Today I learned that Vaultreach is not actually one city.
It is four cities pretending to be one.
At least that is how Ryn explained it.
This afternoon she finally decided that Spathian and I had spent enough time staring at the Heartspike like confused tourists.
So she acquired a map.
Spread it across a table at the Rusty Spike Inn.
Then informed us that if we intended to survive here without being robbed, manipulated, overcharged, recruited into a doomed expedition, or accidentally purchasing cursed furniture, we needed to understand how the city worked.
"The city is divided into four rings."
Her tone suggested this was important.
So naturally Spathian immediately became distracted by the decorative border of the map.
Ryn ignored him.
A skill she has refined over many years.
She pointed toward the outermost section.
"The Dustveil."
The first ring.
The largest ring.
The cheapest ring.
And apparently the most dangerous place for people who believe they are making smart financial decisions.
Which felt oddly specific.
According to Ryn, most newcomers never leave this ring.
Cheap inns.
Cheap food.
Cheap equipment.
Cheap information.
The kind of place where everyone arrives believing they are about to become rich.
The kind of place where most people learn expensive lessons.
Afterward she pointed toward the next layer.
"The Spike Market."
The second ring.
The ring where we are currently staying.
That surprised me.
I had assumed we were still somewhere near the edge.
Apparently not.
The Spike Market is where actual business happens.
Artifact traders.
Book dealers.
Equipment specialists.
Middle-tier auctions.
Appraisers.
Permanent buildings begin appearing here.
Stone replaces tents.
Signs become larger.
Prices become significantly more frightening.
This also explained why every third building appeared to be selling either ancient treasure or suspiciously ancient treasure.
Then Ryn pointed toward the third ring.
"The Scarward."
The name alone sounded expensive.
And unfortunately I was correct.
Professional explorers.
Veteran hunters.
High-end equipment.
Healers.
Mercenary companies.
Guild headquarters.
People there apparently spend more money on preparation than most villages spend in a year.
Many of them have entered the Heartspike repeatedly.
Which means they are either extremely skilled.
Or emotionally unstable.
Potentially both.
Finally she pointed toward the center.
The Heartspike itself.
The black thorn rising from the giant wound beneath the city.
No markets.
No homes.
No taverns.
Only the entrance.
The thing everyone came here for.
The reason Vaultreach exists at all.
When Ryn finished her explanation, I stared at the map for a while.
The structure felt strangely logical.
A city designed around ambition.
Outer Ring.
Dreams.
Middle Ring.
Trade.
Inner Ring.
Preparation.
The Heartspike.
Consequences.
It felt less like urban planning and more like a warning.
At some point during this explanation I asked where the truly famous people operated.
Ryn immediately pointed toward the Scarward.
"Most of them."
That answer felt correct.
Great wealth seems naturally attracted to places with intimidating names.
For a while we discussed the city.
The markets.
The upcoming auction.
Various places we might visit.
Then, just as I assumed the conversation had ended, Ryn folded the map.
And casually announced:
"Tomorrow morning we're visiting an appraiser."
I immediately became interested.
Not just any appraiser.
According to Ryn—
one of the best appraisers in the entire western continent.
I sat upright.
Spathian also sat upright.
Which should indicate the seriousness of the situation.
Ryn looked between us.
"I have business there."
Then she paused.
"You two can come if you want."
I have rarely answered anything so quickly.
"Yes."
Spathian somehow answered at exactly the same time.
For once we achieved perfect synchronization.
Ryn immediately looked concerned.
Which seemed unfair.
Afterward I spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining what the shop might look like.
A legendary appraiser.
One of the greatest on the continent.
Surely the establishment must be enormous.
Perhaps located deep within the Scarward.
A magnificent building.
Multiple floors.
Ancient stone architecture.
Massive crystal displays.
Golden lamps.
Artifact vaults.
Scholars in elegant robes.
Perhaps there would be floating relics.
Or enchanted displays.
Or mysterious locked rooms filled with treasures beyond imagination.
Maybe entire wings dedicated to lost civilizations.
Perhaps visitors must pass through several layers of security before entering.
Perhaps the appraiser himself possesses some incredible artifact-identification ability.
Maybe he can identify an object's entire history merely by touching it.
That would be useful.
Particularly because of the coin.
The lucky coin.
My lucky coin.
The completely legitimate lucky coin.
The coin that absolutely was not a scam.
The coin that has occasionally become warm in my pocket recently.
For reasons that are surely important.
And meaningful.
And definitely not related to heat.
I intend to bring it tomorrow.
Because when one of the greatest appraisers on the continent examines it—
the truth will finally emerge.
Ryn will realize she was wrong.
The coin will reveal itself to be some extraordinary relic.
A forgotten treasure.
A legendary artifact.
A lost inheritance.
A key to ancient mysteries.
Possibly all four simultaneously.
Then I will be vindicated.
Completely vindicated.
Ryn will apologize.
Probably.
At minimum she will acknowledge my superior judgment.
Possibly in writing.
At this point I should probably mention that I imagined all of this while staring at the ceiling of the Rusty Spike Inn for nearly an hour.
I suspect reality may be somewhat different.
Unfortunately.
Reality has developed a habit of disappointing my expectations recently.
Particularly where money is involved.
Still.
Tomorrow should be interesting.
And if nothing else—
I finally have professional proof waiting for me.
The lucky coin and I are very confident about this.
Ryn would probably find that sentence concerning.
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