Cameron awoke, an eternity passing between laying and sitting up passing before him, and flinched at the sight of piled ampules and syringes strewn across his bed next to him. The confusion turned to trepidation when the inn keeper caught his attention as he loudly got off of the seat in the corner of the room, and belly-laughed at him.

"Oh wow, he's actually alive! Can you hear me, fella?" The stocky man looked with soft concern at him, to the outworlder's confusion.

"I can. Why are you all here, though? Kind of a scare to find three people in your room when you wake up..." Sitting up was hard for him, the drowsiness and aches still refusing to leave him. There was a noticable look of relief at Cameron's words on the 3rd person's face,which he identified as the elven gate guard he had seen on the way back from the wolfman job.

"You hadn't come out of that room for 3 days, lad. After the townspeople were talking about the undead-looking merc wandering the streets with bloodshot eyes, and then you coming back a day after, I thought maybe you'd gotten sick, or died! Called the doctor and everything!"

The Inn-keeper gesticulated with every word, attempting to convey the sincerity of his words, which Cameron realised as real. He had been marked for death, apparently. A smartly-dressed, brown lab-type coat wearing woman next to him raised an eyebrow at him, thinking deeply over the two's words, and deciding to pack up her equipment into a large leather doctor's bag that Cameron realised was a Bag of Holding as she just threw the items into the abyssal entrance.

"I've been trying to break you from that coma for days with Magitools and Alchemy, but nothing worked. Highly unusual that all of my equipment doesn't work on you, but that's your business. Well, yours and the Mayor's, I suppose. He wanted to speak to you if you lived to get the story on your illness, if it's contagious, or a curse, or something Vinewall should be worried about. I'd suggest you go." She spoke flatly while packing away, presumably in a hurry to her next appointment, Cameron supposed.

"Right, I'll do that. Thanks for checking on me, I guess." He yawned while rubbing the considerable sleep from his eyes, stretching his legs under the warm furs. The doctor and the guard left the room, and the Inn-keeper followed after reassuring Cameron.

"No problem. If I was you, I'd have a wash and get some food. Not sure your ribs are supposed to stick out that much, mate."

As the room emptied, he took some time to examine himself. He realised just how bad he looked. He was a couple shades paler, and his muscles and body fat were near non-existant. He had somehow come undressed, and wondered if his clothes would even fit any more. I really liked them, too... His bag sat on the table near the window, unmolested. He felt strange, realising that everything in the backpack was everything he owned. No awful apartment, no old plasma screen tv, none of the things from Earth. The rumination ended as he smiled at his realisation, wondering if the meager things he had back home had just been holding him down. The minimal lifestyle didn't seem too bad to him, and the armory was a great help. A perfect fresh start, apart from the whole pseudo-mind control he was subjected to.

A return to real life struck him, and his face fell. The recent events made him reevaluate just how much of a chance he had at maintaining his comfortable lifestyle in Vinewall. He was content just to take jobs here and there, and enjoy the town, a life that would be made impossible if he had to deal with the rest of the Beacons. When would he be compelled next? If the next death march was always inevitable, then should he just go to the Beacons unprompted and get it over with? He doubted all of the locations he would be made to visit were as close or as uninhabited as the valley's, and if seeking them out preemptively stopped forced marches like yesterday, maybe it was his only chance to stay alive.

The safest choice didn't make him happy, however. He felt rage at his loss of control, first at the mind-control, then back to his kidnapping in the first place. A substantial part of him wanted to fight against the system and it's enforcers; He imagined breaking the Beacons somehow, blowing up the temples of the Gods in revenge, or maybe just killing himself. If no one else can supposedly come in time, then it would be a death sentence for the planet. Cameron pushed the thought away however, imagining the innocent people who lived here and the likelyhood that they would be the victims instead of the Gods. The Cartographer would probably sigh, and move on to the next planet. The powerful ones will get away with anything, every time. I have to find a way to break this programming shit.

