Before he could set off to take care of the laundry list of tasks from the Guild he now had to complete, Jake desperately needed to replace his clothes and equipment. Basic gear that would help make surviving the upcoming fights a much easier feat. While he didn’t foresee having to fight any Maudrakes, staying prepared was paramount. His weaponry was competent enough to handle the run of the mill monsters he’d expected to be dealing with and he could make do with handling enemy equipment if he needed to in the narrow corridors. His knives were rather small, barely larger than kitchenware, but finding a competent blacksmith in the frontier this far out would be difficult. They weren’t ideal for extended combat or when fighting larger numbers of enemies. However, wasting time looking for a potential weapon wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do either.

His leather armor was tattered and his clothes needed replacing, so he’d take care of them for now. He’d learned that defensive items were a priority when his enemies now carried weapons too. After dealing with the Goblins, some sort of mail would be necessary. Light but enough to protect his vitals from their grimey swords and poisoned arrows. Heavy armor was naturally off the table so chain would be his best option. Boiled leather would be good for over the top. The tried and true answer to most of his needs. After traveling with it for a while, such a vestment had proven its worth. So long as the quality was decent, he would make it work.

“Disposable, though,” Jake mumbled, reminding himself that his armor would need to be cheap and replaceable. No longer could he go for long stints wearing the same flimsy battle garb. With the constant fighting and the high likelihood of getting a knife to the stomach, Jake could do one of two things. First, he could invest in quality gear that would be able to last him a long time with the proper maintenance, and similarly gamble that he wouldn’t take any massive hits that could damage the equipment beyond repair. Or, alternatively, he could pick up cheaper and more malleable equipment that could be readily replaced should he need.

The former would allow for more extended time out fighting without much regular need to seek out an armorer or a blacksmith. He would be able to keep costs down overtime but would need to invest upfront, something he could do and it wouldn’t hurt due to his available funds. However, when the gear finally would need replacing, the cost would be high. While the latter would fall short after only a brief period, requiring regular upkeep, regular replacement, and regular forced downtime while he wasted time getting the new pieces. Time was of the essence here, with his journey being expected to take a long time. Having to stop over and over would, at first, not bog him down but would eventually tack on days worth of time expended over it.

A difficult conundrum without a true, clear, correct choice. How bothersome. Rather than waste more time piddling over it, Jake decided to think it over as he walked.

The village was set up in a simple layout. One central road that led to the gate and cut the village in half, then two side roads with additional buildings. Along the main road were all the buildings used for trading and commerce. But, there were only a few. On his initial entry to the village two evenings prior, the Captain had pointed out the important shops for his adventuring needs. The others were either eateries or residential homes. Jake reminded himself of the shop he had been told would be selling armor and walked to it. Swinging in the light breeze above the door was the symbol of a boar’s head gnawing on a hammer. An odd choice for a banner.

A bell rang inside the shop and the door creaked when Jake pushed it open. He stepped inside, his foot landing heavily on the wooden floor as he announced himself. An unnecessary action, he discovered. Jake met the eyes of the shopkeeper the instant he closed the door. She lounged behind the counter, her feet up on top of the finished wood as she reclined into her chair. In her hands, she was working thick wool strands with two sticks and her fingers, coaxing them into what looked to be the shape of a scarf.

“Good morning,” she called over to him, not moving from her comfortable position. Either because of it being comfortable, or because of the effort it would have taken to get up. Jake didn’t blame her for either choice. At least she looked over at him, but her fingers didn’t stop their task. “Something I can help you find?”

Jake moved into the shop slowly, scanning the walls, the aisles, and the displays as he assessed what he would be working with. His eyes took in various pieces of equipment, most of it armor. The rest were items and trinkets he’d never seen before from places he likely couldn’t pronounce properly. This was both the Armorer shop and the Foreign Exchange store.

“Armor. Light stuff. Easy to move in but enough to keep out a dagger or knife.”

“But not enough to keep out a sword?” She craned an eyebrow, interested in his choice of weapon specifications it seemed. Her toes wiggled as she pulled her feet from the counter. “What are you hunting?”

“Goblins. Kobolds. Wolves.” Jake moved over to the wall where there were several different breastplates laid out. Laid out just beside them, like an afterthought, he found some mail pieces that suited his needs. Links of small rings connected together to make the shape of a person’s upper body. Some were longsleeve variants that had links down the wrists, others stopped at the elbows. Some had hoods to protect the head, some did not. The woman had set out a number of different sizes, too. “Anything with teeth and weapons, but I don’t plan to be struck by anything larger than a small blade.”

