“The Thirteenth Army gained its cognomen of ‘Salamanders’ over thirty consecutive years of deployments across seven different worlds. During that period, every single legion within the army faced a Magister-level pyromancer at least once, and the army as a whole suffered twice the normal level of casualties, half of which were caused by flame magic, dragons, or alchemical fire. This pattern continued even after the army’s high command began actively trying to avoid sending their men into action against such foes.

Veterans of the Thirteenth are, perhaps understandably, known to have extremely negative reactions towards flame magic, and frequently suffer from pyrophobia. This would normally be grounds for mockery amongst the Federation armed forces, except for the fact that the Salamanders routinely send fire-starting pranksters to the nearest infirmary.”

- “Bellatorem et Mundos,” by Khasai Melkamu, military historian

Town Guard Headquarters, Bridgetown

We’d dumped our stuff at a charming inn called the Golden Flagon that was just off the central square, and headed out to find Captain Marahm and the job that he supposedly had for us. Ko took off into the sky as we left the inn, saying that he needed to get an idea of what the local rodent population looked like, and that I should call him if he were needed.

Walking the streets of the town reinforced what we’d learned so far - Bridgetown was a modestly prosperous agricultural settlement, but one facing more than its fair share of threats. The few farmers walking around were wearing much bigger weapons on their belts than I was used to seeing, and not a few of the merchant-class folks were carrying swords or hatchets. Moreover, damn few of those weapons were show-pieces, and I spotted a number that looked like they’d seen recent use.

The townsfolk did a bit of looking at us, in return. Cherubix drew the most stares - some of them decidedly unfriendly - but she returned them with a cheerful wave whenever she spotted any gawkers. Faraday and I got our own share, though for a while I was a bit confused by their expressions. There was the usual distrust of strangers that I was used to, and a bit of disgust and anger at us for traveling with a fey. But after a while, I started noticing a more wistful expression on people’s faces, one that I had seen directed at me few enough times during my current career that I could count them on one hand.

Hope.

Which was odd, as I was used to adventurers being tolerated most of the time, reviled when they acted up or did something like revealing that the mayor was secretly a demonic cultist or whatever, and occasionally celebrated when they averted or killed a disaster. If these people were recognizing us as adventurers, and they were reassured by that, then what did it mean for what was waiting for us outside the walls?

When I mentioned as much to Faraday, he just chuckled, with a grim little smile on his face. “You’ve not been in many places under siege, have you?” he asked. “If I’m right, these folk have been mostly safe the past few years, but they’ve not been able to really expand or feel secure. When there are monsters in the woods, or raiders lying in wait just beyond the horizon, even if you never see them yourself you still know they’re there.”

He smiled at a passing young woman who was giving him what she thought was a subtle appraisal, making her blush and skitter off, before continuing. “I’d guess that since the last bunch from the Guild disappeared, these folk haven’t been getting as many goods from the wild, and casualties have gone up on the outlying farms. If us being here means more coin in everyone’s pockets and a couple fewer deaths each year, then aye - no wonder they’re happy to see us.” He gave me a bit of a smirk. “And, frankly, it means more work for us, so don’t go looking the gift horse in the mouth, hm?”

I just grunted in response, and resolved to do what I could to preserve that feeling of preemptive gratitude. I’d been run out of a village ahead of a lynch mob once, on account of a ghost that told some uncomfortable secrets about members of the headman’s family, and you don’t forget something like that. I’d spent long enough as a perpetual stranger wherever I went that the idea of not having to justify my presence, of not being constantly wary of a sudden shift in public opinion, felt… odd. Nice, but odd, like I couldn’t really wrap my head around the idea.

It was only a minute or two of walking later that we were standing in front of the guard station. A handful of men and women in uniform - brown gambesons with the town’s crest on a badge over the left breast - were visible sparring in the training field beside the structure, and a beefy-looking fellow with a poleaxe held at parade rest was standing watch next to the front door.

As he noticed us and turned to give us a once-over, I took a deep breath, put on my “dealing with authorities” smile, and walked over. Before I could get a word out though, the guard jerked his head towards the doorway and said “Captain’s expecting yeh. Go on in, then, he’ll be in his office.”

I blinked, my smile slipping a bit in my surprise, and heard Cherubix stifling a giggle behind me. Sparing her a brief glare over my shoulder, I gave the man a nod and proceeded through the door. A quick conversation with the bored-looking officer behind a big desk covered in parchment pointed us towards the captain’s office, and we made our way over.

The captain’s office was a bit of a let-down after the previous two persons-of-interest we’d visited, honestly. Neat and well-organized, with a single plaque on the wall and a collection of filing cabinets bracketing what was at this point obviously a standard-issue desk that matched the ones we’d seen in the entryway of the station, and a couple of rough wooden chairs that looked decidedly uncomfortable to sit in. Boring as hell, basically.

The captain himself was situated behind his desk and had looked up as we trooped in, nodding at the officer who’d shadowed us. “Excellent, thank you Klause. This one will see to them from here; you can get back to work.”

He was much more interesting to look at than his office. Big, in that svelte way that catfolk warriors tend to be, with plenty of muscle but not in a way that would make him look bulky. His mane was well-groomed but kept relatively short, which if I recalled correctly was a common adaptation for Federation military service. Though, it was definitely not military regulation - he’d had streaks of it dyed a bright crimson, contrasting with the dull brown color of his fur and his sharp golden eyes.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The dominant feature of his lion-like face was the large burn scar that stretched across the side of his left cheek and jaw. Whatever gave him that had been nasty, and the overall effect, added to the couple of other scars I could see on his arms and hands, and the chunk missing from one ear, was to imply that this guy had seen a fair amount of action. Hells, he might have actually faced a dragon, for all I knew.

