Because Anastacia was yet to forget about her fight with King, she had sent the simulacrum back to Valor on his own while she and Gilbert rested in the village for the day and restocked their rations for the trip back. In the morning, the pair had quietly left before Bartholomew’s burial and memorial service began, as they felt that it wasn’t their business and had already made it almost halfway back to the city of adventurers.
”So yeah… Just poof and it was gone, and my vision was back to normal.” Anastacia finished recounting her time with the muse and how it had suddenly ended.
Gilbert frowned and scratched his beard. “Honestly, I don’t think its dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if it knew its request to be impossible and just wanted to torment you for a while before moving on. At least that’s what they do in stories.” He guessed.
“Boo! Maybe this was the one good… ish muse that was actually honest and really fell in love? You said they did that in the stories as well, didn’t you?” Anastacia protested her friend’s boring theory.
“They do, but even those stories end with a lot of people dying. In a couple of them, the muse whose loved one died, blamed the death on the other members of the community and killed all of them as a revenge. Even when the only reason the craftsman was shunned was because the jealous muse first killed anyone else who was nice to them. So if anything, hopefully we at least managed to avoid that.” The old adventurer explained while peering into the foggy distance ahead of them. “And that flesh creature in the manor will probably become a new quest for someone, if Bartholomew’s remaining family wants to use the estate again.”
Anastacia shivered while thinking about all the eyes that lined the walls of the manor as they left. She wasn’t able to feel them, so she had just figured that they were a part of whatever the divine thing Nirmaata had mentioned was. She had suggested staying and cleaning it up, but Gilbert was being very stubborn about not getting involved in anything they weren’t paid for. However, they did warn the villagers from entering the mansion on the account of the structural damage it had suffered during the quest.
“I feel kind of bad for dragging you into this by picking that quest on my own too…” Anastacia admitted and hung her head in shame while kicking a pebble along the road. “You almost died.”
Gilbert laughed heartily. “That’s a risk we take with every quest. Besides, do you have any idea how many times I can tell the story about that time I faced a muse and lived to tell about it before people get bored of it?” He said and patted the necromancer on the back. Being a through and through adventurer, it hadn’t even crossed his mind that his barely avoided death was anyone’s fault, least of all Anastacia’s. If anything, besides the soreness, the quest had been very interesting for him, and they should consider themselves lucky to see such a beast – and possibly be the last ones to ever do so. “Everyone has downed a giant or a wyvern, but no one in Valor has even seen a muse!”
Hearing that cheered up the necromancer slightly, though she still desperately needed to do something unquestionably good to clear her conscience.
The day was a bit warmer than the few before it, and the frosty surface of the road had started to melt. Every now and then there was a freezing gust of wind that reminded the adventurers that the winter wasn’t about to go anywhere, and that the above freezing temperatures on that day were simply a brief respite before the coldest of the seasons got in full swing.
Anastacia wrapped her cloak tighter and tried to shield her face from the wind. She could manage with that for a while, but a scarf was definitely on her shopping list now. The rest of her getup was actually somewhat comfortable as long as she kept herself warm by moving, but every time she tried to drink or move her arms about, the wind would find a gap and push cold air under the violet cloak. Though if there was anything positive to be found in the brisk weather, it was that Anastacia could distract herself by thinking about how utterly wrong it was, that a mage who was able to conjure both cold and fire, had to deal with winter.
“There’s someone coming, we should move to the side.” Anastacia said suddenly and pointed into the mist ahead of them. She could feel a horse and its rider galloping towards them and figured that the rider might not see them in time to slow down.
A few seconds later, a beautiful black warhorse sped past the adventurers with a rider clad in heavy black armor that had a bright yellow plume on the helmet and a matching cape that fluttered as the warrior disappeared into the mist again.
“Well he was in a hurry.” Anastacia shrugged.
Gilbert hopped back onto the road. “A Helleboran knight, a high-ranking one too. We’re sort of in a no man’s land between them and the Eshtian kingdom. As far as I know, there’s no friction between the two, so it’s a bit weird to see a knight in full kit here. Keep an eye out for others.” He explained before Anastacia tried to pull him back.
