Rise of the Living Forge

Chapter 52: Marketing

The market was busy when Arwin and Reya arrived. But, unlike the last time where not a single person had glanced in their direction, their entrance drew a fair number of eyes. Arwin wasn’t sure if that was because of his mask or the cart at his back, but he didn’t care.

He scoped out an empty area beside a merchant selling dumplings and brought the cart over beside him, setting it down with a grunt. Reya hopped down and gave him a grin.

“Cart seems safe.”

“You think?” Arwin asked dryly, brushing his hands off on his shirt. “I can’t tell if I want to sell everything as fast as possible, or if I want to find the right person for the armor instead.”

Reya rolled her eyes. “Maybe worry about selling anything at all first? And this is just normal gear. Don’t be picky about that stuff. You can be picky once you’re famous.” “Good point,” Arwin admitted. He picked up a set of scale mail and hung it from one of the hooks, holding his hands out to catch it in case the hook failed. Fortunately, it looked like the metal was in good condition and it held firm.

Reya helped him hang the rest of the armor, and then they settled in to wait. It was still somewhat early in the day, and the market was just starting to get to its busiest hour.

Minutes ticked by, turning to an hour. People walked by their cart, a few of them craning their necks as they passed, but nobody was stopping by. Arwin frowned behind his mask.

“Why is nobody stopping by? They aren’t even trying to take a closer look.”

“Probably because you look intimidating,” Reya said from where she sat at the base of the wagon. She stood up, brushing some specks of wood from her clothes, and glanced around. “Here. Let me try something.”

“What are you going to–”

“Hey!” Reya screamed, thrusting a finger at a bald man with a sword at his side. “You!”

The man froze in surprise, spinning to face Reya. “Me? What–”

“Where’s your armor?” Reya demanded, hopping down from the cart before Arwin could even think of saying anything. She stormed up to the man and thrust a finger at him. “What if monsters attacked the town? You’re an adventurer, aren’t you?”

“I’m just not wearing it right–”

“You’re not wearing it because it’s no good,” Reya said. “It’s uncomfortable. It’s unwieldy. Probably heavy and a huge pain to lug around, isn’t it? But look at me!”

Reya slapped her chest. She’d taken her armor off – which was probably wise, as it was magical and had no way to conceal its properties – then pointed over at the cart with her other hand. “Look at that. Light, easy to wear – and yet, just as effective as metal.”

“I already have–”

“You don’t have this armor,” Reya said, fluttering her eyes. “Though you’re going to wish you did when a horde of Forest Lizards run you down and rip your limbs off in your clanky, heavy armor. Good luck running anywhere in that crap. Your loss, though!”

She spun, sauntering back to the cart with a smirk on her face that only Arwin could see. The adventurer’s eyes traced Reya’s walk, then lifted up to Arwin and the armor. His head tilted slightly to the side, and after a moment of standing in the middle of traffic, he walked over to join them.

“All you,” Reya whispered as she climbed back onto the wagon. “Don’t screw it up.”

Arwin found himself supremely grateful for the mask on his face, as it was doing a fantastic job of covering his mouth, which was currently hanging open.

“What kind of shop you got here? Only four sets of armor?” the adventurer asked, peering past Arwin. “Interesting design, though.”

“Scale mail,” Arwin said, getting himself back under control and taking down a set of armor so the man could inspect it. “And the greaves are plate, though made from the same material. It’s considerably lighter than metal but has almost the same level of protection.”

The adventurer ran his hand over the greaves, the mild interest on his face growing as he took in the armor. “You made this?”

“Yes.”

“How’d you get the scales like this? I’ve never seen someone make a set of armor with them that wasn’t scale mail,” the man said, turning the greaves over in his hands to try and find if there was a trick to them. “Is this really as effective as metal?”

“I’ve tested them myself,” Arwin said. “The shirt protected someone from a Wyrm blow, though it was badly damaged in the process.”

“You’re shitting me,” the man muttered. “A Wyrm?”

“It did break,” Arwin reminded him.

Stolen story; please report.

“But the person wearing it lived,” Reya piped up. “I’d say that’s a damn good trade.”

“So it is,” the adventurer mused. “Can I try this on?”

“Help yourself, but don’t run off with it. I’m faster than you are.”

The man laughed at what he presumed to be a joke, then pulled the greaves on. Fortunately, his build wasn’t too far from average, so they seemed to fit him pretty well. Arwin had left them fairly lose, and a lot of their fit relied on the latches, which he helped the adventurer fasten them properly.

Shifting from foot to foot, the man’s expression continued to grow more interested. He gestured for the scale mail and Arwin handed it over, letting the man pull it over his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned. This is a lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. Why is the shirt mail while the pants are plate?”

“Still working on plate chestpiece,” Arwin replied with a shrug. “This is lighter, though. If you value your mobility, it’ll give you the best of both worlds.”

The adventurer nodded slowly. “How much is it?”

