The Better Bargain

[Anonymous]

The doorway cracked open, a slight figure passing its arch with a strongman in tow. Odelia's brilliant, snow-white hair tussled back with a flick of her wrist, and as it coiled around her neck she craned it forward to glance into the shop. Shoes and boots of all kinds lined the shoemaker's cases and cabinets, which was fortunate as this was the time to get some proper shoes.

Her companion was a strong, limber man whose name the Gods had decreed as Dylan Eroses. Hair curled back in a warrior's knot at the aft of his skull, Dylan carried with him an item of great notice in his broadsword, sheathed at his hip. Save that one item he seemed a normal villager, sturdy from farming or whatever task he had chosen, if a bit dull.

"Welcome," the shopkeeper exclaimed, pushing aside his chair as he rose. He was a sturdy man, nearly as tall as Dylan, with the texture and tone to back up his trade. "Is there anything I can help you with, Little Miss?" A clap struck the ground, Dylan's boot biting down and his arm grabbing in a pointed finger. The sword at his waist spoke clearly of his trade, clear enough to wash away the shoemaker's sinuses as he approached. Yet even as he lifted a cautioning digit Dylan doubted himself. This was no place to make a scene over such a trifle as 'little miss.' But, all the same, the thought of him talking of Odelia as such...

Lowering his hand, Dylan spoke softly and with swathes of archaic tone. "Our presence here be for a pair of lady's shoes. Can you offer anything, good sir?" He loosened his form somewhat as he drew back. The shoemaker swallowed deeply. The doubt of his safety was clear in his eyes.

"Y... Yes. I-I've got several pairs that could fit a child such as her," said the man, dabbing a hand to feel his brow. Dylan assented, "Aye, but we've got need for a traveler's boot if we hope to tread the untrodden." Again the shoemaker gulped. " But I'm afraid I only have one quality pair for distance travel..."

"Then we'll take those!" chirped Odelia, bobbing out from behind her retainer before crouching back. Dylan gave a groan, but nodded to his teller. "Aye," he said. "Whatever those are, we shall have them."

[Anonymous]

Oh, no, they hadn't.

Miria turned slowly from the cobbler over the course of Dylan and Odelia's barging in loudly and the cobbler's uncouth shift of attention.  Apparently he did not like well-off prats who haggled too much.  Over the course of the awkward exchange she looked Dylan up and down, scowled at his sword, then Odelia.

If a glare could burn holes in things Miria's would've been a chemical fire for the shade of green and intensity.

And then they asked for precisely the thing she had been haggling over.  It was simply too much.

"Excuse me."  Effort kept as much venom and distaste as possible from her voice, but it remained evident.  She addressed the cobbler.  "<I>Sir.  I believe we were discussing an item?"

The cobbler offered her a glance, then looked back to Dylan with his dour expression and visible sword.

They probably intended to pay full price and be gone as quickly as they could.  Crossing her arms, Miria's expression only grew more agitated.  It had not been a pleasant day and her current footwear would last a week at best; she'd had enough of Ketra.  "This is ridiculous.  You're going to be intimidated into selling the boots to them because he's walking around with a sword and a bad attitude?  I could only be more disappointed if your reasoning was that the girl is 'cute,' or 'energetic,' or something equally silly.  You have a customer, sir, and I intend to buy those boots."

[Anonymous]

Dylan started outright at Miria's intrusion, almost slipping down to grip his blade. Realizing that he was in a store and not a battlefield, he ceased his movements, but as he retracted a look of distaste coated his face. From behind him  Odelia peeked a head out to see the rude person, a woman wearing the fiercest darn glare you could ever find on a mortal human. Over a pair of boots? Well, that seemed a little rude...

"You have another customer? Forgive the intrusion, sir," Dylan said with a light bow. "But, we are in need of your wares. The price?" The cobbler darted eyes back and forth between Miria and Dylan, Dylan and Miria, freaky scary person vs. big-ass sword. That was quite the choice, wasn't it?

After clearing his throat, the man continued. "The price is two gold p-pieces. Um... I'm not much of a haggler, s-s-s-s..."

"Sold!" Odelia ducked back again, popping out the other side. "These sandals aren't comfortable... So, we'll take 'em!"

"Aye," asserted Dylan, ducking a hand into his money pouch. "We'll have them, sir." Taking a handful of coins, Dylan swiped up his currency for inspection, but the result was far from good. Three silver pieces, a handful of bronze and copper ones... No gold. That sucked.

"Sir? The money?"

Dylan half-cleared and half-swallowed his throat, shuffling the coins back into his pack. "Upon second inspection, good sir, it seems I... mm... don't have two gold pieces..." His grin, sheepish as it was, quickly was replaced with a scowl. "But, good sir, we are in need of those boots. Would three silver and five bronze pieces be satisfactory... eh...?"

The cobbler took a moment to think. "No," he said with a shaking constitution; "I'm afraid these are my best pair... um... um...! P-pointy object..." Giving a sigh, Dylan prepared for the eventual barter.

[Anonymous]

"Hah!"  She had not meant to laugh, but it was a nice touch.  "They are a fine pair of boots, sir.  You'd be a fool to let them go for such a price, and I'd say you must be no fool."

