The cart approaches the small smithy. Max walks beside it while the family rides on the front of the cart. The trip back to Briargate takes little over a day and a half. Max goes and catches two rabbits for them to enjoy on the way. Stephen keeps mostly to himself and walks on the opposite side of the cart as Max. While Stephen is standoffish, Max, on the other hand, chats merrily with the family.

  Abigail seems to realize he didn’t actually want the man to kill her and was trying to save her, even if his words had said otherwise, and she begins to warm up to him. Laura and Chester don’t mind the idle chat that keeps them from thinking about what almost happened and then what did happen. Once the blood is off his face and he is happily chatting, it is hard to believe Max had done the things they saw him do.

  When they reach Briargate, they speak with the guard and tell them about how they were attacked by bandits and describe the two that got away. Max offers the name of the one he had stabbed in the gut, since he heard the other one who ran away mention it. They all leave out the details of what Max had done, saying only that he and Stephen had saved them.

  Afterward, Stephen bids farewell to them and takes the pelts to the whittawer. He tells Max to stop by the cabin with them once they have been treated. Max has about a week to kill until they will be ready, so he asks Chester if they can stop by the smithy. He can unload the weapons there and either find someone to sell them to, or he and the smith can melt them down and use the metal.

  “Well, thank you again, folks, for letting me use your cart. It would have been impossible to carry all of this back without it.” Max thanks them again as he unloads his pack and the weapons from the back of the cart.

  “It was no hassle, thank you again for saving us.”

  Max nods to Chester while shaking his hand. He says his final goodbye to Abigail and Laura, then waves to them as they head off to find their relatives. Wishing them the best, he turns back toward the smithy. Hearing all the racket, the smith comes out to see what is going on. He sees a man standing by the side of a horse-drawn cart and two women sitting in front.

  He is about to give them an earful when he notices Max is with them. Standing with his hands on his hips, he watches as Max unloads a bunch of weapons and gear onto the ground in front of his smithy from some strange people's cart. Max then waves goodbye to them and turns to him. “Where in the hells did you manage to get all of that!? Did you rob those good people?”

  “They were set upon by bandits on the road to town. Me and Stephen were hunting for beaver pelts, and on our way back, we chanced upon them. Stephen wanted to just keep going and leave them to their fate, but I couldn’t. I fought the bandits off; two of them sadly managed to escape."

  "They repaid my kindness by helping me get all of this back here without having to carry it. We stopped by the guards and let them know to be on the lookout for the two missing bandits. This is the loot from the bandits since they won’t be needing it anymore.”

  The smith scoffs and shakes his head. “Of course, a fool like you would go rushing off to save strangers again. You didn’t learn your lesson from the scars on your arm?”

  Max just shrugs the comment off. “A fool with a pile of loot. Think any of it is worth anything?”

  The smith comes over to the pile and starts to sort through it. More than half of it is what he considers junk, and even of the decent stuff, the workmanship is shoddy. “Take this over to Cove Street, and you might make something off Martin. That pile is just rubbish. They are either too shoddy, rusted, or otherwise broken. The metal bits we might be able to reuse, but the rest of it is worthless.”

  “Mind if I borrow the wheelbarrow to take this stuff to Martin?” Max remembers the man; he had bought a few things from the smithy. Max had even gotten his waterskin from his shop.

  “Yea, sure, whatever. Do what you want with it, just bring it back, and in one piece.”

  Max points to the rubbish pile. “What should I do with all that?”

  Sighing, the smith looks at the pile, then at the pile Max plans on selling. “I’ll burn what can’t be melted down and start melting it down for ya.”

  “Not for me, you can have the metal. It can be my way of repaying you for all the metal you’ve let me have.” Max winks at him and goes off to get the wheelbarrow as the smith grumbles all kinds of things under his breath.

  “I take it you will be staying here for the night?”

  “No, I recently came into some coin, I’ll rent a room this time. How about I treat you to dinner at Drunken Leaf?” Max remembers the tavern that they had visited once before.

  Hearing that the smith can’t help but perk up. “You should have led with that son! Now that’s a plan.”

  Max loads the ‘good’ items into the wheelbarrow and then heads over to Martin’s shop while trying to control the heavy wheelbarrow. When he arrives, he ferries the load in, a couple of things at a time, and then begins, the worst part of this world, haggling. Max always feels that he is getting the short end of the stick when he haggles with people, especially people like Martin.

  He would have brought the smith or Stephen with him, but he finds that somehow the pair of them are worse than he is at haggling. Martin will regularly simply charge a ‘stubborn as a mule fee’ or ‘smells like you haven’t bathed in a month fee’ or Max’s personal favorite, the ‘I don’t like you fee’ with the smith. This, of course, always led to a lot of rude comments and grumbling from the smith, to which Martin counters the smith's rude comments and grumblings by raising the price instead of lowering it. While Stephen simply doesn’t haggle at all and only buys and sells things at the initial price, which is usually far too high when buying and far too low when selling.

