Chapter 24: Errands (1/2)
“Now, onto my next question,” Viv continued, “do you have a house I could rent?”
Viv honestly expected the man to direct her to the town hall. Instead, it turned out that the church kept free estates south of the town wall for visiting dignitaries and their retinues. He happily rented the smallest one to her for three gold talents, for three months. She calculated that it was around the monthly salary of a knight, so it sounded more than fair.
The last task was changing money. Then she could go on a shopping spree and buy underwear.
Farren gently ousted them out of his office with instructions to go find Brenna, who turned out to be a large woman with grey hair handling the third wing of the temple. She welcomed them from behind a window through a thick barrier of iron bars that separated a storage room in two. On her side were rows of armor, weapons, but also strange items that Viv did not recognize. She inspected one at random.
[Orb of Counting (enchanted): when held by a combatant, this specialized item counts how many undead are slain in their vicinity. The poor craftsmanship means that they need to be replaced after a few years of use.]
It did not look too shoddy to her inexperienced eyes. The orb resembled a brass petanque ball, grooved, and well-used.
“Hello Brenna!”
“Marruk, good to see your head. Who is the other one?”
Viv would have to learn Enorian soon. There was no avoiding it.
“My name is Viviane, but you can call me Bob. We are here to change money.”
“Ah, nice to meet you. I am Brenna, one of the two administrators in charge of helping branch master Farren manage this temple. And how may I be of service?”
“I would like to change currency.”
“Is it deadlands loot?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Please be aware that, although we will exchange it at no cost, we retain a one in ten part of the value for any obsolete coinage seeing as it has to be minted again.”
“That is fine.”
Cernit had already informed her that the Church of Neriad facilitated life for the volunteer troops and mercenaries. She would not get a better offer anywhere.
“Alright, let me see it.”
Marruk placed the looted chest on the counter with a loud clang. Brenna tried to drag it to her. She failed.
“Ah.”
It finally occurred to Viv that pulling the sled to the city might have also been harder because the sled had been a bit heavier. Brenna walked to a side door and unlocked it, leading Marruk and Viv inside.
“Normally it’s against protocol but you two ain’t going to cause me trouble, are you?”
Both Marruk and Viv shook their heads vehemently, to the point that Viv wondered if the woman also had the intimidation skill.
The chest was placed on a steel table. Brenna unclasped it to reveal its contents. The woman whistled. Marruk stared on, eyes bulging.
Beneath their eyes, gold and silver shone in the noon light falling from the overhead skylight. Coins in all shapes and forms spilled on the table, showing ten kings and twenty coats-of-arms. The unnamed necromancer had kept no iron. It was all precious metal. Some of the gold was dulled by age.
“By Neriad’s fetching buttocks, did you rob a necropolis?”
“We took it from a necromancer. It was his war chest.”
Two pairs of eyes shot up to Viv.
“You slew a necromancer?”
“Let’s just say that I was instrumental in taking him down. The knight in charge decided that I would have the loot, as payment for my contribution.”
Brenna blinked.
“You are a witch. A spellcaster. Wow, we don’t have many of you around here. It’s very noble of you to come here to fight the good fight.”
“Magician?” Marruk erupted.
“Yes. You cannot inspect?” Viv asked. Brenna’s expression turned judgemental.
“I know you are a foreigner and, huh, I respect your work, but we don’t ask such things around here.”
“Sorry. Yes, I am a caster.”
“I not know!”
“Hmm, Marruk, if you didn’t know then why approach me?”
“You looked in charge, like a mercenary leader.”
Well, that was… flattering? Viv’s attempt to appear unflappable and domineering had backfired in an interesting way.
Brenna quickly counted the coins. She may not have much power, but her finesse was impressive as she stacked pile after pile of coin with unerring precision, all while counting on an abacus that she had taken from her station. When she was done, five minutes later, she compiled a list of all currencies and their current value. Her attention finally resettled on the pair who had just been hanging there not knowing what to do.
“We don’t have enough coin here to change all of this. We’ll give you bonds that you can redeem at the bank. Or you can open your own account. I would recommend that.”
Her list of chores extended.
In the end, Viv accepted a heavy pouch of Enorian currency, the one that was used in Kazar, as well as a stamped letter for the bank. As they walked out, she heard a terrible growl like an animal dying. It was Marruk’s belly.
She dragged the embarrassed Kark to a private room next to the cafeteria, then spent two minutes coddling the strange being into ordering what she wanted.
“I have no use for a starving shield. Look, you are too skinny.”
This last remark mortified her poor bodyguard beyond any insult. Her poor mood picked up ten seconds into their meal.