The woman scoffed as she leaned against the counter, her forearms pressing into the wood as she narrowed her eyes on him. “Bold words. We never plan to be stabbed, you know. That’s why armor is important to have. It’s in preparation for the stabbing if it happens.”

Jake picked up a set of chainmail, testing its weight in his hands. It had sleeves and a hood, so it was on the heavier side. “I am aware.”

“I can tell,” she spat back, her eyes taking in the pitiful sight of his clothes. If his clothes looked that rough, she could bet his armor wasn’t in much better condition. “So? Are you looking for just chainmail? Or something else? A helmet? Clothes? Greaves?”

“A vest made of leather. Do you have it?” Jake looked around but he didn’t spot the armor. At least, it wasn’t on the same shelf with the rest of the stuff in front of him. Only the chainmail could be seen aside from the plate pieces lined up. There were some things hanging on the wall, but nothing viable.

The shopkeeper pointed behind him, her finger directing his attention to the next aisle over. “Over there. I put all the metal items on the wall and the rest is in the center.” She smirked, as if proud of herself. “I like to keep things organized.”

“I can see that.” Jake set the chainmail down and walked to the next aisle over, his eyes crawling over the various items there. Different pieces of armor, scraps of leather, full pieces of boiled breastplates and leather vest armor. There were even pieces with plates of metal added on for extra protection in key places. On one set fit for a woman, there were metal plates shaped over the breast area. How convenient.

All shapes and sizes with modularity built in to match. These were items he certainly could use as someone with an intention of getting into a brawl every time he dove into a fight. From greaves for his shins to gauntlets that strapped to his forearms. “Interesting…”

“Like what you see?” She stood up straighter, pushing out her chest proudly as she smirked.

While Jake was certainly impressed by the selection and variety, he didn’t let it show on his face. There was more to evaluate than just how the armor looked. His fingers touched and felt, testing the durability and the quality of the stitching across each piece that he found interest in. From what he could tell, the leather material was certainly made from quality hide. The stitching was expertly threaded as well, with the use of silk for the material rather than cotton strands. However, something seemed off about the coloring of the pieces.

“Can I test it?” Jake pulled a grieve off the table and looked at the shopkeeper.

She tilted her head, unamused but she still nodded. “Go ahead.”

Without hesitation, Jake pulled a knife from his lower back. He twirled it once for a firmer grip, then struck the leather. He poked it at first, sticking it with a casual jab. To his dismay, he felt the leather give beneath his effort, flexing slightly. After another poke, he realized that it wasn’t as stiff as it originally looked to be. A hard push made the leather flex beneath the blade tip and it didn’t return to its original shape, not perfectly at least. When worn, the straps would work to keep it held in shape, though, allowing the armor to conform to the wearer’s body. There was a groove where he stabbed and a slight cut but it was only from the tip of the knife. The trial was a warning on its own that the leather may not be good enough but until he wore it and took a knife to the abdomen, he wouldn’t be sure.

Jake carried the grieve to the counter, along with its pair, and set them both down in front of the shopkeeper. “I’ll take these two.”

She looked down at the barely noticeable mark he’d made on the equipment and nodded. “Wouldn’t you prefer metal?”

“I would.” Jake turned away from her, going to fetch some vambraces, a leather vest in his size, and newer gloves. He spotted a sling and plucked that as well. “But metal is heavy, noisy, and breaks. It dents, cracks, twists. It also shines in the light. Leather does none of that. It might not be as tough as metal, obviously, but it’s malleable.”

He returned to the counter, setting down the items he’d collected. “Leather is also cheaper.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You callin’ my gear cheap?”

Jake shrugged. “Cheaper than metal, yes.” He meant what he said. After fighting beside the Warriors from the Ravine and using his magic against the Adventurers in the Arachkin den, he’d seen the downsides to metal armor. It was bulky and noisy, cumbersome to move in and could be turned into a scalding coffin. Leather armor wouldn’t protect the wearer from as much but that was only a problem if the individual was a frontline fighter constantly getting beat on. Jake was certainly a frontliner, but he wasn’t going to stand and trade blows with an enemy.

That was stupid.

“Can you size the chainmail you have?” Jake was content with the sets he’d seen. However, he wasn’t fond of pulling a generic set of chainmail from the counter and just wearing it as it was.

