L for Leather - Sorrel Darkfire chooses Lucan over Leboutin

Written with Sophie

After a restless night, troubled by strange dreams, Sorrel wakes early and drifts, half asleep, through her stretching and shadow sword play. Eventually, hearing clattering from downstairs, she heads to the kitchen and grabs some slabs of meat and bread from the red faced cook. The town is barely moving as she retraces her steps from last night, finally arriving outside Lucan’s Leather just as the early market traders seem to be stirring. She peers in through the shop window but sees nothing moving, so steps back and takes in the sign again. She does need new boots, but why did the celestial dog choose this of all places?

As silent as the grave a half-elven man, skin pale and covered in scars that crisscross his face and head of close cropped dark hair, walks up behind Sorrel. He considers the person eyeing up his shop for a moment before silently stepping around her, staying out of striking distance, to approach the front door with a sturdy key in hand.

“If you would like to do more than window shopping, I’ll be open in just a moment. You’re welcome to wait inside while I set up.”

Without really waiting for Sorrel’s response, the man who is presumably Lucan, steps up to the front door to unlock it and steps inside the shop.

Sorrel pauses, thrown a little by the unexpected shiver the shopkeeper sent down her spine as he passed. She gathers herself. This is a shoe shop. There is no reason a shoe shop should give her dark visions of endless grey fields and cold stone towers with a single dark figure watching her from a high balcony. There is something so familiar about the indistinct shadow… then the image is gone.

It must be the dreams, refusing to die in the warm sun she reassures herself. And the sun is warm, she notices. It’s going to be another scorching day. So if she feels cold… she shakes her head and gathers herself. She has faced grave terrors in unspeakable places. A shoe shop ought to be manageable. She pushes the door open and steps inside.

She’s greeted by the sight of Lucan donning a well worn leather work apron before organising some leather working tools and finished products behind the counter, the clink of the metal tools filling the silence between the two figures. He looks up a few moments after Sorrel walks in to give an acknowledging nod as he says, “So you were here for business, well then welcome to my shop. What can I do for an early bird such as yourself?”

Sorrel wonders how much to reveal. Her instinct is always to say as little as possible… but there must have been a reason Baine’s dog bought her here. As she wrestles with her thoughts she realises she’s forgotten the small talk/politeness thing again. This is why she never plays well with other children. “Greetings, Mr Lucan?” Sweet Selune this is not how normal people speak, she groans internally, but ploughs on as best she can. “I’ve heard tell of the quality of your leather and your workmanship and I have come, accordingly, to…”

She gives up. “Sir, I promise you I am not insane, but last night I was carried here by a giant celestial dog in golden shoes that belonged to the half orc warrior Baine…” she sighs. “I mean, it actually flew. I definitely need new boots,” she raises her left leg to show him the scraps of leather her hard worn footwear is collapsing into. “So I want to buy some boots. I mean… I am curious as to why a… I mean an actual flying celestial dog brought me here, to you, of all the boot makers in Kantas.” She pauses, convinced he thinks she’s lost her mind. “But also, boots…”

Lucan stands patiently still as Sorrel continues on, only a singular eyebrow raised, before his stoic face breaks into a slight smile as he lets out a breathy chuckle once she’s finished. “I’m sorry, I do not mean to laugh at you. It’s more that the fact a flying dog in golden shoes bringing you here doesn’t surprise me, when in fact it really should. My son is an adventurer and I’ve heard all manner of stories since he started that sort of work… but his stories are for him to tell, not me. As for why a divine dog brought you here specifically, I don’t entirely know…” He takes in the hooded cloak, armor designed to protect but not hinder movement, the lighter but just as deadly weapons at Sorrel’s hip. There’s a twinkle of recognition in his eyes, perhaps even of nostalgia, at the outfit of someone trained to attack from the shadows. “But I might have an idea why...”

