Amukelo stood patiently at the counter, his thoughts preoccupied with his journey ahead. After a few moments, the lady behind the counter returned, her expression professional yet tinged with admiration for the feat he had accomplished. She held out a small pouch filled with coins and placed it gently in front of him.
"Here is your reward," she said, her voice warm but businesslike. "Twenty gold coins."
Amukelo accepted the pouch, his face showing no emotion. Twenty gold coins were not as much as he had hoped for, given the size and danger of the Landwyrm. However, he knew that without a specific quest or bounty associated with the kill, it was unrealistic to expect more, even for such a creature. He nodded in acknowledgment, murmuring a quiet "thank you" before turning to leave.
Once outside, Amukelo paused briefly, mentally calculating his current budget. With the addition of these forty coins, Amukelo estimated that he now possessed around two and a half bags of gold. A single bag contained one hundred coins, and while the sum sounded substantial, he knew that the costs of his journey would quickly diminish it.
His armor, though it had served him well, was now in dire need of repair or replacement. The chest and shoulder pieces had borne the brunt of the damage, and while he could still repair them, it was better to replace them because his armor wasn't of top-tier quality. Additionally, his backpack had several holes making it unreliable. Beyond that, he had to refill his stock of healing potions, which had been almost entirely depleted.
But the night was already late, so Amukelo decided to rest before refilling his supplies. The following morning, he asked around for the locations of the shops he would need to visit. His first stop was the armory. The streets of Ansford were already bustling with activity, merchants setting up their stalls, and the aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air as he made his way to the store.
The armory was a sturdy building, its exterior lined with displays of weapons and armor. Inside, the blacksmith's forge crackled and roared, filling the space with heat and the sharp scent of metal. Rows of armor pieces hung on the walls, polished and gleaming, each set meticulously crafted. Amukelo took his time, inspecting the offerings, his keen eye searching for something that would not only offer protection but also allow for the flexibility he needed in combat.
After careful consideration, he selected a new chest plate and shoulder guards. The armor was lighter than what he had previously worn, constructed from a durable yet flexible metal alloy that allowed for a greater range of motion. It wasn't the most expensive set, but it was well-made and suited his needs perfectly. The blacksmith, a burly man with soot-streaked arms, adjusted the pieces for a snug fit, ensuring that they would not impede Amukelo's movements.
Amukelo thanked him before moving on to the next item on his list—a new backpack. He found a leatherworker's shop not far from the armory, the smell of treated hides and oils wafting through the open door.
Inside, the walls were lined with bags, belts, and other leather goods. Amukelo quickly found a sturdy, well-crafted backpack with reinforced seams and multiple compartments. It was larger than his previous one, offering more storage space for the longer journey ahead. The leather was thick yet supple, and the straps were padded for comfort during extended wear.
Satisfied with his purchase, Amukelo left the shop with the new backpack. The next destination was the potion shop. His recent fights had drained his reserves of healing potions, and he knew he couldn't afford to travel without them.
The potion shop was a small, cozy establishment, its shelves lined with bottles of various shapes and sizes, each filled with liquids of different colors and viscosities. The air inside was tinged with the scent of herbs and alchemical reagents. As Amukelo entered, a bell above the door chimed softly, and a slightly older woman behind the counter looked up with a welcoming smile.
"Good day," she greeted him. "How can I assist you?"
Amukelo approached the counter, explaining his need for healing potions. As the woman began to select a few bottles, her eyes fell on his arm, which was still wrapped in a makeshift bandage.
"That arm looks like it's been through quite an ordeal," she remarked with a touch of concern. "If you're buying these potions, I could try to speed up your recovery with a healing spell. No extra charge if you buy five potions."
Amukelo considered the offer. His arm had been healing, but slowly, and any additional help would be welcome. "I'll take the five, then," he agreed.
The woman nodded and began preparing the potions. Each was filled with a shimmering red liquid. Once the potions were neatly packed and handed over to Amukelo, she instructed him to sit on a small bench near the counter.
"This will take just a few moments," she said, her voice gentle as she began the incantation. Her hands glowed with a soft green light, the spell's energy gathering around them.
