Anjanette knew that after every argument they had she could find Leonas at the nearest tavern. Mind you, she could also find Leonas at the nearest tavern after getting into town, before leaving town, after a meal, before going to bed, after waking up, and most other times of the day he was not busy.
In this case the nearest tavern happened to be a hole in the wall called “The Noun & Noun”. Despite it being relatively deserted, a thin cloud of smoke hugged the ceiling. The bar was small and claustrophobic, too many chairs and too much booze shoved into the cheapest property available. Grease and traces of vomit stained the green tile walls. The candles were out, leaving the front window as the only light source. The result was that everything and everyone was half-covered in shadows, simply adding to the seedy atmosphere.
Anjanette sat down next to Leonas, who was nursing a gin and tonic. She didn’t say
anything. The two waited for a moment, praying that someone would break the silence.
“So, do you think that guy is gay?” said Leonas finally. He made a slight gesture towards a stocky and handsome man at the other end of the bar, crying his sorrows into a pitcher of beer. “Because I’m kinda getting vibes.”
Anjanette took a moment to examine the man. “Nah,” she said. “But he’s probably drunk enough to go along with it.”
“You know what? I think I’ll pass after all.” Leonas said. He took another sip and chuckled. It was the chuckle of someone who really wasn’t all that amused, but thought that he should chuckle anyway.
There was another awkward lull. They were both avoiding the triceratops in the room. Sighing, Anjanette decided to take it by the horns and shout in its face.
“Why don’t you want to go get those books, Leonas?”
“You know my policy. Avoid magic wherever possible.”
“Fucking strange policy for a mage.”
Leonas gave her a tired stare. “It’s the first law of wizardry, actually. I’ve told you this before.”
“Like I listen to you,” said Anjanette. “Anyway, we wouldn’t be using magic and making deals with demons or any of that shady shit. Any more than you already do, of course. All we’re doing is tracking down these books.”
“Uh huh. And then what?”
“Sell them to the highest bidder, I guess.”
Leonas grinned like a hunter who had just seen the big game stumble into his trap. “And what happens when they use that sword to start another huge war? Conquer the world, let’s say?”
“We watch from atop piles of gold?” said Anjanette. She was beginning to get annoyed.
Leonas turned to the bartender. “Another gin, please?”
“Ooh, get me a shot of dwarf’s tail while you’re at it!” said Anjanette.
The bartender served their drinks without question. He had clearly heard a lot stranger conversations in his day.
“Look, if you’re that worried about being responsible for a war or whatever stupid shit is going through your head—“ Anjanette took a pause to down her shot “—then we’ll sell them to the A.O.K. or Heka or some other nation that won’t do something like that.”
“Are you sure? The A.O.K. may own half the world, but that doesn’t mean they don’t want the other half. And I’m sure that there’s more than a few Hekans who would want to spread their ‘enlightenment’ militarily.”
Anjanette scoffed. “Oh please. Like those guys could stop fucking each other long enough to conquer the world. Why don’t we start going after these things now, and worry about what to do with it later? I mean, even if we just keep it to ourselves, you’ve gotta admit it would be kind of handy to have a world-ender with you.”
Leonas contemplated it over a few sips of gin. She was becoming worryingly persuassive, but he still had his reservations. “Tell you what. A competition. Let’s say a drinking game. I win, we forget about this whole business. You win, we start this stupid treasure hunt.”
“Well, that’s hardly fair,” jested Anjanette. “You’ve already had a gin and a half.”
“See? I’ve been training.”
Anjanette smiled, and slapped a few copper on the table. “Bartender? Two pints of the foulest brew you have.”
* * *
Anjanette was surprisingly chipper as she held back Leonas’s hair. “Okay Leo, once you’re done puking it’s time to do some more research on those books!”
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Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Chapter 1-4
Milly’s hotel room looked like not so much a place to sleep as a personal library. Books packed the room in neat stacks, reaching almost to the ceiling – fiction, histories, encyclopedias, comics, and collections of poetry and essays were all immediately visible. It looked like a nice room – spacious, heated, a soft bed and posh furnishings. It even had that indoor plumbing thing that was all the rage. It was hard to find a place for three people to stand amidst the stacks, but they managed to squeeze in there.
“Can we just sit on these?” Anjanette asked.
“No!” said Milly. She set the pile of books she had bought outside the pawn shop down at the end of the stacks. “Um, please. I don’t want them to get damaged. I hope you don’t mind.”
Anjanette rolled her eyes. “Like ‘Collected Thoughts on Fourth-Century AB Sevvekian History’ is worth preserving.” Milly kept her eyes firmly on the ground.
“Do you always travel with these many books?” Leonas said.
“Um, pretty much” Milly said. “See, I have this Robe of Infinity thingy that lets me travel with as much stuff as I like, uh I got it from my grandmother, so I figured, uh, why not bring a bit of my collection with me? See, watch.” She picked up "The Dragonnail Trilogy Book 2" off one of the stacks and shoved it down her sleeve. Despite theoretically not fitting in the thin armhole, the book vanished, not even visible beneath her robes.
“That does seem handy,” Leonas said.
Anjanette fidgeted. “Can you just translate our book already?”
