The mercenaries discreetly edged into an alley before Tulcetar began the dubious task of making Goyun’s acquaintance. The mage scarcely noticed their departure, as he psyched himself up for what promised to be a long afternoon.

Gabriel was peeking around the corner, watching the interaction. Tulcetar was approaching the merchant like one might a wild horse, although he was probably more afraid of being splashed than kicked. The mage refrained from offering a handshake on this occasion, and instead greeted Goyun with the palm to chin salutation of his homeland, Gara.

Unfortunately, that was as much as Gabriel saw of the introduction. The mercenary captain glanced up to see twelve soldiers with twelve raised eyebrows, wondering if his snooping constituted a stab-able offence.

Gabriel gave a quick smile and wave, before retreating further into the alleyway to take stock.

“Why are we in an alley?” Figo asked.

“Come to think of it, why do we always end up in alleys?” Vish noted.

“Shh, I’m thinking!” Gabriel said, scrunching up his face.

“It looks painful,” the mind-mapper observed.

There was silence while Gabriel massaged his eye sockets.

“Is this going to take long? I’ve sort of had my fill of socializing in dingy passages for this month,” Vish whispered.

“Alley cat!” Bling announced, to the tune of an old nursery rhyme, and dropped to the floor in a cloud of dust, curling up like a feline.

Figo leaned close to Vish, “She’s not also, um, part..?”

“Nah, I have no idea where that comes from. Best guess is that it’s a brain real estate issue. Either that or the crow just really loved watching cats.”

“Literally any other time I would love to discuss to what extent you two fucked up my sister, but right now we have a dwindling window of opportunity,” Gabriel snapped, “We have located our mark, with unprecedented ease, and we have a chance to hear everything we need to without having to get our hands dirty. We need ears on that meeting, and we need them quick.”

“Couldn’t we just have asked Tulcetar to sit in with him?” Figo asked.

“What, just ask to join him for a beer while he chats to his shady contact about stolen goods he’s trying to palm off?” Gabriel scoffed, before remembering their previous interactions with the mage, “… Yeah, actually, that might have worked,” he pouted, “Anyway, this is our situation now.”

Figo sighed, “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to make me-”

“Figo, Rodney up!” Gabriel commanded, jabbing a finger at his peer.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Vish said, placing a comforting hand on the archer’s shoulder as the cricket hopped onto his sleeve, “Rodney likes it even less.”

Figo regarded the cricket, “Somehow that makes it much worse.”

A combination of clacking, clopping and stomping indicated that the caravan procession was moving on, giving the mercenaries unobstructed access to the street, and reducing their likelihood of being crucified.

“Okay, get ready. I’m going to check if they’re inside yet,” Gabriel announced, creeping back towards the street.

The mercenary captain felt great. His synapsis were firing, his gears were whirring, and he was on his way to the biggest success of his career. The stars had aligned, the gods had smiled, and Fortune had stumbled a little, dropping her produce in his lap on the way back from the grocery store.

Only two things stood between Gabriel and victory.

One was a giant metal-coated slab of “don’t fuck with me”. The other was her ludicrously huge bastard sword - that really should have a name, Gabriel thought, as the flat of the blade rested on his shoulder, none too far from his jugular.

“Out of the way, Lydia!” Gabriel said with the type of bravado that can so often be mistaken for stupidity.

“Coin,” Lydia said, simply.

“Yes, yes, in a minute. This is slightly time sensitive, Lydia.”

“Not my problem. You were to pay me when we arrived in Tindra. We’re in Tindra. Coin. Now.”

Lydia’s blade – Man-Cleaver? - crept further along Gabriel’s collarbone, until it was a finger-nail’s length from his neck.

Bling appeared at her brother’s side, a dagger in each hand. She fixed Lydia with an unblinking gaze that promised retribution. The warrior woman looked momentarily impressed, and then shifted her stance, ready to fight.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, this looks like the sort of shit show I don’t want to be involved in,” Vish said, throwing up his hands, “What do you say we just pay the nice lady, Gabe?”

Figo looked like he was having a seizure; his hand twitched jerkily, from empty quiver, to knife, to side, “That’s a good idea! Just pay her, Gabriel. We’re all on the same team here. This isn’t necessary.”

Gabriel forced himself to meet Lydia’s eye, trying not to look at his reflection in… Slacks-Wetter? No.

“I don’t have it,” he said

The muscles on Lydia’s neck bulged.

Gabriel didn’t even know that necks had muscles.

“You don’t have it? What do you mean you don’t have it?” Figo asked on everyone’s behalf.

