As we strolled beyond the town gate and entered the heart of the quaint settlement, the 'main street' unfolded before us, stretching approximately 200 yards. The ambiance was both charming and seasoned, with a touch of history lingering in the air. My immediate instinct was to shoot a message to Root, warning them about a rather enigmatic female guard stationed at the south gate.
"Hey, Root, just a heads up. There's a female guard at the south gate... she's a bit... tricky to describe," I typed, my words trailing off as I mulled over the best way to articulate the encounter.
"Thanks for the heads up...?" Root's reply echoed with a mix of apprehension and confusion.
As we continued exploring the town, its architecture whispered tales of a bygone era. An aged Inn stood prominently, catering to the needs of weary travelers and delvers. Several quaint shops dotted the surroundings, and a substantial blacksmith shop hinted at the town's industrious spirit.
"I just realized I could sell the aluminum hammer here," I casually mentioned to Orlo, my thoughts drifting toward potential transactions.
"Give me a little bit, and I'll let you know if we need coin. We had quite a bit, but we also didn't factor in having to kit out a new adventure. We would also get quite a bit more in the capital," Orlo responded, their pragmatic approach considering the financial landscape.
"Oh, I also still have the Harlequin scepter. I think some of that was good as well," I added, acknowledging the various assets at our disposal.
"Forgot about all of that. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks..." Orlo reflected, a hint of nostalgia in their voice.
Our journey led us into the warm embrace of the Seariously Cozy Inn. Orlo, being the practical one, headed straight to the counter to secure a room. The Innkeeper, a Bun with silver-gray hair pulled back in a neat bun and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose, exuded a quiet authority and a warm, motherly demeanor.
As Orlo handled room arrangements, I took a moment to survey the Inn's surroundings. The ground floor opened up into a communal dining hall, where lingering breakfast patrons shared the space with a backdrop of a rather sizable kitchen tucked in the rear. The Inn and the surrounding town displayed a well-maintained charm, gracefully embracing their seasoned history with an air of both age and continued use.
"Ah, your lodgings shall be on the third floor, my dear. Take a jaunt up the stairs and you'll find it—fourth door on your right, it is," the Innkeeper graciously informed us.
With accommodations settled, thoughts turned to our plans. "So, we can get in and pick up some supplies. Particularly colder weather gear… at least for you. What else do we want to do?" I inquired, turning to the group for input.
"I'll wander around town and listen for anything of interest," Lluvia chimed in with her usual curiosity.
“I'd like to collect some information from the Seekers…” I suggested, my mind already considering the potential insights.
“Well, you could have that chance tonight if that Seeker Bun was serious,” Lluvia remarked, offering a glimpse into the possibilities of the evening.
Her words made me pause. “Umm, I mean she looked fine, I guess… but I’m not so sure about her personality,” I hesitated, contemplating the dynamics of potential interactions.
“Oh yeah, total [expletive], but it might be good practice for the future as well…” Lluvia remarked with a nonchalant shrug, her pragmatic perspective shining through.
“Orlo? What are your plans…” I redirected the conversation, attempting to shift the focus.
“Gathering provisions then listen in at the dining hall this evening. Which reminds me, I need arms for the provisions,” Orlo shared, their attention already on practical matters.
And so, our plans crystallized, with Lluvia trailing us down the stairs and disappearing into the crowd. Orlo and I embarked on a trip to the general store, gathering a mishmash of random items, cozy capes, and additional gear tailored for the cold. As we passed the blacksmith's shop, an idea sparked in my mind.
“Hey, give me a few minutes. I'd like to talk to the blacksmith about something,” I informed Orlo, who simply shrugged and followed my lead.
Upon entering the Blacksmith's establishment, a meticulously organized showroom unfolded before us, showcasing an array of armors, weapons, and equipment. The layout was discerningly structured, with a section dedicated to each item category—Splint Mail, gauntlets, chainmail, short swords, long swords, daggers, and hammers—all meticulously displayed in a cohesive manner.
“Morning, Sir! Welcome to the Humble Bun Blacksmith. How can Lessy hop to your service today?” the bun woman behind the counter greeted us with an amiable smile. Her robust physique and sinewy arms bore witness to years spent at the forge. Chestnut hair and tall ears, streaked with silver, were pulled back in a practical bun. Her piercing gaze, framed by crow's feet, reflected both strength and seasoned wisdom. The use of 'sir' brought an inward flinch, a reminder of past identities, but old habits die hard.
“I’m looking for some raw stock, actually, if that is possible,” I requested, delving into the specifics of my needs.
