Chapter 4

The five-hour hike, or one-hour jog for me, to Belfast, the seat of the local Baron, was easy to follow, the carts and wagons left clear tracks. Once close enough, the city started spreading out across the plains. The stone walled city was much larger than I had expected. Having no experience beyond the little villages so far, a true city like this had to house tens of thousands of people. Compared to the two to five hundred in the smaller settlements I had passed along the way it was mammoth sized. At least that was what I believed.

From Martha’s lecture, Belfast was the hub of the east. Those thousands of miles of farmland all funneled through the merchants of this city to be distributed throughout the rest of the kingdom. From here on, and the further west I traveled, the level of civilization would only increase.

A tall, uneven stone wall surrounded the whole city. In the direction I approached, it topped off at eight feet while being three feet thick, but I could tell it rose higher in other locations. Probably just enough to ward off bandits and even decent sized non-flying monsters.

The guards didn’t even ask for a toll from me, nor from any of the carts that passed through the gate around me. I did pause to seek directions to the Stalwart Shield from one leather armored guardsman. After an overly complicated explanation, I had him point and guesstimate a distance. “One mile that way.” Southwest. I thanked the guard and headed off.

I’d have to get used to the covetous looks eventually - this body and face were too perfect.

It took me hours to find my way to the inn, of which ninety percent of it was my fault. I peeked down alleys and entered in any shop that had a sign up. Here and there, I tasted offerings from bakers and confectioneries. My sweet tooth was definitely overindulged.

The first smithy alone that I entered and perused had hundreds of iron wrought tools. Fifty percent of which I had no understanding of what they did. Under the uncomfortable eye of a matron I asked to ‘rent’ an apprentice for an hour. The aghast matron had no response.

“I won’t hurt him or do anything of the sort of what you are thinking. I just want to ask him some questions, I promise we won’t even leave the shop.” Even the most staid matron couldn’t help but wonder what I was up to. I placed three coppers on the counter. “Is this enough?”

“Sam,” she called into the back. A lad covered in woodchips with an axe in hand, who just entered his teens, wearing thick leathers, came forward at her call. To both of their shock, I instructed the teen to inform me of each item that the smith had for sale, its use, how it was made and its price. The next forty-five minutes was fun and informative. The kid couldn’t stop blushing and tripped over his feet almost as much as his words. At thirteen, the strapping lad was taller than I, which made me smile wryly. I handed the lad an additional silver coin for his troubles. “Thank you, apprentice Sam and Goodwoman.” I called out before leaving,

I intentionally bopped back and forth to the various shops, asking questions, purchasing sweets, and keeping an open smile at all times. My goal was to be as pleasant and charming as possible. I think I overdid it with the following I acquired, one comprised mostly of children.

I spotted the ‘White Shield’ armorsmith shop, before I noticed the inn across the way. The ‘Stalwart Tavern’ next to the inn was probably the least robbed spot in the whole city. Can you say cop bar? Ah, that must have been why Sir Xera said that this was the safest inn in the city... The plaza even had a weaponsmith, a leathersmith - which I guessed was different than a tanner - and the aforementioned armorsmith.

Entering the three-story wooden and stone inn, I adjusted my eyes and looked around. White tapestries hung between the windows and two, four-seat square tables sat off center in the waiting area. The fit thirtyish woman behind the counter showed no signs of greeting her new customer.

“I’d like a single room for a week or two please.”

“Full,” she replied without any hesitation.

My ass...

“That’s a shame. My friend even recommended you as the safest inn in the city.”

“Full.”

“Alas, I will just have to stay elsewhere until Sir Xera returns from her patrol.” I actually said ‘alas!!!!’

“Like someone like you would know Sir Xera,” she mocked me.

Hook, line and sinker. “Ya tall, mercurial temperament. Seriously devoted to her men, pretty blue eyes, blonde hair that is longer on the right than left. Cute in her earnestness. Travels around with Laughing Boy...”

“DO NOT ADDRESS Sir Lakewood as ‘Laughing boy’!” The slim gatekeeper to the inn screamed at me.

“My apologies. Though...” I didn’t finish the sentence. I wasn’t here to start a fight.

“Since I proved my credentials, Goodwoman, a room please.”

“Five coppers a night, in advance,” came from between gritted teeth.

