Devin stepped into the River Valley District and the change was like walking into a new city. Where Darkmeat was built without any oversight and with the cheapest materials, River Valley housed the merchants who could afford better materials and oversights to their operations, but could not quite afford to live on the north side of the river near the harbor, the River Tops District.

As he strolled down the main road, the river Trite bubbled peacefully along his right. The slow moving river was expansive, stretching five hundred feet from shore to shore. Devin could just make out the shape of people walking along the other shore in between the mess of rowboats, fishing vessels, and larger galleass.

To his left were rows of merchant houses and trading companies. Most traded in items considered beneath the merchants across the way, such as fertilizer for the farmers and city cleaning services. Even if a company made it big on this side of the river, they were hard pressed to find an open spot to move to the other side and join the richer groups.

The night air was crisp, with just a hint of winter's bite trying to reach through, though it was still months off. A slight breeze rolled in off the ocean, carrying the familiar tangy smells of fish and industry down by the piers. The trees lining the riverwalk were mostly green, with an occasional yellow and red starting to make autumn’s changes known. A few of the more adventurous leaves rustled in the breeze, dancing past his legs.

He found himself approaching the harbor and the center for all mercenary guilds in Mossglenn Depot. Where the river met the harbor, a gigantic circular build had been erected over the slow moving expanse, held to the shores by strong, enchanted chains. The building was known simply as The Hub.

Devin took a flight of stairs up to the Hub, noting the various people sidling in and out of the maw like entrance. No doors stopped anyone from coming in, it was simply an opening where all who had the credentials could try their fortune at contract work.

He always liked the sheer variety of people he saw trying to make their fortune here, just as he was. Elves, humans, halflings, and even the occasional orc, though they were given a wide berth due to the stereotypes of their manic nature. He walked through the entrance, wide enough for ten people to walk abreast and twice as tall as he was. Noting the sign above the door, May Your Fortunes Be Found Here, he grinned a half smile. Today would be the day his fortunes started to turn around.

Placing a hand over the covered head hanging at his waist, he filed through the crowd of people hustling around. He came into the main area, a circular room with a giant pillar in the middle covered in contracts and job postings. Some were simple paper contracts pinned to the corkboard while others were elaborate signs promising untold riches for ridiculous premises. At the top of the pillar, near fifty feet in the air, was a single ad that wrapped around the entire pillar. It had been there as long as Devin had been in the city and always read the same thing, Slay Kelroth, Scourge of the North. Payment: Your Heart’s Desire.

Shaking his head, Devin wondered if that contract would ever be filled. Kelroth was a near deity that lived over the Frostbite Mountains, on the Glacies Plains, a wide expense of tundra where only the nastiest and hardiest creatures could live. The demigod like thing was peaceful enough, only harming those who wandered too far into its domain. Those who did were considered lucky if they were killed. There were fates far worse than death in this world.

Suppressing a shudder at the thought, Devin wandered around the circle until he found his contract poster. He walked over to the window and waiting for the person in front of him to finish up. Grinning again, he noticed the person was handed a large sack of silvers as they turned from the window.

“Payday!” the elf woman gloated as she walked by, holding the sack high.

Devin stepped forward eagerly, untying the head from his waist. The person behind the counter was a middle aged man with brown hair streaked with grey. He was slightly portly and his red nose spoke to an affinity for alcohol. Slightly yellowed eyes regarded Devin with disinterest.

“Contract number?” he asked, his voice monotone.

Devin nodded and reached into a small satchel. He withdrew a copy of the contract and skimmed over it.

“Uhh, looks like C546 is the number.”

The man nodded and began looking through a box of files at his side. He flicked slowly through them, taking a good long look at each as he passed them. Irritation begin to itch at Devin, but he took a deep breath and put on his best face.

“What's your name, friend?” Devin asked. The man blinked slowly, looking up at Devin. He blinked a few more times, each seeming slower than the last, then turned back to his file box. So much for a friendly encounter. The man flicked through a few more files before pulling one out.

He sniffed before speaking, “C546: Bounty on the leader of the goblin tribe Greenteef, Wrurt, as well as his tribe. Do you have proof of the death of the goblin and or his tribe?”

Devin held aloft the head and removed the bag. The goblin's head was frozen in a terrified snarl, fang like teeth exposed and glassy eyes wide. The man behind the counter sniffed again and put on a glove. He held his hand out and Devin passed the head over. Pulling a piece of paper from the file, he compared the head to a drawing of the goblin. After what seemed like far too long to compare the head to the picture, the man nodded.

“I accept this as proof of the goblin leader Wrurt’s death. Do you have anything else to turn in regarding this contract?” The man set the head down to his side and turned back to Devin.

“Uh, no, I don't think so? I only brought the goblin’s head back.” Devin said, eyebrows furrowing slightly. What else could they possibly want as proof? The contract makers were an uptight bunch, beholden to rules beyond what a normal man would be. Perhaps this is just their way of operating? He usually had a confirmation from them, but this seemed excessive.

“Very well,” the man nodded slowly. “The contract C546: Bounty on the leader of the goblin tribe Greenteef, Wrurt, as well as his tribe is now considered completed.” He signed a few pieces of paper and stamped them with a rubber stamper.

