In that moment, Lucas expected a lot of terrible things to come charging out of the bushes. The size seemed to rule out another pack of goblins, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have a hob for a chieftain.

Lucas could probably take one of those, but if it was a beastman or, worse, a giant spider… well, he should already be running. He was conflicted, but he didn’t think he’d gone into the dark wood deep enough for either of those to be a problem.

The almost eight full tall silhouette looming out of the forest disagreed, but even as his urge for flight overpowered his urge for fight, he was stopped in his tracks by a booming laugh. “Well, look who it is…” the man-shaped thing said.

It took a second to figure out that the voice was familiar and another to figure out that he wasn’t looking at a man, not in the most technical sense. He was looking at a half-orc. After he put those two pieces together, it only took another moment of fumbling to come up with a name.

“Hura'gh - you son of a bitch!” Lucas roared, dropping the spear and sheathing his knife. “How in the hell did you get out?”

There was no point in playing it cautiously at this point. The giant bastard could twist his head clean off with or without a strength potion. That made friendliness by far the smartest play, even if the guy still held a grudge that Lucas had left him for dead.

He didn’t seem to, though. Instead, he offered up a big toothy grin and extended a hand to shake Lucas’s. “You didn’t see? Me and Kar’gandin let loose a bunch of horses and thundered across the draw bridge as soon as you and your buddy with the Brandy sounded the alarm.”

“Well, I was kinda trying to go for a little swim in the moat… wearing armor,” Lucas said wryly, “So I didn’t exactly see a whole lot.”

This induced another round of laughter from Hura'gh, so Lucas continued. “Anyway, we didn’t slip. I thought that was you.” Lucas said, shaking his head. “Don’t you remember going berserk and fighting your way across the courtyard with a trail of bodies in your wake?”

“I remember every trail of bodies I’ve ever left in my wake,” the half-orc said, sharing Lucas’s confusion as he tried to figure out how their stories might have gotten so different. “And the only blood I spilled that night was in the torture chamber when I put that monster and his… victims out of their misery.”

Lucas thought for a long moment, trying to square that circle, and then he figured it out. “Son of a bitch, it wasn’t you!” he shouted before quickly looking around to make sure he wasn’t attracting any more hungry goblins.

“That’s what I said,” Hura'gh answered, shaking his head. “Me and the dwarf - we were going to give you another day or two, but we figured you and his highness never made it out.”

“If it wasn’t you or me that alerted the guards, then it had to be Hardcore,” Lucas blurted out.

“Who?” Hura'gh asked. “The guy in the armor? Nah - I’m pretty sure that guy was stone cold.”

Lucas was sure he’d figured it out by now but was unwilling to tell the half-orc exactly why. Nah, man - the berserk side effect of the toxic potion I gave you might not have affected you, but some of it got into that guy’s head wound, and he went insane, he thought dismissively. Yeah, there was no way that conversation would end well. It certainly explained why that guy didn’t go down fast, though. Not only was he wearing armor, but he was hyped up on potions.

He didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he told Hura'gh, “Nah, man, it makes sense. He wakes up pissed, he comes out of the dungeon looking to murder everyone. That sounds the alarm, and the guards spot me and Adin. So we have to jump over the wall into the moat, and when they open the gate to try to get us, you ride out and ruin their whole plan. Couldn’t have worked better if we’d planned it that way.”

“Maybe…” Hura'gh said as he turned and headed back the way he came, beckoning for Lucas to follow. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. He didn’t make it, and neither did the noble, so we gotta get with Kar’gandin and—”

“Woah, hold up, I gotta get these vines…” Lucas said, scrambling to pick up his shit and follow before he lost track of the big guy.

A couple of minutes later, they were traipsing deeper into the woods, and the smell of wood smoke was getting stronger while Lucas argued that he couldn’t just leave his horse alone, but the half-orc ignored him, and soon enough, they came upon a small clearing with a pair of horses, a couple hanging carcasses of game, a primitive shelter made of dead wood and leaves, and a familiar dwarf sitting by the fire smoking.

“Look what the orc dragged in!” Kar’gandin yelled. “Now we can finally stop waiting and get to work!”

That was when Lucas remembered why it was they were waiting here of all places. It was because he’d talked a big game, so they’d help him break out. Now they expected him to set up a drug lab with them… He swallowed hard and took a moment to think that through and try to figure out a way out of this mess.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“He’s not dead,” Lucas corrected Hura'gh as Lucas heard him repeat the falsehood. “He just got shot with a crossbow. I got him patched up. He’s recovering nicely.”

“But you said—” the half-orc protested.

“Well, if he’s not here, and he’s still breathing, lad, then where did ya’ dump him?”

