~The outskirts of Cyril, late afternoon on a Wednesday in spring.~
"I've never heard of your clan before... what was the name again?" queried the old man, straining to read whatever Li had scrawled on the contract. Reading and writing were never much of a concern to simple country folk, especially Bangaa; he was literate enough to get by, but his penmanship and spelling left something to be desired, and obviously that "something" was clarity. It was apparent from the old rancher's squinting and straining that he wouldn't be able to decode the chicken-scratch on his own.
"Sharpclaw," responded the Bangaa, matter-of-factly. Was it really that unintelligible? He'd tried his best.
"Spelled with a k and two L's, no less. How exotic," noted the man, apparently more perceptive than Li had given him credit for. He certainly didn't seem like the kind of man fit to be raising Chocobos, a profession Li surmised to be among the most taxing and arduous in Ivalice. It was no wonder, then, that this old hermit was having problems with Chocobo rustlers and thieves; he seemed about as intimidating as an old droopy barn dog, standing at barely over 5 feet even without his considerable hunch. From his thin and bony frame, tattered old cloak and patchy overalls it seemed obvious that he had seen better days financially. Exactly the kind of client that would be desperate enough to enlist the services of a fresh group of vagrants masquerading as a clan of adventurers. "And you're sure they're the best warriors in town?"
Whether or not Li had chosen to advertise the fact that they were no more than a bunch of strangers who'd banded together in hopes of making a bit of coin was an entirely different matter.
"I'm ssscertain that you'll find no better sssswordsss for sssale in sssCyril, Mr. Klauser," rasped Li. From the superfluous number of Ssss's it seemed fairly obvious that Li was definitely on the less civilized, less gentrified end of the spectrum as far as Bangaa were concerned. For everyone's sake I will omit the phonetic spelling from here on out, so it's best to use your imagination and put the S's wherever it tickles you the most. "We may be new to the game, but I've handpicked every man on the team and they're all legends in their own right," he continued, leaning up against the old wooden wagon Klauser had arrived in. Like its owner, the wagon (more of a glorified cart, in all honestly) had seen many lean winters, and it gave something of a discomforting creak as Li put weight on it. Better than walking, I suppose. Why can't we just sail everywhere? Life would be so much easier. He'd already begun to miss his old boat and his peaceful home on the river, but such thoughts were behind him now.
"We've even got ourselves one of those demon conjurers," added the Bangaa, rapping his clawed fingers against the wooden siding of the wagon. The politically correct terminology would have been "black mage" but for a country hick like Li the two were close enough. "Suspicious types, I know, but they're capable of such impressive feats. I heard they can melt a man's brain with their thoughts, and fill your eye sockets with spiders and roaches. Very dreary."
"How dreadful!" exclaimed Mr. Klauser, shaking his head. "You'd do well to tell him not to melt my brain, and I'd prefer to keep all the spiders and roaches outside of my body for the foreseeable future," smirked the rancher. He circled the wagon to attend to the old tired Chocobo harnessed in front of it. The once proud beast seemed to have long outlived its racing days, now resigning itself to the humble job of carting around an old coot and the company of sellswords he'd chosen to associate with. The bird ate reluctantly and resentfully from its master's hand, chewing the pellets slowly. Li let out a slight sigh of relief. At least he'd secured a paying job, even if it wasn't particularly glamorous.
"I can assure you that our ranks will be more than enough to scare off some two-bit Chocobo rustlers. How long is the ride to your ranch?" asked Li. He turned away from the wagon to face the city gate, glancing up at Castle Cyril looming in the distance. Li's world had been so small only weeks ago; he still wasn't used to massive stone walls, extravagant castles, and waves of townsfolk. He'd lived his whole life with no sense of scale, but this only pushed him forward. He longed to fill in the empty corners of his mental map, and he was about to get his chance. The road into the countryside stretched out before him, inviting him to push beyond one more horizon.
"About an hour, maybe two. Depends on whether or not we run into goblins or bandits along the way. Knowing my luck we probably will, especially considering I managed to slip through unnoticed this morning," grumbled Mr. Klauser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the guards patrolling the outskirts around the gate were within earshot. "If the soldiers around here would just do their jobs and actually go out on patrol like they used to, we'd be just fine. I probably wouldn't even need to hire mercenaries at all..."
"Trust me, you're better off," scoffed Li, adding a crooked toothy grin. "Even if the knights did take care of the problem, they'd never give you the same level of professionalism and personal attention that you'll get from Clan Sharptooth."
"You mean Sharpclaw."
"Right, right. Clan Sharpclaw. The name's under consideration, anyway. But that's not important," chuckled the Bangaa, slightly embarrassed. "You'll be able to tell when you meet my associates. We're the best there is," he claimed, reassuringly. "They should be getting here soon. We're still a little early." He would be impressed if any of them made an effort to show up early too, but he wouldn't be surprised if no one did. I guess it's like a test. We'll see if any of them are responsible. Who's professional, and who's not? How fun. This would be Li's first time leading anyone, really, let alone a bunch of adventurers who likely knew much more about the world than he did. The thought excited him.
