Chapter 6:

Hustle and Bustle

Project Aion vol. 1


The kids stood a good five or six steps away while the eldest was being pressed against the wall by Raione. She was left in charge of the interrogation while Kaltmund and Eranor stood guard over the kids.

“So, am I going to have to carve my answers out of you or are you going to talk?” she asked and pressed the cold steel edge of her axe against his cheek.

“I’ll talk, but I need to ask something first,” he responded.

“Excuse me,” she interjected and gave him a hard blow to the stomach with the handle of her axe. “I’m the one asking the questions kid. Now tell me. Why did you plan to ambush us?” she asked.

“We weren’t,” he spat out before Raione pulled him back and rammed him back into the wall.

“Then why did you ambush us?” she demanded.

“We were told to rob anyone who comes down the alleyway,” he said as he squirmed under her grip.

“Who gave the order. Was it Guthrum?” she asked. The teen did not respond. Only looking down the alleyway. “I asked you a question, kid,” she threatened and lifted him from the ground by the scruff of his neck. His hands shot up and struggled against her iron grip.

“I can’t,” he confessed as he struggled to break free.

“Then I guess that’s it huh?” she asked. She tossed him to the stone paving, climbed over him, and raised her axe.

“No please, don’t,” cried one of the kids as they watched in horror.

“Hear that, they don’t want you to die kid. My axe has been raised twice now without blood. That means I got to kill someone. If it ain't you, then it’ll be one of them,” She threatened and smashed her boot on the side of his face. She had him pinned to the floor. “Kal, grab that little one. He’ll die first,” she said and ground her heel into his temple.

“You can’t, they’re just kids. They were just listening to me,” he pleaded and struggled underneath her boot. Kaltmund made his way forward while Eranor followed behind.

“Then talk,” she barked as Eranor held the kids back while Kaltmund easily took the young child.

“Please, I’m begging you. Torture me all you want. Just leave them alone,” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he desperately watched the boy being handed to Raione.

“I don’t much care for torture. I only care about killing and answers,” she said and gripped the throat of the boy. “Smile little one, don’t want to die with a frown.” The boy on the ground was hitting Raione as hard as he could but her leg seemed to be made of steel. She didn't even flinch at the blows. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the kid in her grasp. He was so scared he couldn't even make a sound.

“Stop. I’ll talk. I’ll talk. Please just let them go,” he whimpered and dropped his hands in defeat.

“Talk first then I’ll let them go,” she said and slid her boot from his face to his chest. A bruised face looked back at her, tears rolling down his face. He had a burning hatred and frustration behind his eyes.

“I work for Borjan,” he forced through all the hatred and anger in his throat.

“Who’s Borjan?” she asked pressing harder with her boot. He winced but kept his composure.

“Borjan is the new hero of the town,” he answered.

“A hero? You mean a youngling that is going to join an Order?” she asked, masking her shocked reaction.

“Yes,” he admitted reluctantly. Raione remained silent for a while. She glared at the teen, then she tossed the young boy in her grip towards the others. He crashed to the ground.

“Tell me everything about this Borjan,” she ordered.

“He’s a little bit older than me,” he began before stopping. He stared at her and she could feel the mental battle he was having.

“Why would a hero to be, organise a group of children to rob people?” she demanded. Trying to get him to tell her as much as possible

“He wants the people to be forced into a corner,” he replied. He was visibly shaking with anger.

“Listen, kid, tell me what you know. If I’m going to have to repeatedly ask you questions, I’ll kill you and skin the rest,” she warned and stomped on his chest. He yelped and began to struggle for a brief moment before finally calming down.

“Fine,” he grunted, “He’s trying to force the townspeople into a corner. He’s organised a bunch of little groups to act as if we’re Guthrum’s crew. They need to believe he’s grown so powerful that he can attack in the city.”

“What good will that do?” she inquired.

“They sent a request for a hero some time ago, but he hasn’t arrived. Borjan wants the people to send him instead. That way he can be granted the rank of an initiate in one of the local Orders. This way he gets his wish of beginning his hero’s journey,” he answered.

“Why not just join an Order either way?” asked Eranor from the side.

“Because he’s banned. During his trial, he killed someone, and not by accident. They said he was too violent and needs to spend more time training,” he said.

“I’ve got one last question for you. Where can we find Borjan?” she demanded. The boy froze in place. She pressed down wither heel and he squirmed even more.

