After a few days of solid sales, the crowd did thin to a more predictable, constant stream in and out of the store. The easy sales were over, now. Fiona knew that, and knew that she was going to have to step up her game.
Her current customer was a hard-dealing, haggling master who clearly had taken many merchants to the bank, and bled them dry. She knew it because he was trying to make the case for an item that she knew was a lot more valuable than he was willing to pay. She also saw Greg giving that disapproving nod behind the guy, from the safety of the register.
The man in particular was a riverfolk who looked almost like an oversized beaver, peering at a tiara in a glass case with disdain. The tiara itself was bright silver, with small inlaid green gems, and erratic wisps of light seemed to emanate off of it. “I’m telling you, I’m an expert in Timerian artifacts! That’s not Timerian, it’s from a more recent era of the kingdom! It’s not four hundred years old, it’s at best, fifty!”
“Mister…” She trailed off and cursed internally, she’d forgotten this guy's name, while he was trying to get this rare item for a steal. “Look, here’s the breakdown. My guy has told me that based on the metalwork, and the runecraft level, this is from the third kingdom of Timeria, and he can back that up with documentation. This means the value of six thousand gold stands for this fancy decor. Not the one thousand you are proposing.”
She was not selling this thing for that little. Not even close. She folded her arms and gestured to the item. “If you would like for us to bring an expert in–”
“My expert,” he snapped, and those buck teeth came out as he chattered angrily. Like a deranged squirrel, almost. “I can’t believe you’d charge a robbery for something you know is not as rare as you are advertising!”
“Yes. Well, we’ve got our differences on what the origins of the item are. But, this is a rare exhibit of a crown of light, that allows a person to become a beam of light. It allows them to go places where the sun doesn’t shine,” she quipped with a soft laugh. Her customer was not laughing in response, he was just looking like an oversized plushie doll at the moment.
I think I have a problem with wanting to give hugs to things that can gnaw my face off, she thought to herself.
“Miss Swiftheart, look at the runework. It’s sloppy! This is not a hallmark of the third kingdom, it is a hallmark of the fifth!” the man protested, and adjusted his tweed jacket. “Surely as an appraiser–as a merchant–you can detect the worth of this item, and you must admit, you’re overcharging!”
“The price shall be set, at what the market can bear,” she quoted some famous dead guy. Was it Smith? It wasn’t Keynes, that was for sure. Earth's historical norms clearly didn’t apply to this world. “Which is to say–Greg, what did your guy say, the runework of the 3rd Kingdom could occasionally have some signs of glitches? Hence, the imperfect light beams emanating from the tiara in the resting state?”
“That’s a bit simple to say,” Greg corrected. “The runework imperfections are a result of poor materials. The mithril base of the metal on the runes wasn’t very pure. They hadn’t gotten furnace temperatures high enough to work out the impurities. Hence, you see a little ‘glitching’ on these third kingdom examples. I can show you other examples.”
“But–but that means it’s flawed!” the man protested. Greg adjusted his tie, and clicked open the display case with a key.
“If I may, I have seen other items of this era. They would typically leave their smith marks just under the crest…here.” he pointed to a small mark on the metal that appeared as a small, triangular symbol–the smith’s signature, most likely. “Mister Levy, I can assure you, we have done rigorous checks for the authenticity of these items.”
“But–well, even experts can get it wrong,” the man huffed. "The smith mark is also...not quite right." Fiona rolled her eyes when he wasn’t looking. Customers like this were the bane of her existence back at home, and a new planet didn’t change that sentiment.
Greg took the heat and placed the tiara back into the case, where the small sparkles of light bounced around, ever so slightly. “If you feel that the item is not of the age we have advertised, submit a claim, using the B-14 form with the merchant’s guild,” he stated dryly. He proceeded to pull open his arcanist pad, where a copy form was already displaying. “Please fill in this documentation, and sign your name at the bottom, and submit this form in triplicate. You will also need an accredited expert who can contest the authenticity of this artifact. You will also need to talk to the adventurer’s guild which ran the initial assessment in good faith, and will need their records, and–”
Fiona grinned silently as Greg killed this guy with paperwork, and Levy became more and more irritated. He was never going to buy this item, he just wanted to likely flip it and sell it to someone else. It was a tactic she’d seen more than a few times.
