by Lars M.
Updated: You have learned the stories from all founders of Grant's Grossing.
Reward: Unknown
Nice. I could start chronicling the story right away and then think on how to present it to everybody. It made for a pretty heartwarming tale, all told. The other quest had also updated, allowing me to start convincing the prospective teachers. Whistling, I got on with it.
Chapter 12 – Door-To-Door Salesbard
Mirael Darkvine was ruining my day. Of course she was.
I had slept in and enjoyed a lazy morning. Chatted with Jeb and Gillem, when he finally woke up. Played a little for Atlas, who was lazing on the roof. Then, after my little face-to-face with the mayor, I put on my big boy pants and started on the real work. The premise was simple, really. Talk all the prospective teachers in Grant’s Crossing into helping the Anathema.
However, it didn't say anything about what I could or couldn't do. I’d do my best to see if I could talk the craftsmen and trainers of Grant’s Crossing into taking ownership in the growth of the village and helping the kobolds learn. To that effect, I’d entreat, cajole, reason, use everything in my verbal repertoire, outside of threats and blackmail. Bribes… bribes weren’t off the table, either. The plan was good. Simple and straightforward, there were not enough moving pieces that things could go wrong. Worst-case scenario, one of the trainers would outright refuse my reasoning, and I’d end up earning a smaller reward. Except, I had underestimated the power of gossip.
Mrs. Bertinga was on board, of course. She stood to gain a lot, and with the Council promising insurance, there was really no downside. We had an amicable chat, and she sold me an old map of the Dawnlight Forest cheaply. I spent a while adding in the details from the kobold map before stowing it away for later and getting back to work.
Laticia Bullhop, the priest's wife and local potter, was equally quick to see the advantage for the town. Asking her next proved to be a rookie mistake, however. Kind and helpful soul though she might be, she was also an incurable gossip. These and darker, more unkind, thoughts, were crossing my mind as I stood next to Ms. Darkvine, who was slowly working herself into a frenzy.
"Not only do they expect us to welcome these thieving troublemakers into our midst. They want us to train them! Ready them to take over our jobs and replace us and make us second class citizens in our own village." She had gotten the gist of what was happening at record speed, and within moments, she was shouting prophecies of doom. She'd already attracted a small crowd, and more people were strolling up every minute. Jeb. Benneth. Lyle’s dad. Not only that, but some people were nodding along, agreeing with her message.
I butted in with another attempt to derail her furious monologue. "Listen, Ms. Darkvine. What else would you propose? Should they just stay here and do nothing all day? We've got a chance to actually work together to build something better."
"It's not my problem what they should or shouldn't do. It's not like they were invited in the first place. Let them go home." A few cries from the crowd agreed with her.
"You know very well that's not a possibility. If they go home, they'll be beggars or worse."
"Like we care. They're beggars and worse here. Back to the Pits from whence they came, is my verdict. Who's with me?" A number of people grumbled their assent and I could feel I was losing the argument. I reevaluated my approach - I clearly wasn't going to have any luck convincing Ms. Darkvine that she was wrong. That was when an epiphany struck me - I didn't care about her anyway. It wasn't about her, not in the least. Hell, if I could have her take a loss in the process, even better. I shot my most dazzling smile at her, asking "How long have you lived in Grant's Crossing, Ms. Darkvine?"
"What blasted idiocy is this? What does that have to do with anything?"
I winked at her. "Well, if you'd arrived two months back, uninvited, your arguments would sound rather hollow, don't you think?"
"Preposterous. I've lived here nigh on eight years, and worked hard every single day," she huffed. A couple of bystanders hid smiles at the comment. The haughty halfling’s lack of work ethic was well-known.
"Eight years, you say. That's a decent amount of time. I expect that you went through a vigorous vetting process back when you arrived? People who vouched for your character and such?" I smiled at her, all innocence.
"How ridiculous. Don't you dare... this is not about me! This is about those no-good criminals. We don't want them here!" She practically screeched the last part.
