Cinnamon Bun

I woke up with birdsong in my ear and a smile on my face.

The room I had been given had a small window, barely bigger than my head, but enough that--when I had left it open for the draft of fresh night air--it let in plenty of noise. People talking, laughing and starting their day. Birds darting around with wild whistles and the bark of a happy dog.

I stretched in my bed, then let all of my limbs go floppy and loose so that I could enjoy the sensation of being in a bed.

Beds, I decided, were the best.

I wanted to just... stay there forever, but I was a busy bun with busy bun things to do! With a sigh, I tossed off my blankets, then hopped to my feet and stretched a little more. I found all of my clothes--conveniently left draped all over the room’s one chair--and got dressed up and ready to go.

I debated wearing my armour, but in the end chose not to. It would feel good to go without for a day and if I wanted to buy clothes or equipment later it would be a hassle to take it all off. I still carried my bandoleer and my backpack though.

“Orange!” I called out. No kitty appeared. A look under the bed revealed nothing, nor did a peak in the dresser provided with the room. I shrugged and pushed a bit of mana into my necklace. I wasn’t sure how it worked, exactly, but I figured it might just get me my kitty companion back.

A moment later a ball formed in the air before me and a disgruntled Orange poofed into existence. She looked around, then glared at me.

“Oops,” I said. “Sorry, Orange, but I’m heading out and I think you should come!”

Orange huffed, but she still took pride of place on my shoulder and refused to budge even as I ran my fingers through my hair to unknot it, then tied it in a neat ponytail. Preparations for the morning done, I fired off a nice burst of cleaning magic at myself and grinned.

“Let’s go take on the world, Orange!” I said.

The Inn’s main floor was a chaotic hive of activity. More people than could possibly be rooming at the inn were swarming the tables, shouting over each other, laughing at unheard jokes and basically drowning the floor in raucous noise.

Nancy, the nice barmaid, stopped by me, a tray on her head and two in each arm. “If you’re not in a hurry love, zen you’d best wait in your rooms for breakfast.”

“Ah, okay!” I tried to say, but she was already moving through the crowd, avoiding elbows and snapping her long tongue into the face of any boy with questing fingers. It was impressive to see her go, but I had a bunch of other things to do and breakfast could wait. Maybe lunchtime would mean a calmer inn.

Stepping out into the full sunlight of the morning was, for just a moment, completely blinding, but I enjoyed the light before taking my bearings of the world around me.

There were a bunch of carriages hitched to big ol’ horses. The wagons were empty except for the benches by their sides. That was plain enough and other than a passing thought to petting the horses I didn’t pay them any mind. The gigantic frogs, on the other hand, those had me pausing.

These weren’t dressed like the grenoil. In fact, they were naked except for a bunch of harnesses strapped all over them with big sacks that looked full of stuff. A grenoil, looking tiny next to the giant frogs, was checking the harnesses when I approached. “Eh, hello sir,” I said.

He turned and brought a hand up to adjust the straw hat he was wearing. “Yes ma’am?”

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the giant frog. It didn’t look sapient at first glance.

“Never seen a toad before, huh?” he asked.

“That’s a toad,” I said. “It’s huge! The toads where I’m from are no bigger than Orange.” I pointed to my shoulder cat as an explanation.

The man laughed. “Ay, Zey’re big bastards. Nice though. Zey might try to gobble you up, but a swift kick or two and Zey’ll let ya out. We use ‘em to carry stuff. Good for hauling. ’Specially ‘cross ze terrain ‘round here. Lot’s a mud. Horses get stuck, so we use toads when we can.”

“Wow,” I said. “That's cool. Where do you go with them?”

“Ze dungeon, of course,” he said. He tipped his hat at me. “Need to get back to it before ze delvers finish eatin’.”

I waved him goodbye and went the long way around the toads. There looked to be a half dozen of them, with more being brought over from the other side of the outpost. They probably had a corral of some sort for them and the horses.

I took in all the shops that the outpost had to offer. There was a grand total of three of them, which wasn’t that impressive. Still, it seemed like Rockstack was made to cater to adventurers and the like, so I expected the shops to maybe have better gear and such.

The blacksmith’s shop was the one to the far left, so I chose to start there. A snoop through the windows revealed stacks of swords and spears and all sorts of weapons left alongside racks of armour.

I opened the door and was assailed with the shriek of metal-on-stone, drowning out the jingle of the little bell above the door.

"If you brought it last night, it's not ready yet!" someone screamed over the din from the back of the shop.

“Um, no!” I called back. “I’m just here to look around.”

The whirring noise continued, but I could hear someone moving. I prepared a nice smile to welcome them. The smith was a big bird person, her white feathers turned black with grime and her entire front covered by a thick apron. “If you’re not here to buy,” she squawked, “Then be elsewhere.” She emphasised every word with a swing from an unfinished sword.

“Oh, okay,” I said before backing up and out of sword-reach. I turned around, careful not to knock anything over with my backpack, and ran out of there. Maybe I could try again when she wasn’t so busy. It wouldn’t do to dismiss a potential friend just because they were a little gruff.

I’d try again tomorrow!

