As Sir Brayan and Kanan made their way to the nearby vendor, a palpable tension clung to the air like a heavy cloak. The eyes of the townsfolk bore into the knights, each gaze laden with an unspoken weight. Kanan, ever astute, couldn't help but remark on the collective scrutiny.
"Nothing new around here, huh?" Kanan remarked to Brayan, the subtle acknowledgment of the pervasive watchfulness manifesting in his words. The duo approached the vendor, the jingle of a bell announcing their arrival as Brayan rang it on the counter.
"Welcome," the vendor owner emerged from behind the stall, his expression a canvas of disappointment as his eyes fell upon the knights. The lines etched on his weathered face deepened, and a bitter edge crept into his voice. "What do you want this time, to take another one of my sons again!" he accused, the accusation hanging heavy in the air.
Before Brayan could offer a response, Kanan, ever direct and unyielding, interjected. "It's not the time for that yet, old man. Right now, we are in need of the items on this list." Kanan produced a parchment from within his armor, its contents detailing the provisions required for their journey. "We will compensate you handsomely if you could provide us with all the items."
The vendor owner, though still harboring a glint of resentment in his eyes, cast a begrudging glance at the list. His fingers traced the words as if each item were a bitter reminder of the past. The promise of compensation, however, seemed to inject a modicum of consideration into his demeanor.
"Compensation, you say?" he mused, his tone less accusatory. "Fine, I'll fetch your supplies. But remember, the cost goes beyond gold. The wounds inflicted on this town run deep."
The vendor retreated to gather the requested provisions, the eyes of the onlookers lingered on the knights. The air, thick with unresolved tension, hinted at a history that transcended the confines of the present moment.
The vendor returned, a begrudging acceptance was evident in his demeanor, as he completed the assembly of the supplied provisions on the table, he smacked the last item down with an audible thud. "There, now get out of my sight," he grumbled, his eyes brimming with lingering resentment. The air in the vendor's stall crackled with the unresolved tension that hung between the knights and the town.
Brayan, diligent and meticulous, began to recheck the supplies laid out before him. His sharp eyes scanned the list, and a furrow formed on his brow as he noticed a crucial item missing—the dried kratom leaves, vital for the journey. The realization casts a shadow over the otherwise straightforward transaction.
Turning to the vendor owner with a calm yet firm demeanor, Brayan inquired about the missing item. "It seems we are missing the dried kratom leaves," he pointed out, his voice measured.
The vendor owner, who had been on the verge of dismissing the knights, scowled at Brayan's observation. "Dried kratom leaves, you say?" he retorted, a hint of defiance in his tone. "Those are hard to come by in these times, especially with all the war and chaos spreading like wildfire. You might have to do without."
Kanan, never one to shy away from a confrontation, stepped forward, his gaze locked with the vendor owner's. "We're paying you for the supplies listed. It's not a request; it's a transaction. We need those leaves for the journey, old man."
The vendor owner's face reddened with anger. "Pay or not, finding dried kratom leaves is no simple feat. Your needs don't make them magically appear. You might want to consider the reality of our situation instead of throwing around your knightly demands."
Brayan, seeking a diplomatic resolution, interjected, "We understand the challenges, and we are willing to compensate fairly for the trouble. But the success of our journey hinges on having all the necessary supplies. Can you at least help us find an alternative?"
The vendor owner, attempting to explain the scarcity of the leaves, found his words quickly drowned out by Kanan's impatience. "Enough of this!" Kanan demanded. "Show us the back of your warehouse. We need to see if you're truly out of stock, old man."
Kanan's demand was met with a sudden shout from the vendor owner, accusing the knights of harassment. The stall's atmosphere grew charged, and a stone hit Kanan's armor with a resounding thud. As he turned, he witnessed the gathered townsfolk, angered and defensive, a collective force of resentment and hostility.
Some in the crowd shouted at the knights, demanding they leave the vendor alone, while others began to gather stones from the ground, their intent clear. Kanan, instinctively reaching for his sword, was halted by Brayan's steady hand.
Brayan, sensing the escalating tension and realizing the urgency of the situation, turned to Kanan with a measured yet urgent tone. "Kanan, do we have any dried leaves left?"
Kanan, with a barely contained fury, "Yes, we have some," he replied, the words punctuated by an undercurrent of anger, affirmed that they did have some dried leaves left.
Brayan, sensing the precarious situation, took a moment to assess the unfolding chaos. "We need to make do with what we have now," he urged, his eyes meeting Kanan's with a silent plea for restraint. "We can resupply at the nearest town."
Kanan, though seething with frustration, begrudgingly accepted the reality. "But, the nearest town is a day away," he asserted, his tone reflecting the urgency of their situation.
Brayan, acknowledging the limitations, spoke with a quiet resolve. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Give the vendor his compensation, and let us be on our way." He glanced around at the gathering hostility, recognizing the futility of escalating the confrontation.
The vendor, though still harboring resentment, accepted the payment with a reluctant nod. The crowd's murmurs, however, remained a backdrop of discontent as the knights, laden with both supplies and the weight of their encounter, made their way through the harborside tumult.