Chapter 14.2: Penny's Business

Snowblind Peaks was a norn village best known for the fighting pits on its northern edge, or so Penny had told Minkus before they arrived. Though the structures were huge, accommodating norn proportions, the village itself seemed rather quaint: just a few buildings providing little more than brews, meats, and beds for the warriors who came to try themselves against beasts of various kinds. It still sounded like an interesting place to Minkus. Most did.

As the four travelers finally approached the village some time after sunset, Snowblind Peaks gave them exactly what its name promised. Throughout their afternoon’s journey up the mountain, the wind never let up, throwing snow from both above and below into their faces, but here it had gotten worse, lashing at them with near blinding force, making an already long day’s trek even longer and even less bearable. No one complained as much as Skixx, but even Minkus had been anxious to get out of the cold. It was only behind the towering wooden doors of the village tavern that they finally found relief. The screech of the frozen iron hinges and the howl of the wind were the last things they heard of the outside world.

Inside, a crackling pig rotated on a spit in the central hearth. Two young norn men sat hunched at a low table, having discussion over a flagon of something, and across the room, the norn woman who appeared to be the lady of the establishment waved them toward a table as she got some wooden steins together. Like goslings shedding their down, the group shook off their accumulated snow and made their way to the table marked out for them.

“Harsh day to be traveling,” the tavernkeep observed as she arrived and set flagons down before her guests. “Not even our regulars are coming out this way right now. This should warm smaller folk like you right up, though.” Minkus and Ventyr silently nodded their gratitude, unable to say a whole lot else at the moment.

They all began to strip off their belongings and outerwear beside the table, except for Penny, who only took off her smartpack, throwing back a last swig of her flask and dropping it to the table. “Could you tell me where to find Sigmund Boersson?” she asked the woman who towered above her even when hunched over the table.

“Sigmund? The keeper?”

“Keeper?” Penny asked, pausing to blow into her icy hands. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know. Big, old guy with gray, braided hair. Face looks pale as ice. Never laughs.”

The large woman’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned. “Never laughs? You’ve obviously never seen him with his grandchildren. But yes, same person. Might be up at the pits still, just up the road.” She gestured toward the northern wall of the tavern. “Why do you ask?”

“Business associate,” Penny said obtusely.

The norn nodded. “He stops in here most nights before heading home, love. Frail thing like you, I wouldn’t go out there again unless absolutely necessary.”

“I made it this far. And I’ve waited long enough.” Penny raised her collar as high as it would go around her cheeks and stuffed her scarf into it. Minkus only barely heard her muffled words, “I’m getting this over with.” She turned and strode intently out the door, wisps of snow circling briefly around it as it closed. They all looked on for a moment after she left.

“Spirited,” the tavernkeep observed.

“You have no idea,” Ventyr replied.

“So,” the woman continued, returning her attention to the party at the table. “Other than the brandywine, what can I get you folks to warm you up?”

The three of them sat for an hour by themselves. Across the room from the only other two patrons in the tavern, they enjoyed their silent reprieve, which was to say nothing of the brandywine. Minkus had never tasted the likes of it: rich and fruity, spiced, and malty to the point of being filling, or at least it would have been, were he not so painfully hungry from travel. He solved the latter problem with half a roast chicken.

At first it was strange to be in a norn tavern that wasn’t overcrowded with bodies and sound, like Hronnson’s, but eventually Minkus settled in to it and appreciated the peace. The pop of the fire and creak of structural timbers pressed by the wind outside were the only sounds he, Ventyr, and Skixx had to contend with as they nestled themselves into the furs that lined their rough wooden booth. In truth, the sounds were a soothing reminder of the great contrast between the glowing warmth inside and the frigid storm outside.

Minkus was nearly asleep in the booth when the door creaked open and Penny slipped through the crack and back into the fire-lit room. He awoke to the sound of her stomping the snow off her boots.

“You three look cozy,” she remarked with a sneer and a shiver.

“So?” Minkus asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Was he upset?”

Removing a glove before anything else, Penny had already grabbed a half-eaten roll from the remnants of Ventyr’s plate, dipped it in some kind of now cold gravy, and jammed it gracelessly into her mouth as she fell onto the bench seat beside Skixx. Long since done with their meals, all of them just watched her.