“Oh, right, of course,” said Milly. Somehow, she picked up an Ancient dictionary and translation guide from the middle of one of the stacks in about two seconds. Spreading the two books out on her bed, she got to translating. Anjanette and Leonas waited impatiently among the stacks of books.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“Um, does this always take so long?” Leonas asked. A bored Anjanette was already halfway through "99 Ways to Kill A Vampire".
Milly frowned, stress creasing her forehead. “Um, not usually. I just can’t make any sense of these characters... like, it’s gibberish. Um, sorry.”
“Maybe it’s not Ancient after all?” suggested Anjanette. She was pissed off, and made no secret of it. A person who wasted Anjanette’s time would not be a healthy person for long. “Oh well. Even if it’s not, we can say it is and sell it for a ton.”
Milly whimpered. In a second, though, her emotions did a full turn as she lit up like a firecracker. She scurried off the bed and past Anjanette and Leonas, frantically scanning her pile of books before producing a huge but obviously well-read tome. On the dusty cover the words “Grendel’s History of Magical Artifacts (11th Edition)” could be seen if you looked hard enough.
Anjanette struck up a fighting pose instinctively. Milly’s desperate movements and her grabbing a large blunt object had put her on alert. But rather than using it as a weapon, Milly opened the book to the index and then quickly flipped through the pages. Her eyes were lit up like she was posessed.
“This is it,” she muttered. “One of the the Tomes of Rendai.”
“So this is... a magical book?” asked Leonas, increasingly uncertain.
Milly shoved the book in her face. The most prominent thing on the page was a detailed sketch, in the old-fashioned style of legends and histories. The sketch was of a book nearly identical to theirs, albeit much newer. The caption read “A 7th-BB artist’s rendition of the Tome of Rendai.”
“And what exactly is that?” asked Leonas.
“The Tome of Rendai,” Milly said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “A magical artifact created by Rendai, one of the first pioneers of magic. He wanted to create an artifact which could directly access the mana pool demons use. He succeeded, and was promptly assassinated by a horde of dmeons before he could use it. The book fell into the hands of Denor, the ancient king, who used it to conquer most of the continent before he passed his way. On his deathbed he divided the power of the Tome into seven seperate tomes, powerless on their own, and scattered them across the land. This is, uh, kind of basic history.”
“It’s always seven, isn’t it?” Anjanette muttered.
“How are you sure?” asked Leonas.
“Well, although the runes in the picture are obviously drawn in the epic style, they match up to the ones we have here. And even though I only dabble in wizardry, I can still feel a really strong magical aura from this thing. It’s more a hunch than for sure, but isn’t it exciting?”
Anjanette shoved an accusing finger in Milly’s face. “Hah! Nice try, but what you didn’t know was that Leonas is a fully trained wizard. And he hasn’t said anything about an aura. Really, I’m interested in what kind of scam you were trying to run here. None I could recognize.”
“Actually, I knew this thing had heaps of magic on it,” said Leonas softly.
“What?” Anjanette turned on Leonas with a mixture of surprise and anger. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this?” snapped Anjanette. “Do you know how much more money one-seventh of a godly powerful artifact could be sold for, as opposed to an indecipherable old book?”
“I don’t like getting involved with magic,” said Leonas, his voice like covered steel. “I’ve told you this before.”
“Yeah yeah, but this is big money!” Anjanette said. “Shove down your angst for this one, won’t you? I mean, god – imagine what we could do if we got all seven! We sell that, and we can buy a nice dutchy and retire in a big castle.”
Leonas had a look of quiet fury in his eyes that was so alien it stopped Anjanette’s gold-lust in its tracks. “We are not treasure hunters, Anjanette. We sell this is old book for a tidy profit, it lies undiscovered on a commoner’s mantle for another few generations, and that’s the way this ends.”
“Fuck that,” said Anjanette.
Leonas didn’t respond with words, but got up and left, an aura of furious dignity surrounding him. The inn door slammed shut, and the two girls spent the next five minutes staring at it.
“So... does he normally do that?” asked Milly.
“Nope,” said Anjanette, just as stunned.
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“Can we just sit on these?” Anjanette asked.
“No!” said Milly. She set the pile of books she had bought outside the pawn shop down at the end of the stacks. “Um, please. I don’t want them to get damaged. I hope you don’t mind.”
Anjanette rolled her eyes. “Like ‘Collected Thoughts on Fourth-Century AB Sevvekian History’ is worth preserving.” Milly kept her eyes firmly on the ground.
“Do you always travel with these many books?” Leonas said.
“Um, pretty much” Milly said. “See, I have this Robe of Infinity thingy that lets me travel with as much stuff as I like, uh I got it from my grandmother, so I figured, uh, why not bring a bit of my collection with me? See, watch.” She picked up "The Dragonnail Trilogy Book 2" off one of the stacks and shoved it down her sleeve. Despite theoretically not fitting in the thin armhole, the book vanished, not even visible beneath her robes.
“That does seem handy,” Leonas said.
Anjanette fidgeted. “Can you just translate our book already?”
“Oh, right, of course,” said Milly. Somehow, she picked up an Ancient dictionary and translation guide from the middle of one of the stacks in about two seconds. Spreading the two books out on her bed, she got to translating. Anjanette and Leonas waited impatiently among the stacks of books.
And waited.
And waited some more.
“Um, does this always take so long?” Leonas asked. A bored Anjanette was already halfway through "99 Ways to Kill A Vampire".
Milly frowned, stress creasing her forehead. “Um, not usually. I just can’t make any sense of these characters... like, it’s gibberish. Um, sorry.”
