It did occur to Bill that being chosen out of the blue, for a quest he knew nothing about, for a man he’d never met, was on the odd side. Despite this, he was just so pleased that he could avoid menial labor and nappy changing that he chose to overlook it.

He should have known that his mother would not.

“Who is this man?” she asked as he began shoving his belongings in a bag.

“You know, Mumsy,” Bill groaned. “The Collector. It’s not as if he’s not well known around these parts. He collects things. He gets people to go questing for him.”

“So why you?”

Bill scowled.

“Why not me?” he snapped. “Why shouldn’t he pick me, fresh out of wizarding academy? Why shouldn’t he want a brand new wizard to do his bidding? Why can’t you just be proud of me like a mother ought to be?”

“I can see him wanting a brand new wizard to make sure he never runs out of tea,” Phyllis retorted. “But what else can you do, realistically?”

“I can’t win, can I? You’ve spent the last two days, and the months leading up to graduation, going on and on about how I need to find a job and help you out. You can’t afford to keep me, you need me to get off my backside and help you. Now I’ve got this amazing opportunity and all you can do is pick it to pieces!”

“I’m trying to look out for you!”

“Well you can’t bloody well have it both bloody ways!” Bill’s face was red as he shouted. “This can go one of two ways, Mum. Either you’re serious about me needing to go out and seek my fortune, in which case you need to shut up with all your nasty, picky questions and just be happy for me and let me go! Or, you think this is a bad idea and want me to turn it down, in which case you can shut up nagging me about getting a job, because I’m not changing nappies when I’ve just had a quest bloody well handed to me and you picked it to pieces and wouldn’t let me go!”

Both of them glared at each other, seemingly at an impasse. The only sound, for long moments, was that of their breathing, angry and impassioned.

Then, with a crack that rang through the room, Phyllis slapped Bill soundly across the cheek.

“How dare you speak to your mother like that,” she spat, her voice dripping in cold fury.

Bill’s own hand flew up to cup his red cheek. “How dare I? How dare you?”

“No one in this family ever had ideas above their station until you came along, Bill,” Phyllis told him. “A life of nice, honest, simple hard work was good enough for everyone else in this family before you.”

“It’s not my fault that no one before me ever wanted a better life for themselves,” Bill retorted, still clutching his cheek. “It’s not my fault that sewing pays a pittance. It’s not my fault that Dad died.”

“But it is your fault that you’re lazy and proud!”

“Where do you think I got my pride?” Bill roared back. He took a deep breath, shouldered his bag, and stalked toward the door. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going on this quest to seek my fortune. And once I’m gone, you won’t have to spend all your food on feeding me. So good riddance, right?”

But as he closed the door behind him, two fat tears escaped, sliding down his cheeks before he dashed them angrily away.

“I do love you, Mumsy,” he whispered. “But we can’t go on like this, you know we can’t.” And so saying, he readjusted the knapsack on his back and set off for the Collector’s house.

Back in the house, Phyllis wept.

----------------------------------------

Given that he wasn’t supposed to report for this quest until ten o’clock the following morning, Bill found himself in a quandary about what to do next. He couldn’t go back to the inn, or he’d be laughed back out. Besides, he hadn’t any money. He couldn’t go back home, because his pride wouldn’t let him. He didn’t really have any friends with whom he could spend a night, because they were all in the same boat he and Mumsy were in: too many mouths to feed, and not enough money to do it.

He walked in circles for a while, then found himself standing outside the home of The Collector fully fourteen hours before he was supposed to be there. He found a small niche where the outer wall met the gate, and settled himself down to wait for morning.

“You been crying,” came a voice.

“Have not,” he defended himself.

“Have so,” the voice insisted. “Your eyes are all red, and there’s a smudge on your cheek with a big tear track running through it.”

Hastily, Bill swiped at his cheeks, rubbing them hard, then scowled into the gathering darkness. “It was two tears! And so what if I have been? I’ve just had a dreadful fight with my mother.”

With a soft thud, a small body swung itself off the top of the wall and landed beside him. “Why’d you fight?”

Bill had to squint to make out who was speaking to him. A halfling, he deduced. The aroma emanating from her was somewhere between three week old garbage and sweaty socks. “Because she was being unreasonable.”

“What’d she do?”

“She asked me to get a job.”

The halfling flopped to the ground and howled with laughter, which didn’t exactly endear her to Bill. “Seriously? She asked you to get a job, and instead of just doing it, you had a ‘dreadful fight’ with her and flounced out crying?”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that,” Bill faltered.

“You’re an idiot,” the halfling pronounced, flicking her long tangled hair out of her eyes. “I don’t even have a mum, and I know it’s idiotic to fight over something like that. You should have just got a job like she said. Then you wouldn’t be out here at night. Then you wouldn’t have had to cry. That’s what it is, the crying, that shows you’re just a big Mama’s boy, see?”

“Am not,” Bill grumbled.

