The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

Coin did not sleep much for the rest of that night. Whatever slumber he did get was fleeting and light, devoid of any dreams. When the morning finally came, whatever he could remember of his encounter was hazy at best.

For as vivid as his dream had been in the moment, his mind struggled to grasp any of it in the aftermath. And, as a result, he couldn't bring himself to talk about any of it.

If he did, all he could think to say was that he had had a bad dream that left him feeling rather uncomfortable. And with so little detail to provide, it wasn't like anyone could offer him much in the realm of aid or comfort.

As far as Coin was concerned, there was no point in talking about it if he couldn't even begin to articulate his issues. He just put on a brave face and settled into his seat when the time came to leave the Froth estate.

They pressed on toward Grafia, under a cloudless sky vibrant with the glow of the late morning sun. Yet, as they travelled, Coin couldn't help but take note of the tracks that had wound ahead of them for their entire trip thus far.

Wagon tracks that had hewn deep furrows in the road, punctuated by an abundance of hoofprints. Seeing Coin's curiosity, Elijah spoke up. "Seems a convoy went ahead of us. Either last night or rather early this morning."

"A lot of horses by the look of things," Coin mused, adjusting his hold on Dancer's reins. His voice was heavy with fatigue, each word emerging with laboured effort.

"And with armoured wagons, for the tracks to be this deep. Must've been in a mad rush," Elijah murmured.

"Should we... be worried?" Coin asked. He'd saved his group from one ambush already, but he'd do it again if he had to.

"Oh, I doubt it's any criminal group. Or, at least, not highwaymen. They wouldn't travel in such a large, loud group, for one thing," Pearl said from atop her mount.

"She has a point. And highwaymen wouldn't want to give upcoming marks a reason to be wary in advance," Elijah said. "Keep an eye on the treeline, just in case, but by my reckoning we ought to be safe."

Coin nodded, occasionally sniffing the air from where he sat. The increasingly familiar scent of horse hung in the air, distinct from that of Pearl's steed. But whoever was ahead of them had put in a considerable distance, and he smelled no human presence nearby.

Grafia was, fortunately, not too far from Gilly Froth's estate. Indeed, as they reached a bend in the road, it was easy to see the rest of the broad dirt track weaving towards the edge of the town.

The town consisted of an abundance of squad buildings, mostly built from red brick while a few of the newer structures on the edge of town were shabby wooden homes. A great rocky bill dominated the rear of the town, and even from a distance it wasn't hard to see the mine entrances that had been carved into the surface.

And then, further beyond the hills, one could just glimpse the coast. Coin briefly grew still at the sight of it. The tip of Arcadia, and the sea beyond. Coin tried to comprehend how large the sea actually was, relative to the land. Then it gave him a headache, and he promptly stopped dwelling on it.

"So we can get this... black powder down in Grafia?" he asked.

Elijah nodded. "A healthy amount of it is produced in this region. The ingredients for the concoction can be found in abundance, and the local alchemists produce plenty of it for a tidy sum. I have a few friends out here who owe me some favours, and we'll be sure to get them shipping some supplies to Valle."

"Arms dealing?" Pearl asked, tilting her head. "Seems I'm in the company of dangerous men."

"Are you sure we can actually trust Valle? You seemed uncertain when he extended that offer to us," Coin remarked. But it was apparently perfectly legal to sell things to people that could be used to kill other people. It was a positively affluent industry, as it turned out. So what was the harm?

Elijah shrugged. "Valle is a troubled man. I'll admit I was a little bit wary about doing this favour for him. But I think he's good at heart. Doubt he'd be involved in people who aren't above board. When it comes to who he sells his weaponry to, at least."

Essine stirred in the rear of the wagon. "This one trusts your judgement. But black powder is very dangerous, the thought of sitting anywhere near a barrel of the stuff is... disconcerting," she admitted.

"Understandable," Elijah said. "That technology has become a bit of a terrible burden on the world in the years since cannons were invented. In the olden days, the most devastating thing to see on the battlefield was a wizard. Now it seems every army can field the firepower of several wizards if they have enough cannons and black powder to hand. The noise during the revolution... bloody deafening, and terrifying."

