In the morning Delta sought out the castellan. She thanked them for their hospitality, but not to be making too much of it, they would be leaving the castle. She also asked if she could send along a package with the Count’s letter to Sir Rault containing what money he had given her that was unspent. This raised the eyebrow of the castellan. She also asked for the use of a scribe who could draw up an accounting of the monies she had spent, to attach to the purse.

“Ma’am, you put the reputation of all mercenaries to shame!” said the castellan, very impressed. He drafted the letter himself, still shaking his head that she would return money unspent when given free reign. He totaled it all, attached a note from himself as witness, and then sealed the bag with his own seal. “I trust my messengers less than you!”

“I still can’t believe you gave all that money back”, said Zipper, as the wagon made its way from the castle gates.

Delta shrugged. “Reputation is gold”, said Delta. “If the Count confirms that we’ve guessed right, all his nobles will remember. The fact we were so concerned about a proper account of our expenses is something that castellan will spread far and wide.” She looked sidelong at Zipper. “And they are less likely to look into the detail of our more questionable expenses given how impressed they were that we returned anything at all.”

Zipper coughed. “I do not doubt the wisdom of my Captain!”

At the castellan’s recommendation, with a page to guide them, and, apparently, a hefty discount, they only went so far as The Bleeding Horse, one of several inns in the city. Delta felt a private room better suited the nocturnal habits of Gwen and left less questions to be asked. They had the money for now.

“I guess we’re back to looking for work”, said Zipper. “A pity this awesome reputation we’re building didn’t land us a quick contract with the Count.”

They were eating a hearty meal the inn provided, free, to keep the friends of the castellan happy. “I mentioned to the landlady that we were looking for work. She said she would pass it on. Given how eager they appear to be for the castellan’s good grace, I’m hoping that turns up something.”

Zipper nodded, satisfied. A number of other guests introduced themselves, eager for news or rumors from the north. Delta gave them an abbreviated account of what she thought they would find interesting. She left off most of her speculation though. She did not want to be accused of rumormongering or stirring people up if the Count didn’t fully believe her. But what she told them seemed to satisfy them.

They walked the town for the afternoon. They checked in at the other inns and mentioned they were looking for work. There was a fair bit of interest, but no solid offers. Apparently, many mercenaries had been drawn north, as Montihouse was recruiting quite heavily. So, there weren’t as many around at the moment.

Delta picked up some basic woodworking tools, and, at Zipper’s suggestion, a wider range of cookware. If they were committed to the wagon, then they could carry more than they normally would by foot. In particular, they got a firebox, so that they could light a fire on the road that was less seen.

They also picked out some improved tack and harness for the donkeys. What they had was a few brass bits with rope to hold it together. Properly stitched leather would serve better.

Last they took a detour to the southern outskirts of the city. They had a commerce gate there. The large, magical tri-form arch was normally only seen in the largest cities of the largest provinces. They all linked to one another enabling interstate commerce. It kept the capital cities strong and was a very long-term source of resentment for all other towns. But, recently, the Amphictyony had been building more in smaller towns. That was the loose political affiliation of nations set up after the collapse of the Romitu Empire whose stated aim was fostering commerce through these gates.

And here it stood, clean and new it a cobbled square made especially for it. Nothing was going in or out of it at the moment, and other than a dedication plaque and a guard unit, there wasn’t much to see.

By the time they made it back to the Bleeding Horse it was evening and the landlady had out supper for the residents. Gwen came down, which caused a bit of a stir, but she had worn her tabard and that curtailed anything more than idle comments from people.

Their dinner was interrupted by a silver shilling being tossed onto their table. It clanked and rattled, then came to a rest between some of the plates. They looked up into the smiling face of a gentleman. “I hear you’re open for employment”, he said. He was of modest height and slight build, with a loose tunic of finely woven material, with a doublet over top. He had a beard trimmed to a fine point, and prominent mustaches. His eyes twinkled beneath a broad felt hat, with a feather in its band.

“We are”, said Delta, carefully.

Stolen story; please report.

The man pulled over a chair and sat down. “The castle thinks highly of you”, he said. “Especially your discretion.”

Delta cut short a flippant comment from Zipper with a glance. “Would we be working for the castle?”

The man leaned closer and lowered his voice. “You’ll be working for me”, he said. “Call me Arcand. I work for the castle, but that doesn’t have to be widely known.”

“What does the job entail?” asked Delta.

He shrugged. “It shouldn’t be much. You see, there’s all sorts of rumors going on about this business up north. And”, he said quickly, “I’m not going to pester you for details. That isn’t pertinent. What is, is that lots of people are talking about it. They hear there are a lot of mercenaries up there making a lot of money. That purse strings are open right now to certain types of supply.” His face became neutral and he examined his fingernails. “Some people are thinking that they, too, could make some money on it. And some of them aren’t too picky about from which side.”

“Wouldn’t that be a job for the bailiff?” asked Delta.

