That morning, I lay staring at the ceiling of my own room in Black Dragon Slave Inn. While it the inn was still covered in the city’s outer-wall shadow, the sun started to shine on the hill citadel in the distance. Grenfell’s revelation about the winter still bothered me. It bothered me because it dawned on me how difficult survival was. On earth I couldn’t remember a day where I grew hungry, or where I was so cold, I could possibly die. I was determined not to allow thoughts like that to control my mind, instead looking to positively enable my future. Heck, why did it sound like a cheap motivational video? But I reluctantly admitted there was truth in that thinking.
Grenfell also mentioned at dinner that he wanted to catch up with some people in the city before deciding what to do further. He left for the rest of the day and suggested I use the day off to look around the city, while warning me not to get entangled with anything nefarious. I’d already missed breakfast judging by the number of people I heard leaving the inn, it was certainly noisy with the constant sound of clopping metal horseshoes and cart rims running over cobblestones. I was probably the only guest in the inn still lying-in bed. I certainly didn’t want to be staying there on a long-term basis because from what I heard, Grenfell paid seven silvers per person, per night’s accommodation which included the horses’ upkeep and fare. For one gold we could both stay about seven nights, not a sustainable situation given our jobless status. The three gold I earned for repairing the gate wouldn’t last us more than twenty-one nights. On the other hand, it seemed wages in the city could be higher too, a city versus countryside type of situation. No wonder Grenfell prioritised re-establishing his contacts that day.
As for me, I sat on the bed and took out the ring I found at the gatehouse, deciding to check it out by putting it on my finger and transferring fifty EE into it. I sensed the ring only had an ‘on’ and ‘off’ function. Each activation of the ring needed ten EE. I selected the on and wasn’t disappointed when a black sphere about half a meter formed above my hand.
My first impression thinking back on it, was the musty smell. The air from inside that sphere mixed with my own. I hoped nothing unsavoury launched itself from there. Not being a virologist, I couldn’t tell you if something on the nano scale could infect people, probably too late to worry about things like that since I just opened pandora’s box. Impulsively, I did the pinkie test first and thankfully discovered that my brazen experiment didn’t remove parts of my small finger. Thinking back on it, that was about the most stupid thing I could’ve done. There were like a gazillion ways to test that dimensional storage pocket without sacrificing my digits. That aside, I could at least see into the hole, but it was as if the walls of the storage absorbed light and I could only see items stored inside capable of reflecting or emitting light. Judging by the things that lay about inside, I would hazard an estimate that the storage volume looked about a meter cubed. Carefully placing my hand into the storage, I started retrieving the items. I found a small toolbox of sorts, various metal shaped poles, clothing, bedding, and a petrified sandwich, what looked like keys, and a leather drawstring bag filled with something.
The bedding and clothing still looked useable. The bedding looked like a leather sleeping bag arrangement stuffed with a light filler that acted as insulation between the walled layers. The clothing turned out to be cold-weather gear, amping me no ends given my recent discussion about winter with Grenfell. Disappointingly, the clothing didn’t fit me, which was a real bummer. I could ask the innkeeper if perhaps there was a second-hand clothes dealer somewhere I could sell it to?
Next my interest fell on the toolbox which turned out to be filled with interesting tools like various shaped pliers, saws, and a drill. One device looked like a blow torch, without any hole for gas. With appraisal I got the following information:
Item Name: Blowtorch
Class: Tool
Material: Iron 30%, Orichalcum 30%, ?? 40%
EE: 5/500
Attribute: Blow Torch Skill
Cost: 50 Small gold
My luck flabbergasted me. What a tremendous find. Out of everything in that toolbox, that tool by far, was the biggest find. It was no doubt a combination skill used to create a tool that could cut or weld metal. That technology disappeared a long while ago for some reason. I wasn’t brave enough to test the device out at that time, I didn’t think Grenfell would appreciate having to pay for me burning down the inn. Heaven only knew how many years I would end up paying him back favours! I decided to hold back on my curiosity until I could find a place to test it properly.
