Ezren stepped inside. The innkeeper led him to a small but clean room with a narrow bed. The bathhouse was down the hall, steam already rising from the wooden doors. Ezren set the bundle of clothes on the bed, savoring the warmth of the room. It was time to clean himself up and prepare for the goblin scouting mission ahead.


    The innkeeper—a broad-shouldered man with a thick beard—greeted them from behind the counter. "Two silver for a room with a bath. We’ve got a few other guests tonight, so you’ll have to share the bath, but it’s clean enough."


    Ezren handed over 2 silver coins, and the innkeeper nodded. He then motioned toward the door on the far side of the hall. “Down the hall, second door on the left. Towels are over by the entrance to the bathhouse,” he said, pointing to a neat stack of towels piled on a small wooden shelf.


    Ezren gave a nod of acknowledgment, then turned to head toward the bath. He entered the room, dropping his new clothes and bundle of belongings to the floor with a heavy sigh, relieved to finally have some time to clean up.


    A moment later, he walked down the hall to the bathhouse. The heat and steam greeted him before the door even opened, the scent of wood and warm water filling the air. He grabbed one of the towels from the shelf, wrapping it over his shoulder, and stepped inside.


    The bathhouse was a simple yet functional space, with wooden walls and a stone floor. A large, steaming bath filled one side of the room, water gently sloshing as a few other travelers relaxed in the warmth. The air was thick with steam, the flickering light of lanterns casting soft shadows along the walls. The bath itself was large enough to accommodate several people, and the water’s warmth embraced Ezren as he dipped his feet in, letting out a quiet sigh of relief


    After finishing his bath, Ezren felt a new sense of clarity. The warmth of the water had relaxed his muscles, washing away the grime and weariness of the road. He dried off with the towel, then headed back to his room, feeling the comfort of the fresh, clean air in contrast to the earlier dirt-caked fatigue. The new clothes—simple but sturdy—felt like a small luxury. The tunic, pants, cloak, and even the undergarments fit well, and the weight of them was a welcome change from the ragged robes he had been wearing.


    Ezren stood in front of the small mirror, taking a moment to adjust the cloak around his shoulders. He added the leather vest with pauldrons, which fit comfortably over his tunic, giving him a more armored look without being too heavy. He strapped on the belt designed for daggers, but instead of daggers, he placed three of his bone spikes along it, ready for quick access if needed. The cool weight of the bone spikes against his side felt reassuring. For the first time in what felt like ages, he felt clean and properly equipped. He couldn’t help but allow himself a brief moment of satisfaction, his appearance now matching the strength he knew he possessed. He gave a quiet nod to his reflection and left the room, his steps lighter than before.


    Making his way downstairs, Ezren entered the inn’s common room. The murmur of voices and the crackle of the fire in the hearth filled the air. A few other travelers sat at tables, eating and chatting over their meals. The innkeeper waved him over and gestured to the small menu board hanging near the counter.


    "Food’s served all day," the innkeeper said. "Today’s special is stew, bread, and cheese for one silver."


    Ezren’s stomach growled softly at the mention of food, reminding him of his hunger. He nodded and placed an order, paying the silver. Within moments, a bowl of steaming stew was placed before him, accompanied by a hunk of fresh bread and a small wedge of cheese. The warm scent of the stew filled his senses, and he took a moment to savor the simple meal, enjoying the comfort of the food and the rest.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    After finishing his lunch, Ezren stepped outside, his new clothes settling comfortably on his frame. With his bag slung over his shoulder and a sense of satisfaction settling in, he made his way toward the market, ready for the next part of his errands.


    Ezren stepped into the alchemy shop, the bell above the door ringing faintly as he entered. The shop smelled of herbs, dried flowers, and faint traces of sulfur. Glass containers lined the shelves, filled with various powders, liquids, and strange-looking ingredients. In the center of the shop was a large display case, showcasing a variety of colorful potions—each one glowing faintly in the dim light, casting strange reflections on the polished wooden counters.


