Avery decided that the subtle approach was going to be a waste of time in this case and that just stealing the stick from the old man was the way to go. As much as he didn’t want to hurt the old guy, he was already getting a little fed up with this quest.

The day had been long enough so Avery decided to catch a little sleep first. He returned to the Drunken Goose, had another bowl of the stew which was starting to become edible, and then grabbed a quiet spot for some shut-eye.

As soon as the local stores opened, Avery went to the nearest store that sold used clothes and used a little silver to get a change of clothes. He also grabbed a head scarf of the type he’d seen a lot of sailors wearing which was ideal to disguise his face.

Once the sun had started to rise, Avery headed back to the quayside and started to watch for the old man to appear. After an hour, the old man seemed to appear in the blink of an eye, although Avery was sure he had just lost concentration for a moment. The carved stick was in his hand as usual.

He waited just a little while longer until there were a few more people around and it was easier to slip into the crowd. He moved across the quayside to be close to the old man and slipped the headscarf into place.

Moving as quickly as he could, Avery ran across the short distance to where the old man was standing. He grabbed the stick with both hands and pulled. For a moment, he could feel the old man resisting and it seemed he was stronger than it was possible for someone who looked so frail.

Then the old man gave a little shout and the stick came free. Avery ran as fast as he could away from the quayside in the opposite direction to the Drunken Goose. He ran for several minutes until he found a secluded area and stopped to catch his breath.

He held the stick out and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The stick was a plain piece of branch that even had a couple of small twigs and leaves on it! It was not the stick Avery needed nor was it the one that the old man had held only moments before he had approached.

He leaned against the wall of the building he was standing beside, his head pulsing. Just who was this old guy?

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By this stage, Avery was sick to death of the old man, the stick, Armood and everything else. He would never have believed it could be so difficult to take a simple stick from an old man who was blind and could hardly walk.

But it was what it was and he needed the stick to complete the bargain. So he decided on a hard-core approach. In his early years, before turning to be a sailor, he had been involved with a few questionable enterprises and one of those was breaking into places.

The idea formed in his mind and as the sun set, he began his third attempt to complete the quest. He changed his appearance again with the rest of the items he’d bought from the thrift store. Back at the quayside, he went to a waterfront bar with tables out front and a good view of the old man. Then he waited.

As the sun set, the old man picked up his things and, stick in hand, headed away from the quayside. Avery finished his drink and fell into step a short distance back from him. It was easy to follow the old man because the stick was taller than most of the people around them so he kept as much distance as he could.

The old man walked along the seafront until the most built-up part of the town was behind them. Instead, there was a series of slightly ramshackle huts built at the edge of the beach. The old man made his way to the third one, let himself in and shut the door. Avery listened but didn’t hear the sound of any kind of lock on the door.

He found a shaded part where he could see the old man’s hut and waited. Dark came and after an hour or so, the single candlelight inside the hut went out. Avery was confident this meant the old man had gone to sleep.

Making sure he wasn’t seen, he crossed to the hut and gently opened the door. He swung it open carefully in case the sea had caused the hinges to squeak but there was no sound.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The hut was a single room with a bed at the far side from the door, a single chair making up the living area to the right and a cooking area to the left. There was a little light from the street lamps outside so Avery could make out enough to see the old man was asleep.

But where was the stick? He reached out, taking a chance that the old man put it down when he first walked in the door. His first search came up empty so he tried the other side of the door. Still nothing.

Then he noticed a shape beside the single chair to his right that looked a lot like a tall stick. He took a couple of tentative steps towards the area, carefully not to make any sound. He reached out and felt the stick, running his hand down to the carved area to ensure it was the right stick, which it was.

Taking the stick, he made his way back to the door. He sneaked outside and carefully closed the door behind him. He checked again and confirmed in the dim light that he held the carved stick.

A feeling of relief swept through Avery and he started to walk back towards the Drunken Goose. Once he was back in the town itself, he felt something irritating his left foot. He stopped, leaning the stick against the wall while he slipped off the shoe and removed a small seashell that had somehow worked its way in there.

He stood up and reached for the stick but stopped dead.

It was gone.

He spun around, checking the ground to see where it could have fallen. But it was nowhere in sight. He even walked back a short distance.

There was no sign of the stick anywhere and no one had been anywhere near him to have stolen it.

Feeling completely baffled, Avery jogged back to the old man’s hut. The door was still closed and no one was anywhere in sight. So he repeated his break-in and stood for a moment, incredulous.

The stick was back beside the single chair in the same place that he had taken it from.

He sneaked over and grabbed it, repeating the checking process and once he was sure it was the right stick, he made his way out the hut for the second time.

He held the stick in front of his face and started to walk away. One hand firmly gripped the carved area, the other further up.

As he reached the building he had stopped by to remove the seashell, he felt a strange sensation in the hand gripping the carved part of the stick. With almost dread, he looked down and there it was.

The carvings were gone. The stick was once more a simple, plain stick and not the one he was looking for. It was impossible but somehow the stick had been switched - while he was holding it!

He sat down heavily on a broken area of wall. The question wasn’t ‘who’ was this old guy now but ‘what’ was he?

And Avery was at a loss for an answer.

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Feeling utterly baffled, Avery returned for a second night to the Drunken Goose. He sat at the back of the bar room, listening to the other patrons chat about their day. His was a bigger bust than any of theirs.

But it was while listening to a pair of merchants talking about haggling over a deal, he came up with an idea.

After sleeping, he headed to the quayside for the third time and waited where the old man usually stood. A short while later, the old man appeared, a slight smirk on his face.

“I give up,” Avery admitted, holding his hands out in a gesture of defeat.

“So you learned the lesson in the end,” the old man said with a smile.

“I know you don’t want to give up your stick but I need it if I am ever going to have a chance to get home,” he said, deciding that truth was the best option. “So can I buy the stick from you?”

The smile broadened again. “That would have saved you a lot of work from the start if you just asked me that.”

“Okay, I get it. Let’s negotiate,” Avery said. “Five silvers.”

The old man looked shocked. “I can’t manage without this stick, I would be housebound with it! It needs to be strong and that costs real money. I couldn’t take less than 10 gold.”

Avery choked a little. “I don’t even have that much gold. There are some really good sticks for sale for just 15 silver down the road. I can even go and get you one.”

“The quality just won’t be there,” the old man argued, shaking his head. “Eight gold.”

“One gold,” Avery came back. “You could buy enough sticks with that to build a raft.”

“I can’t swim so don’t need one,” came the reply. “Six gold.”

Avery did a quick check in his pockets. “Five gold, that’s my final offer.”

The old man appeared to consider it for a stupid amount of time. Then he nodded. “Five gold, you have a deal.”

The old man handed over the stick and Avery gave him the gold. They shook hands and the deal was sealed. Avery watched the old man walk off, his gait suddenly perfect and steady.

“Guess I really was fleeced,” Avery reflected to himself. Then he looked at the stick and shrugged.