Lastly the leather drawstring bag held something interesting. A host of small multicoloured and multifaceted jewels, each about the size of a pea and over two hundred of them in the bag.
I took out the red heartstone I always carried with me and compared it with one of the blue crystals.
I appraised one of the crystals:
Name: Heartstone
Material Type: Blue Crystal
Attributes: Ethereal
EE: 1540/1540
That crystal packed an EE punch but nowhere near the 5450 EE of the red heartstone. Now there were only questions I needed answering, like where could I find more of those EE crystals and how could I tap into the crystals EE supply to create better tools like the EE Blow Torch? I also wanted a place where I could experiment without interference or fear of damaging property, but there was no place I could go to in the city. To stave off my frustration, I dressed and headed out into the city to play tourist.
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I quickly discovered that Shimmerstal’s convoluted side streets were so confusing that I unknowingly walked in circles. When I asked someone for directions, I discovered that I asked the same person for directions only a few minutes previously. Embarrassingly, I asked for Ara’s help. By midday I found an empty nondescript city square midway between the upper and lower city walls. My disappointment was palpable when I discovered the morning market had already packed up and headed home leaving nothing but an empty square. Surrounded by double storey stone buildings, the square was about four tennis courts in size with no vista or view to speak of. I didn’t realise it at the time, but that square happened to only be one of the minor markets, a much larger one existed on the eastern side of the city and traded for the entire day. Since I wasn’t aware of that, I felt a bit despondent resting on some steps under the building’s shade. I rested my head on my knees while contemplating where to go next.
“Oi. You lost mate?”
I looked up to see two dubious looking characters standing in front of me. One of them a smaller, wiry man with thinning hair, the other a larger brawny looking guy. An evidently muscle and brains combo. They both wore bleached suits of brown, roughly cut cloth. Their attempt at sophistication utterly failed, like disguising a Model-T Ford to look like a Ferrari. The dusty looking clothes couldn’t have seen a wash in months and judging by their fake demeanours I got the distinct impression they were not interested in helping me at all. I decided to name the thinner one Laurel, the spokesman for the duo. ‘Hardy’, the other idiot, just stood there like an imposing Persian statue out of some ancient middle eastern display in a museum.
“You need help mate?”
Mr. Laurel asked again with a smirk on his face.
“No thanks.”
“Oh, come now, don’t be like that. We’re offering you out help. Don’t insult us.”
Trying to be reasonable with someone pretending to be reasonable was like throwing water on an oil fire and expecting to extinguish it. Discussion, in that scenario, remained pointless because the pair in front of me were no doubt prepared to go as far as it took to get whatever they wanted from me, even if it meant getting physical. The pair, obviously used to getting their way, tried the less subtle approach. It was like they were playing a game of life poker where one’s life became the highest stake. I sighed to myself, constantly upping the verbal stakes would only encourage them because the game of life poker was probably something they constantly enjoyed playing. My strategy then, was to place my highest bet and call their bluff to see if they backed down.
“Are you willing to die for it?”
“Eh? Come on now, we’re genuinely trying to help you.”
They opted to call my bluff. I pitied them because I knew their hand was far worse than mine. To give them one more chance and to help better explain their predicament, I decided to use a similar line to a fifties movie I once watched.
“When a stranger tells you he will bet you he’s going to make a windroot bulb jump out of a tied bag and spit you in the eye, don’t you think you’re going to get an eyeful of spit while losing the bet?”
“Eh, what? You’re full of yourself, just how are you going to look for trouble with two of us?”
Earlier, when I became aware of the duo’s intentions, I already confirmed there were no witnesses in the area. Time for me to show my hand. I opened my hands palms up, revealing a dull metal sphere about the size of a large walnut in each hand.
“I bet you I can make these metal spheres jump out my hand and hit you both on the head at the same time.”
“Enough! Tiny, teach him some manners and make him beg for mercy, then we’ll decide if he dies before we take everything from him.”
He’s called Tiny, really? I was glad I raised the stakes from the onset because I wasn’t in the mood for all the in between back-and-forth verbal garbage. Tiny stepped forward to teach me my manners lesson, but not before they both noticed the two spheres in my hand were glowing red-hot.