“You want it tailored to you? I can, but it’ll cost extra. It’ll also take a few days for me to make the adjustments.” She pulled a notepad from beneath the counter along with a feather pen and ink. “I could just make you something new if you’d prefer?”

“No. I don’t have time, sadly. I leave in three days.” Jake turned from the counter and walked across to where the chainmail was placed.

“Three days?!” The woman exclaimed, staring at this bold bastard who seemed to be asking the world. “I can do it in five at most. I’m quite busy, you know!”

Picking up one of the pieces of chainmail, Jake turned and looked at the woman. Then he looked at the empty, silent shop. “Really?”

“Alright, you little shit-” She narrowed her eyes, growling briefly beneath her breath. “I get a lot of personal orders. I am the only leatherworker out here. Besides! Less customers is actually good! It means that my previously sold equipment is holding up.” As she fished for an excuse, the woman rounded the counter and walked over to where Jake was.

Jake shook his head and unlaced his armor, removing the straps and releasing the bindings keeping it strapped to him. When he set it down, the woman instinctively began inspecting it. A low hum tickled her lips as she took note of the several marks and incisions in the leather. There were some patches here and there to cover the holes, but nothing she could consider actual repairs. Jake didn’t exactly carry leather material on him for that.

“From all those marks, I would think you’d be coughing up blood and laying dead in a hole somewhere.” She tapped a few of the worst marks with the feather pen. “You know armor has its limits, right?”

Jake fished his arms through the chainmail and pulled it down over his head. The chain on his arms extended beyond his elbows, while the lower hem dropped to the middle of his thigh. “I know. That’s why I’m replacing it and also buying chainmail.” Jake sighed, as if explaining himself and his decisions was exhausting him. It wasn’t, he just felt annoyed at having to do so in the first place. She was being nosy.

“True.” She turned away from his damaged leather top and looked him over. “How would you like that cut?”

“Mid bicep on the arms and hemmed at the waist.” As he stood there, twisting and turning a bit, he picked up on the loose nature of the armor. It swished as if he were wearing a dress. “Is there a way to tie it down?”

“I can get you a belt and garters for it? I’ll add straps to the bottom links. For your arms I can do cinching straps. Most people leave those loose, though.” She poked at the loose mail dangling from his arms.

Jake nodded. “Straps please. I can’t have it loose.”

“Any reason?” She noted down the requests and then set down the pad. She pulled a set of pins and clips from her apron, using them to mark the points of alteration.

“Aerial movement,” he said flatly.

She paused, looking at him. “Excuse me?”

“Aerial. Movement. I can’t have loose clothing if I’m going to be jumping in the air.” Once more forced to explain, Jake forced himself to hold back a sigh.

“What kind of fighting are you doing? Jumping? What are you, a rabbit?” She took the opportunity to jab at him, grumbling as she went back to marking the mail.

“No, I just don’t let myself get stuck in one spot. That’s how you get killed.” Jake turned when directed, letting her mark off the back of the mail. After a quick question, she also marked to remove the hood attached to the chainmail.

“Never heard of someone who used jumping as a way to do that. Your party must hate you.” She let out a laugh as she imagined him being scolded for bouncing around into the way of the archers and mages in his backline, messing up their angles of attack with his ludicrous movements.

Without missing a beat, Jake retorted plainly. “I don’t have a party.”

She paused, standing up. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? Next you’re going to tell me you know magic and can speak three languages or something.”

Jake turned to face her. He chose this turn to avoid answering. However, that was enough of an answer in itself. A brief silence fell through the shop as the gears clicked into place in her head.

“...I don’t know if I should be stunned or impressed.” The woman, finished with her work, motioned for him to take off the chainmail. “You adventurers are always something else.” She sighed and tucked her papers, pins, and pen back into their respective pockets. “You said you need this in three days? That’ll cost extra for expediting the work.”

“Fine.” Jake picked up his old armor as he passed her the chainmail. He set to putting it on, tying the straps, cinching the strings, and squeezing the meager protection in place. “Can you resole boots?”

“Of course. That doesn’t take very long.” The woman walked back to her place behind the counter, disappearing into a back room for a moment to deposit his chainmail. “Do you have a set?”

“I do.” Jake walked over to where she had boots on display and plucked a few from the wall. Simple designs. Dark brown or black that offered ankle protection. He tried a few pairs on until he found a set that fit, then laced that pair onto his feet. He tucked his pants into them, ensuring no bugs or external objects would find their way up onto his leg or into the boots themselves. He carried his old boots to the counter and set them down. “These ones please.”