He leaned down and dug around under the counter. Devin heard the clink of silver and his heart jumped a little. Finally, this payday would be enough to cover his dues to the Queen as well as their rent. They might even have enough to get some nicer gear for their next mission. Maybe he could even replace the smoke vials he had to use.

The man handed over a piece of paper and motioned towards a line along the bottom. He placed a bag of coins on the counter next to it.

“Please sign here as proof you have finished the contract and as proof you have accepted the bounty of one thousand silvers for completing said contract,” the man drawled.

Devin leaned forward toward the paper with a pen in hand but stopped.

“Wait, one thousand silvers? The bounty said two thousand with additional payments based on performance. I think coming back with the head of their leader merits at least the two thousand, if not more because we came back in a timely fashion!”

“Sir, please do not raise your voice at me,” the man said with no emotion.

“I’m not raising my voice, I just want my full payment.” Devin stated. He fought to control the rising shout in his throat, knowing it would get him tossed out of here with no payment.

“Sir, you acknowledged you only had the head to return for the contract and nothing else. The contract clearly stated one thousand silvers for the head of the leader with additional payments of ten silvers for each ear brought in for members of his tribe. Since you only brought the head in you only get the payment for the head.” The man shuffled through the files on his desk before pulling out the contract. He laid it in front of Devin and pointed to print along the bottom of the sheet.

In the tiniest print imaginable, just barely legible with his nose inches from the paper, Devin saw words that made his heart sink. It did state one thousand silvers for the leader and additional payments for ears brought in. The sinking feeling was quickly replaced by anger. Gods damned contract givers always trying to screw mercenary guilds out of coin.

He stood up and grabbed the coinsack and pen, scribbling his name on the acceptance letter.

“Thank you for your work sir, we hope to see you again at Fello’s Contract Works. Have a wonderful day,” the man droned.

“Eat shit and die you son of a ratman,” Devin mumbled as he turned away. His boots thunking against the wooden floor, he crossed quickly to the exit and left the Hub. Still moving fast, he headed down the stairs and turned left along the riverfront. After walking for some time, he slowed his pace down and peered in the bag.

It was full of silvers, and he trusted he got the correct amount. While some of the contract makers will cheat you legally, they never go back on their word, even if the word is printed in the tiniest script imaginable. With this payment, he had just enough to pay off the queen for his groups dues, but not enough for rent or any new equipment. His hand went to his belt where the smoke vial had been.

With a heavy sigh, he tied the bag up and threw it in his satchel. He would get another vial soon enough, they just had to complete more contracts. With the new member they could head out soon and take up some cash cows; simple contracts for an easy buck.

Yeah, he nodded. Things would be ok. They just had to do some extra work. Like every time they take a contract. As Devin walked along the waterfront he gazed across the river. The lights of the northern shore were reflected on the slow moving water, only broken up by the occasional galleas carrying various goods inland or to the sea.

At the border of the River Valleys District he decided he was done walking around. He wanted to get to the queen and make his payment, then get back to the tavern. Crisp beers and sweet meads awaited him, though he'd never admit he loved mead to the elf or dwarf. Like he wanted to be drawn into that endless debate. Murton would turn red in the face, feeling as though he was being picked up on. Teryn would go on and on about the subtle intricacies to the taste of mead. He just liked sweeter drinks that drove the bad thoughts and feelings inside him down, simple as that.

Waving his hand, he flagged down a carriage. An ornate carriage, blue with gold painted trimming pulled by two Moa started to pull over and he waved them on. There was no way he was going to pay to be in that monstrosity. As he waved again an open carriage with a roof of cloth over the passenger seat and pulled by a single horse rode up. The driver was a small man in an old suit that was tattered at the edges. Perfect.

“How much for a ride to Lofton District, Queen’s castle?” Devin asked.

“Mm…” the man thought, chewing on something. “Ten silvers’ll getcha there, five for me to wait till your done, and then we can discuss depending where you go next.”

“How about five there, five for waiting, and five for a ride to the Darkmeat District after I’m done. Should only take a few minutes for me to be about my business there.”

The man chewed again, looking up thoughtfully. Devin could almost see the gears turning as he processed this new information.

“Mmm… all right, deal. Shake on it.” He reached a grubby glove covered hand out. Devin grasped it firmly, cringing slightly at its dampness, and shook. His driver broke into a wide, bloodred grin, exposing all five of his teeth.

“Hop aboard friend.”

Devin climbed up the carriage into the single seat behind the driver. As he sat down the man shook the reins and they started off with a joly. Devin fell back into his seat and muffled a startled yelp. The driver cracked his reins again, prompting the horse to go faster.

They careened down the riverwalk, heading for the bridge that connected Guerra and Lofton over Trite. The driver cackled gleefully as he kept cracking the reins, weaving in and out of other carriages and people at a speed Devin estimated to be a fast pace for a normal person. He gripped the rails tightly and watched straight ahead, preparing to jump when the driver inevitably ran into something.

