"Look either you buy something or you move along" The merchant with the green hat looked as sketchy as her prices. Grain priced at fifteen copper a kilo, cheese at 2 silver for just half a kilo, and mystery smoked meat on a stick for 5 copper a stick. Even with those prices she was the most economically friendly merchant in August's drop.
"Come on, cant you give a small discount, cant have many people coming by any way" Tristin had to hunker down to her level. The merchant sat on the floor atop a red rug. Behind her were crates and barrels at her side, a fire and some meat sticks.
"If i started to give out handouts id starve come winter" It was true, a merchant couldn't afford to sell for a lower price then what they bought it at. And at a place like this even though there were few people the demand was immense.
"Fine i'll give you full price" Tristin tossed over four silver which the merchant caught effortlessly. "I want a kilo grain, one cheese, and one stick of meat just for me" He would have to share the grain and cheese. But the meat was a reward for himself. A little something for the road.
The merchant handed over the stick first. Then they began to prepare the bag of grain. Tristin could hardly wait, he hadn't eaten anything since morning. And even though the origin of the meat was dubious at best its glistening surface was inviting enough. Closing one's eyes you could smell the deep aroma.
"You sharing?" Tristin was knocked out of his fantasy by the cold voice of reality, no, the voice of Opip. "What?" But his answer fell on deaf ears. Half the stick in one go. "mmm that's good, thanks" With a pat on the back Tristin was left emotionless, scarred, maybe even scarred for life, half of it gone, just like that.
"You bought meat? Give me a slice" Another one, Jakurk Mianta took a piece from the stick. "Tastes awful, yuck" And almost just as fast spit it out.
Out of eight pieces three were left. Curse upon the other two's bloodlines for their betrayal. But at least three pieces were left. The money was somewhat well spent. Now for a taste before any other unfortunate event. Stale too soft and without taste other than warm oil. Was it even meat? Was it even edible in the first place? "What kind of meat is this?" Tristin turned to the merchant who had just about finished with the goods.
"Well if you can keep a secret" She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "Water rat" the squealing hair covered abomination found within the second and lower parts of the first floor. A hideous and weak creature which gained its strength just from numbers. Tristin gave the rest of the stick to Opip. He received a muffled thanks and found comfort in the fact that the meat could at least be good for someone else.
"So how did the meeting with the other mage go?" Tristin couldn't help but notice the beautiful torch which Jakurk now carried. It seemed to be of Earth folk craftsmanship and thus not from any store on the island.
"It was just a hotheaded kid, barely at a mages level. We had a duel, lasted a second or so, and I got this nice token of appreciation for teaching her to not disrespect her elders" Jakurk seemed quite fond of his new torch. Regularly checking the lid mechanism causing the fire to flare up just to be closed off. Kind of like how one would open and close a lighter.
"How did it go on your end? bought anything good for the coin?" Tristin had carefully browsed most of the small market at August's drop. What he found was mostly wary overpriced gear and odd trinkets found deeper in the dungeon which might have some kind of power or might just be a broken artefact for some dusty scholar to study.
"I didn't find much… I bought three potions of minor cure. And the rest I used here to stock up our supplies so our next meal wouldn't just be rotten fish." Potions were hard to come by but a life saver. Potions of cure could restore wounds on the body if applied correctly. A potion of cure should not be drunk but instead applied atop of the wound for the correct effect. If one was to drink the magic liquid they might instead become sick.
The merchant finished up with Tristins order and handed him the respective goods. "Good luck out there, And a warning, The bandits who used to roam on the third and fourth floor have been seen up on the second floor as of late but in much smaller numbers." Bandits were common in less developed regions and regions where the eye of the law had a hard time to see. The bandits of Rävnäs could almost exclusively be found in the dungeon.
"Thank you for the warning, but we'll be alright" And so the group of three gathered their equipment and due to Tristins advice took the western exit of August's drop for the dilapidated stairs some 200 metres away.
"Life is unfair, isn't it Pobossa??" Benjen sat alone in the sour roe, by the bar. Outside the sun was setting and the usual crowd had begun to shuffle in. He was on his fifth cup of Trollwater mead. Island brewed and high in its toxicity.
"All I really want is a quiet life, you know, just my own guild chapter, a mansion or two, oh and at least two wives who don't know each other" He was noticeably drunk. Which isn't that unusual except for his mood. Usually he'd be thrown out after three cups after starting a fight or after screaming profanities at the top of his lounges as the rest of the tavern watched in horror. But this time he was calm, a bit sad in a way. Almost a little pitiful. But Pobossa paid his worries no mind, she had better things to worry about.
"But then everyone just has to go get in your way you know" Benjen emptied another cup. "Tristin, the old mage, Vinkt, Emar, Kettler, that hound, Borsten…" He rambled on and on. "Everyone just wants to see me fail you know" He ordered another keg. And Pobossa was happy to fill one for even if he was a horrid person he always managed to pay his bar debt even if the coin might be a bit dirty.
"You know that's why I like you Pobossa, You, You don't tell me im stupid, You don't demote me to just a member because I screwed up three jobs, and you know you are also beautiful, You want to get married?" Benjen was slouched over the bar a few winks away from falling asleep, he likely wouldn't be able to finish his keg.
"No" It was a short answer but hard enough for Benjen to almost cry.
"I see how it is, no one loves me" Benjen flared up from his seat causing him to fall over on the tavern's wooden floor. A few other bargoers laughed at his predicament while some stayed quiet. Pobossa simply rolled her eyes. "Won't somebody love me?" He really was close to tears, perhaps it was a good thing he usually stopped drinking after just three kegs.
"I can't give you love.. But i can give you some revenge" Krita sat on the barstool besides his. For how long he had sat there Benjen did not know. He had the oddest smile as he reached out a hand to help him on his feet.
When seated, Benjen reached for his half drunk keg but his hand was swatted away by Krita. "No, look here" On the bar Krita laid a yellowish paper. A contract. And atop it ten silver coins. A few days wage.
"A Contract?" He asked, still a bit dumbfounded from the liquor. Krita slowly shook his hair causing his curly black hair to swirl around.
"Revenge" Krita grinned as he uttered the words. He knew everything that happened in the small port town. He knew where to go to find someone who'd want to help him steal a sword for petty scraps and the promise of revenge. "You see, I want your help to get a sword," Krita continued. "Not just any sword mind you, a skymetal blade"
Then the memories came back. Even in the drunken darkness of Benjens mind he could recall the hound, the hill folk and the old mage and the beautiful blue blade which the hound carried.
"So how about it, you seem like a man who likes violence" Krita pushed over the paper to Benjen. Who sincerely looked it over this time. He uttered the words.
"Easy revenge"