The man grimaced. “Well, here’s the thing. If there was unambiguous proof of someone engaged in clear war profiteering, or succor for the enemy, then, yes, it would fall to the bailiff. But if one just has rumors, hearsay, and some very good information from highly paid informants, who, alas, are averse to appearing before the bailiff, then it’s a more difficult thing to prosecute.”

“What exactly do you want us to do?” asked Delta.

“So”, said Arcand. “My information says that there will be a cart leaving town tomorrow morning going up the coast road. I’d like to follow it a ways until we’re out of sight of any… complications. I would like to inspect it to ensure that my informants are incorrect, and it is not some specially commissioned commodity on behalf of our enemy.”

“We’re not brigands”, said Delta.

“I do work for the castle”, said Arcand. “We’re just being discrete because other traders will leap to the conclusion that we’re just shaking people down for taxes.” He shrugged. “If it’s not carrying contraband, or war materials… they can go on their way.”

Delta looked from Zipper to Gwen. “Why, exactly, do you need us?” asked Zipper.

“Well”, said Arcand. “You’ll look less obvious than just me, and if the gentleman in question seems hesitant to comply with an inspection… your presence could be fairly persuasive.”

Zipper nodded. Gwen looked blank. Delta figured she wasn’t getting much of the conversation. But this man didn’t seem averse to her, which she considered a good thing.

“Fine”, said Delta. “But our rates are higher than a single shilling.”

He waved his hands. “That was just to get your attention. How about five shillings before, and five upon a successful conclusion?”

Delta nodded. “That seems fair. First thing tomorrow?”

“Yes”, he said, happy. “I’ll meet you at the northern gate, say half past eight?”

“Sure”, said Delta, and picked up the shilling.

They had their “war wagon”, as Zipper was starting to call it, all ready to go in the morning. They stashed the polearms inside the body, rather than in their loopholes, to blend in better. They also didn’t wear either their tabards or their armor. Zipper had arranged Gwen’s blanket to look like a shawl, and, once she understood, she sat hunched over in her best “little old lady” impression.

Arcand was at the gate, watching the morning traffic leave the city. They pulled up alongside of him, and he looked up at them, annoyed. Then he recognized them and broke out laughing. “Incredible!” he cheered, peering closer at Gwen. “This is splendid. You look perfect.”

“Thank you”, said Delta, calmly. “Should we pull over and wait?”

“No need”, said Arcand, swinging up into the wagon. They had set a place up specifically for him. “They left about five minutes ago. We should just cruise on out. Mingle with the crowd…”

“Onward Tirloch! Forward Macha!” cried Zipper and snapped the reins. She had taken to using Gwen’s goblin names for the donkeys. They lurched forward into the traffic.

Once they cleared the gate, it wasn’t so bad. Many were just going to different parts of the town and the gates in the walls were just choke points. As the outbuildings thinned out it became clearer which travelers were actually going up the north road.

“Right”, said Arcand. “Keep it to a medium to low speed. Let them get a bit ahead of us.” Zipper looked at him funny, and just snapped the reins.

By the time they were a few miles outside of town there was nearly no one left on the road. The other travelers were local and took other lanes to their destinations. They had been travelling parallel to the river, going downstream. As the river approached the great lake, the land sank, and it broadened, breaking up. The road became, in many places, a raised causeway.

“Perfect”, said Arcand. “No one else. Nowhere for them to turn to. Speed up as fast as you can and let’s catch up with them!”

Zipper turned to him, irritated. “You realize that donkeys only have two speeds: moving, and not-moving.”

“What?” he said. “We need to go faster. We need to catch up.”

Zipper snapped the reins. “They’re moving. This is as fast as they go.”

“Can’t you whip them or something?” said Arcand, exasperated.

“No”, said Zipper, with equal exasperation. “They’ll just stop and won’t move at all.”

“But we need to catch up!” insisted Arcand.

“Then you run on ahead!” said Zipper.

“Let’s calm down”, said Delta, trying not to be amused. “How long is this causeway, Arcand?”

“There’s a few low bridges, but mostly causeway until a good bit after it crosses the river”, he said.

She looked ahead, and behind. “He’s got a cart and one mule. We’ve got four people, a wagon, and two donkeys. But his tracks are deeper than ours. Whatever he’s carrying, it’s a lot heavier than what we’re carrying.”

Arcand looked grim. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Rumor is that it’s this invading army’s payroll.”

They looked at him silently for a while. “You mean, like a lock-box full of gold?” asked Zipper.

“Yes”, said Arcand. “A lock box full of gold. Will that make the donkeys go faster?”

“No”, said Zipper, sulking. “But I may run out there next to you.”

“With a load that heavy”, said Delta, intervening, “he’s probably going to have to rest at some point. We can catch up then.”

“True”, said Zipper. “Tirloch may be fat, but he can go all day if he knows there’s food at the end of it.”