The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 522
“My friend? I hated that bastard. I’m glad the faeries covered his fields. Served him right. But your friend’s not going to do it to my farm now, is she?”
“No. Absolutely not. Ivolethe doesn’t generally cause trouble—she just pulls pranks.”
“But she can do quite a lot on her own, can’t she? Garia told us about what happened to the Runner’s Guild in Celum.”
Viceria gazed at Ryoka, making the Runner girl cough. She was saved by Fals, who interrupted with a placating smile.
“I’m sorry to say the Runner’s Guild—and most of the people within—probably deserved it in that case, Miss Viceria. I haven’t seen Ryoka’s little friend doing anything else like that. In fact, I’d consider someone who’s familiar with snow and such an asset.”
“Oh. So that’s why Miss Ryoka’s had all those lucrative contracts? I wanted to know how she got deliveries for gold—hundreds of gold coins or so Garia’s said—while she’s still running deliveries for silver and copper. Is it all because of your Frost Faerie friend?”
Garia sat up in her seat, flushing scarlet and glaring at her father.
“Dad. I don’t think Ryoka is—don’t embarrass me!”
Wailant Strongheart was unmoved. He was giving Ryoka a look she wished she could bottle and use on everyone she didn’t like. Coming from him, it was, well, hard not to flinch. Ryoka met Wailant’s green eyes, not backing down.
“I got those contracts because I was in the right place at the right time. I didn’t take them from anyone.”
“So you say.”
Wailant shifted, uncrossing one arm. Ryoka could see every muscle in his right arm shift for the motion. Sitting across from her, Fals leaned back as one of Wailant’s arms flexed, making the fish tattoo seem to swim. He grinned a bit desperately and nodded at Ryoka.
“We’re ah, all City Runners here, Mister Wailant, Miss Viceria. No one takes advantage of each other if we can help it. We’re a team. Ryoka just happens to be one of the best Runners in our Guild. In truth, I wouldn’t take half the requests she does. Running through the High Passes? I’d rather play tag with a Creler, or paint myself red and run through the streets of Celum naked.”
That got a laugh. Garia giggled and Wailant barked out a guffaw and slapped Fals on the back. Ryoka winced as she heard the crack of flesh on flesh. Fals kept grinning, although it looked like he was now struggling not to cry out in pain.
He was being charming, funny, and talkative. At first Ryoka had assumed it was the usual Fals, but she’d quickly realized that this was a defense tactic. Keeping Garia’s parents entertained was far more preferable to having them ask piercing questions. Ryoka wondered how he’d survived an hour already.
To change the subject, Ryoka cast about the table. Hostile parents aside, Garia’s house was really very nice. Extraordinarily nice. Again, Ryoka had expected a family that conformed to medieval economics, which was to say, dirt poor. But everything in the Strongheart family home looked well-made and some things looked expensive. They had a bookshelf filled with books for crying out loud! Ryoka chose that as the subject and nodded at it.
“I see you have quite a collection of books. I uh, didn’t know that [Farmers] were so well read. I’ve tried buying books myself, but they’re as expensive as healing potions, some of them. How did you come by this collection?”
“We’re humble folk, Miss Ryoka. That doesn’t mean we’re stupid. Or poor, for that matter.”
How did she manage to put her foot further into her mouth? Ryoka saw Garia burying her head in her hands as Wailant pushed back his chair. There was nothing poor or humble about the way he brought out several of the books for Ryoka and Fals to admire. She stared at the covers, noting several from her time perusing Magnolia’s library.
“It’s a magnificent collection.”
“Of course it is! I’ve read them all. Viceria here knows several [Shopkeepers] and [Merchants] who sell to [Lords] and [Ladies]. Of course, a poor family of [Farmers] can’t afford more than one or two first-edition tomes. Read all of these, have you?”
“Not all of them.”
Ryoka found herself being quizzed aggressively on the books she had read as the dinner continued. All the while, she saw Garia grow more and more anxious. She kept breaking into her father’s flow, trying to change the subject.
“So uh, does anyone want dessert? Mrsha? Why don’t I uh, get it? And you, Dad.”
