wierdw

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

Robert did his best to hold in a sharp retort to the snide demeanor of this highwayman posing as a shopkeeper, and bit his lip, which was at least blessedly hidden behind his heavy beard and mustache, while he collected, inspected, then set into order his new purchase.

His efforts at composure however, had their limits.

"I shall surely remember your shop the next time I make a delivery in town." he responded with every iota of false cheeriness as his extortionate counterpart, with a smile to match-- then headed out the door.

Well, at least he had his merchandise.

He trundled off towards the iron worker's shop next. Hopefully, this cut-throat mercantilism was conserved to JUST the general goods owner.

Hopefully.

With this much "new money" in town, it was hard to say for sure. Sadly, the smith was not one of his customers, and instead used coal for his work. Charcoal would have worked too, of course, but it was far too inefficient compared to coal, and needed special care to reach the same temperatures. Such was the nature of things, he supposed.

Politely, he knocked on the door before entering.

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

@spiral origin

Robert frowned. These were downright extortionate prices; the pencils especially.

Then again, fewer than 6 people in the whole area would ever have need of them, or the ledger. Only shopkeepers and accountants kept them.

...

He really hated it when people thought he had money.

He made a sour face, then dug in his purse for the 41 copper needed for the purchase, then placed it on the counter. If he was going to hit all of his stops today before they all closed, he did not have time to haggle with this man.

"There you are sir. You drive a hard bargain."

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

@spiral origin

The sturdy, well-aged gentleman behind the counter assessed Robert for a moment, eyes narrowing. "Yer not a soldier. You one of them outsiders?... Ya look a 'lil familiar, but also a 'lil strange…" The uncertainty in his slow, measured voice seemed to soften at the vague recognition of fellowship in Robert. "...Well, how can I help ya?"

Robert and his father had visited before, of course. He and some of his hired men later, over the years. The general goods merchant was a cagey sort, who was fearful of outsiders. Coin in his hand made him jovial enough, but he always questioned what you were going to do with his wares, if he did not know who you were. That seemed to be the feeling Robert always got when shopping with him anyway.

"Good evening, Sir." he opened. "Just a few things today. Nothing special. I need a new backpack, an empty ledger, and a few pencils."

After a moment's consideration, he decided to at least TRY to get something out of the man edgewise, by inquiring obliquely.

"--Why?, is there something I should know about the strangers in town today?"

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

Robert nodded at Engie, then excused himself.

"Miss Engie, my apologies, but I have things I need to do before the stores close for the day. If you'll excuse me."

He made a short, but congenial bow of his head with his hand on his chest, then turned and headed down the street, and toward the general store.

(So much to do, so little time... ... Dad's gonna be pissed.)

A few minutes later, he located his quarry; the unassuming general goods merchant's establishment. A random selection of housewares, dry goods, and other sundries lined shelves behind the large counter. In establishments like this, it was customary to tell the shopkeeper what you wanted, and they got it down for you, AFTER you paid for it.

Casually, he hailed the clerk.

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

Robert boggled for a moment, wondering if this man intended to join this seemingly mad quest as well or not... Hell, he himself wasn't completely sure he should go, and was as-yet undecided. He had presumed the man was staying in the city building for other reasons. Being an itinerant laborer, though, he supposed it added up he would be here.

He wondered what work the man had in town.

"A pleasure, Arthur. I am pleased you found our product to your liking. When we know it is for construction, we try to prioritize wood with straighter grain, and with fewer defects. With so few prospects out here, we have to be competitive against people trying to source the wood themselves. Did you have any issues using it, and was the customer fully satisfied?"

While it was no real secret back home that he positively *loathed* doing the actual cutting, loading, and dressing of said timbers, the 'customer service' and record keeping aspects were not that onerous, and were actually quite pleasing. His dad did not properly understand how valuable it was to engage with customers AFTER the sale, whenever possible, to follow up on things. He was always focused on the "right here, right now!" and the "Upcoming, have to fullfill!" aspects, and didn't seem to quite grasp how 'if a customer is truly happy with your product, they will not only come back, they will tell their friends'.

