Chapter 143 - A Day in Vel’khan III
Claire was unable to find any taverns until she did the unthinkable and asked a local for directions. Her pride was wounded, both by the need to make the request, and by the strange look that the bipedal turtle had given her, but at the very least, she was able to pinpoint her destination.
According to the armoured reptile, there were a number of bars spread throughout the city, only two of which were worth noting. The Golden Mug, located in the southern district, was the location favoured by society’s upper crust. Its drinks were handcrafted by a master brewer, and its chef was a highly skilled professional sourced directly from the Ryllian. But despite that, the testudine had recommended against visiting it. Its prices were too high for most, and entry required either a reputation or an extraneous amount of free time. His personal recommendation was The Sparkling Rat, a smaller establishment positioned near the western exit. It wasn’t quite as polished as The Golden Mug, but its quality was high enough, and more importantly, the average Joe didn’t have to spend hours waiting in line outside.
The Mug seemed like a better place to make a recruitment drive, but Claire opted for the alternative. Anyone that named their restaurant after a rodent was either foolish or incredibly confident, and she was tempted to think that it was the latter, given the man’s enthusiasm.
Wandering westward confirmed that the city’s layout was effectively symmetrical. All the houses were built around the castle in the center, while commerce took place in its outermost layer. It was the opposite of the standard Cadrian model, and in her mind at least, made very little sense. Business was more easily conducted in a large centralized market. According to her father, placing merchants by their rivals sparked competition and innovation.
There was also the matter of efficiency in times of war. A destroyed residence could be replaced following an attack, and in fact, state-employed earth mages often did just that. A looted conglomerate, however, came at the cost of a large stock of goods, many of which may very well have been necessary for the war effort. There would be a great economic loss if even one larger corporation was brought to financial ruin, the taxes from which could have easily funded the post-war insurance policies that fueled rebuilding and restoration.
Even with the tavern’s location pointed out to her, Claire was unable to locate its entrance immediately. The sign was unclear, buried among a thousand others, and the atmosphere made it difficult for her to locate it with her ears. She never would have found it, had a drunkard not stumbled out its front door.
Stepping inside, she discovered that the restaurant was a cramped location with room for only a few customers. There were about five tables spread throughout and another or so dozen seats at the bar. But for what it lacked in space, it made up for with smoke; there was so much ash in the air that she was reminded of an active volcano.
The bartender, a bald, muscular grug too brawny for his shirt, shot her suspicious glance, but returned to serving the other customers without voicing his distrust. A few others also happened to look her way, but most were too preoccupied with their food and drink to pay the newcomer any attention. Not even the tavern’s staff appeared interested in greeting her. The barmaids tending to the door turned away and avoided her gaze as she stepped inside.
Though tempted to check if there was anything off putting about her appearance, Claire ignored the peanut gallery and walked to the counter. She confidently sat atop one of the few empty stools that remained and stared a hole into the back of the barkeep’s head. A cold sweat began to dribble down the side of the man’s face as he continued going about his business. She could tell that he was conscious of her attention, given how he kept gulping and glancing over his shoulder, but he refused to approach until there was nothing else left for him to do. He even used his eyes to plead with the other customers for more tasks, but none obliged.
Eventually, he gave up, set down the cup he was polishing, and walked to the end of the counter. “How can I help you?”
Braugr’s heartbeat was rapid and his breathing shallow, but he feigned composure. He had been a barkeeper for over three months, and it wasn’t his first time dealing with a suspicious customer. The cat-eared frog was at least aware that his best choice was to stand firm. It was difficult, with the hooded figure’s predatory, serpentine gaze kicking his self-preservation instinct into overdrive. But one way or another, he managed to keep his cool.
“I want information,” said the guest.
The ascended grug felt the back of his throat dry out. It felt like she was going to eat her, if he refused.
“And don’t worry. I don’t enjoy the taste of frog.”
He felt his face turn three shades paler as a bone-chilling breeze briefly washed over him. Though he couldn’t make out any details, he could swear that he saw the glimmer of a lamian cheek scale poking out from beneath her hood.
Gulping again, he took half a step back as he squeezed out a shaky response. “W-we don’t deal in that here. All we have is food and drink. Would you like a menu?”
The frog-eater breathed a sigh. “No. I want you to help me find a maid.”
“I don’t know any maids!” shouted the bartender. “I-if you’re not going to order, then please leave!”
