The next morning, Tom sent me off with what I would later learn was half his ‘army’, two guards, both of which I recognized from breakfast the day prior, and a cloth sack of boiled eggs. I wasn’t permitted a weapon.

One of the guards was Roland, the friendly chap from breakfast. I was quite happy about that. The other guard, who went by Vite, wasn't so friendly.

We left the gates at dawn. The air was cool, wind heavy, sun warm. On either side of us were fields ripe for harvest. Peasants hauled wheat and what not to and fro, most glancing, none saying a thing.

Our initial task, as I understood it from Roland, was to travel to a nearby fishing town to collect a diplomat. Then, we’d set out by ship to “a cold place across the water” called Edith where their mission was, and where I’d rendezvous with Edgar.

“What do you know about Edgar?” I asked.

“He’s a strange one,” said Roland.

Vite let out a grumble.

“Strange how?” I asked.

“Stop telling him things,” Vite snapped at Roland. “And stop asking,” he added to me.

“You two go on quests often?” I asked.

“Aye,” nodded Roland. “Beats guarding kitchens.”

“I wonder why Tom is sending me to Edgar,” I said.

“Stop asking questions!” yelled Vite.

“I was just was just wondering,” I said. “Think this quest will be dangerous?”

“Question,” Vite snapped.

“Dangerous for the cartographer, perhaps,” said Roland with a laugh.

“Cartographer?” I asked.

“Roland!” whispered Vite.

“Edgar’s hostage,” said Roland.

“What hostage?” I asked.

“Stop,” said Vite.

“The cartographer,” whispered Roland.

“Roland—”

“Wait,” I stopped walking. “Are you’re trading me for a hostage? Am I a hostage?”

“No,” said Vite.

Roland laughed. “Okay, look—”

“Roland!” shouted Vite. “I swear to all that is good, you will stop talking about our mission details to the cargo or I will kill you myself.”

Roland chuckled and waved Vite away then looked out across the horizon. “Feathers,” he nodded ahead.

I followed his gaze. Shiny black feathers were on the ground ahead.

“Avoid them,” snapped Vite.

The stoney path turned dirt and occasionally mud, until there was no path at all. There were many rivers, each with a bridge less stable than the one before.

Then there was a forest. Here the path was paved with stone and lined with unlit lanterns. On two occasions there were crossroads, each with a neatly chiseled stone sign. The sign indicated which path led to where, as signs do. But rather than name a place by name, it merely described the setting. High Plains, Mountain Pass, and Sea. We followed the path towards Sea.

Just as the trees became less dense and the grass less green, we came upon a patrol unit of two men dressed in quaint yellow knit vests atop chainmail and plate armor pants. Each sported a sheathed short sword and fastened-to-the-back shield.

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“Day,” said Vite in greeting.

“Bear back there,” they greeted, and walked on.

I glanced back. One of the patrol man’s plate leggings was damaged. Dented-in-like.

We saw no bear, or sign of one. But we did come across a few more patrols, each wearing the same get-up, though none quite as talkative as the first, though one grunted kindly.

We came upon a crossroads with a new destination presented: “Hills”.

“Are these town names?” I asked.

“No,” said Vite.

“Hills isn't safe,” Roland added.

Roland shrugged, “Fickle halfling relations. Disputes over sheep mostly.”

“Dispute?” Vite.

Roland was silent.

“Murderous robber-thugs,” Vite grumbled.

Roland held in a laugh and shook his head.

When we arrived at the fishing village, it was mid-day. Vite led us through a maze of alleyways full of unscrupulous characters and shady establishments to a cozy corner with a few modest shops, a bank or something like it, and a tavern on the docks.

We entered the tavern to the sight of drunken high men sailors piled around the bar. Among them was what looked like a little girl drinking whiskey at first. It turned out to be a halfling.

“He's upstairs,” Vite shouted over the noise.

“Who?” I asked.

Vite shooed me away.

“Our sovereign sponsor,” Roland answered.

“Do not say a word,” warned Vite. He was glaring at me.

