Thread Title 
Ash, Cinderfall 5, 121 - Eikaeus
It was well before sunrise as Franky strode up to the main gate. The guards were there, tired but alert enough. Just outside of the gate, Franky saw several wagons gathering together. He smiled, he figured they'd be here but it was nice to see it for sure. It was the Dragon King's Day, so it was hard to tell who might be working and who might not. Franky nodded at the guards as he stepped out of the gates.
To the left, four wagons, each with a driver, no passengers, loaded up with barrels and crates. The lead driver seemed to be glaring across the road to Franky's right. On the right, two wagons, piled high with goods, and two drivers, with two passengers. Judging from the dress of these passengers, they were a wealthier class than any of the drivers here.
Franky chuckled, seeing the source of the glaring.
He walked over to the wagons on the left, removing his hat on the approach, "Good morning, sir." He was talking to a human after all, and the use of 'sir' often placated them. Franky had been raised in the military, so using such titles meant very little to him. That was what happened when you had to say sir or ma'am to people who had not earned respect but still held the title.
The man peered down, sliding back his cloak's hood, "Good morning. Lookin' for a ride?"
Franky held another chuckle in. Straight to the point it seemed. Maybe he could have a little bit of fun. "Well, I'm not sure. It's the Dragon King's Day after all. No work today. Thought I might just take a nice stroll. Visit a farm or something."
The driver chuckled, "You don't get out of the city much, do ya? Ain't safe on these roads."
Franky decided to go with it, "Not much any more." He turned his body, so as to lean against the cart, but more importantly facing the guards. His voice raised just a hair more as he continued, "So you're saying it is dangerous on these roads? I thought the military kept them safe." Franky saw as one of the guards heads perked up at the comment, his eyes squinting in their direction.
The man continued, "All sorts of bandits, vagabonds, even some monsters." The man opened his cloak, displaying his rusted sword on his hip, "It's why we always travel armed. Keep our passengers safe."
Franky had to strain to not roll his eyes, and even more so to not hide his amusement. He could see the guards talking to each other now, while looking in their direction. "Seen many monsters? Such protection probably drives up your price."
The man puffed out his chest, "A couple, but we come across bandits at least once a week. And yeah, we charge a bit more, but can you put a price on safety?"
"Bullshit."
Now the driver was looking back at the guards who glared back at him. The driver looked down at Franky, "We're goin to a farm near here, making a delivery. Three golds per way if you want to come." Franky now knew who the real bandits were.
"When you leaving?"
"At sunrise, probably twenty minutes or so."
Franky nodded, "I'll think on it." He then turned and pointedly walked back over to the guards, both of whom were scowling, still looking over at the driver. Franky smiled at them, "Can you believe that guy?"
Both of the guards scoffed, still staring daggers, "If that man saw a monster and lived, I'd slap me mum." Franky chuckled, "How about them bandits he mentioned?"
The guards looked at each other and laughed heartily. "Like our military would tolerate bandits? We ain't those weaklings in Kalzasi. Too busy lookin' all pretty with them magic marks and white wings."
Franky laughed with them, "Right? I served in the Imperial. The roads here feel just as safe as they did there. The soldiers in Kalzasi are probably worse than bandits. No honor like here."
The guards smiled, "Damn right. Don't listen to that fool. He travels back and forth every day with the same caravan. They buy and sell used crates, barrels, and bags. Ain't no money there to rob anyways. Even if we did have bandits, they'd only attack them if they were bored."
Franky rummaged in his pockets, pulling out his smoke box, sliding it open, grabbing a cigarette inside. He then offered it to the two men, "Want one?" They shrugged, looking at each other, and took a cigarette each. Franky lit everyone up, taking a pull on the cig, exhaling the purple haze. One of the men coughed on it, but his mate just laughed at him, slapping him on the back.
"How much is that idiot charging for a seat these days?"
"Three golds."
The guard exclaimed loudly, "THREE?! That's ridiculous!"
Franky hid his smile by taking another drag on his cigarette. He could feel the driver looking back at them now. "It did sound a bit high." The guards grumbled and the conversation petered off. Soon, light began to break, and Franky tossed his spent smoke into the wet grass. "Well you all have a nice finish to your shift. I suppose I should go get mugged by this guy." The guards nodded, and sent their attention back to the driver as Franky walked over.
"I suppose I'll take you up on that ride. Is the farm you're goin to by chance a brewer?"
Franky reached into his pocket, making sure to fumble a bit so that the sound of the coins was obvious. The driver replied, "Yeah, Hortund's place is on the way." Franky pulled out three gold coins, handing them over, while casting an obvious glance toward the guards. "Ya know what mate, how about we call it one? We've had good luck lately."
