Tinker [On Hold]

5. Simon

At a loss for words, Jared stood and stared after Lionel, intently looking down the dimly lit tunnel for a minute or more after the other man disappeared from view. Finally returning to his senses, Jared drew a hand through his hair.

“What a day,” he said, briefly shaking his head in disbelief. “I guess I'm no longer playing cards with Simon's merchant friends.”

Deciding to take Lionel's advice in regards to getting some rest, Jared reached up to the cobblestone road above and pulled himself up. After dusting himself off, Jared reformed his knife and sheathed it at his waist, ensuring that it would be easily accessible. While muggers generally stuck to Amaroth's richer districts and goblin raids were not due for another two months, Jared preferred to err on the side of safety. Once certain that no one could take him by surprise (again), Jared began walking towards the main market square.

The buildings here were more densely packed than anywhere else in the city, crates and barrels piled high in the few sparse alleyways. Dropped bits of fish and produce littered much of the ground, awaiting the gulls and terns that would pick it clean come morning. A light breeze blew through the square, the periodic flap of stall curtains and jingle of wind chimes disturbing the still of night. It is only by straining his ears that Jared was able to hear the far-off hubbub of labourers spending their day's earnings at the local tavern, several blocks away.

As Jared began crossing the square towards a worn wooden door at its opposite end, the sound of a man's booming voice caught his attention. It was not until a few strides later that he realized the voice was coming from behind the door.

Before Jared could even begin to slow his pace, the door flew open with a loud bang and a man flew through the opening, landing painfully on the ground several feet away. An instant later, the speaker appeared in the doorway, still spewing a stream of colourful profanity at the other.

“-- pay you a ransom?! You gutless, impertinent, flea-ridden, son of a maggot --”

“Evening, Simon!” Jared said loudly, a giant grin plastered on his face.

The speaker's train of thought broken, he promptly looked over at Jared, his flushed face already beginning to lighten at the sight of his apprentice. Although already in his fifties, Simon was still in both his physical and mental prime, able to best opponents half his age in almost any confrontation. He was clearly asleep not too long ago, donning a thin tunic and trousers, but now also wielding a wooden staff.

The man thrown to the ground, to Jared's amusement, was the burly thug who had kidnapped him this morning. Jared fancied the idea of taking him back to the prison cells with a knife to his back, but thought better of it when he heard Simon strike the ground next to the man's head with his staff.

“I do believe you owe Jared here an apology,” Simon stated, resuming his conversation with the thug.

An incomprehensible grumble was followed by an even louder crack of wood on cobblestone, this time mere inches from the man's face.

“Pardon?” Simon continued.

“Sorry,” the thug croaked, fearing the older man's temper.

“Now get your filthy ass out of here,” Simon commanded, enunciating every word. “Before I decide that I want a better apology!” To emphasize his threat, Simon struck the ground near the man's legs, shattering a cobblestone and causing the sound of the strike to echo throughout the market square. As if reacting to ice-cold water, the thug pulled himself up and began sprinting away, losing his balance almost immediately. He proceeded to get up and fall numerous times before he finally managed to clear the edge of the square.

“So,” Jared started, holding up the black sphere gifted to him by Lionel. “Ever see one of these?”