The Easy Life

There’s roughly half a million people in the Valley, depending on how you count. There was only one of them who it was worth being, and that was Sins the gnome. How lucky for Sins then, that he happened to be himself. Other people had all hosts of problems. Some were stricken with pride, or a desire for their parents to accept them, or perhaps from just a general universe-induced anxiety.
Not Sins though, he was free from all that. He had a wagon and two horses, although he changed the horses out most days so he could get more miles behind him. His wagon was nice, sturdy wood with well-made wheels. He liked it, but wouldn’t be sad if it got stolen or wrecked. He’d get another wagon. Some people would worry that the new wagon wouldn’t be as good or would have an odd creek or a funny smell, but Sins didn’t see the point in that. Why worry about something, when you could instead not worry about it. It all made so much sense to him.
Which is why the Lycian expedition annoyed him a little. They were going to die out there, maybe eaten by spiders or killed by bandits or something. They were clearly not smart enough to understand that if a thing was going to kill you, maybe you shouldn’t do that thing. You should probably do something else, like wagon driving for instance.
But, Skor had paid him to ferry them across to the Greenbelt, which was very dumb as Sins was going that way anyway, so he was getting money to have free guards. Now the Lycians were paying him to go to the Crossing, and bring some stuff back. He was going to the crossing anyway, but Sins had long since given up wondering why people kept giving him money to do what he was already doing. Sometimes he would suck air through his teeth and say “I’ll do it, but it will cost an extra 4 copper” and they’d nearly always pay up. He’d mostly stopped doing that however, as it was almost certainly some form of robbery.
Now he was at Nivikta’s crossing, and had to find someone to give Oleg’s note to, so he could get back on his wagon before nightfall. Mayor Irven ran the place; a bitter old Forgeborn loyalist who’d been sent out here to make sure the Crossing didn’t go rogue. Sins suspected that Irven had done something terrible to earn this post, but Irven wasn’t the kind to talk about himself and Sins didn’t feel like asking. He didn’t have to go far, as Irven was standing in the square as he pulled up.
“What’ll it be, Sins?”
“A dozen chickens, some fencing and wire, some wood, some tarp, and some laborers if you got some. Here’s the list, here’s the money”
Irven looked surprised. “They’re actually building something out in the greenbelt? That’s a terrible idea”
Sins nodded solemnly “I know. I told ‘em, but they didn’t listen”
“It’s a waste of chickens”
“I know. I told ‘em”
“Anything they build is going to be stolen or burned down in a month"
“I know. I told ‘em that too”
“Well, I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s foolish enough to go. By the way Sins, I have a favor to ask”
"Out with it"
“I need you to take some supplies to the trading post. I meant to have a wagon take them yesterday, but it broke a wheel. Do you mind?”
Sins sucked air through his teeth. “I can do it, but it will cost you an extra 4 copper”
Irven brightened “Of course, of course. Here you go. Do you need help loading up the wagon?”
"Yes. I am going to have a nap while other people do the work”
Irven nodded, only half listening, and barked some orders at a few locals that were milling about the square. They started unloading Sins’ wagon, while still others began to assemble the supplies for his return trip.
Sins lay back, and pulled his hat down over his eyes.