As Dave stared into Cedez's eyes, he found himself captivated by the spirals of silver constellations spinning within their depths. It was as if he were gazing into the night sky, witnessing a celestial dance of light that both hypnotized and disoriented him. The longer he looked, the more the swirling patterns seemed to draw him in, ensnaring his senses and leaving him feeling both nervous and enthralled.
Dave shook his head, as if trying to dispel the enchantment of her gaze. "I, uh, no, I'm not a necromancer," he stammered, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "But it's funny how these silly rumors can spread, isn't it?"
"Sounds like something that a necromancer would say," the foxgirl laughed, her porcelain chompers glinting like polished ivory in the evening light.
Dave's eyes darted around the cafe, noting with alarm how the adventurers in their midst instinctively reached for their weapons, the metallic rasp of steel leaving its sheath filling the air with a sense of foreboding. He gulped, feeling the weight of their suspicions pressing down upon him.
"Are necromancers… bad?" He asked.
“They can be,” Cedez leaned in, her voice a low purr that carried the gravity of history. "Two decades ago, a necromancer raised an army of the dead using the local cemeteries in a daring attempt to take the city from within," she explained, her words painting a vivid picture of a time stained with blood. "The watch put him down only after losing a few divisions. Since then, everyone has been rightly spooked by necromagi. All dead bodies within the city are burned to ash by pyromancers per order of the estate of the High Lords of Shandria."
As Cedez recounted the tale, Dave could almost feel the chill of that long-ago evening, when the dead had risen from their graves, their spectral forms marching in lockstep with the twisted will of their dark master. He shuddered at the thought of such an unholy power being wielded again and resolved to tread carefully, lest he find himself branded with the same sinister reputation.
“You don’t seem to be that spooked by necromagic,” Dave stared at the toothy, wide smile in front of him.
“I’m a tough cookie,” the foxgirl gleamed. “I can talk my way out of most situations and I have a good nose for sniffing out trouble.”
“What does your nose say about me?” Dave inquired.
"You don't smell like death or rotting flesh," the foxgirl mused, her delicate nose twitching with her assessment. "Just metal bugs, dirt, grass and wildflowers. Mmmm... nope. Definitely not a necromancer," she declared, playfully pretending to boop his nose with her dark paw, her laughter like a babbling brook.
Dave smiled as the crowd around him relaxed slightly.
"So, what are you?" the foxgirl purred, her gaze as probing as it was alluring.
"An adventurer," Dave answered briskly, skirting around the subject like a wary traveler circumventing a treacherous ravine.
Cedez tilted her head to the side, her playful expression metamorphosing into one of intrigue. "An adventurer, huh?" she echoed, her eyes gleaming with great interest. "That's a pretty broad term. What kind of adventurer?"
Dave shifted in his seat, feeling a little uncomfortable under Cedez's intense gaze.
"Oh, you know, the standard kind," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Fighting monsters, looting dungeons, that sort of thing. I killed twenty metal bugs today. See?"
Dave opened his bag to display his kills.
"How exciting. Tell me, have you ever... fought a dragon?" Cedez's eyes sparkled with mischief.
Dave shook his head, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Not yet. But it's on my to-do list."
Cedez grinned, leaning closer to Dave, her proximity a dance between challenge and teasing. "Well, if you need aid in some dragon-slaying adventures, you know who to call."
"I'll keep that in mind," Dave laughed, "but you might want to invest in some armor if you're planning on taking on a dragon. I don't think that pretty black and silver fur of yours will hold up well against flames and claws."
Cedez chuckled, her smile an intoxicating elixir, tracing a finger along the edge of one of Dave's gauntlets. "I'm not worried. I'll just charm your dragon into submission."
Dave raised an eyebrow, amused by Cedez's confidence. He noted that the atmosphere around him with the exception of the server still remained a bit tense.
“Redirect suspicion,” Sherlock advised. “Show everyone the plates.”
Following the ghost’s advice Dave pulled out two metal plates that he grabbed from the bodies he found near the lake.
