Fable - Ask A Walking Stick And A Talking Stone

[Quinton]

The markets were alive with activity that day, nothing unusual given the inhabitants and the traders and travelers passing through. The locals wanted their meats and cheeses, fruits and vegetables, visitors wanted to buy and sell wares and restock on supplies, hunters their hides and smiths their weapons. It wasn’t much different than any other town this fine sunny afternoon but it would prove to be a rather unique day too.

The town of Mintmeadow was north of Falwood forest, east of the city of Vel Anir, and there wasn’t much remarkable about it. It had cobblestone streets, cottages, an apothecary, carpenter's, workshops and the works. If you wanted a market stall or a table at a tavern then all were welcome to spend their coin from the elf to the dwarf, the human to the orc and, of course, the halfling.

“By the nook and the cranny!”

Quinton began singing as he marched through the markets. He had a bit of a generic outfit fit for this town and outside environment: green cloak over brown clothes, backpack over his shoulders and walking stick in hand.

“Write a book for your granny!”

A stall on one side offered pastries of all kinds but, to his surprise, he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. He had already had second breakfast. Though I suppose afternoon tea is indeed on the approach.

“Beside a brook with family!”

He almost bumped into someone. A tall person loomed over him. Quinton might have gulped as doom looked him in the eyes but he was used to guys like this.

“Oh! Begging your pardon, sir!” The halfling offered.

“Move it, maggot,” the orc retorted and walked onward.

Oh my days! No cure for rude characters I suppose. Quinton paused his walk to shake his head at the feller when something caught the corner of his eye. Oh my. It shined beside a crate in an alleyway but he couldn't make it out from this distance.

“Might just look uncanny!” He sang as he entered the alley, curious as a cat, and curiosity never killed the cat, did it?

Argós

 

[Argós]

If life had a soundtrack, Beethoven's "Rage over a lost penny" would be probably be playing at that moment. That's because there's no fitting piece for when something of high value is lost in the streets.

"Where?!"

The fast speed of the music, its' cartoonish feel, its' aspect is that of a tragicomedy. Perhaps Ludwig didn't intend that the piece be interpreted as such; either way, a piece of text, after so many years, can take unexpected turns and eventually have such interpretation.

"Where?!"

That was the question being hammered in Argós head. As the stone golem rushed through the uncrowded alleys of the city, his eye looked at every corner in search of the lost purple gem. His giant, heavy, noisy steps scared everyone that crossed paths. His backpack sack was swinging from side to side violently.

"Where?!"

He counted it multiple times - before things went wrong, there were seven gems: red, green, blue, pink, white, orange and purple. Now, there were six, and the purple one was missing. He didn't know exactly where he lost it; when he checked his backpack, he noticed he left it open from his last check. It's possible the gem had fallen anywhere in the alleys he had walked through so far.

"Where?!"

The seven gems were everything he had that could be sold. Losing one of them could potentially lead to him having less money at the end of the run than normal. That was the last thing needed at that moment. There was no necessity whatsoever to go through another season of food or water shortages. Especially due to something as stupid as losing a gem.

"Where?!"

As he made his turn at an L-shaped alley, he found himself at the intersection of three paths that formed a T. He looked to his right, and his left, and back at his right, and then he noticed it - there was the purple gem! He rushed towards it, with all speed he could, almost hitting the wood barrels close to the corners... when he noticed a halfling close to the precious stone. He stopped midway.

"Oh. no. Ohhhhhhhh noooooo..."

Argós thought that to himself. The golem froze at that moment. Would that stranger allow him to have his gem again, or would they keep it to themselves? Perhaps, perhaps not - he had to hope the halfling had a generous enough heart to give the gem back. His buying power was currently on the halfling's hand.

Argós approached the stranger at a slower pace, and calmly. Stopping from a distance - he feared the halfling would catch the gem and run away - he asked:

"Hello, chief. That gem you hold is actually mine. Mind to return it, please?"

 

[Quinton]

Spoiler: Music/Ambience

If writing had a soundtrack, and its music was diegetic, then it and the ambience might sound something like this. That click-clack of footsteps and clack-click of horse trots amid the odd roll of the wagon and clanking of pots and pans, clinking of glasses and dishes, as all those who walked or stood at stalls in the alley did so closely.

Those instruments of strings and drums? Could have been getting played by anybody in the scene, really. Naturally, the alleyway that the halfling had entered was just beside the market square of the town and catered to the trading of goods as others ventured down. It wasn’t wide like the main street but it provided wares some might consider lesser. Others? Better, rarer, with the promise of an exotic purchase after a fine haggle if not the right axe to take into battle.

