Merdon was glad to be out of the rains that plagued the area around Sedra, but he was even more pleased once they arrived in Bereth two days after. Quickclaw shared his relief with being off the road. Even being out of Sedra didn't mean they were out of danger, and there was no guarantee of safety just because they were on the roads. A city, however, meant just that. Especially one that Merdon was so familiar with. No corrupt guards would grab them, most of the guards in Bereth knew him and knew to let the guild handle his business. Also, no bandits would ambush them as they could out on the roads to the city, possible followers from Sedra. They could relax at last.

Bereth was an entirely different sort of place. Positioned near the edge of the kingdom one might expect it to be more lawless, but it was a center of commerce. A mountain range nearby kept the borders secure and its distance from Sedra and the seas left it drier. The only contentious point was a range of forest opposite the direction of Sedra and its muck ridden swamps. It rarely bothered anyone, however, with the king's road passing through it the forest was typically more of a reprieve from the boring plains that otherwise surrounded the border of the kingdom. Those that lived in Bereth were far removed from the capital of the nation, and the people had their own opinions on things like kobolds and dealing with outlaws. One could almost consider it a capital in the making.

“Shouldn't a knight have a horse?” Quickclaw questioned as they walked through the town gate. The kobold couldn't imagine carrying all that armor without one.

"If you've got the gold I'd be happy to buy one," Merdon responded, fatigue evident in his voice. But he quickly told her, "Never mind," when he saw the gleam in her eyes. The last thing he wanted her to do was to steal him a horse, or the gold to get one. Repaying her debt he might accept, but he wouldn't let her do something illegal. It would get him in more trouble than he was already in.

With her idea crushed, Quickclaw sighed and started looking at the town. It was nearly a city in size, and well located for such things. She noticed right away that the city was big enough to have roads leading out of it in every direction, something that was common only in large merchant towns. The sturdy wall around the city limits, complete with gates and guards inspecting everyone solidified that picture in her mind. Everything was also very clean, not quite as much as the capital of the nation, but it was clear they cared about their appearance. Something also that only large, merchant based cities cared for. All in all, it was a nice place and all of the hints about peddlers coming through town made it sound like her kind of place. Except for the looks she was getting from the humes. A frown formed on her face as she walked by group after group of them; always having to turn their noses up at someone. Still, none of them paid much more attention to her than that. No chains were being hauled out, and no one was asking Merdon what she cost. Small improvements that made a world of difference.

Merdon was unconcerned with the crowds around them and didn't register any looks they might have had towards his companion. He had a goal in mind. A contract with his Guild that promised a good amount of coin, and would get things smoothed over with the guards, assuming anyone from Sedra could manage to beat them to Bereth. All he needed to do now was take that statue to the office and collect his pay. Unlike Sedra, the streets of Bereth were flagstone and that made all the difference as they traveled. The flat, even surface was easy to traverse even as they passed through the busy market place.

The sounds of merchants hocking their wares could be heard before they turned the corner, and the blue kobold's eyes widened at the sight. Marketplaces were the perfect areas for pickpockets. They could snatch unattended items from stalls, create distractions to make said items unattended; basically, she could stock up on anything they needed. Quickclaw kept following the knight, but her eyes were taking in everything they passed in the open-air market. The fruit stand kept produce in crates underneath, hidden only by a colorful cloth over the wooden frame, meaning she could grab some without being noticed at her size. Barely coming up to the average hume's waist had its perks sometimes. It also helped that none of the market stalls had safes nearby that she could see. Either the merchants ran their earnings home to hide them or they kept their spoils in purses on their belts, at least during the day.

She did realize something rather quickly though. Humes were the majority. Quickclaw saw a couple of races, dwarves selling metal items, travelers more than residents, lycans had more permanent structures set up but she only counted three in the crowded market, and most importantly not a single kobold. In fact, there wasn't even a dragonkin as far as she had seen. Not that a town of this size warranted someone of that stature to be around. This meant if she got caught pilfering a single time she would have to skip town. As easy as that would be, it would mean leaving her debt to the knight unfulfilled.

Quickclaw's sour feeling returned at that notion. She didn't like passing up such plentiful pickings, but she also didn't like the notion of owing some hume a favor. Gods knew when he would show up and demand she pay that favor back. It was better if she picked the situation, offered him the help she felt like giving, and no more. That gave her all of the control, and the kobold liked to be in control. Control, especially when it came to thieving, kept one alive more often than not. A quirk of the trade, so to speak. Less manipulation of circumstances made things unpredictable and difficult, planning made things easier.

The pair walked up to a rather large building a couple of streets away from the market. Shouting voices could still be heard faintly, but nowhere near as prominently. A sign hanging from the two-story building read, "Returner's Guild." Quickclaw recognized the guild; in fact, they were essentially the opposite of thieves. People who sought out stolen or missing things and returned them to their owners for a fee. She'd always found it easier to sell things, it tended to put more coin in your purse, but if the knight was a member she would stomach the losses. It wasn't her coffers that needed filling after all.