“Maybe it’s not Ancient after all?” suggested Anjanette. She was pissed off, and made no secret of it. A person who wasted Anjanette’s time would not be a healthy person for long. “Oh well. Even if it’s not, we can say it is and sell it for a ton.”
Milly whimpered. In a second, though, her emotions did a full turn as she lit up like a firecracker. She scurried off the bed and past Anjanette and Leonas, frantically scanning her pile of books before producing a huge but obviously well-read tome. On the dusty cover the words “Grendel’s History of Magical Artifacts (11th Edition)” could be seen if you looked hard enough.
Anjanette struck up a fighting pose instinctively. Milly’s desperate movements and her grabbing a large blunt object had put her on alert. But rather than using it as a weapon, Milly opened the book to the index and then quickly flipped through the pages. Her eyes were lit up like she was posessed.
“This is it,” she muttered. “One of the the Tomes of Rendai.”
“So this is... a magical book?” asked Leonas, increasingly uncertain.
Milly shoved the book in her face. The most prominent thing on the page was a detailed sketch, in the old-fashioned style of legends and histories. The sketch was of a book nearly identical to theirs, albeit much newer. The caption read “A 7th-BB artist’s rendition of the Tome of Rendai.”
“And what exactly is that?” asked Leonas.
“The Tome of Rendai,” Milly said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “A magical artifact created by Rendai, one of the first pioneers of magic. He wanted to create an artifact which could directly access the mana pool demons use. He succeeded, and was promptly assassinated by a horde of dmeons before he could use it. The book fell into the hands of Denor, the ancient king, who used it to conquer most of the continent before he passed his way. On his deathbed he divided the power of the Tome into seven seperate tomes, powerless on their own, and scattered them across the land. This is, uh, kind of basic history.”
“It’s always seven, isn’t it?” Anjanette muttered.
“How are you sure?” asked Leonas.
“Well, although the runes in the picture are obviously drawn in the epic style, they match up to the ones we have here. And even though I only dabble in wizardry, I can still feel a really strong magical aura from this thing. It’s more a hunch than for sure, but isn’t it exciting?”
Anjanette shoved an accusing finger in Milly’s face. “Hah! Nice try, but what you didn’t know was that Leonas is a fully trained wizard. And he hasn’t said anything about an aura. Really, I’m interested in what kind of scam you were trying to run here. None I could recognize.”
“Actually, I knew this thing had heaps of magic on it,” said Leonas softly.
“What?” Anjanette turned on Leonas with a mixture of surprise and anger. “Why the hell didn’t you mention this?” snapped Anjanette. “Do you know how much more money one-seventh of a godly powerful artifact could be sold for, as opposed to an indecipherable old book?”
“I don’t like getting involved with magic,” said Leonas, his voice like covered steel. “I’ve told you this before.”
“Yeah yeah, but this is big money!” Anjanette said. “Shove down your angst for this one, won’t you? I mean, god – imagine what we could do if we got all seven! We sell that, and we can buy a nice dutchy and retire in a big castle.”
Leonas had a look of quiet fury in his eyes that was so alien it stopped Anjanette’s gold-lust in its tracks. “We are not treasure hunters, Anjanette. We sell this is old book for a tidy profit, it lies undiscovered on a commoner’s mantle for another few generations, and that’s the way this ends.”
“Fuck that,” said Anjanette.
Leonas didn’t respond with words, but got up and left, an aura of furious dignity surrounding him. The inn door slammed shut, and the two girls spent the next five minutes staring at it.
“So... does he normally do that?” asked Milly.
“Nope,” said Anjanette, just as stunned.
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Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Chapter 1-3
Tereton, by Leonas’s estimation, was a city built by people who had never actually been to a city. As a result it had most of the amenities of a big city, and a laughable pretense at a nightlife, but things seemed just a bit off. For one thing the buildings were rather randomly scattered, like tossed dice – houses next to bars next to bookstores.
Leonas had once seen a play in Tereton. The actors went through their lines mechanically, the only emotion being shown by the leads, even then transparently fake and melodramatic. It reminded him of the population of Tereton itself – a bunch of yokels playing at being city folk, and not putting much work into it too.
Hence the city was a halfway measure – brick buildings a few stories high, cobblestone roads that were missing every fourth stone, small crowds wearing the fashion of two years ago. Even the weather got into it today, with light and indecisive clouds
None of this stopped them from doing business there. It was the biggest city in the south Dutchies, after all. Not to mention it had the best appraiser they knew.
“Anj, we just got into Tereton!” Leonas called back into their caravan. Anjanette only responded by tossing an empty ration carton at him and rolling over to continue her nap.
Leonas grumbled and barely managed to maneuver the horses around a group of children playing soccer in the street. He planned on making a short stop in Tereton to sell their stuff, pick up some more goods, and spend a night drinking while futilely hitting on guys. Anjanette would argue, as she usually did, that they should spend some more time in the city. They had the argument many times before, and it almost always resulted in a compromise and spending a few more days there, but they kept doing it for ritual’s sake.
The horses knew these streets by heart, and automatically made their way to Gaviel’s pawn shop. Gaviel was a shifty man, but smart enough to know not to bullshit the two of them. He was great at appraising the value of whatever random trinkets Leonas and Anjanette got, and occasionally buying them for the shop. Leonas had to struggle to think of a time when he didn’t have a smile on his face, always laughing and joking in some sort of offputting way.
