No one argued with Lucas, and one by one all of the rogues from each of the different factions squeezed out the side of the inn through the hole that the Whisperers had left behind. It was a large, thin crack that was so big that Lucas barely had to duck. The Brass knights struggled a little in their armor, but Hura’gh was really the only one that had problems, at least until he use brute strength to widen the crack a little bit before he could escape.

That sudden display of strength was enough to make the roof sag a little, but Lucas wasn’t worried about that. As much as he’d love to pay for the damages, he wasn’t sticking around long enough for anyone to describe him to the guards. Hopefully, the elves had a few coins between them to give to the innkeeper for his trouble, and if not, well, their fancy little crossbows would certainly sell for more than a few silver kings to the right buyer.

One short run later, they were all mounting their horses and heading in different directions as it quickly became every man for himself. Hura’gh had tried to take the Whisperer’s horses with them, arguing, “The mare at least will fetch a good price. A handful of dragons at least,” but Lucas shot it down.

“Did you see the same thing I saw, man?” Lucas chided him. “Those bitches had a scroll, and all the rumors say that gang is in league with mages, if not mages themselves!”

“Mages have better things to do than join Lordanian factions and fight for territory,” Hura’gh answered skeptically.

“Yeah,” probably, Lucas said, realizing the big lug made a good point. “But that doesn’t mean they can't hire someone to track us down by their horses. Hell - maybe this is how they wanted this whole meet to play out. I say we don’t fuck around where they are concerned. Not even a little.”

“You’re really going to throw away dragons just because of a what-if?” the half-orc asked. “It’s money in the hand, practically.”

“Yeah, I am,” Lucas said with a shrug, “and to be honest, it's something I should do more often.”

With that, he spurred his horse and started riding down the road. He didn’t go too fast, though, both because he didn’t care much for riding, and because if he did, there was no way that Hura’gh would be able to catch him before the big half-orc’s mount keeled over from a heart attack.

A few minutes later, when they were well clear of The Fiddler’s Rest, and had turned off onto a side road, they slowed down so they could discuss the night's events. Both of them had considered violence to be a possibility, but neither one had expected a poisoned fusillade or magic to be a factor in the whole thing. It was crazy.

“Whose offer will we take,” Hura’gh asked, finally. “If they are still good, I mean?”

“Why wouldn’t they still be good?” Lucas asked. “You think those guys don’t want to make some money? More importantly, you think they don’t want to keep their rivals from making money?”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about all that,” Hura’gh said with a shrug. “The way I see it, just want to know who wants to pay the most, you know? They’re all scumbags, but with enough dragons, I could pretend to like 'em.”

Lucas spent the next couple minutes explaining how all the deals compared, and the little tricks they tried, while the half-orc listened. When it was all said and done he expected the warrior to comment on the Whisperers offer, but instead he just said, “A hundred crowns is a lot of credit. You could spend a couple nights with one of the beauties on Lavender Lane for that kind of scratch.”

“Hura’gh, do I look like the kind of guy that would have to pay for it?” Lucas asked with a smirk.

“Honestly, yeah,” the half-orc answered before he burst out laughing. “No offense, man, but my nose has been broken a dozen times, and I’m still prettier than you.”

Lucas nodded, playing it off with a wisecrack or two, but he couldn’t deny that Hura’gh’s words had stung. He definitely wasn’t the prettiest on Earth, but the half-orc's comment certainly reminded him that he was as far from handsome as he’d ever been these days.

Fortunately, the very last thing he was looking for was someone to keep his bed warm at night. Maybe he’d change his mind after he’d unlocked the secret of margaritas and gone straight, but until then, he was focused exclusively on stacking coins. Even then, though, he could probablly do better than the well painted whores of the Red Lantern Gang, and he had no intention of accepting their offer.

The ride back took longer than Lucas would have thought, but taking the back way got them lost more than once, and by the time they arrived back at the cider house sometime after midnight, he was beat, and only Kar’gandin was still awake and waiting for them.

He was sitting on the porch with a pipe in hand. “How’d it go,” Kar’gandin asked as soon as they rode up.

“We’re going to sell to the Whisperers,” Hura’gh said with a toothy grin before Lucas could respond.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“The hell we are,” Lucas shot back. “Getting into bed with those bitches is a bad idea.”

“The Whisperers?” Kar’gandin asked. “The Back Alley Whisperers? By Grandfather’s great axe, who was daft enough to invite them?”

Hura’gh pointed at Lucas, and for a moment, the dwarf looked back and forth between the two of them in shock. “What? When? Why would you do that, me boy?” Kar’gandin asked.

“First of all, I didn’t,” Lucas said, “and second, I couldn’t. I haven’t even been to Lordanin in weeks. How the hell would I contact those creepy bastards?”

“He… You did to the Fiddle, Lucas,” Hura’gh chided him. “I was there, remember.”

