Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 54 - Insulting a Dwarf (Patreon)

Einar couldn’t believe how much the market square reminded him of a farmers' market, except that it was done in a renaissance-style theme.  

Stalls made out of poles and cloth-covered tarps were everywhere. Boxes, tables and more were filled with an assortment of items in each stall.

Some had ore or other metals ready to be purchased and used.

A few sold remedies and treatments that were supposed to help one get better faster when injured or cure male problems.  

Food, fabric, and more were for sale.  

Everywhere, people were calling out what they had for sale.  Everywhere except the corner where the dwarves stood.

They were shorter by a good foot or two, depending on who was standing next to them.  Each of them, including the women dwarves, had beards, which had taken Einar a moment to accept.

They were wide, like linemen, all wearing metal armor and had weapons on their hips or backs.  While their beards looked immaculate, the hair on their heads looked like they had seen better days.

Everyone seemed to shy away except the occasional rare person who went into the area where they had boxes and tables of goods laid out underneath the cloth covering.  

“The back section there, with the curtains and walls, is where we’ll need to go,” Arngrim whispered as they looked at some grains at a nearby stall.  “We want to go casually, let them lead us back there.  If you look at the corners nearby, you’ll see men pretending to shop but really keeping an eye on the dwarves.”

Einar nodded having already counted six of them, including two women who were doing a much better job blending in with the crowd since they actually carried items they had purchased.

“I’m ready when you are.”

Arngrim nodded.

“I may be back later if my wife says she wants some of this.  The price seems fair, and the scent is heavenly.”

The woman working the stall nodded and a slight frown fought against the smile she forced to appear.

“I’ll be here each day!”

Waving, the rune crafter turned, walking slightly ahead as Einar followed behind. He looked bored as he carried a sack that had just some dirty clothes in it, all to make it look like they were purchasing things.

“Oh, dwarves!” Arngrim exclaimed as he got closer. “I want to see what wonderful things they might have for sale.”

One of the male dwarves who was closest grunted and moved to stand near the entrance of their tent.

“I am Betmout Stormmaker and who are you?” the dwarf asked, extending a hand.

“Arn, Arn Snuffhibisson.”

They shook hands and then the dwarf turned to Einar, holding out his hand again.

“Einar Sibbison, pleasure to meet you Betmout.”

The dwarf's brown eyes sparkled for a moment as Einar managed to pronounce his name correctly on the first try.

“Come, let me show you some of the finest things from our homeland.  Tell me, is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

Shaking his head, Arngrim just smiled and made happy sounds as he followed the dwarf, letting him tell them about everything they had for sale.

Einar followed behind, doing his best to look casually around the area as he followed, keeping a bored expression.

Three of the ones watching had noticed and moved a little closer.

Fifteen minutes of examining different colored rocks, some jewelry and other items brought them near the back of the space they had set up.  

“What is back there? More items for sale?” Arngrim asked, looking at the place with curiosity.

Clearing his throat, the dwarf nodded and then studied the man before him.

“You want to look at the private things we have?”

The tone of the dwarf felt weird.  Einar wasn’t sure if it was disbelief, confusion, or something else.  Not knowing their culture or tactics left him unable to get a read on the brown-haired dwarf.

“What’s the point of shopping if you don’t look at everything?” Arngrim asked. “Besides, one never knows what might be hidden behind prying eyes that would be worth purchasing when no one knows if anything was acquired.”

The slightest tick came from when Betmout stood a little more upright.  Nothing else gave away the hint he understood what had just been said.

“Well then, I guess since I’ve shown you everything out here, I might as well give you the rest of the tour,” he said louder than anything else before.

Clapping his hands and looking excited, Arngrim played his role well.

Sighing loudly, Einar adjusted the sack he carried over his shoulder.

The three had drawn closer now, one on the north side and two on the corners of the south.  

“Let me show you what my own mother can’t afford,” Betmout said and pulled back the opening, ushering with his hand for them to step inside.

A warm orange light filled the area, two crystals hanging from a metal wire in the center of the small tent section.  Light that didn’t have heat and yet felt warm in some ways.  Comforting.

Along the tent wall were boxes with glass tops, each with different colored gems, bottles of liquid and more that seemed hard to take in at once.

Moving quickly inside so that the flap could be shut, Einar didn’t feel cramped even though his head was now only a foot from a cloth that hung low.

“The fabric is warded. No one can hear you,” Betmout said with a chuckle. “Tell me, what are you really looking for, Arn?”

Grinning, Arngrim turned and smiled, giving a deep bow.

“Time is limited, you know you are being watched but I am looking for a few things.  I won’t have much time to haggle, which I know will upset you, but here is what I’m looking for.”

The dwarf grumbled at the news of not getting to haggle but said nothing, his eyes now focused on the man twisting a stick in his beard.

“I’m looking for a lightning stone, an ember crystal and a ball of light.”

The calm expression was gone, and the dwarf looked shocked at hearing all three of those at once.

“Are you walking around with more gold in that bag, or how do you plan on paying?”

“Tokens for the bank, here in town. We both know they will give you payment for them.”

