Did DreAn want to kill us? Yes. Painfully, probably. But at this point, public opinion was firmly on our side. Ellem and I had more or less exposed the blacksmith to be a blowhard with poor quality equipment that was better for show than anything else, and he’d basically stood there and gotten lambasted by two Summoned. Looking at his size and the lack of any verbal defense he’d mounted, maybe DreAn’s main haggling tactic was to simply intimidate people into buying his goods for a so-called “fair” price? Either way, Ellem’s delight in her newfound abilities to judge the quality of crafted equipment made her more or less immune to brusqueness like that. As for me? DreAn was barely taller than Didier, and I’d trained with that man for weeks…Being thrown about by a larger opponent wasn’t exactly a new experience for me, and I wasn’t willing to be cowed down by someone like this idiot blacksmith.
We left his stall, pushing through the crowd (even if they’d been entertained, they clearly weren’t going to do something as lowly as make way for the Summoned), still in search of food. Surely, in an open air Market as large as this one, someone, someone, would be selling food? We’d seen no real food except for the snacks at the very front, unless Excelsians also ate armor and weaponry. On the plus side, most of the armor and weaponry weren’t as terrible as the pieces we’d just passed by: Apparently the front of the Market was where the scammers had set up shop, accomplishing their natural duty of thinning the herd, filtering out the wannabe warriors and the gullible fools. Towards the back, the goods were more realistically priced, less ornate, and more clearly meant for usage. The traders here were more experienced; None of the huff and puff that DreAn or the dwarf at the front had. Many of them looked like they couldn’t care less if you bought their wares or not; It was the kind of confidence that came with knowing that you’d sell out by the end of the day no matter what.
"Did you use your Spark?” We’d been walking for a few minutes before Ellem spoke up again.
“I did not. I didn’t need to.”
“He just appeared to be quite slow.”
I just shrugged.
“Well, sometimes blowhards are just blowhards, and they don’t really have anything to back it up.” My first impression of DreAn was that he was a competent blacksmith, and he may well have been. But the way in which he carried himself made me fairly sure that he wasn’t going to be able to really stand up to any amount of intense scrutiny. The goods were flashy and pretty, meant to attract novices with too much money and no sense.
We spent a few more minutes walking in silence. We’d almost reached the other end of the Market. Even though it was large, most of the cul-de-sacs and little alleys leading to the side were either empty, or had a few shops selling knick knacks. There was effectively a single, long path that cut through the Market, and we had almost reached the end of it. Just as I was beginning to give up hope of finding anything I could feasibly bring back for Dinner….My senses, honed over many, many years of adventuring, alerted me to something critical. My vision sharpened, and the hairs on my arms stood up.
Bread.
I could smell it. It was close. And if there was bread around here somewhere, then surely there was a baker. Or, even better, an Inn? A pop-up stall selling neatly packaged sandwiches? Did the wealthy in Excelsia even eat sandwiches?
The questions bubbling in my mind demanded answers, and I began to follow my nose. It wasn’t particularly hard, all things considered, since the scent of fresh bread came from the very same direction that we had been walking anyway. Ellem was similarly entranced, and I realized that she had likely not had anything to eat for a while. She must have been starving!
“Food?” I only asked the question out of courtesy. If she’d said no, we would likely have parted ways right there. Instead she simply nodded, and motioned for me to lead the way.
There are exactly three kinds of taverns in an Isekai World. The first is the Friendly Inn: Brightly lit, with a wooden sign that proclaims a name like “Oak’s Head” or “The Golden Tusks”. A Friendly Inn will have a loud, boisterous barkeep and a pretty barmaid who flirts with you just enough to keep you paying for food and drink. And they’ll really, genuinely enjoy having you around. You’ll get excellent, home-cooked food, and good drink (although, once more, never drink Ale! Only water!), and you’ll have a splendid time.
The second type is the Thieves Tavern. The Thieves Tavern is a dark and dingy hideout for the bottom feeders of society. The bartender doesn’t want anything to do with you, doesn’t check your ID, and only serves strong alcohol that comes from a cask. Everything is overpriced, and flashing gold in this place is a death sentence. You’ll get your purse cut first, and your throat will follow in short order. This is where the “bad” guys of the world come to hang out. Not the really bad ones, mind. Just the ones who work on the other side of the law, and think that theft and murder are just part of the ordinary course of things. The regulars here don’t talk, they listen and use the information to their advantage.
The last type is the Safe House. The Safe House is the rarest kind of bar, but it’s the one I preferred. It’s an in-between place, well-lit, but not famous for food or accommodations. No, the Safe House is more of a place of business than it is for relaxation. After all, the do-gooders and the do-badders both need to join forces sometimes, especially when a greater threat, likely an existential one, looms over them. They can’t be at each other’s throats because they need to actually let the other party talk so that agreements can be forged and deals can be signed. It’s almost a sacred place in a way: Nobody would dare to touch the Safe House, because it serves a function far, far more important when it stands than it would when it was burnt to the ground. Fighting at a Safe House is taboo, and will likely be met with the wrath of both the do-gooders and the do-badders…and most likely, of the barkeep who is somehow the strongest person in the entire land.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
This Inn? It was a Friendly Tavern. I could tell, by the way that the warm smell of bread was wafting out of it’s doors. “Queen’s Wisdom”, the sign on the door stated, and inside, I could hear the sounds of revelry and music. Well, it wasn’t as good as a Safe House, but it was better than the Thieves Tavern: Those places never had food, which was exactly what I searching for. With Ellem in tow, I swung open the doors, and took in the atmosphere.
