Disceroa, 31th of Rainwane, year 181
Big Oar reclined casually, his boots resting on the table, as he leaned back in his chair with arms folded behind his head, eyes tracing the patterns on the wooden ceiling above. The conversation with Ben from the day prior lingered in his thoughts. He had to admit, it was tempting. Selling off Richard's possessions could net them a hefty sum, twenty, maybe thirty gold tales—enough to secure a comfortable future.
Sure, people thought he was an idiot. In hindsight, he might be but he knew that splitting that much tale between the four of them meant he'd only be able to do so much. A lot more than he was able to now, but was it enough?
He didn't know the exact amount, twenty split between the four of them was what? Five? Was it five? Big Oar started counting on his hand behind his head out of sight from the others. Yeah, it was five.
Five gold tales each, that is what they'd get if all of Richard's stuff went for that much. From twenty all the way down to five, was that worth it?
It fell into line with what they were thinking before when they planned on robbing him. That was so long ago now that it didn't really matter at this point. Still, the thought did cross their minds back then, but Richard was always busy and away from his workshop that things just never fell into place.
But then again, this was Ben. He's been through more stuff with Big Oar than Richard would ever, and that meant something.
"What are you thinking, Big Oar?" Earl's voice broke his contemplation.
"Don't know yet," Big Oar responded truthfully, his gaze still fixed aloft as he wrestled with his thoughts.
"What's there to think about? We were going to rob him anyway, so what's changed?" Carl's interjection was blunt, his dirty blonde hair brushing the nape of his neck as he leaned in.
Big Oar considered Carl's point, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Nothing's changed," he finally admitted.
"Well, we are guards now," Earl pointed out.
"Yes, we are, but like Big Oar said a few days ago, do we want to put all our hopes on Richard? I mean, what do we really know about the guy?" Carl said. "We've got history with Ben, though. Despite the years, he hasn't changed much in my eyes. Just think of the possibilities that kind of money could open up for us."
Earl joked a little, "I can already see you throwing tales at Betty, hoping she'll come running back. But remember, once those tales dry up, she'll vanish just as quickly." The table fell into an awkward silence, as Carl looked at Earl with an expression asking if he was serious. The only laughter that could be heard coming from their table was Earl's.
Tapping his hand on the table, Carl looked at both his friends. "Look, this moment, right now, it's ours for the taking. Evergreen doesn't hold anything for us anymore. We could carve out a new life right here in Disceroa."
There was nothing back in Evergreen for him. Carl didn't have any kids, nor a wife. His job was tending to the farm, and besides hanging out with Big Oar and Earl he chased the skirts of a few women. That's it. His life was plain, boring even. No adventure's like they had back when they were young.
Both of the other two were much of the same. Except Big Oar was married and had children. But, did it matter? The man frequently slept with other women in town, it was a well-known secret. Martha was always furious about it, but what could she do? Scream? Shout? It wouldn't change who Big Oar was.
"We've spent our whole lives in Evergreen, and you just want to up and move here? We don't know anything about this place, or anyone." Big Oar said before removing his legs from the table and putting all four legs on the ground with his chair. "Ben's something, but come on, you know him just as well as I do. When have things ever went his way?"
Earl was silent at that remark. Too many times when they were younger did Ben come to them with some wild idea telling them how they could strike it big. Move out of Evergreen, or at least move up and mingle with the nobility. From making fake tales to use to buy what they needed, or stealing weapons from some blacksmiths.
Most of the ideas he had never panned out, and if they did, it usually ended up a failure with them paying the price. Especially when it was found out what they were trying to do with the fake tales. They'd have been sentenced to death if not for their young age, but that didn't stop them from being beaten so hard none of them could walk straight for a month.
"This is different! We know Richard, we know what he has and when to strike. There's no way we'd fail here." Earl said.
"But what do we know about Fuller? How do you know Ben won't screw us like Sam did?" Big Oar asked.
Earl’s confidence wavered, under Big Oar’s scrutiny his interactions with Ben replaying in his head. "But it's Ben," he insisted, though the conviction in his voice had diminished.
Big Oar retorted, "Five years with no word. For all we knew, Ben was gone for good."
Earl, his brows furrowed in thought, leaned back, arms crossed. "What are you saying?"
