Laren Phelax suppressed a frown as the motley crew of adventurers shuffled into his study. He could practically smell them from behind his large, exquisitely decorated Romini desk. The place would probably have to be cleaned and incense lit once they left. Such was the price of working with The Society. It had better be worth it.

“Welcome!” He stood and bowed to the three figures, trying not to be annoyed that they had come lacking one member. The hooded one must be a priestess, certainly. The healer he’d demanded, no doubt. The one with the hat, what a nasty thing that was, undoubtedly their leader, Kendrik. He’d been warned about that one. The big fellow wearing hardly any clothing except what appeared to be the skins of animals, one with the head still attached and worn as a cloak, must be their warrior. The man didn’t appear to be armed, however, not to mention that his overwhelming manliness was nearly ruined by the spectacles which sat on his nose. Curious. But what of their burglar?

“Thank you, Master Phelax, we are pleased to be at your service.” Now he suppressed a grimace, as the shoddy man bowed and swept his hat around in a rather nonsensical manner. The woman curtsied, the large man nodded and--by the gods! The rug on his back was alive! The thing’s large eyes blinked and three long claws raised to wave at him. Slowly. Was that their burglar?

“Yes, of course. I see that you have gathered the necessary members of your party. Have you any word from the fifth?”

“Fifth?” Blasted Society, what had they put in that contract? And did that filthy man ever stop grinning? Was he insane?

“Yes, I specifically requested that a full member of The Society accompany you. They promised to send a wizard of some experience to make sure things went smoothly.”

“I’m afraid I’ve heard nothing of this wizard.” That grin seemed to be saying that he did indeed know something about the wizard. What was this fool not telling him? Laren Phelax was about to call him on the bluff when a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Sir, Master Laetimus has arrived,” the servant that had opened the study room door barely finished speaking when an older gentleman pushed past him and exploded like a whirlwind on the scene.

“Ah! Ha! Here we are, then! Ah, late am I? I see, then. Sorry about that, then. Well!” The thickly robed man was stroking his long white beard as he circled around the room, peering at everything and everyone as he continued speaking. “You must be Kendrik! Yes, nice to meet you lad. Very promising, very promising indeed,” he mentioned, studying the frayed plume, barely recognizable as a feather at all, which protruded from Kendrik’s hat.

“Master Laetimus, thank you for joining us. I was just asking--”

“What? Yes! Yes, of course, no need to bother yourself, Master Phelax. I do apologize for my tardiness. Was stuck in the Fourth Realm these last few days. Barely escaped not ten minutes ago. You’ll understand if I’d like to find a bath before we head out, Master Kendrik?”

“Uh, yes, of cour--” was that grin actually faltering?

“Yes, yes, well then.” He lifted the hood of the priestess and peered into her eyes, “Yes, of course then. I’ll be on my way. Don’t bother with my pay advancement, I’ve supplies enough. I’ll meet you three--oh god’s bogs, is that a weresloth? My, then, yes, I’ll meet you four at the crossroads just South of the Vermot ruins. I highly recommend you take the Western road to get there. In any case, I’ve some studying to do, and of course a bath. Good day sirs, madam!”

And then Laetimus vanished. A teleportation spell. The old fool had teleported right out of Laren Phelax’s study without so much as a “by your leave”. The group in the study stood quietly for some few moments, the wizards passing still shocking them, like some force of nature that could be endured, but neither withstood or understood.

Clearing his throat, Laren Phelax began again. “Well, then, I suppose your contract has given you the necessary details, but just to make sure, let me stress to you that the artifacts which you are retrieving are not of particular value to anyone but myself. If not handled properly, you may find them to be quite dangerous.” He stressed the word, hoping they got his meaning. “Bring me anything you find. I’ll keep the items I need, and the rest will be yours to do with as you please.”

“Have no fear, Master Phelax, I give you my word that we shall do everything within our power to see these items delivered to you as quickly as the situation permits, and in the same state in which we find them.” A clever man, this Kendrik, covering his bases like that. Very well, it would have to be enough.

