"Here." Whiteclaw held out a light gray cloak, and a beastkin-shaped mask. I took the items and looked them over. "The cloak will hide your scent and status. Unless you make a fuss, no one will question it. Such items are common, and you can keep it if you want when you leave. The mask is something rarer and I expect it back before you leave."
"Does it change my appearance?"
"Yes. And creates a false status. It was made from a beastkin's soul. It will hide yours. Quite useful for getting away with crimes."
"I would like you to try them first. I trust you, but I am not skilled enough to work out everything these items might do."
They likely did what Whiteclaw said, but I wanted to see how he reacted.
"Of course," he said and took them back.
He put on the cloak and mask in one motion. His fur shifted to brown, his eyepatch disappeared, and he appeared to have two working eyes. I checked his status and, instead of being blocked; it read as level 40 beastkin with basic skills.
He reached behind his head and took off the mask and then the cloak. He handed them back to me, and I put them on, ready in case something nefarious happened. My Danger Sense didn't trigger, and nothing changed in my vision.
Whiteclaw went over to his desk and picked up a mirror. My head was that of a brown fox beastkin.
It felt weird. I could feel something pressing up against my soul, like a wet towel. But it didn't interact with my soul at all. It did exactly what Whiteclaw had said it would do. As for the cloak, I noticed nothing with any of my senses.
"Your gloves and clothes under your cloak are fine. You can talk without being discovered. But if anyone presses you on your identity, it will quickly become obvious."
"How much for the mask?"
"It isn't for sale. It is impossible to recreate it. But you are curious about my people, so I will give you a tour. If anyone asks, just say you are from the Cat Clan's territory, but traveled here to see your old home."
"Got it. Name?"
"Brownpaw. It isn't flattering or memorable, but that is for the best."
I nodded and pulled up my hood, following Whiteclaw out of his office. His two guards followed us out of the building, trailing a distance behind us.
"You run a crime organization here?"
"The side market. There are no crimes in beastkin cities. Torture and death are the punishments for any crime. The only tax comes out of the dungeon. Everyone else struggles to survive. I could be called a community leader."
"Is that altruistic?"
"I let cubs freeze and elders starve if needed. There are only so many supplies. While your purchase will make things difficult, it will help quite a bit in the following years as we expand what we can grow and produce."
"No one gets desperate enough to commit a crime?"
"Some do, but then others kill them horribly to make an example. Most get the message. The few who don't understand are removed. If there are no changes, no one will starve this dark season. It will be tough, but I won't let my people starve."
"Can crops fail?"
"Yes. There isn't enough Mana to keep up the heat or light. It is rare, but it has happened. That is why farms are required to have a reserve of Mana cores for at least a year to open. Otherwise, people would mismanage resources. That is the biggest problem."
"And that building? The one that outputs the smoke?"
"The thermal generator. Burns Mana cores to create a weather ward around this settlement and raise the ambient temperature to livable. While it is still cold, you won't get frostbite going outside."
"That is a lot of smoke."
"It's from the ore processing that occurs there. The structure burns off impurities and Mana simultaneously. We won't be looking into it; the place is heavily protected."
Stolen from NovelBin, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
"No problem, just wondering since I saw it from a distance."
"Whiteclaw, getting out of your cave?" A large beastkin with a sword on their hip approached. They had bright red fur and weren't wearing much despite the chill and the wind. My Danger Sense rose quite a bit.
"Firefox, just showing a guest around, Brownpaw. He tends towards the quiet side," Whiteclaw said.
The large beastkin gave me a look up and down, but he didn't use any directed skills to check my status as far as I could tell. I gave a nod in return, choosing not to say anything.
"Well, I just saw your request for access to the food reserves. I know you aren't one to mess about, but what are you doing?"
"Fulfilling a request. I will pay the fees. But there is a high demand for food now."
"Are you looking to build a new settlement with that much? You are requesting three thousand fists, but knowing you, you are looking to scrounge up double that."
"Five thousand fists worth of food. Someone already made a down-payment. A large down-payment."
Firefox looked at me. "This one?"
"An intermediary for the transaction. The end buyer wishes to remain anonymous. But their cores are good. All orange."
"That is the only reason we are talking, and I am not shouting. It cuts deep. We won't have any emergency reserves if things go poorly."