Amukelo sat still, feeling the warmth of the magic wash over him. The incantation was long, spoken in a language he did not recognize, and as the green light intensified, he felt the pain in his arm begin to ebb. It wasn't entirely gone, but the improvement was significant. He flexed his fingers, testing the range of motion, and found that he could move his arm much more freely now, though a slight pain still lingered.
"It's much better," Amukelo said, genuinely thankful as the woman finished the spell and the green light faded. He could feel the strength returning to his arm, the bones knitting more solidly together.
"Thank you," he said again, deeply appreciative of the help she had provided. With his supplies now restocked and his arm feeling considerably better, he left the shop, stepping back out into the lively streets of Ansford.
His thoughts turned to his next necessity: a map that would cover the entire nation of Elandria.
Amukelo asked a few passersby for directions to a shop that sold maps. After several wrong turns and a few more inquiries, he was finally pointed towards a small, inconspicuous building tucked away on a quieter side street. The shop's exterior was modest, with a sign that simply read "Cartographer's Path" hanging above the door. The building was old, with ivy creeping up its stone walls and a few faded posters advertising past events fluttering in the breeze.
Upon entering, Amukelo was immediately greeted by the scent of aged parchment and ink. The interior of the shop was dimly lit, with sunlight filtering in through narrow windows draped with heavy curtains. Shelves lined the walls, packed with rolled-up maps, atlases, and books. Some of the maps were displayed on the walls, their edges curling slightly with age.
Behind the counter sat an older man, his silver hair thinning and his spectacles perched low on his nose. He looked up as Amukelo entered, his eyes sharp despite his apparent age.
"What are you looking for, young man?" the cartographer asked, his voice gravelly but not unkind.
Amukelo took a moment to glance around the shop before answering. "I'd like to get a map that covers the entire nation of Elandria."
The older man raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Oho. The entire Elandria," he murmured, almost to himself, as he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. His fingers were deft as he began to search through a series of drawers and shelves behind the counter.
Amukelo watched as the man rifled through the rolled-up maps, occasionally muttering under his breath as he checked labels and dates. The shop was eerily quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustle of parchment and the distant hum of voices from outside. After a longer moment, the cartographer finally pulled out two maps and laid them out on the counter.
"This one," he said, indicating the smaller map, "covers the main towns and bigger settlements. It's not very detailed, but it will give you an idea of where everything is."
He nodded, and then his attention was drawn to the larger map the cartographer had just unfurled beside it.
"And this," the old man continued, "is the more detailed version. It shows the major roads, rivers, and even some of the larger villages."
Amukelo leaned in, studying the larger map closely. The paper was thick and well-preserved, the ink clear and precise. Every road, river, and mountain range was carefully marked, with smaller villages noted along with the more significant towns and cities. The map was a masterpiece of cartography, and Amukelo found himself momentarily lost in its intricate details.
He traced his finger along the map, finding Ansford easily enough—it was closer to the middle of the nation, but slightly towards the eastern side. Then he asked, "Where is Gathe?"
The cartographer pointed to a spot near the western border of Elandria. It was far—almost on the very edge of the nation.
"And what about a city called Norton?" Amukelo asked, his voice betraying his growing concern.
The older man's finger moved to the southeast. Norton was nearly at the opposite end of the nation, close to the northern border. Amukelo quickly calculated in his head, realizing that traveling from Ansford to Gathe would already be a monumental task on its own, but to then travel from Gathe to Norton would be an even longer journey, taking him from one side of the nation to the other.
Amukelo sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. The realization of the immense distance he would need to travel hit him hard.
"I'll take the bigger one," Amukelo finally said, resigned to the necessity of having such a detailed map.
"Thirty gold coins," the cartographer replied without hesitation.
Amukelo's eyes widened slightly at the price. "So expensive," he muttered under his breath.
The old man, noticing Amukelo's dismay, offered a small shrug. "Someone had to draw this entire map," he said simply, his tone implying that the quality and detail were well worth the price.
Amukelo knew the man was right, but it didn't make the expenditure any less painful. The coins felt heavy as he handed them over. His funds were dwindling, and with each purchase, his goal of acquiring a horse seemed to drift further out of reach.
With a low mood, Amukelo carefully rolled up the map and secured it in his new backpack. He thanked the cartographer, who responded with a curt nod, then turned and made his way out of the shop.