Warrior of the Void Book 1, Chapter 40

“It’s been a mixed bag, to say the least.” Muur sighed softly, cracking her neck this way and that as she loosened the muscles there. Her morning may’ve gone swimmingly, but that nightly vision had left her tensed up and she was still feeling it a bit. “Very exciting, very interesting, very rewarding, very trying sometimes.”

“As is the merchant’s life I’d say,” The peddler told her as he scanned around the camp, “I’ve been waitin’ for my business partner for a few hours now. But no hide or tail of the lad, and he’s not like to snub a deal once the contract’s signed. He ought to have been here by now. I can only hope he’s not run into trouble, he’s Limsa Lominsa born and bred. Was s’posed to bring some of the Bloody Executioners’ newest privateerin’ haul, I can only pray he didn’t run afoul of the Serpent Reavers…,” His sigh was a far deeper and graver one, but he shook the morose feeling that had settled on him easily enough, “But rather than speak of poor fortunes. Let me share a good one with you. You’ve not heard it from me, but there seems to be someone tryin’ to sell some alchemical ledgers over by the orange and blue tent yonder. Been hopin’ to find someone willin’ to take them off his hands before he returns to Gridania.”

“Give me a description of him and I’ll lend a hand if I spot him, otherwise there’s some books screaming my name.” Muur said, only by a herculean display of willpower keeping herself from bolting for those recipebooks. Her ‘mentor’s stuff was good, don’t get her wrong, but she was also a hoary woman who did not like her or having to work with her one bit. Independent study was in order.

“Ah, don’t bother with my issues,” The old hyur said dismissively, “I’m plenty old enough to deal with them on my own. Though, since you offered– he’s a Roegadyn, Syngimhar’s his name. Larger build than most and with a beard long enough to swallow a Lalafel. He’s hardly a discreet man, and the owner of a merchant fleet beside. If he were here, I’d have seen, heard and smelled his salt-encrusted hide the moment he’d set foot in Vesper Bay. As for the lad you’ll be lookin’ for: Elezen, short for his kind and pale of skin. I doubt you could miss him, he’s dressed far too warmly for the climate. Poor boy thinks he’s in the Shroud still I believe,” Brendt quickly told her as he waved her off, “I hope you’ll find something of interest in his tomes… and that you’ll remember this poor old man if you do!”

“I’ve already got you pencilled in for the taste tests of the kumis experiments.” Muur chuckled, slinking off to get her hands on some delicious data with a jaunty wave.

“That sounds wonderful,” He chuckled, returning her wave, “Who knows, I just might be able to convince the old sea-dog to join us for a taste test. I did promise him, some years ago.”

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“How may I help you?” Just as Brendt had said, next to the tent he’d pointed out was a man wearing completely inappropriate clothes for the desert, or its borders. Leather, heavy fabric and a tiny feathered hat would have made the poor Elezen presently sweating buckets in the quickly warming air at home in a forest. In Ul’dah however? He couldn’t look more out of place, “If you’re looking for Gridanian timber, I’m afraid I’ve sold the last few branches I’d brought.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I heard you had some alchemy ledgers you wanted to pawn off.” Muur replied with a soft chuckle, fishing out her Alchemist Guild’s badge. She had, somehow, managed to find the time to get a design sketched out and engraved by a Goldsmith in the middle of this mess of a week. Wisdom trapped in a bottle made for a nice Alchemist maker’s mark, she figured.

“Oh! An alchemist? Sorry, with the staff, I–” Shaking his head, the boy gave her as bright a smile as he could, “Of course. Let me see…” Getting to his feet, he quickly rummaged through the box he’d been using as a seat, “I’d be more than happy to sell them to you. They belonged to a Hag, you see– Ah, ‘Hag’ is what we Gridanians call hedge witches and alchemists that live apart from anyone. Rejected by the elementals ye’ see?”

What he pulled out weren’t exactly what Muur would have called recipe books. Oh, some certainly were, but there were some that were not. The worn covers, the paper slips that were half falling out from between the uneven pages, these were well loved research diaries.

“I wouldn’t know, I’m from overseas and already struggling to come to grips with how Ul’dahn culture functions.” Muur replied with an easy smile that did not show a single speck of how hungry she was for those books, simply playing on the common ground of ‘man, we’re both foreigners here’. 

“Aah, then you feel my pain too,” He looked her up and down and sighed, “Or maybe ‘knew’ is more accurate. I’d heard tales of the desert’s heat. But never knew it could be this hot, and they tell me it will get hotter still… I’m left to wonder if I’ll even make it home alive– the heat’s grip is making it look as if you’re some form of half-dragon beast…” Illustrating his point, he wiped his brow with a sleeve, “To explain things as easily as I am able. The Elementals are the Shroud’s protector spirits, to shun them is to shun Gridania itself, and Hags often do so by engaging in research that is forbidden. Such was the case with my gran’aunt, I did not know her, but to hear my grandfather speak, she was a vile and heretical witch. A stain upon our name. She died some three months ence, and for reasons none could discern she had my father inherit all of her possessions. We’ve kept what we could, but some were too tainted in my grandfather’s eyes and he had us destroy them, that the Elementals might spare us their scorn. He died not long after throwing her old glassware into a fire, no doubt that her scorn’s responsible. So we’ve not dared burn these, but keeping them is hardly an option. I won’t hide that I was hoping to find a buyer, that we might be rid of these accursed tomes.”

“And here I am. How much for your troubles? Assuming there isn’t a matter of religion keeping you from making a profit off of something tainted like this.” Muur asked earnestly, suddenly feeling like she was standing in Brendt’s shoes. Also with a sharp distaste for Girdania, but that was that and this was this.

