Chapter 24 | Bildrath’s Mercantile


Despite Barovia’s bleakness, and the towering headless statues looming ominously at its gates, Akra felt positively cheerful. She had slept soundly next to the campfire, empowered by her newfound abilities, and she was itching to try them out.
The wailing began again as they passed through the gates. The trek to and from the town felt familiar now, and Akra was curious to know more about whomever actually lived in this type of place. Was it possible that anyone lived here who possessed a soul, or some semblance of humanity?
They proceeded past the wailing house, and Hoben pointed out a wooden sign, hanging outside of a shop and creaking slightly in the breeze. The words Bildrath’s Mercantile were carved into the sign. Akra went straight toward it, and pushed open the door.
The shop was relatively small, and could use some cleaning, she thought, wrinkling her nose at the dust. Behind the shop counter sat a balding, stooped man. He glanced up at their entrance, and frowned at the dragonborn, before returning his gaze to whatever drew his attention.
Akra offered an awkward greeting. “Are you Bildrath? What’s for sale here?”
The man, presumably Bildrath, didn’t answer. Instead, he waved a hand toward a shelf to the right of the door. Akra went to the wares to find a decent selection of basic adventuring supplies: rations, simple daggers and arrows, lanterns, and first aid gear. Nothing caught her attention, and anyway, she was in the market for information.
Hoben pulled a gilded box from his satchel, and placed it on the counter. Akra imagined that all Bildrath could see of the halfling were the feathers on his cap. She recognized the box Hoben was fetching, taken from the Durst’s bedroom. Unlike some of the other items they had retrieved from the house, the box appeared to be in decent shape. She imagined it would be worth a pretty penny, if Hoben played his cards right.
“What will you give me for this?” Hoben asked.
Without looking up, the merchant responded, “Five gold.”
“Done!” Hoben slid the box toward him, and the merchant dropped several coins unceremoniously onto the counter. The halfling pocketed the coins with glee.
“Hoben!” Amira rounded on him. “You could have gotten a lot more for that.” The bird Amira had clearly bonded with in the forest was still with her, and Akra was beginning to suspect that it wasn’t just a typical raven. Bildrath seemed unphased by the presence of a large black bird in his establishment.
Hoben joined the others, lingering near the door, and Akra moved up to the counter. “How are you still alive?”
He made no noise or protest to this odd question. Akra bristled. Couldn’t anyone in Barovia answer simple questions?
Ruh Ruh and Liam flanked her. Perhaps their intimidation would get Bildrath to talk.
“Do you know anything about the Durst pups?” Ruh Ruh asked. Liam took out the locket and opened it, showing Bildrath the faces of Rose and Thorn.
The merchant had nothing to offer. Akra was growing impatient, her early excitement waning.
Ruh Ruh shrugged, and traded a moss agate for a bag of flour. Akra didn’t care what her companions did with their findings, but Amira was clearly frustrated by their lack of ability to negotiate fair prices.
Akra leaned over the counter, and tried to follow Bildrath’s line of sight. She saw nothing but the wood grain of the shop floor, and together they stared at the floor for several long moments.
Liam, bored, left the shop.
Amira pulled the topaz amulet from her cloak pocket. She leaned against the counter, and dangled the amulet. “What could I get for this amulet? It’s real topaz, you know.”
Bildrath cocked his head, but didn’t make eye contact. “Five gold.”
Amira scoffed. “Five gold! It’s worth at least seven hundred.” She left the shop in a huff, swinging her cloak dramatically, and as the door opened, Akra heard the warlock reprimanding Hoben and Ruh Ruh for their careless trades.
Akra turned back to the merchant, and stared daggers at his balding head. What was the matter with Bildrath? Was everyone in Barovia catatonic, or was he just rude?
She looked around for something to throw at him before an idea occurred to her. Akra went to the door, propped it open, and pulled the wooden sign off the hinges.
That caught his attention. Bildrath stood, but standing didn’t give him much additional height. He ambled over, disgruntled, and reached for his sign. Akra lifted it out of his reach.
“Tell us about the wailing woman,” Akra asked. All she wanted was just one nugget of information.
“That’s Mad Mary,” Bildrath said, as if that explained anything.
“Was that so hard?” said Akra, nicer this time, handing him back his sign. But before she could inquire further, Bildrath stumbled back into his shop, and slammed the door behind him.
People in Barovia might be awake, she thought, but they certainly weren’t alive.