Carl, breaking his silence, voiced the concern that had been looming over them, "He's saying that Ben's different, we're different. You still go chasing after Sue? I think not. What about Lisa? Passed away didn't she? For all we know, Ben could have an angle. Sell us out to Fuller, all because the man has a debt. You know Ben's never been one to pay."
"We all have our debts," Earl retorted. "Don’t you still owe Roxanne? And you," he turned his gaze towards Big Oar, "didn’t you promise Samson payment for that axe?"
Big Oar brushed off the mention with a wave of his hand, "Samson's dead, can't pay the guy if he ain't alive to collect."
"How about we just drop the matter for now? Think it over after we get a few more drinks." Carl suggested. "Not like Ben's expecting an answer right this second."
Earl let out a deep breath slightly relieved at the thought of dropping the matter. The mood took a turn for the worse, and all this serious talk was getting to him. A drink sounds good right about now," he agreed. He needed a drink, hell maybe even five.
Big Oar, while agreeing that they could use a drink, couldn't help but add in his two cents. "I get where you're coming from, Carl, but let's be real here. If we go through with this, there's no going back. We'd have to kill Richard and Benjamin, and we'd have to split the tales we earn if things work out. But, that's beside the point. I've been doing some thinking, and still am. Richard, he's... well I don't know what he is, we don't know him that well. But the man's got something going for him that none of us ever had, and that's got to mean something. I'm not sure if sticking with him is the right decision, because he could get rid of us at any moment. But I'm also not sure about Ben either, I've got two sons at home, and you know Martha's with child. My boys aren't going to grow up in Evergreen wondering where their father went."
"Alright, Big Oar, let’s hold off the doom and gloom for later. For now, drinks on me. " Carl suggested.
.....
Richard arrived at the port of Disceroa and the sight astounded him. The conditions of the slaves were terrible, many of them had arms as thin as a twig and wore thin clothing. How were they even able to stand? He witnessed them being whipped on the back and falling down for what seemed to be moving so slow. Was this how things were?
He tried not to eye anyone for too long, but he couldn't help it when he noticed a woman with tangled blonde hair flowing down her back. Her left eye was swollen shut and her lips were bruised, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The woman's ears were long and pointed at the tip. Even the curvature of the ear seemed to be angled back further than what seemed possible.
Her ears weren't overly long, but they were long enough to stick out from beneath her hair. As he took a closer look he saw there were a few other people with the same features.
Weren't these elves? He knew that elves were popular in fiction even if he didn't read much or watch many movies. That's how popular they were that even he knew about them without being tied into that world much. The same could be said for dwarves, but they weren't as famous compared to their counterparts.
No one else seemed to mind what was going on at the port, so Richard thought little of it as well. When he first came here he met a slave, thinking about it now, he never did get the man's name. But, he helped him out and the guy was never seen again. These people though, freedom didn't seem to be in sight for them.
He had a strong stomach, especially from a lot of the stuff he saw back when he was a soldier fighting overseas for a cause he wasn't sure he believed in. But this, Richard, clenched his fist as he walked by.
"Hey, you know where I can find Mitch?" Richard asked someone that was rolling a barrel on the port. The man was having a hard time it seemed because he wiped the sweat from his forehead and was breathing heavily.
"Mitch? Who's that?" He asked.
"Big man, has a birthmark on his face." Richard got right to the point.
Recognition flashed in the worker's eyes, followed by a quick, knowing tongue click. "Ah, that Mitch. You'll find him by that large vessel over there," he indicated towards a ship that stood out with its dark hue, around which figures bustled, laden with goods.
"Need help with that barrel?" Richard offered, noting the man's prior struggle.
"No, thank you!" came the brisk denial, the man's pace quickening as though motivated by a newfound urgency to distance himself. Richard found the reaction odd but let it slide, his focus shifting to the task at hand.
Mitch was large not in the sense of having a big stomach, but tall like Big Oar. Clad in a leather vest, his muscular arms, etched with scars, were visible and imposing. As Richard drew closer, Mitch's attention momentarily diverted from overseeing the ship's loading, marked by the sharp snap of his whip encouraging hastier movement among the workers.
He was not the prototypical merchant Richard had half-expected. The man seemed more like a street thug than a merchant, but then again, Tom never said Mitch was a merchant did he?
Mitch ran his hands through his dark brown hair as he watched the people work to load up the ship.