After the door had been closed behind us and we’d gotten settled in some of the chairs, the captain got right down to business.

“This one assumes that the Major gave you the usual speech about the Hellrazers, not causing trouble, blah blah blah, yes?” There was a twinkle in his eye as he said it, though his expression remained serious. I just rolled my eyes and nodded.

“Good. Then this one will also assume that you don’t need to hear it a second time. However,” his expression twisted into one of irritation, his ears flattening, “based on past experience this one thinks that they failed to explain something else, and he would rather get into it now rather than later.”

He steepled his fingers in front of him, claws clicking against each other. “You have heard from the Major and her colleagues about these ‘wardstones’ - the reasons why the town has not expanded, and why FexCorps has not sent men out to explore, yes?” He paused and waited for us to nod. “Good. You are also, this one thinks, wondering why nobody informed you of this before you came here, yes?” Another round of nods, with myself and Faraday looking at him expectantly. That was a mystery that I was very curious about.

“In short, there is an Interdict placed by Central on the wardstones’ existence, and what they do.” And the bastard paused, whiskers smirking as he took in our expressions.

I let out a faint groan at the word “Interdict.” Faraday remained mostly stoic, but a faint crease between his eyebrows showed that he wasn’t entirely happy about the news, either.

I was not looking forward to the explanation for that, but at least it explained why the Guild hadn’t told us. Even if they knew - not a guarantee, Interdicts were supposedly infallible, though you shouldn’t take anything you hear about “secret” government magic without a hefty pinch of salt - they wouldn’t be willing to spill anything under Interdict in a way that might get back to the Feds.

“Yes, exactly,” the captain continued after letting his news drop with an almost audible thud. “The best guess of our friends in FExCorps is that there’s some sort of eldritch abomination buried or imprisoned here that the previous residents felt obliged to create the wardstones to contain.” He raised an eyebrow at us. “You can see why they would want news of such a… thorough imprisonment to remain off the headlines outside of our fair little town, yes?”

I nodded, and was about to ask a question when Cherubix beat me to it. “Wait, wait! If the wardstones are keeping something locked up, then why are we supposed to be bringing them back to Jiri?” She looked at the two of us, obviously wondering if she was missing something. “Shouldn’t we leave them alone, then?”

I just turned back to the captain and raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and went on. “Yes, well, the logic goes that the last three which were removed didn’t cause anything terrible to happen, so maybe their presence isn’t necessary anymore.” He shrugged. “This one cannot speak for the higher-ups, he just knows that they have a tendency to forget about the folks who have to do the fighting, yes? He has had to deal with others from the Guild who became very… frustrated that they could not discuss this with their colleagues, and wished to get that out of the way sooner rather than later.”

He sighed. “This one has his hands full dealing with the town’s security; If you help with that, rather than running off into the wilderness after these,” his voice shifted into a sarcastic imitation of a bard’s most self-important tones “‘mysteeeerious artifacts of power’ and likely dying out there like the last lot, then this one will see what he can do to make it worth your while. Does that sound reasonable?”

I smiled, glancing over at Faraday and Cherubix, who nodded and grinned respectively. “Yes, certainly, we would be happy to help. Ah, I believe that you said you had a job for us?” Because, as much as I appreciated the explanation, we did need to pay for our tab at the inn, after all.

“Indeed, indeed, this one simply wished to prevent another tantr- ah, discussion about the presence of the Interdict.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a folder. “One of the farmers out in Goldenrod - that’s the name of the village southeast of town - says that he’s missing two cows. This one’s scouts haven’t spotted anything, but they have found goblin tracks in the area around the farms.”

He scowled, scrunching his nose up and baring a bit of fang. “This one is hesitant to send out a large number of men after such - the little pests can blend back into the grass and hills if they spot a large force coming, but they’re dangerous enough that this one is also leery of sending small patrols into the area where they can be picked off one by one.” The gaze he directed at us was expectant. “You are ranked fairly well, according to the Guild. This one thinks to himself, ‘why not see if these new adventurers can deal with the problem?’ And so, he has found some silver - fifty denarii to scout and return with information, or three hundred if you find the two cows and ensure that the thieves won’t take any more.”

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? Well, an audition’s an audition, but that didn’t mean I was going to settle for two-thirds our usual rate. “Well, we would certainly be happy to accommodate you, but I am afraid that we would need more silver, and a more concrete description of what you will accept as ‘dealing with’ the thieves.” I raised an eyebrow and gave him a blade-thin smile. “We would both hate to ruin a new business relationship because of a… misunderstanding of a technicality, yes?”

“Ehm,” was all he said, before twitching his ears and giving me a small smile. “Yes, this one can see how that might be a problem. Perhaps… hm, one hundred to scout; we can use the three hundred as a floor, and go up from there if-”

He was interrupted by the door slamming open and a watchman shouting, “Sir! There’s been an attack, out by Greentree. Gremlins. Miss Hogsworthy is tending to Corporal Jackson and the kid who made it back, but the boy’s father is still missing.” I could see a number of officers putting armor on through the open doorway.

The faint smile had vanished from the captain’s scarred face, replaced by a thunderous scowl. “Hellfire. All right, you lot,” he said, looking at us as he stood up from his desk. “Change of plans. That offer’s still on the table, but this one must go. Come with, and he may find reason to give you another job. Or, stay here and do whatever, he does not care, but get out of his office either way.” So saying, he started grabbing his own armor from out of the closet.

I turned back to my companions. Cherubix was dancing from one foot to the other, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of some action, so I didn’t need to ask whether she wanted to go. I raised an eyebrow at Faraday, and he just shrugged.

“What’d I tell you?” he said under his breath, getting out of his chair and heading for the door. “More business for us.”