This. Caravan. The next chapter

Keylesh was coming out of Relic’s Bollock, a local pub, where she had a meeting with some high-ranking members of her guild.  They bade her to be on the lookout for nefarious dealings that others might put in front of her and to report all such things to the proper authorities, them the only authorities that she needed to worry about.  She headed through the streets and was getting closer to her domicile.  The rain was pattering off her oil cloth hood and dripping off on to her pelt; it did not matter how wet her fur got if it never reached her undercoat and that is why she wore the hood up.  A figure in the shadows of the tight row of low houses stood there waiting for someone.  Occasionally there were people that called on her as she came back from work, there were no Tabaxi in the city or in any nearby town besides herself and being so unique meant there was a side line business to be had if she were willing, often even if she was not.  Being a slave meant that there was little that she could do legally to resist them except to run, but sometimes she fought and that had some rewards too.  After the meeting, she was in no mood to be solicited, not this night, not ever really.  The call came, “Hey, Puss, I’ve got an offer for you”, the figure said, raising a hand with a large bag that sounded like money when he shook it.  She was not interested, her ears bent back.  “Here Puss Puss, I got something for you,” well maybe she was interested in something to take the edge off the night, her claws left her sheaves.

The figure in the ally was not her usual abusers.  He was sober and he was dressed in chainmail with a rain cloak covering it.  Beneath the cloak at his side was a fine longsword, the hilt an sheath was dressed in a gold filigree and a pattern that looked familiar.  The bag landed at her feet when she got within ten feet, but before she came within five, it hit the mud and the wet with a smack and the top opened exposing a pile of chits, brass and bronze, chits, halves and quarters a jumbled mess.  “There are fifty brass chits worth, just to listen to what I have to say,” he propositioned, his voice kept low as not to carry but clear so there was no misunderstanding but smelling of intense garlic.  “You are a rising star in the Mercenary Guild, I am here to make you rich.  You are knew and you are a slave so you don’t know economics, but the paltry hundred chits you just got for signing up for that caravan is a pittance of what the merchants make when they make from the Dwarves for each run.  We guard their skins and we die for their profits, but they pay half of what we are worth, and it must stop.”  He looks her up and down, “You are a slave to the Builder of builders and what is you Freedom Price?” 

He seems to wait for her to answer, but Keylesh pauses, a minor rebellion and he knows it. “Twenty-five thousand chits.”

“After living expenses, and penalties for missing days as a builder, I suspect,” he sees her nod and continues, “One hundred a run, two runs a month, you’ll be working eleven years for your price and another two for penalties, and that is if you survive.  You will be working your entire life.”  He turns and walks into the ally as if abandoning her, but then stops and turns, “Unless we can increase the cost per run, to  . . . say two hundred chits per run, then you will be out of here in six years and free and clear.”  He turns his head to the side as if thinking, “And if you were aiding the Guild to increase its fees, I bet you will be earning even more money and soon.  You could be clear in a few years, perhaps by High Summer.  You in?”  He pauses and waits, “I told you the money was just for you to listen.  Its yours, but I need you to tell me now before you get more.” 

Keylesh pauses in her thoughts for just a second.  The rain continues to pour down and she thinks that if it continues like this another few days the river will flood early.  When it floods her first floor domicile will quickly be underwater and she will have to move, just like last year, and she wont make any headway on her Freedom Price, moreover she may need to get new bedding unless she is willing to live with the smell of rot.  “In,” she says.

“Good, tell no one.  You, me and a handful of handpicked, trustworthy individuals will attack the caravan on the fifth night.  We will be the only survivors and the caravan will be torched and we all get a pay raise.  Simple plan for a easy night’s work, and you will be free by High Summer.”  He steps back and she picks up the bag of blood money, the deal is sealed.