She practically dragged her father out of his chair and into the kitchen. Mrsha followed, waddling a bit with her full belly and standing upright so the food wouldn’t come out if she fell over. Fals took that moment to flee for the outhouse, leaving Ryoka in a moment’s reprieve.
Well, Viceria was still there. Ryoka eyed her across the table and saw the woman smile.
“I apologize for my husband, Miss Ryoka.”
“It’s uh, fine. Call me Ryoka. Why do I get the feeling that he doesn’t like me?”
Viceria laughed softly. She looked like she was ten years younger than she was, which was, according to Garia, in her thirties. Ryoka was having a hard time imagining her giving birth to Garia. Oh, the features were there, the hair color was the same, but the body shape—no.
“I think that it’s because you look a lot like the girls that used to give Garia a hard time when she was growing up. You have their look, and I think Wailant’s concerned you might be taking advantage of Garia. I won’t pretend I didn’t have the same thoughts when I met young Fals, but he seems decent enough.”
That clarified some things. Ryoka sat back in her chair, hearing Garia’s not-so-quiet argument with her father about much the same subject in the kitchen.
“Oh? What do I look like?”
Viceria shrugged, looking slightly bitter.
“Tall, beautiful, thin. It’s not as if Garia doesn’t look lovely herself, but she thinks she should look more like me, when she inherited her father’s build. And of course, her first class was [Farmer], not [Mage]…”
“Wait, her class?”
Ryoka frowned. Viceria looked surprised.
“Of course. Don’t you know? Some classes dictate the way in which we, well, look. I am a [Mage], for instance. Working with magic means I tend to look younger than I really am—of course, there are spells that help as well. But [Mages] tend towards thinness. We burn too much energy for most of us to gain weight. Whereas classes like [Farmer], well, anyone who grows up with that class tends to grow a lot larger than say, someone who was raised as a [Clerk].”
Was that really true? Ryoka frowned as she tried to unpack this. The way you looked could tie to your class? She could buy the bit about [Mages] burning energy, but surely broad shoulders were in Garia’s genes, not a byproduct of her class. Then again, this was a world governed by Skills. Why couldn’t there be a passive effect that did just that?
“I didn’t know about classes like that. But Garia and I are, well, friends. She made my acquaintance and we’ve hung out. I wouldn’t ever take advantage of her. She’s a good person.”
“We know. But while she doesn’t say it, we’ve heard her talking about people less kind than you two are. We’ve met some of them before, as well.”
Viceria shook her head, looking troubled.
“Some girls seem to think they’re better than Garia just because they weigh less, or they can run faster. Apparently, Garia isn’t well thought of in the Runner’s Guild.”
The same in every world. Ryoka gritted her teeth. She took a breath, and then looked Viceria in the eye, speaking clearly.
“I think Garia’s worth twice as much as other City Runners. She’s had my back in two fights so far, and both times she didn’t hesitate to help me, even when we were fighting a group of adventurers.”
The woman blinked at her.
“Garia? In a fight?”
“What?”
There was an exclamation from the kitchen. Ryoka turned her head and saw Wailant, holding a pot full of custard. Behind him, Garia buried her face in her hands.
Wailant put the pot on the table and turned to face Ryoka. He wasn’t frowning, although he did loom a bit.
“Are you telling me my girl was in a fight?”
Ryoka leaned back a bit. This was going south. She wondered if she could jump out a window with Mrsha if it came to it.
“Yes, Mister Wailant. It was my fault. She was defending me after some idiots picked a fight and—”
“How’d she do?”
Wailant stared at Ryoka. She froze. He stared at her expectantly, as did Viceria.
“Did she knock anyone down? How many folks were in it? Did she kick anyone in the balls? I told her, that’s the way to start and end a fight in a hurry.”
“Dad!”
Ryoka stared at Wailant. She felt like she was running on the wrong track—she’d felt that way the instant she’d met Garia’s parents. But for the first time, she felt like she could see the right way to talk to him. So she sat up in her chair, smiled a bit, and nodded at Garia, who was red as an apple.
“One punch, Mister Wailant. She took out a Bronze-rank adventurer with one hit. She probably would have done the same to his friends, but the Watch broke things up before we could get to it.”