“For taking them off my hands? I’d be willing to sell you the whole box at a thousand gil.” The box in question was not huge. But wasn’t small either, roughly as large as the one that held her alembic– in fact, taking a closer look at it. It probably once held something not unlike her metallic onion of wonders.

By Muur’s reckoning, the man was underselling it by quite a lot. Having seen the price of books in Ul’dah, paying double would still have been ‘getting them on the cheap’. So she chucked him an extra 500 gil at the guy and told him where to go in Ul’dah to get himself some quality clothes for the weather on the cheap. She was leery of giving more, mostly due to his religious hangups about these books (and because the remaining 500 gil on her pouch were for emergencies only), but this much she could do. Money traded hands and so did the crate, just barely managing to fit into her backpack.

With her newfound knowledge squirreled away and a drastic lack of space in her pack, Muur didn't see much of a point in looking around anymore. She wasn't going to luck into something nearly as interesting and relevant to her current professions… Probably. But even if she did, the fact she couldn’t store it anywhere made the point rather moot– Maybe she could ask Kofle to hold on to some stuff?

Speaking of her catgirlfriend, she started to wander around in an attempt to find her. She didn’t think it’d be particularly hard, sure Kofle was fully armoured and kitted out in a manner that wasn’t quite as embarrassing (especially now that her shield wasn’t three planks nailed together), but her equipment was still a disparate mess of different armour parts. All she had was to look for said fashion disaster and–

“KWEH!”

The wark made her jump– just as much as the sound of metal being hit by something big and hard. It took her a moment or two before she managed to reign in her fight or flight instinct, the lightning crackling around her staff slowly quieting but not quite going away. The sheer anger, rage, viciousness and near malevolence in that chocobo cry had her guard sky high and she wasn’t about to lower it anytime soon.

To her left, tucked in between two tents and pushed all the way against the Crossing’s wall was what she’d thought was just a massive crate, a large blue and gold tarp laid over its surface for protection. As it turned out, it was no crate, but a cage. One that was easily two and a half times her size.

“KWEH!”

Another shout, followed by another impact and the groan of metal being bent caused four people to rush its way.

“Bloody hells! It’s awake!?” “Get the herbs! We’ve–” 

“KWEH!”

A third hit and bar that had been pushed outwards with each attack was displaced enough that something managed to grab it from the inside and tore the cover to pieces, releasing the single most potent musk Muur had ever smelled. Not even the horse’s barns had smelled quite this strong.

“Shite!” One of the men grabbed a pole and started poking whatever was inside, “Back you beast! Ba–”

“KWEH!”

The man, a stocky Hyur was quite literally pulled off his feet and nearly dragged to the cage before one of his fellows grabbed him, “Blo–” whatever was going to leave his mouth was interrupted by a sharp CRUNCH and the pole, now little more than a broken stick, being thrown out the cage.

Something absolutely massive then stepped forwards. Its baleful, hate-filled eyes glistening in the darkness before an amber coloured beak wrapped itself around the damaged bar and jerked around in an attempt at ripping it out. The thing inside couldn’t manage that, but what it did was to shake its prison enough that the tarp slipped enough that Muur could see it in all of its indignated furor and majesty.

It was a chocobo. Or rather it was a chocobo. Standing close to twice the height of an Au’Ra man, it was an absolute beast of a bird. Its amber, near-red feathers vibrated menacingly as it used all of its strength and bulk to try and attain freedom. Muur’s breath hitched in her throat at the sight of them, horror and panic at the thought of a pissed off Red Chocobo anywhere near her– before calming down slightly when she realised that its feathers turned a stark snow-white at their tip.

She still glanced up at the sky suspiciously, glad to find it clear and with no signs of meteors. All that screaming and swearing did summon something else, however. A small crowd of people had begun to assemble, rightfully trying to figure out what in the Twins’ name was happening.

“Quite the creature.” She overheard a man say nearby.

“Aye, don’t see too many of that size ‘round here,” Someone else commented, “Wild catch too, I’ll bet. See how it’s bleeding from tearing its feathers due to stress? Caught it and shipped it methink. Didn’t even spend the time taming the beast… Think it’s someone trying to inject some wilderness into their breeding stock?”

“And risk having their flock injured?” The first answered with a derisive snort, “Nay. And besides, I’ve spied Capapa’s emblem on the tarp when I walked past here.”

“That blowhard? Bah! Anyone can make a pretty coin nowadays it seems,” The second clicked his tongue angrily, as if the thought of that had been a personal insult against him, “How much did buying this cost him, you think?”

“A bird like this?” The man paused, humming in thought before answering, “No less than a million gil… Though, that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Worried?” His interlocutor asked, curious.

“Aye,” Dropping his voice so low that Muur could only hear him thanks to how close the pair stopp, he continued, “He’s been buying all manner of exotic animals, or so I’ve heard. Whatever scheme he’s developed for his coin, it’s far more profitable than any lead I’ve lucked into…”

The situation didn’t last much longer, with a lalafell running up to the cage holding a smoking pouch of some kind and throwing it at the bird. It coughed and hacked, its cries growing weaker with every breath until it eventually slumped down, its breathing regular.

“What are you all lookin’ at!?” As soon as the workers caught their breath, they turned to the crowd and angrily shouted them away, “Nothing else to see here, so buzz off! Or you’ll have to answer to Ser Capapa!”

Sure enough, with the ‘show’ over, the crowd began to quickly disperse. Leaving Muur to find her companion.

“Hey!” Which didn’t particularly take long to do. Noticing her walking through the growing crowd, Koffle waved to her girlfriend from atop an open topped wagon, “Over here!”

“Ayo! I found a guy selling some brand Ishgardian armor on the cheap, come on!” Muur called, and that was that.