Since learning of the existence of sea dogs, I decided to stay well clear of the deep sea if I could help it. Tens of Fishweed plants still waited below, just there to be plucked and turned into silver. My Deathless trait might guarantee survival in a fatal encounter, but I could only imagine the pain of being ripped to shreds and left breathing long enough to feel every bit of it.
Eight gold was a decent sum. I could use more, sure, but that amount would do.
I had made a list of provisions by pestering the dock workers until they got annoyed with me. The food was mostly bland stuff with a long shelf life—hardtack biscuits that tasted like paper, salted meats in smaller amounts, dried fruits and legumes, oranges to keep sea disease away, nuts, and kegs of wine. Strangely enough, they said water went stale fast.
For non-food supplies, I added a lamp, soap, a change of clothes, a pillow, and a blanket.
All in all, the provisions cost nearly two gold.
The next stop was where I knew most of my money would vanish—the smithy.
I first asked for the cheapest sword he could give me: a chipped, second-hand blade for 1 gold 10 silver. But the smith was persistent. He offered a new sword for 2 gold, swearing it would serve me far longer. In the end, I let myself be convinced. Might as well invest in something better.
Plate armor was far out of my reach, but the smith introduced me to brigandine—a cloth coat lined with small riveted steel plates. Nearly as protective, far cheaper, and only a little heavier than wearing a thick jacket. It cost about the same as the sword, and with that, most of my small fortune was gone.
I returned to the tavern with two heavy bags and a much lighter purse.
"That's quite a baggage you have there, kid," someone called as I entered.
I glanced around the near-empty hall until my eyes settled on a man near the door. Blond, smug-faced, wearing a weathered but full set of plate. A large axe lay on the table beside his bowl of soup.
"Are you also leaving with the Defiant Resolve tomorrow?" he asked.
I nodded.
He chuckled. "To be so young and daring."
The tone was condescending, though he looked only four or five years older than me. Late teens, maybe early twenties.
"Also?" I caught that word.
"Yes, I am also boarding the ship. This land has nothing more to offer me. I yearn for the secrets of the world," he said, in a way that suggested he thought his words profound.
Still, I smiled and approached. It was the first time anyone in this town had gone out of their way to talk to me—and he was sailing on the same ship. Why say no to a potential friend?
"I am Edmund... and you are?"
"I am..." I paused. Not my real name. But did it matter? No one here cared. I was free now. I could call myself whatever I wanted.
"I am Devon," I said, offering my hand. "Good to meet you, Edmund."
He took it, but his smile stayed tight. "That's Master Edmund to you. Fourth son to Sir Martin of Eastbarrow."
Technically, I outranked him by far. A commoner owed him "Master," but I had once been called "Lord." That was before I drowned, though.
"Forgive me, Master Edmund. I didn't realize you were of gentle birth," I said, bowing.
"For a commoner, you have manners, Devon. For that, I forgive you." His eyes went to the sword at my hip. "Are you a fighting man?"
I shook my head furiously and waved my hands. Did he want a spar? Young squires were always itching to prove themselves.
"No, no. Just for self-defense."
"Well, it's a good time to start learning. I have a task that needs doing, and I need someone to watch my back and some light carrying. Nothing more." He grinned like one of those tinkers peddling snake oil. Like the fellow who once sold our maid a breast-enlarging oil. It hadn't worked.
"I really don't—"
"I'll do all the fighting. You just watch. And you'll learn the sword by observing me."
"It's just—"
"I'm one of the best fighters in the entire northwesternmost part of this town."
I sighed.
I let myself be convinced. Partly because he wouldn't quit, and partly because I did want to test the brigandine and feel the sword in hand.
The brigandine was a bit big, but I figured I'd grow into it. The sword felt balanced, but without an enemy to swing at, I couldn't judge. Honestly, I'd rather not.
I found myself standing in the town square again, staring at the great task board in front of the citadel.
The task Edmund wanted? The greenskin hunt. Three silver per goblin. Judging by the crowd of armed men already gathered, the payout would be thin.
"Hey, Devon! Look at this!" Edmund laughed. He waved a poster, handing it to me.
Help identify monster. Human-like, but with fingers that look like seaweed. Has the ability to walk on water. Last seen: Last night.
"These sailors drink too much. It's rotting their brains," Edmund said, grinning.
I chuckled nervously. "Yeahhh…"