The woman sighed and stared at him. “You should replace the entire boot.”

“Why? There’s little damage to them. It’s just the soles that need replaced. Plus the leather is broken it. They’re comfortable.” Jake argued his point, mainly not wanting to pay to replace them entirely

With a single motion, the woman turned the boots around and set the toes to stare back at him. “In a month’s time, your toes are going to burst through that leather. Even if I restitch the soles, the seams everywhere else are fraying. The soles aside, these boots are going to be garbage by the time you find quality replacements.”

Jake let her finish before nodding. “Nice sales pitch. Just the soles, please.”

The woman sucked her teeth. “Fine. Soles it is. Anything else, your Highness?”

“No. This is everything. How much do I owe?” Jake reached to his hip and pulled free the coin pouch there. He set it down on the counter as the woman began to tally everything.

“Here.” She scribbled down the price onto a small paper then passed it across. Coin was returned to match and the deal was complete. Quick and painless. As the shopkeeper took her money, Jake began to put on his vambraces and greaves. “I’ll have the chainmail ready in two days. Stop by in the evening. I presume you’re leaving on the third? If I remember, that’s when the Guild caravan is coming. I have some things that need to go out on it.”

“Correct. I’m going to be escorting it north. I can deal with no armor around the frontier but I’d like to have it when I leave.” Jake yanked on the strings, cinching the leather tight to his arms before loosening them slightly to let the armor breathe. He would need to tighten it gradually over time to get the fit right. “I doubt I’ll be fighting anything bigger than Goblins and Kobolds here.”

The woman watched the adventurer prep his armor. Her eyes took in the methodical movement of his fingers as he prepared himself to deal with the vile creatures that lurked beyond the protective walls of the village. “You should always be prepared for the worst, you know. You adventurers always take the monsters lightly. That’s what gets you all killed.”

“I agree.” Jake said, putting on the leather greaves. Silence fell upon them for a moment as he put them on. When he stood back up, he met her eyes with a stoic, empty stare. “But I don’t plan to die. I’ll burn their entire nests before I let some disgusting rats take my life.”

The woman’s lips pressed together, her teeth grinding beneath that harsh gaze.

“I’ll come by in the morning before I leave with the caravan in case you need extra time. If you find you can’t finish in time, do what you can.” Jake plucked the gloves from the counter and turned for the door. “Thanks.”

Without another word exchanged, the woman watched the odd patron leave her shop. She let out a heavy breath, one that she had been subconsciously holding. She’d never seen a man like that, an adventurer with eyes so fierce, so vicious. He meant every word when he said he’d burn those nests. And it was a terrifying thought.

Outside, Jake turned and crossed the street with a quick stride. Time was ticking and he’d spent more of it in the armor shop than he planned. He entered the tailor’s shop and found that it was bustling with other adventurers and customers.

Unlike with the armor shop, where he needed to take his time, think and compare, Jake scanned the walls until he found clothing for men and adventurers. He didn’t care for the material, the quality, or the cost. Cheap and replaceable was the mantra he would follow for his outerwear. Expendable fabric that he could quickly swap out after a few days worth of use or toss without a thought if necessary. He fully expected the clothes to be torn, bled through, muddied, and outright worn down.

While he had specially tailored clothes made for him at first, such things were no longer feasible in a high-tempo lifestyle. Goblins were quick and greedy and he assumed Kobolds would be the same. With that being the case, getting his clothes destroyed was an inevitability. Unless he put in a recurring personal order with the tailor to pump out new clothes every three days, then buying off the shelf was the best choice.

He snagged a pair of pants, three leather belts, two black short sleeve shirts and two black longer sleeved shirts. He then snagged himself two cloaks, both with hoods that could be tied and closed to be used as protection from precipitation. It hadn’t rained yet on his journey but that wouldn’t hold up forever. It was mid summer so there was no need for warm clothing just yet either, so he avoided the furred and thicker clothes. He also picked up two women’s skirts. They could be torn and used as bandages or cloths to clean his weapons with.

The tailor met him with a smile, tallied the cost, and Jake passed along the payment. Without any additional interaction, Jake left and hurried back to the inn. Ralph’s wife was at the counter and offered a small greeting to the adventurer as he passed through. In minutes, Jake changed clothes, stuffed his pack with rations, checked his gear, and then headed back out. He carried all eight of the requests with him. He organized them first in order of execution- quickest to most time consuming. Then, he adjusted them based on required effort and resources expended.

