“Trellis? Is it serious?”

“I don't know, but you'd best get your potions out and fix him as best you can.”

“Me?”

“You're on scene with a knowledge of healing. If anything happens to Trellis, the king won't come tomorrow, and all our plans will be ruined.”

You grab your bag and walk into a scene of chaos and confusion. Sal is shouting your name. People are pushing you towards Hodin’s usual table near the fire. A stricken Trellis is clutching his side.

“What happened?”

“An assassin… there was talk of a plot… the tree nymph… but I never realised he knew assassins.”

“Try to keep still. Has anyone got any bandages? Good. I'll use the dragon elixir and my rapid healing portion. It's all I can do, I'm not a surgeon, but it doesn't look deep.”

You tend to Trellis’ wound. Everyone is discussing the attack in hushed whispers.

“I don't know anyone – and certainly no assassin who’d try to kill Trellis. Plot or no plot.”

“The plotters are getting braver, I'll say that for them. They might just stand a chance against the king if they've got a backbone now.”

“Yeah - but it's the king that they need to kill - not the bard.”

“What if it's not a plotter that's done it? What if it's someone else? A different faction with another motive altogether?”

“That's a good point. You mean like… someone plotting to get rid of music... or bards...or…”

“News.”

“Yeah! ‘Cause Trellis is how we all know stuff!”

“Maybe because Tom Goode’s got killed... they didn't want word of it spreading, so… they decided to kill the messenger.”

“I think you're right!”

“Whoever did this doesn't want us to know what's going on.”

“Yeah! They're trying to break the chain. If we're in the dark, we’ll be at a disadvantage.”

“We mustn't jump to conclusions. It could be a robbery gone wrong, or a case of mistaken identity. Let's face it, no one in their right mind from any known faction would want to kill Trellis.”

“Till now.”

“Trellis is the news. No Trellis means no news. Then what? People can say anything. It doesn't have to be true, either. People only have to listen. If they believe only half of it and pass only part of it on to others, it’ll spread like a virus.”

“But surely the official news readers will know what's real and what’s fake news?”

“How? Who’s to know what's fake, and what’s not?”

You slip away into the kitchen. Elspethe joins you.

“Has this got something to do with you and your plan?”

“It might have gone a bit too well.”

“What? Trellis being killed? That was your plan?”

“I didn't think a whisper would turn into a knife wielding maniac in a matter of hours. It just shows you the level of anger out there bubbling away under the calm surface.”

“You're the most dangerous person I've ever met, do you know that?”

“What about your granddad?”

“What do you know about him?”

“More than you do, I'll bet.”

“You've met him? Here?”

“Who do you think brought the scrolls you're looking for?”

“I… hadn't thought about that… do you know where he hid them? What did he say to you?”

No, I don’t. Only he knows that - and the map you have of course. He didn't say much. He spoke mostly in code. I thought he was harmless enough other than being one of your kind but.. he was involved in some of the guilds, The Assassin’s Guild, The Honourable Guild of Thieves… all the bad boys.”

“But why? To take them down?”

“To set you up. How do you think thieves know how to target every new traveller that lands here? You're lucky the assassins didn't try to kill you on your first night here. They have other plans, evidently.”

“But that was you.”

“On your grandad’s orders! It's a game, except it isn't, is it? It's all too real. Well, it is now. Something's happened. This wasn't meant to happen. Sal wasn't meant to come out of retirement, the tree nymph wasn't meant to be captured... the game’s gone off script!”

“But the computer said every traveller arrives at the same place but the amount of kand they have can be different and where they spend their first night and what they would buy, means everyone will have a different adventure here.”

“That's true, but no traveller has ever set their sights on breaking into the Star room to breakout someone they just met. No one has ever invented a useful but simple item that will sell like hotcakes. No one has ever been assisted by Hodin, either.”

“So, what are you saying? The game’s taken on a life of its own? That there's no set script anymore?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, and I think the computer, your game’s guide is the cause of it.”

“Granddad did say the game had “become itself”. I wonder if that's what he meant? What does it mean, though?”

“It means actions before that would’ve barely registered a ripple in the minds of others here now kick start their deepest emotions - and provoking extreme reactions. It just got a lot more dangerous being here.”

“Trellis won't die, it's not a deep wound and it shouldn't get infected now but if he’d died…”

“Someone wants him dead, and they almost succeeded. They'll try again. It'll boost the plotters’ morale which usually would be a good thing, but not on the eve of my plan I've carefully crafted over the past year. They'll probably barge up to the king and try something desperate and unsophisticated and fail miserably. And my plan will fail because of their newfound boldness.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Carry on as usual. Trellis will be taken to his room to recover. Have an early night and hope our plans go to plan.”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

You set up your makeshift bed in front of the fire wondering if it will be your final night - in both worlds.

