Quest [Moderated Event] All Work and No Play... (Endrykas Trade)

[Garland]

Garland nodded and held Tryn by the reins. "Of course. I'll help you look around." Garland heard Tryn's annoyance with a whinny but followed behind the squire. The tents in the camp have all been set up, guards around the perimeter, from both Endrykas and Syliras patrolled and kept a lookout.

The Syliran knights had a sense of pride from their disciplined and formed patrols and guard duties. There was probably a briefing of patrols earlier but Garland most likely fell asleep or not paid any attention. When it was his turn, they'll find him.

Garland was devoted to protecting people, that was for certain, but he had little love for discipline or form, but Syliras was the city of peace and order, so he had to oblige to the city's wishes, even if their brand of justice wasn't what he thought it would be.

Garland looked at the tents, trying to find out where the copper still was. In truth he had no idea where anything was, or what they were here to trade, all he knew was to make sure no one attacks the caravan or steals anything.

So far, he thought he was doing a pretty good job, but he hasn't been keeping track of any of the wares. "I wouldn't think they would have the less sought out for items hidden away at the back of the stalls."

Garland watched the Drykas warriors, all with animals, horses, dogs, cats, even a few hunting birds, none of them wore any metal save for the occasional accessory, they wore only leather by the looks of it.

Compared to the knights, all gleaming in their armor, shiny despite the use on the road, Garland knew the knights here were seasoned, a few were untested squires, but compared to the Drykas, they just seemed like a target in their shiny plate armor.

"I see the Drykas don't use metal other than their swords or rings. I reckon having mail would more of a burden out there in the Sea of Grass, you don't stay in one place for very long I've heard, is that true?"

[Azmere]

Azmere listened to Garland. The starbursts followed the gaze of the squire as he clocked patrols and studied the horse folk. The slight limp was more noticeable when the man’s body wasn’t bearing an extra burden. While this might not make sense, the slow and deliberate steps needed to carry the weight reduced the compensation Azmere created in his stride. The deep bands of scar tissue greatly affected the ankal but he rarely allowed the pain to reveal itself on his face. Skylla lingered near the man but made several tosses of her mane at the dark rebel that pursued Garland.

It didn’t take them long to find the smithy’s tent. Azmere stopped and looked over to see something that brought a smile to his face. Off to the side by the tent’s entrance was a large cast iron griddle. It was flat iron on half and grated on the other side. It was large enough to cook a meal –meat, vegetables and treats- for an entire pavilion; even one with a big lummox like Lodai. The Drykas walked right up and began to closely examine the item. A man came over and stood to one side but gave the scarred man a few chimes to thoroughly set his mind upon the purchase.

“Welcome, my half-handsome man! That’s a fine piece you’ve set your eye upon. I trust a sturdy man like yerself has plenty o’ coin…” The surly fellow sported a clean-shaven face and a twinkling set of eyes but the expression was a bit greasy which matched the soot on his calloused hands and muscular arms.

Azmere rose to his full height and peered at the man if not through him. There was a long pause where the two simply studied one another before Azmere produced a handful of gold-rimmed Mizas. The smith’s eyes lit up even more. Apparently, the archer had raised the price without even asking. When the man went to take the payment, the ankal closed his fist tightly around the coins. The scarred face soured. “Touch Mizas with no agreement. I break you.” The words were almost a growl and the large smith, while being imposing, suddenly realized the seasoned warrior was more of a fight than he wished to endure.

“Apologies, friend. A thousand apologies.” The smith took a step back. “Fifty Mizas should be fair. What say you?”

Azmere narrowed his gaze. That number sounded much higher than what he expected. A muffled noise from a second man, probably an apprentice, sounded something like mockery. This did not please the Drykas. A large pile of steel arrowheads, some broad and some narrow, sat upon a table. The archer allowed the right side of his mouth to curl upwards into a slight smile. “Forty.” His right arm pointed at the arrowheads. “Those, too.”

The smith looked at the arrows as he tallied a rough count and started adding them to the forty gold he had all but acquired. “Forty for the griller and another twenty for the arrowheads makes sixty, my good man!” The smith felt like a real businessman as he drooled over the profits.

