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Deal of a Lifetime

Chapter 2

Six hours. Six hours of searching, of scouring street after street, alleyway after alleyway and Aston had still yet to find the "Small collection of bars, taverns, and the like." Haddish had told him about. Now here he was, cold and frustrated beyond belief after he'd managed to become hopelessly lost.

It wasn't all Aston's fault either. Navigating through the industrialized landscape that was Kelston had proven to be far more difficult than traversing the simple dirt pathways he'd walked back home. More than once Aston had turned a corner only to be greeted by a closed-off cul-de-sac or some other kind of dead end. Each wrong turn he made only serving to increase his foul mood.

Though, if Aston was being completely honest it was those he came across while roaming the streets that truly riled him up that afternoon. Those drunks back at Ebonhill's tavern had been bad, but these people took the prize! All of them seemed to thrive on being as rude as can be. Pushing and shoving him at the slightest provocation. Some even went as far as to glare at him if he dared to say hello or good day. It was enough to drive those accustomed to country living like him to complete and utter madness!

But as awful as things were – And by the Sun God was they awful! – Aston wasn't going to allow this city or its people break his resolve. He'd come there on a mission dammit and come underworld or high water he was going to see it through! He didn't care how many times he was shoved about!

So carry on he did. Doubling, no tripling, his efforts to find the neighborhood of bars he'd been directed to. Which thankfully, after turning down what had to have been the thirtieth street that afternoon, he did! Tired eyes settling on several old, dilapidated buildings nestled in the far corner of the great armored walls encasing the city.

Approaching the closest of these unsavory structures Aston gazed up at the sign that hung above its swinging doors and winced. “The Bloody Hatchet" it read. Its moniker crudely painted onto an uneven slab of warped wood under a vivid image of said implement dripping with what he hoped wasn't blood.

'Well isn't that just lovely!' Aston thought sarcastically to himself. 'Maybe I should try one of the other taverns first.'

Unfortunately, the Hatchet's compatriots seemed to be just as colorfully named. Each of them, in order, dubbed "The Hanging Man", "The Gouged Eye", "The Murdering Marauder", and the "We'll Cut Your Throat and Leave You in a Ditch Family Bar and Grille". There certainly was a theme going on in that neighborhood, wasn't there?

Seeing that it didn't matter where he went Aston reluctantly opted to enter the Bloody Hatchet. Hopes high that maybe its décor and clientele wouldn't be as bad as its name suggested. Oh, how wrong he turned out to be.

Passing through the front doors of the establishment Aston was greeted by several very objectionable things all at once. First, there was the smell. A combination of stale ale, sweat, and urine that made his nose burn and eyes water. Next was the sight of the bar itself. A dark, gloomy little chamber lacking decorations save for a bar manned by a scarred and surly-looking orc on one side of the room and several tables placed haphazardly throughout the enclosed space on the other.

Finally, there was the most distressing thing of all. Seated at the aforementioned tables was a whole menagerie of rough-looking men. Grizzled, scowling, murderous folks who leveled him with suspicious glares for several long and awkward moments.

Then, eerily as one, they all turned their attention back to whatever they'd been doing before Aston's entrance. A low murmur rising in the room as a few resumed conversations while others began drinking in earnest.

It was an intimidating greeting, to say the least. But one Aston didn't allow to chase him off. With a deep, steadying breath he made his way took a seat on a stool in front of the bar. A hand raised as he settled in an attempt to get the attention of the bartender who stared at him for a moment, annoyed, before giving a very put-upon sigh and reluctantly approaching.

“What can I get you." The Orcish man rumbled.

“Um..."

Unhooking the small money sack he carried with him from his belt Aston peered inside, suddenly remembering that he only had eight coppers to his name at that point. He'd left home with a full forty but thanks to wagon fares and essential food and shelter had long ago spent most of it.

“...What can I get for a copper?" He finally said to the green-skinned man.

The orc's own frown increased tenfold. “A cup of spit and a knife to the gut."

Aston did his best not to blanch. “H-How about three coppers then?" He tried with a wary, tittering laugh.

Again, the orc growled under his breath. But this time he did grab a small cup along with “something" from the bottle-lined shelves behind him and poured it into the container. "Here. Drink fast." He said placing it down on the counter a little rougher than necessary and then collecting his payment. "I do not like moneyless bums in my bar."

“Understood sir and t-thank you!" Taking the drink he paid for Aston took a tentative sip finding it to be mostly water with a hint of, ale? Not the best drink he ever had, but at least it would help settle his nerves a little for what would come next.

Turning to face the rest of the room Aston scanned the area to see which amongst those gathered looked the most helpful. Regrettably, there didn't seem to be much good pickings in the Bloody Hatchet that afternoon. A few blackout drunks, a pair of grumpy-looking town guards, a group of adventurers being told a story by an old man with a crooked nose and a toothless grin.

