Timothy Folk—or Tim, as most people called him—stared at the bottom of his cup, contemplating the meaning of life as he swirled the last dregs of ale. “Well,” he muttered to no one in particular, “if knowledge is power, then why am I always broke?” A crooked grin crept onto his face as his teammates chuckled softly around him.
“Maybe because you drink away all our earnings?” Hela Adam, the city librarian and the sharpest tongue in the group, quipped. Her glasses caught the dim glow of the tavern lanterns, giving her a slightly menacing air.
Tim raised his cup in mock salute. “A valid point, my dear Hela. But think about it—history was probably written by drunk scholars who couldn’t keep their ink straight. It’s practically tradition.”
“You’re impossible,” Hela replied, though a faint smile betrayed her amusement.
Seated beside her, Theve Clark, the town’s small bar owner and unofficial supplier of morale, leaned back with a contented sigh. “If Tim’s drinking habits funded history, mine must fund the present,” he joked. “Speaking of which, you’re all welcome to drink at my place next time we’re in town. On the house… as long as we don’t die on this next job.”
“That’s comforting,” Glen muttered. One of the twin orphans, Glen was always the more skeptical of the two. Ben, on the other hand, was busy trying to stack empty mugs into a precarious tower. They were both young, scrappy, and eager, even if their ideas of teamwork sometimes clashed.
Tim sighed and set his cup down with a heavy clunk. “Alright, listen up, you rowdy lot. We’ve got a lead on something big. Bigger than anything we’ve tackled before.”
That caught everyone’s attention. Hela leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “How big?”
Tim’s expression turned serious, though his tone still carried its trademark irreverence. “Big enough that people are whispering about the origins of seals.” He let the words hang in the air, and for a moment, the room felt heavier.
The twins exchanged a glance. “The origins of seals?” Ben echoed, his usually playful demeanor fading. “That’s... dangerous stuff, Tim.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Hela’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear this?”
“A reliable source,” Tim replied vaguely. “A friend of a friend who owed me a favor. Point is, there’s a ruin—far older than anything we’ve explored—and it might hold the key to understanding where seals come from. Or, at the very least, some very interesting history.”
Theve whistled low. “And who else knows about this?”
Tim hesitated, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Let’s just say we’re not the only ones interested. Word’s already spread, so we’ll have company. Some good, some bad, and some we’ll wish stayed home.”
The group fell silent as the weight of the information settled in. It wasn’t the first time they’d taken on a risky job, but this sounded different—bigger stakes, bigger dangers.
“Do we even know where this ruin is?” Glen asked cautiously.
“I have a map,” Tim said, reaching into his coat pocket and unfolding a weathered piece of parchment. The map was crudely drawn but detailed enough to guide them. “It’s two weeks’ travel from here. Not exactly a walk in the park, but we’ve handled worse.”
“And what’s your plan for when we get there?” Hela pressed.
Tim leaned back and smirked. “Same as always: improvise.”
Theve groaned. “Why am I not surprised?”
Hela pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re going to get us all killed one day, Tim.”
Tim raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, if I had all the answers, I’d be the head of the Seal Society, sipping wine in a tower somewhere. But no—here I am, drinking ale in a dingy tavern with you fine folks. Makes you wonder where it all went wrong, doesn’t it?”
“You left the Seal Society, remember?” Theve pointed out.
“Details, details,” Tim replied breezily.
Despite his flippant attitude, the group could sense the underlying tension in his voice. Tim’s past with the Seal Society was a topic rarely discussed, and when it did come up, he deflected with humor. But they all knew there was more to the story.
“Alright,” Hela said, standing up and adjusting her coat. “If we’re doing this, we need to prepare. Supplies, equipment, and maybe a prayer or two.”
The group nodded in agreement, their earlier banter giving way to a more determined focus. The twins began gathering their belongings, while Theve drained the last of his drink and patted Tim on the shoulder.
“You’re lucky we trust you, Tim,” Theve said with a grin.
“Trust? In me?” Tim feigned shock. “Well, that’s your first mistake.”
As they filed out of the tavern, Tim lingered for a moment, staring at the map in his hands. His usual smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet resolve.
“The origins of seals,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”
He tucked the map away and followed his team into the night, the first step on a journey that would test not just their skills, but their very understanding of the world they thought they knew.