Beginnings

“You're going where?”

“You heard me. I'm rushing HelGate and I want you to come with me.”

The tavern thrummed with life only generally evident in the larger, more secluded cities of The Continent as men and women of all ages mingled, danced, fought and caroused in the azure flickering light provided by the magicked torches mounted on the walls.

The torch fire burnt blue and green, but was otherwise identical to its rosey cousin – the only difference beside the color was the smell of burning rose petals in lieu of smoke and grease.

“Don't say that so loud!” Helsket barked as he lowered his face to the table, attempting to make himself small, unnoticed and to avoid attention the mention of HelGate carried with it.

“It's just a place, Helsket, you've been to worse. I've heard the stories about you and father in your younger days. What's the worst that can happen?”

Helsket's eyes went wide in disbelief.

“How can you be, so… Flippant? That cursed place has chewed up thousands of men stronger, braver and,” he sputtered as he slammed his hand into the table, “smarter than you'll ever be, you stupid boy!”

The last drew concerned gazes from the tables closest to the pair and Mikel waived them off with a partly amused expression. He was apparently a young noble on a sojourn to the countryside speaking with one of the rougher, older members of the community. For Mikel, although the power was still new to him as he’d just freshly left his family's estate, a natural born thing. A smile and a friendly wave might grant him access to places even a mountain of gold couldn’t buy for a commoner.

“You know I take this seriously,” He said, leaning forward to join Helsket, “It's just... good to go into something with a light heart. Especially something of this caliber.”

The look of utter amazement on Helsket’s face unsettled Mikel and he fought to remain calm. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined things happening… But he was here, now, with his family's oldest and most loyal retainer.

Former retainer, that is.

“This caliber... You're serious. You actually think you’re going to that… Place!” Helsket barely sputtered through the sentence.

Helsket shook his head, shaggy, graying locks bouncing against his face affixed in a look of mild disgust.

An old scar, running from temple to chin on the right side of his face flashed in the dim light, came into and out of existence as the blue hues from the fire played against it.

“Helkset,” Mikel said nodding with sure slowness, “I'm getting a band together to rush HelGate and retrieve an ancient treasure, long thought lost to the world. You said it yourself – a thousand, thousand men have died there, all stronger, braver... and what else?”

“Smarter than you, you stupid boy,” Helsket whispered as the enormity of the situation set in, “All much smarter than you.”

That stung. Mikel fought down a grimace and shifted in his chair, the old joints of the constructions buckling inside themselves - betraying the age of the furniture in the tavern. New materials were hard to come by these days - wood being one of the worst. Fires raged across The Continent and most forestry roads and routes were shut clean off for fear of civilians becoming trapped in the roaring blaze, should the fire shift with the ever changing winds.

Mikel regarded Helsket, considering before he spoke. He knew the old man well - almost as well as he’d known his own father. Better in some ways. He knew what he’d have to say and hoped against hope that the years between the brutal devesting Helsket and the rest of the retainers had gone through, hadn’t distorted his memories and fondness of Mikel into something dark and angry. When Mikel spoke he had to regulate his voice and fight down a nervous shudder threatening to overwhelm him.

He reminded himself he’d be fine and pressed on, “And yet they've all died, when we'll come back alive. Can you imagine how wonderful it will be to return from the place where all other men go to die?”

“How do you figure you’ll come back alive?”

The disdain in the old man’s voice was hardly veiled by their loud surroundings.

Mikel quirked an eyebrow and smiled a slow smile, in a knowing and sure way, “I've got something the others didn't have. I’ve got a gem.”

***

Outside the tavern, the city of Farraway glowed like a final, guttering light in a crown of shattered, black jewels.

Across The Continent, other small lights could be seen, but none as grand. The Capitol, far to the east and shrouded in thick, black, greasy smoke sat hidden in the swirling folds of death the fires promised.

To the East wildfires raged, consuming forest and cropland alike as the blaze slowly encircled the Capitol and the people within while a war further on still pressed against the cities one unburnt flank. The coasts, to the west, north and south lay quiet as ships full with cargo held tight to shore as a storm not seen in a century brewed out in the wine-red seas. Inland people held their breath and waited for news of the fires, and of loved ones gone away to war against their ancient enemy, further to the East in the ancient land of Indistar - a land of cruel magic and crueler people.

But, in the haven of Farraway, in Western Tebran, hope yet blossomed as the revelers pushed back against the smoke-choked night and with desperate need and energy, buoyed their spirits on rising tides of alcohol, drugs, and indulgences not known since the fall of the Sunken Folk centuries prior.

