17 - Night merchant
They walked along the lakeshore. The newly risen waxing crescent reflected off the water surface in a silvery trail, rippled by the occasional light breeze blowing from the mountains. Curls of night mist rising from the lake were gradually enveloping the surrounding landscape, entangling occasionally in the branches of roadside trees. Sometimes the waning moon became hazy, then shone brightly again.
It was already deep night. Conversations had already died down, and the party was simply walking in silence, glancing occasionally at the night sky, now and then tinged with falling stars, or at the sparse forests interspersed with fields. For the entire journey, they hadn’t encountered a single person.
Once again, Nura was the first to hear the sounds of something approaching. “Sounds like a carriage; too many hoofbeats at once.”
The road here wasn’t very wide, and they weren’t sure how large the approaching group of horsemen was. Just in case, they decided to pull over to the roadside, wait and see whose curious mind had come up with the idea to take this exact route at such a late hour. As Gaspard had explained earlier, travelers from the Eastern Approach to Oakland most often took the route north of Valley Lake. There were more settlements there, and therefore more inns.
Soon, Elanil could hear the clatter of hooves as well, accompanied by the creaking of wheels. Nura was right: it sounded like a large, heavy stagecoach, pulled by several horses. A little further, they appeared from around the distant turn. At first, their silhouettes were fuzzy in the fog that had suddenly rolled in. But then, much closer to the party, the first horses surfaced from the mist.
There were four of them, harnessed to a rather massive carriage. Two figures sat on the box, the coachman and someone else, both swathed in black cloaks with friar’s hoods. It all had a somewhat gothic air, Elanil couldn’t help but notice. A deep night, a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, cold moonlight, dense fog. The ominous-looking coachman and the figure beside them added to the atmosphere, as well as the black colour of the horses and the carriage. A little later, two riders appeared on either side of the carriage, as if they had literally materialized from the suddenly thickening fog. Gaspard flinched.
“What’s wrong?” Nura asked him quietly, surprised by the bard’s reaction, who all day had seemed unsurprised, much less frightened, by anything.
“I’m scared, that’s what,” he whispered.
“What do you mean?”
“Their level... it’s no chance.”
“What are you—” Nura began, but Gaspard put his finger to his lips, clearly showing that further conversation would be inappropriate now. Meanwhile, upon seeing their group, the carriage slowed until it stopped completely, leveling with them. Elanil cast an examining look at the mysterious riders. Unlike Gaspard, she could not see the levels of others people but she did feel the might radiating from their figures, a threat concealed by deceiving tranquility akin to the deadly grace of a black panther.
The carriage stopped, the horses halted, pawing the ground casually. An awkward silence fell. Neither the riders nor the coachman said anything, and the party didn’t know what to say to these strange travelers. Everyone froze, except for one. Elanil noticed the slight movements of the figure sitting next to the coachman. It looked like someone deeply immersed in music began to move slightly to the beat of a favorite song, oblivious to everything around them. But Elanil heard neither the music, nor even the rustling of the person’s clothes; everything happened completely soundless. The coachman turned their hooded head in their direction, examining them intently.
“Good ni—” Nura began, but was nudged in the side by Gaspard.
Without reacting at all, the coachman turned halfway and tapped the roof of the carriage, as if tapping out a message in Morse code. Metal gleamed in the moonlight—the coachman was wearing gauntlets, Elanil understood. Or perhaps...
She didn’t finish her thoughts because the carriage door opened. Elanil froze in anticipation of seeing who the moonlight would reveal in the depths of this ominous carriage. Contrary to her expectations, but much to her relief, the passenger looked entirely human. First a leg appeared, and then the entire man, clambering out backwards, somewhat awkwardly.
Elanil had half expected to see some kind of vampire lord or something even more sinister. But no, this was a living, breathing man, flesh and blood. With his round, ruddy face, potato-like nose, freckles, and curly hair with a noticeable receding hairline, he somehow immediately inspired a feeling of trust and even peace. His appearance certainly contrasted with his retinue. Elanil noticed that she was not the only one who was soothed by the sight of the carriage's seemingly ordinary occupant. Gaspard, tense just a moment ago, let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Good night, travelers,” the man greeted the party cheerfully as he finally stepped out of the carriage and glanced at them. Elanil wasn’t much of an expert in the attire of this world’s inhabitants, but from his appearance she guessed, he was a merchant. And far from a poor one. It was no surprise, then, that he had such a retinue. These two mysterious riders must have been his bodyguards, ready to rush to their master’s defense at any moment.