He was also quite dead.
“Dead?” Leonas asked.
“Dead,” said the other man, apparently the property owner. He was an officious type who seemed entirely uncomfortable with the store. “Drug overdose. Just a few days ago.”
“I didn’t know he even did drugs,” muttered Anjanette. She looked slightly mournfully at the pawn shop’s boarded-up windows. The pawn shop was one of the only building in Tereton that had the class to be run-down. White paint peeled from the walls, at least one window was usually smashed in, and the small building hid behind a lawn of pale yellow grass. A wooden sign that had once read “GAVIEL’S ONCE-USED TREASURES” but was now a random assortment of paint scraps and letter
“Well, he didn’t exactly go around advertising it,” the owner grumbled. “But hey, we’re having a clearance sale of you want anything.” Putting on his best salesman face, the property owner gestured at the entire inventory of the pawn shop sitting out on the lawn, presided over by a board-looking clerk. Clothes, jewlery, books and magical trinkets were piled up on the lawn haphazardly, with discounted tags slapped onto them. A few bargain hunters milled around listlessly. Most of the stuff was crap, and they knew it.
Leonas shook his head. “Sorry, not interested.”
“Now we have to find someone to appraise this thing,” said Anjanette, pulling out the book John had gave them. She drooled at the thought of some eccentric aristocrat handing over a mountain of gold. “I know jack shit about books, so we need to find out exactly how much we can screw people out of.”
There are times when life seems to take a turn for the unconvincing. When all the tiny gears click into place for just a second, and some astonishing but absolutely vital, life-changing coincidence happens. Call it fate, call it luck, call it a sloppy god. But it happens.
It was one of those precise moments when a pile of books crashed into Anjanette, knocking her down in a storm of paper and hardbacks. “Sorry!” the books said quietly.
Growling, Anjanette pulled a treatise on the history of Draconism off her face. It turns out that the books were not in fact walking and speaking, instead being carried by a small mousy girl. She was huddled into a small and unassuming form, seeming to lean into herself in every direction. Her black hair was twisted into a braid that hung down to her shoulders, making a frightening contrast against her pale skin. The girl wore a hideous robe that might have been fashioned by someone’s embarassing grandmother two centuries ago.
“Watch where you’re going,” Anjanette said, pushing a few more novels off of her.
“S-sorry,” the girl said “Here, I’ll help you up...” She picked a few of the books off Anjanette, grabbing the Ancient book along with them. Pausing in confusion, she opened the book, gaping at it in wonder.
“Hey, give that back,” Anjanette said.
The girl looked up, cheeks crimsom. “Um... is this an Ancient book?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of valuable, so could you please give it back?” Anjanette tensed, reaching for her blade.
The girl ignored Anjanette’s threat, staring at the book as though it were a handsome celebrity. “I’ve never seen a book this old before... hey, please, will you just let me take a look at it? Uh, if you don’t mind, of course. Um... I have a translation book at my inn room. Maybe I could tell you what the book’s about. If that’s okay with you.”
“Give it back.” Anjanette was ready to fight if she needed to. She could certainly take this shrinking violet.
Leonas stepped between the two. The last thing they wanted was a fight in the middle of a market. “We don’t really care what it says, we just want to sell it.”
“But it could be, um, important,” protested the girl. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I mean, if it’s a really important book... you could sell it for more. Yeah. I won’t charge you money or anything. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Anjanette’s vision turned gold. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“Hold on,” said Leonas. “Why are you asking to do this for us? What do you have to gain?”
“Uh.. it’s out of the goodness of my heart?” she offered.
Leonas drew a dagger. “Give it back.”
“Okay, I’m just... curious. Um, I’ve never seen an ancient book before, you know, and I really want to take a look at it, if that’s okay with you,” She looked at Leonas and Anjanette with the eyes of a kicked puppy begging for mercy.
“All right, we’ll let you translate the book if you let me carry it,” said Leonas with a sigh. The girl immediately obliged. “Who are you, by the way?”
“My name is Milly. Er, I collect books... my mom calls me a battle librarian, but that sounds kind of silly, but um, I guess that’s the closest thing I have to a title.”
Anjanette raised an eyebrow. “Who cares about a title? I’m Anjanette, and this is Leonas. Merchants. Pleased to meet you, Milly.”
Milly blushed and slouched over again.
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Leonas had once seen a play in Tereton. The actors went through their lines mechanically, the only emotion being shown by the leads, even then transparently fake and melodramatic. It reminded him of the population of Tereton itself – a bunch of yokels playing at being city folk, and not putting much work into it too.
Hence the city was a halfway measure – brick buildings a few stories high, cobblestone roads that were missing every fourth stone, small crowds wearing the fashion of two years ago. Even the weather got into it today, with light and indecisive clouds
None of this stopped them from doing business there. It was the biggest city in the south Dutchies, after all. Not to mention it had the best appraiser they knew.
“Anj, we just got into Tereton!” Leonas called back into their caravan. Anjanette only responded by tossing an empty ration carton at him and rolling over to continue her nap.
Leonas grumbled and barely managed to maneuver the horses around a group of children playing soccer in the street. He planned on making a short stop in Tereton to sell their stuff, pick up some more goods, and spend a night drinking while futilely hitting on guys. Anjanette would argue, as she usually did, that they should spend some more time in the city. They had the argument many times before, and it almost always resulted in a compromise and spending a few more days there, but they kept doing it for ritual’s sake.
