Private Tales Cheap Goods

[Lamik]

His mouth was dry. It had been less than a year since Lamik had left home. Less than a year since he had left Fal'Raheal for the first time. He had expected something big, something impressive. He had seen the illustrations and heard the descriptions from merchants and travelers. But this... this was beyond what he could have possibly imagined. Alliria could only be described as otherworldly: so many people, so many noises, so many smells. It was astounding. The gleaming white buildings towered above him, imposing yet beautiful. How could something of this magnitude be constructed? How could so many people exist in one place? It may have sounded stupid to some, but to Lamik, looking at the merchant stalls and the soldiers and the ships, oh god the ships! Dozens of vessels, giant, strong, sitting on the distant shore.

Lamik was somewhat disoriented, admittedly. He needed to find somewhere to rest. All of this, impressive, beautiful, astounding as it was, needed some getting used to, and now was not the time to get used to it. The man was tired. He had only just arrived, ending an uncomfortably long series of trips by cart, horse, and foot, sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of others. He was sore, he was tired, and he needed a bed. It wasn't difficult to find somewhere acceptable- he wasn't very picky- in a tavern in the outer city. It seemed like a decent enough place. Not immaculate but not too dirty. A well-kept sign above the door reading "The Fearless Fairy". A door that creaked, but only slightly. Inside, warm and hearty; the sound of laughing and chatter, the clinking of glasses and crackling of the fireplace. Lamik was hungry, yes, but that didn't matter now. He approached the innkeeper and asked if there was an available room. Lo-and-behold there was. Lamik paid up front- he always did- after counting the money he had left. It would suffice. Then, off to bed he went.

The man slept more comfortably that night than he had in a long time. No dreams, good or bad. Nothing to interrupt his sleep. Just a warm blanket, a roof over his head, and something akin to a mattress and pillow. He woke up with renewed vigor, got ready for the day, and headed downstairs into the tavern. It wouldn't be long until he had to get going, and there was still something that he was hoping to do beforehand. Reaching the bottom floor he quickly scanned his surroundings- it wasn't particularly early, but it definitely wasn't peak drinking time either. The tavern was partially full, and so Lamik scanned around for anyone carrying weapons.

Ralene

 

[Samantha Black]

"You want to try the Fearleh' Fair. Noh a be'er top fer brek this side uh the 'Lir."

Though she'd spent two days working alongside Ulfruch Gildsblane thus far, Ralene was having no less luck understanding the dwarf and, frankly, she was convinced that Ulfruch wasn't actually his name but a mispronunciation of its true sound. Either way, he'd spent the entire afternoon prior going on about a stew and a cook named Marigold at a tavern called the Fearleh Fair.

She'd had to ask about it and her guess hadn't even been close. The Fearless Fairy. Of course. Ral thanked the stall vendor and wended her way back through the growing merchant quarter crowd of the morning. Alliria's myriad cultures made for a dizzying effect when walking through its people. The amount of skintones, races, colors and styles of wardrobe, languages ... it was enough to make one crosseyed and really drove home just how homogeneous Vel Anir and its many territories truly were.

Her preference for Vel Castere's stark militial population and clean lines had nothing to do with its lack of variety in races or cultures. Ralene's new home was everything she had hoped it would be, and then some. Alliria was just a mission destination and as much as she was enjoying her time learning with Gildsblane, she was looking forward to going home and catching up with Holstag, Davi, and Eli.

By the time Lamik arrived to the main floor for breakfast, Ralene was already there somewhere among the throngs of others, sitting at a table of men she'd never met before, listening to them tell stories of their adventures. Something she rather enjoyed regardless of where her boots took her was integrating into groups of fellow warriors, soldiers, and mercenaries. This particular band of men (a motley crew of humans, an orc, and a young minotaur) were sparing her no detail of their latest quarry.

 

[Lamik]

It was odd.

Lamik knew that he couldn't afford any of the big mercenary organizations- if those existed here- and so he was quite happy to spot a group sitting around a table that seemed like they could be of the "for hire" type. It's possible that they were members of the aforementioned organizations, and if so he'd probably be laughed out of the establishment for even suggesting the price he was willing to pay. It's possible that that would have happened even if they weren't. Still, if they were just independent hired swords he had a shot of landing a deal.

The question now was: why hadn't he approached the group yet? Generally speaking, the man was excellent with people. He had no trouble talking to strangers, friends, or "enemies" (if anyone in his life up until now could truly be called that), yet he felt a certain level of anxiety this time. A few more seconds of considering the odd emotion led him to the conclusion that it must be the nerves caused by the city. In truth, he had not a clue when it came to proper behavior in different cultures, and this place seemed as foreign and strange to him as a culture could be. Lamik was raised to be polite, if a little bold, and the realization that he might behave improperly seemed far more daunting than he would have otherwise expected. Nonetheless, there were more pressing matters than a bit of anxiety.

