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The party stood around one of the two tables in the Red Brick, quietly discussing the proposal. The serving girl washed the cups in buckets and placed them on the back shelf. There were very few customers for tea or goat milk in the afternoon, especially with the heat of the day.
Snix clung by his claws to one of the opened shutters that allowed a cross breeze in the small shop, and listened.
“So,” the half-goblin thief said, “the dude wants us to go to Shorn Spearhead and pick up some magical item and bring it back.”
“Sounds like a cake mission to me,” the big warrior, Kalgore, said. “We just need to follow the main road north. Been there before.”
Snix maneuvered to peer into the shop, being careful and moving slowly to maintain proper distance and the advantage of his magical camouflage.
The tall elf maiden huffed, causing her overgrown chest to bounce. Snix knew something like that would distract his master. But it did no more than amuse the homunculus. Every male around the table noticed. Even the dark-skinned druid, who pretended to ignore it.
“If it was easy,” the elf said, “he’d have some stupid merchant or man-in-arms go and get it for him.”
“It’s man-at-arms,” the half-goblin said. “And we don’t know exactly what it is.”
“That is correct,” the dark-skinned druid said. “In RPG adventures, a common plot element is for an NPC to withhold such details until the basic framework for an agreement regarding the adventure is consented to by the party.”
“It’s easy money for a week’s ride there and back.” Kalgore glanced down and sneered at the gnome. “More than two weeks walking at your little waddle-butt pace.”
The gnome glared back at the blond warrior wearing breastplate with a scabbarded long sword on his hip. The half-goblin started to say something but the druid placed a calming hand on the thief’s shoulder.
“Traveling at such a rate would cause undue fatigue on our mounts,” the druid said. He glanced around the table. “In addition, not every party member has opted for the Horse Riding and Handling Skill.”
“Yeah,” Kalgore said. His gaze shifted from the thief to the elf as he continued. “Some of us took Swimming or Running instead.”
The elf maiden tousled the half-goblin’s unruly hair. “Some day when you’re drowning, you’ll be apologizing to my little man.”
The thief grinned. “For such a tough guy, Marigold can run circles around you.”
“Of course she can.” He slapped his breastplate. “I got armor on.”
Marigold tucked her hands under her enormous breasts and heaved them up. “And I have these.”
“Monsters, Maces and Magic takes into account encumbrance due to armor,” the druid said. “In addition to the rate of travel by foot for races of smaller stature, such as gnomes. It is fortunate for you, Marigold, the rules that structure this world fail to govern proportionally oversized feminine attributes in a similar manner.”
“Yeah,” the half-goblin said. “Like my favorite videogames with busty babes.”
“Men,” Marigold said, rolling her eyes.
“If you are suggesting that men had a disproportionate influence on the rules and art that comprise Monsters, Maces and Magic as an RPG,” the druid said, “as well as videogame artists and programmers, I believe your assertion is well-founded.”
The elf maiden rolled her eyes and puffed out her chest in the young half-goblin’s direction. She fake-scolded the goblin thief. “Lucky for you, because these are your fault.”
Snix understood the conversation up until the last exchange. While a little disconcerting that he did not comprehend all that was said, his master ordered him to spy and report. Not to understand what he overheard or observed.
The homunculus started to listen in again but a large blue jay flew down and landed on the windowsill. Snix remained absolutely motionless, not even daring to breathe. This had to be the female elf’s familiar.
The bird tilted its head, let out a squawk of distress, and launched into the tea house. It landed on its master’s shoulder and jeer called at the open window.
“Something startled Petie,” the elf said, looking at the blue jay. “What is it?”
The elf followed her familiar’s gaze toward the window. By that time Snix had already backed around outside and started climbing up onto the roof.
That bird familiar was going to be a problem.
