Three days passed. Three monotonous, boring days spent in Trostenwald. It was quite strange, to have such a long time off instead of the near constant action they had faced so far. Brian literally didn't know what to do with himself, or what was the best course of action. How was he supposed to spend is time? It was a constant struggle, and the reason he never wanted to live in a low-tech fantasy world like Exandria or Middle-Earth. He would've much preferred a future world like Coruscant.

He understood the irony of this. Indeed, it hit him like a truck. For all the time he spent complaining about what strange lot in life he'd drawn, and hating ever moment of combat, he found himself restless without it. Sure, fighting was awful, and he despised killing, but what was he supposed to do otherwise? Was this why professional soldiers kept going back to war, even though they couldn't stand it?

Brian let this boredom stand for exactly one of the three days before he did something about it. He'd never gone completely stir crazy before, and didn't feel like trying it. So, taking a page from Calvin's playbook, he went out to find a job in town. He eventually found is big barbarian friend, who turned him on to what he had been doing. Calvin had found temporary day laborer work in the northwest portion of town unloading sacks of grain and produce for a local granary. They were always looking for extra hands. So, that was how Brian found himself working his first ever physical labor job.

Honestly, it wasn't as bad as he might have expected. He had never been particularly strong or fit, though his lithe build would lead others to expect otherwise. However, the sacks succumbed easily to his might. It was still tiring work, but not nearly to the extent it might have been. All this time traveling and fighting probably paid off in the form on increased strength and endurance, even with just a few weeks of effort. Brian had never needed to think about it before then.

By the dawn of the fourth day, it was Edgar to the rescue. Shortly after the sun rose, he summoned Brian and the rest of his party to his personal chambers. Brian felt a mix of anxiety and fear as he walked along with his friends down the corridor to Edgar's quarters. He probably had another job for them.

Much as Brian might have yearned for it in his downtime, now that he was about to be sent out again, he dreaded it. No matter how much he longed for something to do when there was nothing, he still was afraid to be an adventurer, at his core. The danger was thrilling, sure, but also terrible. He would have much rather stayed in town hauling grain. At least that came with little to no danger of stabbing.

All of these thoughts meant nothing, as Hector knocked on the door.

"Enter," Edgar called from the other side. Hector did as told, and the five of them shuffled in. "Ah, there you are." As always, Edgar sat at his writing desk.

"You wanted to see us, Edgar?" Hector returned.

"Yes, I did." The aged wizard pulled a missive from his right sleeve. "I don't have a job for you today, but instead, a lead." He handed the page to Hector, who looked over it.

"What is this?" Ylva said, reading around her friend's shoulder.

"A voucher," Edgar answered simply. "I have an acquaintance in Alfield who just told me about a very interesting prisoner their Crownsguard just acquired, a man with a black bear's head sewn to his scalp."

A collective gasp ran through the party. Brian and Calvin gathered around Hector to read the piece of paper he held. Even Tiffany peeked around the side at it. It appeared to be an official document of some sort, wrapped up in jargon Brian didn't have the patience to unwind.

"For real?" Calvin asked.

"For... real." Using the slang seemed to cause Edgar physical discomfort. "There's no contract on the man, currently, but you are free to go investigate him, if you want to. That voucher should help you. Show it to the guards of the Salt Trench Jail, and they'll let you talk to him."

"Why would you help us? Why go out on a limb?" Tiffany asked immediately, and Brian wished she hadn't. Though, it was a valid question.

"I offered to help you, didn't I?" Edgar said. "I don't know what this group of people wants, and I hate to not know things. If they're running around infesting basements, razing old churches, and attacking travelers like this individual was, then they're a threat. The Adventurer's Guild eliminates threats."

"We thank you for the information, Edgar," Ylva said before Tiffany could respond. Not that the blonde girl seemed overly eager to do so. "We'll get moving right away."

"See to it," was all Edgar said.

He returned to his studies, which the party took as their cue to leave. They returned to their rooms, changed into their armor, gathered their gear, and—with a quick request of directions from Therdin—were on the way to Alfield.

The trading town of Alfield was about a three day journey from Trostenwald at a steady pace. The first day went off without a hitch. Ylva and Hector, as always, lead the way, while Brian took up the back. In this formation, they made excellent progress. Conversation flowed occasionally between them, but mostly they were focused on the road.

