The sun had begun setting, painting the sky in a beautiful, radiant gold. The clouds had started to crowd around, rushing over the mountains and bringing with them a thick fog that covered the range.

  As I approached the town, I had to think.

  Tall, sturdy stone-and-brick walls surrounded Baduadua: two gates, one at each end of the town. A few homes existed outside the walls, but looked more like rudimentary guard posts than houses. I could see into the town from so high in the sky- the center held what was clearly the nobles' mansion, surrounding it were higher-income households, then the middle class, and then, closest to the walls, were the smaller wooden huts that made up the lower class. A market district occupied the majority of the town's eastern part, whereas the manufacturing district occupied the West.

  Just from a glance, I knew sneaking in wasn't an option. Ballistas, trebuchets, and even cannons, as well as your standard watchtowers with archers lined the tops. I could see cauldrons of boiling oil or acid over the gates, which were made of wrought, heavy-looking iron.

  Anything flying overhead was instantly shot down, and I saw it in action. A flock of geese was cresting close by, below me, and a few hundred feet to the left. As I tried to hover behind cloud cover, archers shot a volley from the nearest watchtower into the geese- nearly 90% of their arrows hitting their mark.

  Further below, I could hear the barking and hollering of guard dogs as they rushed from the walls towards the falling geese.

  Pack dogs? Seriously?

  This only made sense, though. It was a rural town- a well-established one, certainly, and they hadn't spared any expenses on defenses.

  The main issue was that it was highly unlikely I'd avoid being thrust into the adventurer's guild. This was bad, as having my identity become something in a record that anyone could freely request and check was an issue.

  From what I knew of Chagrin's past, he had been avoiding the pursuit of a large church, following the god Amaunator, a generally lawful neutral sun god. I knew my father, or rather Chagrin's father, had bought out the favor of a priest in the church. When Chagrin had made a life for himself and was actually surviving, word must have reached his father.

  Looking back in Chagrin's memories a bit deeper, I knew he was a horrendously abusive man. He would often strike Chagrin on the wings, the horns, the tail, or even have servants spill paint on him- targeting the aspects that made Chagrin a tiefling. At one point, he even tried to have Chagrin's teeth filed down.

  Chagrin's father sent the church of Amauntor after him, who incited the town he had lived in for over a decade, turning both the other followers of Eldath against him, and forcing his master, the one who taught him smithing, out of a job. Lab burned, most belongings stolen or taken away- and the government did little about it, as neither the noble in the domain, nor the spies keeping count, bothered.

  Chagrin, forced to flee, was hunted for two years following his escape from the town. He hadn't returned since, and digging deeper, he often found very slight traces of someone tracking him. It was always minor- the odd stick break in the night, or the faint crunch of a leaf in the silence of the darkness. Someone was hunting him- he'd just grown to adjust to the sense of someone watching him.

  That feeling had faded as of late, especially after his sudden behavior change. Killing a bunch of bandits, working with a paladin for a short period, before up and just leaving town with a goblin- and I knew whoever was hunting me, likely still was. Whether or not they could keep up, I wasn't sure- but I was worried that whoever was tracking me, and the church that was still hunting me, had already put a bounty or something similar on my head.

  That was my biggest concern. If I tried to enter the town as I looked now, I would be labeled an adventurer almost instantly- practically forced to enter the guild, and likely arrested or killed on the spot after being recognized, if they didn't just do so at the gate.

  I needed to hide my identity- both as that of Chagrin, as well as that of an adventurer, if I wanted any hope of entering the town and helping with Bucket.

  Was it even an option? The fear of being discovered, hunted, and possibly captured terrified me. Paladins and clerics were no joke, let alone a possible ranger or monster slayer sent to get me.

  Was anywhere safe? Who knew if I wasn't being spotted right now, and they were about to open fire?

  Why hadn't the person tracking me followed me into the dungeon? Did they think I had died in there? Why hadn't they gone inside to check if I had died?