He suddenly looks Sorrel in the eyes before continuing “But enough of adventuring and big dogs, let’s talk boots... specifically new boots for you.” Indicating to the leg Sorrel offered up to demonstrate just how dire a state her current ones were in. “I can make ones pretty similar to what you originally had, or I can give you more of an upgrade if you want. I do not want to make assumptions on your fighting style but perhaps provide grip on the toe for vertical climbing, soften the soles in a way to keep them quiet without sacrificing durability?” He pauses, giving Sorrel time to consider, “Those are just examples, but I take pride in creating items unique and tailored to my customer’s needs here. Just something to consider”

Sorrel’s face breaks into a grin. She is so used to being misunderstood that this instant insight into her feels like a warm embrace from a friendly uncle. “Now I understand at least part of the reason I’m here,” she says as she feels a surge of affection for Lucan. “I suspect if magic was involved, I’d feel it - but you just read my mind.”

Her eyes take in the shop for the first time and she lets out a little gasp of admiration at the finesse on display. There are solutions here to puzzles she didn’t even know existed. She fixes her gaze on Lucan. “Heard all manner of stories, you say... I am honoured to meet someone who has heard so many amazing things. You recognised what I needed in an instant. It takes me a little longer to recognise a master, but I do get there in the end. If Faust Greyheart asked me to consider a song I might like, I would say - you are the master. Play me the song I need. With Lucan,” she gives a low bow, “I say - I am in your hands, master. Tell me what I need.”

At the low bow Lucan gives a bashful chuckle, “I...Thank you for the kind words, to have someone appreciate my work that… it certainly makes me happy, but bowing is really not necessary. Come now, I have a spare chair over here, let’s sit and discuss.” He turns round ro pull a few leather scraps off a chair in the corner before bringing it closer to the counter, “My suggestions are just that in the end, suggestions, these are for you and so should have your input too. And perhaps before giving me titles like master, though you can just call me Lucan, you could give me your name?” He picks up a sketch notebook from the side and gives Sorrel a knowing look, “I feel like we have much more we could discuss than just boots.”

Sorrel blushes. “I’m sorry, I should have started with that,” she sighs inside - names… people tell each other their names… they shake hands… they give presents… you don’t just have to kill everyone who hurts the people you love, you can also be polite. It will be easier in the long term. “I’m Sorrel. Sorrel Darkfire. I’m pretty much fresh off the boat. I’m…” she pauses again. Something about Lucan seems to pull the words out of her. She feels she can say what’s on her mind. This, of course, is how things go wrong and people die. But try, Sorrel, she urges herself. You never know.

“I’m finding Kantas slightly disconcerting, I have to admit. The plan was to hide out here - there was some… trouble at home and I thought I’d give it time to blow over. But…” she looks deep into Lucan’s eyes. “But I wonder if perhaps I’m actually supposed to be here. I have found things I didn’t expect. So perhaps I am looking for more than boots, as you say.”

She can hear the argument in her head - ‘shut up, keep quiet, don’t say another word, buy boots and get out you idiot. Friendship can only get you killed…’ ‘But this hasn’t helped me so far, I don’t even have a decent pair of boots to my name. If I don’t trust anyone, if all I have is short swords and my father’s bow then what am I actually living for?’

So shrewd is the half elf’s gaze that she feels he knows almost everything that’s going on in her mind. There is more to him than she can guess. Then it hits her like a blow. He reminds her of her father. But her father as she wished he would be, not as he really was. As he really is. He is not dead yet, whatever she feels. A shock runs through her. This is dangerous. Hold tight to your heart. Remember this is just a boot maker. You are only here to buy shoes.

“Mast…. Mister Lucan,” she is hesitant. “How do you know… what I am looking for? What can you see?”

Lucan’s posture softens just slightly, sensing the hesitation from Sorrel, “Haa… Apologies if I presumed too much too quickly, but well I wasn’t always a leatherworker. I’ve spent most of my years as a merc back in Faerun, and I retired from that work some years ago now. But there’s plenty I know and remember because of it, and let’s just say the way I fought during that period of my life was very similar to how I think you do now. The way you hold yourself was how I did back then, how I probably still do hold myself.”

He leans back against the counter, sketchbook still in hand, “There ain’t no judgement in this shop Sorrel, just a ex-merc leatherworker trying to make unique and quality items for people.”

