Upon parting with Bishop Austine and leaving the cathedral, Ludmila noted a small crowd of Adventurers gathered around a nearby stall. Merry, standing on the side closest to her, noticed her approach and waved her over. The group was mostly composed of fellow Rangers and Rogues, all looking down at the wares on display and speaking in low voices between themselves.

"Good morning, Merry," Ludmila greeted the Orichalcum-rank Ranger as she approached the merchant stand.

"'Mornin!" Merry replied with a bright voice, "You come for the same thing as well? Or maybe you knew, being a noble and all…"

"I wasn't aware of anything special in particular being sold today," Ludmila replied. "What's all the excitement about?"

"Arrows!" The Elf grinned, "Well, bolts too – some other bits of ammo as well. I'm here for the arrows, though."

Ludmila squeezed in beside Merry and looked down at the stand. Rather than piles of arrows and other ammunition, each piece on display was contained within a wooden case that had a transparent window in the lid.

"May I?" Ludmila asked the man on the other side of the counter.

"You break it," he replied, leaning on his stool with his arms crossed, "you buy it."

Reaching down, she carefully opened the lid of one of the cases. Within was an arrow with a glass head. She picked it up to examine more closely.

"Are you selling just the arrow?"

"Yup, just the arrow," the man said. "Probably want the alchemists filling 'em. Make sure you fletch 'em before that, though."

Ludmila nodded in response to his recommendations, giving the arrowhead a gentle twist. It unscrewed from the shaft, revealing its hollowed-out interior. The nock sealed the opposite end. She reattached the head and felt the arrow's weight in her hands, tracing the shaft with her fingers to feel for any irregularities.

"Do you only have them in this variety?" Ludmila asked.

"Got two others," the merchant replied, "one with shafts that hold twice the volume, and just the heads sold separate."

"How many do you have in stock?"

"Just got here, so…" The man twisted around to look at the crates behind him, "Twenty thousand of the type you're holding right now, five thousand of the bigger ones and fifty thousand arrowheads."

"Price?"

"Two, four and one. Copper, obviously."

Two copper for the arrow in her hands, plus the price of whatever she filled it with. She returned the arrow to its case and looked back up to find that the other Adventurers were staring at her. Ludmila's hand went to her neck before she recalled that she had already put the magical collar away.

"...what?" She frowned.

"We kinda want some too," Merry said. "Don't clean him out."

Why in the world would she want so many? It wasn't as if she was trying to arm her entire demesne with them.

"Then buy some?"

"Well, uh…you know…"

"I'm not going to eat you for buying something ahead of me," Ludmila felt her brow furrow. "What do you take me for?"

"A noble?"

"Since when do nobles eat people for shopping?" Ludmila rolled her eyes, "If he runs out, then more can be ordered in – isn't that right?"

"Yes, my lady," the merchant straightened from his slouch and lowered his head in reply.

Ludmila had the feeling that his response didn't exactly help her case. The Adventurers resumed their browsing, however, so Ludmila turned to Merry.

"Do you know if the Adventurer Guild will be requisitioning these?" She asked.

"Hmm…" Merry scratched her nose, "Well, as fun of an idea as it might be, I don't think so. Not for exercises at least. These things can go hella fast in certain situations, and it's not like you can empty 'em out and fill them with something else for the next training session."

"How often would you say you use them?"

"Back when our regular work was in Katze, not much – I'm an Undead specialist, so my Skills and Martial Arts can destroy them easily enough on their own. Even a Death Knight would be in trouble if they didn't have a way to get at me. If we got a job for a powerful Troll clan or something, I'd be crying over how many of these things I end up using: just shooting a dozen filled with Alchemists' Fire or Acid costs enough to feed someone for a month. They're a godsend when you need 'em, though."

Ludmila nodded at her words. She had never personally used them before, but someone like Merry would be more than familiar with their benefits and downsides. An Alchemist would probably have a good idea of all the compounds that these arrows could be filled with, but she couldn't visit one until a later time now that her schedule had been packed full of training.

