Between spending the majority of his time between his home Kurayo and his school in Iria, opportunities to travel were rare. It was by good fortune that Sergei was allowed to spend some time in Nisshoki. He had heard about it when he was younger; his father offering him tales of a land where honor was everything, where warriors were bred and raised to protect what was their home, and of exotic treats and goods that the elder vaewolf hoped to gain through exchanges.

He had been waiting an awfully long time and when he set foot off the ship and onto the land, he wasn’t disappointed. His father had been right- this was a much different land than anywhere else he was accustomed to. Everything from the buildings’ exterior looks to the stands to the mannerisms of its people and interactions was foreign to the young one. Kurayo was a cut-throat place where the highest players held a stranglehold onto the major public, but this city felt more serene, more bound to traditions that were several lifetimes older than himself. He didn’t walk too far into Nisshoki to also appreciate the natural beauty. The city felt as though it was one with nature, rather than having cultivated it. He was sure that his stepmother would have liked it here, given her position. He would have to be sure to get plenty of souvenirs for his younger brothers and sister also, or else he was sure to hear an earful from the trio.

He’d also have to think of something to give to Cinder as well while he was at it. He was sure that she would like that since she was likely knee-deep into her own studies.

Nisshoki was the closest thing to home outside of Antikythera. For once she was getting some fresh air and sunlight instead of being cooped up inside her temple. Shiloh had returned from checking in on how her husband was doing after inspecting whether or not the house was secure, and had listened to the latest rumors on the street. There was no such thing as 'free time' for her though, as she was now biding her time until evening. Tonight was the date of the famous 'goblin market', an impromptu event where merchants would set up stalls to peddle wares. It got its name from the fact it started at midnight, and superstitious folks swore that not all of the peddlers were mortal. In typical fashion, Shiloh was wearing a disguise–a worn cloak with a clay mask that covered her entire face. She browsed through the shops along the street looking for something to occupy her mind until nightfall. There were lots of people about, so she had to bob and weave through the crowds.

A small bookstore with an open display with a wide variety of titles sat sandwiched between a standing diner and a shop selling teapots. If it weren't for the large, brightly colored banner that read 'Books' in Ataiyan, you'd miss it. Cymbel said he had been writing on the side as a hobby and had recently published a few stories, so she stopped to see if any were here. She could advertise to give them more recognition, but her husband wasn't interested in making profit. Since he wasn't concerned about it, Shiloh chose to leave things as they were. As long as people appreciated his books, he was happy. Somehow she found herself picking up a horror novel titled 'The Man in the Mirror'. The cover was hardbound in blue with a serene pattern of mist circling high-peaked mountains, completely opposite to the gruesome story of the fate that befell a woman who bought an old antique mirror. The publisher must've thought it was funny wrapping up such a disturbing book in a peaceful landscape. Already feeling the hair on the back of her neck rise, she put it down and tried to find something else. The title of what she grabbed next read: 'Beneath the Bloodstained Cherry Tree'. She dropped it back on the stack.

With a sigh, she rubbed her temples. "I'm definitely cursed. What are the odds that every book I pick up here will be about murder or a horror story?" Glancing at the proprietor, she waved at him until he looked over. "What time is it?" The man poked his head out of the window of the shopfront and eyed the sky for a moment before sitting back down. "I'd say it's at least an hour or less before two in the afternoon. Late afternoon rush hasn't started yet." The man said, pointing over to the diner next door. "I see, I see. Thanks." Still more than ten hours left until the market started. "What do you have for new arrivals? Oh and no horror stories or murder mysteries, please." 

The unfamiliar varieties of scents of foods reached his nostrils as he made it to the marketplace. Sizzling meats, cold but alluring desserts, and spicy mixed vegetables were among those that stood out to Sergei. Everything looked to be prepared and cooked right there at the stands or was at least done the night prior, he’d assumed. It was a shame that he wouldn’t be able to take a great amount of them back home, but knowing certain members in his family, they would simply devour them like locusts. He made his way over to the shopping district where smiths were hard at work, crafting masterpieces of weapons, statues devoted to the region’s faith, or simply everyday tools.

He recalled his father having one of his finest swords made here many moons ago. As the heir to the family, he knew that eventually he too would adopt one to carry on their family's tradition, as brief as their bloodline has extended. He had just wondered if he could have something made in time before he departed for his brothers when he noticed the position of the sun. While he’d figured that he had a few more hours before the shops would be closing, that wasn’t exactly the case as more merchants arrived instead. Though there were weird vibes he was receiving from them as he observed. “I suppose it’s another culture difference?”, he whispered to himself as he snaked his way further in. The streets were filling up and the more he took in what was now being sold or traded, the stranger it seemed. Sergei practically all but forgot about the inn he was supposed to check into by the time he passed by one of the bookstores and instantly backpedaled.