The horses knew these streets by heart, and automatically made their way to Gaviel’s pawn shop. Gaviel was a shifty man, but smart enough to know not to bullshit the two of them. He was great at appraising the value of whatever random trinkets Leonas and Anjanette got, and occasionally buying them for the shop. Leonas had to struggle to think of a time when he didn’t have a smile on his face, always laughing and joking in some sort of offputting way.
He was also quite dead.
“Dead?” Leonas asked.
“Dead,” said the other man, apparently the property owner. He was an officious type who seemed entirely uncomfortable with the store. “Drug overdose. Just a few days ago.”
“I didn’t know he even did drugs,” muttered Anjanette. She looked slightly mournfully at the pawn shop’s boarded-up windows. The pawn shop was one of the only building in Tereton that had the class to be run-down. White paint peeled from the walls, at least one window was usually smashed in, and the small building hid behind a lawn of pale yellow grass. A wooden sign that had once read “GAVIEL’S ONCE-USED TREASURES” but was now a random assortment of paint scraps and letter
“Well, he didn’t exactly go around advertising it,” the owner grumbled. “But hey, we’re having a clearance sale of you want anything.” Putting on his best salesman face, the property owner gestured at the entire inventory of the pawn shop sitting out on the lawn, presided over by a board-looking clerk. Clothes, jewlery, books and magical trinkets were piled up on the lawn haphazardly, with discounted tags slapped onto them. A few bargain hunters milled around listlessly. Most of the stuff was crap, and they knew it.
Leonas shook his head. “Sorry, not interested.”
“Now we have to find someone to appraise this thing,” said Anjanette, pulling out the book John had gave them. She drooled at the thought of some eccentric aristocrat handing over a mountain of gold. “I know jack shit about books, so we need to find out exactly how much we can screw people out of.”
There are times when life seems to take a turn for the unconvincing. When all the tiny gears click into place for just a second, and some astonishing but absolutely vital, life-changing coincidence happens. Call it fate, call it luck, call it a sloppy god. But it happens.
It was one of those precise moments when a pile of books crashed into Anjanette, knocking her down in a storm of paper and hardbacks. “Sorry!” the books said quietly.
Growling, Anjanette pulled a treatise on the history of Draconism off her face. It turns out that the books were not in fact walking and speaking, instead being carried by a small mousy girl. She was huddled into a small and unassuming form, seeming to lean into herself in every direction. Her black hair was twisted into a braid that hung down to her shoulders, making a frightening contrast against her pale skin. The girl wore a hideous robe that might have been fashioned by someone’s embarassing grandmother two centuries ago.
“Watch where you’re going,” Anjanette said, pushing a few more novels off of her.
“S-sorry,” the girl said “Here, I’ll help you up...” She picked a few of the books off Anjanette, grabbing the Ancient book along with them. Pausing in confusion, she opened the book, gaping at it in wonder.
“Hey, give that back,” Anjanette said.
The girl looked up, cheeks crimsom. “Um... is this an Ancient book?”
“Yeah. It’s kind of valuable, so could you please give it back?” Anjanette tensed, reaching for her blade.
The girl ignored Anjanette’s threat, staring at the book as though it were a handsome celebrity. “I’ve never seen a book this old before... hey, please, will you just let me take a look at it? Uh, if you don’t mind, of course. Um... I have a translation book at my inn room. Maybe I could tell you what the book’s about. If that’s okay with you.”
“Give it back.” Anjanette was ready to fight if she needed to. She could certainly take this shrinking violet.
Leonas stepped between the two. The last thing they wanted was a fight in the middle of a market. “We don’t really care what it says, we just want to sell it.”
“But it could be, um, important,” protested the girl. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I mean, if it’s a really important book... you could sell it for more. Yeah. I won’t charge you money or anything. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Anjanette’s vision turned gold. “Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“Hold on,” said Leonas. “Why are you asking to do this for us? What do you have to gain?”
“Uh.. it’s out of the goodness of my heart?” she offered.
Leonas drew a dagger. “Give it back.”
“Okay, I’m just... curious. Um, I’ve never seen an ancient book before, you know, and I really want to take a look at it, if that’s okay with you,” She looked at Leonas and Anjanette with the eyes of a kicked puppy begging for mercy.
“All right, we’ll let you translate the book if you let me carry it,” said Leonas with a sigh. The girl immediately obliged. “Who are you, by the way?”
“My name is Milly. Er, I collect books... my mom calls me a battle librarian, but that sounds kind of silly, but um, I guess that’s the closest thing I have to a title.”
Anjanette raised an eyebrow. “Who cares about a title? I’m Anjanette, and this is Leonas. Merchants. Pleased to meet you, Milly.”
Milly blushed and slouched over again.
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Friday, April 18, 2008
Chapter 1-2
The first written rule of scamming was that you never stayed around one place for too long. So at the end of the day Leonas and Anjanette packed up all of their merchandise and equipment into their caravan and left town. They had another two towns on the schedule before they returned to Tereton to pawn anything they picked up along the way and restock supplies for another run. Theoretically they would eventually run out of small towns in the Dutchies to run scams in, but
at the moment they seemed to be limitless.
