Brannik groans, running a hand through his coarse hair. "I was hoping you'd grown tired of your attempts at humor," the dwarf says to Wes, shaking his head with a grumpy smile. "Hm."
"'Hm' what, old man?" Gemma demands.
"Nothing. Just reminded me of an old Tulrissian joke I heard in a pub in Bal." He smiles widely now. "I don't think I should repeat it."
Kass gives Wes a playful punch in response to his pun. The caravan keeps moving as the six of you stop to pick the flowers but you easily catch up with the slow pace of the mules. The towers of Stag's Rest continue to draw closer and after a couple of hours the city walls of Gresham come into view.
As you approach, two more men on horse back approach you from the direction of the city, flying a flag from a spear with a blue stag's head on white, the sigil of House Alden, the historic rulers of Gresham.
"Hold!" One of the men commands. "What business do you have here?" He asks Vanora, his eyes darting to the five armed members of the party.
"Supplies from the Capital," Vanora says firmly. "This lot are our escort," she adds seeing the man's gaze change. "Good thing we had them too. One of the Pretender's men attacked us but they managed to kill them."
"Hmm. Come up to the gates, we'll go check with the Captain of the guard," the guard replies as he turns his horse around, motioning for his companion to follow suit. Then then take off at a canter back in the direction of the walls.
"Pricks... We're here to help them," Vanora says once they're out of earshot as she starts the caravan forward again.
"We'll be fine," Brannik assures Vanora and the others. "Just keep your tempers, answer their questions, and we won't have any problems." He gives a knowing look to Gemma.
"I'd likely do the same in their position," Adrian adds, unsurprised by the caution shown. "It is a war after all, you can never be too careful."
"Especially if the enemy's presence is known in these parts," Wes adds with a nod, watching the guard dash towards the city. "If we came across them, no doubt House Alden knows they're here."
You soon reach the town's Southern Gate. The walls are fairly low but thick and made of stone, with wooden ramparts dotted with archers. Tattered banners showing the stag of House Alden fly next to newer ones emblazoned with the stallion of House Lorkan.
The Gate itself is a simple wooden gate reinforced with iron. The area around the gate however has clearly recently been fortified with trenches and spiked wooden barricades which are pulled aside by some of the soldier guarding the gate to clear the road as you approach.
The towers of the castle, Stag's rest, appropriately tower over the town, with the castle being built slightly away from the town on a large hill which backs onto the river - a highly defensible position - connected to the town only by a short road walled in on either side to allow the defenders to reign down arrows, pitch, and oil on any attackers.
The man who had previously interrogated you approaches Vanora once more, his horse now nowhere in sight. "So it turns out we're expecting you," he says somewhat sheepishly.
"That's a surprise," Vanora says with a dead pan tone. "Mind opening the gates?" She asks the man.
"Aye, but first who are this lot?" He asks gesturing to the six of you. "Captain said you weren't supposed to have an escort."
"I took it upon myself to hire some extra help," Vanora replies clearly annoyed.
"Well I at least need names before we let you in, can't have just anyone roaming the city. Could be spies," he says looking back to the party.
"Adrian," says Adrian, giving a polite nod to the man from atop his horse. Not like anyone who knows of my deeds knows me true name, anyway, he thinks to himself. As long as I don't go around introducing myself as 'Wind Dancer' it will be easy to avoid recognition.
"You can call me Brannik," the dwarf says, his eyes meeting the man's. Spies, he muses to himself. I suppose we are in a way. Though not for another pretender.
"Wesley," the knight says with a smile, tapping on his chest with pride. He eyes the banner of House Lorkan, feeling somewhat at ease in the presence of his once-allies. I wonder if they noticed my absence yet, or if they just assume I'm dead or captured. I suppose time will tell.
Your companions follow your lead, giving their names. The guard seems to mull the information over for a second before speaking. "Don't go causing any trouble," he says stepping aside and giving the signal for the gates to be opened.
Vanora drives the caravan forward once more, taking you through the gate. The other side of the gate opens up into a large square which looks to be currently used as a mustering ground for the troops garrisoning the city and castle. Tents and temporary structures dot the square, a long with stockpiles of various arms and supplies. Peasants walk past pushing fully laden hand carts, while soldiers mill about talking or sharpening weapons around several camp fires across the square. The square is surrounded by low stone buildings with roofed with thatch, which seems to be the standard of most of the buildings in the town. Only a few larger buildings further into the center of the town rise above the thatched rooftops - a wide road leading from the square towards them.
