It turned out the mall security offices were the same no matter where one went.
Arthur did his best to look around, even though Officer Zerreon kept a tight grip on his neck. All around him in the beige-colored room that smelled faintly of cigar smoke and coffee, dragons dressed in riot gear moved all around.
Some were chatting, others carried folders, and still more screamed or talked at humans and various other non-dragons that stood around. Like Arthur figured he did, they all looked confused and scared. From what he could tell, none of their guides were there.
It made him worried about how he would find Gastho again.
“Sit.” Officer Zerreon barked before almost shoving him onto a rickety chair.
Arthur resisted the urge to rub his arm, which had smacked against the side of the desk as the dragon moved around and sat down. He almost immediately picked up an apple that sat in a bowl and took a bite from it.
Bits of apple flew from his mouth as he glared at Arthur and spoke the next word.
“So.”
The silence stretched on, and it took a minute before he realized they expected a response. A shiver ran through him as Zerreon leaned forward, showing sharp teeth and a smoldering rage in his black eyes.
“So, what?” Arthur tried to keep his voice even as he gripped his locket, finding it pleasantly warm under his hand.
“You were in the middle of implicating a respected member of our mall’s community in a crime. Counterfeiting is a serious crime.”
There was no way to miss the importance that he’d placed on the word respected. It nearly dripped with malice. Arthur leaned back in his chair, doing his best to avoid the smog that was pouring from the dragon’s nostrils.
Smog, which he noticed, had a familiar shade of purple roiling inside. One that he remembered breathing in at the last restaurant he visited. A cough escaped him, and Zerreon laughed before leaning back in his chair.
“Well?”
“He’s from my world,” Arthur said, though slowly, as though feeling out every word. “We’ve met. He’s working with demons. I have proof. In my inventory, one of their cores…”
That got a reaction, and not the one he was expecting. Zerreon’s eyes went wide, and he leaned in, one hand reaching out to clamp around Arthur’s shoulder. Pain radiated as the claws dug into his skin.
“How many?”
His eyes darted away from the angry dragon, looking around for anyone who might help. He opened his mouth to scream for help when a claw pressed itself against his neck. More of the purple-laced smog covered his face, and he coughed as Zerreon whispered.
“If you know what’s good for you, stay quiet. Do not mention that man’s name again, and I’ll let you go. All it’ll cost you is that core. You can part with one, right? Otherwise, I’ll put you in the cells with the troublemakers. No one will come and rescue you, not with the amount of shoplifting and property destruction I’m going to pin on you. Understood?”
Arthur nodded, his shoulder feeling as though it might break. He wanted to protest, but he also didn’t want to die. From the way the dragon started twitching as soon as he mentioned the heart, he figured that would be a distinct possibility.
“So they’re drugs? That explains the mysterious effect part of the description. Another thing to ask Pydes about. He’ll be my best bet for letting the head office know. Unless Gastho could? Might as well tell both.” As he thought about this, he tried to stay as still as possible.
No sudden moves seemed like his best bet.
“Can I access my inventory from here?”
Zerreon snorted. “Yeah. Reach into your back pocket. You should have a wallet there.”
He did as he was told, finding the wallet he’d died with. However, it was empty of all the old receipts and the coffee bar membership card. That caused him a small pang of annoyance; he’d been two purchases away from a free drink.
Instead, all that sat inside was a small green card about the same size as a debit card. When he pulled it out, he saw the word inventory written in fancy gold lettering over his name, displayed in dull silver.
“Good. Now, focus on that and think inventory.”
A screen popped up, almost looking like a trade window from a video game. Under the officer’s careful instruction, he pulled one heart from his inventory and traded it across. That gave him two interesting pieces of information.
- No one else here could see his inventory. Otherwise, there was no way Zerreon wouldn’t have demanded both.
- He now had an additional bribe to use if he could get Zerreon on the case.
Not that he was sure how useful number two was. With quick movements, Zerreon shoved the heart into a desk drawer. Once it clicked closed, he was all smiles, standing up and holding out a hand.
“My apologies for the inconvenience, sir. Though I’m sure you understand why we needed to speak? A few minor rule clarifications. Standard procedure.”
It was clear to Arthur that this was performative, though he wasn’t sure for whom. Any of the dragons around them paying attention were smirking. Multiple shooting looks at the drawer with clear envy.
“Yes. Of course,” He said in his best shopkeeper’s voice. The one he used when he was staring down disgruntled customers. “How do I get back to my guide?”
“Hmm, oh. I’ll sort that out.”
For a moment, the mask dropped, and Zerreon was smirking at him. A twinkle of promised violence in his eye. The message was clear, and Arthur tried not to shiver as he heard the buzzing sound and was once again whisked away.
***
Gastho was still in the room with the Information Kiosks, to Arthur’s relief.
