* * * * *
The walk to the Crying Lady was a slow one. Druzeel knew that his task was urgent, that they had to act quickly before the thief’s trail went cold, but he could not bring himself to move any faster knowing who he was meeting.
When Graeak first told him he would be in charge of the quest, to find the thief and return the staff, he was elated, delighted that he would be able to order Brask and his cronies around. But as he walked to the Lady, reality had slowly set in and his hurried pace quickly became a slow meander. He knew there was no way Brask would let someone he perceived as inept to give orders, especially to his own men. No, Brask would be in charge of this mission, but if the large warrior thinks he could command Druzeel like a dog, Druzeel was determined to show him differently. He was a strong man and an even stronger wizard and he deserved respect. Getting that respect was the problem.
Druzeel knew that Brask was not an evil man. He and his band of adventurers had done a handful of heroic deeds over the years, bringing happiness and joy into people’s lives, though it seemed the unseemly accomplishments far outweighed the honorable. The leader of the Knights of the Chipped Blade was just a bully, putting it simply. Brask was a man that wanted his way and he would get it, no matter the consequences. That quality alone was enough to make Druzeel despise him, but when the mercenary started to harass him after the whole debacle with Browen, it made Druzeel dislike him even more. There was no way, that he could see, where the two of them would ever get along, but they were going to be working together and Druzeel would do his best to be polite and treat the man with respect, regardless of how he was treated. He knew he was the better man and would act accordingly. Hopefully, the others would see it as well.
There were five other members in Brask’s band but Druzeel had only met two others: a giant of a man named Thorstar Doverson, who wielded a large sword almost as long as Druzeel was tall, and the group’s rogue, a wiry fellow by the name of Vistalas Daggerkin.
Thorstar was clearly the muscle in the group. He was almost seven feet tall and possessed arms the size of tree limbs and every time Druzeel had seen Brask, the large man was close by, as if he was a bodyguard, though Druzeel doubted the Knights’ leader needed a guard. Druzeel held no resentment toward the tall warrior for the man hardly spoke. Now that he thought about it, Druzeel had never heard him utter a single word during the few times he saw him. Vistalas, however, was a different matter entirely.
Druzeel had been introduced to the thief when the man had lifted several items, all it once it seemed, from his body during a confrontation with Brask. He eventually returned the items though it was more out of the knowledge that he would have to answer to Graeak than out of fear of Druzeel. Since then, Druzeel had learned to guard his items carefully whenever the thief was near. He did not dislike the man, he just found him extremely irritating, and talkative. The man talked like a wonder pixie, only shutting up when he was told or when the person he was speaking with walked away. Being a thief, Druzeel had found his loquaciousness an odd quality for he figured people who steal for a living would keep more to themselves. Perhaps it was how he learned so much about the people and environment around him. Whatever the reason, Druzeel planned to keep the man in his sight at all times.
Though his pace had almost slowed to a crawl, Druzeel eventually reached the Crying Lady not long after leaving The Fount. That was the problem with having the tavern so close to his home. It was just a short walk away. He took a deep breath and walked through the doors.
As always, the inside was full of people crowding the bar and filling every empty seat in the establishment. Smiling faces, glazed over eyes, and a few nodding heads loaded with too much drink dotted the landscape before him. It always filled him with joy to see others happy. To see his fellow Atlurulians smiling and laughing always made him want to do the same, but tonight he did not feel like being so jovial. The events of the past few hours were still fresh in his mind and he knew that the moments of leisure would have to wait.
Even with the crowd before him, Druzeel easily navigated the press of bodies to where he knew Brask and his crew would be. They always sat at the same table: near the back of the tavern where the noise did not carry as loud. It allowed them the best attempt at privacy, though with all the noise it was hard to overhear their conversation. You would have to be at the table and even then, one had to shout to be heard.
Druzeel maneuvered around a rather husky man and spotted Brask, sitting exactly where Druzeel expected him to be.
He was a large man, well muscled with a wide black beard, piercing gray-blue eyes, short wavy hair, and a nose that had been broken on more than one occasion. His face was hard and carried sharp features, with a very broad chin and short forehead. Women would call him handsome or rustic but Druzeel knew as soon as they learned of his hostile personality, they would call him something else entirely. He was dressed in dark banded armor and a red vest. A large axe lay strapped on his back.
On Brask’s right was Thorstar, whose armor looked pieced together with bits of leather, hide, and chain. Much of his flesh was exposed but that didn’t seem to bother him. Druzeel was surprised to see him sitting for he did not believe there was a wooden chair that could hold the man’s bulk. His long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he carried a short reddish beard. His face was as blank as ever but his deep blue eyes were constantly scanning the crowd, making sure no threat loomed nearby. His right hand sat on the hilt of his great sword, which was leaning against the table, reaching toward the ceiling. Druzeel could see the muscles of Thorstar’s hand constantly flexing. The man was clearly uncomfortable in such a confined place.
