Fantasy Economics 101 - Chapter 8 (Patreon)

A Scholar from Afar

New Reedcourt's was a common tale. A bustling agricultural town, sitting on top of a busy trade route leading into the heart of the Monarchy. It was, without a doubt, on the straight and narrow road to grow into a respectable city and the economic heart of the Eastern Great Lowlands. Then, the Wish Incident happened, and the townsfolk's hopes seemingly scattered in the wind like ashes.

However, the town had deep roots, and following the tumultuous decade of the Wish, New Reedcourt became one of the founders of a new industry: adventuring. Where others saw the disaster and waste, the adventurers of the town saw an opportunity.

The great Tianube River was not regulated properly after the Wish and turned the nearby farmlands and pastures into swamps? The perfect environment to hunt aquatic beasts, as well as the occasional bog wraith. The great mines of the Eastern Batatooth Mountains got abandoned after their precious metal veins lost their value? They were now perfect breeding grounds for gnolls, goblins, and other malicious fey creatures. And the forests! Monstrous dire wolves, winged great snakes, skeletal stags, and even the occasional armored bear, locally known as a 'tralokh' would make it their home. For the industrious adventurer, the region was a treasure box just waiting to be plundered.

And plunder they did, for decades on end. Walls were erected, housing for the adventurous sort to rest their weary backs between expeditions, as well as shops and facilities to service them in exchange for cold, hard gold. For some time, everyone breathed easily, as the light at the end of the tunnel was visible; in fact, they could even reach greater heights than they could ever imagine! As usual, such optimistic outlooks were soon stomped into the ground by the cruel boot of reality.

Like all treasure boxes, the Eastern Great Plains had soon proven to have a bottom, and the number of adventurers it could support, a ceiling. Once the profession became widespread, it led to fierce competition. Good hunting grounds became secret knowledge jealously guarded from the eyes and ears of the masses, and adventurers fighting each other over grievances became a daily occurrence.

It wasn't until the Adventurers' Guild, an organization supported by the crown itself, stepped in that things calmed down. Its guild hall, a simple yet imposingly large building, now towered over the central square of the town center. In front of its black stone walls and bright red tiled roof, stood an odd individual. He wore baggy purple pants tugged into a pair of fine leather boots and carried a large bag on his back. Most peculiarly, his upper body was wrapped up in multiple thick layers of colorful cloth, hanging from him like a loose Warran toga. His head, similarly swathed in multiple red-and-green shawls with thrummed edges, was adorned by a single peacock feather stuck between the folds, with only a pair of thick, round glasses serving as an indication of where his eyes were supposed to be. In his gloved hands, he held a thick book and looked upon the building with conflicted emotions.

[I'm still not sure this is a good idea…]

Elkayla unsure words surfaced in his mind once again, but he quickly chased them away and readjusted his glasses. They served no real purpose, considering he wasn't seeing the world through eyes, but it made it all the more important to regularly make sure they were still attached to his head.

His plan was simple, yet dangerous. If he wanted to learn more about adventurers and where all the money they collected went, this was by far the most efficient way to go about it. On the flip side, if he was discovered, he would be surrounded by enemies in all directions, and his survival would be anything but assured. However, as one of his fellow Viserwright alumni had often said, if there's nothing ventured, then there's nothing gained, and in this case, the potential danger was matched by equal opportunity.

Nerves fully steeled, Raol straightened his back, set his shoulders, and walked straight into the lion's den without any hesitation. On his way, he passed by a few strangers. Most of them had weapons strapped on their hips and backs, so it was easy to tell that they had to be adventurers. More surprising was the presence of others; people dressed as simple peasant folk, with the occasional merchant mixed in between. Due to his attire, Raol's presence turned a few heads, yet no one paid him more than a breath's worth of attention before moving on to their own business.

Under his peculiar garments, he was once again wearing a whole gamut of small, enchanted trinkets suppressing his magicka, and while the friendly hermitess warned him not to rely on them to hide his nature, they had let him enter the town without any hassle already, and none of the adventurers in the premises showed more than mild interest in him so far.

The reception area of the Adventurers' Guild was unexpectedly spacious, with dark brown hardwood floors, walls covered with hanging banners and stuffed trophies, and wrought iron chandeliers giving it a solemn first impression. In stark contrast to that, the large hall, its ceiling held aloft by a series of wooden pillars, also served as a tavern of sorts, with dozens of simple, round wooden tables surrounded by equally rough stools and chairs. The air was thick with the heavy scent of roasted food, with traces of the sweet yet earthy aroma of the locally brewed beer on top.

