Peek: Exotic Goods (Patreon)

Dinjurl hasn't been able to keep the smile off his face, ever since he saw the elven capital of Horlon in the distance. Not only is he returning home, but he's also returning home with what will soon make his fortune. The journey to Fourdock was long, but he wouldn't call it arduous. The revitalizing trade route is still new enough that bandits haven't had a chance to establish themselves, and judging by the numbers of guards and military patrols he passed, the Kingdom aims to deny them that chance.

On the one hand, it's a pity. Scarcity would make his treasures sell for even more. On the other, it makes it a lot easier and more likely for him to be able to transport his treasures and sell them. At the gate, he hands over his cargo manifest and the guards do a cursory inspection. He's well known as an honest trader, and of all the things he would sell, his honesty is not on the list.

Even the tax on his imports can't wipe the smile off his face. Honest he may be, but it's not his fault his new goods slip through a lot of the cracks for market value. He'll have to pay more taxes once he sells them, but that's simply business.

He drives his cart to his stall, his apprentices looking relieved to see their master finally return. His emporium is still standing, and they're still solidly making profit, so he can't complain too badly. No, not when he still has his precious merchandise in the cart. His apprentices quickly get it unloaded, and he has plenty of time to catch up on news as he prepares for the evening rush of adventurers.

Those who challenge the dungeons like to get an early start, and often return in the evening, their packs flush with coin and materials, and Dinjurl's shop is the perfect place to exchange either for a new sword.

Or for something even better.

He tells his apprentices to watch as he steps up to the counter and adds his shout to the din of other merchants selling their wares. "Fresh imports from the north! Weapons, armor, and never-before seen enchants!"

Most of the adventurers ignore him, unfamiliar with the tanned elf, but that's their loss. The ones who know him, or know of him, make their way to his stall, eyes curious and purses laden.

"From the north?" asks a wolfkin whom Dinjurl isn't familiar with. "I've heard some pretty crazy rumors about the north. Some new dungeon or something?"

Dinjurl smiles wide. "A Cloistered one that had its seclusion broken just over a year ago! What sort of things in those rumors piqued your interest, sir?"

"Not me personally, but one of my party members heard about some kind of crazy new bow?"

He smiles, knowing the sale is practically done already, and reaches back to pull out the item from his crate. "They call it a dwellerbow, made by the dwellers of the dungeon. It looks complicated, but it works marvelously. Here, draw it."

The wolfkin accepts the bow, and has to be shown which string to pull. He strains, and is about to ask what's wrong with it, before he passes the point of advantage, and the pull lessens significantly. Even as someone not familiar with a bow, he can recognize something special. "Why is it so easy to hold the draw? I tried my friend's bow once, and I could barely hold it at full draw long enough to try to aim!"

"It's the odd pulleys," he answers, pointing them out. "I don't understand the design myself, but I can recognize the draw lessens once the pulleys rotate far enough." The wolfkin eases the tension and resets the draw, looking over the bow.

"Are there any enchantments?"

"Not on this specific one, but I do have others."

The wolfkin rubs his chin. "I'll go get my friend. He's going to want to get his hands on this himself."

"Of course, of course! Do be quick, though. I expect every archer in the city will want one, once the knowledge spreads."

The wolfkin nods and dashes off, leaving room for a dwarf to use the step to easily see over the counter. "Y' mentioned armor?"

"Aye, I did. Strong as a mountain, light as a feather," he says, handing over a helm that's simple in shape, but utterly unique in material.

"Wha..." mutters the dwarf as he turns it over a few times, giving it a few taps, his eyes slowly widening. "How's it got s'many enchants?!"

Dinjurl laughs. "It's a drop from a dungeon to the north! It doesn't give out many, but I've managed to secure a few full sets. I've heard it compares well against even the best steel."

The dwarf pulls out a knife and Dinjurl doesn't try to stop him as he gouges the helm with a stab, looking unimpressed with the result. "Steel, eh?"

The elf simply smiles and motions at the helmet, drawing the dwarf's attention just in time to see the gouge seal up. "I'm told it simply needs some time to repair itself. And you'd know better than I how much damage that masterwork knife of yours should have done to it."

"I'll take a set."

The two haggle over the price, earning Dinjurl a very tidy profit, and earning the dwarf a set of armor he can show of, or maybe try to replicate. The wolfkin eventually returns with an elf in tow, who is impressed with one of the enchanted dwellerbows. In fact, he's so impressed that he hardly bothers to haggle at all, too eager to train with the new toy.

The evening stretches into proper night, yet the market still bustles, and eventually, Dinjurl spots just the elf he'd been waiting for. The elven woman practically radiates danger, even when she spots Dinjurl and gives a genuine smile. He thinks it's her dark leather armor and the large sword on her back.

"Din! You're back!" she exclaims, stepping up to the window and glancing inside. "I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to return."

He smiles. "Of course I came back, Mayla. The capital is the best place to sell the wonderful things I've collected."

She rolls her eyes at him. "You always say things are wonderful, uncle, but you never have anything I can use!"

He laughs. "It's not my fault you're so high level! But I think I have something you'll like, this time."

Her eyes sparkle in excitement, making the nearby adventurers shuffle away. Excited adventurers are often dangerous ones.

"You haven't challenged the Shrouded Bog yet, right?"

She deflates. "No. I need a party for that, but I haven't been able to group up with anyone strong enough."

Din nods at that. "You might be able to try the dungeon I got this from, if you're looking to advance solo. But if you're determined to face the bog..." He reaches under the counter and pulls out a leather bracer with silver threading. "...then this should help keep you safe."

Mayla sighs and picks up the bracer. "The bog's never safe, that's the whole problem! Lifedrinking is around every puddle!" she complains, looking over the bracer. "What's it do? Something to keep the ghosts solid?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Even better. It protects from Lifedrinking."

The area around his stall goes silent, drawing the attention of more of the market as he explains. "The dungeon of Fourdock will sometimes give out anti-Lifedrinking equipment, or you can get it enchanted by one of its enclaves. I'm told Wideblade himself has one awarded personally, and endorsed that it was genuine."

"You... you're sure you didn't get scammed, uncle?" she asks with hope, and he nods.

"I'm sure. My appraisal is high enough to find a scam. This is genuine."

Mayla squeals and leans over the counter to hug him, and he hugs her back. "Thank you, uncle!"

He snorts as he holds up the matching bracer. "Don't thank me just yet, Mayla. You're my favorite niece, but I can't just give that away." Her expression falls, even as his own smile widens. "Of course, as family, I'll give you the best deal I can!"