This suited Brian just fine. He feared that talking might reveal the strain in his voice from having to walk so long. When the trips were just to places outside Trostenwald, the walking hadn't bothered him. Now, with the prospect of two more days of such labor ahead, he shuttered to think what state he would be in upon reaching Alfield. If their quests were going to start taking them along further distances, they'd need to invest in a cart and wagon, just like the Mighty Nein.

Making camp on the first day, it was Tiffany to the rescue. She, after some mutual complaints about the walking, mentioned that it shouldn't be a problem. According to Taryon's book, whatever strange force healed adventurer's, soldiers, monsters, and the like after a good night's rest also relieved the pain from sore feet after a day of walking. After all, the aching was technically an injury.

Though Brian had walked whole days before, and come out of them with feet about ready to fall off, he'd never noticed how that pain went away completely the following morning. He guessed, without pain in his feet, there was no real reason to think about it. Out of foot, out of mind.

The second day began after a full night's rest. What Tiffany said proved true. The party was fresh and pain free, ready to start their next leg. It was cloudy, so not quite as hot as the day before. The cover was light and grey, not the darkness which may have betrayed the coming of rain. Brian hoped to Bahamut it stayed that way. The only thing that could make this travel worse was a downpour.

Unlike the day before, this one was full of conversation. Maybe it had been jitters holding them back, or maybe they were just focusing on the mission. No matter the reason, this second day proved much more jovial and entertaining.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Calvin had said at one point.

"I will die on this hill," asserted Tiffany. She walked a few steps behind him, having this conversation with his back.

"Is it a girl thing?" Calvin asked, only half serious.

"No, it's a fact, plain and simple," Tiffany said.

"Alright, look," Calvin began. "I understand having a preference, and that's fine, to a point. I don't care who you are, you can't say McDonald's fries are better than Wendy's. It's just not true."

"They have more substance to them," argued the blonde. "And, they actually taste like potato, unlike McDonald's, which are just salt and grease."

"I know! That's what makes them so great." Calvin looked back long enough to see Tiffany roll her eyes. "Hey, when I'm eating a French fry, the last thing I want is to be reminded that it used to be healthy."

"But, potatoes are a superfood. You can survive on nothing but potatoes. You can't do that with French fries," Tiffany said.

Calvin shook his head. "Changing the subject because you know you lost? Shame. Who's trying to live on just fries?"

Tiffany took a breath as if to say something, but didn't. Brian, of course, had no idea what words had been about to pass her lips, but that was probably a good thing. Tiffany may not have talked much in general, but she rarely refrained from speaking her mind when she did. That she showed restraint there was not a good sign.

A silence carried through the party for about ten or so minutes. Brian passed that time with a smile on his face. A glance at Ylva revealed she mirrored his expression. He was glad his friends were getting along. It may have been an unfounded fear, at this point, but these people still barely knew each other. Dissension among the ranks could be devastating to their teamwork, which would mean more danger for everyone. It relieved Brian to no end that the opposite was true. Everyone got along.

"I wonder if we'll get to meet Bryce?" Hector asked eventually.

"I'm not sure," Ylva answered. "That's a good point, though. We still haven't figured out when we are."

"I'm pretty sure we're post-Thordak," offered Calvin. "One of the guys I worked with the other day mentioned how rare it is to see dragonborn. They wouldn't be rare if Draconia was still around."

"Okay, that narrows it down," Ylva said, "But we still don't have a concrete answer."

"I can think of one way to find out," Brian offered. He waited until the others were paying attention before continuing. "We could go to the Lavish Chateau and see if we can find Jester. We can guess when we are depending on how old she looks, or if she's even there."

"Oh, I see. You just wanna go see Marion," Ylva said with sly, prodding tone.

"What? No, that's not what I meant," Brian argued.

"Don't lie, you little rascal, you." Ylva fell back to actually prod him.

"Hey! Ylva, stop. I'm being serious." Brian jerked his arm away and took a small step out of her grasp.

Ylva did not stop. "You never know, she might even take a liking to you."

"I doubt it."

"Who's Marion?" Tiffany asked.

"The best lay ever!" Calvin sang, in what Brian assumed was an accidental Jester impression. After all, no Critter he knew could quote Jester without at least a little bit of her accent. It just tended to happen.

"What?" Tiffany raised an eyebrow at him.

"The Ruby of the Sea," Ylva explained. "She's a whore."

"They have those, here?" Tiffany seemed equal parts surprised and aghast.

"Even better, they're legal," Calvin said.