It wasn't until his second once over that Aston finally found a good enough candidate. A sour-faced gentleman hunched over on the opposite side of the bar staring morosely into the stein of ale he held. Not exactly the most friendly sort, but at least he was alone and unoccupied.

Decision made Aston downed the remainder of his own drink and stood. Mentally cheering himself on as he slowly approached the other man. “Sir!?" He tentatively called out to the stranger. “M-Might I have a moment?"

Raising his head sluggishly the man gazed over to Aston with weepy eyes. “What the fuck do you want?" He asked, words slurred. “Can't ya see I'm busy here?"

Eyesight flicking to the man's drink then back to him Aston did his best not to snort. “Oh… of course you are!" He said, trying his best not to sound sarcastic. “But since I have your attention now I was wondering if you could give me directions to somewhere? Please?"

The man narrowed his eyes for a moment after the request, then sighed tiredly. “Fine." He huffed. “But make it quick! I'm meeting someone here soon."

One hurdle passed, Aston thought. Now onto the next. “I will sir, I promise!" He assured with a thankful nod before asking his question. “So, I'm trying to find somewhere in Kelston where I can make a Hallarian accord deal so if you would kindly—"

Just like with Haddish the very moment Aston spoke the words "Hallarian Accord" he received a most curious reaction. However instead of mild surprise, this time it was an expression of intense, vicious-looking anger. The man's eyes flashing with fury as he slowly rose from his seat, teeth barred.

“Should have figured that you were one of them fucking lizard-loving idiots!" The man said, voice raising. "Do you have any idea how stupid you're being! You Sun God damned fucking little idiots!"

Pausing for a moment the man grimaced. His eyes welling up with tears as he stalked towards Aston shaking a fist. “It's because of people like you that my boy left home!" He said continuing his tirade. “Fucking assholes jumping at the chance to kiss some scaly bastard's ass for some coin! Telling other people how great it is! You should all be fucking ashamed of yourselves! You bunch of fucking greedy, fucking stupid little..."

It was at that point that Aston couldn't make out what the man was saying. His vicious stream of vitriol descending into a fit of half sobbing, half cursing. What made matters worse was that he was not alone in his ranting. As if sensing that a fight was about to happen several other men inside of the tavern began to join in on the heckling. An angry mob forming in a matter of seconds which descended upon Aston with menacing intent.

Obviously, Aston had triggered something he shouldn't have – Not that he knew what – and now he had to get out of there before he ended up throttled or worse. Thankfully there was a clear shot to the front door, most of those within the bar all gathered in front of him. All he'd have to do was get close enough to make a break for it.

At least that was the plan until something quite unexpected happened. Just as Aston was about to make his great escape, back pressed up against the tavern's closed swinging doors, he was suddenly sent hurtling forwards to the ground when they swung inwards with incredible force. Aston letting out a pained grunt as he landed on his hands and knees before the murderous mob primed to attack him.

But oddly enough, said attack never came. The entire room going deathly still and quiet as Aston warily peered up at his would-be assaulters. What fear he'd felt quickly being replaced by bewilderment when he noticed that they were all now staring at something behind him with expressions ranging from worry to abject horror.

'Why are they afraid?' Aston wondered, rising to his knees. Frowning he slowly began to turn, wanting to see what it was exactly they were looking at. 'Surely nothing can be scary enough to make men like these act like a bunch of—AHHHHH!'

That was when Aston discovered the reason for the sudden change of mood within the Bloody Hatchet. Both his olive-colored eyes landing on a creature standing at the entrance of the bar that he'd only ever heard about in cautionary tales or read about in history books.

The beasts that had roamed the western wastelands since the beginning of time.

The bane of the heroes of old and devourers of princesses.

The terrors of the ancient Raisteria-Draterran wars.

A DRAGKIN!

It took all of five seconds of staring at this monster for Aston to fly into a blind panic. A cry of, "BY THE SUN GOD!", leaving him as he scrambled away on all fours as fast as he could. His escape was once again thwarted when he ended up at the feet of the men who'd been chasing him.

'Be a man for once Aston and face your death with dignity!' The Voice snapped at him.

Seeing that he had no choice but to do as he'd been told Aston rolled around, falling onto his bottom, as he resumed eyeing the intimidating creature that now towered over him. Absolute terror and to his astonishment, a small bit of curiosity consuming his every thought.

In many ways the Dragkin before him lived up to everything Aston had ever heard about its kind. The creature's tall and muscular body covered in a spiky, scaly, smoky gray hide. It even had wings! Large bat-like ones with bright, bloody crimson webbing that flexed with every breath it took.

