51 Vol 1. pt. 51 Patch 9.0: Preparing for the Tournamen (2/2)
Fenrir looks like a child in a candy shop, or like Oleander in a bar full of masculine, burly men.
He wonders if Corwin knows about Oleander's previous escapades.
Fenrir starts picking up items and taking them over to the counter. He picks up a tiered tackle box, some scissors to cut line and pliers to help pull any stuck hooks out of fish mouths, some floaters and a few lures, a net that has an extendable pole long enough to reach down into the water from The Shoebill's deck, and then checks on the price of everything to see how much he has left to spend on rods.
Everything that he has picked out so far amounts to one gold and fifty silver. Not too bad. At least, that's what he thinks until he actually looks at the rods.
There are price tags on each one, and they're all anywhere from two gold to over twenty gold.
One of the rods is almost thirty gold!
”Why… why's this one so expensive?” Fenrir asks, holding the rod.
”Ah, that one! It's the nicest one we've got. It is more than worth the price, I assure you. The line there is made out of the silk of a giant cave spider. You know about those?” the shopkeeper asks.
”Giant spiders? I uhh, would rather never learn about them.”
”Hah! Don't worry, that's how most players feel about them. Their webs are more durable than steel. You collect enough of their silk and you've got yourself a fishing line that isn't going to snap no matter what's pullin' on it. A fish is goin' to tear your arms off from pulling on your line before it snaps. That's what happens when you use the silk from something that weaves it to capture dragons and ogres. Damn things are the kings of the underground.
”So the line is the only reason it's so expensive?”
”Only half of it! The rod there, try bending it. Bend it as hard as you can. Don't worry, it won't break.”
Fenrir looks hesitant to try and bend what looks like such a beautifully crafted rod, but he does it.
It bends, and bends, and bends, but never snaps. It returns to its original position as soon as he lets go of it without any evidence of him having just bent it.
”What kind of wood is this?” Fenrir asks.
”Steel oak.”
”Let me guess, more durable than steel?”
”You got it! These trees are damn rare. You'll find about one of 'em for every five hundred or so regular oaks, and you can't tell the difference between them until you take an axe to it only for the blade to crack against the bark!”
”Then how do you chop it down?”
”Lots of axes.”
Fenrir wants to question that but instead nods and accepts it. ”Fair enough.”
”So, you want that beauty?” the shopkeeper asks.
”I wish. It's about ten times more expensive than I can afford,” Fenrir says with a sigh.
”Just win the tournament and then come back here for it!”
”What's the reward anyways? I keep forgetting to ask about that.”
”Two hundred gold coins, all the meat and material parts from the final catch, and then a special reward that nobody knows about yet. Last time it was a ship, before then it was a mansion in the city, but this time the rumors are that the elf king is in charge of the final reward.”
”What's he like? I keep overhearing people talking about him.”
”Don't know much about him myself other than that he's the blue bitch of the west.”
”So, he's like an elf and male version of Indra?”
”Supposedly.”
”Got it, thanks.”
Fenrir returns his attention to the rods.
There's one other rod that catches his attention and is affordable. It looks cool enough for him, too.
The more he looks at it, the more he realizes it's unlike any other rod in the shop.
Its blank is almost pure white – as white as his hair. A few swirls can be seen in the smoothed wood which makes it look like it was designed that way on purpose, but Fenrir figures that it's just a natural pattern. The reel itself is made out of iron and some light red wood.
Fenrir realizes something.
With the white blank and the light red reel, it matches his hair and eyes respectively.
But how much is it?
He looks at the price tag.
Two gold. It's cheaper than he thought it would be, but that only leaves him fifty silver.
”I will take this one, captain,” Corwin says.
Fenrir looks over and sees him holding a dainty rod that looks like it will snap from even the slightest bit of bending. He looks back at the white rod. He really wants it, but it wouldn't be fair to selfishly buy it for himself and leave Corwin with one so lackluster. He looks at Corwin again and opens his mouth to talk.
”Please, Fenrir, do not worry about me. This is more than enough for me, and I can tell how much you want that one,” Corwin says first.
Fenrir looks at the price tag on it. It's only twenty silver.
”Are you sure?” Fenrir asks. ”I don't mind trying to get us equal rods. I don't want you—”
”I promise that it is alright, captain. Consider it my thanks to you for bringing Oleander to this city. Without your choice to come here, I never would have met him.”
”You really like him, don't you? You've only been together for a week.”
”I know. I worry that I may be moving too fast, but my feelings are what they are. Now, please purchase that rod for yourself. It is a very beautiful rod, and you eye it so wantingly.”
Fenrir smiles at Corwin's explanation. He's always been good at reading people, and he doesn't sense that Corwin is lying, so he must genuinely feel as strongly as he does for Oleander. ”Got it. Thanks, Corwin. Glad to have you with us.”