Condensation had begun to form on stone walls of the laboratory, it was warm and humid. The two occupants had been in there for the better part of three days.

The first, A half-elf wizard named Hamish L'Asino. He grabbed a rag and wiped the perspiration off his stubbed face, then ran it through his swept back, auburn hair. He tossed it aside and continued examining one of the hundreds of small glass pots on the oak island table, after which he scribbled the observation on the latest of many scrolls on the work bench.

His slender frame stood five foot ten, his robes were regal, but at this moment unkempt and rolled up at the sleeves.

'Hamish, come look at this.' A deep voice said from the table behind him.

Hamish walked next to Vorikin, more commonly known as Penn, a purple skinned Teifling of similar height and build. He too, looked scruffy, his yellow eyes heavy with the weight of three days work in the laboratory on them. Penn's table was also dotted with small glass pots filled with a clear liquid.

'I'm halfway through adding the fourth ingredient to the samples and they're already turning, look.' Penn pointed his gaunt finger at to the pots at the far left of the table. The clear substance had turned various shades of gray and black.

'They're the samples form multiple donors right?' Hamish asked.

'Yes, those are from...' Penn grabbed a scroll from the table and glanced the information. 'Human, Gnome, Dwarf, Orc, Elf, erm...seven different donor groups.'

'Cool, finish them up and we'll observe as planned just in case.' Hamish smiled and patted Penn's shoulder. 'but I think we've finally cracked this. Coffee?'

'Yeah, I'm spitting feathers.' Penn replied passing his long empty mug. 'They're not going to like this are they?'

'Absolutely not.' Hamish left the room, two dirty mugs in hand.

The next morning, all members of The Protectorate were gathered around the main table in the library within The Protector's Rest. The building was bustling with adventurers and staff but two guards outside the grand doors ensured privacy for the group's secretive morning meeting.

'Alright lads, morning meeting, Gideon present, obviously.' Gideon ticked off his own name on the binder in front of him.

He ticked off as the other members sounded off, Hamish and Penn to his left, a mess of papers book and hand scribbled notes on front of them.

Shakey the Gnome sat on the opposite end of the table with Amaril's Elven figure dwarfing her small size.

Next to him Salazar, his armor polished to an incredible shine.

To Gideon's immediate right sat Ladka, her hair tied up and glasses perched on her nose, the half-orc had a bunch of notes in a packed folder in front of her, the buckle of which looked as though it would break any moment.

Gideon closed his binder, not waiting for the ink to dry, a reflection on how he felt about his basic administrative duties. 'Now main order of business, Penn you have some news?'

'We do, big news.' Penn stood up from his seat. 'We took blood samples from the affected, here in Morgrush as well as Redbridge. We had three hundred and forty four samples from a dozen races. We boiled down the samples to their plasma components and added the isolated ingredients to the samples. The Salt, oil and honey had less than a percent reaction rate, however, the peanuts corrupted every sample.'

'Are you sure?' Shaky asked.

Hamish chimed in. 'We repeated the test three times, there's no doubt it's the peanuts causing the our little problem.'

'Urgh' Shaky slumped down in her chair, uncomfortable with the findings.

Gideon kipped up to his feet standing on his chair, arms resting at the head of the table 'So, what your saying is, we're selling a food product with a main ingredient that is lethally poisonous to an unknown number of random people of all races?'

'Unfortunately, yes.' Pen answered.

'Goddamn it Shakey.' Aramil whispered.

'We need to get every jar of this stuff back immediately' Salazar suggested.

'We also have another problem. We've been getting way more mail in from the customers.' Ladka pointed to the over-loaded folder in front of her. 'People want Shakey's head on a pike. That's only a fraction, the death threats are in the hundreds.'

'Oh Jesus!' Sal thought aloud.

'Why me?!' Shaky asked, head in hands.
'I think when a food is killing people, they aim their anger at the person who's face is on every jar.' Aramil replied.

'Urgh!' Shakey's head sunk lower into her hands.

