Summers sat up on the furs that lined their rented room. The inn, while not being the most expensive in town, was more than enough for the tired group’s needs. Although elves apparently had different tastes than Summers would have expected. The “bed” was nothing more than a pile of pelts that the group had been sharing. The only other amenities were a table, mirror, two basins of water, and a chest. All in all, Summers had still stayed in worse places, and it was easy to get to sleep after fourteen hours of guard detail.
He got dressed, they’d managed to find something a little more in line to the local fashions in the clothes Ms. Synel had sold them, with something akin to a balaclava for their faces.
It was nice not having to lug around thirty pounds of armor on his shoulders for once. The leather armor wasn’t much better than Kevlar, either. If it wasn’t winter, they’d have died of heatstroke travelling as they were.
As he stepped downstairs, he found Nowak and Asle fresh from their trip to the market.
“So, what’s the damage?”
Nowak tossed a full pack onto a nearby table. “Down to five stone, from what Asle and I can figure out that should be plenty to charter a ship, even on our own.”
“Don’t suppose they had anything we could use? Wands? Magic armor?”
“No such luck. We did manage to get some books on language, most look like they’re for kids. I figured we shouldn’t rely on Asle forever.” Nowak sat, letting out a breath.
“I speak better than you.” Asle insisted.
“Yes, you do. But you can’t be with all of us all the time.” Nowak laid a hand on the girl’s head. “I got a couple maps as well, proper ones. They were expensive sons of a bitches too. Let’s see…”
Nowak dug into the pack, placing a few items on the table.
“This is incense that’s supposed to keep critters away. Not sure how well it works but Asle says she’s seen it used before with the 63rd. So, we’ll give it a shot.” He placed a single bottle in front of Summers. “I thought you’d be interested in this.”
He pushed the bottle towards Summers, it was filled with clear liquid.
“What is it?”
“They bottle the fog. It’s water from some spring, near as we can figure it’s like synthetic adrenalin. A big reason why the town’s here is so can they ship the stuff all over.”
“They mention anything else. Side effects?”
“You still feeling off?” Nowak looked at Summers with concern.
“I’m good.” Summers lied. “I’d just like to know if my heart’s going to explode any time soon. I had a lot more than a bottle.”
“By the price, I don’t think it’s something they use lightly. I only bought this bottle to get the info out of the trader, supposedly it makes you stronger, faster, and immune to pain. Other than that, no.”
Summers didn’t believe for a second something like this didn’t have any lasting effects. But the very fact it wasn’t common knowledge meant that it was either something the merchants didn’t want to spread, or the people who used this sort of thing didn’t live long enough to experience them. Given what he was like when he’d fought those wolves, he was betting on the latter. Great.
The barmaid handed Summers a letter. He obviously couldn’t do anything with it, so Asle snatched it out of his hands.
“What’s it say?”
“Invitation.”
Summers waited for her to continue. She didn’t.
“Asle?”
“Ms. Synel wants to meet with you.” She finally replied.
He glanced down at the letter, there were only about two sentences there.
“Why did it take you so long to figure that out?”
“Don’t trust her. Merchants want something, always.” Asle kept reading. “Why is she inviting you?” Asle pointed a finger directly at Summers.
That was a good question, and it took a moment for Summers’ slow brain to come to the answer.
“Shit. Sorry sarge, she probably saw me taking the lead on the sale. Since we’re supposed to be merchants and all, there’s a good chance she figures I’m in charge.”
Nowak waved away the apology. “The invitation only mentions Summers?”
Asle nodded.
“Then I’ll play your guard. Or Asle’s, that shouldn’t be too weird, right?” Nowak looked to Asle and she nodded again after some consideration.
“She calls you all great hunters. It’s a compliment, hunters have high status.” Asle pointed at the note, Summers couldn’t read a thing but damn if the handwriting wasn’t pretty.
“Is that like, a job here? Or a title.” Nowak asked.
“Both? Some very important.”
“You sure you want to go to this Sarge? I mean, she might just be feeling out the competition here.” Summers had dealt with more than enough overly competitive assholes in the military to know that they were usually more trouble than they were worth.
“I didn’t get that vibe from her. Besides, like you said, she wanted what was left of that creature bad enough to pay through the nose. What’s that tell you?”
“You said it was a scarecrow for smaller creatures. So, she doesn’t want to deal with those.”
“Exactly, and why would she want to meet with you if she already has what she wanted. She didn’t buy any of our other crap, I had to load those off on about 15 other traders. So, what do we have that she wants?”
“…She knows we can take down shit like that monster.”
