Chapitre 53: Lydia's Statue 2
Wen eyed the road with some disfavor. The council had granted her the wagon and a pair of old horses to pull it, but no one had told her that the road was in such disrepair.
It probably wasn't anyone in the council's fault. Wen could see the faint signs of toolmarks on the ripped-up bricks that were scattered about. Clearly, someone had engaged in a fight a short while ago, despite fights being forbidden on the roadways.
"Oy! What's the hold up!" came from behind her, the voice irritated and male.
Wen glanced over her shoulder to the wagon behind her. It was bigger and fancier than hers, lead by a team of blue oxen with gleaming black and white tipped horns. She could feel the itch start deep down as she absently started cataloguing the colors she'd need to immortalize them in paint.
It would be better if they were grazing, she mused to herself before shaking the thought away.
"Hey! I was asking—," the voice died away as its owner approached the front of her wagon. "Well, what happened here?"
"Someone messed up the road?" Wen ventured. She looked at the ruins and then her horses and back. "I'm sorry, but my horses can't go over that. I'll pull over to the side and let you by."
The owner of the voice was a burly merchant dressed in expensive, but still serviceable fabrics. His outfit consisted of a tunic belted over trews with an expensive, twisted belt. Tiny bags hung from the belt, most the size of her fist.
Wen recognized those bags. They denoted an alchemist, or at least someone who dealt in alchemical ingredients. She had another friend who'd deviated into that job, proclaiming the mixing of ingredients and seeing what happened next to be something next to divine.
Wen reflected that her friends tended towards interesting career paths once they started the game.
"No, no, lass, that's way too dangerous," the merchant said. He looked up at her with a slight smile. "M'name's Krahn, Rockland Krahn, and before you ask, yes, yes, like that mining town down south. M'mum had a bit of a sense of humor."
"Wen," Wen replied, lips curling into a smile. "It's just Wen for now."
"Oh, one of those, eh?" Rockland nodded jovially. He gestured towards the road. "We'll just wait. Road patrol will be by eventually. They'll need the evidence to know who to fine, don't you know?"
"I didn't." Wen scanned the scene in front of her. There were road bricks scattered across a wide area. "How can they tell?"
"Now if I knew that, I'd be richer than I already am," Rockland replied.
"Then how long do we wait?" Wen asked, slumping just a little on the driving bench.
"Won't be long." Rockland walked to one of the bricks and looked at it. "Looks like some sort of sword skill was used here. That's going to be pricey," he chortled under his breath.
Wen felt her lips twitch in an involuntary smile. He sounded just like her grandmother watching wrestling. She could imagine that he would be the sort to happily watch as people were arrested and hauled away, probably eating popcorn or some other kind of snack.
"Why is it dangerous to pull over to the side of the road?" Wen asked.
"You must be new to traveling, eh? The roads are supposed to be safe from attack. They have wards that keep the monsters away and lets others know that you should not attack," Rockland explained.
"Then wouldn't the destruction ruin the wards?" Wen felt increasingly wary as she looked around. The happy, sunshine-y day was starting to get a bit darker.
"You really are new here, huh?" Rockland examined what he could see of her sitting on the bench. "The wards are most likely something buried. There's all sorts of rumors and stories about them. Just know that the roadways are safe, especially between the curbs." He gestured to the simple lines carved along the roadway. "They help with drainage."
Wen nodded. She looked up towards the horizon.
"There looks to be a place I can pull over further up once the road is repaired."
"That's exactly what it's for," Rockland said with a chuckle. "You haven't traveled that much with a wagon, or at all from what I can tell."
"Not really," Wen replied. She glanced back at her wagon bed. "I'm taking this poor piece to see my mentor in another town to ask his advice. It would be a shame if someone didn't restore it."
Rockland went on his toes to peep through the slats at the roughly wrapped statue. Then he took a step backwards, examining the wagon and the horses. Rockland nodded thoughtfully.
"That does explain rather a lot," he muttered.
"What does?" Wen glanced back again, seeing nothing except her pitiful luggage and the wrapped up statue pieces. She noted with an internal wince that the statue was better protected than the luggage. "I don't see anything."
Rockland huffed out a sigh, hands on his hips.
Just as he opened his mouth to retort, there was a disturbance behind them. A young boy ran up and stopped in front of Rockland, hands on his knees as he gasped for breath.
"Road guards, brother! A lot of them," he finally said.
"M'brother, Parker," Rockland said with a vague wave of his hands. "Isn't it good news that the guards are here?"
"They've got a bunch of repair wagons with them. They said we'll have to move off to the side so they can fix the road," Parker said. He stared at the destroyed part of the road. "Woah! Look at the mess! How much do you think the fine's gonna be?"
Wen bit back a laugh as Rockland scolded his brother. The suave, cool front he'd been putting on practically dissolved as it descended into the typical teenager sling fest. Wen made a mental note to call her own brother. As far as she knew, he'd said that he was going to play the game as well.
With the opening of the conversion portals, selling gold to corporations and private buyers was a good occupation. For the corporations, it was cheaper to just buy it from the gold miners rather than hire their own miners, and most of the private buyers were either trying to buy something that was suddenly available or just hoarding it to show off in-game.