“Yeah, you are,” the halfling smirked. “But I don’t see how there’s anything wrong with that. If I’d had a Mum, I might’ve turned out to be a Mama’s girl myself. But I don’t, so I didn’t.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Bill said, lying through his teeth. She had been rude to him! Why shouldn’t he be rude to her? “But who are you, and why are you talking to me?”

“Name’s Sestra. I’m supposed to do this thing here tomorrow, but like you, I ain’t got no place to spend the night.”

“You haven’t.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t got any place to spend the night.”

“That’s what I said: I ain’t got no place to spend the night,” Sestra said impatiently, drawing herself up to her entire height—a head and a half shorter than Bill. “You got wax in your ears or what?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Bill sighed. “If we’re going to quest together, you’re going to have to learn to be a little less…” he paused, considering. “Obnoxious.”

“I dunno what obnoxious means, but if I gotta learn it, or how not to be it, maybe you oughtta learn how not to be a git. Fair’s fair.”

Gritting his teeth, Bill turned his back on the aggravating halfling. “I’m going to sleep. Kindly don’t address me any further.”

“Suit yourself,” Sestra shrugged. “If you want to be in bed before the sun even gets all the way down, and without supper too, then that’s your lookout. Me, I’m for food.”

Food. Bill’s stomach growled as the fundamental flaw in his planning was pointed out. No doubt the questing party would either find or buy some, or have some provided for them, but for now he had nothing. “I could eat,” he admitted.

“I’ll bet you could,” Sestra laughed. “Sucks for you, doesn’t it?” With that, she took off running.

Leaving his knapsack tucked out of sight in the little corner, Bill tore after her.

“Hey, wait for me!” he called.

----------------------------------------

Of course, she led him back to the Sage and Flagon, the site of his earlier humiliation. He didn’t see how being here did them any good though. He still didn’t have any money, and he doubted very much she was the sort to buy him a meal.

“So now what?” he puffed, out of breath.

“Watch and learn,” she scoffed, and without any warning burst into tears.

Bill was horrified, and reached out to try and offer some comfort, but she waved him off with a stern look in her streaming eyes. And sure enough, before two minutes had passed, her piteous wailing had attracted the attention of the innkeeper, who came to the door to see what the commotion was all about.

“Hey now, what’s the trouble?” he said, in a not unkind voice.

“W-we were robbed,” Sestra howled. “We done all this work, honest work, for a day’s pay, and then these horrible men came and pushed us down and stole all our money, and now we can’t have anything to e-e-eat!”

She shot Bill a meaningful look, and after a beat, he caught on. “Yeah, it was… it was really bad,” he said in the most pitiful voice he could muster.

“You both better come in and have some steak and kidney pie,” the innkeeper said gruffly. If he remembered Bill from earlier, he didn’t mention it. “Can’t have young ones going hungry, not on my watch.”

“Thanks, mister,” Sestra said, ostentatiously wiping her eyes on her sleeve. She followed him inside, Bill trailing behind her, and before long they were set up at a table with a hearty helping of pie and a flagon of cordial each.

“Brilliant, ain’t it?” Sestra said happily, tucking in without a single trace of remorse or guilt. Bill was slightly uneasy, but he was hungry, and he didn’t exactly have any other options.

As they ate, Bill looked around. He’d never actually been in the bar at night before, and it was filled with all sorts of travelers and merchants from far off places.

A pair of bickering dwarves caught his eye, and he watched them with interest as he chewed his pie. He’d never seen dwarves before, not really. In passing in the marketplace, perhaps, but not this close.

“I cannot fathom why you refuse to let me carry it!” the male blustered.

“Because, Torbek, I’m perfectly capable of carrying it myself,” the female returned. Bill wouldn’t have picked a fight with her if he were Torbek. She was pretty sturdy looking, and while her words and tone were patient, the look in her eye intimidated Bill. The axe at her feet intimidated him even more.

The male, Torbek, was agitated, getting quite red in the face as the argument went on. It was beginning to be difficult to see where his face ended and his red beard started. The female was a lot calmer—and less beardy—but even Bill the Oblivious could tell that she was tense.

“What you looking at?” Sestra asked him. He nodded in the direction of the dwarves.

“Do you think they’re married? My mum and dad used to bicker like that. They sound like they might be married.”

“Don’t know nothing about no marriage, and I ain’t never had a mum or a dad, so what would I know?” Sestra shrugged. “Don’t see as how it matters overmuch to us though.”

It didn’t, if Bill was honest, but his interest had been piqued.

“I say, are you going to live the entirety of your life this way? Difficult, moody, bloody-minded and impossible?” Torbek demanded.

“I’m going to live my life my way, and that’s an end to it!” the female shot back.

“Is it actually necessary for you to come on this quest?”

“About as necessary as it is for you to come.”

“Well, of course it’s necessary for me to come. How would this party curry favor with the goddesses if there were no cleric along?”

“We could try not being unbelievable prats.”