Richard approached. "Mitch?" He asked just to be sure he wasn't speaking to the wrong person.
Mitch stopped his shouting and glanced at Richard. He looked the young man before him up and down, taking in all his features. Brown skin, dark brown hair that curled, and dark brown eyes. Richard wasn't wearing anything fancy, nor was he dressed in a way that told him he was from Disceroa. No, Richard wasn't from these parts, so why was he here?
"My friends call me Mitch, so who are you?" He asked in an icy tone. A good portion of his face starting from under his right eye looked burned, dark, and crispy compared to his yellowish skin tone. The sight made him look even more fearsome than he already was.
"Tom at the tavern told me you might be able to help me. I'm looking for information on Valewater." Richard said as he tossed out Tom's name hoping this might ease Mitch up a bit.
Mitch's expression shifted slightly at the mention of Tom, a flicker of recognition—or perhaps respect—crossing his features. "Tom, huh? And you're after what exactly?"
Richard nodded, "I'm interested in the current market prices here, and potentially in Valewater. I'm looking into beer, meat, salt... really, any commodity that trades well."
Mitch's demeanor remained unyielded, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You should know I don't hand out information for free. Everything has its price."
Richard, prepared for this, met Mitch's gaze evenly. "Understood. What are we talking"
Mitch considered for a moment, then leaned in slightly. "That depends. How do you plan on getting to Valewater?"
"By land. And if all goes well, I won't be making any unnecessary stops. I can cover ground quickly, a few days' time to Valewater, tops." Richard replied trying not to reveal too much about his carriage or verlpax. It wasn't a secret that he had one, but Mitch didn't know that. He wanted to leverage his speed as best he could, knowing that it took people days to travel by land it was in Richard's best interest to gain the curiosity of Mitch.
Mitch's guard started to ease up a bit as his shoulders slumped. "Quickly, you say? Not many can boast that kind of speed. I take it you're the one with that verlpax in town."
Seeing Richard's reaction to his last remark, Mitch knew he was right. Not many people here in Disceroa had one of them, but those that did could travel from one place to another fairly quickly. Given the time Richard told him he'd make it to Valewater, it didn't take a genius to figure out the young man had a verlpax or another creature like it.
There was no need to hide it anymore now that Mitch went out and said it. "Yeah, how'd you know?" Richard asked but then felt kind of dumb afterward. Given that Mitch and Tom knew one another, they could have talked and Dave, Richard's verlpax could have been brought up into the conversation. After all, the beast was outside the tavern alongside his carriage where everyone could see it.
Even if that wasn't the case, there were many other ways that Mitch could find out.
Mitch smirked, "Let's just say I have my ways. So, now that we covered that, let's talk payment."
Mitch turned and snapped his fingers twice before pointing at a slave carrying a basket full of fish. "You, come here."
The slave man looked at the basket, then at Mitch as if deciding what he should do. "Hand it off, and come over here." Mitch's hand that was holding the whip lashed out. "Don't make me tell you again."
Hearing that, the man quickly found the nearest person and passed him the basket before running over to Mitch. He didn't speak, but Richard could sense how afraid the man was.
"Go find Ben, and tell him I know how he can repay me," Mitch said, making sure the man nodded before sending him off.
"Sorry bout that, it's just this here is a fine opportunity for me you see," Mitch said with a smirk. It made him look creepy that's for sure. He needed to not do that, but Richard kept his mouth shut.
"And what would that be?" Richard asked, knowing he was biting the bait that Mitch threw out.
Mitch rubbed his hands and laughed a bit. "Let's just say I'll be killing two birds with one stone. "I've been tasked with delivering an item to Valewater within a tight timeframe. Normally, I wouldn't bother—it's out of my way, and I wasn't planning on heading there anytime soon. But you, with your verlpax, could make the delivery for me."
Richard raised his eyebrow at that. "And what's in it for me? Besides the information on market prices?"
Mitch leaned in, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. "Consider this a favor traded. You help me out with this, and I'll give you the lowdown on everything you want to know—beer, meat, salt, you name it. Plus, I might throw in something extra for your troubles."
The way Mitch was speaking, Richard felt this deal was laced with some kind of illegal activity. There's just no way someone he just met would want him to drop something off at a place he just so happened to be heading to. Mitch didn't know him, and Richard could just run off with whatever he wanted him to take to Valewater.
