Chapter 277 - Offering a Job (Patreon)

Sorry, I know I said yesterday new chapter but I had a bad day in general and I actually didn't do like any work. So it got pushed to today.

For those of you who've read the outlines for this arc, I am thinking of moving away Gwin's stuff to directly after this arc. The renovations will still happen this arc, and they'll still tackle more Pinemen, but I want to reduce the clutter and having two big things be the center of this arc feels like it'd add more stress for me.

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Alone with Gwin on my comfy office couch, our eyes find each other amidst the post-sexual intimacy awkwardness hanging in the air. Her face becomes a brighter shade of red than it had been a moment ago, making me assume Snow’s presence must have helped to hide her embarrassment.

I allow her the chance to calm herself, and once she does, she is the first to speak. “Not what ah was expectin’ ta happen when walking through th’ door, but hey, least we finally got to do a bit more foolin’ around...”

Gwin shrugged and scooted a bit closer to me, yet her body language is still stiff, nervous, and reserved.

“It was nice,” I tell her.

“Men don’ exactly got th’ best standards, but ah’m flattered ah guess...” A small smirk appears, but it fades away quick enough.

Guess it’s up to me to ease Gwin into being more comfortable with intimacy. Rather than holding her hand as we sit together, I feel like it’d be more effective if I was casual and a bit bolder.

I throw my arm around the smaller woman and rest it around her shoulder, pulling her close enough so that we’re hip to hip.

“T-Th’ fuck ya think yer...” Gwin starts, mumbling, before grunting and dismissing the thought with a shake of her head.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, a somewhat smug smile spreading on my face.

My companion thinks about it before brushing it off. “Guess not... we got stuff ta talk about though, righ’? Not like we got th’ time ta be loungin’ about.”

“Just setting the mood, I thought it best for us to get comfortable.”

“Course ya did,” Gwin rolls her eyes at me but nonetheless leans in a little closer. “Why don’t ya check on th’ lasses before we go an’ get down ta business?” She suggests.

“Good idea,” I nod and open up Taskmaster, performing the requisite button presses to get me a view on Sam’s current whereabouts.

She, Zutiria, and Evisse are all still on the road leading to the east gate. I would’ve thought they’d be further along by now, but Evisse keeps looking at the city around her in what appears to be a parody of wonderment. No doubt that’s this tourist-like behavior is slowing the group down.

Sam looks somewhat annoyed at having to explain what each and every building is to her acquaintance, while Zutiria looks passively amused and stoic as ever.

Gwin takes notice of a certain pink-haired heiress and does a double-take. “Hol’ on a sec, Lad. Who th’ fuck’s that?”

“As of today, my newest adventurer,” I sigh. I’m going to have to get used to thinking of Evisse as such, as of right now still feels surreal. “It’s a long story so to save time I’d really prefer if you have Snow catch you up later.”

“Sure, will do...” Gwin shakes her head at me. If I know anything about her or any of the women around me, I know the Dwarf is presumably wondering if I’ve already laid hands on this one yet.

I reap what I sow, and I happen to sow quite a lot. Her looks are warranted, but she keeps her suspicions to herself.

I close the display and move along the conversation, opening up my Bag of Holding and fishing out the folded-up paperwork I was gifted. “By the looks of things, we have plenty of time before they reach the quest area, so I’d like to show you something. Have a look at this.”

Gwin all but rips the notation out from my hand, scanning it with a thorough glare. As she continues reading, her thick eyebrows tighten and she squints. “Are ya fuckin’ takin’ th piss here with me or what, Lad? Yer plannin’ on takin’ this to my Clan and givin’ em no choice but ta accept yer business?”

“Yes, that’s more or less the gist of it.”

“Mm,” Gwin clicks her tongue and folds up the paper, handing it back to me. “Clan ain’t gonna like this one bit, ah tell ya.”

“That’s not the only thing they’re not going to like...”

As if sensing the meaning of my words before I say them, Gwin starts to blush and reflexively scratches her hair. “That so, Lad?”

“Yes. You see, there’s another thing I need to discuss while visiting to conduct business. Thanks to the generous Duke Gloomcrest and his fair daughter-” Gwin gives me another suspicious look as I reference Abigail with what I assume to be obvious fondness, but I continue undeterred, “I find myself in a position of sudden affluence. There is a certain renovation I’d like to make to one of the sheds out in the back yard. I want to convert it into a fully-stocked smithy.”

Gwin’s eyes sparkle at the implications, but the rest of her face expresses sizable doubt. “We don’ sell that kinda equipment, you’ll have ta talk to someone else about that...”

Resting my hand on top of Gwin’s thigh, I look her straight on and say, “You know that’s not what I want to ask them about, Gwin. I want to hire you to be this Guild’s resident blacksmith.”

There’s a long silence as a mixture of emotions runs through Gwin’s heart.

