An unnerving tension and quiet spread through Rigsby Dale, as the families of the deceased grieved, the town fell into a strange state of strained function. The mayor and Rodbearth had continued their regular work and cooperation, yet none of them spoke with one another, they simply kept doing their duties, the wounds still too fresh, however to Rodbearth’s chagrin Sovnfield still stayed in the penitentiary, by choice, for some reason the hobbit had been surprisingly quiet about the whole thing, which was more disturbing to the mayor than had he made a big deal out of it, or tried to escape, instead he simply sat in the cell quietly, unresponsive to any of the mayor’s interrogation.

Impatience was evident in the mayor’s facial expression as he sat down wearily in his comfy reading chair stretching his feet with a cracking sound, massaging his temple lightly.

“She came again…” he spoke loudly, so that his wife could hear him, she was just about to go tend to the injured when she heard her husband lamenting.

She walked into the living room from behind him and began massaging his tensed up shoulders, she weighed her words before she responded “we should be happy that that’s all she has done” she said calmly, her eyes flickered lightly as she remembered the scene of Imara quietening the scene “if she wanted to, we probably couldn’t stop her…” her sentence paused slightly before she began talking again, each word carefully spoken “neither could we him, are you sure of what you saw that day in the alleyway? It is very hard to believe that Sovnfield would be conspiring”

His tired eyes opened halfway at his wife’s words, truth be told he had been having similar thoughts lately, however that scene and the words spoken were clear as day in his mind, even now days after the event, and why would LaGerfield lie to him about what happened? Was it really related to the defect potion that Sovnfield had bought off of him? “I remember what happened that day very clearly still, but… maybe I should speak with LaGerfield some more”

. . . .

LaGerfield had been planning his escape from the doomed town ever since Imara’s presentation of power, she had been quiet for now, but he knew that it was only a matter of town before she approached him, he should never have listened to that voice! While he paced back and forth he reminisced that day that he had passed out, upon awaking he had seen Sovnfield standing in front of him menacingly, and before he could say anything the mayor had walked in. LaGerfield had been just about to say that there was no need to worry he had simply hit his head, but in that moment a whisper had snaked its way into his ear “blame Sovnfield, rid yourself of him before he get to YOU” a split second decision had resulted in LaGerfield pointing out Sovnfield as the culprit, and everything had worked out great, Sovnfield had been taken aback, but for some reason accepted the accusation and quietly followed the mayor and his men, everything had been fine, until Imara showcased her prowess, ever since their last encounter it was clear that she and Sovnfield had a history, and it was even more clear now that she had some sort of strange class, and a high level at that. Needless to say, LaGerfield had had little to no sleep the last couple of days.

All of a sudden a gust of wind from outside blew the candlelight out, LaGerfield cursed as he fumbled over to the window and closed it. He pulled out his flint-light and relit the candle, to his surprise across from him sat a cloaked figure comfortably with his legs on the very table of where the candle was, his arms resting across his stomach, LaGerfield fell straight on his ass as he quickly sprawled up from the floor, ready to yell and scream.

“Calm down fatso, and sit!” the cloaked figure spoke in a hoarse voice that demanded authority, at his words LaGerfield stopped in his tracks, and faced his intruder, sweat poured down from his fat face as he slowly pulled out another chair and sat down, his hands shaking, his every instinct screamed at him to get out and away from the cloaked figure, yet there he was, sitting opposite him, trembling in fear.

In the flicker of the candlelight the cloaked figured appeared leisurely, in the same position that he arrived in “you should be thanking me fatso, instead you’re soiling your pants, I must admit I don’t care much for your hosting abilities” he spoke amusedly “didn’t I get rid of Sovnfield for you? And how do you repay me? You don’t even come buy my potions, I’m very disappointed, fatso” the amusement from his voice gone, replaced by a menacing tone.

LaGerfield gulped heavily as he reevaluated his situation, he was a merchant at heart, and he had soon calculated that he was safe for now, as they not only had a mutually beneficiary relationship with the potions, but also that whoever this group of people were had helped him out, if they wanted him dead they could have done so much earlier, his trembling stopped slightly as he opened his mouth nervously “I’m your only supplier yes?” he asked, wetting his dry lips with his tongue.

“Yes” the cloaked figure simply responded.

LaGerfield waited for a while more, but there was no response coming from the man, his thoughts raced as he grew bolder, ‘he! Was their only supplier’ ‘he! Was their only connection’ and so his thoughts began to build connections that weren’t there, as his trembling stopped completely, his confidence returned to his eyes as he spoke to the man once again “you brought a lot of trouble to me! Didn’t you see Imara?! If she turns her attention to me how’d I escape? I’ll spill everything about our meetings!” he declared confidently.

The cloaked figure simply sat there unresponsive, his features hidden, so it was impossible for LaGerfield to tell what his reaction had been, the longer the quiet lasted, the more he felt that he had just gambled his life away, all of his machinations that had been building up fell apart to the silence.

Finally the cloaked figure spoke up, obviously amused once more “you’re sitting there in your own soil, stinking, and then you go and grow a pair of balls” the figure began laughing loudly as he took his feet down from the table and slowly placed his elbows on the table leaning in close to the candle, the flickering of the light revealing what was hiding under the hood, a black wooden lacquered mask shimmering gently in the candlelight “now, take your balls, and push them back up” he spoke in a terrifying voice, that send LaGerfield rasping for air “Imara, we’ll take care of her, just be at the spot next time, and if you decide to grow a pair again…” the cloaked figure blew out the candlelight, and then he was gone.

LaGerfield slammed his fist into the table as he began crying; there he sat in his own filth, wailing like a broken toy.

. . . .

Sovnfield sat in his cell quietly, he was still wondering about the quest that he had received the moment LaGerfield had accused him, the restrictions of the quest were heavy, however this meant that the potential reward was very high.

It was while he was sitting in his contemplation that a head popped up from the ground, covered in a murky red mist, no Sovnfield realised, its head was red, the ghost kept rising, it looked strained and tired, but it soon came to its senses.

“Uh, where am I? “ it asked incredulously its see-through hand scratching its ghostly neck.

“You're asking me!?” Sovnfield couldn’t help but exclaim at the strangeness of the situation, realizing in that moment, that he probably just lost that golden quest.