Two days later, she meets with her comrades and looks between them with a discerning look.  The meet seems to be a dream in the back her mind and she is sure that each of her friends was good enough to be ‘handpicked’ for this mission.  She looks over them as they talk and joke, friends of a trauma, the attack three months ago, but friends for no other reason and no less.  The hopelessly naïve Plains Elf, who still has trouble sleeping with a roof of brick overhead.  The solidly patriotic Dwarf, who would never knowingly sell out his country to make a buck.  The carefree Half-Elf who seems always to be having a good time, a song always on her lips.  A cold weight presses on the back of her hip where she keeps her money; they don’t know.  They are going to die!  She must tell them!

A voice cuts over her own as she tries to tell them about what is going to happen, “There they are, late and undisciplined,” a familiar voice yelled like a drill sergeant.  “You four report to duty, you are holding us up and we are pursuing a bonus and if we don’t get it, I’ll take it out of your hides!”  Her friends leave her behind in their eagerness to report to duty.  “These four lazies have gone over the path we are to take and as such are your Squad leaders.  Nerwen you are to take these four recruits and show them the ropes of ranging ahead.  Nurl, Flong, Retus, and Ferd, do what Private Nerwen says and you may survive this adventure.  Private Oloric take Fareth, Thomad, Dirk, and Killer, he looks at the last one skeptically, you follow his orders and form up on our rear.  Private Tiarah you take Daerk, Gweth, Boram, and Param and lead the way, don’t lead us over any gofer holes or ill personally kill each of you and sell your hides to cover my bonus.  Lastly Sergeant Keylesh take Privates Tosher, Mangler, Knuckles, and Duster and stick close to the caravan and keep it safe.  I am Captain Turlock, for you that missed it” and he pulls her closer, “Are we Clear,” under his breath “Pussy?” then louder, “Move out.”  Keylesh if she hadn’t seen the gold on his sword and smelt the garlic on his breath would have recognized the undertone beneath his breath when he called her pussy.  Her stomach was wracked with knots now. 

The first day of the journey was on comfortable roads near the town and they made good progress, but Captain Turlock pressed them for more speed.  When the guards came close at noon for a meal, he sent them back out with a tongue lashing, saying there is no time to stop we eat on patrol and we are not stopping until after dark.  We only have nine days to get there or we lose our bonus.”  The first day out, the captain kept her close sitting with the lead cart, chewing constantly on cloves of garlic.  Every time that he had to interact with one of the nonhuman Privates, he expressed himself to her and spitting the husk of the garlic over the side while he painfully grasped her thigh. “Idiot” or “Smelly”, “Stupid” or “Freakish” and praise for the humans.  It was clear what he thought of them, what he thought about her for that matter.  At the end of the day, the entire crew was tired and looking forward to a hot meal, the weather had changed, the suns slipped behind clouds and a steady drizzle rained down.  “No Fires, hard tack tonight and tomorrow,” he Captain Turlock bellowed, “Watches tonight and every night as follows: Tiarah’s squad, first hour of dark, Oloric’s Squad fourth hour, Keylesh Mid Night shit, and Nerwen’s Squad until dawn, when she is expected to be ready to be out and ranging. No lights and all quiet in five or I’ll make sure you will for the rest of the trip.”  Keylesh was about to find her friends to let them know what the plans were for the caravan on the fifth night, but everyone was milling around getting sorted with Turlock and Keylesh’s squad enforcing curfew.

The drizzle continued through the night letting up at dawn only to become full rain.  The caravan carts were large heavy-duty carts, Oloric estimating that they could carry small heavy loads over long distances.  The wide wheels were good at crossing the wide-open ground, but in the rain, it turned out that it was also good at picking up the mud too.  Much of his time was spent cleaning the wheels off the carts as it was keeping the rear of the caravan unmolested by whatever they were supposed to keep it unmolested by.  Fareth, Dirk, Thomad and Killer were a good crew; Fareth was the daughter of a local smith and they had much to talk about, Dirk was the son of a city guard and seemed a little jumpy, Thomad was a labourer but thought that it might be better to be a mercenary—he was strong but uncoordinated if he hit a kobold it would be mash, if and Killer.  Killer is a small thin wiry slip of a girl who thought that if she had a badass name would be badass herself.  Oloric could tell by the way that they moved that dirk had some instruction before coming out and the others did not.

