Saga's Website

Chapter 5

Armor Befitting a Fool

It’s a wonderful springtime afternoon in the Ash Downs market quarter. Shoppers and laborers bustle from place to place through the narrow, cobbled streets. Vendors hawk their wares from permanent storefronts, from ramshackle wooden stalls, from carts. Thousands of nicks change hands every hour.

If she were less weary and sore from the day before, Spindle might consider making a break for it. It’d be easy to disappear in the crowd. But right now, that just feels like too much effort to her. I was wrong about that dedicant. She’s way too dangerous... I can’t let my guard down like that again. She blearily threads her way through the throng after Sugin.

“...So the first thing we should get you is a pack,” Sugin happily decides. “Then we’ll have somewhere to put the other stuff.” She beckons Spindle around a corner. “This is important, since it has to be durable and waterproof. This isn’t something to skimp on, so don’t worry about the price.”

The stench of a tannery reaches Spindle’s nose. She wrinkles it. “You keep telling me that,” Spindle grumbles, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch!” Sugin pats her on the shoulder, and Spindle halfheartedly shrugs her hand away. “I want my party to be well equipped and well prepared! We’ve got a generous budget for this, courtesy of Llywa.” She smiles down at Spindle. “Besides, this is supposed to be rehabilitation, not a death sentence. I won’t have you getting killed on my watch.” She stops in front of a leatherworker’s storefront. “Ah! Here we are.” She throws the door wide open and strides in.

Spindle groans, following Sugin into the store. “Is that where ‘Broadshield’ comes from, then? ‘Cause you’re so overprotective?”

She meant it as a dig, but Sugin grins. “That’s right! My first party called me that because I protected them with my shield as well as myself, and it stuck.” She leads Spindle over to the packs on display. “Go on, look ‘em over.”

“Huh.” Spindle rubs her eyes, peering at the leather bags. This is some high-class stuff. Why'd she take me here instead of somewhere cheaper? “So what you’re saying is you’re really good at getting in the way.”

“That’s right!”

“I’m making fun of you, Broadshield.”

“Oh, I know! But it’s a good segue into what I wanted to discuss next! What do you bring to the table for our party?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m a front-line fighter, and Llywa has medical training and some useful divine powers.”

Spindle shrugs. “I dunno. I’m not really any good in a fight.”

“Huh?”

“What? I have no training in that kind of thing.”

“None at all? Uhhh, what about magic?”

Spindle scowls. “Nope. I don’t speak any Primordial, and if I were a sorceress, you’d already know.”

“I guess I would. You do get pretty emotional.” Sugin scratches her head. “Well, shoot. Kind of weird to stick you in a sellsword’s guild, then.”

Spindle scoffs. “More than ‘kind of.’ That magistrate’s an idiot.” Her eyes rove over the rows of packs again. Well, if she really doesn’t care about the price... I’ll get something really expensive, so I can sell it later. As an investment. She reaches for the most expensive bag design. “I like this one.”

“Oooh, double layered. That’ll keep your stuff dry. C’mon, try it on!”

No hesitation at all... Spindle does so. After cinching the straps just so, she twists and leans her torso around experimentally. Wow. This thing is comfortable. It might actually be worth that outrageous price they’re charging for it. “It fits fine,” she concludes.

“Well, that’s good. Does it have enough space?”

“How am I supposed to know that? We haven’t bought any of my other gear yet.”

Sugin laughs. “Point. I guess it’s the biggest one they have with two layers, anyway, so it’ll just have to suffice. Let’s go pay for it.”

Outside the leatherworker’s again, Sugin wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Let’s get away from this tannery stink.”

“Agreed.” Spindle follows her. “Where to next?”

“Well, that depends. We still gotta figure out what kind of gear you actually need. You were a thief, right?”

“I worked with a burglary ring.”

“So you must have some useful skills. Moving silently? Picking locks? Either of those come in handy a lot more than you might expect.”

Spindle rolls her eyes. “Did they actually tell you anything about me at all?”

Sugin tilts her head. “They gave me a basic summary of your conviction details, but I didn’t actually read it.”

Spindle stares at her. “What? Why?”

Sugin fidgets. “I didn’t wanna bias myself against you!”

“Ugh.” Spindle rolls her eyes. Why is she like this? “I was never involved in the break-ins.”

“Well, I guess that explains why she didn’t send you to prison.” Sugin nods thoughtfully. “What did you do?”

“I fucked.”

“What?”

“A lot.”

“Huh?”

Folding her arms, Spindle smirks. “You heard me. While the boys broke in, I went to the guard barracks and got passed around like a stick of hazeleaf. I was the distraction.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head derisively. “My main skills are being a rude bitch and getting gangbanged for it, Broadshield. But the Harlot’s Guild would disembowel that red-head if she tried to assign sex work as a punishment. So I’m stuck here instead.”

Sugin is silent for a moment. Spindle opens her eyes, suddenly curious what the reaction to her dramatic reveal was.

It’s not what she expected. Sugin is grinning. “Oh, that’s perfect, actually!”

