Alkara arrives back in Afanen with plenty of time to spare. Though she’d be sleeping outside the city walls, she spends the day before the interview perusing the markets for anything else that might be useful in the upcoming fight. As the sun sets, she makes her way to the famed Star Market with Guenwyvar. The market is so called due to the six points spreading out from the central statue. Each section has it’s own thing going on, but Alkara doesn’t really pay much attention to the differences. Sure some of it glimmers, one section has a lot of crystals, maybe one section is more stark than the others. But elf stuff is elf stuff.
The sun is setting, so it’s pretty quiet. Almost no one here, with the exception of a bunch of elves with alabaster skin and blue hair. But they mostly keep to one section of the market, near one of the temples. Most of the stalls are closing down. She hopes she can find the one she’s looking for before it closes. She’s heard this Tharan guy has a pretty prominent stall here. She’s trying to find it, but doesn’t particularly feel like asking anyone for help.
Thankfully, since the Market is basically empty, and his stall is almost the biggest, it’s easy to find. Great, she thinks, big stall, big ego. Bet there’s barely anything in the dumb tent. All the pieces need their “space.” Outside the stall are two armored elves, one slightly taller than Alkara. The elves look to Alkara without surprise. Or any expression. Sometimes it’s unclear if they even have facial muscles. They don’t draw their weapons or stop her though. So there’s that.
She scowls as she walks in. He has armored guards outside his house and his shop? Even though he’s never there? What a waste! Stupid aristocrats think they’re so important. These guards– She stops short. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she takes in the sculptures, ceramics, and jewelry. She slowly makes her way through the stall, inspecting the various displays.
The elf woman hadn’t been joking. This is incredible craftsmanship. Even the little trinkets, like this row of bells on what she assumes are collars. One has a thin feather filigree of silver. Another is wrought with a blue metal and tiny diamonds. A third is so fine it seems like it would snap under the lightest pressure. Why would you put so much effort into a house pet accessory? She’d never seen anything like it.
The pieces themselves don’t do anything for her, but she can at least recognize phenomenal work when she sees it. She circles somewhat quickly and is disappointed: no weapons. At all! Not a single arrow on display. Not even those ornamental weapons nobles seem to love so much for some reason.
She shakes her head and looks around again, chewing on her lip. The lady had said he was the best, but if all he does is sculptures and jewelry and ceramics… then how good can his weapons be?
She clenches her teeth, hopefully good enough to warrant all that gold. Not to mention having to provide the mythril ingots she’d taken from the stash. Though she’d mostly anticipated that. Still. This fight is going to be hard enough. She doesn’t need sub-par arrows to make it harder. Other stalls had had plenty of weapons, maybe she should check them out. She groans. If they’re still open. They might be cheaper too…
She jumps as she hears a quiet, “Oh!” of surprise behind her.
“Good evening. I didn’t notice you come in.” He says with a porcelain smile. The smile doesn’t touch his eyes.
The elf is, quite frankly, a pretty boy. But aren’t they all? He’s even got one of those Doësin cuffs on his right ear. Looks to be about middle-aged for an elf… maybe? She can’t really tell. But he definitely looks younger than Uncle Iro. He’s wearing form fitting clothes like most of the elves in this city. They’re nice but nothing too fancy. He has short, silver-blond elf-locks, silver eyes, and his skin is more blue than most Doësin elves. As slender as he is though, he’s clearly quite strong. Maybe some sort of apprentice?
After she doesn’t say anything, his mouth quirks ever so slightly. “The stall is closing soon, but can I help you find anything?” He raises his eyebrows and leans forward. “Or has a piece already caught your interest?” He glances at the pieces nearest Alkara.
Alkara shrugs, “Sorry. Just wanted to get a look at his stuff while his stall wasn’t flooded with fanatics. See if it was as good as people said it was.”
Instead of the disappointment or at the very least disengagement she expected, the quirk of his mouth turns into an almost full smile and he leans forward even more. “I see. And?”
She frowns at him with suspicion. None of the other elves had bothered to talk with her any longer than they’d had to. But here this one is asking her opinions on art? She gestures around the tent, “The craftsmanship is remarkable. Even I can see that. But I’m not much of an art person. I just need good arrows. Can’t exactly chuck one of these sculptures at a brain thief and expect it to stay down.”
His face blanks in stunned surprise before he bursts into laughter. And then… he keeps laughing. Alkara stares in equally stunned surprise. She’d never heard a Doësin laugh like this. Not even the drunk ones in the taverns. Ooookay. Must not get a lot of jokes around here. What is with this guy?
He tries to catch his breath, “I would apologize… but must instead… thank you for such… an absurdly funny notion.” He wipes a tear from one of his silver, almond-shaped eyes, still smiling and trying to suppress further laughter. “Should your commission be accepted I think you will find the quality of the arrows more than sufficient. No need to make due with what you find here.”
Alkara only frowns, still skeptical. And something at the back of her mind is… She opens her mouth to respond when she hears a yelp outside. And turns to see an elven gentleman cowering away from Guenwyvar, who is literally just sitting there licking her paw. One of the guards has taken a… protective position between the great cat and passerby. He looks unimpressed but must have heard Guen is not like other girls. You’ve gotta be kidding me. She strides out of the tent to try to reassure the elf so she doesn’t get thrown out of Afanen before she can even meet the guy she has an appointment with.
By the time she turns back to the tent, the other elf is gone. She shrugs. Probably checking inventory or something. She looks around. Might as well check out the rest of these stalls, maybe see if Mistress Rasheen has one. Just as a back up plan.