“You call this customer service?” The man demanded and gnashed his teeth. “This is a joke!”
“Mister Levy, we would never deliberately mislead our customers. That's a big no-no, and I'd be willing to stake my reputation on it! The dragon saw the value in it, and it was sitting in his hoard of treasure,” Fiona assured him with a smile. This guy was trying to get a freebie out of this, and he wasn’t as close to an expert haggler as she was. “Tell ya what, prove it’s a fake, with someone who is an independent third party, and I’ll give it to you. For free.”
“You’ll what?” Levy gasped, eyes going to dilated slits.
“You’ll what,” Greg sighed, as if he knew the path this was going, ahead of time. Which he probably did, since he knew her too well for her actions to be unpredictable. “Fiona, we need to pay off–”
“Greg, just relax,” she assured him. It did nothing to crack that stern look on his face. The shock had worn off on Levy’s face, and he rubbed his hands together.
“You are proposing a wager, Miss Swiftheart? Bold of you to assume you’ll win this.”
“It’s not about winning, Mister Levy. It’s about making sure the customers are getting their values' worth,” she said with a soft laugh. She figured he'd either drop it and just walk away from a potential freebie, or he’d realize that she wasn’t one to pull a fast one on people. And she was ninety-nine percent sure this item had true value. Because her heart on her wrist kept fluttering every time she looked at it, which did seem a bit odd. “Now, if the expert does prove it, you’re free to walk away.”
“So this does nothing to benefit you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Nah. I’d just hate to be wrong, and sell something that didn’t match the sticker, you know?” she posited with her hands up in the air, palms out. “What do you say?”
Levy furrowed his brow, and rubbed his chin. “I know a man from the historical guild. I could bring him here this afternoon,” he proposed, and he was now being far more careful in his words. "I think...I think this item might be worth the trouble."
“Perfect, so do I! I knew the guy when I was recovering loo–I mean, missing heirlooms across the kingdom,” she added hastily as Greg tapped a foot impatiently, arms folded across his chest. “Let’s let him be the judge.”
“Perfect. We have an accord,” Levy replied with a beaver smile. The guy must have been an expert cornshucker with such natural teeth.
An alarm went off with a shrill, high-pitched whistle that instantly broke the conversation. Fiona focused on the unrest–a young avian teenager had somehow gotten a display case open, and taken a relatively inexpensive-looking broach. Bonnie was already springing into motion, but the teen had spread his wings and was flying for the door.
“Would you excuse me? I need to congratulate my first shoplifter!” Fiona called out with an evil smile, grabbed the haft of her morphic weapon from under the counter, and grabbed the other device that Greg had been utterly dismissive of:
Her magical grappling hook. If there was one utility item in this whole world that every adventurer needed, it was one of these. You never knew when you’d need one to climb up a short cliff, lasso a monster, save yourself from a deadly fall, or fetch the pickle jar from your kitchen, because you were too lazy to get off the couch.
Today’s shoplifter was about to be the pickle jar, and while she might be annoyed at how quickly this had happened, she applauded their tenacity to do this right in the open and had almost not been caught, except for Bonnie’s sneaky wards.
Fiona bounded off after the young male, who stumbled to the ground after nearly crashing through the glass plate on the door–seriously, birds couldn’t see the glass? He was on his feet and trying to get into the air after throwing the door open, but she threw her grappling hook at his leg just as he got airborne, and gave a mighty heave.
She underestimated the strength of this bird, because she skidded across the steps, feeling like she got a trip on a washing board, and was now wrangling this bird like a demented kite. A kite that was somehow threatening to send her airborne, and squawking frantically.
“Let go, crazy elf chick!” he pleaded. “I need it to feed my family!”
“Hope they like chicken, because I know where to get some!” she cackled madly, and let out a yelp as his wings glowed, and little embers of fire started to light off of them, with a grappling hook still wrapped around one leg. She was barely keeping this flapping, yapping kite from taking off–
Wait. Which item did he steal? That broach wasn't the--oh no. tell me it's not the blast off one.
Oh, crap, this was the one with the igniter enchantment. “Fiona, let go!” Bonnie shouted as she tried to grab onto the handle of the grappling device as well, to ground the bird.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“This isn’t catch and release Bonnie–” she started to retort, as this bird got a brand new spanking set of jet wings–and fiery feathers that blazed with heat. The force of the ignition sent him skyward and took off with them in tow, going upwards. Bonnie screamed in terror and clung to the tether for dear life, and Fiona?
