Castle Belenus was located on the edges of Scuttleway, but the group nonetheless made their way towards the center of the city, into the market district. Broon shopped for some last minute supplies. Contort pulled Joseph towards the bakery he had mentioned, a quaint little shop with a gnome woman cheerily baking bread in the back.

“Be right with you, loves!” she shouted.

“Right,” Contort said, “I think I'll have my usual. Rosemary, what do you want? My treat.”

“Ohhh,” Rosemary got a greedy look in her eye, “I'll have one of those, and one of those, and one of-”

“Let's just go with the strawberry bread,” Contort said.

“Sounds good!”

“What about you, Joseph? I'd recommend that almond bread.”

“I'll go for that, then,” Joseph answered.

The gnome finished her work in the kitchen, coming up to the stall, “What'll it be, Arne?”

“Lemme get a strawberry bread, some almond bread, and the usual rosemary bake for me. Oh, and a candy bread for the half-orc.”

She took the bread out of their warmers, put them in bags, and handed them to Contort. He gave her a few silver coins, and they walked out. Broon had finished his shopping, his pack now seeming to be quite a bit heavier, the way he was hefting it over his shoulder.

“Alright, we ready?” he asked.

“Yessir,” Contort said, “How we getting to Salthirn?”

“I've hired a carriage to take us to Kelphaven, from there, we'll sail to the Rainbow Bridge.”

“Right-on,” Contort took out a loaf of bread and put it into Broon’s open mouth. Thick hard candies had been baked into the crust, and without an extra arm to hold onto the bread, Broon was forced to just start chewing. The half-orc shot an annoyed glare at Contort, who was walking towards the gates of the city.

“We're not taking the airship?” Joseph asked.

“Another team has it,” Broon said through a mouthful of bread, “Lazuli, I think. We'll be going out in style, though.”

Their carriage was outside, an old, beat-up wagon with a six-legged goat the size of a horse pulling it. Joseph nodded at the goat. In style, indeed.

“At least I'm getting used to this,” he said, “I'm not freaked out by giant goats, at least.”

“Ha! We'll make you a real guildmate yet,” Contort said.

“That honeymoon feeling's wearing off, then?” Rosemary asked as she clambered onto the wagon.

“Yeah, I think so,” Joseph said, “I think. No promises. You never know, something might come up that'll freak me out so much I'll die of a heart attack.”

“Can I have your stuff, then?” Rosemary asked.

“Sure. I have a whole deck of Myth Battle cards that I'm borrowing from Phineas, and a lame t-shirt.”

“Score!”

Joseph had to chuckle at that as Contort helped him onto the wagon. The agitation of leaving Castle Belenus disappeared as they wheeled out of the city. Rosemary was laughing at a stupid joke that Broon had cracked about eggs. Contort was rolling his eyes at the two of them. All three were relaxed. Joseph stretched, feeling the tense knot in his stomach unraveling as Scuttleway became smaller and smaller behind him.

He felt calm enough to eat, which was a good thing. The loaf of bread Contort had bought him smelled inviting, and he took a bite.

“Holy shit,” he said, “This is some good bread.”

***

The journey took up the bulk of the day. They spent the time traveling in relative silence, looking out at the scenery, broken up every so often by Rosemary piping up about something she would see. The region was mountainous, interspersed with the occasional copse of trees or open field. Terrace farms had been built into the sides of a few hills, the farmers tending to them small dots in the distance. The horizon curved upwards.

“Which would mean we're on the inside portion of Londoa, right?” Joseph asked, “You said the planet was shattered a long time ago, and people live on both sides.”

“Correct,” Broon said from his perch, “Scuttleway is a city-state located on the inner parts of Moadma Landmass. We'll be going over to the other side as part of the journey to Salthirn.”

“Why is there light, then?” Joseph asked, looking up, “I mean, if we're facing away from the sun, shouldn't there be darkness?”

“An archmage in the past lit up Moadma Landmass with an artificial star,” Broon said, “It sets in the distance and winks out while it circles around the outer parts of Moadma Landmass, then flares back up when it rises again.”

