Orpheus' throat went dry. Why indeed, had he brought out the academy crest then?
"So you have mercy on me," he said truthfully. "To the gods, I am not telling a lie."
"Shhhh!" The man hushed him, with the raise of a finger.
"What ship do you need?" He asked.
Orpheus cleared his throat awkwardly, "a raft."
"A raft?" The man questioned in return, before sizing the young man up and down, with an expression of pure disdain.
"So you've wasted five minutes of my short life only to ask for a raft?"
Orpheus smiled embarrassingly.
"It is the only one I can afford."
"Hmph!" The man snorted again. "Follow me."
Orpheus followed in silence. Although he was familiar enough with dealing with the old man to know where they were going, he had been on this kinds of missions lots of times after all, it seemed the old man never remembered him, or instead never bothered to act like he did.
With his level of power, recalling a face was as easy as breathing to him, so it was impossible to say he didn't recognize Orpheus. Infact, he already knew Orpheus' face, and maybe even more than that, from the first day he saw him.
As for why he treated Orpheus like a stranger, that was left known to the man. There was also the matter of how many people the old man could be acquainted with. People on his level of power, had a lot of enemies.
One weak link would be all it takes, and you would play them on the palm of your hands.
They arrived at dork, and the man led Orpheus' down a wide cellar which if his math was correct, approximately fifteen full grown men, would walk side by side, without brushing each other accidentally.
It had always been lost to Orpheus as for why the stairwell was that wide. A single raft, was not even big enough to cover one sixth of the space. If a person needed a vessel of such width, then weren't they much better off with hiring a ship or a ferry?
Even a boat did not posses such width, and all of those vessels were on the surface by the dorkings. Only rafts stayed down here, as people did not use them much.
Against tides strong enough to even capsize boats, if one had enough money to afford something better, it would be foolish to go by a raft. There was also the fact that rafts were not particularly good for oceans and raging bodies of water.
The cellar led to a large wooden cabin, filled with rows and rows of wooden rafts, each one in good condition.
"Choose one," the old man said and turned around.
Orpheus nodded, and walked to one of them, which he presumed to be better than the others, and took a deep breath.
Bending down, he picked the wooden vessel up with a growl, veins in his body bulging and racing up his skin like serpents.
Although Orpheus was considered trash, with a talent even lower than his father's, who was what one would consider a wannabe witcher, the fact that he had malefic energy at all in him, was enough to make him stronger than a normal human.
Though every Witcher had and used malefic energy, not everybody who used malefic energy was a Witcher.
His father fell shot of the requirements to become one, and even with all his father's optimism before the man passed away, both he and Orpheus himself knew, that Orpheus' chances were even worse.
They had barely climbed one quarter of the stair back to the surface, when Orpheus dropped the raft, feeling air return to his tightened lungs, his chest aching as he struggled for breath.
"Brat if you as much as damage my rafts, I'll cut you to pieces and feed you to the fish!" The old man's screech crackled from above.
Orpheus would have sneered or reacted somehow, reacted if he had the strength for it, but right now, it felt like he was battling with his life on the line.
Well, he certainly had improved. The last time, he had not been able to do as much. One quarter of the stairs was progress.
After catching his breath, he stood up, and picked the raft back up again. Instantly, the sensation returned, the strain on his breathing, tightening of his chest plus the ache, the trembling of his arms.
He continued with dropping and picking back up the raft, when he was tired, and when he caught his breath respectively, and each one was following by another tirade of rants and threats from the old man.
"One silver coin," the old man demanded as soon as they reached dork.
Orpheus' eyes widened. "One silver coin?! It was eighty bronze last time!" He protested in indignation.
"So what?" The man snickered. "It's my property, and I decide how much I lease it out for. The economy now has also seen a small inflation. And once again..."
He pointed to the sky...
"Can't you see the coming storm?!"
Orpheus gritted his teeth, and pulled out a small pouch from the inner folds of his cloak. His expression was aggrieved as a pulled out a silver coin, leaving with himself, only a couple of bronze.
"I have to complete this mission in time, or I'll quickly go broke. Three days! I have three days, or I'm dead," he muttered to himself.
Meanwhile the old man began to admire the coin as soon as he received it, inspecting it from different angles as though verifying if it was real or counterfeit.
Although Orpheus could be said to be used to the man's shenanigans, it didn't mean that he no longer found it weird. As much as the old man had a few screws loose in the head, he was also a money grubber.
'Shamelessly extorting money from a youngling. Elder my ass!' he thought to himself, still feeling outraged.
The old man snorted after confirming it was indeed real, and not some fake coin. He could have even done so without looking at it at all. Infact, he already knew the boy had such amount on him, from the moment he saw him, which was he had demanded it.
As for why he did what he did... Who knows?
"You better come back with my baby in one piece. Else..." The old man left the threat hanging, and vanished.
Orpheus swallowed a mouthful of saliva as he stared at where the old man was standing a few seconds ago.
Such level of power, was what he desired, with it, he wouldn't need to struggle daily to live, nor endure the mockery of his peers, but fate was truly a cruel thing.
With a shake of his head, he pushed the raft unto the large sea, set aside the gourd that was strapped to his waist, and began to paddle away.