“The Hunter’s Guild operates almost exclusively in the northern province, hunting dangerous beast and creatures for valuable materials.

The Thieves’ Guild conducts itself with secrecy, using hidden symbols to mark their premises. Rare is a member who admits in public to being one. They have hidden branches in every city and are tolerated by the empire because of their overwhelming usefulness.”

Chapter 33

Wil took the cold cloth away from his eye and looked at Quentin. “Do you think Barton stole your relics?” He asked, with a seldom seen serious expression on his face.

Quentin thought about the facts, and what she knew about the members of the East Haven Mercantile Guild, before shaking her head. “No, I don’t. He bribed the guards, but I don’t think he was behind the robbery.”

“What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten involved. Would you have taken the compensation he offered?” Wil asked, curious.

“I wouldn’t have had a choice.” She sighed, looking out the window. “I would have taken the gold and purchased whatever was available here in the east, before traveling back to Elbing. With some luck, I could have broken even. Maybe. But you haven’t answered my question yet.” She said, turning to glare at Wil.

“Fair enough.” He placed the cold cloth back on his battered eye and leaned back in his chair. “I told Margaret we’re together because it was the only way to get their assistance in retrieving your relics.”

“You want to use them to interrogate Barton?”

Wil nodded. “There was no way we could have gotten anything from him. Word had already been sent to the Ashworth House Guards when we arrived. Also, I wouldn’t discount the fact that Lady Ashworth might be behind all this.” He said, closing his eyes.

“Lady Ashworth?” Quentin scoffed. “She doesn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind. I’ve heard she spends all day drinking wine and flirting with her knights.”

Wil looked at Quentin, even removing the cloth again to get a better look at her. “Lady Ashworth is one of the most cunning, manipulative and conniving people I have ever met in my life.”

Quentin laughed at Wil, shaking her head at his comments. She couldn’t picture that dolled up dimwit planning a robbery.

“She’s kept her title of Baroness for over a decade. Despite the fact that she married into her husband’s family and only had a daughter to inherit. Lord Ashworth’s brothers and nephews have been trying to oust her for years, but she has them all so busy fight amongst themselves that they ignore her.”

“I can’t believe it. I’ve had dealings with her in the past and she’s never come across as that intelligent, to be honest.” Quentin told Wil.

Wil shook his head at Quentin. “It’s an open secret at court, but I’m not surprised that it isn’t common knowledge.”

“Lord Ashworth was a handsome dullard, while she was the brains behind the pair. And Margaret, she inherited her mother’s wit and her father’s looks. She pretends to spend most of her time gossiping in the capital, but she knows most of the secrets in the Empire. And she shares everything with her mother.”

“So, why did you tell her we are together?” Quentin asked, leaning forward as she sat. She was intent on his every word.

“It was the only sure-fire way I know to put you, and the relics, under my father’s protection.”

“Margaret knows that my father doesn’t care a single wit about collecting rare items. And he doesn’t trade in them, so she wouldn’t believe me if I had told her that my father had taken a sudden interest in what you were carrying.” Wil explained, recasting the minor cooling spell on the cloth and replacing it on his eye.

“Why couldn’t you have just told her that your father wanted to obtain the relics for the prince? That he sought me out to provide the gift. Why involve our personal relationship at all?” Quentin countered, not understanding why Wil was adamant that a relationship between them was required to sell the ruse.

“Simple, if my father truly wanted those items, he would have had a dozen different ways to get them. If Margaret hadn’t been distracted by some juicy gossip, like an Earl’s wayward and wanton son on a lover’s tryst with a common merchant.” He added quickly. “No offense!”

“Without the distraction, she would have realized that as well. Margaret would have asked more questions, and while I’m a passable liar, she can ferret out the truth better than anyone I have ever met.”

“By saying that we’re lovers, and that I used my father’s power and influence to impress you, I’ve placed your caravan firmly under House Brookmoor’s protection. Furthermore, it is completely believable and in character for me.”

