The town of Cranesworth was a town of has-beens. Stuck in the middle of the periphery of the empire, its guard post was usually made for retired generals, its communal library for old scribes, even the mayor of the town was once a noble, now landless, after a power grab made by his cousin's cousin twice removed, and his late wife.

He had had his revenge, sure, and his cousin was a foot short now, but at what price?

Still, he thought, there were worse destinies, and he had some really good days since then.

Unfortunately, that same mayor was really, really not having a good day today.

He had a strange dream that night, where two identical wolves were ripping him to shreds while his wife watched, laughing. His body, tho, was made of papers, with all the names of people that owed him money. He knew that maybe, sometimes, a sixty percent interest was too much for some people, but couldn't they find the money working like he did? This was honest business, and no horrifying beasts nor his dead wife could make him change his ways.

And speaking of debts, today he had an appointment with the son of one of his biggest debtors! He may finally find a new helper with that little problem he had, deep in the mines…

— — — —

Twilight was half an hour away. You could see it in the flickers of the Small sun, slowly starting to fade in the sky. The hue was becoming greener, and in this green hue a couple was inside their cart, pulled by oxen who seemed to know perfectly where to go and how fast. The two elders were looking at a pile of books in the center, all bound in leather, colored in different shades.

“The content of the books is protected. I can't read it. It's written in a language I do not know, and there also seems to be a curse, which I disabled, that makes you lose all your teeth if you open it outside a temple”.

“Thankfully none of us still have their original ones. What material were yours again, love? I forgot.”

“Wyrmbone, the best for dentistry. Long lasting, self cleaning. The only downside is that they're always slightly warm.”

“That seems… disconcerting.”

“Says the one who once grafted gills to himself and kept them even if they made everything taste fishy for Twenty years before admitting he made an error and they did not work properly.

“Ok we’re getting too sidetracked”, groaned Lazar, “do you think it's a code or a different language?”

“Code, I'd say. The letters are the same, the length of the words appears consistent and there aren't weird symbols. It's a code. We may need to find its cipher. It may still be in one of the books, but my bet? They memorize it to avoid someone finding it laying around.

“Or stealing it.”

“Do you know someone in Cranesworth that may help us?”

“Maybe. We’ll have to check if she’s still kicking and wasn't done in by one of her clients, but I believe she may be of help.” replied Lazar, scratching his head.

“ We also might need a hand outfitting ourselves for our endeavor. My old charms are busted, and I don't think we should use the lance for every little inconvenience we might find on our path.”

“Squeak squeak” said Thyme, peeking out from the satchel along his brother Spyce.

“Oh, thank you!” replied Liliane, smiling, “asking your relatives could be a good idea to know the state of things, and if the people we need are still where you remember them being. It could be really useful”.

“We also have to remember to get our supplies, more food for the journey - “

“And don’t forget that we need a map”

“Yes, yes, I was getting to that! But the map maker I know is probably retired now. It should still be worth a try, though. Maybe he has some relatively recent ones. Hope old Nevander remembers me” muttered Lazar, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

“So, we have our shopping plan, we just have to spend the money now! Let’s go lad-la-whatever, let's go! ”

“What in the Night are they talking about?” said Brama to its brother, murmuring.

“I don’t know, just nod”, it sighed and shook its head “they said they would have told us during the trip to Cranesworth, but we arrived,and they didn't, so… I really think they forgot.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“They really are a couple of senile old farts, aren’t they?

“Senile old farts with a very good hearing and a passion for barbecued steak” quipped Lazar from inside the cart.

“Mooo.” said the oxen, ending their talk.

— — —

“You know I can't pay you right now, mr mayor. We agreed the deadline was the last of this month. You can’t do this.”

A young man sat at his table, in his house. There wasn't much furniture, just a table and a fireplace, with some pieces of wood piled next to it. A bed sat in the corner nearer to the same fireplace. The walls showed weird signs of discoloration, as if something was removed from there recently.

Standing right in front of the door were the town's Mayor, Klavus Merripenny, arms crossed and a devious smirk on his face, and a tall, armed guard, clad in a full set of plate mail. The helmet covered any expression he could be making, but one could guess it mirrored his master's.

“I can and I will. You have until tonight to repay the debt your good father owns me, Partoce, or you will have to do a small errand for me. You know the mines well at this point, don’t you? I lost a thing in the third level, and you will get it back for me, pretty please. Then, you can give back My money at the end of the month.”

“But-” the young man called Partoce tried to stand up, but a plated hand made him sit back on his chair.

“No buts.” stated the mayor, almost mockingly.” Tonight, or I will take this house as collateral and sell you in servitude to someone even worse than me. I really make it too easy on you peasants. You haven’t seen a smidge of the cruelty some people have with their workers. You should be grateful I'm so magnanimous. You should thank me. Come on. Thank me.”

