The Shopkeeper's Tale

Hours passed, the shop bathed in the soft glow of lamps as shadows deepened.

“So, remember that time we almost got cooked by that dragon?” Cliff asked, chuckling as he arranged vials on the shelf.

Neil flashed a mischievous grin. “Dragon? That was an overgrown lizard with an ego problem! Thought it could fly and breathe fire, but it barely managed a puff.”

Cliff laughed, recalling the chaos when Neil had distracted the beast by throwing pebbles at it while Cliff snuck behind to grab their treasure. “I still don’t know what I was thinking, trying to outsmart a creature like that. Your face when it roared—priceless!”

Neil laughed, shaking his head. “Hey, it was either that or let you get fried. Who saved your hide? My quick thinking, that’s who.”

“Yeah, quick thinking—and a lucky rock for the lizard to trip on!” Cliff shot back, his laughter growing.

They lost themselves in memories of wild escapades, the laughter rolling between them. Every story, every shared moment seemed to chip away at the weight Cliff had been carrying. With Neil around, it was easy to forget the jaded caution that usually guarded his heart. Neil’s laughter was like balm, smoothing over the rough edges of Cliff’s lingering doubts.

As the warmth of their shared history filled the room, a soft chuckle came from the doorway.

“Quite the friend you have there,” came the voice of Dawnclaws.

Cliff, startled, quickly pocketed the sending stone. He had forgotten that the griffin was still standing just by the door. Blushing, he stammered an apology and hurried behind the counter, fumbling for change to pay her delivery fee.

Dawnclaws extended a wing, stopping him. “None of that,” she said with a warm smile. “Your friend already covered the special delivery fee.” She preened herself, her beak gently nipping at her shoulder. “It’s nice to see young adventurers out in the field. Reminds me of the good old days when my own gang roamed the skies and the earth.”

Cliff paused, surprised. “You were an adventurer?”

It made sense, now that Cliff thought about it. Dawnclaws had the look of a seasoned warrior—her mighty frame, the battle scars on her feathers, and the steady gaze of someone who’d faced countless dangers. Her knowledge of dungeon routes and her imposing presence were clues he hadn’t picked up on earlier. She wore light armor fitted for a life in the field, and now that Cliff looked more closely, he could see featherless patches on her wings; marks of a life hard lived.

The griffin chuckled. “Once, long ago. We adventurers don’t stay young forever. Getting old and retired is part of life. You both showed me a glimpse of that youth again.”

Cliff smiled, feeling a kind of camaraderie with the griffin that he hadn’t expected. “I’m just a merchant,” he said modestly. “Adventurers are the ones who take all the risks.”

Dawnclaws tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe. But seeing a merchant and an adventurer this close is rare. You two have a bond that goes beyond business. Most shopkeeps rely on adventurers for their livelihood, but I’ve never seen one attend their adventuers’ funerals when a mission goes wrong. You two, though, it’s clear that you’re more than just business partners.”

Cliff glanced at the sending stone in his hand, feeling the weight of her words. He and Neil had always shared more than just the thrill of adventure.

Cliff gulped. Death too was something they did not like to think about, but it could be a grim reality for adventurers and soldiers. Sure, the rules of this realm meant that death in the wilds and dungeons was temporary. Some mysterious force beamed near-death adventurers away from harm and right back to their base outside the dungeons, making them lose half of their money and inventory in the process. But at least they were safe. But a death in the empire was a permanent one. That was why soldiers and knights were more decorated than adventurers. They were the ones truly giving their lives in the protection of cities founded by merchants, while adventurers gathered resources to advance respective civilizations.

He shook the thought away. “Neil and I were old friends.”

“I hope you remain friends for a long while yet.”

Cliff started again. “What happened to your other party members?”

Dawnclaws had a wistful look on her face. “One died fighting in the Pub Wars, the reckless loon. One became the head of an esteemed hospital. One returned to teaching. Two fell in love with each other and went back to the woods where they came from. I bump into those two sometimes during my deliveries, along with my beastmaster friend in the forests.”

Cliff paused. “You have a beastmaster friend?”

“Yes,” she said, eyeing Cliff suddenly.

Cliff collected himself and walked slowly to his desk. He retrieved the letter he had written, asking for the beastmaster’s cooperation, and showed it to Dawnclaws. She read it, then looked sharply at him. She stood tall above him, unblinkingly assessing his character. For a few moments, Cliff stared back into her golden eagle eyes. Cliff stood very still, knowing that shee was weighing his character just like the first time they met.

Dawnclaws, satisfied, retreated, chuckling, clearly satisfied with what she had seen. Cliff let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“A grand mission of your own, eh? Little shopkeeper making a change in the world by starting his own shop? All right,” Dawnclaws said finally. Cliff knew he didn’t need to explain any further. “Yes. But I make no promises that he will grant you an audience. Merchants and beastmasters have always been in conflict with one another. Though if it comes from me, then maybe he will reconsider.”

“Thank you, Dawnclaws,” Cliff said, feeling a warmth spread through him at her words.

“What a fine thing it is that we have met.” She looked down at Cliff again, a gleam of respect in her eyes. “I was right about you.”

Before Cliff could respond, Dawnclaws let out a shrill laugh, unfurling her mighty wings and soaring into the star-lit sky.

As he watched her disappear into the night, a mixture of gratitude and determination swelled within him. He returned to his desk, feeling the weight of her words and the hope they carried. He glanced at the sending stone, a tangible link to Neil and their shared adventures, and he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with friends like Neil and allies like Dawnclaws, Cliff was ready to face whatever challenges lay in store.

He returned to the shelves of his shop, arranging potions and ingredients with a newfound hope. Each vial he placed reminded him of the bonds he was building, not just for his business but for a life worth living. The flickering lights of the oil lamps danced around him, illuminating his path as he prepared for the next chapter of his adventure.