[Yonten]
Sahdi might’ve been a few days’ distance away, but the road to it felt unbearably long.
The technicalities of transferring material was never a tangible thought to Yonten. They were always available, within reach, all to do with as he liked. The prospect of obtaining a variety of weapons clouded his thoughts.
Those clouds cleared now, and their departure brought regret.
“Why did I need so many weapons again?” he wondered aloud, pulling one of the ropes anchoring the wagon behind him.
“To make weapons for us?” the Beauty offered, pulling the other rope.
It was only the two of them on the task. The Butcher took his turn and longer, and was currently walking on foot ahead of them. The Coroner tried to assist once in the beginning, but then she started wheezing and they assigned her to stay on the horse.
“Surely I don’t need this much?”
“Can’t say. I’m not the Elemental Smith here.”
"Well as the Elemental Smith, I say we don't."
"To have more is better than to have less, I think."
"Now you're just being contrary."
"I see Sahdi," came the Butcher's announcement, interrupting their aimless conversation.
The village blended into the surrounding fields, so much that it took a second glance to discern its low-walled gates.
It was motivation enough for Yonten to continue pulling the wagon, but the Coroner raised her hand to stop him.
"Stay with the wagon," she told them, hopping off the horse. "William and I will proceed forth and inquire about what we need."
Who was he to turn away this gift?
“Bring back something warm to eat,” he said, immediately letting go of his rope.
The wagon tilted to the Beauty’s side, causing her to stumble under its sudden weight. She cast him a glare after steadying herself, and Yonten made a show of pretending he didn’t notice it.
The Coroner appeared hesitant, her gaze hanging between him and the Beauty before asking, “That'll be fine with you, right?”
It was obvious what she really wanted to ask.
Yonten smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”
He felt the weight of the Beauty’s gaze on him at that, lingering even after the Butcher and the Coroner left. “What?”
“Are you?” she asked, somber, pulling Yonten’s sights to her.
“Am I what?”
“Staying alone with me. Are you fine with it?”
“The fact that you divulged your intentions to kill me won't make me wary of you.” The Beauty's foresight surprised him, really. Had him wondering about her reasons, whether they matched his conclusions or not.
She stared at him for a long moment, muttering an absentminded, “Alright…”
Yonten thought that would be the end of it, and it was for a time. He settled into distracting himself with refinements, melting and molding metal under his hands. The sword was done, but it looked too plain for his liking. Didn't look formidable enough.
He was taking a break to balance his energy when the Beauty's shadow cast over him. "What?"
“Want to play a round of cards?”
Yonten’s answer was instantaneous: “No.”
“Afraid you’ll lose?”
“I fear I’ll be bored to tears playing against you.”
“Words are cheap.”
She must be truly bored to pester him like this.
Yonten weighed his options. Either resume working with the Beauty looming annoyingly over him, or oblige and be rid of her.
“One round.”
[William]
Stella kept looking back, and so frequently that it disturbed her pace. William slowed his own to match her, and that change of momentum brought her attention back to the road. But it didn't take long for Stella to get distracted again, this time asking him, “You think they’ll be alright?”
William wasn’t oblivious to the odd air surrounding Yonten and Jehona these past few days. He couldn't trace the reason for it. They were fine even after that confrontation in Aslan Town, so what changed?
“It won’t take much time to buy a wagon,” was the only thing he could answer with. He didn’t think they would return to a bloodbath, of course, but the situation still worried him.
Stella seemed to take his answer as assurance regardless. "Yes, you're right."
They shouldn’t have taken a swift return as a given.
“Three golds for that rusty wagon!?”
William stepped in to stop Stella from throttling the peddler. “Don’t you believe that is too much?”
The peddler sniffed. “Go to another shop if you don’t want to pay.”
His answer had Stella maneuvering around William to say, “You know damn well there’s no other place selling wagons in this accursed village!”
The peddler shrugged. “That’s no issue of mine, is it?”
Stella took William by the arm and dragged him behind her, letting go of him a short distance after.
“This is a problem,” William had to say, cutting into the silence their plight had brought.
They couldn’t leave without a wagon, and they didn’t have enough to purchase it.
Stella massaged her temples, voice tight. “It’s abhorrent, that’s what it is.”
“Let’s go buy something to eat for now.” At least that was something they could obtain.
“That’ll be ten silvers.”
… or not.
They weren’t so hopeless that they didn’t have ten silvers in hand, but it was the principle of the thing. The mere thought of paying ten silvers for a single roasted chicken hurt.
William didn’t bother haggling around such foul demands, pulling Stella away before she lashed out at the vendor. Unlike places selling wagons, carts selling food were plentiful. They ought to find one with reasonable prices, right?
Right?
It took the fourth cart for William to realize two things.
The first was that he and Stella were being deliberately ostracized.
His time working in Cinder Village’s market taught him a few techniques shopkeepers used when they didn’t want to make a sale. Sometimes they lied about the availability of a particular item, and others they raised prices to unreasonable ranges. What they were experiencing in Sahdi’s market was clearly the latter sort.
That brought upon the second thing to realize: the reason.
