When Nathaniel had entered The Laughing Hog, he had been welcomed by a face he did not know. The girl was short and plump, ears hanging from the side of her head like long rags. She looked half like a rabbit to Nathaniel, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he was wrong. They’d exchanged pleasantries and he’d paid for a room for the night, after a small meal of pork and veg. When he retired for the evening, he had briefly considered shaving his cheeks, but fear prevented it. He hadn’t seen the skin of his face in a dozen years. He was in no rush to now.
Morning came, the sounds of the city rising with the sun. Despite having trekked into the city for an hour last night, Nathaniel could still hear the creak of the drawbridge as it was lowered. Horses and carts began to move in and out of Falhight, the clopping of hooves intrusive to those still sleeping within their houses. A whisper of voices passed by the tavern, the sound rising to Nathaniel’s window. Dogs barked and roosters crowed. However, it was the smells that finally drove Nathaniel from his bed.
Dressing himself and collecting his belongings, Nathaniel went downstairs. The same girl stood tall and alone amongst the tables, unbothered by her sleepless night. Nathaniel nodded to her and left the building. As he stepped into the morning sun, his senses tingled as they always did, altering him to any potential danger. He hadn’t ignored them so far in his life and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He frowned and squinted across the street, but people passed by, unbothered by his questioning looks. Finally, Nathaniel allowed the smell of the morning to fill his nose once more. Now that his allergies had settled, he was eager to eat whatever baked goods were placed in front of him.
Along the street, only one building had the potential to fulfil him: Mystic Mugs. He walked toward the bakery, where a bustle of people was already gathered outside, breathing in the deep, buttery smells. A short girl was also outside, setting up tables and kicking dirt from the side of the building. The small girl caught sight of Nathaniel approaching, her eyes widening before she dashed back inside. Nathaniel followed, allowing the other customers to leave before he entered. As he moved closer to the counter, his eyes rolled back into his head.
‘Fucking delightful,’ he said breathily.
Behind the counter, the ogre from yesterday stood, arms crossed against her chest. She had pale brown skin and long black hair, tied in an easy bun behind her head, intentionally messy. Her apron was covered in flour and a series of ceramic mugs lined the wall behind her.
‘Captain,’ she said in simple recognition as she dried a mug. ‘You’re not looking for trouble now, are you?’
Nathaniel was used to that response in the city, though it tickled him the wrong way. He had always been kind to the people here. Thank the gods for The Laughing Hog. It was one of the few places that never questioned his intentions. He supposed that said more about the tavern than it did about him.
‘Trouble?’ Nathaniel asked. ‘I lead a simple life, ma’am. Clean and healthy living.’
She considered this, pointing towards a large sword on the wall. ‘Good, else she and I would have problems, see?’
Nathaniel stared at the sword, feeling the strength within his own arms. He’d never owned a proper sword before; his hands had always been more than enough. Unknown power seared through his veins, strengthening his muscles to a point of hard steel. He sighed, nodding.
The ogre seemed confused. Then, she held out a hand. ‘Mugs is the name.’
Nathaniel smiled and gripped it. She winced, and he pulled back, forgetting his own strength. ‘Is the bakery named after you, then? Or was it a happy coincidence when you bought it?’
She rolled her eyes. At least her humour was consistent with the other ogres that Nathaniel had met on his travels. Still, he had never been a particularly funny man either.
‘What can I smell?’ he asked. Then, he looked around the empty shop. ‘Where did the girl go?’
‘No girl here,’ the ogre said simply, avoiding his gaze. ‘And the smell? Well, it depends on where you stand. Downwind of you can only be described as shitty.’
Nathaniel let his face glower for a moment, causing the ogre to almost step back in fear. Then, he slapped the counter and snorted, chuckling to himself. It had been a long time since he’d misjudged a person. ‘Aye, I suppose so.’
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He sat alone in a corner of the bakery, sipping tea and nibbling at a large piece of cake. It was sweet, and he wondered whether his yellows would help add to the flavour. Mugs worked hard, never leaving the counter as streams of customers came in and out. It was pleasant watching the city rumble on as he witnessed it from his own space. It was also pleasant knowing that nobody would sit beside him. He supposed his reputation could be helpful at times.