The place was boisterous and loud, but it didn't feel unsafe; at least not on cursory inspection. While the people sitting around the tables were anything but quiet and dignified, they kept to themselves, and the staff members were all dressed in plain but modest clothes, as opposed to the loose attires of barmaids one would find in less reputable establishments. If anything, the place reminded Raol of the capital's saloons he visited in his youth, filled with young scions mingling while indulging in the drinks and atmosphere.

His eye-lights, entirely hidden behind the cloths wrapped around his skull, scanned the premises and soon settled on the long counter at the back of the room, with 'Guild Reception' written vertically upon a long pennant hanging from the ceiling. Acting naturally, Raol made his way over to the counter with measured steps, and the moment he arrived, he slammed his gloved hand onto the countertop.

"A jolly good day to you, my good fellow!"

The man on the other side, scrawny and narrow-shouldered, with sandy-blonde hair and a thin mustache scrawled over his upper lip, blinked in surprise and turned his full attention to the strange newcomer.

"Can I help you?"

"Maybe!" Raol responded in a chipper voice, slightly higher-pitched than normal. "Is this the guild of adventurers I've heard so much about?"

"Yes. It certainly is," the receptionist answered a touch uncertainly.

"Marvelous!"

Without saying anything else, Raol plucked the feather out of his headwear, opened the book in his other hand, and began to furious scribble onto its pages.

The act he was using was the favorite of one of his old associates, the man the quote about venturing and gaining came from. When alive, Raol could hardly practice it thanks to his rather unique facial features, but he had seen his colleague pull it off many times in the past. Disguising oneself as a scribe from a distant land was one of the most surefire ways to infiltrate the cliques and clubs of noblemen, for the only thing the rich and bored loved more than hearing tall tales about strange and exotic foreign countries was boasting about themselves in front of guests who would believe anything they told them. Get alcohol involved, and a few leading questions, and all but the tightest-lipped man would slip up sooner or later.

"Sir? Are you here to register as an adventurer?" the young man on the other side of the counter inquired in a strained voice that said he had seen many a strange thing in this line of work, and yet he still found himself confused by this encounter.

Raol didn't respond right away, but instead he snapped his book shut and stuck the feather back into the folds of the clothes covering his head with well-practiced motions.

"Oh, no-no-no! What gave you such a strange idea?"

"Sir? This is the reception of the guild," the barely mustached man emphasized.

"That does not mean you should jump to conclusions like that!" the disguised skeleton wagged his finger at the increasingly more befuddled receptionist before exhaling a theatrical sigh. "Oh well. Since you wish to discuss business, I shall oblige you."

To further solidify his impression, Raol took a step back and made a scraping bow, with one arm across his chest and the other extended sideways.

"I'm Raoleem Solan nib Toakeem Zeraff, second-degree Eruch of the prestigious Hall of Knowledge and Wisdom, and famed explorer of the Seven Oases, the Lost Mountain of Arat, and the Lands of the Far West."

"Erm… Um… My name is Eduarder of Crowleg and… errr… I'm the guild receptionist?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, friend! Now, let's get down to business!" Saying so, Raol straightened his back and opened up his book again. "As you can no doubt tell, I'm far from home, on a long journey to explore lands hitherto unseen by civilized eyes! Upon my way to the West, I became intrigued by this institution of yours, and wish to dedicate a chapter to it in my travel guide and memoir."

"So… you're a scholar?"

"Are 'scholars' men of impeccable wisdom and intellectual acumen?"

"I… suppose so," the man muttered in a daze, and Raol let out a well-practiced guffaw in return.

"Haha! In that case, I'm most certainly a scholar!" Raol waited for a few breaths for the receptionist to respond, but when he didn't, he rapidly turned the pages in his book and roughly poked a finger, as if he just found what he was looking for. "To make my records more authentic, I require the help of one of your adventurous fellows, friend. Can you point me in the direction of a friendly face, willing to share his experiences? With maybe a few scrumptious tales of monstrous beasts and heroic deeds to give the chapter a certain spice, if you know what I mean?"

"I… yes, I certainly do," the hapless young man muttered in a daze, but then his eyes suddenly lit up, and raised a hand over his head. "Ah! Lazlo! Come over here for a moment!"

Raol followed the direction his eyes were pointing at, and his gaze immediately landed on a large man walking towards the reception desk. He was tall, with wide shoulders and a thick neck, and his whole body was clad in a mixture of plate armor and maille made of flat, riveted rings, and he had a large sword in a holster slung over his shoulder. His clean-shaved face, short-cropped hair, as well as his gear and bearing, reminded Raol of a young recruit in a knightly order, which made him stick out of the environment.