Snix flew high above the city, minimizing his chance of being spotted—by anyone. There were two other homunculi in the city. Like him, they normally worked after sunset. That is what he preferred but, when it came to his will versus his master’s orders, his desires were subservient. His master’s blood, combined with rare spell components and an arcane enchantment, gave the homunculus both form and life. It tethered him to his master, connected their thoughts. In many ways he was little more than a golem, commanded to do his master’s bidding. But he was an enchanted construct with intellect and guile. His master treated him like a familiar, and sometimes coconspirator. His master gave Snix a long leash of freedom and counted on his innate intelligence and cunning.
He was only a few minutes from his master’s shop. Still, he knew his master would want what was learned as soon as possible.
Snix reached and tapped at his master’s thoughts. Hssss, Hssss, Hssss. Three meant he had information that was not urgent.
His master’s reply came back before Snix began his spiraling descent toward the pawnshop. <Tell me what you learned.>
The party led by the druid is returning. They desire your gold. More gold than you offered.
The bird familiar sensed my presence. It did not see me and its animal instincts did not recognize me. I evaded further notice.
The druid surmises it was the passing presence of a magic user’s familiar. The big warrior dismissed the familiar’s alert. The gnome and elf and half-goblin think it was a mistake to discuss their business at the Red Brick. They talked more about how they should have discussed the adventure at a willow tree near the river instead of the Red Brick, than about your proposal.
They bicker and do not come to agreements easily.
Snix landed on a windowsill of the building that contained his master’s business and residence. He slipped into his master’s office through the narrow slit of a window. There was a secret entrance on the roof, for which he had a key kept in is small belly pouch. But he only used that at night.
“Ah, Snix,” Higslaff said. “A task well done.”
The pawnshop owner, sitting at his desk while reviewing a contract, gestured to a clay jar sitting on the corner of the office’s table. “A special treat for your effort.”
Snix flew over and looked into the jar. The homunculus hissed in delight. Wriggling tadpoles.
“Take it upstairs,” Higslaff said in a distracted tone. “Close the door behind you.”
Twenty minutes later Vernie tapped his customary three knocks on the office door. He pushed it open to peek his head inside. “Uncle, the adventurers are here. They insist all five come up and talk with you.”
Higslaff signaled his nephew into the room. After the youth closed the door he said, “Is that so.” It wasn’t uttered as a question. “Move the three chairs at my table next to the other two in front of my desk.” As he got up, he sent a thought to his homunculus. He felt confident that he already knew the answer. Which of the adventurers argued the most and who did he argue with?
Snix replied almost immediately. <The big warrior argued with the female elf, and some with the half-goblin. The druid settled the argument, and the gnome assisted the druid, but sided with the elf and half-goblin.>
He didn’t bother thanking his homunculus as his mind shifted to previous meetings with the adventuring party. Humans, elves, and even half-goblins are all creatures of habit. The big warrior, Kalgore would sit on the right, the party’s left. Lysine, the warrior druid would sit next to him. Jax, the gnome healer would sit on the left end, nearest the table. His customary spot. The only decision would be where the elf woman, Marigold would sit. Gurk, the half-goblin thief would allow her to choose.
“Pay attention and learn, nephew,” Higslaff said. He pulled his dagger from its sheath and went to work splitting the wood and slicing into several of the dowels holding the otherwise sturdy chair together.
He sent his nephew to close the shutters to the office’s only window while he finished up.
Move that tall stool over there in the corner next to the table. After you bring the party up, go there and sit.
Vernie hopped to obey, despite the questions Higslaff knew were on the young boy’s tongue.
“Do exactly as I say.” The pawnshop owner rested a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. This would be a first lesson in bartering for the boy. He knew his nephew was loyal. He’d already seen to verifying that, so what was discussed wouldn’t leave the room. He’d see if his sister had the right idea about her son one day taking over the business. “I’ll explain later.”
Five minutes later, Vernie knocked and then ushered the adventuring party into his uncle’s office. Higslaff stood and shook hands with each while his nephew shut the door and then sat on the tall stool off to the side.
They had arranged themselves as expected. He looked up to the elf as she sat. She had to be over six and a half feet tall, which meant the chair would be on the small side for her. “Is there a reason you’re wearing your cloak’s hood up as we meet, Marigold?”