“I found these on two adventurers that the metal bugs killed,” he said. “I’m bringing them back to the Guild. They had a bit of silver on them, I was planning to return it to their families…”
Cedez grabbed the ID tags and coins, lifting the two black bracelets to her face and sniffing at them.
“Lamar and Katliss,” She said as she looked at the little portraits on the tags. “They preferred their coffee black and minty. You’re a good boy, Dave, thank you for bringing these back.”
She patted Dave’s armored hand with a genuinely soft expression. The tense atmosphere around Dave lifted like a veil, the cloud of suspicion dissipating as quickly as it had gathered.
“By the laws of her Shadow-grace, you can keep their coins. These two didn’t have family in Shandria. Seems like this doomed couple simply took a quest that was far too hard for them to deal with,” Cedez said. “How dangerous would you assess the metal bugs?”
“I saw about 50 hives in the mountains,” Dave replied. “Each one is twice my size. When they swarm in the thousands they can peel an elk clean in minutes.”
The gathered adventurers paled. The old dwarf eating snail-cakes whistled.
“The Guild will have to update this Quest ranking and move it to a higher floor,” the foxgirl commented. “You’re quite lucky to have made it back. Are you planning on going back?”
Dave nodded.
The wizard manning the snail cafe rolled his eyes, his expression drenched in a dry cynicism. "Just what we need, another idiot adventurer," he commented with a world-weary sigh. "Not like there's not enough corpses out in the wilds."
Cedez shot him a look, her expression sassy and defiant. "Don't be such a sourcat, Murdoc," she teased, her tail flicking in mock reproof. "I like this one, he smells spicy. I think I'll keep him in my esteemed domain as a daring jester."
"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted," Dave said.
Cedez laughed, a tinkling sound that filled the air. "Oh, don't worry. I'm just teasing. I wouldn't dream of keeping you against your will, for that's against the laws of her Divine Shadow," She leaned in, black and silver tail swishing playfully, its sinuous movements an enticing dance. "Unless, of course, you wanted to stay... forever."
"Well, forever sure is a long time," Dave mused, taking another sip of his tea, the warmth of the liquid a comforting anchor. "I'm not sure I'm ready to commit to anything that long-term just yet."
Cedez laughed again, her silver eyes twinkling with mirth. She gracefully rushed off to catch an entire group of seven adventurers in her net of silky words, her every movement a testament to her magnetic charm. Dave sat back and observed her, admiration blossoming in his chest. She called everyone by name, adjusting the cadence of her voice to match those of the cafe's patrons with the virtuosity of an exceptionally skilled voice actress.
"So, Cedez," Dave spoke up as the server passed by, attempting to hide the nervousness in his voice, "you seem to know everyone's name."
"Yep," Cedez looked up, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Go on, you look like you want to test my unholy powers!"
Dave considered her question for a moment, weighing the potential of her knowledge. "Who's the best blacksmith in town?"
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Remicra, the dragoness," Cedez tilted her head after a moment of contemplation, her silver eyes narrowing as if peering through a veil of memory. "If you can somehow convince her to cooperate. She will absolutely rip you off, though, what with the parsimonious Lord Burgundy owning her smithy."
"You know Remicra?" Dave blinked, a mixture of surprise and curiosity playing across his face.
"I know everyone who walks in or out the front gate to Shandria, Dave."
She curtsied and rushed off as more adventurers tried to return to their homes in Shandria, only to be instantly intercepted by her charm.
"A natural talent with people," Sherlock's violin sang in Dave's soul, its notes a harmony of observation and admiration. "She could be of use."
"You think so?" Dave thought back.
"While your haggling skills are getting better, how well do you think you would do in sales?" Sherlock's tune inquired, its melody a gentle probing of Dave's self-awareness.
"Poorly," Dave exhaled, a wistful sigh that seemed to dance through the air as he watched Cedez's dark tail fluttering across the cafe as if she were a dancing shadow herself. "I hate sales with a passion."
"Exactly," Sherlock musicated. "Our enterprise requires more funds. Get her on board."
"What time do you get off work?" Dave inquired as Cedez passed by him with a tray of tantalizing fare.
"Well, technically, I don't have a set end time," she admitted, setting the tray down on the counter with a flourish. "I work until it's dark or till the cafe isn't busy anymore. What's on your mind?"