"Yes? Is there a problem?" the newcomer inquired in a measured voice.

"No, not a problem, really," the receptionist waved his hands in front of him and gestured towards Raol. "Mister… erm…"

"Raoleem Solan nib Toakeem Zeraff," Raol helped him out, and the young man repeatedly nodded.

"He's a scholar from a far-away land who wants to know more about what adventurers do."

"From a 'far-away land', you say?" the large man echoed him and looked Raol over from head to toe. "You most certainly look the part? From where do you hail, stranger?"

Instead of answering right away, Raol snapped his book shut again and put his hands onto his hips, or at the very least at the area where they should've been, and scoffed.

"Such rudeness! I do not appreciate being questioned like that by someone who couldn't follow common courtesy!"

The heavily armored man and the disguised skeleton locked eyes for a long time, and it was the former who flinched first and exhaled a soft groan.

"Lazlo Miller, third generation adventurer and the leader of 'Blood and Flour', at your service."

"Ah, much better," Raol responded in a much more diplomatic voice and repeated his entire initial introduction all over again.

The armored man listened closely, and once Raol finished, he let out a thoughtful grunt.

"I've never heard of 'oases' or this 'Mount Arat' before. You must have come from really far away."

"Indeed I have," Raol replied with a deep nod and a wistful sigh. "I left my beautiful homeland many years ago, and I have traveled far and wide in search of materials for my travel guide. I'm curious if you could help me complete the chapter I'm currently writing."

"What do you want to know?"

"I'm curious about your trade above all else, though I would be lying if I said I wouldn't like to hear some harrowing tales of combat, intrigue, and high adventure to make my book more interesting for the common reader."

"I thought you were a scholar."

"That, I am, but I'm not writing this for the Hall of Knowledge and Wisdom, now am I?"

For emphasis, he shook the book in his hand. Meanwhile, the armored man continued to scrutinize him, but at last, he nodded and gestured for Raol to follow after him.

"Let's sit down first."

Before joining him, Raol gave a few short words of thanks to the eminently relieved receptionist and then quickly caught up to Lazlo. Before long, the two of them arrived at a table set a good distance away from the rest, near one of the few windows on the ground floor. It was already reserved by three other adventurers, a party of three women.

The youngest of the trio looked to be in her late teens, and she wore dark-green traveler's clothes. With her bright eyes, shoulder-length black hair, and button nose, she looked anything but a battle-hardened mercenary. Sitting at the other end of the round table, the second youngest, a short, dark-skinned woman with straight brown hair, fell into the same category, as she was wearing a rather intricate sky-blue robe with decorated hems and a wide collar. As for the third, she seemed to be in her late thirties, with a still youthful face marred by a few persistent lines, and between her light armor, her hawkish green eyes, and short red hair, she was the only one who looked the part.

"Hey, lazybones!" the girl in the traveler's clothes exclaimed in a melodious voice the moment they got close and let out a tinkling laugh. "Did you get lost again?"

"No, I did not," the large man answered with a stoic expression, but before he could get around to introducing the strange 'scholar', the red-haired woman beat him to the punch.

"Who's that?"

"He's…" Lazlo began, only to falter right away, unable to recall the full name.

Raol took this as his cue to step forth and introduce himself for the third time.

"He's apparently a scholar who wants to learn more about adventurers," the large man followed him up without missing a beat, and it caused the women at the table to react in markedly different ways.

"A scholar? I've never met a scholar before!" the youngest girl exclaimed with undisguised excitement.

"I don't know. He looks sketchy," the redhead scoffed with more than a hint of mistrust, but she was summarily ignored by the third occupant at the table, who offered a seat to Raol right away.

"I'm sure you're tired after traveling in foreign lands. Come; we always welcome weary wanderers at our table."

"I thank you for your hospitality."

Striking the iron while it was still hot, Raol unceremoniously cast off his backpack and took the seat offered, much to the still-standing Lazlo's chagrin.

"Where do I sit now?"

"Go get a chair from an empty table," the youngest told him off-handedly before her sparkling eyes returned to Raol. "Hi! I'm Aurea, and I'm a bard! The cleric over there is my older sister, Tremissis, and the grouchy lady is Hekte, our rogue!"

Already getting bombarded by strange new information, Raol raised a finger to forestall any further conversation and hit up his book again. This time, he didn't reach for the feather on his head, but instead, he took out a simple pen hidden inside a compartment in the spine of the book, and quickly jotted down what he just heard. To be sure, he used an old cipher he was taught back in the academy, and it looked suitably foreign enough to draw an impressed "Hoo?" out of the robed woman on his right.