Ladka stood. 'The team and I have a plan of action. First, stop production, which we did yesterday.' She counted off with her fingers.

'Cracking start.' Gideon complimented.

Ladka turned to Shakey. 'Secondly, get Shaky to a safe place, somewhere no one will find her.'

'You can stay at my Cottage.' Hamish offered. 'It's out of the way.'

'When did you buy a cottage?' Salazar asked confused.

'Deck of many things.' Hamish replied. Salazar's confusion lingered. 'You remember when you lost your armour?'

'Oh yeah!' Salazar remembered.

'Thirdly.' Ladka continued 'Get every unsold jar back and wait for this to blow over, the public don't have the best memory, they'll move on the the next outrage in a few months.' She looked towards Gideon. 'The team and I can recall the stock here. Can you all take care of Redbridge?'

'Sure thing Ladka.' Gideon replied. 'Looks like we're going to have a little excursion, we can take the Blowfish to Redbridge and drop off the master of poisons on the way.'

Shakey opened her mouth to object, but stopped, quickly realizing the severity of the issue.

'Well then I think we can call this meeting adjourned.' Gideon announced with a slam on the table, the dark wood fading in the spot his hand impacted on. There was a lot of scraping as the group stood.

Penn scooped up the notes, while Ladka, very carefully picked up her binder.

'Hamish, you got a sec?' Gideon collared him on the way out. Hamish sat back down in his seat as the others left, once alone, Gideon took out a small envelope from his pocket.

'Mate, we got this at the front desk last night' He said, tossing the envelope. Hamish recognized the seal. 'You're in The Protectorate last time I checked.' Gideon asked, keeping his outrage in check. 'Can you explain why the fuck you've a letter from The Contractors?'

Hamish chuckled.

'What's funny?' Gideon asked.

'My sister is-' He said opening the envelope and unraveling the letter. 'She's The Tenth Longsword.' He said reading the letter.

'Wait a minute, we've been traveling together for a decade, how do I not know this?' Gideon asked in astonishment.

'You never asked.' Hamish said. 'Also she only got the job a couple of years ago.'

Gideon was dumbfounded, 'She's part of an elite adventurer group, how did this not come up? We had a run in with one of The Daggers for fucks sake.'

'It's not often my family came up, let alone their occupations.'

'What does your mam do?' Gideon asked. 'Assassin?'

'Retired teacher' Hamish skimmed the letter. 'Looks she needs my help with something.' Hamish handed the letter to Gideon.

Hello Mish, I hope this letter finds you well. My occupation has lead me to a legend of particular interest to us both. I would not have asked you to tag along but you and your friends have gathered quite the reputation. If you are able to lend assistance and leave me unhanged, be prepared and come to dinner at Mother's, unless you're too chicken. Effie.

'Legend? Is that like a target?' Gideon asked, passing back the letter.

Hamish rattled around his pocket producing his pipe, with a click lit the tobacco. 'There's an old Olorian tale. A Pirate Lord who commanded over a hundred ships. Nothing moved in the waters of Grand Orlai without her permission and she followed a strict code to never steel from anyone who'd miss it. The more noble in the land were right to be concerned' Hamish kicked his chair back and stood up swiftly. 'After a battle with the golden guard, she was captured and sentenced to death. She was humiliated in the square of the Vintarian. Her head was shaved, she was striped and beaten. She was silent the entire time so the Council wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her suffer. They ordered one of the guards cut our her tongue, they refused, so the Councilman for Mitalvon, Commander Naldo, cut it out himself along with her eyes before she was paraded to the gallows.'

Hamish took a long drag from his pipe. 'She was hung and quartered. Olorian was quite barbaric back then. The Council didn't want to bury her so as not to create a shrine for Olorian anti-establishment so they buried her at see and all was well for a time.'

'What happened then?' Gideon asked.

