My mission to find Balduin hadn’t been a total failure. On the west side of town I’d spotted him discussing with two men, if you’re willing to count an elf as a ‘man’. My chimeric spell let me speak at a distance, but I wasn’t able to use it to hear clearly. Still, a general idea of conversation could be made out.
The human one aggressively shook his hands to emphasize a point ‘respecting their traditions is pointless’, and the calm elf responded with ‘not merely tradition, but a ritual for newborns’. Some fallow field or clearing that currently remained unproductive was somehow going to be used for an elvish practice that humans were permitted to partake in.
This one seemed way more useful! From the phrasing it sounded like he personally once lived in the woods, and experienced such rituals in the past.
Balduin, a man of large stature with a beard fit more for the mountains than these level plains, unsurprisingly spoke in favor of the elf. After all, if no one was speaking in their favor, it wouldn’t be a conversation that could happen in the first place.
He used the tactic of standing beside the human, appearing to be more on his side. Nor did he particularly try to reign in the aggressive movements, although I couldn’t say if that was a tactical decision, or the cultural disdain for an elf still shining through. Phrases like ‘take their strategy’ and ‘properly perform’ certainly favored the human perspective, but from the elf’s calm demeanor, this wording could be intentionally downplaying to be more convincing.
Truly everyone who involves themselves with those cunning creatures is a duplicitous snake! As opposed to myself— this one only would lie to maintain the pure worldview of a child until the day she was strong enough to eliminate evil.
I judged my intervention would not be useful at the moment, so I prepared to turn around and go. But not before a little test. One fancy flourish of my longknife, twirling it around my fingers before quietly returning it. Then, I brandished it again, dragging it heavily against the scabbard first.
Holding it at arms length, it really did look like his ear. Though at such a distance it wasn’t saying that much. Quickly finishing the pose since there were no onlookers, I sheathed it again.
Hearing a blade drawn from leather at 50 meters would have been impressive. But I had one more distinctive sound. Turning sideways, in the style of kyūdō I drew in a slightly exaggerated breath, as well as the attention I was seeking.
What glorious stereotyping, how can you be called an elf without using those big ears of yours and a natural affinity for archery?
His head slightly turned towards me, and unaware of how precise his vision was I merely sent an arrogant look that way before leaving. Balduin negotiating on his behalf counted as some sort of favor, so he couldn’t up and leave to follow for a small display of rudeness.
I had found Balduin, but for the pragmatic purposes of needing to negotiate with Gustave, it was a failure.
In the worst case, I could just squat in the building and claim it as my own. According to the granary guard(private security) there was one appointed constable. Not even as a full time occupation, he just tended to a small field of docile pig-things(literally Muck Runts, likely a subspecies of the actual pigs I’d seen while traveling), giving him time to ‘patrol’ town.
If it was that guy I saw earlier with the bardiche, that thing didn’t have a lick of death aura on it.
As I waited, wood shavings slowly piled up on the table. The carving knife wasn’t sharp enough for anything too intricate. A gauntlet with its fingers in a cage around… a lump. Perhaps destined to be a butterfly if I wanted to be showy and found a better knife.
A flower was under consideration but the religious angle shouldn’t be too overplayed.
As the pointy articulations of a necromancer’s armor took shape, noisy voices entered the building. The sun had yet to set, but the tavern’s shadow reached to the other side of the plaza.
“Can’t believe I’m already digging out my potatoes.”
“With those soft hands? Me neither!”
A group of four barged in like they owned the place, pushing tables out from the center. Scuffed floorboards were used to them carelessly clearing without lifting the legs. Potato Man was indeed taking the easy route lifting a single chair at a time.
“Hey hey, we’ve got another giant visiting. He’s a lot less hairy than the last one.”
“I wouldn’t mind being called ugly as a giant if he’s the comparison.”
“Thank you. But I’m not a giant, so the comparison still stands.” Flicking another curl of wood into the air, the man had a drooping beer belly and dull eyes, but given his retorts those couldn’t be used to judge his wits. The deadpan heckle should show some reticence and disinterest, but willing to play along.
“Haha, if you’re giant that makes you a Giant! You’re lucky you’re passing by today, us little folk are putting on a show.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Raising an eyebrow, there was no need to pursue the statement.
“If you’ve just been waitin’ I’m surprised Daron hasn’t mentioned anything yet. He’s betting on outsiders again, as usual.”
“Of course he is. He couldn’t win even with all that weight to him.”
“You’re not far behind Victor. Giant, during harvest season we have an indoor sumo match after everyone sings a song. You have anything from the mountains you can bellow out?”
“What! You’re sabotaging us!” Victor, the one full of retorts, cried out banging on a table. Potato Man shrugged, with a face already resigned to defeat he planned to bring his compatriots down with him.
There was genuine frustration in those gritted teeth, but nothing that would overly strain what camaraderie they showed. That sounded like some sort of sports gambling none of them truly expected to win. Daron, running the inn, convinced outsiders to fight on his behalf, maybe part of a longer bet that would cover the season?
Another cultural icon devoured by Mammon! The respected sport of sumo has been tainted!
“Hey, when Christoph comes over from Petal Floor, he’ll do the first song. He does his last prayer as the sun sets, that’s when it starts.” Mr. For the Horses slightly elaborated on the process.
The quiet one settled in a table near the other end of the room, one not cramped by others pushed to the other edges. There was a clacking as what could best be described as wooden dominoes were spread out. Dominoes, and not generic tiles, because two symbols were carved into each piece.
“Daron! You want to be dealt in with the Giant?” Potato Man freely waltzed behind the bar, opening a door towards the cellar and shouted.
