For the first time in a long while, Shield felt hopeful. While she walked back to the Guildtower, she thought about the Collector. What was this woman doing at the docks? What did she collect? A feeling of anticipation was slowly building up inside her, a long-lasting need to find answers to questions, both new and old. Shield had to fight the urge to run to the port and search for the woman. Not yet. I have to be patient. Gotta pay Rusk back for her intel on those gang members. She hated to be indebted to that asshole but such was life in Tower City: a series of favours to get what you wanted. She entered the Guildtower and greeter Hyrad, the Beastfolk porter. The dog-like humanoid gave her a big smile. ‘Welcome back Shield! Which poor fellow had the pleasure of meeting you?’ He pointed to the bruises on her face. She gave him a friendly smile. ‘The Broken Wings. Asshole griffon riding gang.’ The Beastman chuckled. ‘Oh, I’ve heard of them. Watch out next time you’re on their turf. They’re a vengeful lot.’ ‘Me too.’ She winked and went towards the reception. The entrance hall was crowded as it always was. New mercenaries arrived every day, looking for a contact, a drink or a room. Shield relaxed. This was her home. It was also neutral territory, which meant no weapons or grudges were allowed within the Guildtower. Abiding to these laws, she handed her shield over to one of the receptionists. After that, she went to the big quest board at the centre of the entrance hall and checked whether there was any fun to be had. Vengeance didn’t pay the bills so in between gathering intel, Shield did actually have to work. For her, this work entailed a number of different things: guarding a wagon, fighting monsters or providing muscle to a conflict. Mercenaries were popular in Tower City. With no real police force, except for the Merchant-King’s agents, people paid a good amount for protection. There were no laws or judges and criminals were just part of the ecosystem within the evergrowing trading hub. The chaotic melting pot of merchant houses, foreign spies and criminal gangs provided an excellent breeding ground for mercenary work. Especially if you added the Wildlands to the west, home to a thousand strange creatures and all kinds of ancient ruins. Her eye fell on the papers. She ripped it off the board and took the lift to her chambers.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Lord Axeas Windvale is looking for a mercenary to assist him on a brief expedition to the Temple of Owls, a ruin two days from Tower City. Reward as per the laws of the Mercenary Guild. If interested, come and find me in the Old Anchor.
She was glad to be back in the tower. In the half year since she arrived here, she’d turned her room into a cosy nest of comfort. She had tried to fill the cramped sleeping quarter with her whole personality. Bookshelves lined the wall, filled with fairytales, historical treaties and romance novels. Souvenirs of her travels and jobs hung from the walls and big colorful rugs formed a wild pattern on the floor to tie it all together. Home. At least for a while. She took a bath and switched into soft commoner’s clothes. For a moment she wanted to jump in bed and read until she fell asleep. The Gods know I need some rest. Tired or not, Shield knew she had to get to Rusk. The longer she waited, the more he would demand of her to pay her debt. She decided not to put it off. But let’s get some dinner first. She took the lift to the top of the tower.
On the roof of the Guildtower was the communal garden, meant for mercenaries to plant their own food and get their mind of their work. She went to Hillpot, the small farmer in charge of the rooftop garden. The sun was slowly going under but he was still working, trying to cut some weeds from a small field of flowers. ‘Ah, Shield. How’s it going?’ ‘Well enough. Have anything to eat for me? Just a quick bite will do, I’ll eat it on the go.’ Hillpot nodded, his smile radiating warmth. ‘Right on time. Got some carrots and lettuce for you. Ask Fyrtle for bread and you’ve got a meal!’ She thanked him. As she turned back to the lift, he stopped her. ‘Before I forget! There’s a new visitor that’s been asking for you. Well, asking is the wrong word, since he lacks a tongue. Scribbled a description of you on a piece of paper and showed it to everyone. Carries a lot of knives and never smiles. He stays on the fourth floor, just ask at the reception.’ ‘Thanks Hillpot, see you around.’ Shield descended and tried to remember if she ever had encountered a mercenary with no tongue. She did not. Weird. I wonder what he wants. But first things first. Let’s go visit Rusk.