“It’s garbage, is what it is,” Cadryn grumbled into his ale. The sound of his words were mostly consumed by the noise of the early evening patrons of Amber’s Toast, but Sil, reclining beside him on the bench, with her feet across his lap, heard the complaint.

“If you’re talking about the stout, we’re going to have words.”

“Aye, and you wouldn’t like them I’d wager.” Korbinian added from his chair. “Not. At. All.”

“No, the ale is good,” Cadryn said, and gave Sil’s thigh a squeeze beneath the table. “It’s this line about the Imperial messenger, what’s his name.”

“Karl,” Sil offered over her glass of port.

“Fuckin’ Karl,” Gita hissed from within the tankard she’d curled into. “That bastard ‘lost’ my letters of inquiry for months, MONTHS!”

“So he has a history of this sort of thing.” Cadryn declared, nodding to himself. After it had become clear that Sefton was unwilling to do anything about Karl’s refusal to stop for their missives. He had decided to spend his nights after shift at Amber’s Toast, hoping to spot the man. “Everyone drinks at Amber’s,” he whispered.

“That they do,” the woman herself said, sidling into view. “Another round?” Amber asked. A course of ‘Ayes!’ met her. Amber Kellen, Great-great-great-granddaughter of the town’s founder, was the living image of the plump farmer’s daughter all grown up. The only unexpected detail were here eyes, the color of hammered gold, almost a match for Cadryn’s. “Right away, Keepers, I’ll put it on your tabs.” Amber said.

As she vanished, an unpleasant sensation chewed its way through Cadryn’s guts. “Our tabs? There’s not a singular tab, for the Keepers?”

Laughter rounded the booth. “Have you met Sefton Atwood?” Korbinian asked rhetorically.

Cadryn groaned, he’d been drinking here nightly for nearly two weeks.

Sil patted his arm. “Amber won’t break your legs, but she will cut you off at the end of the month until you’re paid up.”

It was a small comfort, then a sound like a cat being stepped on pierced the bubble of their companionship.

“Looookkkkkkk, its Fuckin’ Karl!” Gita wailed.

And so it was. Karl, his uniform of office dirty and partially undone, had sauntered onto the ground floor of the Toast, and into the warm lamplight of the tavern. Their new round forgotten, the Keepers made their way down the two flights of stairs, doing their best to be as unnoticed as possible. Karl’s fatigue did much to aid them in this, and they were able to successfully arrive at his table, blocking off any escape.

“Hello, Karl,” Cadryn said, smiling daggers at the man.

Karl, whose first drink had just arrived, held up a finger as he gulped down the flagon, his long neck bulging with each swallow. “Ahhhhhhh!” he breathed, and slammed down the flagon. “Now . . . who the hell are you?”

“Look closer Karllll, you’ll recognize us!” Gita said.

Karl did, and realizing whose company he was in, ran a hand down his face, smearing the sweat and grit of a long day on the road.

“Bleh, it’s you lot.” He said. “What do you want now?”

“For you to do your job,” Cadryn said, planting a fist on the table.

Karl waved for another round. “I am, Imperial Courier’s code states I am to take whatever cargo pays the most Thrones, thereby ensuring the most income for road maintenance and communications,” He said. The line having the practiced sound of an oft repeated defense.

“You’re also supposed to collected official correspondence,” Sil said.

“I do,” Karl said, sniffing the air and looking past them at the kitchen’s offerings. “When required to do so.”

“But not when you’re making more for something else?” Cadryn said, shaking his head.

“Hey, when we’re making more, so are you my friends,” he said.

Cadryn wanted to throttle the man, but Korbinian cleared his throat.

“So, friend, I imagine there’s some sort of local priority that’s been keeping you from the regular stops?”

Karl eyed the old alchemist like a wary cat. “I have . . . the local Alchemist and resident Warlock of this town in fact, Takis the Grim. He’s been ordering a lot of expensive items from down south.”