"That last poor harvest was over seventy years ago. You know we struggle to have enough cores. The adventurers work hard, but we are all pressed to the limit. We make it through this dark season; we will have some breathing room."
"Some deep adventurer that returned?"
"Like I said, they wish to remain anonymous. But you know me. I would die before letting this place come to harm."
"What do you say, Brownpaw? Do you think old one eye here is doing the right thing?"
"Yes," I said with a small nod.
"Quiet indeed. But the blade you carry says you prefer to speak by fighting. So, who is behind you? The prices that are being paid will cause all food prices to rise. Hoarding will hurt everyone, and I won't tolerate speculators."
"A long trip into the dungeon…"
" Well, the cores are proof of that at least. I don't like it Whiteclaw, but at your prices I won't interfere. But don't come sniffing for my food reserves. When things get lean, I want something to eat."
"That is fair. If you change your mind, let me know. I won't shortchange you. Even if it is only a couple hundred fists."
"I will let you know if I change my mind. But you know me, stubborn to the end," Firefox said and then walked off.
"We handled that well."
"Is he also a community leader?"
"The only other one in the settlement. I handle the outskirts, and he handles the interior. We try to avoid stepping on each other's paws, but your food purchase is too big to conceal. So, he wanted to ask questions, making sure I am not speculating."
"That's happened?"
"Rarely, and it is a serious crime. If you buy something to sell later in the same settlement, you'd better have a good reason. Hoarding just to get a higher price or making the price go up is a crime. There are enough headaches already without everyone stockpiling things they don't need."
"Whiteclaw," an older beastkin with patchy white fur, came up with three young beastkin behind her.
"Elder Keeneyes," he greeted her and just glanced at the young beastkin trailing behind her.
"I was hoping to get a donation for the orphanage. I heard someone has arrived and is making some large purchases."
"You get your allocation and no more. If your young pups want to eat, they work."
"Of course they work. They work hard, but prices are already going up. We live hand to paw. You know I don't save, since I spend everything I can."
"The prices aren't going up that much. I know. Just a steel chit or two at most."
"It has been five steel chits since this morning."
"What? Who is playing games?"
"I shouldn't say." He pulled out a single, small steel bar and handed it over to Elder Keeneyes who quickly took it. "It's Skyfall. He is making trouble."
"I will handle it. Thank you for letting me know," Whiteclaw said, and I followed him. Elder Keeneyes gave me a look but said nothing.
I was wondering what was going on, but I already had a good guess. My purchase was making waves.
I followed Whiteclaw to a larger building. There were several beastkin having hushed conversations.
They all quieted down as we entered.
"So, you finally show up," a black-furred beastkin said. He had a slight blue tinge to their fur.
"What trouble are you causing now, Skyfall?" Whiteclaw asked.
"I'm just buying up the food reserves I can. It looks like it will be a lean winter, since someone is hoarding."
"I am selling, and the price I am arranging is more than fair. You know this; everyone else knows this. There won't be a better price," Whiteclaw replied calmly, and several beastkin nodded.
"With no margin for error and keeping the wealth for yourself," Skyfall said.
"To pay for a brand-new farm. It will be a lean, dark season, but afterwards there will be a boom."
The crowd seemed split now.
"Taking food out of your fellow beastkin's mouths to feed someone else? Shameful,"
"An orange core for each fist worth of food is not a cheap price. That is at least fifty steel chits each. Or a quarter million. I don't think anyone has seen that kind of wealth in a long time. So, while I am paying quite a bit, it's to help all of you out, not to raise prices. Unless you wanted me to undercut everyone and leave hard feelings behind."
"Altruism, from you? Don't make me laugh; my voice would freeze. If you are paying for an orange core each, you must have gotten more?"
"A small fee for helping smooth the transaction over. I saved a hundred orange cores just for you."
Whiteclaw pulled out a small pouch. He tossed it over, and Skyfall caught it and checked inside of it.
"Well, I suppose you are looking after everyone," he replied at the very public bribe.
No one else seemed upset.
"Smooth things over, and there is another one once all the fists are arranged."
"Alright. Sorry for causing some trouble."
They made up just like that?! I thought they were about to shout and come to blows.