The buildings had signs at least, one labeled “Supplies” in utilitarian fashion with no ornamentation like many of the others. Erik pointed to it.
“Supplies. That’s definitely the first stop.”
“I agree,” Tove said, her voice edging toward annoyance. “This cold is unbearable.”
Erik started toward the door to the shop. “I doubt it gets better.”
Inside was a sallow-faced old man, sitting on a stool in the corner of a simple shop. The goods were all laid across tables. There was not much on offer but it was all clearly meant for people moving north. Just from the door Erik could see a selection of furs, bedrolls, crude picks and shovels, and packs. There were more things buried, no doubt, and items were placed under the tables as well.
Tove immediately set about grabbing a fur cloak and wrapping it around herself. Erik decided to go and talk to the old man, who looked at him bitterly as he approached.
“Headed north, are ye?” The man rolled his jaw as if he were chewing something. “No sense in it.” His eyes rolled over to Göll. “’Spec you got no choice in the matter though.” He snorted and then hacked phlegm clear of his throat. “What’ll ye be botherin’ me for?”
“I…” Erik felt awkward trying to ask anything considering the man’s attitude. “Is there anything we need? Anything you’d recommend.”
The codger hacked out a sarcastic laugh. “Recommend ye don’t go. Nothin’ good ever come from up that way. But since ye’ll have none of that, take whatever firewood ye can carry. No trees once yer deep enough.”
“Thanks.” Erik turned, grabbing a cloak as well before beginning to look through the rest of the store.
There were thicker clothes, some lined with fur. They were priced heavily, a silver each, but there was no sense in saving money if the man’s advice was true. Erik wondered about it.
“Göll, is there… how much do you know about Winter?”
“Very little. I’ve never had cause to go. There are no cities that I know of.”
“Aye, no cities.” The man joined in. “Only warbands and fools chasing death.”
That was good enough for Erik. Völundr had given them nearly thirty silver pieces and they spent all but eight on supplies. Both Erik and Tove were wearing packs, most of the goods in his so they could fill the other with food. They left, having changed clothes in the corner of the shop with the grudging approval of the owner.
A few doors down from the supply shop was a sign with two words on it, “Butcher” and “Eatery.” Erik pointed it out and Tove was happy to see it.
“Anything to be done with Völundr’s cooking.” She trotted off toward the building, pulling the door open well ahead of Göll and Erik arriving.
The shop was clean and well-lit, in spite of the lack of windows. It wasn’t nearly as humid inside as the supply shop had been either. A woman was already talking to Tove when Erik came in.
“The warband, is it?” The woman chuckled to herself as if not taking the idea seriously. She saw Göll and her expression shifted to something more grave if only for a brief second. “I see you’re headed north, then. Drop your packs, and have a seat.” She motioned them toward one of the three tables in the restaurant. “I know what it is you’ll need heading north.”
She followed them to the table where Erik and Tove dropped their packs. They took their seats, except Göll, and the woman looked to Erik.
“How much have you got?”
It was an odd question he thought, but not an unreasonable one. “Eight coins.”
“Silver?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled politely. “And you mean to use it all on food, drink, and a meal? With the three of you—”
“Only two.”
Her eyes flicked to Göll, who stood behind Erik, and then back. “Then you’ll have nearly a week’s worth.”
“Is that enough?”
“I couldn’t say. No one’s come back from Winter.”
Erik sighed, Göll offering nothing in the way of a confirmation. “Then we’ll hope it is. We’ll take whatever seems best.”
The woman smiled, standing. “I’ll bring the meal before we settle the payment.”
She disappeared into the back for a few minutes before returning with a thick stew of lamb and potatoes. It wasn’t particularly flavorful, but Erik couldn’t bring himself to complain after the breakfast he’d had to very literally choke down. Tove produced the coin and paid the woman. She brought them large mugs full of strong ale.
“This will be what you’ll have in the casks. It’s strong, but slower to freeze and warms the body.”
A large man with a full red beard brought out two small casks of the ale and nodded at them wordlessly before strapping the tiny wooden barrels to the sides of the packs. He said nothing and returned to the back room. The woman who had served them came back when they were nearly done with the meal and placed a number of wrapped cloth packs on the table, opening them up. There were root vegetables in three and two full of fresh meat. The last of the packs was filled with dried and cured meats.
“Are those all to your satisfaction? We take great pride in what we sell. I won’t have anyone head north with useless goods and our name attached to the sale.” The woman looked at him, her smile gone and an air of genuine concern in its place.
Tove stood and looked over the products on the table. “They’re as good as any I’ve seen grown, even in Spring.” She sounded amazed by her own assessment. “These are grown here?”
The woman gave a proud nod. “By the hands of people around. We share in the rewards of our effort.”
Erik looked over the meat himself. It was
