Irolt has an Awkward Conversation

Nestled into the vast greenery of hills was a small city called Irolladice, which was shady in every sense of the word. The surrounding landscape blocked it from view on most sides, and there was a busy, secretive energy that seemed to thrum through the very streets themselves. The traveling party made their arrival in the late, late afternoon, just as the sky was preparing to don its evening colors.

They had been walking in silence for some time. Irolt’s sour mood had not done them any favors, and after Belthor’s near death experience there had been a palpable sense of discomfort on the road. Even the dog had quit trying to sing or converse, falling into a sullen silence for which the half-dwarf felt almost entirely responsible.

I am not making the best impression with Franza.

It was too late to make a good first impression with the dog, but since they seemed determined to stick with him and Belthor, Irolt felt like it may be in his best interest to bridge the gap between them. If it was at all possible. He could think of no better way to do this than to invite the dog to accompany him on his personal errand once they were in the city limits.

“Hey,” he started, not missing the fact that the dog jumped a bit at his words. “I’m going to go check out the plaza, see if there’s somewhere that sells blacksmithing supplies. Do you want to come, or-”

He was not given a chance to finish the question before Franza cut him off, their weight shifting nervously from one back paw to the other. “I can’t. I’ve got to get to the inn like, right now.”

Irolt was asking the question before he had the opportunity to decide if he really wanted an answer. “What do you need to do at the inn?”

“I need to get laid.”

Nope.

“You need to-”

“Get laid. Yeah. Like, right now.”

Irolt didn’t know how to respond to that. He stared at the dog blankly, trying to process this piece of information that he hadn’t ever wanted about his companion. Franza wasn’t going to wait for it to register, for which he was grateful.

“So I’ll catch up with you later?” They asked, already moving toward the far side of the plaza where an inn could clearly be seen. “Right now, I’ve really got to go.”

It was only after their white fur had completely vanished into the crowd that Irolt was able to regain his bearings enough to turn to Belthor. “What was that about?”

Belthor seemed to be more amused than anything. “They need to get laid, I guess.”

“Yeah, but, who just says that?”

“Franza, apparently.”

“I wish they wouldn’t.”

Belthor shrugged. “We’ve all been there.”

Irolt shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what things were like in Franza’s dog village, but he had been raised in a place where people’s private lives were kept somewhat private. He absolutely couldn’t relate to the need to share information that personal with people he barely knew and would be stuck traveling with. “I haven’t.”

“Well.” There was so much meaning behind the word, but Irolt couldn’t fathom what any of it was.

“Well what?”

“Franza’s more… open than you.”

“There are some things that don’t need talked about,” he said shortly. He could feel himself getting frustrated at the conversation, and felt the need to escape it. He started walking down the dirt street once more, scanning the signs outside the establishments in the plaza. They were all done in pictures, so he kept his eyes peeled for one that might have an anvil or a hammer.

Hat. Bread. Cauldron.

“It’s a thing friends talk about.”

“And?” Irolt challenged.

“Nothing,” Belthor said. “Just noticing.”

Fish. Book. Another fish.

Irolt was content not to talk about relationships, or anything related. He was not the sort of person who could ever strike up casual flings with women he met on the road, and he’d had shit luck when it came to putting down roots anywhere. There was no point in pursuing the idea until he had the other aspects of his life sorted out. Even then he doubted if it was the sort of thing that would interest him.

Fleetingly, he recalled that there had been a girl he’d found beautiful, back in his youth. That had been back before his mind and heart had been set on revenge. He was a different person now, and couldn’t see what had attracted him so in the visage of her half-remembered face. She was likely dead now, alongside everyone else he had known.

No, he thought. I don’t imagine I’ll ever have that sort of connection with someone.

He reaffirmed what he’d already known; that the topic was best left avoided altogether. He stopped outside a small shop with no windows when he saw the sign out front displayed a forge.

“Are you coming in?”

“No,” answered Belthor, perhaps sensing that Irolt’s mood had turned for the worse yet again. “I’m going to head back to the magic shop and stock up on some potions. I’ll meet you here after?”

“Sure,” he said, and entered the shop.

What he hoped for going in was a forge space he could rent, and a good supply of materials he could purchase. The supplies were plentiful, but expensive, and unnecessary without a forge, which the seller could not offer. It didn’t seem practical to just buy supplies to cart around with him until he was able to use them, but after the day he’d had he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving empty handed.

He compromised on a small crate of miscellaneous supplies. It contained a couple ingots of varying ores, a whetstone,some unrefined gems,an assortment of steel brackets, and even a few small shards of endite.

He didn’t know if or when he’d get the chance to use any of his new acquisitions, but he felt all the better for having them in his possession. He sat on the stoop outside and looked over the contents of the crate, imagining what he would make when he got the chance. Those were the thoughts that kept his mind occupied when he was lonely, and he hoped that they would be enough company for a lifetime.