Hadiin returned to the starting village with a decided spring in his step, visions of gold coins in his head. The sky was suddenly bluer, the day, like his prospects, brighter.
Then they emerged from the forest onto the village’s dirt streets and, surrounded by the little huts and shabby population, reality came crashing down. Hadiin came to an abrupt stop, the smile melting off his face.
Marian turned to him with a worried and confused expression. “What’s wrong?”
“It seems that I’ve been getting a bit ahead of myself,” he muttered.
“What do you mean?”
He sighed and watched a pair of chickens run past. “I mean that my ambition outstrips our current environment.”
“Huh?”
“Well, there’s no point in putting my brilliant idea into practice right now because the people here are too poor. We’d hardly make a single silver piece in this village.”
She shrugged. “Ok. So? We sell whatever you wanted to sell here and then go on to the next town later.”
He shook his head. “Market advantage. Right now, we have it. But the moment we put our idea into production, someone will come along and copy it. It is just an idea, after all. And if they have more money and means than we do, they’ll take off with our idea, leaving us in the dust of poverty.”
“Ah, ok. What do we do?”
“Capital. Resources. We need to make sure that we have enough in place to not only be first to market, but to carve ourselves out a niche and grow so fast that it will discourage casual competition.”
“So we need more money and a bigger town to sell our stuff in. What are we selling, by the way? You haven’t said.”
He ignored that last part. Better he kept the idea to himself, for now. “Right, capital and a bigger town. I assume the next town is nearby? Players must finish this area pretty quickly.”
She nodded and pointed north. “Just over that ways. It’s an overnight walk, I think.” She cocked her head. “Ok, I assume whatever we’re doing has something to do with cryo slimes. But how are we going to collect enough to sell? And how are we going to carry it all to the next town? You have no strength and neither of us have magic bags.”
“Excellent, Marian! Good thinking!” he enthused, moving deeper into the village.
She smiled at that, suddenly flustered again and hurried to follow.
He clapped his hands and strode with determination. “You’re absolutely correct: our carrying capacity is far too low at the moment. As merchants, that will be a sever handicap. Ergo…ah.” He changed direction and made for a farm on the edge of the village.
The farm was small, of course. Grain grew in a large square plot next to a crude wood and thatch home. A horse munched from a trough next to the house. And a wagon sat by the edge of the field.
Hadiin waved and smiled at the man working the garden next to the field. “Hello, and good day, sir!”
The farmer was lean and older, with a mostly bald head and gnarled hands around his hoe. He slowly straightened up with a groan. “Afternoon. What can I do ya fer?”
“Your wagon and horse. I would like to purchase them,” Hadiin confidently announced.
The farmer laughed. “And how would I get to town, way over yonder? Or transport anything? Like this here grain, come harvest time.” He chuckled.
“I’m sure that we can make an arrangement in that regard,” Hadiin answered. “But for right now, I’d like to buy the pair. How much, my good man?”
The farmer turned serious and slightly frowned. “Not really for sale.”
“I understand. And I’m not here to make your life difficult, really. Let’s say that if I were to buy your horse and wagon from you, I would guarantee that you got your entire harvest to market, on time. I myself would transport it for free if need be. And with the money from the sale of said horse and wagon, you could buy new.”
The farmer scratched his head. “Dunno about that.”
“Shiny, brand new wagon. You’d be the talk of the town, I’ll bet.”
Farmer raised his head at that. “Well, maybe.”
Hadiin continued to stroke his ego. “Handsome new horse, young and strong and with even more years on him than this one. People would admire that upgrade, surely. Makes you lok right smart, doesn’t it?”
Pride puffed out the older man’s bony chest. “Yessir, they would.” He hesitated only a moment more. “All right then. A gold for the wagon, mister.”
Hadiin tried not to flinch. A gold? Outrageous!
“And two more for the horse,” the farmer continued.
“Two!” Hadiin exclaimed, unable to control himself.
The farmer nodded agreeably. “Horse is worth more than a wagon. Can make a new wagon myself with some help from the blacksmith here. Can’t make myself another horse and no telling when I could track down a good one.”
“Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t be all that difficult—“
The farmer grinned and stuck out his hand to shake on the deal. “Three gold. Ya got yerself a deal.”
Hadiin forced a smile and shook the man’s hand, thoughts of murder inelegantly flying through his mind. These were quickly eclipsed with calculations. He had 68 sp, or 0.68 gp. The slime quest would give another 7 sp for a total of 75 sp. He was 2.25 gp short. “I shall return as soon as I can with the money. Thank you.”
“No, thank you! Now I think about it, ‘bout time I had a new wagon. Don’t mind having a new horse either. Rather excited now.” He turned back to his garden and whistled a happy tune as he worked.
Hadiin and Marian turned and headed away.
Hadiin did not wonder at the man’s newfound cheer. Somehow, he felt that the farmer had gotten the better of him by far. Should he forgo the deal and look elsewhere for ways to make money? Journey directly to the new town and look for quests and the like there?
“I think he suckered you,” Marian chipped in, breaking the silence.
Hadiin nearly growled.
They turned in the slime quest and were paid.
Money: 75 sp
“What now?” Marian asked. She seemed content to let him lead things, which was exactly how Hadiin preferred it as well.
“Goblin quest,” Hadiin stated without fanfare.
Her eyes widened. “The goblin quest? Seriously? That’s sixteen goblin heads!”
“But we can earn the better part of a gold doing it.”
She held her hands up. “Wait, what do you mean we?”
“Now now, be reasonable. It takes money to make money.”
“So I’m, like, an investor? Does that mean I get to own a share of whatever we’re gonna do?”
Hadiin nearly gagged at the idea of sharing ownership. Perish the thought! Absolutely not. “A percentage of the profits. We’ll raise money together and I promise that you’ll get a healthy percentage of whatever we earn in town from our first venture.”
“Fifty-fifty?”
He cringed, but didn’t shoot her down. He was tempted to say eighty-twenty in his favour, but, realistically, he was the one at the disadvantage here. He needed her damage to kill the goblins and, later, the slimes. He needed her coin to buy the horse and wagon. If she were smarter, she would be the one demanding eighty-twenty. Better to not even suggest the idea lest it then occur to her to demand it. So, fifty-fifty it was. “Agreed,” he acquieced with a smile.
She nodded, happy enough. “Good. That’s fair.”
They found Grant Dougal sitting on a porch bench outside his farmhouse, nursing an arm with bloodstained bandages all over it. Heavy bandages wrapped his otherwise bare chest as well. He was weeping softly, alone and brokenhearted. He looked up at their approach and wiped the tears from his eyes with his good arm. “Y-you folks here about the goblins?”
“We are indeed,” Hadiin replied.
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