“He’s under the tutelage of the vicar and the captain of the guard. Try any one of those places,” he shouted while trying to get her boot of his sternum.

“Do you know how to get to the vicar from here?” she asked before lifting her boot. He immediately scrambled backwards and sat upright. 

“The big chapel in the central square, he usually hangs out in the back,” he said, clutching his chest.

“Thanks, kid,” she said and signalled that they should leave.

“Wait,” shouted the teen.

“What now,” grumbled Raione as glared at him with annoyance.

“What are you planning on doing?” he asked and was helped to his feet by the other kids.

“Nothing much, but take my advice kid. You don’t work for Borjan anymore,” she said over her shoulder as the three of them made their way back to the main street.

They joined the crowd again. It was like swimming into a current. They were swept along with the rest of the crowd and were back where they started. Eranor looked around and from the main street, he saw the tip of the chapel roof.

“Think that rooftop belongs to the chapel?” asked Eranor as he forced his way through the crowd.

“Seems in the usual style of a chapel, especially this area,” confirmed Kaltmund, who had resumed his priest imitation.

“Rai,” began Eranor before he was cut short.

“Yeah, I know. It was a little harsh, but it was the quickest way to get the information we wanted,” she confessed and kept her emotionless tone up. Eranor went silent as his question was answered before he could even ask it.

“What do you think of the story he told us. I for one find it hard to believe,” stated Kaltmund.

“I don’t know. As hard as it is to believe it makes sense. We know better than most how much a youngling would be willing to do to get into an Order. I mean, we almost died fighting a bunch of dire wolves just so we could have something to show them,” she said.

“Yeah, but even if he lied. We must check on this lead on the off chance that it's true. Someone needs to put a stop to this Borjan,” said Eranor as they forced their way into one of the many squares of the town.

“Well, would you look at what we found? It seems this is a marketplace. Maybe we could restock before making our way to the chapel?” asked Kaltmund from the rear of the group.

“Not a bad idea Kal. Besides, it not like the chapel is going anywhere,” stated Raione. Eranor hearing the plan. Split off from the main flow of the crowd into the less congested square.

“Let’s have a look around and see what shops we can see, maybe some of the peddlers will have some good discounts even,” he said and peered through the crowd and studied the shops.

It was a layout that was quite common in the larger cities and towns. The main streets would loop through all the squares and each one had the same design. Smaller shops on the outer walls of the square. Each one owned by an independent owner with their homes above the shops. Then in the centre of the square was a tower. At the bottom of the tower would be a restaurant where people could get something to eat, while the upper levels of the towers were dominated by guild shops. These shops were owned by their respective guilds while managed by a guild manager. These shops were usually more expensive but had either higher quality goods or extremely specific items. Eranor made his way to one of the chalkboards. There were eight of these places, two for each entrance of the tower. One would have the menu of the restaurant. The other would reveal the shops inside the tower and on which floor they were. Eranor studied one of these boards.

“Hey, it seems there is a blacksmith on the top floor,” Eranor informed the other two. Kaltmund came next to him and gave the board a good look over.

“Yes, so it would seem. There also seems to be a herbalist and an arms dealer inside the tower,” said Kaltmund.

“Kal, you go to the herbalist and buy whatever potions you can. I’ll go around the other shops and see what I can stock up on,” said Raione and set off to one of the shops.

“I’m going to that blacksmith and see what he can do about the pelt we got back in the cave,” confirmed Eranor. He and Kaltmund then made their way to the staircase on the side of the tower that leads to the upper floors.

Eranor walked through the archway and the sun beamed down on him. As he climbed the stairs the distant clangour of steel being shaped grew exponentially louder. The second he could, he turned his head. The blacksmith shop was something quite odd. It had a roof built over the small shop portion and smithy area. Two smiths were hard at work at the forge while another older gentleman sat at the table behind the counter. He was busy engraving a handle. Then finally a big burly man leaned on the counter.

“Ho, hello there. Welcome to the Nidhogg Guild Smithy. How can we be of service today my fine young fellow,” he announced loudly with a smile and a wave. The others seem unaffected by his greeting and continued to toil.

“Hi there. I was looking for someone who could maybe look at an item I have,” he said brashly and walked confidently towards the counter. He unslung his backpack and placed it on one of the chairs.

“What item may this be? Something could use in crafting perhaps?” he asked with a massive grin on his face.

