Chapter 98: Six – The Rusty Raven

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Chapter Ninety-Six - The Rusty Raven

The sandals Yoland had given me went clip-a-clop with every step, and the dress I’d borrowed for the morning was light as a feather. It made it feel really weird as I bounced ahead of my friends.

Amaryllis had left her jacket behind to repair a few scuffs on it, and Awen’s trench coat needed a little love too, so we were all lightly dressed as we toured the town.

“Where to next?” I asked as I spun around Amaryllis.

“World save me, you’re getting more excited, not less,” Amaryllis said. “You’re like a hummingbird harpy who drank too much sugar-water.”

“Ohh, there are hummingbird harpies? That sounds cute!”

“Awa,” Awen said as I spun around her. “B-Broccoli is in a good mood. That’s alright, right Amaryllis?” she asked.

“It could be worse,” Amaryllis said. She whapped me on the head with a wing when I tried to circle around her again. “Be serious for a moment. We have a blacksmith to find.”

I pouted, but Amaryllis was probably right. I had let the overwhelming excitement in the air get to me. There were so many people laughing and chatting and being happy around me that I couldn’t help but want to bounce around all day.

“Over there,” Amaryllis said as she pointed to a shop by the main square.

A sign hung off the front with ‘The Rusty Raven’ written across it next to a rusty bird-shaped bit of steel. The shop itself looked clean, despite the rustiness of its sign.

We stepped in only to find a bit of a line leading up to the front counter. There were a bunch of big men, mostly humans, but there were a couple of Ostri people and even a single plate-covered cervid.

“Wow, this place is popular,” I said as I slipped to the back of the line.

The man behind the counter was a black-feathered harpy with a big dirty apron who was wagging his talons in the face of some gruff looking man.

“That, little one, is because of the tournament.”

I stared at the person just before me, and then smiled. It was one of the Ostri people, a tall figure covered in dark-brown wraps who seemed bent in on himself. “Hello,” I said. “What’s that about a tournament?”

“Ah, so you’re not here for that? Too bad, I have never fought a Cinnamon Bun before,” he said. It didn’t sound threatening, more like he was genuinely sad. “The tournament is what attracts so many of my siblings of the sands to this place. To test one’s might, earn gold, and meet strange peoples. It is in many ways an attraction tailor-made for us. But you seem to be on a different path.”

“I guess so,” I said. His voice was strange, smooth and soft, like cloth rubbing over cloth. “We’re just here because my spade broke.”

“A broken tool doesn’t serve well,” he agreed. “How did you break it?”

“A wyvern bit it.”

The Ostri man paused. “Ah.”

I nodded, then brought out the spade and the bit of the handle still stuck to it. “It saved me in the end. It was either the spade getting bit or me.”

“That must have been an extraordinary fight,” he said.

“Yeah!” I said. I pulled Awen close to my side. “Awen got the kill. She smacked the wyvern with her hammer until it exploded.”

“Awa, it, it was nothing?” Awen said.

Grinning, I looked way up to meet the Ostri man’s goggles. “I’m Broccoli, Broccoli Bunch!” I said as I extended a hand. “These are my friends, Awen and Amaryllis.”

He uncoiled a little from his hunched posture, took my hand in one of his and bowed over it. “I am Ladle Secondson, the Sandwalker.”

“Oh, that’s a cool name,” I said.

Ladle nodded. “Thank you, little one. It is the constellation under which I was born.”

“Is that how Ostri names work?” I asked.

“It is. First the constellation of your birth, then the order of it. Finally, your class. We do not prescribe much attention to the family of our birth, that way lies nepotism and weakness.”

Amaryllis huffed. “The Ostri put no weight in things like family. Or governments. Or laws.”

Ladle nodded. “This is true. We believe that the strong must lead, and that they must protect the weak. The weak, in turn, must grow stronger. That is all that matters.”

“Wait,” I said. “So you don’t have any government at all?”

He shook his head. “We rely on ourselves. It is far less terrifying than giving so much power to someone who you neither know, nor trust.”

I tapped my chin as I thought about that. It made a sort of sense. Anarchy wasn’t usually an acceptable form of rulership as far I was aware, but maybe it worked for the Ostri people. I would need to visit them and see how their world worked to truly judge.

The line moved ahead a few spots and I let my attention wander over all the weapons racked on the walls around us. There weren’t that many. In fact, there were more tools and candlesticks and door handles and other knick-knacks than actual weapons.

“Ah, it is my turn,” Ladle said. “Goodbye, little ones.”

I waved Ladle goodbye as he slid over to the counter, pulled out a pair of knives from his sides and started to talk with the harpy blacksmith. A few minutes later he was walking out of the shop with a nod for the three of us.

“How can I help ya?” the shopkeep asked.

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I smiled and placed my spade on the counter. “Ah, my spade broke,” I said.

The harpy picked up the head, spun it around a few times, then scratched at the side of his nose with a talon. “Few dings and dents. And a decent hole here. Still mostly good. Handle is... well, that’s obvious, ain’t it? Right, three sil, five minutes.”

“That fast?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

Amaryllis huffed. “That means he can do it for cheaper.”