“Do other Landmasses have that?”

“Not many,” Broon said, “A lot of the inner lands of Londoa are in eternal darkness. Dark elves live in those lands. Deep gnomes. Dwarves.”

“Must be kind of depressing,” Joseph said.

“I went there once with Becenti,” Rosemary said, “It's not so bad once you get used to it.”

The road they were taking began veering to the right. Broon followed it, and they began going parallel to the curving horizon.

“This will be a bit disorienting,” the half-orc warned, “The mind doesn't really register travel like this well. Feel free to close your eyes. We'll be over the hump in a couple of hours.”

He was right. One moment, Joseph could see the curve. The next, he noticed the horizon disappeared, the land in front of them cutting off as though they were about to go over a cliff. He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt that, at any moment, the wagon would go over the edge. He should've warned Broon...

“Alright,” Broon said, “You can open your eyes now.”

Joseph did. The horizon no longer curved up, but now to the side, the nearby twisting to the right in a ‘C’ shape. Joseph looked out. In the distance, he could make out distant landmasses floating in the sky, obscured by depth like the moon in the morning.

“Weird,” he said, “Like, too weird.”

“Gravity always points down, so a lot of the time it'll feel like we're about to fall,” Broon said, “We have another jump to make to get to the outer portion of Moadma Landmass. Think you can handle it?”

“I'm fine,” Joseph said.

“You don't look fine,” Rosemary commented, “Your face is all gray.”

“I'm fine!” Joseph let out a wheezing laugh, “Really. I am.”

A couple hours later, they pitched over the edge again. Joseph squeezed his eyes shut, making another prayer, his hands clutching the wagon's seat. He kept them closed as he said, “Are we good?”

“Not for a little while,” Broon said, “This jump will take awhile. I'll let you know when you can open your eyes.”

“R-right.”

He kept them closed, feeling his stomach rising and falling. He kept holding onto the seat, willing himself to stay still, trying to convince himself that Broon was right, that it was an optical illusion, that they wouldn't fall down the edge. This was all too weird...

About twenty minutes passed. He heard a snrk from Rosemary. Joseph opened his eyes to see that they were on the outer portion of the Landmass, far away from the edge. Rosemary was covering her mouth, and started cackling as Joseph looked around, confused. Contort joined her, and he saw Broon's shoulders rising and falling.

“Dude,” Contort laughed, “We've been – By the gods – we've been on the outer portion forever now.”

“Oh my god, did you see his face!” Rosemary screamed, “Oh my god, I'm never- ahaha...”

“Thanks,” Joseph rolled his eyes. Then he gave a good-natured grin. It had been funny.

“Sorry,” Broon said, “I was going to tell you, but Rosemary paid me off with candy.”

“Here,” Rosemary passed him a chocolate bar, “Congratulations, Joseph. You didn't die going over the edge. We're very, very proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Joseph said, “I'll get back at you, count on it.”

Laughing, the day passed peacefully. The wagon pulled up towards the city of Kelphaven. Seagulls flew overhead, galleons were moored on the docks, and a lighthouse shone out towards a sparkling sea that glistened with the setting sun. In the distance, he saw great fins rise out of the sea and bob back down.

“Crusias,” Broon said, “The Leviathan of Kelphaven. They've got a special deal with her to protect the city from pirates.”

“Another city-state?” Joseph asked.

“All of the Landmass is made of city-states,” Broon said, “The big empires and kingdoms are on other Landmasses. Makes things pretty quiet, barring the occasional merchant wars.”

They settled into a small inn for the night in the docks district. Broon, Joseph, and Contort went into their rooms to only find two beds.

“Right,” Contort said, “Well, newbie sleeps on the floor.”

“Aye,” Broon said, “I agree.”

“Hang on, now, what?” Joseph said, “How come I have to sleep on the floor?”

“Because you're the newbie,” Contort said, “Don't worry about it, once someone else joins the guild, you won't be the newbie anymore. Newbie emeritus.”