When he reappeared, the dragon grabbed him. He winced as, once again, claws dug into his shoulder, but from the worried look on his guide’s face, he didn’t protest. A few flicks over one of the pedestal screens, and they were gone.
Even when they reappeared, Gastho didn’t speak. His grip remained tight as he pushed Arthur towards a small desk holding an emerald-green dragoness. She smiled as they approached.
“Welcome to Pyro’s Pretzels. Seating for two?”
“Booth. Private. I’m paying; put it on the company card.” Gastho’s words came out clipped, and the dragoness nodded and beckoned them to follow as she walked away.
Arthur couldn’t help but stare as they walked through the cafe. It was small, with a quaint feeling that made him nostalgic for something he didn’t remember. Dragons and others sat at small tables, each munching on pretzels. Though few looked like anything he would consider normal.
An enormous dragon made of flickering flames was biting into one that appeared to be made of rock with magma running through it. Another small blue one was hunting a series of flying ones from the air with a fork.
One that intrigued him looked made of several flavors of ice cream. It was melting in the dragon’s hand, and he was half eating and half drinking it. As they passed that table, it hit Arthur that he couldn’t smell any of the different foods or hear any of the conversations. The restaurant was dead silent. Not even music played to fill the background permeated it.
“Why—” he started, but Gastho cut him off.
“—Privacy wards. Most cafés and businesses have them. We can’t let you mix ideas outside the designated areas. Plus, people like their privacy. Sit.” He gestured to a small booth the dragoness had led them to.
In a deft move, she slid two menus across the table and then vanished. Arthur sat and opened the menu, marveling at all the options. To his relief, there was a section labeled human compatible. As he read down that list, he felt his eyebrows raise.
“Spinach and Cheddar? Blue Moon Grass? Pineapple? Who puts Pineapple on a pretzel? Also, how? I wish these things had sizes.”
He finally decided on one with simple chocolate and strawberry toppings. As soon as he told Gastho, the dragon pulled out a red card and tapped it against the menu. Almost instantly, two plates appeared before them, the meals sitting on top.
Arthur winced at the sheer size of his pretzel. The thing would require him to use two hands to pick it up, and toppings dripped off it. It smelled divine, though. Once he took a bite, Gastho leaned forward.
“So. What did security want with you?”
He swallowed with some difficulty and looked around. “They wanted to…”
His mouth closed almost instinctively, and he looked around. “Can they hear us? How good are the wards?”
“Here?” Gastho made a so-so motion with his hands. “You’re right. Have you figured out how to access your inventory yet?”
“Yes, Officer Zerreon showed me.”
“Good. I’ll show you how to share screens with specific people. You can even send trade requests, so we can do that at the same time.”
It didn’t take long. The intuitive nature of the system impressed him. In moments, he found he could easily send a message to Gastho, who at this point was offering to trade him pocket lint.
In the box, he quickly typed out everything that happened in the offices. Gastho read it and accepted the trade.
“I see. You got the hang of it quickly. I’ll let the high-ups know how quickly you’re progressing.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said as he took another bite from his pretzel. “I have some questions about this place.”
“Figured you would. Shoot.”
“First. Is everything expensive? The prices I’ve seen are crazy.”
Gastho snorted and waved at the gently bubbling pretzel in front of him. “Yes. Ok, so. To get a spot in the mall, you have to be at max level. Thus, most people don’t bother with prices for lowbies like you.”
Arthur opened his mouth, but Gastho held up a finger. “However, that doesn’t mean that no places exist. We’ll check them out after this. Next question.”
“Can I sell stuff here?” His mind went to the hides and pelts on the floor.
Gastho nodded. “Not to any of the stores, not really. We’ll hit up Seller’s Alley. There will be plenty of places to trade. Next.”
“I need a piece of equipment repaired.”
“What kind?”
“Mutagen Tank. It got... kind of exploded. We don’t have the tools to fix it.”
“Ahh. You’ll need a specialist repair shop then. We’ll hit them up first. You might afford them. It depends on what you have for trade.”
“Oh, goodie.”
With that settled, they finished their pretzels, and Gastho stood up. “Ready to go?”
Arthur nodded and watched as Gastho pulled up a screen from nowhere.
“Guide privilege. You’d need to go back to the front.”
The next thing he knew, they were on the move again.
***
The store that Gastho took them to was large, though it still appeared cramped.
It was a massive workshop split down the center to cater to two different needs. On one side was an engineer’s paradise. A massive computer bank ran along the wall, with plenty of space for tools along the shelves that hung from the ceiling.
He could see several large cutting machines, some designed for larger pieces, while others were obviously for precision work. On the other side, there was a mess of blacksmithing tools. A lit forge blared, and several tongs and half-finished projects hung from the ceiling by chains.