“Hey now,” the shopkeep said. “Don’t go trying to swindle me.”

“Ah, I don’t mind the price,” I said. “But, um. Is there anything you can do to make it tougher? And maybe give it more, uh, combat uses.”

“Combat... what’re ya on about?”

I scratched the nape of my neck. “It’s not a spade for gardening. It’s a spade for fighting.”

The blacksmith tilted his head to the side, the same sort of gesture Amaryllis did before calling me an idiot. “A combat spade? That’s different.”

I shrugged. “We could pay more if you could make it better,” I said. “But, uh, it needs to still work with my Makeshift Weapon’s Proficiency.”

The smith cawed. “That does complicate things. Give me a few minutes then.”

We watched the harpy waddle off to the back of his shop where an open forge rested next to a bunch of tools.

“You are awful at bargaining,” Amaryllis said.

“I don’t really need the money that badly,” I countered.

She huffed and walked off to stare at some of the things hanging off the walls.

Awen sidled up closer to me. “Awa. Do you, um, think I could buy some tools?” she asked.

“Tools?” I wondered. I wanted to smack myself a moment later. She was an engineer of sorts. Of course she wanted... needed tools. “Right, tools. I have a couple of gold we could use to buy some things.”

“Awa, but isn’t that gold for your airship?” Awen asked.

“Well, yeah, but if I ever hire you as mechanic, then you’ll need tools anyway, right?” I asked.

“I, I suppose,” Awen said. “Thank you.”

We moved around the shop, Awen picking out a few odds and ends, mostly tools that were smaller and that would fit into her bags. We ended up piling a few pliers, some tweezers, some compact hammers and a few other gadgets that I didn’t quite know the use of on the counter.

The smith returned with my spade over one shoulder. “Here ya go. What’s this look like to you?”

I gasped as I picked up my spade. The shaft was a little longer now, with a curvier handle at the end and an extra foot of pole to it. The head was reshaped just a little. One side now seemed much sharper and the other was serrated like a saw. There was also a metal band at the back to reinforce it a little.

A reinforced warspade of uncommon quality, new.

“Wow! You’re so fast,” I said.

“Caw, just have a few decently levelled skills. Saves a lot of time,” he said. “Now, let’s settle.”

Amaryllis was quick to stomp over, and what started as a bit of friendly haggling soon turned into a flurry of squawks and pomfing feathers as they argued over what they each considered a fair price.

Awen and I stood off to the side, staring wide-eyed as the price dipped and climbed.

I think that Amaryllis won in the end, because she looked very smug as she handed over half a dozen silver coins to a disgruntled shopkeep.

“Don’t forget to tip,” I said.

The looks switched.

I ended up being dragged out onto the streets by a very unhappy Amaryllis while Awen held back some giggles.

We were heading back towards Yoland’s shop, me poking at Amaryllis while she called me all sorts of variations of ‘idiot.’ Awen tailed after us, quiet, but she didn’t look unhappy in her silence, not with her little smile and the way she followed us with her gaze.

I was hoping that we’d get to have a bit more fun, see the sights some more, then maybe go to the dungeon the next morning.

A huge shadow raced across the square.

Amaryllis’ complaining stopped, the entire town went deathly quiet.

A sound, like sails snapping in the wind, echoed across the square, once, then twice.

I heard gasps and saw heads turning up to the skies.

A roar shook the air, windows rattled in their frames, people screeched in terror, horses neighed and I felt the sound pressing me down into the ground which shook in sympathy.

A dragon has asserted its dominance. Your bravery is questioned.

We were just next to the large square, bell tower rising above us, when the dragon landed.

The tower crumpled, the bell spinning off to the side where it crashed into the ground with a resounding ‘dong!’ that made my ears ring.

Feet with talons longer than I was tall dug into the stonework with all the ease of someone gripping an empty can of soda. Wings as wide as a bus flapped once, sending heavy gusts of air beating across the square.

I shielded my eyes for just a moment before my attention was dragged back up to the creature standing tall and proud atop the ruins of the belltower like someone standing on a podium after getting an award.

The morning sun bathed matte blue scales over a beige sternum. A head with a jaw large enough to chomp a cart in half rose and grinned down at the panicking crowds below. I had thought the wyvern in the last dungeon beautiful and intimidating, but the creature above me trumped all that a thousandfold.

“Insight,” I muttered.

A cocky juvenile blue dragon Thunder Hammer, level ???.

The dragon chuckled, an unmistakable sound. “Kneel humans! For I, Rhawrexdee, have decided to become your overlord!”

“We need to run,” Amaryllis said. “We need to run far and fast.”

Awen, grabbed onto my side, her hands digging into me. She was trembling.

“I am here to demand food! And tribute! And gold!” Rhawrexdee declared. “Become my servants and I will only feed upon the weakest of your number.”

I carefully pried Awen’s hands off of my arm, then guided her over to Amaryllis’ side. “Amaryllis, take care of Awen please,” I said.

“What? No! You moron!” Amaryllis said.

But it was too late.

If this dragon thought he could bully a whole town’s worth of happy people, he had another thing coming.

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