It was always raining in the port town of Sedra; as if the Gods themselves were trying to wash the pit of lawbreakers and dilapidated buildings out into the ocean. There was nothing in the small town that looked worth the amount of commerce that came through it. Not that many of the residents reported their earnings for taxes. That, perhaps, explained why everything looked like it was cobbled together from the driftwood that washed ashore. Taxmen couldn't claim the thieves and crooks were living the high life of crime if their houses looked like a stiff breeze would topple them like a house of cards.
To make things worse, the rains were warm. Wearing a cloak protected from the moisture in the air while suffocating the person under it. Usually, this led to hoods being cast aside in favor of the rain, but one man was striding through the town, muck from the unpaved streets splashing up onto the hem of his cloak, with his hood up. Even thieves wouldn't wear their hoods up in the middle of the day. As if that wasn't suspicious enough, the man's cloak was a much finer quality than the ones wrapped around the wary citizens of the town.
The clinking of his every step told the citizens, even the crooks and thieves, to stay away. It was the sound of armor under cloth. A heavy type of footfall that demanded space and attention. Subtle, and less than subtle, eyes watched the cloaked man take the main thoroughfare through town down to the docks. Some foolish knight come to try and arrest the slavers, or perhaps a morally corrupt one come to take home some entertainment. It may have even been a dark knight looking for a sacrifice to his lord were it not for the glint of polished steel under the cloak. Whatever his reason, the residents made note of his passage while doing nothing to hinder him. Information was always at a premium, and a knight of renown, if he were of renown, visiting slavers would be good money. Either to guys running the slave business in Sedra to hunt him down if he survived, or blackmailing him.
Generally, the inhabitants of the town kept their distance from strangers, particularly armored ones. Be they foreign knights or part of the local militia, it was best to be cautious in the town of Sedra. Attacking the wrong official could get someone more pain than profit. Even if attacking the right one was usually the business of the day. So the residents waited in their homes and businesses, if they could be called that, and watched. It created an eerie atmosphere of near silence. Not even children playing could be heard in the town. If there were any children in the town.
A lithe halfling was tossing a small statue in his hands when he saw the knight approach. The statue went into the short man's bag as he whistled. Moments later an average sized, scruffy human came out of a small windowless office. He walked along the rows of cages containing their “product,” making sure to stay under the awning erected over them. There was no reason for him to get wet if the ones in cages got to stay dry, although he could use the rinse. His eyes were sharp though and he motioned to his short companion to step into the cabin in his stead. The halfling moved in out of the rain like all the hells were nipping at his feet. Inside the cages, the creatures were getting just as restless at the approach of the knight. The cornucopia of colored lizards were stirring, but careful not to upset the slaver, as they watched the knight approach. One in particular was glaring at the dirty man rather than the armored one, uncaring for any consequences that might befall her.
Under the awning, the knight removed his hood and helmet. He was a young man with a typically short cut hairstyle, nothing to grab if the helmet came off in a fight. He also made sure the man in front of him saw the sword belted on his side. The comfortable way it hung, the ease of his gait. This knight was no stranger to being armed. Naturally, the cages attracted his attention. Inside were lizard-like creatures he knew as kobolds. Bipedal, multicolored, cunning, but usually less than intelligent. Considered one of the subservient races of the kingdom. His gaze traveled to one in particular, the only one that was tied up and gagged as well as caged; a prison within a prison. A kobold with light blue scales along her back and a soft white underbelly covered by typical slave rags. The only thing left that might give the slavers trouble were the few half-inch horns on her head.
“What's the story with that one?” he asked, making idle conversation with the slaver.
"Caught her trying to pick the locks on the other cages," the scraggly dark-haired man replied. "Seems she didn't know doing something like that gets a lizard put in shackles."
The knight nodded, making up his mind, and looked at the man in front of him. “I'm Merdon, a knight in the employ of the Returner's Guild.”
