Chapter 1
-A day in Dert-
The sun rose over the water, casting its warm, orange glow over the town, and in the process waking many of it's inhabitants, except for those few who stayed up well into the evening or those even fewer who didn't catch a wink of sleep over the course of the night. Wache, sadly, found himself in the latter category.
The hunter stopped his reading to peer out the window, squinting his eyes and bearing witness to the unbearably bright dawn of a new day, all the while stifling a yawn. From here he could hear people leaving their homes and swarming the marketplace, the familiar honking of a Gargwa pulling a cart, as well as see hundreds of chimneys suddenly coming to life, and an airship taking to the sky. Every one of those things a sign! A sign that that he should get on with the day that is.
He folded the page before closing the book, then reached over to shut the window, making sure to lock the latch. He stood up from the birch wooden table, stretching his arms above his head with a prolonged groan.
A day of errands and walking around town awaited him, but that didn't put a hamper on his mood as much as the prices did. He needed to pick up some necessities, a mattress being highest on his priorities, and visit to the smithies was also in order, not to mention he was starving.
...I should bring it with me.
The hunter walked over to a big and unopened crate, using his hunter's knife to cut the two straps that held the lid in place, then removed the wooden covering, exposing the hunting equipment kept inside. Putting aside various helms, pads and leggings, he eventually reveals a tightly packed row of hilts. He pulled one of the blades free, habitually dusting off the leather case, and later yanked out the accompanying shield.
The hunter then makes his way over to one of his item boxes to retrieve a bigger bag, placing a few tusks, hides and the weapon inside. Bet he won't be too happy to see me again. Having gotten everything he needed the hunter walks out of his room, putting out his candle and heading out. The hunter locked the door behind him, tucking the keys in his pocket and descending the stairs.
Wache made his way down the cobblestone path, soon reaching the point where the road transitioned smoothly into wooden planks. He was now seeing more people going about their business, the docks where the busiest part of town after all. Despite it still being early the place is already bustling with activity, plenty of merchandise being unloaded, carts being driven around, different tarps being set up, and the establishments opening for the day.
Now reaching the end of the road, the hunter glanced at the Guild hall as he passed by. The broad building, it's banners and emblem bearing the Guild crest, was the only place in Dert where a hunter could legally accept a quest.
It also happened to be the second most important Guild facility in town, the first being the Elder Dragon Observation tower in the northern part of town, were the many dragonseers maintained their airships.
Dert didn't have much Guild presence, only a few outposts scattered around the adjacent forests and one out on the mountains that was built specifically for the training of new Guild knights. Whereas a normal Guild Hall would normally be rowdy and loud, the one here was quiet and tranquil. Wache could imagine the local scholars using the hall as a place to study in relative peace.
I'll have to wait weeks just to hunt anything worthwhile…
He was now nearing the commercial district of town, he had every intention to head straight there, but a growl from his stomach reminded him of more pressing matters. Slowing down to better take in his surroundings, the hungry hunter conveniently spotted an eatery not much farther ahead.
The sword-wielder made his way into the 'Drunken Kelbi', which looked surprisingly bigger from the inside. Small tables were organized neatly in rows to each side of the building, allowing passage to the counter at the back of the establishment.
Wache would have thought the place looked quaint, if it weren't for all the tacky decorations. The walls were lined with all manner of cheap knick-knacks, such as amateur paintings, ships-in-a-bottle, anchors, and even kelbi hides. Also worthy of note was that the tables all had some sort of floral arrangement on them, and a banner over the counter read that 'Cooked with patented Wyvern Fire!'.
The tavern was manned by felynes, one of which had waved at him when he'd gone in. Taking a seat at the far end of the counter, the same felyne came up and greeted him with a bow.
"Good meowrning hunter! What can I get fur you?" The felyne asked cheerily, pen and paper ready.
"Do you... have any heaven bread?"
"Nyane, all out."
"Jumbo?" The felyne shook his head. I'm guessing they don't have princess pork or lifejam either... "Blangonga Bacon?" He asked hopefully.
"Blango Bacon it is! Purrhaps you would like some furr-esh wyvern eggs with that, meow?"
"Okay."
"Hardtacks on the side?"
"...Why not?"
"Care fur a drink?" Wache doubted there'd be anything that suited his fancy...
"What wines do you have?"
"Sorry to disappoint, hunter, but we don't have wine." I should have figured as much...
"What do you have then?"
"Nya, we have a few different ales, our homemade mead, and of course our wide variety of teas." Ah well, it's still early to be drinking anyways…
"Sweet cathangea tea, if you have any that is," The felyne's ears perk up, his smile growing into a grin.