It was a light, cotton cloak, fashioned to wear in warmer weather, and he knew she wore it to hide as best she could her enormous chest and the hood to conceal her remarkably attractive face. While he knew her looks could distract him—they would any healthy man—making her uncomfortable was his focus.
Apparently surprised by the question, she replied, “Uhhmm, my hair is a mess today.”
Higslaff shrugged and listened to the elf’s chair creak as she put weight on it. “Just to let you know then, that I don’t negotiate with people who hide their eyes from me.” He quickly gestured to the rest of her party and added, “There are others here. I’m sure they’ll speak for you.”
Lysine cleared his throat. “It is I, who shall negotiate the final agreement.”
The pawnshop owner smiled. “That’s fine with me. But why insist on all attending this meeting? Surely they trust you.”
“Two heads are better than one, dude,” Gurk said, tapping an index finger against his temple.
“I see,” Higslaff said. “That’s why I allowed your friend, Jax to accompany your party leader when you came seeking the job.” He ignored the point that there were five and not two in the office.
“It’s because we don’t trust you,” Marigold said.
Even as she spoke, Higslaff ignored her and continued with a nod of his head toward Vernie. “That is why I often have a second person on my side of the negotiation.”
Kalgore laughed. “Before it was because you didn’t trust us and needed muscle and steel for backup. Now, you’re just insulting us if you say a kid’s needed to help negotiate.”
Higslaff leaned back in his chair and pushed up the brim of his hat. “How so?”
Kalgore leaned forward, resting a hand on the corner of Higslaff’s desk. “Because, I know how these things work. He’s here for a reason, and it ain’t for helping negotiate.”
Lysine rested a hand on the big warrior’s shoulder. He did the same when Marigold started to speak.
“Dudes,” Gurk said, “let Lysine do the talking.”
“Gurk’s right,” Jax said. The gnome’s voice carried a conciliatory tone.
Both the big warrior and elf leaned back. Higslaff noted her chair’s wobbling creak, and her effort to keep still. That, he knew, wouldn’t last long.
“I must inquire,” Lysine asked, “what it is you desire for us to retrieve for you in Shorn Spearhead.”
Higslaff straightened in his chair. He adjusted his hat to its normal position on his head. “A Wand of Foe Detection.”
His answer clearly riled the group and he knew why. “To be sure,” he said, “the enchanted item will be handy in the guild war you know is in progress.” He held up his hand, forestalling Lysine’s, or any of the other adventurers’ response. “The only ones who are aware of the mission’s details are myself, my guild’s master, and now my nephew. The only other person who even knew I my plan to hire someone to carry payment and bring an item back to Three Hills City was my longtime friend, Josiah.” Higlsaff frowned. “And apparently Josie, his trusted messenger.”
Kalgore rolled his eyes. “So, what you’re saying, is that it ain’t exactly a secret.”
“Shut up, Kalgore,” Marigold said.
“Please,” Higslaff said, glancing up at Marigold. “Since you chose not to pull back your hood, remember that you also chose not to participate in the discussion.”
With a huff, she reached up and yanked back her cloak’s hood. At the same time the chair’s legs beneath her collapsed. The seat of her chair, and her rump resting upon it, hit the floor with a thump.
The reactions of Marigold’s party members were quite diverse. Kalgore immediately burst out laughing, asking if she’d put on weight. Lysine, with a straight face turned and asked, “Marigold, did your mishap cause injury that requires healing?” Gurk looked down from his seat in surprise, not knowing what to do other than to say, “Whoa.” Jax climbed down off of his chair and hurried to help Marigold to her feet, which she brushed off, clearly embarrassed.
Higslaff snapped his fingers and pointed. In a harsh voice he said, “Vernie, you placed the chairs. Apologize and give Marigold your stool. Now!”
Vernie, a wide-eyed look of surprise, leapt to his feet and rushed to offer his stool.
“Clear away that mess first,” Higslaff said.
Vernie began to comply but being so close to the tall elf maiden as she got to her feet distracted him. She pushed the gnome away, saying, “I’m fine.”