"Oh, certainly. I had the misfortune of seeing the aftermath of a battlefield out in Guhldea. Dreadful stuff. Fields of craters, human pulp and body parts littered about the place." Pearl sucked air through her teeth and shook her head. "Gruesome."

"Sure sounds that way," Coin admitted. He imagined a battlefield of human pulp and dislocated body parts. His mouth watered a bit.

The gate guards, who looked like piles of mutton who had been crudely shaped into their surcoats, waved the group toward the town stables without bothering to check what their cargo was. It was hot, it was early, and frankly it would have been too much of a hassle to do a contraband check.

Pearl smiling and batting her eyelashes helped too.

After lodging Dancer for the night, the group pressed into Grafia proper. Essine stuck close to Coin's side for the journey, her tail swishing slowly from side to side.

The town was roughly the same size as Wheat Valley, but certainly grimier than the other town had been. A thick ashen smell hung in the air, making Coin wince and wrinkle his nose the first time he took a breath in. He glanced toward the hill, able to see plumes of pale smoke rising from rows of chimneys.

They did not have to go far to reach their destination: A looming grey stone building that had a flowing banner on either side of the entryway. A brass sign was screwed above the door, the inscribed lettering reading: Morley's Alchemical Goods.

"Here we are," Elijah said, pushing the door in. A strong chemical scent hit Coin on the way inside, like an open-handed slap. It was harsh, bitter, and smoky. "Morley!" he called.

Coin and the others came to a halt, stunned at the sight of the truly massive man who was seated behind the counter. The man's hairy arms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, looked broad enough that he could snap another man like a twig. His jutting brow was covered by a thick pair eyebrows, blacker than a forest in the dead of night, and cast a shadow thick enough to shade his eyes entirely.

Morley snorted, rustling the hairs of his brush-like moustache. "Elijah. Been a while," he simply said, brushing at his soot-stained smock.

"Far too long, far too long," Elijah replied, chortling. "How are the kids?"

"Loud an' irritating."

"Ah. Same as ever then." He turned to regard the others. "I'll be here a while. Morley can be a bit of a chatterbox when he gets going."

"Aye." The giant man slowly snorted. "Could jaw the ear off the Goddess if I wanted to," he added, speaking as if he was polishing each syllable before he spoke it.

"Er, alright. Well I imagine we'll be lodging here for the night, so I'll get that set up for us," Coin replied, raising a hand.

Morley rose from the chair behind him, his broad shoulder eclipsing the weighty cabinet of alchemical bottles behind him. "Try the Fisher's Haunt. It's just up the road from here, has a big salmon-shaped sign over the door."

Coin nodded toward the giant man. "Of course. My thanks." He turned and led the way out, flanked on either side by Pearl and Essine.

"Such a foul smell in that building," Essine murmured, pinching at her muzzle.

"I know, right? Felt it scorching inside my nose."

Pearl regarded the two warily. "Eh? I didn't smell too much of anything. Nothing that strong, at least."

"Ah, well," Coin sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "My... nose is sensitive, I suppose."

The kobold turned, looking up at his eyes while tenting her clawed fingers together. "I... need to go shopping for supplies." She hesitated. "Would you-"

"I'll accompany you," he simply replied.

Essine brightened, her eyes widening and her ears standing to attention. "Oh, wonderful! I greatly appreciate it."

Coin gave Pearl an aside glance. "She was attacked the last time she went to buy supplies," he explained.

"How dreadful. Kobold or otherwise, a lady should be free to walk the streets unharmed. Such brutish times we live in," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "But, if we're handling errands... I think I have a rather nice money making opportunity in mind."

The mention of making money made Coin's spine stiffen. "Is that so?" he warily asked.

"I have a friend who has performed in this town before, and he told me there's an alehouse popular among the miners. Bit of a... rough scene, you see. They money is good, certainly, but those fellows tend to get violent with each other. And, certainly, I could do with the help of a... handsome, strong fellow to provide security if I perform there."

A tiny growl rose in Essine's throat, her eyes briefly narrowing.

"Well... for a little bit of money... I'm more than happy to do a little bit of bodyguard work."

What was the harm?