“I forgot to pick up my coin pouch when we were attacked by the Mulch Goblins, back in Gladstone Forest. I’d normally sleep with it, but there was nowhere to comfortably stash it in the disturbingly tight robe Vish gave me,” he explained, attempting to glare though the back of his own skull at his mind-mapper companion.

“Too bad, I don’t work for free,” Lydia said.

“Ooooh, boy,” Vish leaned towards his captain, “Hey, Gabe, well, this has been fun and all. I’m going to head on out now, okay bud? If I catch up with you later, do you want to be buried with your entrails stuffed back in your corpse, or just kind of as I find you?”

“I thought we were friends,” Gabriel said to Lydia through gritted teeth, ignoring the mind-mapper.

“That’s your problem.”

“I’ll get you the coin, Lydia,” Gabriel said, his voice only slightly wavering, “but right now you are standing between us and your money.”

“Wasn’t part of the deal.”

“No, no, you’re right, it wasn’t. Then again, neither was becoming a fugitive, fleeing through a goblin infested forest, and almost getting melted by a fanatical cultist,” Gabriel snapped, “You’ve not exactly been as advertised either!”

Lydia’s face was impassive.

Natasha clenched her teeth, ready to spring.

The stench of sweat was starting to cloy.

“Fine,” Lydia said at last.

Four hearts started beating again.

“Thank you, Lydia. I’ll get you your money as soon as possible,” Gabriel breathed.

“Plus twenty percent.”

“Lydia, that’s ridiculous, we can’t afford that.”

“You can’t afford me at all, right now. What’s twenty percent more of your imaginary funds?” Lydia pointed out.

Gabriel considered this, “Alright, ten percent.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty,” Lydia confirmed, “and I’m taking the cricket as collateral until I’m paid in full.”

“Rooooodneeeeey!” Vish screamed - Not shouted. Screamed.

“Hang on, Vish, we’re negotiating,” Gabriel placated.

“Nope, fuck that, you can’t have Rodney. Take Figo.”

“What?”

“Fine,” Lydia agreed.

“What?” the archer asked again.

“Don’t look so worried, she’s nice,” Vish said.

“Pretty boy doesn’t leave my sight until this is over,” Lydia said, finally sheathing… Equine Ender? Yeah, Gabriel thought, that’ll do, “First things first, though. Palm out.”

Gabriel looked at the warrior quizzically, but complied. He extended his hand with his palm facing upwards, awaiting what he assumed was going to be the most painful ‘high five’ ever delivered by a humanoid.

He did feel pain, just not the pain he was anticipating. Lydia had drawn her hatchet from her belt and cut a neat gash between Gabriel’s thumb and little finger.

The four mercenaries blinked in surprise.

“… Ooow?” Gabriel said / asked.

“It’s a contract. If you fail to make good on your promise then the ancients of the earth will taste the blood that has been spilt here today, and be aether bound to hunt you to oblivion,” Lydia explained, “or something like that, anyway.”

Gabriel glanced at Figo, “Is that a thing?”

Figo shrugged, “Not in any of the stories I’ve heard but… Maybe?”

Lydia looked unconcerned, “I wouldn’t know, nobody’s ever not paid me. It’s just something we used to-,” she twisted her neck until the joints cracked, “It’s just something I do. It’s more than just words. You’ve made a promise to me, and you’ll honour it.”

“I will,” Gabriel nodded solemnly.

“Good,” she said, “Now go and get my money.”

Lydia moved passed Gabriel and Bling, who tracked her every step, and “encouraged” Figo to take a seat on the ground. The archer gingerly sat cross-legged, trying, and failing, to avoid patches of urine that pre-dated Ruby’s empire.

“Go do what you need to do,” the warrior said, and retrieved some Soldier’s Solace from her belt pouch to chew on as she waited.

Once Lydia was out of swinging distance Bling sheathed her daggers. She gave Gabriel a hug, that with the quantity of fabric she was wearing felt something like having a tent collapse on him, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Natasha.”

Natasha looked Gabriel dead in the eyes, and laughed. She laughed until tears blurred her vision.

Slowly, Bling peeled away from her brother, chuckling all the while. She was still laughing when she spied a trail of ants, questing towards a chunk of stale bread. She squatted in the dirt and watched the procession of insects break and reform around her fingers. Her laughter died, and she became totally absorbed.

“I… I think I need a drink,” Gabriel announced.

“Err, I know just the place?” Vish said, gesturing in the direction of Chloe’s with his eyebrows.

“Oh, shit, yeah! Come on!”

Vish and Gabriel sprinted across the road, now totally devoid of red tunics, and, as casually as possible (yet not nearly casually enough), burst through the door and into Chloe’s.