But… that was where the images Aston had conjured up in his youth ended. In his imaginings, he had always thought the Dragkin to be little more than animals that walked upright. Claws big and hooked like scythes. Slobbering, pointed snouts filled with razor-sharp fangs. Eyes yellow and slitted like a serpent's. The only shreds of clothing they'd wear being tattered loincloths.

The Dragkin he now looked upon, however… they almost seemed… normal. At least when came to being compared to the many other demihuman races Aston had seen in his lifetime.

For one, its facial features were rather benign. The short, squared snout on its face reminded him more of a horse's than a reptile's. The only sign of fangs coming in the form of a single pair of dull, downward-pointed canines that emerged from the upper half of its muzzle.

The Dragkin also had ears, if you can believe it. Small ones on either side of its head that twitched under a pair of long, backward-facing horns. Both appendages rising from a thick thatch of glossy, ebony-colored hair that tumbled down to the Dragon's shoulders.

Lastly, there was what the creature was wearing. Not in a primitive loincloth or rusty armor but in regular clothing. Albeit a bit fancy. Its lower half was covered by a pair of dark blue breeches while above that he wore a white button-up shirt covered by a well-tailored black tailcoat. A style of dress Aston had only ever seen Raisterian noblemen wearing before that very moment.

Were the Dragkin not as savage as he had always heard, Aston wondered hopefully. If they weren't then maybe serving one wouldn't be as bad as he originally thought. A hopeful ideal that Aston was only allowed to hold onto for all of three seconds before he was regrettably proven wrong the very instant the scaled beast finally opened its fanged mouth to speak.

“What do we have here? A brand new little piggy at my bar?" The dragonic man said, smug and growly. “Oh, and look! It already knows its place!"

There was a dark chuckle from the man as he strode forward a few steps. "Down at my feet worshiping me!" He continued. “Such a good boy!"

Hearing himself being referred to as both a “piggy" and a “boy", Aston felt his heckles rise in silent outrage. In no way was he either of those things and he didn't appreciate being called so!

Forgetting whom he was speaking to thanks to pure adrenaline the simple countryman quickly got to his feet and weakly glared up at the insulting reptile. “I wasn't worshiping you and I would never worship you!" He told the dragon. “I… I just so happened to fall down. Because of you, I might add!"

There was an expression of surprise from the Dragkin after that haughty response. The larger man's bright, violet-colored eyes widened for a moment before he recovered with a grin. “My! Aren't you the little back-sasser!" He said, every word dripping with condescension. “That's fine. Breaking in a brat is half the fun of owning a human."

Without asking the Dragkin placed a finger under Aston's quivering chin and tilted his face up. “Let's see…" He hummed thoughtfully. “A brunette with olive eyes. Traits common for Raisterians from the east. Bit of a tan so you worked outside. Given that region, I'll say as a farmhand so you're no doubt sturdy and up for anything thrown your way. Yes, you'd sell quite nicely! Quite nicely indeed!"

Aston felt a wave of nausea wash over him after being appraised. Both because of the slimy way it had been done and just how accurate the Dragkin doing it had been with the details. Was this what it was like entering a Hallarian Accord? Being graded like a slab of meat at the butcher and sold off for the highest price?

Well, even if that was the case there was no way in hell Aston wanted to be “sold" by the particular Dragkin eyeing him right then. There was just something off about him. Something dark and foreboding. In that moment Aston felt as if he were in the sights of a predator sizing up its prey for slaughter.

Stepping back so that he was out of the other man's reach Aston did his best to smile despite his disgust towards him. No need to make this beast angry after all. “Um… I… h-have to go!" He said lamely. “Have to get home for supper!"

A displeased frown settled onto the Dragkin's face at that. His whole demeanor shifting from charmingly bemused to tetchy and annoyed. But then, he suddenly calmed, the confident mask he previously presented instantly slipping back into place.

“Have it your way little piggy." He purred through his smile. “But if you ever change your mind, be sure to come back here and see me. I'm always doing business here."

That said he rudely brushed past Aston – that farmer having to hop back when the beast's tail swung at him – and approached the crowd of men that had been watching their entire exchange. Most of those present almost instantly backed away save for the sad-looking man Aston had first spoken with. The surly, sullen drunk nervously keeping his head down as the Dragkin neared.

“I presume you're Mr. Crawford, correct?" The winged creature said to him. All business now and little patience on display. “The man who stormed into my office the other day demanding that he speak with me?"

At the mention of his name, the man flinched, fists curling tightly as he hesitantly looked up enough to nod back in response. “Y-Yes sir, Mr. Ebonfang." He mumbled, clearly nervous and scared. “I… I wanted to talk about my son, Robin Crawford?"

“But of course Mr. Crawford, but of course!" Motioning over to a table the Dragkin, named Ebonfang apparently, gave a sickeningly sweet and genial smile. “Let's sit down first. Maybe order a drink so we can relax while discussing how much our “Robby" is looking forward to seeing you again."