Fiona screamed for joy. This was like being an adventurer, all over again, and it hadn’t even been that long. She pulled herself up along the tether, gripping it tightly,and closing the gap to their feathered flight risk. He was heaving and trying to not burn himself from his wings, now flapping frantically.
She would comment that the scenery of Fiefdala didn't diminish while airborne, and the cozy European, white stone and rough hewn wood timber gave the city a fantastic appeal. The largest buildings were made of more polished stone and some steel work, with banners fluttering on mount points on the roof.
And, people were staring upwards from the cobblestone streets at an elf and a kitsune dealing with a flight risk. It probably wasn't even close to the strangest thing they'd seen.
“Are you nuts? You’re gonna get killed, it’s not worth that much!” the thief screamed out, trying to angle between buildings, in an attempt to shake them. Like she'd let go, now?
“It’s worth it to me, street bird! Do you want me to call you Al, or Din?” she shouted out among the rustle of wind blowing past her face, and she gripped tightly as they banked over the lake shore, while Bonnie screamed about not being dunked and getting soaking wet.
The thief thrust with all their might as they banked back over land, over the rooftops of the two and three-story buildings. But, he couldn’t seem to get any significant height, and was panting. Fiona felt her feet skim the tile roofs, and even bounced off of a chimney to get closer to her target, now a few meters away. “Na-na-na-na-na-na-bird man, bird maaaaan!” she laughed.
“Fiona, you’re insane!” Bonnie screamed in outrage, just as she narrowly missed a chimney and grabbed her wand with one hand. “When that enchantment lets out, he better hope he doesn’t pile drive into the pavement, along with us!”
“Hah–you’re gonna–honk–throw me in prison,” the teen gasped, and was wheezing. His afterburners seemed to be dimming a bit on his wings. Fiona grabbed his leg, and pulled her way up, while avoiding the flames.
“Kiddo, if you singe my hair, I am making you into chicken tenders! Bank right over the lake, or you’re gonna crash!” she called out, even as he wobbled in flight from the shifting balance, and Bonnie had extended her wand like some kind of giant fin. “Bonnie, hang on!”
“Keep it steady! The things I do for money and friendship, Fi!” she shouted out as she used it like a massive air brake, and their wild course stabilized just a little bit. That ground was coming up a little too fast for their liking as the enchantment gave out in a puff of black smoke.
“Oh, Fiddlesticks.” Their thief knew the gig was up as he struggled to stay aloft, with Fiona grabbing his waist and holding on, shouting with joy.
“Man, Nick’s been holding out on me with refusing to give me a ride! I want my own feathery paraglider now!” she cheered as the white-feathered, the blue-eyed teen panicked.
Fortunately, they just crossed the sandy shore of the lake, and Bonnie dismounted with a tumble and landed on her springy legs. Ever so graceful, that one–
Her thought was interrupted by crashing into the lake with the thief and instantly sinking in past her head. Luckily it wasn’t that deep, and she was able to get back to the surface, and–was this guy still trying to swim away?!
She applauded his tenacity, and she grabbed him by the waist, and spun him around. He looked at her with his eyes dilated like tiny points of black.
“Please don’t eat me.”
“Oh, no. I have uses for you, you overgrown seagull terror fiend.”
Ten minutes later, and one drying off, their thief was sat down in the storefront, hands behind his back, with Bonnie conjuring a shackling to keep him in place–and his wings.
Fiona sighed, she still smelled like fish from that damn lake, and she’d probably made just a little bit of a spectacle. “Okay there, thief. What do I call you?”
“Uh…call me Kali.” he was still somewhat soaked from the impromptu swim and looked miserable. “Look, I'm sorry. I needed the money, and one of my buddies said you guys had expensive stuff right in front. He dared me to do it.”
“So, not a starving family?” Fiona pressed.
“Well, I mean...I guess I help secure meals for other orphans over in Sedgwick Way,” he admitted as he slumped on the stool he was sitting on. “That broach is a five hundred gold piece item, you’re insured for a hundred times that, easily. The case has an easy lock that even a blind man could open. I wasn’t expecting the alarm, though. Didn’t see any wards on it.”
