Jasper

The small Fae ventured towards an elaborately decorated tent, drawn to the overpowering smell of incense emanating from its entrance and the sheer beauty of the lavish material covering it. Intricate gold embroidery indicated that this particular shop sold rare and expensive goods from across all of Sorneith. The Fae hesitated for a moment at the stall’s entrance, feeling the weight of the satchel that held her treasure at her side. She made a silent vow to spend no more than half of the coins that lay inside. Then, she pushed back the thick velvet curtain, and stepped into the tent.

The overpowering smell of incense hit her like a wall, and she stifled a cough. An elegant chandelier of tiny golden bells tinkled overhead, announcing her arrival to the shop owner, whom it was impossible to make out in the haze of incense inside the tent.

“Greetings, my dear,” a silky, smooth voice called out, hidden from somewhere within the smoke.

“H-hello,” the Fae replied hesitantly, searching in vain for the source of the sound.

“You have traveled a long way, have you not?” the voice questioned, this time a bit closer.

“Ah, well, yes, I suppose I have…”

The Fae trailed off as a pair of enormous purple eyes materialized mere feet away from her own. Although the female felt slightly ill at ease, for some reason, as she gazed into the eyes before her, a sense of calm began to settle over her.

“Tea?”

She looked down to discover the male Spiral in front of her was holding a delicate teacup between his talons, the steam swirling upwards, blending into the shimmering tendrils of golden smoke which crept across his scales. He wore a golden veil of finest silk which concealed most of his face, and a sizable and no-doubt priceless ruby lay at the center of his forehead, attaching the veil to the diadem of solid gold that encircled his brow.

The scent of the tea was enticing, but the Fae was already beginning to feel a bit drowsy from all the incense-- she noticed several lanterns scattered throughout the tent from which the stuff poured incessantly.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined, and the Spiral bowed his head in response. The Fae blinked, and the cup between his talons was gone.

Incredulous, the Fae continued to stare at the shopkeeper’s talons, certain her eyes were deceiving her, but the cup did not reappear, as if it had simply vanished into the smoke around them. Then, the Spiral spoke again, his voice as soft and beautiful as the silk that cloaked his face.

“You are here in search of something, yes?” the Spiral questioned. His eyes seemed to glow with a strange intensity, as if he was peering through hers, looking directly into her mind.

“Well, yes, actually, although I doubt you’ll have it…” the Fae glanced around the interior of the tent, realizing for the first time that the lanterns she had noticed earlier were the only objects inside. She had been expecting shelves filled with fine gold trinkets or gemstones as large as her fist, but no, there was nothing. She began to feel uneasy again.

“Um, do you actually sell anything here?” she questioned, gesturing at the empty room surrounding them.

“Ah yes, forgive me. If you’ll allow me, I shall explain.” The Fae nodded, and the Spiral continued:

“You see, this is not a place for all dragons. Only those that possess a true appreciation for my wares are allowed inside.” Here, the Spiral gestured towards the cascade of bells hanging at the entrance. “The bells will only chime for those they deem worthy-- a cleverly enchanted item I picked up some years ago in the Sunbeam Ruins. Ingenious, no?”

The Fae nodded, urging the Spiral to continue his tale.

“I have many treasures to offer those that venture inside this tent, but over the years, I have learned that many treasures are worthless, unless, within the hoard, there exists that one item that the buyer needs. I could show you the most exquisite items in the world,” and indeed, the room was suddenly filled with shining, glimmering objects, some worth more than the Fae’s life, “But none of them will capture your attention quite like the one thing you desire, the one thing you cannot leave my shop without.”

As he spoke, an item appeared in the Spiral’s talons, bigger than the teacup he had held before, and covered in a velvet cloth of the deepest red, strands of golden thread woven into it in an intricate pattern.

The Spiral’s eyes were fixed on the customer before him, and he was indeed, peering through her eyes and into her mind. Or, more accurately, her soul. Jasper flicked the tip of his tail in anticipation, knowing the little Fae before him was dying to rip the cloth off, and gaze upon the beauty he held in his claws. With a silent thought, the cloth vanished, and the Fae’s eyes were alight with wonder.

She struggled to find words as she gazed at the silver winguard lying in front of her. Jasper gave a small chuckle.

“It’s made of quicksilver, crafted by the most accomplished blacksmiths of the Plague flight. Go ahead,” he offered, when he noticed the Fae had tentatively reached a talon towards the stunning piece of armor.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, running her hand over the intricate embossing.

Since the armor had been made for the species, there were several Fae dragons etched into its surface, all exquisitely depicted. Regardless of its function, the piece was a spectacular work of art. But what truly brought it to life was the fact that it was designed for both beauty and battle. Each component moved fluidly and could rotate freely against the others, meaning it didn’t restrict flight mobility or aerodynamics in the slightest. The Fae slipped it on, testing this fact for herself, and Jasper found his smile growing as he watched her marvel at the armor’s potential. Quicksilver was one of the strongest and lightest materials on the planet, not to mention the rarest. The winguard was one of a kind, a work of art made by the most accomplished blacksmiths alive. Some might say it was priceless, but Jasper was an expert in putting a price on things others could not. He firmly believed everything had a price, if only you asked the right buyer.

And after peering into the Fae’s soul, he knew this was the one object she would never be able to resist. She would pay whatever he asked.

The Fae seemed to realize this too, and she carefully removed the armor, raking her eyes over it longingly before handing it back to him.

“Dare I ask?” she questioned, her eyes meeting his.

Jasper chuckled softly. “That is a question only you can answer,” he replied, a knowing smile on his face.

The Fae nodded, considering his words, before turning her eyes to his with a renewed determination. “How much?”

When the Fae left his store several minutes later, her precious armor stored in a black oak case of equally fine make, it was without both the satchel at her side and something a little less obvious. She had sworn a sacred oath to Jasper, sealed with her own blood. Jasper knew from gazing into her soul that she belonged to one of the most elite warrior clans in Sorneith. A clan such as that was a valuable ally in a world too often filled with violence, especially when Jasper himself had no talent for physical combat. Traveling the world with a hoard of the most valuable objects in that world carried its own risks, and the Fae’s blood oath guaranteed that he would not face those risks single handedly. Within a month’s time, a personal guard would be assigned to him from the Fae’s clan. And if she failed to keep her word? Her lifeblood would pay the price.

Yes, in Jasper’s world, everything had a price. And there was always someone willing to pay it.