LIGHTNOVELONLINE 3. Creek town
From a distance, high up in the trees, and painfully aware of her... Altered form, Abigail watched the town below. It was close to dusk and she saw no signs of her mentor from so high up. But she wasn't exactly sure what signs she should be looking for in the first place.
Slavery had long since been abolished by the time she had been born. Leaving her with zero experience of it, and therefore no real clue as to what she should be looking for.
People in chains, wearing metal collars, malnourished?
It was all one big mystery. Especially considering that whoever bought her mentor might have left town and brought him with them. All together these things made it very hard to even begin her search. And the elves apparent hostility to humans only compounded the issue.
Ugh, I wish I could just waltz in there and ask around.
But that would probably lead to a fight. And she wasn't so sure she could take on an entire town's worth of elves. Definitely not with her... Bigger assets now getting in the way. Which was another issue she'd eventually have to deal with.
Just not now.
Right now, well right now was a time for action, not anxiety inducing thoughts about the future. So, despite not having a plan, Abigail got out of her head and started heading down towards the town below.
And on her way she had an idea. She'd just cover her ears up with her hair. It could work, as not all the elves had blonde hair. A majority certainly did, but not enough that someone with black hair would stand out all too much.
And hopefully they'll just think I'm short or something. Yeah, short.
It was go time. She was within viewing distance of the town, just forty steps away from its gate, and already there were eyes on her. Four belonging to an oldish looking couple. Five belonging to a group of elves dressed in leather, one wearing a green eye patch. Two belonging to what she figured to be the mayor of this little town. If elves had mayors that is.
Almost all of those eyes, however, looked away and returned to their business after she stepped into the town proper. The two that remained on her were the mayor's, who was quickly approaching, a gentle smile on his face.
As soon as he was close enough, he offered her his hand for a greeting handshake. "Hello and welcome to our humble little Creek town. I'm town leader Dishal, happy to make your acquaintance."
So he is the mayor, Abigail thought as she shook his hand. "Hi. Names Abigail. I'm new here."
"Where are you from?"
She froze. Slowly, though, she regained her composure. "I don't... Uh, really wanna say. I'd like to keep my history private, for now."
"Ah, I see." The mayor nodded with a bit too much understanding. "Well rest assured, no one here in Creek town will bother about your past if you don't wish to speak of it. After all who doesn't have a few secrets. Ahahaha!"
After that, the mayor left her be. More importantly, he went back to where he came from, reducing the amount of eyes on her. Unfortunately he went exactly where Abigail thought she should be looking if she wanted to make any headway.
Right into town hall.
That of course left the local tavern as her next destination. After all, there was no better place to overhear a bit of gossip or go looking for some.
This town was of course no different. As soon as she found the tavern - which took her a bit - and walked through its doors her world was drowned in the song of merrymaking and tale bearing. Long bearded men, er, elven men practically yelled of their exploits.
Some told tall tales of battles against foes that didn't even sound real. Her favorite so far was from a rather short looking elf, so about half a head taller than her rather than two. He spoke of a serpent possessing more than three heads, some of which even regenerated. A close second to this tall tale was talk of a warrior who could walk through walls to scout ahead of his allies.
A story that reminded Abigail more of a spooky legend told by kids than a valiant retelling of an adventure. But seeing how no one criticized him about it, there had to be some merit to it.
Some.
But that not why I'm here.
No, what she wanted awaited her in the far corners of the tavern. Where the more... Unseemly looking members of this society gathered.
The would be crooks, black marketeers, and an elf who very much looked the part of a slaver. He had a dirty black hat, wore a monocle, and had two other elves waiting hand and foot on him. These other two elves were also in chains, which removed all doubt.
She approached him cautiously. "Okay I don't mean to be rude or anything but are you... Are you in the business of selling slaves?"
He flashed her a dark smile and sat up. "Ma'am that's nothing but a compliment and yes. Yes I am in the business. What can I do for you?"
She took a seat. "I'm looking for someone."
"Product or buyer?"
She resisted the urge to frown, and dove deep. "Product." She pretended not to spit. "Human. Recently passed through here. Think you know who I'm talking about and where I can find him?"
The slaver leaned forward and his smile grew wicked. It was a stretched thing accentuated by the dark under his eyes. "Depends on how much you're willing to pay."
I have no money.
I have no money.
I choose violence.
Abigail punched the slaver in the face as hard as she could.
The force of the blow, hard enough to hurt her half as much as it did him, sent the slaver flying through the wall and into the street. It also earned her the whole tavern's undivided attention. But she didn't care. Her mind was on the body slowly getting to it's feet outside, and before it could, she jumped through the hole she made and pounced.
Fast as a whip, the slaver rolled out of the way of her foot. But he wasn't fast enough to dodge the hand that came down immediately after, lifting him into the air.
She held him there and stared up into his eyes. In them was a mix of fear and confusion. Both of which she understood - this was probably a very weird situation for him. It certainly was for her.
But that, again, did not matter. No she needed answers and she'd get them, money or not.
"Where?"
The slaver shoved a hand in his pocket, pulled out a little paper and handed it to her. "It's all on that, I swear!"
She dropped him. "Thanks." Then she turned back toward the tavern. "Sorry about your wall!"
And before anyone could either respond or process what just went down, she ran for the other end of town.
As her steps carried her there, ardin pushing her faster than she had any natural right to run, the wind blew through her hair. It was a gentle breeze at first, that quickly picked up into a quick and sudden gust that blew against her. A feeling she had always enjoyed. But this time was different.
Because when the wind blew, it blew her cover as well.