The smell of fish is like a double edged sword. When the fish is still fresh enough it can be a good sniff yet when it is rotten, you will be unpleasantly surprised. Clyde swept some sweat of his brow when the last smudges of fish were of his cutting board. The middle-aged stallholder might not have the best place in Bree near the Stone Quarters yet he couldn't complain. The dwarves were decent buyers and complained less about the smell than most others around town, they were polite folk after all. The sun gave of his last rays of golden light at the end of a good day. The man knelt down next to his stall to make sure that there weren't any left over fish guts or the like as stray cats weren't good for anyone's business. Just when the Bree-lander wanted to stand up again after finding no residue, a shadow cast over him from behind which made the air just chill enough to be a bother. The streets were normally rather empty at this hour and the other street vendors were already gone by this hour. After being certain that the shade wasn't a cloud the stallholder spoke while still facing his stall: "Already sold all the fish. Come back tomorrow and I will have something again." After getting no response after a few seconds the Bree-lander grumbled and turned around, saying in a slightly agitated tone: "Didn't you heard me spe-" The stallholder instantly stopped speaking and grabbed the edge of his stall the moment he realized who he had scolded. Two stern eyes above a bushy mustache met those of the Bree-lander.
"Of course I heard your words, Mister Redwood. I simply didn't found it fitting to talk to your back yet if that is the response that you find decent enough when talking to a potential customer than it hardly matters, now does it?" Clyde Redwood simply gave the elderly man a nod before he looked around to see if the old man was alone or not. The stallkeeper raised his eyebrows without even noticing it himself after the act was done. The reply of Mister Greenhand came almost instantly: "Yes, I am here alone. You always pay on time, Mister Redwood. I'm here for fish today. I want you to deliver it to a friend of mine." Clyde was confused for a short moment, letting the request sink in. The Moneylender never came for fish and the fact that he came to me was even more surprising. The salesman started asking for the needed details, not wanting to displease this man: "It will be done, which fish and where?" Greenhand shifted on his feet for a moment, almost if he forgot which fish he wanted, before he finally muttered the words: "A small barrel of salted Rudd needs to be delivered at 7 Long street in Atwold on Saturday. " Redwood scratched the back of his balding head as he tried to remember the fish. "But mister Greenhand, those fish can only be caught in the waters near Dale. I don't have anything in stock." The old man gave one of his almost wicked smile as he laid his right hand on Clyde his shoulder, speaking: "I do not expect you to have it in stock. You simply need to make the delivery. The barrel was delivered at your house some time after you headed to your stall today. Your little boy has been growing like a beanstalk, hasn't he?"
Clyde Redwood's face first turned pale before it flowed over into shades of red, much befitting the man's name. Anger could be clearly heard in the stallkeeper's voice when he spoke: "Keep my family out of this! You do not have the right to bother my wife and child! The deal is-" Clyde's words were silenced as the man fell a sharp pain that started in his left shoulder shocked through his whole body. The man was forced to bend his knees or else he would simply fall to the ground. Greenhand kept his hand on the salesman's shoulder and his fingers pinched Clyde with an incredible effect. The old man's words showed no signs of change, nor did the stern face of Greenhand seemed any different: "Your choice, Fishmonger. If you do not want this job than I will have my friends go to your house to get my barrel back. Maybe they will even take your son along for the ride? Give him something to take his mind of the fact that his dear mother Linda needs to place two plates on the table for supper instead of three. So, what is your answer, Fishmonger?" Clyde looked up at the old man, his face not the only one that looked upon the struggling man. Two broad figures stood on each side of Greenhand now. Their wicked grins almost bringing tears to the eyes of the poor man while vivid thought ran through his head. His voice was broken and told enough about the state of its owner, being on the edge of an emotional breakdown: "I will do it! Please don't bring harm to my family and I. Nothing was meant with my words, honestly." Tadforth took his hand of the stallkeeper's shoulder and the poor man almost fell thanks to his weakened knees. His tumble was stopped by the two brutish looking men who acted quickly and placed Clyde with little effort on his stall to sit. Mister Greenhand smiled and said: "Nobody spoke about harm, friend, so I don't get where you got that absurd idea. My friends here even helped you when you almost fell thanks to the long day." The old man followed with a large waving gesture towards a nearby window that just opened on a second floor near the stall. The Moneylender shouted to the concerned maiden that appeared in the opening: "Poor Redwood lost his footing, miss. I and my friends were rather saddened by the fact that we couldn't catch any fish this late yet at least we could catch the Fishmonger in time!" The young woman simply smiled out of politeness at the joke before closing her window soon after. The focus of the old man was completely on Clyde again, like it never left: "Deliver the barrel at 7 Long street in Atwold on Saturday. All I am asking. That and paying me my monthly payment, of course. I think that you know by now that you and I want no trouble from now on, understood?" The Fishmonger simply nodded, being unable to give a spoken response. The man that was once known as Tidhelm gave the man no further heed as he left the street a few seconds later, followed by his two goons.
Clyde sat on his stall for the next two hours, long till after nightfall. His wife eventually came looking for him yet the seller of fish spoke no words about the incident with his wife. He enjoyed a quiet supper before tucking in his son that late evening, kissing him on the forehead before leaving the small room of the boy. Clyde's dreams were dark that night, like so many from that day.