'Years later on the eve of Commander Naldo's retirement celebration, he was attacked in his sleep, his eyes were gouged out. But the last thing he was was his attackers face. A face familiar, pale blue and stitched back together.' He ran his finger down the center of his face. 'The Hanged Woman had begun her revenge on the noble of Olorian. As the council retire, one by one they are attacked, never killed just blinded. Nobleman's ships that dare sail on the night of a hunter's moon are decimated. The crews taken and brainwashed into serving her and if they don't join her' He brought a finger across his throat.

'Wow.' Gideon interjected. 'That's a load of wank though innit?'

'Oh yeah.' Hamish nodded. 'It's definitely someone pretending to be her rather than actual necromancy, but they always attacks noble ships on a hunter's moon.' He gestured towards the letter. 'Looks like they've had enough.'

'Hiring The Contractors? I should say they are.' Gideon said. 'Why do they tell kids about her?'

'She's kind of our folk hero.' Hamish explained. 'She only stole from the rich and she brought prosperity to the villages of Olorian, that were super poor at the time. The villages of Olorian used to left by the wayside. She was right too, what does the Olorian flag looks like?'

'Purple and a yellow star.' Gideon answered.

Hamish clicked his fingers. 'What kind of star?'

'I just said a yellow star.' Gideon looked at him like he was an idiot.

'A four sided star, one for each city.' Hamish explained. 'The council didn't give a toss about the villages for centuries and before she came along, only the four major cities had libraries and schools.'

He rubbed one of the bookcases lightly. 'She paid to build a library and school in every village, next time your there, look above the entrance, you'll see her face carved into the stone.'

'She sounds cracking.' Gideon paused and thought for a moment. 'How long will you be then?'

'Couple of days.' Hamish replied. 'I'm guessing it will take a week tops.'

Gideon considered for a moment. 'You and Penn did well figuring out the peanut butter problem.' He thought aloud. 'Alright, I think I can spare you, but we'll need Bartholomew and Iranu on the Airship.'

'That's no bother, my mother lives near the border so I can just take one of the horses.' They began to leave the library. 'Should be about two days ride, she has like, the loveliest farm.'

At the door 'Check in on the rock when you get there.' Gideon instructed.

'No problem, good luck in Redbridge.' Hamish held out his hand.

'I'd rather be chasing a ghost pirate than collecting unsold inventory of peanut butter.' He rolled his eyes hard. 'Don't go get killed, yeah?' Gideon took his hand and both lightly slammed their bodies together before separating. In terms of members of the Protectorate expressing emotion towards each other, this was as affectionate as it got.

'I'll be safe, you know me.' Hamish assured him.

'Mate, that's what I'm worried about.' Gideon replied as he made his way downstairs.

Hamish went to his meticulously tidied room. He grabbed his go bag from next to his chest of drawers and tossed it on the bed. After a minute in the wardrobe, a light riding robe joined the bag.

Hamish picked up his canteen and communication rock from his bedside before scooping up the bed contents. He kicked the wardrobe door properly shut and headed towards the Airship.

'Oh Hamish, heard your not joining us.' Amaril greeted Hamish at the boarding ramp.

'I have some family matter to take care of.' Hamish replied. 'Take care of the little ones for me OK?'

'You know I will.' Amaril assured him.

Hamish whistled towards the ship and a couple of seconds later his pig, Bartholomew the Sixth emerged with his chicken companion on his back. He trotted down the ramp with pace.

'Hey you two.' Hamish crouched down and stroking both the pig and Iranu the chicken. 'I'm gonna be gone for a while, but I'll be back soon.' Hamish couldn't see Iranu's tiny chicken face behind his tiny mask but he could see the sadness in his eyes. 'Aramil's going to take care of you both, so behave OK?' He stroked both of them on the backs of their respective necks. Iranu nodded, Bartholomew oinked.

'It's going to be a lot of fun,' Aramil assured them. 'You have fun too Hamish, don't get killed.'

'Getting real sick of the don't get killed thing.' Hamish replied, as they bumped shoulders. 'Bye guys.' he walked away from them backwards and with the tiniest wave to his beloved pig and the chicken, he was gone.