“He’s coming back! What do we do?” The necromancer pointed out, slightly worried that they were somewhere they shouldn’t be in and were going to get treated as spies, like the last time they had traveled along a border between two countries.
Gilbert calmed her and faced the rider as the black stallion slowed down before them. The knight took a look at the pair before stopping completely. Though the armor was well-made and had its share of flourish, it had also been used in equal measure, and full of tiny kinks and scrapes, the kind Emilia would lose her mind over. He had no weapon drawn, nor did he make a point to ready his hand on one. He merely flipped open his visor and nodded to Gilbert. “Good day to you, sire. I am knight captain Medivar of Hellebor. Now, this may come off as a tad nosy, but might you and the fair lass be adventurers?” He asked politely. Though still mostly hidden by his helmet, it was apparent that the knight was about as seasoned as Gilbert and sported a gloriously trimmed handlebar mustache on his upper lip.
“Is it that obvious? That’s exactly what we are.” Gilbert answered merrily.
“Marvelous!” The knight exclaimed and hopped off his steed. “I happened to see the cheese pinned on your partner’s antler and figured figured you were either lunatics or adventurers – or both, the city of adventurers tends to call for the more peculiar types. I, of course, mean no disrespect by that. Our kingdom has no complaints of the services we’ve bought.” He prattled on and bowed grandly, as a knight should.
“Gilbert, and that’s Anna.” The old adventurer introduced himself and the necromancer, greeting the knight with a firm handshake. “Is there a problem? You seemed to be in a hurry before.”
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“When isn’t there a problem? There’s a… troublesome town about a kilometer and a half west of here. On paper, the border between us and our allies at Eshtia runs along a river that goes right through the town. Because of that, one half of the town strongly identifies as Helleboran and the other equally strongly as Eshtian. Needless to say, things can get a bit heated in the evenings, when ale and mead has flowed perhaps more than it should.” The knight explained.
Gilbert laughed. “A bit of drunken wrestling never hurt anyone. There was plenty of that going on with the boys from the neighboring farm where I grew up.”
“Exactly! Keeps grudges short and lets people blow off some steam.” Medivar agreed and joined in on the laughing.
Gilbert had a certain kind of affinity with guards and soldiers, which allowed him to immediately get on their good side and remove many obstacles whenever the party had to deal with the local law and their differing opinions on adventurers. Emilia had some similar traction with the clergy in many places, and she had used it to systemically clear Sylvia’s name wherever the party went. While still mostly unlearned in the ways of the world, Anastacia had some pull on children thanks to her unthreatening appearance. Kids were surprisingly apt at running into monsters and basically useless when trying to describe whatever it was that tore apart and ate the friend they had been playing in the woods with. So having someone who wasn’t a big scary adult was often helpful.
“Anyway. Normally things are being kept in check by yours truly and an officer from the other side of the border. A terrific lad really, a bit green, but the boy has the passion and the skills for the job – you know how they are. The thing is, he took a bad fall and messed up his ankle, got a bit feverish so I sent him to the closest city to get some proper care.” The knight continued with his troubles, took out a few carrots from his saddlebag and gave one to his horse as a treat. Noticing that Anastacia seemed curious about the steed, he handed her the rest of the carrots. “His name is Daffy. Try not to get bit.”
The necromancer was more than glad to accept the job. She was far more interested in the absolutely gorgeous horse than whatever the boring old fogies were going on about. Between petting the animal and almost losing a finger a couple of times, Anastacia completely phased out of the conversation.
“…So, naturally the Eshtian side of the town took his absence as a takeover attempt from us and started causing trouble – which was then met by an equal amount of trouble from our idiots. I managed to calm the situation for now, but the whole town is one huge pile of tinder and everyone’s holding a torch that they’re just waiting to chuck at someone.” The knight finished up his story and shook his head.
The old adventurer kept nodding. “And how does us being adventurers come in on all of this?” He asked.
“I need to get to our nearest barrack to send enough men to keep the town peaceful until I manage to get a message to Eshtia to send a replacement. Two scary looking adventurers hanging around would definitely go a long way to make people keep their heads down until our guys can get there.” Medivar revealed his reason for stopping the adventurers. “Basically, there’s a single bridge over the river and I need you two to hang around it and make sure no one gets across to cause trouble. It’ll take me about five hours to get to our barracks, couple of hours to gather a few men and send the messenger Eshtia and then another five to get back. A couple of adventurers are well within my budget, so you can expect a decent reward for the time it’ll take.”