Based on what Druzeel had heard from Graeak, the half-elf sitting next to Thorstar could only be Ristil Trueseeker, the group’s ranger. His pointed ears clearly marked him as half-elven but his eyes showed that human blood ran through his veins, though based on his smooth skin, delicate features, and silky chestnut hair, there was more elf in him than human. Hide armor colored like spring grass covered his body and a scimitar hung from his hip.
On the other side of the table were the other members of the Knights that Druzeel had never met, though he had heard of them through gossip.
Dex Swifthood, a human who many considered the strategist of the group, sat on Brask’s left. He was a normal looking man who kept his face clean-shaven. His hair was sandy, his nose narrow, and his eyes were a light brown. There was a light scar across his chin and a small notch from his left ear, but other than that, his face was unmarred. Based on the quick observation, Dex looked pleasant and kind, far from the air of hostility that always seemed to surround his leader. He wore splint mail, a combination of dozens of small metal plates, and his longsword sat against the table.
Sitting next to him, and wearing a similar smile, was the smallest member of the Knights, the halfling Jannda Cupsheight. She sported long black hair, a petite nose, and large, green eyes that seemed to sparkle in the nearby torch light. Studded leather covered her body and daggers sat on her belt, which Druzeel could see for she was sitting on a pile of large books, the only way her short frame could reach the table. He forgot exactly what her role in the group was but for some reason he thought of music when looking are her. Wasn’t she a bard? he thought to himself. Perhaps. Whatever she was, she was very beautiful and if she had been a human, she would have caught the eye of every man in the tavern. Instead, she was mostly ignored by all except the Knights. Druzeel thought it odd that someone like her would be a part of such a group.
After passing over Jannda, he looked around the table for the final member of the group, but Vistalas was nowhere to be seen. Druzeel quickly scanned the crowd for the lithe man, and all around himself, but the man was absent. Either he decided not to join the group, which was unlikely, or he was getting drink, relieving himself, or, most likely, working the crowd. In a packed building such as this, where people had coins to spend, a rogue would be right at home.
Regardle
ss of where Vistalas was, Druzeel had already wasted enough time. Brask was the one he had to speak with, so he steadied himself, got ready for the usual berating from the rude man, and moved to meet the group. Sure enough, as soon as Brask’s eyes met Druzeel, the harassment began.
“He must be joking,” Brask exclaimed, leaning back in his seat, a disbelieving smile on his face, an expression that said he had a feeling that Druzeel would indeed be the one sent to meet them. His fellow companions stopped talking and turned their attention to the new arrival. Druzeel suddenly felt like a wounded pig surrounded by a handful of hungry dragons. But he steadied himself. He had to show them he was in control of himself.
“Now I know the old man has lost his mind,” the leader of the Knights continued, shaking his head. He leaned forward and took a sip of ale, or whatever it was he was drinking. The others just looked back and forth between their leader and the young man standing at their table.
“It is nice to see you again as well,” Druzeel said, refusing to let Brask control the conversation, as he always ended up doing when they met.
“Who’s this?” Dex asked, looking back to Brask.
“Druzeel Sesstar,” Druzeel said with a slight bow, before Brask could respond. He knew Brask would have had some obnoxious comment so he took the initiative. “I am an apprentice to Graeak Loyalar and have been sent to–”
“This the kid that got your brother expelled?” Ristil asked, cutting Druzeel off. Druzeel looked at him with annoyance then his gaze turned to Brask.
It appeared that he needed no introduction. After Ristil’s comment, Druzeel knew that Brask had told his traveling companions all about him. It was going to be extremely difficult to earn their respect now. Brask had no doubt already tarnished his reputation and filled all of their heads with lies. Perhaps since he was going to be traveling with them, he could fill in the holes that Brask had undoubtedly left out.
“Browen got himself expelled,” he replied quickly, trying his best to keep his voice calm. He saw disdain already forming on Ristil’s face. Surprisingly, Dex and Jannda’s faces were flat and without judgment. Maybe not everyone in the Chipped Blade was swayed.
“Browen was stupid and dangerous,” Druzeel continued, locking eyes with Brask. “I’m just glad he was thrown out before he killed someone.”
All eyes had been on Druzeel, but when he finished, they slowly panned over to Brask, to see what his reaction would be at the harsh words for his brother, a brother that everyone knew the man cared for. Their leader showed a hint of anger but he looked more annoyed than anything else.