"Of course! That's three-hundred and sixty zeni, nya." The sword-wielder handed the coins over to the felyne, who bowed again and leapt off the wooden counter. "Purr-ke breakfast special!" It shouted at the cooks, all of which saluted with an enthusiastic 'Nya!'.
Wache used to think felynes made bad and unsanitary cooks, standing on all four paws and such. He'd only ever eat at restaurants in which he knew the chefs where human —or wyvernian, at least. It was only recently, and at the insistence of a friend, that he'd tried and started to appreciate felyne cuisine. The small lynians made exceptionally skilled cooks, maybe even more so than humans.
The felyne wobbled back shortly after, balancing a large plate of food and the cup of tea, both of which he swiftly dropped in front of the hunter.
"Enjoy!" It added, before walking over to his spot next to the counter.
The hunter contemplated the copious amount of food in front of him, taking in the slightly overpowering smell of bacon and marvelling at the rich color of the wyvern egg's yolk. After a few moments of feeling around for a fork, the hunter first noticed the distinct lack of silverware. With a sigh, he gestured for the felyne to come over.
Sparing a glance at one of the busier tables, he saw that the sailors had already devoured their meals with their bare hands.
I sure hope there are nicer places to eat around here, or else I'll need to learn how to cook...
The hunter trudged his way up the slightly inclined stone path, making his way past yet another small crowd and continuing to regret eating that excessively big meal.
Dert's commercial district was not much different to your typical market street, with shouts from vendors announcing their wares, the people's incessant chatter, and the bargaining and complaining. The tune of trade most likely seems methodical and dull to the common populace, a particular taste is needed to appreciate its particular melody. Wache was familiar with how it all worked, having devoted most of his life on the practice, and despite finding himself on the other side, it was still the symphony of commerce he had once so eagerly conducted.
The hunter had already gotten past the first dozen or so stalls, which were mostly rare items he had no need for, fancy trinkets that served no practical purpose, and general hunting goods he had enough of. He didn't have to walk much further before finding what he was looking for, a tailor's stall, well at least he assumes it is, with tall stacks of fabric, knitting materials, a conspicuous loom, and colorful patterns on display.
He hunter veered towards the assortment of textiles, eyeing the many cloths carefully, sadly not spotting any sheets or pillows. Guess I'll need to have them made…
It was a while before the hunter heeded a peculiar tapping sound. Following the rhythmic sound, he noticed that someone was handling the aforementioned loom, and appeared hunched over their work. He remained silent a few moments, thinking the person had already noticed him, but was starting to become rather impatient after a minute or two.
"Excuse me!" He called. The person, a woman he now saw, quickly straightened and looked in his direction.
"A moment," she answered, standing up from her work and pushing past a few hanging patterns before facing the hunter. "You need something?" The young woman asked, absentmindedly adjusting the scarf around her neck.
"Yes, um... I'm looking for bedclothes and pillow cases, would you happen to have any?"
"You'll have to place an order."
"Labor costs?"
"Free of charge."
The fabric is probably expensive…
"How do I go about making an order?"
"You tell me what you want, then I'll show you the options, you pick one, and finally I'll tell you how much," She replied incisively.
She is sharp. The tailor was giving him the concise answers he wanted, but not the ones he expected to receive from a simple seamstress. He wasn't going to get lax or impulsive though, this woman clearly knew her stuff. She does not have the bored look either…
"Well then, I need a mattress case, some nicer sheets for said case, a thick blanket, and some pillow cases as well." The woman disappeared behind the hanging textiles, popping back out a few second later with a bundle of cloth in her hands.
"That mattress needs to be strong, and these linen happen to be strong and cheap," she explained, pushing some materials aside and placing the rough fabric in front for the hunter to see. Wache ran his hand over all three samples, unable to notice any difference in the coarse texture.
"Out of these three, give me the cheapest." The tailor placed one of the fabrics aside, writing something down before taking the other two samples back.
"How do you want the bedclothes?"
"Soft and gray... and durable." He had no intention of buying another set anytime soon, preferably not for another decade…
The lady reappeared from behind the draping textiles, carrying yet another stack of samples for him to see and feel, every one of them a different shade of gray.
"This one is good enough." Wache decided, holding up a one of the thinner cloths. The woman again placed the one aside and grabbed the rest.
"How big would you like the case?" Thankful to have remembered to measure the frame, the hunter handed her the measurements on a note. "I see... The only other thing was a blanket, right?" The hunter confirmed her statement with a nod.
The blanket is surely the most expensive, unless I can stand some of the rougher ones.
"I have a large wool blanket someone never picked up. They paid, so you can have it for much less. It'll be mismatched though." The tailor explained, the hunter was having a hard time deciphering whether she was trying to genuinely offering him a deal or trying to pawn some overly-expensive leftovers on him.