  He finally settles on what he thinks might be a decent price and heads over to a local inn. He had passed the place several times in the past and had even done some small errands for the owner before. He decides to rent a room for the week.

  After getting the key to the room, he doesn’t head to it since he has nothing to leave in it. His pack is at the smith’s house, where he left it after getting it off of Chester's cart. He turns toward where the smithy is located and begins walking back to it so he can return the wheelbarrow. When he arrives and stores the wheelbarrow back where he found it, the smith is working, so Max decides that it is best not to disturb him and leaves once again.

  After he finishes his tasks, Max next heads to the local wash house. His trip with Stephen has kept him away for more than a week, and the last two days, he has been traveling in his dirt and blood-covered clothing. He kneels next to the wash and starts taking off his clothing, leaving himself in only his underwear, which are from his world.

  He begins to try to clean his leather clothing and his various knives, along with the tomahawks. Max takes the proper time to care for the leather vest and pants. He tries his best to clean the dirt and blood off of them, making them suitable for the company of others again. After some time giving it his best try, he gives up and adds going to the clothier to the list of things he has to do. He spends even longer working through his weapons, cleaning them as best he can.

  He gets the hard-stuck grime out from around the hilts and pommels and tries to make them as clean as when he finishes forging them. By the time he is done, they shine almost as brightly as they did before, only with a few more scrapes and scratches to show their abuse. While on the way back, he spent some of his water and tried to clean them, but they still needed more work.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  After he leaves the wash house, he stops by the clothier to try to find something new to wear. He figures he can keep the leather for when he is working or hunting, but needs something more suitable for around town, especially since hunting leads to whatever he wears getting dirt and blood covered. He gets fitted for a new pair of pants, cloth this time.

  They are a dark shade of brown that will help hide all the dirt he knows will wind up on them. They cover the tops of his boots, hiding the knives there, which is definitely a plus. Then he buys a shirt, the first one he has owned since he came to this world. He hasn’t worn the t-shirt he had on when he ended back up here, and instead chose to store it and the rest of his school clothes at the smith’s house. The shirt is a light shade of tan that Max likes. Between the brown pants and the new shirt, he thinks he might look quite good.

  He has gotten accustomed to wearing a vest, so he decides to get another one made that is less stained. He figures that unless he has to, he will try to save this vest for only when he is in town, using the previous one if he has to go anywhere. While they can manage to get him a shirt in short order. The pants he can come back for later, and the vest will take some time and be ready in a couple of days, especially with the sheaths he asks for on the vest.

  He visits the bathhouse next and cleans himself for the first time in what feels like ages. The amount of dirt and dried blood that has managed to cling to him is amazing. No matter how much he tries, his hair seems to just have more dirt and twigs in it. He tries to untangle it the best he can, but ends up failing. He decides that when he leaves, he should definitely find a comb somewhere.

  Before he gets out, he cleans his underwear the best he can in the same water before getting out and drying off. Leaving the shop, he makes his way through some vendors before finding a cheap comb. It is nothing special, but it seems to do the trick. He finally manages to tame his hair and look a bit more civilized, as he did months ago when he first arrived.

  He continues wandering the streets for a bit, trying to see if he can find anything else of use to buy before it starts to get dark. Finding nothing that he feels is worth the amount of coin that they desire, he notices that the sun is starting to set. He visits the clothier and changes into his new pants.

  He carries his old pants and brings them back to the smithy. He tucks them away in his pack before he goes to see what is taking the smith. The smith sits at the edge of his bed and takes a swig of some strong alcohol he favors while reading a small message in his other hand.

  “What’s that you have there?” Max asks while leaning against the door frame to the bedroom.

  “It’s a message from my prat brother. Apparently, he is marrying Elena and has invited me to the wedding.” He takes another swig of the alcohol.

  “Well, are you going to go?” Max’s eyes light up when he hears that. For some reason, the idea of mail seems foreign in this world. He badly wants to inquire about how he might send a message, but sensing the mood, he chooses not to.

  “Nay, it is far away, and it is for the best if I don’t go. He only sent the message to be a bastard.” He looks up at Max, folding the letter before tossing it aside. “We are late for the Drunken Leaf, aren’t we?

  ? ? ?

  Max wakes up later than normal, given how late the smith had kept them out. He didn’t mind spending time with him last night since he seemed distressed. He didn’t mention the letter or his brother again. Max never found a good opportunity to talk to him about sending a message, so he decides he will just head over to the cabin ahead of schedule and ask Stephen about it.

  Even if Stephen knows nothing at all about how messages are sent, he feels it will be less troublesome than trying to ask the smith without upsetting him more than he already is by bringing the message back up. He leaves his pack at the smith's house, so he only travels with what he is wearing, which is his leather boots, cloth shirt and pants, well-worn leather vest, his cloak, and his weapons.