Claire pulled her hood over her eyes and leaned forward on the counter. “You have the wrong idea. I want to hire a maid.”
Only by interacting with the man did she realise why she was being avoided. The bartender was a frog, the waitresses were mice, and many of the patrons were lizardmen; nearly all of those present in the tavern were of races that feared snakes and their kin. It wouldn’t at all have surprised her to discover that some of them had close friends or family that had been mistakenly married and subsequently consumed by lamian widows.
“T-then you’re in the wrong place!” he stuttered. “Go to the job board!”
Claire tilted her head, not because she was unfamiliar with the concept, but because taverns were meant to be the answer to all worldly woes. It wasn’t just the stories that appeared to support the theory. She knew for a fact that her father had met with many of his contacts in taverns, with a much younger half-moose in tow. “Why?”
For a moment, the -37% catgirl was utterly flabbergasted. His ears shot straight up as he brought a webbed hand to his face.
“Get out,” he mumbled. “Leave or I’ll call the guards.” He raised his other hand and pointed it at the exit. He was tired of dealing with her. She obviously wasn’t a customer, and as far as he could tell, had only entered the bar to harass him and the other patrons.
Claire was annoyed, but her hands were tied. She shot the man a full powered glare, got up, and waltzed out the door while he was still frozen in place.
Ignoring the commotion that ensued, she walked down the street and sought another source of information. She knew nothing about any of the city’s brokers, and evidently, the local tavern was not the miraculous meeting spot she had expected.
“So that didn’t go so well, did it?” A voice came from within her hood, with its source peeking out shortly after.
“You were awake? Since when?”
Sylvia wrapped her arms around her shoulders and feigned a shiver. “Since you suddenly decided to make it really cold, duh! How the heck am I supposed to sleep if I’m freezing to death!?”
“I don’t know. Be fluffier.” The lyrkress turned a random corner.
“I can’t! I’m already the fluffiest fox in all of Lly—”
A magical push clamped the tiny vixen’s jaw shut and cut her off mid-sentence.
“Not so loud. We don’t want to draw attention,” whispered Claire.
“Oh yeah! I forgot. Llystletein isn’t like a super normal place out here is it?”
“Not at all.”
“Right… sorry” Sylvia smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of her head. “So where are we going now anyway? Since the whole tavern thing didn’t work out like you said it would.”
“I don’t know.” Claire looked around the street before locking onto a building whose sign was made up of a set of familiar, rectangular shapes. “Maybe here?”
The shop she had stopped in front of was slightly smaller than most of the others around it, but looking through its glass window revealed an impressive selection of wares, all of which were unfortunately extremely susceptible to fire.
“Is that a library?” asked Sylvia.
“It’s a bookstore,” explained her mount.
“What’s the difference?”
“You have to buy the books. You can’t just read them.’
“Oh… that kinda sucks, but I guess they probably have some stuff that Al doesn’t, right? Let’s check it out!”
Nodding, Claire fired a quick glance at the pouch attached to her waist. She had collected a few bits and pieces of coinage from the bandits she had removed. Altogether, she had roughly a pound of silver and another three of copper. It was a pittance that left her feeling impoverished, only a tenth of what she was often given when allowed to head into town.
In Cadria, silver needed to be forged into daggers before it could be used as legal tender, a pound of which produced exactly ten coins. One of her father’s squires would receive two daggers a week, while a more experienced knight was given five at the least. Each could pay for about a month of living expenses, housing, leisure, and all. The copper coins, on the other hand, would be melted down and cast into tiny hilts. Hilts were the unit of currency that changed the most hands, and two could afford a cheap meal and a drink. Cadrian prices, of course, would not be identical to Vel’khanese prices, but because they were all based in precious metals, it was rare for there to be too large a discrepancy between the various regions.
Despite the sorry state of her finances, Claire strode into the bookstore without a hint of reluctance. She nodded at the owner, a mermaid sitting in an oversized wooden bucket, and got right to wandering the aisles.
There was a tug on one of Claire’s ears as the fairy hidden in her hood began to whisper. “Did you see her scales? They were really pretty.”
The pink plates that made up the mermaid’s tail glistened beneath the sun, sparkling with a dozen different colours. They were certainly impressive, but too fishy to be admired.
“Mine are better,” said Claire.
“Are they?” blinked the fairy.
“Blue is prettier than pink.”