“No. Forty for all.” Azmere held up the fist that clutched the coins. “Drykas pay fair.” The amused expression was gone from the marred countenance. It had been replaced by the stern look of a man prepared to walk away. For nearly a chime, nothing was said and Azmere pivoted on his right leg then started to move further down the line of tents. The smith sprang forth and caught him by the arm. The horseman spun around and glared at the smith.

“Fifty-five for everything.”

“Forty.”

“Fifty! And that’s at a loss to me.” The smith pleaded but the twitching corner of his mouth gave away the truth in the matter.

“Forty-two.” Azmere opened his hand and held it out for the man to see each and every coin. “All I have.” The smith stared at the Mizas. The gold reflected back from his irises and for a few ticks it seemed as if he might refuse.

“Deal! But you carry it yourself.” The man snatched the coins and Azmere nodded. He walked over to the table and eyed the pile of arrowheads. He shifted until his quiver was next to the bag and used his arm to doze each and every one into the leather. Once he had done that, he nodded to the squire, Garland. Azmere walked over and grasped the large griddle in his hands. He lifted it up with a huff and his arms bulged in disagreement. The initial strain soon faded and the sensation became a burning of effort and work which the watchman loved. He walked slowly next up to the squire then winked.

“One more buys, Squire. Then race or fight.” Azmere moved along the tent’s rigging without a care for its placement. It was second nature to the Drykas to avoid tripping over guide lines and stakes. Two tents down was a saddle maker and Azmere paused as something caught his eye. He set the cast iron cook plate down with a grunt and a flex of his legs. His arms tingled from the exertion but it didn’t stop him from limping over to a saddle that bore a quiver of its own. The leather was simple but wonderfully tanned and sewn. Azmere thought it rivaled some of the best among the Ruby clan. He pointed at it and a woman scurried around with a young child in tow.

“Beggin’ ya pardon, lord but that one’s not for sale.” Her speech was soft and quick and Azmere lost the meaning. He furrowed his brow and looked back to Garland for help. He hoped the pause in the situation was enough for the squire to step in and offer aid. The ankal felt a huge need to own such a quiver. The straps could easily be adjusted to fit around a yvas bag and the extra storage along with the ease of access made it a nearly invaluable item.

Ledger-42 GM
+Large Cast Iron Griddle
+28 Steel arrowheads (17 game, 9 broad)

[Garland]

Garland would have offered to help the scarred archer but he didn't know the customs of the people, offering help could be a sign of disrespect or saying that you're weak or something along those lines.

So Garland opted to stay close in case he lost his balance or tripped over something, which was possible because of the dozens of rope that tied the tents here and there. Although, he moved quickly and efficiently through the tents and ropes as if they weren't even there.

Garland followed, eyeing up the tents and how the people worked, they worked quickly, but he gathered that living in a moving city would make you pretty good at setting up tents quickly and efficiently.

The two of them stopped by a thing, looks like a simple quiver, Garland didn't know much about archery and just thought that quivers were there to put arrows in and the strap was the thing that added to the accessibility of the ammunition to the shooter.

Garland stepped closer and he saw that the quiver was simple but well made, the straps were adjustable and quite nice to have if you're an archer. "Ma'am, why is it not for sale? Everything else seems to be."

The lady gave a smile, it seemed like this wasn't the first person to ask about the quiver. "I'm sorry, dearie but this quiver is not for sale."

Garland looked towards Azmere, seeing him eye the quiver intently. "Are you sure? We could offer a decent sum of money for it, or maybe a favor of some sort." Garland asked, and she just shook her head.

"Sorry dear, but someone already reserved the quiver, I'm sure we can find something else for your friend."

Garland turned to look at Azmere. "She said that the quiver isn't for sale and someone already reserved it. Hold on."

Garland turned to the lady and smiled. "If the person were not to pick up the quiver, would it be back on sale?"

"Yes dear, it'll be up for sale then."

He turned back to Az with a small smile. "The quiver will be on sale if the person who reserved it doesn't turn up and claim it."