However, it was all the halfling could do to pass these strangers by on either side after he entered the alley, paying them no mind. Their buying and selling did not interest him at the moment. Only one item did. He might not have the eyes of a hawk or the ears of a fox but Quinton lived life on the streets as a thief and he knew to spot a shiny rock even from this distance.

So he stepped beyond the stalls and arrived at the end of the alley. No wonder others hadn’t noticed what he did. They were focused on purchases and possessions. Yet, in that perfect moment, the object had shined beside a crate through the throngs, and that’s where he walked.

“Come to me, my pretty…”

Quinton licked his lips as he stepped at the edges of this smaller market and into an intersection. There it was, sparkling as ever, as if a violet star had fallen from the sky and cried for his eye to see it. And bring it into my pocket.

“Myyyyyyy preeeeeciiiiiiiiiioooooouuuuussssss”

At that, Quinton approached to snatch the stone into his grip just as he heard footsteps thunder from a distance. They were close enough that he froze, though, as his fingers closed into a fist. Then, for a moment, it was all the halfling could do to stop and gawk at the stone figure only feet away. He almost shivered.

“Oh…ohoho…eheheheh…”

He gave his best impression of someone who was totally clueless but wasn’t fooling anybody. Maybe this golem though. Oh my days, it’s straight out of the pages of a tome!

“Begging your p-pardon, M-Mister—GOLLUM—" He coughed. "—Golem—eheh—but what gem is this you mention, again?

Quinton blinked, gulping dread, holding said gem. His were simply the instincts of a thief.

Argós

 

[Argós]

Argós had the small impression that the stranger wasn't going to play fair. Why, it's the gem you're holding in this exact moment! What else would it be?! However, it was just a small impression, and the golem repeated, pointing at the precious stone this time:

"The gem you're holding right now, chief. That purple one."

The golem noticed the halfling was shivering. That guy was visibly afraid. Argós thought - the stranger was probably trying to grab that stone and keep it with himself, since finders keepers, but then he arrived, and since finders keepers unless the owner sees it, it almost became stolen. Now, the halfling was surprised the picture of a golem asking questions about what he was doing. Not even a human, not even an orc - a golem. Argós didn't spend much of his time empathizing with people and thinking about how they would find it curious to see a golem walking around like a normal denizen of that land, but, that time, the shock was visible. The stranger was - horribly - surprised.

The giant stone creature thought for some moments, and came up with a resolution:

"Look, ya can keep this stone with you as long as you'd like. You can call it yours. However, you'll have to pay for it. We can discuss prices, and I'll make sure to get a good deal for ya. If you don't want to pay it, then return it. Is that clear, chief?"

Argós was with his eye staring at the halfling and the rare stone. However, part of him was already expecting for the stranger to run away. He was physically ready to pick up his axe or his pickaxe - whatever was the nearest when he opened the backpack sack. Mentally on the other hand... The golem really hoped it didn't have to end in a chase. It didn't do well to his spirit to chase a young halfling with a giant axe...

 

[Quinton]

The giant rock monster pointed toward the guy who, to be honest, was a lot smaller. Is…is he pointing at the gem? No, surely not, given that it was hidden within the palm of the small man’s hand. Pointing at my hand, then, mhm, yes, must be that, quite right.

“P-P-Purple, you say, mate? Alas, my hand sports but a beige complexion, I do say, quite right.”

Hopefully nobody noticed that the halfling was shivering or the bead of sweat that lined his forehead. Probably this stone golem thing from who knew where could stomp toward him and close the distance in one motion and have his hand wrapped around Quinton’s head and hair the next second and then he’d know what it felt like to be said gem.

Golem spoke, something something stone, something something price. So halfling looked left, looked right, saw that nobody was going to approach and rescue him from this vicious contraption who so badly wanted his stone back, and centered his gaze on its craggy face.

“IF I had this gem in my hand…” The half-man said with a stifle and a frightful breath. “...Of which I know nothing about such a stone, let it be known…” He licked his lips and wished he tasted beer instead of tears. “...What on earth—pun unintended—would it even be worth?” Heh.

Argós

 

[Argós]

Argós looked at the young halfling with a now renewed impression that he wasn't going to cooperate. It seemed like he was going to have to play language games with a trickster. He was going to see - correction, experience those cases of mischief in monasteries, where the head priest had to sit and discuss for endless hours with a disobedient child. Literally everyone knew they were the one who caused the trouble, but, through careful choice of words, the kid was able to cleverly disprove each accusation against their own being.

Luckily enough, the gods prioritized selecting people with infinite source of patience for such roles, and this granite golem wasn't going to lose his posture just because of a common stranger. He had already seen much worse things than this. His home island's current leader included. Why would he get angry at the thief's delaying of the return of his gem when he could get angry at someone who was literally king of hell?