But then again, no one who made something of themselves ever got anywhere doing things by the book. He was already going to Valewater, so it wasn't like he was being asked to head in another direction. The notion of delivering the item seemed a small price to pay in return for market information. But that was just it wasn't it, it seemed like a small price to pay. Seemed being the key word here.
"This the, don't ask questions type of delivery I take it." Richard said more than asked. He figured that was what the slave who was here earlier was for, to get someone Mitch could trust. Mitch didn't say it yet, but his condition would be to include whoever Ben was to his group in order to get what he wanted.
Mitch smiled at that. "You catch on fast, just know if you do this I'll tell you more than information about the markets here and in Valewater. I'll do you one better and introduce you to some people who'll make your life easier, both here and there."
"And what's this 'something extra' you mentioned?" Richard asked, probing for more details.
Mitch leaned back, the satisfaction on his face was as clear as day. "Let's just say it involves preferential rates on goods you won't find on the open market. Plus, the contacts I'm offering—they're not your average merchants."
"If I agree to this, when and where do I get the package?" Richard inquired.
"Tomorrow morning, right here. I'll have everything prepared for you," Mitch responded, already assuming Richard's compliance. "As for the details of the delivery in Valewater, I'll provide those once you're back. Trust me, you'll know what to do when the time comes."
Richard shrugged, already sensing that he'd have to be cautious of Ben and inform Benjamin about this. He wasn't sure if this was the same Ben Tom told him about, but it could be. Not like the name was unique, there were bound to be others here in the city with the same name. "Fuck it, I'll bite."
Mitch laughed and clapped his hand once in satisfaction. "Perfect."
...
"Damn it, what's Fuller got up his sleeve this time?" Ben muttered under his breath, his strides hurried and uneasy as he accompanied the messenger back to Mitch, also known as Fuller. Despite his usual bravado, Ben couldn't help but dread these summons. His dealings with Fuller always left a sour taste, their history marred by obligations and threats rather than any semblance of mutual respect. Just the thought of the man made his blood boil and his right eye ache.
When they arrived the man who was with Ben dispersed and made himself busy. Ben's seen this sight often, no one wanted to be in the presence of Mitch for long. The man was cruel and crazy, he'd lash out at you for the smallest thing and enjoy it.
"Fuller," Ben greeted, his voice betraying a hint of caution. Around Carl, Earl, and Big Oar, Ben could effortlessly embody the role of the confident, cunning schemer, his natural charisma unchallenged. However, in Fuller's shadow, that confidence dissipated, replaced by a wary circumspection.
Fuller, or Mitch, as he was known to some, greeted Ben with a disturbingly cheerful smile. "Ben, my favorite debtor. Have my money?"
Ben instinctively took a step back, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Not exactly, but I'm close. Just need a bit more time," he stammered, hoping to buy himself some leeway.
Fuller's smile didn't waver as he cut to the chase. "Forget your whatever scheme you've cracked up. You remember that merchant who came here a couple of days ago? The one with the complaints about tariffs?"
"You mean the guy making a scene over the fees? Peter, was it?" Ben tried to recall the minor commotion from a few days back.
"That's the one. Listen, he's got a job that needs doing—delivery to Valewater. And you're going to help ensure it gets there, with our new friend," Fuller declared, clearly enjoying the discomfort his directive caused Ben.
Ben's heart sank. "To Valewater? With the border skirmishes? Come on, Fuller, you know I can make your money back. I've got plans—"
"Plans?" Fuller interrupted, his laughter cold and mocking. "Your 'plans' have you owing me more than just a few silver tales. Remember our last 'discussion'?" His gaze hardened, fixating ominously on the eye Ben had stitched shut.
Ben gritted his teeth, how did he even get involved with the man? He should be lucky that Fuller hadn't captured him and sold him as a slave yet. It's only because of his mouth and schemes that he's stayed free all this long. But Ben knew he was pushing his luck, it wouldn't be much longer before something sent the bastard over the edge and killed Ben where he stood, or sent him to work the mines in another region.
Resigned, Ben asked, "What's the job? What do you need me to do?"
Fuller's grin widened, sensing victory. "It's simple. You're to accompany this merchant and his goods to Valewater. Ensure the delivery is completed, and consider your debt to me reduced. But fail, and well... I'm sure you can imagine."
