The Gloomy Black-Haired Busty Girl (2)
A group of merchants rolled in that evening, keeping things pretty busy. Unlike other traders, they were heavily armed—decked out in sturdy leather armor and chainmail, with all sorts of weapons, crossbows, and such propped against the tables as they boisterously knocked back their beer. It felt more like watching a band of mercenaries than merchants. Among their gear were even hefty halberds with long poles topped by axes and shields big enough to cover a man's body.
I chatted them up a bit and learned they were part of the famous Paling Trading Company. This outfit traded all the way to the distant eastern lands of Hormuria. They were long-haul merchants crossing continents, mobilizing hundreds of wagons per trip—an absolutely massive operation. That explained the heavy armament. Sure, they had escort guards, but these folks could switch to combat mode anytime if needed. They weren't just peddlers; they were traders who crossed civilized borders.
They were a subunit that had entered the western continent a month ago, planning to pass through the Vurn Gorge and head north into the kingdom.
"Heard the Golruks vanished, so we turned tail right away. Getting here was hell enough, but detouring around the Vurn Mountains? That'd be a total clusterfuck."
"Yeah. Those goddamn barons and viscounts gouge you on tolls so bad, you'd rather die fighting Golruks. Fucking sons of bitches."
True to form for folks who battled bandits and monsters on the roads, their mouths were filthy as hell.
"The boss here must have some sharp eyes. How'd you even think to open an inn in a dump like this? Bet everyone told you it'd get a quarrel bolt to the skull."
"Got lucky. I didn't expect it to turn out like this myself."
"Mm, true enough. Making money takes luck too. Without it, you could trip over gold and still run into a dragon."
That drew a cackle from the guy across the table, who chucked a chicken bone at him.
"Fuck your luck talk, man. It's coming out my ears. This asshole thinks his morning wood is good luck too."
"It is luck! Some guys can't even get it up!"
An older guy at another table barked back in outrage.
Ignoring the ruckus, the merchant who'd been harping on luck pulled something out to show me.
"Take a look at this."
It was a small orb dangling from a necklace, roughly sculpted from clay into a human face. The eyes and mouth were sewn shut with thread to keep them from opening, and straggly black hair fluttered from the top. It looked like fine craftsmanship from someone skilled.
"This talisman keeps the luck that comes my way from slipping out. See how the eyes and mouth are sealed? It holds the luck tight inside."
"Goddamn... ruins my appetite."
His companions grumbled at the sight.
I examined the creepy little amulet closely. Small as it was, it looked eerily human—like a peacefully sleeping face if not for the stitches.
This is... a Sansa black magic talisman...
Della, passing behind me, caught sight of it and shrieked in horror.
"Sorry!"
As eyes turned her way, her face flushed crimson, and she bolted.
"Where'd you get this thing?"
The merchant said he'd bought it about two years ago from some nomads while crossing a desert.
Two years ago...
"Any big windfalls since you got it?"
"Not yet. I'm not chasing get-rich-quick schemes; I bought it for the peace of mind that it'll protect me."
I eyed the head-shaped trinket a moment longer before handing it back.
"How many years you been in the trade?"
"Coming up on twenty this year."
"Twenty years trading, and you bought this two years ago... Doesn't sound like it's brought you luck."
"True, but without it, I might've met disaster in those two years."
"Hm... Kinda wonder if you need to wear it, though."
"Gotta keep at this for another ten, twenty years. Something like this eases the mind."
"Well... not my place to tell you what to do. But it screams black magic. Why not just toss it?"
"What? I paid good gold for this!"
He acted like he hadn't heard a word, and I wasn't about to push it. Even if I spelled out the truth, he wouldn't believe me. Anyone with a Sansa was under some black magic spell that kept them from ditching it.
This merchant would probably score a huge haul soon, then die horribly not long after. That's how the Sansa doomed its bearer.
I wrapped up the chat and headed back to the kitchen. They were prepping potatoes, and the dirt-caked ones looked just like Sansas—ruined my mood even more.