Sorrel smiles. “An ex-merc leatherworker… And judging by your stance I suspect you’re right on fighting styles. Light on your feet, favouring the back foot, blading to the left…” She takes another look and sees a slightly coiled tension she’d not noticed before. Lucan is underselling himself. She’s seen more nimble skirmishers than most and she’d place generous wagers on Lucan in combat even as a retiree. She can see how he’d fake rash youngsters into wild charges and finish them off with considered precision. So she does something the House drill team warned her to never do - she discusses her tactics, equal to equal.

“Here’s my problem - I’m usually a counter puncher in sword play but I’m nimble so I’ll come forward first and fast against heavy armour and look to pick off weak spots. I love my longbow so I need to hold a steady firing stance on a muddy slope. I’m light and flexible so I move from offence to defence rapidly but if someone comes at my friends, I will not retreat. I’ll stand over their body to the bitter end. Never yield. Expect no quarter. So I’m moving, turning, dropping to one knee or standing firm against a charging…” she remembers briefly and shudders. “Against some very heavy things that charge.” She is lost for a second in a bitter memory and briefly Sana’s killers dance before her eyes. She shakes herself back into the room

“Oh, and I need to move silently at all times, climb rapidly, and pass for any old punter in some rough drinking dens. When I’m… hunting… I do my best research with drunks. So I need exceptionally tough wearing, incredibly light, superbly flexible, strong and protective, entirely unostentatious boots with a very firm grip. It’s basically every single opposite you can imagine all in one pair of boots.” She laughs. “And the last man I asked to make me a pair told me only the fairies could make such things. Was he right?”

“It sounds like you’ve been in some tough fights already, and for someone so young too...” Lucan shifts his position to start sketching lightly in the book he’s been holding, a frown of concentration forming on his face, “As for your request, without magic involvement that man could be right. But I like a challenge, and I already have ideas on possibilities to solve this one. Give me a day or two to think of a design and we can go from there, I will treat this as urgent considering the state of your current boots. How does that sound Sorrel?”

Sorrel smiles gratefully. “It sounds like celestial dogs know the perfect places,” she pauses. “Mast… Mister Lucan, I am a firm believer in the protective properties of leather. You can see my armour - comfortable enough to wear everywhere. My wrist guards, scabbard… I am a girl held together by leather straps and hope. I’ve bought from the finest leatherworkers in three cities, unofficially borrowed from militia and city watch units and been issued with equipment by one of the most discreet and expensive protection forces in Faerun. And I have never seen such skill as I see on your shelves with just a casual glance. My fighting days are not over - my fortune has been told and there is blood and fire ahead. But I would dearly love to learn whatever you cared to teach me and pay for the privilege. One day, I plan to create the kind of studded leather that can turn a blade if it comes from behind, and keep an elven knight safe from unspeakable things. I will have made it too late to save her, but a promise is a promise. Do you ever take pupils? ”

“I’ve never had a pupil before, so it would be a learning curve for the both of us. But it seems you’ve already the eye for it and most importantly the drive too, a craft like this requires consistent dedication.” Lucan takes one more assessing look at Sorrel as she stands before him, though he already knows his answer. “You’ve a promise to keep, and I won’t stand in the way of that. When do you want to start?”

Sorrel beams like a child for the first time in years. She feels another huge rush of affection for this man and it’s all she can do not to hug him. Instead, she bows her head and places her left hand on heart in the House sign of a warrior’s respect then meets his gaze and gives a gentle shrug. “If I’m to wear them, I should understand them. How about today?”

Lucan lowers his own head in acknowledgment, a small smile forming on his own face as he says, “Sounds good to me, I can show you round the shop and tools a bit today before we start thinking of designs and then go from there. Pick up each stage of the process bit by bit. Usually it’s just me in the shop but there’s an old friend of mine called Gilda, as well as my son Toothy, who are both frequently around. But don’t mind them, though they’ll likely be very excited to talk to you.”

He pauses, looking like he’s trying to mentally catch himself before he extends his hand out to Sorrel, offering a handshake.

“But before I get carried away. Welcome to the shop Sorrel, it’s good to have you here.”