Through her chewing, she answered, “You bet he was. Not like I thought, though.” She flagged down the tall norn tavernkeep and gestured for a drink before continuing. “Apparently the turrets were meant for his grandkids—not weapons at all. Something about a game the villages play, snowball contest or something. I don’t know. It explains the funny dimensions and loading mechanisms. Still sounds ridiculous.” After quickly shimmying out of her coat, she reached for the chicken leg still on Minkus’ plate, which he pushed closer toward her. “Anyway, I offered to do the job again, but he wouldn’t hear anything. I gave him back his deposit, and he stomped off back toward the raptors, muttering something about worthless humans and only doing business in Hoelbrak. The guy’s a raptor-keeper apparently. Wouldn’t have taken him for a bird— reptile— whatever-lover.” She took a deep bite out of the remaining meat on that leg.

“So, it’s done?” Minkus asked.

She nodded in acquiescence. “Yeah. I hate losing a payday, but he can have it as he wants it. At least he’s not a reacher.”

“Reacher?” Minkus asked, squinting. “What would he be reaching for?”

Penny stared at him, but only for a moment before taking another bite and responding between chews. “No, Biggie, a reacher: someone from Divinity’s Reach.”

The thoughts quickly congealed in his mind. “Oh, right, a reacher,” he said, a sunny grin suddenly painting his face. “Well, you do have the Vigil contract now.”

She looked back at him, not reciprocating his optimistic expression as the tavernkeep brought her a flagon foaming over the top.

“Why does the buyer’s geographic location matter?” Skixx asked, leaning back against the booth and away from the woman beside him.

“Because,” she said, pausing to grab and gulp the brandywine before her, “an unhappy customer in the Reach tells other people in the Reach, people I want to do business with, and suddenly I have no clients. Pissed people get yappy, especially norn.” Penny paused again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You should know that, Moptop. With your metal gig.”

“Yes,” Skixx spluttered. “Of course, everyone knows good word of mouth is important to customer acquisition.” He quieted a moment, crossing his arms and gaining his usual air of competence before continuing. “My own business operates entirely on word of mouth, but it tends to happen across borders, far beyond Rata Sum. My clientele often comes from locations I’ve never seen, much like my current buyer.” Skixx paused, looking more curiously at Penny. “You however seem exceptionally interested in local business.”

She shrugged. “I like to stay close to home.”

“But business opportunities expand commensurately with regional expansion. A person of your— talent,” he said, seeming to choke on that word. “You could advance yourself far faster if you took advantage of more distant opportunities.”

Penny peered at him over the flagon in her hand. “You mean like this opportunity?”

“Well yes,” he conceded. “As you explained it earlier, this is a bad example, but—”

“Look,” she said, swallowing a gulp and putting the cup back on the table. “Shit happens when you try for too much, Moptop. I knew better, but the money was too good. You find your place, build up the little life you can, and hold on tight to what’s yours so you don’t lose it. I don’t need more; I just want what’s mine.”

For reasons he couldn’t name, Penny’s simple sentiment made Minkus’ stomach tighten. Frowning, he looked down at the wood table for a moment, recognizing the sensation as sorrow, though he didn’t understand why he felt it. He looked back up to find Skixx analyzing his friend, gazing at her intently as the sounds of the crackling hearth once again took over the room. She took another drink, not looking back at him.

“‘What’s yours exactly?’” Skixx asked, breaking the momentary silence again. “Are you referring to your engineering shop in Divinity’s Reach, the one you’re renting from that Krytan man?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Only one I have,” she said sourly.

“You seem very protective of it,” Skixx observed, leaning forward to the table again. “From our previous conversations, I mean.” He shrugged nonchalantly but seemed very intentional with his next words. “Your place, your little life— it’s quite important to you, isn’t it?”

She drained the flagon and looked at him, her eyes softer than Minkus had expected to see. “It’s everything.”

Skixx nodded, continuing to study her as she she returned to picking remnants of hash from Ventyr’s plate.

In the trailing quiet, Minkus turned his attention to the sylvari, suddenly recognizing Ventyr’s presence again. He’d sat silently through the conversation since Penny had returned, nestled in the shadow cast by firefight against the booth’s backrest, his faint, green glow more visible than any part of his orange complexion.

“Are you alright?” Minkus asked, nudging him.

Ventyr shook his head, seemingly awake once more to the people around him. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m fine. This trip is just taking its toll.”

The asura put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, I think we all understand.”