When everyone's back was turned, the Grim Reaper dispelled its armorsuit in a mist of golden dust, which disappeared into a pendant. Then it threw back the hood and stepped outside. The market was busy as usual that day. Four women fought over who would buy the last watermelon from a fruit vendor, and several men lined up behind a blacksmith's stall for his high-quality steel weapons. Children played in the streets, under people's legs, over display stands, and generally ran roughshod over everything they encountered.

The Reaper took a moment to take inventory. [i]Five arrows are hardly enough for a good hunt. I should pay a visit to Yar for a new batch. Not for his lazuli powder, though - I can get it cheaper a few blocks down.[/i] Having decided upon a strategy, the Reaper approached Yar's stall and examined the produce.

"Top of the mornin' to ya!" the thick-bearded man called out. "What can I do ya fer?"
The Reaper offered a salute and a smile. "Greetings, Yar. I have come for more of your excellent arrows."
Yar paled. "Er, yes, um, have a look."

The Reaper did look.

And picked up one arrow and held it up for Yar to see. "Pardon me, but this is not an arrow. This is a splinter dressed up as an arrow. The wood is rotten, the feathers are old, and the arrowhead is brittle. I could make an [i]all-wooden[/i] arrow better than this one. Product quality has dropped precipitously since the last time I visited." Reaper planted both hands on the stall and leaned forward, expression softened into pity. "What happened, Yar?"

Yar shrank back and started to shake. "I knew nothin' would get past you."
"What happened?" The Reaper repeated. "I know your father makes the arrows. Did something happen to Fargen?"
The man nodded. "He took seer'sly ill last fortnight, and he ain't gettin' no better. The local healers think he's been poisoned, but they can't make no heads nor tails of it. I think he's gonna bite the dust soon."
The Reaper clutched its chest. "By all that is holy, that does sound serious indeed. Shall I stop by your place on my way out?"
Tears of joy formed in Yar's eyes. "Oh please if you could please, I'd be eternally grateful to ya! I'll...I'll give ya a discount! Free arrows!"
The Reaper shook its head. "In truth, I am a little short on coin at the moment, so my standard rate of two crowns should suffice for payment. In fact, I will cut [i]you[/i] a discount. I will charge only one crown, but you must promise to use the other to buy better arrows. I know a hunter in Blackthorn by the name of...Morrin, I think it was, who makes exceptional iron-clad arrows at a reasonable rate."
Yar shook his head. "You are too kind, far too kind for the likes of me. Shouldn't you be chargin' me for this info?"
The Reaper cracked a half-smile. "Certainly not! The journey is frightfully taxing, and I would much rather someone else took the trouble. You will be doing me a favor."
"Thank you. Thank you so much!"

They exchanged currency, shook hands, and the Reaper left for its next stop - the alchemist's stall, where lazuli powder was sold. On the way there, however, it spotted a news parchment hanging by a nail on a house wall. The Reaper ripped it off.

[b]Princess Isabella Visits Midhaven
King Enraged[/b]

[i]Crud crud crud[/i]

The Reaper raced back to the pub and summoned its invisible armor back on as it ran. [i]That blithering idiot! The king is going to kill her! I have to warn the princess![/i]