“Bit of an unusual request. Anything specific we can nibble on to help you out?” Lessy inquired, her curiosity evident.
“Maybe. I would need 4 steel cylinders each about ‘this’ long,” I said, using my index fingers to indicate a length of approximately 10 inches.
“Could be done,” Blacksmith Lessy affirmed, displaying a readiness to accommodate.
“I would also need maybe a dozen different smaller parts that, in general, should be simpler to make. Some could be made out of bronze,” I added, expanding on the details.
“Most likely doable. Would you, by chance, have any drawings to hop off of if you are looking for a particular design?” Lessy inquired, her expertise seeking precision.
I made a pensive face as I considered the request. “In theory, I could, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I need to put some serious thought into this…” I admitted, the complexity of the task dawning on me.
“Ah, always hopping into big ideas. You bring to mind my first and third sons. However, they lacked the patience for the meticulous craft of blacksmithing,” Lessy remarked, sharing a glimpse of her family dynamics.
“Any lightweight crossbows?” I shifted the conversation, exploring the blacksmith's range.
“We've got a standard one right there on the wall. The whole setup is locally nibbled, you know,” she pointed to a familiar item. It looked like a slightly larger version than what I had originally used.
“Then, there was this special nibble we crafted, part of it paid for, but the buyer never hopped in to collect. Been sitting there for over a year now,” she revealed, a touch of nostalgia in her voice, as if recounting an untold story.
What she unveiled was a crossbow, a fusion of steel and wood. At the tips of the compact limbs, there appeared to be either cams or pulleys, giving it a notably modern flair compared to what I'd been observing. The design of the stock and grip further hinted at a level of sophistication rarely seen.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Did the customer design this or did you?” I inquired, captivated by the intricate details.
"Buyer hopped alongside us on the limb design, and the stock—well, that was their little nibble of creativity too," she disclosed, shedding light on the collaborative process.
“How much?” I asked, prompting a small chirp of annoyance and a roll of the eyes from Orlo.
“That right there's got some aluminum in it—used for the track part. Remarkable stuff, light as a nibble and tough as steel. Does that hop into your memory at all?” Lessy queried, emphasizing the uniqueness of the material.
“Yup, not quite as tough as some alloys of steel, but the ratio of strength to weight can make up for that in many tasks,” I responded, my attention focused on the crossbow, the wheels of thought turning.
“Is it spring steel for the arms?” I finally turned my gaze back to Lessy.
To my surprise, she gave me a peculiar look, a mix of astonishment and confusion. “Sorry, did I miss something?” I inquired, sensing an undercurrent of intrigue in her expression.
“I've crossed paths with blacksmiths who barely hopped onto the aluminum wagon; this stuff is that rare. The reason this has been a tough sell is because very few understand and trust something so new,” she explained, her gaze still fixed on me.
“Ah… umm… I mean I’ve worked with aluminum before. So, umm, how much?” I asked, keen on securing this unique piece.
“About 60 Gold Galleons,” she revealed after a momentary pause, a figure that prompted a raised eyebrow from Orlo and a reevaluation of priorities.
“Nicooo… that is an insane amount. A regular light crossbow only costs 4,” Orlo whispered to me, almost slipping into calling me Nicole.
“How much would you give me for this hammer?” I queried, pulling out the aluminum hammer and setting it next to the crossbow.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the hammer. “That is easily 100 Gold Galleons worth of aluminum,” she muttered before snapping her mouth shut. Recovering, she continued, “Well then, I'd need to nibble it down and work the material. No single source to hop back and recoup my investment, you see.”
“Trade then, the hammer for the crossbow and any plans you still have. Also, I would like to have some etching done in several spots. Oh, and some ammo, replacement strings, and a few other odds and ends,” I proposed, negotiating the terms.
Orlo squawked again at my unconventional bargaining. “Deal,” the shopkeeper said immediately.
“Mind if I stop back in a little bit and work with you on some of the engraving?” I asked, eager to add a personal touch to my new acquisition.
“Sure thing, it'd be a delight! And if you wouldn't mind chatting a bit about where you learned your metallurgy, I'd be all ears,” Lessy expressed, her genuine interest shining through.
“WHAT WAS THAT!” Orlo shouted at me in a whisper, their avian fury apparent.
“Let’s get back to the room, and I can explain,” I suggested, also in a hushed tone, a mischievous smile playing on my face.
“We could have gotten like 200 Gold at the capital for that hammer; you sold it for maybe one-sixth of its value!?” Orlo continued their whispered tirade.
“Orlo… I'm almost positive that the design was a modern-day implementation of a compound crossbow from my world,” I quietly shared, a revelation that caused them to freeze in place.
