"A prince's tongue, a pauper's grave,

no matter how we scrimp or save.

Sword raised, swords clashed, it's all the same,

what makes the money's brawn, not brains."

— The Ballad of Sir Joe, by “Golden-Voiced” Garbeaux.

Though it was expected the slow progress of the excavation made us nervous. It didn’t help that Bill, hangdog faced and heartbroken, clearly wanted to speak to his father, but Roderick the Rose kept showing back up, seemingly feeling put out when a relative handful of his people decided they preferred to follow the boy over him. Billiam we could handle; he just needed a little reassurance that he wasn’t an unwanted burden shirked by the man who made him during what I assume was a violent night of hateful sex with his gangster mother. Roderick, however, needed to stay convinced of our poverty and, should he catch wind of Joe’s secret armory we could be set upon again by many, many men. Desperate Men…

“You know, I am actually level five.” came a voice. Aimee screamed. It was Roderick. Again.

“Oh my gods I don’t care! You snuck up on me again!” Whipping around our resident Hedge Wizard brandished the skull fetish wand she’d been using as a magical focus. Its dark blasts hadn’t killed Roderick during our first engagement but it was clear that she was considering trying again.

Roderick shrugged, offering a conciliatory smile, “It’s just that you said, you know, that I was level three before. Two days ago, remember? But I am of a much more robust countenance. Five. And that’s just from the last time I was certified. My outlaw status makes proper certification difficult to obtain on a regular basis.”

I stepped in, not because Aimee couldn’t handle the man but because we’d only survived his last assault through his pity, “Why are you still here? We’re trying to clear up the mess you made! Remember? You smashed the Manor!”

“I know and I feel terrible. It’s just that…” he considered how to phrase his case, “I didn’t know how many of my Desperate Men you would be staying behind! Almost twenty!”

We looked at one another, shocked at the silliness of the man, “But you were just bragging about how you have many, many men.” I said. “You’ve thrown them at us in waves twice now. Hundreds have died!”

McGrue stepped up, shooting me a look and a whisper as he passed by, “Let me try. He likes to fight you. Not me.” and, coming up to Roderick, he poked a finger in the fop’s chest. “Oi! You said they could come! Five families, half of ‘em children, took us up on our invitation. That’s nothin’!”

Adjusting his posture to look up at the Orcish roughneck Roderick rocked back on his heels, “They are nineteen of my Desperate Men! When they’re lost in battle that’s one thing but each of them took an oath!”

“Five men! Five women and nine damned children! The youngest one’s only six years old! You tellin’ me you’re usin’ six-year-olds as soldiers? What kind of scum are you!?”

Holding up his hands defensively Roderick scoffed, stuttered, blew out a lungful of air and inhaled as if he knew what to say, “Of course not! They’re … arrow carriers. Maybe an occasional pickpocket. Never in combat, what kind of monster would do that?” He grinned, face inscrutible.

“Alright! Off with ye!” and McGrue grabbed Roderick by the belt and collar, hauling him three-hundred feet over to a nearby gathering of Desperate Men. Thoroughly cowed, Roderick stammered all the way as the bandits looked on in dismay. They were armed but the man who led them was being treated like a misbehaving child. “You lot! Take this miscreant and tell him not to use little kids to commit crime! It’s wrong. It was done to me and it’s bloody wrong!”

Watching this at a respectable distance I took notes, thinking to lionize McGrue more than before. This was, if nothing else, entertaining.

“Oh, son of a whore. Are you all under eighteen!? Why are you so skinny!?” Placing Mr. The Rose down on the ground McGrue kicked him in the posterior so that he rolled headlong into the group of Desperate (young) Men. “Spend some time huntin’ so these kids can eat more! If I respected the law I’d turn you in myself. Now get out of here!” and, with that, McGrue stomped back.

As he passed my position I gave the man a slow clap. Aimee, however, charged up as he passed me, throwing her arms around McGrue. “That was amazing! How’d you know he wouldn’t fight back?”

“He ain’t the type,” smirked the Orc, “I watched him and Gabbo. The man wants some kind of weird rivalry with a worthy foe or some such nonsense. I’m not worthy and, since he wants to rob rich folk, not dirt poor mongrels, I figured he wanted wanted the high ground. Taking that away he didn’t know what to do.”

I clapped again, “It came so naturally! And you told me that you’re not an actor.”

“Not actin’, Gabbo. I just know his type. He may think he’s a rebel but he’s just another criminal puttin’ kids in danger, like my old boss. Speaking of…” he drew us in close, “Don’t say nothin’ to the boy, or at all. Sharp-eared tot. I might know who offed … y’know, her.”