“Yes sir," Crawford said back, tone flat. "Of course sir."

Observing this interaction between the two men from afar, Aston wondered what had brought the two together. Given the way the man, Crawford, had gone off at him about Dragkin and those who made deals with them, it was odd that both he and his son were apparently involved with one.

However, before Aston could dwell any further on this puzzle he was suddenly reminded of how unwelcome he had become in the bar. Several pairs of eyes, including those of the bartender now, all glaring at him from around the room. Perhaps he better make his retreat now before another riot began.

'Better safe than sorry.' Aston concluded as he rushed himself out of the door. A little worse for wear, but at the very least still alive after the horrible time he'd had within the seedy tavern.

The only thing was, now that he was safe and sound outside Aston quickly remembered again just how lost he was. Both concerning his whereabouts in Kelston and where he was supposed to go and make the Hallarian accord he'd come there to make.

It was as he began lamenting though that Aston received the first piece of good luck he'd had all afternoon. A loud "PSST!" suddenly coming from somewhere to his right. The alleyway between the Blood Hatchet and its neighbor to be precise where one of the men he'd seen inside the bar was standing. The storyteller with the crooked nose who eagerly motioned for him to cover over when he was noticed.

“Hello?" Aston said to the stranger. Curious as to what he wanted yet still hesitant to approach. For all he knew the man was about to slash his throat or something. “Can I help you with something sir?"

“I'm thinking it's you who needs help lad." The man responded back smartly. "That if you're willing to hand over some coin in exchange for some information."

An eyebrow rose upwards. “What kind of information?" Aston asked.

“The kind that'll tell you where you can make that Dragkin deal you were asking about!" When Aston's face brightened the man sniggered again, his gummy grin presented. "Knew that'd get your attention! But like I said; it's going to cost you whatever you got in that pretty purse of yours."

Hand landing on the small bag attached to his hip Aston made a small worried hum. If he handed over what little he had he'd be left completely broke and stranded in a foreign city. No way to get home. No way to afford shelter or food.

“I… only have five coins left." Aston did warn the man.

Though obviously displeased when he heard the amount Aston possessed the man sighed and held out a hand. “Five coins will do it then." He agreed reluctantly. “But only because you made me laugh. Been a while since some idiot almost started a fight in Mr. Ebonfang's bar."

“Happy to entertain." Aston harrumphed, handing over his money. “Now please, you have what you asked for, so tell me where I have to go."

Pocketing his newfound wealth the man smirked. “First thing first kid, you need to get yourself to “Reveler's Row"!" He began.

“Reveler's Row?" Aston repeated, brows furrowing at hearing the name.

“Yeah, real lawless place on the western side of town." The man further explained. “Anything you want, you can get! Stuff you can only find on the black market in Raisteria or…"

Leaning in the man waggled his eyebrows. “...Some good company." He laughed. “That's the only reason why I go there myself. Got the prettiest whores around! Nice big tits and real tight down there!"

Listening to the man speak Aston grimaced. The conspiratorial wink that followed only making him more queasy. From the way it was being described this “Reveler's Row" sounded an awful lot like the red light districts his village's local Sun Priest railed against during his weekly sermons. Dens of moral decay and depravity that tempted good men and women into committing all sorts of immoral, carnal acts.

If this location was one of those sinful places then Aston didn't want any part of it. A feeling he accidentally ended up voicing aloud as soon as the idea entered his mind. "Why would I want to go there!?" He asked aloud. "I want directions to where I can make a Hallarian Accord not a night of… disgusting things like that."

Responding to the prudish response the man snorted and rolled his eyes at Aston. “Well I hate to break it to you sweetheart, but the “Row" is where that Hallarian shit happens!" He snapped back. “Now do you want damn directions or not!?"

Wincing at the harsh rebuttal Aston was quiet for several long minutes. The internal debate of whether he should listen to the other man or not raging inside his mind.

It was risky. Taking the man's advice and heading off to who knew where. But when had a little danger ever stopped him before on his little adventure. He had managed to make it all the way to Kelston by taking risks after all! He'd even survived a bar fight! Well, a near bar fight, but it still counted! Surely he could resist whatever temptations came his way when he got to the infamous Reveler's Row!

'You sure about that Aston?' The Voice wondered.

“Alright sir, tell me the way," Aston told the man, ignoring the Voice's little comment.

There was another smile from the grungy man, a twinkle in his eyes as he placed an arm around Aston and pulled him close. “Now that's the spirit kid!" He cheered. “So to get to the Row the first thing you're gonna need to do is head over to a street called Strangle Alley! Go down that for eight or nine blocks until you reach… … and then… …. but if you see a statue of a headless horse then you've gone too far and… … …. then go..."