Or some said.

There were few places like Farraway left - quiet and secluded enough by geography to allow safety from the fires and war - rarer still were the people within who, despite the dreary atmosphere, persevered and kept good spirits even in this dark, smoky night. Even though the fires were yet hundreds of miles away, toxic, black smoke projected high into the atmosphere traveled well and polluted all the lands under the dark shadow. Cinder tinged the air and everything had a taste of soot and ash.

Even the air in the tavern, thick with the smell of people, food, and bar polish, held a tinge of cinder, and all mouths, thirsty for cold, strong ale to wash the taste out, knew the truth of the sensation and yet sought to drown it.

Mikel tapped the table, indicating his backpack below as music from the small string band at the opposite end of the tavern plucked up to a great cheer from the gathered crowd. The song was an old one, well known, and before Mikel spoke, he turned his gaze towards the stage, only glimpsed in flashes between the rolling crowd, and listened as the sweet, aching ballad began to saunter from the strings in the musician's hands. The people quieted as the words began. Some hummed along with the tune, but all listened.

My heart, it sleeps so far away

In the darkness she did play, and lost herself among the trees

the forest creaks and speaks to me

She went away one night like this, gone from me as if a dream

Lost in the fire and smoke within never to see the moon again

I wonder what happened that night on the moor, when she ventured out

to return no more.

Aching and sore my heart did break, my love is gone

the feeling I can’t shake.

My heart, it sleeps so far away.

In the darkness did we play - under moonlight and starlight and even the sky

Where the only one to watch is God’s green eye.

My heart, it sleeps so far away.

In the darkness she rests to this day. Gone is the spark in her sweet eyes

taken by God to lands far away and long gone.

My heart, it’s broken, never to mend. The darkness sets in and I bend

to its will as despair and sadness and all the black things

take up the place she used to stay. Under the moonlight and starlight

and sky.

My Heart it sleeps so very far away.

The song came to a gentle close and for a long moment, the crowd was silent. Then, a single reveler began to clap, soon joined by more and more until a thunderous booming swallowed the band's glowing appreciations. Glittering, tin coins fell like rain onto the band members. With deft skill, they avoided the worst of the barrage while collecting the tips before they rolled back to the crowd, or under the stage where they’d join dozens of their older, forgotten brethren.

Helsket sat transfixed, held by the gentle vibrations from the song which still lingered in the air.

“That song always reminds me of a girl I knew. Long time ago - when I was about your age. She was a sweet thing and someone I remember with fond regard… But,” he shifted as he drew his attention back to Mikel, grimacing, “I don’t think I’ll ever see her again.”

Mikel nodded, watching the band a moment longer as the crowd quieted and settled into their spots for the next song in the set. He’d known girls around his family's estate… But none which had ever inspired such heart-wrenching sorrow that he’d compose a ballad for them. Or long remember them as Helsket had mentioned. He might have, had things been different for him and his father - but as it stood, there wasn’t much time for romance when a dark thing like The Rot settled into the bones of his family’s household and had no intention of leaving without being burned out.

Mikel cleared his throat, clearing his mind. He was getting lost in old memories and needed, now more than ever, to focus. He sensed Helsket was interested - he was still at the table at least and meant to press whatever advantage he had in the situation before it bubbled out of control and he lost what might be his only chance to save his home, his family line, and his father.

“The expedition I’m proposing, I’ve been preparing for months - Father’s condition has left me with little else to do. I’ve searched out weapons and books to tell us the way… And, a cache of keys just powerful enough to get us past the first few sets of guardians with...” He wobbled his hand and squinted, “Minimal bloodshed. It wouldn't be fun if all of the bloodshed got washed away. You know what I mean.”

Mikel traced his index finger down his right cheek, mimicking Helsket’s ancient and legendary scar - said to have been gotten at the hands of a demon which had also robbed Mikel’s house - House Raithson, of its oldest and dearest martial treasure. Helsket had walked away less some blood and flesh, the evidence worn on his skin - House Raithson walked away less a symbol of their power and a possible omen of the ill tidings to come.

“Beer. I need beer.” Helsket mumbled as he threw his hand into the air, the magic of the sad song falling away as another, more lively tune picked up and people began to dance.

A moment later a buxom, auburn-haired tavern maid bounced to his side.

“Yessir, what can I get for you?”