    He walked toward the case, his eyes drawn to the vibrant liquids inside the glass bottles. Some potions shimmered in hues of blue, green, and purple, while others seemed to pulse with an eerie inner light. A small sign next to each potion displayed the prices, but when Ezren saw the cost for the minor healing potions—5 gold coins per vial—his brow furrowed in surprise. He had gold, yes, but that was far too steep for his tastes.


    Ezren turned away from the potions, his eyes scanning the rest of the shop. A young clerk, wearing a brown apron and a faded scarf, approached him with a polite smile.


    “Can I help you, sir?” the clerk asked.


    Ezren nodded, looking around the shop before meeting the clerk’s gaze. “I’m looking to buy equipment for poison-making,” he said. “What do you have?”


    The clerk led him over to a small section in the back, where several shelves were stocked with glass vials, cauldrons, mixing tools, and various alchemical instruments. The clerk gestured to the array of items.


    “We’ve got plenty of basic alchemy tools—glass vials, beakers, cauldrons, and mixing utensils. You’ll also need some tongs, a mortar and pestle for grinding ingredients, and, of course, gloves for safety.”


    Ezren looked through the equipment, inspecting the items closely. The tools seemed well-made, and he selected a few essentials. The clerk packaged them neatly, then set them on the counter.


    After a brief pause, Ezren spoke again, his tone casual but probing. “Do you sell poison here? I need something specific.”


    The clerk nodded, then moved to another shelf where two jars sat—one labeled “Man-Made Poison” and the other “Monster Poison.” He picked up both, showing them to Ezren.


    “We have two types: man-made poison, which is usually a mixture of various deadly ingredients, and monster poison, which is harvested from dangerous creatures. The monster poisons tend to be more potent but also rarer.”


    The clerk walked back to the counter and brought over two books, offering them to Ezren. “These will help you understand how to use them. One’s on general poison-making, and the other is a guide on handling specific monster poisons.”


    Ezren flipped through the pages of both books. The monster poison section caught his attention, detailing how venom from creatures like basilisks and wyverns could be used in a variety of potions and traps. The practical application of the information seemed useful for his darker ambitions.


    After a few moments of contemplation, Ezren closed the books and returned them to the clerk.


    “I’ll take this,” he said, pointing to a small vial of basilisk poison—its dark, viscous liquid swirling inside. “The paralysis poison. How much?”


    The clerk glanced at the vial, then smiled. “5 gold.”


    Ezren winced slightly but reached into his pouch, pulling out the coins. The poison was expensive, but the power it held was undeniable. He handed over the 5 gold for the vial and paid an additional 1 gold for the alchemy equipment, the total coming to 6 gold coins.


    As the clerk packaged everything up, Ezren couldn’t help but feel the sting of his diminishing funds. He tucked the vial carefully into his bag, along with the new equipment, and nodded to the clerk.


    “Thank you,” Ezren said, giving a small nod before turning to leave the shop. The weight of the poison vial in his bag felt heavier than its size, a reminder of the price he had paid—not just in gold, but in the power it would bring.


    Ezren walked through the bustling market, his bag heavier now with the purchases he’d made. The air was warm, and the streets hummed with the sound of vendors shouting their wares. The aroma of sizzling meats and freshly baked goods filled his nostrils, and his stomach growled in response. He decided to grab a quick bite before heading back to the inn.


    He stopped at a stall where a vendor was grilling thick cuts of seasoned pork on a hot, open flame. The crispy, charred smell was irresistible. Ezren bought a skewer of the meat, along with a bowl of roasted potatoes dusted with herbs. He also grabbed a small loaf of bread, still warm from the oven, and washed it all down with a jug of cool, frothy ale.


    The food was simple, but it filled him enough to quell his hunger, the flavors earthy and satisfying. With his meal finished, he made his way back to the inn, his footsteps quiet on the cobblestone streets.