“I did a lot of things in my first day in the city that I would have once sworn never to do. I participated in a street fight, joined a mercenary outfit, and participated in all manner of activities against local law. At least I saved a life…”

From the Journal of Eratus Riverwood

Birds chirped above, their shadows gracing the ground through the forest canopy. The warm embrace of midsummer gave the trees their renowned golden sheen. Flowers bloomed among the grass. Pale peaceblooms, scarlet mageroyals, and bright silverleaves. I remembered each of their herbal properties. I guess the knowledge rubbed off on me after years of picking them for the local alchemists.

I spotted a bright purple tulip growing from the side of a tree. Kingsblood. Rare and used in a number of the more expensive potions and poultices. I entertained the idea of stepping off the path to pick them, but I decided otherwise. For now, I just cherished their sight. Beauty and utility joined as one.

A gurgling sound, that resembled speech but not quite, echoed through the forest. I turned toward the source and saw Murlocs, the midget-sized fish-people, swimming and walking around their small huts by Crystal Lake. A nuisance to the farmers, annoyance to the guards, and entertainment for the passing travelers. Harmless, so long as one didn’t bother them.

Elwynn Forest was as I remembered when I left years ago. Had it really been that long? It seemed like only yesterday that I was a bright-eyed whelp journeying out to the greater world. I had seen so much since then. The Arathi highlands, where humanity’s first nation was founded and Tirisfal Glades, home of the Knights of the Silver Hand. The underground dwarven complex of Ironforge and the ever bright elven capital of Silvermoon. More remained out there such as the mechanized city of Gnomeregan, the spires of Dalaran, the islands of Kul’Tiras, the jungle port of Booty Bay. My journeys weren’t all excitement, but the world I knew now was larger than I had ever dreamed. Still, nowhere brought the same warm feeling as this quaint forest. As the saying goes, there was no place quite like home.

The walls guarding Northshire basin came into view. Chunks of stone were still missing from when the Horde invaded decades ago, but a lot had been repaired since then. Beyond it was home and all the familiar faces that came with it. Marshall Mcbride and Brother Sammuel. Aunt Tiana and Katrina. Even old Milly Osworth. I wonder if she ever grew out of her antics. She laughed when I said I was going to be a paladin and I laughed when she said she would own all of the vineyards one day. I could only imagine the look on her face when she saw pimply snot-nosed Eratus.

I took my first steps towards the gate.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood.”

“Wuh?” I jolted awake, as the dream faded and reality set in. Every single joint was creaking and not in an enjoyable way. My back was as stiff as a board. I could feel the puffiness of my eyes. The blisters on my feet flared.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, there is hostile intent originating from the lifeform you have preserved.”

Besides Del’s voice I could hear wood knocking against wood. I blinked through the grime crust and grime on my eyes.

I was in my room at the inn, sitting on the floor and leaning against a wall. Captain Falmore’s sword, the pommel stained with ground up ghost mushrooms, rested against my leg. A few bowls were strewn about. One filled with water, while the other was caked with the herbal paste. Everything started to come back. Last night’s rush, the argument with the innkeep, silver for supplies and a little extra to keep him quiet, trying to remember how much water I was supposed to mix with the ghost mushrooms, treating the elf’s wound.

Everything except passing out. I got up from the wall. No wonder my back hurt. There was another bang as I saw my bed shift. Oh, that was what that was.

She was lying flat on the bed, the sheets over her. Linen cloth bound each of her limbs to a bedpost. In hindsight, it might have been a bit severe. However. I wasn’t leaving myself vulnerable without some assurances of safety. The last time I did, I woke up in a cage the last time.

On the flip side, her efforts seemed to indicate that she had healed rather nicely.

I stood up, every joint creaking with outrage. Light peered through the window. Was it already morning? I yawned, feeling my chapped lips and parched throat. The elf’s frantic eyes noticed me and she screamed.

I reacted by grabbing one of the bundles of cloth and shoving it into her mouth. I did not need to draw any more attention.

“Hey!” I said. “I need you to calm down.”

She paused, for a moment. Her brown eyes narrowed with rage through strands of unkempt hair. Then she resumed shrieking, albeit muffled from the gag, and struggled with greater vigor.

“Look,” I said. “I just saved your life.”

I turned and drew up her coin pouch. She paused again as her eyes widened in recognition. I guess mercenaries did love their coin.

“This is yours,” I said, dropping it by her head. “I didn’t take anything.”