Whenever he and Stella stopped by a cart, they were asked where they came from and why they were in Sahdi. The vendors’ attitudes changed upon receiving an answer, the look in their eyes gaining a disdainful edge. One in fact outright stated it, scoffing when they argued prices with him: “Not all of us have the luxury of living on the Kingdom’s treasuries.”
“Unbelievable…” Stella muttered. “It’s all because we’re volunteers? People died for this quest and they’re, what, jealous?”
“There could be another reason for it.” The looks they were targeted with felt more loathing than jealous.
“Doesn’t make their logic any less outrageous!"
Movement in the corner of his eye distracted William from replying. He followed it to see it was a man waving at them with both arms, the swing of it wild and vigorous. The man stood in front of a cart a short distance away from them, concealed from immediate sight by the odd angle it was located in.
“What?” Stella asked, turning where his sights landed. “Is that a vendor?”
“Could be,” William said.
The man didn't stand far from them, but the path to him proved to be strangely treacherous. They navigated around misplaced carts, haggling villagers, and a crowd gathered around a brawl to finally reach him.
“Welcome, welcome! What can I help you with today?”
William and Stella exchanged a look.
This vendor didn’t immediately ask about their intentions. Either he didn’t have the same misgivings as his colleagues, or he was too desperate to make a sale to remember asking.
No need to remind him, then. “What do you have?”
The vendor detailed the contents of his cart with obvious delight. The prices he offered were hefty compared to the South, but they were still within the expected range given the current state of the Kingdom. It was also nowhere near what the other vendors offered.
“What are you doing?” came the voice of a man. He rushed to stand by the vendor's side and scowled at him. “They’re volunteers.”
William witnessed the change in the vendor’s expression, the excitement fading to be replaced by disappointment.
“Are you?” the vendor asked, his gaze begging them to deny it.
“What if we are?” Stella challenged. “You’re going to increase the prices?”
“I…”
William looked at the man who just arrived. “You own that cart by the market’s main path, right? The one painted red?”
The man frowned. “So…?”
“Nothing, I just think you’re rather fortunate. Your cart has a good location. It’s the first one that immediately caught my attention when I entered the market.”
His note had the man preening. “It’s a family heirloom. Ask any traveler passing Sahdi, and they’ll tell you about it.”
William returned his sights to the vendor they were about to buy from, pitying him.
He knew firsthand how difficult it was to make sales with a shabby location. His first shop in Cinder Village suffered because of it. It wasn’t until he collected enough to obtain a more strategic location that his sales improved.
“I already packed their purchases,” their vendor argued.
“Take them back,” the other vendor returned.
His answer seemed to irritate him. “This is my first sale today. Are you going to make up for it?”
The other vendor faltered. “No… can’t you just—”
“You’ll be paying forty coppers in total,” their vendor said, completely ignoring his colleague.
They left loaded with steaming bags, the vendors’ voices rising in argument behind them.
Stella gave him a look of approval. “Didn’t think you were a schemer.”
William didn’t think he was, honestly. “That other vendor bothered me.”
Stella’s expression twisted into a sneer. “It’s one thing if he was making a stand, but to coerce his colleague and not make up for it is just selfish.”
And the other vendor would've yielded to the pressure if it weren't for the nudge William gave him.
It still didn’t make sense to him why Sahdi’s villagers went to these lengths. Tradesmen in general put profits over misgivings.
They were close to the village’s gates when a building caught his attention. It was small and unassuming, made unique by the slender, iron-cased track laid before it. Ashmore’s gold and red banners marked its beginning, its sole destination carved into its sign: Nova Town.
“Why did they build a station inside the village?” Stella voiced out the strangest detail about it.
It took a while for William to adjust to Ashmore after escaping Drakon. From the different dialects and customs, to how Elemental energy was closer to the common man than anywhere else in the Continent—Tunnel stations being the first manifestation of that difference.
Stations were meant to be built outside towns and villages, both to ease the transfers and to limit exposure to their noise. William’s house in Cinder was close to its borders, and many were the times the hammer-like bangs from the station disturbed his sleep. He and his family became used to it, but it wasn’t a pleasant process.
"Pardon me," said a man, getting their attention to make way for him. He headed to the station and the lone operator that stood guarding it.
The operator’s expression changed from its indifference at the man's approach, shifting into weary annoyance, starting before the man could even speak, “No news from Nova.”
The man seemed as if he expected that answer, sighing heavily. He brought out an envelop and gave it to the operator. "Here’s another one, then.”
Annoyed as she seemed to be, the operator still took the envelop from him. She put it in a small metal box, then inserted the box into a slot of the contraption welded into the track. She went to the board behind her and pulled down a lever.
The track sparked green, and the contraption shot along its course with that familiar bang, disappearing into the horizon a moment after.
The man paid the coins for the delivery and left without another word said.
“When will he learn to give up?” the operator said before turning her attention to them. “Didn’t see your faces here before. Are you volunteers?”
“Yes,” William answered, already prepared for the backlash.
It didn’t come. Instead, the operator pointed at the retreating man and told them, “How about you prove yourselves to be of use and help that man? I’m tired of seeing his face.”
“Shouldn’t you rejoice for having coin in your pocket?” Stella asked.
“Not when they come from a pointless quest,” the operator returned, indignant.
Well, now William was curious. “What’s that man’s story?”