My next destination was the general store next to the blacksmith’s shop. This one had a much bigger floorspace filled with shelves laden with stuff. Most of the things on display were strange twists on the ordinary. Cans of food with tabs on them next to paper-wrapped strips of jerky. Jars of salt and boxes of soap.

There were non-food things too. Stacks of baskets, sacks, and flasks all in neat rows. There were scales for sale (2 sil) and a barrel filled with long wooden poles (3 cop ea.) next to a stack of torches. There were little bands with stones sewn into the front labeled as genuine runelights going for a silver each next to Fur-B-Gone magic razors.

I smiled at the older looking grenoil behind the counter as I continued to browse. The ads on the walls caught my eyes with their colourful displays. ‘Croaker’s Delight’ was apparently a brand of cigars and ‘Deep Delve Wax’ a sort of wax to put on leather that was guaranteed to make it waterproof.

Then at the back I found rolls of dark pelt (Sombral Skin, 1sil/yrd) and bits of bark in a box labeled Dryad bark that was going for a few copper an ounce.

I had to hold back a laugh at the strange, yet magical feel of the place. So many ordinary things right next to extraordinary ones. Then I saw the glass display near the counter with books inside and I rushed over. “Ohh,” I said as I took them in.

“Interested, missy?” the old grenoil asked. “I’ve got Ze basics and nozing but, I’m afraid. Flare’s Compendium of Basic Magics, Ze Deep Dungeon Delvers’ Dictionary and a few others besides. I’ve got skill scrolls too. Fireball and Mana Manipulation. Some martial art guides.”

I snapped to attention. “Fireball?” I asked.

The grenoil croaked a laugh. “Indeed!” He reached into a cubby-hole filled rack behind him and pulled out a scroll which he placed on the table. The end caps were simple wood, but they had little fire carvings marked on them. “Zese are three sil each,” he said.

I winced at that. I could afford them but there were other things I would need and-- “I’ll take it.”

The shopkeep grinned and placed the scroll to the side. “Anyzing else?”

“Um, the book on basic magics, how much is that?”

“Zree lesser gold,” he said with a straight face.

That was over three hundred meals over at the inn. That was three hundred nights in my tiny room with the nice bed. Were books really that expensive? “I’ll think about it,” I said. “Um, I do have some things to sell,” I said as I put my backpack down.

“Show me, show me. I trade a lot in monster drops here,” he said.

The first thing I placed were the parts of the plants I had collected. “Um, these are from plants that I ran across on the way here. Blood Dandelion, Red Chockerberry...” I paused as the shopkeep waved his hand in a ‘no’ sort of gesture.

“Sorry miss, I could buy zese off of you. I can see what zey’re worth after all, but Dylan next door would give you a fairer price for your flowers. I would merely resell zem to him for a markup.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s very honest of you. Thank you!”

He shook his big froggy head. “No no, it behooves one to be honest in his dealings. And zis outpost is almost entirely populated wiz dungeon divers and explorers. A bad reputation amongst zem would hurt more zan just my bottom line.”

“Well, thank you anyway,” I said. “What about ghost cloth?” I reached into my back and pulled out two squares of ghostly cloth.

“Zis I’m more familiar with. An uncommon material from a common foe. Zey would be farmed but farming ghosts is tricky business. Zese are in nice condition,” he said as he examined the cloth then ran a hand over it. “Good enough. Not ze market for it here, but I can send it to my guild affiliates for a tidy profit. I’ll give you two sil each.”

Better than nothing. “Okay,” I said.

The shopkeep stared at me then rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to offer five, zen we meet at zree,” he said.

“Oh.”

He set the cloth aside and I wasn’t sure if I had just been tricked or not. “Alright. I also have this painting that I found.” I placed the small painting of a dragon and a boat on the counter. I had been dragging it around for a while, frame and all, but it was small and light. I took off the sheet covering it and let the shopkeep look at it. “Do you have a skill to know what things are?” I asked. “I have Insight.”

A moderately high quality painting of a dragon over a fishing boat, old.

“I have Appraise, which is similar. Not as... insightful, pardon ze pun, but better at judging ze value of zings. Zis painting is worth forty sil, for example.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes, I’ll give you ten.”

My shoulders slumped. “Oh, okay.”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Fine, twenty.”

I grinned big and proud at him. I had made so much!

“Okay, twenty-five, but not a sil more.” He set it aside with a huff.

“Thank you!” I said. The next item up was a small pile of silverware.

The shopkeeper looked at them all quickly, then shrugged one shoulder. “Two cop each. Some are worth more, others less. Zese I can sell to zose coming in here, or bundle with my meal and survival packages and call some of zem higher quality.”

“Okay,” I said. “This is my last item,” I said as I placed my magic wand on the table.

The shopkeep made a strange face.

“It’s a wand of cure hysteria. It still works. I used it.” To kill ghosts, but he didn’t need to know that.

“No. Find a shop zat... specializes in zat kind of zing. Not here.”

“Oh, okay,” I said.

A quick tally later and I was leaving with twenty-six more silver and forty copper and, best of all, a scroll of Fireball!

I was going to set so many things on fire!