As one of the two proprietors pushed past them, they squeaked and rattled. She was a tall and broad shouldered red dragoness, wearing a leather apron and carrying a hammer. A long blonde braid was slung over her shoulder.
With an almost casual ease, she reached into the forge and pulled out what looked like a metal disk. Arthur noticed the lack of gloves as she tossed it over her shoulder. In the engineers’ section of the room, another dragoness stood, this one with grey scales. She was squatter than the red, though no less broad-shouldered.
As he watched, she ran a hand through her hair, which appeared to be grey feathers.
A smile graced her face as she caught the disk and moved to a cutting machine. Before she place it on the machine, she grabbed a tool from the jumble that hung from hooks off her overalls.
“Thanks, hun.” Her voice was light and had a musical quality to it.
“No problem, babe.” The red dragon’s voice was rougher and sounded like she had a smoker’s cough.
Arthur shook his head and raised his eyes to the name above the shop. Helga and Helga’s Tinker Workshop.
“Well?” Gastho asked and shoved him forward. “You’re not getting any trade done out here.”
As he entered the store, the red dragoness looked over at him. Her golden eyes widened, and she grinned.
“Yo’ Marble. We have one! Customer.”
“Well, talk to him. I’m busy.”
The red dragoness rolled her eyes. “Fiiine. Welcome to Helga and Helga’s. Yes, those are our last names. Yes, it’s because we’re married. Yes, Dragons can get married. No, you can’t ask about it. We do commissions, repairs, and default sales. What do you want?”
He cleared his throat and did his best to smile.
“I’m Arthur Clark. I was here for a repair?”
“Aww, he sounds so shy!”
When the gray dragon, Marble, turned, he saw her eyes were closed. Though from the way she effortlessly moved, he wondered if that mattered.
“Hey yoouuu. Don’t let Red here intimidate you. What do you want repaired?”
“I have a mutagen tank. Um, hang on.”
He flicked through his menus and sent the information he found about it across. From the whistle Red let out, he assumed he had succeeded. She looked over at Marble, who shrugged.
“We should be able to fix this. Won’t be cheap.”
“How much are we talking about?”
“Well.” Red smiled and placed a hand on her hip. “That depends. Do you want to pay with Pennies? If so, we’re talking. Say? Fourteen thousand? That’s for our time, and we needed to figure out this new proprietary tech.”
Arthur couldn’t resist the urge to wince, and she grinned wider.
“However. If you were to say, sell us the blueprint? Then fixing this would involve us testing it out. Really, you would do us a favor.”
“How much is the blueprint worth?”
Marble laughed and wagged a finger at Red. “Not a stupid one, our new friend. The blueprint would be worth about twenty-thousand. This is new tech, and the body enhancement aspects are interesting. Plus, it works on anything human. You know her love of those. We could make a killing by flogging this to other worlds who need the help.”
He could almost hear the coins falling together into a pile as he spoke.
“Perhaps we can come up with some kind of deal?”
“Oh?” Red looked at him. “Such as?”
“I’ll give you the blueprint for the fix. But I also want you to throw in some weapons and armor sized for regular humans. Also, do you make shelves or anything like that? My stores are a little empty.”
Red snorted, and Marble tittered. “Oh! That sounds perfect to us. At least, provided you don’t mind quality, that isn’t our best.”
“How not the best are we talking?”
“Nothing extreme,” Marble assured. “It’ll be basic. No enchantments, no energy weapons, though you don’t look like that’s your thing. We can do melee stuff. An order fell through. What’s your tech level?”
“Post-Apocalyptic modern.”
Red grinned in appreciation as Marble continued. “Swords, bats, handguns, and stuff, then?”
“Yes.”
He tried not to sound too excited when she mentioned handguns, but from the look on her face, he didn’t succeed.
“Well, we have plenty of that. There’s nothing that’ll be perfectly sized; however, all of it will manage against most moderate threats. That’s a Helga and Helga guarantee.”
“Done. Sounds great.”
In moments, a trade window popped up, and he confirmed. A smile graced his face as he watched the goods populate the screen. Twenty sets of armor that ranged from used riot gear to leather armor made of hides appeared first. Next were weapons: bats, swords, one handgun and ammo, knives, and several spears made the list.
They even threw in three small buckler shields you could strap onto an arm.
“Shelves will be available when you get back home. The fix should take us, what?” Red looked to Marble. “Two days?”
“Three. Some of the wiring is shot. What did you do, blow it up?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. Alright then. Well, you toddle off. You’ll get a notification when it’s done. Don’t be a stranger, Arthur.”
Gastho looked up from a magazine he’d been reading, and it vanished into his inventory.
“Sellers Alley?”
“Yes, please.”
With a flash, they were gone.177Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9PSBxSThAD
