After some words with the harbor master, Crixus led Glade and the others down Aldorna’s sole road. The brick buildings were nothing too impressive aesthetically speaking, but they were obviously well built.
The first buildings they passed were open aired pavilions that smelled suspiciously like day old fish. Sure enough, as they approached Glade saw a variety of fishermen hard at work bringing in and cleaning their catch then putting them on display.
“Do you normally buy fish here?” Glade asked speculatively, looking passively over the crates of plump green and black fish, eels, a variety of shell fish and what looked to him like an octopus, except that it had barbed hooks of what looked like bone on its many tentacles.
“That we do,” Crixus said, giving Rat a nod. The boy immediate broke away from the group and headed toward the stalls. “We’ll get a few barrels worth of salted fish. Its cheaper to store and makes a fine fish stew. They also sell fresh fish in preservation enchanted crates, but those are mostly destined for the greater houses in Asylum due to their outrageous cost.”
“Couldn’t we charge a few of those crates to the Fellu house?” Kedryn asked, his eyes brightening at the thought of seeing an enchanted crate.
“Oh, aye, that we could sir elf. But that would put the Adjudicator accursed accountants on high alert. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Crixus laughed, slapping Kedryn’s shoulder with a smile as they passed by the fish market. “After all, I’m hoping to exploit this grand opportunity to exploit the Fellu’s generosity for months to come!”
“Bah, who cares about some stinking fish.” Gent asked, grinning like a madman as he rubbed his hands together in excitement. “Where can we get some ale?”
“Bath’s first,” Riya said, scrunching up her nose as she looked down at the once fine dress she was wearing. “And some new clothes.”
“A fresh change of clothes sounds good to me,” Glade replied as he took in his once pristine outfit. The cream and tan colors had long since become stained with a mix of ice drake blood, spider ichor, and grime.
“There is a specialized tailor in town that should be able to fix all of you up with some sturdy clothing,” Crixus said, pointing at a squat building across the street. “They don’t have anything fancy mind you, but its all good quality. You’ll have to pay out of your own purse though. The line of credit doesn’t cover clothing.”
“Clothing first then a bath?” Glade asked. He didn’t like the thought of walking into a clothing shop in the state they were in. But it was either that or put their disgusting rags back on after they were clean.
“Ale first!” Gent and Bragden growled in unison, their gazes sharpening. The sailors cheered. Riya’s cheeks flushed in annoyance, opening her mouth to argue.
“Right,” Glade sighed, already feeling a headache coming on. “I guess its time to split up.”
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There was only one inn, a large three story building in the center of town named the Broken Oar. While Crixus arranged for rooms and the other essential items for the evening, Glade, Riya, and Kedryn wandered over to the tailor. It would be some time before the baths were ready and each of them wanted to have fresh clothing as soon as possible.
The shop was quaint and clean, with several boxes of simple pants, shirts, dresses, and cloaks on open display as well as several bolts of cloth stacked high along the back wall. Like Crixus had said, the clothing was good quality if a bit bland. What they hadn’t counted on was the tailors look of utter horror after they had entered.
“Out!!” A weasel of a man yelped in a nasally voice, running out from behind his counter with what Glade assumed was a measuring tape around his neck and a thick pair of shears in his hands. “Out I say! I will not have filthy vagabonds in my store, no sir. Never again!”
“Good sir,” Glade began, raising his hands in a placating gesture as the balding, greasy haired reed of a man approached. “We’re sorry about coming into your store in such a state. But as you can see, we are in desperate need of some clean clothing...”
“No!” the tailor snarled, brandishing his shears at them like they were a legendary weapon. “I swear, you adventuring types are just as bad as the fishermen! Running your filthy hands all over my goods without a care for who has to sell them. I won’t have it I tell you! I won’t!”
Glade opened his mouth to respond, but his voice died on his lips as he watched Riya’s expression turn from one of surprise to anger.
“How do you know we’re adventuring types?” Kedryn asked curiously, his head cocked to the side.
“’How’ he asks,” the man snorted, sneering as he waived his shears at them. “Because you’re dressed like it, arn’t you? Well, maybe not the lady.That poor dress. Marcum’s work if I had to guess, though with the terrible state its in who knows? Now, out! And don’t come back until you’re clean!”
“Looks like we’re heading back to the inn,” Glade began, trying to diffuse the situation. “We can come back later...”
“No,” Riya’s voice was barely a whisper, but its tone quieted everyone present in an instant. “No, I will not go back to the inn. I will have a fresh set of clothes. Now. Not later. I will not wear this filthy dress any longer...”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Then wash it!” the tailor barked, pointing the shears directly in front of Riya’s face.
In a flash, Riya reached out and took the shears from the man’s grasp,advancing on the surprised tailor.
“What are you doing!?” the man squeaked, scrambling away.
“Riya!” Glade cried, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground. How had this gotten so far out of control?
“Clothes!” Riya snarled, waiving the shears wildly in the air toward the tailor as Glade began carrying her away. “Now!”
“I refuse!” the man spluttered, trying to look like he hadn’t just been man handled by a twig of a girl. “The Baliff will hear of this!”
“Now Frenden, dear,” a woman’s kind, yet authoritative voice rang out from the back of the shop. “What have we talked about when it comes to taking care of our customers?”
Everyone turned their gaze to take in a large woman entering from behind a curtain. Large might have been a bit misleading. She wasn’t plump, or overly soft looking. She was just... big. Like a dwarf that had grown to above average human height without the facial hair big.
“Her arms are bigger than my thighs...” Kedryn hissed in disbelief just soft enough for Glade to hear.
