Maddison eyed Tarson, scrutinizing everything from his linen shirt to the glimmer of hope in his eyes. When he was satisfied enough that it wasn't a trap, he leashed Horse on the closest painted mailbox and followed him up to his front door. As soon as he got across the threshold, Tarson slammed the door, drawing every curtain facing the streets and clicking the lock. In his frantic air, he completely ignored the way Maddison's hand drifted to his sword, flying around his house like a bee. He quickly grabbed some small trinkets, placing a block of cheese on his table and tossing some lockpicks in the trash can beside the door. Lastly, he grabbed some buns from a bulging bag, stuffing the berry-filled delicacies in a small sling bag, along with a sheathed dagger and a vial of blood-red liquid. "Okay..." he muttered, trying to catch his breath as he frantically scanned his mysterious work before nodding. "It's all there..." His urgency dug into Maddison once more. "We don't have a lot of time..."

Maddison eyed the man's work, discomfort plain on his face. "What's this all about?"

"You're finally here... thank Lao you're finally here!" Tarson muttered, surprising Maddison with a heartfelt hug as he blinked away some tears. "Kalthos has completely lost it. Everyone has!"

"The two guards at the door seemed rational enough," Maddison replied, giving Tarson a good meter of space after he finished with the hug.

"My sister and girlfriend... I'm not the only one that still has a brain... but the number declines every day," Tarson replied, unlocking a small chest nestled under a blanket of animal skins. "We put up the bounty after most of the town went crazy like this... I can only pray that I'm not next."

"Do you know what happened?" Maddison questioned, keeping his body facing Tarson as he eyed the objects around the house.

Nothing magical. Nothing odd.

Tarson shook his head. "Started with Old Man Maynard. Suddenly allocated all our funding to architecture and spiffed up the town for tourism. Which was alright, I guess...Then he just went completely nuts and started writing out scripts for everyone to follow, and handing out tons of free crap to anyone that came into our town and fulfilled these tasks." Tarson motioned to another stack of animal skins accumulating in his living room. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!" He grabbed a small black sack off his dining room table, pulling out some of its contents and letting the small silver rings cascade back into the fabric. "I'm not even married! I have a girlfriend!"

Maddison perked up at the mass of jewelry. "Those real?"

"Yes! Pure, bonafide silver." He sealed the pouch with a tug, shaking the small sum of treasure at him. "I know the reward was in coin... but I don't have a ton of cash. Can I pay you in fake wedding rings?"

Maddison stuck his hand out to check the sack, running his fingers through the small pool of treasure, rolling one of the shining rings in his palm. He had seen enough silver to know it was likely real, and if it was, it was at least worth four times as much. He didn't let that fact show on his face, tilting his head in consideration instead. "I suppose it'll do. You're sure I can take these?"

Tarson grabbed his shoulders. "Kill that monster of a man and get those damn things out of my sight."

Maddison slowly nodded. "Alright, so you're pre-paying?"

Tarson shook his head. "Take those, you can have the rest later."

"The rest?"

Tarson took on a feral glare, his face burning red at the simple thought of his ring hoard. "I'll give you some weapons too if you promise to give him a slow and painful death."

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Maddison shrugged. "Sure, what do you have?"

Tarson waved him over to a set of narrow stairs, quickly descending into the dark depths and lighting a torch to illuminate a basement chocked full of fresh armour and weaponry. Maddison gave the deadly room an impressed whistle, catching the man's malicious smile.

"Where'd you get all this stuff?"

"I made it." He stared at his work with a smile that could barely suppress his murderous hostility. "I'm not a tanner, I've never skinned a freaking animal in my life! How hard is it to just keep me as the stupid blacksmith and send all those adventurer idiots off to get me metal scraps and chunks of iron?!" He stormed over to a table full of swords and daggers, shoving an embellished broadsword forward. "That's my best blade, use it as a finisher when that skat licker is begging for death. You can keep it after."

Maddison gently grabbed the blade and popped its hilt to check the quality. It was artfully crafted, but decorative. His blade was better. At least it would go for a decent price.

Tarson was still in the midst of grabbing another weapon, dragging a wooden stool along the rough floor to place it under a wall of bows. "Your bow is crap, right?"

Maddison thought about the weapon he had left with Horse, paying the man a shrug. "Yeah, but I don't use it that much."

Tarson looked over his shoulder, the demonic look in his eyes only intensifying as he grabbed a blackened war bow. "Just in case he starts running, shoot him in the arse." He tossed the bow for Maddison to catch, sliding off the stool and yanking a string of keys out of his pocket to fiddle with a massive chest. "See you like leather. This is full of armour for any occasion, didn't make it, metal's my specialty. Take what you want." He stopped, looking around the room at the array of death-inducing objects. "Take any extra weapons you need as well. I'd better hear his screams from my table, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Maddison replied, grabbing two daggers off the table before approaching the chest of armour.

He froze at the first piece that greeted him. The top and shoulders of a set of tough, blackened leather armour. Identical to a piece he had seen this morning on six Heroguard scouts.

The caution returned to Maddison's tone as he lifted the piece. "Where did you get this?"

"This morning. Some travelers weren't as smart as you." Tarson raised his palms at the look Maddison gave him. "Go to the town center if you want to see, not a pretty sight. Just don't make a scene. The Heroguard sigil is the last thing you want to be flaunting on the streets like they did."

Maddison eyed the armour, relenting on the ethics of it all as he held it out to Tarson as his choice. It was a good set.

"Adjustments will take a day."

"Never mind, I don't intend to stay that long," Maddison replied, eyeing Tarson curiously when he didn't put the set back, and headed for the steps instead.

"You can crash here regardless."

"I won't go crazy, will I?"

Tarson shrugged. "I haven't."

"I'll check around the town to see how to get to Maynard before nightfall."

"I know how to, you have to get past a few quests," Tarson sighed. "That stupid ring quest is near the end where Old Man Maynard summons you to his hut to proclaim you the chosen one, then yada yada... our hero, yada yada, go forth and vanquish the dark lord." He waved Maddison over to follow him out of the basement. "I'll tell you the next quest giver, she's the second last, and definitely has her wits. Bet she regrets moving back into this town as much as I do."

"That's good."

Tarson nodded. "It's probably best to get those two quests out of the way, then face Old Man Maynard and ram a spear so far up his arse he looks like a scarecrow."

"Noted." Maddison closed the door behind him, waiting for Tarson to lock it back up and extinguish the flickering torch in a spare pail of water. He turned to him, barely able to tame a grin at the mercenary. "Good luck fri-"

Then, there was a knock at the door.

A harmless symphony of quiet clacks that drew polarly opposite reactions from the two. As Maddison greeted it with confusion and a prompting nod, Tarson gave the door a look like he was about to unleash every demon in hell upon the mortal realm by answering it. He slowly crept up to the window, parting a curtain to peek at the guest. The colour immediately drained from his cheeks. With a sharp gasp, he drew back, shooing Maddison over to a chair and handing him a random cookbook to read before rushing over to the door. He didn't open it, staring at Maddison with wide eyes. "Just read that... don't answer him."

Maddison looked at the book, greeted by a recipe for steam boiled pig feet. He grimaced. "Alright..."

Tarson couldn't hold his voice from shaking. "Don't, okay?"

"I said alright."

Tarson nodded, slowly turning the nob and allowing the door to swing open with a drawn squeal.