Journal - Trading



Been working my arse off with pots and horseshoes these last few days, hardly had any time to spare after last time I went to talk to Twigman. Though I found myself with some yesterday, then went on to visit the man again. Seems like the only damn place I have to go to between work.

Thought that might change soon. The dandyman Fiontann was there too, while Twigman's been busy tending to some patient of his, spoke to me about that idea of his, to create a place for traders to meet up, preen before each other and sell their wares to customers. I hope he's got enough gut to deal with vitriolic bastards, coming in to prance about and say they're better artisans than whatever sorry bunch he's got hired, any sort of artisan's guild has to deal with that - they swarm to them like rats to a slab of fatback. Mentioned that to the dandyman, who just shrugged and said he'll deal with it. Guess we'll see about that.
I need a better nickname for that sod.

Either way, he invited me to take part. Smithing, so mostly tools, pots and horseshoes, because that's the only damn junk people here need. Though I guess I can bang up a bit of armour to show off, who knows, maybe local militia gets paid enough for upgrades over their rickety chainmails. If anything, it'll be a welcome change, been a while since I made a suit of scale.
I left Twigman to his patient and went to grab the iron shipment from Bree, made it back home after scaring off some would-be bandits (bastards ran like they saw a wight, though given my face, maybe they thought they did) and began making space for the armour, looking for some rack. Found an old striking dummy, which I decided to set up outside. I'll take a swing at it after I'm done writing all this crap down, that run in the Forest made me realise how rusty I got, if I let a bunch of damned roots get the better of me.
Come to think of it, I don't have anything else to add.