Sylvia hovered down to one of Claire’s cheek scales and gave it a poke. “I guess you have a point.”
“I know I do. Now be quiet for a moment. So I can find what we need.”
The rogue’s eyes narrowed as she cast them on the impressively low price tags. The encyclopedias were only five copper coins each, and based on what The Sparkling Rat’s patrons were paying, each coin was worth roughly half a hilt. It took looking further down the aisle to finally find a few entries marked with silver. And even then, they were on the cheaper side, requiring only one or two pieces each. Are they reprints?
Curious, she retrieved the thickest volume she could find, only to put it back down upon realising that it was titled Tentacle Erotica for the Wounded Heart. When she looked around, she found that most of the others were similar, bearing labels such as The Mightiest Sword, Two Snakes in a Pod, and Down and Dirty with Daisy.
“Uhmmm… Claire? Are you sure we’re looking at the right books? Because this seems like the kinda stuff Al reads.”
The lyrkress frowned. “I know. But these are the most expensive ones. We might find what we need, if we look around enough.”
“Uhhh… I dunno…” She crawled back into the moose-snake’s hood. “I guess you can give it a shot if you want, but I’m going back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Claire had her suspicions, but she continued to scan the various titles nonetheless. Every book was either a sultry romance with a number of extraneous details, or some sort of textbook, only some of which were lacking in the aforementioned characteristic.
“Alright, kid. That’s enough. Get out of the adult section.” The mermaid crawled over to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “It’s meant for widows and lonely, middle-aged housewives, not perverted brats like you.” Another hand grabbed her by the hood and tried to peel it back, but it got caught on her ears and wound up only half removed. The lyrkress’ rider, however, was knocked loose by the sudden swaying. She fell forward and exposed her fluffy tail before darting back under cover.
“What the…” the shopkeeper blinked, “Is that a fairy?”
“No,” said Claire. “And I’m not a child.” Pushing the hand away, the blueblood set down the only somewhat relevant book she had found so far, a collection of papers describing the details of bovine reproduction in dungeon-like environments, and turned around.
“Right… Sorry, didn’t mean anything by it. Brats love sneaking into the back, and most seven-year-old kelpfins are about your height. I guess I mistook you for one of them.”
“Well I’m not.”
“Maybe, but you still seem a bit young to be browsing this section.” The mermaid bent over and snuck a peak past the lyrkress’ hood. “Definitely a bit youn—ow!”
Claire grabbed the nosy shopkeeper by the face and forcefully straightened her back. “Stop trying to look at me.”
“I will, if you stop browsing the adult section,” grumbled the shopkeeper. “Kids are a definite no go, but we don’t sell to horny teenagers either.”
“Hey! That’s rude!” said Sylvia as she climbed out of Claire’s hair. “We weren’t even looking at any of the weird stuff!”
“So it was a fairy. I knew it,” said the mermaid, with a glint in her eye.
“Hi!” said Sylvia, with a wave.
“Hello,” replied the mermaid. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen one of you in person. You’re really quite adorable.”
“And it’s my first time seeing a mermaid,” said the foxgirl. “Your scales are really pretty.”
“Thank you,” said the shopkeeper. “I’m flattered, but don’t think that’s enough to sweet talk me. I’m still kicking you out. Now move, shoo. Come back when you’re older.”
With a twitch of the ears, the rogue pulled her hood lower and turned her head away. “I was trying to find something with information about dungeons.”
“And you ended up in the adult section because?”
“I followed the price tags.” Claire pointed down the aisle she had walked down. “The thicker ones are more expensive. I thought they would also have more information.”
“Well, they do have more pages…” The fish girl smiled awkwardly. “But you’re in the wrong part of the shop.”
“See! I told you!” said Sylvia, whose mouth was promptly pinched shut.
With a smile, the clerk gestured with her fingers for the customers to follow as she hobbled down the aisle and crawled to one of the display shelves near the store’s front. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“A map. Something with dungeon locations marked in it.”
“Of course you’d be some sort of adventurer with grip strength like that…” The mermaid muttered under her breath as she pressed her hands against the sides of her skull. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like the bone had suffered a dent.
“I heard that.”
“Great. A violent adventurer whose ears aren’t just for show. My favourite type of customer.”
She pulled a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles out from within her robes and placed them over her ears as she began browsing through her merchandise.