The young boy bent down and began picking up the remains of the broken chair. Marigold bent down to help, distracted by Kalgore’s continued laughter. She sneered at the big warrior, then turned back to pick up the broken chair the same instant the boy stood with an armful of splintered wood. The movement buried his face in the elf maiden’s pillowy bosom.
Without thinking, Vernie dropped the chair pieces and pushed away from the elf. He stumbled back realizing where he’d placed his hands. Redness shot to his face.
“Leave the kid alone,” Kalgore said, still laughing. “You’ve already embarrassed and aroused him.”
Marigold dropped the broken backrest and glared at the big warrior. “You’re such an ass.” Then she bent over, offering Vernie a hand. “I’m so sorry.”
Kalgore leaned close to Lysine and said in the druid’s ear, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Tell her he doesn’t need another gander at her cleavage. He’s just a kid.”
The boy, clearly embarrassed, turned away, one hand trying to cover the arousal showing in his trousers. His other hand reached down toward the remnants of the wrecked chair.
Higslaff was around the table, kicking the broken chair pieces aside and placing the stool for Marigold. At the same time, he heard the druid mumble harsh words into the warrior’s ear.
Jax picked up most of the broken chair the pawnshop owner had kicked aside.
Higslaff said, “Just drop it over there in the corner.” Then he directed his nephew to stand over by the table. He offered the tall stool to Marigold. “Please,” he said, “be seated so we can finish this business.”
When Marigold said she’d rather stand, the pawnshop owner leaned close, and signaled for her to bend so her ear was closer. He purposely kept from sneaking a peak down her blouse—which took real self-discipline. “If you don’t sit you’ll embarrass my nephew further.”
With Marigold sitting, uncomfortably perched on the tall stool, drawing attention to herself as she towered over everyone else, Lysine worked to complete the negotiations quickly and lessen his party member’s embarrassment.
After the party left, Higslaff called his nephew back up to his office. “Competent job, pretending to be embarrassed,” he said to Vernie. He knew there’d been no pretending about it, but he didn’t want his nephew to come away from the experience with the wrong lesson.
Vernie nodded once, his nose scrunched up in a mixture of confusion and recalled embarrassment.
Higslaff put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “At the cost of a broken chair, we saved at least thirty gold.”
“We did, Uncle?”
“We did,” he said. “We made the situation uncomfortable, and made it look like it was their fault. That gave me the upper hand in the negotiations. Although the druid appeared calm and determined, he failed to press as hard as he might for better terms, hoping to end his party member’s embarrassment.”
Vernie’s face scrunched in thought. “It wouldn’t have worked as good if it weren’t for that big guy on the end.”
“Excellent observation, Vernie. And about the elf maiden? As beautiful as she is, her huge breasts, her height. It all makes her stand out. Makes her self-conscious. You, more than anything else I managed, played upon that to our advantage.”
The boy shook his head in disbelief. “But she’s so...so beautiful.”
Higslaff watched as his nephew looked down at his hands, probably remembering where they’d been, what they’d felt. He slapped his nephew on the shoulder and walked back around to his desk chair. “Discord and distraction, and playing on the emotions of the ones you’re negotiating with increases the number of gold coins left in your pocket.”
He picked up a quill and pointed the feather end toward the corner. “Now gather up that pile of wood and take it over to Spinellie’s so he can make me a new one to match. But noticeably sturdier.”
While Vernie gathered up the broken pieces, he said, “If she ever meets here again, you’re gonna have her sit in the new chair, right?”
“Right, nephew. But why?”
“Make her remember she broke your chair.”
Higslaff smiled at his nephew. “She and any party member with her will recall the embarrassing moment. Make them uncomfortable. Knock their confidence.” He paused. “Except for the warrior. But he doesn’t usually do the negotiating.”
After his nephew departed on his errand, Higslaff mentally summoned Snix. While he waited for his homunculus, he pondered how time and events might influence whether his nephew remained a Mundane Soul, or would become one of Consequence.