"I don't have any coin on me," I said, instantly earning myself a deeper frown from the halfling, "But I do have this."
I pulled out a gold bar from my coat and placed it on the counter with a thump. It shone against the orange glow of the torches, still pristine even after I forgot I left it in my coat. No wonder I felt a slight imbalance whenever I stood straight. How long was it even in there?
"Hmm," The halfling squinted as he grabbed the gold, "Stinks of alchemy. No thanks."
"I won't be needing the cha-" I paused, "What do you mean no thanks?" I was caught off-guard by his reaction.
"What you have here is worthless," He said, sounding more insulted after each word, "I don't accept no alchemist's shit."
I was now very, very confused.
"Alchemy? Alchemist?" I reacted, "I don't know any of these terms."
The halfling looked doubtful of my ignorance, "ya can't fool me. Everyone knows what an alchemist is! Pieces of shit producing pieces of shit. I ain't taking no worthless gold."
I rubbed my nose in annoyance. Not only was this halfling a bit of a hard head to crack thanks to his stubbornness, probably brought about by his old age, but he was also insistent that I knew something I truly didn't.
And truly so, what the hell was alchemy? Or an alchemist for that matter.
"I assure you. Whatever this alchemy is that you're talking about, it has nothing to do with the gold," I said truthfully, "I remember casting this gold myself, but I admit that was a long time ago."
The halfling seemed ready to launch himself into another tirade, but his eyes soon reflected the realization that maybe I was indeed as ignorant as I claimed to be.
"Have ya been living under a rock or something?" The answer to that question would be a metaphorical yes and a literal no. But I don't think it mattered to the halfling.
"I'm a hermit." I said, matter-of-factly.
My answer earned a grunt from the halfling, "You sure ya ain't shitting me?"
I shook my head. The halfling sighed as if he was a disappointed father learning about his child's poor performance in their chosen profession. It somehow felt valid, and at the same time, deserved.
"Alchemy is some magic. Alchemist practice it. You can take a shit out back and some alchemist can turn it into gold or silver or whatever." Ignoring the obvious signs that he hated this unfamiliar branch of magic and the people who practice it, wasn't transmutation an inherent aspect of magic and its uses? Despite that, it wasn't enough to warrant its own branch of applied magic. At least from what I remembered.
Innovation and evolution. Magic was really starting to sound unfamiliar.
Now I was sounding a bit technical in my head. Not a good sign for whoever was an expert in the subject. But I will soon go and find myself an alchemist to learn about this application of magic. Hopefully the first alchemist I meet wasn't some sort of madman.
That would be an underwhelming and violent development, especially given my history with madmen in general and the weird magics they practiced. I suddenly remembered my first encounter with the elf who managed to break the fabric of reality, giving birth to spatial magic.
Suffice to say that the meeting ended up with a country getting swallowed by the sea, and my hand through his chest.
"How can you even differentiate something as made by alchemy?" I asked, "Wouldn't what they create be indistinguishable from the original?"
"At first glance, yes. But look closer and you'll see that something is just too perfect. And I hate perfection."
An odd thing to say at the very last second. The halfling seemed determined to give me more questions than answers, and honestly I wasn't sure how to feel about it. I liked the fact I was being exposed to these ignorances early on, but I also hated how answers seemed hard to come by.
Maybe I had to relax a bit. This was, after all, my first night in an unfamiliar town with unfamiliar people. Thousands of years of solitude would, as expected, change me to a certain degree, especially when it came to how I dealt with interactions. Only now was I noticing that difference in all its glory.
For I was, for the lack of a nicer term, awkward.
"So you're talking about purity?" I asked to make sure if I had the right idea.
"Yeah. That percentage thing. But I ain't need no numbers or magic to see what's fake or not." As much as I would like to laud the confidence he had in his own ability to check, determining something's purity was correctly done through magic or by an expert smith. Which meant that it was beyond what normal people could achieve.
Fortunately for the both of us, I had a spell that checked just that. I often used it to determine the value of something made of gold, or silver, or whatever precious metal there was.
"May I use a spell then? To determine that my gold bar is, in fact, genuine." I opened a hand and hovered it over the gold, waiting for the halfling's consent.
"You have a spell for this shit but tell me ya ain't no alchemist?" He asked, reluctant.
"Magic has its uses. Sometimes it's used for entirely different, often mundane things," I explained, "Now, may I?"
With another grunt and a long sigh, he nodded.
The spell manifested itself in the form of a glowing blue circle floating between my palm and the gold. After a few seconds, it was over.
"90 percent purity." I revealed.
"Ya sure that wasn't a fake spell?" He said as he held his forehead with a squint.
"Your headache is your answer."
"Coulda used a fake spell."
Despite his continued stubbornness, somehow my patience was still not running thin. At least for the moment. His mistrust did not end at alchemy or its practitioners, rather it extended towards magic itself.
"You could have someone else verify it if you want," I suggested, "Someone you trust more than a stranger with magic."
The halfling rubbed his beard as he mulled over my suggestion. After a few seconds, he sighed. "I'll have someone else look into this gold ya have." I nodded. At least we were going somewhere.
"You and the little beasty can have...." He trailed off as he pulled out one of the counter drawers and rummaged through a messy pile of keys.
"Here," The halfling gave me a clean silver key with no label, "my best room upstairs. It's at the very end of the hall. Ya won't miss it."
After thanking the tavern owner, Zeal and I made our way upstairs and towards our room. I had already seen it thanks to my earlier decision to snoop about using my enhanced senses. The halfling wasn't exaggerating when he said it was his best room.
The door itself was big and made of blackwood, a type of wood only harvested from the ashen trees of the southern continent. Its doorknob was made of silver and lined with gold. Zeal's eyes were already sparkling when she beheld the door, but her mouth swung wide open as soon as I unlocked it.
To call the room over-the-top would be doing it justice, at least for me. It was a bedroom fit for nobility with its scarlet carpet, surrounding a king-sized bed under a carved blackwood canopy, flanked by gilded furnishings such as a wardrobe, drawers, and a silver table with two padded chairs.
Ceaseless candles lit up the room with a beautiful orange hue, flickering not even as the cold night air entered through the only open window.
The halfling would not admit it, but he cared about the place.
"Make yourself at home," I told Zeal as I let go of her hand, "You'll be safe here."
She looked at me. I could see my reflection on her little, tired, yet sparkling eyes. "Y-you..." She stuttered, "S-stay?"
Hearing her voice again made my heart elate, but her question made it sink. "I'm not going anywhere." I said as I knelt down. Her eyes watered as pat her head.
Suddenly, to my surprise, she embraced me. Her furry arms wrapped around my neck as I felt her tears touch my shoulders. I was terrible at comforting others for I didn't know how to. So I did the next best thing I could think of.
And hugged her back.