The waiter who brought their food proudly explained that Kark’s diet consisted mostly of cereals and tubers with only a bit of meat. They absolutely loved buns stuffed with creamy vegetables, as her guest soon demonstrated. Viv decided to turn this into an impromptu feast by ordering expensive dishes with crisp fresh water from a mana-rich source and a dense liquor made from local fruits. It was early afternoon when they left, but the shieldmaiden had lost her edge.
It returned when Viv fed Arthur.
“You are tamer.”
“After a fashion.”
“What?”
“Yes. Arthur is mine.”
“Oh, alright.”
Marruk went to retrieve her weapon as they left, and by doing so, answered one of Viv’s interrogations.
If the Kark was so broke, how come that she still had a piece of equipment? Could she not have sold it?
The answer turned out to be: because her ‘weapon’ was not a proper one, but indeed, a door.
An actual door.
Taken from some jail or something.
“That’s a door,” Viv said, as she pointed at the layer of planks held together by solid iron bars and nails. It had a leather bracer and handle combo at the back to tie one’s arm, also nailed on, and the head of some monster made of iron squat in the middle. It was clearly a door-knocker, though someone had removed the knocking part.
“Is not,” the fearsome woman muttered back.
Then Viv pointed at a hinge that was still hanging for dear life on the side. The other had been torn off.
Marruk pinched the guilty ornament between two thick fingers and popped it off like a cherry from its stem.
“Was. Is not,” she insisted, growing increasingly flustered. Viv slowly nodded. She was not willing to die on that hill.
Viv had treated the woman like a human so far, and that had worked to some extent. The Kark was… guarded, still. Viv did not blame her. If she had been desperate and then her situation dramatically improved in fifteen minutes, she would be wary as well. Either she was getting scammed, or fate was just winding up for one teeth-shattering uppercut.
Viv just had to take it slow. Trust took time.
They bought a mana cloak for Marruk and left. The next stop was the bank next door, or rather, the Manipeloso Bank and Exchange, where they were let in by a city guard.
“Milady,” he greeted her.
Hey, she looked like a milady!
Inside, she found a packed but nicely decorated lobby in pink stone, with plenty of columns and a few seats in warm-colored woods. The man behind the ornamental desk who greeted them surprised Viv with his appearance, to the extent that she had to keep walking. He was very dark-skinned, and possibly the first person she had met who could pass for native in her own realm. His very light brown eyes followed her as she walked in, widening slightly as he inspected her, no doubt. He had the freshest haircut she had seen since coming here, with the left side of his skull shaved and the right covered in thick black hair held in three strands by golden rings. He did not have facial hair either. As she approached, she realized that he wore a sand-colored, robe-like outfit that clung to his chest with pointy cloth extensions over his shoulders. It looked expensive.
[Manipeloso uniform (enchanted): a traditional robe reinforced with enchantments designed to protect its wearer against manipulation.]
Wait, did magical influence exist in this world? Like Jedi powers? That would be… eminently disturbing. Brainwashing scared her. She would have to ask Solfis about it.
“And you must be the witch, the most recent addition to our lovely town. Welcome!”
The man’s voice was smooth and cultured, the building smelled of soap, and the silence was merely broken by the sound of their footsteps.
“Beware the northerners and their sugary lies,” Marruk warned in a low voice. She and the banker tried to slay each other with glares.
“Ahem, yes, your…. companion is welcome, of course. Please make sure that she remains on a leash.”
“Marruk is my bodyguard,” Viv retorted, “I will request that you treat her courteously.”
“Of course, of course…” the banker immediately responded, the smile firmly held in place, “please, tell me what it is you seek. I, Tom Manitaradin, will do my best to assist you.”
“I would like to open an account,” she declared, and handed him the church bond.
The unctuous banker checked the amount and blinked ever so slightly at the amount. One hundred and thirteen Baranian gold. It was a nice sum for an individual. And it was even a prime number!
“Why, we can certainly accommodate you. Please, follow me.”
Viv followed the man into a study, where the banker took out a blank piece of paper — Viv noticed that it was almost as good as what you could get back on earth — and drew a contract with a speed that a printer would have envied. All while talking to her. Marruk was staring around as if the tax office itself was waiting in ambush to seize their dubiously acquired assets.
They were brought klod in large goblets by a beautiful woman in a similar outfit. She carefully placed them on the table and sashayed out without a word. Viv checked her ass when Tom turned to grab more ink. It was a nice ass.
Ok, focus.
“My cousin,” the banker explained.
“Is this a family business?”
“It would be more correct to call it a business of many families. I take it that you did not come from the north, then?”
“No.”
“A shame. Our land is very welcoming.”
He stole a glance towards Marruk, who eyed the door with suspicion. Viv hoped that the woman did not have a grudge against doors. She had to leave hers at the entrance, maybe she was already looking for a replacement?