Chapter 2: Tavern

"Twenty silvers is the best I can do," The merchant stated. His tone was apologetic, but his demeanor was firm. Alidorim growled low in his throat but managed to temper his frustration. That was barely a third of what a good fox pelt would garner. The portly human had already explained that due to their muted coloring and small sizes, swamp foxes were simply not highly sought-after.

Sighing the Dragonborn accepted the offer. He guessed he should've been grateful the merchant was even dealing with him. The last one, at first sight, fled into his storage room, while the one before that had refused him service altogether.

Once he pocketed the currency, Olkith produced the next batch of items to sell. He'd learned long ago from a shrewd gnome that you never showed your full hand. By selling one treasure at a time he stood to gain more rather than losing its true value in a lump sum.

The merchant actually looked fascinated as he picked up one of the alligators' teeth. It was as long as his thumb. The beast hadn't any need for them and Alidorim would be damned if he allowed the encounter to be in vain. He had to take advantage of every opportunity to earn coin if he ever hoped to make it to Neverwinter.

"How much for these?"

The man didn't answer right away. First, he organized the teeth by size before examining each one as closely as the first. As the scrutiny unfurled, he kept up a mumbled commentary, noting the cleanliness of the teeth and lack of fractures. Olkith stood by patiently.

"I can do..." the merchant's finger tapped the largest of the teeth as he stared toward the heavens. "Three gold for the lot."

Which meant he could actually do four. Alidorim had dealt with many merchants. They were always thinking in terms of trade and resale value. They had to earn back what they invested and maintain a living. He could've haggled, maybe even offer to take the teeth elsewhere. Thinking of the previous merchants there was no way to be certain he'd find another who'd be willing to deal with his kind.

With another growl, he nodded. At least he had enough to get his weapon repaired. Whatever profit the mushrooms fetched Alidorim would need every coin in order to restock supplies.

Payment in hand, he bade the merchant farewell, before locating a blacksmith. After depositing his weapon for repair with the smithy he headed to his ultimate destination; the village tavern which also doubled as an Inn. Others who shared in his trade would be there, but also many of the local citizenry. Alidorim wasn't looking forward to encountering either.

The crowd parted before him as he made his way to the building. There were murmurs of fear and curiosity, but none dared meet his eye. For many, he might've been the first Dragonborn they'd ever seen. They were certainly thin on the ground that far north. Gods, he could count the number of his kin he'd met since leaving Tymanther on one hand.

The thick wooden door groaned open at his touch and closed just as soon as he'd crossed the threshold. As always, or rather as befitting any local watering hole, the heads of every occupant turned towards the new arrival. Leary gazes cautiously scanned over his armored body from his clawed feet to the arming sword on his back. They lingered on his draconic appearance. While he wasn't the only non-human in the crowd, he was certainly the only one of his species.

"Wonderful."

Normally Alidorim's scales shown crimson in direct sunlight, but in low light, they appeared as dark as his muted armor. This would cause his amber eyes to shine with golden brilliance. The stark contrast would only draw more attention, of which he appalled.

Stepping down a short flight of stairs into the tavern's shadowy common room, Alidorim made his way through the crowd toward the bar. The building was in a typical layout. On a dais against the far wall, a humanoid female danced to an off-key band. Private booths line the walls, and the main floor was scattered with tables and chairs, nearly all of which were occupied by those seeking an early buzz. The bartender paused in his chores to stare at him, his craggy bearded features going for intimidating but ending up just short of an ugly sneer.

The patron's attention slowly drifted back towards the dancer or their drinks. Alidorim couldn't help but think that more than a few were keeping him in the periphery of their vision.

Ignoring them he gestured for the barmaid. "What can I help you with?" the human asked pleasantly. She didn't seem to care that she was addressing a Dragonborn that outsized her by several feet and hundreds of pounds. To her, Alidorim was just another customer.

"I'm here to see the Reeve," he stated, placing the sack of mushrooms on the counter.

The woman nodded. "Sure thing. What's the name I should tell him?"

Before Olkith could answer the dwarven bartender swept in. "Off with ya!" he barked, causing the woman to scurry off. The dwarf crossed his arms and glared up at the Dragonborn. "Don't want your kind here scaly." He practically spat the last word. The slur was one he'd heard before. Alidorim had been called a lot worse and he couldn't help but be reminded of the impertinent swamp fox.

"The Reeve," he repeated staring down at the belligerent dwarf. "Once I've seen him, I'll be on my way."

"Ya dragon spawned bastard," a second, much deeper voice called out. Turning he saw a large male with grey skin adorned with tattoos. "Ya don't give orders 'round here," the goliath added with a malicious grin. The dragon comparison stoked Olkith's ire, but he refused to rise to the bait.

"Ya hear that?" The dwarf chimed in a bit more arrogantly. "Go. By yer own two feet or at the point of a sword, your choice."