Outside, clouds had already begun to boil up out of a lazy, muggy evening: strange weather, old timers would say, coming on like it was being chased.  It would take a while to rain, of course, but all the signs and the smell of it appeared.  But the weather had been fickle for a couple of weeks now.

In the shop Miria grew more assured of herself, took some of the prim posture she had been taught at home and the ingratiating tone.  "I can top them by three bronze, sir.  What do you say to that?"

[Anonymous]

Quite the loudmouth, wasn't she? Still, the gleam in the cobbler's eye as he caught the words "top by three bronze", evident to Dylan, prompted his response. As he rested a hand over the grip of his broadsword, as passively as could be, Dylan rustled about the coin purse to assure his purchase. It hurt even thinking of it, but if there was to be traveling involved the young one would need the finest of footwear. What use did he have for that now?

"Have you got a better offer, sir?" asked the shopkeeper of Dylan. For his role in the play, the swordsman withdrew his three silver and five bronze, the finest coins he had. To add to this, he switched hands to another pouch, from which he withdrew the badge he had worn as an officer of Connlaoth. It was marked as the crest of the country, silver in rim and bronze in breadth. As he clattered it down with the coins and placed it forward, Dylan came to a more resolute posture.

"C... Connlaoth's..."

In the end, there was no avoiding it. Dylan craned his neck back, grappling the badge and tossing it to Odelia. "Melt it," he said. "Don't leave any trace of the crest." The youthful ward nodded, clasping her hands together and drawing them away to reveal a free-floating badge.

A swift 'zing' broke the silence that followed, accompanied by a fiery crackle and the sound of metal heating to and breaching its boiling point. Odelia then dipped a hand down to the mass that dripped away, steam sizzling off it before she drew her hand up to reveal a curling mass of melted silver and bronze. Dylan took it quickly, snatching the still-cooling amalgamation and offering it with his coins.

"Three silver, five bronze, and the melted badge of an officer. You'll find some quality silver there, sir. Do we have a deal?"

As you'd expect of the spectacle, the cobbler found his words inadequate to express his thoughts. He swallowed, scritch-scratching the back of his neck, as he reached out a hand to take the offer silently.

[Anonymous]

Miria watched wide-eyed as Dylan drew forth the crest, and knew exactly what that meant.

In her mind, this was the most clever set-up imagineable, and someone she should not have trusted back home had snitched.

Despite a quick mind and a strong resolve, she stuttered, then said, "No."

Miria didn't wait to see him ask Odelia to use magic: she was out the door in a flurry of skirts thinking she'd been found, without stopping to listen to reason and consider how unlikely it was that Connlaoth would send someone this far.

(If you do not wish to pursue, we will have them meet again by coincidence somewhere else?)

[Anonymous]

The uproar of movement was not lost to any in the store, least of all the cobbler. The crest of Connlaoth held in its trappings the symbol of 'fear' for many, including this girl by some means. Dylan tightened his free fist in distaste for the situation.

"So, we have a deal, s-"

"No."

Dylan swiveled to see Odelia, hands still crackling with power, rush out the door in hot pursuit of the woman. Muttering a curse and a half-hearted 'hang on,' he shuffled his payments into the money pouch and took pursuit of them both.

Odelia beat her feet as fast she could in the worn sandals she bore. The magic she had conjured faded steadily. I know that look, she said to herself. Like you were about to die. We... Darn it. Turning corners and tapping against the borders to keep balanced, the young magician rushed after the long-gone enemy of the Connlaothian empire.

Damn it all... Odelia! Following as fast he could with a broadsword at one hip, Dylan tried hard to keep Odelia in sight. Why she had followed, and why he was pursuing her, seemed clear enough in his mind. The theory was concrete; the application, misted in unknowns and maybes. He had to get to her. "Hold it, Odelia!! Slow down," he yelled out, quickening his pace.

"Hey, lady," Odelia called, Miria almost in sight, "wait!! It's all right!"

[Anonymous]

Miria did not pause to look back to see pursuers or pay them any heed.  She was not particularly fast, especially in her heavy travelling clothes, and knew just how easily that spry-looking man could catch her, let alone the girl.  It still did not occur to her to think on why a soldier from Connlaoth would be here after her, or with a child, but none of it mattered.

Living mattered.

Miria meant to lose herself on a market street, but realized her unplanned route took her somewhere far safer.  Without any thought to it she rushed into the door of an inn, likely still in sight if they had followed, but on the other side she paused and smoothed her skirts and tried to catch her breath.

There were plenty of people in the common room and the hired boy at the desk asked a worried, "Miss?"  She had been playing here nightly in exchange for a room, and surely familiarity offered some protection.

Miria smiled to the boy and went to strike up a conversation with some of the patrons and seem as unruffled as possible, and hope that the danger had passed.

[Anonymous]

Miria had vanished into the doors of the inn, Odelia still in hot pursuit. Brushing aside men and women twice her girth, the youth strived to meet the gateway to a misunderstanding. Why she'd run was obvious; what struck Odelia most was her fear, the absolute fear that she, too, felt.