Disceroa, 31th of Rainwane, year 181
Big Oar reclined casually, his boots resting on the table, as he leaned back in his chair with arms folded behind his head, eyes tracing the patterns on the wooden ceiling above. The conversation with Ben from the day prior lingered in his thoughts. He had to admit, it was tempting. Selling off Richard's possessions could net them a hefty sum, twenty, maybe thirty gold tales—enough to secure a comfortable future.
Sure, people thought he was an idiot. In hindsight, he might be but he knew that splitting that much tale between the four of them meant he'd only be able to do so much. A lot more than he was able to now, but was it enough?
He didn't know the exact amount, twenty split between the four of them was what? Five? Was it five? Big Oar started counting on his hand behind his head out of sight from the others. Yeah, it was five.
Five gold tales each, that is what they'd get if all of Richard's stuff went for that much. From twenty all the way down to five, was that worth it?
It fell into line with what they were thinking before when they planned on robbing him. That was so long ago now that it didn't really matter at this point. Still, the thought did cross their minds back then, but Richard was always busy and away from his workshop that things just never fell into place.
But then again, this was Ben. He's been through more stuff with Big Oar than Richard would ever, and that meant something.
"What are you thinking, Big Oar?" Earl's voice broke his contemplation.
"Don't know yet," Big Oar responded truthfully, his gaze still fixed aloft as he wrestled with his thoughts.
"What's there to think about? We were going to rob him anyway, so what's changed?" Carl's interjection was blunt, his dirty blonde hair brushing the nape of his neck as he leaned in.
Big Oar considered Carl's point, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Nothing's changed," he finally admitted.
"Well, we are guards now," Earl pointed out.
"Yes, we are, but like Big Oar said a few days ago, do we want to put all our hopes on Richard? I mean, what do we really know about the guy?" Carl said. "We've got history with Ben, though. Despite the years, he hasn't changed much in my eyes. Just think of the possibilities that kind of money could open up for us."
Earl joked a little, "I can already see you throwing tales at Betty, hoping she'll come running back. But remember, once those tales dry up, she'll vanish just as quickly." The table fell into an awkward silence, as Carl looked at Earl with an expression asking if he was serious. The only laughter that could be heard coming from their table was Earl's.
Tapping his hand on the table, Carl looked at both his friends. "Look, this moment, right now, it's ours for the taking. Evergreen doesn't hold anything for us anymore. We could carve out a new life right here in Disceroa."
There was nothing back in Evergreen for him. Carl didn't have any kids, nor a wife. His job was tending to the farm, and besides hanging out with Big Oar and Earl he chased the skirts of a few women. That's it. His life was plain, boring even. No adventure's like they had back when they were young.
Both of the other two were much of the same. Except Big Oar was married and had children. But, did it matter? The man frequently slept with other women in town, it was a well-known secret. Martha was always furious about it, but what could she do? Scream? Shout? It wouldn't change who Big Oar was.
"We've spent our whole lives in Evergreen, and you just want to up and move here? We don't know anything about this place, or anyone." Big Oar said before removing his legs from the table and putting all four legs on the ground with his chair. "Ben's something, but come on, you know him just as well as I do. When have things ever went his way?"
Earl was silent at that remark. Too many times when they were younger did Ben come to them with some wild idea telling them how they could strike it big. Move out of Evergreen, or at least move up and mingle with the nobility. From making fake tales to use to buy what they needed, or stealing weapons from some blacksmiths.
Most of the ideas he had never panned out, and if they did, it usually ended up a failure with them paying the price. Especially when it was found out what they were trying to do with the fake tales. They'd have been sentenced to death if not for their young age, but that didn't stop them from being beaten so hard none of them could walk straight for a month.
"This is different! We know Richard, we know what he has and when to strike. There's no way we'd fail here." Earl said.
"But what do we know about Fuller? How do you know Ben won't screw us like Sam did?" Big Oar asked.
Earl’s confidence wavered, under Big Oar’s scrutiny his interactions with Ben replaying in his head. "But it's Ben," he insisted, though the conviction in his voice had diminished.
Big Oar retorted, "Five years with no word. For all we knew, Ben was gone for good."
Earl, his brows furrowed in thought, leaned back, arms crossed. "What are you saying?"
