Lothar went to see Boris. ‘It’s a little damaged,’ he said, handing over the reliquary.

Boris’s eyebrows raised as he studied the arm—distinctly wonky, the metal was bent in the middle.

‘I’m sure it can be fixed,’ Lothar offered.

‘You promised me your people would treat it with care.’

‘To be fair, it was one of the priests who used it as a truncheon.’

‘I see. Look, Stiff, I will give you the original price for it. Four shillings.’

‘Fair enough,’ Lothar said. He’d been expecting as much. ‘Let me know when you have more work for me.’

Lothar returned to The Rose to make his plans.

Finances

Income

Mission #2

4s

Expenses

Wages

21p

Profit

2s 3p

Total

6s 1p

‘Barely a profit,’ he muttered to himself, as he took a chair at the back of the inn’s lounge. ‘I’m going nowhere fast.’

Before he began to review his missions, he noticed Mila on her way over. The girl seemed to be making an effort to sway her hips as she made her way past tables. Lothar thought it unnecessary. The cleavage she had on permanent display was plenty enough to attract male attention.

‘Grab a seat,’ he offered.

‘Thank you. I wanted to talk about the last mission.’ She looked hesitant. Nervous, even. It went against the image she liked to portray. ‘It’s about that Stricken guy.’

‘Ah. He was out of order. I’m sorry about that.’

‘You heard?’

‘Aye. Wade and The Baron have already had words with me. I probably won’t be hiring him again. Certainly not on a mission with a woman.’

Mila looked relieved. It was a damn shame that she’d been nervous about telling him about the psycho.

Lothar shrugged. ‘I’m new here. I’m still learning who I can trust.’

‘You think you can trust me?’

‘So far.’

‘Is there another job coming up?’

‘Maybe. I’ll let you know.’

‘Oh. Cos money’s tight right now. If you could pay me something in advance?’ She pouted at him, giving him a look that wasn’t hard to read. ‘Or if there’s anything else I can do for you? Perhaps I can find out how you got your nickname?’

‘Mila, I’m old enough to be your father. And no, I’m not rolling in money. I can’t afford to pay anyone in advance. Now be off with you. I’ll be in touch when I need you again.’

The girl smiled sweetly at him and got to her feet. She turned to go, then looked back at him. ‘Don’t forget about me.’

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He shook his head as he watched her go. In his younger days, all Stiff would’ve noticed was the tits and ass. Now he could see the vulnerability. But while he was old enough to be Mila’s father, he wasn’t. I have enough problems of my own.

The noise of someone clearing their throat interrupted his thoughts. Lothar looked around but saw no one. Then he looked down.

‘Ah, Wilson! Apologies! Please grab a seat.’

The red-haired gnome glared at him, then attempted to climb onto the chair.

Lothar looked off to the side, wary of causing further offence. When the scrabbling noises had stopped, he returned his gaze to the gnome, relieved to find he had completed the task.

‘Wilson, I need money.’

‘Don’t we all?’

‘There’s a mission I’ve been offered. Rescuing livestock. But it’s out in the countryside.’

‘Of course it is. Where else would cattle be?’

‘It’s not just that. You’re the only warrior I have on my books. The Golden Blades have recruited everyone else, and they don’t take kindly to competition.’

‘Those miserable sons of bitches? I’d be working for them too, if they weren’t a bunch of gnome-hating racists.’

‘Well, their loss is my gain. But if I’m going to expand my operations outside the city, I need someone to go out in the wilds and recruit some mercenaries with the skill set I need. What do you say?’

‘I say why in Gehenna do you need to recruit more people for a simple cattle rustling mission? You enjoy pissing away your money? I’ll do it for you by my ownsome.’

‘But you’ll need some people to watch your back travelling out there. And if it comes down to a fight—’

‘—If it comes down to a fight, perfect. Bring it on. That’s meat and potatoes to me.’ The gnome gave him a manic look.

