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“That guard from Riverglen.”
“Yes, Kiddo, what about him?”
Enkidu scowled. The pair trailblazed a path north, off the usual footpaths. It was standard operating procedure when leaving a town once the watch had their scent. Which was more often than not, really.
“You know I don’t like that nickname.”
Jelena took some time to fan out her eyepatch before answering. “Oh? Which one? Kiddo?”
“I’m older than you.”
“Yes, but it kinda goes with your real name.”
The first signs of dawn were creeping over the horizon in the form of some scant purplish streaks. Tomorrow would be exceptionally breezy – the wind was already picking up. Jelena let the old branding wound air out. Too late, she realized she’d left her bonnet back in the spring. She’d need to give her hair a proper wash eventually…
“You gave me that name too.” Enkidu’s scowl deepened. “The nickname is unnecessary.”
“I give everyone nicknames,” Jelena said. “C’mon, if we can get to the junction before daybreak we can disappear into the crowd.”
A few faint lights appeared on the northern horizon already. Their break would have to end soon.
That guard though… awfully nice of him, letting her get dressed in a rush. Her bodice had been rather hastily put on in the bustle of it all and so the straps were a bit ill-fitting and required adjustment.
“Now, I believe I’ve just learned some important information about these baubles we’ve been hawking.”
Jelena retrieved that church catalyst taken from the hands of a Pryor back in Riverglen. It was the Venerable Talisman of the Cleric – a thin bit of cloth, really. But regardless of whether it was a true holy relic or just a glorified handkerchief, devout pilgrims would pay top dollar to briefly touch even a sliver of this divine fabric.
“Apparently this thing can control the level ranges of monsters around Riverglen. That thing we pawned off in Deepwood did the same for Granite Pass. Half-tempted to go steal it back now. Not quite what I was expecting. But it ups the price point on these things fivefold. If we-”
“The nickname is unfitting,” Enkidu growled. “I’m older than you.”
“Still stuck on that, eh?” Jelena chuckled. “We’ll come up with a new nickname on the road. How’s that?”
Enkidu sighed. “Adequate.”
“As I was saying. These things are more valuable than expected. That means we’ll have clerics hunting us for the rest of our days, so long as we’ve got ‘em. But it’ll also mean that we can sell them to much higher bidders. I’m thinking the Thieves Guild.”
These artifacts would require additional research. But they could sell some of the lesser relics at the junction to fund a trip further afield. Traveling closer to home was always nice, if perhaps bittersweet.
Jelena put her eyepatch back on. Daylight was growing closer by the minute. It was time to head out.
“You didn’t give that guard a nickname,” said Enkidu.
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“Really?” Jelena gave her wild and unshaven partner a piteous look. “I called him Hot Shot. Before you showed up. That’s a nickname. Hardly know him enough to give him one that’s truly fitting though.”
“He’s chased us quite far.”
“Oh? Jealous?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I asked him if he was jealous of you.” Jelena let out a chuckle.
“And why would you ask that?”
Jelena ignored him. “Of course, he’s betrothed and all.”
“Remind you of old times?”
“It’s not like...” Jelena’s voice trailed off. She scoffed. “Killing his foster Pryor probably didn’t endear myself to him.”
“People generally don’t forgive others for killing their foster parents,” Enkidu said. “This is known.”
“Still, he seems capable of listening to reason when he’s not debuffed,” Jelena said. “If he learned about all that, maybe he’d understand? Who knows what will happen if we meet again?”
The purple streaks in the sky were rapidly fading into a lighter reddish. Jelena looked to the horizon with her good eye, then to Enkidu.
“C’mon. We’re burning moonlight…” Jelena paused for maximum effect. “… Wild Man.”
The pair of thieves walked in silence for a time. Long enough for the first rays of daylight to creep over the plains. Then, after countless minutes of blissful silence, Enkidu spoke, without warning:
“… I don’t like that nickname either.”
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No signs of their thieves anywhere around Twelfthnight. And by the time dawn came, the various campers and pilgrims were milling about and ready to get a quick dip in the hot springs, spoiling any possible trails that could’ve been tracked by those of a more Scout-ly persuasion.
Calaf had stashed his spear away for safekeeping. It was useless until it could be repaired anyway. While Twelfthnight had a merchant (hence Gorman’s new sword), it lacked a proper blacksmith.
The path southwards remained clear, patrolled by experienced church clergy over-leveled for even the haywire biosphere of Riverglen and the narrows north of Granite Pass. The route was clear for the upcoming pilgrimage season, though the overarching problem had yet to be resolved.
“She said she had no idea about the leveling issues she’d wrought.” Calaf scratched his chin in contemplation – it had been some time since he’d managed to shave.
“You, uh, really taking a known apostate and relic thief at her word?” Gorman asked.
“It’s not that.” Calaf shuffled about. “It’s just… it might be a clue with regards to where she could go next.”
“Speaking of, what is the plan?” Gorman asked. “I was going to head back down the trail. Got enough levels under my belt that I should be able to solo any number of Rat Kings at this point. Someone needs to open the sewers up before the pilgrimage kicks off. Still have a couple weeks to clean up.”
Calaf looked back down Twelfthnight’s main street. The pilgrimage route beckoned. And he’d yet to truly best his quarry – nay, his rival – in chivalrous and glorious combat.
For once, Gorman seemed to sense his trepidation.
“Well, I’ve had enough adventuring for one season. I’m headed back to the glen. I’m sure the clerics will help keep the first station clear if you want to hang around here for a time, maybe put some more levels in.”
Calaf nodded. “Thanks. I’ll need to send some letter back home before we part ways.”
It wouldn’t do to stay away from Riverglen for so long with no word to his betrothed, of course. So Calaf acquired some Plain Letterwriting Parchment (x1) from one of the Alpine station’s many pilgrim-oriented general stores.
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Dearest Charlotte,
It appears the pilgrimage route is secure, though the holy artifacts and those who stole them have yet to be apprehended.
To this end, I am going to continue to travel down the pilgrimage route further in search of additional leads. There’s no timetable for when this quest may end, but I hope to be back with the returning pilgrims at the end of the season, at least.
Send word to Plains Junction if you need anything. I’ll try to bring some sort of boon or present back from however far I get. I hope this letter finds you well.
Sincerely,
Calaf of Riverglen
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“Alright, should be enough.” Calaf traded the letter to Gorman.
“I’ll get it to the cathedral,” said Gorman.
“And I’ll see if I can hear anything about Deacon’s activities,” Calaf added.
It would likely be three or so days’ travel yet to return to Riverglen. Plains Junction would be another day north, probably less. So, it was here that the pair of sewer guards disbanded their party and went their separate ways.
Those glass knives remained on his mind. They weren’t readily available anywhere on the main pilgrimage route, that he was aware of. But Enkidu’s fire-red sword, though. That was made of ore from Firefield. Much further up the field – a much higher level than what Calaf could deal with right now. But the pilgrimage season was only just beginning. He had plenty of time to prepare around Plains Junction and no shortage of iterant pilgrims with which to travel.
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