“What kind of items?” Korbinian asked, suddenly much more interested.

“I don’t know, not my business to know. As you damn well should know.” Karl replied, crossing his arms. “Will that be all then, Keepers?”

“It will,” Sil replied, and nodded for the door. “It’s getting late, perhaps we should be getting back to the Neeft? Day shift starts early.”

“Aye,” Korbinian agreed, yawning. “Now that the mystery is solved.”

“Yeah,” Gita said, glowering back at Karl form where she perched atop Korbinian’s head. “Fuckin’ Karl.”

Cadryn wanted to know more, wanted to go talk to this Takis the Grim immediately, but the drink and exhaustion of the day won out and he followed the others for the doors. Sil’s smile gave him hope yet, for a more satisfying end to the night . . . so distracted by the thought Cadryn was, he almost ran into Amber Kellen when she stepped out of the shadows by the door.

“A moment of your time, Cadryn?” she asked, her voice like honeyed wine.

Sil looked back at him, her eyes sliding off Amber like water, “Don’t be too late, Cad,” she said, and departed into the starlit street.

“I won’t keep you long,” Amber said, holding up a hand, “There’s just the matter of your tab.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t know it wa—“

“I’d like to waive it,” Amber said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “If you’ll do one small thing for me.”

Cadryn swallowed, felt himself beginning to sober quickly. “Well that depends on the thing, I suppose.”

Amber nodded at that, “A wise position. There is a certain man, or maybe a woman, likely to arrive in the next few day’s at the Neeft. They will be wearing an amulet, displayed prominently.” She handed Cadryn a charcoal sketch on parchment, it was rather detailed, depicting a caged heart. “When they arrive, inform them that Kellen’s Veld is suffering a sickness. They will not question it, and should pass along to the next town.”

As she fell silent, the words of the drinking hall filled the air between them. Cadryn considered the reasons someone might make such a request, but it was the fear in Amber’s eyes that made him nod. “I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

“Thank you,” Amber replied, “I’d be in your debt.”

The following morning, after awaking to the smell of the breakfast Bahsa had laid out for the Day Shift, prior to her turning in, Cadryn found he couldn’t stop thinking about what Amber had offered.

Sensing it from where she lay beside him, the first rays of sun caressing her skin, Sil nudged him with her shoulder, her braid smacking his cheek. “You know I was only teasing you last night, but now I’m beginning to worry.” She said.

“What, oh, no. . . I was thinking about what Karl said, about Takis. Maybe I can talk to him, see about getting Karl back on his normal routes.”

“Is being here, with me, that bad?” Sil asked.

Cadryn felt himself flush, “No, I didn’t mean that, it’s just—“

“Your Destiny?” Sil offered, laughter in her voice.

“Yes,” Cadryn grumbled, rolling out of bed, the cold air bit at his skin and he began pulling on his clothes with more haste than he’d intended.

“Well, a bit of advice then, Hero. I wouldn’t go making demands of Takis the Grim, it seems like a good way to end up more cursed than you already are with this post.”

“I said I—“

Silence wrapped her arms around Cadryn’s waist, allowing a hand to wander in each direction. “Relax,” she whispered in his ear. “I’m only playing . . . but if you really do want an answer out of Takis, your best bet to ask our resident finger wiggler.”

Cadryn shuddered under her touch before replying, “And that is?”

“Mareth the Meek, she’s the Neeft’s Beacon Keeper, our only mage, and the Second of the Night Shift. I’d wait for her at the ladder up to the Beacon after shift tonight . . . if you’re serious about speeding Karl along.”

“Mmmhmm,” Cadryn managed, but pulled away from her grip with a kiss. “I’ll see you after?”

Sil laughed, genuinely amused, and turned to dress. “Even you’re not that naïve . . . I’ll be fast asleep.”

Inhaling deeply, Cadryn let out a great gust of a sigh. “I had to ask.”

Stealing one last look back, he set out to start the day's tasks.