I removed the gag at which point she spat in my face. I put it her again before she could start screaming.

“Look,” I said, wiping the slime off my face. It took a lot of willpower for me to stay calm. “I didn’t do any harm. I very well could have let you bleed out but I didn’t. Hence why you are here.”

I could see her mind play out last night’s events as the anger in her eyes evaporated. She stopped struggling.

“I’m going to remove the wrap around your mouth,” I said. “Please do not scream, I don’t need another commotion. Are we at an understanding, Tabris?”

The mention of the familiar name caused her eyes to widen in surprise. She nodded in resigned agreement.

“Good,” I said, removing the gag.

She gasped, breathing heavily.

“Don’t exert yourself too hard. I need to check your wound to see if the paste did its work.”

“You… what?” she asked.

“I treated you with an… old family recipe.” I probably could have explained that better. “I think your wound healed but I need to be sure.”

Half the ghost mushrooms that I picked from the caverns went into that paste. The same amount would have paid a noble’s ransom back on Azeroth. Now was not the time to fret however.

I flipped over her blanket. The bandage had shifted away from where the cut along her waist. Probably from all her movement. Where there once was a ragged gash was now healthy pink skin. No scars either. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a gambit; I had no idea if the mushrooms worked on elven anatomy here the same way they did back home. Even still, thank the Light I got the mixture right. Ghost mushrooms offered little room for error. Too much or little, both were poison.

“W-who are you?” she said. “Wait, my clothes.”

“Just someone helping another person in need,” I said. “And don’t worry I’m not going to go off telling everyone who you really are.”

Then I realized at that moment where I got all the extra fabric for fresh bandages. She was naked from the britches up under the blanket. Blood flushed out of my cheeks and I looked away while moving the blanket back into place.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, she spoke up.

“And I am supposed to take the word of a shem?

There we go with the insults. “I would never demean myself to forcing myself on a child,” I said. “Besides, what were you doing, volunteering for a job like that?”

She blushed, probably with embarrassment. “None of your beeswax shem,” she replied, then looked at the binds. “Are you going to let me go?”

“Well, you healed quite nicely, so I will,” I said and began to remove the ties from her hands and feet.

Once she was free, she slipped to the side of the bed, keeping the blankets wrapped around her. She stood up to my height. One hand slipped to grab her coin pouch.

“One last thing,” I turned to grab her daggers. “You-“

I had no time to register as the coin pouch smacked me in the cheek. However, that didn’t hurt as much as when her knee came up to my groin. My vision flared and I doubled over, dropping the daggers on the ground.

She slipped on her shoes and ran out the door, leaving me on the floor.

Whatever Del said about stamina, it didn’t mean resilience to pain. Especially not when you were kicked in the balls.

“Uhnnnnnnn,” I moaned. Curled up.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. Are you well?”

“Yes… Yes I’m fine,” I lied. Thoughts of rage and anger swelled up again. I imagined horrible things against the perpetrator of my suffering.

“Understood. It appears that your judgment on this lifeform was faulty.”

“Don’t… remind me.”

Moments passed and the pain finally subsided, replaced with a dull ache. I slowly lifted myself up. I stepped out the doorway, and into the common area. The elf was nowhere to be seen, the double doors of the inn swinging in her departure.

The innkeeper stood behind the counter, wiping an empty wooden mug. He peered at me, then laughed.

“Guessing your tumble last night didn’t go so well.”

“No,” I said, leaning against the wall. “No it did not.”

“Well she just ran away with one of the blankets. That’s going to be another silver.”

“Damn elves…”

Things were better by the time I left. I strolled down the road, belching as a bit of the morning stew burbled up my throat from my bloated stomach. My skin was free of grime and dirt after a cold dunk in the bucket of water that people here considered a bath. It was a fry cry from the magically heated showers on Alliance camps but it beat washing in a river.

I had departed the inn, satisfied and happier than usual in spite of the morning’s events. A full stomach and clean body tended to have remarkable effects on one’s mood.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. What will be our next steps?”

“Well first I need to report in with the other mercenaries. We are going to need money if we want to go anywhere or do anything.”

“Understood.”

“Really? No other questions?”

“The packets of minerals you reference possess value to the lifeforms of this world. They are essential to the maintenance of your organic faculties and our continued survival.”

Well that was a surprise. It seemed like Del was starting to understand things, albeit with overly complicated language. I doubted he would stop using doing so, but it was better than being pestered with questions every encounter.