“With my work, you wouldn’t have,” Bonnie growled. Her dress was a little messy, but at least she’d avoided getting dunked. “Fiona, let’s just toss him to the city guard, press charges–”
“No, hang up. Kali, how old are you?” Fiona interrupted. He was quite young, for not having a large feather crest on his scalp.
“Fifteen.”
“Educated?”
“Dropped out because I couldn’t afford an education worth a damn,” he sighed.
“Ever held a job before?” she pressed further.
“I stole from people and didn’t get caught. If you call that a job,” he added with a roll of his eyes. She tapped his beak gently to get his attention, and he frowned. “Look, I’m a juvenile, I get a slap on the wrist, I’m out in two weeks, the court case will go nowhere. Your store suffered no damage.”
“Oh that’s debatable,” Bonnie snapped, and glared at him with a curl of her muzzle. For some reason, Fiona kept getting that itching on her wrist.
Make a deal with this guy? Oh hells no, weird symbol. She was guessing what it meant, but that itching only intensified. Why? What value does he bring? I need to make a poster of him to ward off shoplifters, so he’s that guy everyone looks at warily. What does he bring? Besides being a security–
She snapped her fingers and grinned. This was a great idea.
Greg saw this motion and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I know that fey look, Fiona. Not every terrible idea you have is going to pay off.”
“Pfft. Call it a gut instinct.” She would have called it a magical instinct, but she wasn’t sure what her little winged heart was saying, exactly. Just that this decision felt right. “Kali, you tried to steal. You got caught. You kind of made a scene. Now, I’m willing to forgive and forget, on a couple of conditions. Agree to them, and I don’t throw you at the mercy of our wonderful new King Barry.”
“Ah crap, what happened to Greybeard?” he asked worriedly.
“Retirement, though his choice of successor is questionable,” she demurred. “Point is, Kali, you’re paying off a debt to me, not in coin, but in favors.”
He sighed and looked down at his soaked clothes. “Pretty sure you don’t want me for any job you have in mind.”
“Kali? Do pay attention, or Barry might decide he wants chicken soup for dinner,” she added with a smile that left Greg with another case of his mouse-warding ritual against his arcanist pad. “You’re going to work for me. Do this, go back to school, stay out of trouble, and we’ll call it even in three months.”
“That’s–that’s longer than jail!” he protested.
“I’ll pay you a living wage, as long as you’re not stealing. And you know how you can help?” She pointed to the display he had expertly opened.
“Why would I agree to this?” he shrilled.
“First off, you’re smart, second off, people don’t steal for the hell of it. And I know exactly what you mean by predatory educational systems,” she added dryly. “Take a guess what I’ll be having you doing. And it isn’t going to be coffee runs, either.”
He was doing the math, and he knew that this might be an unexpected opportunity. He took a deep breath, and focused on her. “Pointing out your security flaws, and picking people that might be probable thieves and conmen?” He sounded like a deflated goose, with his words.
"See? Your education’s already paying for itself!” She beamed while patting him on the beak, much to his annoyance. “Bonnie, can you, I dunno, use an enchantment to remind him to be here for 8 AM sharp?"
“I question your judgment, Fi. We really should just toss him to the town watch,” she added with a flash of dazzling blue eyes, an arcanist inscription pen in hand that ran contrary to her words.
"And have him enter the revolving door of the prison complex? Nah, let's not. So I'll ask for the record: Kali, do you want a chance to make this right, and open a door to a life that isn't gonna involve skirting trouble at every turn?" Fiona peered at him, while he clicked his beak.
His answer was reluctant, but he did nod after a few seconds. "Yeah. I might try it once."
"Splendid. Bonnie, you can proceed," Fiona declared as she clapped her hands in delight.
"Hold out your hand. This ward will put out a very annoying sound at the designated time. It will be only disabled by walking into the shop. Like an alarm clock," Bonnie explained. "If you're going to be late, relay us."
Kali gulped nervously as she traced a small inscription on his scaled hand. “I might regret the lack of drowning on my part, now.”
“Winner winner, chicken dinner,” Fiona laughed. "Greg, get in touch with his orphanage. Tell them he's signed up for an apprenticeship, and don't mention the kerfuffle."
"I don't know what chicken is, but I know I'm going to regret this, too," Greg sighed.