“Firea, I refuse...” the tailor, who he assumed was Frenden, spluttered.
“Oh, you poor thing!” Firea gasped, lumbering over to where Riya was still being held back by Glade. The woman nudged him aside without a second thought, taking Riya in her grasp. “Lets get you out of those filthy rags and into something that is more your style, shall we?”
“Firea! I demand you stop this instant!”
“I’m sorry, did you say something dear?” she called back, shuffling Riya towards the back.
“I’m getting the baliff!”
“Oh, please say hello to my sister, will you dear?” Firea called in a sing song voice before disappearing in the back with Riya. “And while you’re out, go ahead and draw a bath for this poor woman! Honestly, how you survived in the wilds in one of Marcum’s dresses is quite the accomplishment! He never does make his clothing to last. Why, it must have been positively dreadful...”
The woman’s voice trailed off, the three men staring dumbfounded at the swaying curtain.
“What just happened?” Kedryn asked.
“My wife...” Frenden ground out, unable to say anything more.
“Does this mean you’ll be helping us as well?” Glade ventured.
“OUT!!” the tailor screamed.
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“He didn’t!” a woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to the tailor’s wife laughed, slamming her fist onto the table hard enough to slosh ale out of her mug.
“I assure you, madam, he pulled out a smaller pair of shears and pointed them at us,” Kedryn recounted. “Thats when your sister reminded him to draw a bath for Riya. He grumbled the entire way!”
Everyone at the table roared with laughter, not because the story was all that funny. At least, it wasn’t to him. More than likely they all found it funny because most everyone else was on their fourth or fifth mug.
Glade looked over their newest guest, a giant of a woman by the name of Cirea, the Baliff of Aldorna. The body mage.
The woman casually wore what appeared to be sleeveless leather brigantine armor with molded plates. A large cudgel dangled from her belt and her massive two handed great sword leaned up against the wall next to her. If he were being honest, she cut a rather striking figure.
But the show of force wasn’t what made him wary. It was the way she carried herself, with a refined grace that only came from years of experience. The way in which she sized everybody up with a glance, cataloging weaknesses and taking note of who was the actual threat.
In short, she acted like him.
“What did my worthless brother-in-law do next?” Cirea laughed, taking a long pull of ale, her biceps bulging to the point that Glade had to keep from rolling his eyes at the woman’s overt display of strength.
“He said he’d run and get the Baliff, but the Captain and I saw him grab the bucket before he left!” Kedryn chuckled.
The whole room roared with laughter. In truth, the weasel of a man had threatened them with his smaller scissors, which Glade had promptly disarmed. Only then had the man threatened to get the Baliff a second time.
After that debacle, he and Kedryn had joined the rest of their group at the Broken Oar. He did keep tabs on Riya though, keeping the spark of her mind close. So far, all he could feel from the near contact was a profound sense of relaxation. He would have to think of a way to thank the tailor’s wife.
“So, my dear sweet Cirea!” Crixus called, throwing an arm over her shoulders affectionately. “What great deeds have you done for house Aldorn of late? Regal us, oh thwarter of rag coats!”
“Careful, you old sea dog. You’re far to handsy when you’re drunk,” she smiled, nudging him softly with her elbow. It didn’t escape Glade’s notice that she didn’t remove his arm.
“If memory serves, so are you!” Crixus laughed. Bragden and Gent slammed their mugs repeatedly on the table in approval.
“Ha! You’re a terrible suck up, you know that?” Cirea laughed. “But if stories is what you want, stories is what you’ll get! I took down a group of 40 or so goblins just north of here a few weeks back. They had come south and were encroaching on the Aldorn family’s orchards.”
“Did they frenzy?” Rat gaped, leaning forward with wide eyes.
“No, thank Overseer. Caught ‘em straight away,” she said proudly. “Killed off their Hob first, then scattered the lot before they could frenzy. If they had, we would have lost some good men.”
“Frenzy?” Glade asked, his curiosity peaked.
“Not much experience with goblins I take it?” Cirea asked, taking another pull from her mug.
Glade shook his head.
“Well, goblins are rare along the coast. Something about the overgrown rats being afraid of the water, or so I’ve been told,” Cirea explained. “But when ye face down goblins, you want to catch ‘em unawares and take out their Hob straight away. Their right scared of their own shadows if you do. They scatter to the winds and you can hunt them down easy enough. But if they catch even a wiff of blood in the air before they get all panicked? Well, they lose their damn minds to the blood lust.”
“Aye, the slagging runters are right monsters when they frenzy,” Gent spat. “We see plenty of their tribes out by the Crag. The hobgoblins corral the bloody things toward our hunting parties all the time. One of their favorite tactics is to slaughter one of their own and toss the body in the direction they want the runters to attack. They’re so overcome with bloodlust that they’ll charge through hell itself without hesitation and won’t stop till everything around them is gone. I saw one hobgoblin make a mistake and send an entire swarm straight into a lava flow once.”
“Berserker goblins?” Kedryn gasped, his eyes going wide.
“Not quite, thank the Adjudicators,” Cirea shivered. “Beserkers are specialized warriors with skills to back ‘em up. Goblins on the other hand aren’t sentient. Just nasty, semi-intelligent rodents that can make our lives a living hell if they’re not exterminated. Those that become sentient evolve into hobgoblins and either take over or breed their swarms to do with as they please. But me killing off a bunch of the rats wasn’t the interesting part.” She said, bringing her head closer while lowering her voice conspiratorially. “They were following the trail of an honest to god Gen’Sheld!”