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A little while later Aston could be found once again making his way down the noisy, clustered streets of Kelston. Breath short and hopes a little high as he steadily made his way towards his new destination, Reveler's Row. The knowledge he'd gained concerning what he'd have to do next spurring him on as he moved.

After giving him directions the man from the alleyway had been kind enough to tell him about the process he'd have to go through in order to make the deal he wanted. Apparently, the first step would be getting himself a "Negotiator". A Dragkin whose job was to arrange deals between others of their kind and those seeking out contracts.

That's probably what that Dragkin Aston had come across did for a living, given the way he'd talked to him. Aston just hoped that his contemporaries weren't as sinister and blunt about their work as he had been.

Regardless if they were or not Aston was now searching out one of these unsightly negotiators. A task which thankfully wouldn't be that hard. There were seven of them in total in Kelston. Each the head of a “House" of some sort. All Aston had to do was get to one before they closed for the night.

That was why he was in such a hurry right now. Ducking and weaving his way through the teeming masses while speedily making his way ever westwards. The pathways of Kelston becoming even more labyrinthine and strangely less crowded the further he went on.

Soon the once suffocating numbers that surrounded him most of the day had thinned out until it was only Aston and a few others remaining. Well-dressed men and women. All of them laughing and chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they walked alongside him.

Quietly observing these odd individuals as he traveled Aston frowned, confused by the way they were acting. In his short time in Kelston, he hadn't seen such gleeful attitudes from the locals. Only sour faces and rude sneers. These people though… they seemed unusually happy. Excited even! Why were they like that? Why were they dressed up? Were they going to Reveler's Row like him?

All of these questions among many more remained on the forefront of Aston's mind as he continued onward with his newfound companions. The setting sun eventually dipping behind the walls of the city and bathing the path he traveled in shadows as he turned onto a darkened, lonely street that appeared to be even older and more run-down than the rest of Kelston.

But it was amongst this ruinous neighborhood that Aston finally saw the first hints that he was heading in the right direction. Up ahead he could see what appeared to be a great archway carved into Kelston's back wall. An opening to a long tunnel from which a warm, yellowish glow emanated. Electric lights Aston realized once he was close enough. Marvelous new inventions he'd only ever heard rumors of from travelers returning from Raisteria's capital.

Pausing just before he entered this unusual passageway Aston peered upwards at the stonework making up the entryway. The words, “Reveler's Row, Welcome to all and to all welcome!" carved into the solid stone. A far more friendlier greeting than the signs he had come across elsewhere in Kelston. Mostly “No Trespassing" or “No Body Dumping Please".

Slowly shifting his attention back down Aston watched as those around him passed him by, all grins and laughter as they heedlessly headed down this mysterious corridor. Their silhouettes eventually disappearing into the brightness that sat at its other obscured exit.

There were also people returning from wherever the tunnel led. Ruddy-cheeked, giddy folks in the highest of spirits, that stumbled their way back into the grime and despair that was their hometown with even more pleased smiles upon their lips.

“Just what kind of place is this Reveler's Row?" Aston wondered quietly.

Curiosity getting the better of him now Aston hesitantly entered the tunnel. The low glow of the electric lights affixed to the walls bathing him in their gentle light as he made his way through, the sounds of melodious music and gentle laughter eventually reaching his ears the further he went. A pleasant timbre that grew louder and louder and louder until… … …

He ended up walking into what had to be the most amazing location he'd even bore witness to in his short twenty-three years of life. The infamous Reveler's Row.

Instantly left awestruck by what he discovered Aston dumbly shuffled forwards. The tall, gilded gateway that served as the area's entrance passing above him as he tried and failed to take everything in all at once.

When he'd first been told about Reveler's Row and what went on there Aston had imagined the location to be some sort of slum. A dark cesspool of moral decay only fit for the most unpleasant of criminals and other ne'er-do-wells. Yet, what he had stumbled across just now was something quite the opposite. Instead of dark and cold, trash-filled streets, Aston had expected to find, there were brightly lit cobblestone avenues. Tall street lamps on either side of the street giving off warm inviting light as people came and went from quaint little curious shops and even a few restaurants.

There was even a large courtyard of sorts that had been sectioned off as a dancing area. The large space occupied by couples of every single species you could find in Raisteria, even Dragkin. The whole joyous mass enjoying themselves as a brass band played music for them from under the shade of a homey-looking gazebo at the center.

All in all, it was rather quite wholesome Aston observed once he found his wits and began to explore this new, interesting place. Or, at least that's how things seemed until Aston turned onto a side street and came across what he, at first, thought was a normal marketplace.

Curious as to what sorts of things were being sold that evening Aston casually went over to the nearest of the stands and nearly fainted when he saw was sat atop its counter. Crude toys in the shapes of various body parts. Books barring illicit covers and risque titles. Bottles of liquids that boasted their usefulness for certain activities. Even a mannequin off to the side that was dressed up in frilly underthings. All of it proudly displayed before an eager, ogling public.

