by Nic Weissman
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Phoroz roamed the streets looking for a tavern called The Happy Pony. It was already dark when he finally found it. The elf hated taverns. But it was there where they had told him he would find the person he was looking for: Kurbus the gnome.
He didn't have much time. He should perform the errand quickly and return to the court. Vargarr had asked him to undertake a number of tasks for him while he was absent from the capital. The lieutenant didn't like to be away from Deepcliff for several days in the row, because it was the center of power where important decisions were made, and where his enemies and allies constantly made plans. These maneuvers were very important and Phoroz knew that his master would be gone almost two weeks. At least this was what he had expected. So Vargarr had distributed various tasks amongst his closest circle of men, one of whom was Phoroz.
Fortunately, Phoroz had a valuable ring of teleportation, allowing him to go almost anywhere in the Kingdom in a blink of an eye, although he could only use it once a day. So he had reached Knocas, a small town on the edge of the Mark of Calen, near the border with the kingdom of orcs and the Mark of Golsou, when that same afternoon he had been doing some errands for Vargarr in the capital.
Having no time to lose, he came in and went straight to the bartender who was working behind the bar.
“I'm looking for a gnome. He calls himself Kurbus,” he said directly.
“And who is looking for him, if I may know?” the man asked.
“No. You can't know,” the elf unceremoniously snapped.
The innkeeper was embarrassed. He didn't expect such a response. This guy gave him chills with his red eyes and dark skin. Some would have labeled the dark elf, even, as unnatural. He had seen some of them in the past, but fortunately hadn't had to deal with them often. The hairs on his neck stood on end. The man decided not to tempt fate and, looking down without saying a word, pointed to a room at the back of the tavern.
Phoroz said nothing and just headed there. He could hear a huge uproar. He didn't know if a group of men was having fun or if they were fighting. Peering into the room, he saw a group of about eight people, all with large drinks before them. Four of them were badly singing a song, or at least it seemed that they tried. The other four appeared to be engaged in a heated argument. Phoroz soon realized that they were all pretty drunk.
In the group of the arguing men, there was a gnome of about a step high that seemed to fight with everybody else at once. He reproached them while the veins of his neck were swollen, red with anger. The others retorted, with no less intensity, and seemed to be all against him. The dark elf could not understand the details of the discussion, but it appeared to be related to determining who the best jousting knight champion in the Kingdom was.
Then one of the men who had argued for a moment lost control of his bowels, because a fart sound echoed through the room. All the people arguing stopped and suddenly began to look at one another very seriously. Then, to Phoroz's surprise, the gnome burst into a loud laughter and moments later everyone in the room accompanied him. They all laughed and laughed. Given the precarious state in which they were in, one of the men fell from his chair with laughter, and kept laughing on the floor, making no attempt to get up. Several of them had tears running down their faces, because of their decided and convulsive laughter. Phoroz didn't know if the gnome was redder now because he was laughing, or moments ago when he was pierced with anger.
The elf had to wait a while for the tempers to calm down; it did not seem appropriate to interrupt this moment of fraternization. Furthermore, he feared the reaction he might receive if he did. When he saw that he had stopped laughing, like asking for a truce, Phoroz approached Kurbus and addressed him with great respect, presented himself and asked for a moment to talk to him. The gnome then tried to persuade him to sit with them and drink a large jug of beer, since they all were welcome there. The elf had to politely refuse four times before Kurbus stopped and agreed to sit down with him a few minutes away from the room.
With a relaxed mood, Phoroz said that he had heard of Kurbus' good qualities and his good knowledge of a part of the territory beyond the border, within the realm of Fugor. Mentioning this, the gnome's face became very serious. It was as if the level of alcohol had descended suddenly, because from that moment his tongue stopped jamming as he talked and sounded sober.
Phoroz described the details of the mission they had for him and the reward he'd receive. Also, that they had little time and that they should leave together in the morning. The elf gave the gnome a gold bag with the advancement of his fees. Kurbus hefted the bag, assessing whether it was worth the risk and, after a moment's hesitation, left the bag on the table, right in the middle.
“I need to know more. I want to understand why I need to do this. Not every day people ask me to enter alone in orc territory. What is the real purpose of this mission? What are you going to get if I'm successful?” asked the gnome seriously.
Phoroz was thoughtful. Kurbus's request was fair, but put him in a bind. He had been asked to keep all the details limited to a minimum. After hesitating for a moment, he decided to tell the gnome the truth.
CHAPTER 3: THE CAVE