People, she noticed, never paid attention to rain.  Sometimes it was steady drumming down on the land for hours at a time, at a constant rate and that was the extent of what rain was for people, but it rarely did that.  Sometimes the rain was gathered in gusts of wind that fell upon the land, the rain would be intense and then it would almost stop, until it intensified again.  Other times the rain would fall and then stop as the rain baring clouds would pass overhead and sometimes there would be breaks in the rain clouds and suns light pass through brightening the landscape.  It was raining like that today.  The breaks in the rain let Nerwen see further.  The land was beautiful to her.  The grass was starting to green in the warmth of the season and there was evidence of the massive herds that her people followed and managed, there to the North East half way from here to the mountains there was a herd of bison, she estimated at this distance perhaps a few thousand individuals.  They had passed over this ground about five days ago and they had churned the land greatly with their passing.  The winter grass had been shorn close to the ground.  The lead of the herd would have been careful to go past the gopher colonies or stamp the ground around to fill in the hazard before the rest of the herd moved over, this way would be safe until the gophers were able to re-excavate.  Her crew had little experience on horseback, very clearly so.  Most of them gripped the reins like they were sure the horse would kill them.  She got most of them to relax a little once she got them away from the caravan.  Nurl was a hand at an inn’s stable, but he had no experience riding, bus a lot of experience in currying, he was a gentle soul and she hoped there would be no combat this run for his sake.  Flong clearly had some experience in fighting but did not want to talk about it, which was alright in her books as taking a life can really change a person, even if that life is trying to take their life.  Retus looked like he had drawn a short straw in some draw and had been placed on a horse as consequence.  When she got back tonight, she was going to have words with the captain about switching him out of the squad for someone who was less likely to strangle the horse as ride it.  Ferd is a gem of a rider, she said that she wanted to be a mercenary so she could be on a horse.  She knows that she likes it, even though it is hard work and is willing to do it until she is good at it, but until that happens she will be bad at ranging as she is not aware of anything but her horse.

Turlock called for a halt well after dark as Nerwen suggested that the way would be free of gophers for a few kilometers due to some herd or something.  She also assured him the clouds would break up and the moons would provide enough light to go a little while.  A little while meant until the reached the tall grass again.  They pushed a bit beyond and there was a problem and a bit of disorganization as the last half of the caravan pulled up alongside the front half.  Keylesh got her companions together out of the eyes of the rest and told them what was to happen soon.  She asked them, “Did any of you meet with Turlock before you met him yesterday morning?” she was rewarded with blank stares.  “Okay, he contacted me, and he told me that there was a plan to dupe the Merchants Guilds into Paying the Mercenary Guild double what they pay now.  The plan Caravans were under more threat than they were and to increase the presence of guards on the caravans.  If the perceived danger was greater then they pay would be greater.” They nodded.  “He and some in the Guild plan on attacking a caravan and burning the goods and killing all the people in it except for a few.”  More nods.  She looked at them nodding, “This.  Caravan.”  Keylesh was on guard watching for Turlock and her squad so she nearly missed the surprise as Nerwen squeaked loudly in realization.  “Shh, you can’t say a thing.  They are going to attack the caravan on the fifth night, I assume when I am on watch.  We can’t be seen talking together, or they might suspect I told you.  Turlock is the leader of the attack.” She emphasized in case they didn’t clue in.  with that she left them to think about this information; they might have a chance to talk again before the attack.

The night was uneventful.