They stopped well before sunset – the sun was beginning its walk offstage, but had yet to show its colourful back. It reflected out over an endless expanse of farmland and grain. The Dutchies were as flat as year-old beer, and about as enticing. The road they travelled on was allegedly paved, but looked more like a line the plants had sort of given up on than any sort of human artifice.
It was the horses who determined their hours. Using stallions or thoroughbreds would have drawn too much attention, and also struck Leonas as needlessly gaudy. Instead they had two cheap rouncies who grudgingly pulled the caravan from one place to another... when they felt like it.
“These assholes are almost as lazy as I am,” said Anjanette, swinging at one with a stick. The horse whined, offended, but refused to budge.
“Does that mean I can hit you with a stick next time you won’t get out of bed?” said Leonas.
“Sure. If you don’t mind that stick being lodged up into your intestines.”
Leonas winced. “Why must you be so vulgar?”
“Well someone’s gotta be,” said Anjanette with a shrug.
“I guess so,” said Leonas. He pulled the cart to a stop before getting off. “Someone also needs to go get firewood.”
“Not me!” Anjanette said quickly, as if it would settle things.
“Well I did it last time,” said Leonas
“So you can handle it again! Come on, you’re a big boy now.”
Leonas refused to budge. “Anjanette, please tell me you’re willing to do more in this operation than look pretty.”
“Lying. I’m also pretty good at lying.”
There was a terse but familiar stalemate, and then Anjanette produced a small, faintly growing scroll. The writing on the binding read “The Noble and Beautiful – Floreal 12, CCXI.”
“No,” said Leonas, backing away with shaking legs.
“You knew it was coming,” Anjanette said. “I’m going to watch my soap. You can stay here and join me, or you can go out and get some firewood.”
Leonas was gone before she had finished speaking.
Anjanette smirked the smirk of champions. She took the ilsc and placed it on the ground in front of her. After striking flint and steel together for a short while, she lit it on fire. The fire glowed green with magic, and in the smoke that billowed out, there formed all the beautiful people and their glamorous world, a world of nobility and constantly shifting and scandalous events.
Previous
at the moment they seemed to be limitless.
They stopped well before sunset – the sun was beginning its walk offstage, but had yet to show its colourful back. It reflected out over an endless expanse of farmland and grain. The Dutchies were as flat as year-old beer, and about as enticing. The road they travelled on was allegedly paved, but looked more like a line the plants had sort of given up on than any sort of human artifice.
It was the horses who determined their hours. Using stallions or thoroughbreds would have drawn too much attention, and also struck Leonas as needlessly gaudy. Instead they had two cheap rouncies who grudgingly pulled the caravan from one place to another... when they felt like it.
“These assholes are almost as lazy as I am,” said Anjanette, swinging at one with a stick. The horse whined, offended, but refused to budge.
“Does that mean I can hit you with a stick next time you won’t get out of bed?” said Leonas.
“Sure. If you don’t mind that stick being lodged up into your intestines.”
Leonas winced. “Why must you be so vulgar?”
“Well someone’s gotta be,” said Anjanette with a shrug.
“I guess so,” said Leonas. He pulled the cart to a stop before getting off. “Someone also needs to go get firewood.”
“Not me!” Anjanette said quickly, as if it would settle things.
“Well I did it last time,” said Leonas
“So you can handle it again! Come on, you’re a big boy now.”
Leonas refused to budge. “Anjanette, please tell me you’re willing to do more in this operation than look pretty.”
“Lying. I’m also pretty good at lying.”
There was a terse but familiar stalemate, and then Anjanette produced a small, faintly growing scroll. The writing on the binding read “The Noble and Beautiful – Floreal 12, CCXI.”
“No,” said Leonas, backing away with shaking legs.
“You knew it was coming,” Anjanette said. “I’m going to watch my soap. You can stay here and join me, or you can go out and get some firewood.”
Leonas was gone before she had finished speaking.
Anjanette smirked the smirk of champions. She took the ilsc and placed it on the ground in front of her. After striking flint and steel together for a short while, she lit it on fire. The fire glowed green with magic, and in the smoke that billowed out, there formed all the beautiful people and their glamorous world, a world of nobility and constantly shifting and scandalous events.
Previous
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Chapter 1-1
John, for all of his sixteen years, had always wanted to be a hero. Not content with being a farmhand in his small village, he wanted to travel the world, fight dragons, screw princesses, and all that jazz. Of course, everyone knew there were no such things as dragons, and there weren’t many princesses any more. But the principal remained. All he needed was a chance, a quest, a purpose. And now a pair of strange merchants had rolled into town, loudly hawking that exact thing.
“I-is that real?” John said.
“As real as you and I,” said the woman, gesturing to the map on the table. She was easily the most beautiful woman John had seen, although he may just have thought that because of how little she was wearing. Her fiery red hair topped a body that looked as though it had been sculpted by a particularly perverted artisan. Across her back was a sword thicker than her legs, almost comically oversized.
And in her hand, what he needed. A real-life treasure map, showing the location of the legendary Cyril Horde. A treasure that would make kings drool, according to the legends, hidden somewhere in the frigid Soleias mountains. And he could find out where it was.
“We would go for it ourselves, but I don’t think we could survive the trip,” the other merchant, a thin reedy man, said. John would not be able to provide nearly as good a description of him.
“I think I can make it,” John said. “How much for the map?”
