In the traveling merchant’s left pocket, his rock vibrated. Oh good, he thought. It didn’t look like he would see anyone today. He gave his donkey a pat along its snout. He hasn’t named this donkey yet, but he’s taken to calling him Fella. His last donkey had traveled the whole of Covidia with him, so he was still bitter about needing to retire the old mule.
The road from Bread Town was unusually empty. His pocket rock indicated that someone was on the road half a league away. After about twenty minutes of meandering, he finally saw them walking toward him: three travelers each with a small knapsack. Two were heavily armored, one had a great longsword and the other a big battle axe. These two were big and brutish, while the third was thin and covered in a long cloak that reached to their feet. The merchant thought about the many devious devices the cloak could conceal. He was very pleased; these were the ideal clientele for his wares. As they approached, he cleared his throat and gave a hearty yell.
“Why hullo there folks! They call me Wild Bill! I don’t think I’ve seen you folks before!” Up close, they were bigger than Bill had guessed from further away. They had the dirt and grime of the road on them, and they didn’t look at Bill kindly.
“Wild Bill,” one of the brutes said. “What are you doing out by yourself? Haven’t you heard how dangerous the roads have gotten?” A sly smile formed under the helmet as the brute leaned against her sword.
“Oh me and Fella here,” Bill patted the Donkey again. “We’ve never had any trouble! No matter how crazy things get, Covidians seem to honor safe travel for merchants. What kind of society would we be if people didn’t?” Bill cracked a nervous smile as part of the act. These adventurer types all fall for the same tricks. As long as you give their ego a scratch, they’ll crawl into your lap like a kitten. “Perhaps you might be interested in something from the cart?”
The brutes exchanged a look. The thin-robed one’s face was concealed beneath a hood and remained stoically frozen and unreadable. Bill started rummaging through his wagon.
“Let’s see! I’ve got some health potions of course, as you’d expect. Never want to be without, but you know that!” He reached for another pouch. “Some spices here, let’s see, where’s the good stuff…. AH! Here we are!” He pulled out a sheathed dagger and showed it to the adventurers.
“I think we’re set,” said the battle axe-wielding brute, flashing a dagger on his hip.
“Ah but I think you misunderstand, this is no ordinary dagger!” Bill unsheathed the dagger, turned away from the adventurers, and threw it some twenty feet away; it stuck into the ground. He turned back to the group, who stared at him unimpressed. Wild Bill raised a finger to prevent the unwanted question during his performance, then opened his hand. The travelers’ focus shifted from the merchant to the dagger, which had gotten up from its place in the ground and flown back into the merchant’s hand. “A Dagger of Returning! The applications are endless!”
The brutes were not impressed. “Good parlor trick. How much would you say this dagger is worth?” Wild Bill whirled the dagger and sheathed it, flipping it over in his hands and appraising it.
“Depends on the person! I suppose it could be invaluable to someone out there … but for me, I could part with it for 1,000 gold pieces.” They stare at him without offering any response. “Not the crowd? How about an elixir to cure impotence? I’ve got just the thing for your next night out in the big city!” Bill put the dagger down and rifled through the cart again. The woman, with the longsword, walked around to the back of the wagon and started looking around. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Bill put on a nervous look. The man with the axe took a few steps toward Bill and puffed out his chest.
“What’s the most expensive piece you have, vagabond?” The woman was moving things around inside the wagon.
“I’ll ask again,” Bill said. “Please don’t go through the wagon! I’d be happy to-“ the man cut him off.
“You’d be happy to walk away from here with your life?” The battle axe was now off his back and held in both hands. Bill stood up straighter. He’s far smaller than these adventurers by every metric.
“I’d be happy to show you my collection, but I don’t take kindly to threats. Now please,” he turned his back to the man and reached into the wagon. “Get out of my cart!” Inside the wagon, he grabbed the woman’s arm. At the moment of their touching a flash of lightning jumped from Bill to the woman. She flew out of the back of the wagon and landed staring at the sky several feet away.
Bill turned around and reached into the donkey’s side saddle while the man with the battle axe rushed toward him. Bill threw a small totem on the ground between himself and the adventurer, who slowed down and brought his axe back over his head to smash it.
The quiet, robed member of the adventurers watched as the small toy grew into a full sized rock Golem where the merchant had thrown it. The Golem caught the battle axe as it was swung, then looked down at the man. The Golem was at least ten feet tall now and towered over him. The Golem threw the battle axe aside as if the man were not even holding it. Then it punched him in the face. The robed man looked around the wagon and saw his other companion rolling around on the ground. A rug was attempting to choke her out. This isn’t the first sentient rug he’s seen, and he was embarrassed for her because the rug seemed to be winning.
“You sir,” Bill said kindly to the robed man, as if nothing were happening. “Would you be interested in traditional business?”
“Yes.” The robed man spoke from inside the darkness of the hood. “Six healing potions. Will 500 gold pieces cover the potions and your trouble?”
“I’m afraid I’ll need 1,000,” Bill said. From inside his robes the man pulled out a bag of coins. He took some coins out of the bag and then threw the bag to Bill. He took a quick look inside; the weight felt right and the few coins he tested were true gold. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Bill whistled and the rug stood at attention like a soldier, leaving the woman grasping her neck and taking huge breaths of air. The rug walked on two corners into the back of the wagon. The Golem stood straight up and got very still, then shrunk before their eyes back into the toy-sized figurine Bill had thrown from the saddle. The man the Golem punched was dazed and lying on the ground. Bill collected the Golem and got the potions out for the robed man. “Safe travels, I hear the roads have been terribly unsafe lately.”
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