Carl, breaking his silence, voiced the concern that had been looming over them, "He's saying that Ben's different, we're different. You still go chasing after Sue? I think not. What about Lisa? Passed away didn't she? For all we know, Ben could have an angle. Sell us out to Fuller, all because the man has a debt. You know Ben's never been one to pay."
"We all have our debts," Earl retorted. "Don’t you still owe Roxanne? And you," he turned his gaze towards Big Oar, "didn’t you promise Samson payment for that axe?"
Big Oar brushed off the mention with a wave of his hand, "Samson's dead, can't pay the guy if he ain't alive to collect."
"How about we just drop the matter for now? Think it over after we get a few more drinks." Carl suggested. "Not like Ben's expecting an answer right this second."
Earl let out a deep breath slightly relieved at the thought of dropping the matter. The mood took a turn for the worse, and all this serious talk was getting to him. A drink sounds good right about now," he agreed. He needed a drink, hell maybe even five.
Big Oar, while agreeing that they could use a drink, couldn't help but add in his two cents. "I get where you're coming from, Carl, but let's be real here. If we go through with this, there's no going back. We'd have to kill Richard and Benjamin, and we'd have to split the tales we earn if things work out. But, that's beside the point. I've been doing some thinking, and still am. Richard, he's... well I don't know what he is, we don't know him that well. But the man's got something going for him that none of us ever had, and that's got to mean something. I'm not sure if sticking with him is the right decision, because he could get rid of us at any moment. But I'm also not sure about Ben either, I've got two sons at home, and you know Martha's with child. My boys aren't going to grow up in Evergreen wondering where their father went."
"Alright, Big Oar, let’s hold off the doom and gloom for later. For now, drinks on me. " Carl suggested.
.....
Richard arrived at the port of Disceroa and the sight astounded him. The conditions of the slaves were terrible, many of them had arms as thin as a twig and wore thin clothing. How were they even able to stand? He witnessed them being whipped on the back and falling down for what seemed to be moving so slow. Was this how things were?
He tried not to eye anyone for too long, but he couldn't help it when he noticed a woman with tangled blonde hair flowing down her back. Her left eye was swollen shut and her lips were bruised, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The woman's ears were long and pointed at the tip. Even the curvature of the ear seemed to be angled back further than what seemed possible.
Her ears weren't overly long, but they were long enough to stick out from beneath her hair. As he took a closer look he saw there were a few other people with the same features.
Weren't these elves? He knew that elves were popular in fiction even if he didn't read much or watch many movies. That's how popular they were that even he knew about them without being tied into that world much. The same could be said for dwarves, but they weren't as famous compared to their counterparts.
No one else seemed to mind what was going on at the port, so Richard thought little of it as well. When he first came here he met a slave, thinking about it now, he never did get the man's name. But, he helped him out and the guy was never seen again. These people though, freedom didn't seem to be in sight for them.
He had a strong stomach, especially from a lot of the stuff he saw back when he was a soldier fighting overseas for a cause he wasn't sure he believed in. But this, Richard, clenched his fist as he walked by.
"Hey, you know where I can find Mitch?" Richard asked someone that was rolling a barrel on the port. The man was having a hard time it seemed because he wiped the sweat from his forehead and was breathing heavily.
"Mitch? Who's that?" He asked.
"Big man, has a birthmark on his face." Richard got right to the point.
Recognition flashed in the worker's eyes, followed by a quick, knowing tongue click. "Ah, that Mitch. You'll find him by that large vessel over there," he indicated towards a ship that stood out with its dark hue, around which figures bustled, laden with goods.
"Need help with that barrel?" Richard offered, noting the man's prior struggle.
"No, thank you!" came the brisk denial, the man's pace quickening as though motivated by a newfound urgency to distance himself. Richard found the reaction odd but let it slide, his focus shifting to the task at hand.
Mitch was large not in the sense of having a big stomach, but tall like Big Oar. Clad in a leather vest, his muscular arms, etched with scars, were visible and imposing. As Richard drew closer, Mitch's attention momentarily diverted from overseeing the ship's loading, marked by the sharp snap of his whip encouraging hastier movement among the workers.
He was not the prototypical merchant Richard had half-expected. The man seemed more like a street thug than a merchant, but then again, Tom never said Mitch was a merchant did he?
Mitch ran his hands through his dark brown hair as he watched the people work to load up the ship.
