Chapter 9
The slump in business did not last, and within the month Doumeki was hard again at work. A year passed before he saw either the clearing or the warlock again, and in that time he learned to take advantage of symptoms left to him by the balverine sickness. He learned that his stride, while always quiet had become exceptionally so, carrying him over dry leaves as silently as packed dirt. His hearing and smelling made it many times harder to be taken by surprise in the dark by bandits or monsters, and besides that, with his glowing eye he was more easily able to discern shapes in the night. Though this last skill he did not casually employ. The incandescence of the eye gave him away to those around him, and after more sharp points than he would've liked found their way to him through the gloom, he took to covering it with a narrow piece of leather. He grew in both renown and skill as a Hero of Albion, and was hired for longer and more difficult quests.
Close eighteen months had come and gone before he began to think that he may have found reason to call upon the inhabitant of the Rose Cottage again. Following three weeks of unrewarding work on one particular quest, he dwelled more and more often on his remaining three favors and the warm welcome he was sure to receive from the warlock. But just as he was about to pack his things and happily journey from dreary Witchwood, he caught a break in town. A trader who had till then been visiting in Oakvale told that he had seen the client's disgruntled nephew slinking about the outskirts of the rainy town, the client being a citizen of Knothole Glade who had recently come into good fortune with the reading of his deceased brother's will. The dead man had bequeathed all of his tidy takings to his brother in exchange for the insurance of his widow's wellbeing. His son, an unruly ruffian who was known for causing trouble around the Glade, was only left a few pieces of furniture and a box of letters, all of which he put to the torch shortly after receiving. It had come to the surprise of few when the inheritance disappeared in the night. Theretofore, the likely guilty nephew had not been spoken of. With a new trail to pursue at his feet, Doumeki shoved off thoughts of the little cottage in the clearing and the man sure to be found therein. Three days after he began investigating the nephew, the client's two daughters went missing from his home.
Doumeki had little patience for twatty family loyalties then, and insisted that the client tell him whether or not he considered his nephew capable of crimes against the missing girls. Eventually he admitted that, yes, he suspected he might be.
The Archer looked for the girls or the nephew, whichever he found first, alone for a fortnight. Following that he bid the mayor organize a search party and, armed with flaming pitch and what weapons were to be found, the next day the group ventured into Witchwood. On the third night of this, they found the nephew, the young women, and the inheritance.
