Chapter 269 - Cooks and Crooks

The next few days were spent running around the city. They not only had to advertise the shop ahead of its official launch, but also purchase the goods meant to line their shelves. They didn’t plan to stock much—the shop’s consulting and instructional services were meant to be its main draw, but they found it a somewhat painful process regardless. They had to get in touch with suppliers willing to offer their products at a low enough price for them to be resold at a profit. Such a goal was most typically accomplished by purchasing and peddling. To transport an item away from its point of origin was to increase its value, but the option simply wasn’t available, given that Natalya was looking to make her purchases from within the city.

It was a problem that still could have been easily overcome if she was able to buy in extreme bulk, but the goods that they sought to purchase were not so easy to stock. There was hardly such a thing as a successful smithy that kept dozens of skinning knives on hand. While the items were not unpopular, their sale was limited by the associated demographic—housewives were far more likely to purchase fruit knives instead, and there were far more of those than there were adventurers in town.

The alternative was then to establish good relations that came hand in hand with generously lowered prices. Such a feat was typically a difficult and lengthy process. And if she hadn’t given up and produced her godmother’s recommendations, Lia surely would have struggled with that as well. Olga’s letters immediately got her into many of the local merchants' good graces. She wasn't quite given the same treatment as a long-time business partner, and some even refused to do trade on account of jealousy, but at the end of the day, she was able to put together a half-decent supply chain for everything that she had planned to stock. The shop's shelves would be lined with the various items that nearly every adventurer carried on hand. Portable flint sets for starting fires, dried rations for use on the road, and camping equipment for both land and sea, among others.

While she went about that part of the business, Claire and Sylvia were tasked with spreading word of the shop's grand opening. For the most part, the assignment involved walking around the city with a sign floating behind them. Lia had tried to convince the lyrkress to wear the board like a dress at first, but she caved in to the subsequent judging glare and allowed her to drag it along instead.

"This is a waste of time," grumbled Claire. She was walking around the northern docks, magically spinning the sign around and glaring at anyone that looked even remotely like a mercenary or adventurer. It wasn't a bad day for a stroll—the sun goddess was beaming overhead, shining her warm afternoon rays upon the mortals below, the goddess of the wind was blowing gentle kisses across the sea, and the god of the abyssal depths was calm, locked in a moment of zen—but she was frustrated regardless.

The task was but an exercise in futility. They were certainly getting a number of looks, but there weren't enough combatants around the town for it to be worth the effort. The few that did see the sign openly mocked it and scoffed at the idea of being given advice. Even those more receptive were not very enthused, with many of them stating that they would much rather speak to a reputable broker. But of course, such was the nature of the demographic. Adventurers bet their lives on the information that they were given, and if there was no good reason for them to switch providers, it was unlikely that they ever would.

“Yeah, it doesn't really look like they like us much,” said the fox. “See, I told you the illusions were a good idea.”

“That would just make it even more suspicious,” said Claire.

“No, it wouldn’t!”

Half ignoring the response, Claire rolled her eyes and tightened her grip on the fox. Because the snake was in her tiniest form, her hat couldn’t quite fit on her head, even if her ears were leveraged for extra stability. With her usual spot ruled out, the vixen had little choice but to remain in the lyrkress’ arms. She was held like a stuffed toy, hugged tightly to her chest, where she found herself the victim of many an irrational squeeze.

It was not a part of the plan for the qiligon to have turned so small, but rather a means of earning experience. The docks were filled with criminals hoping to make a quick buck, and she had already disposed of two such kidnappers during her shift. Both appeared to be affiliated with some group or other, and while locating their headquarters would surely have provided an ample killcount, Claire had ultimately chosen to do her job. She wasn’t exactly proud to be the cat’s new receptionist, but neither did she want to let her down, at least not when she seemed so enthusiastic about everything working out as planned.

“Do you have any other ideas?” The moose lifted the fox a little higher and rested her chin on top of her head. “Besides using illusions.”

“Mmmmnnnn… I dunno,” said Sylvia. “But we’re gonna need to do something to knock their socks off. At this rate, no one’s gonna notice us unless it’s super flashy.”

“We might just be in the wrong place. We could try the area around the job board.” They had chosen the northern wharf because it was one of the locations with the most adventurer traffic. People were coming and going, boarding the various ships that would take them to their quests’ destinations. The problem was that most of the individuals in question were of the more experienced variety. There were few if any interested in the basic sword fighting and monster slaying courses that Lia had included on the ad.