“Yes,” Brask said after a few moments of tense silence. “It is so wonderful that nobody,” he eyes cut into Druzeel, “was killed. What a shame it would be to deprive the world of such...talent.”
The two men just stared at each other for many moments. Druzeel’s eyes narrowed. Brask just sneered and took another sip from his goblet.
“So,” Dex said, breaking the silence that had suddenly surrounded the table. “Druzeel, Graeak sent you to–”
“Annoy us to death,” Brask cut in. Ristil and Jannda chuckled and Thorstar cut a smile though no sound came from his throat. Dex looked at Brask with a raised eyebrow. The companion’s leader just took another drink.
“You have a job for us,” Dex continued, getting straight to business. “Graeak’s message said someone had broken into his tower and he needs us to track down the thief.”
“Yes,” Druzeel said, tearing his eyes from Brask. He would rather deal with Dex, who seemed to be much more agreeable than the Knights’ abusive leader. “The thief broke in and stole some very powerful items from the tower. One person was killed. I managed to confront the thief but he escaped using–”
“What a surprise,” Brask interrupted. “Someone managed to get by the all powerful Druzeel? The crown jewel of Graeak’s tower? I’m shocked.” Thorstar and Ristil cracked a smile again. Jannda just rolled her eyes.
“Come on, Brask,” Dex said, irritation in his voice. He obviously did not find the humor in Brask’s teasing. He seemed to be all about business. “The boy is just trying to do his job.”
Druzeel was unsure whether he should be glad Dex was standing up for him or insulted by being called a boy. Graeak had told him that people would think he was much younger than he appeared. He just had a young looking face, so he let the comment slide. He even managed to resist getting angry at all the barbs Brask was throwing his way. He had become accustomed to those long ago. Perhaps he could even use Brask’s abrasiveness against him.
“I can see that Graeak has chosen wrong,” Druzeel said, drawing a few stares from the table. “I’ll go back and tell him to find someone else for this mission.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” he heard Dex say from behind him. Druzeel turned around and looked at Dex. Next to him, an angry glare was creeping onto Brask’s face.
“Yes?” he replied, feeling satisfied. He had succeeded in controlling the dialogue and now he had the advantage. Though it shouldn’t have mattered to him because of the reason he was here, it felt good to finally have the upper hand over Brask. Unfortunately, in the end, all his grandstanding was for nothing. No matter what Brask threw at him, he was going to gain the Knights’ assistance. Graeak had made it clear that they needed Brask and his men for this mission, but they didn’t need to know that.
Dex looked at Druzeel and then back to Brask. His face clearly displayed his displeasure with the exchange.
“Graeak,” Brask began with a tight mouth, “has always been a good employer. Even though his judgment has sometimes been...flawed,” he said, his eyes solely on Druzeel, “we will lend him our services.”
“Hmm,” Druzeel said, his finger tapping the tip of his chin. “I think an apology is ord–”
“You got a chance!” Brask said rather loudly with anger in his voice. His hand also slipped dangerously close to the handle of his axe. Druzeel looked at him and then to Dex. The man wore a look that told Druzeel not to push it. Druzeel realized he had gone far enough and decided to drop the issue.
“As I said before,” Druzeel said, “a thief–”
“Payment first,” Brask said, drawing another rankled look from Druzeel.
“Partial payment,” Druzeel corrected. Brask frowned but reluctantly nodded in agreement. Graeak had told Druzeel that whenever he hired the Knights he always paid a portion of their fee upfront. Before they began any job, they required coin to buy tools and supplies.
With a reserved sigh, Druzeel reached for his money pouch, a pouch filled with dozens of precious gems, but his hand grasped on empty air.
“What?!” he exclaimed and looked to his belt to see his pouch missing. Fear shot through him. Had it dropped during his trip? Did he forget it in the tower? Or had someone grabbed it from him as he walked through the crowd?
“Something wrong, boy?” Brask said mockingly.
At first, confusion and fear ran through Druzeel. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Graeak, but when he heard the knowing in Brask’s voice, he stood up straight and met his eye.
“Vistalas.”
“In the flesh,” came a voice right in Druzeel’s right ear.
If it were possible for a man to jump out of his skin, Druzeel would have done so right then, and probably gone through the ceiling. Instead, he almost jumped onto the table, and twisted around.
The thief stood right behind him, dressed in dark leather and wearing a long black cloak. Daggers lay strapped to his belt and legs and a shortsword sat on the hip of the short man. He sported a short red goatee, dark blue eyes, and a hooked nose. His red hair was cut close to his scalp and a handful of earrings decorated each ear. A strange tattoo sat on the right side of his face and Druzeel could see another peaking just over the lip of his collar. As he tossed the pouch of gems he had so easily lifted from Druzeel’s belt to Brask, he smiled and took a step away from Druzeel.