Helsket didn't even glance at the girl's barely contained cleavage, so engrossed in the thought of going to Helgate he couldn’t conscience a pleasant imagining, “Beer. Strongest you've got. Turnasian Black I heard bandied about. A mug -” He interrupted himself, “No, two mugs. I've got the shakes already and -”

She shook her head sadly, “I'm sorry sir, but we've not had that ale in about a month. The war to the East has prevented many of the caravans from reaching us and the fires back near The Capitol have kept supply lines coming from that way. Innkeep says he's got a wagon full coming by month’s end if we’re lucky, but no sooner. I can offer you some Branded Light?”

“Branded Light! Branded Light!” Helsket jumped from his seat and threw his hands in the air, all thought of discretion gone in a flash, “What this pup is proposing is suicide and you want to offer me Branded Light!”

Mikel sat back in his chair at the sudden outburst and glanced at the maid, who apparently was a seasoned professional.

For her part, the girl didn't flinch. Mikel assumed she saw worse than Helsket's performance on a nightly basis. It was clear, other than bluster, the old, tremendous man, had no ill intent or malice in him.

“I can offer you a two-for-one special sir, Innkeep's orders. Just to keep all you paying customers happy.” Her voice was pleasant, even and well-mannered. Mikel appreciated the professionalism and nodded with a small smile. It would be too easy to let a man like Helsket get rolling on a tirade.

Helsket settled down as a wicked-looking man, bristling with swords, knives, and what looked to be an antique blunderbuss, shifted on his perch near the front door and locked his black eyes with the old warrior.

Helsket's eyes darted to the man, then to the blunderbuss. He swallowed and then sat with a crunch as the well broken in chair nearly gave way to his heft.

At the commotion from the chair, heard over the band, the maids' eyes did go wide, but just for a moment, and just long enough for Mikel to notice.

“I'll take the same. Double mugs for both of us. And a shot of whiskey – Best you've got to commemorate this moment.”

Helsket nodded slowly as he drug his eyes from the bouncer and locked his gaze on Mikel with a slow nod of appreciation.

She smiled, “What moment would that be?”

Mikel smiled at Helsket, “The beginning of a legend, that's what.”

The maid rolled her eyes, “You wouldn't BELIEVE how many times I've heard that. Don't tell me you're about to drop your trousers and show off the grub you call a dick?”

That caught Mikel completely by surprise and he sat back in his chair, shaking his head, “I would never... who would ever... what would that accomplish?”

She looked Mikel up and down once before shrugging, “Well, it was worth a try. You're cute. Younger than most here – thought you might fall for it.”

At that, Helsket burst out laughing.

“Fall for what?” A look of utter confusion passed over Mikel’s face as he watched a wicked grin spread across the girl’s face.

For the first time that night, Mikel found himself at a loss for words while Helsket crowed in victory, “You better hurry off my girl, this young man hasn't slain certain dragons yet – if you get my drift. He wouldn’t know what to do. Give him a few years and we’ll see.”

She paused, then winked at Mikel, “I'll be right back with your Lights – doubles, each and whiskey. Only the best rotgut.”

Mikel burned crimson as the girl turned on the ball of her foot with a laugh, flashing him a smile before she fell into the crowd to cheers and shouts from the throng.

“Did you have to -” His face burned with embarrassment.

“Have to what?” Helsket belly laughed as Mikel turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

“You're an old bastard – that's what you are. Saying I've never...”

“Oh, I don't need to say it for the lot of these folks to know it,” Helsket belly laughed again before settling back to wait for their drinks. He eyed Mikel and Mikel felt the weight of deep consideration on him. Butterflies flew in his stomach and he fought every instinct within him that demanded he squirm and avoid the powerful gaze drilling into him.

“Now, the drinks you promised me are coming, we’ve listened to some music and I’ve had a laugh. You, young master, have got my attention. It was enough you tracked me down and got me to come out to this fine establishment, and you’ve rattled my nerves! But you can’t be serious. This is all just some big gag - I don’t know if you were put up to it by someone, or decided to come out here and do it yourself, but the thought of going to HelGate is sheer insanity - and suicide to boot if you actually follow through.”

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Mikel shifted, uncomfortable under the sudden scrutiny. He had been relying on more than a bit of luck to pull this off… And had hoped Helsket would go along with the plan, regardless of how dangerous it might seem.

Mikel had turned seventeen the previous month and his youth showed in the corners of his eyes, just now touched with the slightest shadows of wrinkles, and the scruff of beard which dusted his face and refused to grow any longer than what it sat at - no matter how long he left it or what he tried.

