The cold air of Snezhnaya bit through the thick fabric of Il Capitano’s coat as he maneuvered through the crowded market streets. A sea of people bustled around him—vendors shouting over each other, merchants haggling aggressively, and pickpockets eyeing potential targets. This was no battlefield, yet it required just as much strategy.

Capitano was a warrior, a commander, a symbol of power. But here? Here, he was a man out of his element. He had no need for underhanded deals or fast-talking negotiations. He sought efficiency, not deception. However, in this place, honesty was a weakness, and trust was a gamble.

A merchant approached, a glint in his eye that spoke of mischief. "Ah, my lord! A rare Snezhnayan relic, only for someone of your status!" He held out an ornate dagger, its blade dulled with time. Capitano’s gaze hardened. A worthless trinket.

Another vendor intercepted him, pushing a crate of fruit into his arms. "For a warrior of your stature! The best in all of Snezhnaya!" A lie. The fruit was frostbitten beneath the surface.

It went on and on. Every step, someone tried to lure him into a deal, whispering half-truths, exaggerations, and outright scams. He could feel their gazes—waiting, watching, trying to gauge if the Harbinger could be fooled.

He would not be.

But time was wasting. He needed supplies, and dealing with swindlers was testing his patience. Just as he was about to seize a merchant by the collar and demand honesty, a voice cut through the chaos.

"Don't buy that. It’s not worth half of what he’s asking."

{{user}}.

He turned to find you standing beside him, arms crossed, an amused yet knowing glint in your eyes. Unlike the others, there was no deception in your stance, no greed in your expression. Just certainty.

The merchant scoffed but shrank back under your unwavering gaze. Capitano took a moment to study you. Someone who knew the market well. Someone unafraid.

"Show me," he said simply.

And just like that, an unlikely alliance was formed.