If I have to do that again, I'll probably just die. Everyone loses, at that point. Can't they see that?

The light steps Cameron took along the main street were disconcerting, but made the trip to his regular slightly easier for him. The kindly restaraunt owner looked at him with shock, and directed him in a hurry to his balcony spot and returned to the kitchen in a flash, neglecting to take his order. He caught the assessing looks of the patrons across from him, but shrugged them off easily in anticipation for the meal he would devour. Besides, he could only imagine what he looked like to the people around him, 5 sizes too small for his clothes. He felt like a toddler wearing daddy's biking jacket. The smile on his face slowly faded at the realisation of the possibility that he couldn't eat as much as he'd hoped. I really hope I'm immune to refeeding syndrome. I'm not gonna be able to control myself.

Cameron was insatiable. The ravenous beast at the single table had drawn a small crowd, enamoured by the sight of a fellow devouring his body weight in sausages, paellas, soups, briskets and any other thing else the rowdy patrons had bought for him, in a impromptu crowdfunded experiment to see when the man would finally puke. A mix of horror, awe, and morbid fascination crossed the crowd's faces as he finished every thing given to him by the two increasingly horrified servers that made regular trips to him. The freak show ended and the gathering dispersed after two hours of gluttonous force feeding, Cameron perched on his throne victorious with a single mug of ale in his hand. He'd wisely chosen to stick to water the whole way through in anticipation at the sheer amount he wanted to gobble up and have to wash down. He felt like a king, reborn in the fires of the Magitech griddle of the Bloody Dress, and the war of determination to stuff everything he could down his throat. He grinned like a child, patting his swelling stomach and feeling the life return to him.

Contrary to his fears, he kept the food down well, and could almost feel the regrowth of matter across his body. He felt like a freak, but a well fed freak with an incredibly resillient and efficient body. He mulled over ignoring the request of an audience with the Mayor, but decided to get it over and done with. It would be a tough situation to explain. He was essentially immune to all of the magical healing by the doctor before, and he didn't have a good excuse ready to rationalise that to the people in charge. If he had to rip the bandaid off and tell the truth, he would. It was a great town, and he'd love to call it home, if the situation had permitted it. The walk to the meeting was punctuated by the mental practice of a conversation of lies and half-truths, searching for excuses he could use to hide the reveal of his 'ailment' to the authorities.

The Mayor's manor was nothing less than a three-storey architectural marvel. It couldn't help but evoke memories of ancient Roman villas in Cameron, with it's precisely curved baked-orange tiles covering the roofs, and the cleanliness of the pure white walls holding the monument up, appearing as sleek and as smooth as marble. Painted columns like blue terracotta stretched from ground to ceiling, holding up the ornately carved balcony overhanging the domineering might of the metal doors underneath. Professionally mantained greenery spread over anything not tiled or paved, dense hedges walling in the property and sheltering the plentiful and colourful flowers in the beds next to them. Light blue gems were emplaced into dull metal grey lampposts either side of the main path, ordained into the heads of the post like a centrepiece, stationed on their vantage points surveiling for blood. On either side of the entrance, stood shining suits of armour inhabited with trained guards, swords at their sides to defend or kill on behalf of their Mayor. Cameron was left to walk in anxiously as the guards seemed to already know who he was, and allowed him passage after heaving the gigantic doors open.

The interior followed the form, two lines of golden painted columns rose from the marble floors like a guide, showing him the way to the central staircase that laid in the middle of the room. Running his hands over the dark wood banisters felt like a sin, as if he was molesting the Mona Lisa with hands coated in chocolate. The carvings on the rungs were of animals, beasts and weapons he had never seen, seemingly telling a graphic story Cameron had no context for. To his surprise, ashe crested the last step, a thin bloom of light threw itself over the dark grey and white marble of the second floor, and pulsed on and off like an emergency light as it drew a path to the doorway on the right. He couldn't help but smirk at the virtual magical chauffeur that was presumably guiding him straight to the Mayor, as he kept his eyes on the light blue path and walked along it's length. The hallway's room entrances lying amongst the embroidered carpet were spaced far from each other, leading to the open doorway that stood inviting in the centre.