“Dump him?” Lucas asked in confusion, “he’s hiding out in a shack on the edge of his family’s estate. That’s where we’ve been the last couple of days.”

For a moment, both of their expressions darkened, and Lucas wasn’t quite sure why until Hura'gh opened his mouth and bellowed, “Why in dragon fire are we camped out in the green wood killing goblins while you two are all nice and cozy on a noble’s estate?!”

Lucas was about to laugh off the complaint, but he saw some of that same annoyance reflected in Kar’gandin’s expression, so he took their concern a bit more seriously.

“Hey - first off, I didn’t even know you two made it out, and second of all, the man was dying; what did you want me to do?” Lucas shot back defensively. “His sister had the medicine I needed, and I spent the last couple of days making healing potions to replace the ones I used. Simple as that.”

“Well…” the half-orc growled. “I guess that means we can pack up this shit hole and build a hideout over there, then. I don’t see how you’re going to brew shit with these constant goblin attacks. I told you the Greenwood was a miserable place.”

“Hold up,” Lucas said as he realized they were getting the wrong idea.

“I reckon we won’t have much to take with us,” the dwarf said, taking a look around the camp. “The deer carcass has another day or two of good eaten in it at least. I guess we could—”

“Honestly, I was thinking about skipping town,” Lucas blurted out, not sure the best way to approach that.

“What? Why?” both of the other men asked, talking over each other.

“Well, you know - they’re going to be looking for us,” he said, suddenly on his back foot. “I was thinking maybe we go to Niv and Heinen.”

“There’s more wealth in one district of Lordanin than both those bergs combined,” the dwarf laughed.

“And I hear the weather’s miserable in Heinen,” the half-orc said. “No, I think we’re staying here. They’ll forget about us in a couple weeks anyway.”

“That’s right,” Kar’gandin said. “I’ve seen it before; we stay out of trouble for a few months or a year, and the powers that be won't even remember our name to put on wanted posters.”

“You don’t think that might change if we start flooding the streets with blue?” Lucas asked. Until now he'd been willing to throw everything away for a clean start elsewhere: twenty or thirty dragons, his recipe notes and all the alchemical apparatuses he'd scratched together over the last few months for a clean break, and now these mother fuckers were talking about staying?

“Well - not if we put some coins in the right pockets.” the dwarf smiled. “A golden dragon, when put to proper use, can be almost as persuasive as a real one.”

“Fine,” he said finally, frustrated and more than a little confused.

He wanted to get out of the city, but that was as much because of the Viscount as any real danger. He did owe these people, too, though.

So what’s the right answer? He asked himself. But he didn’t know. He didn’t exactly trust these two, but the way things were going, they still probably ranked highest on the list of people that were least likely to screw him over.

So, for now, he’d go with it, he decided as his new-found friends led their horses back to his, and together, they made their way back to the Parin estate.

On the way back, the three of them chatted, and he slowly started to feel better about the whole thing, just maybe not good enough to go back into town to try to retrieve his shit. Hura'gh wouldn’t be much good for anything but muscle, but as long as they were going to be making frequent trips into the Greenwood, that had its place.

The dwarf, on the other hand, seemed like he knew anyone who was anyone. He’d be able to get Lucas the berries he needed and the glassware and whatever else. He was also probably the biggest danger in the whole thing: once he knew the recipe, there would be nothing to stop him from stealing it and sharing it with his clan, and that wouldn’t exactly be hard to do.

So, on the way back, he regaled them with stories about just how badly Adin had screwed up his first attempt at healing potions and practically made a poison in the process.

“Alchemy is tricky business,” Kar’gandin nodded. “I had an uncle who was a maker of fine alcohols. Everything from spirits to stouts. Eventually, he even began to make certain elixirs, too, for a tidy profit. He said that there was only the finest of lines between medicine and poison. He’s dead now, rest his soul.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lucas said. “Did he accidentally make the wrong sort of poison, or…”

“Nah,” Kar’gandin answered in a sad tone. “His potions were fine, but one day, gods rest his soul, he finally passed away from drinking too much.”

“A dwarf?” Hura'gh asked incredulously. “Is that even possible?”

“Only if you own a brewery!” At this point, the dwarf’s sad facade shattered, and he began laughing so hard that there were tears in his eyes before he was done.

At the end of the conversation, Lucas wasn’t sure if the uncle's existence had been a joke or if the manner of his death had just been too funny to deny, but he went with it while he tried to figure out what he was going to do.

How in the hell am I going to explain any of this to Adin without coming off like an asshole? Lucas wondered as they approached the cider house through the backwoods.