“Ah, this would be good to check out for Tamara!” His baby sister loved books, opting to read over playing with others, especially the boys. At least he was certain to find something in there for her, right? He slipped right inside and started searching for the perfect book. Which seemed easier in his head than in reality after a few minutes combing through books that were either too advanced for her or would downright give her nightmares for weeks. From one end of the store to the next, he continued glancing over the book spines for something appropriate for a young child. After almost a half an hour of searching, Sergei settled for a couple of books filled with haikus, one with the city’s founding and history and a whimsical collection of fairy tales native here. One partially book that captured his eye for a bleak moment was an old, dusty leather book, one that seemed to contain theories and such about alchemy. But much of the information in the book was incomplete it seemed.

He figured he would get it anyway, at least to humor such writings and came onto the keeper. He overheard the person in front of him and their complaints were valid about the genres being pushed out here. “I found a few books without the mystery or murderings lying about. Not sure if you’d be interested, but I can part with at least one of them if you’d like.”

"I am most definitely interested." She said, half out of sarcasm. "Show me what you have." Skimming the titles, they looked safe. She chose to take the book on local floriography and a commentary of customs and traditions in Nisshoki. Even if they weren't useful now, the information might be helpful in the near future. Having knowledge of random subjects sometimes worked in her benefit if she needed to impersonate somebody undercover for a few weeks. Looking up, the sun was slowly sinking as time drew closer for the goblin market to open. Some people had rented their spots early, setting up to stake their claim on the crowd once the event was in full swing. The more unusual and suspicious merchants would begin to arrive when it was nearer to midnight. That was what Shiloh was waiting for. Having already gleaned enough from the rumors of the city, there wasn't much else to do but stand around and wait. The night life of Nisshoki was far different from that of Jayou, with its bright lights and bustling commerce. Instead, the atmosphere grew thick and eerie beneath the pale moonlight, just the type of setting that made novelists' minds run wild.

The after-work rush started as laborers and clerical workers began the march to grab seats at the nearest diner for a quick evening meal. The pubs became noisy with chatter and the click-clack of plates with side dishes. The scent of savory miso soup with bonito broth filled the air as roasted seaweed laver released their aromas upon being placed over steaming white rice. The late-night food stalls began their prep work for their customers; frying oil meeting batter and metal tools scraping away at pancakes piled high with chopped ingredients. Then came the more formal moving stalls, typically the noodle stands and other sit-down fare. With their small wooden awnings to protect against the rain, their seating rarely exceeded single digits. The sky darkened little by little until the lamps illuminated the streets and the dinner rush died down. A thin layer of clouds blocked the Sister Moons, dimming their light as the last and final traders of the goblin market finally arrived. There was a chill in the air as the night grew quiet in the city, outside of the impromptu fair.

Now that the time had come, Shiloh took out a terracotta clay half-mask that was molded in exaggerated likeness of a weeping face. With tasseled cords hanging off the sides and a crimson dot in the center of the forehead, she blended in with the strange vendors who at times seemed somewhat inhuman. This was where the true treasure hunt began. Talismans, trinkets, all sorts of eclectic and odd things–copies of unusual texts on topics occult or profane could be found if you knew the right price and place. Not all of the hawkers were human, and there were plenty of street food vendors who had some tricks up their sleeve. Enticing sights and enchanting voices beckoned you to come and have a gander at their questionable wares. Her steps were more lively than before as she darted through the crowds, scanning the area for a certain shop with a three-eyed flag. It was manned by an ordinary-looking young man in his late twenties, dressed like an ascetic priest with layers of rosary beads hanging around his neck. His eyes were closed when she approached, yet his head turned towards the sound of her footsteps.

"So what will it be today, dear customer?" He asked, motioning to the items laid on the silk cloth in front of him. There was a conspicuous horizontal slit on his palm, and it didn't look like a wound. It opened to reveal an eye with a gold-ringed pupil that darted around. She squinted as she eyed the stock. "I'll need ten vials of tortoise powder and colorless quartz–diamond-grade hardness and clarity. Anything new?" Rare materials were something she experimented with when it came to making new inventions. "Have a look." The vendor took out a large latched wooden case, revealing a mixed bag of enchanted items. Things from mundane tools to ornate hairpins were out for show, giving off a faint aura of magic. Thankfully it wasn't enough to make her nauseous, but she didn't move closer. "Everything in this box is 50 silver. Why don't you try your luck? You might get something worth the bargain." The merchant said with a sly grin, opening one of the eyes on his face at last.