“Ah can’t,” She looks away and breaks physical content, standing up off the couch. “Fuck an Elf’s arse, ah ain’t even a real smith or nothin’... ah just dabble when no one’s lookin’, fuck’s sake...!”

“Not only did you make and repair Sam’s armor, but you also fixed her sword and patched up Meri’s armor as well. Try and undersell yourself all you like, but you’re already at the level where I can make use of your talents. The girls will only be going on more and more dangerous quests from here on, and I need someone who can keep their gear up to snuff at low cost. It practically has to be you.”

Gwin shrugs and tries to take a step away, mumbling Dwarven swears. Not letting her escape, I reach out and grab her hand. She turns back to face me, sweating and nervous.

She tries to say something back, but it gets caught up in her throat.

“If your self-confidence is holding you back, then I’ll buy you books and scrolls, I’ll find someone to teach you, provide materials for you to experiment with... you name it. Just tell me whatever it would take to make you mine and it would be done.”

Gwin blushes, yanking her hand away and crossing her arms. “Oh, so that’s what this is really about, huh? Gettin’ a little carried away there, ain’tcha...?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so possessive. This has just been such a long time coming that the thought of having you around on a more permanent basis has left me a little overeager, I’ll admit.”

“Just a little? Yer talkin’ like a piss-drunk bard tryin’ ta charm his way into some strumpet’s panties.” The Dwarf laughs, some of her tension easing.

“Not just any strumpet, Gwin. Rest assured, unlike this supposed piss-drunk bard of yours, I promise this will be a recurring arrangement and that I won’t be scrambling to escape the morning after.”

“Aye, that’s real comfortin’ ta hear...” she rolls her eyes, sighs, and places her hands on her hips. “But just ta be sure, ya don’t got any other options?”

“I haven’t looked, nor do I intend to.”

Shrugging, Gwin looks away. “Fuckin’ rancid troll shite, course ya don’... ah hope ya know this ain’t anywhere near as simple as either of us would like it ta be. Fer one, Dwarves traditionally live with their Clan until their marriage- an’ before ya go an’ get any crazy ideas, th’ For Madur would have ta approve it. An’ it ain’t like ah’m in a rush ta get hitched, anyway.”

“For Madur would be... your Patriarch?”

“Ye,” she nods out of approval. “Did ya already know that, or are ya studyin’ to try an’ impress me, Lad?”

“I’ll admit I was just me going off of context clues, but I actually am trying to learn more about your culture,” I watch Gwin’s surprise bloom when I take out the book I’m currently reading and show it to her. “I’m not very far yet, however.”

“Ah see. Really, ah was jus’ making a joke, but leave it you ta be full of surprises...” Gwin looks even more flustered as she brings a hand to her head and runs it along with the many spikes of her hair. “Well, good on ya. Ah don’ know how yer thinkin’ any of this will go down, but ah’m not gonna go an get in yer way.”

“I hate to have to resort to this, but I really need your clan to help me with renovations at any cost. Even if it makes me look bad.”

Gwin sighs and sits down beside me on the couch yet again. “Course ya do realize that askin’ my clan ta whisk me off mah my feet right after wavin’ that fancy paper ah yers around is only gonna piss everyone off, don’t ya? An’ then there’s th’ fact that ya got one of our big clients arrested...”

She begins to sulk, the fire in her eyes dimming down to a few embers. “Really, ah jus’ don’t see a way ya could talk yer way into the For Madur’s good graces... especially not if ya really want ta go an’ ask if ah can come work for ya.”

As things sound more and more hopeless, I start to truly realize that these negotiations are highly stacked against me- even more so than I’m used to.

Things would be so much simpler if her clan could just be supportive of Gwin’s desires and allow her to do as she likes, but the last thing I want to do is put her in a scenario where she has to choose between me and her clan.

The frustration in knowing that it could actually come to that only makes my stress boil over.

“I don’t understand it, Gwin.” I sigh and reach out, grasping her shoulder with my hand. “I don’t recall if I’ve asked before, but why is your clan so against you becoming a blacksmith?”

Looking over her shoulder, she raises an eyebrow. “Ah don’ think it’s come up. If ya were further along in that book o’ yers, ah’m sure ye’d know that already.”

“Are you saying there’s some sort of cultural reason?”

“Somethin’ like that. Ya ever heard o’ Hill Dwarves before?”

“I’ve heard the term, yes. A few Dwarven adventurers I knew in my childhood often mixed it into their generous rotation of swears. Can’t say I know what the distinction is, though.”

“Do ya mind some spoilers?” She asks, pointing at the bulky tome.

“No, I would love for you to tell me how any of this makes sense.”

Gwin sighs and slumps over the couch, resting her elbows on her knees. “Gonna have ta explain a bit o’ how our Homerealm works fer that. Ah’ll try and sum it up as best ah can, but it still might be a wee bit o’ a doozy.”

I nodded along, waiting patiently for my crash course on the Realm of Hal Moldihr.