"Well thanks once again," Vanora says to the six of you as she brings her cart to a stop and dismounts. "I don't know what would have happened if you'd not been with us," she continues, reaching for a coin purse.
"Here's your payment," she says, counting out the coins and handing them over to each of you. "I'd say you earned a bit extra," she adds with a smile.
The Bull eyes the garrisoned troops, the pitched tents, and the bustle of commonfolk around him. Peace, for now. But soon, this place too will see blood.
"Thanks," Brannik says as the caravan leader doles out their pay. "Sorry again about your man. Dangerous times out here for everyone." He gives the woman a respectful nod before turning to his companions.
Adrian simply nods as the coin is given, accustomed to taking payment for his services after years of mercenary and guard work. He pockets the coins, and when Brannik turns his way he says, "well first things first, we should offload those fancier items. The extra coin should help if we do find whatever supplies that damn alchemist needs."
"Aye," Brannik grunts. "He's a needy one, but he'll do us proud." He turns to search the square. "Let's find whatever makes for a shop, here."
Looking around the buildings at the edge of the square, you see a few which could be shops of some description. There are what appear to be two blacksmiths opposite each other, in the buildings either side of the main road leading further into the town - the sound of steel on steel ringing out from their direction.
To either side of the square they are a couple of shops on either side. To your left there is a building with displays of books propped up outside on wooden shelves, with another selling vegetables a couple of doors down. To your right there is another shop with fruits and vegetables on display, next to what you assume is a bakery from the steady stream of customers entering and then leaving with loaves of bread.
"Let's try the smiths first. Whoever can give a better deal on our equipment can get the sale," Brannik says, walking toward the one on the left.
Wes raises an eyebrow at the pair of smithies opposite each other. "Maybe they've got a bitter rivalry we can use to our advantage," the knight replies with a smirk. He eyes the fruits and vegetables on display, unsure if Farryn requires any. "Maybe there's a botanist's store or something around here as well."
"Or an alchemist, specifically," Adrian replies to Wes. "We're after tools, not ingredients. We've already gathered the plants he requested." Turning to Brannik he add, "and aye, the blacksmiths seem like a good first stop."
"He might need more," Wes offers with a shrug. "Or maybe there are more interesting reagents he could experiment with. He'll need entertainment if he's to be living in the middle of nowhere."
The ringing of the anvil increases from both shops as you approach. Nearing the one to the left, you can see it has an open forge area to the side of the shop. An orcish woman hammers away on a sword beating it in shape, before turning to plunge it into a bucket of water which hisses and steams as the hot metal comes into contact with the water.
"If you're here for the order it won't be done until tomorrow. Don't worry the King will get his swords. And they'll be better than the slag Kerym delivers, " she says without looking up, before returning the sword to the anvil and continuing her hammering.
Brannik waits for the woman to finish speaking, his eyes falling on her hammerwork.
"We're not here for that," he says, stepping into the building. "We're new customers. In fact, we've got some high-quality pieces of armor that we are hoping you can take off our hands."
The dwarf shrugs, smiling at the smith. "Well, you or Kerym."
"Freshly reclaimed from one of the traitors' men, at that" Adrian responds, hoping that the source of their ill-gotten gains will make the presumably-loyal woman more keen to trade. "We've little use for the goods, but perhaps the king's soldiers could benefit more?"
"Indeed," Wes says with a warm smile and a nod. "Such equipment would no doubt give our men on the front lines an edge over the pretenders' men. And no doubt earn you some renown."
"Hmm," the orc replies to your story, continuing to beat on the sword a few more times, before dumping the sword back into the bucket of water and leaving it there. She pulls off her thick blacksmith gloves and tosses them onto the anvil as she turns to face you properly. "Well let's see what you've got then," she says, folding her arms expectantly.
Brannik slips from his pack each piece of armor, laying them neatly atop the table as the blacksmith looks on. A helmet, a pair of thick gauntlets, and a mail belt.
"Aye, these pieces are not simply run-of-the-mill stock from your everyday man-at-arms. No, no. They've got true craftsmanship. Trust me," he says, tapping his skull with a thick finger. "I was born a Ballian."