"Oh really? Alright then." Franky tucked two of the coins inside his palm, holding out just the one now. The man took it, biting it to check it was real. Franky climbed up in the passenger's seat. The caravan got one more passenger in one of the front wagons, and they lurched forward along the road. Franky saw a barrel there, slapping it, hearing the dull empty thud from within. "So you sell barrels?"
The man chuckled, "And crates and sacks. Everyone needs to carry things."
"Where do you keep them all? Do you have a warehouse?"
The man snorted, "Nah. We buy them from taverns and the docks in town yesterday, sell them back to the farmers today. Rinse, repeat."
Franky nodded, "Must be good money in it if you can afford four wagons and four drivers."
The man laughed, repeating himself. "Everyone needs to carry things."
Franky mulled on this some more as they travelled through the country side. It was the beginning of Ash, the land was turning into the season of harvest and it showed, with some of the plants browning and flowers falling away. Franky enjoyed this season. Plenty to eat. He always appreciated when his Imperial Regiment was sent marching into enemy lands in Ash.
Franky knew there must be a better way to profit off of crates and the like that people need. These men were making enough money to live off of, but it seemed to Franky that they were being quite inefficient about it. Franky thought about the different logistical systems they had used in the Imperial military. Those ones weren't necessarily designed for maximizing profit, but they were for efficiency.
Franky pulled out a notebook he kept on his person, and began to jot down ideas, and sketch out rough schematics. Without looking up from his notebook, "Is this Hortund a good brewer?"
"From what I understand, his daughter is the real brewer. He taught her the craft, but she's improved it. He's more just a farmer. Poor guy's getting so old now." Franky nodded, continuing his sketching. He had an idea forming, around a centralized system of crates and barrels. Would require some investment on space and the like, but it showed promise. He even had an inkling of how to sell it.
"How long to reach Hortund's?"
"A few hours. We'll be back by in the evening if you want a ride back."
Franky nodded, "That'll work. Thank you."
And with that, they spent the rest of the ride in silence, Franky enjoying the countryside, happy to at least see a place that wasn't actively being razed and salted. Peace was nice. Shame that it couldn't stay that way.
It never does.
Time Stamp
Ash, Cinderfall 5, 121 - Eikaeus
It was well before sunrise as Franky strode up to the main gate. The guards were there, tired but alert enough. Just outside of the gate, Franky saw several wagons gathering together. He smiled, he figured they'd be here but it was nice to see it for sure. It was the Dragon King's Day, so it was hard to tell who might be working and who might not. Franky nodded at the guards as he stepped out of the gates.
To the left, four wagons, each with a driver, no passengers, loaded up with barrels and crates. The lead driver seemed to be glaring across the road to Franky's right. On the right, two wagons, piled high with goods, and two drivers, with two passengers. Judging from the dress of these passengers, they were a wealthier class than any of the drivers here.
Franky chuckled, seeing the source of the glaring.
He walked over to the wagons on the left, removing his hat on the approach, "Good morning, sir." He was talking to a human after all, and the use of 'sir' often placated them. Franky had been raised in the military, so using such titles meant very little to him. That was what happened when you had to say sir or ma'am to people who had not earned respect but still held the title.
The man peered down, sliding back his cloak's hood, "Good morning. Lookin' for a ride?"
Franky held another chuckle in. Straight to the point it seemed. Maybe he could have a little bit of fun. "Well, I'm not sure. It's the Dragon King's Day after all. No work today. Thought I might just take a nice stroll. Visit a farm or something."
The driver chuckled, "You don't get out of the city much, do ya? Ain't safe on these roads."
Franky decided to go with it, "Not much any more." He turned his body, so as to lean against the cart, but more importantly facing the guards. His voice raised just a hair more as he continued, "So you're saying it is dangerous on these roads? I thought the military kept them safe." Franky saw as one of the guards heads perked up at the comment, his eyes squinting in their direction.
The man continued, "All sorts of bandits, vagabonds, even some monsters." The man opened his cloak, displaying his rusted sword on his hip, "It's why we always travel armed. Keep our passengers safe."
Franky had to strain to not roll his eyes, and even more so to not hide his amusement. He could see the guards talking to each other now, while looking in their direction. "Seen many monsters? Such protection probably drives up your price."
The man puffed out his chest, "A couple, but we come across bandits at least once a week. And yeah, we charge a bit more, but can you put a price on safety?"
"Bullshit."
