Chapter 4: The Fair's Affairs
"Muskha for everyone!!!"
The savory sweet smell of cooked beetle meat filled the air as a large plate overflowing with steaming, pale insect flesh was slammed onto a table. Rounds of applause erupted from the patrons seated around it, a group of merchants both Nurl and Human offering their congratulations to the chef.
It was a Beetledriver without the shell armor, his arms and chest covered in blue tattoos that swirled along his skin.
“Stop making that face.”
Elma blinked, tearing her gaze from the food stall and looking up to Yorm. He was glancing around them, the tents and stalls of the trade fair rising up in every direction.
“Excuse me?” she asked whilst shifting out of the way of two chatting men passing by.
“Most folks out here are used to these fairs,” Yorm eyed her up “you’ll look like fresh pickings for hecklers if ya keep snarling at everything.”
“I’m not…” Elma caught herself before locking eyes with him “Where was this concern when we first met here?”
“Look,” Yorm leaned close “I asked Fulgan to raise a flag atop his tent if he caught wind o’ any trouble before we got back.”
“Really?” Elma thought for a moment before asking “What does blue indicate?”
“That we can move in the open,” he stated “long as we don’t draw too many eyes. And outsiders not used to the fairs tend to draw a lotta the wrong eyes.”
“Noted.” Elma looked around, “Apologies, but the Nurl in the south tended to conduct their business with far more… well, at least a bit more tact.”
"Fine eats, fine eats!"
Elma looked back towards the food stall, seeing the Beetledriver chef bring a bucket of black fluids to the table and set some empty mugs out for the patrons. One of the patrons offered a pair of smithing tongs to the Beetledriver. He examined it for a moment as another offered a murky jug of light-brown fluids. Only then did he nod, leaving his patrons to dig into the mound of Muskha.
Elma shook her head just as Yorm tapped her shoulder and nodded forward. As they resumed making their way through the fairgrounds, Elma folded her arms.
All over the fair there was little if any uniform currency. While some gladly accepted minted coins and Yisshin tabs, the various Nurl would only accept specific forms of trade. Tools, cotton, coal and crops were just some of the various items that Elma had seen passing hands.
“Nothing like Olmerran Markets," she said under her breath "how does anyone keep their head together in all this?”
“Maybe we’re just used to Nurl acting like Nurl,” Yorm shrugged “Gotta respect the different Hoarding they get up to.”
“Ugh, I just want to focus on recovering Bullminth’s Blade.” Elma took a deep breath, only for Yorm to step in front of her “What?”
“Gonna be clear,” Yorm gestured around them “if they’ve got you playing Sentry in these parts it’s a damn shame you’ve no knowledge on Nurl Hoards.”
“I know about their Hoarding,” Elma leaned close “I just try not to focus on such rampant displays of greed.”
Yorm raised an eyebrow at that, but wasn’t able to speak before shouting drew both of their attention.
It came from just up ahead of them, between two stalls that had a tarp strung up above them. Peeking out from behind a stall, Elma could see several Nurl squaring off. A Beetledriver was pacing before three Burybiters, behind him another Beetledriver was tending to a slumbering Beetle Mount.
“Hear Clan ruined dig, ruin deal! Bad deal!” the Beetledriver shouted, voice somewhat muffled by his beetle helm “Stuffed Archon too, ruining fair!”
“Not clan fault!” The Nurl at the head of the Burybiter group wiped a filthy cloth against his sweaty forehead “Robbed we were, stupid lazypoor tamper with good business. Nurl recover, clan honor deal. Trade continue.”
“Hope so,” the Opposing Nurl pointed back towards the sleeping Beetle Mount “Old saddle bits getting worse, promised build stuffs yet still see nothing!”
“Such different clans all because of their Hoards." Yorm spoke up behind Elma, keeping his tone low as he backed up "If we’re gonna deal with a Nurl thief, especially one who can move how I saw her, getting to know her Hoard could make things a whole lot easier for us.”
