Rodney smiled. "Barrowton is one of the few large towns in the North. Finding buyers here is easy.
"Besides, I've made a few local merchant connections during my previous trading trips here."
He paused before continuing, "If things go smoothly, I figure it'll only take a day to offload our goods.
"I set aside the remaining day to buy up Barrowton wool, pelts, and grain—goods easy to flip back in White Harbor."
...Looks like this contract will wrap up quickly.
Don Quixote nodded, catching on. "Seems we'll be heading back to White Harbor soon."
Rodney's expression turned serious. "Ser Don Quixote, stay sharp on the road back.
"Plenty of raiders lie in wait.
"They lack patience to fence goods like ours.
"But once we merchants have pockets stuffed with Gold Dragons and Silver Stags, they show up like starving wolves."
Hearing this, Don Quixote replied earnestly, "Lord Rodney, every man in the Bloody Hand Mercenary Company will stay on high alert.
"We'll guard your caravan with loyalty and courage far beyond what those raiders can imagine!
"The Bloody Hand never slacks off on a contract, start to finish!"
Rodney was highly satisfied with Don Quixote's attitude and grounded work ethic.
He smiled. "But here in Barrowton, you boys can let loose a little."
Speaking of letting loose, Rodney raised an eyebrow at Don Quixote, hinting at something specific.
He added, "This is the seat of House Dustin, after all. Nobody's stupid enough to cause trouble here."
Don Quixote shook his head. "Plenty of time to relax once we're back in White Harbor. The Bloody Hand stays by your side, Lord Rodney.
"Even if no one's looking for a fight, having us flank you ensures nobody looks down on you. Might even make closing deals easier."
Rodney thought it over, finding truth in the words, and grew even more pleased with Don Quixote.
He laughed. "Then I'll rely on the Bloody Hand!
"Let's take a quick breather and grab some grub before hitting the market."
The group handed their horses off to stableboys at the Golden Wheat Inn and headed to their rooms.
Of course, only ten of them—the seven from the Bloody Hand, Rodney, the caravan guard captain, and the steward—actually stayed at the Golden Wheat.
The rest of the caravan bunked at a rougher inn down the road.
————
Don Quixote changed into practical travel gear and shared a hearty meal with Rodney's crew.
Standing on the wide, elm-lined street outside the Golden Wheat Inn.
He watched Rodney methodically direct his men to organize the cargo.
While telling Tom and the other two, "While under contract, you keep your urges in check.
"Off the clock, I don't give a shit what you do in your private time.
"But if you screw around while we have business to handle, don't expect any mercy from me."
Tom and the others exchanged mixed looks, clearly disappointed, but quickly replied, "Yes, Captain!"
Not long after, Rodney led the caravan toward the bustling market on the other side of Barrowton.
Though a large town, Barrowton wasn't a true trade city like White Harbor.
The wide, straight streets felt cramped amid the bustling crowds.
So, aside from draft animals pulling wagons, the group walked on foot.
Rodney rented three stalls, leaving behind a few men and four wagons loaded with cheap goods.
These men would sell off fast-moving inventory in Barrowton's open-air market.
The remaining four wagons held higher-value goods that wouldn't sell as quickly.
Rodney personally tracked down a few local Barrowton merchants to offload these slightly below market price.
By late morning the next day.
All cargo from the original eleven wagons Rodney brought from White Harbor was completely sold off.
Next came swapping roles from seller to buyer.
To onlookers, Rodney seemed to buy endlessly without batting an eye, striking deal after deal with rapid, blunt efficiency.
In just one afternoon, Rodney completely refilled the eleven empty wagons with new cargo.
Night fell.
Under cover of darkness, Barrowton was cold, dry, silent, and grim.
The Great Barrow loomed like a beast asleep for countless ages.
The massive ancient tomb cast a heavy shadow over the entire town, its oppressive Old Gods aura quickly swallowing Barrowton in darkness.
Fires were scarce, the wind howled like weeping ghosts, making it feel like a town of the dead resting beside a millennial grave.
Echoes of wolf howls drifted from far beyond town limits.
Streets emptied fast.
Inside a Barrowton tavern.
Stench of ale, charcoal smoke, and oiled leather armor mingled in the air.
Hedge knights, traveling merchants, grooms, and whores from all over gathered around tables.
Each with their own stories to tell.
Luck seemed good tonight.
A wandering young man—part bard, part singer—quietly slipped into the tavern.
His clothes were worn but clean and neat.
Then, at some point.
The young wanderer lightly plucked a string.
Harp notes drifted low and slow, like the biting Northern wind.
Carried on harp strings were songs of the Old Gods and legends of ancient heroes.
Singing of long-forgotten histories and legendary tales only heard in a wet nurse's arms.
Time slowly slipped by.
The final note faded into the air, and the harp fell silent.
Don Quixote praised in a low voice, "That tune... it's a song of the First Men."
He pulled the last twenty-odd copper pennies from his pouch, handed them to Cole to drop into the wanderer's leather bag, and ordered:
"Cole, go buy the bard a mug of hot ale."
Cole hurriedly swallowed his food and replied respectfully, "Yes, My Lord."
Sitting at the same table, Rodney suddenly spoke up. "Rare to hear a song actually worth a damn!
"Archer, grab a pitcher of Black Stout for Cole to take to the bard."
With that interlude passed.
Don Quixote and Rodney resumed their idle chat.
"Whew, finally done. Can actually catch my breath now!" Rodney laughed, sipping his drink slowly.
"Good thing I already mapped out fair prices and nailed down exactly what goods I wanted to trade before coming.
"Otherwise, we'd still be stuck grinding out details."
Don Quixote raised his mug, took a sip, and spoke measuredly. "Trading is no easy game. One slip and you're buying high and selling low.
"Especially with prices of goods fluctuating constantly between White Harbor and Barrowton.
"Without a deep read on the market, taking a loss is easy."