“The part about gifting the relics to the prince for his birthday was just further reinforcing the fact to whoever stole your relics that they also stole from the Earl of Brookmoor and the Crown Prince of Illyria.”

“I expect we will see a surprising number of heads on pikes before this is over.” Wil said, extremely pleased with himself and his quick thinking.

He leaned back on his chair and lifted his boots, placing them comfortably on the desk.

Quentin had a thoughtful look on her face, as she reviewed what Wil had said.

In exchange for a simple rumor regarding her and Wil, something that didn’t matter much to her, as it was truly no one’s business who she entered a relationship with, she had obtained a powerful backing.

Quentin eyes began to shine as she imagined all the profits that would soon be returned to her.

“There’s one problem though.” Wil said, eyes closed, and face covered by the cold cloth.

“Hmm? What’s that?” She replied.

Wil leaned the chair back further on its two back legs as he continued.

“By telling Margaret that the relics are a gift to the Prince from Father, you’ll need to bring them to him. I’m sure he’ll give you a fair price…probably.” He said, disinterestedly.

With a crash, Wil tipped backwards and tumbled to the floor as Quentin kicked his chair in anger.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The following day passed by in a blur. Wil, sporting an egg sized lump on the back out his head to match his black eye, spent most of his time with Bell.

To Bell, Wil was a great source of entertainment. He had spent a solid fifteen minutes laughing at the young man when he walked down the Inn’s stairs that morning.

Quentin on the other hand, ignored Wil like he had the plague. She avoided spending any time with him at all. When they did cross paths, she would glare and scowl at him. He couldn’t help but respond with a grin.

It would inevitably result in Wil gaining a new bruise, but he couldn’t help himself. Quentin was easy to rile up and he needed something to do to pass the time.

Margaret sent word early the next morning that Barton, before they had even touched the man, spilled everything he knew in order to save himself. It was unfortunate that he didn’t know the identity of the person behind the robbery. He had been approached by a hooded figure and handed a large sum of money.

Seeing that he could provide no information on the relic’s whereabouts, Lady Ashworth had ordered him to be imprisoned. That verdict had resulted in him crawling on his knees, begging the Baroness to spare him.

He proceeded to give evidence of a wide range of illegal activities he had knowledge of or had taken part in. All in the hopes of being spared or at least dragging others down with him.

The sheer scope of the information he brought resulted in almost half of the Mercantile Association of East Haven being brought in for questioning. For Quentin, it meant that the remaining members were quite eager to compensate her for the robbery.

Wil was unsure how much gold they had offered Quentin, but her attitude had instantly changed. She would smile widely whenever she saw him.

Wil had almost preferred the scowls she would send him, rather than this smiling, happier version of Quentin. He found the latter to be creepy and offsetting, especially when she had given him a large pouch of coins in appreciation of his help. It was unnatural to see her easily part with her profits.

The final piece of information Margaret had told Wil before they parted ways was that her mother would offer the prince the two relics she had purchased at the auction as a gift for his birthday. The sly Baroness would not miss the opportunity to gain favor with him now that she knew of his interest in Khmerian relics.

Wil having lied about the entire affair, knew that they prince only had a passing interest in the God King. He readily praised Margaret and the Lady Ashworth on their generosity, while laughing behind their backs at the confusion their gifts would bring.

The next few days were spent with Quentin restocking her goods for trade, using some of the gold the Association had given her in compensation. She filled wagons with aged wine from some of the wealthier eastern vineyards, along with barrels of local Ale, Mead and bolts of cloth.

After a three-day delay, Wil and the Caravan finally left East Haven, heading northwest.

Now that they didn’t have to auction the relics at the capital, they would skirt the central region. Quentin planned on picking up additional goods along the way. She would buy hides, herbs and beast materials in the northern regions, before making their way west to sell them.

Wil was perfectly fine with not revisiting the capital. Quentin assured him that he would arrive west in time for Night’s arrival.

As he was riding his horse and spending the days listening to Bell’s farcical stories, Wil felt content. It was one of the first times in recent memory that he could recall feeling that way.