“What?” Spindle squints. “Why?”

“That’s actually a very valuable set of skills out in the wild!”

“Huh?!”

“Did you really not know?”

“Why would I know that?” Spindle throws up her hands. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

Sugin thumbs her chin. “I guess it’s not that well known outside of adventuring circles.”

“What is there to fuck out there? Aside from your party members. I’m not gonna become the party hole, not with you around.”

“Monsters!”

Spindle stares at Sugin, mouth agape. “What the fuck?”

Sugin claps her hands together excitedly. “Let me explain. Why do you think monsters attack people?”

“Cause we’re encroaching on their territory or taking their stuff?”

“Exactly! People do the same thing, right? It’s self-defense, basically.” Sugin points at Spindle. “Isn’t that just like the guards would’ve done to your thief buddies, if you didn’t distract them?”

Spindle blinks. “Wait, that works on monsters too?”

“Yeah! You can’t always speak with them to negotiate passage or trade, but sex is the universal language. Almost every living being likes to fuck. And some kinds of monsters are only territorial during their breeding season. Even if it’s just as a distraction, being able to seduce monsters is really handy for avoiding unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Huh.” Spindle presses a hand against her cheek, considering. That’s weird, but it makes a certain kind of sense.

“It’s such an important role that we have a specific word for it.” Sugin folds her arms proudly. “In sellsword and adventurer circles, if you’re good at seducing monsters and willing to do so as part of your duties, you advertise yourself as a ‘charmer.’”

Spindle chuckles sardonically. “Some of the muscle at the Circus used to call me that. I had no idea they meant it that way. Fucking buncha assholes,” she scoffs. A fond smile tries to rise to her face, but she clamps down on it.

“Anyway, that means you’ve got a skill set we desperately need!” Sugin claps her on the shoulder again. Spindle shrugs it off, again, but more gently. “I’ve tried my hand at seducing monsters before, but I’m no good at it. Meanwhile, Llywa’s seduction techniques rely a little too much on language and emotional connection to work on strangers, especially those who happen to be monsters. Spindle, will you be our party’s charmer? Please?”

Spindle frowns. “Isn’t that still fucking for money? Would I have to register with the Harlot’s Guild or something?”

“Nope! It’s an explicit exception to the sex work rule, because it’d basically be impossible to enforce.”

“I guess so, huh.” Spindle frowns, turning her head to watch the crowds passing by. It’s not the Circus. These two idiots could never replace what the Circus was to me. But it’d be closer to my old routine, and I might actually be worth a damn at it.

“Fine,” she concedes, trying her best to sound casual. “I guess it’s something to do while I’m waiting for this damn sentence to be over.”

Sugin punches the air joyously. “All right! Thank you so much, Spindle, you’re the best.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Spindle hisses, still facing away. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“It is to me.” Sugin claps her hands together again. “Alright, charmer. What kind of gear do you need?”

“You tell me. I just found out this was a job five minutes ago, how am I supposed to know?”

Sugin shrugs. “I mean, you’re the charmer. What do you usually bring to seduce a barracks?”

An hour later, Sugin and Spindle walk away from yet another cobbler’s stall, still stymied.

“Really? Nobody will even try?” Spindle snarls.

“Well, what did you expect? That kind of thing is a complicated custom commission. There’s no way anyone’s gonna be able to put something like that together on such short notice.” Sugin begins to elbow her way through a particularly dense section crowd. “Now, if you’d compromise on the design—”

A booming voice interrupts Sugin before Spindle can. “Aaaaand for our last auction item today from the Blind Boar Circus seizure, we have—”

Huh? Spindle halts.

Sugin notices her pause, and stops as well so as not to lose her. “What’s up?”

Spindle shushes her furiously, pointing to the front of the crowd, where the voice is issuing forth from.

“—and a mismatched pair of leather gloves, all in coordinated red and yellow! This costume was part of the Blind Boar Circus’s cover as a traveling carnival, but it is durable and well-crafted! They may have been petty burglars, but—”

“Petty, nothing,” Spindle mutters. “We were the best.”

“Where’s the rest of it?” calls a man from the front of the crowd.

“I’m afraid it was delivered to our premises in this condition,” the auctioneer mournfully replies. “It’s possible the torso and leg garments associated with this particular costume were lost in the—”

“No way!” Spindle exclaims. She stands on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd, then leans over to Sugin. “That’s my costume! They’re just gonna sell it? Money-grubbing fucks!”

Sugin frowns. “Do you want it back?”

“Course I do! It’s the exact gear I was just asking for! My jester’s outfit!”

Sugin tilts her head from side to side, cracking her neck. “You got it,” she promises, suddenly dead serious.

“—the diminished condition of the item, we will be opening bids at one hundred nicks. Do I have any takers? One hundred nicks one-oh-oh that’s right one hundred—”

Sugin throws her hand up in the air.

“One hundred nicks, from the big purple scalefolk in the back! Do I hear one twenty? One two zero that’s right one twenty one hundred twenty okay I have one twenty do I hear one forty one hundred and forty nicks—”

Sugin raises her hand again. “Two hundred!”