Face flushed after seeing all that Aston quickly sped off, making a quick escape down another random road. But this too turned out to be a mistake on his part. Aston setting foot right into the middle of what appeared to be a full-on red-light district.

Wide-eyed Aston gaped at the whorehouses that now surrounded him. Dozens and dozens of them. Some cheap and simple brothels, their workers leaning out from their windows catcalling down to those who were walking by. Others high-end and expensive bordellos. The clientele visiting them loudly talking amongst themselves about their most recent bedroom conquests.

But it was as he made his way through this unsightly local that Aston found himself growing curious again. Sun God help him. Vision landing on a hanging sign above the door of one establishment that bore a pair of wooden wings attached to the side.

“The Scaly Gentleman?" Aston humbled, reading it. Looking to the right he noticed an open window. “Are there… are there Dragkin prostitutes too?"

Giving into his urge to have his question answered Aston tiptoed his way over to the window and carefully peeked inside. Another choice that he almost instantly regretted making when he got an eyeful of something he wished he hadn't.

Through the open windowsill, he could see an obscenely well-endowed Dragkin. The green-scaled behemoth fully focused on rapidly working his exceptionally sized member in and out of a very excited female human partner who was on all fours atop a bed. The sounds of his growling grunts and her delighted squeals drifting right out of the window and into Aston's ears as they copulated in a joyous frenzy.

Exposed to the sight of such a lurid liaison Aston staggered back in shock. His hands flew up to cover his eyes as he shuddered in embarrassment. "By the Sun God's mercy!!" He exclaimed, the image of the two still there even though he couldn't see them. “H-How will that woman ever walk again!?"

Whether or not she ever would, Aston decided then and there that he didn't want to stick around and find out. Fully scandalized by everything he'd seen in the last few minutes the farm quickly spun on his heels and took off. His face downcast as he raced down the street and around a corner at top speed.

Unfortunately, as he made this sharp turn Aston failed to notice a large roadblock right in his path until it was too late. With a surprised shout from him and a deep grunt from elsewhere, the auburn-haired lad collided with, and then bounced right off of, a large bouncy wall. The force of the impact sending him hurtling to the ground, arms failing as he landed flat on his bottom with a mighty thud.

“WHOA THERE! You should watch where you're going hum… oh? Hello!" A deep, rumbling voice came from above after Aston landed. “Heh, ya alright down there youngling?"

Rubbing his now sore backside Aston took a moment to grumble in frustration. Both from his renewed embarrassment at being knocked right off his feat and the tremendous annoyance at being given another obnoxious nickname. First “Boy", then “Piglet", and now “Youngling"! Could no one in this damned city see that he was a full grown man!?

Temper flaring as he started to look up, Aston prepared to snap at whoever he'd just bumped into. All of the frustration that had built up after everything he'd gone through that day finally bubbling over as he opened his mouth, ready to verbally strike at something, anyone!

The problem with that though was when Aston did finally did glare up at his mystery assaulter he quickly found what ire he felt morphing into pure, unadulterated terror. The person he'd literally ran into turning out to be another Dragkin. A massive, great-horned beast of one at that!

Easily taller than the previous one he'd encountered the Dragkin standing there was quite hefty. Large rounded body a vibrant sky blue in tint with a tan underbelly. Both colors perfectly complimenting the bright white of the beard covering its lower jaw and the fluffy "tuff" of hair that sat atop his head between a rack of wide, yet short, bull-like horns.

But it was the expression the Dragkin wore upon his face that truly gave away just how different he seemed to be from the one Aston had met at the bar. Because, unlike Ebonfang with all his sinister mannerisms, this new Dragkin had a friendly aura about him.

The clothes he wore were rather plain and simple. A pair of well-worn brown trousers and loose-fitting, white lace-up shirt. The fabric straining just a little as he bent down slightly to peer at Aston with equal parts good humor and curiosity in his deep, emerald green eyes.

For the briefest of moments, Aston became lost in the man's comforting, gentle gaze. Still and bewildered as he sat there dumbly on the ground staring back up at him. Then with a start and a gasp, he suddenly remembered what had just happened. How he had just barred right into this creature. What he almost said to it!

No doubt he had just earned himself the monster's wrath! Surely, it would seek retribution and beat him into a paste for daring to get in his way! This was where he was going to die! Beaten to death at the hands, or er, claws, of one of the fabled enemies of humankind!

“I-I… I, uh… I'm… I'm…." He tried and failed to say. Proper words failing to come from him as he prepared himself to be throttled for his transgressions. “I d-didn't mean to honest! I was… I was… I..."

