“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arwin said through a groan. “I take it that means you have,” Reya said. She looked back down at the letter in her hands, then let out a curse. “Well, shit. That means Charles wasn’t lying. I know being blacklisted is bad, but I’m not sure as to the extent. Can we just… stop working with this guy?” “I don’t think it works that way.” Olive tapped her fingers on the hilt of her sword and let out a sigh. “Does the letter say we’ve already been blacklisted? Or we were going to be?” “Already,” Reya said. Blacklisting someone was a drastic measure to take when someone had completely disrespected a guild or was standing in complete opposition to them. It wasn’t something that should be happening to someone that literally spoke to another person a single time. Granted, he wasn’t particularly concerned about being blacklisted — it wasn’t like the Ardent guild was that powerful, but it was still a major annoyance that could cause problems in the long run. Makes me wonder why they hate Madiv so much. He said his class changed… I wonder if he kept any abilities from his former combat class. If he did, I wonder if he went around killing a bunch of their members for some reason. “So what do we do?” Reya asked. She pulled her hood back and chewed her lower lip. “I could try to ask Charles to help us get out from under the blacklist.” “Why?” Arwin asked. “They’re the ones that decided to start shit with us. Talking to somebody isn’t justification for blacklisting them. I’m not going to let assholes throw their weight around and control what we do. It’s not like they were supplying us before. All we have to do is make sure our own supplier can get the materials we need and we’ll be fine.” “Am I making too much of a stretch in assuming that our supplier is the merchant you spoke to yesterday, who also happens to be named Madiv?” Reya asked, squinting at Arwin. “The same merchant that got blacklisted himself for doing something so heinous that the Ardent Guild blacklists anyone he speaks to? The one that’s so horrible at his job that he needs me to somehow teach him how to sell stuff?” “You can call me Ifrit,” Arwin said idly, his eyes still focused on scanning the rickety shop for a feather. He had strong hopes of finding one before the roof came down on top of both him and the old woman. Even though he was pretty sure his body was more than resilient enough to withstand the rot-ridden wood if it fell on him, it wasn’t an experience he was hoping to partake in. “The visage of a demon? A bold name,” the old woman said with a mixture between a cough and a laugh. She stepped out from behind the counter, moving one laborious step at a time. “My name is Esmerelda. Tell me, Ifrit. What is it that you seek? Magi—” Esmeralda blinked, then let a smile crawl across her weathered features. “Ah, yes. A tale as old as time. I have what you desire, young man. I have all you desire.” Poor old lady sounds like she’s had a rough time of things. People must not come by here too often, and the way she speaks is ridiculously outdated. I wonder how old she is. Seems nice enough, though. “Oh, that’s good to hear. Where’s the feather?” Arwin asked. Esmerelda hobbled over to a shelf and stuck her hand into it, rooting around the pile of junk for a few seconds before pulling it out with a flourish. A long, glistening red feather was pinched between her fingers. It was trimmed with bright yellow that rippled in a mesmerizing pattern like an illusionary flame. “The feather of a phoenix,” Esmerelda breathed, holding her prize aloft. “A rare, powerful item that was once gifted as a gesture of luck. I suppose this one didn’t quite bear all that much of it, as it found itself in these dusty old walls after its master fell.” Ah, damn. That does look like quite the feather… but anything that powerful is going to screw over Anna’s armor. I don’t need phoenix traits. It would probably end up being fire related or something, and then Anna wouldn’t be able to wear it. I need a normal feather. “It’s very nice,” Arwin said politely. “It could be yours, my dear child,” Esmerelda said, her grin widening. “And all I ask in return is—” “I don’t need that, though.” Esmerelda blinked. She lowered the feather slightly, a frown crossing her lips. “You don’t? What feather could be better than that of a phoenix?” “That’s the problem,” Arwin said. He walked closer to her and gestured to the feather. “I kind of just need a normal feather. A nice one, but a normal one.” Esmerelda stared at him. “You would choose an ordinary feather over a plume plucked from a legendary phoenix?” “Well, yes. I need it for a purpose. That one is too fancy.” “I see. A difficult customer, but I know your desires,” Esmerelda said. She slipped the feather back into the shelf and turned toward another one. The shelf wobbled with a creak and a pot perched at its top slid off, plummeting straight for the old woman’s head. Arwin’s hand shot out and he grabbed it an inch before it could land on top of her. “Whoa,” Arwin said. “Careful. You don’t want to get brained.” I don’t think you’d survive a light breeze any better than your house would, forget a falling pot. Esmerelda flinched back and stared at the pot in Arwin’s hand. She looked from it to him, her eyes wide in disbelief. The pot didn’t actually end up hitting her, did it? “Are you okay?” Arwin asked. “I — yes. I am fine,” the woman said in a befuddled tone. She slowly took the pot from Arwin’s hands and stared down at it. “You prevented this from striking me.” “Yeah. You should be careful. You might get injured if you walk around this place without paying attention. There’s a lot here.” “I… have collected great riches in my times. More than what most could ever comprehend,” Esmerelda said, but her voice didn’t sound in it. She set the pot down and hobbled over to another shelf, pulling out a plain white feather. Her eyes bored into it. Then she turned to Arwin. “A feather.” “The plainest feather of the plainest dove.” “Perfect,” Arwin said with a grin. “You’ve got more feathers than I thought you would. How much for it?” Esmerelda looked from the feather to Arwin. Her brow was so furrowed in confusion that he feared that she might accidentally squeeze her eyes out. He hurriedly pulled out a gold coin from his pouch. The last thing he wanted was the old woman getting a heart attack in front of him. “Here. This should be enough, right?” Arwin pressed the coin into her hand and took the feather from her fingers. Esmerelda gave him a mute nod of agreement and he grinned. “Perfect. Thank you, Esmerelda. Have a good day. Oh, by the way, do you have more feathers?”