The morning’s events left me little time to plan things out for what lay ahead. The elf was gone, that was for sure. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see her again now that her identity was compromised. Not that it mattered much to me. There were bigger things to worry about.

For now, it was best to focus on essentials. Secure continued income through mercenary work, shop for supplies, learn more about this world, and most importantly figure out a way home. Probably starting with whatever that being Flemeth had said.

I did not trust her, every single one of my gut instincts told me not too, and I suspected she was not leading me to the full story. Still, I had no other idea on how to get back.

I reached the marketplace, managing not to get lost this time. It was still the vibrant and busy whirlpool of activity that I remembered from yesterday, though less daunting now that I had better feel for things. I stepped into the crowd.

The trick as it turns out was not unlike swimming in the sea. The key advice being to move with the currents and not against them. Here the currents were dictated by the larger caravans and trade wagons. Everyone moved aside as the large convoys moved through the square. All I had to do was follow behind them. Even if they didn’t move straight to my destination, it was far faster than trying to beat the waves of people.

After a few maneuvers from caravan to caravan, I stepped back to where the Blackstone Irregulars were.

There was a crowd but no fights going on like yesterday. Dozens of men and women stood in front of a small pocket of buildings, probably here for the same reason as I.

It reminded me of a time when we hired adventurers to assist us in removing a dire wolf infestation. The group lacked any kind of uniformity, carrying and slinging weapons of all sorts. Swords, bows, axes, warhammers, flails, and a few crossbows.

Unlike the adventurers however, there were no hunter pets, mage staves, or wands. No gnomish contraptions or gnomes for that matter. No travelpacks filled with potion bottles. No guns either. I recalled the black-powder for explosives was invented by a dwarven smith and mage a century ago. I wonder if it ever came to be in this world.

They all had armor though. I put that on the top of my list of priorities after this. I tried to not look so out of place and I stepped into the gathering. Nobody seemed to mind my presence.

Time passed. Taoran and the others from last night were nowhere to be seen. Much to my relief. The mercenaries talked amongst each other, in the typical black humor of soldiers. Mostly, tales of exploits that were probably exaggerated by several magnitudes. Some called each other out on that. Others laughed. All it did was remind me of how alone I was in this world. The Lorekeeper didn’t count as company.

The talking died down as a large bulletin board was wheeled out by two men. They were followed by the Blackstone liaison from yesterday and several women holding stacks of papers.

“Alright lads and lasses!” the Blackstone liasion’s voice boomed out. “The week’s jobs are posted on the board. If any of them strike your fancy, you come to the clerks to get onboarded. Remember! No onboard no pay! If you can’t read, you come to me and we’ll find something for you.”

A few folks snickered. Most did not.

“Now play nice and keep a line or else they’ll be hell to pay!” The two men removed the cover from the billboard, revealing hundreds of individual pieces of parchment. The crowd rushed over to the board, probably to land the best jobs out there.

I stood in the back of the line, not wanting to get caught up in the mess. White parchment came off the board in droves, as the mercenaries picked out their jobs for the week. There were a few conflicts when two people tried to grab the same piece of parchment at the same time. It never came to a brawl though, much to my surprise. The guards would step forward and keep order which made me wonder how good they were if they were able to keep professional fighters under control.

The line dwindled and the gathering dispersed as the mercenaries got their jobs and left. By the time I made it up there, there were plenty left. Demand for their services must be pretty high. Although given the state of things here, that was to be expected. My eyes drifted to the top.

Looking for Armed Guards to Orzammar

HELP Wanted: Korcari Wilds Expedition

Noble Retainer Looking for Guides to Gwaren

I had little to no idea where the Korcari Wilds, Orzammar, or Gwaren were but if the high pay was any indication the work was probably going to be dangerous. Almost all the jobs at the very top were taken by groups earlier as well. I turned my attention toward the middle.

Merchant Requesting Extended Escort to Orlais

Travelers Looking for Strong Hands for Month-Long Voyage to Rivain

All of the jobs here seemed like they involved a lot of travel. Something I had no time for. My eyes moved further down.

Bakery Looking for Guard. Hourly at Half-Silver for Services.

Mundane and local. Perfect. I snapped up the parchment from the billboard and walked over to the Blackstone liaison and the clerks. They had set themselves at several desks.

“Ah why if it ain’t you?” the Blackstone liaison said.