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

"Me? --Oh, Yes! My apologies, ma'am. My name is Robert, Robert Barrister. My family owns the Second Chance timber and mill company. We produce and deliver an assortment of raw wood products to interested customers. Some of our firewood offerings are special deliveries for culinary uses, but most are for hearths and fireplaces. We have a selection of timbers in our cut, and can make dressed raw boards and beams to order. --Well figured wood, costs extra. We also produce and deliver wood shingles, for those who use them.. but, I doubt a professional huntress would have much need of such though."

he made a weary smile, nearly invisible behind his mustache and beard.
"But thank you for asking. If you know anyone who would be interested in our wares, we are always interested in supplying them."

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

"I might be able to answer more.." Robert offered.

The question had not been posed to him, but if the strange woman wanted to know more about what the inn served, he was at least in a position to somewhat answer. He did not come often, and sometimes not at all, as sometimes the hired hands did the delivery without him. The family business delivered firewood to those willing or capable of purchasing, and had a customer for fine rough timbers here as well. Wood is a product that can keep nearly indefinitely if properly stored or handled, and smaller operations needed resupply much less often. At most, the 'Second Chance timber and milling company' made deliveries here about 3 times per year.

It took him an entire day's travel, one way, to merely get there, and another day's hard travel, to get back.

That meant staying at the inn.

Postal service this far out in the kingdom was a laughable prospect. In many ways, conveying the hearsays of one community to another along with the delivery of the wood products, was just as much how these remote towns stayed in touch as anything else. Sadly, that also meant that informing the inn of a visit without extensive pre-arrangements was simply not possible. Some years back, he and his father had visited the town, looking for more customers to service. It had taken quite awhile to settle into the now more or less routine scheduling their mill had with the nearby communities, with pre-arranged conditions for lodging, and expected products to be delivered.

It also meant a few years of time to have at least a passing resemblance of familiarity with the innkeeper, and his family, along with other customers. Good customers are worth their weight in gold, and must always be treated well.

"Master Bayard is decent man. His son is a bit younger than I am, and settling in about as well as you'd expect. Still a bit timid though. Their inn is clean, and they don't overcharge. This far out, the food they serve is at the mercy of what's available. It's pretty much the same for my family back home. I understand that some people are accustomed to having more choices more towards the larger cities, but out here, seasonal dishes are the most common. Theo does a better job cooking than I ever will, at least... .. It wont get you a better price, but if you want to make his day, tell him he did a good job."

He made a pensive, and distant musing expression for a second before continuing.

"This time of year, they might have mushrooms. If they do, consider yourself lucky. They don't keep long, and are only available for a short time every year. ...They tend to have that this run... Probably soup. They have a decent enough sweet ale, but the beer tends to be a bit too heavy on the bitters. Not terrible though. I think it's a regional taste. That, or they need it to last longer. Hard to say, I never asked."

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

"If you've packed explosives away in the inn, the keeper will be displeased." came a flat voice, slowly approaching from where it had been tucked into the background, along with the captain's quartermaster. It seemed Robert had finished his interview with the man, and was rejoining the group. He kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard by more than just their number.

"The captain's man says they have allotted 3 days provisions, basic camping and sleeping essentials such as bedrolls, tents, and essential tools for setting up mess, bandages and salves in case of injury, and a limited selection of simple weapons and armors for our task. Bows, axes, shortswords and the like. While I am thankful that whoever goes wont be completely unprepared, --given the quality of answers our captain has been providing, I have reservations about the quality of the wares, but I haven't seen them yet..."

Those dour eyes of his slowly panned the other three in the group.
"...so it is premature to make an assessment. As for myself, I already have a room paid for at the inn. Myself and my worker Hans planned to depart in the morning to return our empty wagon home after our delivery today. If I am to join this search, I'll have to send him with an ... unpleasant.. message, which he will not wish to deliver.."