This is a bit too convenient…
"...Can I see it?"
As expected, she again disappeared behind the cloths and shortly after emerged from between the hanging textiles, this time carrying a thick, brown woolen blanket. Unfolding it partially and laying it out for the short man to see. Like with the fabrics before it, Wache felt it. It was softer than the sheets, and it was most definitely warm enough, he didn't even care if it was mismatched, really. The reason he had specifically wanted gray is because it didn't start to look dirty for a long time.
"How much?"
"Four hund-"
"I'll take it!" The woman was a bit taken aback at the hunter's relatively hasty answer, even Wache thought it uncharacteristic of him.
Ah, heck. Who can blame me? This is a steal! He told himself. It was true though, woolen blankets where a rare commodity, one would normally set you back over two thousand zeni.
"Okay, that's it then." The woman finished by scribbling something else on the her piece of paper.
"Four thousand, six hundred and three zeni." The hunter breathed in sharply. After reminding himself that it was an important necessity he was about to pay for, he fished for his coin purse, reaching for, and counting the coins carefully before handing them over.
The woman inspected and counted the zeni just as carefully as he had. Satisfied, she pocketed the money, the faintest of smiles tugging on her lips. "I can have the mattress cover ready by later, if you're lucky maybe even the sheets."
"Then I'll be by later." Wache told the tailor, who paid him no mind, instead going back to her work. His purchase done, the hunter put his wallet away. Well the bed is taken care of... Except…
"Do you happen to know where I can find some hay bales?" He asked, hoping his luck had not run out for the day.
"Other than the stables near the Guild depots? No," she had said from somewhere behind the hanging textiles. The hunter shrugged, figuring that not everything was going to go his way today.
"Thank you anyways!" He called back, again joining with the trickle of people going deeper into town, still regretting his breakfast…
Wache plodded down the street, carrying a small —thankfully lightweight— ice box. Even if his cargo wasn't heavy, the lack of sleep and the day's errands where catching up to him. Dull aches plagued his legs, a sharp pain stuck to his back, and his heavy eyelids demanded he keep blinking. Straightening his posture yet again, the hunter brought his gaze back onto the many signs and flyers.
The smithy area, on the street parallel to the main market, was much less frantic than it's more trade-oriented neighbor. Small buildings, every one of which had one or more pillars of smoke rising from them, where the housing and workplace of various types of smith. Everything from metal smiths that made everyday tools, to specialized gold, pewter, and tinsmiths could be found here.
While the distant bustle could still be heard, the difference in ambiance here was refreshing. There weren't any shouts for attention or the big amount of people, instead there were a few silent stragglers, the pounds of artists hammering away at their work, the rare hiss of a blade being quenched, and the faint popping and crackling of fire. Wache supposed this had to do with the sparse amount of residents and even fewer hunters. While there was never a lack of activity, most of the people that are in Dert at any given time aren't locals.
The hunter was paying close attention to the signs on many of the smithies, a specific symbol being the only thing he had to go by, but had no luck so far finding the bladesmith. Ugh, what a pain. You'd think finding an expert blacksmith among common metallurgists would be easy.
He feared his arms were beginning to give out before he saw the unique token, a sword with a crimson bow wrapped around its hilt, on a sign placed conspicuously over a commercial stand.
Heaving a sigh between relief and incredulity, Wache made his way over, finding the energy to walk the remaining distance. The short man had expected something subtler, he had even slowed his pace to be sure he didn't miss it, but in hindsight this seemed exactly like something the old wyverian would do. It's like he is not even trying.
Hanging on racks behind the stall where various types hunting equipment, all of it basic blademaster weapons, simplistic and made of metal.
A felyne was dozing off on his seat behind the stand. The hunter had to chuckle at the lynian's usual tomfoolery. Seems he is still as attentive as ever. Shifting the weight of the ice box fully onto one arm, the hunter circled the structure, knocking loudly on the stand's wooden counter as he passed by.
"Wake up Fervid!" He shouted at the napping cat, who immediately jolted upwards, looking around frantically.
"I wasn't sleeping meowster! I swear it, Nya!" The cat claimed fearfully, still frantically looking around. At this point Wache made no attempt to hide his enjoyment of the scene, his titters turning into loud laughter.
"It is nice seeing you too," he said before letting himself in through the door, which had been left ajar, and into the building behind them, leaving a confused and still drowsy Fervid behind him.
The place was busy, much like the stall outside. The inside of the building was riddled with weapons, some placed neatly on the wall, and others strewn about. To his left was a forge, as expected of a smith, on a rack near it many other tools of the trade like peens and fullers. A strangled cough caught Wache's attention, poking into the adjacent room he saw a wyvernian, apparently choking on his food.
