Ean's boots squelched in the mud, each step a frustrating reminder of the time lost. Despite taking shortcuts, the trip to Argonia East took far longer than he anticipated. He wished he could have taken a horse, but his plan wouldn't allow for it.

Flashing his game warden badge got him through the gates of the military outpost. Within minutes, he located his soldier friend Brynn to ask for his assistance.

"Your preoccupation with fish is concerning, even for a game warden," the soldier laughed.

"Fish are essential to our economy and a crucial food source for the cities. I suspect Brindle is taking more than their fair share."

Anger lit in Brynn's eyes. "Brindlers can be deceitful cheats in card games, but installing underwater diverters to guide fish to their side of the river? That's despicable even for them. My family fish the Silvergleam for a living. If you say they're robbing us, tell me how I can help!"

"Show me where to cross the river safely. I'll conduct my investigation and sneak back across without being spotted."

Agitated and grumbling, Brynn stomped off out the back gate. Ean followed him a few hundred yards to a lightly wooded section of the riverbank.

"See how this tree and the tree on the other bank look perfectly lined up?" Brynn said while pointing to a tree on the opposite bank.

The trees looked almost like twins. "I see it," replied Ean.

"Walk straight in either direction aiming for the opposite tree. When the water gets over your knees, you'll feel a path of stones underneath your feet. As long as you stay on the path, the water won't go above your waist. We only built the path one man wide so if you stray, you'll be in over your head in a heartbeat."

"Thank you. Anything else I should know?"

"Don't be gone until dark. We lock the back gate at sunset and there's no getting back in."

"About that." Ean hesitated, but decided to be honest with his friend. "There's something you should know - I won't be returning this way. I don't want you to worry if I'm not back tonight or tomorrow."

Brynn looked Ean in the eye. "I suspected as much. My cousin Nedry has been a game warden for years. He barely leaves his own property. After the first night we met, I figured whatever 'game warden' business brought you out here from Argonia Central, it's none of my business."

Ean's shoulders dropped, and he sighed. "I thought I was doing a convincing job too."

CLASS RANK DECREASED: Spymaster -1 (9/12)

"Only a couple of us figured it out. Whatever you're doing here, just know every soldier in camp," Brynn pointed back the way they had come, "earnestly wants you to succeed. Once you see past the patriotic slogans and petty squabbles between our countries, we're all the same. The soldiers in the Brindle military camp are just like us. They'd prefer to meet around a campfire for some ale and a game of cards instead of on a battlefield."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence and your perspective. My goal, even before we met, has been to keep you off the battlefield."

Brynn clasped Ean about his forearm in a soldier's handshake and wished him good luck before returning to the camp.

Ean pulled the straps on his satchel tight and stepped into the river. The water was much colder than he expected it to be so close to summer.

He stepped gingerly from stone to stone, the frigid river water swirling around his thighs. He kept his eyes fixed on the twin tree on the opposite bank. The current tugged at him, testing his balance, but he focused on each step, determined not to falter. As he reached the deepest point, something large and sinuous brushed past his legs.

A huge fish, no doubt, but in his panicked state he imagined far worse - a snake, an eel, something with fangs and venom.

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Startled, he lost his balance and lurched forward, his foot slipping off the edge of the path. He thrashed wildly, trying to regain his footing, but only managed to plunge deeper into the river. Panic seized him as he slipped beneath the surface, struggling to reach air with his limited swimming ability.

The weight of his satchel dragged him down like an anchor into the murky depths. Ean kicked and paddled, every muscle straining, but the surface seemed impossibly far. His lungs burned, and blackness flickered at the edges of his vision as he fought against the relentless current. Panic threatened to consume him, but still, he fought.

In a desperate final effort, he reached out blindly, his fingers scraping against slick, river worn stone. He found purchase on the path and crawled along the bottom, pulling himself forward, inch by agonizing inch, with every ounce of strength he could muster. The sunlight above beckoned him onwards, and he pushed through the pain and darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Mustering his last reserves of strength, he kicked with all his might. His head finally broke the surface, and he gulped down the sweet, life-giving air. Exhausted but unyielding, he hauled himself onto the riverbank, collapsing onto the solid ground.