“Maybe so,” Elma pulled back from the edge of the stall and nodded to him “I’ll defer to your expertise on the matter if it comes up. Now let’s not keep Fulgan waiting.”
On the way to Fulgan’s tent, Elma couldn’t help but eye every Nurl they passed. Whether they were part of a clan or not, she tried to spot Goldie amongst them. Some carried short swords, others wielding tools or just crouched in between the stalls digging into Muskha with bare hands.
Not an ancient broadsword in sight.
She knew it was a fruitless effort, she didn’t even know what Goldie looked like. She‘d ran by so fast in the ruin that Elma hadn’t managed to pick up on any characteristics besides red hair, a trait not exactly uncommon amongst Nurl.
All she had was Maltop speaking about her pretty eyes, but she had no idea what that actually meant.
That didn’t stop her from trying, of course. The chances of a Nurl strolling by with an ancient broadsword were low, but she wouldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t try.
But it wasn't as though the Fair was only being frequented by Nurl. Despite being the most numerous, there were plenty of humans and Yisshin as well. The Yisshin were the more problematic of the two, as their bulky coats and large hats made it easy for a Nurl or several to hide behind them.
It made her jaw tense up, but she didn't stop.
Her search only ended when she slammed face-first into Yorm’s back. She pulled back, pressing a hand to her cheek as she raised an eyebrow at him. He had suddenly stopped walking without warning, and didn’t even seem to register the impact. He just kept staring forward with his eye wide.
Elma scowled, but then noticed the blue flag waving in front of them.
They had reached Fulgan’s tent, an unassuming construct wedged between a stall and a larger tent.
Though it was right in front of them, sitting in front of it was a fairly big problem.
“A Hiloqot?” Elma’s eyes went wide at the very sight of it.
Towering over any other fairgoers that passed by was a bipedal insect standing directly in front of Fulgan’s tent. It aimed its giant, pitch-black eyes towards anyone who drew near, its saliva-covered mandibles snapping as it hissed at any who drew too close. Both of its left hands were clenching chitinous fingers around the handle of an unreasonably large war-hammer that was caked in filth and dried blood.
Both of its right arms had been torn off, leaving small stumps protruding from the side of its carapace.
The Hiloqot looked in their direction, its mandibles snapping loudly together. The sound they made broke Yorm from his shock, and he gave it a nod of acknowledgment. Its mandibles snapped together again, but it turned its attention to a passing Merchant and his bodyguards.
“Didn’t think he hired Hiloqots.” Yorm said under his breath, prompting Elma to step back.
“Then we track down Goldie, ourselves.” She said, only for Yorm to look at her incredulously
“What? We can just ask where he’s gone.” He nodded forward, but Elma shook her head.
“Just look at its mandibles, Yorm.” She stated “It can’t stop drooling, it's Queenless.”
“I know,” he shrugged before casting looks around them “but finding a single Nurl in a Trade Fair ain’t exactly easier than wringing some sense out of a free bug.”
Before she could argue, he strode forth. Gritting her teeth, Elma followed as the Hiloqot’s head snapped towards them.
“No entry~!” It was female if the grating, hoarse whine was any indication, and she quickly raised one chitinous hand in front of her to halt them in their tracks “Lefty works good, so don’t expect leeewaaaaay~!”
“Is Fulgan busy with something?” Yorm asked as he came to a stop only for Lefty to wave a finger in the air.
“Ah ah,” she clacked her mandibles together “Weak man said give no entry till return, so Lefty shall give no entry till return. She’s not paid for answers, so no answers she shall give!”
“Right, could you at least point us in the-?”
The Hiloqot stepped forward, her jagged toes digging into the ground below.
“Lefty just said what she does. Does the man flesh not use his tiny ears?” she gripped the handle of her Warhammer “Does the poor earless weakling demand Lefty crush him into a pretty, pulpy smear on the grass? She does her job! No more! No less!”
Elma held back a scoff, she could feel every second they were wasting grinding by. No matter how knowledgeable Yorm was, a Queenless bug was a Queenless bug no matter what corner of Altez you were on.