“I believe so my good man. Behold,” he said and plopped down the dire wolf mother hide on the counter. In one smooth motion, it unrolled.

“Would you look at this,” he exclaimed before whistling, “Now this is some high-grade dire wolf armour. Where did you find this beauty?” enquired the blacksmith as he inspected the hide’s quality.

“My party and I came across a dire wolf den and well, this was the matron’s hide,” he said and leaned on the counter himself.

“Dire wolf matron hide you say. Why bring a second-wall grade item to this city?” he asked while seemingly petting it.

“Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong. This is a first-wall matron,” he said, and a bit of his gusto left him as he felt less impressive now.

“Impossible. Dire wolf matrons don’t appear inside these walls, certainly not near this city. But I get it. You Order heroes need to keep some trade secrets. We have the same policy at the guild, you know,” he stated.

“Uhm, yeah,” he stammered before deciding to play along, “So you see. As a young hero, I thought maybe you could craft something from this item. Something that could help me beyond the first wall. I heard great things about this little shop.” The man’s eyes sparkled to life.

“You mean it. That is great to hear, it seems word has begun to spread,” he said before turning to the other three men. “You hear that boys. The Rudd family name is beginning to make waves. They even heard of us in the second wall,” he boasted before turning his attention back to Eranor. “Anyways, you most likely heard about my brother’s shop in the second-wall city of Riga. But let me put your worries to rest. We’re just as good as them, it's only we’re a bit newer to the game you see. Not enough money to hire a caravan to make it to the wall dungeon. But it won’t be long before you see our name in the big cities of the third floor,” he proclaimed and flexed which took Eranor by surprise. His muscles were impressive. 

“No doubt about it, one of my friends in the Order recommended this shop. But enough about that, can you smith me something?” he asked. The blacksmith's demeanour changed suddenly.

“I can, but I have to ask. Why would you waste this fine item on making a handle for your blade?” asked the blacksmith with a hint of confusion.

“What? Why would I want to make a handle from this? I clearly want some armour made,” he stated with uncertainty.

“Because this is a blacksmith shop and not an armourer?” he asked. At that moment, Eranor’s entire face went red. He didn’t realise that there was a difference between a blacksmith and an armourer. In his town, the blacksmith made whatever you asked of him.

“I know that,” he began as his mind raced in search of recovering from his blunder, “I’m a little eccentric you see.” The smith looked at him even more confused.

“Eccentric?” questioned the smith.

“Yes, eccentric. I want the up-and-coming weaponsmiths to make me a piece of armour. That way it can be a one of a kind. Something to showcase the magnificent talent your family holds,” he explained with vigour.

“I see. But mister, we’re weaponsmiths. I can’t guarantee the quality of the item you would receive and prefer not to tarnish our reputations,” he said nervously.

“Never mind that my good man. You see if the quality is poor, I’ll claim I made it myself. Think of it as free advertising and exploring new avenues,” he continued.

“Okay, mister if that’s what you want. Got any ideas about what we should do with it. I mean we are weaponsmiths after all,” he admitted and scratched his head while looking at the hide.

“A cloak,” he stated and slammed his hand on the countertop.

“A cloak?” he asked.

“Yes, a cloak. One I could use to conceal my weapons, hide my face and use as a trusty defence if something attacked me with fire,” he demanded. “Now how much for this once-off job?” he asked and began searching his backpack for the stones.

“For a custom piece and something we don’t specialise in? Well, we’ll try our best and get to you in one day as the guild mandates. So, I would recon thirty-five-thousands quarts,” he said and shrugged. Eranor froze. He knew it would be expensive, but this exceeded anything he expected.

“Uhm, would you also take trade-in items?” he asked with a stutter.

“Sorry, guild policy. We can offer you some prime credit rates if you don’t have the money,” he said.

“I guess I don’t have any choice,” he said and fished out all his quarts and placed it on the table. “Here take this and put the rest on credit. But I’ve got to ask. How does credit work?” he asked with his face still drained of all colour.

“Well simple, we tag you and every time you get paid, we deduct a small amount until we’re paid off,” he said and took the quarts and place it on a weighing scale.

“Tag me?” he asked.

“You’ve never been tagged? That’s insane. You must have done some hard dungeon raiding to make it to the second wall without credit,” he said excitedly while searching for something behind the counter.