I placed a gold crown down. “I’ll be here at least a week or two. You can give me my change then.”

Yvonne had no choice but to give in with my obvious knowledge of the two knights. Still, she would keep an eye on some noble’s ‘bastard’ and this one had trouble written all over her. Unless both knights vouched for the girl, me, I would be out on my ass, the hour their patrol ended.

I was silently escorted up the flights of stairs by a cane supported woman to a spartan ten by ten room on the third floor overlooking the two-story tavern roof. The contents of the room were a limited to a full-sized bed and a wardrobe turned sideways. She then very reluctantly showed me the bath and a privy.

“Miss.” The innkeeper regarded me with a surly disposition. “Sir Xera really did recommend this place to me when I asked. I’ll try and not be any bother.” Tension eased. I further inquired about towels for the bath and what was necessary for reserving one. At my polite straightforward questions, her resistance faded even more. Especially when I accepted the smallest room in the inn without complaint or reservation.

Not that I knew that information at the time.

Even though I had snacked all afternoon, I was still hungry. That particular effect had gotten worse since the fight with the Basilisk. My body was telling me that I burned my reserves with the multiple uses of SuperRegen in one fight. I needed to be watchful of that in the future.

The innkeeper, Yvonne, watched me exit her inn with calculating eyes. I understood that even without seeing them. The Stalwart Tavern wasn’t all that loud at what I considered an early time for dinner. A few tables were taken, all were filled with six people each. Sitting alone at an open one, I ordered stew and the lighter ale with bread. Paying the three coppers up front, I dismissed the serving girl with a smile and watched the diners watch me. I even gave a light wave at the guy who was scowling.

The stew was bland but filling, the bread fresh almost as good as it smelled, and the ale passable. I would have little choice but to become accustomed to it. I knew that spices were very expensive in medieval cultures and I wasn’t a wine fan. Besides, I knew that ale and beer were a much safer alternative than unboiled water in areas without proper sanitation.

Leaving a copper behind for the girl, I departed after finishing my meal. I did recognize that no one had left since I arrived, not even the table of five women who had their empty dishes removed even before my ale arrived.

I’d find out later, hopefully it wasn’t too ill of an omen.

At the weaponsmith, my attempt to ‘rent’ an apprentice failed. The short-bearded man behind the counter would not put up with my questions and told me to leave. In contrast, at the armorsmithy, the ancient gent behind the counter was all too happy to show off his shop’s wares and even went as far as to demonstrate them himself, eschewing my use of an apprentice except for modeling purposes.

The apprentice, or target dummy, had a rough evening. Master Smith Richard laughed at the woeful expression of the mid-teen being beaten by a thin staff wielded by the old man. Not that the robust grandfatherly smith was anything short of perfect health. He also had a small selection of enchanted armor pieces, including one kite shield of increased durability for the whopping price of five crowns. The regular unenchanted price was six silver or half a gold for the same pristine shield. Scrollwork extra of course. I itched to test it out.

When asked, the smith readily admitted to hiring out an enchanter from the Mages’ Guild and had done so for years. Most pieces this shop made were solely sold to the Knights Order at a discount. But by agreement with the Baron, a few choice pieces were still made available to the wealthier citizens. Special orders were also an exception, but I would not find that information out until later.

I didn’t like the feel of metal armor. It was rigid, damn heavy, and cumbersome. I saw the need for added protection. But was the tradeoff worth it for me? That question I needed to consider at length.

We both knew why he was willing to be so forthright and spend time with me. He wanted to be around a pleasant pretty girl. Hell, I would have done the same in his shoes.

I sat next to Richard after the demonstration against the apprentice, giving what I saw some consideration. “Richard, I was planning on a new protective jacket since mine was lost. I am not at all used to the heaviness, bulkiness or rigidity of metal. My fighting style is more free flowing with lots of movement. I don’t use a weapon, just my fists. Any suggestions?”

He made me stand, stretch and move around slowly while appraising me. The eye of a retired master weighed and felt much different than Laughing Boy, or even Sparklie mage. I met Old Man Sauss at after-work functions on a few occasions, and his gaze felt similar.

After some thought, Richard led me to his practice field. “Show me.” I did my usual warm up before a Boss fight and shadowboxed the dummy. Even in VR, I still felt the need to loosen up. It helped me mentally prepare, if nothing else.

