Gear (Part 1)

The weather-beaten sign hanging down from the wooden roof of the squat stone building read “Adventuring Supplies”. There were no opening times posted in the barred, thickly curtained windows or on the iron-bound door. This was frontier country and if a group of adventurers was on its way to the village – which was called Penrik's Rest, but not for the reason you might think – and then on to the wild lands, there'd be plenty of warning from the towns nearer to civilisation. By signal fire or pigeon or magical message. And if the adventurers were travelling in the opposite direction, having survived their expedition, they'd have little need of supplies, so the store might as well stay closed.

The owner and sole operator of the business was August September. He was of medium height and build, with brown hair and eyes, and plain features. He dressed in simple clothes, more like those of a farmer than a merchant. There was something about him, though... Something about the lightness of his movement, the keenness of his gaze and the smile always lurking at the corners of his mouth. It was as if his body was a perfectly fitting disguise and wearing it was a constant source of amusement to him. Privately, people might have suggested he had elf blood, had all of those tricksters not been exterminated centuries before. Whatever August's origins, his range of gear and level of knowledge were unmatched, making Penrik's Rest one of the most popular foray points into the wild lands in all of the kingdom.

Overnight, word had reached August that a band of adventurers was en route from Mossbridge, which is why sunrise found him unlocking the iron-bound door and opening one set of the thick curtains. It didn't do to let too much sun into the place as there were things that could spoil or even explode. There were also things liable to complain about their slumber being disturbed. That was a peculiarity of the shop – items were grouped together by what they were, not whether they were expensive or enchanted. A jewelled rapier that solved riddles in an aristocratic accent hung between a pair of common longswords. A potion of troll control sat next to a bottle of hay fever remedy. A map leading to the greatest treasure horde for miles around was currently being used as a bookmark in a collection of romantic poetry.

August liked things this way for a few reasons. He liked it because he believed keeping all of one's valuable possessions together was doing half of a thief's work for them. He liked it because it wasn't always obvious which items were powerful and which ordinary. Seeing where a customer's eye or hand were drawn gave him vital information about them. The third reason August liked having all of his stock on view at all times was because that's what worked for him. As far as anyone knew, he'd never been robbed, despite living alone in the back of the building and dealing with adventurers – that exceedingly dangerous and desperate breed – on a regular basis. They were wrong, of course, but his losses were rare and he hid them well.