A Vision of Crows

Chapter 6 - The Mercadia

The following morning, Meg slowly opened her eyes, only to realize that she was lying on the bathroom floor. She quickly got up, horrified. Thankfully, it was still very early in the morning, so she wouldn't get kicked out yet. She quickly washed herself and changed into different clothes, lighter than what she had been wearing the night before.

After changing, she walked over to the bed, where she had left her things. She tied the scarf over her head, and proceeded to ruffle through her suitcase and purse. In her suitcase, she carried three outfits (she had left the rest of her clothing with her parents), an extra pair of shoes, a pouch containing make up, and toiletries that she had deemed absolutely necessary. It was a small, maroon suitcase, and was recognizable enough without looking too luxurious. Her purse, brown and practical, held all her important identification cards, prayer beads, a pen and notecards, a small mirror, and a generous amount of Shils that would have to be converted into Luceros, the official currency of the Mercadia and its mother country, Mardas. Meg examined both of her bags twice before finally feeling satisfied.

She picked up her purse and put on her sunglasses, fit for the sunny Mardan weather. She washed her face before applying a thin layer of makeup over her face, put on her coat, and exited the room, leaving behind her suitcase, which didn't contain anything that could be deemed valuable, or at least she didn't think so.

At the front of the hotel, she paid for another night, attended by a different receptionist, who was much less smiley but still friendly.

After a quick taxi ride, she finally arrived the Mercadia. It was far larger than anything she could ever have envisioned. The taxi driver grinned, "First time, eh?"

Meg flinched, not having realized that the driver had been talking to her. He chuckled, "Just a heads up, ma'am: pay attention to the prices they sell you. Can't tell you how many times I've seen folks get scammed. People like you look like easy targets, ya know?"

He then charged her the taxi fee, and drove off as quickly as he had arrived. Meg then realized that he had overcharged her, and opted to take the bus next time.

Inside the Mercadia, there were stalls and booths of every kind possible, with people from all around the world selling and buying whatever goods and services they had to offer. There were food stand with rich scents coming from the mouth-watering food, stands full of the most beautiful and soft clothing she had ever seen, jewelry made from precious metals and gemstone fit for a queen, pastries that were intricate and sweet scented, inventions that had never been before, exotic plants with mysterious origins, and much, much more. There were entertainers and storytellers, drawing crowds in any open area they could find (and of which there were quite a few). It was still early, but already, the place was bustling with activity. All around, she could hear conversations in many different languages, and the nonstop noise of talking, laughter, arguments, applause, debates, and music. The sun was bright and warm, adding to the market's warm and cheery sensation. She couldn't help but stand still in awe.

She then remembered her purpose, and mentally pulled herself together before heading towards a nearby fruit stand. There were all sorts of Mardan fruits, sweet scented and exotic, but no drakonberries. She went to examine other similar stands, but to no avail.

At the ninth stand, the Mardan woman who was selling noticed the troubled look on Meg's face and called out to her, "You, girl, are Farthrish, right?" Meg, who had jumped a bit, turned towards the woman, who was short with brown skin with graying-black hair pulled into a long braid down her back, continued, "You look troubled. Can't find what you need?"

"Ah no, I'm afraid not. Erm, pardon but, could you perhaps tell me where I could find drakonberries? I don't see them anywhere."

The woman stared at her for a good moment, before bursting into laughter. Her laugh was loud and hoarse, but not filled with malice. After a few seconds of laughter, she calmed down and wiped a tear from her eye. She asked, "Farthrish girl, you are a Magi, aren't you?"