“This is probably what you were looking for.” The clerk presented a thin scroll, tied with a tiny silken ribbon. Opening it, she revealed a diagram of the surrounding area, with various landmarks and threats highlighted in all sorts of different colours. “It’s a pretty detailed map, made by a scyph. It doesn’t have every dungeon, but it’s got most of the ones that matter.”
“Wow! That looks really nice. Is it new enough to be up to date?” asked Sylvia.
“It was drawn just last year, so it should be.” The clerk rolled the scroll back up and walked over to the counter. “That’ll be two silver and a copper. Anything else?”
Claire frowned as she posed the question that had offended the bartender. “Where can I find a maid?”
The fish girl blinked. “Did you mean a book about maids? Is that why you two were in the adult section?”
“No, no, no! Not like that” shouted Sylvia. “We need a maid to clean stuff.”
Claire nodded and elaborated on her careless friend’s explanation. “I don’t know where to find one. Going to the tavern didn’t work.”
“You tried to go to the tavern to hire a maid?” The storekeeper shook her head. “You’ve been watching too many plays.”
“The bards sa—”
Claire began to speak, but she was cut off when the mermaid raised a hand. “Nevermind the bards. They never tell you what really happens. Go to one of them and all you’ll get is an embellished fantasy. Stick to the books if you want real information.”
“Hey! That’s rude!” shouted the fox fairy. “We tell the truth all the time!”
The shopkeeper smiled. “Some of you do, perhaps.” She pulled out a piece of paper and quickly sketched a few lines onto it before pointing to a spot marked with a cross. “This is where you are now. If you walk down the main street, turn on the third intersection, and keep going until you find a plaza, you’ll find a large board with all sorts of different things on it.”
Claire nodded as she magically yoinked a few coins out of her pouch and placed them on the counter.
“Talk to one of the ladies there, and they can put an advertisement up for you. There’s a small fee, but I doubt you’d mind if you’ve got enough money to invest in maps.”
“Okay.”
Claire placed the scroll inside of a newly formed pocket and headed for the exit.
“Thank you, come again!” said the mermaid. “And no browsing the adult section next time!”
“Bye!” said Sylvia.
Claire didn’t offer a verbal response, but she turned around and gave the clerk one last nod before closing the door behind her.
Chapter 143 - A Day in Vel’khan III
Claire was unable to find any taverns until she did the unthinkable and asked a local for directions. Her pride was wounded, both by the need to make the request, and by the strange look that the bipedal turtle had given her, but at the very least, she was able to pinpoint her destination.
According to the armoured reptile, there were a number of bars spread throughout the city, only two of which were worth noting. The Golden Mug, located in the southern district, was the location favoured by society’s upper crust. Its drinks were handcrafted by a master brewer, and its chef was a highly skilled professional sourced directly from the Ryllian. But despite that, the testudine had recommended against visiting it. Its prices were too high for most, and entry required either a reputation or an extraneous amount of free time. His personal recommendation was The Sparkling Rat, a smaller establishment positioned near the western exit. It wasn’t quite as polished as The Golden Mug, but its quality was high enough, and more importantly, the average Joe didn’t have to spend hours waiting in line outside.
The Mug seemed like a better place to make a recruitment drive, but Claire opted for the alternative. Anyone that named their restaurant after a rodent was either foolish or incredibly confident, and she was tempted to think that it was the latter, given the man’s enthusiasm.
Wandering westward confirmed that the city’s layout was effectively symmetrical. All the houses were built around the castle in the center, while commerce took place in its outermost layer. It was the opposite of the standard Cadrian model, and in her mind at least, made very little sense. Business was more easily conducted in a large centralized market. According to her father, placing merchants by their rivals sparked competition and innovation.
There was also the matter of efficiency in times of war. A destroyed residence could be replaced following an attack, and in fact, state-employed earth mages often did just that. A looted conglomerate, however, came at the cost of a large stock of goods, many of which may very well have been necessary for the war effort. There would be a great economic loss if even one larger corporation was brought to financial ruin, the taxes from which could have easily funded the post-war insurance policies that fueled rebuilding and restoration.
Even with the tavern’s location pointed out to her, Claire was unable to locate its entrance immediately. The sign was unclear, buried among a thousand others, and the atmosphere made it difficult for her to locate it with her ears. She never would have found it, had a drunkard not stumbled out its front door.
Stepping inside, she discovered that the restaurant was a cramped location with room for only a few customers. There were about five tables spread throughout and another or so dozen seats at the bar. But for what it lacked in space, it made up for with smoke; there was so much ash in the air that she was reminded of an active volcano.