The fight at the inn with the adventurers that Persua had brought came out over dessert. Ryoka sat at the table, eating lightly spiced custard while Mrsha licked two bowls clean and then lapsed into a food coma. Fals came back, and Garia covered her burning face as her two parents heard both times when Garia had stepped up in a physical way to defend Ryoka.
The mood in the room had changed. Wailant was nodding with fierce, fatherly pride and Viceria was smiling as they heard how Garia had knocked out her opponents with one hit on both occasions.
“That’s my girl. One solid punch is all you need. Once the other fellow’s on the floor, a few good kicks and they’re out for good.”
He jabbed out with a fast punch to demonstrate, nearly clipping Fals. Ryoka grinned at him as Viceria filled her bowl with some more custard.
“You’re pretty proud of Garia for fighting. I would have thought you’d be worried.”
“Worried? Hah! Our daughter’s got [Enhanced Strength]! At her age, no less! She could knock out an ox with her fists if she wanted to.”
“Dad! Stop! Come on!”
“I don’t doubt she could. But Garia’s no fighter. She’s a [Runner].”
Wailant ignored his daughter as she tried to kick him underneath the table.
“Yes, but she’s my daughter, and that mean’s she’s got a warrior’s blood in her veins. She’s more than a match for a green-ass adventurer who doesn’t know the handle of his sword from the blade.”
Ryoka eyed Wailant, askance.
“I thought you were a [Farmer].”
He grinned at her, suddenly chummy.
“I am. But I used to fight for a living.”
“Really now?”
“Oh yes. I was a [Sailor]. Haven’t you seen the tattoos? I used to sail across the world, to all five continents!”
He flexed one bicep to show Ryoka the image of the tentacle grabbing the ship. She’d hardly missed it, but all the pieces suddenly fell into place. Well, some of them at least.
Fals blinked at Wailant.
“You were a [Sailor]? How’d you end up here?”
Wailant opened his mouth, but his wife cut in.
“My husband’s not a sailor, Fals. I’m sorry to say that’s the little lie he likes to tell. He did sail, but he was hardly an honest man.”
“Yeah, Dad. Tell the truth!”
Garia glared at Wailant, who protested.
“I was a [Sailor]!”
Two pairs of female eyes stared at him. He sighed.
“No? Fine. I was a [Pirate]. Happy?”
Both Ryoka and Fals’ mouths dropped open. Mrsha rolled over in her seat, oblivious, but suddenly Wailant the [Farmer] became someone else. He sat back in his chair, the custard forgotten and started telling the two Runners about his past.
“Oh yes, I was a [Pirate]. What, you think I got these scars from pulling up potatoes? Well, this one I got from killing a Creler. Nasty bastards—as bad as anything at sea, that’s the truth! But I took my first step on the deck. My family was from Baleros—yes, they were [Pirates] too. It’s in the blood, not that I knew them. My father died at sea before I was born and my mother died in a battle when I was five. I had two brothers and a sister—can’t tell you where they are. But I learned to fight and got my share of the plunder as soon as I could use a sword.”
The world was a funny place. Ryoka knew you could meet all kinds of people in her world, people who lived in quiet places who had all kinds of amazing stories to tell. But this? Wailant had been a [Pirate]. He’d sailed under a ruthless [Pirate Captain], taken down enemy ships, fought in the worst storms against monsters, even battled with a group of Gold-rank adventurers who’d been after his ship!
He’d been a Level 27 [Pirate] when he quit sailing for good and found an honest ship headed for Izril. Not because he’d lost his ship or run into any bad luck either—he’d retired as wealthy as any Gold-rank adventurer. But he hadn’t stayed at sea like the rest of his crew.
“I got sick of rocking ships, the damp, salt in my hair and thousands of glowing eyes watching me from the waters on bad nights. Out there in the depths of the sea…I could have become a [Storm Sailor], or a [Captain] of my own ship had I wanted to. But I chose land instead. Do I have regrets? Perhaps. I could have had a ship of my own, but you see, I knew in my heart that I was making the right choice…”
Both Garia and her mother rolled their eyes as Wailant went on. They’d heard this story a thousand times, probably inflated no end over the years. But Ryoka and Fals were entranced. Fals broke in as Wailant waxed poetical about nights spent on deck, staring up at the stars.
