“What sorts of weapons are you interested in? Perhaps I can help.”
“Oh, daggers, shortswords… that kind of thing,” Vir replied, angling the conversation. Jumping right to katars would cue the shopkeeper to his intentions. It’d tell him he was after one thing in particular, which would give his opponent the advantage.
The clerk showed Vir several options, all of which Vir passed over with indifference. It was only then that he sprung his trap.
“Honestly, I’m not looking for a weapon for myself. Just something I can use as a gift. For an acquaintance. I’m on a budget.”
“Ah! In that case, why not look at these weapons, here?” the man said, pointing to a rack with kukris and other short swords… along with the unadorned katar.
Vir perused the selection of weapons with disinterest.
“What’s this? Such an odd weapon,” he asked, regarding it with suspicion.
“A katar! An exotic weapon, indeed. And rare. It would take some practice to use in combat, but as a gift? It would be fine.”
“Hmm. There’s nothing special about the weapon itself,” Vir said, feigning disappointment. The blade was mid-grade iron—not ideal, as it could break during an Empowered thrust—but the blade itself had minimal rust potting, and the profile and taper were good. The weapon was of decent construction and had seen some use, but it’d been cared for, and that was nearly as important. “This is a bit plain, I’m afraid. Do you have any katars that are a bit more… adorned?”
Vir, of course, thought it was perfect. He hated the gold on his armor and preferred the weapon’s simple style. But bargaining this way would get him a better deal.
The man returned a pained smile. “I’m afraid few buyers are in the market for a katar. This is the only one we have. Most stores do not even stock these weapons.”
Vir let out a sigh. “Very well then. At least it won’t set me back much, being as basic as it is. How much?”
“For you? I can sell it for five silvers.”
“Five silvers? Out of the question. This isn’t even steel! It’s mid-grade iron, and look at the rust. It’s barely fit for a gift. I can do a silver and a half.”
Vir turned away from the blade, but the shopkeeper didn’t let it go, and for good reason.
When Vir first held the blade, he noticed a fine sheen of dust—not on the blade, the shop would keep that clean—but on the hilt. Which meant the katar had been there for a while. Owing to katars’ rarity, they were unpopular items. The store hadn’t been able to sell it, and that gave him bargaining power, just as it had back at Daha.
“Three and a half would be the lowest I can go. Quite the discount, don’t you think?”
Vir turned back to the katar. “Look, it is obvious to me that you wish to sell this blade. From the dust on the hilt, I can tell it has occupied space on your rack for some time. I’m afraid the highest I’d be willing to pay is two.”
“Two is a bit…” the man said, trailing off.
So he really hasn’t had many buyers. It made sense. Zorin, while a port town, was on the very edge of the Rani Queendom. He doubted many passed through here who trained with such a weapon. In fact, Vir was surprised the store stocked one.
But he had the man where he wanted him, for now.
“Alright, I’ll sweeten the deal. Those strange disks on the wall? Throw those in, and I’ll pay you three.” Vir pointed to the chakrams.
“Friend, those chakrams sell for eighty coppers apiece. For all three, you’d be looking at two silvers and forty coppers. Altogether, I could do five silvers.”
“I doubt you sell many of those, either,” Vir replied, producing one of the knives he’d swiped at Brij, along with its leather sheath. “Four, and I’ll throw in this knife here. It’s good iron, and sharp.”
The man hesitated, playing with his handlebar mustache as he inspected the knife and its holster.
“We have a deal.”
Vir walked out of the store four silvers lighter, and satisfied with his purchase. The iron chakrams were superior to the trash Riyan had given him, but the katar was of worse quality. Riyan’s, while well worn, had been steel.At least he had his weapons back. He’d felt naked the entire trip down, lacking a katar and chakrams. Now he just had to find some chakris, and he’d be whole again.
“C’mon, Bumpy. Let’s go visit the Brotherhood.”
The Ash’va snorted, plodding its way down the road.
Vir initially feared the town was too small to host a Sanctum, but helpful street signs had put his fears to rest.
The building was a far cry from its Dahan counterpart. In fact, Vir wouldn’t even have recognized it as a Sanctum were it not for the triangular plaque with the image of a ghost hanging outside the red brick building. That, and unlike its neighbors, this one had a black tile roof.
Even so, the single story building wasn’t nearly as impressive.
Vir led Bumpy into the Ash’va corral next to the building before stepping inside with Neel.
The interior matched the rest of the building—which was to say, it wasn’t the least bit impressive. If someone told Vir he’d walked into a home, he might believe them. A handful of wooden benches filled the room, with a brick fireplace in the corner. The walls were bare brick, and the space was empty, save for a single woman dressed in a black robe, reading a book in a corner.
“Uh, excuse me? Is this the Mercenaries Brotherhood?” Vir asked.
Seeing him, the woman hurriedly donned her veil and scurried up to him.
“Ahem. Hello there! What brings you to our little Sanctum?” the lady said with a southern drawl.
What’s the point of the veil when I’ve already seen her face?
Vir didn’t ask. Clearly, things were far more lax around here.
“I’m an Acolyte. Looking for some information. I’d like to speak with an Executor.”
“Ah! Why didn’tchya say so! C’mon, follow me back to the booth.”
Vir peeked at her prana signature while she led him back. To his shock, she possessed Apex Earth affinity.
Maybe the lax atmosphere’s all just a ruse? He was honestly surprised to find someone of such strength here. The woman certainly didn’t look or act like a master warrior.
Even more shocking, she led him to an Executor booth—the only booth at the end of the hall—and then took her seat opposite him, behind the Executor’s veil.
“You’re the Executor?” Vir asked.
“Sure am!”
Well, guess her strength makes sense, then.
“So, what can I do ya for?”
“I need information on the Pagan Order. Something deeper than what rumors and hearsay can get me. I have little Brotherhood karma, but I’m happy to pay or do jobs to accumulate some.”
“Hmm, well, you’re out of luck, friend. Contracts are few out here. I mean, just look at the place. Do you see anyone else?”
“I noticed,” Vir replied, also noticing this branch’s lack of an armory. It lacked many of the services he’d taken for granted in Daha. “Why is that?”
“Not even prana beasts bother people out here. We’re about as far from the Ash as you can get. It’s peaceful out here, which means less work. As for information, I’m sorry, but I’ve only heard rumors about the Pagan Order, and I’m the only Executor around here.”
“What are my options, then?”
“Well, if it’s information yer looking for, you’d do better at the Avi branch. Rani capital’s far livelier. If it’s work you want… well, you could always try catching that guy,” she said, thumbing to a wall of the booth, where a small flier was pinned.
On it was an image of the face Vir had used back at Daha.
Wanted Dead or Alive: Neel. Last seen fleeing Daha, Hiranya. Suspected location: Rani Queendom, Kin’jal Empire.