"Sir, if you are not interested in buying books, why are you here?"

Sayed looked down at the bookseller, his face creased with a frown as he looked over the text. It was an inferior form of storytelling in his eyes. The pages had no animation, no glory in tone or fire in voice.

"I am here for my friend." Jean looked back to see Jean browsing the man's shelves, picking books off the shelves.

Erin was nearby as well, walking with Mari through the store. Sayed did not see them currently, but he wasn't looking for them. He was more focused on the man selling books in front of him. He had to explain why it was so foolish to write stories down.

"Sir, maybe you should just lea—"

"Now, wait." Sayed raised one hand. "I have much to say and little time to say it."

They were just stopping in long enough for Jean to peruse the store for more books. He had been using them a lot recently. Sayed did not know what he searched the books for, but he always found it was better to hear a story from a person, not by reading it off the page.

"You say that this is a place that sells stories, that I can pick up this book and experience a tale like no other."

"That is why books—"

"No." Sayed raised a single finger. "That is not the purpose of books. Books exist to contain information, not stories. Stories are told. Stories are shared between people. They are not something to hide away between leather bindings!"

"Sir, I'm just a humble bookseller."

"A strange title for a corpse seller." Sayed shook his head as dead stories lay about him.

"Sayed, do you not have a religion?" Jean sighed, looking up after shelving his most recent book.

"I do." Sayed nodded. "I am 'Sword Saint' Sayed, follower of the Sacred Flame, the God of all Hajh, the Great Storyteller!"

"Do you not have some holy text then, some great book that contains all your stories about god?" He leaned over, using the hem of his robe to pick out another book. "There is the 'Saga of Trials' about the Scions, not discounting the various books that have appeared across the Empyrean over the decades from other worlds."

It was such an odd question, and Sayed was unsure of how to answer it. There were stories, but stories need not be bound to spread and pass on. That was the opposite stories needed. If they were never told, but bound by text, how would they change?

"Stories exist in the telling." Sayed shrugged. "Writing them down binds them, and you cannot bind God to a page. It exists in my heart, and every one of my other brothers in the path. The idea of a holy text, an unchanging creation, is...blasphemous."

He had to chew on the words to arrive at his final thoughts. The words sounded right as they passed from his lips, though, and Sayed suspected divine guidance helping him find the right thing to say. He nodded and crossed his arms, towering over the bookseller again.

"What if you die?" the bookseller asked, his fear forgotten if just for a moment. "I don't understand all you're talking about, but if you're the only follower of this religion, what happens if you die? It would be gone forever."

Sayed quirked his head at the seller, happy that the seller was willing to continue their conversation, but confused by the question. Jean and the man both were placing so many burdens upon God that were unnecessary.

"If I die, God will merely reach out to more people." Sayed furrowed his brows. "My story would end, and only be alive in those who told it, but God would find others willing to take up the Sacred Flame. He would bless them and speak to them, just as he does with me. Not having a book wouldn't be enough to stop God!"

Now, both Jean and the seller were looking at him oddly. Neither of them spoke for some time. Sayed turned back and forth between them, awaiting a response.

"That's an odd way to think about it," the seller said finally. "I never thought about it that way."

"Sayed." Jean shook his head, depositing them in his stack beneath his arm as he approached the counter. "You should be very careful, my friend. If you were to speak those words around other believers, they might not let you leave without a fight."

Sayed pursed his lips as Jean carefully stepped away from the books, keeping his arms covered by his robes the entire way.

"Why would that be?"

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Because they care about their books." Jean smiled, if only a little. "As do I. Books allow your story to stay long after you are gone. They let you read stories that would have been lost to time, all because someone took the trouble to put pen to page. They may not change, but how we see them changes."

Sayed nodded, though he didn't fully understand whatever Jean was talking about.

"I see," Sayed said, turning to the bookseller. "I will be more careful next time. My apologizes, brother."

The man looked Sayed up and down, giving him one final shake of his head before slapping a hand on Jean's stack of books.

Slap.

"A big buyer, I see." The seller whistled, pushing his glasses up his nose as Jean retrieved a pouch from his pocket that clinked with coin.

"You have a good selection," Jean said, depositing a few coins on the table through the hem of his robe. "You even have the guidebooks from the message."

"Oh, you saw those." The seller smiled. "Not a lot of buyers for those. Most people are happy where they're at. Don't see any point in adventures."

"Mysteries are lost on people," Jean said as the seller counted the coins. "Like why you're not wearing a mask, even if the rest of the townspeople are."