  The way to the cabin is not marked in any way. Stephen would very much mind if it were marked because he much prefers to be left alone. Given the number of times he has come to and from the cabin, Max knows the path well. That doesn't even take into account how many times, either with or without Stephen, he has explored this region. He walks briskly in the chilly morning air and makes pretty decent time arriving at the cabin.

  Max doesn’t see Stephen as he approaches the cabin. He decides to walk to the side and see if he is in his workshop. It appears no one had used it since they had left. Max sighs; he would rather not wake or disturb someone, but he really wants an answer to his questions.

  He proceeds through the workshop and out back of the cabin, checking near the fire pit in case he is outside cooking something. Still with no luck, Max heads back to the front of the cabin and knocks on the door. Before long, he hears Stephen opening the door.

  “Max? What are you doing here? The whittawer cannot have possibly finished even one of those pelts, let alone all of them.” Stephen is caught off guard by Max’s sudden appearance. Having just parted ways with Max the day before, he didn’t think he would be seeing him for at least a week.

  “You are right, they are not ready. I simply came to ask you about something.” Max notices Stephen is acting kind of strange, but chooses to ignore it. He is curious but feels he should at least get his answer before getting off track, as he had with the smith the previous night.

  “Well, go on and ask it then.” Stephen grows impatient. Max usually isn’t one to beat around the bush, but just openly asks things.

  “Last night, when I returned to the smithy, the smith had a message from someone. I was just wondering if there is any way I can send a message to someone, and how I would go about it.”

  The question surprises Stephen. It seems obvious on one hand, yet at the same time, it is one of the last things he would expect Max to ask about. “Well, you should head to the Rookery and talk to the Man of Letters who is found there. For a price, he will write out the message for you, then, for another price, he will send it. Depending on where you wish it to go is whether or not he can use the birds.”

  “Well, the thing is, I also don’t know exactly where this person is. I know where they are from and where their family is, but the last time I saw them was when they were headed to Briargate. I am not even sure if they made it.”

  Stephen ponders that for a second before shrugging. “I would be the last person to ask. The guards usually keep track of the comings and goings of the town. You might try them, but you probably will have to go to the mayor first to get permission to view the logs.”

  “Thank you for the information. I would stay, but you seem to be busy, and I would really like to see if I can find a way to send a message.” Max jumps excitedly at the news. Even if the chance is small, this is the first and best chance he has at trying to reach Lady Rosalee or Lady Elizabeth. Even if he can’t directly send them a message, he might be able to inquire as to where they are and if they are okay from one of their families.

  “Well then, off with you. I’ll see you when you bring the pelts.” Stephen moves back inside and closes the door as Max sets off back to town. Stephen leans against the door for a moment as Max is leaving. After everything that happened, it wouldn’t be a lie to say he is afraid of the boy.

  Max makes it back to the town through the same gate he left. While he is back where he started, he doesn’t feel as if the trip has been wasted. He skips going to the guards because he figures, as Stephen had said, they probably wouldn’t share the information without the approval of the mayor. On his many wanderings and trips with the smith, he knows that the mayor frequents the same market every day and then ends up at a certain eatery that Max has never tried.

  Sure enough, just as Max guessed, he sees the mayor enter the eatery. He decides not to enter and bother him, so he just loiters around outside, wandering up and down the different vendors. He keeps an eye out for anything he might need or that seems overly interesting. He doesn’t buy anything and just keeps checking stalls while waiting. Eventually, the Mayor exits the eatery, and Max approaches him.

  “Excuse me, good sir, you are the mayor, correct?” Max asks as he nears the man.

  The mayor turns and looks at the boy. He has seen him around for some time now, he usually seems to be around either Russell the smith from the far side of the town or the old hunter Stephen who lives out in the woods. He has heard that the boy often sought out tasks and chores around the town and helps people out for cheap. “Yes, I am son, but I have no work for you. I am sorry.” The mayor turns and starts to continue when Max stops him again.

  “You are mistaken, sir; I am not looking for work.” Max tries his best to contain his excitement and be as polite as can be.

  “Then why might you have sought me out?”

  “Well, you see, sir, a long while ago, I rescued two girls that were being held captive by some brigands. They were hurt and scared, but we managed to escape from their lair. We saw this town off in the distance and made our way, trying to find safety. I got separated from them when I was attacked. The girl’s names were Lady Elizabeth of The Terrace, I believe, and Lady Rosalee of I think Ashbury. I was told by my friend to ask either the guards or you if they had made it here and if you happened to know where they were.”

  The mayor is dumbfounded and stares at Max for the longest time. “Quickly, boy, your name, what is it?”

  Confused, Max tells the mayor his name. “I’m Max McIver, sir, but what does that matter?”