“I-

“Thank me I said, worm!” he shouted. The grip on the young man shoulder tightened.

“T-thank you for your patience, mr Mayor. I’ll be sure to fulfill whatever task y-you’ll require of me.”

“Good lad. Well, have a nice day, then. Guerric, let's go.”

The guard lifted his hand and followed the mayor out of the house, slamming the door behind himself. The young man, now alone, put his face in his hands, and started to cry.

Some minutes later, he heard knocking on his door. He felt tired. He felt so tired.

“Who goes there?” he shouted, without leaving his chair.

“Friends of Nevander the cartographer!” answered a… Old man? From outside. “Is he at home?”

“He’s dead.” good, he thought, now he had to think of his father again. “Thirty moons now.” He got up, and opened the door. Two old people, a good looking old man, with his hat in his hand, and a pretty weird old woman were on his doorstep. “I'm his son. What can I help you with?” he asked.

“Oh dear.” Lazar said, terfully. “We’re really, really sorry for your loss. He was a good man, even if his prices were outrageous.”

“It’s gone.” Partoce said, his voice cold. “The pyre is cold, the ashes blown, and he’ll be born anew in the Numen’s embrace. What business did you have with my father?”

“My name is Liliane, and this rude fella is my husband Lazar. He was a client of your father. We need a map, the more recent you have. The one we have is, unfortunately, a bit out of date. Do you still have one of them?” asked the woman.

“I sold them all to the guards, I’m afraid.”

He looked at his hands. Then, he turned to look at the walls, now barren. An ache gripped his heart like a vice. He started talking without really meaning to, the words jumping from his throat. “I have a big debt with the mayor. I inherited it from my late father, the idiot. Gambled all his money away and asked for a loan. Then another. Then when the communal bank didn't give him another one, he resorted to asking money from that- that bastard. He knew he had horrendous interest rates. Since the famine five years ago, almost every resident contracted a debt with the Mayor. Since the discovery of the mines on that side of the Fulgent Mountain a year ago, he has used these debts as an excuse to accumulate free laborers and we all became indentured servants! Practically every person in town is one, except for those that run away or become homeless to repay him, trying to free themselves from his mine. We're sick and tired of it, but have no way to denounce him to the empire’s taxman. No one is willing to risk retribution, and he keeps his books in a secure vault inside his mansion, protected by his four mastiffs and two mercenaries.”

“Oh, but that is terrible.” cried out Liliane. Lazar had an enraged look on his face,but tried to keep it contained. “Love, we really should do something about this” she told him.

“Are we sure we got time?” he asked, seemingly a bit unconvinced, even if his anger was clear. “We still have to-

“What good is saving the world if the people living in it suffer? You told me this yourself.”

“That was eight hundred moons ago, love

“And they still ring true. We won’t lose more than a day or two, in the grand scheme of things, that’s crumbs.”

The old man took a deep breath. His face relaxed, but he had a killer look in his eyes. The young man was taken aback a bit.

“Ok lad. First things first. What can we help you with?”

“He asked me to get back… something, in the third layer of the mines. I heard a couple of people I do not know well that worked in that layer disappeared. I thought they just escaped, but maybe there’s something more sinister going on.”

Partoce was trembling now, not daring to hope too much.

“I think you should see the mayor to have more information about the job he wants you to do.” said Liliane, softly. He took a hand from the young man and pet him like a grandmother would.” We’ll help you do it, and while he’s distracted with you, we will try and steal his ledgers from under his nose. Then you’ll be free to do whatever you want with him.”

Partoce couldn't keep it in anymore. He started sobbing.

“Thank you, thank you very much for your help sir, ma’am. If we manage to go through with this, I assure you I'll do my utmost to help you outfit yourself for your… where did you say you were going?

“We didn't.” chuckled Lazar, patting the shoulder of the young man.” We're going on a… Let's say extreme camping trip for my thousand moon, dear. I once saw the world in my youth, and I want to do it again. See how it changed and all that. May even help with my new book.”

“I’ll surely buy it when it comes out, then!” laughed the young man, drying his tears with his hands.

“Yes, yes, now, we’ll leave you to your things, and keep an eye on you. You won’t see us, but I can assure you. We’ll be just a shout away, if you need help.”

“You are so kind.”

The young man smiled at the old couple, who now had a new look about them. A look that resembled… Hope. Well, there was a reason that we were once called-”

“Now, now, dear. Don’t spoil the fun. He may have heard of us from his late father.”

Liliane then looked at the son of the cartographer, and put her hands on both his shoulders.

“Now. Do you have a room we can hide in, dear?”