Tomorrow seems impossible. The market first where you can hopefully earn some coin and then the during plan to rescue Hickrick from the Star room. And somewhere in the corner of the day ahead, a scroll is still waiting to be found in the cave. You are almost asleep when you are woken by someone banging on the tavern doors. You hear Sal grumble as he heads to see who it is.

“Open up in the name of the king!”

“Give us a chance, I was asleep. What's the rush?”

“Are you the owner of this place?”

“Yes, I'm Sal Serker. What's going on?

“You're aware Tom Goode killed one of the Relphas?”

“Yes.”

“And then someone killed Tom Goode?”

“I believe it was an accident…”

“His son has vowed revenge on Dragonsclawe. The king will arrive in a few hours. It's too late to alter his course, his enemies are snapping at his highness's heels.”

“I had a feeling this would happen. The feud always triggers war when it gets reignited.”

“Yes, we’re at war. The Goodes have joined forces with the Frekanlans. They plan to invade us by sea. This tavern will be the king’s guards recruiting hall. We're commandeering it as of now.”

“I see. Well, I won't say make yourselves at home - because I know you will do. I may not be around much longer. There's more than one war being fought here.”

“I do hope you won't shirk your duty? You’re aware signing up is compulsory and not optional?”

“There's a very real chance I could be dead in hours so there's no point in me worrying about being conscripted. Besides, I'm too old for the army now.”

“Why? What happens in a few hours?”

“Let's just say I feel it in my bones. I've been around wars a lot and feeling a bone deep dread like this is never a good sign - and it's never been as strong, either.”

You listen to the exchange, and it worries you.

Sal thinks we’ll fail, doesn't he? And even if we survive the mission, we won't survive the war, will we? We're sitting ducks here with the king on his way and the Goode lot hunting him down.

It is desperately bad luck that the town you are in is the location of so many epic flashpoints. You have an uncanny knack for attracting adventure.

Will the market still be on?

Nothing stops the traders, trading. War increases sales. People panic buy. They start to think they need several months’ worth of things they usually only need a couple of days supply of. And a mini war can easily break out in a seemingly harmless queue. It is fun and games till someone picks up the last of something. Then, it swiftly turns violent. Even if they do not want or need the item, they will fight for it because it is the last one. That is what panic buying is - it is wanting more than you need - more than anyone else has. Greed. It is fascinating to watch. You should do a roaring trade on your stall.

But what about the army?

More customers for you. They won't enlist you. Men first. When they're all gone, they will come for you.

What about Sal? I need him.

He is over the age they are looking for. When all the younger men are gone, they will come for him. Enlisting is similar to panic buying, but the items are people.

You settle down to sleep, even though it is only a couple of hours till dawn. Elspethe makes as much noise as she can as she sets up for breakfast.

.

“Can I give you an IOU for breakfast? The dragon eggs would be great.”

“Sal doesn't allow IOU’s, that's why the arrows are on the walls. He won't bother, though. Not seeing as you saved Trellis’ life and you're in a partnership with him now. You'll have to eat it in here before Hedde comes in, though. I usually make mine and Sal’s breakfast before she cooks the guests’ food. I'll put you some eggs and toast on. You've got a big day ahead of you.”

“First stop is the forge. I hope Haleberger has a spare key and I hope he's thirsty.”

“Got you.”

You eat your breakfast and drink your honey coffee as quickly as you can. You just manage to leave the kitchen before Hedde sweeps in, draped in a knee length apron with matching mushroom-like white hat clutching recipe books to her chest.

You go to Trellis’ room to check on him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I foiled another plot. This time I was the target. Now I know how the king feels.”

“He'll be here soon. The king’s army’s taken over the Tavern for conscripting. A war’s started they’re saying. And they're coming here, the Goodes and…someone else, are invading by sea. To kill the king. But you must rest. You can't help him now.”

“Typical. When the kings at greatest risk, I’m confined to bed. I can't do much from here. Maybe I could write some new songs and poems? I'll be watching, though. You can be sure of that.”

You leave Trellis who is sat up looking out of his window onto the marketplace. The Tower of Truth can also be seen.

You know, Trellis has bagged himself the perfect spot for all the action about to unfold today. A ringside seat. There's something unnerving about him. It's like he can read minds. I always feel guilty when I'm near him - it's like he knows I have a plan.

How can he when you do not know it yourself?