  Did they witness what had happened? My development in strength? Why hadn't they killed me or Bucket as I slept?

  So many questions, and not enough time. Bucket needed this anvil. We could easily buy a new one, but I knew even someone as pragmatic as Bucket would want it for the revenge and the sentimental value it carries.

  I sighed, hovering in the clouds as dusk fell over the land. The wind brushed past me, and I continued to look down on the town.

  Could I sneak in under the cover of night? Buy or steal some cloaks, clothes, and a mask? Furl up and bind my wings, tuck in my tail, and maybe wear my Portable Hole over my head to hide my horns?

  That was my best bet if I wanted to get in there undetected and not have to register for the adventurer's guild.

  "Fuck..." I muttered, biting the inside of my cheek with a nervous tic.

  I had no means of entry otherwise, and no other means of disguising myself, as far as I knew.

  What if I refused to be taken in?

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  What if I confronted them when they came for me?

  What if I rejected being taken in and managed to outdo the trouble my father caused?

  Was I strong enough as I was now?

  No, that was too much. I needed to gauge the ability of the paladins and clerics hunting me, to be certain.

  It wasn't even a matter of defeating them, and more so, arguing with them, denying why they were hunting me. I'd need to get in touch with the priest that my father had managed to persuade.

  Their order wasn't one that normally hunted tieflings, which meant the individuals sent to hunt me down weren't high enough in the order to understand the difference- or were simply racist enough not to care. The only way I could presume they would be hunting me is if they were under direct orders from someone higher than them, likely an official or higher-ranking priest in the order who had dealings with public and noble figures, such as my father.

  Bringing this to the attention of any higher authorities was out of the question, given that the nobles in the area hadn't done anything, as far as I knew, to stop it- I'd been running from them and avoiding them, unintentionally.

  In addition, the adventurer's guild could easily be circumvented through means I was already aware of, and had easy means of getting work, renown, business connections, and moving up on this continent.

  Maybe I could walk in.

  I flew down to the front gate, dreading what would happen. I didn't bother hiding my gear; in fact, I even let my wings remain a bit unfurled after I landed, the dirt and broken cobble crunching under my hooves. The wall was easily 5 stories high- impressive for a rural town, but not unexpected given their easy access to raw materials and a steady supply of labor.

  From above, the guards peeked between their positions, whispering to one another, before one shouted down to me. He was a human with brown hair, green eyes, and tanned skin, wearing plate armor with a shield strapped to his arm, a bow and quiver over his back, and a sword sheathed at his hip.

  "You! What is your business in Baduadua?" He asked, leaning on the stonework.

  "I am Chagrin, I am an adventurer seeking business and revenge for a compatriot of mine."

  "Revenge, you say? You mean to stir up trouble?" He asked, his face going firm.

  The social intensity here was as thick as that wall- a poorly phrased sentence or a mispronunciation could give the wrong signal, and I'd get shot at on the spot. Sure, I had more hitpoints now, but not against the 6 ballistas on this section of the wall.

  "No, there were some items stolen from my friend, and she needs them back. I've taken a liking to the girl, and I'd rather get done with this errand and get out of your hair. I understand I may appear to cause some trouble, but trust me, sir, that is not my intention. I'll be out within a few days."

  The man looked down at me with a furrowed brow, making a face, before looking over to his own ally.

  The second man turned around before shouting, "OPEN THE GATE!!"

  The first man turned back to look down at me.

  "Keep to yourself. I'd best see an adventurer's license on your way out of here."

  I only nodded, and the heavy gate rumbled the wall as it rose. I could see dust and small chunks of stone fall away as it shook.

  Getting a better view inside, I saw the cobble streets carving through the stone homes and shops like a river cutting a canyon- the roads wound back and forth, charting the paths of least resistance, as the buildings loomed overhead. The roads looked like an afterthought- people had propped up construction wherever they pleased, and let paths make themselves.

