“Up north, beyond the Schwarzwald mountains,” I recited, pacing around repeatedly, “lies a primeval forest, untouched by the reaches of man and demon unlike, a remnant of an ancient age before, the home of beasts: the Northern Forests.” Slowly, intently, and deliberately, my fingers unwrapped the linen bag. As every word left my mouth, making sure to pause with each phrase, I studied the countenance of Jude, still calmly seated, slit-like oval eyes and pursed thin lips. “A den for creatures which you believe to exist only in the imaginations of myth and fairy tales.”

“Hmm, next you’ll be speaking of a hidden, magical city populated by ancient elves thought to be long departed from this continent, full of sights and wonders unimaginable,” Jude scoffed.

“No, the forests I speak of are home to monsters your own two eyes and ears can confirm,” I continued, a smile despite myself. My hands finished their work. The bag was unwrapped and there on the table, on top of the linen cloth, was the lifeline which would secure us our deal: a stack of dark-green scales, each with the width of a small fist. The seven pairs of eyes behind Jude each darted to the pile of scales, visible reactions ranging from confusion to reflection to indifference.

Jude’s eyes narrowed on the scales, as if appraising them, before looking up at me expectantly. “So, from what supposed beast then have you appropriated these… things?” he asked, posing the question I anticipated.

“Well, I ask you, how acquainted are you with the myths of Norlaenders?” I responded.

“Not much,” he said, crossing his arms, “we don’t deal with tall tales on this table, you see.”

“A tale can be tall but true as well, right?” I said while I picked up one of the scales and held it up.

“Get to your point, little Ersham. What monster do you claim these scales to be from?” From the corner of my eye, I could see his jaw clenching irritably, despite his mostly-composed expression. Now would indeed be the prime time to continue on.

I smiled to myself as I composed my response. My mind reached back many years, to the time I spent in my beginning years as Luqa, head buried in books and tomes. At this point, I couldn’t remember if I read so much out of interest in the pages within those books or boredom of the slow life as a small village child without. Within my head, I could almost see it: an old, dusty bestiary, an imposing leather cover, dense pages complemented with ink illustrations. I turned the pages, flipping through until I landed on my desired entry: Lindwyrm. The words on this imagined page felt vivid, real, and familiar to me.

“One reason the Northern Forests haven’t been the target of deforestation and settlement is the prevalent existence of threatening, man-eating monsters. I mean, we two happen to be witnesses able to attest to that fact,” I said, gesturing at myself and Shara, who had been quietly watching me this whole time, an inkling of pride visible in her glistening eyes. “They say that if you wander naively into those ancient woods, you may enjoy a momentary, quiet peace, wandering freely, enjoying its sights… until the ground starts shaking, and in the next second, a blur descends upon you.” I stopped to glance at the reaction of the man at the table.

“Hehehe,” Jude chuckled under my gaze, “alright boy, pray tell more of this tale. At the very least, you can be entertaining.” His fingers drummed the table, pitter-pattering resounding from the wood.

“What may be this thing? This… beast?!” My arms extended out, gesturing theatrically. “You may never know. To you, all that is visible is an open mouth, a dark void within, and then, snap!” I clapped my two hands. “Into the belly of the beast, into a certain lonely death. That may be your fate if you encounter a Lindwyrm, a large serpent-like beast not uncommon in the Northern Forests. But here, in front of you, you see scales, extracted from this threatening creature. These scales are what make them so dangerous, so difficult to fight against. These render them resistant to blades and arrows.”

“Hmph…” Jude scratched at his chin. At that moment, he seemed unreadable. I couldn’t tell whether he was considering the truth of my words, or if he was contemplating the best way to teach us a lesson for wasting his time. After a heart-pounding pause, he turned over, tilting his head at one of his subordinates. “Hugo, what say you?” he asked while reaching over to grab one of the scales.

A bespectacled, thin man approached him, his slight appearance in contrast to the other six behind Jude, with their large, intimidating frames. He took the scale from Jude and examined it himself closely, holding it close to his eyes.

