Skyeyes was quiet on their walk to the next town. He seemed to still be thinking about the bandits they had buried the day before. Merdon couldn't blame the priest. Bodies littered with grievous wounds, faces twisted in the agonies of their final moments, and the scent of blood and burned flesh. It was like a war zone, as a proper battle would have been. Neither Skyeyes nor Red slept well the night after, and it was apparent in the way the red kobold yawned and staggered now and again along the dirt path. Still, they couldn't slow down, not yet.
Pareng was ahead, they would reach it before evening. They could collect their pay, thankfully by showing ears, get a bed for the night, and set out fresh in the morning. Hopefully, time away from the fort would improve their moods. As long as the people weren't like those in Theris at least. Merdon didn't look forward to a forced march with a pair of sleep-deprived and mentally shaken companions. The only thing that would fix the firs thing was rest, and the second was just a matter of distraction. Which a good night's sleep somewhere comfortable would help with.
Contrary to the melancholy of the other two kobolds, Sarel had a skip in her step. It was as though the battle had livened her up and her eyes and demeanor said it all. Once more, it was a thought Merdon didn't want to confront at the moment. The idea Sarel enjoyed killing humans, like a monster. Like something he was adamant she wasn't. If she did, there would be an unfathomable change in their relationship. He would have to talk to her about it, soon, but not in front of Red and Skyeyes. There was no need to make accusations like that in front of them, even if the white kobold could see the extra vigor in the blue one's steps. It certainly wasn't the scenery which gave her an extra bouncy attitude that was for sure.
The rains from the day before had yet to abate, which had brought the need to make Red a cloak from a sack they'd been storing bread in. Coincidentally, they had all eaten a good sum of bread for breakfast, an act that still failed to put Sarel off her mood. Of course, there wasn't much else they could have made. Heavy rainfall made fire-making nearly impossible. Without fire, there was no cooked food for breakfast, just barely fresh bread. Even the human hadn't been too happy about the meal. Yet, in spite of the bread and rain, Sarel had a smile on her snout.
Merdon wasn't quite as bad as the first two, but not nearly as happy as Quickclaw. On top of forgoing his armor due to the rain, the fight from the day before still sat on his mind as well. Not just Sarel's pleasure and the breadth of her knowledge about killing, but in the sheer volume, the number, of deaths. Goblins were one thing, practically pests. Humans, even bandits, were another story. All he could see when he closed his eyes was his own mortality in that fort. A knife between his ribs, an arrow in the back, a fireball lobbed from afar, his organs rupturing, skin burning, life fading. It had gotten to him a little bit. He'd killed thieves before, simple sword fights, little confrontations, people that had tried to kill him. The bandits may have been breaking the law and deserving of punishment, but they hadn't attacked him specifically. Far and away from self-defense, it had been an attack on them. They had instigated it. He wanted to be wrapped in steel again, if only to try and forget the spot in the back he'd seen Sarel stick a knife into another human, to feel safe from such a failure point on his body. From as many of those points on his body as he could be.
By late afternoon the storm lightened and cleared away, just as Merdon and the kobolds arrived on the edge of the town. It was slightly higher quality than Theris, being mostly a merchant town. Buildings were made from stone, as far as he could tell, and while it wasn't a large place like Bereth, it was a notable step up from other areas. Every exit from Perang led to part of the highway of Avant. The roads leading South, winding as they were, would go back to Bereth, while to the North one would eventually leave the nation. To the East, looming ever closer, was the capital, Ardmach. Merdon couldn't help but gaze at the castles and towers, closer now than ever before, and their next destination. Ardmach felt oppressive the closer they got, and the knight wondered if perhaps that was part of what made it a successful stronghold. Sheer intimidation before one even approached, the way it was always in sight, or felt like it.
While the knight stared, looking for all the world like a country bumpkin who had never been outside of his own shack, several residents of Perang were watching the group. A man in armor worse than Merdon's approached and addressed him. His tone was semi-formal, clearly trained, but not so experienced.
“State your business.”
Merdon snapped out of his daze and produced a copy of the contract from the guild. “Merdon, with the Returner's Guild. You all had a bandit problem, and we solved it.”
The guard took the contract and read it over before handing it back. “There's a large house in the center of town. The mayor will want to hear about this immediately.”
