85th of Vhalar 720
85th of Vhalar 720Woe had made arrangements to meet Fleaface in the port of Ivorian, and to make their way together, with all of their party and items they intended to bring along with them. The Mortalborn had wanted for Fleaface to bring certain items, weapons that he'd acquired expressly for the fight against the Creep back home in Quacia. Having no use for them here, or even there perhaps, he thought to sell them to some of the merchants here, where they might be impressed by the exotic materials used in their construction.
The port where Woe and his party made landfall was bustling to say the least. Makeshift awnings and tents, even some permanent structures sprouted out of the sandstone architecture. It was a veritable city unto itself, and Fleaface whistled as they got off the gangplank. "Oy, Master, this is Nashaki eh? Yeh think we can get drinks here about? Or is it true that theh only drink fermented camel milk, heated with camel shit?"
Woe inhaled sharply through his teeth. Fleaface's wit hadn't dulled in the time he'd spent away from Woe, the Mortalborn noted. They both had dressed for a trip to the sands of Nashaki. While Fleaface wore a simple robe around his usual attire, as well as a turban that covered his lower face, Woe’s outfit was a bit richer in quality.
Around his torso he wore a rich, brown, velvet tunic. On his legs, a pair of loose-fitting velvet trousers of the same fabric. Around his shoulder and waist, a tied sash of deep blue, to which was attached a shoulder cape of black velvet, trimmed with dark wolf's fur. On his feet, a pair of black riding boots. His hands were covered by a pair of deep blue gloves, the same color of his sash. Around his head, he wore a turban, part of which wrapped around his face to keep the dust, sand and debris out. On his eyes, a pair of simple, soot-shaded goggles.
”They drink all manner of things, what gave you that impression, Fargis?” Woe murmured, tucking the face cloth beneath his chin for the moment. The day was mostly windless, making the need for the facecloth moot. The moment that sand began to kick up, however, he’d put it back on as instructed by the tailor in Ivorian, and of course informed by common sense. Why else would everyone cover up in such an intensely hot place as Nashaki, if not for the scourging sands?
Fleaface was carrying the parcel that Woe instructed him to deliver to the port, containing the masterwork weapons he’d had crafted in Quacia. They’d fetch a good price here, or so he thought. He had it on good authority that the materials that went into their creation were in scarce supply here, and thought to make a bit of profit from their sale into the bargain. Yet, he’d also heard of the prowess of the Nashaki merchants, which bore to reason. Chamadarst was the patron of their city-state, afterall. But then, Woe was marked by him. Surely any deception that a cheap huckster tried to ply on him wouldn’t pass muster.
”Master… yeh think we kin catcha ride on one of them wagons? Don’t trust them hump things… the camels. Rude and ornery shits they is, from what I know in Etzos.” Fleaface spat into the dusty road as they walked along the cobbled road into the port-side settlement. ”I ain’t riding no hump beast.” He muttered under his breath.
Iago and Soraia were trailing behind Woe and Fleaface, a careful distance from the Etzori peasant. They’d learned to fear him in their time, which was right and proper, yet worrisome at the same time. Woe didn’t want Fleaface to get any ideas above his station, afterall. He was still his servant, whatever connection he still held to his mother, it wouldn’t get past Woe if he suddenly decided to betray the Mortalborn.
They approached one of the wagon trains that appeared to be making preparations for heading out of the settlement. A short, stocky merchant man was peddling this or that to a local, when he pushed him aside upon sighting Woe and his fine clothing. Mistaking him for a rich man, perhaps. Woe stuck his arm out to halt Fleaface in his stride, his hand tracing along the box that his servant carried with him. The merchant bowed and made obsequious motions with his hands as he approached Woe, making it seem as if the Mortalborn were royalty or some such. Woe had little patience for such empty gestures, and waved a hand at the merchant, signalling that he should stop debasing himself.
”I take it you’re heading to Nashaki then?” Woe inquired, looking down on the merchant.
The dark, little man bobbed his head in the affirmative, ”Oh yes, you have nel? I can give transport, along one of my many wagons! Fine wagons, covered to keep the dust of the road out of your eyes! Only thirty nel for a one-way trip to Nashaki, master!”
Woe paused, thinking that this man must have a good deal of coin left over to barter. ”Would you be averse to a trade, nel for goods, and passage? I have some fine weapons that would fetch a good price at market…”
The merchant’s eyes darted toward the box that Fleaface was carrying. Fargis shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he held it, apparently not liking the look of this little merchant. Woe had known Fleaface long enough, and explored his tangle often to know his mannerisms and what lie beneath them. The Etzori hated the unfamiliar, and this Nashaki merchant was terribly so to the Etzori peasant. Woe remembered for a moment how Fleaface had looked at him at first, seeing him as a ‘foreign git’ while he’d been living in Westguard.
But for the moment Woe would ignore Fleaface’s prejudice. It’s not as if Fargis had the lack of sense to sound off on his prejudice in a strange place, surrounded by strange people. That was an ignorance mostly reserved for where he was at home. A shame Fleaface hadn’t come to Etzos with Woe, while he was there. He might be a little homesick.
At any rate, Woe opened the box that Fleaface was carrying, showing the merchant the glowing chains of the Faldrunium, beneath it’s layered sheath of golden salamander hide. Then he took out the tienite bastard sword, for his inspection.
The merchant’s eyes shone with greed at the sight of these exotic, elaborately crafted, and formidable looking weapons. The faldrunium’s light shone reflected in his eyes as he watched the flames dance around its links. Then his eyes fell on the tienite, and he could scarcely contain his awe. That was all in the space of a few seconds. Then the merchant swiftly concealed his reverence for these items behind a mask of sudden indifference. He shook his hands and head. ”No, I take nel no trade.” He paused a moment, after that implacable refusal… Then he asked to handle the tienite sword. Woe complied, handing it over and not sensing any duplicity about the man.
”It was made by a master smith. Worth quite a lot of onyx.” Woe stated.
”I give you three onyx and one way passage to Nashaki. No more.”
Woe sighed, he wasn’t the best negotiator, for haggling and such. Yet he knew well enough the value of his weapons. Although they were used, they were still in fairly good condition. He tried to drum up interest by regaling the merchant with tales, tales of how they’d inflicted brutal harm upon mythical foes in the War against the Creep in Quacia. ”The Faldrunium burned through their hardened wooden hide like a knife through butter, imagine what such a whip could do in the hands of a master? Well you don’t have to. I can give a demonstration if you like?”
The merchant’s eyes gleamed as he beheld the whip, shifting from the sword to it in a moment. Woe could see the barely concealed delight in his eyes, at the thought of obtaining such curiosities for trade. Woe had by then conceded that he might have to part with the weapons for less than he’d originally paid to have them made. He was at peace with that, but he wouldn’t let them go for a pittance.
”No demonstration! None needed, I see you are a very astute trader, master! These weapons… I would give you twenty onyx for the lot, and passage to Nashaki in my first wagon, my personal coach. Last offer! I leave before the break is done!” Clearly the merchant was anticipating the price of the weapon to go up with a demonstration, or so Woe supposed. At any rate, it gained him more onyx than he otherwise would’ve expected from such a miser.
Woe had to agree, and placed the weapons back in their container. He instructed Fleaface to make the exchange with the merchant, and bring them forth to his personal coach. Thereafter, the two jumped aboard the coach, and soon enough were rolling off on the road to Nashaki.