“Strike it,” he called out. Without using a skill, a single straight punch knocked the head askew with an audible crack.

“You held back,” he stated.

“If I used a skill, there wouldn’t be anything left.”

“Show me.”

I Smite’d the upper body of the reinforced dummy. The concussive blast echoed in the yard. As for the top half of the target, it was blown into pieces with the bottom half bent at a thirty-degree angle. With nothing to hang on to, both arms, meant to be detachable, were detached and had fallen straight down. A thin metal rod was sticking into the wooden wall behind the target. Quivering. Not sure where the head bounced off to or if there was anything left of it, I looked around but didn’t venture from my position.

“I’m getting old...” The Master Smith complained, falsely looking depressed.

I made a face, “Sorry, I haven’t learned how to adjust the potency of my skills.” Two apprentices, followed by a tall, broad shouldered, twentyish blonde woman in a leather oversmock, carrying a long thin hammer, exited from a different door at a quick pace.

I pictured her with a winged helmet, gold trimmed silver armor with matching shield, riding a Pegasus, reaping the Warrior souls from the battlefield to ascend to Valhalla.

“Dammit. Why did you let a mage break our dummy, you old ... argh.” She stomped off at the rueful laugh of the elder, her long single braid swaying in step.

“I don’t think she is very happy with you,” I teased the smith.

“Darkness Element Fist?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You have other similar attacks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How much have you put aside for armor?”

“Thirty crowns. If I really had to, I could go as high as forty.” Another of his rueful expressions revealed itself. I think I said too much.

“I would love to put you in Mithril plate.” I groaned at the weight. “It would be impracticable for you,” he agreed. “What are your plans?”

“Travel. Some adventuring. Sightseeing.” I replied honestly.

“Your guardians?” he wasn’t referring to my parents but a knight troupe that should be following a high noble such as he imagined that I was.

“I am alone.”

It wasn’t hard to figure out his thoughts. Alone, I was still vulnerable. What I was doing was risky and foolish. I did realize that everyone I met considered me highborn noble, if not royal. Until now, I hadn’t taken that in consideration enough when I answered their questions.

“Even mithril chain would stand out too much while journeying. Everything else would be too heavy for you if you weren’t used to it.”

“Those were my thoughts too.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to settle down and marry me?” We both laughed. “You could join the Order,” he hinted, not believing for a second that I would take that offer. “Then you could wear my plate.” The old smith eyes gleamed at the prospect.

“Sooo, it’s all about you in the end. Typical male.” After a fun smirk, “Besides, if you did that, you would be dead in no time. Sir Xera would stab you thousands of times for subjecting her to me.” I laughed while making fun of the absent knight. “Although Sir Laughing Boy would worship you forever. If the situation was reversed you would at least die happy. Xera is pretty, in a severe sense.”

“Who is Sir Laughing Boy?” he questioned.

“That is what I call Sir Lakewood. That man has a good head on his shoulders.” The Master Smith nodded seriously in agreement.

“Where did you meet them?” He knew I was fresh to the city. I wasn’t exactly subtle.

“They came across me when I was fighting a beast. I got poisoned and they helped me out. Good people.”

“Are you sure you won’t wear my mithril, I can custom make you a set of chain?”

“It’s too restrictive and too flashy. And I have no experience with metal chain.”

Trying to convince me otherwise, Smith Richard had me try on his smallest shirt, which didn’t work since it still was a tent on my small frame. Even then, it felt wrong. His frown agreed with me in the end.

“I have an idea about your jacket. Come with me.” He led me out of the yard down the street to the next shop I planned on visiting.

The leather armorer.

“Matty, get out here,” my escort bellowed.

An early forties, clean shaven, thinner man with unruly hair, gave me a once over before replying, “I’m married.”

“Humph, and where is he these days?” Richard replied in disapproval.

“Seeing his family. Why do you care?”

“Enough of that. This lass needs a new fighting jacket. Best of everything, no skimping. None of your tricks.” Enough steel to equip an army hardened my new friend’s words. Which meant I too had to play this one seriously. Richard didn’t put much trust in the man personally, yet respected his product. That was my gut feeling.

