Quoted By:
“Are the roads not safe?” You ask.
The driver, a man younger than yourself, flinched back upright, eyes darting around until they finally settled onto you. He relaxed, marginally. “Cart speaks for itself doesn’t it? Gods take these damn rebels and their stupid fight.” He takes a moment and looks you up and down. “From Karhost? I’d head back now unless you want to be burned alive on the road.”
Curiosity gets the better of you. “What’s the rebellion about? What do they think they can get out of burning up a few carts?”
“A few!?” The man leaned down, shaking his head, one eye twitching. “Bastards burned the whole caravan! Stole a pack of hellhounds from the sulfur dungeon and they’ve been riding up and down the roads putting everything to the torch they can. Barely made it out alive! Rango’s got a measly fifty gold on their bounty, like that’s going to attract anyone who can deal with the problem, and in the meantime I’ve got a pile of charcoal and three gods damned turnips left of the entire caravan!”
The man continues his rant, moving on to the next unfortunate who catches his eye, but your mind lingers on the bounty. Fifty gold would move you along quite a ways toward the hundred you need, and it might even grease a few wheels for the process. Something to keep in mind you suppose.
With a little luck, and domain pushing through alleyways and around corners, you manage to find your way back to the Nook Inn before the sun vanishes. A tray of food sits on a low table in the center of your room, some eaten, but enough remaining for you. Katrina reads, Muffin sleeps curled under her green cloak.
“Productive time?” Katrina asks quietly.
“I think so.” You display the clothing purchases. “Figured we should try to fit in a little. Heard a few interesting rumors.”
“Local clothing will be wise. Rumors?”
You fetch the merchant’s card from domain storage. A name, an address, and two dates, one in three days and the other fifty years in the future? “Got this card from a merchant, said he was looking for a cursebreaker to help with fake magic items. Dates don’t make much sense though.”
Katrina takes the card and examines it. “Ah, typical Golian duplicity. The second date is actually an offer of payment. Fifty gold for your services.” Her thumb moves along the edges of the card. “Red ink. Expect danger.”
You winced. “I’m guessing if I call out a magic item as fake the seller won’t take it kindly.”
“It is likely a smuggler, or a dungeon thief, one who plunders the ‘tame’ dungeons of Grabgol without their owner’s knowledge.” Katrina smooths out the snarl on her face. “Still, it is coin we need.”