Sansas still circulating out there... Idwild... That rotten bitch broke her promise. She'd sworn never to make those filthy things again, even burned her workshop right in front of me.
Old habits die hard, huh? Back to her nasty crafts.
She wasn't my comrade anymore, so not my business... Still, shady as ever.
From outside came a distant shout from another merchant: "I'm starving! Hurry up and switch out on wagon watch!"
Black magic or whatever—time to build that damn parking lot. Let Idwild craft talismans from people's heads or salt 'em like potatoes for all I cared.
Once the Paling merchants had all gone up to their rooms, I left Della to clean up and headed to City Hall.
Hildeva was buried in paperwork, head down, with every candelabrum lit.
She tilted her head at the door creak, spotting me.
"What's up? Cloak and sword too?"
"Buying land."
"Looks more like you're off monster hunting than land shopping..."
I leaned over her desk on one hand. She asked,
"Della noted a few spots, but you already picked?"
"No need to deliberate. The spot right behind the inn and the two across the street looked good."
"Figured you'd go for those."
Hildeva stood, fetching the necessary docs. I signed on the spot and paid the gold matching the price.
She stashed it in the safe, issued the receipt, then slumped into her chair with a sigh.
"Ahh. If everyone was as straightforward as you, Bertrand."
"Tough going?"
"Obviously speculators, but they haggle endlessly."
She'd issued a temporary sales freeze using her admin authority. She didn't want the city she was building wrecked by speculation.
Speculators were limited to small personal plots, and only with residency affidavits. Most had thrown tantrums and curses.
"So why sell to me?"
"You're a city resident, Bertrand. That's different."
"Phew... When do the officials and guards under you arrive?"
"Tomorrow, probably. Oh, right."
She rummaged through the papers and pulled out an official document.
By order of the Royal Palace:
The reassignment of Hildeva Amer, Grade 5 Administrator, to Apenzel is hereby postponed pending further review.
Submitted with recommendation from a Grade 5 official and missive from a baron.
"See this?"
It was from the palace, putting her transfer on hold. With the Grade 5 rec and baron's letter, they'd seriously reconsidered sending her to Apenzel.
My maneuvering had worked, at least somewhat.
"Good news."
"All thanks to you, Bertrand."
She propped her chin on her hands, gazing up at me. Her eyes curved seductively.
"I'll treat you big time later. Mm... Once a fancy restaurant opens in town. Though it won't beat your cooking."
"Just give me the money. I'll make it for you."
She burst out laughing.
"You know? You look like some noble hero, but you talk like a money-grubbing philistine."
"Even heroes can't eat without paying."
"Hehe. Fair point. Money's great."
I glanced at the paperwork avalanche around her.
"Pulling an all-nighter, huh? When you coming home?"
"Dunno... Might be late. Why?"
She blinked expectantly. I knew what she wanted to hear.
"If it's late, wrap up quick and get some sleep."
"Hm... Right..."
Disappointed, she narrowed her eyes.
"Got a quick errand tonight anyway. Told Della to prep bar snacks, so eat when you get in."
"Where to? This late? Saving someone again?"
"Meeting someone."
She pried curiously, but I brushed it off and said goodbye.
I mounted the horse parked outside City Hall and cut through town. Heading north, then deep into the Vurn Gorge's slopes. Pushing through underbrush up to my stirrups revealed a forgotten old path.
This road dated back ages, now overgrown and erased from memory. Even if known, no one dared use it—crossing Golruk territory.
Following it led along the Vurn Mountains' gentler western spurs, deep into untouched wilds. A place I'd visited just once as a hero.
Well past midnight, I arrived. Hidden by peaks, valleys, and towering conifers stood a half-ruined little castle. Bathed in moonlight, it loomed eerie and desolate amid the woods.
Long ago, perhaps some noble or mystical being owned it. Now, just an ivy-choked ruin.
I tethered the horse safely in the trees and entered alone.