  Given that the evening was in full swing, not many folks wandered around. I saw the marketplace beginning to pack up, and as the gate closed behind me, the sounds of cheering in a bar to my right or conversation on the second story of a home echoed through an open window on my left.

  I knew the Chagrin part of me wanted to cover and hide everything that could make me visible as a Tiefling. Yet, I knew doing so could really only worsen how I was viewed.

  Holding my head high, my horns pointed upwards instead of out when I looked at the ground, I strolled through the streets. I had gotten a decent view from above on where everything was.

  I had spotted an inn on the other side of town for us to stay, the marketplace in the center of town for item exchanges, several smithing and general stores for various tools or pieces of equipment, and I saw a scroll and spellbook shop for myself, as well as the residential area where I had extreme confidence we would find that anvil.

  We had gotten plenty of rest recently, so I wanted to get my hands on the anvil sooner rather than later. I could visit the adventurer's guild any time, since they were always open. That anvil, on the other hand, I had no idea if it would be in town for very long.

  Turning down an alley, I started the route into that residential area. I took my spellbook, flipped a few pages, and cast Locate Object, targeting Mithral Tools. I knew there couldn't be many of these, even in a smithing and mining town, especially located in a residential complex.

  As I made my way towards the pull of the spell, I got a better look at the town. Stone bricks, cobble, mortar, stone slabs, everything- nearly everything I looked at was made of stone and metal. The metal all appeared polished with oil, likely to prevent rust. Even the doors were made from stone, nestled on metal hinges. Windows were usually either elaborate iron bars, slits in the stone walls themselves, or, in rarer cases, glass panes with iron frames. The construction here was impeccable- for a frontier town to last this long, it was fitting that it would take literal giants to tear it apart.

  The spell brought me to a three-story home. The lights were off, and it looked almost abandoned. The iron hadn't been oiled in some time; the windowsills had dust piled on them; the windows themselves hadn't been cleaned; and the door's hinges had started to rust.

  Yet the pull was strongest here. I'd passed a few on the way, but these were all located in Smith shops owned by races other than Druegar- unless the thief had already sold it, I didn't suspect it would be there.

  As I stood in front of the building, letting the spell disperse, I wondered how to approach. I didn't really care if we made much of a scene- the neighborhood we were in was pretty crummy as it was, based on the state of the streets... and he was a criminal who likely had a record already. Bucket wanted her anvil, I wanted to get some more magic junk, and we both wanted this over with.

  I opened the bag and helped Bucket out. She stood, brushed herself off, looking quietly from me to the house we stood in front of.

  "So... this is it, huh? I expected at least a lookout." She said, scratching behind her ear.

  "I don't know what I expected. I mean, we go in and get your things right? Go about the rest of our business?"

  "Right, I just... didn't expect it to be this simple, y'know? I thought I'd have to hunt him down through word of mouth, chase him a few times, maybe have to go through some lackeys... not that I'm complaining, I just thought it would be..."

  "More satisfying?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "Yeah, yeah, I thought it would have some more to it. Makes me feel like you did a lot of the heavy lifting. You flew us here, found his house the same day we got here, and now we can take it back. Feels almost undeserved, even if it is mine." She said, a bit somberly.

  "I hear you. Take it as one of our blessings, then. We can go in, grab your things, and move on to bigger things in life. Can kill him, leave, go get some drinks, and cherish the fact we made it here alive and it all worked out."

  She pondered for a few moments, just glaring at the building. I could see the gears turning in her head, the fire in her eyes not so much of a fire as when we had met. Perhaps the fuel that made up her vengeance seemed small compared to the life-threatening battle we had just happened to have made it out of. With the money we had made, her practical thought process told her it would be easier and less criminally risky to kill a guy and take her stuff back. Yet, this was only brief. I saw her ears twitch, and a glimmer of a grin spread to the corner of her mouth.

  "Let's kill this sack of shit." She said, before storming towards the door.