His blue eyes were quick, sharp, and missed little while his hands were deft and showed fresh calluses along the base of his fingers, indications of long hours of recent swordplay.

The lack of scars on his hands indicated he’d not had a sparring partner nor had put in long hard hours in a field, or a training barracks.

Despite his youth, he was tall and slim. His broad shoulders held strength which hinted at later size and power he might grow into should he live past the next few months.

To many, Mikel stood as a copy of his father, Lord Raithson, when he’d been younger, fit and untouched by The Rot which had eaten away at the scion of House Raithson over the past five years.

Helsket, by comparison, was everything Mikel wasn’t.

He was ancient looking - with gray, curly hair and a bald pate above his eyes - the back of his hair was drawn into a loose tail which fell to his mid-back. His shoulders, arms, and stomach were huge and bulged with slabs of muscle, pushing the thin cotton shirt he wore to its limit. Graying, curly hair poked up from the top of the shirt on his chest, and the facial hair on his neck and chin bled into that of his chest, making a solid mat.

His hands were gnarled, with huge knuckles and scars coating every inch of exposed skin. His eyes were the deep brown of ancient hardwood and the wrinkles around his face bunched and shivered with every subtle expression.

The ragged scar for which he was known, curled down the right side of his face and leant him an air of ferocity only old tigers and battle-scarred bears possessed.

“You’ve put me in a tight spot,” Helsket said as he drummed his fingers on the table.

Mikel’s stomach tightened as the possibility of losing Helsket’s assistance before the adventure even started began to eat at him.

I can’t let him slip away, he thought as he watched the rhythmic pattern of Helsket’s hand on the table, Too much time has been spent preparing for this thing… If he says no… I’ve not got many other places to turn.

The thought of going to one of his father’s other, former house retainers had cropped up in Mikel’s mind but he’d dashed the idea. In his mind, and in reality, Helsket was the only option to begin recruiting people for this trip. He’d put on a bold face to draw Helsket in and to try to set the hook, but the thin facade was slipping and he feared Helsket had begun to pierce his illusion.

“I only want your help. Getting people lined up, if you’d not want to come along. I understand you’re retired… It only makes sense that you’d like to stay that way.”

Helsket continued drumming his fingers and nodded as if chewing over the idea Mikel had posed to him.

“This has to do with your father?”

It was the subject Mikel had hoped to avoid but knew he couldn't. He fidgeted and broke Helsket’s gaze before answering.

“You know it is. You’ve heard the rumors. You might have even seen the symptoms before you… left.”

At that Helsket scoffed, “I ‘left’ the estate? Is that how they’re telling it now?”

Mikel shifted again, feeling the conversation slipping. He cursed his inexperience in dealing with these matters but knew he had to press on. It was the only way.

“No. They say the truth - for the most part. Father exiled you and the rest of the Retainers just shy of a year before…”

“Before The Rot set in,” Helsket finished, spitting to the side as if to clear a foul taste from his mouth.

“Yes.”

“You have an idea of what you’re after? Not just - some ambiguous treasure within?”

“I have more than an idea,” Mikel said as he pulled a thin slip of paper from his bag and handed it to Helsket. He hadn’t wanted to pull this out just yet, not in such a public place. The conversation he’d hoped to avoid had reared up in full force.

“What’s this?” Helsket asked as he took the slip.

“Read it,” Mikel said with a shrug, his eyes playing off of the crowd around them - looking anywhere but at Helsket as he opened the handwritten note.

“You write this?”

“Copied it. From an old book,” Mikel said, watching an odd couple do an approximation of the waltz through the crowded room. He thought they weren’t bad - given the circumstances… and might be better if the man weren’t almost three feet taller than the woman, both weren’t drunk off their tits, and they weren’t swerving through equally inebriated revelers.

Helsket nodded, read, sniffed and handed the note back. He was a veteran and showed little response to the information on the note - which to others might have sent them raving into the streets.

“You… Want to talk about this? Finding that thing isn’t going to be easy, you know. It’s probably buried in…”

“A thousand, thousand adventurers worth of loot and corpses. I’m aware - The book said as much. I don’t have a choice, though. If we’re to save Father, this is the only way.”

Then the serving girl came back, deftly holding the mugs of beer and shot glasses in two hands.

“Here you are gentlemen – sorry for the delay.”

“No apologies needed,” Helsket said, “It rather worked out. We came to a point where, I think, we need a drink.”