“Forty gold a piece, or seventy for the pair?” Arwin offered, taking a shot at a price. He was pretty sure it was on the lower end, but he had no name as a smith yet. Getting some people to buy his gear and get the word out would be far more effective than trying to sell it at high prices initially.

The adventurer considered Arwin for a moment, then reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a small leather bag. He sifted through it, removing a handful of coins, and then set the bag on Arwin’s counter.

“Seventy. Feel free to count it.”

Arwin quickly checked the bag, but it looked like the number of coins was right. He inclined his head. “Thank you for your patronage. I hope the armor serves you well. If it ever gets damaged, feel free to bring it back to me. I’ll repair it at a low cost.”

“Seriously?” the adventurer grinned and held his hand out. “I’ll keep that in mind, mate. What’s your name? You must be new around here.”

“Ifrit,” Arwin replied, shaking the man’s hand.

“I’m Ted. Pleasure, Ifrit. If your armor is half as good as it feels, you’ll be seeing me again.”

The adventurer strode off, raising a hand in farewell. Arwin looked down at the bag on the counter, then over to Reya. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“When did you become so good at being a saleswoman?”

“Good? All I did was cut him off a bunch of times and sway my ass when I walked back here,” Reya said with a snort. “You did everything else.”

That’s one way to completely undersell yourself.

“I’m not so sure that was it. You definitely–”

“Eyes up ahead,” Reya said with a grin, looking past Arwin’s shoulder. “You’ve got some more interest.

Arwin turned to find that several other people had walked over to the cart and were studying the armor hanging around him. Now that one person had bought something, he’d functionally proven himself and drawn the attention of other passersby.

“Good luck,” Reya said, crossing her arms behind her head and closing her eyes. “And don’t forget to leave me a cut.”

***

About five hours later, they sold out. Even though a lot of people came by to look at the armor, most of them didn’t end up buying anything. But, even so, with the small crowd that Reya had summoned, there was enough interest to sell every piece of armor they’d brought.

Arwin found his purse had gone from a mere 10 gold to a hefty 362. In the span of five hours, they’d gone from destitute to well off. If a meal cost around a silver or two, then one gold was roughly equivalent to five meals at worst. They weren’t exactly rich, but they had a very healthy amount of coin.

He wasted absolutely no time in counting out one hundred gold from his profits and tossing it to Reya.

“This much?” Reya asked, staring at the bag in disbelief. “I barely even did anything!”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have sold anything at all if you weren’t here. You earned that.”

“You made the armor.”

“Are you really asking me to give you less gold?”

Reya blinked, then shook her head. “You know what? Never mind. I deserve this.”

They both laughed.

“You’re going to have to make a bunch more of that. I think I’m going to get addicted to having this much money,” Reya said.

“I think I’m going to end up spending almost all of this immediately,” Arwin said, feeling the bulging bag at his waist. “I need some more of that metal you bought me as well. Could you say how much it was?”

“The whole lot was eighty gold, and I got it at a huge discount,” Reya said. “Someone ordered a bunch of it and then didn’t pick it up. I think it’s normally around thirty gold a bar.”

“Could you get me three bars of it?” Arwin asked, pouring another hundred gold into Reya’s bag. “I need some to work with.”

Reya blinked, then shrugged. “Okay. What about you?”

“I’m going to bring the cart back, then go shopping for some supplies to upgrade the smithy. Come tomorrow, we aren’t going to have any more cracks in the walls.”

Reya grinned. “I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you back at the tavern, then?”

“Sounds good,” Arwin said, hopping down from the wagon to lift it by the handles. He nodded to Reya, and the two of them set off, their spirits high from a successful day.

***

“He was right here, Jessen,” Tix said, thrusting a finger at the open space in the market. “I swear.”

“I believe you,” the man beside her said, running a hand through his dark beard. He wore heavy black armor with spiked pauldrons and carried a huge greatsword on his back that shimmered with poorly hidden magical energy. “Unfortunate. I had hoped to speak with him. Our guild needs a new crafter.”

“I’ve been trying to find the street that I heard he lived on, but I haven’t had any luck thus far. I’ve sent out some feelers to see if anyone has heard anything, but so far, the only ones that have claimed to know anything are a bunch of worthless grubs.”

“Grubs?” Jessen asked, tilting his head to the side and glancing at Tix. “I believe I told you to spare no expenses.”

“Yes, but they’re a gutter trash thieves guild,” Tix said. “They’d lie through their teeth just to get our coin. There’s no point–”

“Tix?” Jessen asked, his voice cold.

She cut herself off mid-sentence, then swallowed heavily. “I’ll speak with them.”

“Good,” Jessen said. “It’s just a little bit of gold. It hardly matters when there’s so much profit on the line. In the meantime, how has our side project been going?”

“Well. We should have the materials we need soon. A month or two, if I had to guess,” Tix replied.

“As you were.” Jessen strode off, somehow blending in with the crowd in just seconds despite his striking armor and towering height. Tix turned back to the empty lot, then grimaced. She had a meeting with a bunch of worthless thieves to catch, and she wasn’t looking forward to it in the slightest.