The woman silently picks up each item, turning them over in her hands carefully examining each piece.
"Not terrible craftsmanship," say says as she examines the links of mail on the belt. "Not the best either though," she says setting down the belt.
"I'll give you two thousand five hundred and twenty eight gold for the lot," she says firmly, looking Brannik in the eye.
Wes shakes his head at the woman's offer, hoping to earn themselves a larger deal. "Perhaps on the surface level, but the true value lies below. Notice the peculiar glimmer they all seem to have in the right light." He picks up the helm and admires it a moment. "I hail from Menora, and such enchantments would serve even the finest Arcane Knights." Just not this Arcane Knight.
"You're not wrong," the orc says tersely in reply to Wes.
"Three thousand and eighty nine gold is the highest I can go. Most of my coin is tied up in materials fulfilling requisitions. Turns out you the King doesn't pay deposits," she continues. "We have a deal?" She asks, raising an eyebrow.
Brannik smiles as Wes' smooth disposition nets them a greater prize from the smith. "A deal," he agrees, nodding the woman's way. He leans closer a bit, his voice soft. "The King's coin is running thin it seems, hm? Are you the only one he owes in Gresham?"
Wes nods along, eagerly accepting the woman's raised offer. Better than no coin at all. He listens on as the orc mentions her coin troubles and the King. "I knew the war has grown costly, but this is surprising. I look forward to the days of prosperity at its end."
She nods in reply as you accept the deal, turning to grab a couple of coin purses from a nearby table. "Quite a few others too I believe," she replies to Brannik as she counts out your coin. "I imagine his coffers are far from empty but it's not exactly easy to get it here right now and the Alden's aren't going to pay for anything that's not for their own men. The Armourers and Smiths in the capital must be making a fortune right now," she continues.
"You sound like one of the King's lackeys," she says to Wes with a smirk as she finishes counting out the coin and tosses the coin purse to him.
"I'm just hoping to make it that far," Adrian responds honestly, at Wes mentions the war's end. "This war will claim many more lives before it's over, and I will strive to not become one of them."
Wes shrugs at the woman's words, returning the smirk with one of his own. "I suppose the boot fits." Thinking back to their journey to the city alone, he adds, "I simply hope the roads don't grow even more dangerous, or our people may go without needed supplies." How many will starve from this needless war?
"Sittin' around and wishing isn't going to make them safer," Brannik says, taking the bags of coins from the smith. "Thanks again for the purchase. Hope things work out with your debtors."
He steps toward the door, eager to get moving once more. None of these kingly bastards are going to do anything for the salt of this land. But we will.
"So do I," the Orc says to Brannik with a slight smile. As you step back out onto the street, a peasant pushing a hand cart full of supplies narrowly misses you as he races past. A few moments later the ringing of steel on steel begins again behind you as the blacksmith returns to work.
Wes gives a polite smile and bow to the smith as they exit. He's caught by surprise as the peasant's cart dashes by, but simply shakes his head. Where is he in a hurry to? Looking both ways down the street, he has, "Shall we go put that coin to good use then?"
"Aye, lets," Brannik says. Quietly, he continues once in a safe area to speak. "We need alchemical equipment for Farren, that much is certain. I was also thinking that it might be a good idea to pick up some gear to outfit those who join our struggle. Just the basics for now... spears, bows, arrows, a few sets of light or heavy armor. Any thoughts?"
"That would be wise, though we should not buy more than seems reasonable to use ourselves," Adrian responds. "They might grow suspicious if they see a small, unknown band buying up weapons and armor in bulk. Don't want to draw too much attention to ourselves."
"A fair point, Adrian. The last thing we need is more questions by these soldiers. As long as we're not suspicious about it, I think we should be safe to purchase a piece of armor or weapon for each of us."
"Aye," Wes says quickly. "Shall we look for equipment for our dear friend, then?" he adds, looking out for any shop which might sell alchemical equipment.
Brannik agrees with a grunt as he follows after Wes. Don't like being in cities anymore. Not in these times, at least.
You set off further into the town and soon spot a few more shops along the street. One appears to be a small general store named Hamlin's Provisions. A couple of soldiers stand outside by a stack of crates talking to a man. Opposite stands The Stag's Head Inn - judging by the faded sign which hangs from the upper floor. And finally, nestled a short ways down an alleyway to the side of the inn, you spot a rusted sign in the shape of a pestle and mortar hanging from a small ivy covered building.