“There's no way you know what that word means,” Joseph said.

“I don't,” Contort's face broke into a grin, “But my point stands, newbie. Here, I'll throw you a blanket. You don’t get a pillow, though – Papa Contort needs those for his beauty sleep.”

“And Rosemary gets her own room?” Joseph complained.

“Aye,” Broon said, “I had considered putting Contort in the room with her, but she gets in a mood sometimes, insists on sleeping on her own.”

“Like a big girl,” Contort chuckled, throwing himself onto his bed.

“Right, whatever,” Joseph wrapped the blanket around himself, lying down on the creaky, wooden floor. It was wet – the wood was sodden and moist, soft to the touch. Although the day had exhausted him, he slept fitfully that night, dreaming of crabs and ants crawling all over his body.

They had booked a ship for voyage to the edge of the Landmass. They got up at the crack of dawn, ate the last of Contort’s bread, and went down towards a large galleon. The captain was an orc, with dark green skin and leather armor, over which he wore a captain's long coat. He and Broon exchanged a few words in a language Joseph didn't recognize. After a few minutes of conversation, Broon turned to the group.

“Alright,” he said, “This here is Captain Maul, and this is his ship, the Truespeaker. She'll get us to the edge of Moadma Landmass.”

“And from there, the Rainbow Bridge,” Rosemary confirmed.

“Correct. Captain Maul says the journey should take three days.”

They climbed aboard, and soon enough, the Truespeaker set off. They were escorted away from Kelphaven by the leviathan, great fins arcing out of the sea beside them. Joseph could see, just beneath the murky waters, shining scales and a serpentine body.

“Glad he's on our side,” he said aloud.

***

Three figures planeshifted onto a vast, wide field on the Omasta Landmass. One of them stretched out, looking towards the rising sun in the distance.

“Been awhile since I've been home,” he said.

“I always hated Londoa,” his companion replied, “Too low-tech for my tastes, like a barbarian tribe in the Outer Reach.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Now, friends,” the third voice cut in, “We're not here for sight-seeing. We're here for business. Meldorn, you said that the mercenaries you hired have been dispatched?”

“Aye,” Meldorn said, hefting a greataxe onto his shoulder, “They'll intercept them at the Rainbow Bridge.”

“The mercenaries will only slow them down,” the companion replied, “Alonso, do you really think a bunch of local thugs will really stop members of the Amber Foundation?”

“Of course not, Jani,” Alonso replied, “Spies report that they spotted Broon Wildarm and Arne Contort with the group. This will be a simple matter for them.”

“Wildarm,” Meldorn spat, “Been a wee while since we ran into him.”

“Indeed,” Alonso said, “You may have first blood, of course. Jani, I want you to eliminate Contort.”

“Done.”

“Good,” Alonso said, “Very good. Let's keep our heads in the game on this one, friends. It won't be easy.”

With that said, the three of them began walking across the open plains, mere dots in the landscape, heading towards Lake Oval.

***

Contort began showing Joseph the basics of knife-fighting while they made the journey to the edge of the Landmass. He was good – the way that he spun the dagger as though it were an extension of his body was unreal, and when Joseph tried to imitate him, he ended up with nicked fingers.

“No, no,” Contort said, “Don't act all stocky. I thought Mekke was teaching you hand-to-hand?”

“But a stout defense is good,” Joseph countered, “Right?”

“When it comes to knife-fighting, it doesn't matter how strong the punch is, because a sharp knife will cut through skin too easily,” Contort replied, “I heard you had a background in boxing, right? Use that – keep yourself agile. Being able to jump back quickly is paramount, and your legs have to be loose and ready to spring.”

Contort didn't joke during these sessions. His face had gone serious as he showed Joseph what to do.

“Don't be a hero when you have a knife,” he ordered, “If the other guy has a knife, then it's too risky to make big, dramatic flourishes and whatnot. Keep yourself mobile, and concentrate on staying alive. Beating the other guy comes second to that.”