For the first time in the whole evening, his face made a visible, emotional state. One of profound distaste- practically a scowl.

"..and one I will not be eager to answer for.."

He then cleared his throat, and continued as if nothing was amiss.

"Regardless, there were a few things his man let slip. Namely, many of the previous investigation team members have not reported back in yet, and have been out missing for more than 3 days. It may be prudent to prepare for significant difficulties. Additionally, the captain himself let slip that the herbalist tells stories about the area in question. It might simply be local superstition, but that is better than walking into a bad situation without any foreknowledge at all-- Personally, I wish our captain would just be more forthright. I have plans to make a few purchases in town, and intend to ask this herbalist about this matter... If any should wish to attend. The herb-seller will surely become cross at being interviewed repeatedly. Getting all our questions in at once, seems prudent. Buying some more easily appraised curatives, likewise."

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

Robert closed his eyes and shook his head, but made little other outward appearance of his profound disappointment in the captain's responses.

In the back of his head, memories of numerous prior arguments with his dad bloomed.

Mostly, about how the "upper crust" wasn't really all that great or reliable, and tended toward ever greater dysfunction. A thing he himself did not believe, or want to believe, but here was the captain, unable to answer some very simple questions.

Surely not. Surely.

He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts away, while maintaining the outward composure of someone unfazed by anything. The seeming lack of emotion was more habitual now than purposeful; years of assuming it to avoid becoming angry, and thus losing such 'discussions' with his father had kind of ground it into him like the tracks in a millstone.

"Captain, if it is alright with you, I shall coordinate with your quartermaster, to have a more complete accounting of such supplies."

Through a Wayward Glimmer -- to a Faraway Place

Robert stood in the corner, leaned nonchalantly against the wall with a stony, dour expression.

"I have a few questions of a different nature." he stated flatly.

"If we are leaving tomorrow, the matters of supplies, and passes need to be discussed. If we are going to be investigating the area thoroughly, this may be a lengthly event. If possible, we should request that His majesty, the Duke, should provide us with suitable passes for forage and hunting, at the very least. Being stopped by one of the royal foresters for poaching without permits will be quite unpleasant, and would derail our efforts there considerably."

He heaved a somewhat weary breath, those seemingly dull and empty brown eyes of his never once seeming to acknowledge the room he was in even existed, while he went over invisible pages in an expense ledger that did not exist anywhere but behind his own imagination.

"Then there's the issue of what material supplies will be provided, or will not be provided. If we are departing in the morning, that means we must appropriate suitable provisions tonight before the shops close for the night, and that means we need to know what we should or should not be bringing. What material assistance is being provided for this excursion, is there an expense budget, and if so, what is this budget-- and are there any preferences the ducal seat would desire to be maintained?"

His face made a very dour, and somewhat sour frown behind his mustache and beard.

"It is important to consider whether our expenses will exceed our payment, before accepting a job."

His eyes narrowed a moment; a mere flicker, before returning to dull, expressionless emptiness.

"It would also be good to know what the official investigation of the area turned up, where, and for what was searched, what evidence we should assign to the leavings of the previous investigation, vs things of actual interest, and if any more specific details about the previously mentioned 'personal effect' might be shed. People dont normally take things with them without reasons; what was the item the young lady dropped -or discarded-, what is the significance of this item to the lady-- such details may seem trivial matters..."

The frown returned, but as always, the eyes said nothing.

".. Or might even be considered indiscreet... but may provide some useful insight into the nature of her disappearance, or the nature of her .. errand... out in a dangerous, abandoned ruin, in a dangerous wood, rumored to be home to dangerous entities..."

A wry smirk came on his face for a mere fraction of a second, before being replaced with the frown once again.

"--And, as concerns these supposedly present entities, what information can the ducal seat provide about the nature of said beings? Answers to these inquiries may well prove quite insightful concerning the purchases I may soon undertake. The history and significance of the ruin itself, may also provide answers, or insights, into the nature of both the errand, and her disappearance."