“Mmmmnnn, I dunno,” said Sylvia. “Hanging around the job board is probably just gonna get us more of the same.”

It wasn’t as if the cat had no clout. Vel’khagan had been their party’s base for long enough that their names were at least somewhat known. They had completed a wide variety of jobs for an equally wide variety of people, and the others in their trade learned not to bother them after witnessing the delivery of a leviathan’s corpse. Some had even learned, after the most recent event, that they were affiliated with the queen. But that was about the extent of their fame. It was largely for the group’s aesthetic that it was idolised, and they were discussed most often by lecherous men and starry-eyed little girls.

“We might as well go home,” said Claire. “We’re not getting anything done.”

Veterans simply saw no benefit in attending her lessons. Like other non-instructors, Lia could boost her pupils’ class and skill levels to 10 at most; only those wet behind the ears could possibly see any tangible benefit. Beginners, however, were unlikely to know of their inadequacies, let alone pay for classes when they could simply train themselves for free. When confronted with the obvious dilemma, the cat only smiled and told the others not to worry. She seemed to have something or other in mind, but she had refused to disclose whatever it was.

“Oh, come on! I'm telling you! We just need to magic it up and sing a bit and stuff!”

“You're just going to confuse people.”

“Huh? How? It’s just gonna be cool, not confusing!”

The lyrkress squeezed the furball, just hard enough to force the air out of her lungs. “It used to be a playhouse. We need to differentiate ourselves. Idiot.”

“I'm not an idiot! You're just overthinking it!” Sylvia puffed up her cheeks and lightly batted her mittens against the arms restraining her.

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“You're not thinking hard enough,” said Claire, with another squeeze.

They continued idly walking through the district as they chatted, turning effectively at random until they found themselves walking along its main street. It was a particularly wide walkway with a large canal in the middle. There was more than enough space in the water for a galleon-sized boat, and two large carriages could easily fit side by side on each shore. The road's halves were connected by a series of drawable stone bridges, often wider than they were long to support the heavy traffic.

“I know Ciel said that there were gonna be lots of people trading lots of stuff, but this is kinda like, way too much,” said Sylvia, as she looked over the busy street. “I swear there’s more people here on this street than there were in the whole city in the winter!”

“It's almost as busy as one of Valencia’s,” agreed Claire.

While in the rest of the city, there were typically more people than vehicles, the port saw a much closer count. There were carts and coaches all over, transporting goods to and from the various seafaring vessels docked at the fifty-odd stations available. The district had practically been empty in the winter, when the goddess of peaceful respite froze the seas, but it had sprung to life with the greenery. Primrose was back in power for the next three seasons, and while she was only the main goddess of the fall, when nature's bounty was ripe for the harvest, she freely bestowed her blessings whenever she was free from the winter’s icy gaol.

"Mmmnnn… You think with this many people, someone might actually be interested?”

“Probably not.”

Claire took a deep breath and allowed the salty spring breeze to permeate her lungs. Formalities dictated that the second and third months lay within the rain god's domain, and that the annual showers therewithin stemmed from an uncontrolled release of his power. The mourning of his beloved, stolen by Xekkur's one-eyed blade, prompted sporadic storms throughout the season. It was far from the most mature behaviour, but he could hardly be condemned when it was precisely his lament that nourished dry soil beds the world over.

His tears came with as many blessings as it did floods and misfortunes. In regions too heavily affected, his priestesses—all of whom were chosen for their tall, wide frames and nonexistent breasts—would offer their dedication until his melancholy faded. And they were not the only ones burdened. Wood and water mages were sure to be swimming in work all season. There were even children cashing in on the overflowing demand, with some using their spells to drain carriages on the side of the road for a few quick coins.

A member of one such group, a haggard, dark-skinned elf with a worn leather hat and a pair of sunken cheeks, glared daggers at Claire as she made her way down the street. He raised a wooden block of some sort, marked with a lizardman’s skull, but she ignored him outright, even as he came stomping towards her. He was followed by a ragtag group dressed in equally ragtag clothes, a kelpfin with damaged glasses, a huskari girl with white and blue eyes, and a timid-looking bear cub wearing a pair of oversized shoes.

“Hey! What's the big idea?” he shouted. “We've got this street booked all day!”

Claire looked at him for half a moment before continuing on her way. The urchin started screaming some nonsense or other, so she moved the sign between them and actively blocked him from her view. But while she considered him out of sight and out of mind, the rest of the world was not so kind.

