*Nom*

*Nom*

*Nom*

For starters, whatever i'm currently eating is pretty dope.

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

*Crunch*

I'm not exactly sure what it is, but it has definitely got some fried bits with a little dash of seafood bonanza going on. Like a zesty beach vibe with a modern heartiness to it. Or maybe a seaside boat adventure with some sassy teenagers. Okay, the last one doesn't make sense, however, to be fair, with each bite im slowly losing my sanity over how damn good this warm cooked meal was.

Stiggs had graciously paid for all of us to sleep at the village hall instead of our usual dinky tents, a gesture of goodwill for a day of hard work investigating. Before, I couldn't figure him out, but now I see just a regular dude playing the role he enjoys doing. Even though I only met him weeks ago, I could see the man for who he is. He wears himself proudly and doesn’t hold it over anybody else. I've gained mad respect for him despite the whole kidnapping thing, especially since his rank separates him from his peers and his job removes him everything else.

While still inhailing my food, I asked, "So the murder location of the merchant twins was cleaned up long ago right? Where does that leave us?"

Also dropping proper dining edicate for another crunchy bite, Captain Wendy said, "A small village like this only has one seller for a drug like Rathium, which was most likely the farmer. I think it’s safe to bet the merchant twins were the transportation mules for smuggling contraband into the village. What we need to do now is find their customers. In a tight-knit community such as this, there are bound to be people who know who take the drug."

"Esried, go find the village head," Stiggs ordered, not even facing me to continue his meal.

Frowning at the prospect of not being able to ask for seconds, I got up to search for my objective. Around the village hall were several long tables lined in parallel, each with a group of villagers chatting away. Decades of use had worn down every edge, transforming them into smooth, homely areas of congregation. At first, my thoughts drifted me in the direction of a group of nice looking young ladies my age, but I shot that idea down as soon as one of them made eye contact with me. If I had to rank my social ability by how well I could speak to a particular category of people, they would be at the bottom. Instead, I opted to try for the woman behind the food counter at the backside of the hall, and if possible, maybe I could nab that second helping.

As I shuffled my way through cross traffic, a small, dainty kitchen lady spotted me heading in her direction and opened up with a smile. She wiped her hands clean on her apron. "Hi, how can I help you?"

"Do you know where I can find the village head?" I asked, sticking my chest out, better to form a habit now lest Captain Wendy drill it into me later.

"Of course, but can I ask you something first?" The kitchen lady’s eyes shifted to the table I came from, then waved me lean in.

Confused, I complied. "Uhhh... Sure?" I replied.

"Does your traveling companion over there have a girlfriend?" the lady asked in a low whisper.

Following her eyes to the squad, unease washed over me. "Errr... Which one?"

"The gentleman with the brown hair,” she replied, not so subtly pointing with one of her fingers.

There were a couple brown hair soldiers, even an Ithrop with brown tipped bumps on his head, but I already knew who she was referring to. The man at the front, projecting an aura that radiated heroic candor. While I saw the real Stiggs, everybody else perceived a perfect charismatic man.

"Oh Stiggs? I don't know." I said. A headache setup camp right next to my brain, ready to do its dirty work.

"Well, can you find out for me? I'll personally lead you to the village head if you do."

The fervor in her eyes told me no was not an option. "Okay...."

Heading back over to Stiggs, I could feel myself gaining an audience as I moved back across the room. Sun shafts snuck through side panes to light my way, highlighting my every move in grand fashion. The treacherous light cast bright enough to dim the rest of the surroundings, a play in a natural setting, complete with lowered volume and growing expectation. Stiggs and the rest of the imperial squad watched my triumphant return, expecting fulfillment of my very first task, a quest soaked in simplicity and designed to minimise the possibility of failure. Little did they know, my incompetence loves theater.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked facing Stiggs, cringing once words left mouth.

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Willner immediately spat out a mouth full of food while Cospal and a few others began giggling uncontrollably. I knew I messed up, not because of Stigg’s deadpan face, but due to Captain Wendy’s deep frown. Her emotions rarely took a peek, hidden underneath military discipline. Last time she formed a full facial expression, Cospal played a prank on Willner and she was caught in the crossfire, costing both men a series of physical torments.

"I told you to find the village head and you come back asking if I have a girlfriend?" Stiggs replied.

Like what the fuck man. I'm just trying to do what I've been told. No need to kill the messenger.