“That’s not what he’s talking about, asshole,” Lucas shot back. “Yes, when they met us at the crow cages, I invited them, but only because it was the least worst outcome. I have no freaking clue how they heard we were meeting or who it was that told them, got it?”

“Oh,” the dwarf and the half-orc said in unison as one misconception was removed from the board, and the three of them were pulled back into alignment.

“So what was their offer, then?” Kar’gandin asked.

“One silver king more than our next best offer,” Lucas said, reaching into his pocket and handing the dwarf the slips.

“Not worth it,” the dwarf answered, shaking his head. “Not worth the complications.”

“Definitely not worth it,” Lucas agreed.

“So then, who’s going to be our partner in crime for the foreseeable future?” the dwarf asked. “The Brass Knights offered the most, and they’ve got some good territory along high street, and all through the east quarter.”

“Well, that would be my bet,” Lucas nodded, “But I still feel like we could get more if we were to fuck with them a little and maybe tell them we were going to go with someone else like the Butchers or something. I mean, I did save one of their lives; they owe me.”

“Ye saved one of their…slow down, lad,” the dwarf said, slamming on the brakes to the conversation. “This was supposed to be a straightforward tasting. Don’t tell me that Whisperers attacked ye?”

“Naw,” Hura’gh answered. “Those cowards fled with a scroll as soon as the slants tried to kill us.”

“Slants? Scrolls?” the dwarf cried out, “If someone doesn’t start telling me what happened, and soon, I’m going to have to slam both yer heads together until all the pieces of this insane story come tumblin’ out. Do ye hear me?”

Lucas felt a little bad when he realized that he’d forgotten to mention the most important part of the whole night because he’d been so aggravated at Hura’gh’s accusation that he’d been the one to bring uninvited guests to the party. So, he spent a few minutes going through every last detail, from the moment weapons were drawn to the moment that they’d fled the scene, and when it was all over, Kar’gandin nodded. “Aye, ye handled that about as well as one could ask for. Bad things can happen - that's why I said ye should take Hura’gh with ye.”

“So he could bring antidotes for other people and not for me?” the half-orc laughed. “I see how it is - little humans sticking together.”

“You think those were for anyone but you after the run-in with the spider? Asshole.” Lucas sighed. Sometimes, Hura’gh seemed so close to getting it, and the rest of the time, he was somewhere off in left field.

There were only a handful of people in this world he could probably trust, and he wasn’t going to let one of them get killed just because he forgot to bring the right shit ever again. That would be such a waste.

They chatted a little longer, but after they’d decided the Knights of Brass would be their best bet, the three of them joined Adin in slumber. In the morning, it was decided that Lucas would be the one to smuggle the shit into town.

“Why me?” Lucas asked over breakfast, even if he already knew. “I was going to start mixing up some mana potions.” He might understand why he was the best choice, but he still hated it.

Breakfast wasn’t the fanciest meal for them, but every morning, a servant brought out a big pot of steaming porridge or oatmeal and some sausage or bacon to go with it. It was simple fare, but it was usually pretty good. Word was that the cook really appreciated the sudden increase in the finances of house Parin, but other than Adin’s sister and her butler, he didn’t really talk to anyone from the big house.

“Because the bloke on the poster ain’t ye, and because ye got a relationship with the client now,” Kar’gandin said with a smile before devouring the slab of bacon off the chipped plate in front of him.

Everyone laughed at that, even Adin, who had no idea what the joke was even supposed to be, making Lucas scowl. “Alright,” he agreed, “But when I get back, I better be drowning in fucking Mushrooms, Adin, you got that? Piles of them, sorted nice and neat and ready for me to work on tomorrow, and if you and Hura’gh run into any goblins, I want those fucking livers, too, alright?”

Adin nodded, but his heart really didn't seem in it until Lucas’s admonition, “Because there’s no more blue until we cook, and I ain't doing that until I have enough of the shit to be worth my time; you got it?”

That got the noble’s attention, and he nodded once as his eyes focused. After that, all that was left to do was figure out how they were going to smuggle the blue into the city, but his dwarven friend already had that figured out, too.

While Lucas had been cooking, Kar’gandin had been scheming, and he’d had his cousin whip up a keg built to hold another smaller keg and a few gallons of cider in case someone decided to tap it at the front gate. It even had a tax stamp that Lucas was quite sure no one had ever paid.

“So what, I just walk in there with this tied to the back of a mule and walk up to the first Brass balled motherfucker I find?” Lucas asked. “Don’t you think we should - you know, send some correspondence and arrange a meet or something?”

“Nah,” Kar’gandin said with a frown. “First, you’re going to go put on a servant’s livery, so you look more like a house Parin flunky, and then you’re going to walk your keg of delicious cider over to the small courtyard just north of the Street of Hammers.”

“So dress like a tool and go to the place full of tools,” Lucas agreed with a smirk. “Got it.”