“Stay alive,” Joseph repeated.

The journey was, for the most part, easy-going. Occasionally the captain would bark out a few orders after spotting a ship on the horizon, and the Truespeaker would keep their distance from them.

“Pirates,” Rosemary whispered, “They're common around these parts.”

But an attack never came. Joseph felt comfortable on the deck, the ocean waves plying beneath them, tilting the ship up and down like a rocking chair. He found himself staying up on the deck more and more as time went on.

“Liking the sea?” Rosemary asked him on the last day.

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “It reminds me of home.”

“Where did you grow up?” she said.

“Oh, a city called San Francisco,” he replied, “Dirty. Loud. It was nice, though. At night, you could hear the sounds of the waves on the beach. I forgot how much I missed that sound.”

“Mm,” Rosemary joined him, looking out towards the setting sun, “Londoa's alright, too.”

“Yeah. You're from here, too?”

“Me? No,” Rosemary gave a sad smile, “I'm from... far away.”

The way she said it, made it sound like she wasn't ready to talk about it. So Joseph let the point drop. They were silent for a moment.

“Are there humans on Salthirn, like you and me?”

“A few. Merchants, mostly. Oh, I'm not a human, though,” she pushed back her hair a bit, revealing pointed ears, “I'm an elf.”

“Ah,” Joseph said, “So that probably means you're like, what, a thousand years old?”

Rosemary gave him a quizzical look, “I'm... twenty.”

“Oh, yeah,” Joseph said, “Sorry, from what I've learned, elves can live a long time, right?”

“The... elves where I come from have a ritual known as 'crysallization' that freezes their aging,” Rosemary said, “But very few of us do it. Anyways, I have to hide my ears most of the time. Elves... they aren't popular on Londoa. I've been called some really mean things in my time here. Sharp-ear, child-eater...”

“I know that feeling,” Joseph said, crossing his arms, “Really, I do. I've been called some really nasty stuff.”

“Let's be not-nasty together, then. I won't call you... whatever they call you, and you won't call me sharp-ear.”

Joseph smiled, “Deal.”

“You know the worst part? The elves of Londoa are a conquering, imperialist people – they got the names because they invaded Londoa a long time ago, and are said to be responsible for the planet's shattering. Sure, I'm an elf.”

“But you're from another plane.”

“Yeah, so the whole conquering thing? That's not me.”

She cast a melancholic glance out towards the sea, “It's not me.”

***

The Truespeaker landed on a small island on the edge of the world. The ocean water sloped down, curving into a great waterfall. It didn't fly off into space, however, as Joseph dared to look down to see the bottom, where the water at the bottom of the falls looped into the earth in a misty arc.

“This place is weird,” he said. No one was around to hear him, however, so he let the comment drop.

They had moored to the island, the last piece of rock on the Landmass. Beneath them was an empty sky, stars studding the bottom and mixing with the water. In the distance, Omasta Landmass floated. It was far larger than Moadma Landmass, a dominating mountain of stone suspended in the sky. It rose a bit higher than Moadma, as well.

“The Rainbow Bridge should be appearing any minute now,” Broon said, “Ah, here we are...”

With the coming of the rising sun, a bridge materialized. It was multi-colored, made out of glass like the sword in Castle Belenus, with handrails on each side. It was wide enough that Joseph supposed a bus would have been able to fit on it with room to spare. Parts of the Rainbow Bridge were covered at certain points with flat rooftops, pillars spiking through the handrails to support them.

“Who made it?” Joseph wondered.

“No one knows. It's been around since Londoa shattered, though,” Broon replied, “Let's get a move-on. The bridge will disappear when night falls.”

“And I assume we'll fall to our deaths?”

“You're picking up quick. And yes.”

After a few tentative steps, Joseph followed them as they walked across the bridge. A few caravans passed them by – wagons full of goods, pulled by six-legged goats and driven by gnomes and humans. They paid the strange, motley band no heed as they passed them by.

“So, those goats...” Joseph said.