“Yup. She’s after protection.”
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Nowak had managed to rouse Adams before they headed out. Cortez and Logan had taken shift watching the wagon, that included the small fortune they’d amassed, so its security was considered more important than whatever tea party Synel had planned.
Their meeting point was a fairly large restaurant at the center of the city. Summers could see people heading in and out through the large double doors. He caught a few guards loitering by the building staring at them. That had happened a few times now, he knew they’d made an impression with the monster they’d brought in so he shouldn’t be surprised. But their eyes didn’t hold any admiration, or even fear. It was something else…
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“We good?” Nowak asked. He received a few nods in response.
“All right then, Summers you do the talking.”
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The inside of the building was lavish, at least to elvish standards. Furs on the walls insulated the room against the cold, and the bone tiled floor gave it an air of elegance. Summers guessed this would be their equivalent of a four or five star restaurant judging by the difference in craftsmanship alone.
Ms. Synel was seated in the back at a large table with two other, very beautiful, elven women. She saw Summers and his friends enter and immediately stood to greet them. Summers almost put on a fake smile but managed to catch himself in time. He wasn’t the type of guy that could charm a woman like her on his best day, but luckily it was Synel that wanted something from them.
They’d spoken beforehand on the possibility of joining her caravan, it was tempting, even if only for the extra sets of eyes looking out for danger. What they needed to learn was if Synel was someone they could trust. Ultimately though, they had no stake in this meeting, other than a lost opportunity. If Summers were to screw up, at worst they’d probably just offend her. It wouldn’t be the first time he pissed off someone important, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Asle exchanged pleasantries for them, the language barrier made small talk too much trouble to bother with. Summers took a seat directly across from Ms. Synel, the two elvish women beside her took up spots beside Adams and Nowak respectively.
The two elven women measured their partners with a calculating look. Summers wasn’t surprised Synel was trying to leverage them with sex appeal. What did piss him off was that Adams was falling for it. The kid was clearly struggling not to smile as the elvish woman at his right moved closer, laying a hand on top of his shoulder and saying something in a low voice.
“Hands on the table Adams.”
“I’m not doing nothing.”
“That’s right, you’re not.”
Summers watched as Adams gently placed both hands in front of him. They weren’t taking any chances.
Thankfully, Synel got to the heart of the matter quickly.
“She’s asking about the fight with the monster. About preparations, things like that. I think she wants to know how many of us there were.” Asle looked to Summers.
“You mean how many it took to bring it down?”
“No, how many we lost.”
“None, I’m not about to start tacking on fake casualties to make the story more believable.” Summers looked to Nowak. “That good with you Sarge?”
Nowak nodded.
Summers knew that was probably strange given the size and strength of the creature, but he didn’t really care of the merchant believed him.
He saw Synel’s eyebrows rise a fraction of an inch as Asle spoke. She replied in kind, but this time the girl didn’t translate. She simply kept speaking with Synel.
“Asle?”
“Sorry. Trying to explain.”
“Explain what?”
“I’m not a slave.”
This time it was Summers’ turn to be surprised.
“No, you are not.” Summers noted the relieved look in Asle’s eyes, apparently, she wasn’t so sure about that herself. Summers turned his attention to Synel, the woman must have picked up on his mood because she quickly said something to Asle in response.
“Exact translations Asle, please.”
“She’s apologizing.” Asle glanced over. “She meant no offense. She wanted to address the rumors surrounding us. That’s what she’s saying.”
“…What?”
Apparently, there was an assumption made by those that saw them bring in the beast’s remains. Namely something called the “flood” strategy.
It was the idea that, no matter how large or powerful a creature was, you could bring it down by throwing enough human, or rather elf, misery at it. Hunters who aimed for particularly dangerous prey would buy up slaves in bulk, usually the very young, or very old, hand them a spear, and overwhelm the creature with sheer numbers. It wasn’t a well-liked strategy, and even the stoic elves looked down on hunters that employed it.
What it was, however, was effective. And hunters could sell the carcasses of dangerous monsters for a small fortune, either to traders like Synel who could resell the pieces to crafters, or to wealthy individuals who would display the trophies as their own. The gains of a successful hunt almost always outweighed the cost of the slaves you’d lose.
And because Asle was almost assuredly not their own, people that saw them had assumed she was the only survivor.
“What the fuck kind of fucked up shit is that?” Summers asked, he raised a hand. “Don’t translate that, Asle.” Summers covered his face with a hand.
“Ms. Synel is asking what we did to beat it. She’s being really flowery and complimentary now, especially to you.” Asle looked up at the woman just to make sure she didn’t understand her. “What do you want to tell her?”