“Ahh, I see. Has someone lost a slave then?”
“Here some week ago. There's a finders fee in it if you happen to have her here in your cages,” he mentioned.
With coin to be made, the man's eyes lit up and he waved the armored fellow to follow him. “We keep records of all our lizards in the building in the back. One door, two of us always on duty, keeps things simple.” Hard to ambush them were more righteous knights to swing by. Not that many cared about the rights of kobolds. Not enough to risk their lives at least. They were monsters with barely any semblance of civilization, whose most prominent members were thieves or servants.
This didn't stop Quickclaw from biting at her gag and trying to split the ropes that bound her arms together once the humes had left. Her fellow kobolds shook their heads disapprovingly at her, the ones in these cages having given up hope of being set free after her failed jailbreak. But what could she have done? The dimwitted ones started crooning when she was picking the locks. They were so pleased with the prospect of being set free just two days ago. And they would be again. As soon as she was free she would sneak into that cabin, take back her daggers, her loot, kill those humes, and then she could pick the locks at her leisure. It was a good plan.
Or it was before a commotion came from the “office” the slavers kept. Her struggling stopped as she looked over and watched. More of these oh so smart men fighting over a few silvers? The knight was stupid for walking in there alone. As soon as the slavers knew which one of them had a bounty he would be dead and they would be on their way to collecting the whole purse. They'd toss his body in the ocean and it would be weeks if not months before his corpse came up. If they kept his armor to sell that was. Leaving it on, he might never surface again.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
There were several shouts and the sound of metal clanging for a couple of minutes. At last, it stopped and the air was filled with dead silence. Even the kobolds in the cages were watching. It was the most action they'd heard in weeks, apart from whatever angry tirade the dirty hume decided to make up to slap one of them around. "Training" them to take whatever rage their new master would have.
The silence was broken by the squeak of the door to the building. Merdon, the knight, came walking out with his helmet on, and blood on his blade. He wiped it clean before sheathing it, and then put the statue the red-headed halfling had been toying with into his own pack. The statue the halfling had taken from Quickclaw when she was captured. She was finding herself more and more irritated that humes were so damned interested in that trinket. It wasn't even worth a whole gold piece.
Merdon strolled over to the cages, and then stopped at Quickclaw's. She glared at him in defiance. His expression was hidden by his helmet now, but his actions spoke louder than any look on his face could have. A heavy steel boot came slamming down on the rusty lock of Quickclaw's cage, destroying both the lock and the latch. The kobolds around her stared as the hume tossed the blue thief a ring of keys.
“I'd guess it won't take you more than a few minutes to finish cutting through that rope,” his muffled voice came. “But just in case.” Following that, he thrust a pair of daggers, her daggers, into the ground and started to walk off.
Quickclaw glanced at him, then shimmied over to the blades and started slicing herself free. First her ropes, then her gag, then the other kobolds. If the “guards” took too long, she'd run into the office for the rest of her things. Her extended stay with the slavers was over, as it was for all the other kobolds here. The only sad thing was that she clearly wouldn't be getting her own revenge. But a sour feeling was spreading in her stomach...
Merdon hurried out of the port town, which surely caught more eyes than his steady approach into town. At least as many eyes as the fact he was leaving without anything notable on his person. Who visited the slavers and didn't return with slaves? Suspicious people. Suspicious people to criminals anyway. He didn't stop until he was well out of town, and even then he made sure to be a ways off the roads and nestled in a deep thicket of trees before resting for the night. The unfortunate thing was that such rest required the removal of his armor. No one liked being without defense while in hostile territory, but it was better than losing a fight to fatigue later on. His hope was that the trees would be thick enough to prevent an ambush. Any pursuers would have to come through the sole entrance unless they started cutting down saplings.