The bartender, a bald, muscular grug too brawny for his shirt, shot her suspicious glance, but returned to serving the other customers without voicing his distrust. A few others also happened to look her way, but most were too preoccupied with their food and drink to pay the newcomer any attention. Not even the tavern’s staff appeared interested in greeting her. The barmaids tending to the door turned away and avoided her gaze as she stepped inside.
Though tempted to check if there was anything off putting about her appearance, Claire ignored the peanut gallery and walked to the counter. She confidently sat atop one of the few empty stools that remained and stared a hole into the back of the barkeep’s head. A cold sweat began to dribble down the side of the man’s face as he continued going about his business. She could tell that he was conscious of her attention, given how he kept gulping and glancing over his shoulder, but he refused to approach until there was nothing else left for him to do. He even used his eyes to plead with the other customers for more tasks, but none obliged.
Eventually, he gave up, set down the cup he was polishing, and walked to the end of the counter. “How can I help you?”
Braugr’s heartbeat was rapid and his breathing shallow, but he feigned composure. He had been a barkeeper for over three months, and it wasn’t his first time dealing with a suspicious customer. The cat-eared frog was at least aware that his best choice was to stand firm. It was difficult, with the hooded figure’s predatory, serpentine gaze kicking his self-preservation instinct into overdrive. But one way or another, he managed to keep his cool.
“I want information,” said the guest.
The ascended grug felt the back of his throat dry out. It felt like she was going to eat her, if he refused.
“And don’t worry. I don’t enjoy the taste of frog.”
He felt his face turn three shades paler as a bone-chilling breeze briefly washed over him. Though he couldn’t make out any details, he could swear that he saw the glimmer of a lamian cheek scale poking out from beneath her hood.
Gulping again, he took half a step back as he squeezed out a shaky response. “W-we don’t deal in that here. All we have is food and drink. Would you like a menu?”
The frog-eater breathed a sigh. “No. I want you to help me find a maid.”
“I don’t know any maids!” shouted the bartender. “I-if you’re not going to order, then please leave!”
Claire pulled her hood over her eyes and leaned forward on the counter. “You have the wrong idea. I want to hire a maid.”
Only by interacting with the man did she realise why she was being avoided. The bartender was a frog, the waitresses were mice, and many of the patrons were lizardmen; nearly all of those present in the tavern were of races that feared snakes and their kin. It wouldn’t at all have surprised her to discover that some of them had close friends or family that had been mistakenly married and subsequently consumed by lamian widows.
“T-then you’re in the wrong place!” he stuttered. “Go to the job board!”
Claire tilted her head, not because she was unfamiliar with the concept, but because taverns were meant to be the answer to all worldly woes. It wasn’t just the stories that appeared to support the theory. She knew for a fact that her father had met with many of his contacts in taverns, with a much younger half-moose in tow. “Why?”
For a moment, the -37% catgirl was utterly flabbergasted. His ears shot straight up as he brought a webbed hand to his face.
“Get out,” he mumbled. “Leave or I’ll call the guards.” He raised his other hand and pointed it at the exit. He was tired of dealing with her. She obviously wasn’t a customer, and as far as he could tell, had only entered the bar to harass him and the other patrons.
Claire was annoyed, but her hands were tied. She shot the man a full powered glare, got up, and waltzed out the door while he was still frozen in place.
Ignoring the commotion that ensued, she walked down the street and sought another source of information. She knew nothing about any of the city’s brokers, and evidently, the local tavern was not the miraculous meeting spot she had expected.
“So that didn’t go so well, did it?” A voice came from within her hood, with its source peeking out shortly after.
“You were awake? Since when?”
Sylvia wrapped her arms around her shoulders and feigned a shiver. “Since you suddenly decided to make it really cold, duh! How the heck am I supposed to sleep if I’m freezing to death!?”
“I don’t know. Be fluffier.” The lyrkress turned a random corner.
“I can’t! I’m already the fluffiest fox in all of Lly—”
A magical push clamped the tiny vixen’s jaw shut and cut her off mid-sentence.
“Not so loud. We don’t want to draw attention,” whispered Claire.
“Oh yeah! I forgot. Llystletein isn’t like a super normal place out here is it?”
“Not at all.”