Morning was bright and clear, the rose over the mountains and burnt away the morning fog.  The day was warm, the first in several months where many were compelled to remove the outer layer of clothing and dry out.  Tiarah leading the forward squad noticed that the tracks that they were following diverged from the proximity of the river and headed away into the plains.  She flagged down Captain Turlock and informed him of the change of direction.  Before last night’s revelation, she might have dismissed the things she saw in his eyes as she reported to him, but now they were laid bare.  He dismissed her, impatiently telling her to continue following the old path and spit a gob of phlegm and garlic to the side near her as she turned away.  She thought of Daerk, third born son of one of the Guild leaders dead in just a few days.  Gweth, daughter of a brewer and innkeeper who was faced with the choice of serving beer to patrons of her fathers until she was married and chose to do something else, this.  Boram and Param an unlikely duo, twin brother and sister of a prominent cartwright family, who decided to join the mercenary guild at the same time but did not tell the other or their parents but met in the employment line.  Both have been flirting with Gweth rather successfully.  As Tiarah turned she thought of them.

Keylesh was doing her utmost to avoid interacting with Turlock, not just because his garlic breath was starting to permanently turn her off eating garlic forever, but he seemed to not be able to keep his hands off of her and he was none to gentle either.  She doubted that he was capable of being pleasant at all.  From her squad she found out that Captain Turlock was a sergeant in the town watch but had been relegated to wall duties for being too rough with the townsfolk.  Being too rough as far as she knew was not a crime among the city watch, but apparently being too rough with the sons of Guild heads was.  His long years of service apparently granted him some leeway.  She got most of this story from Tosher, the most conciliatory of the squad; apparently he had been assigned to the City Watch because he had no pull in the guild and his parents were members of the Urchins and Labourers Guild, but not slaves.  Mangler was a slave like her, but he had been placed in the fighting arena and won his freedom early, he then joined the city watch so he could legally continue his pursuit of mangling people up.  Knuckles and Duster were brothers of passion if not true brothers, they loved to wade into barfights bare fisted one with a mailed glove and the other with brass knuckles; they loved to fight.  Either way, these hard men were Turlock’s through and through, and only pretended to take orders from her.  From Tosher she found out that Turlock and the rest were especially hard on anyone who was not human. 

The Fourth day ended like all the rest it had started with a little rain and overcast skies but by the end of the day a front of clear air pushed the clouds away, the temperature dropped a little, but the suns beating down on the land began to dry the mud somewhat.  The caravan made good time.  The land was a little drier than the land closer to the river, so they were faster.  The first three days they crossed only 40 of the targeted 60km.  This day they were able to make their 20 km and make up and another 15 before the day finished.  When camp was struck, Turlock called the heads of the squads together and told them he was happy with the progress today and he asked Nerwen if she remembered the Halfling Village, they had discovered last expedition out.  She said she did, and she mentioned that they should come upon it around noon tomorrow.  Turlock thought about it and asked her tomorrow to cut a wider swath around the village.  He said that he was worried about the Hungry Dead, ghosts or other undead that might attack people from areas of mass trauma.  Nerwen told him the dead had been buried as was respectable for Halflings, it should not be a factor.  Turlock got angry and told her to do what she was told and then broke up the meeting sending the others away and keeping Keylesh nearby until it was time for bed. 

All was well through all the watches until just before morning.  Nerwen and her drew were on watch and while most of them were preparing for an early start, she was on patrol around the sleeping folk.  There was a bright moon in the sky, tomorrow the Green Moon Drogath would be full, but right now it was shedding an impressive amount of light.  She saw something move on the plain and she stooped and checked the air.  She smelled it rather than saw a thing, but on instinct she cast the cantrip she knew, Dancing Lights—one single light out at maximum range about where she saw movement; if she were wrong she would dismiss it right away, but she was right.  Kobolds!  In a quick motion she drew her bow and fired sending an arrow out into the night.  It struck and killed her target.  She let out a battle cry that alerted her squad and woke the sleeping guards and drovers.  Then she plucked another arrow from her quiver and drew her bow again and again until there were no more kobolds alive. 