Dave leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table, like an uncertain melody searching for harmony. "I was just thinking... maybe you could help me out with something."
Cedez raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips, inviting and teasing in equal measure. "Oh, really? And what might that be?"
Dave sat up, feeling a little more confident now that he was actually asking for help. "Well, you see... I was wondering if you might be able to use your... persuasive skills to help me sell Bakelite armor?"
Cedez's eyes narrowed a little, studying Dave closely, as if trying to discern the true nature of his request.
Dave nodded sheepishly. "I know it's a big ask, but you seem to put everyone at ease with mere words."
"You're right, I'm pretty good at talking to people," she agreed, an air of self-assurance lacing her words. "But what's in it for me?"
Dave paused, thinking. "I'll give you a cut of the profits," he offered, the words both generous and calculating.
Cedez leaned back, looking thoughtful, as if weighing her desires against the scale of Dave's desperation. "Well, first of all, let me see your Bakelite armor. I want to sample what all the fuss is about."
Dave undid his glove and handed it to the cafe maid. The girl spun it in the air and stabbed it with one of her dark claws.
"Hrmm," she exhaled, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's light, yet I can't just poke through it. She looked around the cafe with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Galvin, try to stab through this."
She threw the glove at the dwarf. The short, bearded man took out a huge knife from his belt and struck the glove with it. The knife got stuck in bamboo fibres, not cutting through. He stabbed harder with more vigor.
“Impressive,” he commented as he handed the glove back to the server. “Not as tough as steel, but still quite difficult to cut through.”
"Thanks," Dave said with a smirk, his pride in the material evident.
“Oi, Cedez. Let me see that glove,” a blonde witch with cat ears on Dave’s left suddenly said.
Cedez rushed the glove over to her.
"Take a look, Avanda, isn’t this absolutely perfect for adventurers who are tired of lugging metal armor?" the server chattered. “Think you can hang one of your barrier spells on it?”
The feline magically examined the glove with some sort of a flickering spell. “Yes. It’ll be far easier to carve runework into it than metal armor.”
“I want a set,” Avanda looked at Dave. “How much for one?”
“What kind of runes can you carve into the armor?” Dave inquired.
“Shield spells that feed on the user's mana,” Avanda replied. “I’m a ward barrier mage.”
“I’ll give you a set for free if you can reinforce a hundred sets for me with barrier wards,” Dave offered.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” the blonde witch grinned.
“I’ll need to measure you,” Dave said. “Meet me tomorrow at the Adventurers guild.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” the witch nodded with a smile.
The Bakelite glove went around the cafe tables with various patrons poking at it with their tools, each surprised at the material’s weight and durability.
The sun overhead was slowly sinking behind the gargantuan black hole in the sky, painting the landscape in orange tones. The foxgirl tilted her head and then rapidly climbed the snail onto the seat next to the wizard. She whispered something to him with an air of conspiratorial urgency and then climbed back down and joined Dave at his table.
"I'm yours tomorrow," she announced with a grin.
"Oh?" Dave blinked.
"I got the day off," Cedez winked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I can see the potential in your armor. I know a few of the clothing vendors at the Guild marketplace. With my aid it won’t be hard to rent a section of a tent from one of them under their license."
Dave opened his mouth.
"Selling things in the guild without a license can miff the Watch," Cedez explained before Dave even produced his question.
"Damn, girl, you work fast," Dave laughed, both impressed and grateful for her resourcefulness. “Thanks for your help.”
Cedez waved a hand dismissively, a bright smile on her face. "No problem at all," she chirped. “I want ten percent from each sale I make.”
“Deal,” Dave said.
As the sun began to set and the ebb of adventurers and farmers returning to town ceased, Cedez stood up from the table. "Well, good evening everyone. I’m closing up shop," she said, stretching her lithe limbs. "I'm looking forward to our little business venture tomorrow, Dave. I promise I'll do my best to make you a fortune."
"I have no doubt you will," he said.
As Cedez folded up the chairs and tables and headed back into the snail, Dave smiled, feeling content. He had a newfound ally in his quest for glory, and he had a feeling that working with Cedez was going to be a lot of fun. He couldn't wait to see what tomorrow would bring.