She couldn’t watch, turning her attention towards more passing fairgoers as Yorm and Lefty’s voices rose.
The merchant who’d passed earlier was being held up by an aggravated Burybiter waving a rough drawing around. The Merchant was trying to wave him off, but the Burybiter pointed to a horribly drawn Nurl.
Elma focused on their conversation, which wasn’t easy with Lefty’s cackling.
“Maltop’s girl…” the Burybiter spat in the grass “tent empty, lazypoor hiding.”
Elma tried to glean information from the drawing he was waving around, but she was hard-pressed to even consider it a drawing. The rough, jagged lines made it look more like an outcropping of stone than a Nurl, and the shape failed to portray any unique characteristics.
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Save for one: the eyes.
While they were hard to identify due to the rough linework, Elma could see that Goldie had been drawn with yellow eyes.
Elma had to make sure the shadows of nearby tents weren’t making the colors shift. Every Nurl she had ever seen tended to have shades of blue or green. Yellow eyes were a clearly identifiable feature, but would it be enough to find her in the hustle and bustle of the Trade Fair?
Thankfully, it wasn’t the only detail Elma had to chew on.
The Burybiter noted a pair of Yisshin lugging small chests by two stalls. He shouted out towards them whilst waving his drawing, calling out to see if they had seen Goldie.
But he kept referring to her as Maltop’s girl.
Given how fond of her Maltop seemed in his last moments, Elma had assumed they had been involved intimately. But just how much?
“The Burybiter tents are in the center of the fair right?” she turned back to Yorm, who looked back at her.
In that split second, Lefty’s lower hand shot forward and flicked the side of his head.
“Now you wanna turn away while Lefty speaks, huh man flesh!?!” She spat, chunky saliva flying forth with every click of her mandibles “No manners! No style! Nothing but meat for the pit, eh?”
She leaned back and gave a cackle as Yorm wiped her saliva from his face.
“Of course not,” he cleaned his hand on the side of his kilt “don’t really make a habit o’ messing’ with Fulgan’s pals.”
“Hah! Maybe he comes back from the deal and enjoys the red decorations Lefty will leave for him?” she leaned close, snapping her mandibles right in Yorm’s face as her left hands rubbed the handle of her hammer “Nice red paste for his tacky tent? Lefty is a perfect guard and a perfect artist~!”
“Yorm, this is a waste of time.” Elma spat before waving towards the nearby stalls “We should make use of the Burybiters. They’re looking for the same Nurl-”
“Sounds a whole lot like drawing more attention to us.” Yorm scoffed before gesturing towards Lefty “We’re getting to Fulgan, just gotta talk this out.”
“Listen to the scrawny female, manfilth.” Lefty raised a finger “Lefty was told to not let anyone interfere, and you interfere plenty~! Won’t get anything from her, except a death far too good for you~!”
“Hm,” Yorm shrugged, “And here I was thinking we was connecting a little.”
Elma scoffed and turned away.
“Waste your time if you wish,” she spoke as she began walking off “but every second we waste, the blade could be getting further out of our reach.”
“What?” the moment Yorm turned away from her, Lefty’s hand shot forward and shoved him.
“And more of overlooking Lefty~” she cooed whilst wagging a finger towards him.
“Damn it all,” he hissed before turning to Elma again “Elma, trust me. Fulgan might be a sleaze but he knows his work! Pokin’ round the Clan’s just-”
“A far better use of my time than questioning Queenless Hiloqots.” Elma stated before looking back to him and nodding “Don’t worry, I’ll play hapless thief and keep your cover.”
With that she turned and continued forward, hearing Lefty burst out laughing behind her.
“Fine, go runnin’ into problems if ya want.” Yorm's voice grew farther away “Try not to get robbed, kidnapped or killed on ya way!”
His advice was noted, but Elma couldn’t let worries for safety impede her mission.
Altez deserved a better defender than that.
She came across more Burybiters with drawings of Goldie. They wandered the fair in small packs of two or three, questioning anyone and everyone about her location. As far as Elma could tell, none of the fairgoers knew why they were searching for her besides being ‘bad for business’.