She managed another discreet wink at Mikel, and set the mugs and glasses in front of the two, before swishing her skirts and wading back into the crowd.

“Well, she's a cute young thing – and she looks like she knows her way with men. Might want to chase after her before some other young buck actually takes her up on the offer to drop trow and -”

“That's enough of that, Helsket,” Mikel said, face burning once again, “There're more important things to worry about tonight. Pass me a mug, if you would.”

Helsket grinned and slid the mug across the table, leaving a trail of condensation behind.

Without another word, Mikel grabbed the offered mug and took a deep swig, lowered it when he’d spent his breath, sighed, then drained the overfull shot glass. He grimaced as the heat from the drink coursed through his body and seared his throat. It was still less hot than the blood coursing through his face.

Helsket grunted in appreciation as he took his own shot glass full of oily-looking, dark brown liquid which clung to the side of the glass like slime.

“You wanted rotgut – looks like we've got it,” Helsket said as he mimicked Mikel and drained his entire beer then followed with the shot. Where Mikel grimaced, Helsket barely flinched. “Goes down like water, eh?”

Mikel wormed his tongue out and licked his lips, “If you say so. I don't know how you and Dad managed to drink this stuff all day and night. It burns so bad I imagined I'd burst into flames if I had more than a shot or two.”

“It's a possibility,” Helsket said as he lifted his second beer and sipped at the foam adorning the top of the pewter mug, “It is at that. Plus, between your pa' and me, we've seen weirder things by far.”

“So I've heard,” Mikel said as he leaned back and began nursing his first beer, only half gone at this point, “So I've heard all my life.”

For a long time both men were silent, drinking from their remaining mugs and not meeting each other’s gaze. The tremendous pause in the conversation was broken when a large, flabby man, gut hanging freely from the front of his shirt, bumped into the table with a mumbled apology.

He was gone before either man had a chance to excuse him – such was the tumult around them - but the spell of the moment was broken and the two locked eyes and began speaking again.

Mikel swirled the warm, flat beer, with only a few fingers left in the bottom before tossing the tepid liquid back.

“Dad… He’s not well - the disease, The Rot, took a turn for the worse and the rate of deterioration has increased. Things weren’t even noticeable to begin with - a tremor here, a shake there, and all the while we were just carrying on as normal. Until he started to lose weight - he went from nearly two hundred pounds to ninety in under a year.” Mikel shook his head, pushing against the rough emotions surging inside of him, back down where they could wait to be dealt with for another day. A day a long, long time from now.

“That bad?”

Mikel nodded, “ The doctors said he’s maybe got a year left… But, it won’t be a quick year. He's rotted away, flaking away bit by bit. I think... I think he knew something was wrong when he cut you all loose. I argued with him, but he refused to listen to anyone. He'd made up his mind and... well, we found out why. I'd rather he hadn't... done what he did.”

Helsket’s eyes had taken a far-off look.

“He devested us. It isn't something you can really come back from – which brings us to the crux of tonight. Why did you invite me out for a drink, after all the madness your father put me through? All of the pain he caused by devesting me and the rest of us – cutting us off from our home, for life. How am I supposed to reconcile that, even if,” he took a drink of his beer before smacking his lips, “it's good to see you, you little bastard.”

Mikel smiled, “The feeling is mutual. It’s been too long. Your lessons were the only reason I had a leg to stand on with the training I managed on my own. As to why I came… It’s because I need your help,” Mikel said slowly, gazing into the amber depths of his beer, “I need your help and the help of many others if this mission is to succeed. The Rot doesn’t relent - it only gets worse… Dad isn't the same. It got to his mind much quicker than others with his condition. His voice isn't the same. His eyes are changed – and... I can't stand to live in his rotting house, watching him do the same, for another day longer without doing something. Anything. Just to help him.”

“And you think going to HelGate, to find the thing on the note, will help?”

Mikle nodded, “Not so much the going, I suppose, but what we might find there that would help him.”

At that Helsket set his mug down and leaned back in his chair, the already damaged wood threatening once more to dump him onto the ground. It held though, for the time at least.

“You think you can find that thing there? Find a cure where no one else has?”

“Cure? Yes. I think there's a cure there - and I think it’s the only way to cure The Rot. There’s been talk, I’m sure you’ve heard, of it being linked to Essentia exposure. Vast overexposure.”

“On whose authority?”

Mikle shifted and looked from side to side before locking eyes with Helsket and reaching into the neck of his shirt. He fished for a moment and then pulled up a thick golden chain. He pulled until a long moment later, something the size and shape of an egg caught on the edge of his shirt and caught on the material.

