"But I thought rent day was tomorrow!"
"It's still late."
"The money is right here." Urist shook his money pouch vigorously. The rent collector thought for a few moments. His office was just inside of the wall, next to the grand exchange. The grand exchange was a fascinating place, Urist thought, as it made it much easier for sellers to find buyers for their produce. Sellers were obliged to swap items in the bank south of the exchange for notes, and take these notes to the clerks at the exchange. If they had a large quantity of items, they could do the same at their nearest bank, anywhere in Gielinor. As items sold, the buyer would receive the note and swap it with the bank for the items they had just purchased, or request for them to be delivered to the bank they wished to swap the note at. Agents could place orders on the client's behalf and either post the note to them, or the safer option of swapping it at the bank for them and having the goods transported to them. A large warehouse near to the south gate housed a lot of goods about to be sold or purchased from the G.E.
"I guess it saves having to find someone else for the stall. It's twelve coins for this upcoming week, and if you have it, another twelve for next week. Might as well pay it now, saves you coming again in a week."
Saves you coming in a week more like.
Urist counted out his coins and the collector wrote out a receipt once he had. Urist stumbled back to his store and found Boric filling the stall with crafting equipment from the chest.
"I have some iron pickaxes from iron ore I found on the way to Lumbridge, could you sell them to Nurmof in the dwarven mines for me?" Boric grunted as he jumped by Urist's sudden return. "I'll sell the bronze hatchets," Urist pulled them off the cart. "And the food I'll put on display in the morning. The rest is all yours."
"Thank you for your help ... and I'm sorry about spending all of your money."
"Was my fault for not leaving you the key. And I'm sure you'll make it up to me at some point." Boric smiled and started to walk away. "Where are you off to?"
"Off to make it up to you." Urist shook his head and continued to finish off what Boric had started. He boarded the stall up at the end of it and returned home, tethering the cart to the nearest post. Boric returned not long after with a present in hand. It was a pair of gutted salmon wrapped in grease proof paper.
"Where did you get those from?" Urist asked with eyes bulging.
"A fisherman had caught them on the border of the Barbarian Village. He had enough and didn't mind parting with two for a few coins."
"So you didn't spend all my money?"
"I spent all of your money, but not all of mine."
"Pffft." Urist threw his hand in the air, like he was shooing a fly off, as he turned around and started preparing the tray to cook the fish on.
The evening soon passed and Urist welcomed is home comforts. Boric started snoring by the fire much sooner than Urist was used to going to sleep, but with the eventful few days, Urist returned to his bed and slept like a log.
The following morning, Urist woke to silence. Silence in his house; talking, carts and banging could be heard outside, but silence in a house with two people in was unexpected. Urist entered the kitchen but there was no sign of Boric. He threw some clothes on and rushed outside. The cart was gone.
I hope he hasn't started on his journey home with all those products on the back.
Urist jogged to his stall just two streets away and his jaw dropped to the floor. A large crowd was surrounding his stall.
Urist crept behind the stall to find Boric selling the food swiftly. He didn't get much chance to say anything before customers started thrusting products at him. Boric pointed to a piece of parchment on the table. It had the product and the price Urist had paid for them, and to the right Boric had put the price he was selling products. Chicken's for a hundred and fifty coins, eggs for sixteen coins each, beef for a hundred and fifty coins, feathers for twenty coins each and cheese for twenty-five coins.
Four eggs and a chicken. "That's two hundred and fourteen coins, please."
They had sold all of the food by the end of the day. Urist shook Boric's hand and smiled at him.
"Thank you for your help."
"It was the least I could do." Urist gathered up the cowhides off the cart and Boric mounted. He nodded to Urist when he saw he had finished and whistled to the horse. Boric made his was westward, towards the dwarven mines and the setting sun. Urist headed in a similar direction, to the blacksmith, and through the back streets to a tanner. Through the window, it appeared the tanner was finishing for the day.