They’d talked about this, and with Asle’s advice they’d only come to one solution.
“It’s none of her concern.”
----------------------------------------
Synel sat watching the strange traders, the young girl across from her answered her question simply.
“My friends won’t disclose their secrets so easily, you understand.”
Synel caught the glint in Asle’s eyes. The child was far too assured for her age. The very fact that she’d nearly sabotaged the meeting before it had even begun bothered Synel to no end. And she damn well knew it.
For the past two days she and her men had been inspecting the corpse of the monster. It had to be prepared for their journey, however her more skilled craftsman had noted the severity of the damage to the creatures’ body. It was as though it had been burned from the head down then stabbed a thousand times. Experts with more than thirty years of hunting in these woods had claimed it was magic. Others thought it had taken more than a hundred men to inflict such wounds.
It was both frightening and fascinating. There were no signs of arrows, or even spearheads. All they found were strange, metallic shards in its flesh. Whatever the strangers had done, however they killed the creature, she had no doubts they held power.
The young girl spoke with her friends, then turned to her once again.
“It’s getting late, perhaps we can hurry this along?”
Synel bit back her irritation at the child’s barb. These travelers were the answer to her prayers.
She would have never made this trip if she’d known it was the Rajin’s breeding season. As it was, she’d expected to lose a third of her men, even with the travelers’ trophy.
But if she could attract powerful warriors to her side, then she may be able to save lives as well as line her coin purse. She had no doubt the others would risk the road without her were she to hesitate. The war in the south ensured they’d make a profit regardless of their losses. But that wouldn’t do for her reputation.
She needed this to work.
“Perhaps we should eat before we get to business, if it pleases you and your companions, Ms. Asle.”
She inclined her head to the young girl and noticed Asle almost breaking into a smile. That was the thing with the young, so eager to treated like adults. She watched as the girl sat back and spoke to her friends.
“Yes, that sounds lovely.”
----------------------------------------
Their meeting concluded without any issue. They’d already decided on the answer they were going to give the merchant, which was a solid maybe.
The woman clearly knew there was something off about the remains of the creature they’d sold, so they wanted to play up that mystery. If they travelled with the caravan, they’d eventually have to show their hand. It was a risk and reward scenario. They’d have safety in numbers, but they’d have to chance curious elves and possible theft. Given the kinds of monsters they’d seen on the road thus far, it might be worth the risk.
Regardless, their best chance at being left alone was to frame themselves as otherworldly, or even magical. That started with cultivating Synel’s curiosity. No matter what they chose, they needed time to bring it up with the rest of the group. Which was made easier with the gift Ms. Synel had graciously left them with.
“I say we do it. Like right fucking now.” Cortez practically purred while cradling a bottle in one hand.
They’d been delivered a crate of “berry” liquor. That was the translation Asle had given them, but by the taste it resembled more of a hard cider that could double as paint thinner. Maybe it was the weeks of travel, but Summers was feeling slightly buzzed after just one swig.
“You said this caravan deals with that fog we ran into?” Logan was eyeing the bottles himself.
“This whole city does, more or less.” Nowak answered. “It’s apparently their number one export. More so since the elves are fighting… someone or another. Asle couldn’t really understand the details and neither could I.”
“Doesn’t that make her a weapons dealer, more or less?”
“Probably best if you don’t look at it like you would someone from our world.” Summers started. “Besides, it doesn’t matter much what she’s like as a person. She’s not the one we have to worry about. It’s the other guards, or people that think they could rob us in our sleep.”
“Hvor gar det?” Adams said, looking at Asle.
“Hvourd gar det.” Asle corrected.
“The hell are you doing?” Summers looked over at the pair.
“Learning elvish.”
“Nos.” Asle corrected again.
“Sure, whatever.”
Asle sighed. “He wanted to know how to say - ‘how are you doing?’ In case he saw the pretty girl again.”
Adams flushed, but didn’t deny Asle’s assessment.
“Well, she’s Synel’s friend, right? We might.”
“…every goddamn time.” Summers muttered.
Nowak covered his face with his hand.
“Look Synel was planning on heading out in the morning, we’ll vote then. Summers, Adams, sorry but I think you guys are gonna have to pull double shifts on guard duty. Think you can last the night?”
Summers sighed. The prospect of at least having a day off was making the caravan a more and more attractive offer.
“Sure thing sarge.”
Nowak smiled in response.
As they headed off Summers thought there might have been more guards on the wall than usual.
Then again, it could have been his imagination.