I've got a vague idea… I know how it starts - we have to break into the Star room. And I know how I want it to end - getting Hickrick out, hopefully in one piece. It's the middle part I'm still vague on.

I suggest you get over to the forge and set up your stall with your metal work and potions. You are running late.

You rush off to the forge. Haleberger is already at work, striking steel with a determination only a blacksmith with the knowledge a war was on can muster.

“Haleberger, are you a thirsty man?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“No. Sal says if you are… he might have something for you for it. Free beer. If say… you have an old 9-gauge key lying around… because you're so busy creating war weapons, a key somehow… slipped your notice…”

“You're not serious? Have you seen the size of that key? It's not a 9-gauge for nothing. It's a work of art that key… so is the padlock. Triple strength rigid steel with a gold lining and solid silver workings. The clicks on it when you turn that key… are a music the gods would crawl over glass to hear once more. It's like the wings of angels dusting the surface of the moon. It's perfection, like a kiss from the sun.”

“I'll take that as a no, then?”

“No. It's a no. I'm not getting involved in any plots to kill kings, rescue kings - or queens – or tree nymphs or following magic maps or joining secret societies… none of it. I’ll just do what I do.”

“You seem to know a lot about what's going on seeing as you're saying you don't want to get involved.”

“You see this sword? I'm making this from nothing. The steel, that's its main part, aye. But I shape it. I create it. Then I add the crushed bones of the dead to it. The dead give it life, so it can take life.”

“The bones do?”

“The bones of their ancestors strengthen the sword. They make it battle ready. People think I create magick swords I do - but the bones do the real magick. I just persuade their will with my hammer.”

“It's a bit early for me to be figuring out what you're trying to say…”

“I create objects. People take those objects and use them to harm or kill others. Without me, they wouldn't exist- and those people, would. It's a heavy burden being a blacksmith. I made the padlock that's imprisoning your friend. I made the key and it's the only one that can get him out. I've played my part in this mess… and I won't do anymore. Not when there’s fine men about to be killed by this here sword. Men whose only crime will be to stand in its way.”

“But if you give me a spare key… it'll save him, I'll be able to set him free.”

“There is no spare key.”

“Can you not make one?”

“Sure, in a week or two. You can't rush one of those keys. Each one is unique for each lock. I'd have to take a cast of the master key and work from that.”

“I can't believe this. How will we get Hickrick out of the cell without the key?”

“That's for you to work out. Your stuff’s over there.”

You pick up your heavy sack of metal work and sling it over your shoulder. You wish you had more strength then it would be easier to carry. Your market stall is only a short distance away. You are pleased to see Elspethe is already there, setting up your potions.

“Don't thank me. We're being watched. I needed an excuse to come and speak to you. Where have you been?”

“It's probably Trellis, watching. He's got a great view from his room.”

“It's not just Trellis. The King's men are everywhere now, waiting for the Goodes to appear.”

“The key’s a no go. Apparently, there's only one. No spare.”

“What? How will you get the cell door open then?”

“I'll think of something.”

“I'm going to try to meet up with the Goodes and get them to help me with my plan. And it's a good job Trellis has been reduced to spying from a distance. My plan has helped us a great deal. It's about time plans around here were successful instead of failing all the time.”

You spend the day selling your wares. You sell out long before the end of trading. You have earned 180 kand for 60 buckles and 40 kand for your potions. A total of 220 kand. You have enough kand to pay to stay at the tavern and buy food. I would not advise you to pay in advance though because tonight may not go well for you. There are too many bubbles about to burst at the same time - with no way of turning down the heat on the stove.

I can't do anything other than go with the flow, can I? I haven't got any of the scrolls. I know where the first one is - and someone who can decipher it, but I need to rescue him first and take him to the cave. If I can't do that… it's going to be grim up on the gallows.

You have yet another problem brewing. The Guild of Honourable Thieves are unhappy. You sold sixty of your anti-theft devices today. That was sixty people they found they could not cut the purse from anymore. You have made a powerful enemy. The more you cell, the less they can steal. They say you are taking their livelihood off them. How can they be cutpurses if they can no longer do it? Because of you.

I have no sympathy for them whatsoever. So, it's okay for thieves to attempt to be assassins, but it's not alright for me to do a spot of forging? What about the assassins? Are they not after the thieves for stealing their livelihoods?

Those are valid points, but you should know, there are thieves everywhere.

Oh, believe me, I know there are.

You will not be safe anywhere from there wrath.

I think I can handle them. After I've got Hickrick out.

You might have to deal with them before you get to the Tower… a group of them are heading your way and if looks could kill…

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