His drivers kept weaving, somehow missing by mere hair's breadth on several occasions. Shouts and curses followed them, but the driver kept laughing and driving on. He spat a reddish liquid off the side every few minutes, prompting more curses. After the third spit, he let go of the reins and pulled a tin out from underneath his seat. Opening it exposed a light red powdery material.

Curious, Devin asked, “What's that you’re chewing there?”

“Bloodroot,” the driver called back, stuffing his lips with the powder. “Keeps me alert and ready for anythin’. Want some?”

He turned around in his seat and held out the tin to Devin. Devin shook his head quickly.

“No, I’m quite alright.”

“Suit yourself,” the man shrugged and closed his tin, setting it back under his seat. He grabbed the reins again, letting Devin relax just slightly, and started chewing. After a few chews a shiver ran up the man and he let out a holler.

“Hot DAMN! That shit’ll pick you right up! Let’s get ourselves to them Lofton's now! Hiyah horsey!” He cracked the reins even harder and the horse broke into a near gallop.

Devin gripped the sides even tighter now, preferring the man when he was slightly more sober and turned around to this new development. He had never heard of Bloodroot before, but could only imagine it was some new drug craze offering some form of heightened perception, or at least, the illusion of it. As the carriage careened around people, courting dangerously close to the edge of the riverwalk that overlooked a five foot drop into the river, he found himself praying it did actually heighten perception.

A short while later, Devin found the cart slowing to a stop. He opened his eyes, a little disturbed to realize he could not remember when he shut them. The cart stopped at the gate of the Silver Palace. He tossed the driver a 5 silver coin and waved.

“I’ll be waitin’ here for ya!” The driver called after him as he made his way up the steps.

The Silver Palace was everything wrong with luxury, much like Bronn’s Buyable Blades and their ostentatious display of wealth. Devin smirked a little, ostentatious. That was a good word. He would have to remember to call Bronn that to his face some time. The palace rose around him, high, with thin pillars of silver washed stone. He was glad he came at night, the sunlight reflecting off the polished metal could be unbearable during the day.

At the first landing of the stairs he took a left. If he kept going up the stairs he would pass three more landings before arriving at the Queen’s floor herself. While he could request to go and pay her in person, she tended to only accept visits from the wealthiest, and whether that was for money or looks was up for some debate.

Boots clicking against silver polished floors, Devin tried not to get let his disgust at the monochromatic design show. He walked past several closed doors, each painted silver with a silver door knob, until he arrived at the end of the wing.

Seven small countered windows, much like at the Hub, sat at the end of the wing, each with a very well dressed person behind it. He stepped forward and waited until the one on the far left waved him up. As he strode to the window he saw the woman behind it was an elf, wearing all silver colored clothes. Her makeup was done in silver as well, including a great flourish of silver from her eyelids to her pointed ears. Blonde eyebrows trailed off her face to hang past her shoulders, their tips dyed silver. Devin fought an immense eye roll threatening to send his eyes clear into the back of his head and instead and put on a smile.

“State your business, please,” she said.

“I am here to pay the dues for the Black Boar Band, Guild number SH17.”

Her eyebrows raised slightly at the guild number, but she said nothing. She turned and went to a wall behind her full of files locked away in an endless amount of drawers. For being a city that prides itself on private enterprise and the lack of government bureaucracy, there sure was a lot of government bureaucracy.

She pulled out a folder and came back to the counter. After flipping through a few pages she looked up.

“Your dues come to nine hundred silvers.”

Devin winced a little at the number. It had not changed in a few years, and for that he was grateful, but when their group kept getting shafted on contracts it was hard to hear.

“I don’t suppose there is anyway I can ask for an extension, or a partial payment?” He offered a half smile.

“No,” she replied flatly. “Your last extension ended up being even more late than we allowed and partial payments seem to turn into even later payments. Your guild is on a strict pay upfront basis.”

He sighed, “Ok, fine.” He started to go through his back and count of nine hundred silvers when the last voice he wanted to hear boomed behind him.

“Devin Tenfingers, are you having monetary troubles? Or rather, should we call you Devin Ninefingers?” A guffaw of laughter followed from several others.

Devin grit his teeth and turned toward the voice slowly. The missing tips of his pinkies ached with phantom pain at the reminder of their amputation. Bronn stood behind him, flanked by three golden haired men in gleaming silver painted armor.

“Bronn. I was actually just paying my dues and getting on my way.” He turned back to the woman behind the counter and slid over nine hundred silvers. A large hand clasped his shoulder and he closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath.

“Awww, is that all of your money Devin? Maybe one day you’ll be a bigshot like me and not have to worry about such petty things like dues and survival.” Bronn leaned in close to Devins’s ear. ‘But probably not, huh?” he whispered.

Devin shook the shoulder off and took his receipt. “Nice seeing you, dickface.”

Bronn just smirked as he walked up to the booth. As Devin was walking away he heard Bronn exclaim loudly behind him, “I’m feeling generous today. I’ll pay everyone's dues who comes through tonight and tomorrow and has not paid yet. For the next two years!”

Devin shook his head and continued walking toward the exit, ignoring the cheering of the people around him.