Path of Dragons

In preparation for what he hoped would be a shopping spree, Elijah had kept a decent number of etherium coins out. At Ramik’s suggestion, though, he restricted himself to a few dozen copper coins and ten silver.

“You shouldn’t need more than that,” the little goblin said, checking what looked like a pocket watch he’d pulled from his vest pocket. “But if you do, you can always return to the Branch and withdraw more.”

“What’s that?” Elijah asked, curiously nodding at the device.

“Oh. I apologize for the rudeness,” Ramik answered. “But all this talk of money prompted me to check my own available etherium. This is an enchanted coin storage device called a folio. It doesn’t actually hold etherium, but instead allows you to exchange promisary notes with other people. If you had one of these, it would obviate the need to carry coins on your person.”

“How does it work? And where can I get one?”

“It only stores information,” Ramik said with a small smile. “It maintains a thin connection to the Branch, allowing one to transfer wealth without physically exchanging coins.”

“Like a credit card,” Elijah reasoned. It sounded remarkably similar, and just as convenient as his old debit card.

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Sorry. My world – before all this – had a similar system. Though we used a different currency.”

“Ah. I see. As to where you might acquire a folio, I can show you to an appropriate tinkering shop. You will still have to get it paired to your personal Bank, and it likely won’t be inexpensive.”

“Oh. Okay,” Elijah said, already preparing himself to do without. He had no real notion of how much his money was really worth, but he couldn’t imagine that it was a lot. So, he moved on to the next subject, asking, “So, what about clothes? I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m kind of wearing rags here.”

He tried to soften the statement with a slight grin, but Ramik still went a little greener than normal as his eyes found the persistent blood stains on Elijah’s toga. He’d scrubbed the cloth as well as he could manage, but blood tended to be quite difficult to wash away. He’d also hoped that the cloth’s dark material would hide it.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

Suddenly, he realized what he must look like to the residents of Ironshore. In the beginning, he’d hoped that most of them would be ignorant of his exploits, but judging by the fearful looks that had followed him since his arrival in the small town, that just wasn’t the case. So, that, combined with his curious manner of dress, massive-in-comparison size, and apparent disdain for grooming, had probably given people the wrong impression about him.

“I wouldn’t say no to a barber, either,” he remarked.

“I think we could arrange that,” Ramik said, tucking his folio away.

Elijah ran his hand through his curly hair, adding, “You don’t have to escort me around. I can find my own way.”

“Ah, well, I think it’s best if I show you where to find everything. The Black Sun mercenaries weren’t popular. Not exactly. But they still had friends.”

That was the first time Elijah had heard the name of the group who’d assaulted his island, and for some reason, he wasn’t surprised to find that they had been classified as mercenaries. That fit with what he’d seen.

After that, Ramik led him down the street and toward a nearby building. Elijah had spent some time exploring the small city in his predator form, but in the light of day, everything looked so much nicer. But then again, he’d been a little distracted by his mission to rescue the dragon the last time he’d been in Ironshore.

In any case, he was pleasantly surprised by how clean and orderly the little town was – it really did look like a mix of a settlement out of an old Western and something he’d see in a modern fantasy movie. That impression was only supported by the presence of tiny gnomes and green goblins. Dwarves, by comparison, could almost pass for short, particularly hirsute, and broad humans.

Elijah couldn’t help but gawk a little as he followed Ramik into what turned out to be a barbershop manned by a trio of swarthy gnomes. They were all absolutely tiny, had blisteringly white hair, and eyebrows that looked like not-so-small caterpillars of the same hue. Elijah would have put a few of his coins on the idea that they were related in some way. Perhaps even brothers, given their similar features.

“Oi! This the one, then?” asked one of them.

“’Course it is, you dolt! How many o’ them you think’s is runnin’ round ‘ere?” said another.

“Don’t kill us Mister Protector,” said the third. “We ain’t got nothin’ to do with no Black Sun bastards. I was just sayin’ the other day as how we ought to kick ‘em out, I was. Send ‘em back where they come from, I said.”

“You ain’t said no such thing, Brok.”

“Did so!”

“I ain’t never heard so much as a peep of that kind o’ talk.”

“Wasn’t talkin’ to you when I said it, was I? Nope. I was talkin’ to ol’ Derkins. You can ask ‘im, too. He’ll tell you the same, he will.”

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“Gentlemen,” said Ramik. All three went silent in the space of a heartbeat, telling Elijah that the goblin was held in no small esteem. “Mr. Elijah requires your services.”

“Oh,” said Brok, narrowing his eyes. Then, they widened. “Oh. You need a little trim, you do. Step right up, big fella. We’ll get you sorted in a hurry, we will.”

As he spoke, he gestured to a chair that looked like it’d been sized to fit a dwarf. Elijah had never been a giant – in fact, he was considered a little below average, for a human being – but he was skeptical that he’d fit. Still, he followed the gnome’s instructions and miraculously wedged himself into place.

What followed was the oddest twenty minutes of Elijah’s relatively young life. He’d had plenty of haircuts throughout his life, but the way Brok did it was certainly a novel experience. On the surface, some of it was familiar. The gnome used scissors just like any other barber Elijah had ever seen. However, those sheers weren’t wielded in the gnome’s hands. Instead, they floated around seemingly of their own accord as Brok gestured here and there.

