Well, one thing was certain. If he wanted to pay for the first round of training offered by the Guild, he needed more gold. The number of coins piling up in the pouch at his waist had seemed excessive, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Eighty gold was the cost, so he had to take on some work. The obvious answer was bounties. As he didn’t want to continue working for the Guild without proper training from Ehran, he needed quick gold. A bounty or two would suit his purposes perfectly.

Unsurprisingly, the first place he checked was a large notice board posted in the taproom of the Heron Tavern. He’d inspected it before, and apart from the routine notices from the Crown or advertisements from the more regular merchants, there were a scattering of jobs offered, for whoever had the skill. There were postings for everything from handiwork on the local farms to dangerous missions to recover lost family heirlooms or artifacts.

Enri had found the two wanted posters on the board quickly. The portraits on them were of criminals who had escaped the arm of the law, and a reward would be offered for anyone who managed to capture them and bring them in to stand trial. Thankfully, there were none of the classic “Dead or Alive” descriptions. They might have broken the law, but the City Guard didn’t issue death warrants without heavy consideration.

Jonathan Moran, a former member of the Tyrman military, was wanted for deserting. He’d been recruited from Milagre, so it was reasoned that he would return here now that large movements of armed men had ceased roaming the countryside for security. He’d been a sergeant when he deserted, and a reward of ninety-five royals was offered for his capture.

Michael Ciayol, a craftsman who had murdered one of his clients over a deal gone wrong, was wanted as well. He’d been spotted fleeing towards the Dagorra Forest, and all attempts by the guards to find him had failed. A hefty reward of one hundred and twenty royals was issued to any who brought him back to face justice.

Two choices, both difficult for different reasons. There had been no sightings of Moran since he deserted and fled the military, so tracking him down would likely take a while. On the other hand, Michael Ciayol was a murderer. He could probably be tracked down with minimal effort, but he would be ready to fight, and possibly kill, whoever came after him to avoid capture. Both wanted posters said to contact the Queen’s Guard for more information. If he wanted to learn more, they might be able to help.

In the end, he took down the poster for Michael Ciayol, though he couldn’t really explain his reasoning. It could have been the higher bounty, or it could have been for the challenge. Either way, he told himself with a shrug. He folded up the portrait with his picture and tucked it into the satchel at his waist. Before he went after the murderer, there were a few things he needed to take care of in Milagre.

For the rest of the morning, he made many errands. First, he went to the headquarters of the Guard’s Guild to register for the nearest upcoming training class, scheduled for the first of the month. Just eight days left to him. Then he stopped by Weaver’s Road to pick up the garments he’d purchased before, as his current clothes were in appalling condition. A dull black cloth jerkin over a dark gray tunic, complete with thick and comfortable black breeches. They were of much higher quality than his other clothes, and would likely last him much longer. Two royals well spent, he thought.

Then he went to Willow’s Respite, the small apothecary owned by Emma and her father. She was out gathering herbs and conducting business today, so he met her father, and purchased two more small healing potions. They’d proven more than effective, and he wasn’t eager to go into danger again without them on hand. Her father seemed a decent sort, slightly grumpy but professional. He decided not to mention to him that he desired Emma, and the man didn’t seem to recognize him.

After the potions, he sought out a blacksmith for new armor. Ever since he’d first come to Ahya, he’d leaned a little too heavily on defense. It was nice to have more health points, but if he wanted to fight like Ehran, he needed to lean on speed and flexibility. He lucked out, finding a shop that was willing to buy his old armor for a royal, to reuse on other projects. He exited wearing a similar setup, but this time made of slim metal. He also had a wrist-mounted sheath for his shorter blade on his right arm, to make it easier to access.

He wanted to get his second weapon enchanted, as it was already a fine blade, but decided to let it wait, both because he had no desire to see M again, but also because he was using up most of his coin in these preparations. So instead he visited a magical supply store, owned and operated by the Mage’s College. It was his strangest errand by far.

“Welcome to the College’s Magical Supply,” the bubbly girl who operated the stall said, the second he’d crossed the threshold. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m setting out to hunt down a bounty,” Eric replied, his eyes roaming over the shelves of merchandise. There was everything from potions to magical gear, with price tags that dwarfed the bounty he was chasing. “I need something to help me paralyze my target.”

“Hmm,” the woman said, her face shifting into a thoughtful frown. “We have stunning arrows and bolts if you’re handy with a bow.”

Eric shook his head, which didn’t seem to surprise her. She continued. “We also have a wide variety of potions that will render your target catatonic for several hours. But that requires them to drink it willingly or to be subdued. Your best bet is probably one of our poisons.”