He grimaced and then an enormous, blood-red ruby popped free from his shirt and dangled on its golden chain in the dim light.

As the ovoid shape rotated, displaying ancient finery, the blood ruby came into full sight. It glittered with a ruddy inner fire which shown even in the darkest of nights where no moon or stars were there to guide the way.

Helsket whistled quietly through his beer-sodden mustache,“That's the Callisto Jewel. The gem you hinted at. How in the world did you get such a thing?”

“A few favors owed to Dad,” Mikel said in a hush, eyes locked on the gem, “Even half Rotted he has pull in all corners of the Continent. I had to call in more than I'd care to when I had this chased down – and then I still had to retrieve it myself. I’m sure you’ve heard the legends surrounding it.”

As if on cue, Helsket began reciting something he’d heard long ago, and only once, but it had stuck like few other things had.

“It is said the Jewel only changes owners between bloodied hands, and never through a clean grasp. You had to kill for it.” His eyes shifted from the gem to drill into Mikel as if he were trying to pierce through a thick veil suddenly between the two men.

The last wasn't a question and Mikle nodded as the gem spun languidly in the dully light of the room, the sharp facets catching and refracting the blue light into a wild dance of purple rainbows.

“I won't tell the story – but yes, I had to kill to get it.”

“Was it worth it?”

“If it helps to cure Dad, then absolutely. Any price I'll pay to help him. Any price at all.”

“Going to HelGate? You might need to offer up everything. You know that right? Killing a man is one thing, but going to a place where you’ll probably die, knowing of that fate, is entirely different.”

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

“And why do you need me then? If you can get that Jewel yourself, you definitely don't need an old drunk like me.” To accent the point he slapped his stomach and the crack spilled over the crowd like a gunshot.

Mikel flashed an angry gaze at Helsket as strange eyes turned towards them.

“You joke, but you know.”

Mikel’s face hardened and he lowered The Jewel, not wanting to bring more attention to himself than was absolutely needed. The Jewel was well known, but even an ignorant thief, not knowing of the item’s legacy, would want to cut it free from Mikel’s neck… Even if that meant cutting his neck free from his shoulders to get The Jewel.

“You're so serious all of a sudden. What took the wind out of your sails? We were just having such a good time.” A dark look passed over Helket’s face as he gestured towards the obscured jewel, “You’re already a self-professed murderer - why not let a thief come and try to take The Jewel? You might find you like the rush of the fight, and the kill if you give it a few more tries. Gods knew I always loved it. You might already like it and just don’t know yet.”

Mikel considered and cleared his throat. The thick emotions he’d felt moments ago were back with a vengeance and he struggled to tamp them down. It was true, he had blood on his hands. He’d barely managed to find the Jewel in the first place, and when he did, he’d acted with desperation. The Jewel was the only chance he had to make it through HelGate, and to find what he sought. The Jewel had power and power like that was never given freely.

When he did speak a moment later, to his ears, his voice was filled with heavy thoughts, and the words husked and grated against one another like boulders rolling down a ragged canyon.

“You live with a man afflicted by The Rot for years, largely alone except for books and the rare, rare visitor, and you develop certain... Defenses. You have to. Otherwise, The Rot sets into you, but you can't see it. Humor cuts the worst part of the pain, but some slips through. Some always slips through. Things get worse, day by day as you see the man you love, your father, slip away through your fingers like sand. People look, they talk, they gossip about the things going on and what a once great man had done to earn such a terrible fate. Yes. I know what I did to get the Jewel, and I’ll do worse to finish my mission. With or without you.”

An emptiness welled up after the outburst and Mikel regretted saying so much. It left him drained and vulnerable.

“Ah, I'm sorry. I've touched a nerve and I regret that. I was simply plumbing your depths lad. Your father was, and still is my best friend. I didn't take the devesting as badly as some. I was set to retire anyway. I just did it a few months early, that's all.”

Mikel took a steadying breath before responding. The raging torrent within him threatened the bounds of the internal prison where he kept the darkest of his emotions locked away.

“It's fine. I didn't take offense - and he shouldn’t have done that. Not to you of any of our Retainers. You and dad knew each other… For what? A lifetime?”

He let The Jewel drop away as dark thoughts invaded his mind.

Helsket nodded but said nothing.