“Watch out Tiny, he’s up to some…”
Too late. The spheres left my hands with a sudden hiss, hitting the duo simultaneously on their foreheads and keeling them over like synchronous swimmers. Fortunately for them, I didn’t use too much force since it wasn’t my intention to kill them, only to give them permanent memorabilia of our unfortunate meeting. They laid there unconscious, sprawled on the ground like roadkill, both sporting newly branded welts on their foreheads.
“Ah, it was a pity I didn’t make the brand a bit sportier, like an X, square, triangle or even a snazzy lion figurine would do. I’ll think of something.”
I said, promising to work on it the next time. I frisk searched them both, discovering a leather pouch on each. My spoils of war didn’t amount to much, only ten silvers and seventy coppers. I bet those guys lived mostly hand to mouth, bullying their way across the streets. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn they belonged to some local gang involved in nefarious activities. I had no intention of going any further with that investigation instead I decided it was time to head back to the inn, leaving the naked duo lying sprawled in the quiet market square. After my disappointing haul, I opted to pass their clothes on to others more deserving…after I washed them of course. Already my new pocket dimension ring came in useful, and I didn’t have to carry those stinky clothes with me.
Eventually I found myself back at the inn after going astray a few times. Thanks to Ara’s help I eventually made it back, but I was absolutely famished because with all Laurel and Hardy’s shenanigans I’d managed to miss lunch too. Most eateries closed between lunch and dinner times. I learned a hungry lesson, next time I would keep a few preserved meals for myself since I sported a personal storage facility.
I found the innkeeper at the reception desk and asked him,
“I’m not sure if you could help me, would it be possible to do some clothes washing for me?”
“Certainly. We often help travelling merchants with muddy or soiled clothing. We normally charge a set fee of twenty coppers but since this is a late order, we’ll charge you an extra 10 coppers and you’ll get the clothes back by late tomorrow morning.”
“Suits me fine. I’ll quickly go upstairs and then bring you the clothing.”
The innkeeper handed me the key for my room, and I headed off. At that accommodation, the key to the room never left the inn. Only the innkeeper could keep the key on the premises when the guests left the room. In that way the inn guaranteed the security of the rooms and so I could safely leave any valuables in my room, not that I had anything worth of value to leave there in the first place. The reason I headed to the room was to avoid pulling out clothes from my storage ring in front of the innkeeper. I handed him two pants with draw strings, two loose fitting shirts and a couple of jackets.
The innkeeper gave a dubious look at the clothing, although still useable, was obviously not my fit. Furthermore, they were long past their wash-by date, and I’d bet the innkeeper wished he’d charged me more. I felt bad for him and decided to pay a tip once he returned the cleaned clothes. I paid for the clothing in advance out of the money I’d ‘liberated’ from the Laurel and Hardy duo.
“Is there a second-hand clothes dealer in the area?”
“Mm, yes. It may be a bit hard to find if you’re new to the area, so I’ll just send my son with you, if you’re okay with that?”
“Are you sure, I don’t want to cause you any trouble?”
“No trouble at all. It turns out my son has a couple of errands he can run for me while he’s in the area.”
The innkeeper’s son and I headed for the second-hand clothes store which we found still open for business. He carried a cloth bag over his shoulder which I assumed had the clothes I wanted cleaned. At the store, the young man left me to continue with his father’s errands somewhere else. The shop was egressed into a building where all the clothes lay packed on wooden shelves. The business end of the store lay under an awning where an elderly woman stood on the other side of a wooden counter. No sign hung over the clothing shop. Unless I knew specifically how to get there, or I happened come across the shop, it would be near impossible to find it. Having the innkeeper’s son show me the way was a heaven send. As for the shop, there was no way for me to browse around inside because the owner barred access to the shop’s interior by the wooden counter that ran the length of the shop front. I guessed they purposely placed the counter that way so that the old sales lady sitting across the counter would help the customer. I felt so embarrassed. Just how do you ask for second-hand underwear?