The shrill sound of alarm from the throat of Nerwen woke the guards.  First, they saw the light in the predawn lights and heard the thrumming of bowstrings and the yelps and screams of death.  There is nothing like fear of imminent death to wake someone up from the depths of sleep.  The kobolds were numerous and attacking at night, they were barely taller than the grass and they were closing from all sides.  The list of things in the group’s favour was small but important.  First, they were awake and had range weapons.  Secondly, the light of the moon allowed them to pick out the targets.  The light was green, on the prairie, the dead grass appeared green too, but the red of the kobolds appeared black.  A few seconds and the battle appeared over until about ten kobolds landed on the carts from above, the kobolds had wings.  More bow fire and close quarters fighting the battle was over in seconds, but thanks to the Elf the results were not dire. 

Turlock walked up and down the caravan feigning concern over the wellbeing of the drovers and guards, but the veterans of the Kobold attack of three months ago could see, this was his first real battle with real foes that wanted to kill him.  Turlock told the people that they should collect the Kobold bodies and stack them in one of the empty carts.  Nerwen voiced opposition, saying Dragons prefer Kobold flesh to other food and to keep so many nearby was like courting danger.  Turlock glared her quiet before others might hear, we need to show that the way is dangerous, and they must see the danger of traipsing through the wilderness and the potential dangers involved.  The unvoiced was that they were always there, and dragons would be worse, no need to court that kind of danger.   

Turlock reiterated the instructions of the day, steer clear of the halfling village by at least a kilometer and inform him when we came abreast it.  He then sent them on.  When Keylesh was sent for, as she invariably was, she inquired what he really wanted the kobold bodies for.  He nodded, there always was one hole in their plan, who to blame the attack on.  With the bodies in the last cart, they had an easy explanation, after the caravan was attacked, the bodies would be brought out and scattered around, when the caravan was discovered, the attackers would be clear.  Nerwen approached at this time saying the Halfling Village was due South towards the river.  Turlock called a halt to the caravan.  When everything was all stopped, he brought out a large block of incense to burn in honour of the dead.  The block burned a very smelly resin and the smoke rose above the caravan and did not scatter in the wind but held together.  He spoke words of reverence to the gathered people and then told them that they were ahead of schedule and they would take there time today and camp early.  They would camp early and risk a fire and cook a warm meal for everyone.  Keylesh saw a Knuckles and Duster laughing at an unknown joke, she asked Tosher what that was all about.  He nodded, then said, “Captain Turlock despises halflings most of all, he nearly kicked one to death, it is for that reason he was sent to the City Wall. 

The meal was served just before suns down.  They both slowly dipped below the horizon and opposite that the Moon Drogath rose in its glory.  Tonight, it would be full and almost all full Drogath moons involved an eclipse, but tonight was supposed to be a special one, those that followed the paths of the moon knew that tonight after midnight the eclipse would turn Drogath Red and the black eye of the evil god would cross it pointed towards us.  It was a night of murder the Astrologers said, for those that believed it.  The last time Drogath turned his bloody eye on us was three months ago, the night the kobolds attacked.  It was the fifth night out of Trandle’s Stand. 

An hour after the suns had set the first trouble came.  About half of the crew, drovers and guards had a terrific stomach-ache, bowled over in pain.  Knowing the day and the planned attack, Nerwen tasted the stew that had been served, there was something in it.  The taste was familiar, it was Scald Root, a common tuber found in the wild in the nightshade family that was mildly toxic.  She spit it out, she had not eaten the brew because they had put meat in it and all Plains Elves are vegetarian.  There was an antidote, a common one indeed, so she began at one to look for it.  She quickly administered it to all the guards and drovers affected.  The about one in four was unaffected, including all Keylesh’s squad and Turlock too.  Olorick mentioned that the stew tasted like his mother’s cooking and he had three extra helpings.  For the four friends it was a last reminder that someone had it in for the caravan.