"Is there a method of storing these?"

"Really carefully?" Merry smirked, "I have a magical quiver that can hold about a thousand arrows – actually, I guess you have something like that too. The contents of items like these aren't affected by any movement or jostling while we do our thing, so you don't have to worry about them when they're in there. People with regular quivers do, though. I've seen a few guys that didn't store them properly basically explode after landing the wrong way or taking a hit and shattering a bunch of these – you could even tell what they had on them by the colour of the explosion."

Several of the other Adventurers nearby looked up with incredulous expressions, as if trying to figure out whether Merry was joking or not.

"I'm not kidding," she told them. "Mishandle too many of these and you're gonna be gettin' the crappy rez."

"I suppose I shouldn't keep them lying around, then," Ludmila frowned at the mental image before turning back to the merchant, "How long will you be in the city for?"

"A few days, my lady," he replied. "A full route takes around three months, so I won't be back until then."

"I'll take ten regular arrows for now," Ludmila told him, "and ten of the arrowheads. I need to see what the alchemists around here have to fill these with before purchasing more."

"Of course, my lady."

The merchant lowered his head once again before turning to put together her purchase, and Ludmila frowned at his back. His behaviour had taken a complete turn the moment Merry had made him aware of her position and, despite what she had said to Lord Mare the previous evening, Ludmila couldn't help but feel that the man's conduct was disingenuous.

"My bad," Merry said from the side. "I guess you wanted to do some shopping incognito."

"It's alright," she replied. "Better safe than sorry from his perspective, I suppose. I just thought that after working with the Adventurer Guild for a while, it would sort of…wear away? I thought it was, then…"

"It'll never happen."

Merry's blunt tone caused Ludmila to turn her attention directly to her.

"I've lived for a long time," the Elf told her, "and I can confidently say that it won't ever happen – not as long as you hold that title of yours. Some of 'em might get chummy with you, but, no matter how close you feel, it'll always be there in some form. Thinking that it might not some day is a bit silly, if you don't mind my saying so. Your title is a part of you – it's not something you can just put away when you don't feel like it. What people see in you and how you should carry yourself are one and the same: you're more than just yourself, and if anything happens to you, those you're responsible for will be affected. It doesn't matter if you were adventuring or shopping or in the 'loo."

The uncharacteristic lecture from the generally happy-go-lucky Elf Ranger gave Ludmila pause.

"What brought that on?" She asked curiously.

"I'm your proctor most of the time, too," Merry rubbed her nose, "well, one of them with all that's changed with how your teams work, anyways. Newbie Adventurers are preoccupied with how good they are in fights and stuff, but how you work with others is important too. Being humble is good and all, but you're doing it to the extent that you're ignoring a piece of yourself in some misguided effort to fit in. Adventurers aren't dumb – most of the time – certainly not when it comes to feeling out their teammates, so acting that way comes across as fake and they won't be able to trust you. Just be what you are: everyone else can figure out what they care about on their own."

"I still won't eat people if they buy things ahead of me," Ludmila said. "I don't think I'd act too differently either."

"I know," Merry replied. "I'm sure the others will eventually get it too, but it won't be from anything you told them. Adventurers are people of action: men and women who've decided to take destiny into their own hands. What truly matters is what you do when the job is on the line. Sure, some of us like to talk things up when we're not on the job, but what someone does when they're workin' is what determines whether they can be trusted, and whether they'll fit in."

"Well, what do you think of me personally, then?" Ludmila asked.

"I wouldn't be telling you all this if I hated you," Merry answered. "Adventurers are mean like that."

Ludmila received the bundle of glass arrows and put them away, glancing at Merry's enchanted Quiver as they walked towards the Adventurer Guild.

"Where did you find that quiver of yours, by the way?" She asked.

"On a dead guy," Merry replied.