“They're called krem,” Rosemary said, “Live on the sides of the Landmasses. Very easy to tame, too.”

“Why not use horses?” Joseph asked.

“Horses don't exist here,” Contort said, “Weird, right? I freaked out when I learned about that.”

“Very weird.”

A few hours passed as they walked. Joseph was starting to realize that traveling on foot was boring – very, very boring. They made some conversation here and there, but most of their time was spent putting one foot in front of the other.

That is, until Broon stopped them.

“You hear that?” he asked.

They were underneath one of the covered portions of the bridge. It was quiet – even the sounds of the waterfalls had disappeared. Joseph shot the half-orc a quizzical look. Broon dropped his pack to the ground, pulling out his sword. The party seemed frozen in time, Joseph raising an eyebrow as Rosemary cocked an ear out. Then...

“Yeah,” she said, “Yeah, I hear it.”

“What do you hear?” Joseph asked, a bit apprehensive.

“We're being watched,” Broon said, “People are on top of the roof.”

Rosemary had the satchel with the egg inside. Joseph saw her adjust it, hiding it beneath her cloak.

“Maybe it's just muggers,” Joseph said, “Right?”

“No,” Broon's voice had lowered to a dangerous whisper, “If they wanted to mug us, they'd be at the end of the bridge, where they could retreat if things got too hairy. No, these guys... they're confid-”

The bridge burst into motion. Joseph saw something dark whip out from the side of the bridge, brandishing a longsword that they swung out at his head. Joseph ducked, hearing a sharp crack as Rosemary slammed her mace into the attacker's head. More of them dropped down from the roof. Joseph pulled himself back up, drawing out his knife. Broon was facing off against two of the attackers, his blade singing through the air. One of the men pointed at him and shouted.

“Wildarm! It's Wildarm!”

Broon shot him a glare, slamming the pommel of his sword into the speaker's temple. But more attackers dropped down, weapons swinging.

“On your left!” Contort cried out. Joseph turned to see one of the cloaked men bearing down on him, a scimitar in his hand. Joseph panicked as he drew out his knife. His legs bent down into a stance – he'd need to be quick, be ready to spring-

The scimitar sailed down. Joseph jumped to the side, dagger slashing, underestimating the reach of the scimitar as the assassin twisted it and swung at his side. The blade cut into Joseph's side, slamming him into the balcony...

Yet there was no blood. Joseph looked down to see the scimitar in his side, his jacket having absorbed most of the blow. The assassin removed the scimitar, which hadn't even cut through the cloth...

“Come on, man!” Contort tackled the assassin to the ground. He had lost his daggers, instead twisting his body in impossible directions as though he were made of rubber, avoiding the wild slashes of his enemy's scimitar as the two wrestled on the ground. Joseph's eyes widened as he saw the hair rise up on Contort's arms as he bashed his forearm into the assassin. When he extricated himself from the body, small holes covered the corpse's chest, as though he had fallen on a porcupine.

The battle was over in an instant. In total, about seven mercenaries had attacked them – five of them laid on the ground. Rosemary had pushed one off the edge, his scream echoing down and growing distant as the last turned tail and ran, sprinting towards Moadma Landmass. Rosemary pointed her mace, taking aim. Broon put a hand on her shoulder.

“It's alright, let 'em go,” he said, “When this bridge breaks apart, they won't be able to get to us. We'll have lost them by tomorrow.”

“Right,” she said.

Joseph watched as Contort picked up a few of the bodies, checking their pulses. Then he shrugged, and pitched them over the side.

“G-gross,” he said.

“Part of the job,” Contort replied, “It sucks, but it's them or us.”

“Yeah,” Joseph said, “What did you do?”

“Oh, this?” Contort smiled as he bent his arm back. Joseph blanched as he pushed it to the point that his hand could grip his shoulder, “Easy enough. I'm from a plane where we all can do that. Why do you think I'm called Contort?”

“And the hairs?”

“Well, young grasshopper, we have total control over our bodies,” Contort said, “We can sharpen our hair, make them as sharp and pointy as knives. Comes in handy, don't it?”