The watches continued with nothing to report.  As Keylesh roused herself for her watch, she had not slept a wink.  She knew that there was one thing that might stall the attack that was coming.  She could kill Turlock.  She readied her sword and stalked as close as she could, but when she was about to attack, Turlock turned to her and told her to gather the Squad, it was time.  He failed to notice her naked blade, or simply thought that as a Puss or a Pussy she was harmless, but her attempt had failed, and she rounded up the squad.  The moon was not green now, mid way through the previous watch, it had darkened and turned red.  Now the Eye of Drogath was sliding across the moon readying to focus upon them.  The others were present almost giddy and chattering quietly waiting for Turlock to announce the final plans.  He had not shown up and Keylesh was hoping that he fell and broke his neck, when she caught sight of something.  Tosher was standing at ready and then he stiffened and the blade of a sword trust through his chest and pushed him to the ground.  Turlock was behind him and he wiped his blade on Tosher’s cloak.  “That’s what happens to people who stand on fences,” he said.  The rest of you, Mangler and Keylesh go and eliminate the forward guards, Duster and Knuckles kill the ranging guards, I will deal with the rear guards.  Oh, one last thing Keylesh, there is one of us in each squad,” he spoke with a grin. 

Keylesh approached Tiarah’s group with Mangler wondering which of her crew was a traitor and Tiarah did not have a clue.  She drew her short sword and let Mangler get a step ahead of her.  When Mangler stopped readying his two daggers, one in each hand, she stabbed him in the gut and slashed out his throat.  Tiarah stood ready for the attack that was about to come and was elated to see Keylesh’s brief battle, her sudden movement saved her life as Daerk attacked her pillow, spinning she saw her danger and drew her rapier and lunged catching her assailant in the throat, her pointed blade severing his spine.  There was a loud Bang in the rear of the camp that could not be mistaken for thunder.

Nerwen was lightly meditating when the watch shift changed, a few hours meditation had left her rested as well as the sleep humans and the others performed.  She had agreed that the midnight shift was the ideal time to attack and was pretending to sleep like the others.  When she saw movement headed her way, she rolled to kneeling position and drew her bow, confident that the humans would not see her in the dark, loose.  The arrow appeared to go by her first target, but a second later he crumpled soundlessly and arrow in his eye.  She drew again, ready to end the threat, when a blade came close and stabbed at her, knocking her aim awry.  Flong stood ready for battle, it occurred to her at that moment that Flong had not gotten ill from the served stew and she should have been better prepared for this.  Duster approached closer and stabbed down at the sleeping form of Ferd, but by chance the struggle with Flong had woken her up and she dodged the mortal blow and made it sub optimal, it took Duster an additional attack to finish her off.  Ferd’s scream woke her Retus and Nurl; a very large “boom” unlike thunder sounded from the end of the caravan.  Nerwen dropped her bow and swung her scimitar at Flong neatly severing his throat.  Retus woke to see Duster kill Ferd and he threw himself at Duster, they rolled around on the ground before Retus rose Duster dead, stabbed with his own blade.  Nerwen was pouring the contents of her healing potion down Param’s throat.  She coughed and sputtered but was alive.

Turlock stalked toward the group, he knew that Dirk was waiting for him and as soon as he attacked the rest of them would all die.  What dirk did not know was that his participation was going to be short lived, Dirk, Flong and Daerk would be killed as well along with Keylesh.  He would see what it was like after the battle was over, perhaps he might get to have a nice fur rug for his floor.  The sleeping form of the dwarf was just before him.  The dwarf shifted in his sleep and rolled over and his strange dwarven contraption moved in his arms, “BOOM!”, he was dazed and he could not hear a thing there was wetness on his face and the dwarf stood over him with his great axe and then nothing. 

