“2,000 is a lot,” Ryder said, putting the cold tankard on his welt. “If we focus on acquiring a horse, we could do quests faster.”

“You saying a mule is more important than my well-being?” Durge grinned.

“You’ve survived so far without the armor,” Ryder grimaced.

“Maybe you need Kincaid’s helmet more than I do.”

Ryder shot a deadly glance, “Smug bastard.”

Steam wafted in the air and the smells trailed into their noses as Baird set down their dinner. Chicken, bell peppers, and zucchini swam in the red sea of tomatoes that filled their bowls. The thyme, paprika, and parsley buoyed to the top of the stew, clinging to the ingredients before being lost at sea or swallowed by the monsters that devoured them.

Lightning flashed through the windows, followed closely by thunder that shook the ground.

Durge leaned back in his chair, hands wrapped around his belly. “Downpour days like these make me yearn for a baked good.”

“Dragon Bakes sounds lovely right now,” Ryder said. He gazed outside and saw the flooded streets, “Out of all the ports and towns to fall to ruin, why’d it have to be Locria?”

“Only the Fate of the Family knows.” Durge pondered outside the window but slowly started cackling to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

Durge tried hiding his grin but kept laughing in short bursts, “Just started reminding me of Bessie, that’s all.”

Ryder chuckled, “The discounts must’ve been worth it.”

Durge and Ryder took off their boots and shook the raindrops off of themselves when they entered Dreadful Dreams. Skel had his legs crossed and was smoking from his pipe in front of the fire.

“You two weren’t supposed to come back till tomorrow,” the orc puffed.

“Does this mean we get our gold back?” Ryder asked.

“Hah! No.”

“You said it would take us four days to get there and back. It’s been three so far.”

Skel groaned, “Fine fine. As long as you quit your yapping. You don’t have to pay for beds tonight. But it’s back to normal tomorrow. 1 gold. Per bed. Per night. Got it?”

“Aye,” Durge said. He was planning on returning to his old room but forgot he gave back his key.

“Second key that’s hanging on the wall. It’s the same room as last time,” Skel said from afar.

Ryder unlocked the trunk at the foot of his bed, pleased to see Kincaid’s helmet again. He placed his chainmail, bow, and quiver beside it and relocked it.

Durge fell face-first into the furred bed, imagining the starora again.

Ryder appeared at his door, “Don’t smoke that stem tonight. We have to be up and early tomorrow.”

Durge rolled his eyes, “And smoke it with what pipe?”

Ryder waved him off and returned to his room, lighting the dusty lamp, and dipping his pen in the fresh ink. When he opened his journal to write his first entry, the previously empty pages of the journal were now filled with an abundant amount of lettering.

He was shocked to see the page full of the commoner’s script. He knew that the book he acquired from the old man’s store was empty when he first flipped through it.

Page after page it was filled with symbols, drawings, and large chunks of text. The letters didn’t appear at a first glance, but when the firelight hit the parchment, the words of a stranger were revealed.

Durge wrapped himself with silk blankets and rested his head on feathered pillows as he heard the rain and wind howl of the outside storm. He smiled greatly and felt blessed to receive such a lullaby from the gods.

But as he softly drifted to sleep, it felt as if something was moving in his pocket. He quickly smacked his leg, presuming it was a bug or mouse eating his crumbs. The squirming didn’t stop. Aggravated, he unwrapped himself from his covers and tried grabbing the annoyance. What appeared in his hand was no insect or rodent, but a tiny gelatinous creature.

Slightly stinging the finger he pinched it with, he stared at the minuscule slime. About half the size of a cherry, it rolled around in his palm.

Durge didn’t have the heart to flick the creature and splat it against one of the walls when it irritated his hand, instead, he dropped the slime into the empty potion vial from when he was initially burnt.

He squinted his eyes at his new pet, watching the clear blob turn a slight shade of red.

“Must’ve been a drop left. Let’s hope you don’t grow any bigger and shatter that glass.”

The dawn of the sun’s warm embrace rose from the east. Its rays scattered through the stained glass windows, reflecting rainbows that splintered across the hardwood floors of the Guild Hall.

“Are we just going to wait here all day?” Durge said, barely keeping his eyes open.

“Yes,” Ryder said bluntly.

Durge yawned and placed his head down, snuggling into his elbows.

The Guild Hall was bare of any species of people besides the one clerk and barmaid that organized and cleaned. The building was always unlocked for any adventurer to rest, but the wood benches weren’t comfortable to sleep on, so few did.