“Yeah, I guess. Makes for fun parties, I bet.”

“Oh, the best,” Contort gave a dazzling smile. Then he tossed another body off the bridge.

“Hey, Broon, this one's alive,” Rosemary said, “I cracked her in the head, so she'll be dozed out for awhile.”

“Tie her up,” the half-orc said, “Let's question her when we get off the bridge.”

“Okay,” Rosemary produced a rope and began tying the assassin up. She had removed the hood and mask the assassin had been wearing, revealing a woman's face with short-cropped black hair. Contort picked her up, hefting her over his shoulder and giving Rosemary a thumbs-up.

“Let's go,” Broon said, “We're losing daylight.”

They took off again. Joseph felt a dull ache in his ribs as he looked down. He had almost forgotten he'd been slashed.

“What happened?” he asked, “How come I'm not a shishkebab?”

“You think we were just going to throw you into the fire?” Contort chuckled, “That coat's been magically enchanted to protect you from most sharp weapons – swords and stuff. Looks like it'll leave a bruise, but you should be okay.”

He felt a new appreciation for the coat, giving it a smile. He poked at the wound, wincing as the ache flared. But he didn't feel anything broken, so he supposed it would be alright.

“Let me know if it gets worse,” Rosemary said, “I've got some experience with first aid, should be able to patch you up quick.”

“Sounds good,” Joseph grimaced again, but continued walking.

***

They arrived at the end of the Rainbow Bridge a few hours later. The wall of Omasta Landmass greeted them as they jumped off the magical glass. A staircase had been cut into the side, leading up to the top of the Landmass, where Joseph could see tufts of grass peeking down at them. Far below was nothing but the early oranges of evening. Contort dropped the assassin onto a rock away from the edge, nodding at Rosemary, who produced a small bottle of white powder, putting it up to the prisoner's nose. The prisoner breathed it in, then began coughing and spluttering, her eyes opening up and full of tears.

“There we are,” Broon said, “Have a nice nap?”

“...A bit of a headache,” she replied, “I assume the rest of my compatriots...?”

“Dead, unfortunately,” Broon said, “I'm sorry.”

“I hardly knew 'em anyway,” the woman responded, “We were all hired separately.”

“All of you were hired separately, yet you wore the same style of clothing?” Contort said, “You were all in black wrappings.”

“It was something that our employer requested specifically,” the woman said.

“You don't seem very loyal to them, all things considered,” Broon noted.

The woman shrugged.

“Money's more important, then?” Broon said.

“Aye. You could say that, Wildarm.”

“You know that name,” Broon said, a bit impressed, “Then you know who we are.”

“Didn't realize until I was in the thick of it. Amber Foundation, aye?”

“Aye. Which makes things a bit easier for you,” the half-orc pulled out a small satchel of coins, “They're yours if you tell us who hired you. What's your name?”

“Mercenary name is Shorts,” the woman said.

“Alright, Shorts,” Broon said, “I'm going to let you go regardless, but you'll be fifty gold richer if you tell us who hired you, and what for.”

Shorts looked at the bag of coins in Broon's hand. The half-orc was holding it by the knot tying the bag together, dangling it in front of her face like a hypnotist's pendulum. Shorts sighed.

“It ain't professional, revealing who hired you,” she said.

“I know,” Broon said, “But this is an important mission. If this gold isn't enough, I can give you more. It will take a bit of time to procure, however.”

“Two hundred gold pieces. That's how much they gave me to kill you and grab any bags you were carrying.”

“I'll get you two hundred and fifty.”

Shorts considered that, biting her lip and furrowing her brow in thought.

“Fine. I'll talk. I didn't get a good look on who hired us – a man with a high voice, obviously not from Londoa. Wore one of those... 'suits,' aye?”

“Mm,” Broon said, “Go on.”

“He and his associates said that their guild wanted the packs on a group of people heading towards Salthirn. A half-orc and three humans. Seemed simple enough, especially when I saw how many others he had hired.”

