Finances

Income

Mission #13

£2 10s

Wade enterprises

1s

Profits from The Rose

3s

Expenses

Wages

8s 6p

The Golden Blades Protection

4s

Profit

£2 1s 6d

Total

£25 2s 9p

‘I feel responsible,’ Lothar explained to Rosalind. They were drinking in The Sailor’s Knot. For some reason, he didn’t want to have this conversation in The Rose.

‘My people can probably track him down, if he’s still in the city.’

‘Wade can probably track him down. It’s what we do when we find him that I’m concerned about.’

Rosalind thought about it. He didn’t completely trust her. He’d learned not to completely trust anyone. But he respected her intelligence.

‘I think you should recruit him.’

‘Recruit him? I was thinking more along the lines of slitting his throat.’

She gave him a stern look. ‘A wizard could be very useful to you. It would enhance your squad. Who knows what dangers they will face in the future? And don’t forget, The Blades had him in their cell. They didn’t kill him. No doubt they intended to use his powers in some way.’

‘But he’s a dark sorcerer. What if he does something to my mind? I don’t want to be controlled.’ He shuddered at the thought.

Rosalind picked up the poster The Explorer had given him. ‘The Blades claim he’s a dark sorcerer. They’re probably just saying that to get him back. If he’s really so terrifying, why would they be trying to retrieve him?’

‘It’s all very well being reasonable, and using logic,’ Lothar complained. ‘But I’ve got a bad feeling. Here,’ he added, putting a fist to his chest.

‘At your age, that’s probably just indigestion. Look, you’re going to have to get over your aversion to magic. Now is as good a time as any.’

‘Will you come with me?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Not a good idea for you, I’m sure! Sending me on my own without any backup doesn’t seem like it’s in my interests.’

‘Is that really what you think of me, Stiff? That I’m a coward, who wouldn’t help you if I could?’

‘No.’ That wasn’t what he thought at all. The truth was he admired her—so much, in fact, that he didn’t dare tell her. ‘It’s just my nerves talking.’

She didn’t say a word. Her face was an expressionless wall.

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‘Alright. I’ll speak with him.’

Wade told him it wasn’t hard to find Bletcher. He was living rough in a patch of wasteland not far from the docks. It seemed he held court amongst the homeless of the city. When Lothar approached, they shuffled away, leaving just the two of them alone.

Pale blue eyes looked out from the grime and stink. They were unnatural eyes. The kind of eyes that could see inside someone’s head.

‘I’m Stiff. It was my people who freed you from The Golden Blades.’

Bletcher just stared at him.

‘In Dorwich City.’

‘Ah. Lothar ‘Stiff’ Sauer. I knew you would come.’

‘Did you now? Then you probably know why. I’m offering you a place in my squad. You’d work for me. Doing whatever missions I send you on.’

‘I work for no mortal man. I do the gods’ bidding.’

‘I see. Well, you wouldn’t work for me, exactly. I would pay you for each mission. Maybe the gods bid you to do this?’

‘Maybe. Pay me, you say? I require two pounds for each mission.’

‘Well. How about you let me check your stats? I can tell you how much you’d get paid.’

‘Very well.’

Lothar quickly scanned down the column. He wasn’t interested in the basic stats, though Bletcher’s age caught his eye. Twenty? He looks at least a decade older. He fixed on the magic stuff. He’d never studied the stats of a magic user before. It wasn’t very detailed. Under Arcane Powers were only two attributes, and no numbers. Beneath the first, Sanctity, it simply said ‘Touched’. Beneath the second, Erudition, it said ‘Dolt’. He’s a Touched Dolt? I’m left none the wiser about his powers. Except for a general impression that he’s useless.

This impression was confirmed when he saw the recommended wage. It was lower than most of his crew.

‘I can pay you sixpence per day. I will also provide you with a magic staff to use, free of charge.’

‘A magic staff? That would be very useful. In case you hadn’t noticed, I only have one arm. The gods took my other one.’

‘I had noticed. Does that mean we have a deal?’

Bletcher reached out with his one arm, offering his hand.

It was the dirt, more than the fear of the wizard’s psychic powers, that stopped Lothar. ‘That’s not necessary.’

‘Then let me give you a gift, in exchange for this staff of yours.’ Bletcher reached under his garments and produced the oddest item Stiff had ever seen. Bits of straw had been folded over and tied. There were sticks, pieces of broken pottery, and other odds and ends, bound inside. The thing had a handle, which looked like it had once been part of a hairbrush.

Lothar took the object, at a loss for what to do or say. He decided to put it into his cloak pocket. ‘Thank you.’

Bletcher held out a hand. ‘That will be two pence.’

Grumbling to himself, Lothar found two coins and placed them in the wizard’s palm. At this point, he just wanted the meeting finished. ‘I’ll send for you when there’s a mission. You’ll come to The Rose, where you’ll be given a free bath before you set out.’

Bletcher wasn’t the only potential recruit Lothar was interested in.

When The Golden Blades had passed through Avolo on their way back to Dorwich, he’d put out feelers to see if he could detach any of the less committed mercenaries from the Blairs’ company. He’d told Wade, Mila, and Mags to be subtle about it, so that the Blairs didn’t get wind of his attempt. They must have done a good job. Because only a few days after speaking with Bletcher, he met with three of them at The Rose.

‘Fortune,’ said a warrior whose black hair was streaked with grey. He had to be the same age as Lothar, and was in no better shape, if his protruding gut was anything to go by.

‘Pecs,’ said the next. He was a giant of a man, with tree trunk limbs and a huge chest, which was presumably the origin of his nickname.

‘Georg Hoffman. Everyone calls me The Hoffmeister.’

‘Ah. A Hargon. From the north, I would wager?’

‘That’s correct, sir.’

‘Well, thank you for hearing me out today. How were things on the islands?’ he asked, fishing for the reasons they might have for jumping from The Blades employment.

All three of them gave him uneasy looks.

‘It was hard,’ Fortune said at last, begrudgingly. ‘But the Blairs paid us for our work. They always do.’

Well, that line of approach didn’t get me anywhere. ‘Indeed. I like to think I also have a reputation for paying my people promptly. I also have plenty of work lined up for those who want it.’

None of the three said anything to that. It was Fortune who broke the silence again. ‘We’ve heard that many in your crew have been rewarded with items. Magic swords, so the rumours say.’

Ah. So that’s what’s tempted them to cross the aisle. ‘It’s true. There are most definitely opportunities to gain such weapons.’

All three were interested now, their eyes fixed on him.

‘Though all decisions over who gets what are reserved to me.’

‘Of course,’ Pecs said. ‘I’d expect nothing else. I’d be keen to demonstrate my loyalty over time, and earn such a reward.’

‘Well it just so happens that the next mission I’ll be sending out is to explore a barrow. There’s no guarantees that we’ll get the same kind of haul as we’ve got before, however.’

‘I am ready for selection,’ said The Hoffmeister.

‘Are we discussing wages now?’ Fortune asked. ‘Thing is, I used to be Level Four, before my knee injury. Lost some fitness as a result, I'll freely admit, and my stats dropped. But I’m getting back into shape. I have expertise in swords and shields, and my own set of chain mail. In most respects, therefore, I’m a Level Four, and would be expected to be paid as such.’

‘But your wages take into account your skill set and items,’ Lothar argued. ‘I think it’s a fair system. As soon as you get those stats back up, I’d be happy to pay you on the Level Four scale.’

Fortune shrugged. ‘Fair enough. I’m in as well. Happy to prove my worth to your squad.’