“How’d you end up around here though, so far from the sea?”
The man grimaced.
“Practicality. The vast amount of my fortune went to clearing the bounty on my head. What I had left I used to buy a farm, and then to pay for food and supplies for the first few years before I leveled up enough to make a living with my own hands. I bought it far inland because I was sick of seeing water—and because I had more than a few enemies who would like to see me dead. I thought a farm would be nice and relaxing—and it was, after I learned how to manage it!”
The first few years had not been kind to Wailant, but he’d persevered, not shying from the work.
“Plus, I had my advantages. I couldn’t figure out how to make the damn oxen plough a straight line for months, but I didn’t have to stick together in a village, afraid of monsters at night. If a band of Goblins came roaming around, or a Creler tried to dig a nest in my lands, I’d kill it with this!”
He had a cutlass, shimmering with an enchantment that he apparently kept with him while farming at all times. He’d looted it as his share of treasure long ago, and it had saved his life more than once on the farm.
“It’s also how I met Viceria. She was a Wistram graduate, trying to study the Blood Fields when she ran into a group of Carn Wolves. I found her escort dead and killed two of the damn things before the pack ran off. She and I got to talking, and well, nights are cold on a farm.”
“Ew! Dad!”
Garia shoved her father, sending him tumbling across the room. He cursed like a sailor—or pirate—as he got to his feet, and Ryoka sat back in her chair. That explained…a lot.
“That’s incredible. And you—Miss Viceria—”
“Just call me Viceria. That’s right. I stayed. I’m an expert at magic involving plants. I’m no [Geomancer], but rather a [Green Mage]. That’s different from a [Druid], by the way. I’m a respectable level in that, but I found being a [Farmer] far easier than competing at Wistram. There’s not much respect for disciplines involving growing, or there wasn’t when I lived there.”
And so, the incredible farming duo had been born. Neither Wailant nor Viceria were specialists in the [Farmer] class like the Level 30 [Farmers] who could supply an entire city with produce, but they had their own skillsets that helped a great deal.
“Most farms, well, they need two dozen farmhands just to harvest and guards and so on. Even a high-level [Farmer] has to be wary of bandits and monsters. I don’t have that issue, and my wife has the spells to grow crops faster than normal, as good as a Skill! Between the two of us, we supply a good deal of produce for Celum. Enough to live comfortably on and I can always hire a few brats to take in the harvest when it comes time for it. Besides, the farming life’s fairly quiet, and I enjoy not fighting for my life every other day.”
Wailant and Viceria smiled as they looked at each other. Garia looked away, blushing, but Ryoka felt a bit envious. Wailant had seen the kraken—literally, apparently—and walked away. He’d found a way to live that was satisfying and he’d found someone to share it with.
She took a sip of mulled wine. By this point, everyone was sitting around a dim fire. Mrsha was curled up next to it, snoring, and Garia was yawning. As Fals and Ryoka chatted to her parents, Garia grew sleepier, until she had to excuse herself for the night.
“I might have to do the same.”
Fals admitted after a jaw-cracking yawn. He stood up as Viceria offered to show him to the room they’d prepared for him. She, Garia, and Fals left as Wailant sat by Ryoka, staring at the fire. Viceria came back alone, and that left Ryoka with the two older Stronghearts.
She didn’t mind. It was odd, but in the course of an evening, Wailant and Viceria had turned from intimidating, antagonistic parents into, well, people. Ryoka even found herself liking Wailant’s style of dressing. Apparently he couldn’t live with sleeves after having bared arms all his life.
“It’s an incredible place you have here, Wailant, Viceria. I’m glad Garia’s got such great parents.”
“Hah. Great parents would be able to help their daughter. But she’s a [Runner] and we’ve no idea if she’s safe or in danger half the time. It’s only when she comes back that we know she’s safe, and she does that too seldom.”
Wailant sat with a stiff drink in his hand. He’d already downed six, having an incredibly high tolerance for alcohol, but he was in the depressed stage. Viceria sat with wine by the fire, glancing between it and at Ryoka.