“Glad to hear it. Then there is only one last matter to attend to.” Feeling sick to his stomach, Laren Phelax picked up the small bag of coins on his desk. It was not parting with money that dismayed him so, it was that he would have to actually approach these filthy plebs and could quite possibly make physical contact if he wasn’t careful.

Walking around the desk he reached into the bag and pulled out five large coins with a bright, polished metal sheen to them. He held his hand out and Kendrik lifted his own. Dropping the coins from a safe distance into the upturned palm of the wretched man, Laren Phelax reached into the bag and pulled out five more coins, which he offered to the woman. She too held out a hand and he dropped the coins into it.

Next was the barbarian. He could feel his nose twitching as he stepped closer to the giant man. Was that stench the man or the weresloth on his back? The coins clinked deliciously as they fell into the massive palm. It was the creature’s turn, and Laren Phelax realized he couldn’t just drop the coins into the thief’s hand. Holding the coins in his own palm, he held it out towards the beast.

An eternity stretched out before him as three long claws slowly, so very slowly, reached out and carefully grasped a single coin, paused, then cautiously carried the coin at nearly imperceptible speed to a pouch on the weresloth’s waist. It must have been another minute before the claws returned to the outstretched hand to retrieve the second coin. Time had completely frozen, it seemed, as this coin made the infinite journey to the pouch.

Laren Phelax was patient. Very patient. This, however, was too much. He could just put the coins in that pouch himself. But then the thought of touching anything attached to this miserable half-person so revolted him that he became determined to wait out the unrelentingly slow process.

Finally, after what felt like weeks, the yellow claws reached for the last coin. The moment he felt the weight of the thick coin lift from his palm, Loren Phelax snapped the hand away and turned back to his desk. “Well, then. I expect to hear from you soon, Master Kendrik. Do be careful.” The man bowed and whipped his hat around in that haphazard manner once again. “Oh, and one more thing. Laetimus mentioned taking the Western route from town to Vermot. I would suggest you go North, instead. The Western route is bound to be swamped by the rains this time of year, but the decision is yours to make. Good luck.”

The party shuffled out in a rather disastrous manner. Laren Phelax called out to his servant before the door closed. “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like to take a bath, please. And have someone light some incense in here.”

“Very good, sir.”

Kendrik was furious. Things had been going so well. He’d found Grimrod, who easily passed as a warrior with that natural frame of his, and yet was most certainly not a warrior. Dangerous, no doubt, if he was angry and got his hands on a table, but unlikely to be a problem in the long run. He had gone through pains to find Tyboloth. A rogue with such uniquely abhorrent speed would never bother even trying to hunt someone down. The priestess had been quite literally a miracle, not only because she saved Kendrik and Tyboloth, but also because she was the most perfectly cursed outcast intent on disappearing.

If that meeting had gone as planned, in one week Kendrik would be living a quiet life in a nice little town on the Eastern coast of Averion. Once when passing through there he’d met a nice old couple who were willing to rent out their attic for a measly five silver a month.

If Laren Phelax had given him all of the money, as he was supposed to, according to their contract, Kendrik would have had two-hundred gold coins worth of platinum. He could live for thirty years on that! It wouldn’t be a particularly luxurious lifestyle, of course, but a bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, and money to buy fresh food every day was utopia to a man who barely needed both hands to count the number of days he’d had any of one of those things.

He glared at the five fat platinum coins in his hand. It was more money than he’d seen in his entire lifetime. Running was still an option. A year or two of relaxing, then he could get a job and make up the difference. The idea of working the rest of his life wasn’t particularly more attractive than the alternative of begging the rest of his life. Maybe he’d just pocket the coins, go back to begging, and know that any time he needed a break he could spend a day or two eating hot meals and sleeping in an inn’s bed.

No, his treasure would most likely end up stolen. There was, of course, a third option: fulfill the contract. He was no adventurer, and neither were his companions, but with Laetimus there to assist, it might end up being easy enough to complete, and then he’d get the second half of the payment. A hundred gold coins still wasn’t two hundred, but, if he was being honest, the likelihood of him living more than another fifteen years wasn’t good anyway. Besides, maybe they’d find some other objects worth selling in those ruins.