In typical Isekai fashion, the whole place was a fire hazard. I mean, the tables were cramped so close together that the patrons on the far side of the room would find it easier to dive through the windows than to make it to the front door. To my surprise, instead of a barmaid, a prim looking waiter was serving the customers. He seemed to nearly float above the ground, wanderings smoothly between the tables, twisting this way and that in order to deliver plates heaped with steaming food to hungry eaters. I guess not every Friendly Tavern needs to have a barmaid; Not a great look for the Legendary Hero of Twelve Worlds to think that, huh?
Food!
“Our quest is at an end.” I spoke to Ellem in an appropriately grave tone. This was a momentous occasion.
“Indeed. It is time for us to finish this.” Ellem responded in as serious a voice as she could muster. “We have fought long and hard for this moment.”
Okay, she overdid it a bit, but I appreciate that she played along. Jostling and shoving, we finally made our way to the front, to be greeted with the barkeep. And in keeping with the role reversals we’d seen so far, the barkeep was a large, imposing woman with a smile that looked somehow out of place on her massive frame. Oh, and her skin was icy blue, shot through with veins of purple.
An Ice Giant! I’d seen some on Zara-D12, though they’d been rare and generally not prone to talking to outsiders. The people of Zara had hunted the Ice Giants down because they believed a prophecy that said that an Ice Giant would swallow the Sun and plunge the land in darkness. Come to find out, the Prophecy was the concoction of an ancient Lich King, who had been fighting with the Ice Giants for control of Zara for centuries. People needed to stop blindly believing prophecies, but there was something very tempting about just…knowing the future. Or knowing that there was going to be a disaster that you could avoid. Prophecies were the essence of hope, which is what made them so dangerous.
“Welcome to the Queen’s Wisdom! No seating space, we’ll end up over capacity.”
“Aren’t you already over-“ Before I could finish, I was interrupted by a glare.
“What’s it to you? You a snitch?” The barkeep gave me a stern look, boring deep into my soul. Oh god, please don’t refuse to give us food, I don’t want to fail my Daily Quests. Thankfully, the stern look broke into a broad smile. “Nah, we’re just at capacity. Two exits, 85 people, the whole deal. Now, what are ya having?”
“What’s good?”
“Boaka skewers to start, glass of cherry ale. Then a serving of Miss Maximoff’s Mystery Stew, glass of Excelsian Red alongside it. And finally, to finish, I make a mean Deriberry Pie.” She smiled. “Okay, I don’t. Don’t get the pie, it’s terrible. Get the rum-soaked sweetcakes, those are better. I’m just trying to offload the Pie, but nobody will eat it.”
“Why?”
“Causes an allergic reaction in almost every person I’ve ever met on Excelsia. Thought they’d be like the ice-beads back home but not quite.”
I loved Ice-Beads. When I’d visited Zara D-12, after most of my party died in an avalanche, I’d been nursed to health by an Ice Giant. Ice-Beads were small, blue crystals. They grew in the middle of snow-covered caves, and instead of being hard and slippery, they were actually somehow soft and warm. The Ice Giants loved them, and after eating them for a few days, I did too. Of course, it wasn’t the time to reveal any of that to the Barkeep.
“I presume you’re Miss Maximoff?”
“Ingrit Maximoff! And that there is Benjie.” She pointed to the waiter, who I noticed actually was floating a few inches above the ground.
“Well, Miss Ingrit, how many people does that serve?”
“People? You’ll need to be more specific, son! All of that ain’t even a meal for me, and I bet this lass here needs more than that to feel full, eh?” She glanced at Ellem, who nodded vigorously. It made sense: I didn’t know where Ellem came from, but she was certainly tall enough to need more nutrition than me.
“Uhh…Five humans and a Drakul.”
“I don’t know what a Drakul eats. Do you?”
“Not quite.” Oh. I was about to get fleeced.
“We’ll say it’s eight servings, to be safe.” I was right. Maximoff was playing it “safe” by giving me enough food, but really, she was just selling whatever she could. Gah, the entire Market was filled with people who just wanted to make a quick buck!
Which made sense, since it was a Market. But still!
“And how much will that cost us?”
“50 Silvers. It’s eight portions, after all. Tell ya what, I’ll throw in the pie for free.”
“Make it 45 Silvers, and you can keep the pie.” I didn’t think that the food was worth 50 loaves of bread, but I was also fairly desperate. The sun was sinking outside, and by my best estimate, I’d have just enough time to get to the Manor and prepare everything before Dinnertime.
“I’ll make it 45 Silvers, and you’ll take the pie.” OOf, she really wanted to get that thing out of her kitchen. Well, it was as good as it was going to get, so I shook on it, before remembering something else.
“Does one of us need to go in and get the food?” I was hoping the answer was yes, because I had a question I didn’t want Ellem to hear.
“Aye, my Summoner’s back there, cooking. He’ll give you everything, all portioned out.”
“Ellem? Would you mind-“
“Why me?” She shot me a look that suggested that she thought it was because she was a girl. An impression I hastily endeavored to correct.
“Please? I just need to ask Miss Maximoff about something very specific.”
Ellem just humphed and trudged off. I’d need to apologize later. But in a way, what I was about to ask was the start of my apology to her anyway. After all, she was my understaff, and she’d been humiliated in the Market. Humiliating DreAn the way we had wasn’t quite enough for my tastes. I made sure she was out of earshot before turning to the Ice Giant.
“I need all the information you have on DreAn the Blacksmith.” I thought for a second, examining my assumptions. “Or whoever the big, bald, bearded guy outside his shop was. I need to know everything you know. Everything.”