“That was a Riftwalker-designed weapon?” they asked cautiously.
“Have you ever seen a crossbow use pulleys?” I countered.
“Well no, but I don’t use crossbows! So, how the heck would I know?” they responded, their avian temper still flaring.
“Orlo, think about it. If there has been another Riftwalker that could come up with that design, most likely from memory, then they are at least as smart as I am,” I reasoned, attempting to quell the escalating tension.
“So… intelligence isn't everything,” they said, their feathers ruffled.
“No, that means they know things like computers, materials science, metallurgy, and more… They might have a year or more ahead of us in manufacturing for all we know. I would not be surprised if the price of aluminum comes down fast in the next few years,” I explained, introducing a broader perspective.
“But we probably could have had that money in a few weeks, well before the price changed. The price was still high when we left the capital,” they argued, clinging to the immediate gains.
“Fair, but I needed a new ranged weapon, and I also now own the schematics. Beats me trying to build a pipe rifle and ammo, or a pepper box,” I countered, highlighting the strategic value of the trade.
“What the heck are you going on about?” Orlo demanded, their confusion apparent.
“Gun... Gunsmithing… Better weapons… And the problem? I might not be the only one who knows,” I hinted, introducing a layer of complexity to the situation.
That stopped them in their tracks, and they looked at me with a mix of alarm and realization.
“We might not be able to corner the market on anything!?” they whispered back in a panic.
Once the other party arrived and secured a room, I seized the opportunity to duck in.
“Ok… so I’ve already had Orlo yell at me for this, but I purchased a crossbow from the smith here,” I announced, transitioning into a more private setting.
“Okay? You're a big girl… boy? Wait, what are we going with right now? I am so confused,” Turnip, ever the pragmatic one, chimed in.
“Right.. Let me switch back for a while… I miss my boobs and hips. I'm keeping the ears for now; I like the ears; they are fun… when I don't hit them on door frames,” I whispered, my concentration shifting as I reverted to my original appearance, prompting a self-assured comment.
“That’s better…” I affirmed.
“I was hesitant at first seeing you go full Bun, but it suits you quite well,” Turnip remarked, offering a lighthearted observation.
“Wait, your skill changes your voice too?” Root, attentive as ever, noted the subtle shift in resonance and tone.
“I mean, it could, but I just used my original voice if I am running around as Nick,” I clarified, unraveling a bit of the mystique surrounding my transformative abilities.
“Right… will get back to that discussion… So you said something about a Crossbow?” Root redirected the conversation to the matter at hand.
“Yeah, it was a custom build from about a year ago, the smith said… the problem was the price was 60 Gold galleons… which I'm guessing is a lot,” I admitted, laying out the details.
“WHY WOULD YOU WASTE THAT MUCH COIN ON A CROSSBOW,” Root whispered shouted at me, their incredulity echoing through the room.
“Two-fold. First, it used aluminum in its construction. Second, it was of a modern design from my world,” I explained, unveiling the strategic reasoning behind my seemingly extravagant purchase.
That caused Root to pause. “Yeah… that very likely means that another Riftwalker has been running around for at least a year now. Who knows, maybe they died shortly before I was selected, or they could still be running around… It's too much to speculate on, but if they could come up with this design, then they are at least as smart as I am,” I reasoned, adding a layer of complexity to the situation.
“Wait, there could be another Riftwalker that also knows about computers and other technology as well?” Iser, ever the enthusiast, interjected with excitement.
“Maybe…” I conceded, acknowledging the vast possibilities.
“Alright… so you purchased a 60 gold gallion crossbow… that is effectively from your world… where did you get the money?” Turnip, the voice of practicality, inquired, steering the conversation toward the financial aspect.
“Sold the Aluminum hammer… but could have been worth as much as 200 gold galleons,” I confessed, prompting a collective exhale from the group.
“Ah… and Orlo thought that was a poor investment… because, of course, they did…” Root remarked, adding a touch of humor to the situation.
“Honestly, as soon as I saw the design… well, I doubt aluminum will hold the price you guys originally said,” I added, providing insight into my strategic thinking.
“That's actually a fair point… you might have just gotten away with a steal then if that pans out,” Root acknowledged, their analytical mind assessing the potential outcomes.
“Oh, also, odds and ends are included in that order, so let me know if we need any, well… odds or ends… Now let me ping Lluvia so she can watch my back while I work on some runes and glyphs with the blacksmith… then ‘date night’...” I concluded, injecting a touch of humor into the conversation.
The room buzzed with a mix of curiosity and amusement as the events of the day unfolded, setting the stage for the next chapter in our adventurous journey.