"All right. Let's do this. Let's talk about those 'no good criminals'." I raised my voice and addressed everybody. "The criminals who were forcefully prevented from any kind of meaningful existence in Nerit and kept in poverty. Those pitiful 'criminals' who renounced their own people and joined us, at the Council's own request, in order to work for a better life." I didn't even try to keep the scorn from my voice. "But sure, let's just chase them off because you don't like them." I turned my back towards her and stopped, spinning back to face her. Trying to make the puzzlement seem real, I asked, "Why is it that you dislike the kobolds again?"
"They come here and disturb the peace, steal, and fight! They-"
I scoffed at her. "It's been four days, for Serune's sake. The frigging caravan disturbs the peace for several days, and this just might be a bit more serious. Please give me a real reason."
”That is a real reason, you daft wastrel. Now they’re trying to steal our jobs, on top of that? I say we stop this right here and now! Who’s with me?”
A few people shouted agreement. Lyle’s father was one of these. Et tu, Lawrence? Meanwhile, I thought furiously. It’d be so easy to disparage her, her job. I really wanted to – wipe that annoying self-assurance off her face. Except, there were plenty of others present who were the same – no impressive accomplishments or important jobs. It might turn the crowd. No, I’d have to turn a different tack. Gamble.
”Do you know why the Council took them in?” My question cut through her tirade, a rude interruption.
Hackles raised, she waved me off. ”No. I don’t see why I should care, either.”
An opening. I rushed forward. ”You should. It’s probably the most important question to understand our situation.” I faced the crowd and heaved a theatrical sigh. Over the top, probably, but I needed to catch their attention. ”I’ve been talking with all the founders lately – getting the stories from the establishment of Grant’s Crossing. I was saving this for Reveler’s Moon, but this should be shared now.”
”A history lesson? We don’t need-”
”Stop! If you pretend to have even a shred of decency, you will hear me out before you condemn people to their deaths.” I stared her straight in the eyes, unwavering. She scowled, teeth bared in a grimace, staring back at me. After seconds that felt like an eternity, she caved. Wonders never ceased to happen.
”The original four did not found Grant’s Crossing in order to just get by. They all had decent livelihoods where they originally lived. No, they intended to grow, to become a power. Seize the strategic position of the Dawnlight Forest for themselves and dominate the trade flowing from the west to the east and back. And you know what? They were succeeding. Trade agreements. Regular caravans. Income. Year after year, the village grew, as did our influence. People from the outside became aware that here was a place with opportunities. I imagine this is when you arrived, Ms. Darkvine. As did Othell.” I paused for a moment, took in the curses and angry mutters among the crowd. ”You all know the rest, much better than I do. Trade stagnated, monsters spread, the forest became a scary place – and everything happened gradually enough that nobody stopped to question it. Which, finally, leads me to my point,” I stood straight, looking earnestly over the crowd, ”because you made it. You weathered the storm. We’ve created a peace pact with Nerit, meaning that they’re finally going to stop harassing the caravans. We stand to become a major factor in the trade of Aeion. Except we can’t.”
”I’m not listening to any more of this nonsense. Don’t you tell us
what we can or cannot do!”
”Really?” I shouted, ”Benneth. Good thing you’re here. How do you think you’re going to handle hunting for food if the village grows by a third or more?”
He grumbled, ”Don’t be an idiot. I’m just one man.”
”Thank you, Benneth. And you, Lawrence. You’re a productive fellow. If you need to smith for a hundred extra people, and, say, outfit a full squadron of guards with weapons – would that be an issue?”
His frown clearly stated I wasn’t making any friends today. His voice rumbled, ”Doesn’t have to be kobolds, though. That’s just you ‘n the Council.”
”Agreed.” His eyebrows shot up towards his receding hairline. He hadn’t expected that. I activated High Tide and fired my final bullet. ”So the real question is this, to all of you: do you want to take the chance and wait – hope that growth and new inhabitants are just naturally going to come our way? Throw all of this away now, because you dislike the kobolds? Or are you going to give them a second chance and take the Council’s generous payment for anybody who helps? It’s your choice – but years from now, when we’re looking back at what could have been, just remember: You had the choice.”