“Yeah, that’s me, a grinder,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“So what Order are you a member of?” he asked and pulled out a strange-looking device.

“Excuse me?” he stammered as he studied the c-clamp looking item.

“Well, if I’m going to tag you. I need the order, otherwise, who am I going to bill?” he asked surprised, “You mean no one at your Order told you how tagging works?”

“Uhm it’s not that,” he continued while searching for a response, “It’s just that I recently left my Order as I’m looking for a more prestigious one.” The man looked with a raised eyebrow at him and took his wrist firmly.

“You one of those Order jumpers? Is that how you never needed a tag. Leeching off them until they no longer want to cover your tabs,” he accused and slipped the device over his wrist. It rested in the middle of his forearm and he could feel something sharp pressing against his skin.

“No, not at all. It’s just that my Order can’t progress past wall three and I need to make it to the top. I’m aiming at becoming part of the assault force,” he explained and grinned.

“Join the assault force? They are all level seven or higher. You’ve got a long way to go,” he said and tapped the device. A strange pulse emanated from the device. “So, are you going to reveal your aura or am I supposed to wait for when you’re ready?” he asked impatiently.

Eranor without a second thought flared his aura. The outside of his body gained a blue haze and an orb appeared in front of the blacksmith. “Congratulations master Eranor,” he said.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being tagged,” he said and squeezed the handle. Something shot inside of Eranor’s arm. He yelped in pain and quickly pulled his arm free. When his thumb went over the sting point. He felt something hard.

“What in the actual,” he began and looked at his forearm. A crystal was embedded in his skin. It glistened in the sunlight as he studied it. Then his focus was broken by the blacksmith tapping a large crystal on it.

“There we go, that’ll be fifteen thousand quarts on credit. Pleasure doing business with you master Eranor. Hope you get a guild that can get you to the top. Safe travels now,” he greeted and took the pelt from the table. Eranor looked at the crystal as he made his way to the stairs. The crystal glowed green instead of the usual dark blue.

As he was making his way down the stairs, he remembered that he came up with Kaltmund. He quickly descended the stairs and peeked inside the herbalist’s shop. Kaltmund stood at the counter and seemed to be chatting with the store clerk while she packed his bag. Eranor, still rubbing his forearm, decided it would be best if he waited outside for him.

“Damn Eranor,” he said to himself and leaned on the staircase wall, “You guys really need to find an Order. This whole credit thing is going to put a real damper on things. Don’t want to be drowning in debt when we apply.”

“I agree,” announced Kaltmund from behind.

“Huh,” he stuttered as he spun around.

“Sorry, I did not mean to startle you,” he apologised.

“Think nothing of it,” he dismissed before seeing the packed brown bag he was carrying. “Kal, how many potions did you buy?” he asked and scratched his head.

“As much as I could. Never know when we might need some. Oh, Eranor, I guess you also had to take on some credit?” he asked and pointed at his forearm.

“Yeah, and they wouldn’t let me trade my wolf pelts as compensation either,” he complained and finally stopped rubbing his forearm.

“Same here, yet I found that in the other marketplaces we can and there is even an Order selling point,” he said as they made their way down the stairs.

“Order selling point. Kal, you’re saying it like I should know what that is?” he inquired.

“Oh, it’s a place where heroes and adventurers can trade in their loot for quarts,” he said calmly.

“Oh okay,” he stated before a thought crossed his mind, “Kal did you ask them where this place is?” Kaltmund remained silent for a short while before licking his lips.

“No, I didn’t. But we are going to stay here for a few days at least. It gives us plenty of time to find out where this place is. I’m just excited that I can now store my quarts on the tag instead of carrying it with me,” he said and waited for Eranor to praise the design as well.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

“Eranor, didn’t you ask any questions about the tag?” he sighed with disappointment.

“No, why would I,” he said defiantly.

“I thought so,” he uttered before sighing again. “When trading in our loot at these order selling points, we can store the quarts on the tag. That way there is no need for physical quarts. Making a lot safer,” he lectured as they stepped out onto the plain.

“Yeah, great,” answered Eranor and searched for Raione.

“Hope she didn’t get into any trouble with the merchants,” he said. He packed the potions into his backpack and put others into his robe. “Here these three potions are for you,” he said and handed two red potions and one white.

“Thanks, Kal,” he said and quickly slipped them into his backpack's side pocket. “Found her,” he exclaimed and pointed across the courtyard.