have far-reaching consequences.

Once the letters were done, he set them aside and turned to his shelves, methodically rearranging his stock of potions and equipment. It did nothing to make him less uneasy. Looking at each bottle, each vial felt like he was among those responsible for the murder of poor magical creatures. Cliff shook his head. The only thing he can do now is to promise that he would not be complicit in the cruelty that lined the pockets of others.

That evening, the shop grew quiet as the last few customers trickled out, leaving only the gentle flicker of lantern light against the walls. Cliff leaned on the counter, staring at the empty store. The scent of herbs drifted around him. The faint warmth of the lamps grounded him, soothing the edges of his restless mind.

He didn’t know how to reach the beastmasters yet. Their whereabouts were elusive, and they kept to the forests with their strong magics, avoiding the guilds and their influence. But Cliff was determined to find them. The doubts still lingered at the edges of his thoughts, but they didn’t weigh him down as much anymore. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was moving toward something that mattered.

As the night deepened, Cliff finally pulled on his coat, prepared to lock up for the night. Outside, the snow-covered streets of Reuben’s Rise were quiet, a thin fog creeping along the cobblestones. He stepped into the cold air, feeling the sharp bite of winter on his face, but inside, there was a warmth of newfound resolve.

Tomorrow, he would start searching. If the beastmasters were out there, he would find a way to reach them.

___

Dawnclaws appeared on Cliff’s doorstep just as the last sliver of sun slipped behind Mount Reuben, casting long shadows across the quiet street. Cliff barely noticed the shadow that passed over his window as he was busy polishing bottles and taking inventory. When the light dimmed for just a moment, he glanced up, confused. He hadn’t expected any deliveries today.

Setting the rag aside, he headed for the door, surprised to find Dawnclaws already standing there before she even knocked. Her golden eyes gleamed warmly, and she gave him a cheerful smile. “Special delivery, shopkeeper.”

Cliff blinked at her, puzzled. She extended one wing, revealing a small package hooked securely onto her feathers. “I wasn’t expecting anything today,” he said, accepting the parcel and quickly signing the form.

"From Neil," she added with a knowing chuckle. Cliff's confusion deepened, and he flipped the package over, noting Neil’s familiar handwriting. “He’s almost at the mist-portal. Sent for me using our delivery service. When I saw it was headed to ‘Cliff in Reuben’s Rise,’ I flew here myself.” Her grin widened. “Your friend’s quite something. Strong and capable. There’s a letter for you in there too.”

"Adventurers can send packages?" Cliff asked, bemused.

Dawnclaws nodded. “When they’re still above ground, yes. Once they’re deep in the dungeons, the magic gets too unstable. I caught up with them before they headed into the Veil—Neil was setting up camp for the night. Only the important stuff gets sent.”

She waited patiently as Cliff unwrapped the package. Inside was a polished stone, its surface gleaming like a mirror, with a clear gemstone embedded in the center. Beside it, a tiny bottle of red liquid rested snugly in the wrapping. Cliff noticed a small folded parchment tucked inside, its edges slightly worn from the journey.

He unfolded the note, recognizing Neil’s familiar handwriting.

“Pour the red liquid on the gemstone, Cliff. Then imagine my face and say my name.”

Dawnclaws watched him with a knowing look, as if she already knew what was inside. Cliff hesitated, glancing up at her. “What is it?” he asked, curiosity sparking in his voice.

She shook her head and smiled. “You’ll see.”

Cliff shrugged and followed the instructions, carefully pouring the red liquid onto the gemstone. He imagined Neil in his mind; his dark brown, wispy hair, his carefree smile, his lean build marked with training scars. Cliff softly spoke his name.

The gemstone shimmered, and Cliff inhaled sharply as it began to glow. Light rippled across its surface, like sunlight flickering off a pool of water. Shapes formed, shadows at first, then warm orange glows from torchlight. Slowly, Neil appeared, sitting by a campfire, laughing with his party. Cliff was looking up at him from an unusual angle, below at his chin.

“Neil?” Cliff whispered.

Neil froze and glanced down, his eyes locking with Cliff’s. A wide grin spread across Neil's face as he nudged his friends, showing them the stone. The archer and cleric beside him waved, their faces illuminated by the firelight. “It worked!” Neil exclaimed, leaping to his feet and rushing toward his tent, waving at his companions as he went back to his tent. “Cliff!”

“Hey, Neil,” Cliff replied, his voice laced with awe. “Is this a scrying stone?”

Neil chuckled as he ducked into his tent. “More than that. These are sending stones. They come in pairs for communication. This one’s especially rare. My team and I split a few when we found them. We were going to call the adventurer’s guild to come harvest more, but the second we collected our share, they vanished. You know how dungeons are, always playing by their own rules.”

Cliff was speechless for a moment. “And you gave one to me?”

“Yeah, well, Ma and Pa already know I’m doing fine. Besides, if I can’t take you with me on this adventure, at least I can bring you along this way.” Neil grinned broadly, his face lit up with boyish excitement. “Neat, huh?”

Cliff felt his chest tighten with emotion. His smile softened as he looked at his old friend. “You’re unreal, you know that?”

Neil shrugged, flashing his signature grin. “Just looking out for you.”

Stepping back out of the tent, Neil motioned toward the campfire. “Now that we’ve got this thing working, let’s put it to use. We’re about to scout the perimeter before entering the Veil. Stick around—I’ll show you some of the action.”

Cliff laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Neil’s voice crackled through the sending stone, showing Cliff the moonlit plains near the Veil. He pointed out common medicinal flowers and wild animals that wandered close to their camp. The lowlands stretched out beneath the starlight, and Neil showed off the loot his team carried; satchels brimming with rare herbs, polished stones, and vials of shimmering liquid. Cliff smiled as he identified the valuable finds, offering insight into which ones would fetch a high price back at Reuben’s Rise. He listened as Neil joked with the cleric and passed around food as they settled in for the night.