"Ah. Cameron. A pleasure to meet you. I feel like it has been a long time coming, yet you have only been here for a week. Your exploits in the Cobarlian forest were greatly appreciated to us here. If not, somewhat disconcerting." The man's voice was powerful, a deep and resounding tone that was softened by the man's kind inflection. Regardless of the tone, Cameron interpreted it as a threat. Fuck. They know.

"You're... quite unique, aren't you?" He spoke gently, a tone of understanding punctuating his brief statement.

The Mayor stood behind a desk the rival of any priceless piece in a modern Earth museum. It was covered in a hot red ambience, mana-powered glowing hieroglyphs telling tales of victory, conquest and power, and it's underlit glass surface threw obscured light across the leader's piled papers and stacked documents that sat atop it. The man in question was a beast in purple velvet; His green eyes were soft yet seemed to see right through Cameron, and his monstrously strong physique couldn't be contained by the man's fineries as they bulged with every adjustment. The man could probably eat stone with his wide iron-like jaw, yet came across as an amenable man, at least to Cameron's eyes. He reclined with his fingers intercrossed on his padded white leather chair. The outworlder wondered what sort of material it had to be made out of to not make a groan as the behemoth leaned back into it.

"How much do you know, exactly?" Cameron spoke accusatorially, brow lowered and flame in his voice. If he had to defend himself, he would prefer to know beforehand. His faith in his ability for subterfuge was low, and he would rather get the fight over with, if it was inevitable.

"Only as much as my scouts saw." The Mayor was unfazed by the inflammatory tone with not an eyebrow raised as he took his leisurely time with the explanation, cognizant at the anxiousness of his guest yet maintaining his outward-facing business smile he had cultivated throughout his years.

"We had our own designs on that camp, given their somewhat close proximity to Vinewall. Technically we aren't required to patrol the realm outside of our immediate borders, but letting those bandits go would not sit well with me. Your conquest of those ruffians was exceedingly impressive, I must say. The stories my scouts told of the explosion with no trace was quite something! As well as the sentries you dispatched with no effort. THAT singular fact is the impetus of our conversation, to be specific, besides the other actions you took. The disposal of the weapons was indeed a grand idea, not the level of foresight I would expect from a mercenary. However, you did neglect two bandits that were out on patrol, but that much is understandable. Don't worry, they've been taken care of."

The unnoticed surveilance was alarming, but not something he hadn't expected. Cameron controlled his embarassment at the sentry blunder, and kept his face straight as if he knew of their escape.

"The reason I asked you here today, is twofold, in truth. One, to gather some information you'd be willing to share about yourself, just to assuage some confusions we have, and two is to ask you if you're up for a contract, given you are indeed on the up and up."

"What are you confused about? I'm pretty upfront, I think." He lied through pursed lips. Cameron knew well enough what the Mayor was referencing. How can I tell the truth here? Any see through lie here is more believable than the truth...

"Well, while you were unconscious, and I hope you'll overlook the intrusion, the best Doctor I have ever known declared strongly in no uncertain terms that you have no mana in your body.. As in, none at all. No ambient, no stored, no hidden. Nothing usable at all... That's not possible, you realise?" The beast's eyes raised with his transparent evaluation of Cameron, searching for an explanation to the mercenary's shrouded circumstances.

"So, if this is indeed factual and not a gross misunderstanding, how on Anteia did you manage to kill 30 odd men at that deserter's camp with not a single spell?" It was a reasonable request, but hard to answer. Cameron couldn't easilly answer it, and didn't want to. He decided to go nuclear and escape the choking presence of the town's leader in front of him.

"Am I in trouble, or something? That was a request from a mage from the capital. I think I've behaved well the whole time I've been here, apart from a misstep three days ago, but that won't happen again, I guarantee it." His speech was short and quick.