Mikel played with the now mostly empty pewter mug in front of him. The band began to play another low, sad song - one he didn’t recognize. It lilted to life as he spoke, more to the air than Helsket alone. “I want to make things better for Dad and for all of the retainers. For everyone. I know why he did it now. I see that. He didn't want to drag you all down with him – he knew you wouldn't have left of your own accord. And, it isn't just him who knows. The rest of the houses know as well. It's not something easy to do – cut loose the men and women who’ve guarded your back for decades.”

Helsket toyed with his mug before raising a finger into the air. A moment later the buxom serving girl returned with a glowing smile. Her face was flushed from rushing through the dancing crowd and from avoiding several invitations to dance from boisterous and increasingly drunken patrons.

“Another two, for each, please,” Helsket asked as his eyes traced the air where the Jewel had been a moment before. Mikel had hidden it away as soon as Helsket had made to move. He clutched it in his hand, the chain still visible, but The Jewel hidden away under the table.

“Two whiskeys or two beers?” The girl chirped as she gathered up the empty mugs.

“Yes,” Helsket said as she tapped the table with the tip of a sausage-wide finger.

“Coming right up!” The serving girl said as she bounced towards the kitchen with the armload of dishes.

“You should have ordered some food,” Mikel said as he tucked the Calisto Jewel away, barely visible as a bump hidden within his rumpled cotton shirt.

“The food here is terrible. I thought you knew that.” Helsket said in a sullen tone, “The Innkeep knows his clientele, and most by this time of night would drink pig piss if you told them it was beer.”

“I feel we need something to eat – that's all. I've felt hollow since this has started and nothing seems to fill the void.”

“Women and booze always helped me,” Helsket said with a grin, “but other than that...”

Mikel shook his head, “Something else. I think.”

“So... this whole adventure isn't just about your pa' then?”

“It's,” Mikel shrugged uncomfortably, “It's not, not about him. He's the root of this – as he is with most things in our lives. His decisions, his choices, and his consequences affecting us all, dragging us all into his wake whether we want to go along or not. But, even though he's the root I want to be able to grow in my direction. And I can't do that unless Dad gets better.”

“Better, or dead,” Helsket said. He twitched his mustache at the thought before shrugging, “All men die. It's not something we can really avoid. Some go quickly... and some, like your father, go slow and painful.”

The serving girl came back then and deposited eight glasses on the table – two beers each and two whiskeys.

Helsket reached into his pocket and passed her a thick silver coin.

“A Radian?” the girl asked as her eyes grew wide, “but, that's more than any ten tables in here would spend in a night. I don't think we have change for that.”

Helsket waved the concern away, “Keep the change. I'm sure you've heard a fair share of what we've been talking about. Might have seen a thing or two,” His eyes flitted to the bump on Mikel’s chest, “Consider it a recompense for keeping this to yourself.”

Her eyes glanced from Helsket to the scarcely visible lump in Mikel's shirt. Her gaze lingered until Mikel moved to grab one of the perspiring mugs and broke her line of sight with the hidden jewel.

“That's... an old gem,” She said, sheepish, “I won't say anything, but I wouldn't be waving it around in here. If you know what's good for you. Most of us are here to have a good time… To forget the war and the fires out there,” she nodded to the door past the visibly dozing bouncer, “but,” she glanced around, searching the crowd for an unknown gaze, “some aren't so kind. Those who aren't kind are always looking for the next big score or the next prize to pawn off to pay for scut. Fair warning, since you two are the only two in here who haven't gone for my goods tonight.”

She shifted her impressive chest back and forth to make a point.

Mikel blushed again and looked down as the girl giggled and bobbed a curtsy, “My Lords, I hope you have a good night and safe trip.”

Then she darted away and lost herself in the crowd for the remainder of the night.

“How’d you know she was listening to us?” Mikel had watched her until she vanished in the crowd and he was happy the two were alone again… but something within him, something ancient and powerful and needful, wished she’d come back. Even for a moment. Her presence had lifted the mood of the conversation just enough to lessen the sullen cloud that had sunken over the table.

Helsket grabbed a beer and quaffed half down before answering. He wiped his mouth, then said, “There's always someone listening, someone watching,” His eyes played over the crowd, unsure of if the girl had been the only one caught up in the mess of a conversation, “We were lucky tonight, with her. Others would seek to use the information in our conversation to stir up trouble or to get us over a barrel. Girl’s smart. Again, I’d advise you to chase after that one. Forget this ill-conceived quest. You made the plan in good faith, but it isn’t worth it. All men die. I’ll die. You’ll die. Your father will probably beat us both. His fate was sealed the day he began walking the path of the warrior. He wanted the same for you - but you have a rare opportunity, a choice.”