Now the driver was looking back at the guards who glared back at him. The driver looked down at Franky, "We're goin to a farm near here, making a delivery. Three golds per way if you want to come." Franky now knew who the real bandits were.
"When you leaving?"
"At sunrise, probably twenty minutes or so."
Franky nodded, "I'll think on it." He then turned and pointedly walked back over to the guards, both of whom were scowling, still looking over at the driver. Franky smiled at them, "Can you believe that guy?"
Both of the guards scoffed, still staring daggers, "If that man saw a monster and lived, I'd slap me mum." Franky chuckled, "How about them bandits he mentioned?"
The guards looked at each other and laughed heartily. "Like our military would tolerate bandits? We ain't those weaklings in Kalzasi. Too busy lookin' all pretty with them magic marks and white wings."
Franky laughed with them, "Right? I served in the Imperial. The roads here feel just as safe as they did there. The soldiers in Kalzasi are probably worse than bandits. No honor like here."
The guards smiled, "Damn right. Don't listen to that fool. He travels back and forth every day with the same caravan. They buy and sell used crates, barrels, and bags. Ain't no money there to rob anyways. Even if we did have bandits, they'd only attack them if they were bored."
Franky rummaged in his pockets, pulling out his smoke box, sliding it open, grabbing a cigarette inside. He then offered it to the two men, "Want one?" They shrugged, looking at each other, and took a cigarette each. Franky lit everyone up, taking a pull on the cig, exhaling the purple haze. One of the men coughed on it, but his mate just laughed at him, slapping him on the back.
"How much is that idiot charging for a seat these days?"
"Three golds."
The guard exclaimed loudly, "THREE?! That's ridiculous!"
Franky hid his smile by taking another drag on his cigarette. He could feel the driver looking back at them now. "It did sound a bit high." The guards grumbled and the conversation petered off. Soon, light began to break, and Franky tossed his spent smoke into the wet grass. "Well you all have a nice finish to your shift. I suppose I should go get mugged by this guy." The guards nodded, and sent their attention back to the driver as Franky walked over.
"I suppose I'll take you up on that ride. Is the farm you're goin to by chance a brewer?"
Franky reached into his pocket, making sure to fumble a bit so that the sound of the coins was obvious. The driver replied, "Yeah, Hortund's place is on the way." Franky pulled out three gold coins, handing them over, while casting an obvious glance toward the guards. "Ya know what mate, how about we call it one? We've had good luck lately."
"Oh really? Alright then." Franky tucked two of the coins inside his palm, holding out just the one now. The man took it, biting it to check it was real. Franky climbed up in the passenger's seat. The caravan got one more passenger in one of the front wagons, and they lurched forward along the road. Franky saw a barrel there, slapping it, hearing the dull empty thud from within. "So you sell barrels?"
The man chuckled, "And crates and sacks. Everyone needs to carry things."
"Where do you keep them all? Do you have a warehouse?"
The man snorted, "Nah. We buy them from taverns and the docks in town yesterday, sell them back to the farmers today. Rinse, repeat."
Franky nodded, "Must be good money in it if you can afford four wagons and four drivers."
The man laughed, repeating himself. "Everyone needs to carry things."
Franky mulled on this some more as they travelled through the country side. It was the beginning of Ash, the land was turning into the season of harvest and it showed, with some of the plants browning and flowers falling away. Franky enjoyed this season. Plenty to eat. He always appreciated when his Imperial Regiment was sent marching into enemy lands in Ash.
Franky knew there must be a better way to profit off of crates and the like that people need. These men were making enough money to live off of, but it seemed to Franky that they were being quite inefficient about it. Franky thought about the different logistical systems they had used in the Imperial military. Those ones weren't necessarily designed for maximizing profit, but they were for efficiency.
Franky pulled out a notebook he kept on his person, and began to jot down ideas, and sketch out rough schematics. Without looking up from his notebook, "Is this Hortund a good brewer?"
"From what I understand, his daughter is the real brewer. He taught her the craft, but she's improved it. He's more just a farmer. Poor guy's getting so old now." Franky nodded, continuing his sketching. He had an idea forming, around a centralized system of crates and barrels. Would require some investment on space and the like, but it showed promise. He even had an inkling of how to sell it.
"How long to reach Hortund's?"
"A few hours. We'll be back by in the evening if you want a ride back."
Franky nodded, "That'll work. Thank you."
And with that, they spent the rest of the ride in silence, Franky enjoying the countryside, happy to at least see a place that wasn't actively being razed and salted. Peace was nice. Shame that it couldn't stay that way.
It never does.