Taking the contract back, he nodded and gestured for the kobolds to follow him. The short walk gave them all a chance to look around. Being the town had no major exports of its own, most of the city was made up of warehouses and markets. Their main thoroughfare was full of stalls and goods from every nearby location, and some not so close by. Merdon noticed furs from the orc lands to the far North, dangerous places meant luxury items, as well as trinkets from Rastar the Queendom to the South-East. It was also impossible to miss some of the familiar faces from Bereth. Much as he wanted to stop and chat, weeks on the road would make any adventurer with a hometown feel a little homesick, he settled on a wave. Perang's mayor wouldn't wait forever.
The manor they had been directed to was opulent, and it made Merdon guess exactly why the bandits had attacked Perang. He felt almost certain there was a ransom involved they hadn't been told about. Nor did they need to know; their job was to get things back, not negotiate. Still, the large house stood out like a gold-encrusted thumb among the normal houses in the rest of the town. Even the kobolds stopped for a moment and gawked at the sight. Merdon made a note to show them the fancy side of Bereth when they returned. His own town had many houses like this one, most of them were merchants as well, but with less outlandish fancy to call attention to them. Bereth was better defended as well, housing several guilds. Perang was still blooming as a center of trade. Which made their contract all the more worth the stress, at least to the mayor.
A servant in a cheap suit, giving the illusion of luxury, bowed to them and directed the group to a sitting room to wait for the mayor. Once again, the lizard-folk peered around, except for Skyeyes who sat patiently. The priest had probably waited on a few important people in his time with the man that gave him the amulet and knew the drill. Red and Sarel, however, were pacing around the room looking at everything. There was a nice little table that Red seemed curious about, lightly rubbing her scaly hand over the surface of it, while Sarel poked around a small bookshelf in the corner; she hated just sitting still.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
Skyeyes explained the purpose of a sitting room to them, as a sort of place for important guests to relax while the owner of the house got ready to greet them. It was as foreign to them as it was to Merdon in terms of reasoning. The knight wasn't exactly fond of people with large houses himself. Usually, they were staffed with kobolds and only used humans as door greeters, out of mistrust for the slaves inside. Even if they employed more humans than kobolds, kobolds were likely to be around in some capacity. Without them even, he felt it terribly impersonal to not be the one to answer the door to your own house. Although, he did suppose it was possible to have servants live in the house as well. Aristocracy was lost on the man, it simply wasn't his place.
In the midst of explanations and ponderings, the mayor arrived. He was a slightly rotund man in his late years, wearing a much fancier suit than the servant to distract from his shiny, balding head. The mayor waved them all over to another room, having them follow him to his study where he claimed to want to know more details about what happened. Their path went up a staircase from the main floor, and past many displays in the halls to the study. Opulence was one word to use, Merdon may have gone with something more along the lines bragging.
His study, when they arrived, was filled with books, mostly on finances from what Merdon could see of the spines, and had plenty of seats for all of them. Apparently, that had been his preparation they'd been made to sit for. Sarel didn't mind, making herself comfortable on a plush-backed chair that was bigger than she was, her feet dangling freely. Red and Skyeyes were in much the same boat when it came to legs reaching the floor, and the mayor paused for a moment upon seeing their dangling legs. He frowned and looked at the trio.
“Would you prefer something closer to the ground?” he asked, seeming honestly concerned.
“It's fine, sir,” Skyeyes assured him. “The world was not built for us all equally.”
The mayor laughed a little and replied, “Yes, but the legs of a chair are easily reduced.” He rolled his R's in a way that made it seem as though he had some kind of accent, but it was none Merdon had ever heard.
The knight diverted the conversation by pulling the contract out of his pocket and putting it on the desk in front of the mayor. “Your bandits were holed up in a fort down a dirt road,” he told him, following with more exact details.
He seemed familiar with the place, “Fort Roth, yes. A leftover from the old wars. I assume our goods are still there?”
“Yes,” Merdon assured him. “We didn't have the time to inventory everything, our mission requires us to keep on the move, but they had at least three rooms full of boxes.”
The round man hummed and looked at another paper. “That sounds about right, given what they could have used or sold in the last couple weeks.” He opened a drawer and a second later the clinking of coins could be heard. After, he tossed a sack towards Merdon which jingled when it landed on his lap. “Your pay,” as if it wasn't obvious enough.