“Setting aside any disbelief of how this was acquired, this Lindwyrm he speaks of truly does exist, and their existence has been long known outside of myths,” the man named Hugo said. “Though I’ve never seen one myself. And this scale… is one that I don’t recognize as well. I can’t say for certain then what exactly this is. I will need more time later to examine it.” Jude listened closely, quietly considering his subordinate’s opinion. As Hugo finished talking, he set down the scale back into the pile and stepped back.

“Alright,” Jude said, turning back to face me, “so that’s that, you heard what the smart man had to say. You’ve brought us some large snake scales as well as a pretty little tale. I’d say a silver coin or two is a good deal, no?” The look in his eyes was undeniably mocking.

“Wait, I’m not done,” I said, leaning on the table. “If you’re not convinced with words, then perhaps actions may prove more persuasive. Could I borrow a dagger?”

“So you can attempt to slice my nose off in your childish rage?”

“No, so I can show you why you should find these scales worth the trouble. Trust me, I won’t have to get a blade near you to do any convincing,” I remarked. My lips curved into an apologetic, harmless smile.

“Then, if you must…” Jude reached his hand over his shoulder, opened into an expecting palm. One of his subordinates quickly handed him a dagger, which Jude grasped and tossed at me. I caught it in the air with my right hand.

“Look closely, everyone.” I stood a few steps back from the table, aware of the attention of all eyes in the room. In my left hand, my fingers held a Lindwyrm scale and, in the right, I held the dagger. Dramatically, I pulled back the dagger and then thrust it with calculated strength, the blade aimed perpendicular to the scale.

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Chink!

The blade deflected off the scale, my hand guiding it so that it didn’t deflect into my fingers or towards my body. I turned the dagger over, reversing my grip, before unleashing three more slashes on the scale. Satisfied, I lay the dagger on the table, along with the scale, the side that had clashed with the blade visible upwards.

“See, no signs of scratches from the slashes, and only a small mark here for that thrust. And it remains in the same shape, as sturdy as it was. Which is remarkable for how light the scale is,” I said, my fingers tracing the scale.

“Hmph, alright, we–” Jude said.

“And that is not all,” I continued, my fingers picking up the scale once more. I threw it to Shara, somewhat surprised but catching it nonetheless. “Hold it extended over your face. Keep your grip tight,” I whispered.

“If I am at all harmed, you will not hear the end of it,” she whispered back.

“Trust in me just a bit, okay?”

“…Fine.” She stood in front of me, holding the scale with a thumb and an index finger, over her face as I instructed. I stepped facing her, a few paces between us.

“The Lindwyrm is also a creature impervious to fire due to the protection of its scales,” I said. “Some say it is because Lindwyrms are the children of the indomitable Dragons, though that is undeniably only the claims of ambitious storytellers. We don’t deal with tall tales here, right?” I winked. My statement earned a slight chuckle from Jude. “Now, watch closely.”

My right arm extended forward with an open palm; my eyes closed in concentration. I needed it to be as large as possible to make it flashy, but small enough to not cause Shara harm. A ball of fire began gathering in my hand, constantly growing and growing until it reached the desired size, slightly smaller in width than the scale. Gasps and murmurs began spreading through the seven behind Jude, for a reason that eluded me momentarily until the puzzle pieces clicked. I had been used to it for so long and my mother had normalized it. Chantless casting, a technique supposedly only advanced, gifted mages could do with ease.

Satisfied with its size, I let it go.

The fireball collided with the scale into a mini-explosion, momentarily lighting up the room in a flash, before dissipating to nothingness. The scale remained where it was, held by Shara, and in the same condition, no visible charring or cracks.

“Your fingers alright? Did I burn you?” I approached and asked her in a low voice, carefully taking the scale from her.

“They will be fine. You were delightfully gentle with me, though a little more force might have been better,” she whispered back.

“Yep, I got it, you’re alright, no more words from you,” I mumbled. “Behold!” I exclaimed to the rest of the room, my voice louder, the scale held out. “It is as if I hadn’t thrown a fireball at it. And what’s more, the other side has not been heated, despite the warmth of the side that endured the fireball. One could craft armor from these scales that can allow one to withstand the might of a fire mage. Imagine it so: try as the mage to unleash flame to a warrior clad in these scales, the warrior stands unyielding, unaffected.” I sat back down on the chair, face to face with Jude once more. My hand slid the scale to his side of the table. “So, have I been convincing?”