The crowd exploded in fragmented discussion, and it was all I could do to answer the questions they shot at me. "Will they go to war if we try to send them back?" "What generous payment?" "Who's going to keep an eye on them?" "No, seriously, you were just talking about money, weren't you?" I stayed there and did my best to deliver honest, straight answers. Ms. Darkvine was still there, trying to change the mood of the crowd, but people slowly started to ignore her.
A good while later, I was finally wrapped up reassuring Millerd that this didn't mean that there'd be any future fights in the village. He'd been surprisingly stubborn in his fear that this was somehow a prelude to war, and I'd been forced to tell him the abridged story behind the peace treaty and the Anathema.
"Oh - so you mean that they're really here because they don't want to follow the other bloodthirsty, warmongering bastards who always attack our caravans?" His relief was almost palpable.
I smiled at him. "Exactly. And the warmongering bastards did sign the peace pact. Whatever else I might think about them, they do not strike me as the types to break their word."
"Oh. Well, that's great then. Rob you blind over a game of Fingers later?" He waved and skipped away, and I couldn't help but laugh. I found his carefree attitude enviable. Shaking my head, I turned around to see that the crowd was fading away, at last. Most were tired of listening to Ms. Darkvine, who'd started repeating herself half an hour ago. Others had gotten their questions answered. Most had probably gotten bored, since the worst of the spectacle was over.
I debated whether I should go to the tavern for lunch, but decided against it. I'd already been delayed, and I wanted to finish and figure out whether we were doing this or not. So I plodded on to the next trainer and onwards. The first one was an easy win. Grant Callahan Jr. was thrilled at the thought of decking 60 new villagers in fine clothing. The second was a young female halfling who I didn't really know - apparently the town's fletcher. She readily agreed with the words, "Way to tell off that nasty old biddy. I'd do it even without payment, just to help those poor people." She tittered. "I'm still taking the money, but it's a nice gesture by the Council, right? Shows us that they intend to walk the walk."
The reasons varied, but the responses were the same. Because of the money, out of charity or compassion, or as a bid for future progression, one after another, they agreed. Benneth, one of the people I'd expected to outright refuse, accepted without a single complaint. "Need the help, don't I? Said it yourself. Othell, bastard that he was, at least helped a bit to keep animals and monsters away. Right now, it's all on me." Early evening, I'd visited every single merchant and crafter in and outside the village - damn Naevys and her need to live way apart from all the others. My legs were aching, as was my throat from all the talking. Still, every single person had signed the sheet so far, and I’d earned another increase to Diplomacy. Even Lyle's dad had signed. Apparently, the Brenathans had a bit of a row before I arrived, but both of his parents signed without comment, as did Lyle himself. Right now, I was this close to a perfect result and what would probably be an impressive reward. I looked at the door before me with a grimace. There were just two more names on the list. One of them was Greck, and the other...
I knocked twice, firmly. I could hear from the creaking of the floorboards inside that the inhabitant was walking towards me.
The door opened, and Ms. Darkvine peered out. "Oh. It's you." From the disgust on her face, I half expected her to slam the door in my face. Instead, she flung the door open, beckoning me to enter. "You take tea?"
"Yes, please."
She made herself busy in the tiny kitchen, and I had the chance to look around undisturbed. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this was not it. The house was clean as a whistle, and surfaces everywhere were covered with either needlework of some sort or a veritable host of plants. It was a weird mixture between a greenhouse and the proverbial grandmother's house.
With the peace offering, I wasn't going to be the one to misbehave first. As such, when she placed a chipped tea set and two cups before us, I nodded amiably. "That's an impressive collection of plants. They're not all decorative either, I'd wager. Did I recognize a bushel of gentleberries back there?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I would not have pegged you for somebody skilled in forest lore, Mr. Arcangelo."
