The three men sat around a small fire, over which they were heating an iron pot. Inside, a bubbling broth could be seen, with pieces of onion, potatoes, dried meat, and some aromatic herbs floating in it. While the ingredients finished cooking, Alaric took the opportunity to doze a bit, leaning against the trunk of a tree and enjoying the aroma of the stew. He thought about what had happened the previous night. The fake amulet, the sorceress sisters, Wart's injury... In the end, they reached an agreement that was unsatisfactory for both parties. They kept the copy and received half the payment for risking their necks. The sisters, on the other hand, gained nothing except the promise that the men would keep their mouths shut and forget the whole matter.

They had left the horses tied to a trunk, protected in the shade, as Sunno was unleashing its heat with unusual ferocity. Moreover, they had moved far enough from the path to be hidden by the forest but not so far as to get lost. They did this more out of habit than necessity, as they had only encountered a couple of peasants and their donkey all morning. Not a single trace of soldiers or guards, which they found rather odd.

"What a day, my bald head is getting red," Crab complained, covering his head with a tied handkerchief to avoid getting scorched.

"Your bald head is always red. That's why they call you Crab, more than for your claw," joked Wart.

"It's not just his head that's red," said Alaric, laughing.

"You're a bunch of bastards," Crab responded in his cavernous, hoarse voice. "Toothpick, is this what you teach the boy?"

"The boy is learning too much, I think," said Alaric, smiling and looking at the young man inquisitively. "I saw how you were looking at that girl at the mill."

"Who, me? No way. It’s just that Crab overdid it with the shia liquor," the young man replied, blushing.

"Her sister wasn’t bad either, right, Toothpick?" Crab said through his teeth. "A bit too thin for my taste."

"Not bad? She was insufferable! Thankfully, we won't be seeing her again, I suppose," Alaric replied.

He became thoughtful. Despite the jokes, he wasn’t very happy. It was true they had completed the job. Stealing the medallion. That’s what they were hired for. And they did it. Technically, at least. However, he was annoyed that they had been tricked with the replica. To him, it felt like the job wasn’t truly finished. He could be many things. A thief, yes. A mercenary, too. A brawler, sometimes. But always reliable and a man of his word. He considered himself a professional. The honor of a good thief, he used to say.

"Well, what’s the plan, Toothpick?" Crab asked, sipping some broth from his bowl. "I think we should head to Rocavelada, spend the night at 'the Virtues,' and spend some of what we've earned. You know, a good dinner, a nice bath, a fine girl..."

"Not a bad idea. We all need hot water and a real bed," Alaric replied. "If we leave in a bit, we’ll arrive by sunset. And tomorrow, when we have clearer heads and rested bodies, we’ll see what to do."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Wasn’t the wedding of the Duchess of Marcalmada supposed to be in a few days? It could be a great occasion to pick some noble pockets full of coins," Wart pointed out, stroking the area of his leg where the dart had struck. It might have healed, but his mind hadn’t fully accepted it yet.

Alaric took a linen handkerchief from one of the pockets of his black leather vest and unwrapped it to reveal the replica of the amulet. He studied it closely for a while, while his companions watched him in silence, then looked at each other, and then back at him.

"Or we could finish the job properly..."

"What do you mean, Toothpick?" Crab asked, trying to tear off a piece of bread from a loaf with his claw. It resisted, as the loaf was getting quite hard after several days in the knapsack. "We already gave the medallion to that stuck-up woman. It's not our fault it was a copy, and as far as I'm concerned, we've more than fulfilled our part. Besides, I still think she should have paid us the agreed amount. It wasn’t an easy job. And she could have kept the copy to do whatever she wanted with it. For all I care, she could have just shoved it up his... "

"Yes. You're right. But there’s something that’s been bothering me all morning," Alaric interrupted. "Tell me, Wart, what do you think of it?" he said, tossing the amulet to the young man. He caught it in mid-air and looked at it thoughtfully. He scratched it with his nail, tested it with the tip of his tongue, bit it lightly, and held it up to the light.

"It looks quite new. I mean, they’ve given it a layer of some oil or varnish to make it look older than it is," the young man began to say, a bit hesitantly.

"Well observed. And what else?" said Alaric, encouraging him.

"The gem seems good. And it’s gold, no doubt," Wart continued, getting more excited. "Also, the engraving of the scales, the serpent’s head... Even the setting. It’s all very well crafted. It’s the work of a first-rate goldsmith."

"Exactly. Perfect," Alaric nodded, showing a proud smile to his pupil. "And tell me, why do you think the young Count would spend a fortune making a copy worth as much or more than the original?"

"No way!" Crab burst out.

"Because... because he wouldn’t want anyone to guess it’s a copy."

"Exactly. It’s so good we could sell it as the real thing. The only one who knows is the owner of the original amulet. It’s a trap."

"So, that witch wanted to deceive us, or what?" Crab mumbled with his mouth full.

"I don’t think so. This is a trap for anyone who stole it. By making such a good copy, whoever took it wouldn’t suspect anything and would leave the original safe."

"Just like what happened to us," Crab replied.

"Exactly," Alaric answered. "That means the original is immensely more valuable. If we get the real medallion, that woman will give us whatever we ask for."

"Didn’t you say you didn’t want to see her again?" Wart intervened. "Besides, now they’ll be on alert, and it’ll be very hard to sneak into the castle again."

"Well, you know what they say, ‘a good purse well requires.’"

"And what do we do with this then?" Wart continued, holding the copy up for all to see.

"Sell it when we get to the city, of course. We’ll pay a visit to Ears, see how much he offers. What we get won’t hurt us at all, either. And besides, I’m curious to see what happens once we get rid of it. I suspect something will happen."