Merdon pushed open the door into the guild and picked his helmet off with a sigh. Sweat was running down his head in the heat of the day, but he didn't risk being identified for sure until he was sure he was safe. Inside the guild, he couldn't be more so. No corrupt Sedran guard was going to stab him in the back in plain view of honest workers and comrades, and if they did they wouldn't get out of the building in one piece. The guards of Bereth would also have preferred to let the guild handle its own business making Merdon entirely secure as long as he didn't piss off the guild itself.

Quickclaw looked a bit impressed with the place, all things considered. It was a decent-sized building for being two stories tall. The offices were on the bottom floor and special rooms were on the second floor for travelers far from home that worked for the guild. Right up front was a desk that came up to Merdon's chest with a receptionist behind it, and to the far left of the room was a nice fireplace for when it got chilly. Next to the door were chairs, a typical waiting area for just about any guild, complete with the same kind of banners that hung outside to let people know what the building was for. A relaxing blue with the image of an outstretched hand, as if to offer aid. There were probably more folks working in the back of the first floor but they weren't readily noticeable from the front desk.

The receptionist, a plain-looking girl with long golden hair, offered the armored man a smile. “Merdon, how went your hunt?” she asked, her voice as high and effeminate as one would expect from a village girl.

“Fair,” he responded, pulling the statue out of his pack. “I found this in the hands of a halfling slaver down in Sedra. Given the description the priest gave, a short thief, I figured I had the right guy. He wasn't keen on letting it go though.”

She frowned at him. “We've heard,” the receptionist said sternly. “Well, I suppose everyone in town has heard. Two bodies, a whole shipment of kobold slaves freed, and a knight walking away from it all.”

Merdon coughed nervously. “Yes, well, I figured it wouldn't be too humane to leave the beasts in their cages after their handlers were slain.”

“And why exactly were they slain?”

“I made up a story about a missing slave,” Merdon began to explain. “Once we were in the office I identified the statue and confronted the halfling. He said something to the effect of 'finders keepers' and threatened me with his knife. I told him that wasn't wise, and his companion pulled a sword. What choice did I have but to defend myself?”

The blonde lady's fingers were tapping rapidly on the counter as he explained. “And then you took their keys, freed the kobolds, took one for yourself, and came back?”

“Quickclaw is no filthy hume slave!” the kobold in question shouted, grabbing the counter and pulling herself up to look the woman in the face.

Merdon defended this as well. “I'd never take a slave, not even a kobold. The scamp has been following me since I set her free. She says she owes me a debt.”

The lady, taken by surprise at their ferocity, leaned back in her seat and held up her hands. “Fine, fine! I'll have our contacts sort things out,” she told them, before reaching under the desk. She pulled out a fistful of coins, counted several out, and sat them on the counter. Five silvers, and fifteen copper pieces. All of which Merdon put into his own purse.

“Thank you,” he said, actually sounding grateful.

Quickclaw huffed and dropped down to the ground again. She looked up at Merdon and told him, “That statue is worth five times as much.”

Merdon quickly turned, waving to the receptionist, and bid her a farewell. “I'll be in tomorrow for a new contract, Cath.” He grabbed Quickclaw by the shoulder and hurried her out the door.

The kobold huffed, her tail swaying defiantly to slap his shin even as he let go of her. “Don't do that,” she insisted.

“Well, don't let the guild know you were the one that stole the thing we just turned in,” he hissed at her.

Quickclaw looked surprised. “How do you know it was Quickclaw?”

"Because why would a slaver go three leagues out of his town to steal a statue from a monastery, when he's making a living selling kobolds?" It was a simple deduction.

She paused for a moment and then nodded. He had deliberately lied to his guild to protect her. "Quickclaw will hide her profession, for now. But, she demands a proper meal and a good ale.” She said demand, but it was really more of a bargain.

Merdon sighed, he wasn't the bargaining type. "Fine, there's a tavern nearby," he surrendered.

He led them up the street, further and further away from the market. The pedestrians thinned out significantly as they came to an old wooden building. “The Howling Wolf” was painted, faded over time, around the image of a snarling wolf. Inside it smelled of dirty bodies, adventurers come back from days on the road looking to unwind, and roasting meat. Quickclaw perked up at the second smell and licked her lips. She took a seat at the bar, the seats high enough even for halflings, and waited impatiently. All the other furniture had clearly seen better days. Tables had nails holding them to the floor, the chairs were made of scraps of lumber, possibly old chairs that had been broken and now repurposed, and the walls were scant with decoration. It was a bare sort of place, clearly intended to get the job done and no more. The only reason it stood up in the modern Bereth was its position as one of the original taverns in the town.

Merdon took a seat next to the kobold and flagged down the bartender, a lycan with dark blue fur, and said, "An ale, two sides of that ham I smell, and a mug of water."

Quickclaw looked at the human confused. “Water?”

“I don't drink,” he told her flatly.

The lycan huffed and stepped into the back. Their wolfish personalities rarely made them fit for customer service, so Quickclaw was surprised to see one operating a bar. That was until their order came. All was fine with the ham, in her opinion, it was a fatty meat to begin with. Her ale having twigs inside of it however was not. Merdon's gaze told another story though. He wasn't happy about either the extra serving of fat on his meat or the stick in the kobold's mug.