To Aston's astonishment, the Dragkin didn't seem to be in the mood for retribution. Squatting down to meet him face to face the big man merely chuckled back. “Now, now. No reason to be scared youngling." He said, clearly amused. “Ya should be apologizing though. Seeing as ya kinda barreled in-ta me just now."

Reacting to the flippant tone being used on him – almost as if he were a child! – Aston scowled. Stunned silence giving way to his earlier irritation. “Why should _ I _ apologize!?" He argued back petulantly “Something as big as you should look where they're going!"

But this brave retort soon led to shock the very moment it was said. “I-I mean…. Y-you're right!" Aston was quick to backtrack. “It was entirely my fault! Yes, most certainly it was! Definitely not yours oh, mighty D-Dragkin, sir!"

Smiling up at the man as he groveled Aston was surprised again to see him holding back even more laughter. “You're a sassy one, aren't ya youngling?" The Dragkin said, rolling on his heels and resting on his tail for a moment. “But ya got some manners in ya too! Very interesting!"

After rising back up to his full height the horned man reached down and effortlessly picked Aston. Clawed hands going under the smaller man's arms to lift him with such ease and speed that it left him dizzy and befuddled when he was suddenly hoisted back up onto his feet without warning.

“There we go! None the worse for wear!" The Dragkin announced proudly. “But back ta what ya said; How's about we both apologize? That way no one's in the wrong!"

Taking a step back the Dragkin cleared his throat and gave a deep, exaggerated bow. “Please forgive me for knocking ya over!" He said chipperly before righting himself again. “Good? Now your turn Youngling!"

Though not appreciating the mocking tone still being used Aston reluctantly gave in to the creature's game. "Fine, I'm sorry too." He said, dusting himself off. "Now if you excuse me I'm looking for something so farewell."

Trying to get away from the Dragkin before he decided to tease him anymore Aston took a large step to the side, intending to get as far away from the beast as he could. To his dismay, his escape attempt was almost instantly blocked off. The big blue reptile mimicked his movement, a mischievous grin on his face that made Aston glare up at him hotly.

“Hey now, hold up a second there!" The Dragkin implored softly. “Did ya just say you were looking fer something? Something here in the Row I presume?"

Trying to escape again with another side step Aston was met with the same obstacle as before. "Yes… I did and yes it's here." He said with a sigh of defeat. Apparently, he wasn't going to get away that easy. "And please move. I don't have much time. It's probably going to close soon."

A blue eyebrow ridge rose upwards. “Well depends. Most places around here are open all night long." The Dragkin informed. “But why don't ya tell me where yer aiming fer anyway? Been living here for over two hundred and fifty years so I'm sure I can help ya find it!"

“Wait… TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS!?" Aston had head Dragkin were long lived but that was just unbelievable. “B-But you look so young!?" Pausing for a moment he squinted, examining the Dragkin closer. “I… think."

That utterance earned another wide grin from the blue creature. “Awe! Ain't ya the little charmer, you!" He almost cooed. “Now stop dawdling youngling and tell me where it is your heading!"

Suspicion clear as day Aston took a long hard look at the large being that stood in front of him. The internal debate of if he should trust him not waging within. After his experience with the gray Dragkin in the Bloody Hatchet he wasn't exactly keen on trusting any of their kind. At least when it came to random ones.

'But… this Dragkin isn't acting anything like the first did.' Aston reminded himself. “He seems really kind and friendly and…'

Pausing for a moment Aston witnessed the subject of his thoughts make a silly face at a passing pair of women who giggled back at him before moving on.

'...a bit of a buffoon.' Aston finished.

Besides that though, Aston couldn't think of a single reason he couldn't at the very least get directions from the man. It was either that or wandering around Reveler's Row until he found what he was looking for himself or if he couldn't, spending the night sleeping in a gutter somewhere.

“Alright then," Aston said, finally giving in. "But please stop calling me youngling. I'm not a child!" He then demanded. "My name is Aston. Aston Bakson."

Scratching his bearded chin the Dragkin quietly studied Aston for a second or two before nodding as if seeing something in him. "Please to meet you Aston, Aston Bakson." He joked, claw outstretched. "People usually call me Tulion Jadescale. Ya know, on account of that being my name."

Hesitantly taking the offered “hand" Aston blinked, surprised. Not because Tulion gripped his palm too tightly, no. But because he was stunned by just how warm and smooth the other man's scaled skin felt as they shook hands. An almost pleasant heat spreading through him that made his insides feel funny before Aston quickly pushed the odd sensation away in a mild panic.

“N-Nice to meet you too Mr. Jadescale." Aston eventually fumbled to say. “Thank you in advance for your help sir."

Tulion lit up at such a polite response. “There you go being all sweet again." He teased. “Now tell where you wanna go, Little Guy? Like ya said, night's wasting away!"

