Chapter 25: 25 – Taking out the Trash pt. 1

"Oi, Pint-sized! I came to visit again." I kick open the door, yelling into Lars' shop. "Hm? Just Rohan, huh."

Lars' oxman bouncer is manning the front counter ringing up a line of customers. No sign of the dwarf himself, and he usually comes quick when I announce myself.

"Looking for your boss. Know where he is?" I ask Rohan as he finishes helping the last customer in line.

Rohan shakes his head, tousling the messy black hair.

"Maybe you can help me. I'm looking for some fist-weapons. You know, that I can pummel people with."

The oxman stares at me for a moment, turns around to dig into a weapon's rack behind the counter, and plops a gigantic warhammer down in front of me.

"Uh… Guess you're not wrong, but it ain't right either." Staring at the blatant misunderstanding, I can't help but wonder if I said something wrong, or if Rohan is just dumb. "Something smaller, like a weapon I can clutch on my fist and punch things with. They call them knuckle dusters."

Rohan stows away the hammer. He disappears into the back, and returns with a dustpan and brush.

"You're fucking with me, ain'tcha? You got any fist weapons or not?" I ask, not even taking my eyes off him.

He lets out a grunt which I can only guess is an exasperated sigh, puts the poor attempt at a joke away, and brings out a medium-sized lockbox. A little fancy, but looks about right to be carrying two knuckle dusters.

When I open up the lockbox, my own reflection stares back at me from the polished bikini and thong armor set.

"Okay, you oversized cow! Ya wanna go?!"

Before I can throw a punch out, the shop bell chimes. Lars is back with a tray of sandwiches in his hands. He glances at me, then to Rohan, and finally at the bikini armor.

"What's this? Ya finally come 'round to buy the armor set?" he says aloud.

"The hell I am!" I retort, slamming the lockbox shut.

I explain to Lars exactly what I want. Going by his reaction, knuckle dusters aren't uncommon around here, but neither are they widely used.

"Sure, I can sell ya a pair. Reckon they won't last long on yer fists being ya can crater a mountain." he says.

Lars brings up a good point. I'm a lot stronger than I was in Japan. Sacchan has only been able to survive the bludgeoning I've given because it's also stronger— more specifically, enchanted. Any normal pair of knuckle dusters will break after a few uses.

"Don't look so down, lass. Yer in luck today. Mildred's sent me a shipment of enchanted ore. I can craft yer knuckles, bypassing the whole need to enchant 'em." He has Rohan fetch a crate of glowing rocks. I don't know what I'm seeing, but if it's from Mildred, it's going to cost me a pretty penny.

And she's already making a killing from what I already asked of her.

"I'm shit out of luck. Doubt I have the gold to pay ya right now." As I turn to leave, Rohan plants a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"How about a job? Off the books from the guild." Lars asks, a no-good-wicked smirk creases the corners of his lips.

***

Rohan and I are heading down to the scummy part of Cynderace, following Lars' instructions to scout out troublemakers who have been harassing his trade partners. A lot of rogue-type louts have their eyes on us. Shady people are hidden around every corner and alley. We may be in broad daylight, but desperate folk will look for every opportunity to get a jump on us.

"You able to keep your eyes peeled with all that hair in your eyes?" I ask Rohan.

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He doesn't answer.

"Tsk. Could've done this myself, but Lars insisted on bringing the mute… You really ain't got nothing to say?"

Still no answer.

A little rundown shop selling ink catches my attention. It's been a while since I did any graffiti. Maybe now's a good time to pick it up again.

"Wait here, big guy." I head inside as he stands by the entrance.

As I would imagine a shop in the shitty part of town, it's nothing like Lars' and Mildred's place. Rotting, wooden shelves, broken windows, rickety floorboards that look like I can fall through any moment. There is an endless supply of inkwells of different colors on one side of the store, and on the other, an array of quill pens and writing instruments.

A man with scales on his cheeks and a flat nose emerges from under the counter. Scales that might have once been a deep red have dulled to a softer hue. He adjusts his glasses and squints at me.

"I-I don't want any trouble… I barely make enough to eat!" he says, cowering behind the counter.

"Ain't here to pick a fight. I'm looking to buy some ink." I pat the sack of gold on my waist to get his attention.

"Oh, customer? Haven't had any of those in a while… if it's ink you need, take your pick—"

"All of it."

His eyes flutter and leans closer to catch what I said. "Pardon?"

"Give me a barrel and fill it up with all the ink you got." I slide a handful of gold coins across the counter.

***

"Th-Thank you for your patronage!" the ink seller shouts as I walk out with a sloshing barrel of ink on my shoulder.

Rohan extends his hands offering to carry it.

I wave his hand away. "Nah. I got it."

Eventually we reach the location Lars told us about. A series of building complexes surrounded and boarded up with a wooden barricade like some sort of makeshift fortress. Doesn't look like there's anyway in without punching through. We don't need to go inside, and as long as we're quiet, we should be able to avoid any fighting.

As I'm looking for a good place to start splashing ink, a beastfolk bumps into me and falls flat on his ass.

"Watch where you're going bitch—" he chokes on his next word seeing me and Rohan.

"You with the guys inside?" I ask, stomping the dirt next to his head.

"What's… it to you…?"

I give Rohan the barrel and crack my knuckles. "Tell ya what's gonna happen. I'm gonna knock you out. When you wake up, tell your buddies inside to stop fucking with Lars' trading partners. In the meantime, we're using you as a paintbrush."

"Eh?"