We went up a flight of stairs to a dining area. It was crowded here too, but the ambiance was calmer. A fine dining sort of vibe, save for the occasional cackles echoing from below. Mostly high men, but the occasional halfling, and what looked like a dwarf sitting alone in a far corner.

We continued to follow Vite as he trekked us across the dining area, up another flight of narrow, winding stairs that led to an open air patio dining area on a deck facing the sea, which connected to a busy elevated walkway, with higher-end shops lining the path as far as I could see.

Vite beelined to a table where a fat, jolly looking middle-aged man sat. He had blond hair, blue eyes, red cheeks, and a goofy grin.

“Hi hey,” the jolly man said while standing from the table, his napkin falling off his chest and onto the floor. It escaped his notice.

“We’re eating right?” asked Vite, shaking the man’s hand.

“Oh. No,” the jolly man looked down. “Are you hungry?” he motioned towards his plate of half-eaten spaghetti. There was no silverware in sight. The jolly man’s hands were covered in spaghetti sauce.

Vite glanced down and then away. “We have eggs.”

“Oh! Good,” said the man. I glanced at Roland and he shot me a smile. The jolly man plopped down and resumed eating his meal like an animal.

We each found a seat. Oh and the relief I found from it. I don't believe I've ever walked quite that much in a day.

“Where are they?” asked Vite.

The jolly man’s mouth was full. He motioned in various directions, mostly down, then shrugged.

“Well, are they coming?” asked Vite.

“Mm,” the man murmured, holding up a finger as he slurped up a wad of noodles. “Your diplomat docked an hour ago.”

“And the navigator?” asked Vite.

“Deceased.”

“What?”

“He died,” the jolly man shrugged.

“How?”

The jolly man shrugged again.

Vite scoffed. “Then we aren’t going.”

“Oh, we’re going,” a woman’s voice bellowed from across the room.

I turned. We all did. It was a dark elf, just like the ones on the train. She was walking over from across the room.

“But you’re not,” the dark elf said to Vite.

Vite stood, pushing back the chair nearly enough for it to topple over. He faced her. “Excuse me?”

“I already did,” the dark elf said with a devilish grin.

The jolly man laughed. Vite shot him an annoyed look but quickly refocused his death stare back at the dark elf.

She walked past our table into the back kitchen.

Vite remained standing, with his eyes on the closed kitchen door.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Quiet!” said Vite.

“Diplomat,” the jolly man mumbled between chomps.

“She is our diplomat?” I asked.

The kitchen doors swung open with a bang and the dark elf re-entered brandishing a half-eaten chicken leg.

Roland stepped toward her, “You—”

“I don't need two meat shields. Roland is more—”, she paused to think, “agreeable, so…”

“No,” Vite slammed the table. “Not yours to decide. I need the copper.”

The dark elf walked over and got in Vite’s face. She was taller than him. She smiled. “Aw.”

Vite turned red. The angry kind.

Rooms carry energy and this one was about to combust.

The dark elf tilted her head, as if examining the igniting specimen before her. “Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll give you want you want.”

Vite looked both enraged and confused.

“A new quest,” the dark elf whispered. “Twice the rate.” She walked over to the jolly man and put her hands on his shoulder endearingly. “You full, dear?”

The jolly man nodded.

“He’s full,” the dark elf said to Vite. Her face was terrifyingly stern. “Clean him up. Take him to Dingle. Keep him safe. And well fed. And happy. Return him when he says he's done. Or if he’s killed.”

Vite took a deep breath, keeping his head high. He shifted his eyes to the jolly man.

The jolly man gave a polite nod and smile to Vite.

“I'll wait for you downstairs,” Vite told the jolly man, before glancing back at the dark elf. “I need a drink.”

The dark elf turned to Roland. Her face was now soft, cheeks slightly blushed, lips curved into a sweet smile, eyes easy as night. “Good to see you again.”

Roland smiled and nodded, “Hi Nessy.”

She then turned to me. “Yes, I'm your damned diplomat.”