“Some of us still, hrrrk! Work through the winter. Throw an extra two logs on the pot in the back, and I’ll make the first refill free.”
“Easy deal!”
“If only I knew you were so easy. Klaus, I’ll give you my New Year talisman if you finish digging out my carrots tomorrow.”
Klaus the potato harvester mumbled and disappeared into the back for a moment to feed the flames. Through the wall I held down a grin as he singed a finger grabbing a quick taste.
Daron wasn’t running a big operation here: a big pot of stew along with some relatively fresh looking meat, already prepared beans, and a bowl of raw dough were out. Since I had my doubts he was preparing a welcoming feast for me, that meant some villagers bought meals here.
Klaus joined the other three who already crowded around their table. They noisily shuffled their dominoes and began clacking away. Each kept a secret hand turning them quiet, a game with hidden information that they were bad at concealing from each other, despite it having cooperative elements.
While pretending to ignore them by working on my own project, I kept observing. There were interrupts using the partner across from themselves interrupting usual counterclockwise play. Given the intermittent moments of trash talk, it seemed a sort of trick-taking game with one partner getting an extra advantage.
Unfortunately,
From ‘Fire again!’, ‘I always got enough Yang!’, and Derriad’s general history it was at least the 5 elements, yin, and yang. But there were more than 49 tiles, so maybe a null tile because the count was above 64. Or perhaps there were common tiles that repeated. Or perhaps the idea that there was a standard set was wrong, and these fellows just carved as many pieces as they felt would be good.
Then again, they invited me to play thinking I would know the game, so their house rules couldn’t be too extreme.
“I thought I saw y’all heading in early.” A new face that spoke with a voice deep enough to rattle bones entered, giving me only a passing glance. “Lukas, haven’t you been trying to cut back on gambling?”
“No pot.” The quiet one tapped the empty center.
“Still, your cabbages are out there. Y’know the rain is just bottling itself up for later. They’ll be ruined, don’t slack to play.”
“Can’t you stop nagging? We’re trying to focus!” Victor slammed a tile down loudly, less in anger, more in embarrassment. He and the others looked mid to late twenties, while the nag was closer to Daron, probably early 40s. He must’ve been an older brother type, always chastising the slightly younger generation.
At this point he was likely less interested in the sense of superiority and more worried about the idea of what passed for retirement. That is to say, get along with someone well off enough that he could get away with just doing small chores for them in his old age until becoming truly venerable enough to simply be taken care of. But that would depend first and foremost on those he knew not losing what leeway they had to poor choices.
What poor saps only being able to walk the earth for a few centuries before becoming too frail to move about.
“How many barrels are you bringing up today Daron?” Everyone was shouting at my poor man Daron, he wasn’t asking a question, he was trying to rush him back up. The innkeep finally made his way out of the cellar holding the keg in a bear hug next to his chest. Grunting, it was hefted upon the back counter at great risk to his spine.
“Ugh, Taron did you see either of those brats on your way over here? I’m definitely shorting their pay today. If I’d known they were going to be late I would have asked you for help Aldrich.” Despite his complaining, Daron wasn’t out of breath.
“It’s your struggle.” Turning to the side, I wanted to give him a little more respect with my attention but still refused to set down the carving.
“Anyway, tonight I’ve got the stew, dumplings with sauce, or five cupra for spiced pork cuts, potatoes and cheese.”
“The stew, obviously, when have I picked anything else?”
“You’re too ascetic even for the Church. You?”
“One of each, but I’ll wait until Lucy gets back.”
“Right, and after she gets her pick, I’ll send a bowl with you upstairs at the end of the night. Just holler if you need anything. Everyone else in town sure does.” With a lighthearted grumble, Daron returned to the kitchen.
Things began picking up pace, Indra and another woman entered, quickly followed by a husband and wife. Then after two more duos, Geralt walked in.
Lively chatter was starting to build up, and you could feel the room fill with warmth(not just because that other woman decided to throw a log on the hearth). As a man with lean muscles, a streak of white hair, and light but recent cut along his shoulder slowly opened the door, there was a cheer from the table of four.
“Game’s over! Hey hey Daron! Christoph is here, start breaking out the drinks!”
“Aren’t you just trying to give up before you lose? Such a Klaus thing to do.”
“Why are you including me?”
Lukas feeling the end to the game swept all the pieces back together before I could figure out all the rules. What a pity. Maybe I could surreptitiously learn another day.
Christoph gave quick little greetings, as Daron moved a pan off the coals to reduce the cook speed before reentering the common room.
“Okay, on the menu I’ve got stew, dumplings with the green tangy sauce, and the spiced pork, with a side of a cheesy potato this time for five cupra. Beer’s the same as yesterday. As for the sumo, we’re on round 7. Lukas has Christoph wins by 5, Tobias by 6, Geralt has final day a tie, I have 10 wins from visitors. Christoph, kick us off with a chant and I’ll get back to cooking.”
With a general summation of some of the bets, Lukas had been one-upped by Tobias. That seemed like the name of a guy who said ‘hey’ way too much.
Everyone turned to face Christoph, but the chatter didn’t quiet down. As he began singing a hymn of the Patriarch people nodded to what they’d heard countless times before. Indra looked rather smitten, leaving her friend’s question about the ‘altercation’ near the well unanswered
How can anyone compete with a streak of white hair if they didn’t also have white hair?
Well, this was a sumo contest, not a beauty pageant. I just needed to maintain a minimum threshold. But maybe I could win more favoritism if I found some white hair dye. Now I just needed to think of a good song if I go up to participate.