At first, Elijah was a little leery of the sharp scissors – and how close they came to his ears – but it quickly became apparent that Brok was in complete control. So, he let himself relax a little as he listened to the three brothers drone on and on about one thing or another.

If Elijah was honest, it felt good, just hearing other people talk. He’d had a few conversations with Nerthus over the months since being stranded on the island, but they were few and far between. Most of the time, he’d been all alone, with no one for company but himself. And though he wasn’t about to go insane from the lack of human contact, he definitely recognized that it was no way for a human being to live. In short, it was nice just being around other people – even if those other people were bickering amongst themselves about things he didn’t really understand.

Elijah ended up paying a few copper etherium for the service, and judging by Ramik’s narrowed eyes, he’d gotten ripped off. However, a few measly coins were a small price to pay for something he’d very much needed.

Next, Ramik led a freshly shorn Elijah a few streets over and into a Market that was obviously a tailor’s premises. Soon enough, a pudgy, matronly female dwarf stomped out, put her hands on her hips, then demanded, “What is this, then?”

“Um…”

Seeing that Elijah was out of his element, Ramik stepped, saying, “Mari, this is Elijah. Our friend and potential ally from the island.”

“The island? What island are you…”

Her face went white, and she took a step back.

“He needs some clothing. Simple grade, if you have the materials.”

For a few seconds, she didn’t respond. Clearly, she was frightened of Elijah, but he had no idea how to combat that impression. So, he remained silent as she worked her way through her feelings. In the end, it was probably Ramik’s presence that got her to come around, but even then, she still didn’t look happy to have Elijah in her shop.

That was fine, though. He’d never really expected to be accepted in Ironshore, but so long as he got what he needed out of them, he’d be happy. In fact, he’d already accomplished his primary goal by buying the various guides from the Branch. Those would hopefully go a long way to cure his ignorance and give him some much-needed direction going forward. Everything else was just icing on the cake, as far as Elijah was concerned.

Still, the idea of getting some proper clothes was definitely attractive, especially if he intended to encounter more people anytime soon. The idea of meeting other humans while wearing nothing but a toga wasn’t precisely appealing.

Finally, she said, “Seven silver. Each. I can modify some trousers for him. A few shirts. No boots, though. His feet are too big for goblin- or gnome-sized shoes and far too narrow for anything meant for a dwarf. And I don’t have the materials for anything special order.”

After that, she disappeared into the back, leaving Elijah to examine the wares on display in her Market. The clothes were a fairly simple design, and they seemed high quality if mundane. When Mari returned, she had a clear pane of glass in one hand and a pad with a stylus in the other.

She held the glass up, reminding Elijah of people taking photos with their smart phones, then said, “Hmm. The pants are going to be a bit short. Mid-calf, at best. Can’t stretch the materials any more than that, so it’s just going to have to do.”

Elijah wasn’t exactly keen on wearing what sounded a lot like capri pants, but he wasn’t going to argue with the dwarven woman. She already didn’t like him – that much was clear – so he didn’t want to push his luck. So, he agreed before asking, “That piece of glass – that’s for measurements, right?”

“It is. Also lets me apply one of my abilities to inspect items other than clothing,” she said. “Nice staff, by the way. Shame it’s bound to you. You could sell it for quite a few etherium. Who made it?”

“I did.”

She narrowed her eyes, then said, “Interesting. Clothes will be ready in a couple of hours. Now, shoo.”

Elijah didn’t need any other prompting, and he left the shop with Ramik only a moment later. Their next stop was a leatherworker who sold Elijah a miraculous pack that could hold almost twice as much as its exterior would suggest it was capable of holding. In addition, it was a Simple-Grade item, so it was much more durable than more mundane packs. The only downside was that it cost Elijah most of his remaining silver, which meant that for any more shopping, he’d have to return to the Branch.

Before that, Ramik took him to purchase his own folio. His first impression of Ramik’s device seemed accurate, and the item he ended up buying for himself looked like a pewter pocket watch. When he opened it, though, he didn’t see a clock face; instead, there were a series of dials meant to indicate how much etherium he had in his bank. At present, all the dials were on zero, but that was because he had yet to pair it with the Branch.

Which was, by necessity, the next stop. This time, Elijah was forced to awkwardly wait in line, just as the Envoy had promised. He didn’t mind, though. It gave him some time to fiddle with his pack, which was an endless source of wonder for him. He’d been using magic for quite some time, but a bag that seemed to house a much bigger space than it should just seemed more miraculous.

Apparently, such containers weren’t uncommon in the wider universe, but on Earth, with its low level of Ethera density, they would be a rarity for years to come. That Ironshore had any at all was just a stroke of luck, which explained why it had been so expensive.

After Elijah had paired his folio with the Branch, he and Ramik finished up his shopping. He probably spent more money than he should have, but in the end, he acquired almost everything on his list. The lone exception was, predictably, spices. He got a few, but Ironshore simply didn’t have enough to spare.

Finally, Ramik asked, “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but would you like to join me for a meal? There are a few people who wish to speak with you.”

Elijah almost refused outright, but then he thought better of it. The people of Ironshore – aside from the ones who’d attacked his island – had been decent enough to him. So, he felt that he should return the favor. He wasn’t about to commit to any alliances, but the idea of cultivating decent a decent relationship with his neighbors seemed more attractive than ever before.

So, he said, “That sounds nice. I’m starving.”

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