5 Gold
“So that’ll be...5 gold.”
A stick with some bark shaved off. Five gold for that? That sounded reasonable. Sure, it was a bit much for a twig, but it was what the twig did that really sealed the deal for random stranger number 24, or Darek, as he called himself.
Now about 6 gold and 1 silver richer, Lennard found the current time to be as perfect as any to stop selling the random stuff he picked up from the forest and instead go set up a small camp. The usual nightly routine. Sans the town centre pickpocketing, but he could do that in the morning!
“Len, don’t tell me you’re considering stealing tomorrow.” a stern voice hissed from inside the teen’s hood as he walked. “It was difficult enough convincing you to use slightly less illegal persuasion tactics to obtain money. Don’t-”
“Percy, It’ll be fine.” The reassurance was only for Percival, though it was a statement Len said to himself all too often. Brief anxieties could always be remedied with an evening trek through the forest anyway, so it was never of enough concern to him to warrant an acknowledgement.
The dappled patterns of moonlight mingled with leaves on the floor gave a somewhat serene atmosphere to the forest. It was a welcome accompaniment - maybe he and the moon would find something together while his cat complained in the background. Maybe they’d discover an ancient but still comfortable cabin…
Though, speaking of his cat, his cat was speaking. An irritated muttering concealed by hood and hair, but still-
A tree in his face.
“...howsabout we rest here tonight?”
“I was going to suggest we find a tavern, but we’re clearly too far into the forest for that.” At long last, Percival took a few steps out of the boy’s hood to truly examine the area with eyes that could match the colour of a leaf in summer lighting. Somehow, despite their... often more woodland housing than what was typical for the average humanoid, the cat managed to keep his fur as sleek as the fire it resembled. Smooth, soft, really anything that could be desired of a cat. A cat belonging to a rich family, that was. Len preferred to call the style uptight.
Upon further inspection of the area, Len noted that his feline friend was entirely correct about their location. There was no tavern in sight. Only trees and the sky. At least it wasn’t wolves for once.
-
A backache wasn’t the rudest awakening Len had ever received, but he’d admit it wasn’t the most polite either. Percy had said he’d regret sleeping against a tree, but they’d learned by this point that he took that sort of comment as encouragement. It was often irritating.
No amount of pet peeves would prevent his antics, though. Percival could only steer him away from deadly decisions, which were few and far between. Whether that was for better or for worse was the least of his concerns.
“I have many regrets,” was the first thing Len said that morning, “but I’m sure today will be fine. Isn’t Jared performing today?”
Jared would indeed be performing in the town square that afternoon. Logging information was something that Len was actually quite good for, a strange yet welcomed talent. How he obtained the information was another story, though it was mainly hearsay and advertisements in this case - in other cases, he went with more unorthodox methods.
“Hey, are you the guy that sold me that twig last night?” It turned out alleyways weren’t the best places to wait near. Len probably should’ve known that fact already, but it mattered little to him once he’d learnt it. People didn’t bother him unless he’d bothered them.
“I believe so.” Percival would scold him for this later. “What’s it to you? I already told you, if you’re not satisfied then-”“Yes, no refunds, I get it.” The man - Darek, if he recalled correctly, it wasn’t so long ago - gave a threatening chuckle. “Too bad I ain’t askin’ nicely. Hand it over.”
“What, your 5 gold?” It was Len’s turn to laugh. “No can do, friend. I already spent it on-”“I know your type,” the interruption had Len wanting to protest, but he bit his tongue, “You’ve scammed plenty. Betcha got a whole bag o’ coins stashed away in a pocket somewhere, an’ I want compensation.”
“Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?”
It was safe to say that, after asking, Len ran for his life. It often turned out that being six foot and seven inches tall had its perks.
