Ch12: Extravagant Quilll.

The next day, relief and happiness flooded over the city as the guards paraded with the creature's corpse. The citizens lined the streets, cheering and applauding as the guards marched past, the carcass of the fearsome beast in tow.

"Look at that thing!" a child exclaimed, eyes wide with awe.

"It's huge," another voice echoed, filled with a mix of fear and fascination.

The clattering of armor and the rhythmic stomp of boots against the cobblestones accompanied the parade.

*clang-clang, stomp-stomp* The guards walked with a renewed sense of pride, their chests puffed out, smiles on their faces.

Marx, standing in the shadows at the edge of the crowd, watched intently. His eyes darted over the beast's body, noting the grotesque features: the elongated claws, the thick, sinewy muscles, the dark, matted fur.

*Roar*—the memory of the beast's fearsome roar echoed in his mind as he examined the deep gashes on its hide and the strange, almost alien, shape of its head.

"This is what caused all that chaos," Marx muttered to himself. "Incredible."

As the parade continued, he followed it through the city, always keeping to the edges, always observing. The creature was truly unlike anything he had ever seen. The more he studied it, the more questions filled his mind.

"How did it hide so well? What kind of magic did it use?" he whispered, his curiosity burning brighter than ever.

The citizens' cheers grew louder, *cheer* "Hooray!" , as the parade reached its end at the city square. The guard captain, standing atop a platform, raised his hands to silence the crowd.

"We have slain the beast that terrorized our city," the captain announced, his voice carrying over the gathered masses. *cheer* "Hooray!" *cheer*. "Rest assured, you are safe now."

The crowd erupted into applause, the sounds of claps echoing off the buildings.

Marx slipped away, his mind racing with new thoughts and ideas. He needed to know more about these phantasmal beasts, and for that he needed to understand the magic that made them so formidable.

"This is just the beginning," he thought as he headed back to the inn. "There's so much more to learn, so much more to discover."

The city's relief and happiness were palpable, but for Marx, the encounter with the beast had only fueled his insatiable curiosity. The guards had their victory, but Marx knew his journey was far from over.

As time went on, months passed away in a blur. Winter came to an end, and spring was arriving. With the seasonal change came another festival, The Endyear.

Marx had been preparing for this festival. Instead of pottery, he decided to sell some small wooden decorative pieces—20 in total—alongside all the ink he had made throughout winter—30 jars in total.

Marx with 190 copper coins still in his possession worried about money this time, he had enough time to learn 11 out of the 30 wood interlocking and carving techniques of Dovmiki.

"This should be enough to get through," he murmured to himself, examining his handiwork.

He had also learned that the city he lived in came under the western Dukedom from the map and had begun exploring the arcane arts, though his progress there was still in its infancy.

Marx frowned as he inspected his carving knives. "These are useless now," he sighed. The edges had dulled, and they were old to begin with.

*scrape-scrape* went the blade as he tested it against a piece of wood. "I'll need to replace these soon."

Despite this setback, his relationship with the innkeeper had improved significantly. She still referred to him as "boy," but there was a warmth in her voice that wasn't there before.

"Boy, are you ready for the festival?" she asked one morning, bustling about the inn.

"Yes, ma'am," Marx replied, a small smile on his face. "I've got everything prepared."

*clang-clang* went the market bells, signaling the start of the Endyear festival. Marx set up his stall, arranging the wooden pieces at the front and the jars of ink at the back.

"Let's see how today goes," he muttered, steeling himself for a long day of selling.

Throughout the day, people came and went, admiring his craftsmanship. *chatter-chatter* filled the air as customers haggled, laughed, and celebrated.

"How much for this piece?" a woman asked, holding up a wooden carving.

"Five copper coins," Marx replied.

*clink* went the coins as she handed them over, and Marx added them to his growing pile.

By the end of the day, Marx had earned 70 copper coins.

Back at the inn, he sat down with the innkeeper. "Looks like you did well today," she remarked, her eyes twinkling.

"Yes, it was a good day," Marx replied, a sense of accomplishment settling over him.

As the evening settled in, Marx reflected on his progress. He had come a long way since the days of scraping by and learning the basics of crafting. Now, he was beginning to explore new territories, both in his craft and in the arcane.

"This is just the beginning," he thought, a determined smile on his face. "There's so much more to learn, so much more to discover."

The future was uncertain, but Marx was ready for whatever came next. The festival was just a stepping stone on his journey, and he knew that with each step, he was getting closer to unlocking his true potential.

The next day, Marx decided to sell all his remaining wares at a lower price to clear his stock quickly.

chatter filled the marketplace as people moved from stall to stall, eager to find bargains.

"Get your ink and wooden pieces here! All at a discount!" Marx called out.

By the end of the morning, *clink-clink* went the coins as he counted his earnings, a sum of 50 copper coins.

Feeling satisfied, Marx decided to explore the different stalls to see if he could find something useful.

The air was filled with a cacophony of chatter from the crowd, mixed with the occasional *clink-clink* of coins exchanging hands and the enticing aromas of food vendors.

As Marx made his way through the various stalls, he encountered merchants from distant lands who had come to Thranx to sell their goods. Thranx, being a city that relied heavily on trade as its primary income source, was always a hub of activity during festivals like The Endyear.

"Exotic spices! Rare silks! Handcrafted jewelry!" shouted a merchant.

"Get your fresh produce here!" called another.

Marx continued his exploration until he stumbled upon an old caravan selling decorative items.

*creak* went the wheels of the caravan as it rocked slightly with the movement of the crowd. Among the various items, Marx's eye was caught by a beautifully crafted quilll.

"This looks warm," he muttered to himself, examining the intricate patterns and fine stitching.

"How much for the quilll?" he asked the elderly merchant.

"Fifteen copper coins, young man," replied the merchant with a smile.

Marx handed over the coins and received the quilll in return. He marveled at the craftsmanship, feeling the softness of the fabric.

"Thank you," Marx said, wrapping the quilll around himself for a moment, enjoying its warmth before tucking it under his arm.

The rest of the day was spent exploring more stalls and observing the various goods on offer, taking mental notes of anything that might be useful in the future. As the sun began to set, Marx made his way back to the inn, satisfied with his purchases and the progress he had made.

"Another good day," he thought, feeling a sense of accomplishment as he settled down for the night with his new Quilll. The future held many possibilities, and Marx was ready to face whatever challenges and opportunities lay ahead.