Chapter 63
Gren could easily tell when he had reached his destination. The slums were made up of a mix of older buildings that had been poorly maintained and newer buildings that were put together on a tight budget. There were already signs of some buildings collapsing at the outskirts of the slums but Gren couldn't help just yet.
"We just need to find the requester. She's something like a leader in this neighborhood. The people don't trust outsiders so we'll need her by our side when we start working." Gren had spoken to her personally when she asked him to accept the request. He really liked her personality and it's only because of how nice she was that he even accepted the request with how small its reward was.
"She said that her family lives with an old carriage-builder and that it was one of the larger buildings on this street." There were three buildings that were larger than the rest but Gren couldn't see what any of the signs had on them due to the snow. With a wave of his hand, Gren gathered the snow from the building signs and placed it on a pile of snow that was already in a small alley. "Hammer and anvil, saw and block of wood, and carriage. I think it's pretty obvious which one she's living in."
Gren cleared the path to the carriage-builder's shop and knocked on the door. It was still a bit early so they weren't open for business but he wasn't there to buy a carriage. There was the sound of wood hitting the ground rhythmically and an old man's voice came from the other side of door. "I'm coming. I'm coming."
The door slid open and a short grumpy-faced old man was standing there. "What y'all want?" He was holding his cane in a way that seemed like he'd use it as a weapon if he didn't like Gren's response.
"Greetings. We're with the FMC and
"FMC? I've never heard of ya. If you're not here to buy a carriage then get." The old man didn't seem interested in Gren's words so Gren brought out the request form and his new identification that shows what organization he's from. "Carrie's 'round the back. Ya can come on in but yer friends have'ta wait outside."
The front section of the building had carriage parts on display that Gren could see as he walked through it. Down the hall was a showroom that had a few carriages in it. Gren was a bit interested in the stage coach on display since they didn't have a proper carriage but it would be too large for most of the women from the guild to pull around.
In the back of the showroom was a large sliding door that the old man was struggling to open. Gren decided to help open it but the old man stopped trying when Gren started to help. Gren was no longer the weakling from several months ago. Thanks to his daily workouts, Gren had gained a fair amount of muscles and could pull it open on his own without much of a problem.
"Yer strong for a pipsqueak. Ya part dwarf or somefing?" Gren had gotten a taller since he first crossed over but was still short for someone his age. The small moustache that was beginning to grow helped him look older but he wanted to shave it since it felt weird.
"I don't think so." The old man didn't seem satisfied with Gren's answer so he clarified what he meant. "I don't know anything about my father. It's possible that he was part dwarf, I guess."
"Is'a shame. So many kids growin' up now without a proper fam'ly." The old man shook his head. "Me 'n Carrie were in the same carriage, so to speak. Broken fam'lies. It was me dad that raised me while she was raised by her mum. Then they met and we became like siblin's."
Gren had a slight headache so he rubbed his head before clearing the snow in the rear courtyard. The old man watched in amazement as the snow flew into the air and piled itself against the walls. "I doubt yer a dwarf if ya can do that. I've never heard of a dwarf 'gician." Gren inferred that the old man meant magician when he said 'gician.
To the rear of the courtyard was an enclosed stable and a large shed that was probably used to build the carriages. Carrie was probably living in the stable so Gren walked through the now-cleared yard and knocked on the large stable door.
A young voice belonging to a woman called out in a singsong way. "Cooomiiing." A cute woman wearing an ap.r.o.n opened the door--a ladle still in her hand, likely from her cooking. "Hey, Denny, are you here for breakfast? I'm almost finished with the soup now. If you're coming in then wipe your feet on the mat so you... don't... where's all the snow?" Her words started to trail off when she noticed that the yard was cleared.
"Ohhh, yer cookin'? I'll def'nitely join ya for a meal." Gren cleared his throat because the old man, Denny, forgot about him. "Ah, tha's right. This kid here has business with yer gramma. He's the one that cleared the snow."
"I didn't hear you clearing the snow at all. I must have been really focused on cooking. Come on in, you two." Gren was admiring her legs as she turned around. Each leg was br.i.m.m.i.n.g with muscles and they were covered in a short black fur that s.h.i.+ned in the light. It was clear that she kept good care of her horse half.
Gren could smell something delicious as he followed the young centaur woman through the stable.