“Fifteen crowns,” the woman said.
John gaped. Fifteen gold crowns was more money than he’d ever seen in his life. Heck, his father only pulled in about six at harvest season – fifteen for a map?
“That’s bullshit,” he said. “I’ll pay you five.” He didn’t have five, but if he pooled his money together with some friends, and took some of Dad’s, he might be able to make it.
The man laughed in his face. “It’s fifteen, and I’m not going any lower. Do you know how many legitimate treasure hunters would love to get their hands on this? I don’t need to sell it to some yokel, I just happen to feel charitable today. Don’t test my charity.”
“Don’t be so mean, Leo,” said the woman with a smile. “Tell you what, kid. I like you, so I’ll give it to you for twelve crowns.”
John bit his lip, war raging in his eyes before he finally came to a conclusion. “All right, I’ll try to go find enough money. Don’t sell that to anyone else!”
“I’ll try to hold onto it,” the woman said.
---
There was no one else around, so after John left the two “merchants” were free to laugh uproariously. “Did you see the way he was looking at you Anj? Let’s just say little Johnnie was really interested in what you had to offer.”
“You would be looking there, wouldn’t you?” Anjanette chuckled.
“And you haven’t wanted to take aside a cute farmboy and give him the big city treatment?” Leonas looked feline enough to suit his name – he was lithe, skinny, and he gave off an air of simplicity that served him well. His golden hair and soft face didn’t make him look very masculine, but he didn’t mind. His clothes were simply cut traveller’s clothes, as opposed to Anjanette’s fashionable and revealing ones.
“Eh. I did once, back when we were starting this racket. The kid was paralyzed the whole way, and still came in about half a minute.” She grinned.
“Probably spoiled him for life too,” Leonas chuckled. “Can’t be happy with a frumpy farmgirl now, eh?”
This town was like all the other small villages. A small cluster of shops and cheap brick houses, surrounded by rings of old farmhouses and the plains of the Dutchies. This meant that the town constantly smelt a little bit like manure, as it was always downwind from some farmhouse or another. Leonas and Anjanette had gotten so used to the smell they didn’t notice it anymore.
The market square they stood in was almost deserted, the only other occupants being an old woman selling trinkets spread out over the cobblestone ground and a ramshackle wooden booth selling old ilscs. In the background frumpy girls in old dresses flirted with greasy, dirty farmboys while their flabby fathers went through the same motions they had for decades.
Another half hour under the boiling sun later, John returned, a full party of youth with him. As usual accompanying the ringleader there was a short shifty one, a big stupid one, and a girl. John opened his changepurse and pulled out a fistful of coins. He let them trickle out of his hand to clatter against the merchants’ wooden table.
Anjanette went to count them. John said “seven gold and three silver. It’s all we got.” She continued counting.
“Twelve crowns or bust,” Leonas said.
John frowned, before digging into his pack to produce a thick, ancient-looking book. The spine was cracked in many places, and the pages were dusty, but what really mattered was the writing – long cursive characters that looped and explored the page, indecipherable to modern eyes. The Ancients’ language.
Leonas and Anjanette leaned together to confer with each other, looking like a schoolyard huddle. “There are collectors who pay a fortune for Ancient books,” Leonas whispered. “Size of this thing, it’s easily worth whatever gold we might lose. Let’s do it.”
Anjanette nodded and turned to John with a cheery smile. “We’ll take it.”
“I guess it’ll be sufficient,” said Leonas, no less enthusiastic but much better at hiding it.
John moved to push the money over, but hesitated at the last minute. Anjanette suspected that a good bit of it was stolen, and that the kid was feeling a spate of guilt. That wouldn’t do.
She leaned further, threatening to spill out of her shirt. “Kid, buy it or quit wasting my time.”
John hastily pushed the coins and book forward, snapped up by Leonas like a snake striking. Anjanette smiled and handed him the withered map.
“Thank you so much,” John said, cheeks reddening.
“Have fun, kid,” Anjanette replied with a smile. John and the other youths ran off excitedly.
Anjanette smiled, the familiar warm haze of nostalgia beginning to surface. “Y’know, I kind of feel bad about that one.”
“Hey, if they actually make it to the Soleias Mountains, I’ll give them all the treasure they want myself,” Leonas said. The map was, of course, a fake – everything they sold was either fake or severely overpriced.
“But still Leo, don’t those kids remind you of us back in Marillion? Bored, not fitting in, looking for adventure...”
“Yeah, except we weren’t stupid.”
Anjanette frowned and stared forward, not convinced. Leonas patted her on the back. “Hey, think of it this way. Those kids probably won’t make it out of the Dutchies. They’ll fight a troll or two, go back home and have a big adventure to tell their grandkids. You satisfied now?”
She shrugged it off. The first unwritten rule of scamming was that you never thought much about morality.
“I-is that real?” John said.
“As real as you and I,” said the woman, gesturing to the map on the table. She was easily the most beautiful woman John had seen, although he may just have thought that because of how little she was wearing. Her fiery red hair topped a body that looked as though it had been sculpted by a particularly perverted artisan. Across her back was a sword thicker than her legs, almost comically oversized.
And in her hand, what he needed. A real-life treasure map, showing the location of the legendary Cyril Horde. A treasure that would make kings drool, according to the legends, hidden somewhere in the frigid Soleias mountains. And he could find out where it was.