By the time Dave had ascended the winding, labyrinthine streets of the city to its very precipice, a delicate drizzle began to fall from the morose, gathered gray clouds that loomed overhead like an assembly of brooding aristocrats. He stepped through the rough-hewn wooden doorway of the smithy, seeking shelter from the elements, just as the landscape outside became bathed in an eerie, crimson glow from the sudden flare of red runes.
"You're very late," chided Remicra, her voice a blend of admonishment and relief. She stood adjacent to the shimmering forge, her gaze entranced by the hypnotic dance of fire at the furnace's base.
"I got caught up in... something," Dave confessed. His voice was soft and apologetic as he relaxed in the warm embrace of the smithy's walls.
"I was concerned that you got eaten," the blacksmith said, the corners of her mouth quivering with the ghost of a smile as she crossed her arms.
"Nope," Dave shook his head. He began to disengage himself from the confines of his Bakelite armor, each piece clicking and clattering to the ground.
The dragoness came over and helped Dave shed his plastic shell faster.
Within the smithy's dimly lit sanctuary, the rhythm of life continued its inexorable march, the steady crackle of the fire and the patter of the rain intermingling with the quiet, introspective dance of two souls seeking solace in a world that seemed, at once, both vast and impossibly small.
As the rain outside intensified, beating a somber staccato upon the smithy's roof and windows, the adventurer and the blacksmith set about preparing their humble dinner. The room became filled with the convivial sizzle of meat upon the fire and the aroma of herbs and spices, a veritable symphony of sensory delight that belied the storm raging beyond the walls.
All the while, Remicra's gold-violet eyes stared at Dave with an unnerving look, as if she were a lioness poised to pounce upon her unsuspecting prey. A sense of growing tension manifested between them and hung in the air like a discordant note, multiplying with every passing minute.
"Yes?" Dave inquired finally, as he swallowed the last morsel of his delayed repast, the salty flavours lingering on his tongue like the echoes of a sweet melody.
"Are you hiding something?" Remicra intoned, her voice a subtle growl that seemed to reverberate through the very marrow of his bones. She tore into a succulent strip of grilled meat, the juices dribbling down her chin like the blood of some primordial ritual.
"Uhhh," Dave blinked, his tired thoughts scattering like a flock of startled birds. Was the dragoness jealous of the kitsune cafe server? Had she somehow caught the scent of Cedez upon his person, like the faintest trace of perfume on a lover's clothes?
"Fess up," Remicra growled, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
"I'm not following," Dave replied, his voice cautious, as he maintained a facade of nonchalance navigating the uncharted waters of Remicra's suspicions.
The dragoness's claws glittered menacingly in the dim red light, as if each talon were an instrument of divine retribution, honed and sharpened to mete out justice. With a predatory grace, she took a measured step towards the man, causing Dave to gulp, his throat constricting as if a vice had suddenly clamped upon it.
"I, um, met a chatty foxkin server at the cafe, that's why I'm late," he confessed, his voice wavering. "I hired her to help me sell Bakelite armor at the guild tomorrow."
Remicra's gaze upon his person intensified, her gold-violet eyes burrowing into his very soul, as if she sought to excavate the unspoken truths that lay buried beneath the sediment of his words.
"Don't judge me, I'm a complete incompetent when it comes to selling anything... okay?" Dave pleaded, his voice tinged with the desperation of a man who teetered on the precipice of disaster.
The dragoness' tail thrashed through the air like a whip, a deadly, sinuous appendage that seemed to possess a life of its own, as she advanced towards Dave. The ex-programmer retreated, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the cage of his ribs, as he considered donning his armor once more to defend himself from the relentless onslaught of the blacksmith he had mistakenly believed to be docile and friendly.
"I, erm, eh..." he stammered. "It's not like we are… err… I just sleep on your floor... Surely, I'm allowed to hire other girls to help me..."
"I can smell it!" Remicra growled, advancing forward.
"Nothing happened, I swear," Dave yelped, feeling like a lamb about to be ensnared in the jaws of a ravenous wolf.