Throughout the early morning, Ryder observed numerous citizens commissioning quests. He overheard some in the low murmurs; tales of dragons falling in crop fields, armies marching to Harmony, sightings of giants, bandits on nearby roads, the Academy researching the stars, and farmhands plagued by mysterious diseases.

Ryder was interested in all of them but was disheartened to hear when the patrons set the rank threshold to anything above Clay.

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Durge awoke when the smell of hot porridge and tea was placed under his nose. He saw his companion was already returning his bowl and utensils to the barmaid.

Ryder equipped his satchel and bow, “Don’t fall asleep in your grains, they’ll start placing quests on that board soon enough. I’m going to buy provisions and medical supplies.”

“Buy fresh food! And preferably booze!” Durge exclaimed as Ryder went out the door.

It was Durge’s turn to watch the common populace explain their woes to the exhausted clerk. He heard similar tales of scallywags, rascals, and rapscallions infecting the area and nearby villages. Whether it be from kobolds, goblins, or men, Durge cared not.

He spent most of his time staring and playing with his gelatin friend. He would pick crumbs from the stained table and drop them into the vial, watching his pet slowly absorb and dissolve them.

“Now are you the child of the slime that we ran into or are you an exact copy?” he asked.

He imagined the slime responded, saying that his mother kicked him out of their dwelling to experience the world.

“Ah, I know what you mean. Every bird flies from the nest at some point, but some of us fall out. You know my nest wasn’t all that great either, my parents—” Ryder returned and sprawled out his handful of wares on the table.

“A burning salve in case we run into slimes again, bandages so we’re not using our stinking clothes, a brush for your shaggy hair, a splint just in case you forget your footing again, and the merchant also sold me on 2 chewsticks. He said they can turn your teeth white as porcelain.”

Durge was tapping his teeth, “Why would I make them easier to break? And what about food?”

“For food, I got squash, bread, and smoked fish for supper.”

“Gross, squash. And the booze?”

“I didn’t get any booze, you oaf. You gonna carry a keg around too?”

“Preferably a bottle,” Durge retorted.

“Well, this was all five pearls. I don’t think I can afford a quality bottle with only two gold left.”

“Who said anything about quality?”

“Then buy it yourself, your pockets are heavier than mine,” Ryder said, organizing the supplies.

The midday was nearing and adventurers lined the tables and benches, waiting for the quests to be tacked onto the board. The manager, Rose, and the rest of the clerks were at the front counter organizing stacks of papers and small nails.

A mage in a dark black cloak and ornate golden staff walked up to the counter. Their staff glowed a bright yellow and an arcane wall appeared between the quest board and the hundreds of other adventurers who were raring to go.

The wall reached the ceiling and was blurry on the opposite side. Ryder tried reading the quests that Rose carried in her arms and carefully pinned to the board, but the arcane wall obscured all lettering.

“Okay. You stand on one end, I’ll stand on the other. Grab anything that’s Clay ranked,” Ryder said.

“Got it.”

The two were able to position themselves advantageously since they arrived so early. The excitement of the Hall was contagious, everyone was practically drooling to touch the parchments.

When Rose and the other clerks returned behind the front counter and readied their pens, the manager gave a signal, and the barrier was dropped.

The duo immediately slammed into the quest board. It was hard to scrounge for quests when they were being ripped from the walls.

Durge thought about taking as many as he could and bartering them to higher ranks, but he felt that it would’ve been frowned upon and his only payment would’ve been insults and broken teeth.

Ryder was constantly reading up and down the quest board, searching for a single note that met his rank. Dragon slaying at Drumlum. Guardsman for Melody nobles. Caravan escorts needed at Fellaway Fords. Dungeoneering at Bunny-Eared Caverns. Dammit! Even the damn ‘shopping for eggs’ is out of my rank!

As he was being shoved and pulled, dodging paper cuts and elbows, Ryder saw a lucrative quest within his rank. In big letters, it read Succoring Quest. Rank Threshold: CLAY.

He snatched it from the board but another adventurer grasped it as well. Ryder noticed it was the same one that Rose registered last night.

The boy seemed younger than Ryder by a handful of years. The kid had dark brown hair and a white headband, his tunic was clean and his steel cuirass had not a scratch on it. Ryder was able to grip the parchment and turn away from him, slipping the paper through his hands.

Ryder rescued Durge within the sea of adventurers and reviewed the quest together while they waited to be processed in Rose’s line. “Deliver pouch of stems by midnight. Gold Value of 12. Onnwall Brothel, Marian Haggle District. Hand marked with ink symbol for proof of completion.”