“A most pleasant evening to you as well, honorable sir,” Gaspard uttered, executing a gallant and sweeping bow. “Might I be so bold as to inquire what fortuitous winds have carried you to our distant corner of the world, and to what do we owe the profound honor of such distinguished attention directed toward our humble selves?”
“Oh, spare me the palace pleasantries and all this bowing and scraping,” the man cried, throwing up his hands and breaking into a laugh. “Don’t you find them rather out of place in a setting such as this?” He gestured at the desolate landscape.
Elanil had to admit he was right. Gaspard’s manners were more suited for an audience at the royal palace than the eastern reach of the Valley of Ringing Springs. At the same time, she noted that the merchant’s easy, relaxed demeanor wasn’t the simple casualness of a mountain woodsman, for whom etiquette was like a fairy tale from another world that his own would never intersect with. It was the kind of ease only a man of handsome fortune and power could afford—the right to soar above those of lower status who were thus forced to behave according to etiquette and hierarchy.
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“As you wish,” Gaspard nodded. “And yet, ordained by fate, we meet on this road.”
“Indeed,” the merchant agreed. “I’m traveling through these lands from the Eastern Approach, heading far west. And while trading here wasn’t in my plans, why not take advantage of an opportunity when it presents itself, right?”
“I cannot but agree with you entirely,” Gaspard said, not letting go of demonstrating the politeness he surprisingly possessed. “I’m just not sure we’re worthy of the goods you’re so kind to offer us. I’m more than certain that far greater adventurers would dream of seeing them in their inventory.”
“Oh, my friend, never undervalue your own worth.”
“So wise, so profound!” This drawn-out exchange of pleasantries was sucking them both down into an infinite duel, and Elanil decided to take desperate measures.
“Are you interested in the incendiary compounds of a construct and bombardier chemical catalyst?” she interjected, causing Gaspard to startle, while Nura, on the contrary, chuckled approvingly. She, too, was beginning to feel uneasy about this display of decorum in the middle of nowhere.
“Absolutely,” the merchant replied, unabashed, giving her a sunny smile. “That’s exactly why I stopped by.”
In an instant, a counter appeared between him and Elanil, upon which Elanil placed the loot for sale.
“Hmm, interesting, interesting,” the merchant muttered, examining the incendiary compounds. “How many constructs did you encounter that resulted in such a bountiful harvest?”
“Three.”
“Only three?” he exclaimed, not even looking up from the loot. “So, they were all artillery mechanisms?”
“They specialized,” Nura chimed in. “Two of them did crowd control while the third concentrated on area of ??effect damage.”
“Excellent,” the merchant beamed. What precisely he found so excellent about that, Elanil couldn’t understand. “And where did you say you encountered them?”
“The Sylvan Reserve,” Elanil decided not to give him the exact location, but figured it would cause not rouble if she disclosed where she and Nura hunted the constructs.
“Splendid,” the merchant said again. Having finished stocktaking, he summed it up. “So, I’m willing to give you a gold coin for each incendiary compound. As for the chemical catalyst,” he looked down at the counter again. “How about ten bronze coins?”
“Why so che—” Nura began, but was nudged in the ribs by Gaspard again. “Ouch! Enough!” she grumbled, glaring at him accusingly
“Sorry, what?” the merchant looked up from the counter where he had been scrutinizing the bombardier beetle’s jellylike entrails.
“My friend meant to say that we’re unlikely to find such a generous offer anywhere else,” Gaspard rattled off, not giving Nura a chance to interject.
“Ah, I see.”
“Would you like to buy bombardier beetle meat?” she managed to ask, though.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, but no,” the merchant laughed, waving his arms in a surrendering gesture. “To my deepest regret, my inventory is almost full, and such a large, and frankly, not particularly valuable, item would certainly overload it. So, I sincerely ask for your forgiveness.”
