All too soon the cart ride came to an end. The last few minutes when the caravan broke out of the forest showed the approaching town from afar. The town was encircled by a sturdy looking wooden wall and the gates were wide open. Leading up to those gates were fields of grain in various states of growth that lined the road.
The caravan turned off the road early to settle into a wide open space outside the walls. People started unloading various goods in boxes and sacks, turning the carts into miniature storefronts. From inside the town came a small rush of people. Townsfolk and caravans-folk intermingled in the chaotic dance of market day.
The four hopped off their cart and left in search of the caravan master. They wandered around as a group taking in the sights and sounds of the impromptu market. The townsfolk, human as far as they could tell, eyed the four with mild curiosity but never spared more than a moments attention.
Tim was the first to spot the caravan master. “I see him.”
“Thanks Tim.” Mark patted the dwarf on its shoulder.
The four started walking over but Francis’s attention was diverted by the smell of spices. He stepped away to investigate and came up upon a woman hanging cuts of dried meat on hooks.
“Hey there miss.” Francis approached the stall. “How much for a bite? It’s been a while since I’ve eaten it seems.”
The woman turned her head around initially missing the small Francis, but quickly corrected. “Oh it’s one of you lot. The folks what got taken advantage of.”
“The one and the same.” Francis gave a lopsided grin and small bow.
“Normally that’d get you a whole rabbit leg, But I don’t suppose you’ve actually got that on you?” She gestured at one of the smaller pieces of meat.
Francis got momentarily confused. “I don’t really have anything to pay with except the clothes on my back right now. Spare a little for a hungry traveller?”
“Well all right, I’ll slice you off a piece.” The woman took a knife to one of the larger animal meats and cut off a piece roughly the size of her thumb. She handed it over to Francis.
Francis took the piece and started chewing. The meat itself was tough and dry, with an incredibly strong taste of salt.
“My thanks kind lady. I must return to my friends, but I’ll be sure to tell them about how delicious this is.” Francis waved farewell and jogged off to catch up.
Francis found the other three as they approached the caravan master who was currently in conversation with Bernard. Catching only the end of their talks.
“We’re here for two nights to allow everyone to rest and trade, then we move on towards West Red.” The caravan master spoke. “See about getting more travelling information during this break. I’ll be busy in meetings all tomorrow.”
“That will be done caravan master.” Bernard nodded.
Paul took the lead “Sire, we’ve come as you asked.”
“Ah right! You lot. Terrible shame what happened.” The caravan master looked mildly startled. “I’ve got business in town, important people to meet, things to do and all that. Let myself and Bernard here escort you in. Get you settled as it were.”
“That’s much appreciated sire.” Paul ingratiated. “Where did you say this was again?”
The caravan master started walking, allowing the group to fall in step. “We are situated outside the great town of West Green!” The caravan master waved brightly towards what appears to be a town guard, before dropping his volume a couple of notches. “A fine enough place if you enjoy farming and fields.”
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The town guard, clad in dull chain mail and holding a long spear, stepped away from the wall where he was leaning to say. “Welcome, ID please.”
The caravan master and Bernard both took out thin plates of metal from around their necks. They held out the metal on strings of leather for the town guard to inspect. The town guard took each, one at a time, and used his finger to read the words on them.
“What about them?” the town guard returned the pieces of metal, gesturing with his head at the four. “You know the rules.”
“Yes yes, no ID no entry unless accompanied by someone.” the caravan master dismissed the concern. “They are in unfortunate circumstances and only have what you see there.”
Mark was first on the uptake by patting down his hips as if searching for missing keys.
“You see, they’re the result of transmigrator theft!” the caravan master exclaimed. “Nothing left to their name except those clothes they’re wearing. Show a little mercy?” he pleaded with large puppy dog eyes.
“Come now sir, it’s just a nib each if you’re keeping eye on them.” The town guard chided.
“Ah well, worth the try.” the caravan master sighed, pulling out a coin purse and rooting around inside.
Tim nudged Paul to bring his ear down. “a nib?”
Paul could only shrug.
“I think it’s the money.” Francis butted in. “Talked with a lady, I think she confused me asking for a bite with me checking the price on something. I was wondering what was strange about that.”
“You had time to talk to a lady?” Paul looked gobsmacked.
“Nice one, selling dried meats. Bit salty though. Also, your predictions been correct so far.” Francis commented.
“There you go.” The caravan master deposited the small bronze coins in the town guards hand. “On my promise that they will do no harm.”
The guard waved them through and the six of them entered the town proper.
The town itself was almost exactly as Paul would have expected. Wooden buildings, thatch roofs, dirt roads, and oddly empty, but that’s most likely because of the market outside drawing people there.
“Where we’re heading is to get you your own plates.” The caravan master said over his shoulder. “Somewhat limited options here so we’ll have to go through the guild.”
They approached one of the few two story buildings in town. This one had a roof made of wooden shingles and off white plaster on the outside. Hanging on the outside of the building over the door was a sign with a relief cut into it of what appears to be a spyglass and sword crossed in an X shape.
Pushing open the door reveals a somewhat barren room with a trio of tables with chairs near the front of the building. At the rear, a counter top and woman wearing a worn button up shirt with tassels that gave it a look of a marching band uniform. She appeared to be staring into space. Behind her, a set of stairs headed upwards with many cabinets built into the space beneath.
It took a moment for the woman in uniform to gather her wits about her. She had light brown hair tied up in a bun and plump rosy cheeks that spoke of days spent indoors. “Ah! Sorry about that. Welcome to the adventurers guild.” She straightened her uniform and posture at the same time. “Everyone’s out to market right now, but how can I help?”
“Two things miss!” the caravan master approached the counter. “I’ve need to set up a meeting with the guild master. Tell them caravan master Gil has news to spread and pass on as is our mandate.”
“Must have missed him then, he said he’d be at market and that I was to mind the building.” The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Can’t expect him to be proactive like that.”
“More’s the pity.” Gil the caravan master smoothed over. “The other is that I’ve these four to get plates for. Unfortunate souls that they are, transmigrator incident don’t you know.”
“Ah, that’s terrible!” The receptionist looked with pity on the four. Her gaze lingering on Mark for a moment longer though. “I’ll get things started. Do you have the bites for the plates?”
“I would be a poor saviour if I didn’t get these people set out on the right foot.” Gil opened up his wallet once more. “Their tormentor paid the final price, and this one as well when we get it’s body to the nearest cathedral for the bounty.” Gil placed four iron coins on the counter top. “Get them situated for me please. Busy man, many things to do and all that.”
Gil turned away from the counter and motioned for Barnard to follow. “Should we meet again, don’t hesitate to ask after me!” Gil waved goodbye as he pushed the door open and exited.
The receptionist had on the counter four pieces of paper and a crystal ball. “I’ll need you all to fill out this paper for our records, as well as display your [Status] through this ball to confirm it.”
Paul picked up the paper nearest him. “Happily Lady..?”
“Oh, It’s Julia.” The receptionist Julia chuckled. “I’m no fancy lady, just getting by, waiting for the right person.” She leaned on the counter top.
Tim grabbed his and Mark grabbed the last two, handing one down for Francis.
“So... In town for long?” Julia asked while looking up at Mark who was slightly taken aback.
The rest had a different problem to contend with than casual conversation. While they could understand everything spoken. Staring at the pieces of paper in their hands, none of them could read.