“Right… sorry” Sylvia smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of her head. “So where are we going now anyway? Since the whole tavern thing didn’t work out like you said it would.”
“I don’t know.” Claire looked around the street before locking onto a building whose sign was made up of a set of familiar, rectangular shapes. “Maybe here?”
The shop she had stopped in front of was slightly smaller than most of the others around it, but looking through its glass window revealed an impressive selection of wares, all of which were unfortunately extremely susceptible to fire.
“Is that a library?” asked Sylvia.
“It’s a bookstore,” explained her mount.
“What’s the difference?”
“You have to buy the books. You can’t just read them.’
“Oh… that kinda sucks, but I guess they probably have some stuff that Al doesn’t, right? Let’s check it out!”
Nodding, Claire fired a quick glance at the pouch attached to her waist. She had collected a few bits and pieces of coinage from the bandits she had removed. Altogether, she had roughly a pound of silver and another three of copper. It was a pittance that left her feeling impoverished, only a tenth of what she was often given when allowed to head into town.
In Cadria, silver needed to be forged into daggers before it could be used as legal tender, a pound of which produced exactly ten coins. One of her father’s squires would receive two daggers a week, while a more experienced knight was given five at the least. Each could pay for about a month of living expenses, housing, leisure, and all. The copper coins, on the other hand, would be melted down and cast into tiny hilts. Hilts were the unit of currency that changed the most hands, and two could afford a cheap meal and a drink. Cadrian prices, of course, would not be identical to Vel’khanese prices, but because they were all based in precious metals, it was rare for there to be too large a discrepancy between the various regions.
Despite the sorry state of her finances, Claire strode into the bookstore without a hint of reluctance. She nodded at the owner, a mermaid sitting in an oversized wooden bucket, and got right to wandering the aisles.
There was a tug on one of Claire’s ears as the fairy hidden in her hood began to whisper. “Did you see her scales? They were really pretty.”
The pink plates that made up the mermaid’s tail glistened beneath the sun, sparkling with a dozen different colours. They were certainly impressive, but too fishy to be admired.
“Mine are better,” said Claire.
“Are they?” blinked the fairy.
“Blue is prettier than pink.”
Sylvia hovered down to one of Claire’s cheek scales and gave it a poke. “I guess you have a point.”
“I know I do. Now be quiet for a moment. So I can find what we need.”
The rogue’s eyes narrowed as she cast them on the impressively low price tags. The encyclopedias were only five copper coins each, and based on what The Sparkling Rat’s patrons were paying, each coin was worth roughly half a hilt. It took looking further down the aisle to finally find a few entries marked with silver. And even then, they were on the cheaper side, requiring only one or two pieces each. Are they reprints?
Curious, she retrieved the thickest volume she could find, only to put it back down upon realising that it was titled Tentacle Erotica for the Wounded Heart. When she looked around, she found that most of the others were similar, bearing labels such as The Mightiest Sword, Two Snakes in a Pod, and Down and Dirty with Daisy.
“Uhmmm… Claire? Are you sure we’re looking at the right books? Because this seems like the kinda stuff Al reads.”
The lyrkress frowned. “I know. But these are the most expensive ones. We might find what we need, if we look around enough.”
“Uhhh… I dunno…” She crawled back into the moose-snake’s hood. “I guess you can give it a shot if you want, but I’m going back to sleep.”
“Okay.”
Claire had her suspicions, but she continued to scan the various titles nonetheless. Every book was either a sultry romance with a number of extraneous details, or some sort of textbook, only some of which were lacking in the aforementioned characteristic.
“Alright, kid. That’s enough. Get out of the adult section.” The mermaid crawled over to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. “It’s meant for widows and lonely, middle-aged housewives, not perverted brats like you.” Another hand grabbed her by the hood and tried to peel it back, but it got caught on her ears and wound up only half removed. The lyrkress’ rider, however, was knocked loose by the sudden swaying. She fell forward and exposed her fluffy tail before darting back under cover.
“What the…” the shopkeeper blinked, “Is that a fairy?”
“No,” said Claire. “And I’m not a child.” Pushing the hand away, the blueblood set down the only somewhat relevant book she had found so far, a collection of papers describing the details of bovine reproduction in dungeon-like environments, and turned around.
“Right… Sorry, didn’t mean anything by it. Brats love sneaking into the back, and most seven-year-old kelpfins are about your height. I guess I mistook you for one of them.”
“Well I’m not.”