This was all assuming that the others even showed up. They had split up to purchase supplies and were to meet back at the inn. That priestess had been running away when they met her. This was the perfect opportunity for her to do just that. Tybol was no adventurer, but he was a thief. He’d likely try and slip away. Grim was a complete mystery. If Tybol did slip away, he may feel it best to do the same.

That settled it. Kendrik would buy some supplies, maybe a weapon, just to look the part, and then head back to the inn. If the others showed up, which he was certain they wouldn’t, then he would do his best to complete the contract. If they didn’t, he could walk away and no one would blame him.

Nancy was elated. Who could have guessed that joining up with those circus clowns would make her so rich so quickly? Five platinum! The goddess was smiling on her today, rewarding her for sacrificing herself to heal those villagers. Now she could move on somewhere and start a comfortable new life.

She wandered the marketplace where the “party” had split up to purchase supplies. There were several tailor shops and she was anxious to purchase new clothing. Too long she had gone day in, day out, wearing those infernal robes. She wanted to try on dresses, skirts, and pants. She bought a couple of each, with several blouses and even a few boy’s shirts. And three good, hooded cloaks. Finally, she stopped by a little traveler’s shop and found a pack for carrying her new wardrobe. As she was checking out, a little dagger on the shelf behind the counter caught her eye.

“I’ll take that dagger as well, sir.” The young boy counting her coins went wide-eyed. “A gift, for my husband.” He smiled and nodded. More like a gift for any brigands that attempted to accost her on the roads. This unusual arrangement with Kendrik and the others may have paid off, but that didn’t mean she could trust just anyone. She didn’t even trust them.

No doubt they had already skipped town. Nancy had never seen a more shady bunch of individuals. Of course, she wasn’t shady. She was honest. Well, honest when it suited her to be. The goddess could forgive her little lies if they got her out of trouble, or stopped nosy shopkeeps from asking questions. However, a contract was a contract. Nancy fully intended to return to the inn this evening. When the others didn’t show up, as she knew they wouldn’t, then she would be free.

Tyboloth was annoyed. Those five platinum coins were burning up in his pocket. While he appreciated getting to ride on Grimrod’s shoulders, the arrangement certainly had its inconveniences. Every time they entered a store, Grim would say, “Let me know you want buy something.” But by the time Tyboloth had spied something interesting and managed to open his mouth to speak, the barbarian would have left the shop.

It hardly mattered, really. He already had all of the tools he would need, and even some food left in one of his pouches. In his sloth form, he rarely needed to eat anyway. But there was the occasional item of interest that he would have at least liked to look at.

All of this was irritating enough, but the real problem was that Tyboloth wanted more than anything to simply vanish altogether. He considered dropping from the large man’s back, but undoubtedly the brute would notice, and there was no chance of outrunning him in this form. He could try and talk to the man, convince him to bail out as well, but he seemed to be Kendrik’s loyal bodyguard. He sighed. Slowly.

Five platinum. Fifty gold. Five hundred silver. Five thousand coppers. Tyboloth had spent a lifetime fencing stolen items and never managed to quite reach that amount. Today it had literally been handed to him. For doing nothing. And he was stuck on the stinky, sweaty back of this beastly man, going somewhere he really didn’t want to go.

If he could turn into his normal self things would be different, but he had yet to discover what triggered his transformations, let alone learning to control them. There really was nothing for it. He was well and truly stuck going on this awful mission with these awful people. Then again, things could always be worse. Best to just swim with the current for now.

“Hey, Grim.” He said slowly. “Thanks for the ride, buddy.” The big man just grunted.

Grimrod was confused. That man they had gone to see spoke very quickly. The wizard which had interrupted them spoke even more quickly. He hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of the whole ordeal. Now he was tasked with getting supplies for some journey. It would be prudent for him to simply abandon these people altogether. His money concerns were solved with the coins he now carried in his satchel. There was just one snag: Tyboloth.