“I can’t lie, little Ersham, you did turn out a bit convincing,” Jude chuckled, holding the scale in his hands. “How many would you say lie in that pile there?”

“Around 200.”

“I see, you’ll be glad to hear then that little demonstration had made me willing to buy from you,” he said, his eyebrows slightly raised. “Then it should be fair to say that each is worth 10 silvers, so 20 gold coins altogether should be a fair price, no?”

Before I could nod my head eagerly, excited to finally secure our finances, my instincts stopped me. The battle to convince him of the scales’ worth had ended, and transitioned to a duel of negotiations of prices. One I was severely too lacking in knowledge to engage in on an equal playing field.

“Ah, for such valuable scales, you would give us such a low price?” I nervously asked.

“A low price?” His lips curved up into a smirk. I could tell. This was him, in his element, given the chance to dominate the discussion over the table. “That is not a low price. The Adventurer Guild would give you hardly half of what we offer. This is no bartering marketplace, boy.”

From the slight upwards tug at the corner of his mouth, I could recognize that these were not fair terms in the slightest. But I could only be frustrated. I had too little basis for the worth of currency here, or of the worth of monster parts in this city to argue confidently. My teeth chewed the inside of my cheek as I thought and thought and thought. I couldn’t lose here, right before the final steps to victory!

Before I could say anything, my companion joined the discussion. Shara leaned in over the table next to me, her brown hair flowing and cascading down.

“‘Tis a shame, you seemed such a gentleman until time came to the matter of quantity, dear Jude,” she said. “My companion has it right, that is a price much too low.” She quickly looked at me, a message visible in her eyes. Let me take care of this now.

“What would you know?” Jude asked, unaffected by her. “You will not find a better deal anywhere in this city. I suggest you take it while I’m still in the mood to offer it.”

“Really? I’m quite curious to see if that is true,” she hummed. “Perhaps the wealthy men of this city would be more reasonable clients. Scales from which you could craft fire-impervious armor? That sounds like a delicacy sought out by the particular palates of the rich.”

Jude’s smile strained, twitching in what I imagined was irritation, though he remained silent.

“Though, from what I would guess,” Shara continued, putting a finger to her chin, “it is most likely noblemen like those who purchase from you. Perhaps they enjoy the exclusivity you may offer. Ah, apologies, would we be encroaching on this exclusivity if we ignore you and go straight to them?”

“…You think you can deal with people such as them? You think they’d be willing as us to hear out two little whelps such as you?” Jude asked. His voice was quiet yet intense all the same.

“Oh, do not be so unimaginative,” Shara said dismissively. “In less than one day, we have managed to find our way into here as token-holding VIPs. Spare us a week, and we shall be wealthy beyond envy, without your help.”

“…Then, sweet, little Clara,” Jude said venomously, “I’d like to hear what sounds fair to you, since you’re quite confident of yourself. Would you like to suggest a fair price?”

“Since you’ve extended me the opportunity, then I believe… at the very least 300 gold coins would be sufficient enough,” Shara said confidently.

“300 gold coins? Hehehehe… Hahahaha!” Jude broke out laughing along with his seven subordinates. His hand smacked the table as uncontrollable, roaring, howling laughter escaped his mouth. “And if we don’t, you’ll decline our offer?” he asked, his laughter continuing.

“Naturally,” Shara said unflinchingly, as confident sounding as I’ve ever heard her. I eyed her nervously, my mind aware of where we might be headed. With caution, I stood from my chair and steeled myself in preparations for potential negotiations-turned-conflict. At this point, I felt quite disappointed; I almost dared to think today’s struggle to earn money would end quietly.

“Hehe, then,” Jude said, “alright, if you’ll decline our offer and take those very profitable scales away with you, then perhaps my men could discourage you from that choice of action. Everyone, if you mind engaging them in a bit of persuasion?”