The rock giant crossed his arms, and answered at the same tone as before:

"Chief, I don't know why you would want to start discussing philosophical questions, but I personally don't think ya need to get that profound to get a practical answer. Just ask someone in these fairs how much they're willing to buy the gem you're hiding in your hands right now..."

Quinton

 

[Quinton]

Drat! It was a simple enough question and an easy enough trick, Quinton reckoned. Get the stone contraption to tell him how much said gem was worth and then he’d decide whether it was hidden in his hand or not. What happened? The unexpected. The golem redirected with accusations of philosophy and debate.

“Rats!” The halfling cursed then nodded toward a corner. “I'm not a particular fan of rats, sir.” Which was ironic given how used he was to alleys and ships. A few of them scurried behind a crate and, okay, maybe Quinton was just looking for an excuse to look away from that granite face; a distraction, one might say, if not to run away. Not yet, anyway.

With a sigh, Quinton looked his accuser straight in the eye, took a deep breath, held it, then felt like he might be sent straight to hell but exhaled anyway. “I assure you, Mr. Golem, that I know of no gem in my possession.” Not entirely wrong. He gulped back dread. “...Is it expensive..? More than diamond? Elven emerald? Dwarven sapphire?” Good thing his contemporary wasn’t certain whether Quinton was a liar…right?

Argós

 

[Argós]

Ah, yes, gem types. If the granite golem recalled correctly, his gem was of a pyramidalis variety. "Pyramidalis" because, well, they looked like a pyramid. They were somewhat common in those lands, more so than in faraway lands, though the purple variety was rarer. They were probably not as valuable as an Elven emerald, but they certainly were more expensive than diamonds. Diamonds seemed way more common in those lands, it's a "miracle" Argós didn't find any while he was lost in the woods.

The rock giant continued with his arms crossed, sighed and answered:

"I suppose it is more expensive than a diamond but cheaper than an Elven emerald, though I'm not sure... What I can guarantee to ya it's that it can buy five days worth of good food and good lodging, plus some good food for storage and a small quantity of small items such as candles. Or, it can buy good wood, good stone, good metal, good cloth... anyways, all stuff that you need to manufacture a furnace, a chest, a bed or erect some walls; ya can still buy good food for storage and there will still be money left for you to spend elsewhere. Probably ya will spend part of it on someone that converts your coins into the local currency, but I don't believe it would be everything. Those sorts of people aren't greedy."

...Wow, that was quite long. Better keep it at that; Argós didn't didn't have the will to do a monolegue. So instead, he just went ahead and made a final comment:

"Not sure If I should point this out, but it appears to me that chief is really uncomfy dealing with me. I can even see ya trembling! Haven't you ever dealt with golems before? Anyways, it is not of my intention to keep you afraid. Just return the gem, and I will leave ya."

Quinton

 

[Quinton]

More expensive than diamond. Quinton made mental note. Cheaper than elven emerald. Whatever that meant. What even was an elven emerald? One could only imagine. This mineral could evidently buy him five days worth of good food and good lodging, however, which was something to consider along with the storage and candles and perhaps a suit of armor and a pony if the halfling ever decided to ride into battle.

Stone, wood, metal, cloth… The golem went on and on and the halfling kept compiling the possibilities. This was mathematics at its best as much as philosophy in the end. Currency, as it so happened, was not merely an element of economics. It was also the sustainability of a person. Like me. Quite right indeed!

Just then, it occurred to Quinton who, having one fist closed, used his free hand to rub his nose. Just a side effect of feeling a mite perplexed as to what this golem was going on about. He mentioned this and that how this precious gem could buy that and this, one thing after the other, one and a half dozen or the other. Oh…right.

This rocky guy was talking like someone trying to keep this little guy on his toes. Thinks he’ll trick me with working out the numbers, does he!? Quite right. Apparently this golem intended for the halfling to get so frustrated thinking over the figures that he would just drop the gem like an idiot.

“I honestly have n-no idea what you are referring to, sir, when it comes to this gem you m-mention.” Did he mention he was scared? Didn’t have to. Quinton was only nervous. Despite the bead of sweat he just then swept from his forehead. “I tell you from here to there, sir, that for an absolute fact I truly do not have a gem in my hand— WAAAHHHH!!”

At that, some creatures even smaller than his own person scurried between his feet, squeaking, and suddenly Quinton was off of his feet and landed on his back. That gem in his hand? It bounced around before coming to a stop on the alley street.

“RATS!” The halfling thief cried before propping himself upward on his elbows to face the stone guy. “I…” He swallowed something hollow. “Well how did that get there!? IT’S A MIRACLE FROM THE SKIES!” He tried his best to pretend he wasn’t scared.

Argós