I Can't Get the Vampire Rogue to Romance Me

Chapter 102 - Red at the Green

The Green lived up to its name, a small, but productive village in the middle of the forest. It looked like to Evangeline that the village itself had once been set up as a simple crossroads stop that over time had built up. There were several business to each side of a crossroads that had been stomped down by many feet and carts into a rough square. Trees still grew in and amongst the buildings. There were even a few up in the trees themselves.

Within a few minutes, Artmond pulled them up in front of a forge, very much like the one Harrowheart had set up, with a broad stone platform and the tools of the trade hanging from racks ringing it. Otherwise the forge was open to the air and elements, though the racks were rigged to pull a canopy over top in case of rain.

Before the cart stopped, Harrowheart leapt out. "Blue! Are you here, old man! Blueson!"

She mounted up the two steps to the platform, where no one was working, and beelined for an open door that led into a connected building. Before she could get there though, an older man exited. He was a half foot shorter than the tall female orc, but still few inches taller than Evangeline. His head was bald and his mustache long. By contrast, his beard was also longer, but braided neatly at his chin, presumably to keep it from catching fire to easily. Evangeline had no idea if that was the logic, but it made sense to her.

Other than that, he had a simple canvas spun shirt under a rough leather apron. The sleeves were pushed up to show wiry arms. While he didn't have the bulky strength Evangeline associated with the idea of "smithy," the way his skin suctioned to his arm muscles implied to her that he used every bit of strength he had effectively.

Once the older man Harrowheart called "Blue" laid eyes on the orc, his gruff expression shifted to a merrier smile and he hugged her as enthusiastically as she hugged him.

After a moment of slapping and jostling, he stepped away and gestured her to his hearth. "Go pump that up for me before the damn thing goes out. I'm dealing with a finicky customer," he ordered and turned to go back into the building.

Harrowheart rolled her eyes, but obeyed as she went over to the forge to bring it back up to temperature. As she did that, she turned to the rest of them. "This is going to be a minute, so if you guys want to explore around a bit, I'll clang the bell when he's ready to talk."

Evangeline climbed down from the cart driver seat. "We can go get Valerian something to eat while we're at it," she said. "That is if the butcher shop isn't too far away."

"It's right there across the square," Harrowheart pointed.

"I'll drive the cart and park near it. That should make it possible for you to go inside," Artmond offered.

Sigismund got out of the cart as well, joining Evangeline as she nodded and started walking across the square itself, while Artmond navigated it around. By the time they were about to enter the store front, he had it positioned so their collars wouldn't be a problem.

A friendly minotaur in a bloody apron greeted them as they walked into the stall. "Welcome, customers, welcome. Traveling through, eh?" he asked, wiping his hands on a fairly clean towel as he came around his chopping block. "Are you looking for something dried for long journeys, or would you like something fresh for the pot tonight? I just slaughtered a nice heifer in the back there, not ten minutes ago. We're just bringing in the cuts now, so if you know what bits you want, I can cut them to order."

"A cow?" Evangeline said, taking in the minotaur's bouvine-like face and horns.

His long tail flicked once behind him, the only sign of annoyance at her reaction. Otherwise his smile stayed in place. "Yes, fair lady. Straight from the farm this morning. Can't get anything fresher."

Thankfully, Sigismund took charge. "Well take six steaks and roast, as well as a couple pints of the fresh blood off that slaughter."

The minotaur nodded, taking the order in stride, his hooves clacking happily at a profitable order. "I have some blood already bottles here if you like," he said gesturing to a stack of three on a shelf by the door.

Thieves Skill: Legerdamain. Failure.

"We prefer it as fresh as possible," Evangeline said, a little too quickly.

"Understood," the minotaur said, taking it in stride, though again when he turned his tail was twitching irritatedly again, "I'll just pop out back and get a couple bottles of fresh. Be back in a jiffy."

As soon as he went, Evangeline didn't attempt to avoid Sigismund's predictable smack on the arm. "I thought rogues were supposed to be cool under pressure," she hissed.

Evangeline rubbed her stinging arm. She almost checked to see if that smack had taken off a hit point. "Most of the time yes, but math gets you eventually."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sigismund asked.

Evangeline turned to look in a basket at a rope of sausages, realizing she couldn't exactly explain dice rolls and algorithms. "You know, the inevitability that even with something you are good at, you'll eventually mess it up at least once. There isn't really a word for it."

"You mean you got the 'yips'?"

"Oh." Evangeline straightened. "I guess there is a word for it."

"Here we are," the minotaur butcher said, returning with two glass bottles with red caps on them. "I capped those off with wax, so they'll stay fresh, but be careful, the wax is still a bit soft. Now normally I would charge a gold and three silver for the lot, but how about we call it a gold and the blood is on me."

"Thank you," Sigismund said, doing her cleric's bow in gratitude.

Evangeline dug out the coin from her purse and paid the minotaur with a promise that the rest of their order would be ready in an hour.

The thought of a good steak for dinner that night did sound delightful to Evangeline.

"Now I can't wait for dinner tonight."