Eric’s mind flashed back to the bolt that Rajlen Korin had shot him with, and he suppressed a shudder. “What kind of poison? I want to take him alive, and bring him back to the Queen’s Guard.”

“Oh, these won’t kill,” she assured him. “Materials that kill are highly controlled, and we carry none of them here. But this gel here is very strong, and will work wonderfully for what you want.”

Eric stepped closer to inspect the vial she was holding up. It was long and thin and looked like it had a brush mounted into the cap. It kind of resembled the basters he’d use on roasts and turkeys, to make sure that the meat’s juices were evenly spread. Presumably, the brush was to apply it to a weapon’s edge, so that the effect would happen when he struck.

“How much is that?” He asked, thinking of the much smaller amount of coins he had.

“Before that,” she said, tucking the vial out of sight in her robes and assuming a very business-like expression. “This is also a controlled substance. Do you have any identification that you are authorized to purchase this?”

“Uhh,” Eric said, brought up short. “Not really. I didn’t think that I’d need any.”

“Well, of course,” the girl said, looking slightly suspicious. “We can’t just sell poisons to whoever comes asking. What if you used it to murder someone?”

He decided not to be offended by the implication, and took a step back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He made sure to stay put, so it didn’t seem like he was trying to do anything shady, and the girl relaxed a little, watching him ponder this. He was certain that, as a D-tier member of the Guard’s Guild, he had no such authorization. But the fact remained that, if he wanted to take Ciayol alive, he needed something to stun the man.

“As I don’t have any identification or a license,” he said after a moment, lifting his head to stare at the girl. “What else could I do to prove that I’m trustworthy enough?”

She considered the question for a moment or two, then said, “Well, if you could give me a letter from a superior officer or someone high-ranked enough to vouch for you, then I suppose that would be alright. But it would have to be someone who I know about, or it wouldn’t work.”

“I see,” he commented. A sudden idea occurred to him. “You’re a student at the College, right?”

“Yes,” she said, standing a little straighter. “I’m an Adept under Archmage Wembly.”

He didn’t reply to her. He hitched his satchel closer and opened it, reaching in and grabbing one of the Message scrolls that Samuel had given him. After a moment of reading the window of text that accompanied it, he undid the ribbon that held it closed. It opened by itself, standing in the air before his face. The surface of the paper was quite blank, but as he began to speak, words inscribed themselves on the surface.

“Samuel, I have a favor to ask. I need to purchase a paralyzing poison for a bounty I’m chasing, but I don’t have any qualifications. Can you write a letter to vouch for me?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the scroll snapped shut and disappeared from view, leaving behind a faint scent of burning paper. He glanced back at the girl. “It should only take a few minutes for him to reply.

“Samuel,” the girl said quietly, frowning in thought. “That’s surely not-”

Before she could finish her question, there was a quiet pop, and another rolled piece of paper appeared out of nowhere in front of Eric’s face. He snatched it out of the air before it could fall, and unfurled it carefully. There, written in hurried but perfectly legible ink, was a letter of recommendation from Samuel.

I, Samuel Bragg, Champion of Arcana and Archmage of Knowledge, vouch for Eric Breeden. He is an exceptional soldier and trustworthy individual, who takes on occasional contracts in service of the Crown. I hereby authorize Eric to make any purchase, hire any service, and accept any offers he deems necessary to complete his work.

Signed,

Maelstrom Lord Samuel Bragg

Trying not to look too surprised, he offered the letter to the girl. She took it with a shocked look and read it over twice, then handed it back. “Very well. As Archmage Bragg has vouched for you, I have no qualms about selling you the poison. Twelve royals is the price, sir.”

He winced inwardly. He could afford it, of course, but it nearly bankrupted him. He pulled out his coin pouch and counted out eleven gold and ten silvers, depositing them onto the counter. She double-checked the count quickly, then scooped up the coins in one deft movement and put them away much like the Collector did back in Sheran, with a gesture and a word. Then she withdrew the small vial of yellow liquid and handed it over. Eric tucked it safely into his satchel. He only had seven silver and thirty-four copper left to his name.

“Thank you very much,” she said with a slight bow. “I hope that your business goes well and that you return safely to do more business in the future.”

Eric returned the gesture with a bob of his head and stepped out of the shop. His feet turned automatically to the Heron Tavern, where he intended to eat a good lunch and relax before setting out. He knew it was risky to go after his bounty at night, but it was also smarter, as Ciayol was less likely to expect pursuit at the time when most people had gone home for the night. Well, at least he hoped they would think that way.