A growl rumbled deep in his chest, loud enough to be heard. It was an effort to keep his words on an even tone. "Not until I'm paid what I'm owed."

"Stuff that!" the bartender barked jerking his chin towards the goliath and a number of other patrons who'd risen to join in the fun.

"C'mon scaly," the large man goaded, beckoning him forward with one massive hand. "Not scared of us, are you?" Clenching the hand into a fist he took a step forward. "Show me what ya got!"

"Hold!" Snapped a heavy commanding voice. The entire tavern went silent in an instant. Even the music and dancer stopped. A middle-aged man with a barrel chest and an impressive gut stood atop the stares looking down upon the crowd. The barmaid from earlier stood next to him. Dressed in a mix of adventurer's gear and the finery of nobility the man could only be one person.

"Reeve," the dwarf sputtered, "dragon-spawn can't be trusted."

"I'm not addressing you!" The Dwarf gaped a few times before falling silent. Alidorim's client descended the stairs before sweeping his way through the crowd to stand before the Dragonborn. "I apologize for my man's interference in our meeting." The Reeve glared hard at the goliath. "hopefully his attitude will improve after losing a day's wage."

The large grey man began to protest but quickly adopted a different tact. "Apologies sir." He even had the decency to look chastened as he directed the other onlookers away.

Alidorim turned back to his client who in turn addressed the bartender. "Drink for my friend here, and one for me." The dwarf planted his feet and crossed his arm. He started to jut his chin in defiance when the Reeve's hand struck the table. "I am addressing you now!" Looking appropriately cowed the bartender beat a retreat to the nearby stack of steins. After filling two he set them on the counter and waited. The Reeve stared one last warning before looking at his guest. "Would you like some food?" he asked in almost as pleasant a tone as the barmaid.

Keeping his eagerness in check, Alidorim nodded. Despite having eaten his fill of fox on the return journey he wasn't about to turn away a free meal. The dwarf, with an air of martyred patience, brought out a platter filled with bread, a hunk of cheese, and a slab of salted poultry. After weeks of trail rations, the meal was practically a banquet. Despite his hunger, Olkith let it sit.

Sensing the Dragonborn's intention, the Reeve nodded. "To business then. Were you successful?" Alidorim answered by wordlessly sliding the sack towards him. The man opened the burlap bag. Like the merchant, he examined each of the black mushrooms. Some he squeezed while other his sniffed in some attempt to determine freshness. Once complete he had the barmaid bring over a small scale. One by one the Reeve weighed the mushrooms. As predicted, they came out to just over five kilograms.

Despite receiving more than the volume he desired, the Reeve didn't look entirely pleased. Pulling a coin purse from around his neck he set about counting out the payment. "I believe we agreed to one-hundred silvers."

"And another fifty per extra kilogram." By Alidorim's estimation that should bring his total to three-hundred and fifty silvers or thirty-five gold. Enough to get him to Longsaddle at least. But as the Dragonborn watched the Reeve's coin pouch shrink he realized the amount on the counter wasn't the amount agreed upon.

Looking embarrassed the Reeve said, "I can only pay this much." 'This much' turned out to be only twenty-six gold and twenty-five silvers.

"That's a fourth less than agreed." His claws dug into the wood surface as his fingers curled into fists. Was the Reeve really attempting to swindle him out of his coin? They'd had an agreement, and now the old man was reneging on it.

Sensing his guest's frustration, the Reeve bowed his head. "Apologies. You caught me with a light purse." Making a placating gesture he added, "I hadn't expected you to gather so much, so quickly."

"I do a job," the Dragonborn growled angrily, "I get paid."

"A compromise," the Reeve hastily suggested, "I have credit at the Inn. Allow me to pay for your room and board for the remainder of your time here."

Olkith growled again snapping a splinter off of the counter's edge. For the first time since entering the room, the Reeve actually looked a bit nervous. He was probably thinking Alidorim could get his claws in him long before anyone could draw a weapon in his defense. It was a correct assumption, but not an accurate one. The Dragonborn had no interest in staying in Everlund any longer than he had too and certainly not as a guest in one of its jails.

Though none of the patrons were looking at him directly he could still feel their sidelong glances. He felt judgment radiating throughout the room. Given his earlier reception, Alidorim doubted his presence at the Inn would be more welcoming than the tavern. He also doubted the goliath would allow the embarrassment of being publicly chastised go unanswered. The sooner he was on the road, the better.

Very deliberately Alidorim pulled the stacks of coins towards him, never once breaking eye contact with the sweating Reeve. After packing up the untouched meal he departed the tavern ignoring the curses and glares that followed him out. It was all he could do not to vent his outrage. If he wasn't being harassed for his appearance he was being cheated out of his pay.

Ode to the grand life of an adventurer.