That made Sestra giggle delightedly, and she raised her flagon in salute to the female dwarf. “Good one!” she called. The dwarves both looked over, and Bill ducked his head, not wanting to be caught staring. Sestra didn’t seem to care. “You tell him!” she called, and was rewarded by what looked like amusement in the female dwarf’s eyes. Torbek did not share the sentiment.

“Mind your own business,” he said in a forbidding tone, but of course, Sestra didn’t care. Bill was already beginning to get the measure of her, and frankly, she unnerved him. He’d only known her an hour or so and already he could feel himself cringe whenever she opened her mouth, because he never knew what was going to come out of it.

“You made it our business when you decided to have a scrap in the dining room, mate,” she laughed.

Torbek, incensed, turned and made his way towards their table. Bill cringed, but Sestra didn’t even flinch.

“What are you going to do, hit me?” she taunted him.

And in actuality, it looked like that was exactly what was going to happen, that he was going to hit her. Luckily, the innkeeper had been taking note of what was happening, and was already on his way over to loom ominously beside the table. He was at least two feet taller than Torbek, who spat contemptuously and backed off.

“You just make friends everywhere you go, don’t you?” Bill quipped, beginning to eat faster just on the off chance that Sestra decided to do something else obnoxious and get them kicked out.

“What do I care? Never had a friend before, and I turned out just fine. Don’t see no reason to start making nice now.”

“Clearly,” Bill murmured.

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Spending the night wedged between a gate and a wall, covered in nothing but a shabby cloak, wasn’t exactly how Bill had pictured setting off on a quest, but he still refused to go home, so he had to make do. At least he wasn’t alone. Sestra bedded down a few yards away, hidden in shadow. Bill buried his nose in his cloak, breathing in the scent of the soap his mother used for laundry. It was much better than smelling Sestra.

Still, it was a relief when the sun came up. It was going to be a beautiful day, perfect for questing. Bill stood, stretched, and rubbed his eyes, and saw that there were four more people there than had been there the night before.

There were two elves, one short and dark, the other blonde and statuesque, and there were two dwarves—the dwarves from the night before. Bill flushed, and nodded politely at the volatile male dwarf. Torbek was shorter than the female dwarf, but he was much wider. His hair was a shock of red, and his hairline was beginning to recede, while the female, whose name he still hadn’t caught, had curly black hair tied neatly back.

“So should we get on with the introductions, or what?” the little male elf burbled, his words spilling all over themselves as he danced from foot to foot. “I’m Elion, and I’m as chuffed as two short chuffed things to be going on my first quest!”

Two short chuffed things? Bill blinked, bewildered, but Elion didn’t even pause for breath.

“I read all the papers left on the step while you were all sleeping, and I reckon I’ve just about worked out who’s who. You’re Callania, am I right?” He pointed to the other elf, who nodded and smiled. “And you two are the dwarves, Nalyn, and Thornden…”

“Torbek,” Torbek rumbled, looking disgruntled. “Can’t have studied the papers all that hard if you’re making mistakes already.”

“Torbek then, I am sorry,” Elion carried on undaunted, still jiggling slightly. Idly, Bill wondered if he needed the toilet. “So. Elion and Callania the elves, Nalyn and Torbek the dwarves, Sestra the halfling, and you must be… Lorien the Luminescent.” Elion threw himself into an elaborate scraping bow, completely without irony—which made it all the worse when Torbek and Sestra burst out laughing.

“Lorien the…” Torbek chortled.

“Luminescent?” Sestra finished, wiping tears from her eyes. “What does that even mean?”

“Lorien’s an elf’s name, isn’t it?” Torbek queried. “What are you, a human, doing with an elf’s name?”

“Bet he picked it out himself,” Sestra said. “What’s your real name then?”

“It’s Lorien, the…” Bill began, but was shouted down by Torbek and Sestra immediately.

“Nah, what’s your real name? Not your poncey wizard name, which is crap, by the way.”

Bill scowled, feeling his face turn red. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at the ground. “Bill, if you must know.”

Torbek and Sestra had just about had a punch up not twelve hours ago, and now they were teaming up to make fun of them? How was that fair? At least Nalyn and Callania weren’t laughing. Or at least, they were stifling their chuckles and hiding their smiles.

“I thought it was a brilliant name,” Elion frowned, stopping still for once. “Because he’s a wizard, isn’t he? So it’s a wizard’s name.”

“It’s a prat’s name,” Sestra said, smirking. “But then I suppose it fits, because he’s a bit of a prat, ain’t he?”

Their laughter was cut off by the arrival of a new figure in their midst. He’d come down the front steps of the mansion, from the heavy marble front door which the little party now realized was open. They stood straighter and fell silent, even Sestra.

“Mr. the Collector,” Elion began.

“I am not the Collector,” the man cut him off. “I am but a servant. You will follow me please, and do so quickly and quietly. Leave your things here.”

As one, the six adventurers fell into single file and followed the man—who, Bill thought to himself, still hadn’t introduced himself—up the stairs and into the mansion.