At the very top of his list, however, was the oldest request. He ignored the other information used to sort the requests and reaffirmed to himself that it would be first.

“...Right.” He stuffed the paperwork into his bag and set off to the designated building. Though, it was less a building and more a location.

Near the front gate and to the left was the village stable. Both horses owned by village inhabitants and also visitors were kept in one place, with the stalls rented out. A handful of younger teens and adults managed the horses, feeding and cleaning them, while a few older adults performed the more intense tasks. Jake walked to the stable and stopped just at the edge of the grounds, pausing alongside the fence that encircled the entire area including both the stable and the home of the owners.

His eyes scanned the area, taking in the view of the stable. There were kids playing with the roaming farm animals, a handful of people being taught how to ride a horse, and also the handlers performing their caretaking work. A bustling scene that made him miss being a child. The stress free life and lack of expectations was enviable. How easy such a time was. After a few minutes of observing, Jake slowly circled the fence until he found a gate to use. He passed through and began making his way toward the home. On his way, one of the handlers spotted the new guest and began walking over. Jake adjusted his gait to meet the man.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” The man greeted Jake with a welcoming smile, assuming Jake had come for business of some kind.

“A request was issued a few months ago to the Guild. An escort request.” Jake reached into his bag and pulled the paper out in a fluid motion. He passed it to the handler. “I’m here to fulfill it.”

The handler accepted the paper and stared down at it, his eyes glazing over the issuance. With a slight frown, he returned the paper. “Come with me.”

The man led Jake across the space to the house, then asked Jake to wait outside. He stepped into the home and closed the door behind him. For a short time, Jake was left to stare and watch the grounds. His eyes peered across to once more take in the view of the children playing and the horse riding lessons. A young girl was on the horse, and she looked to be a natural at it. The way she handled the animal and commanded the reigns made Jake think she might be quite suited for it.

The door opened behind him and Jake turned to see an old man step out from the home. He was short but well built with a frame thick and sturdy. A great, gray beard reached from chin to belly and his head shined in the light- bald. His eyebrows were as thick as his beard and wild. A dwarf

“Ye must be the Adventura.” The Dwarf spoke with a thick, raspy tone. One that reminded Jake of Hulgrok. It was nice to hear such a voice again. “A lil’ late, ain’t yah?” The dwarf coughed, clearing his throat and spitting the thick mucus onto the ground.

Jake stared at the landing spot for a second, his nose scrunching a little. “Late or early, I’m here. What’s the work that needs doing?” He wasn’t here to argue over the timeline. This man had waited six months for his request to be handled. Waiting any longer would just tack on additional unnecessary time.

The Dwarf scoffed and walked down the few steps until he was ground level with Jake. He dug the end of his cane into the ground with a little extra force, then placed both hands on top of it as he stared out over the stable. “Not much fer small talk. I respect it. Fine.” The dwarf nodded. “I’m old, and I can’t leave this place alone anymore. This forest isn’t quite kind either.”

Jake turned to face the stables, his eyes gazing towards the horses again. “And? Where do you need to go?”

The Dwarf’s tone changed, and his accent flattened. “To see my son.”

It didn’t take much for Jake to register the words, or their meaning. It also didn’t take much for him to put together everything in front of him. The Dwarf’s age. The request to the guild. The lack of someone fulfilling the task. Others must have come here before, been told those words, and turned away. It was a boring request and for the money, which wasn’t much, wasn’t worth the time. For young adventurers with minds on slaying monsters and acting like heroes, this sort of ordeal was the lowest possible request to take.

Jake let out a sigh and looked over at the Dwarf. “We leave when you’re ready, old man.”

The Dwarf scoffed. “I’ve got a hundred more years in me, brat. Watch yer tongue.”

A smile crossed his face and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle. “A friend of mine said the same thing to me before.”

“Oh? An ya still talk like that, do ya?” The Dwarf rumbled with a grin as he turned back to his home.

“I do.” Jake planted a hand on the pommel of his spell blade, gripping it. “Because he lied to me.”

The Dwarf paused, peering back towards the human adventurer. “Yer alive, aren’t ya?”

Jake nodded.

“So long as ya continue tah talk of ‘em, then so are they.”

The Dwarf disappeared into the house, his cane tapping on the wooden floor to signal his movement. Jake gripped his sword even tighter and took in a long, deep breath through his nose. His chest inflated and the emotions that bubbled behind his eyes calmed.

“Yea, you’re probably right,” he mumbled, his eyes turning eastward.