"I'm not. Darya has been teaching me, however."
The elderly woman harrumphed. "That girl - solid head on her shoulders. Good shoulders, too. If it were 60 people like her wanting to join the village..." She shook her head. "I won't beat about the bush, lad. I'm too old for that. I'll just say that it speaks well about you that you're willing to come apologize when you've been in the wrong."
Oh. Oh. So that's where the civility came from. She figured I had changed my mind. Something must've been evident from my looks. Her face hardened, as did her voice. "No apology, I see. That would have been too much to expect from a young man like yourself. What, then?"
How should I play this? All right, I'd give reason a final attempt. "I'm not here to apologize, but I am here to make peace. I realize now that you are only looking out for Grant's Crossing in your own way. The thing is, everybody but you and one more trainer I'm visiting tomorrow have signed the agreement, promising to train the Fallen. You disagree with this - I can respect that. Still, I would ask you to sign as well, in the sense of unity. Being able to stand up and announce that every single person has agreed to chip in? It would mean a lot for morale - both in the village, and for the kobolds."
From the way her face scrunched up, I knew what the answer was going to be. "Not in a thousand years. I might have to live with the consequences, but that doesn't mean I'm going to act like I agree."
Damn. I didn't want to go there but... "Understood. In that case, I've changed my mind. I will need to apologize. In advance."
"Why?"
"See, the thing is, Mirael. I'm not a bad guy. At least I like to tell myself that. But I'm very much able to do some things that others might find... in bad taste, you could say. Especially if I believe it's for the greater good. And I can tell you this with no doubt on my side whatsoever: If the choice stands between improving the future of Grant's Crossing by a tiny margin and respecting the wishes of a hostile old biddy, there's no choice at all."
She blushed furiously and pointed at me. "What? You - get the Pits out of here!"
"I will. First, I would ask you to make a decision, however. A lot of things happened in Nerit. Some of them were planned, others... less so. See, I'd gathered a bit of compassion for the Fallen while I was there. They'd landed in a crappy situation, mostly without fault, and I tried to help them where I could. The funny thing is, apparently they noticed and decided that I was their protector or something. I know, I know. It sounds way too grandiose for somebody like
me. But there we have it. By happenstance and the ineffable workings of the gods, I'm suddenly sort of responsible for a large band of unruly kobolds with troubled backgrounds."
"What are you babbling about? What do you want? Get out already, or I'll cry for help."
"Do I need to spell it out for you? I'm their protector and you... you're threatening them. That means that we," I pointed first at her and then at myself, "are adversaries."
"Threats, now? Do you really think you can get away with hurting an old lady?" She was backing away from me now, inching her way towards the kitchen.
"Hurting? Nothing so crass. I will, however, do whatever I can to make your life miserable. Nothing direct, of course. Insinuations, mostly. Hints that you don't care about the wellbeing of Grant's Crossing at all and merely hate kobolds. Finding your friends, few as they may be, and subtly turning them against you."
She bumped against the table and pushed a hand below, grabbing and revealing the biggest damn cleaver I've ever seen. The Butcher would've been envious.
I escaped with minor wounds to my clothes and serious aches in my self-conscience. There was no salvaging a perfect win on the quest, however. She stood in her doorway, shouting obscenities, and half of the village knew by now what her answer was. Maybe I should've... nah, no reason to start with the self-recrimination. I might as well move on, accept the loss, and see about the last person on the list. I'd need a drink first, though.
Chapter 13 – Schooled
"Hey, Lidack. How's the brewing going?"
Lidack looked up. He was tapping some metal doodad with a tiny hammer, looking annoyed as hell. "Amazing. Just wonderful. If only I had access to some decent equipment. The lid to my alembic didn't enjoy the journey, and I need to fix it without breaking it. Right now, it's making the moisture evaporate faster than it should. Ah, well - once I have a batch or two ready, I should earn enough to buy a replacement, I hope."