I quickly turned back to the kitchen lady and once again made my great trek across the room. Again, sunlight illuminated my aisle, seemingly spotlighting me and only me. This time, a woman soaked in anticipation waited patiently for my arrival, hope and desperation lining the soft curves in her drooping eyes. Seeing my approach, she raised both hands with fists clenched to her chest.

"He's gay," I announced.

Arms falling and shoulders dropping, she winced, "You can return to your friends. The village head lives in the house behind the hall. I will retrieve him for you."

Before returning to my seat, I snaked my way behind the food counter and made a bowl of some more seafood special. I've done my job, damn any who attempt to stop me from filling up.

Arriving at the same time as me to our table, the kitchen lady brought in tow an elderly euldar. A long grey robe with a hood covered most of his features with the exception of his naturally sharp eyes and skinny fingers long enough to touch his knees standing up. I’ve seen one or two before, and they usually place themselves in managerial positions.

"I'm being told you require my assistance," the euldar said, folding his arms across his chest.

"We wish to acquire a list of drug addicts who reside in the village," Captain Wendy said.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. I have an obligation to protect the people of my village."

"You are impeding an imperial investigation. You will give us the information or else the penalty of death," Stiggs said, without batting an eye.

Taking an unconscious step back, the village head quickly said, "You are looking for Jonaca. He arrived only several months ago so he isn't a long standing villager and I have no qualms about you going after him. He is the one selling Rathium to my people."

"You only bring this up after threat of death?" Cospal asked, "Why protect this guy?"

"In short, he is blackmailing me. You have visited Mr. Strudder's farm already so you know what he has on me," the village head said while lowering his head.

Holy banana boat! Even the village head is in on it, I wonder how many people go to the kinky sex dungeon.

Everybody at the table suddenly shifted their gaze to the kitchen lady for her reaction.

"Oh don't worry I already know," she said, holding her hands out in front of her, "I also visited Mr. Strudder's farm frequently, but i'm not the village head so nobody really cares."

What the acutal fuck. . .

0---0

"Fresh goods. All harvested from the east," Slickdeal said leaning on a wall, all while picking his teeth with a toothpick. Merchants always came looking for good deals. The desperate flocked to him in droves, and he always had the upper hand in negotiations. It was the nature of his type of business and business was good.

"I know," a voice projected, firm and solid behind a black hood. The man stood a staggering seven feet, a large frame to boot.

"The name is Slickdeal. You get to lick the D between the seal." Slickdeal loved his moniker, a play on words based on a crazy story back when he partied with a group of pirates. There were certain tales that needed to be told and ones that were to be kept locked away until their body was firmly planted into the ground. Slickdeal’s name was derived from the latter rather than the former, people died and lessons were learned. Let it be known, seals have one nasty bite.

"I know."

"I haven't seen you here before so you must be new to the business,” Slickdeal probed. Usually anybody buying in volumes this large had a face known in the trade.

"I know."

Slickdeal leaned in as an attempt to take a peek behind the cloak but saw nothing besides pitch black. He didn’t really care who was behind the hood, a negligible bit of negotiation power if he did know the identify of the man before him. There were other techniques to deal with these types of people.

"You see this here red shirt? It means you're dealing with the big leagues,” Slickdeal said, throwing out a power play.

"I know."

Slickdeal had a reputation to uphold, trades thought impossible fell to his schemes. He was a warrior of economy, slashing costs and conquering profit margins. Options were running low against this unknown merchant.

"Got this 'mysterious' vibe to you going on but don't let it get to your head bichako." Slickdeal said, running his thumb across his neck and snarling with a flare.

Turning to face Slickdeal, the hooded figure stepped forward too close for comfort. His towering height casting a dark shadow, so threatening it made Slickdeal’s scalp tense and tingle.

"I know your real name is Jacknep."

Suddenly the figure's hand shot out gripping Slickdeal's throat.

"I know you use to live in Scarletvale, Tellfuir Kingdom."

The hand tightened as Slickdeal clawed at it for any inch of reprieve.

"I know you have a son and daughter named Harlo and Mibi, respectively."

A second hand from the figure shot out striking Slickdeal right in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

". . ."

Falling on arms and knees while hacking a serious cough, Slickdeal looked up to see the man hovering over him. Fear stiffened every muscle, causing him to crawl away more slowly than he would have liked. Any man not afraid of the red shirt he wore was a man far above his stature.

Not to distant from where the conversation was taking place, hundreds of people were being loaded onto large boats. Each neck was tagged with a searing brand designated by number. Grandfathers, grandmothers, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters all linked by iron chains.