She knew this because of the last art auction she'd participated in. Wen had been persuaded to send a piece by her mentor, and her other mentees had mentioned the rather hilarious goings on to her when they had their next RL class.
As it turned out, both an NPC and a player had wanted the same piece. The NPC had brought out a large amount of gold, and the player had resorted to the trading platforms to get theirs. Then at some point during the auction, there had been a jewelry heist, an elopement and a duel.
Wen hadn't quite known what to say to all that. Her fellow mentees had said that that hadn't been everything, but those were the highlights to them.
The next auction was also the reason she was taking the statue to her mentor. The statue gave her an excuse she could use to her own sense of thriftiness which thought a trip just to deliver one painting was too expensive.
Knowing herself well, Wen knew that doing that would mean the painting wouldn't make the auction. Instead, she'd stop in a variety of places to paint new pieces, just to make it 'worth her while.' The statue, being a beautiful, mysterious wreck, negated that thought process.
If it wasn't her own personality she was trying to fool, she'd give herself a pat on the back. She still remembered the time she'd run into that clearance sale at an art store and then proceeded to paint nearly nonstop for four weeks.
Wen gave herself a mental shake. She'd improved since then. Her psychiatrist had told her so at her last session.
"Then, we'll just pull over to the side. Mistress Wen? Would you like to join us?" Rockland finally said, turning from his brother towards her.
"I would love to," Wen replied with a smile.
*****
Wen got out of her capsule. The late morning sunshine pierced through the slats of the blinds, painting bars of brilliant yellow across the wall and floors.
She stared at the bars of light for a long moment before turning her attention to her easel next to the window. A canvas sat on it, taunting her with its blank surface.
Wen sighed and ignored it in favor of the giant screen on her wall. She tapped her capsule's cover, changing the screen's contents to a display of her wagon nestled amongst the many of Rockland's family's.
As it turned out, Rockland was heading towards Crestfield as well. Renowned as the City of Caravans, a lot of auctions and special sales were conducted there, taking advantage of the caravanserai and its numerous caravan operators.
If you wanted to travel in Guntershaven and were close enough to Crestfield, then taking a caravan there was the best bet. There didn't seem to be any other organized form of group travel otherwise. Even some merchants used the caravanserai to organize their trading loops.
Joining a caravan was easier and cheaper if you had your own wagon. Otherwise, you had to pay fares and lading for your luggage.
Wen also wasn't sure if she wanted to let anyone else touch the statue's remnants. The people the Council had sent to help her had given her the willies.
Part of the time, she was sure that one of them had entertained the thought of stealing the wagon and the horses. He'd been deterred by the existence of the other three, and Wen had left pretty much after the last piece had been put in place.
She'd only taken a few minutes outside of town to wrap them in weatherproof canvas before starting her journey.
Her mentor wasn't located in Crestfield but farther afield in a town called Featherflue. The town was renowned for its large and varied bird populations.
She smiled faintly as she wandered towards her kitchen to check her fridge. Since graduation was over and she'd started playing, Wen had been depending more on the nutrient fluids for the capsule than actual food. Her family had sent her a few cases, saying that they had bought them in bulk.
It made her wonder if her little brother was one of the ones profiting the most from the conversion platforms. He'd always been adventurous and a bit of a hoarder. She could see him selling something and cashing out the gold.
It was just his personality. Sometimes, looking at her family, Wen wondered if she'd been switched out. Everyone else was happy running around, talking to people and making money while she preferred to either paint or sculpt, preferably without anyone bothering her.
"Ah! She's finally crawled out of her little dungeon!" Patsy said, looking up from the tablet in her lap, one hand wielding a spoonful of yogurt.
"Ah! She's finally come back from seducing this week's unlucky guy," Wen shot back with a roll of her eyes.
"I'm so hurt that you think of me that way," Patsy replied. She ate the yogurt and stuck the spoon back into the quart sized container on the table. "I would have you know that I keep them for at least a month nowadays."
"Rent issues?" Wen asked as she stopped on her way to the kitchen.
"No, Mom issues. She wants me to bring a guy to her next wedding," Patsy replied with a shrug.
"Ouch," Wen winced. "I didn't know she was divorced."
"Neither did her last husband," Patsy sighed. She gave herself a shake. "Now, come and tell me what you're doing in that game of yours. I might even cave and get a capsule."
"When you're scamming guys for rent?" Wen asked, fetching a spoon from the kitchen. She came and plopped down next to Patsy. "Do you really think that's wise?"
"It's not scamming when they just give it to you," Patsy replied, batting emerald green eyes and tossing curly honey locks over her shoulder.
"Not falling for it," Wen warned her, sticking her spoon into the yogurt. "Where did you even find so much vanilla yogurt?"
"It's a gift?" Patsy shrugged. "So, spill! Details! Are you going to be selling something else fabulous?"
"Not sure," Wen said absently.
Then she smiled and proceeded to tell Patsy how she came to own a wagon, two horses, and a decrepit statue.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Tashady
Tashady I need a new memory...totally thought that I'd already uploaded this...grrr...oh, well...
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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