“Bummer.”
“Again, I’m sorry,” he said and turned to Elanil. “So, a deal?” He extended his hand. She glanced uncertainly at Gaspard, who nodded decisively. Then she shook the merchant’s hand. Immediately, the loot and the counter vanished.
+3 Gold and 10 Bronze coins
“A moment, please!” The merchant seemed struck by an idea—he raised his finger, and disappeared into the depths of the carriage.
While he was gone, Nura pounced on Gaspard. “Why are you acting so strange?”
“I’ll explain later,” he hissed through his teeth, glancing at the coachman and at the riders in turn.
Only now did Elanil look at them again and notice that they still were like frozen statues, speechless and motionless. And again, with the exception of the one sitting next to the coachman. This individual was now silently drumming their fingers on their knee.
“Here it is,” the merchant announced, holding a round metal object. Upon closer inspection, it resembled a rune, a compass, and a safe lock at the same time. “May I tempt you to an important quest? Since construct hunting is nothing new to you. You see, rogue constructs are a big problem for Mirdain; it kind of tarnishes their reputation as reliable producers of these sort of, um, unalive servants. One of my contracts with these venerable craftsmen involves recruiting adventurers capable of tracking, localizing, and, if possible, neutralizing rogue constructs within the Near Lands. What do you say?”
“You want to hire us as bounty hunters?” Elanil clarified. “But that encounter was unintentional. We’re not exactly professionals.”
“And yet you survived, while they didn’t,” the merchant remarked.
“How many constructs do we need to kill to complete the quest?” Nura asked.
“For starters, limit yourselves to those prowling this valley, and there were...” he glanced at his artifact, “seven. Considering you’ve eliminated three, that leaves four.”
“Four doesn’t sound so scary,” Nura agreed.
“Indeed,” the merchant nodded and handed them the artifact. “This device will help you detect them. Once you clear the valley, consider the first part of the quest complete.”
“And where should we deliver our loot or what remains of them? Will we need to look for you?”
“Once you complete the first part, this artifact will notify us, and we’ll find you.”
“We?”
“It will be either me, if I happen to be in these lands, or the construct master. Ah yes, the reward will be quite pleasant. Mirdain is rich in gold and is willing to pay handsomely to maintain its reputation. And reputation, as you know, is worth more than any filthy lucre. So, are you up for this side hustle?”
Elanil glanced back and forth between Nura and Gaspard and seeing no obvious objections on their faces, said, “I think we can give it a try.”
“Excellent!” The merchant smiled broadly and handed her the artifact.
Quest: Constructicide (main)
Sub-quest: Constructicide in the Valey (regional)
Status: Acquired
Objective: Find and neutralize 7 rogue constructs in the Valley of Ringing Springs.
Additional Information:
The artifact you received would make it easier for you to locate your hunting target. Once you've neutralized the seven constructs in the Valley, either the quest giver or the construct master will contact you.
Constructs neutralized: 3 out of 7
Reward:
– XP
– Gold
– Loot (conditional)
– Mirdain reputation
–The Valley of Ringing Springs reputation
–Bounty Hunters Guild reputation
“Look at that!” Elanil was surprised at the list of rewards. “So many different reputations in one quest.”
“When you do something significant, word of your accomplishments spreads like wildfire,” the merchant remarked. He then clapped his hands as a conclusion of their conversation. “I’d be glad to linger here for a while and to talk with you longer, but my duty carries me on my journey and I can’t wait. Good luck in your endeavors and your construct hunt.”
They said goodbye, and the merchant dove into the carriage, much more dexterously than the way he’d climbed out of it, Elanil noted. The coachman whipped the horses, and they took off as if they were racing. The riders floated past the group like shadows. They stood and watched the departing carriage for a while, until it disappeared completely into the swirling night fog.
“Now I’m glad he didn’t buy it. I mean, all this trading made me quite hungry,” Nura was the first to break the silence. “How about we set a camp? I’ll show you my favorite way to cook beetle meat.”
