The Emissary Bard (World Of Chains Book 3)

by Lars M.

  I had to restrain a sigh of relief, as I read the notification that arrived before me.

  You have been offered a quest:

  Course Correction

  The Anathema of Nerit and the people of Grant's Crossing have started off on the wrong foot. Do what you can to limit friction between the two peoples.

  The result of this quest will have an effect on the prosperity of Grant's Crossing.

  Reward: Unknown.

  Accept/Decline?

  Wonderful. Fantastic, even. For the past four days, I'd been increasingly busy, dousing fires and easing tempers without getting to the root of the problem. This? This I could work with. "I'll take care of it. Now, who did it?"

  For a moment, he seemed nervous. "Promise you won't tell on me?"

  "I'll do you one better - when we're done talking, I'll wander around and ask a bunch of others... that way, nobody'll know who tattled."

  "That... would be good. It's Morak and his crew. They're not doing too well with all the rules here."

  I grimaced. "Damn. It had to be them. All right, I appreciate the help. Take care, and make sure you warn me when your foul brew is done." With a grin and a wave, I left and did as we'd agreed, touring the place and chatting with people. I made sure to ask for the culprits in each conversation. Mostly, I gauged the temper of the groups, however, and everything checked out. They had taken the risk of a lifetime, leaving everything they knew behind, and they hadn't known what to expect. Boredom, however, had not been part of their expectations. Out of the entire group, Morak and his two hangers-on were the worst troublemakers. Back in Nerit, they'd been at the top of the Anathema food chain, making a living through theft, beatings, and intimidation. I’d had no interaction with them in Nerit, but on our way back to Grant's Crossing, Mira and I had marked them as potential troublemakers. From what I'd seen, the trio intended to stay on the top.

  After half an hour, boredom was setting in as I smiled at the arrival of my backup. A brief palaver, and we had our battle plan - it was rough, but we'd probably have to wing it anyway. We parted ways again, and I marched directly towards the haphazard collection of materials that constituted Morak's temporary abode. This time, luck was with me, as my suspects were in, lounging contentedly and dicing in the middle of a pile of blankets. I struggled to recall the names of the two others, but Morak never failed to make an impression. Today was no different. As he spotted me, he favored me with a lazy smile and drawled "Ah, if it isn't our very own D'nerius. Anybody call for backup? Our Protector is here." His eyes remained cold, even as he looked around and continued, "No? Apologies, Protector. It would seem we've got things handled here."

  I'd gained the title of Protector of the Fallen from a quest in Nerit. Some of them, however, mostly approached it with an ironic distance. That tough guy facade was going to be hard to crack - I decided to go in swinging and threw myself down on a blanket. Had they been stealing these from the other Fallen? "Oh, I agree. Especially if you're trying to get yourself killed."

  One of his lackeys immediately raised his hackles, growling, "What're you trying to say? Want to fight?"

  Morak stayed cool, however. "Dip your scales, Kidarek. Of course our beloved Protector wouldn't be that aggressive - he is probably just trying to make some well-intentioned point. I just hope he gets around to it so we can continue our game." His gaze fixed on me, and I could feel him measuring me.

  I pointed right at him. "Morak gets it. Yeah, I'll get straight to the point. You're not Anathema anymore. You've probably understood that part. What you aren't getting is that the moment you decided to become a member of Grant's Crossing, you agreed to play by their rules. Except... you don't know the rules. Because if you did, you sure as hell wouldn't be risking your life to steal a damn basket."

  "Pfah. We've done nothing. Can you prove otherwise?" His challenging gaze held more than a hint of a sneer.

  My voice rose in anger. "Prove? Who said anything about proving anything? This isn't Nerit. Even if you don't get caught, things are still going to escalate until it grows out of hand. You're not only endangering yourself - no, you're ruining it for everybody. So help me, if you continue like this, I'll make sure you get caught and sent to the Pits - I don't care if you actually..."

  "Arcangelo. What in the Pits are you doing?" A shout from the sideline reached my ears, and I frowned at the sight of Arack bearing down on me, her usually mild countenance creased with an uncommon frown. On the inside, I marvelled at her timing - this might just work. My tiny kobold companion entered the camp and continued in a lower voice, "What's going on here? What are you talking about, sending my family to the Pits without proof?"