Dirk looked over at the Captain dismembered and saw the others rising shocked, the plan was attack everyone, but it looked like Turlock was dead and he did not want to be next.  “What happened?” he yelled feigning shock and clutching his ears. 

Oloric may have said, “A serpent in the mine has met his end,” but he was not sure.

The Eye of Drogath drifted a little off the caravan, but the danger was not done.  Looking across the fields towards the Halfling village Keylesh, Tiarah, Oloric and Nerwen spotted three groups of five humans running towards the scene, the ambush that was supposed to find the guards all killed and only the drovers to butcher.  Tiarah struck up a tune and blew dust in the direction of one of the squads of humans, her sleep spell struck three and they dropped to the ground.  Nerwen and her rangers took aim and loosed their arrows, Oloric ran took a knee and fired his crossbow and then got up and charged again, Keylesh did the same.  The humans were far from the scene when they attacked, but the light of Nerwen’s Dancing Light spell, this time in four smaller lights dispersed across the field helped the humans aim.  It was a slaughter.  When Keylesh arrived on the scene she found three sleeping humans and she dispatched with no quarter, as they would have: fair turn about.  Drogath smiled upon her and blessed her for the deed.  Oloric on the other hand reached the last two sleeping forms and tied them up before waking them with a kick to the groin. 

The loss of life was minimal for the caravan, Turlock, Duster, Knuckles, Mangler, Flong and Daerk.  Tosher too was dead, assassinated by Turlock.  Thirteen attacking brigands also died and two were captured.  The dead were stripped of valuables and equipment before being piled in a heap beside the bodies of the twenty kobolds.  Oloric used some of his talent to create an effective fire-starter and set them both aflame before the journey continued.  The pall of greasy black smoke rose in a pillar a long time while they continued to the ruin.  The rest of the journey was more relaxed and yet they managed to arrive on time.  When they reached the ruin, Captain Haro was there to greet them.  He said that he was expecting Captain Turlock to be leading the caravan and that he wanted to hear the full story.  He was greatly saddened by the story, but they did have prisoners that would back up the story under scrutiny and it was then that Keylesh mentioned that there was one more traitor in Oloric’s group undiscovered.  Oloric quietly pointed out that he suspected that it might be Dirk, he was the son of a city guard and Turlock and the others were former City Guards.  Dirk broke down when confronted and he told them of a few others that were involved.  The two captured men implicated more people. 

The equipment in the caravan was unloaded and it was used to load recovered stones into the carts.  When the carts were loaded, they began their journey home.  It was a surprise that Captain Haro returned with them.  But he told them it should not have been, as there was a lot of work needed to be done in Trandle’s Stand with this conspiracy laid bare.  The surviving members of the three squads said their good-byes to Keylesh, Tiarah, Oloric, Nerwen and Dirk as they all were to stay and guard the dig.  Ferd hugged Nerwen and told her that she and her family were indebted to her and she would one day hopefully be able to repay her for saving her life, although she suspected that her father might also giver her free room and board for life.

The inquiry was short and harsh for the crew.  The Guild wished to get the full story out as fast as possible and make sure that the criminal elements in the guild were rooted out, but in interest in keeping everything quiet and avoid scrutiny of the merchants guilds, the Guild agreed it were best if the four friends were sent on a mission that would last many weeks, perhaps months.  The mission would be to explore the Ruins of Awsland, see if there if the rumours were true, that the kobold attack now nearly four months ago was aimed at that location, and if so, find out what they are looking for and find it first.  Then as an aside one of the Guildsmen suggested that they stay until they find Relic’s Legendary Treasure Vault, there was much laughter at that, but when they got their orders, that was on the list too.  Before they left, they were given some time to gather their things.  Haro met them at the gates to the city and he wished them luck on their endeavor and not to return until they had made headway on all the things on the list, but if they made no headway on the last, it would be no big deal, when Awsland fell, the stories of Relic’s Vault had already passed into myth.

There were two letters in Keylesh’s Domicile.