Meanwhile, the armored man also returned, with a chair in tow, and sat down at his left.

"And this is Lazlo, our guardian!" Aurea introduced the last member of their group with a small flourish of her hands, and he let out an annoyed grunt in return. Hearing that, she lowered her voice and whispered, "Don't mind him. He's just gruff because we just came back from an expedition and he wants to sleep."

"Isn't that too early?" Raol asked and tweaked his glasses, mostly for appearances' sake. "Do all adventurers sleep during the day?"

"I was on guard duty when we camped outside last night," Lazlo clarified, and Raol, pretending to be deeply interested, jotted down another meaningless line onto the page in front of him.

"So, you want to know about adventurers like us?" The redheaded woman, Hekte, crossed her arms with a guarded squint. "Don't you have adventurers from… wherever you came from?"

"That reminds me," Lazlo cut in before Raol could even attempt to answer her and tapped his finger on the table. "You have yet to answer my first question, have you?"

"About my homeland?" Lazlo nodded at the skeleton's response, so he took a deep breath, during which he re-examined his cover story one last time, and when he couldn't find any holes in it, he proudly straightened his spine and declared, "Ah, my beautiful homeland. Past the Pillars of Grundi, across the Sea of Solitude and the wind-swept deserts of The Yellow Lands, is the coastal city of Barbar! Its white crystal spires reaching to the sky! Its great harbor, a marvel of magick and engineering! And its hanging gardens! Ah! Sometimes, I wish I would have chosen to become a poet, just so that I could convey but a fraction of the beauty of Barbar to your ears."

"I've… never heard of such a place."

The robed woman had a difficult expression plastered onto her face. Her younger sister, on the other hand, was rather excited by Raol's tale.

"Past the Pillars of Grundi?" Does that mean that Barbar isn't on Eksilva?"

"Indeed, my young friend!" Raol confirmed her conjecture with a profound nod, and after making sure he still had his glasses in place, he declared. "We, Barbarians are an ancient and sophisticated society of erudites. Our trade routes reach deep into the Mysterious East and our ships have already circumnavigated the southern continents and established trade with small kingdoms and vast empires alike, yet we have yet to pay attention to our North-Western neighbors. I'm here to rectify this generational oversight, and right now, I'm fascinated with this cultural oddity called 'The Adventurers' Guild'! I would be most thankful if you could share your wisdom with me, so that I could share it with my people in turn."

"Yes, yes. This all sounds very interesting and all, but I hope you don't expect us to do it for free?" the rather antagonistic woman sitting opposite to Raol cut in and placed her hands on the table. "I'm sure that if your country is as prosperous as you claim, you could spare a few gold coins, couldn't you? The least you could do is to pay for our dinner!"

"Hekte! You're being rude!" the black-haired bard hissed at her colleague, but she remained steadfast and continued to glare at Raol with undisguised mistrust.

He waited for a few breath's time, and only when she was about to speak again did he cut her off in a level voice.

"As a matter of fact, we don't use gold coins in Barbar at all."

"You don't?" Tremissis, the so-called 'cleric', exclaimed in surprise, seemingly without meaning to, and Raol pushed on.

"Gold is a soft metal and not very useful at all. We, Barbarians, have long since mastered the art of alchemy and found better use for it, rather than pressing them into small disks like you do."

"Then what do you use for money?" Lazlo inquired, sounding genuinely curious for the first time.

"We adopted the jade-stone currency of the East. The Barbarian Pecs, Ceps, and Bi-Ceps are the most trustworthy currency in the known world! Or rather, the known world, except here."

"So you don't have any gold coins?" the armored man continued to question him. "None at all?"

"In truth, I do happen to have a few pieces lying around," Raol relented with a sigh. "I have to admit, I'm unfamiliar with the value you ascribe to these 'coins' of yours, and I was hoping you could enlighten me in this regard as well."

While saying so, he reached into his bag and retrieved the small pouch holding the coins he took from the unfortunate necromancer.

"I received this much after helping out a fellow traveler in need during my journey. Is this enough to pay for dinner here?"

Aurea leaned over and took the small bag from his hand, and after shaking it a few times, her lips parted into a giddy smile.

"It's about sixty gold! That should be enough for a hearty meal!"

"Are you sure about this, Mister Raoleem Solan nib Taoleem Zeraff?" the robed woman, with better-than-average memory, inquired in a low voice, and after a breath's pause, Raol let out a good-natured chuckle.

"Just Raol shall suffice, my friend! And as for the gold… I'll just consider it an investment…"