“A pouch of stems!?” Durge looked saddened at his stuffed bag, “I was going to buy a pipe later too.”

“How fortunate,” Ryder grinned.

“And what in the Abyss does ‘Gold Value’ mean?” Durge asked.

“The quest reward must be an item with the value of 12 gold.”

“Does it say what this item is?”

Ryder shook his head.

Rose became gleeful when she saw the familiar duo next in line.

“I knew I saw you boys when I walked in. Glad you two could get a quest this time! Stem delivery, huh? Well, I hope it’s an easy one! Happy Helping and fare well!” she hastily signed their name into a great ledger and waved her goodbyes with her signature smile.

The duo headed out into the sun-filled day, they stuck close to the building's entrance to not be trampled near the road or accidentally pierced by novice archers in the grassy fields.

“Alright brothel maestro, where’s Onnwall’s?” Ryder asked.

“Hmph. I enlist the service of one beautiful starora and you think I know where every house of pleasure is?”

Ryder peered at him with a smirk.

Durge sighed, “We’ll be there before supper time.”

The streets were lively and business was booming in Maria. It was the dawn of a new moon and the beginning of the month of Firth. Puddles still lay in the crevices of cobblestone, but that only added to the enjoyment for the children that roamed the streets.

Ryder and Durge headed southeast within the city-state, leaving the bureaucratic district, passing by the residentials, and heading toward the market areas.

The usual shops, tents, and wagons were on the narrow streets selling produce and common supplies. The deeper the duo went, the more explicit the goods became. Merchants of weapons, women, men, and elixirs heckled any passerby, offering discounts and deals only found in the Sister City.

Ryder noticed that the prices were fair but the quality of the goods was worse for wear. A single silver for a splintered arrow and 2 gold for a health potion filled with red ichor, Ryder shivered when he imagined what would happen if they ingested such a foul tonic.

“It’s just around the corner. Keep your hand over your coins,” Durge said.

The market blocked the sun and blue sky with maroon canvas, protecting all from the weather and prying eyes from above.

Ryder wasn’t too afraid of the dim market, but the most frightful were the intimidating people that guarded every doorway. Fur-beasts with horns and great axes huffed when he passed by an alley, he couldn’t see much past them, but he could hear the sounds of metal clashing against bone, and the screams of agony crying after.

“We getting here anytime soon?” Ryder muttered.

Durge shoved him into a dark entranceway, “We’re here.”

The building blended with any other on the street: crude walls and no signs to distinguish it. Ryder wouldn’t have thought this was a brothel if it weren’t for the thinly veiled nudity and the excessive moans in the background.

“Now we have to find the guy,” Durge said, gazing at the escorts.

Ryder slapped the back of his head, “They’d be at the bar or lounge.”

The bar was crowded and the lounge was filled with dark smoke. Maids and beasts caressed their shoulders and whispered in their ears as they searched for the quest giver.

Durge’s lustful temptation grasped him but it faded when a neurotic man grabbed Ryder’s wrist. The man was trembling as he pulled the duo into a corner.

“Do you have it?” he asked.

“Have what?” Durge sternly said, testing the man.

“The stems,” he whispered.

“Why are you so damn nervous?” Durge asked.

“It’s not like stems are unlawful,” Ryder added.

“It’s n-not that. They’re after me. I can’t leave this place.”

“Who?”

The man snatched the pouch of stems from Durge’s belt and quickly stuffed it into his ornate pipe “They killed us. They left us in that dungeon. But I found a way,” the man started laughing. “I found a way.” A puff of smoke poured from his nose, it entwined and grasped Ryder and Durge’s arms as it poured into their hands. When the smoke vanished, a black symbol appeared on their palms.

Durge grabbed the man’s shirt collar, “What’d you do to us!?”

Ryder pulled his dagger from his boot.

The man put his hands out while the pipe lay in his mouth. Whether it was from the stems or his crazed nature, the man was calm.

“For the proof of completion,” he smiled.

“I was thinking more like ink and not an enchantment,” Ryder said.

Durge let go of the man’s collar, “It better not last long.”

“Trust me, it won’t,” he grinned with a pink-stained maw.

As they headed towards the exit, tugging away from saddened scantily clad courtesans, a group of three well-armed elves stood in the center of the room. One of them was a stone elf who carried a crossbow that was already drawn and nocked.

Everyone in the building was quiet as they surveyed the area. They gazed at Ryder and Durge and noticed their enchanted palms but the stone elf aimed at the third who sat between them, the man with pink smoke billowing from his lips.