Grunting, the dwarf nodded and pointed at two boxes near the back.  The wood of the box was thicker and darker than the others.  A frosted glass covered the top of those.

“I have two.  The lightning stone and the ember crystal.  I’m assuming you know no one has actually had a ball of light in a decade.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask, does it?” Arngrim inquired. “Besides, if you did, I have no doubt someone in the guild would have snatched it up already.”

Chuckling, Betmout nodded and tapped on the glass in a pattern when they stood next to it.  The frosted glass cleared, and a variety of stones that pulsed with power lay beneath it.

Two of the lightning crystals, one about an inch long and half an inch wide, while the other was at least three inches longer.

Betmout did the same to the other box and only one fire ember crystal sat there on a black cloth.  It was a solid red pulsing crystal about two inches in size.

“Give me numbers so we can either make a choice or go before the men and women outside storm this place, wondering what took so long.”

The dwarf grumbled for a moment but nodded.

“Ember is 150 gold, and the smaller stone is 100 while the larger is 250.”

Einar watched as Arngrim’s face changed. His eyes narrowed and he looked disappointed, frowning at the dwarf who showed no expression now.

“I said no haggling… numbers like that are—”

“The going rate!” Betmout exclaimed. “Do you have any idea—”

“That you haven’t sold a thing, might not sell anything and if Brand sends his men here, will undercut me by a lot more?  Or that you haven’t sold anything in a while, making this trip almost not worth coming on?  Perhaps I should ask if Maroum is tired at not seeing you make sales and wishes he could be here to offer a fair price the first time in a moment like this.”

Coughing, the dwarven merchants seemed stunned that Arngrim had spoken the other dwarf’s name.

“You know Maroum?” he asked, shocked in disbelief.

“Short dwarf, shorter than you, missing half of his beard last I saw because he can’t keep his face out of the ember crystal dust, has a horrible laugh that makes you wish someone would scrub your back with an axe, and can’t handle liquor like a dwarf should?”

Betmout’s mouth hung open, and then he started to laugh and shake his head.

“I don’t think Maroum’s mother could have described him better!” he exclaimed.  “Fine.  Tell me your offer and don’t make me feel the need to haggle back!”

“200 for both the crystal and the larger lightning stone, and,” Arngrim held up his hand, cutting off the dwarf who was about to protest, “toss in an ice orb and a confulex for an extra 100 gold.”

“Ba…hama… dafu…” Betmout stuttered for a moment, unable to form words as his face got red.

“It’s fair, gold, and you know Maroum would take it twice every day except on the king’s birthday at which he would do it three times.  Now decide or we walk.  I cannot be here much longer.”

Betmout glanced at Einar who shrugged.

“Fine!” he huffed, moving quickly to a box and grabbed it, rushing through the area and picking up stones, wrapping them in cloths, and stuffing them inside. “But next time you’ll haggle, or I won’t sell!”

“Sounds fine to me!” Arngrim exclaimed as he handed three tokens to the dwarf and took the box, stuffing it inside the bag Einar held open.  “Now, forgive me for this later but I’m sure you’ll know why I do this.”

Arngrim moved quickly to the flap and held it open.

“We’re leaving! This dwarf has about as much grace as a troll’s arse and his beard wouldn’t be worth shaving and making a wig out of!”

Einar was right on his friend’s heels, exiting the flap when he heard a howl of anger.

The other dwarves spun, their faces turning red at the insult Arngrim had just shouted.

“OUT! OUT! Before I shove my foot so far up your arse you’ll taste the shite I walked through this morning!” Betmout bellowed.  The dwarf’s face was red and the look in his eyes didn’t seem to hide the anger he was portraying for everyone to see.

A thick hand pressed against his back and Arngrim as the dwarf shoved them from behind, out past the entrance to his stall where everyone was gathering.

“Bah! Your stones aren’t worth my family’s jewels! It’s no wonder no one wants to trade with you!” 

Arngrim’s yell brought more spectators to see what the outburst was, and two guards were starting to make their way over when Einar saw one of the men keeping watch, waving them off.

“GET! You come back again, and I swear I’ll use your tongue to clean my boots!”

Huffing, Arngrim turned and stormed off, stomping on the street as Einar sighed and tried to follow him.

After they reached the edge of the few stalls, Arngrim spun and turned on Einar.

“It’s your job to protect me from fools like that! Fail again and I’ll report you and have someone teach you a lesson!”

Einar froze for a moment when his friend turned, but as soon as he started shouting, he saw that those blue eyes were scanning both sides behind him.

Turning around in mock frustration, Arngrim made his way toward the carriage that was waiting for them. 

The attendant of the cart leaped down from the front, scrambling to get the door open, when he heard the outburst and saw the angered look on the person he had been hired to carry today.

Shaking his head and playing the role he needed to, Einar clenched his fist and moved to where the cart door stood open, knowing that there were still eyes on them.

When the door closed behind him, he flopped down on the bench inside and saw Arngrim holding a hand over his mouth, trying to keep from bursting out in laughter.