"That's awful," Tiffany said. "Gross."

"Different world, Tiff," Ylva shrugged. "I don't see the problem with it, myself. If both parties consent, the price is fair, and no one gets hurt, then what's the big deal?"

"It's indecent, is the big deal," said Tiffany.

"Yes, it is. That's the whole point," countered Calvin.

Tiffany gave a frustrated huff and rolled her eyes, which signaled the end of the conversation.

"You know, we could just ask," Hector said after it had been quiet for a few seconds. "Bring it up in conversation, and then say something like 'how long ago even was that? It feels like forever.' That way we're being ironic, but we still get the answer we want."

"That could work," agreed Ylva.

"Sure you're not a bard?" Calvin joked.

"No, but my husband's current character is a bard," Hector said. "I learned by watching him."

The rest of the day, and the ensuing night, passed on with nary an issue, same with the following. Early in the fourth day, the party arrived in Alfield. It was a town without walls, smaller than Trostenwald and more free in design. Where their homebase was made of winding streets and narrow alleyways, Alfield's was all wide roads and open space. The cobble-paved passages were easily wide enough to fit three carts abreast, and the tallest building was only two stories. Much less complex, the simply spacious design made sense for a trading hub.

This early in the morning, the town naturally bustled with activity. The population here seemed to skew more human than the relatively diverse Trostenwald, but not by much. A plethora of people traveled to and fro along various routes. There were many traders transporting and distributing goods, along with the workers who helped them do so. Even so, the expansive nature of the town meant traffic flowed without impediment.

After a few minutes of walking, Hector flagged down a guard. Brian did a quick check of this individual, but he was a human. So, not Bryce, unfortunately.

"Excuse me, sir," Hector said. "We're looking for the Salt Trench Jail. Can you point us in the right direction?"

The guard gave him a wary look. "What business do you have at the jail?"

"We wish to speak with a prisoner," Hector said.

"Yes, I assumed as much. Most people don't go there for fun," mocked the guard. "What business do you have?"

"Here, we have this. It might explain better than we can." Ylva handed him Edgar's note. The guard snatched it and looked over the words.

"Ah, Guild business," he commented after a moment. "Why didn't you just say so? Walk all the way to the northeast, past the town's boundaries. You'll see a narrow path that winds downhill. Take it to the end until you come to a building of old wood and stone. That's the Salt Trench Jail."

"Okay. Thank you, sir," Hector said.

"Citizen." The guard nodded, and the two went their separate ways, moving in opposite directions.

After a quick discussion, the party decided to go right there, a decision Ylva and Calvin did not agree with. They both, understandably, were excited over the prospect of a new town from the show they loved so much. It took Brian and Hector to remind them that they were not there to sightsee. They had a job with potential Empire-wide importance. There would be time to explore Alfield later. Tiffany, with no previous attachment to it, sided with the logical pair. So, the party made their way out of town and to the Salt Trench Jail.

Just as the guard said, about ten minutes of walking off trail they found a little path which stretched on down a surprisingly steep hill. At the bottom was a structure that looked strikingly unlike a prison. Indeed, it barely qualified for a house. One storey and of an unimpressive size, Brian seriously doubted if they had the right place or not. The only things that gave it away were the bars in the windows on either side of the front door. There wasn't even a guard standing outside.

"Should we just... bust in?" Calvin asked as they approached.

"That sounds like a really bad idea," Tiffany said.

"Agreed," nodded Ylva. "Let's just knock and see what happens."

The party gathered around her as she followed her own directive. A moment's hesitation, and a trio of sharp raps assaulted the door. Ylva took a step back. All five sets of eyes peered expectantly at the door. Brian's looked with uncertainty and fear. The others seemed cautious, while Calvin let a bit of excitement mix in. A few seconds of this, and the door creaked open. Out stepped three members of the Crownsguard, all of them armed and helmeted.

"State your business," the one in the middle demanded.

"We're with the Adventurer's Guild," Ylva said, "here to see a prisoner." She handed him the note from Edgar. The guard took it with a suspicious side-eye for her. He poured over its contents.

"Very well." He handed back the note, and then gestured toward the other two guards. They went back inside. "I'll take you to him."

