FFXIV Write: 02 – Bolt
noun
http://www.dictionary.com
a length of woven goods, especially as it comes on a roll from the loom.
Warm Thanalan sunlight lanced down over the sandstone walls of the Jewel of the Desert, painting the streets of Ul’dah with its pale, yellow glow. Along with that golden shroud came the oppressive desert heat that made Katja’s ears tilt backward against her hair. “IhateUl’dahIhateUl’dahIhateUl’dah…” She muttered to herself almost like a mantra to remind herself just how much she disliked the city and its climes.
Turning the corner onto Sapphire Avenue, she ran headlong into the din of commerce that buzzed in the air. Hawkers cried their wares up and down the lane while merchants called shoppers to their stalls.
“Come, come, I have the finest figs and pistachios! Fit for the Sultana’s table, but on sale here just for yours!” Cried one man, his stall festooned with produce of varying kinds. The fruit and vegetables at the top and forefront of his tables seemed fresh, vibrant, and inviting but as Katja watched, she could see him occasionally turn and shoo away droves of fruit flies that hovered over the items stowed toward the back. No doubt the Thanalan heat was taking its toll upon such delicate victuals and the man was eager to be parted with them before they spoiled. Deceitful.
“Look, gentle patron, how the gems and jewels shine and catch the eye! A suitable gift for that Special Someone in your life — or perhaps a little treat for yourself!” A fetching blonde-haired woman called from another stall down the way. Whenever people stopped to gawk and asked after the make or the materials, the woman would divert their attention to another piece or shower them with compliments on how beautiful their selection would be when worn. Never once did the woman deign to answer their questions. She was clearly planted by whomever actually owned the jeweler, meant to entice customers to the table with her charisma. Not a bad plan, but also slightly useless if she couldn’t answer the customers’ questions enough to interest them in buying. A potentially costly mistake for the merchant behind such underhanded sales tactics.
Ahh, Ul’dah, never change — where an honest merchant is such a rarity. Katja thought sardonically, a droll smirk crossing her face as her ears tilted back a slight degree. Her tufted tail switch-backed as she made her way through the press of patronage, sometimes shoving her way past some of the taller denizens. It wasn’t until she broke free of the throng that she took pause long enough to take her bearings. She was supposed to meet Tora at the Gate of Nald, which she knew to be at the other end of the Exchange. She just had to get there. Steeling herself for the next leg of her journey through the second half of the busy market street, she took a deep breath and pressed forward.
Elbowing and shoving her way through the crowd, she paid little attention to those she jostled or offended as was often her wont to do. She didn’t much care for people she knew nothing about, so it never mattered to her who she left upset or angry in her wake. However, as she elbowed a roegadyn in the midsection, there was a disgruntled growl and a meaty hand caught the back of her poncho before hefting her bodily off the ground.
“Hey, what…?!” She exclaimed, squirming to try and escape her captor’s hand. It only served to send her spinning on the axis that was her own clothing, twisting her around to face a very large and rather incensed fighter. The sword at his belt and the shield on his back were both well-scarred, speaking of plenty of experience in dealing out pain.
“Excuse ya, y’rude pipsqueak.” He grumbled, lifting her higher so that she was face-to-face with him. “Y’shouldn’ be elbowin’ people and actin’ like yer business ‘ere is more impor’n than other folks. Yer just a rough-walkin’ sod like the rest o’ us.”
“You’re one to talk!” Katja spat, her ears pinning back against her red-brown hair as her viridian eyes glinted with hostility. “How’s it any less rude to pick someone up like they’re naught more than a sack of grain? You could’ve just tapped me on the shoulder if you wanted a godsdamned apology!” In a fury, the spitfire little catte jerked her knee upward and with the advantageous position the roegadyn had lifted her into, it caught right on the tip of his chin and send his head snapping backward alarmingly.
It served the purpose of getting him to let her go, sending her sprawling to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and took off running into the crowd, hoping to get out of the roegadyn’s line of sight. She wasn’t often one to run from a fight, but this seemed like one she couldn’t win in the crowded market, not without toasting a few innocent bystanders. Not one to involve others in her quarrels, Katja felt it best to make herself scarce. Or so she thought.
Clang! The roegadyn’s shield made impact with her back, right between her shoulder blades. It sent her flying off to one side, crashing into a vendor’s stall and knocking everything from shelves to tentpoles akimbo. Brightly colored tapestry from the stall’s awning collapsed around them as a hrothgar merchant blustered in protest. Part of the awning tapestry undulated as the merchant clawed his way to freedom, moving a few fulms out into the street to survey the wreckage that was his stall.