What was more disheartening was that even with different artistic depictions, Elma still couldn’t learn too many distinctive features about her target.
Yellow eyes and reddish hair with a few horns down the middle of her scalp, that was all she could gather from the plethora of terrible sketches. Again, only the yellow eyes were something that could be immediately used to pick her from most Nurl.
But she knew where to look for more information.
While Elma hadn’t had a long time to examine the fair the first time she came through, nobody could mistake the massive tents which rose out of the very center.
She had initially assumed that was where more of the finer items were traded, but now she could clearly identify the growing number of Burybiters the deeper she went.
Yet those numbers seemed to drop off completely when she finally reached the center and gazed upon the four large tents that took up the central plaza of the fair. The tents were made of a sturdy patchwork of different leathers, all held up by large wooden poles.
Right in front of those tents was the auction stage, yet there were no crowds clamoring for rare items. There wasn’t even an auctioneer goading them with fervent offerings.
Compared to the rest of the Plaza, Elma found herself pausing at the stillness.
A handful of Burybiters in front of the tents weren’t enough to make such a large space seem full. The stalls and wagons lining the plaza were closed up, and the hustle and bustle of the rest of the fair almost seemed distant.
The only sound to cut through the silence was sobbing.
Sitting against the side of the stage was a familiar hooded Burybiter desperately downing a bottle of liquor, not even reacting to the words of the two standing over him.
Elma tried not to look inconspicuous, looking over the numerous closed stalls as she tried to focus in on the words spoken.
“All clan work!” one of the Burybiters shouted at the drinker “Sad Nurl fix sad with work. Take too long, become Lazypoor!”
“Not Lazypoor,” another Nurl shoved the first aside with a scowl before turning to the drinker “If not work for clan, work to punish thief. Vengeance for slain kin taste good, right?”
“Not ‘nuff!”
The Hooded Burybiter’s voice was so recognizable that Elma stopped immediately and turned to focus on him.
From her new position she could more easily see that he looked almost exactly like Maltop.
Even with his filthy hood, the rest of the features matched perfectly: his gruff voice, the stormy blue eyes, even the rest of his attire was similar to the late mining foreman’s appearance.
Elma was stricken by confusion at first, but then he continued speaking.
“Not ‘nuff to kill traitor Nurl, not ‘nuff to work with clan.” The Maltop Look-alike gripped the side of the stage and pulled himself up “Caltop kin spat on, disgrace! Need redeems proper!”
“Then help find for Archon!” a Burybiter pleaded whilst clasping his hands together “He be forgiving if get fancy sword! Give him traitor Nurl for punish! Save business, avenge kin, fatten hoard big time! No sense sending lads to mine, need for search!”
The other Burybiter nodded vehemently before turning and waving her hand around the plaza.
“Already many clan Nurl working,” she spat before turning on Caltop “why your lads special?”
“Ugh,” bringing his bottle back to his lips, Caltop took a deep drink before pulling it away and spilling some in the process “need get partner back on track to proper fix for clan and kin! Why Caltop need explain basic stuff to-!”
In the midst of their argument, he had caught sight of Elma staring at them from the edge of the plaza.
Elma swallowed dryly, going back to examining the empty stalls and tents. The sound of small footsteps approaching told her that she had been too late. She fought not to inch a hand towards her blade, letting the footsteps come to a stop before glancing to the side to find one of the Burybiters who had been arguing with Caltop shooing her away.
“Auction closed.” She waved her off “Clan busy with workstuffs, enjoy other fair stuff till ready, yes? Plenty to buy from Partner traders!”
Elma didn’t want to push them. Not when she still had the benefit of anonymity on her side. Besides, Caltop seemed to have gone back to focusing on his liquor while the other Burybiter went to speak with those guarding their tents.
Even if they were just waiting for her to leave, she had a more solid grasp on the clan’s efforts.
So, nodding to the Nurl before her, Elma turned and walked away from the Plaza. Just enough for her to get out of sight of the clan, she slowed to a stop once she couldn’t see them anymore.