At the lead of this man, who was obviously the ranking officer, the party shuffled into the wood and stone building. It was almost completely empty inside, with only a desk to the left and a little kitchen against the far right wall. There were no cells at all, and no one else inside that they hadn't already seen. Brian had just enough time to start wondering about this before their escort took them to a door against the left wall, one which another guard was already opening with a heavy key. This man pushed the door open for them, and they filed down a staircase. The way was cramped and dingy, lit by sporadic torches hanging on the walls, which Brian had to be careful to avoid rubbing against for fear of catching on fire.

"What did this guy do, anyway?" Calvin asked.

"Found him just north of town spewing some nonsense about his Goddess at travelers passing by. Worship of unsanctioned gods is forbidden, so we took him in, but we might not have jailed him if not for the grizzly display on his head," explained the guard.

"A black bear, right?" Ylva asked.

"Yeah, fuckin' weird. We tried to take it off during the arrest, and he went berserk. Pulled a knife out from nowhere and tried to fight us, so we subdued him and brought him here. Won't let anyone get near the thing, either. We've had a few doctors come in and try to cut it off, but he always attacks them, so we've let him keep it."

"If he's so dangerous, then why keep him around?" Calvin asked. "Why not transfer him to a bigger city?"

"It's because he's so dangerous," the guard said as they all cleared the bottom step. "We already have him detained here. With someone so unpredictable, sometimes it's better to just keep them in one place."

"That makes sense," Hector said.

The actual jail part of the prison had eight cells, four on each side of a narrow walkway. The guard led them all the way to the end. In the last cell on the left sat a man, bare in the chest save for a leather sash from left shoulder to right hip, tattered and faded trousers, heavy boots, and smelling as though he hadn't bathed in months. The black bear's decapitated head had been sewed to his cranium. The long dried and shriveled tongue lolled out of the open mouth in what was likely supposed to be a growl, but really just looked like a desperate scream.

"He's all yours," the guard said, and began to walk away.

"You're sure you want to leave us with him?" Calvin asked.

"Sure. Ask your questions but leave him untouched, or you'll end up in the rest of these cells." With that, the guard ascended the stairs.

Brian felt the air immediately go stale. He'd never interrogated someone before. How should he proceed? Was this even an interrogation? They had never actually established what they were after before going to the jail. Now that they were there, the lack of preparation hit him like a ton of bricks. Thankfully, this would not be a problem for long, as the prisoner spoke up first.

"You sure are a colorful bunch." He had a slithery way of speaking, a cadence that drew out the middles of some words.

"My friends and I are with the Adventurer's Guild," Ylva said. "We've come to ask you some questions."

"The Guild, you say? Oh, well color me humbled, then." Sarcasm laced his voice.

"What's your name?" Hector began the questioning.

"Berran, twenty-nine years old from Zadash," the prisoner said. "You would've already known that if you'd taken the time to ask the guards. Do you always just rush into uncertain situations?"

"Sorta, yeah" Calvin shrugged.

"I should expect no less from Adventurer's Guild brutes."

"You know, insulting us isn't a good way to get on our good side," Tiffany said, arms crossed.

"And what makes you think I want to get on the good side of urban dogs like yourselves?" Berran almost spat the insult.

"Says the guy wearing a bear on his head," scoffed Calvin.

"My spirit bond is more than simple adornment," Berran said.

"Spirit bond? What's that?" Ylva jumped on the term, and Brian was glad she did. This was the first bit of potential information they had ever received about this strange group of people. They couldn't let it go to waste.

"I'll tell you nothing," denied Berran. "Savages like you don't deserve to know."

"We're just trying to understand you better," Ylva said. "We don't mean any harm, and we aren't here to demean you."

"Yes, I sensed that. You don't seem quite so taken aback at my appearance as some others," observed Berran.

"Yeah, well, we're used to it. Seen you before," Calvin said. Berran gave him a confused look, one which made him appear even more ridiculous than he already did.

"We've run into your people, he means," Hector clarified. "It's why we were chosen to come here and speak with you."

"And which ones of my people do you claim to have come across?" Berran was immediately suspicious.

"There was a guy dressed up like a rat living under someone's house in Trostenwald."

"Ah, so someone finally found him." Berran spoke as if this were some massive revelation.

"You know who we're talking about? Who was he?" Again, Ylva latched onto any shred of information she could find.

"An old fool, nothing more."

"Can you at least tell us his name?" Hector prodded.

"Markus Belderfield, though I'm not sure why you want the name of a dead man. It's not like he can tell you anything anymore." Berran's dismissive tone bothered Brian.

"What was he doing down there?" Hector asked.