"It was on someone you killed? Or some corpse you found?"

A voice in the corner of her mind berated her for asking too many questions. Whenever she discovered something of interest, it seemed she couldn't keep her inquisitiveness at bay.

"Nah, I was never so lucky," Merry said. "This one's from a guy that I used to know. He was a Human, though, so I outlived his ass and got a bunch of his stuff."

"Where did he get it from?"

"He found it from somewhere too. I went for uh…at least two centuries without one of these things. They're something you hear about but never see, and I searched like hell for 'em. You must have the luck of the gods to get two at, hmm, how old were you again?"

"Seventeen."

"So a baby, basically. What the hell? Anyways, they're really valuable. People will kill you for even the idea that you might have one, so you better get strong quick. I bet there's a few that'd try to get one even with a Death Knight looking over their shoulder – that's how crazy people can get over 'em."

"I hadn't really considered it that way before…wait, is it safe to be talking about this sort of thing in the open if that's the case?"

"It's not as if people haven't seen you using those things for weeks," Merry looked up at the sky. "At any rate, I heard Lord Mare roped you into something crazy, so you better get going."

"Thanks, Merry."

"Uh huh."

Ludmila entered the guildhall, rounding the stairs to find that none of her team had arrived yet. Ishpen looked up from the counter at her.

"Where's Wina?" Ludmila asked.

"Finding us some lunch," Ishpen answered. "You know, I suggested that you relax for a bit, but you've gone and done the exact opposite."

"I did follow your advice, though," Ludmila told her. "Dinner, right?"

The guild receptionist peered at her suspiciously, and her gaze settled on Ludmila's right hand.

"One dinner," Ishpen's said flatly, "and you get a ring? Ainzach was right: you Frontier Nobles really don't screw around. What did you threaten this poor sod with?"

"Nothing? He just offered me a ring. I received a collar as well."

"A coll–what?"

"A collar."

"Who are we talking about, again?"

"Lord Mare."

Ishpen stared at her dully for several moments.

"Just to be sure…this is for work, right?" She asked.

"What else would it be for?" Ludmila answered, "It was very productive, by the way."

"I feel like you missed the whole point of my suggestion."

"I quite enjoyed our time together."

"Riiight. Then this insanity happens," Ishpen picked up a sheet from the counter and dangled it between them. "Are you trying to kill yourself? When do you even sleep in this?"

"I don't."

"Madness!" The receptionist threw up her hands, "You're going up to end up dead, or a legend. Probably dead. Multiple times. I'm going to start a betting pool."

"They're supposed to be remedial sessions," Ludmila told her. "I've never died from those."

"During the day, sure," Ishpen replied. "But you're going to be playing around at night with Lord Mare, too. The way you two always go at it, I bet you'll die at least once."

"That sounds really wrong," Themis said from behind her. "It's probably not necessary but, just in case, I should probably remind you that the age of majority for our faith is twenty."

"It's perfectly reasonable," Ludmila protested, "if worded properly."

"Reasonable," Ishpen snorted.

The receptionist held up the sheet again, and Themis leaned forward to read the tiny print.

"Isn't that supposed to be private?" Ludmila frowned.

"She's kinda like your priestess, isn't she?" Ishpen said, "Might as well let both of the Surshana sisters know."

"The Surshana sisters?" Ludmila and Themis said together.

"You're both adherents of Surshana, aren't you?" The receptionist shrugged, "One preaches death, the other keeps trying to embrace it. Or maybe Ludmila's trying to figure out how to become Undead herself? She seems to have the 'no sleep' part down already."

"I don't 'preach death'," Themis huffed, "there's a lot more to it than that!"

The sound of the door to the Adventurer Guild opening and closing, followed by the sound of several sets of boots ended their discussion.

"Looks like your gauntlet starts now," Ishpen told Ludmila. "Don't die, please: Ainzach's already crying tears of blood over the guild budget."