  I backpedaled with all my might. "I didn't mean... well, I sorta did. Morak and his friends here have been stirring up trouble and stealing from the citizens. They obviously think it's like Nerit, where everything's allowed, as long as you can get away with it." I turned back towards Morak. "Let me make it straight for you. If you keep on like this, you will wind up exiled or killed. Hell, I'll see to it myself."

  Arack walked over to stand beside Morak and pointed accusingly at me. "You will do no such thing. Would you do the same to me if I made a mistake?"

  "I... obviously that's a different thing. If-"

  She interrupted. "It is the exact same thing. Like, nobody here's perfect, but we're family, right? Sure, Morak does some stupid stuff now and again, and it sounds like he hasn't been too clever this time around, either. Like, everybody knows it's you." It was Morak's turn to sputter, while Arack talked over him. "Uncle Arcangelo is right too. Even if he's being mean about it. We've got to act nice, or they'll end up kicking us out of the village. Would you like go back to Nerit and fight over rotten food again? Risk your life for scraps?"

  Now Morak couldn't contain it anymore and hissed. "Stop acting like I'm dumb! I'll do exactly what I want. Pits, it's not like I'm seeing tons of alternatives here."

  Arack beamed. "Good point, Morak. This is what I'm talking about. We need to be smart about it. You used to be a hunter, right? Back in the day?" He cocked his head in confusion, and she continued, unperturbed. "That's perfect. From what I hear, there's only one real good hunter in the entire village and he's, like, this huge catfolk. No way is he going to be able to sneak."

  "So what?" The brutish kobold sounded more confused by the second.

  "Don't you get it? They're going to need hunters. You won't even have to pass some stupid test or risk your life - you just need to get some equipment and get started. What do you need? You have a couple of throwing knives, I remember."

  "A bow, I guess... and some wire or cord for traps. I'd need a decent knife, though - what the Pits are you trying to do?" He roared the last bit, spittle flying everywhere.

  Arack blinked at him. "I'm trying to help, silly. We're trying to find some job that you'd love to do, so you can get rich, enjoy your life, and have fun here in our new home." Morak's gaze swerved towards me. I probably looked equally confused as him and shrugged. She talked over us both. "Now, you probably know somebody who can give or lend us some stuff to get started, right, Uncle?"

  "I told you to stop calling me Uncle. Yeah, I guess Mrs. Bertinga should be able to help. But why -"

  I might as well not have answered. Arack just talked on, and before I knew it, she was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the trio, compiling a list of possible starter gear for them on my parchment. Kidarek suddenly revealed that he'd worked both as a skinner and leatherworker, and the third unnamed kobold grudgingly accepted that his bulk was perfect for helping with all the heavy lifting. After a while, I just bowed out and left in surrender. Jeb was lurking nearby, shaking his head in amazement.

  Whistling as I walked, I went straight back to my tavern room. I grinned to see an additional point to Diplomacy. Really, I'd been expecting Blackmail, but I guess Diplomacy was what had won the day. Four days in the village, and I hadn't spent much time in my room, except for sleeping. Now, however, I puttered around, de
corating the place a bit and getting things into order while I mulled over the quest I'd gotten. When I looked over the results of my efforts, it didn't appear as if much had changed. I’d put up a handful of assorted items only for their looks - a viper tooth as a memento, mounted alongside a carved rabbit I'd gotten from a local kid and a large serpent scale. That done, I spent a while preparing a bundle of items to keep under my bed in case of an emergency. After the scare with the caravan, I'd gained an additional serving of paranoia and aimed to be ready if somebody kicked the door in. I didn't have to wait long, however. A merry series of knocks on the door preceded Arack's grinning face, and I bid her welcome with a heartfelt round of applause. "If it isn't the master manipulator herself. I take it you managed to convince them? When I left, they looked like they were ready to follow your every lead."