He took deep breaths as he stared at the blue sky and cottony clouds. Once his heart stopped racing and he had drip-dried, he forced himself to stand to get his bearings.

The trees and fields looked the same as in Argonia East. Then he spotted a tree with a shattered limb he'd passed on his way to the river. He stifled a scream of frustration.

He was back on the Argonian side of the river.

Ean snatched up his satchel and found the crossing point again. Taking care to stay on the submerged path, no matter what, he made his way to the other side. He was so upset with himself and the time he had lost that he stomped upstream. The sun was going down and he was wet and cold. Finding an inn or tavern with a room was his only priority.

Ean froze as he caught sight of the men gathered around the campfire, their voices drifting through the twilight. He tensed, realizing they had heard his approach. Slowly, their heads turned in his direction, their eyes narrowing as they studied him.

Run, hide, or approach them like I'm supposed to be here? Does he have? No. It's not just him. They all have short swords. Running or hiding is sure to result in a chase and end with my corpse floating down the river.

Ean psyched himself up. If you believe it, they'll believe it!

Raising a hand in greeting, he shouted. "Am I glad to see you men. I took a spill aways back and fell in the river. Mind if I dry off around the fire?"

The dangerous looking men looked at each other in disbelief. Their weapons glinted and reflected the fire's light. The largest among them, likely the leader, smiled and waved Ean over. "Good thing you ran into us. It's dangerous for a person to be out here alone, especially with nighttime coming fast."

Forcing a smile, Ean pretended he was with friends, maintaining a calm demeanor, speaking in a non-confrontational tone. "As a Postal Inspector for the Emperor, I travel these lands regularly without any problems, at least during the daytime."

The leader nodded in understanding. "The rumors of war have emboldened cutthroats and criminals. Fortunately, loyal citizens like us have taken it upon ourselves to protect unarmed Brindlers like yourself." The man's smile did not extend to his eyes.

"That is very admirable of you," Ean replied, noticing how well-armed the group was. A small supply tent with an open flap showed stacks of spears and barrels filled with swords and arrows. Enough to outfit a group three times their size. "I shall make mention of it to the emperor. Now if you will excuse me, my clothes have dried, and I must get to my destination by nightfall." Ean stood to go when the leader placed a muscular hand on his shoulder.

"See, here's the thing," the leader said, his tone turning menacing. "The emperor doesn't fund our militia, so my men and I have taken the initiative of implementing a 'road tax' for our services."

Ean Fleming grabbed his coin purse. "I see. How much will this tax cost me?"

"Being an equitable tax paid fairly by peasants and princes alike, it's a percentage of whatever coin you have on you," the militia leader replied.

The stocky man took the coin purse from Ean's hand and dumped the contents into his own hands. The man counted the coins but skipped every third or fourth number, inflating the tally. When he uncovered the two-headed medallion, he stopped and quickly returned all but one gold coin to the coin purse. He handed the coin purse back to Ean with a nervous smile.

"All paid up on your taxes," the militia leader said. "Me and my men thank you and wish you safe travels." He leaned in. "Inform The Man in The Purple Hat the Spymaster of Brindle has been taken out, as requested."

Not willing to question his luck, or what just happened, Ean walked away from the militia camp. Every muscle was tense and his breathing rapid and shallow, half-expecting a sword or spear thrust into his back. As soon as he was out of sight, he jogged toward the lights of the town in the distance.

With his life no longer in danger, his focus turned to making sense of what the leader had whispered to him.

Who is The Man in The Purple Hat? Why did he have them kill Brindle's spymaster? Could this shadowy figure have ordered his master killed as well? What is the medallion and would he have been robbed and murdered if he had left it at home?

The last question troubled him. If he encountered similar groups, they might decide to murder him before discovering the medallion. Samuel claimed the medallion was an old relic likely to get him into trouble. Could Samuel have been wrong?

Ean had come to Brindle to answer one question and now he had half a dozen. His first order of business was to find a safe place to spend the night and get something to eat.

CODEX ENTRY CREATED: Man In The Purple Hat

LOG ENTRY CREATED: Rumors - South Brindle

SKILL UPGRADED: Fieldcraft II +2 (2/3)