The seller frowned, his eyes roving over the shelves like he were looking for anyone listening to the conversation. His hands had frozen, one finger depressing one of Jean's coins. He took a deep breath before he seemed to shrink, just a little.

"They didn't use to wear them," the seller said. "Everything changed when Count Gavril got rid of the town guard. Then he started having the Collectors patrol the streets."

Clack.

"The Collectors?"

"Tax collectors," the seller said, sliding the coins closer to his side of the counter. "I've been more places than Binvieti, only settled here after my store in a different town failed. They had their collectors in a building, and you'd go to see them when you owned a tax. I used to go once a year to pay my tax, but not since the Collectors started walking the streets."

"You haven't paid your taxes?" Jean asked.

Sayed was not sure why that was a problem. There was nothing wrong if you missed a few payments on taxes in a city. So long as you went and settled up in the end, you could avoid being evicted. When he was serving in the Civil War, he had not worried about taxes at all. It was one of the benefits of being a soldier.

"They haven't collected taxes from any of the businesses in years," the seller said. "I keep the money just in case. I know what happens to people who don't pay in the long run, but they don't ever collect. If I go to their offices during the day, they're never there. No letters, no notes, no warrants for my arrest. This is a town without a collection office."

"But you have the Collectors," Jean said. "They wander the streets at night, but what are they collecting? Money from vagrants, maybe?"

"There aren't vagrants in Binvieti." The seller hunched his shoulders more. "Haven't seen any since we replaced the guard. That's the other strange thing. It was like they all just up and left. Now we just have a few disappearances on occasion."

Creak.

"Vanishing people?" Sayed asked as he leaned on the counter with one arm. "Perhaps we are right to suspect that monsters wander the streets and hide the day behind masks."

"What are you talking about?" The seller raised an eyebrow.

"On Cragg Hollow, we met creatures in battle that would attach themselves to people's faces like your masks. They took control of the people and forced them to fight us."

"Sayed." Jean tried to interrupt.

"We faced them down in glorious combat and escaped the island, with a map to Roald's ship, of course!"

Sayed could not stop the smile that burned across his face as he recalled the battles on the island. He had faced off against a swordsman, a Tanis, if he recalled correctly, and beaten him in the end. The man had a technique that allowed him to thrust great distances.

"Wait, you said your name earlier," the seller said, scratching at his beard with one hand. "What was it?"

"Nothing to worry about." Jean raised his hand before Sayed could respond, and his robes fell down from his hand, revealing the bones beneath. "What else can you tell us?"

"Your hand." The seller pointed, his eyes wide and his hand shaking. "What's wrong with it?"

"Ah," Jean said. "That is unfortunate."

He slid his arms around his books as the seller kept his head on a swivel between both of them. He pointed between them with each movement, his mouth wide and a silent scream trapped in his threat.

Sayed rubbed the back of his head. He had not realized it before, but he had made a mistake when he had announced himself. It was precisely the thing that he had been told by Jean and Alex not to do, but he had done it anyway. Now, they would not be able to stay for long.

"You're 'Sword Saint' Sayed!" The seller paused with a finger pointing at Sayed before pivoting to Jean. "You're Jean Baptiste 'the Reanimator!'"

"Yes," Jean said, a forced frown crossing his face. "We will understand if you wish us to leave."

"I—" The seller paused. "I didn't see either of you."

"But you clearly did, brother." Sayed frowned, now worried about the man's mental state. "We are right here. You can see us."

"He means that he won't say anything about us being here." Erin passed through the shelves, her green hood covering her head, with Mari right behind in her red cloak.

"But why?" Jean asked as he looked down on the seller.

"I get fewer sales in this town than I like." The seller shrugged, looking at Jean's pile of books. "Just these books alone make you my best customer in town. What kind of seller would I be if I turned you in?"

"Hah." Jean smiled.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about people disappearing?"

The seller looked between Jean and Erin before finally glancing up at Sayed. He rested an elbow on the table and leaned forward. Sayed leaned forward as well.

"Look, you two seem like smart people." Sayed wasn't sure who the seller meant to insult with that, Erin or Jean. "Smart enough that I think you can put it all together. I know I did. That's why I keep my doors locked and barred at night. I'm not going to trust my safety to some white mask."

"I see." Sayed nodded as he tried to string the ideas together, but as he did, he came up with no information.

"I think we understand," Jean said, nodding at Erin. "We'll take what you said under consideration."

Scratch.

"Don't travel the town at night." The seller nodded, sliding Jean's money into his hand. "And get out as soon as you can. I don't know what Count Gavril has planned for the town, but you wont' be safe if you stay here."

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