  She looked at her feet. "They're good guys, really. You just have to know them first - like, really well. But they're going to roll with it. If you manage to help them with some equipment, they'll start hunting and skinning right away - that should keep them away from trouble. Also..." Her voice petered out.

  "Also?"

  "Well, I may have been able to convince them to return the basket to that mean old lady and apologize. There wasn't really anything edible inside, anyways. They were just going to dump it." A tiny smile grew on her lips.

  I shook my head in disbelief. "Arack, you are amazing. From now on, I'm keeping you nearby around the clock. You can work the crowd and get me better tips!"

  She raised an admonishing finger. "That's so not going to happen. I'm using my powers for good. And, I guess, when I feel like teasing somebody." She grew pensive for a moment. "If you hadn't attacked them earlier on, I don't believe they would've listened to me, though. How did you know that was going to work?"

  "Call it a hunch. Where I come from, it's the oldest trick in the book. One person's unreasonable and hostile, the other one kind and understanding. You were amazing, though. Want to go and see if Gillem's woken up? My treat - whatever you'd like."

  "Yay. I knew there was a reason I left with you guys!"

  Moments later, she was inhaling a bowl of fruit salad alongside a huge plate of roasted tubers. According to her, the combination was 'perfectly normal.' I had my doubts, but kept quiet. For once, I wasn't counting coppers either. Apart from the experience and reputation, I'd gotten a nice, fat cash reward from arranging the pact of no aggression with the kobolds. Also, the Council had insisted that I was paid for my job as a bard for the weeks in Nerit, even though I hadn't technically been in the village. I wasn't swimming in it, but things were comfortable. Heh - even when Gillem got his money back, I'd have more than seven gold pieces left over. I closed my character sheet, noting the increase to Diplomacy. That was the fourth increase over the past couple of days, raising me to 15. At least all the bickering paid off somewhere. I was a bit baffled by an increase to my Teacher skill, though. Maybe I was inadvertently improving Arack's Diplomacy skill? She did not need to become more adept at talking people into doing her bidding.

  Gillem approached the table. Landlord, friend, and David Hasselhoff-look-alike - the merry gnome was many things. He was also a huge tease. "So, ‘Uncle,’ is it? I see the resemblance."

  Arack and I both stared at him, affronted. When we spotted the other's reaction, we burst out in laughter even as I complained. "Alas, my luck is such that I'm bound to be forever surrounded by tormentors who mock and deride." I ducked my head to avoid the inevitable apple slice that flew my way and grinned. "Mockery aside, Gillem. You have a moment? I actually wanted to talk to you about something serious."

  He looked at me in surprise. "Sure. Kiff can hold the fort for a bit while we take it to your room. Erm. Is it urgent, though?"

  "Mmm, not terribly. Urgent, but not 'right this minute' urgent."

  "Good. I mean, I'll make time, but... Jeb told me to pass something on. He passed by the graveyard earlier today and had a little chat with Chertog." He paused for effect.

  "Oh. Don't tell me -"

  "Yeah, he is furious. Beyond that, even. Jeb's learned a good handful of new, colorful words from what he was spewing. I believe his final tirade was something along the lines of 'if that no-good apprentice of mine doesn't get his stick-thin behind over here soon, he's done as a Chronicler."

  Crap. Double crap. I mean, I knew he wasn’t too happy with me. He had given me the quest to investigate corpses disappearing from the graveyard on the very first day, and I’d basically ignored it. At first, it was because it didn’t seem that interesting and I was more… combat-impaired in the beginning. Later on, I kept being interrupted or forgetting about it. By the sound of it, his patience was at an end. "Ahem. That's... would the two of you mind horribly if I took a quick breather?"

  Gillem didn't laugh. A few facial tics did reveal how much he was enjoying himself, though. "By all means. We'll talk later, when Chertog's done with you."

  Chapter 3 – House Of Horrors

  My suspicions were a bit off the mark. Chertog wasn't mad. He was downright livid. When I arrived, he was already pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. The moment he actually spotted me - well, looks cannot kill, but I definitely felt some sort of 'weak knees' debuff from his furious gaze. He was grinding his teeth so hard, his silly goatee aimed straight at me. It took a while before we were able to start talking. For at least a full five minutes, he let loose, berating me and my work ethic.