"If I have to move on, then that's fair enough. I'll get out of your hair." Cameron raised himself slightly out of the guest chair he had sat himself in, and faced the doorway to the exit. A couple beads of sweat threatened to run down his forehead.

"Good Gods, you're somewhat defensive, aren't you?" The mayor laughed haughtily in an attempt to disperse the tense atmosphere, remaining as casual as a powerful man can allow themself to be to an unknown presence. Cameron turned his head to the man cautiously, not knowing what to think about the situation.

"Please, try not to see this as an interrogation. It's simply curiousity, and regardless of the circumstances, you ARE a guest here, in Vinewall. If you don't want to tell me anything, then that's okay. The only thing I really want to know, and the main subject of today's meeting, is how good of a mercenary you actually are. A little information, and a demonstration of your abilities, in return for a lucrative job. I don't think I'm asking too much there. And if I am, then you're still welcome to stay here regardless, although I'd recommend signing with the Mercenary Guild before they find out you aren't guilded. They can be little buggers when it comes to freelancers taking their contracts."

The tenseness dropped from his shoulders almost immediately. He was expecting an ultimatum, but was delivered a job offer instead. This could be a good distraction from the recent shitshow, I guess. The money helps.

"That's... really understanding. I was kinda expecting the worst. Fire and brimstone, you know? But I'll definitely take this. Exactly what kind of merc you looking for? I'll say it now, if you wanted mass destruction I'm sure there's tons of blokes looking to throw magic around. If that's not the market you're looking for, I'm guessing you want me for infliltration, or ambush. I can do that."

"Right on the money, my friend. An old abandoned millitary outpost, 32 miles away to the north-west. It's being used by a gang of slavers, as a resting point to carry their 'merchandise' over the southern border on the way from Old Plateau." The grizzled lips pursed at the mention of slavers, and his tone was quietly aggresive over the words 'Old Plateau'.

"That city is an embarrasment. Every crime known on the law books is commited there, and the guard is content to look over it for any meager amount of coin they can get. If they will not protect the citizenry of Tassalonia, then it is left to me, no matter what I have to pay. A full-frontal assault is easy, but I fear for the hostages they will make of the captured. I command a considerable force here, I'm proud to say, but stealth is not of my command. I need you. A man seemingly invisible to magical analysis, that can quietly deal with any guard or sentry that comes their way? Quite frankly, it feels like the Goddess herself delivered you to me!"

The Mayor smiled at his own words, yet his eyes didn't follow, instead following the outworlder's reactions with a raven-like focus. His words were welcoming, but the tone was predatory, as if he had stumbled across a glimmering pearl in an oyster. His eyes narrowed still.

"Still, I must say, it's incredibly disconcerting to look upon you with every variety of Detection Magic I know and not even see your breath. I'd call you a void, but you don't warp or redirect the mana around you, or even present yourself as an anomaly. It's just... nothing there. Business as usual." Unwitting or not, the Mayor leaned foward in his chair, studying the man before him.

"Uh, thanks, I guess? It goes a long way towards not tripping alarms, at least." Cameron scratched his neck, wanting the strange atmosphere to dissipate and return to the talk of money.

"Ah, that would be correct. It's a good thing you're a mercenary and not a thief, I doubt any one could catch you! At least magically." The behemoth pulled another veiled smile, and Cameron could easily tell. He passed off the Mayor'ss comment in an attempt to smother the flames of adolation before they grow too large.

"They'd still hear my footsteps, unfortunately. Or see me, or smell me. It's like all things, I guess. Some good stuff, some bad." The Mayor leaned into his leathers with a satisfied grin.

"Very true. Even Gods can fall, after all." He said the words like Cameron should know them. An Anteian saying, I guess?

"Still, Cameron. I don't need armageddon this time. I just need a couple knives between the ribs and some muted gasps. What do you say?"