Katja managed to crawl out one side of the collapsed stall, lying on her stomach on the sandstone cobbles as she gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of her from the unexpected attack. Even as she lay there, the roegadyn bulled his way through the crowd to face the hrothgar merchant who rounded on him.
“Is this your doing? Look at my stall! Just who is going to pay for the damages?” The lion-man trudged over to the shield that now lay in the middle of the street, the crowd beginning to stop and watch the altercation with both curiosity and an eagerness of children expecting a schoolyard brawl.
“Wot?” The fighter protested, taking back his shield with a hesitant hand in the face of the hrothgar’s ire. “That li’l ragamuffin started it…!” A cursory glance was spared to the collapsed vendor stall, the roegadyn seeking Katja’s form amid the wreckage. Spotting her, he pointed. “Tha’s ‘er, right there. Li’l wench kneed me right in the face!”
The hrothgar placed his hands on his hips, regarding the man chidingly. “Oh, aye? And just how did she do that? Leap up like a gazelle? She’s half your height, man. You’re going to have to weave a tale better than that if you think to find yourself blameless. Now, that’ll be ten thousand gil for the damage done. You’re lucky it’s not more.”
“Ten thousand?!” Flabberghasted, the roegadyn could only stare at the hrothgar in disbelief. “T’ain’t got that kinda money! ‘Aven’ even ‘ad m’first bout in the Coliseum yet! Make the girl pay, she started it.”
Sighing, the hrothgar adjusted a pair of spectacles that perched on his broad leonine nose. “Honestly… You shouldn’t go about making a fine mess of a man’s livelihood if you aren’t prepared to pay for it. Now get out of here before I call the Brass Blades and have you arrested.” He made a shooing motion toward the roegadyn, like a farmwife ushering chickens out of her yard. The roegadyn could do little more than comply in the face of that.
Once he was sure the fighter was gone, the merchant approached Katja and gingerly took her by one arm to pick her up. Katja dazedly tried to apologize to which the man shook his head. “Nay, girl, nay. I saw the whole thing. You did no more than what a thousand people do to get through the market on a daily basis. The man took offense from something so minor and then took it a step further when you did naught but defend yourself against a complete stranger twice your size.”
Feet regained, Katja looked between the man and his stall. “Still, you’re right, you deserve compensation for what’s happened here today. For my part in it, I’ll give you the ten thousand.” It’d sting her coin purse a bit, and it would mean less to send home to mother this moon, but she wouldn’t be indebted to someone if she didn’t have to be.
“How about you just help me set it back to rights and we’ll call your part even?” The leonine man said with a kindly air, moving over to grab one of the poles for the canopy and shifting it to set it aright again. Awning drawn taut, he nodded to the opposite corner. “If you’ll get that one, Miss.”
Katja hopped-to, going over to shift the support pole back in place which drew the other side of the awning tight. She shoved the pole back into the hole drilled into the ground for such purpose. It was then that she got to survey the mess that was the merchant’s stall.
Bolts of cloth billowed in the few breezes that managed to waltz down Sapphire Avenue, ghostly wisps of colorful Thavnairian silk wound around coarse rolls of simple linen and worsted wool. Lengths of ribbon ran criss-cross over the sandstone cobbles, spools having fallen and rolled out of the vendor box. Katja was careful not to step on any of it, gathering them up one bolt or spool at a time and carefully winding them back onto their respective containers. She even made it a point to dust off the gritty sand as she did so, trying to put things back as close to rights as she could manage.
It took the better part of a couple of bells to get it all done, but they managed. At the end of it, the Hrothgar introduced himself as Mithgar Maevsch, so Katja gave him her name in return. “I certainly hope to do proper business with you someday, Miss Armitanis, but rest assured your kindness here will be remembered.” He said, clasping her much smaller hand between his two lion’s paws.
“Midori!” came the call of a familiar voice as Tora came into view from the crowd. “I started to worry when you did not come to the Gate of Nald. I am glad to see you unharmed.” The samurai eyed the cloth merchant with a critical gaze for a moment, something glinting within the cerulean depths of his eyes that bespoke of Trouble that would come if he had an inkling that the merchant had done any harm to his partner.
“No, no, I’m fine, Pancake. I’m fine!” She replied, waving to the merchant as she made her way over. “Just a bit achy from running all around the city. Mind if we take the night off, find something to eat, and maybe let me get a good hot soak in?”
Tora laughed, reaching up a hand to run it through the long length of her ponytail affectionately. “For you, anything, kanojo.” With that, he looped his arms through hers and guided her back the way she’d come, heading for the Hourglass and a well-deserved rest. Gods only knew her shoulders needed it!