“Nice to meet you again,” I replied. I was not in the mood for conversation.

“So how did your little foray with the boss go?”

“Not too bad. Wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Well don’t get cocky. Jobs like that don’t come in very often and if they do, it is usually through me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Watch it. You keep that attitude of yours and I’ll have you booted out faster than you come in.”

I turned to his clerk, putting the parchment with the job down. Before the woman could begin reading it, the Blackstone liaison scrapped up the piece of paper then looked back at me with a puzzled glare.

“This? You want to be an over glorified and underpaid watchdog?”

“Yep.”

“Whatever. Suit yourself.” He tossed the piece of parchment onto the ground then stepped away.

The woman reached down to grab the parchment. “Sorry about that. He’s a bit grouchy during the afternoon.”

“It’s alright,” I replied.

“Well let us get you sorted out then. What’s your name?”

“Eratus Riverwood.”

She wrote it down on a scroll, along with the job, then handed the parchment back to me.

“She’ll be expecting you tomorrow.”

“She?”

“Madame Lebois. It is an Orlesian bakery. Pretty popular, especially among the nobility. Directions on the sheet.”

“Ah,” I said and took the parchment from her.

“One last thing, where can I get armor here? I’m a bit under-prepared.”

“Oh. Best place is the Emporium. It’s on the other side of the market, where all the smiths do business. It’s easy to spot.” She pointed toward the rising smoke in the sky.

“Also,” she whispered. “Look for Wade if you get there. He loves working with us lot. You might even be able to finagle a free set.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Safe travels!”

I arrived at the slew of buildings in the northern part of the marketplace that belched smoke from their chimneys. When I arrived, my ear rang with the clings and clangs of blacksmiths working metal. It wasn’t unpleasant. My living space in the Badlands was usually right by the dwarven smith attaches. I’d gotten used to the steady thrum and rhythm of hammers.

Most of the smiths here worked out in the open. All humans from the looks of it. That alone made me question the quality of the metalwork. If this was in Azeroth of course. Dwarves were the best smiths and anybody who could got dwarven handiwork for their weapons and armor. I didn’t see much in the quality of ingots either. No shining true-silver or light blue mithril or sturdy orange adamant. All I saw was ordinary gray steel judging by the armor, weapons, and shields out on display.

It wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

I passed by the buildings, walking unnoticed by busy blacksmiths until one caught my eye. On the top of the door, someone had etched in Wade’s Emporium into the wood. I pushed past the door and was met with a sudden whiff of hot air mixed with soot and iron. There was the crackle of a furnace, and the sound of a solitary hammer striking an anvil.

“Hello?” I asked. In the absence of windows, the only light came from the furnace. A lone man was holding a bar against a furnace.

He stopped hammering and looked at me. His eyes took one look at the sword around my belt then he set his tools on the ground with a clang.

“Why hello there! Looking for something?” he asked, laying his tools to the side. He wiped the sweat off his brow with a rag then stepped over to me.

“Yes, actually. I’m looking for Wade. I’m with the Blackstone Irregulars.”

“The Blackstone Irregulars? Oh how marvelous! I take it you are here for armor?”

“Yes, in fact.”

“Splendid! It won’t cost you a single penny. I am always pleased to work with one of Raelnor’s lot.”

He walked around me, swerving his head to get a good idea of my dimensions. “I think I have a few sets in mind. I’ll be back in just a moment!”

Wade disappeared into another room. I could hear metal banging against metal through the wall. He stepped back, holding three breastplates under his arms.

“Here we are,” he said, putting them on the ground.

The one on the left looked like a leather vest that had a hundred steel plates sutured onto it. The one in the middle was standard scale armor over a chainmail vest. It looked less flexible than the one on the right, with better protection against arrows. The one in the far right was made of plate, similar to what I saw the rest of the Blackstone Irregulars wore, and what I was accustomed to.

“I’ll take a look at this one,” I said pointing towards the one on the right.

“Master Wade!” a man barged in from a door behind the counter, dropping a couple crates on the ground.

“Oh a customer!” he then said and stepped towards us. He was a spindly looking fellow, and was no smith judging by his clean clothes and hands.

“Name is Herren,” he said. “I help run the shop.”

He turned towards the blacksmith. “Master Wade, I brought the materials you ordered.”

“The whalebones? It will be perfect for my next creation! I must have a look!” He went over to pop open the crates, leaving Herren and I alone.