An angry frog of a man hopped out of a nearby alley as soon as he saw the commotion. But rather than joining the kids’ side, the grug took one look at Claire before smacking the ringleader upside the head.

“Ow! Hey! What the hell, asshole!?”

"Are you stupid, kid? Does she look like one of you?”

“Huh? Of course she does.” The boy’s eyes glowed as he spoke, shimmering with magical light. “She’s a kid with a ton of magic and a sign!” The bear pulled on his shirt, as if begging him to stop, but it was disregarded.

The indignant statement only earned the boy another smack. It wasn’t a very hard hit—far gentler than the attacks Claire often launched on her allies, but the boy teared up regardless. “Look at her clothes, you dolt! Or maybe learn to fucking read!”

Unlike the urchins, who were wearing cheap fabrics with patches applied all over, Claire sported a clean dress woven of fine silk, the design of which was borrowed straight from her wardrobe back home.

“Oh…” The boy averted his gaze. “Right.”

“Right, my ass! How many times have I told you idiots, stop bothering people!” He smacked the boy a third time. “Now hurry up and run off before I hit you again! That goes for the lot of you!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going, so lay off already, jerk!” With one hand rubbing his sore head, the boy begrudgingly trudged away.

His companions followed behind him, with the kelpfin and the huskar silently apologizing to the pirate on their way out, and the bear bowing his head in shame. Most of the kids kept their eyes on the road, knowing that they were liable to being trampled if they weren’t careful. Only the group’s fuzziest member would occasionally turn back and glance behind him.

“Now, I know those brats aren’t the smartest, but they did have a point.” The cat-pawed frogman glanced briefly at Claire’s sign before continuing. “I don’t know whose kid you are, but anyone that wants to do business up here has to go through the don. So either you can come with me and get registered, or we’ll have some big scary men throw you out.” He flashed a toothy grin. But it was just as forced as the rest of his act. “‘Course, if your parents have a permit, then that’s fine too. You’ll just needa prove it.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “I thought the new queen banned gangs from claiming zones.”

The man raised both his paws and took half a step back. “Woah there, princess. Careful with the accusations there, okay? Sure, we were a gang not all that long ago, but now, we’re an official, state-run bureau.” He pointed to the Vel’khanese flag painted on his striped, skull bandana. “So you can either scram or sign up, your choice.”

The threat was followed by a moment of silence, with the lyrkress tilting her head and the man staring expectantly.

“Or what?”

“Or we kick you out?” said the half-stupified frog. “I told you, didn’t I? We’ve got some big strong guys that’ll mess you up real bad.”

“They won’t be able to touch me.”

The pirate pressed a paw against his absurdly wide face and groaned. “Look, kid. I don’t know who your parents are, or what you think you’re trying to pull, but you clearly don’t understand how things work around here.” He moved his fingers into his mouth and blew a whistle. It was loud and crisp, ringing through the halfbreed’s ears.

A pair of large kelpfin emerged from a nearby alleyway soon after. It was difficult to gauge their relative strengths from their outward appearances alone; kelpfin ascensions had few distinguishing traits, and Claire wasn’t quite familiar enough with their silhouettes and patterns to pick them out.

Not that she would have cared in any case.

“You get it now, kid? This is your last chance.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how they matter.”

“Alright, fine, you asked for it.” With another sigh, the grug gestured with his fingers and ordered the bodybuilders to advance. “You heard her boys. Get her out of here.”

The bodybuilders looked skeptically at each other before shrugging and proceeding with their assignment. They advanced slowly, as if to give the girl a chance to run, but Claire stood her ground, arms crossed and fox still in her arms until they were nearly up in her face.

“Sorry, but orders are orders,” said one.

“No hard feelings, kid. It’s just our job,” added the other.

Shrugging, Claire magically grabbed one of the men and launched him into the air. He went well above the buildings before he was finally released and allowed to plummet. The poor shark crashed into several signs on his way down, breaking his tail, before finally splashing into the water.

Dozens of eyes immediately flew to the commotion’s source, where they found a child-sized Claire in the middle of subduing the other pirate. A tail was delivered straight to his gut each time he tried to move, leaving him just pained enough to keep his fins wrapped around his ribs. When she was confident that enough eyes were on her, Claire stepped on top of the man’s body and raised her sign above her head.

“If you want to learn to fight, come to the new shop on Fourth Street. We open in two days.”

With her message stated, she stepped off the man’s body and walked away, leaving the frozen pedestrians and coach riders to murmur among themselves.