“We would go for it ourselves, but I don’t think we could survive the trip,” the other merchant, a thin reedy man, said. John would not be able to provide nearly as good a description of him.
“I think I can make it,” John said. “How much for the map?”
“Fifteen crowns,” the woman said.
John gaped. Fifteen gold crowns was more money than he’d ever seen in his life. Heck, his father only pulled in about six at harvest season – fifteen for a map?
“That’s bullshit,” he said. “I’ll pay you five.” He didn’t have five, but if he pooled his money together with some friends, and took some of Dad’s, he might be able to make it.
The man laughed in his face. “It’s fifteen, and I’m not going any lower. Do you know how many legitimate treasure hunters would love to get their hands on this? I don’t need to sell it to some yokel, I just happen to feel charitable today. Don’t test my charity.”
“Don’t be so mean, Leo,” said the woman with a smile. “Tell you what, kid. I like you, so I’ll give it to you for twelve crowns.”
John bit his lip, war raging in his eyes before he finally came to a conclusion. “All right, I’ll try to go find enough money. Don’t sell that to anyone else!”
“I’ll try to hold onto it,” the woman said.
---
There was no one else around, so after John left the two “merchants” were free to laugh uproariously. “Did you see the way he was looking at you Anj? Let’s just say little Johnnie was really interested in what you had to offer.”
“You would be looking there, wouldn’t you?” Anjanette chuckled.
“And you haven’t wanted to take aside a cute farmboy and give him the big city treatment?” Leonas looked feline enough to suit his name – he was lithe, skinny, and he gave off an air of simplicity that served him well. His golden hair and soft face didn’t make him look very masculine, but he didn’t mind. His clothes were simply cut traveller’s clothes, as opposed to Anjanette’s fashionable and revealing ones.
“Eh. I did once, back when we were starting this racket. The kid was paralyzed the whole way, and still came in about half a minute.” She grinned.
“Probably spoiled him for life too,” Leonas chuckled. “Can’t be happy with a frumpy farmgirl now, eh?”
This town was like all the other small villages. A small cluster of shops and cheap brick houses, surrounded by rings of old farmhouses and the plains of the Dutchies. This meant that the town constantly smelt a little bit like manure, as it was always downwind from some farmhouse or another. Leonas and Anjanette had gotten so used to the smell they didn’t notice it anymore.
The market square they stood in was almost deserted, the only other occupants being an old woman selling trinkets spread out over the cobblestone ground and a ramshackle wooden booth selling old ilscs. In the background frumpy girls in old dresses flirted with greasy, dirty farmboys while their flabby fathers went through the same motions they had for decades.
Another half hour under the boiling sun later, John returned, a full party of youth with him. As usual accompanying the ringleader there was a short shifty one, a big stupid one, and a girl. John opened his changepurse and pulled out a fistful of coins. He let them trickle out of his hand to clatter against the merchants’ wooden table.
Anjanette went to count them. John said “seven gold and three silver. It’s all we got.” She continued counting.
“Twelve crowns or bust,” Leonas said.
John frowned, before digging into his pack to produce a thick, ancient-looking book. The spine was cracked in many places, and the pages were dusty, but what really mattered was the writing – long cursive characters that looped and explored the page, indecipherable to modern eyes. The Ancients’ language.
Leonas and Anjanette leaned together to confer with each other, looking like a schoolyard huddle. “There are collectors who pay a fortune for Ancient books,” Leonas whispered. “Size of this thing, it’s easily worth whatever gold we might lose. Let’s do it.”
Anjanette nodded and turned to John with a cheery smile. “We’ll take it.”
“I guess it’ll be sufficient,” said Leonas, no less enthusiastic but much better at hiding it.
John moved to push the money over, but hesitated at the last minute. Anjanette suspected that a good bit of it was stolen, and that the kid was feeling a spate of guilt. That wouldn’t do.
She leaned further, threatening to spill out of her shirt. “Kid, buy it or quit wasting my time.”
John hastily pushed the coins and book forward, snapped up by Leonas like a snake striking. Anjanette smiled and handed him the withered map.
“Thank you so much,” John said, cheeks reddening.
“Have fun, kid,” Anjanette replied with a smile. John and the other youths ran off excitedly.
Anjanette smiled, the familiar warm haze of nostalgia beginning to surface. “Y’know, I kind of feel bad about that one.”
“Hey, if they actually make it to the Soleias Mountains, I’ll give them all the treasure they want myself,” Leonas said. The map was, of course, a fake – everything they sold was either fake or severely overpriced.
“But still Leo, don’t those kids remind you of us back in Marillion? Bored, not fitting in, looking for adventure...”
“Yeah, except we weren’t stupid.”
Anjanette frowned and stared forward, not convinced. Leonas patted her on the back. “Hey, think of it this way. Those kids probably won’t make it out of the Dutchies. They’ll fight a troll or two, go back home and have a big adventure to tell their grandkids. You satisfied now?”
She shrugged it off. The first unwritten rule of scamming was that you never thought much about morality.
Table of Contents
Here is ye olde table of contents. Listed below is everything that's been posted so far. You know how a table of contents works, don't you?
Chapter 1: Come Out And Play
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 2: I Will Follow
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 3: Even At Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 4: Letterbomb
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Chapter 1: Come Out And Play
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 2: I Will Follow
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 3: Even At Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 4: Letterbomb
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
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