Urist quickly entered the workshop and threw the cowhides on the workbench.
"I'm sorry, I - " the tanner said as he turned around. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Urist, I didn't realise it was you. How many have you here?"
"Sixty-four. I only have some of them here, the rest are by my store. I'd like hard leather, please."
"That'll be a hundred and ninety-two coins. You may borrow the wheelbarrow to collect the others, I'll sort the hard leather out." Urist grunted and fetched the wheelbarrow from around the back. The cowhides loaded on to it quite well, but the barrow was very heavy to push, especially across the terrain of the back streets.
The tanner met him around the back and helped unload the barrow, as well as load it with the hard leather afterward. Urist pushed it, depleted, to his house and unloaded it as quick as his energy would allow. He returned the barrow and paid using his takings. It was only when he returned home, he was able to count them.
One by one, the coins were piled into piles of ten. He had takings of seven thousand, nine hundred and thirty-four coins. Plus the hundred and ninety-two he paid to swap his leather for hard leather, came to eight thousand, one hundred and twenty-six coins.
Urist put the seven thousand five hundred coins in a small chest ready to take to the bank, and the four hundred and thirty-four coins in his money pouch. He fetched some thread from his spare stock beneath his bed, and pulled out his needle from his tool belt. The evening drifted away beside the fire, crafting hard leather boots.
Sunshine beaming through his window work Urist the following morning. He was still sat in his wooden chair by the ... fire, a boot in one hand and the threaded needle in the other.
That's the boots finished, should start selling with the autumn approaching.
His tummy grumbled. A few potato's remained in the cupboard under the sink. He quickly wrapped it in foil and baked it in the oven, whilst getting the boots ready for the stall. The potato filled his moaning tummy and off he went for another day on the market.
That evening, he picked up the clay from beside the shoe bench just inside his front door, and took it to the potter's workshop in the south eastern corner of Varrock. He used the water pump to pump water onto the clay, softening them as he did. Once they were ready, he used the potter's wheel to mould them into pie dishes and fire them in the oven next to the wheel.
Urist carried the dishes in his backpack and headed for the cooking guild, a few meters south of the grand exchange. He knocked on the door. There was no reply for a few minutes. He knocked again, and after a few moments, a bearded cook with all his attire on opened the door a few inches.
"How can I help?" He asked rather sharply, as if he had been interrupted.
"I was wondering if you had any pots of flour for sale?"
"Oh, right, yes. They're fourteen coins each. How many would you like?"
"Out of interest, do you buy pastry dough?"
"I do, for seventeen coins, or eighteen coins if the empty pot is returned too."
"I'll have seventeen pots, please."
"That'll be two hundred and thirty-eight coins." Urist counted out the coins and handed them over. The cook closed the door as he fetched the flour and returned a couple of minutes later, handing them over when he did. Urist took them to the bank to the east, deposited the pie dishes and took the flour back to his house, where he used his sink to create pastry. He took the items back to the bank, used fourteen of the balls of pastry to line the pie dishes, and took the empty pots and other three pastry balls to the cooking guild. The cook gave him sixty-eight coins in exchange for his items.
"My name's Romily Weaklax if you pass by again." Romily extended his hand. Urist shook it.
"I may return for some more flour, but I can't promise anything."
"If you require a large order, leave me a note and I'll prepare it for you."
"Thank you," Urist grunted. He took his pie shells to his stall and placed them delicately at the top of his chest of supplies, underneath the stall, before locking it.
A week later and he had sold all the pie shells within a day or two, fetching forty coins each, or a grand total of five hundred and sixty coins. He had sold eighteen pairs of boots for thirty-seven coins each, bagging six hundred and sixty-six coins. This meant he had one thousand, four hundred and ninety coins on him.
Urist sat on his stall, minded his own busy, waiting for customers to appear, when a hooded figure appears beside his stall and leans against the wall. Urist didn't notice him at first, but soon looked up at him.
"I'd like to make a purchase."
