Chapter Eighteen—Oravar

One Year Ago

“Iie!” Shiro said firmly and pushed the coins back to the sword and armor seller. Oravar was not a massive city, but it was large enough that he thought there could be another shop he might go to.

Best to try my luck here first.

The man behind the counter had a crooked nose and a well-trimmed beard. Perhaps it was because they were inside that he did not wear the strange head wrappings.

In the corner there was a pile of dry logs giving off a fragrant smell near the crackling fireplace. The warmth tempted Shiro into taking what was being offered. He had no idea whether the price the shop owner was offering was a fair amount or not, but he had to try to get more.

On racks there were swords, knives and metal shirts of which Shiro had never seen before. Many of the swords were of a similar curved design, but some were also straight, and distinctly different.

He suspected that the swords he brought were of inferior design.

The shop owner shrugged and said some words. Shiro just looked at him, said in his own language again that he did not want to take such a small amount of coin for these items.

At first the shop owner had stared hard at him, curious about the way he looked? So far, Shiro had seen no other humans even closely resembling his own peoples, but many of the demi-human races known to his lands were also here.

Perhaps they are far more travelled than our people? he thought, since he had never even heard of lands such as these that he was now in.

Someone had isekaied him here.

But why?

The shop owner sighed heavily, then added one more silver coin and ten or so coppers to the pile, then shunted it toward Shiro with some amount of frustration.

Shiro looked at the coins for a moment, the shop owner squawking something at him as he did so. Finally deciding not to push the man any further, he nodded. To his left the swords lay atop the wooden counter furnishing. He took the cloth he had wrapped the swords in and made a basket, pouring the coins inside and then wrapping them up.

The shop owner smiled broadly and nodded.

He must have gotten a good deal. I knew I should have tried to find another shop.

Being a gaijin in these lands, there was no way he would get the better end of the bargain, especially not from a professional seller such as this. The next shop owner would probably do the same thing.

With a last nod, he left with his coin and began to search for an inn he could stay at. Walking slowly, he peered about, avoiding any other establishments of questionable character.

The streets were laid-stone slabs, covered with a small layer of sand. Why did they not sweep? It gave the whole place a somewhat messy feel, but an inviting one as well.

There were more street guards, wearing their metal shirts and strange high aching helmets. They looked at him strangely but did not otherwise bother him as he perused the many shops.

Looking into the next, there were hundreds of rugs and other fine-looking quilts. In fact, shops selling rugs of colorful designs and inscribed with artistic patterns seemed to be everywhere. Perhaps the rugs had a cultural significance, or were the raw materials used to weave them simply in high supply in the region?

The next shop caught his eye. There were garments inside, rolls of fabrics and many customers. There was a tall man, not from this area. He looked like a foreigner getting his measurements taken by a young woman.

In another area of the shop a couple of women in high-end clothing wearing bracelets of gold perused the fabrics, touching them with their fingers and nodding amongst themselves.

Shiro decided he would come here tomorrow and get some new clothes. The ones he was wearing now—these robes of his homeland—were drawing many looks. He needed to be as unassuming as possible.

He put out a copper for some of the meat and green plants on the sticks, and actually got an even smaller coin in return. The meat sizzled on the stick. It was difficult to eat, but the flavor was excellent, and the green plant was slightly burnt, giving it a flavor that complemented the meat very well.

After finishing his meat stick—he was sure there was a name for this food—he found a place where he could buy a bed for the night. Surprisingly, about a third of his coin was taken in exchange for the room.

The furnishings were simple. Wooden chairs, a table and a bench near the window. There were plants in the lintel, some of them hung from hooks in the ceiling. He had a mirror, a wash basin and a bed with a thick cushion with clean linens.

He would have liked to bathe, but the establishment had no bath house!

Kami preserve me, he thought. I’m filthy.

He was slightly disappointed, but decided not to become angry. These people simply did things differently and he was sure he could bathe in another establishment.

Surely?

He bolted the door and closed the window shutters so no thieves could crawl into his room. It was a shame, because the night sky was a beautiful sight of shining stars against a dark blue backdrop, the moon half covered in a wisp of white clouds.

He laid on the bed, put his sword next to him where he could reach it easily, and closed his eyes.