"Thirty copper," the lycan told him, meeting that gaze.

Merdon went to complain until his staring contest was interrupted by the slamming of a mug. Quickclaw had finished her drink, regardless of the stick. "Another ale," she told the bartender, meeting his gaze with her own confident smirk.

The wolf man growled and went into the back. Once more he emerged with an ale full of crud from the bottom of a barrel. Sediment and debris from being open in the back for so long. He was likely giving her the ale from a barrel he wouldn't be able to sell to even the drunkest adventurer. Once more, however, the kobold drained it and demanded, “Another.”

When the lycan went back, Merdon whispered to her, “How drunk are you going to get?”

She shrugged. “Until Quickclaw gets a good drink of ale.”

Merdon ended up paying for three more mugs of ale before the lycan finally had to give her some from a fresh barrel. Which cost Merdon a grand total of one silver and ten coppers. It was absolute robbery, but still, he felt impressed with the little kobold. She didn't back down, she didn't threaten the lycan, she simply took everything he had. In the end, she was quite drunk as they made their way down the road to the inn, Merdon having to keep her steady half of the way, but he was still impressed.

The inn was well kept, much more inviting than the tavern had seemed, being the inn was newer and made of stone rather than the rough wood the tavern had been made from. Although the look on the innkeeper's face said otherwise when he caught sight of Quickclaw. Merdon headed that bout of unpleasantness off at the pass. He stepped up and produced his remaining silver pieces, placing them in front of the innkeeper's eyes so he could look at the potential gains from the deal. "Three silver if you can smile while showing us to a room, and again tomorrow when we leave." It was a generous offer, one the innkeeper could not refuse.

“Of course, sir. If you and your … companion will follow me,” the elderly man said, stepping away from his desk and leading them to the second floor of the building, one of the more common sizes for new businesses in Bereth. He unlocked a heavy wooden door and gestured them inside before closing it and leaving.

The room was nice, two beds with comfortable blankets, a chamber pot, and a large basin for washing clothes. Merdon suspected there was some fire going in the building, as the room was warm all the way through. He had no issue stripping his armor off before laying on the bed with a heavy sigh. Across from him, Quickclaw was shedding her own clothes. Curious at the sounds, Merdon looked up in time to see the blue kobold completely naked and unsteady on her feet.

He immediately regretted looking, as his mind couldn't help but notice she had a pair of breasts. Lizards didn't have breasts, humans did. It was odd enough that dragonkin did too, but kobolds? Not to mention the curves of her body...

“Does the hume like what he sees?” Quickclaw flirted drunkenly at him.

Merdon looked away and shook his head. “Not at all, I was just … curious as to why kobolds have breasts.”

The kobold laughed. "We were served ale by a man-wolf, and yet the hume questions bosoms."

She was right. That was a stupid deflection. Thankfully, Quickclaw didn't press the issue. While he laid on his back, looking at the ceiling, the sound of water filled the room. Specifically, the sound of the giant tub being filled with water. Merdon didn't want to look, so he didn't. He rolled over instead and pointedly gazed out the window. It was always peaceful in Bereth at night. The lamps dimly lighting the streets, the stars and moon out in full. Not a care in the world for someone like him. Until he heard more water, followed by the clicking of the claws on Quickclaws feet behind him.

“Wash,” Quickclaw told him simply.

“Why?” Merdon questioned without turning to her. Sure, he was dirty, but so was everyone.

“Quickclaw can smell you, which means others can too. It's hard enough to hide the tracks of your armor when we're out without masking smells,” she told him flatly.

Merdon sighed and sat up. He started pulling his clothes off, doing his best to keep his modesty as he walked over to the basin Quickclaw had filled up while also keeping his eyes away from her. Then, and only then, did he remove his drawers and quickly get into the tub. It was lukewarm at best, and he had to sit to keep himself hidden. It made washing extremely difficult and limited his movement.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. Quickclaw carrying his laundry to a smaller washbasin and cleaning his clothes. She was clearly drunk as her tail had to sway back and forth to keep her steady. It was a rhythmic motion, hypnotic, and the kobold's moistened scales glistening in the candlelight didn't help that any. Merdon couldn't stop himself. He watched her go over and hang both of their clothes up on a line in the room to dry. She stretched with a yawn, her whole body shuddering in the process. Those hips were undeniably feminine, along with her gait; Merdon was no child after all. These were thoughts a human should not have been having about a kobold! Then, she walked back to her bed, seemingly unaware of his gaze watching her walk away.

It wasn't until she was out of sight that Merdon realized he had been staring, and his physical response to it. He couldn't have been more glad to be sitting in a pool of now cold water. After his extra long bath, he retired to his own bed, relieved that Quickclaw had pulled the covers over herself. Merdon pulled his own covers over himself and tucked the blanket under him just to be safe. He closed his eyes and tried everything to not think about the kobold snoring next to him. To not think about her small, pert breasts, her ample rear, her hips...

“Oh gods,” Merdon mumbled to himself. This was not a sustainable partnership.