Merdon nodded, “Thank you. And if you have any more-”
The mayor cut him off, he was looking at Red and asked, “Is this the best the creature has?”
Red blushed a little and shrunk down while Skyeyes reddened at her being called a creature.
Before either of them could express irritation, the heavy man said, “Your swift resolution of the problem compels me to offer a little more than what was in the papers. Extra for a quick job.”
“Thank you, mayor,” Merdon said again, “But it's really not necessary.”
“Oh, please,” the mayor replied, flippantly waving his hand in a flamboyant manner. “The poor thing is basically wearing rags compared to the rest of you. It would be criminal to let her continue on a journey like that. I have some things here in my own storage she might fit into.”
The group looked at each other nervously. It was extremely generous and very unusual. Trying to turn him down seemed like a good idea, but he wasn't exactly taking no for an answer. Red broke the moment of deadlock by standing up and asking to see what he had in mind. Perang's mayor lit up and beckoned them all to follow him again. They traveled down the hall to another room filled with an assortment of clothes in many styles. To say the group found the mayor's room full of fabric and clothes unexpected undersold how the group felt about seeing it, and with not a single seamstress in sight. It gave Merdon a few ideas about what the mayor enjoyed doing in his spare time, and what had encouraged him to become a merchant in the first place after he stopped gaping at the room.
“Now, what is it you do for the group, hmm?” he asked the red kobold, starting to pick through various items on racks.
Red frowned and repeated him. “Do?”
“Yes, what do you do? I can see the blue one is a thief by her light garb and daggers, and the white one appears to not be an insignificant cleric,” the mayor said casually. “The man is clearly a knight, by his rust-covered shirt and the scent of steel around him,” he added, smirking at Merdon. In only a few minutes he had correctly pinned them all down by look. Except for Red. “The clothes make the man, so they say. So what man, or perhaps lady, are you?”
Not quite sure how to say it, Red lifted a claw and summoned flames to her palm. The mayor eyed the fire for a second, jumping a little and pulling several pieces of fabric back away from the flame before he realized it was perfectly contained. That gave him more than enough of an idea. Fire extinguished as he turned away to dig through the clothes, the mayor walked over with a short robe.
“Fire retardant,” he told her deliberately. “Though, do try not to leave it in direct heat too often, hmm?”
Red hesitated for a second, but quickly put the robe on. It was lightweight but seemed rather durable when she gave it a stretch. Though nothing fancy, being a grayish-white color, it seemed better constructed than her simple shirt and pants, not to mention leagues better than her sack hood. Which she quickly discarded upon discovering a hood upon the newly gifted robe. The kobold was practically glowing as she stepped around in it, getting comfortable, getting to know it.
“Thank you, sir,” she said at last, beaming at the mayor.
He responded with a wave of his hand. “It's nothing, honestly. Fit for a halfling mage, yes, but nothing one such as yourself couldn't wear. I sized you up right away. But, enough of my ramblings, please, feel free to rest here for the night before continuing your travels,” he offered.
Merdon pondered the offer and then nodded. “Very well, thank you again.” Again. The mayor was being very generous and he had to ask, “Why though? If I may.”
The mayor frowned and asked a question of his own. “Were you not told the urgency of this quest?” Merdon shook his head. “Boy,” the mayor said with a shake of his own noggin, “There's a roving band of thieves that comes through our lands a couple of times a year. It's a place where bandits offload their ill-gotten gains for coin, much harder to trace then. The bandit caravan was said to be coming soon. If you and your fellows hadn't secured our stock it would have been completely lost.”
So the mayor had underpaid the guild and definitely downplayed the importance of recovering their merchandise, likely in the name of getting a good deal. He was a risky businessman. Still, it let Merdon relax a little bit. Perang's mayor didn't seem to be up to anything shady, although that could have been a ruse in itself. Taking a room at the inn would have been safer, but more suspicious than Merdon wanted to be, so he accepted the offer to stay at the manor for a night. It made the mayor perk up quite a bit.
A servant was called on to bring the group to a room, prepare a feast, and send the local guards out to recover the stolen goods. It was a large order for one man until Merdon remembered there was sure to be more than one servant in the manor, and some of them might have been kobolds. He had forgotten that. With how the mayor treated Red and Skyeyes though, maybe he wasn't the type. The man could only hope. Scaring the kobolds was not part of his plans.