Gilbert pulled Anastacia away from the horse and back into the conversation. “Hear that, Anna? He wants us to guard a bridge. Sounds easy enough and I’m always ready to earn a bit of extra. How about you?” He asked and started to search his backpack for something.
“I’ve always wanted to be a bridge troll, but don’t we need to register this whole thing with the guild or whatever?” The necromancer asked and pointed towards where she thought Valor was.
Gilbert pulled out a small wooden inkwell with a more travel-friendly design to it, a quill and a folded piece of paper. “Not necessarily. It’ll take a bit of extra work in the offices, but this here is a form for a quest accepted outside of the noticeboard in the offices.” He said and handed the items to the knight.
Medivar took off his gauntlets and quickly skimmed through the paper before starting to fill in the required information, using his saddle as a writing surface.
The form itself was relatively bare bones compared to most issued by the guild. All it asked for was the name and location of the quest giver, a rough description of what needed to be done and the amount of gold they were willing to part with. The adventurer that accepted the quest was required to report the details in writing back at the office, which was understandably unpopular and the reason why almost no one even bothered to carry the form with them. Some, if not most adventurers would rather go pro bono to help out if the matter was pressing enough, than to deal with the paperwork. This included Gilbert, but the recent financial disturbances caused by the rope needed to detain Anastacia, the necromancer’s gambling debts and Emilia’s involuntary whoremongering had made him reconsider.
“That should do it!” The knight captain declared and handed the paper back to Gilbert. “That should be enough to compensate for your trouble – and cover a fresh piece of antler-cheese for the lass.” He laughed.
Gilbert read through the form and folded it into his pocket. “Town of Oopdelt? If I hadn’t seen it on a map before, I’d think it sounds made up.” Gilbert joked.
“There’s a story behind the name, but this is not the time of place for it. I really must hurry now. You’ll find the sign and path to the town a few hundred meters that way.” The knight said and pointed in the direction he had first appeared from. “I should be back by sunrise. Once my men arrive, Daffy and I can escort you two to Valor and maybe even help out with whatever inconveniences this causes on your end.”
Once the knight had climbed back on his steed, he and Gilbert nodded to each other quickly and the rider disappeared into the mist again.
“He seemed nice.” Anastacia commented while Gilbert stuffed the writing tools back into his backpack.
The old adventurer smiled. “That’s Hellebor for you. They’re a bit unique in that they have no lords, dukes or the like in their kingdom. There’s the King, his Queen and their children, and then everyone else. Every commanding position is granted based on experience and results. So what you get is really down-to-earth officers like that. Bet you wouldn’t guess that that man answers to no one but the royal couple themselves, would you? He’s as high up as ranks go; and here he is, riding alone in the fog and handing out carrots to some kid he happened to pass by.” Gilbert explained and started to walk in the direction they had been pointed to.
“Weird.” The necromancer shrugged.
“It has its problems too, but they’re frequent clients for Valor and pay well for a job well done, so I’m not here to judge how they run their country.” The old adventurer said and patted the pocket he had put the contract in.
“How much did he promise?” Anastacia asked and tried to take the paper for herself but was stopped.
Gilbert smiled. “Enough to make up for the lackluster reward from the whole muse ordeal.”
They soon arrived to a crossroads they had passed on their way a couple of days ago. The sign pointing towards Oopdelt was the only one in that direction, and the road there seemed well-traveled. It most likely meant that the town wasn’t any small arrangement of cottages in the middle of the forest, but a place where merchants visited frequently. Initially that caused a bit of concerns for the adventurers, but Gilbert remembered that the whole place was normally kept in order by two people, so it couldn’t possibly be that bad. Or that’s at least what he thought before the muddy mess under their feet turned into a neatly paved brick road, and the mist started to reveal some of the buildings in the distance.
“Well. Fuck.” The old adventurer blurted out when he realized that Oopdelt was a town of roughly five to six hundred people, who apparently were hellbent on causing trouble and that he and Anastacia were supposed to keep the whole thing from falling apart for an entire night on their own.