  Initially, I'd decided to weather the onslaught, but the when he started talking about those "filthy, murdering kobolds you were gallivanting about with", I'd had it.

  "ENOUGH, Chertog." My shout took him aback, and I sped onward before he managed to gather himself. "What exactly is it you would've wanted me to ignore? Should I have postponed facing off with Othell when everybody was ready to string up Benneth? Maybe I should've just turned down the Council when they asked me to help them finally come to peace with the kobolds? Let that bunch of Razortailed Vipers grow nice and fat, so they'd be able to multiply and overrun the village in a teeming mass of death?"

  Chertog's cheeks were still red from the shouting, but he deflated slightly, "Of course not. Don't act like you haven't had plenty of time to get started, though. You keep ignoring the task as if it isn't important. I won't have it!" He stomped his foot and shot me a challenging glare.

  I took a deep breath, clenched my fists... and forcefully exhaled. In a softer tone, I responded, "You're right. I apologize. I've got plenty of bad excuses to go along with the good ones. I'm ready to get started now, though - if you'll accept my apology, that is?"

  He waited long enough that I was starting to squirm. "Yes. I might. But, so help me Beren, if you flake on me one more time, I am through with teaching you."

  "I swear in the name of Serune. It'll take my grisly, colorful death to stop me from completing this task. Even that won't stop me from getting straight back to it afterwards!"

  "Hmph. That works. Now, get to it already. I've had four dead bodies up and leave since you left for that kobold place, and the Council is beginning to doubt my vigilance."

  "Let's get going, then. Do any new tracks lead to the same broken place in the palisade?" It felt weird that he hadn't just fixed the fence, but I'd finally gotten him to talk, and it was probably just a quest thing, so I dropped it.

  "Exactly. I've tried to locate the culprit, but the tracks just disappear after a while."

  "Mmh. Let's take a look." Making our way through the fence was no problem at all. The boards had been all but destroyed. If there ever was a day for hunting down unknown adversaries in the woods, this was it. The day was overcast and cold, and by the look of the clouds, we were going to see rain shortly. For a very short moment, I considered getting Atlas to join me, but reconsidered. Not only would Chertog hate the delay, but my trusty chameleon sidekick had been ecstatic about the way the birds had taken over his usual haunts in his absence. He would probably resent being interrupted in his games of 'tag, you're eate
n.'

  Chertog grumbled, forcing his girth through the fence, and brushed himself off before waving in a south-eastern direction. "It's that way - and that's how much I can help you."

  "All right. I'll take it from here." I just hoped that I'd be able to actually help. Fingers crossed, Darya's teachings would give me an edge. Sometimes, it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that the gorgeous half-orc had gone from hating my guts to being my girlfriend, but I looked forward to seeing her again soon. I really wanted to go find her and ask for her help with the tracking, but I didn’t think Chertog would take yet another delay with grace.

  The grumpy dwarf kept looking over my shoulder, with such frequency that I had to ask him to back off a bit. Even so, the beginning was easy. The drag marks were heavy, and the culprit had clearly gone the same way often enough that they'd worked a groove into the soft grass surrounding the village. When we made it into the nearby forest, however, the drag marks slowly faded away. The ground was drier and... "Yeah, I see the problem, Chertog. Not only are the tracks less obvious, I'd also bet they're taking different paths to obfuscate which way they're going."

  "Obfuscate? It's a damn animal. Not some criminal mastermind."

  "Yeah, I'm afraid my bet goes against that. How would they have been able to avoid your keen senses so many times if that were the case?"

  "When I sleep, I sleep. I know you bards always jump into a different bed each night, but I sleep. And snore. A lot."

  "Yeah - not buying it, Chertog. This is where the real work starts, though." I started scouting the perimeter, moving in an ever-expanding half-circle in order to not miss anything if they took an abrupt turn. At first, the going was relatively easy. The southern side of the village was clearly less traveled, and I managed to find a handful of both scuff marks and drag marks that could reasonably have come from our quarry. Once we'd followed the track for ten minutes, however, we stumbled upon a bit of an issue.