She knew.

"Damn it all! Odelia!!" Stopping just short of the door, Odelia swiveled back to find Dylan wheezing above her. "Your speed is beyond mine, Odelia... Tone it down, could you?"

"Ah, but Dylan, she-"

He knew. As he opened the inn's door, Dylan craned his neck to find the woman, intent on righting the terror he had inflicted. He found her speaking with another patron, and so approached her with hands drawn out in a symbol of peace. Odelia watched silently, sliding agilely into a corner of the pub to watch from a distance.

"Miss! There seems to have been a misunderstanding... I do apologize...!!"

[[[ Crappy, I know. Sorry. ]]]

[Anonymous]

"A misunderstanding.  Of course."  She had regained some of her composure in the brief moment of rest, but hadn't had the time to mull the situation over.  "I am afraid I understand too well, and that is the problem."

Or do I?

Connlaoth might send a soldier after her at her family's request, but at much pain to them, and not because of magic: because she had run away.  Otherwise there would be no point in spending even one unit of manpower on a single magic user with the intelligence to leave the kingdom in peace.

Let alone a soldier with a child.

Miria looked away so her long hair would hide the red that suddenly flushed her face.  I think too much of myself.

At length she said, hesitantly, "Perhaps there is a mistake."

[Anonymous]

Dylan spurred a smile from Odelia as he approached, arms raised and voice strong. He cut such a powerful figure then, but he had had his moments in the past. Catching himself on fire with their faintest flintstone, for example; or falling into the river after said incident to keep from dying. Such fun days.

"Well, miss... You've put us on quite the chase. All because of my indiscretion, I might add..." Pausing, Dylan mulled over the consequences of what had happened. Not only had he burned to a fine mess the badge Connlaoth had entrusted him, but he had frightened a lady -- for what reason she might have distaste for Connlaoth, he could have no doubt as he shared it. The former of the crimes was outweighed, but the latter? Inexcusable for a gentleman.

"I hope I've not frightened you too much, ma'am. As penance..." The former knight's digits slithered into his pouch, drawing out and bearing the melted badge. It had cooled significantly, no trace of sizzle or frazzle left on its being. Only a dazzling sheen remained courtesy of the forge-like processes that had borne it to its present state. Dylan spoke, softly as he could: "I want you to have the badge. Destroy it, sell it, do whatever you please. My companion and I owe you at least as much for troubling you."

Odelia darted forward, hands flapping behind her as if she were trying to fly. "Lawn! You were the one who told me to-"

"Realize what you say, Odelia!!" The young girl halted mid-step, foot falling back to brace. "You know not," Dylan said, "whether the walls and floors bear ears and eyes." Realizing her error, Odelia slunk back, demure. So secured, Dylan faced back to Miria, offering once again the smelted silver.

"It is yours, milady."

[Anonymous]

Though the opportunity no longer bore itself, Miria had spent much of her young life acting above herself as her parents had attempted to attract suitors that they might arrange their daughter to marry into a title.  And here was a chance to perhaps regain some degree of dignity, even if no one of worth was looking.

She took a breath, an honest one, not for show, but to steel herself.  "No," she said quite firmly.  "Thank you for the offer.  It was not your indiscretion that caused the incident, but my own inflated sense of self-importance.  I should be offering you reparation."  Miria offered the slightest smile and made surer eye contact with Dylan.  "Besides, I may very well have just caused you to lose those boots.  I would hurry back if you want them."  Then, as an afterthought: "And if there is anything I may do for you, please ask.  If you think of something at a later time, even, I play here at night."  Some of the embarassment from moments before returned when she almost added, and I do not know when I will leave.

The whole situation made Miria all the more aware of just how far she was from being the adult she tried to act.

[Anonymous]

Dylan offered a smile of his own, staring into the eyes of this beautiful young lady. "No repatriation is necessary, milady," he said with a bow. Retracting the melted badge and slipping it back into his money pouch, he made the mental note to return as swiftly as time allowed. Honor, however, was a matter he prided himself upon. To leave a young lady in fright, or embarrassment, whichever or whatever, was unbeholden the level he kept to.

"LAAAAWN! I'm tired."

Having not even opened his mouth halfway, Dylan gave a haggard sigh with one finger twitching idly at the sound. A glance behind him gave evidence that Odelia had placed herself right at his aft. He knew this because he could feel her poke and prod him as he hung in midair, a muted, tailored doll to Odelia's innocent puppeteer. There wasn't much to discuss, after all.

"Ahem... Milady, at least allow me to offer me name before I go. That name is Dylan Eroses, former soldier of Connlaoth. What your fear is of the country, I cannot say. Nor will I ask. However...

"We shall be venturing out come the morn, preferably with those boots we both coveted. Are you sure you wouldn't want to take them? There are other pairs for us, milady..."

From behind him Dylan felt a sharp tug to his pants' leg. Odelia wanted to leave, apparently. Again he sighed, bowed, and stepped to the side in preparation to turn. "We're staying in the Freeman Inn across the way, some ten or fifteen minutes from here. Please, visit us if you so desire. Now, if there is nothing else, milady?"