Unraveling a knotted string from around his wrist, the leathersmith commanded, “Arms out.” I raised them and he efficiently took my measurements, dozens of them. I had suits fitted before, yet they paled in comparison at the precise and numerous readings. “Will you be wearing this underneath?”

“This or something like it.” I responded about my leather bustier. He asked a few more questions before telling me to wait. Richard sat on the corner of the counter like a little boy, watching intently. The bearded chin rested on his fist propped by his knee, unmoving.

Smith Matty ignored Richard’s presence completely. Minutes later, the thin smith brought out two jackets while his apprentice brought out a basket of other leather items.

The first jacket was too snug on the shoulders and a little short in back, being square cut. The second was longer, like tux tails that reached to the bottom of my ass. It felt better across the chest and shoulders yet overall too large, and seemed to get looser as it got lower.

“Move around some in that one.” Richard suggested. I twisted and did some shadow boxing, bent forward and back. “Fit’s okay. I need more room in the back of my shoulders. And under my right arm. The stomach billows too much, I am leery of the gap.”

The leathersmith clamped it in a few places, taking some in. Not as much as I hoped. I did the same stretching and approved the new stomach width.

We worked on the sleeves next, added padding for the shoulders and elbows with temporary pads then a high neck collar.

Biting the bullet, “I will also need another pair or two of pants.”

Smith Matty took my measurements, but didn’t have anything close for me to try on of his own. I ended up removing the pants in a small changing room, coming out in a towel, while he took even more detailed numbers of both me and my current all too tight leather pants.

“Can’t do anymore, lass. If you bloat you will get constricted.”

I DID NOT want to think about that. “Okay.” I dreaded that week and those miserable days following the river on the other side of that large forest. I truly understood why it was universally named ‘The Curse.’

I stopped the smith before he continued. “Gloves. I want two matching set of gloves that cover the ends of my coat. I don’t want gore getting inside my sleeves. I also want a collar to protect the neck.”

Smith Matty looked questioningly at Richard, ignoring me, before agreeing.

“What’s the best leather?”

“Dragonhide, don’t have any. Wouldn’t sell to you if I did.”

I didn’t take offense, “What is the best you do have?”

“Forest Wyvern.” Looking at Smith Richard, he nodded at my unasked question.

“Can you dye it to match my current outfit?”

There wasn’t an issue.

“Forest Wyvern works. How much and how long?”

“Three gold. Come back in three days for a fitting. Done in six.”

“Add another jacket and pants and two of my bustiers to the order, same specifications.”

“Five gold, twenty silver, come back in three days done in seven.”

I handed him my miniskirt, surprising him since it seemed to come from nowhere. “This is the color to match – I will let you hang on to it.” I placed three gold for a deposit on the counter, messily signing the form with a cursive Cy. The first time using a quill wasn’t all that bad for a two-letter scribble. I would need serious practice at some point.

“Thank you, Smith Matty. I look forward to your efforts.”

“It’s Mathew, Girl.”

“My Apologies, Master Smith. I was introduced by that name and knew of no other,” I responded honestly.

“Three days. Come back without the old hack next time.” He left us be.

“Interesting man,” I remarked after we left his shop.

“The man is an ass. His Husband cheats on him, which makes his temper worse.”

“That sucks.” My guide agreed with my opinion.

We stopped outside his smithy, “Richard, I will be wanting a very strong enchantment on my purchases. Mostly durability, and auto repair. Do you know of anyone?”

“That’s all you want?” at my nod. “I’ll ask around,” he responded.

“Thanks for your help. I’ll be staying at the Shield.” I gave the old reprobate a hug and waved bye.

Pretty girls all are cheats...

“Grandfather, who was that?” The same young woman from practice dummy fiasco earlier asked after cleaning up for the day, before heading home.

“I don’t know,” he said smiling. “She is something, isn’t she?”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? What are you going on about?” Deana sat across from the bearded smith curiously. The old man was acting strange, even for him.

“The Lady entered my shop with the intent of, ‘to rent an apprentice for an hour’.” He chuckled. Bypassing his granddaughter’s incredulity, “no one else was in the store. I decided to follow the remarkable child and answer her questions. She knew the names but not the function of most of the items in my store. Almost as if she read it in a book once. There was no artifice. She honestly did not know the difference between a vambrace and a rerebrace.”