“Maybe, but you still seem a bit young to be browsing this section.” The mermaid bent over and snuck a peak past the lyrkress’ hood. “Definitely a bit youn—ow!”
Claire grabbed the nosy shopkeeper by the face and forcefully straightened her back. “Stop trying to look at me.”
“I will, if you stop browsing the adult section,” grumbled the shopkeeper. “Kids are a definite no go, but we don’t sell to horny teenagers either.”
“Hey! That’s rude!” said Sylvia as she climbed out of Claire’s hair. “We weren’t even looking at any of the weird stuff!”
“So it was a fairy. I knew it,” said the mermaid, with a glint in her eye.
“Hi!” said Sylvia, with a wave.
“Hello,” replied the mermaid. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen one of you in person. You’re really quite adorable.”
“And it’s my first time seeing a mermaid,” said the foxgirl. “Your scales are really pretty.”
“Thank you,” said the shopkeeper. “I’m flattered, but don’t think that’s enough to sweet talk me. I’m still kicking you out. Now move, shoo. Come back when you’re older.”
With a twitch of the ears, the rogue pulled her hood lower and turned her head away. “I was trying to find something with information about dungeons.”
“And you ended up in the adult section because?”
“I followed the price tags.” Claire pointed down the aisle she had walked down. “The thicker ones are more expensive. I thought they would also have more information.”
“Well, they do have more pages…” The fish girl smiled awkwardly. “But you’re in the wrong part of the shop.”
“See! I told you!” said Sylvia, whose mouth was promptly pinched shut.
With a smile, the clerk gestured with her fingers for the customers to follow as she hobbled down the aisle and crawled to one of the display shelves near the store’s front. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“A map. Something with dungeon locations marked in it.”
“Of course you’d be some sort of adventurer with grip strength like that…” The mermaid muttered under her breath as she pressed her hands against the sides of her skull. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it felt like the bone had suffered a dent.
“I heard that.”
“Great. A violent adventurer whose ears aren’t just for show. My favourite type of customer.”
She pulled a pair of thick-rimmed spectacles out from within her robes and placed them over her ears as she began browsing through her merchandise.
“This is probably what you were looking for.” The clerk presented a thin scroll, tied with a tiny silken ribbon. Opening it, she revealed a diagram of the surrounding area, with various landmarks and threats highlighted in all sorts of different colours. “It’s a pretty detailed map, made by a scyph. It doesn’t have every dungeon, but it’s got most of the ones that matter.”
“Wow! That looks really nice. Is it new enough to be up to date?” asked Sylvia.
“It was drawn just last year, so it should be.” The clerk rolled the scroll back up and walked over to the counter. “That’ll be two silver and a copper. Anything else?”
Claire frowned as she posed the question that had offended the bartender. “Where can I find a maid?”
The fish girl blinked. “Did you mean a book about maids? Is that why you two were in the adult section?”
“No, no, no! Not like that” shouted Sylvia. “We need a maid to clean stuff.”
Claire nodded and elaborated on her careless friend’s explanation. “I don’t know where to find one. Going to the tavern didn’t work.”
“You tried to go to the tavern to hire a maid?” The storekeeper shook her head. “You’ve been watching too many plays.”
“The bards sa—”
Claire began to speak, but she was cut off when the mermaid raised a hand. “Nevermind the bards. They never tell you what really happens. Go to one of them and all you’ll get is an embellished fantasy. Stick to the books if you want real information.”
“Hey! That’s rude!” shouted the fox fairy. “We tell the truth all the time!”
The shopkeeper smiled. “Some of you do, perhaps.” She pulled out a piece of paper and quickly sketched a few lines onto it before pointing to a spot marked with a cross. “This is where you are now. If you walk down the main street, turn on the third intersection, and keep going until you find a plaza, you’ll find a large board with all sorts of different things on it.”
Claire nodded as she magically yoinked a few coins out of her pouch and placed them on the counter.
“Talk to one of the ladies there, and they can put an advertisement up for you. There’s a small fee, but I doubt you’d mind if you’ve got enough money to invest in maps.”
“Okay.”
Claire placed the scroll inside of a newly formed pocket and headed for the exit.
“Thank you, come again!” said the mermaid. “And no browsing the adult section next time!”
“Bye!” said Sylvia.
Claire didn’t offer a verbal response, but she turned around and gave the clerk one last nod before closing the door behind her.