‘Right.’ Lothar scanned Wilson’s details. He was a Level 3 warrior. Nothing special. He couldn’t see where the immense self-confidence came from. By the same token, he didn’t want to offend the man. He was the only fighter he had. ‘How about this? Go and find out the exact nature of the mission. If you need some extra help, get it. If you think you can manage on your own, I’ll trust your judgement.’

‘Fine!’ the gnome exclaimed ill-temperedly, loud enough for the entire inn to hear. He thrust out a short arm. ‘Guess we’ll shake on those terms, then?’

Lothar took his hand. ‘Wonderful.’

Leaving Wilson to begin work on his first mission outside Avolo, Lothar focused on those inside the city. Or mission, since there was currently only one. He therefore found himself knocking on the door of an Alinko church.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ said the high priest, who invited him in. ‘We are so grateful for your help after what befell us. Those terrible people murdered one of our flock. And Emeka here had his head battered so hard against the floor that he was out cold for days.’

Emeka, his head in bandages, had an irked expression. Lothar recalled Wade telling him something about such a struggle. The thief seemed to have an unfortunate habit of getting into scraps that left him hurt.

‘I see. And they stole something from you?’

‘That’s right. The reliquary of Saint Nnamdi. It contains his hand and arm bones. It’s quite distinctive. I’ve heard you are very proficient at retrieving items. I was told all about a brooch.’

‘Ah. The Bartols. Yes, they were very happy to have the item back. It had a sentimental value.’

‘Yes. Well, the value of our reliquary is far more important. The relics of Saint Nnamdi strengthen the power of our prayers. It is vital that we get them back.’

Lothar nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

***

The land in the vicinity of Avolo was given over to agriculture. Mostly arable farming. Families and friends had banded together, claimed as much land as they could till, and took their produce to the city market. They were close enough to Avolo’s city guard, and the sway of The Golden Blades, that they didn’t have to worry too much about their personal safety.

As Wilson made his slow but steady way northwest, things changed. The distance between settlements grew. The farmers who had dared to make a home inland were more likely to be pastoral farmers. They had to defend themselves from the animals and monsters that roamed the unexplored lands of Gal’azu, and were no doubt attracted by the herds of sheep and cattle. They also had to defend themselves from each other.

Not that Wilson minded one bit about entering the rough and ready world of the borders. With a mean stare, two axes on his belt, and a willingness to use them, no one tried to impede his progress.

Aiden’s home was a simple log cabin. The man had poured all his family’s resources into his herds. Wilson was given a hearty bowl of broth—a bigger portion than Aiden or his family members got.

‘We’ve still got most of our sheep,’ he explained. ‘But they took every last one of our cattle. Sixty two of ’em. All branded with an ‘A’ for Aiden. Inside a circle.’

‘And you know who the rustlers are?’

‘Aye. The Harris’s. Me and the lads went over and saw for ourselves. We had it out with ’em. They lied to my face and then it got physical. That family is bad news. They’d kill a man and think nothing of it. They’ve got our animals well fenced in, and guarded. There’s more of ’em than us, and they’re armed to the teeth.’ Aiden shook his head. ‘I can’t afford to buy new stock and start over. If I did, those crooks would just steal them. We’re gonna have to leave this place soon. Either go farther west and take our chances with the bandits and goblins. Or give up and ask for work at other farms.’

Wilson understood the man’s worries for his family. ‘You don’t need to do that. I’ll get ’em back for you.’

‘I’d be eternally grateful. I can pay your crew a pound. That’s all the savings I’ve got.’

‘I’m not here to negotiate. I’m just here to do a job.’

Aiden nodded. ‘Thank you.’ A confused look appeared on his face. ‘Where are your crew, Wilson?’

‘Crew? I said I’ll get them, didn’t I? I don’t need a crew.’

‘But—’

‘I said I’ll get them,’ Wilson repeated, raising his voice.

It was a shame he’d had to speak harshly, but there it was. People only listen when you talk tough.