“Welcome to Quilton,” the smaller of the two men said. He had a pair of handguns at his side, and Marco suspected from the way he wore them that his class allowed him to use both of them effectively at once. “I’m Tauncy, a guard and the authority on new entries. This person with the fighting staff is Bhul, a big heap of cheap muscle who follows me around.”

“I’m his brother,” Bhul grunted. “And also his boss, though he doesn’t seem to understand that I could fire him at any time. We are here to see what your intentions are with the island, although I’m reassured to see you haven’t brought much in the way of cannon.”

“Shopping,” Marco said the first thing that came to his mind. “And stretching our legs. Not much more than that for now. Is there shopping to do?”

“You have gold? There are goods, but the island isn’t much for barter these days.”

“Plenty,” Marco said. “More than. Why no barter, though?”

“You take an island of former and current adventurers all going out for loot, add a few high-level town-building types, and you get an overabundance of goods and a shortage of hard currency to buy them with. If you really have gold, you will find you’ll be very welcome here.” Bhul stepped back on the dock and waved his arm towards the town. “Welcome to Quilton. Don’t cause trouble.”

The team stepped ashore and got to walking. The town wasn’t far enough away that they really needed directions to do it.

Elisa started the conversation. “First things first. Fresh food. Do you think they have…”

“There,” Riv said, pointing. “And there, and there. I can smell the eggs.”

“He’s right. We’ll eat at all three.” Aethe was already moving.

That didn’t end up happening. The first restaurant Riv led them to was the second furthest by distance, and the proprietor didn’t let them leave before they had eaten pounds and pounds of eggs, fried meat, and warm breakfasty breads. He also gave them tips as they went.

“Don’t wait for the market.” The old man wiped his hands off on his apron and put down another pitcher of chilled juice. “Wander through it when it opens, and save some money for it. There will be some people who set up stands for equipment that you can buy. But not many. Mostly it’s just produce, clothing, and essentials. If you want the good stuff, most of it will find you once word gets out you have coin. If you want the good stuff fast, just start walking door to door and knocking. Not a person on this island will mind.”

After they were full to the point of stretched stomachs, they did just that. Elisa was the hardest sell on the process.

“This seems rude,” she said. “Very.”

“Like the man said, nobody here has buyers for most of their things. And they seem to want them.” Riv gently maneuvered Elisa out of his way and banged his fist on the door several times, heartily and without shame. “In the worst-case scenario, we might have to apologize.”

The knocks echoed through the house, followed by what sounded like a bull rushing down a flight of stairs and the splintering of wood as a force beyond any of them ripped the door open without bothering to work the knob.

“Who in the blazes would knock this early in the morning?” A massive, bearded bald-headed man stood before them, shirtless. Every part of his body was defined, huge muscles. He held an iron bar about as long as Marco’s forearm and seemed to know how to use it. There was real honest rage in his eyes, but just for a moment. The sight of something he hadn’t expected seemed to leech away all his excess emotion. “Oh. You’re new. Whatcha want?”

“To spend money,” Marco stated as he shielded the others with his body.

The man’s mouth broke apart in a huge grin.

“We’re friends then. Because I want to make it.” The man welcomed them into the house. Or rather, he practically carried them in.

“Over the years, you end up getting more equipment than you can use. Luckiest guy I ever knew had an item that would eat old equipment and make potions out of it. Me, I just put it in barrels. I add about a barrel a year.”

The man went into a storeroom and started dragging the huge containers out. By the time he was done, his living room had seven of them.

“Now, most of this is junk. Like this.” The man threw Riv a set of heavy clothes. “Not terrible, but nothing special.”

Riv nodded as he caught the clothes, then recoiled from them in shock.

“This is junk?” he asked. “Really?”

“Sure,” the man said. “Hand it around if you need to. I find it’s best if the crew knows where the cash is going.”

Marco got the clothes next and had a reaction a lot like Riv’s.

“See what I mean? Not a strength enhancement on it,” the man said.

“That’s true, but…” Riv looked down at his club. “That’s usually not what’s holding me back. Most things don’t like getting hit with clubs, you know. They’re usually the ones who are hitting me.”

“You say that, but what good is regeneration for someone like us?” The man flexed, getting even bigger for a moment. “Barbarian types, I mean.”

“I’m a Sturdy!” Riv said. “Not a Barbarian. I have plenty of stats. Buffs that provide or improve skills is what I need.”

The man smiled again. “Kid, you’re in luck then. You have a class that emphasized vitality, strength, and hitting things very, very hard. It sounds like most of my trash is your treasure.”

Over the next hour, Riv was shown hundreds of items, none of which anyone in the party but him could wear. Even with his near-compatibility to the man’s class, fully half of it wouldn’t equip on him either. Still, there was so much he could use that it was visibly hard for him to choose. Marco felt like he could feel the conflict in Riv’s soul as he finally worked his way down to a short list of must-haves that just happened to cover all the equipment the system would let him wear anyway.

“That hat is an odd one,” the barbarian said. “If you wear it, you want to catch as much damage on your head as you can without passing out. I could never figure out how I’d do that, and the damage reduction didn’t matter much. I’m a bit harder to hit in the head, though.” The man put out a measuring hand over Riv’s head, indicating how much shorter he was. “For you, it seems like a pretty good fit. The ring is good, too. I would have worn it if I didn’t have a skill that does the same thing better.”

“And the amulet…”

“Aye. The amulet is the real prize here. I got it in a diseased swamp and was wearing something else that helped keep me healthy. By the time I would have worn it, I wouldn’t have gotten much out of it.”

“And you’ve never worn it?” Riv asked once more.

“Like I said, by the time I would have used it, it wouldn’t have been much help. I was much closer to the limits of what it could do when I got it than you are. Two or three skill levels, if memory serves. No tier increase at all.”

Riv looked down at his treasures and sighed. “How much do you want for this? All of it.”

“Hm.” The big man rubbed his chin, pulled out a chair, and looked at the pieces thoughtfully. After a half minute of consideration, he named a figure just slightly less than a small fortune, about the amount all four of them had in their purses at the moment.

“That’s a lot,” Marco said.

“It’s a lot of equipment. I know deals are deals and you have to be careful, but if you believe me I doubt there’s a much better setup for you in this whole town, and you’d have to find it piece by piece.”

Marco kind of believed him. The stuff here was oddly suited for big, rough-and-tumble types. Despite being a Barbarian full-combat class, this person’s build was closer to Riv’s than most would be. He could see Riv’s arm twitching, resisting the urge to get into his backpack to pay for it right away.

“Riv, you can borrow all of ours,” Marco said.