"What kind of purchase?" The figure didn't say anything, he snuck Urist a note. He hid it under the stall and read it.
Sir,
I am King Roald but I would be in your debt if you kept my identity secret. I would like to purchase a dragonstone ring to present to my fiancé, Ellamaria , on our wedding day. I do not trust many of the gem sellers in Varrock; like many human sellers, they have a tendency to liberate the money of those foolish enough to buy a rock. Dwarves are great craftsmen and from what I hear, quite trustworthy.
Thanks
R
"I can do that for you, but will need the money to purchase the ... stone." The figure placed a money pouch on the table and before Urist could say anything, he had disappeared. Urist scrunched up the note and put it in the pouch, tucking it safely into the inside pocket of his jacket.
A few hours passed before anything interesting happened again. A cart pulled up in front of Urist's stall with two dwarves sat upon it. The driver wore just bracers over his torso and yellow sack like trousers. His leather boots were of noticeable quality, though. The passenger was far more presentable. He wore royal green robes, with a gold and red pattern running down the front and a gold pattern around his forearms. His beard was kept quite tidy and his collar had fur, which added to his appearance of wealth.
The driver dismounted, fetched a pouch and from under the cover of the cart, and presented it to Urist.
"This is from Doric," Urist grunted and read the note.
Urist,
Boric informed me of what happened with the rent and staying at the inn. He could have at least camped just outside of the city and scavenged for food to spare spending money. I have sent you the forty-five coins Boric spent, the eighty-four coins he received for the iron pickaxes, and the twenty coins I owe you for the work you carried out. I hope this doesn't deter you from carrying out similar work for us in the future and am sorry for my son's behaviour.
Thanks
Doric
"Thank you." The driver nodded and helped the passenger disembark.
"My name is Drorkar, I'm an agent of the consortium in Keldagrim."
"My name is Urist. I haven't been to Keldagrim since I was a babe." Drorkar gave a faint nod to this. "What brings you this far east?"
"I have seen your craftsmanship through the pickaxes you sold to Nurmof, and I must say, I'm quite impressed. I would like to offer you the opportunity to purchase ores mined at Keldagrim, from the consortium. And if you're willing, I can be your agent for selling finished products back to the businesses of Keldagrim. We're always in need of armour, weapons, and pickaxes, as well as pots of flour for our bakery. We also have a gem store who could supply the gems for your crafting needs."
Urist thought for a few minutes, demonstrating this by stroking his moustache.
"I haven't any means of transporting the goods I buy or sell."
"Lakki here is employed by the consortium for all its logistical requirements."
"What ores do you sell?"
"Copper, tin, iron, mithril, silver, gold and coal." Drorkar handed over a leaflet with the prices on.
"Hmmm. I'll give you a try by making an order." Drorkar quickly fetched out some parchment and a pencil. "I'd like to buy four gold ores, an emerald, a sapphire, a ruby and a dragonstone. And I do believe Nolar is still operating the Carefree Crafting Stall? The newsletter from the crafting guild keeps us updated on such information. I would like to purchase sixty-four threads from him if I may. They're normally four coins each."
"Six hundred, five hundred, two hundred and fifty, a thousand and ten thousand. And two hundred and fifty-six." Drorkar mumbled as he squiggled. "That comes to twelve thousand, six hundred and six coins," Drorkar said to Urist.
"I'll need to visit the bank before I can pay."
"Lakki, escort the gentledwarf to the bank," Lakki grunted and followed two steps behind Urist all the way to the bank next to the exchange. Urist withdrew one thousand, three hundred and eighty coins and used the one thousand, two hundred and twenty-six coins he had made from the pie shells and boots, along with Roald's money to pay for the order.
Urist handed a large money pouch over to Drorkar, who used the cart to count the money inside, and wrote out a receipt once it was. He handed over the receipt and bid Urist farewell. And off they went westward.
I've just given twelve thousand, six hundred and six coins to a pair of complete strangers. What have I done?