“By the aether, I thought someone had toppled a troll! You break that door and you pay for it!” A powder-faced woman in her forties, presumably the eponymous Chloe, berated them from across the room. Her noise complaint seemed moot, given the booming projection from her own lungs.

Gabriel ignored the woman. He was casting around frantically for Tulcetar and Goyun. Discretion was no longer a consideration. He would figure out his next step once he found them.

Gabriel and Vish split up and worked their way around the establishment. There were tables out in the open, strewn as if they had been dropped from a height, with booths lining the walls and a stage at the back. A bar was on the left, half hidden beneath an ornate, wooden staircase that started left of the entrance and wound over the heads of the bartenders.

The central “pit” was fairly quiet, with most of the patrons tucked away in the booths, enjoying lunch, a drink and a chat. The stage was empty, save for a warty old man sweeping the surface, presumably in preparation of the night’s festivities. Other cleaners were wiping down tables, brushing off velvet cushions, or placing candles. They were dressed in tones that matched the azure and ebony of the décor.

Glancing at the open area, Gabriel did not spy any crimson robes clashing against the backdrop of brown and blue. They moved to the booths.

The pair of mercenaries spewed a train of apologies as they poked their noses in on unsuspecting patrons. They found the same thing in the booths as in the pit. Actually, they found the same lack of thing – Tulcetar and Goyun weren’t there.

In desperation, Gabriel darted towards the stairs, with Vish trailing behind like a dog on a leash.

He made it three steps up before he was halted by the same thunderous voice as before, “Upstairs is off limits! At least to non-paying ‘customers’,” she somehow managed to verbalise the air quotes.

Gabriel thought about ignoring Chloe, but a pair of bouncers had solidified near the base of the stairs, seemingly stepping out of the spectral realm at the beck of their mistress.

The mercenaries weighed up their chances, approximately 280lbs to 460, and descended the stairs quietly and calmly.

Gabriel changed tactic and strode over to Chloe. The bouncers tracked his movement as he did.

“I’m looking for someone. I need your help.”

Chloe gave Gabriel a once over. He was still in the red tunic The Order had given him. Paired with Vish’s navy, they looked like a deconstructed jester.

“I don’t know where you’re from, stranger, but in this neck of the woods it’s considered polite to greet the owner of an establishment before you go making demands of them,” Chloe said through pursed lips.

Gabriel forced himself to take a few deep breaths.

“I’m sorry. You are, of course, right,” he began again, “My name is Gabriel. I was travelling with some friends in a caravan that just came through here. I got separated from them. I think my, err, associate? I think he came in here. He was in red robes, and he was with a man who has a goatee, and was wearing a wide-brimmed, feather hat.”

“I had heard that you Rising Dragon lot were going to be passing through. I hope all you’re doing is passing through,” she warned.

Gabriel guessed that Tulcetar had been understating the facts when he said The Order was not yet established in Tindra. If Chloe was anything to go by, then they were not winning any popularity contests with the locals.

“I’m just a travelling companion, that’s all.”

She gave him a curt nod and then tapped her lips in thought. She was pretty, if overly made up. Her dark eyes, bright lips and pale powdered skin gave her a doll-like quality that might have come across as demure, had she not the obvious bearing of a woman in charge, and an air of coquettishness that seemed to radiate form her.

“I’m afraid I’ve not seen anyone who fits your description.”

Gabriel started was on the verge of despair before inspiration struck, “Umm, the man with the goatee looked something like…” Gabriel pointed at himself with both thumbs and winked, “this.”

“Oh, Goyun! Why didn’t you say so? I’m afraid you just missed him. He left a short while before you arrived.”

A roll of her eyes was enough to guess Chloe’s opinion of Goyun, and Gabriel fancied he saw her glance at the far corner where a dour-faced girl was cleaning up a puddle of something with chunks in it.

“Bollocks,” Gabriel said, and then quickly amended it, “I mean, thank you for your time.”

He went to leave but Chloe stopped him with a gentle touch.

“If it’s Goyun you’re here to see then you needn’t wait too long, dear. He’ll be back this evening; I would stake my reputation on that!” she said with a hop of her eyebrows, “We’ve got a show on. He’s not missed one of our shows since we opened.”

Gabriel looked down at the dainty hand resting on his forearm and then followed it up from wrist, to elbow, to dress. Chloe was wearing a tight bodice in lagoon blue, with waves of white and turquoise skirts and petticoats.

“And, um, what kind of show would that be?”

The building shuddered slightly as something detonated below ground.

Chloe smiled reassuringly.

Somewhere nearby, a donkey brayed.