“I do hope Master Wade wasn’t too much of a bother,” Herren said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “He tends to get a bit too excited with his craft you see.”

“It was no issue I assure you,” I replied.

Then he looked at the array of breastplates on the ground then frowned.

“Here for armor?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I was thinking of taking the plate on the right.”

“Well that is going to cost you. 20 silvers-“

“I’ll have none of that Herren!” interrupted Wade as he pried open the crates with a metal bar. “This fellow here is a Blackstone Irregular, and I won’t charge Raelnor’s lot for our business!”

“Master Wade,” said Herren. “We can’t have a business without transactions. We aren’t running a charity here, and we’ve already had issues meeting the new tax levies…”

“I will have none of that!” said Wade. “This is my shop! And I shall run it as I see fit.”

“Dear Andraste…” Herren shook his head and turned away.

“Wait,” I said. “Look, I’ll pay.”

“You will?” Herren said.

“Yes,” I said. “I don’t have the money for the plate but… How much for that one?” I pointed toward the leather coat riveted with steel plates.

“The brigandine?” said Herren. “That’ll be about five silvers.”

A third of my earnings from last night’s adventure. The coat didn’t look too sturdy, but I needed something. I wasn’t about to test how resilient my body was here.

“Wait,” said Wade. “I just told you. It is all free of charge.”

“It is alright. I’m a strong believer in fair trades,” I said. Well Aunt Tiana said it first.

“Excellent!” said Herren. “It is good to meet a man after my own heart. I’ll have the rest of the armor ready in a moment. Please wait right here.”

I walked away from the marketplace, wearing my newly acquired armor and my travelpack brimming with supplies. I had about six silvers left from the 30 after everything.

The brigandine as they called it fit surprisingly well. The thick leather was snug against my armpits and waist. Not to mention it doubled as a coat. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and the windchill didn’t cut through my body as it did yesterday. Wade snuck me a free pair of plate gauntlets and for my arms, which he essentially begged me to take. I could see why the clerk recommended him. Mercenaries probably all made a killing off of his generosity.

Other than that, I had gotten several rolls of bandages, a sewing kit, and several glass bottles filled with a red restorative poultice. I thought they were actual healing potions at first, until the storekeeper told me otherwise. Better than nothing though.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have detected an anomaly nearby.”

“What? Where?”

“Directly to your left. The resonation implies the source is of Titan origin.”

A surge of I halted and turned to see a wide building with a violet roof. Violet was the favored color of mages, at least back on Azeroth. Was it the same here? There was a double door in front, and there didn’t seem to be much traffic going in or out.

“Would this ‘anomaly’ be a way back?”

“That remains a possibility.”

Hope surged within me, but I didn’t let my optimism get ahead of itself. Caution was advised. I stepped through the double doors.

The entire house was but a single room. A massive patterned carpet lay over the floor. On each wall were shelves with row after row of colorful and intricate looking items. At the end of the room stood a single man, with golden-red robes, staring blankly ahead.

“Greetings,” he said, with a complete lack of inflection or tone. “Welcome to the Wonders of Thedas.”

“Hello!” I replied.

“How many I be of assistance today.”

“Just taking a gander that’s all. Mind if I look around?”

“You may. Please let me know if I may be of assistance.”

I stepped toward one of the shelves. “Notice anything?” I mouthed.

“I have detected energy signatures from several items but will need to be within closer physical proximity to identify them.”

I walked around, staying as close as I could to the shelves without actually touching the items. Intricate and antique were the best words I could find to describe what I saw. An insect trapped in amber. A miniature castle. A jade figure shaped in the figure of… well, I saw plenty of drawings of that particular male appendage by bored soldiers.

The man at the counter said nothing. In fact, he continued to stare blankly ahead, a vacant expression on his face.

“What are these things?” I asked.

“They are an assortment of tools and artifacts collected from Thedas. They have been donated through the Circle of Magi and the Chantry for the purposes of raising funds.”

“Got it.”

So this was the remnants of someone’s spring cleaning. Stil, I had a feeling a few folks back home would have had a field day exploring this. Bluebeard mentioned he had a cousin in Ironforge who specialized in these things. I think they called themselves archeologists.

Then I noticed an entire shelf dedicated to an array of blue vials. A metal screen was sheathed over to prevent any prying hands from reaching in. I recognized the liquid from the vials I took from the templars and that was sitting in my room.

“What are these?” I asked.