"Out of way!"
Elma glanced to the side and quickly backed up as a Beetle crawled through the space between stalls. The Nurl riding it clapped her hands with glee, only for her eyes to linger a bit too long on the sword at Elma's side.
Keeping Yorm's words in mind, Elma nodded before slipping past the Beetle. She kept the plaza in her view, but moved along the more populated stalls as she thought.
With how many Burybiters were searching for Goldie, it was hard for Elma to imagine her being able to flee for long. Perhaps sticking close to the Burybiter tents and waiting for them to capture her would be optimal, but Caltop’s plans made it difficult for her to decide on that.
It made her think of the crowd of Nurl he’d sent riding back towards the dig. If Caltop was sending them to get their partner, that meant she had little time before the Archon had eyes on the scene again. If even one of his Dreamers had survived the collapsing cave, he’d have another Host to work through.
At that point, racing the Burybiters to find Goldie first would be the best option.
Yet it was as she mulled over these details that she noticed it, a detail that most of the fairgoers near her didn’t seem to pick up on.
She could still see the Burybiter tents, more specifically the fabric of one of those tents blowing in the light breeze. One of the walls wasn’t secured with the ropes and poles that the rest of the tents were.
Interest piqued, Elma looked around before drawing closer to the rear of the tent. As the voices of the crowd grew distant again, she saw that it wasn’t that the wall was unsecure, it was that a hole had been slashed through the wall of the tent.
Amongst the empty Burybiter stalls, she moved closer to examine the cut, only for her foot to trip over something.
Looking down, Elma’s eyes widened at the sight of two Burybiters. Their unmoving forms had been stuffed under the counter of one of the empty stalls, trails of blue blood going down their heads.
Though the head wounds looked harsh at face value, their chests still rose up and down with shaky breaths.
Before Elma could begin examining them closer, she heard a crash of glass from within the tent.
Crouching low, she kept one hand on the hilt of her sword as she moved to peek inside.
The tent was for storage, that much was clear the second Elma poked her head through the hole in the wall. A cage on one side was stuffed with crates and sacks. Across from the cage was a counter upon which scrolls and papers were scattered about. Several of them were even left on the ground, the closest one to Elma being a list of trades written out in harsh scribbles.
But that wasn’t what Elma focused on, for her eyes immediately locked on what lay on the other side of the counter.
Directly in her line of sight, casually set aside on the very edge of the counter, was a broadsword.
Sheathed in a scabbard of intricate gold-lined silver scales, a polished strap hanging off the side of the counter, a reflective black orb built into the pommel. It stood out harshly against the rough leathers of the Burybiter tent, the filthy furniture and jagged bars of the cage.
But Elma held still, forcing herself to look at what she was seeing objectively.
A fancy-looking old sword laying in the middle of a Nurl clan’s storage tent. Unconscious guards hidden away right outside with a hole cut through the wall.
Then another sound of shattering glass.
Identical to the one which had initially drawn her in. On the other side of the counter, she could hear the sound of broken glass being brushed aside. Elma couldn’t see them from where she was crouched, but it had to be the perpetrator behind the unconscious Nurl right outside.
Sneaking forward, Elma’s eyes locked onto the sword.
It couldn’t be, could it? Why would it be here? Why would SHE be here? But Elma would not let confusion rob her of the moment, identifying the weapon before her was the only thing that mattered.
And as she drew closer, she saw the writings on the hilt of the sword. The angular script which she’d seen on the walls of the ruin: Eelish.
There was no doubt. It had to be Bullminth’s Blade.
Any consideration for why it was there was forgotten, and any doubt in her actions vanished. The only thing that mattered in that split second was getting ahold of it. The immediate threat to that being the source of the shattering glass.
It had to be Goldie, or at least someone able to steal the sword from her.
Either way, the exit was right behind Elma and her hand was nearing the hilt. Her fingers closed around the smoothly polished hilt, her mouth going dry as she tightened her grip on it and glanced over the counter.
Only to find a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her.