Wes looks both ways down the street, keeping his eyes open for a shop that may sell what they need. His eyes light up and he smiles as he spies a familiar mortar and pestle sign, the telltale signature of an alchemical shop. Pointing towards it, he says, "That looks promising. We might also pay the general store a visit after."
"Aye," Brannik agrees. "Always in need of more tools, gear, and supplies." He follows after Wes as they head toward the alchemist.
You make you way over to the alchemists shop. A small bell rings as you push open the oaken door. Stepping inside you find yourselves in a narrow room - with only enough room for two people to stand side by side. The walls on both sides of you are lined with shelves, which themselves are filled with hundreds of glass jars containing a plethora of different potions and ingredients.
At the far end of the room stands a low counter and another door, from behind which comes a shout in response to the bell.
"I'll be with you in just a second!"
A few moments pass before the door opens and an elderly dwarf with wild grey hair and a thick beard steps into the room and over to the counter. He proceeds to open a large leather bound ledger with iron clasps on the counter and picks up a quill sitting in a nearby inkwell. He begins writing, his marks large and deliberate, not even so much as looking up at your group while he writes.
After a minute or two, the dwarf finally finishes, closing the heavy ledger and looking up to greet you. "What do you need then?" He asks rather bluntly.
"G'day," Brannik greets the old dwarf. "We're looking for some equipment. A calcinator, an alembic... a few vials. Mortar, pestle, a few glass stirring rods. You know, those little bastards tend to break quick, hm? And I think, yes, that," he says, pointing to a long bulbous piece of glass he can't remember the name of. "Also, tongs, too. Can't forget the tongs."
The Hollowman sniffs the air curiously as he eyes the shelves of the cramped hallway-turned-shop. "Say, you got any reading material, too? Reference volumes, substitution rubrics, that sort of thing."
The dwarf gives a grunt in reply as Brannik lists off the items Farryn needs. He ducks beneath the counter and begins rummaging around. A few moments later he stands up and places a small wooden crate on the counter. Inside are several of the items and he begins filling it with the rest from various shelves behind the counter.
He pauses to think for a second when Brannik asks about reading material. "I've got a few I could sell you from my personal collection - I've learnt all I can from them. They wouldn't be cheap though. Anything specific you're interested in?"
"A guide for learners, maybe." Brannik puts a finger to his beard, thinking. "Mm. And recipes, I think. You got anything like that? Nothing too advanced, I should say."
The old dwarf pauses once again. "Let me take a look. One moment," he says eventually, before turning around and heading back through the doorway behind the counter, deeper into the shop.
"Thinking of taking up alchemy yourself old man?" Gemma asks with a hint of sarcasm while he's gone.
The dwarf returns a couple of minutes later, placing a few tomes on the counter. "Some of these may interest you I think. This is Boduik Khegrotir's Alchemical Codex," he says holding up a large thick book bound which black leather, its title pressed in gold. "He misses a few major points but it's not the worst start."
He picks up another smaller dark blue book. "A Study of the Flora and Fauna of Voreld And Their Properties by Arel Araran - a bit of a dry read but still useful."
The next book he picks up is a dark red, embellished with bronze clasps."The Art of the Crucible by Farryn Neriven. I'm not really one for Elven alchemy, but he's got a few good ideas."
"And finally The Alchemist's Handbook by Nils Harwhent. Fairly basic but that could be what you're after," he says gesturing to the final book which is a simple looking tome bound in brown leather.
"Course. We'd be fools not to," Brannik grunts at Gemma. "It's only going to get harder and harder for us out here. An' if any commonfolk join us, everyone will need a role."
He quiets down and smiles as the older dwarf returns with the dusty tomes. Heh. I see our friend Farryn's quite the esteemed pen, as well. If we had coin to spare, I'd buy him his own damned book as a fool's gesture. But, well, I don't.
"I'm thinking I'll take the Codex, Flora and Fauna, and the Handbook," Brannik says. "How much for each?"
Wes glances around at the shelves, pressing his back against one to try and make room for the rest of their group in the small quarters. Probably the busiest he's ever had it in here. He smirks at Brannik and Gemma's banter, saying, "Aye, it never hurts to be prepared in the field. 'Specially in our line of work."