“Liquid Lyrium,” the man replied. “They are restricted items and can only be released without a Chantry representative.”

“Ah. Got it,” I said. It was safe to conclude the ones sitting in my room were contraband. I’d have to do something about them. Getting rid of them entirely was probably the most prudent course of action.

I passed by more and more items. Nothing here looked like the mirror I found in the caverns or a portal back home.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood. I have pinpointed the anomaly.”

I stopped. The item in front looked like nothing more than an old worn piece of brick.

“Are you sure?” I mouthed.

“Yes.”

“Excuse me?” I asked the odd man behind the counter. “I’m interested in this item here.”

The man stepped away from the counter without a word. He maintained a smooth gait but kept that same vacant expression all the way. As he drew closer, I noticed the sun-shaped mark on his forehead. He turned and looked at the brick.

“Dwarven artifact. Its purpose is unknown but it was recovered from the Deep Roads centuries ago. It was discovered in a Chantry vault and was later moved to be sold to the greater public.”

It looked like an old brick to me. Still, if the Lorekeeper said it was useful...

“How much?”

“Five silver coins.”

Five silvers. As much as the armor that I was wearing or the sum total of all the supplies I bought. Five silvers for a piece of rock.

“Certainly,” I said, counting up the coins from my pouch. That left me with one silver. I handed it to the man. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the money. He began to turn back towards the counter.

“Do you have anything that resembles a large mirror?” I asked. “Something the size of a grown man?”

“We do not possess such an item,” he said. “All you see here in this room is what we have. We are restocked twice weekly, so it may be present then.”

“Er... okay.”

There was a moment of silence when he spoke again.

“Am I unnerving?”

Well he honestly was. The way he spoke with a complete lack of any emotion was odd enough.

“A little bit.”

“I apologize then. It is a byproduct of the rite of tranquility. I am what you know as a tranquil.”

“Sorry… about that.

“It is alright. It was deemed necessary as I lacked the sufficient willpower to be a full-fledged magister.”

“And are you happy with how you are now?”

“I am not sure. I don’t feel much of anything anymore. However, I am content.”

“Well thanks for showing me around.”

“Have a good day.”

Was this what the templars were trying to put me through? If so, I was glad I escaped when I did. I had no care to end up like that. I departed the store.

I arrived back at the inn. It was empty, save a few quiet patrons minding their own business in the corner. The innkeeper stood behind the counter quietly cleaning beer mugs with a rag.

“Did she come back?” I asked.

“The elf?” the innkeeper said. “Nope, didn’t see a wink of her since this morning. I don’t think she is looking for another romp.”

“I told you I did not sleep with her.”

“Yea, sure you didn’t,” he laughed. I wasn’t amused.

The conversation ended there and stepped toward my room, closing the door behind me. The room was a mess, clattered bowls, blood, and torn fabric was strewn everywhere on the ground.

“Knight-Lieutenant Riverwood, what will be our plans now?”

Well, first I’m cleaning things up. Then I’ll need to think things through. We don’t have anything to go off of other than whatever that… creature we met in the forest told us.”

“Are you referring to the lifeform identified as Flemeth?”

“Yea, that one.”

“Understood. I agree with your assessment on the entity. We are in consensus.”

“What about you? I got that useless pie- I mean artifact. Anything in there that you can sort out?

A projection of the mechanical gnome popped into existence in the room. Del’s avatar looked up to me.

“It will take some time for me to analyze the object. I can begin now.”

“Please do so,” I said. I placed the brick in the corner of the room and Del stood still in front of it, doing something to crack the code. I wasn’t so concerned about someone waltzing in on accident. The Lorekeeper was pretty good at keeping himself hidden, and could detect anyone approaching.

I tidied up the place. Rounded up the dirty bowls in stacks and gathered up the bloody rags into a pile. I noticed a pair of daggers on the floor. They belonged to the elf. I guess the innkeeper was right when he said she didn’t return. I picked them up.

They were special, if only judging by the carvings against the handle. Well, given the thanks she gave on her way out, I guess they were mine now. I needed a replacement for that mithril dagger anyway. The same one stolen by the Dalish.

By the time I got done cleaning, Del hadn’t finished analyzing. The projection stood in the corner, peering at the brick. I opened my journal readying to write down my thoughts and think through on the witch’s puzzle. However, days of poor sleep and the exertion from last night began to catch up. Fatigue began to assault my concentration in full force. Instead, I plopped onto the bed, hoping for dreams of home.