Mikel shook his head, but did consider the thought and allowed his mind to play out the fantasy of what could be… Until the weight of The Jewel around his neck and the weight of Helsket’s gaze brought him back to reality. There was a mission ahead of them. One where there would be little pleasure and would most likely end in both their deaths… Helsket agreed to come.

“No one wants to go to HelGate though – no one sane at least. Why would they bother with us? A thief in the night is dangerous, but fear of the unknown - or worse, the legends of the wastes around HelGate are enough to push many if not all back.” Mikel had gotten some feeling back after the shock of his earlier confession and he used it to press the advantage.

“Ah, well, young master, it's become quite clear,” Helsket said as he took another drink.

“What's become clear?” Mikel asked, his face reflecting the confusion he felt.

“That you need me. Badly,” Helsket said, “and lucky for you, I'm interested in your mission. I haven't gotten out of the taverns around here much and I could use some fresh air.”

Mikel, mouth turned up in a small smile said, “You know the air near that place isn't exactly... fresh. If the legends are to be believed.”

“Oh, they’re to be believed,” Helsket said as he reached for one of the shot glasses full to the brim with oily, amber liquid. He set one in front of Mikel before taking his own – and waited.

Mikel didn't hesitate. He reached out, grabbed the glass (careful to avoid spillage), and raised it toward Helsket, locking eyes with him.

“I’ll help you lad. Aye, I’ll do that. But just to find the others. I’m too old to be adventuring again, even for a few weeks. This trip you’re proposing will take that much time at least - maybe up to a year. I’ll help you. Aye. I’ll help. Calcifer has always been prickly - he’ll agree to help you, I’m sure of it, just as long as I ask the right way. The others though… Sylix? Maybe if you find her, but I haven’t heard tale of her in months. She isn’t dead - she was too strong for that - but she is probably holed up somewhere. And if she means to stay hidden, she will stay hidden.”

Mikel nodded, “I hear tell Calcifer is to the north, in Stennin. Employed as a librarian if you can believe it.”

Helsket snorted and tapped the table to the tune ribbling out from the band, “That is the first thing tonight that doesn’t surprise me. Cal was always powerful - always strong, but he loved books. He loved the smell of the paper and the ink instead of swords and blood. He did his time. But, if we ask him he’ll go with you.”

Mikel shifted, uncomfortable. He’d hoped Helsket would do more than help him find the others, he’d made back up plans for if that happened, but he’d figured the old warrior would be open to the trek. Mikel was disappointed in the potential loss Helsket represented, but he would take whatever help he could.

“I have been tracking him, and trying to find Sylix. I turned up some news she was in the Capitol, helping the Emperor fight the invading armies - but other than that, I have no news. Of Tristran, and Jecel, I have no news. They swore to vanish after the devesting, and made good on the threat.”

Helsket rumbled and twitched his mustache in contemplation.

“Tristran and Jecel were always touchy. They came on late in the game anyway. They were young, ready to make names for themselves. They always balked at your father's command - even if they went along with the plans. Is your plan to collect Calcifer next?”

Mikel wasn’t sure how he liked the sound of “Collecting” people, but he supposed it was exactly what he was doing. Helsket had been his first try, and although the effort hadn’t ended badly, it had come to a less than satisfactory close. There was time yet though. They had the trip to Stennin to change Helsket’s mind - and Mikel hoped he could do just that.

“Yes, north, then east - and I hope to pick up word of the twins along the way. I suppose they went far north, to the wilds where they always said they haled from - but I wouldn’t go to the Northern Sea just to be told they weren’t there.”

“Good plan,” Helsket said as he locked eyes with Mikel.”

“Are we… In agreement then? I’ll accompany you to Calcifer, and help you recruit the puffed-up mage.”

Mikel nodded and considered, before agreeing formally.

“We're bound then – to HelGate we're off. May this oath and this drink make permanent the pact 'till the dealings are done we've set out to do.”

“'Till the dealings are done we've set out to do,” Helsket repeated back the ancient oath as he raised his glass.

On an unspoken signal, the two men tipped back the glasses and drained them dry before slamming them, now empty, back onto the table, upside down.

Mikel cleared the wince from his expression as the burning liquor tore through his system as Helsket smacked his lips appreciably at the fiery, smokey taste.

“Now,” Helsket said quietly, leaning into the table and bracing against the tabletop with his massive forearms, “You said something about a map.”