Camoa #9 – Final Fantasy

The main street was too broad to allow the buildings to give any reasonable shade at this time of day, but many shops had sheets of canvas stretching out from their roofs, allowing use of the main street throughout the day without being roasted alive. Bangaas generally did not have those problems, but Monid still tried to stick to the shade. As was to be expected of a city in Jylland, many different races wandered the streets , usually in packs of their own kin. Clan-members were outliers, wandering around in mixed groups. Vierans exploring away from their woods, seeqs grunting in the heat, moogles trying to make sure of being spotted despite their small stature. There were even a few grias about, the warrior women belying their fierce nature by chatting, presumably, about some garment in their own tongue. As for the shops, they were largely run by humans, with a few seeq, a nu-mou and a moogle introducing some variety. But the shop Monid need was supposed to be in one of the many alleys branching off from the main street. Following directions from the moogle shop, Monid quickly discovered what had been meant by ‘a prominent sign’. Calling it a two-handed greataxe would not be correct. The rusting monstrosity that was placed in front of the shop was easily 3 meters tall, and the axe-head was easily as broad as Monid. He shuddered to think of the beast that would be able to lift it, let alone fight with it. The building had no windows beyond a small viewing slit in the door, so he could only assume the owner was in. Shaking away the spectacle, he stepped up to the door and knocked. Waiting a few seconds, he opened the door and stepped in.

The inside of the shop was lit by an aging magicite lamp, casting the interior in a vague yellow lighting. Relics from many parts of the Loar continent were on display in small glass cases. Weapons, pieces of armour, old books, statue-pieces, anything you could fit into a small glass case. Behind the counter sat a nu-mou tapping a pipe impatiently on the wooden desk in front of him.

“I rarely sell my wares to street-wanderers, young bangaa. So I would like to ask your business in my establishment.”. Monid responded by holding his sash up in front of him, showing the clan symbol. “Monid Faas Sphrom, of the clan ‘Hearth of Home’. I have been told you completed a request of ours.” Monid put the contents of his parcel on the desk, shoving the page with the item-description towards the nu-mou. “Ah yes, the Ragnarok sword.” he replied after a quick glance at the page. “A good meter of brass-adamantoise alloy, supple salamander leather on the handle and a cut aquamarine in the pommel.” the shop owner stepped down from what elevated position he had behind the desk and produced a ring of keys from a pocket in his robe. “One of my foreign partners were hunting a Mark in a Jagd when they came upon some colleagues. Or rather, former colleagues. They had no further need for their belongings, so my partners brought them back to civilisation, and this particular sword,” he unlocked a long wooden crate on the floor. “ would not see any use in their particular troop, so they sold it on to me. Here you go.” Kneeling, the nu-mou retrieved the sword from the straw bedding. Monid was impressed the shop-owner could lift it. Brass-adamantoise alloy was not among the lightest of materials, and nu-mou were not exactly known for their physical strength. Accepting the proffered handle, Monid held it in his claws, testing the weight and balance. It was about what he expected. It weighed more than his previous sword, an iron broadsword from the clan-compound in Morabella, but the balance was nigh-perfect. There was also a hint of menace when he held the blade, possibly originating from the enchantments in the blade, but he paid it no heed. Satisfied that it fit all the qualities expected of it, Monid produced the gil-pouch from his belt. “You have delivered the requested item, so here is the second part of the payment, two-thousand gil, as agreed with my clan.”

The nu-mou bowed while accepting the payment. “My thanks. I would appreciate it you would send my regards to your clan leaders as well. Doing business with the ‘Hearth of Home’ is a pleasure I would like to repeat. Clans have changed in recent years, but yours is still honourable.”

Monid sheathed the sword. It fit perfectly. “I will.” Closing the door behind him, Monid began the walk back to the compound.

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