He was smart enough to keep his fire in a deep pit, but just as he was dozing off the sound of rustling branches brought him back to alertness. His hand gripped his sword and he spun towards the source of the sound. The blue-scaled kobold from the cage was standing there with her hands on her hips. Merdon's dim firelight robbed her of that color though, leaving her looking an angry yellow and with a frowning expression to match. He also took note of her clothing, lightweight leather with straps along her thin feet to mask tracks and sounds. It was something else to see a kobold with such modesty; if such modesty didn't reveal the kobold's profession.
“A thief,” Merdon commented with a frown.
“Aye,” the kobold said, her voice oddly melodic. “Quickclaw owes you a debt.”
The man shook his head but kept his sword at the ready. "You owe me nothing. I'm no fan of slavers to begin with. I didn't free you for your sake."
“But the hume did free Quickclaw, and she must pay that debt, for she is a noble thief.”
“And what's so noble about stealing?” he accused.
The kobold shrugged. “It depends who is being stolen from,” she philosophized. “A greedy hume or dragonkin, purse laden with gold jealously guarded? Quickclaw sees no harm.”
“Then go find such a mark and leave me be,” Merdon suggested, still on alert. The statue had been stolen by a short thief, either a kobold or a halfling. He imagined she was here to take back her prize.
Quickclaw shook her head in exasperation. “You have already left a trail, one that Quickclaw covered for you. Your armor may be thick, but so is your skull.”
Merdon looked surprised at that. A kobold calling him dumb? He had heard everything. “Thank you,” he offered her, “Perhaps that makes us even.”
The kobold gave him a flat look. “Quickclaw will not leave until she has provided a service equal to the freedom you have granted her.” She stepped up and threw her own bedroll on the ground before having a seat. “Quickclaw shall keep watch tonight.”
With a frown, the knight rolled over in his own covers. He planted the bag with the statue under him and tried to get to sleep. It was hours before he finally relaxed. He could feel the kobold's eyes on him the whole time.
Early the next morning, Merdon sat up and checked his belongings. Nothing was missing. He turned around and saw the fire was out, burned down to ashes sometime in the night. There was also no sight of Quickclaw. Perhaps the kobold had taken his advice and ran off to find a profitable mark. Maybe she decided a night of watch for a human was payment enough. In any event, it was good enough for him. Merdon preferred working alone.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sound above him. Merdon jumped back, out of his bedroll and drew his sword. Quickclaw dropped down from the trees and smiled, her own pack already snug on her back. The knight glanced upward. He wasn't sure if kobolds were native to trees or not. Could have been that this one was just strange. She did volunteer to be around a human and talked about being honorable.
“The hume's reaction is good,” she praised him. “You are as fast without your armor as a kobold.”
“Thanks,” Merdon replied sourly. He started packing his things while she watched him. Eventually, the silence and stares became too much, so he decided to ask her, “What were you doing up there?”
Quickclaw raised a brow. “Keeping watch. A band of guards from the hume town crossed this way a few hours ago.”
That got his attention. “And you didn't wake me up?” What kind of watch was she?
"The dumb humes did not scout very well. Besides, the kobolds Quickclaw freed are a much higher value than you. For now," she added with a shrug. Missing slaves meant a fee for finding or a punishment for not finding, the guards could put up a human's description in every town and still find him. Kobolds? Not so much.
Merdon frowned and started putting his armor on. “If they used the main road it would be best to avoid that route back to Bereth.” He didn't fancy trekking through the woods, especially with a rogue kobold at his back, but he didn't seem to have much choice in the matter.
Once his armor was on, however, Quickclaw stepped in front of him and gestured. “Follow. Quickclaw knows another route. It will lead us to the North roads.” Roads that led to Bereth from another city. Without cutting through the woods it would take the men from Sedra two days to reach that road. Of course, that assumed they weren't mounted.
“How fast is this route?” he asked, covering his bases.
“We will reach it by the end of the day,” Quickclaw assured him as she started to push through the brush.
“I hope you're right,” Merdon muttered to himself as he began to follow.