"There is an old mining town called Panquil Caverns about a day's journey North-East of here. If you follow the brook, it will lead you to it," Nyathamon calculated something on his fingers briefly, "you will find an Adventurer's Guild not far from whichever way is chosen to enter."

Quintin was silent as he thought about the ramifications of what he was being asked to do.

If I take this [Quest] at face value, then it seems to have no danger attributed to it. But actually, I'm being asked to choose a side in something I have no stake in. His enemies may well become my enemies if the plan falls apart.

With that in mind, he spoke, "You said earlier you're being hunted by people, who exactly are they?"

"Now you're getting to the truth of the matter; the real danger lies with them. Those who hunt me will have questions for you and anyone else involved, even my former Adventuring Group. They are strong enough to weather that, but you are going to be the weak link in all of this. Once they know you're alone, they may seek you out, so I recommend you become scarce as soon as the business is completed," Nyathamon said in all seriousness.

Nyathamon must've felt like he didn't say enough, so he suddenly spoke again, "Ah, I suppose I should tell you who you should be wary of. There are two organizations that hound me. One is called The Elucidators, and the other is The Bannermen of Kismet. Be very careful should you meet or hear about either of them."

It didn't escape Quintin that anything Nyathamon was wary of ought to be seriously regarded. "Can you tell me anything else about them? I don't want to become enemies with them, but if I must, then I need to know more."

"Savages," one word was all Nyathamon needed as his eyelids flared open to reveal crimson eyes, "Damned savages the lot of them. The Bannermen are a mercenary group that, at any given time, have between 100-250 riders that scour their shit across the most profitable battlefields."

His eyes closed as he became noticeably calmer. "The Elucidators are - hmm - I have a... long-past relationship with the head of that organization -" Nyathamon spoke with a suffering smile and dry laugh that was interrupted by Vissitri.

"He means his ex-fiancé is looking for him and may well want to kill him," the [Carbuncle] swore under its breath, "which he would deserve if she ever finds him."

"Hehe, Vissitri... you have a way with words, my friend," Nyathamon said through gritted teeth and shot a glare at Quintin as if daring him to ask more questions.

It was evident that the great [Pineking] had said his peace. With a better understanding of the players involved, he was content for the moment to see how the situation evolved itself.

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This [Quest] is a lot better than just dying here and now. Maybe I can gather more information when I get to Panquil-

His thoughts were interrupted when the [Carbuncle] padded up close to him and spoke, "I'm coming with you! At least for a time, but don't get it twisted! I've been curious about Panquil for awhile, and this is the perfect opportunity with such an agreeable Human around."

Vissitri hopped up on all four legs, almost challenging Quintin to say something disagreeable.

He sighed with frustration in response, "It seems I have no say either way since I'm surrounded by bullies, but it may be nice to have a guide."

Nyathamon and Vissitri exchanged a placid gaze before the [Pineking] seemed to realize something and erupted with anger. "WAIT! You're going with him?! Don't make Us squash you. Tell Us what you're planning!"

His hunchback seemed to grow larger, his face becoming a more profound color of beet red. Vissitri leapt from the ground to land on Quintin's shoulder and shielded him from the building pressure.

"You wanna go old fart?! And hurt your precious courier? I think not! Now hand over the goods so we can be on our way!"

Vissitri stood on all fours with a scrunched up munchkin face that begged to either be reprimanded or patted; it was a confusing dilemma in truth. Now visibly shaking, Nyathamon seemed nearly about to burst before calmer waves overtook him, and a lazy eyelid slowly opened up.

His absolute seriousness was unsettling as he spoke, "It's fine if you want to keep your secrets. I have mine as well. But know that I will not have my plans be thwarted by that mouth of yours."

Sparks flew through the air and seemed to manifest from nature like an invisible or high-speed clash. The motes buzzed, trembling within the thick, dreadful atmosphere created between the two of them.

Only Quintin was removed from the pressure; everything else in the area started to groan beneath it. Tree bark snapped, fell, and disintegrated before reaching the ground. The [Pinekins] attempted to re-burrow themselves into the dirt as fast as they could, but most were too slow and burst open to spill their contents. The battle of wills sunk everything lower and lower into the ground.

After what felt like tens of minutes, Vissitri finally spoke, "Fine, fine! It's no big secret or anything. Quintin has a familiar scent to me, a lingering sense of... kinship, I suppose you could call it. I have no interest in your plans, Nyathamon. I merely want to figure out what's going on here."

I smell? Quintin subconsciously sniffed himself and rankled his nose. I could use a nice hot shower.

"Did you really think We would just let you butt into Our scheme with no justification on your end? Just look at what you did to Our poor subjects! That's at least fifty [Pinekin] citizens under Our domain you've burst! What will you do for Us in return for this tragedy of the kingdom?" Nyathamon mock-pouted yet was all too serious when a chance was there for the taking.

"See, this is exactly why no one likes to come to your Kingdom, Nyathamon. You take things too far! But fine, if it gets us to move on, then here! I have no use for this anymore!" Vissitri snarled before he made something appear and just as quickly depart and land in Nyathamon's out-stretched hand.

"Oh! It's beautiful! A [Ring of Few Facets]. On behalf of Our Kingdom, We thank you for this gesture of mourning. The proceeds will indeed go towards Our fallen friends and family. Let this be a lesson, Knave, and don't let it happen again!"

Quintin couldn't help but think that Nyathamon marched to the beat of his own drum. Some moments he was rational, thoughtful, and wise. Then there were times like this where he was the only actor in his own play.

I guess power affords a certain amount of irrational behavior.