Blood and Steel (The Cor Chronicles Volume I) by Martin Parece II
Cor could not leave Kamar there in the ruins to rot; the man had done exactly as he promised, and he deserved some sort of burial. Cor dragged the man’s body out of the building and into the gorge, where he selected what he felt was a suitable location and built a cairn of rocks over him. Cor thanked Kamar sincerely and hoped that he rested with whatever god he held dear.
Cor made excellent time back to Worh. Even the tiny crack he had to shuffle and crawl through to pass back into the main gorge slowed him down little. It was only midday and his belongings were as he had left them that morning. He gathered what he needed to make the return trip, leaving most of Kamar’s belongings where they were. He was well out of the mountains and nearly out of the foothills before stopping to sleep for the night. Cor felt amazingly energetic and could barely contain his desire to continue on his way to Worh. Once out of the mountains, he ran most of the way, despite the weight of his remaining provisions and armor.
Cor returned to his room in the inn in the afternoon of the third day, finding everything as he had left it. He half expected the innkeeper or some other enterprising individual to enter his room and attempt some form of thievery or another. Cor opened the chest and reviewed his financial situation; he had taken three large sacks of gold, silver and some gems from Sanctum. One he gave to Cade, and over half of a second was depleted. Though thus far, he had only used gold and silver, and Cor knew he had several gems in these sacks. He fished a few of these out; in a city the size of Worh there had to be shops, perhaps a jeweler of some kind, whose owners would purchase gems.
He left the inn with three gems in his belt pouch; he truly knew nothing about them, but assumed if the Dahken of Sanctum felt the need to protect the gems, they must have value. Cor had never been one to haggle, but he was quickly realizing that gold was in fact finite, and he doubted anything was salvageable back in Sanctum.
Again, skilled craftsman seemed to setup their shops in this section of the city, so finding a jeweler was relatively easy. Cor waited patiently while the shop owner waited on a young couple – a pretty young woman and a professional soldier. The man fixed an odd looking apparatus to his eyes and inspected Cor’s gems at length. Declaring them to be of little value, the shopkeeper offered him a relatively paltry sum. Cor pushed the gems back into his pouch, receiving hurried exclamations from the jeweler, who asked to look at them one more time. In so doing, he apologized for making a mistake, finding the gems to be much higher quality than he previously realized and offered Cor nearly three times the former amount. Cor thanked the man and said that he would come back should he choose to sell them. Cor continued up the street, finding another jeweler only a few shops down. The shopkeeper here was a plain looking man, and he examined the gems briefly before leaning back on a stool staring at them where they laid on the wooden counter. After several minutes, he leaned forward again in the stool, its front two legs thudding on the shop’s floor.
“Sir, at your age, I really do not want to know where you came across these, but I assume they are not stolen? I can offer you fifty for these two. But this one,” he indicated the smallest of the three, “I cannot pay you for today.
“This gem,” he said, picking it up carefully between his thumb and index finger, “must be worked into a special piece. It is fit for nobility, if not the king of Roka himself. I will write you a receipt and contract, paying you one third of the price of the jewelry I work it into. I do not doubt, your share would allow you to live well without lifting a finger for a years.” With that, the jeweler brought out several sheets of parchment and began writing with a quill pen.
“Thanks for your honesty, but fifty silver is less than what I was offered by the last man,” Cor told the man, reaching for the gems. The shopkeeper looked up, his gaze locking with Cor’s, and he placed his hand over the three gems.
“Son, fifty silver? My offer is hundred times that. Fifty gold.”
Cor left the jeweler, headed for the docks, with a comfortably heavy purse and a contract that promised to pay him well. It crossed his mind that if the gem truly was so valuable, he may never see the shopkeeper again, but the man’s directness provided him some comfort. The docks, as was apparently the norm, bustled with activity, and Cor couldn’t help but compare the sailors and workers loading and unloading cargo to a colony of ants. He entered every tavern he could find and paid every one of Kamar’s tabs; even with the man’s death, Cor needed to uphold his end of their bargain just as Kamar had.
Cor made excellent time back to Worh. Even the tiny crack he had to shuffle and crawl through to pass back into the main gorge slowed him down little. It was only midday and his belongings were as he had left them that morning. He gathered what he needed to make the return trip, leaving most of Kamar’s belongings where they were. He was well out of the mountains and nearly out of the foothills before stopping to sleep for the night. Cor felt amazingly energetic and could barely contain his desire to continue on his way to Worh. Once out of the mountains, he ran most of the way, despite the weight of his remaining provisions and armor.
Cor returned to his room in the inn in the afternoon of the third day, finding everything as he had left it. He half expected the innkeeper or some other enterprising individual to enter his room and attempt some form of thievery or another. Cor opened the chest and reviewed his financial situation; he had taken three large sacks of gold, silver and some gems from Sanctum. One he gave to Cade, and over half of a second was depleted. Though thus far, he had only used gold and silver, and Cor knew he had several gems in these sacks. He fished a few of these out; in a city the size of Worh there had to be shops, perhaps a jeweler of some kind, whose owners would purchase gems.
He left the inn with three gems in his belt pouch; he truly knew nothing about them, but assumed if the Dahken of Sanctum felt the need to protect the gems, they must have value. Cor had never been one to haggle, but he was quickly realizing that gold was in fact finite, and he doubted anything was salvageable back in Sanctum.
Again, skilled craftsman seemed to setup their shops in this section of the city, so finding a jeweler was relatively easy. Cor waited patiently while the shop owner waited on a young couple – a pretty young woman and a professional soldier. The man fixed an odd looking apparatus to his eyes and inspected Cor’s gems at length. Declaring them to be of little value, the shopkeeper offered him a relatively paltry sum. Cor pushed the gems back into his pouch, receiving hurried exclamations from the jeweler, who asked to look at them one more time. In so doing, he apologized for making a mistake, finding the gems to be much higher quality than he previously realized and offered Cor nearly three times the former amount. Cor thanked the man and said that he would come back should he choose to sell them. Cor continued up the street, finding another jeweler only a few shops down. The shopkeeper here was a plain looking man, and he examined the gems briefly before leaning back on a stool staring at them where they laid on the wooden counter. After several minutes, he leaned forward again in the stool, its front two legs thudding on the shop’s floor.
“Sir, at your age, I really do not want to know where you came across these, but I assume they are not stolen? I can offer you fifty for these two. But this one,” he indicated the smallest of the three, “I cannot pay you for today.
“This gem,” he said, picking it up carefully between his thumb and index finger, “must be worked into a special piece. It is fit for nobility, if not the king of Roka himself. I will write you a receipt and contract, paying you one third of the price of the jewelry I work it into. I do not doubt, your share would allow you to live well without lifting a finger for a years.” With that, the jeweler brought out several sheets of parchment and began writing with a quill pen.
“Thanks for your honesty, but fifty silver is less than what I was offered by the last man,” Cor told the man, reaching for the gems. The shopkeeper looked up, his gaze locking with Cor’s, and he placed his hand over the three gems.
“Son, fifty silver? My offer is hundred times that. Fifty gold.”
Cor left the jeweler, headed for the docks, with a comfortably heavy purse and a contract that promised to pay him well. It crossed his mind that if the gem truly was so valuable, he may never see the shopkeeper again, but the man’s directness provided him some comfort. The docks, as was apparently the norm, bustled with activity, and Cor couldn’t help but compare the sailors and workers loading and unloading cargo to a colony of ants. He entered every tavern he could find and paid every one of Kamar’s tabs; even with the man’s death, Cor needed to uphold his end of their bargain just as Kamar had.