"Damn... you!" Croaked the wyverian, pointing a spoon accusingly at the hunter "You chased me all the way here! You cheap midget! You buffoon! Are the other blacksmiths so greedy, that you'd find it cheaper to travel half the continent for a bloody discount!?" He ranted, amusing the hunter further.
"Actually..." Wache started, bending over to place the obtrusive box on the floor "I just moved here to Dert," he stated, a gleeful grin spreading across his face.
The wyverian gaped, staring incredulously at the sword-wielder. After dropping the spoon into his bowl, sighing exasperatedly, and trying to figure out where exactly he'd gone wrong, then looked Wache in the eye again.
"What do you need this time?"
"It's nice to see you again too, Deltif." The hunter held out the bag with the sword and the materials in front of him, prompting the wyverian to rub his eyes tiredly and mutter something under his breath. Standing up at full height, he walked over to the hunter, snatching the bag from the much shorter man and walking behind him to retrieve some tools.
"I expect the usual discount," he reminded, earning him a glare from the taller wyverian.
He no longer found the sight intimidating, though the wyverian's sharp grey eyes lent themselves nicely to scaring away customers. His buzzed black hair was also an unusual sight, it was a big deviant from his fellow wyverian's typical look. The bladesmith was built lean, although you wouldn't know with the baggy work-clothes he always wore. He also stood a few feet taller than Wache, reaching well over seven feet in height, about average for a regular wyverian.
Wyverians, formerly known as the Dragon Tribe, are a species that is heavily speculated to be descended from wyverns. Wyverians resemble humans the most, even being nearly identical in the biological sense. What set them apart from humans are mostly superficial qualities, greater height, slightly harder skin, pointed ears, talon-like feet, and maybe most importantly, a much greater lifespan. Deltif was even relatively young, only now falling into his late seventies. Some wyverians are even known to be unique among their own, growing to be of incredible size or having slightly differing bone structures.
"You can earn a lot from selling these pelts, there aren't any Barioth around these parts. Worth more than any discount I can give ya." The bladesmith informed him, stretching and eyeing the hide carefully.
"I already sold most of them. I currently have plenty of parts and money." The smith tsked in response, mumbling something along the lines of 'then why not pay full price', and took a spot on his work table.
Still as resentful as ever I see.
"Aren't you going to finish your lunch?"
"Your smug face made me lose my appetite," he all but growled, "Is there any other reason you came specifically here, to Dert? Or am I just too good to pass up?"
"Araiguma city is too much for me, almost everything is cheaper here, and it's harder to draw attention to myself." Wache answered and took a seat next to the smith, giving his feet some much needed rest. The wyverian didn't seem all too pleased at his response, but did not pursue the matter further.
"What about you? Why did you settle down here?" Wache pried.
"The ores. I can place a quest on the guild hall for cheap, and get all manner of strong metals to forge with. As you probably already know, I got a contract with the Guild. I make weapons of a certain quality, take them to the depots, and get paid a heavy sum. My profit margin has never been higher!" He exclaimed, a low chuckle escaping him, "Of course now you're here, I should've known it wouldn't last," he then lamented, sighing at himself.
"By the way... How did you know I was here?" Deltif questioned, this time breaking away from the blade in his hands to look at the hunter, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.
"You know as well as I do, the azure stranger has his sources."
"Next time you see him, tell him to fuck off," he snarled, placing the blade back down and crossing his arms "Sixteen thousand." He demanded, which the hunter complied almost immediately.
Nice to see we still know each other well.
"Thank you," The hunter said gratefully. The deal done, Wache got up wearily and grabbed the now empty bag, desperate to make his way back home. Aw hell, I still have to pick up that mattress case…
"Tell Fervid to close up shop." The short hunter nodded, picking up his ice box before sauntering off.
Closing the door behind him, the hunter nudged the dappled lynian, who was sleeping on the job again. "Deltif needs to close up for today." He told the felyne, who perked up and mewled happily at his new order. Lazy cat…
After readjusting the wooden fridge in his hands, Wache nodded goodbye at the lynian before turning around and going on his way.
Author's Note(8/29/2015): Thanks for Reading! Please Review!
This is one of those chapters that I write mostly for myself, I enjoy writing random tasks and everyday interactions. However, I know most of you don't enjoy reading about someone running errands. Don't worry though, There will be some action very soon!
Also, last update I accidentally posted an earlier version of the chapter, since it appears I didn't save when I had last edited it. A newer version was posted, without the glaring grammatical and syntax errors. I will do my best to ensure oversights such as this are not repeated.
PS: Almost Forgot to ask. How did I do with the felyne's dialogue? Not enough puns?
Thanks again! Till next time!