Deep breath then.

And, during what at least seemed to be a brief break in conversation, he approached.

"Excuse me-" He started. "My name is Lamik Fillestar. I'm in need of someone who can accompany me on a short day out. It is a simple job- I highly doubt there will be any complications-, it's all within the bounds of the city, and I can pay." With this the man drew a cloth pouch out of his pocket and tossed it onto the table, letting the sound of coins rattling make that point. It wasn't a particularly big pouch, though, and if any of the members of the table were to open it they would see less than what you might call "premium rates". "I'm looking for somebody who can fight if need be, but who is also fine with not getting to taste any blood. Like I said, no complications are to be expected."

 

[Samantha Black]

The stranger earned himself one of those awkward silences you only got when a group was doing so to humor you. Ralene could see it in the faces of the mercs - the lines of amusement and, in some cases offense - as they listened to him speak. All fives of them watched the small pouch of coin land on the table and all at once they began to laugh.

Not just laugh, but really guffaw.

Ral could not help her smirk. She understood it for what it was, but she had no personal stake here among the crew. The Dreadlord silently drank from her tankard.

"That's a right joke ye got there laddie," the minotaur banged a massive fist on the table. Ralene wondered if he knew the minotaur she'd defeated in arm wrestling the previous summer - their kind might be widespread but their count was small in comparison.

"Maybe you'd best ask for a nursemaid," said one of the men, "though I doubt they take such low pay for such a mongrel pup."

Well that one seemed a bit unfair. The kid looked young but was smartly dressed, Ral would hardly call him a mongrel.

"Be on yer way," said the orc, "we don't do business for chump change."

Interesting, they must have some grit under their heels and clout under their name to act that way. Ralene licked her lips but said nothing.

 

[Lamik]

A small scowl formed on his lips, and Lamik tilted his head slightly to the left. This was unfortunate, but not completely unexpected. He eyed the members of the group one by one, trying to decide if any of them were worth an attempt at bargaining. Eventually, the man glanced at one of those who had remained silent. She was a tough-looking woman. Scary wasn't the right word, but it was definitely something close- The smirk wasn't confidence-inducing either. And yet, she remained silent. The rest of the group had laughed, but she had remained silent.

"Right then." He said, maintaining as pleasant of a voice as he had earlier. "I was hoping to keep this- it is an item of quite a sentimental value- but it strikes me that it may be persuasive." As he was speaking, Lamik reached around and unstrapped a cloth-bound object from the back of his belt. In truth, this was an option all along, albeit not a particularly pleasant one. "I can provide another form of payment that I imagine you will find to be satisfactory." He said, placing the object on the table and undoing the ribbons holding the cloth together. "I have spent much of my life studying under Isrelle of Fal'Raheal- I imagine that you've heard of her- and I can assure you that I've obtained something of her artistry." The implications of that statement were dishonest: Isrelle was good, but not legendary, and he was not even remotely as skilled as her.

That being said, Lamik was proud of this piece. An astute observer would notice the odd carefulness with which he unfolded the cloth (using only the very tips of his finger) and the speed at which he drew his hands away once the work was done. The less astute would only notice what rested inside- a large dagger made of iron with a grip of polished wood and an ornately decorated rain-guard. A gold band covered the space below the crossguard, with a small image of a lead debossed into it. "How about this: Along with the gold, you take this dagger. It's a lot better than anything you'd find for a reasonable price around here, believe me. Alternatively- prove me with the materials and I'll make you anything you'd like." It was a long shot, but it was the last long shot he had.

 

[Samantha Black]

A loud, raucous uproar of laughter sounded after a few hanging moments of silence. The mercenaries guffawed at the sight of the proffered weapon. Well, the men laughed. Ralene maintained her quietude.

"Nice toothpick, kid," the minotaur rumbled, humored assent followed from the others. It was clear that they held no interest for the knife or the unknown boy.

Ral wagered that these were local mercs with local contracts at local smithies who had proven their metal over the years. She couldn't blame them for laughing at the offer - she'd been laughed at, too, in Vel Anir before proving herself. Now in Vel Castere her name was requested. Ral wasn't feeling especially sentimental or empathetic, but she did have some downtime in Alliria while she waited for her current tutor to return from a short trip. If she could make herself a little coin on an easy job?

So be it.

The coinpurse jingled as she reached forward to take it up, "Keep your dagger," Ralene said to the stranger, "I'll do it for the coin."

Laughter and joking at the table came to an abrupt stop. She could feel their eyes on her and shrugged the looks off as she finished off her drink and stood from her seat.

"When do we leave?"