Bill’s mother. He meant Bill’s mother. I glanced over at Billiam, directing two new farmers, seemingly showing them where their property lines were. They were picking at the bits of a destroyed fence, trying to salvage enough to mark the line. “But … who?”

“No way, not now. On the way back maybe. We got bigger fish. Say nothin’.” said McGrue. “Let’s check in with our friends pullin’ stones from the cave-in, shall we?

I took the lead, as the others still saw me as, largely, the leader. I’d have to remember McGrue’s ability to turn righteous anger into pure intimidation should it come in handy later. Coming up to one of the teenagers, I waited as a crew of four finished pulling a fallen timber out of the hole in the ground. “How goes it, boys?”

A bulky, redheaded lad looked at me with a huge grin, “This is great! I mean, the hole could finish cavin’ in but we got a lot of nice rocks out, good for pilin’. Plus this timber’s mostly not burnt.”

The other boys came out from where each had been working. Farm boys. Even the younger ones had little trouble with the fallen stones that had littered the area and most of them were in tidy piles, organized by size. Six of them. The three girls stood by the wayside, bored. “Say there, girls, why aren’t you helping?”

A little blonde thing looked at me, “It ain’t women’s work.” She kicked a small stone.

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“But you seem bored. Did you want to haul the stones?” I inquired.

Another one, smaller, mousey, “Yeah. But the boys said we can’t.”

I looked over at the boys, “Let them help. All you’re doing is relaying rock from one person to another. It’ll go faster if you all do it!” The boys grumbled, the girls clapped and charged in as I chuckled, “Stay away from the hole for now, please.”

McGrue and Aimee closed in. “You’re not bad with kids either, Gabbo.” said McGrue.

I shrugged, “well, I always thought that, at this point in my life, I’d have one of my own.” Frowning a bit, “funny how things work out.” We made a semicircle around the opening in the floor, studying the dark space below. “He or she would idolize me, the heroic storyteller. But no… Let’s focus here. Aimee? You were able to cast a flameless light two nights ago. Could you light the chamber down there now?”

“Yes I can, and it’s easy.” she said, picking up a chip from one of the building stones. “Here, let’s see what’s down there…” With that, the stone flared to light and she tossed it down. “Are you taking point then, Garbeaux? You have, I think, the best skill with traps.”

“Ha! Traps? Why would there be traps? Traps are what the villains set for adventurers who are out to thwart their evil schemes. We’re talking about a member of the landed gentry here, a Knight! Heh. Traps…”

It was ludicrous. I laughed a bit more as I descended the rough earthen passage, looking through the gaping hole in the stone wall below that was the threshold separating the cellar from the world above. “Looks clear. Then again, we didn’t expect that monsters would’ve moved into the basement, right?” I took a step inside; click. “There would’ve been signs above!” With a sound I’d have to describe as “shing” something brushed across my back, sending a shock up my spine and a cold draft. The motion scared the daylights out of me and left me cold. I stood, shocked.

“Oi, Gabbo! You okay?” asked McGrue.

“Y-yes, of course I am. Why … why do you ask?”

“No reason,” said Aimee. McGrue chuckled.

“Shall we continue then?” I offered, as we continued down the passageway. It was getting colder quickly, and I shivered slightly as the passage continued to wind. “I believe this must be a natural cavern.”

“Yep, you can certainly see a natural crack, right here,” said McGrue. Aimee chuckled.

I didn’t see one, but McGrue had much better vision than I and the light-enchanted rock chip. We slipped through the short cave and into a small cavern. It was actually quite dry in here, the perfect conditions for storing supplies. My hopes rose as I spotted a pallet with large boxes on it.

McGrue greedily strode past me, grabbing the top of one and wrenching the lid clean off in one motion. The lid broke apart, moths scattering amid a spreading cloud of dust.

“Dryrot,” grumbled the orc as he reached into the container and pulled out a silk dress, that was half eaten by worms. He inhaled once, then got into a fit of coughing.

Aimee ran over to the box and started pulling out dress after dress, each suitably ruined. “There must be a hundred dresses in this box, each was worth a fortune. They’re all ruined! Where did he even get this much silk?”

“The Chimera of Dartho, five years ago,” I said glumly. “It was the adventure Joe was returning from when he recruited me. His former party of adventures accompanied him to the forest of Dartho at the bequest of Lady Emalthia, the Green.”

“The lady who went mad after her daughter was poisoned?” asked Aimee.