“Jumpy little thing,” he said and sat down in the em
pty chair next to Jannda. All of his companions, even Dex though his was a little stifled, laughed at the exchange.
“Shocked I say,” Brask said through his fits of laughter, “that a thief got by you. Truly I am.”
“Any more besides this?” Jannda asked Vistalas as she looked out over the crowd. The sly man just put on a wicked smile.
“Plenty.”
Druzeel just stared at Vistalas with anger. He had had the advantage in the conversation and in an instant, the man had taken it away. Now he was back to being the object of ridicule. At least he got to have some enjoyment tonight, but the mockery still stung.
“So what’s the next step?” Druzeel asked when Brask tucked the pouch of gems away, obviously satisfied with what he saw.
“The next step is that you run home and let your daddy know we accept,” Brask replied with a sneer. “We’ll contact him in the morning.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Druzeel said.
“It’s you that doesn’t understand, kid,” Ristil said. “You’re part in this is over. You gave us what we needed and now you can go home. Or get a drink and find a wench if you so choose. You’ve done your job. Now it’s our turn.”
So, Druzeel thought, many of them are just as rude and hateful as Brask. He made sure to keep a mental note of whom he could speak to during this journey. Unfortunately, the list was extremely short.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Druzeel said in the strongest voice he could muster. “I’m going with you, to the tower and wherever else the path may lead, until the thief is brought to justice. Those are the conditions of your employment as set by Graeak.”
Everyone stared at him as if he had suddenly grown four heads, though the reason for those looks differed from person to person. Ristil and Thorstar were just shocked to hear him speak in such a voice. Vistalas just laughed and shook his head. Jannda and Dex actually looked impressed, as if they were surprised to see this boy, as Dex had said, speak with such confidence. Brask, however, sat motionless with no expression at all. Everyone eventually turned their heads toward him, expecting a harsh reaction. Instead, they got a look of disgust and disappointment.
“He’s gone mad,” Brask said, referring to Graeak. “He’s finally gone mad.”
“But his coin is still every bit as good as it ever was,” Vistalas replied, taking a sip of wine.
“True enough,” Ristil replied. Thorstar nodded in agreement. Jannda and Dex continued to stare at Brask.
“Well then,” the leader of the Knights of the Chipped Blade said. He downed his drink and rose to his feet. “I guess our newest...guest Knight will lead the way.”
“What?” Druzeel asked. Now it was Druzeel’s turn to look shocked. His voice had almost squeaked but he managed to hold it at bay. “Now?”
“Yes, now,” Brask said harshly. “I know why he’s sending you with us. Time for his star pupil to get some real experience. Well, if its experience you want, Sesstar, its experience you’ll get. Now, lead on. Based on his message, time is of the essence, so get moving.”
“But I haven’t even told you the details of–”
“Tell us on the way,” Dex replied, rising to his feet. The others drained their goblets and got to their feet. They gathered their belongings and started to walk towards the exit, none waiting for Druzeel to keep up.
“Vistalas,” Brask said as he walked away. “Settle us with the Lady.”
Druzeel was rudely shoved aside as Brask, Ristil, and Thorstar walked by. He stumbled but caught himself before he fell to the floor. Jannda just gave him a wink as she followed the others.
“Come on,” Dex said, strapping on his longsword. “Better keep up if you’re going to be coming along. I may be able to get them to slow down for you, but not for long.”
Druzeel watched the man walk by and felt a little relief for it appeared that he had at least one ally in this adventure, if that’s what Dex could be called. It was becoming increasingly clear that he would have to carry his own weight if he wanted the respect of the others, which he intended to do anyway, but he knew everything he did and every word he said would be scrutinized no matter what. He had already written off Brask and Ristil, but he saw a chance of getting the others to accept him. He just had to show them that he had the strength, courage, and wherewithal to be a part of the group.
A hand clasped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw Vistalas, who walked by him with a smile.
“Thanks,” he said and strode toward the others.
“Thanks?” Druzeel asked with confusion. “For what?”
Druzeel turned and looked at the table. He saw a handful of gold coins scattered across the surface, left for the Lady. He looked back at Vistalas, who had just disappeared through the crowd. Then he looked back at the table and his eyes widened. Acting quickly, he grabbed the pouch at his waist, his coin pouch, and flipped back the lip. Staring back at him was a few bits of dust. The pouch, which had been full, was now empty.
Druzeel let his arms drop and a deep sigh escaped his lips. This was going to be a long trip.
* * * * *