Richard approached. "Mitch?" He asked just to be sure he wasn't speaking to the wrong person.
Mitch stopped his shouting and glanced at Richard. He looked the young man before him up and down, taking in all his features. Brown skin, dark brown hair that curled, and dark brown eyes. Richard wasn't wearing anything fancy, nor was he dressed in a way that told him he was from Disceroa. No, Richard wasn't from these parts, so why was he here?
"My friends call me Mitch, so who are you?" He asked in an icy tone. A good portion of his face starting from under his right eye looked burned, dark, and crispy compared to his yellowish skin tone. The sight made him look even more fearsome than he already was.
"Tom at the tavern told me you might be able to help me. I'm looking for information on Valewater." Richard said as he tossed out Tom's name hoping this might ease Mitch up a bit.
Mitch's expression shifted slightly at the mention of Tom, a flicker of recognition—or perhaps respect—crossing his features. "Tom, huh? And you're after what exactly?"
Richard nodded, "I'm interested in the current market prices here, and potentially in Valewater. I'm looking into beer, meat, salt... really, any commodity that trades well."
Mitch's demeanor remained unyielded, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You should know I don't hand out information for free. Everything has its price."
Richard, prepared for this, met Mitch's gaze evenly. "Understood. What are we talking"
Mitch considered for a moment, then leaned in slightly. "That depends. How do you plan on getting to Valewater?"
"By land. And if all goes well, I won't be making any unnecessary stops. I can cover ground quickly, a few days' time to Valewater, tops." Richard replied trying not to reveal too much about his carriage or verlpax. It wasn't a secret that he had one, but Mitch didn't know that. He wanted to leverage his speed as best he could, knowing that it took people days to travel by land it was in Richard's best interest to gain the curiosity of Mitch.
Mitch's guard started to ease up a bit as his shoulders slumped. "Quickly, you say? Not many can boast that kind of speed. I take it you're the one with that verlpax in town."
Seeing Richard's reaction to his last remark, Mitch knew he was right. Not many people here in Disceroa had one of them, but those that did could travel from one place to another fairly quickly. Given the time Richard told him he'd make it to Valewater, it didn't take a genius to figure out the young man had a verlpax or another creature like it.
There was no need to hide it anymore now that Mitch went out and said it. "Yeah, how'd you know?" Richard asked but then felt kind of dumb afterward. Given that Mitch and Tom knew one another, they could have talked and Dave, Richard's verlpax could have been brought up into the conversation. After all, the beast was outside the tavern alongside his carriage where everyone could see it.
Even if that wasn't the case, there were many other ways that Mitch could find out.
Mitch smirked, "Let's just say I have my ways. So, now that we covered that, let's talk payment."
Mitch turned and snapped his fingers twice before pointing at a slave carrying a basket full of fish. "You, come here."
The slave man looked at the basket, then at Mitch as if deciding what he should do. "Hand it off, and come over here." Mitch's hand that was holding the whip lashed out. "Don't make me tell you again."
Hearing that, the man quickly found the nearest person and passed him the basket before running over to Mitch. He didn't speak, but Richard could sense how afraid the man was.
"Go find Ben, and tell him I know how he can repay me," Mitch said, making sure the man nodded before sending him off.
"Sorry bout that, it's just this here is a fine opportunity for me you see," Mitch said with a smirk. It made him look creepy that's for sure. He needed to not do that, but Richard kept his mouth shut.
"And what would that be?" Richard asked, knowing he was biting the bait that Mitch threw out.
Mitch rubbed his hands and laughed a bit. "Let's just say I'll be killing two birds with one stone. "I've been tasked with delivering an item to Valewater within a tight timeframe. Normally, I wouldn't bother—it's out of my way, and I wasn't planning on heading there anytime soon. But you, with your verlpax, could make the delivery for me."
Richard raised his eyebrow at that. "And what's in it for me? Besides the information on market prices?"
Mitch leaned in, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. "Consider this a favor traded. You help me out with this, and I'll give you the lowdown on everything you want to know—beer, meat, salt, you name it. Plus, I might throw in something extra for your troubles."
The way Mitch was speaking, Richard felt this deal was laced with some kind of illegal activity. There's just no way someone he just met would want him to drop something off at a place he just so happened to be heading to. Mitch didn't know him, and Richard could just run off with whatever he wanted him to take to Valewater.