When the customers died down, Nathaniel stood, stretching his back. He picked up his storage chest, collected his mug, and returned it to the counter. He placed a copper piece beside it.
‘My thanks,’ the ogre said, nodding. Her eyes danced around him, still trying to decipher the man before her. ‘Are you heading out to sea again?’
Nathaniel considered lying but decided against it. He was changing, and the world needed to know. ‘No. She and I are done. I’m heading inland to start a new venture. Might be that I’ll see you again soon.’
He nodded for a final time, walking to the door. When he turned, Mugs had disappeared.
----------------------------------------
Nathaniel headed towards the centre of the city, towards the richer buildings and dwellings. It was here that he’d agreed to meet the first mate of his ship, Alexor. Although Alexor was human like Nathaniel, his background came from lower stock. Nathaniel had picked him up across the sea, allowing him to serve on the ship. After a particularly bad storm, he’d needed a few more hands, and Alexor had risen to the challenge, soon becoming the man of the hour. By the end of the trip, he was first mate.
Nathaniel reached a street with a dead end. There was a single building, large enough to occupy several streets on its own. Inside, the Merchants Guild conducted their business, with lines of market stalls and offices within. Most of the common folk made their purchases in the lower section of the city, but if you wanted to make the real money, this was where you’d come.
Nathaniel had no intention of entering. He had to make one more trip today and had no desire to extend his presence to a group of stuffy men in black robes. Instead, he found a pleasant wooden bench and sat upon it, thinking deeply. He needed a plot of land, and the gold that Alexor delivered should cover a nice area. As far away as he wanted to be, he still needed the rights to the land. He’d also likely need a helping hand as he familiarised himself with the task. Really, he knew nothing about growing fruit. Well, he knew nothing about the earth whatsoever. He’d never tried to grow grass, let alone a foreign fruit.
He sighed, a hint of regret forming in his stomach. No, he had to cut that off as quickly as possible. This was what he wanted to do; he knew it. He’d feel better as soon as he was where he needed to be.
‘Are you lost, Cap’n?’ someone said beside him, voice thick with a heavy, hollow accent.
Nathaniel jumped. ‘You fucker.’
‘Copper for thought?’ Alexor chuckled in the common language, still not fully proficient. He held out a small coin purse.
Nathaniel grinned, taking it and checking the contents. On their travels they’d managed to collect spices and dyes that Falhight had been missing for years. It seemed that they’d all made a small fortune each.
‘How much?’ Nathaniel asked.
‘Your cut?’ Alexor asked. ‘Three platinum pieces, sixty-five gold pieces, and a hundred silver.’
He held up his fingers as he spoke, trying to show the correct amount. Nathaniel could understand him, but it had become a habit for the man.
Nathaniel allowed a wide grin to spread across his face. ‘A hundred silver?’
‘You like silver, so I get silver,’ Alexor shrugged.
‘Thoughtful fucker,’ Nathaniel said. There were a hundred coppers to a silver, a hundred silvers to a gold, and so on. A few coppers would’ve been good, but he’d have some change in no time.
‘Listen,’ Nathaniel said, a proposal on his lips.
‘No, Cap’n,’ Alexor said simply. ‘I’m too small to settle in mountains.’
Nathaniel laughed, clapping his first mate on the shoulder. ‘Too young, I think you mean.’
Alexor nodded, but by the way he looked up at the mountains on the horizon, Nathaniel wasn’t sure that the man had misspoken. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, Nathaniel catching the smell of the sea on the man.
‘What’s next for you, Alexor?’ he asked.
Alexor shrugged. ‘Women. Many.’
Nathaniel caught the blue glint in the man’s eyes. ‘If I know you as well as I think I do, you’ve got a good week ahead of you. Cheeky fucker.’
They stood before each other, nodded their goodbyes, and Alexor walked towards the lower levels of the city. No doubt he’d make more of his money down there. Nathaniel was taken aback. His crew hadn’t meant much to him; he’d never been a particularly sentimental chap, but now that the time had come… Well, he’d never expected to offer Alexor a place by his side. The man was actually quite scary, reminiscent of Nathaniel’s youth.
Nathaniel shook his head, setting his eyes on the horizon again. ‘One more stop, old man.’