"Serving the Goddess, obviously."

"And who's your Goddess?"

"Ah, the first real question." Berran seemed to finally care, at least a little bit, about the conversation. "The guards asked me the same thing. You'll all find out, soon enough. Until then, you don't need to know."

""Try us," Calvin said. "You never know."

"I know more than you think," Berran said. Then, he slowly extended a finger to Brian. "You, there. You're a man of faith, yes?"

Brian was completely shattered by being referred to directly. His mouth gaped a few times, like a fish trying to breath on land. He finally managed to choke out a response. "How did you know?"

"The stink of divinity oozes off you, disgusting and self-important. I know, because it's something I smell on myself every day. We're not too different, you and I." Berran said, a comparison that made Brian's skin crawl.

"We already know you're on a holy mission," Hector said. "We fought a group of you who were going to attack some bandits we had just hit."

"And yet, you're still here. Pity." Berran allowed himself a slimy smile. "I take that to mean my comrades are dead. So, did you feel Her power? Did you stare in awe at the beauty of Her might?"

"They stared in awe at the end of my club," Calvin said, hefting his weapon up onto his right shoulder for emphasis.

"I'm sure they were just wondering how you swing it without falling through the floor," Berran countered.

"What!?" Calvin took a step toward the cell. Ylva put an arm in his path. He stopped short. She gave him a simple shake of her head. He huffed through his nose, but relented.

Berran chuckled. "And they call me violent and unreasonable."

"Throwing around insults won't get us anywhere," Ylva said with glances for both of them. She put her arm down.

"Then I suggest you get to questioning," Berran said.

"Fine. Who are you people? What do you want?" Ylva asked.

"If you met us before, then you already know who we are and what we want. Why should I tell you what you already know?"

"Give us a name. What do you call yourselves?"

"Oh, it's far too early for that, my dear," said Berran. "I'm sure you'll find out at the same time as everyone else. Of course, by then, it will be too late."

"Listen up, you fugly bitch." Before anyone could stop him, Calvin approached the cell. "We did not just walk three goddamned days for you to tell use we already know what we know, or whatever the shit you're trying to say. So give us a name, or no cell on Earth will protect you from me!"

Berran just sighed. "I suppose you do want something to bring back to your masters. So, you tell them this." He got to his feet and stood before the bars, eyes even with Calvin's. "You are Exandria's doom through devastation. You will raze the very world that gives you life. Only when your infestation is cleansed, will all life be safe. We are the ones who will cleanse you. We are your salvation through destruction."

Berran stood there looking Calvin in the eyes. He let his word hang in the air just long enough for them to sink in throughout the five people on the other side of the bars. Without another sound, he resumed his sitting position back in the corner.

"And just who are you?" Ylva asked.

"You'll get nothing else out of me. You can learn with the rest of them, when the Goddess burns you with her holy embrace."

As if to emphasize his riddance of the conversation, Berran turned his back to them so he starred at the wall, essentially putting himself in the corner like a poorly behaved child.

"That's it? That's all you want to say? I'm not done with you, bitch, not yet!" Calvin yelled through the bars.

"Calvin, come on, he's a lost cause." Ylva tried to reason with her big friend.

"Naw, this fucker's friends almost killed my friends. I ain't leaving until I get some answers!"

"Leave it alone, Cal. We did everything we could."

"Not everything. Let's see how much he likes me when—"

"Calvin," Tiffany said. "Please. Let's just go."

It may have been the soft pleading in her voice. It may have been the way she placed a hand on his forearm. It may have been the tremble in her eyes. Whatever the cause, Calvin visibly relaxed. His muscles went slack, face fell into an expression of mild shock. He peered at all of his companions in turn, and then looked away.

"Sorry, I... sorry."

"It's alright," Tiffany said. "Let's just get out of here."

And with that, they left, none the wiser and all the more frustrated.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Several rolls during the interrogation. Hector rolled a seventeen when asking Berran's name, and so got an answer. Ylva had a failure with a nine when asking about his spirit bond, and then a 17 for the question about the madman under Isalda's house, their very first enemy. The last success of the night was Hector for 16 when asking the name of the madman. The rest were all failures. Of particular note was Calvin's intimidation check when he started getting mad. He rolled a five, which is the lowest he can without a natural 1. All of this means the party got some little bits of information, but nothing useful.

Please remember to leave a review. What did you think of the party's first real social encounter with an enemy? I always love to hear from my readers.