She shot him a look of begrudging respect, “Didn't expect for the half-orc to be Wildarm.”

“I don't get out much, these days,” Broon said, “Did you get a name?”

“No. I knew it was a guild, though. There were a few others with him, who obviously weren't from Londoa either.”

“That makes things interesting,” Contort muttered.

“Indeed,” Broon said, “You won't try to kill us?”

“Not if you pay me the fifty you have now, two hundred later. I'll be making my way to the city of Rymedeep.”

“Right. I'll ask for a Shorts in Rymedeep as soon as I finish the job here. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Contort, could you untie her?”

“You're the boss,” Contort stepped forward and undid her bindings, pulling at specific knots in quick flourishes until the rope fell to Shorts’s feet like a coiled serpent. She stood up, feeling her wrists and arms. The rope had cut through her clothing and scratched out deep welts.

“We forgot to grab your weapon,” Broon said, “It's probably falling into the depths of the Landmass by now.”

Shorts shrugged, “It's whatever. I'll pick something up later.”

Broon tossed her the bag of coins, “Pleasure doing business with you, mercenary Shorts.”

Shorts nodded, and she began heading up the stone staircase. Broon sat back down, putting his hand up to his chin.

“So,” Joseph said, “Another guild?”

“Aye,” Broon said, “That isn't good.”

“How come?”

“It means another guild knows we have the egg,” Contort replied, “And they probably want it for another client.”

“Remember back on the Fortune's Favor?” Rosemary said, “There was a Steamer there, and his team was trying to get that egg. A lot of people probably want it. A lot of people who hired guilds to acquire it.”

“So people can do that?” Joseph said, “Hire a guild to attack another guild?”

“Oh, attacking a guildhall like Castle Belenus is a big no-no,” Contort said, “But out on the field? This is business – we're in the way of the prize. So they can attack us to try and get the egg.”

“And if one of us dies, or we kill one of them defending ourselves?” Joseph asked.

“The guild leadership works it out,” Contort said, “We'll probably pay some compensation to the deceased's next-of-kin, say we're sorry, all that jazz. But guild skirmishes like this are relatively common.”

Joseph gulped, “So we'll be facing another guild.”

“Any ideas who it could be?” Rosemary asked, turning to Broon.

“No idea,” the half-orc said, “A man in a business suit with a high voice... that's not a very good description...”

He rose up from where he had been sitting, re-shouldering his pack, “We can do more investigating once we get our bearings about this place. We'll be meeting with the Salthirn guard at Whispering Rock to negotiate passage towards Lake Oval.”

“And we can ask them about it then,” Rosemary said.

“Aye,” Broon nodded, “Let's go.”

They tramped up the stone staircase, coming up to the top of Omasta Landmass. A wide, open field greeted them, stretching as far as the eye could see. Wind blew through the green grasses of the plains, cool and dry and sweet-smelling. Stone pillars stuck out of the ground at certain intervals, carved with runes and images of men and women – many of whom had great tusks jutting from their mouths.

“Welcome to Salthirn,” Broon said, “It covers the entirety of Omasta Landmass, and was formed by three orcish kingdoms and two goblin tribes.”

“You grew up here?” Joseph said.

“In the forests in the north,” Broon said, “My mother raised me away from much of civilization. I was a hunter before I joined the guild.”

Joseph nodded. Then another question prodded his mind.

“Shorts called you 'Wildarm.'”

“A nickname. I had a reputation before I joined the guild,” Broon said as he began to stride through the grass, “Not many people expect a one-armed half-orc to be of any use out here.”

“How did you lose your arm?”

Broon was quiet for a moment, but then said, “A foolish mistake. Let's talk about something else, aye?”

“Y-yeah,” Joseph followed. He felt bad – Broon had been nothing but kind to him, and all he did was ask rude questions. Broon walked with a sense of purpose in his step, and although he held his head high and his voice was even and commanding, Joseph had a distinct feeling that the half-orc didn't want to be in Salthirn.