“By a Chimera,” said McGrue. We both glanced over at him. “What? All the town criers were yelling about it for weeks.”

“Yes, her,” I said. “When Joe went to kill the Chimera, it snuck up on his party and stung them to death including my predecessor Zarbonzo, the Silver-Tongued. Joe slew the creature of course, but by the time he was finished the lady was mad with grief. She refused to pay him, so Joe … borrowed all of her daughter’s fine silk dresses.”

“And didn’t sell them,” asked Aimee. “This much silk would have fetched a fine price.”

“That would require Joe to sell them,” I replied. “He had them loaded onto a wagon when I met him at the Bard’s college. His people collected them when they reached the road to the estate, I expected that they would have been put into storage. But it was just petty revenge against a grieving mother.” I shivered involuntarily.

Aimee glanced at me, “Is there anything remotely intact down there? I’m not much of a seamstress, but with magic I might be able to… patch something.”

“Yes, a cloak would be nice, it is freezing down here,” I offered.

McGrue frowned, but then started digging tossing out silken rags until he stopped, “Well, I’ll be there’s a intact bard’s outfit in here! Well-oiled leather. Hm…”

“Really,” said Aimee peering in and muttering an incantation. “Why it's magical! A magical bards outfit.”

“Really!?” I was gobsmacked, “Our luck is truly improving!” I restrained myself as McGrue pulled it out but snatched it greedily as he tossed it my way. “Oh! Oh, my, so … fine! Then I noticed its contents; one Zarbonzo, the Silver-Tongued. “Gah!” I screamed, falling to my backside, the cold stone chilling me anew. The remains were little more than Zarbonzo’s skull and a few bones but, there but for the gods, go I, and all that.

Raising up from the ice-cold ground, realizing that my britches were not where they were supposed to be, I shot my companions an evil look. They both restrained laughter. Feeling my posterior I discovered that I was open to the air. Apparently, the earlier-sprung trap had completely removed the back half of my traveling clothes. “Ack! You two! This whole time!?”

“It’s alright, you have a cute butt,” said Aimee as I scrambled to cover my shame.

“There are two more in here,” said McGrue pulling out the other bodies of Joe’s other former companions.

I didn’t have time for that, I was too busy pulling out the last of Zarbonzo’s bones. Then, using the pallet as cover, I changed into the enchanted bard’s suit. One of the enchantments kept it clean, and it was spotless despite the fact a body had rotted inside of it. The other equipment wasn’t so enchanted. Of special note was a pocket-sized vellum joke book; “101 Bean Jokes to fart by,” I read aloud, “oh, Zarbonzo wrote this…”

“So it looks like to me that Joe tossed the bodies in with the dresses to hide them on the trip back, and then just forgot about them,” said McGrue holding out an ax that looked to be in better shape than his old one. Perhaps magical as well?

“He did wrap them in linen, but the chimera venom caused them all to melt from the insides,” said Aimee. “That did more to destroy the dresses than hungry silkworms, certainly.”

“Joe doing something shortsighted and stupid has once again cost us our reward?” I asked, knowing the answer.

“Pretty much,” said McGrue, shaking his head, “he did take all of the money pouches, though not their equipment. Another case of him not getting around to selling things.”

“Yes, aside from that axe there was a magical wand I can use,” said Aimee holding out a less necrotically focused wand. She flicked it a few times and the crystal on the end glowed briefly. “The armor is basically garbage though, the venom plus the dissolved bodies ruined it all.”

“I found a lute,” said McGrue, working to dislodge it from the mass of bodies and junk.

“Really!?” I cried, excited, “Joe liked to smash mine.” I replied, eagerly stepping up.

McGrue looked back in the crate. “Oh … I didn’t find a lute.” He awkwardly held up an indistinct mass, “Would you like some catgut and kindling?”

Aimee gave me a weak smile, “I’ll take this. Maybe…” she held it up, looking at the intact neck amid the shattered body, barely held together by strings. “...maybe mending spells? Shit…”

Being the Bard who still had no instrument I felt obligated to encourage the party, “Fear not friends! Certainly, we have been thwarted yet again by the ghost of our evil former employer, but desperate times are really the measure of a man. Or woman. We will overcome this and be even stronger because of it. We might be broke, and our equipment poor or broken, but we shall persevere.”

Aimee hopped up a little, “Oh! Hey, I found a diamond earring! It was hooked in the bodice of this dress!” said Aimee.

Snatching the earring away from Aimee McGrue held it aloft, “Screw perseverance! Let’s sell some treasure!”