But then again, no one who made something of themselves ever got anywhere doing things by the book. He was already going to Valewater, so it wasn't like he was being asked to head in another direction. The notion of delivering the item seemed a small price to pay in return for market information. But that was just it wasn't it, it seemed like a small price to pay. Seemed being the key word here.
"This the, don't ask questions type of delivery I take it." Richard said more than asked. He figured that was what the slave who was here earlier was for, to get someone Mitch could trust. Mitch didn't say it yet, but his condition would be to include whoever Ben was to his group in order to get what he wanted.
Mitch smiled at that. "You catch on fast, just know if you do this I'll tell you more than information about the markets here and in Valewater. I'll do you one better and introduce you to some people who'll make your life easier, both here and there."
"And what's this 'something extra' you mentioned?" Richard asked, probing for more details.
Mitch leaned back, the satisfaction on his face was as clear as day. "Let's just say it involves preferential rates on goods you won't find on the open market. Plus, the contacts I'm offering—they're not your average merchants."
"If I agree to this, when and where do I get the package?" Richard inquired.
"Tomorrow morning, right here. I'll have everything prepared for you," Mitch responded, already assuming Richard's compliance. "As for the details of the delivery in Valewater, I'll provide those once you're back. Trust me, you'll know what to do when the time comes."
Richard shrugged, already sensing that he'd have to be cautious of Ben and inform Benjamin about this. He wasn't sure if this was the same Ben Tom told him about, but it could be. Not like the name was unique, there were bound to be others here in the city with the same name. "Fuck it, I'll bite."
Mitch laughed and clapped his hand once in satisfaction. "Perfect."
...
"Damn it, what's Fuller got up his sleeve this time?" Ben muttered under his breath, his strides hurried and uneasy as he accompanied the messenger back to Mitch, also known as Fuller. Despite his usual bravado, Ben couldn't help but dread these summons. His dealings with Fuller always left a sour taste, their history marred by obligations and threats rather than any semblance of mutual respect. Just the thought of the man made his blood boil and his right eye ache.
When they arrived the man who was with Ben dispersed and made himself busy. Ben's seen this sight often, no one wanted to be in the presence of Mitch for long. The man was cruel and crazy, he'd lash out at you for the smallest thing and enjoy it.
"Fuller," Ben greeted, his voice betraying a hint of caution. Around Carl, Earl, and Big Oar, Ben could effortlessly embody the role of the confident, cunning schemer, his natural charisma unchallenged. However, in Fuller's shadow, that confidence dissipated, replaced by a wary circumspection.
Fuller, or Mitch, as he was known to some, greeted Ben with a disturbingly cheerful smile. "Ben, my favorite debtor. Have my money?"
Ben instinctively took a step back, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Not exactly, but I'm close. Just need a bit more time," he stammered, hoping to buy himself some leeway.
Fuller's smile didn't waver as he cut to the chase. "Forget your whatever scheme you've cracked up. You remember that merchant who came here a couple of days ago? The one with the complaints about tariffs?"
"You mean the guy making a scene over the fees? Peter, was it?" Ben tried to recall the minor commotion from a few days back.
"That's the one. Listen, he's got a job that needs doing—delivery to Valewater. And you're going to help ensure it gets there, with our new friend," Fuller declared, clearly enjoying the discomfort his directive caused Ben.
Ben's heart sank. "To Valewater? With the border skirmishes? Come on, Fuller, you know I can make your money back. I've got plans—"
"Plans?" Fuller interrupted, his laughter cold and mocking. "Your 'plans' have you owing me more than just a few silver tales. Remember our last 'discussion'?" His gaze hardened, fixating ominously on the eye Ben had stitched shut.
Ben gritted his teeth, how did he even get involved with the man? He should be lucky that Fuller hadn't captured him and sold him as a slave yet. It's only because of his mouth and schemes that he's stayed free all this long. But Ben knew he was pushing his luck, it wouldn't be much longer before something sent the bastard over the edge and killed Ben where he stood, or sent him to work the mines in another region.
Resigned, Ben asked, "What's the job? What do you need me to do?"
Fuller's grin widened, sensing victory. "It's simple. You're to accompany this merchant and his goods to Valewater. Ensure the delivery is completed, and consider your debt to me reduced. But fail, and well... I'm sure you can imagine."