The weresloth could hardly stop him from running away, but he could snitch on him, and unsavory characters like Tybol would do just that. Grimrod may already have people looking for revenge against him because of the tavern incident in Caliphas, he didn’t need wizards and the kind of people that commanded them looking for him as well.

Besides, the most likely course of events was that he and Tybol would return to the inn, wait for the others, whom he seriously doubted would show up, and then they could return their money to the man who had given it to them. No one to come looking for him then.

Money that had been spent couldn’t be returned, which was why Grimrod moved quickly through the marketplace, not giving the poor weresloth on his back a chance to buy anything. He wasn’t going to buy anything either. If by some miracle the others did show up at the inn, he had some basic supplies, purchased with what was left of the two gold coins Kendrik had given him. Unfortunately, it was not enough to purchase a real weapon. Fortunately, the odds of him needing any such thing were as close to zero as made no difference.

By this time tomorrow, he’d be on his way home to Beirnjold. He’d even let Tybol accompany him if he wanted.

The Copper Cauldron was a large inn. The common room had several tables seated around a central fireplace which opened on three sides. It was very fancy, if a bit dark in the corners. Kendrik was happy for those dark corners. After paying for two rooms, as he’d promised the others he would, he picked a seat at the table farthest from the door, where it was quite dark.

On the off chance that one of his companions did return to the inn, maybe they wouldn’t notice him and, finding no others arriving, would themselves disappear into the night. He sipped his beer and ate his meal slowly, becoming calmer by the minute.

He almost didn’t recognize Nancy when she came in. She had changed her clothes and was carrying a pack. Did she really intend to go through with this? The young woman picked a chair at the table in the opposite corner, hiding in the shadows the same way he was. Ah, so that was it. Kendrik made sure not to look in her direction again. If they never made eye contact, then they could claim to have not seen each other. Sneaky.

It might have worked, too, if Grim hadn’t walked in a few minutes later and sat down right next to the fire. The big man was hard enough to ignore as it was, but now… Kendrik glanced at Nancy. She was staring right back at him. She shrugged, he sighed, they both stood and made their way to the barbarian’s table.

Grim’s surprise at seeing them was palpable. Kendrik sat down across from him, grinning. “Well, we’re all here now. I’ve reserved a room for the lady, and one for the men. We should probably get going early, so I suggest we all get to sleep sooner than later.”

“Which way?” Tyboloth asked.

“Up the stairs,” Kendrik replied, nodding to the stairs which led up to the rooms.

“No, which way are we going to travel?”

For the first time, and much to everyone’s surprise, Kendrik’s grin dropped, his face seeming to contemplate the question. “Which way indeed. Well, we have two options. Laetimus suggested the Western route. It’s shorter by a day, but as Master Phelax mentioned, the road runs through some marshes. If it rains enough, the road will flood. We may end up trudging through swamps and not saving any time.

“On the other hand, the Northern road, suggested by Master Phelax, passes around the marshlands, over some hilly grasslands. Personally, I’ve never been that way. It’ll take an extra day, at least.”

“Unless it rains too much,” Nancy pointed out. Kendrik nodded.

“Rainy swamp or grassy hills?” Asked Grimrod. Kendrik nodded again. “Grassy hills.”

Kendrik looked at Nancy. “What are the odds it rains that much, though? And even if it does, what’s a bit of water? I’d rather chance getting there quicker, myself.”

“It’s all the same to me, but for Grim’s sake, I’ll say hills.” What did the weresloth care, since he’d be getting a ride either way?

“Well, I’ve been through the marshlands, even during the rains, and it’s not that bad. I’m going to have to agree with Nancy. It’s worth the chance of saving a day.” The sooner this was all over, the better.

“Two and two,” Grimrod observed, then reached into his satchel and produced one of the platinum coins. “Heads, hills. Tails, swamp.” Then he flipped it into the air. It landed with a heavy thud on the table and they all stared. Grim picked up the coin and they all headed up the stairs.