Across all of Erliea, no jewel shone as radiantly nor as colorfully as the Ursa Bazaar.

Thousands of luminous tent silks fluttered in the golden desert air, displaying countless hues. Blessed Silver bells tinkled from every tent and stall, joining the rich and rhythmic tones of street performers playing their instruments for bejeweled dancers in the firelight. The scent of incense and spices permeated the air — sweet, sharp, smoky, and savory. No other marketplace offered such a feast for all the senses across all Four Cities and beyond.

It was little wonder that Aella found herself lost almost immediately.

_Err…_ She faltered, suddenly confronted by the strangeness and unfamiliarity of such a crowded and eclectic scene without Grimm’s steady and buffering presence.

_ I only wandered a few feet away while Grimm was haggling — or as the merchant probably assumed, threatening — so how did I lose track of such a tall and striking man so quickly?_

With a calculating gaze, she glanced up and down the crowded street, searching for that handsome Reaper of hers while also marking stalls of particular interest nearby, and their especially curious wares of strange shape and design. Her nerves were not so overwhelming when she had something new to investigate, after all.

_ Ah, well, I’m sure he’ll track me down soon enough. It won’t be long until he gets chased off, anyway._ She huffed with wry amusement as she marched towards the first stall in her sights, boasting an impressive array of what appeared to be semi-precious stones carved into impossible shapes. _Until then, I’d better see as much as I can!_

As she perused the stalls and mentally catalogued every new mineral, herb, art and artifact she discovered, she was careful not to ask too many questions, nor linger too long. Dressed in her worn and dusty travel clothes and a thin veil over her face to hide her golden eyes, she would have blended right in with the average customer — but the amethyst silk sash at her waist and the Blessed Silver bell jingling from the staff strapped across her back marked her as a Ranger now. It was a strange feeling to receive so many stares, and to hear the snippets of awed and hesitant whispers all around.

“She seems young to be a Ranger…”

“Is she really a Ranger? Female Rangers are so rare these days… and where’s her sword?”

“Shh, can’t you see the bell attached to that staff? And that sash — I’ve never seen a purple one before. What do ye think it means?”

“Sword or staff, if she really is a Ranger I bet she’d beat a man senseless with a twig — let alone a staff. Those Ranger Trials create monsters, I tell ye.”

_Well, at least I shouldn’t have to worry about random thugs trying to mess with me._ Aella sighed in resignation as the whispers rose and fell irregularly around her. They were almost as frightened of her as they were of Grimm, it seemed. _Still, I shouldn’t draw too much more attention to myself, if I can help it. I may be a Ranger now, but I’m still as green as they come in an actual fight._

Immediately after she’d repeated that silent vow to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, a desperate cry caught her ear over the clamor of the crowds. A few others seemed to glance around at the sound, but each of them shrugged it off and continued on unperturbed.

“_That’s _**my**_ goldfish_!”

It was the voice of a child, pained and terrified, yet edged with the anger of the long-suffering. While most might consider the phrase silly and chalk it up to a childish dispute of no import, Aella couldn’t shake the feeling of pity that coiled in her gut at the familiar tone.

She flashed an apologetic smile at the vendor who had been explaining the properties of a particularly vibrant blue flowering herb, and excused herself with mumbled platitudes. Before she’d realized it, her feet turned her towards the source of the cry and carried her through the main thoroughfare of traffic to a cramped alley behind a row of purple and green merchant tents.

A group of thin and raggedy children were gathered in a semicircle, cajoling each other and laughing as they tossed something tattered and yellow back and forth between them. An even thinner and raggedier figure huddled against the back side of the tent before them, pitiful as it trembled in the sandy dirt.

“_Goldfish_? There’s nothing gold about this puke-bag. Wait, did your momma make it for you?” One of the children jeered, his jagged front teeth, fresh black eye, and long-broken nose marking him as a common instigator. At his words, the others snickered and elbowed each other, a vicious gleam in their young eyes.

“Nah, I bet he made it himself — or maybe he stole it! Why would he be a Shield if he had a momma who cared about him?” Another child scoffed. This one might have been a handsome little boy, or even a charming little girl — if it weren’t for the raised claw-like scars tearing across their scalp and down the entirety of their face, mangling one of their eyes so badly it no longer opened fully.

Aella hadn’t made her presence known yet, waiting in the shadows as she listened. This was a classic case of street-rat hierarchy at play, and an adult stepping in at the wrong time wouldn’t go over well. She needed to understand exactly what was going on before she made a move, or else they might scatter, and just resume their bullying later.

“Shields can’t be weak babies like you — if you wanna survive, you gotta grow up and forget about whatever family dumped you off. Here, maybe this will help!” One of the children who had caught the yellow thing — a little patchwork fish, Aella realized — threw it to the ground and began grinding into the sand with his grimy bare foot.

“Stop! _Give it back_!” The smaller child who had been huddled in fear a moment before suddenly launched at the boy who was stomping on the fish, and tackled him with a surprising display of strength. The two children fell to the ground in a spray of sand, and began kicking up wild clouds of dust as they struggled against each other.

“Ow! You little runt! What are you all standing around for? Teach this kid a lesson!” The bigger kid was actually losing ground, grunting and yelping as the smaller one bit and punched and kicked like a wild animal.

*~*~*~

((Post-story notes:

Oh man it’s been MONTHS since I’ve been here 😅 I don’t use social platforms really, so I’m not used to being consistent with online interaction (obviously!) and just end up sucked into my own world irl lol (also I got married this year, so??)

Anyway! Here’s the draft I was working on before I forgot about this app in its entirety for over half a year 😝 its unfinished (this is like the first half of a chapter? Idk might finish it later, might not!) and there’s some lore reference that won’t make any sense to outside eyes, so some shameless info dump (I’m too lazy to write more story to show not tell you right now lmao):

“Shields” when used in reference to people — specifically children — means the children sold (usually by their own destitute parents, sometimes by traffickers) as traveling companions (and/or work slaves) to the merchants who carry their wares across the Wastelands between the Four Cities. The Shields act as a natural repellent against Chaos and Chaos Beasts, since their innate innocence is the antithesis to the corruption of Chaos. Only persons of age 17 and under usually qualify for this — and only if they haven’t been sullied enough by the darkness of the adult world, and retain some level of childish innocence.

Also in this world of severe class disparity, limited resources, and lack of common education, most citizens believe the goldfish (or anything golden) to be a symbol of good fortune — hence why only the very wealthiest people tend to have them as exotic pets.

Anyway! I promise I still write! I just get bad social anxiety and go full hermit for whole earth-ages at a time 🤷‍♀️))