“Ohh, big spender! You heard the lady two hundred nicks for this hat gloves and boots set do I hear two twenty two two oh ahh there we are two twenty from the pretty lass at the front now do I hear two forty—”

“I’m not playing around with you people!” Sugin bellows, loud enough to turn heads. “Four hundred nicks!”

Spindle’s eyes widen. “Broadshield, you idiot, that’s more than the bag—”

“Who cares!” the mercenary exclaims. “You need this to do your thing, I’ll pay any price for it! It’ll more than pay for itself!”

Spindle finds herself stunned into silence.

“—hundred that’s right four oh oh big nickies changing hands today folks can I get four twenty—”

The crowd’s murmuring grows almost as loud as the auctioneer’s nonstop patter, but nobody else steps up to bid. The people immediately next to Sugin and Spindle have pulled back, now gawking at them rather than the auctioneer. Spindle makes a rude hand gesture at the nearest onlooker, and can’t help laughing in exultation.

“—and sold at four hundred nicks to our high rolling scalefolk friend! Come on down, madam, and let’s discuss the payment!”

“It’s a shame the actual garments from your jester’s costume didn’t come with it,” Sugin sighs.

Spindle chuckles darkly, pulling her left glove tight. “There weren’t any.”

“You just went in naked?” Sugin raises an eyebrow. “No striptease, or anything?”

Spindle shakes her head. The bells on her newly reclaimed hat and boots jingle merrily as the pair continue on their way. “I wore body paint from neck to toe. Looked like clothes at a glance, but when you looked closer... It drove them wild.”

Sugin bites her lip. “Oh, that is good. But if we need a fresh coat of paint for every battle, that takes up a lot of space...”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna lug around that much paint either. In the Circus, we had a wagon just for paint and makeup. If we do need it, we used pigments from pretty common native fruits for it, so we could probably make it on site.”

Sugin nods. “So what about when you weren’t on the job?”

“Didn’t usually wear clothes then, either.”

That gets a laugh out of the hulking scalefolk. “Wow, you dressed up just for me?”

Spindle groans. “Didn’t have a choice.”

“Hiking nude isn’t very much fun, though, I’ll tell you that much. You should get some proper traveling clothes.”

“Obviously. I wasn’t just gonna parade around naked for you.”

“What about for Llywa?”

“Fuck off.” Spindle scowls. “Let’s find a tailor’s shop.”

Spindle ends up settling on a simple pair of red trousers and a yellow blouse over a black undershirt. On Sugin’s advice, she’s picky about the material. Durability and roadworthiness can’t be compromised on. She also requests a design that’s easy to remove, with fasteners that open when pulled roughly rather than tearing.

While the tailor works, Sugin continues to lead her around to stall after stall for other necessities.

“Are we forgetting anything else?” Sugin asks, dropping a handful of nicks into yet another shopkeeper’s hand. They eagerly deposit them in their own purse.

Spindle hefts her pack, now stuffed with miscellaneous camping supplies and topped with a bedroll, onto her back again. “Ugh. I hope not, this thing’s heavy enough already.”

Sugin chuckles. “You’ll get used to it. You don’t seem to have any trouble when it’s on your back.”

Spindle tugs at the straps sullenly. “It’s fine for now. It’s the idea of toting it for days on end that worries me.”

“You’re pretty tough, though!” Sugin gives her a thumbs-up. “I think you can handle it.”

Spindle rolls her eyes. Sexual endurance doesn’t really translate to walking...

Sugin smiles, oblivious to Spindle’s unvoiced protestation, and turns to exit the store. Spindle lingers for a moment, then hurries to follow. Bouncing on her head, her jester’s cap jingles and tilts. She raises her hands to readjust it, and as she does, something comes to her. “Wait. There is one more thing I need,” she announces.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“A mask. I always had a mask when I worked with the Circus.”

“A mask? What kind?”

“A domino mask, the kind that covers the top of your face. It was shaped like a skull, and painted silver, with gold teeth. I guess they must have auctioned it off separately, because it didn’t come with the other parts of my costume.” Spindle flicks the bell dangling in front of her forehead.

“Oh? That’s pretty fancy.”

“It was just painted wood, but it looked impressive.” She fixes Sugin with a level stare. “I’ll need it replaced if I’m gonna be acting as your charmer.”

Sugin grins. “You got it. I think saw a mask stand at the other end of this street, let’s go!” She shoulders open the door of the shop. “If they don’t have the right kind, we can probably commission it!”

Spindle chuckles to herself as she follows. She didn’t even question it. She had been ready to defend her desire for a mask – she’d cooked up a lie about a slightly intimidating look provoking her targets more alongside her barbed words. A flashy display of honed temptress technique. The real reason, however, is much simpler: Spindle’s always felt more confident behind a mask. With her face hidden, anonymous, she finds she can be even more daring and bawdy than usual. Naturally, confessing this to Spindle feels absolutely out of the question.

Be more protective of Llywa’s purse strings, idiot.