"You little squirt! If I weren’t feeling so sluggish, I would’ve wrangled your neck for ya!" Telarin, having been poked and prodded ever since they left the tavern, could not contain his irritation any longer.

He burst out in righteous indignation.

The group burst out in laughter as the man turned crimson in color and fought the urge to strangle the younger lad.

"There it is. The Heavy Huanch, its our destination for today. Keep your guards up, the owner might be a halfling but he is strong. And don’t mind the monologue..." Resven hushed the group and quickly added as they approached the shop.

They parked the carts outside, and with a heavy sigh, once more, Resven stepped inside the shop. "Balkas?" he cautiously called out.

"A customer?!" the voice of the halfling came out from the back room, and within seconds, the little man stood over the counter eyeing his customer.

"Ah! Resven?! Ain’t it my second favorite returning customer! Welcome back, welcome back! Don’t tell me—did you bring me a cart full of goodies again? Or is that just the sound of my heart pitter-pattering at the sight of a man with such a keen eye for a trade?" he chuckled with glee, rubbing his hands together as if he knew Resven had brought him a pot of fortune.

"Step in, step in—don’t just stand there making the scenery look better! Have you got more of that mountain-gold? More teeth? More tails? More of that lovely meat to keep the boys in the pits happy? Or perhaps something even rarer... something that’ll make old Balkas’s eyes pop right out of his head? Say the word, friend, say the word! My scales are balanced, my coin is heavy, and my ears are wide open for whatever wonders you’ve dragged down from the heights!"

’There he goes,’ Resven rubbed his forehead in defeat. Patiently, he waited for the man to finish speaking. "Outside-" was all he managed to say when the sound of the doorbell rang, and Balkas was already outside.

’I’m certain he is at least Light Orange tier.’ Resven nodded, seeing as even with his enhanced strength, he could not keep track of the speedy little halfling.

By the time he exited the shop, Balkas was busy greeting with fascination that intrigued Resven and the group, because he did not do the same for the rest of them.

"...and by the stones of the coast, if he isn’t sturdier than the last time I looked! Look at you! Still taller than a young pine and twice as thick!" Balkas practically ran circles around Mestin, who seemed to get annoyed by the second, yet held back with what little constraint remained.

"Welcome back, big man, welcome back! I was just telling the rafters only this morning, ’Balkas,’ I said, ’the shop feels a bit light today,’ and here you are to provide the ballast! Still carrying that slab of iron on your back, I see? Does it get heavier, or do you just get more stubborn? Don’t answer—I know the look! You’re a marvel, truly, a marvel! What can old Balkas get for the man who makes my doorframe look like a toy? More cooling salts? A sturdier stool? Or just the finest bit of mountain-gear I’ve got tucked away for a true titan of the North?"

"Balkas!" Resven sighed at the man’s theatrics and called out a little harsher than intended.

Balkas practically skidded to a stop and turned towards Resven, "The carts?" he gestured.

"Ah, how could I forget? Let’s see what you brought for old Balkas once more," he grinned sheepishly and turned to face the carts, but he froze slightly when he saw the three carts lined up one after another.

"By the Great Loom, you brought the whole north face of the mountain with you! Three carts? Three?! You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? You’re trying to see if old Balkas’s heart can take the strain of such bounty! It can’t, I tell you—it’s fluttering like a sparrow in a gale, but oh, what a way to go!" he practically bloomed like a flower if a person could ever bloom like one. The man smiled with so much glee that Telarin, who stood off to the side, found it rather unsettling and groaned and turned away.

By the time he had finished speaking, he had already scrambled up the wheel of the first cart, his eyes darting like dragonflies and his hands twitching to touch every piece of material underneath the cloth.

"Business, business! The silver is screaming to be traded! Don’t just stand there like statues in a courtyard—let’s see what beasts have surrendered to your steel! Step back, give a halfling some breathing room, or I’ll accidentally count your boots as beast-hide!" he screamed on the top of his lungs as Telarin closed in to lift the covers.

Telarin ignored the halfling, pulled off the cloth, and stepped back with a grumble of some sort.

Balkas draped himself over the side of the wagon, his nose inches from the material. He started mumbling to himself, which sounded a lot like a frantic stream of consciousness that sounded like a prayer to the god of coin.

"Slate-Back Skard-Vipers! Eight of the wiggly wall-crawlers! Look at this rock-chitin—geometric perfection! But oh, Resven... you’ve been naughty! This one here—did you use a dull axe or a very angry spoon? Look at the jagged tear through the frost-sacs! Leaking everywhere—coagulant’s ruined, stone-hide’s messy!" he cried out in indignation, his fiery eyes practically blazed with fire as he turned and shouted at Resven to the side.

"I can’t give you full marks for a shredded rug! Still, the other seven are crisp as a winter morning. For the eight hides and the remaining sacs... 78 Silver! And I’m being generous because I like your face!" he nodded to himself and cackled like he loved the joke.

"And what’s this? Oh, Resven, you shouldn’t have, Crag-Bound Vargrs! Ten of ’em!"

Balkas reached out to touch the materials, and instantly he let out a short, sharp howl that ended in a wheeze.