Zarya didn’t know what she was doing here. These past few days had been just a blur. She hasn’t done much but drift from place to place, village to village, occasionally buying supplies or reading her book. The most exciting thing she’s ever done was fire a few arrows at robbers or small groups of bandits, usually with startling accuracy. But she’s never managed to kill any of them; the worse she did was things like fruit or small blades, letting them think that if she wanted she would have killed them. And she probably could too, if she ever had the mind to do so.
Yet despite her wandering, she never left the Veigar’s. She had nothing to go back to: no family, no responsibilities, no honors. She could simply vanish from the world and no one would notice. Yet for some reason, she chose to remain in her home country. Maybe she’ll find a new purpose to her life. Maybe it’d find her. Either way, Zarya rode into the city if Curaw to buy some new supplies. She was going to need a new cloak if she was going to stay in these tundras.
After dropping her horse off at a stable Zarya walked through the market. Many warriors and mercenaries were in the city, so much that it brought Zarya back to the memories of when she was just a page. She saw so many knights and soldiers in the grand castles and fortresses. Noble and strong defenders of the kingdom who fought evil and shined like fresh snow. But now, those soldiers looked a lot more like these mercenaries; lowly men just looking for money, either from a noble’s hand or a peasant’s purse.
As Zarya walked through the city and into the market, she spied a man trying to barter with a merchant. From his dress and appearance, he was obviously from the Kharnate. He was trying to sell his goods to the merchant, but a quick scan of the cart told Zarya that he was overpricing his goods. Not that it was unexpected from a good merchant; you always wanted to charge three times the base price of your produce. If you tried to sell it for only as much as it’s base price would be, you would never make a profit, only barely enough to make back what you’ve worked for. If you only paid for twice the base, you’d only have enough to make two more. By pricing your produce for at least three times the base price, you could make enough to not only make up for the cost of labor, but also to expand your inventory and have a little left over.
Still, it wasn’t Zarya’s business to get involved. She didn’t imagine that the man would succeed; even following the logic of how much he’s selling the goods for, he lacked tack. He was probably the type of man who expected a mean face and a sword on the hip could give him discounts, but all that would do is get the guard’s attention. Bartering required subtly, a gentle push and pull, not a shove and menacing with a blade. So Zarya watched to see if this man would succeed. If he didn’t, she might show him how it’s done.
Yet despite her wandering, she never left the Veigar’s. She had nothing to go back to: no family, no responsibilities, no honors. She could simply vanish from the world and no one would notice. Yet for some reason, she chose to remain in her home country. Maybe she’ll find a new purpose to her life. Maybe it’d find her. Either way, Zarya rode into the city if Curaw to buy some new supplies. She was going to need a new cloak if she was going to stay in these tundras.
After dropping her horse off at a stable Zarya walked through the market. Many warriors and mercenaries were in the city, so much that it brought Zarya back to the memories of when she was just a page. She saw so many knights and soldiers in the grand castles and fortresses. Noble and strong defenders of the kingdom who fought evil and shined like fresh snow. But now, those soldiers looked a lot more like these mercenaries; lowly men just looking for money, either from a noble’s hand or a peasant’s purse.
As Zarya walked through the city and into the market, she spied a man trying to barter with a merchant. From his dress and appearance, he was obviously from the Kharnate. He was trying to sell his goods to the merchant, but a quick scan of the cart told Zarya that he was overpricing his goods. Not that it was unexpected from a good merchant; you always wanted to charge three times the base price of your produce. If you tried to sell it for only as much as it’s base price would be, you would never make a profit, only barely enough to make back what you’ve worked for. If you only paid for twice the base, you’d only have enough to make two more. By pricing your produce for at least three times the base price, you could make enough to not only make up for the cost of labor, but also to expand your inventory and have a little left over.
Still, it wasn’t Zarya’s business to get involved. She didn’t imagine that the man would succeed; even following the logic of how much he’s selling the goods for, he lacked tack. He was probably the type of man who expected a mean face and a sword on the hip could give him discounts, but all that would do is get the guard’s attention. Bartering required subtly, a gentle push and pull, not a shove and menacing with a blade. So Zarya watched to see if this man would succeed. If he didn’t, she might show him how it’s done.