Choosing to ignore the new slight of being called “Little Guy" for now Aston began to explain his plight, expecting the worst. "I'm trying to make a Hallarian Accord deal." He started carefully. "I asked someone earlier and he said I need to go to a Negotiator House. But I have no idea where one is… so... can you... give me… I-Is something wrong Mr. Jadescale?"

Halfway through his speech, Aston began to notice Tulion's once amused face slowly shift to a far more serious expression. A concerned frown settling onto his fanged lips as he took a quick, furtive look around before leaning in. Bright green eyes gazing deeply into the human's olive eyes for several tense moments.

It was only after what felt like an eternity to a now concerned Aston that Tulion spoke again. “Ya sure that's where ya wanna go Mr. Bakson." He asked, low and secretively. “Because asking about accords ain't something ya make light of. Especially when ya talk to a Dragkin. It's sacred to us."

“I-It is?" Aston stammered back. What little confidence he once held wavering a little under the intensity of Tulion's words.

Scouring every piece of information he had learned about Hallarian Accord he couldn't recall a single person acting as if they were sacred. Not those drunks back at the bar in Ebonhill. Not the two lecherous creeps on the caravan. Not even the people at the Bloody Hatchet. Not a single one acted as if the accord was something divine. Something to get rich off of, yes. Something to be angry over, again, yes. But not sacred.

Then again, maybe that was because none of them had been Dragkin like Tulion. Perhaps it was only special to them. If that were the case then should he really be messing around with it? What if he did something wrong and ended up paying for it dearly.

That scary thought almost made Aston back down then and there. His resolve starting to crumble as he stood there, his eyes drifting downwards under Tulion's stern gaze and even sterner words. But then, suddenly, it strengthened like steel.

Aston would not give up that easily! Not when his family's home and their lives were on the line. He needed the money he could earn by entering into a Hallarian accord and he'd take whatever risks were necessary! Damn whatever consequences may come!

“Ya still in there Little Guy?" Tulion's worried-sounding voice came, breaking Aston out of his thoughts. "Ya still haven't answered me ya. Are ya serious about what ya said or not?"

Defiantly meeting the larger man's gaze again Aston did his best to stand tall. His chest puffed out and his chin held high as he responded to the question asked of him. "Yes, I'm serious!" He proclaimed. "So please, sir, if you will. Tell me where I have to go."

Tulion's serious demeanor swiftly changed as soon as Aston spoke those brave words. An almost proud expression appearing before he began laughing uproariously while giving the human a hearty clap on the back, nearly knocking him over again in the process.

“Sass, manners, and courage as well! Yer quite the package, ain't ya?" Tulion said.

Turning suddenly he motioned for Aston – who had to quickly hop to avoid his swinging tail – to follow him. “Come along then!" The Dragkin instructed. “I'll take ya right ta where ya need ta go personally!"

Left more than a little confused when Tulion proceeded to saunter off suddenly Aston instinctively chased after him. “WAIT!" He called out. “A-All I need are directions! I can get there by myself!"

“Don't doubt that, but it'd be easier if ya just follow me." Was Tulion's casual response. “Was heading to a Negotiator's House anyways." Raising his arm he showed off an overstuffed bag Aston hadn't noticed before. “Got business there."

“Business?" Aston parroted back, still trying to keep pace. “Wait? You work at a Negotiator House?"

Finally slowing Tulion peered back over his shoulder at his newfound companion, smirking. “Oh, I do more than work at one Little Guy. I own one!" He stated matter-of-factually. “I'm one of the lucky few here in Kelston verified to write up official contracts! Family's been in the business since the wars."

Learning that, Aston skidded to a complete stop as Tulion continued on down the brightly lit Reveler's Row street. The young man staring at the Dragkin's retreating back, a little shocked.

This had to be too good to be true! What were the odds of him just so happening to come across one of the very Dragkin he needed to help him achieve his goal out in the street like this? A hundred to one? A thousand? No, this had to be a trap of some sort. Tulion only feigning helpfulness to lure him off somewhere isolated so he could eat him or something else just as horrific.

However, there was also the chance the reptilian man was being sincere. If so then Aston would be a fool to pass up the opportunity that had landed in his lap.

Plus… … … there was another factor that Aston just couldn't ignore. It was odd, but for some reason, he wanted to trust Tulion. Be it because of his friendly personality or his infectious grin he couldn't pinpoint. All he knew was that he felt compelled to go against his better judgment.

It was that foolhardy emotion that won out in the end. Aston sending a silent prayer to the Sun God above as he resumed following his new dragonic guide. It was a risk, but he was used to it by now. All he could do as he was led to Tulion's mysterious destination was keep his wits about him and prepare for the worst while hoping to get the best. A fifty-fifty shot he was betting his very life on.

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