Chapter 27: Return

By no means were Adventurers the same as mercenaries. Mercenaries fought and killed for money regardless of the cause or justification. Adventurers provided a service the same way a carpenter or blacksmith would.

The Guildhall was established in Neverwinter to put citizens in contact with those who possessed the appropriate skills to accomplish a specific job. A guild also ensured the tasks adhered to the city bylaws and ordinances. These jobs ranged from simple transport/delivery to public services. This ensured the cities resources were never overtaxed by private issues. It also provided an outlet for the eager young adventurers that flocked to the coast.

At midafternoon the guildhall wasn't especially crowded. The lunch rush had already left and those that remained were either between quests or had already wrapped one up. Sharing drinks with their guildmates the humans and near-humans regaled each other with their latest exploits.

The woman at the front desk did her best to ignore the stories. After a while, they all sounded the same to her. Instead, she focused on managing the job listings for the next morning. There was no shortage of work along the Sword Coast. It was up to the guild clerks to organize them according to skill requirements and experience levels. As much as it galled the greener members the Guild was strict on which quests were available to whom. Adventurers were a guilds source of income. It did them little good to throw inexperienced copper plates at max level threats.

Of course, that didn't stop them from trying. The census was full of names of the foolhardy who attempted to bite off more than they could chew. "Start from the bottom and work your way up," she would tell them. Usually, her words were met with glares and reluctant sighs. It was with a heavy heart the clerk could tell which ones she would be adding to the census, along with their blood-stained plates.

The door to the hall opened and she felt the warm afternoon sun on her shoulders. Turning she had to shield her eyes to make out the large silhouette crossing the threshold. Stories stopped mid-sentence amidst gasps and the sounds of tomorrow's postings fluttering to the floor.

The figure was tall and broad clad in the remnants of his armor. Here and there crimson scales peaked through layers of fresh bandages. He carried no weapons, but a large bundle was slung across his back wrapped in red-stained burlap. Alone he strolled up to the bulletin board. For a moment he scanned it with his one good eye before ripping down a sheet.

"This job is no longer necessary," he said placing the paper on the counter.

The clerk blinked several times before looking over the document. Posted by the magistrate it was an ongoing request to clear out local ruins of any monsters. A bounty was paid depending on the size and number of beasts exterminated. It was similar to the job of clearing the city sewers, but with several more hazards.

Clearing her throat, the clerk said, "Ahem…Proof of a kill must be provided in order to receive the bount-" before she could finish explaining the Adventurer unslung his burden and dropped in on the desk with a heavy meaty thud. A clawed finger loosened the tie and the burlap fell away.

"By Torm's knob!" someone shouted, but the blasphemy was lost amongst a series of curses and exclamations. The Clerk recoiled, gasping in surprise as a giant reptilian eye rolled in a sunken socket to peer up at her. Its milky white pupil unnerved her nearly as much as its killer's placid expression. She gasped again when she noticed the dented and scarred surface of copper plate dangling from one of his head tendrils.

"How much for a young green dragon," Alidorim Olkith asked.

Lesmythe was still sitting patiently atop the wagon when her Master exited the Guildhall. Yulia barely flinched when he set the bag of coin in the back of the wagon. Curled up amongst the sacks of herbs, the Tiefling had been snoring softly for the last few hours.

The young woman found it difficult to reconcile the magical energies with such a sweet little girl. With Alidorim she had no issue. Though not a dragonkin, the power of their shared lineage flowed through his veins. Despite that power, it had taken him four days to recover from his injuries enough to travel. A healing potion sealed wounds and mended bones, but it could only do so much.

During her master's convalescence, the half-elf hadn't remained idle. With the dragon and most of the undead wiped out, Thundertree was free to explore and plunder. Two coffers of treasure were looted from Venomfang's lair. She even managed to locate the herbs they'd been sent to collect.

Alidorim barely spared the other contents a glance. He paused only to pull Yulia's cloak over her before mounting the wagon. With a flick of the reigns, Lesmythe sent the horses trotting along. They still needed to deliver the herbs. Afterward…

"Master Olkith?" she asked. Alidorim grunted, and she continued, "What comes next?"

"We get paid for the herbs," he answered keeping his eye on the road, and gripping a battle-ax they'd found amongst the loot.

She swallowed nervously. Despite everything they'd been through, the Dragonborn still intimidated her. Other than thanking her for the health potion and tending his wounds, he'd barely said more than a few words the entire trip. Between Yulia's awakened power and realizing he could breathe lightning, Alidorim had a lot to contemplate. Lesmythe could only recall one brief exchange between Yulia and the Master.

Alidorim had asked if Venomfang was truly the same dragon that attacked her village. Though, she managed to suppress it the revelation had shocked the half-elf. Curiously, Yulia had shaken her head. She explained that the green dragon spat poison, but her home was burned. In her fear, she had projected all of her hate and grief on dragons like Venomfang. The girl had begun to weep, but Alidorim knelt and wiped away the tears.

"A dragon killed your parents?" he'd asked tenderly. She began to whimper. Yulia shrugged before managing a small nod. And then he hugged her. In the brief time, she'd known the pair she'd never seen them embrace. Her throat tightened that such a love could exist.

"How does the slave crest work?" Her Master's question took her off guard, bringing her back to the present. After fumbling for a moment Lesmythe essentially parroted what the Slaver had said. If she disobeyed or acted out of disloyalty the curse would activate and cause her pain. Continued rebellion leads to death. Compared to a life of slavery death seemed preferable to bondage, but few could withstand the agony to go all the way. "And if your master were to die?"

Lesmythe's face heated with shame. Recalling her moment of weakness in the village square. "If…the master hadn't made an order to the contrary," she explained, "The curse would be lifted. I would be free."

"Hmm…" Alidorim made no other sound. Lesmythe didn't know what else to say so she remained quiet. They sat in silence for a few more blocks before he finally said, "My life…cost you your freedom."

The half-elf closed her eyes, doing her best to not dwell on what could have been. In so doing all she could see was Yulia's grief-stricken face as she cried over her father, pleading for him not to leave her. The terrible mixture of regret and pride churned in her chest. It was all she could do to not weep. "Yes, Master."

"Hmm…" As before only the sounds of wheels and hooves clattering on cobblestone filled the silence. Nothing else was said until they arrived at the Apothecary.

"Lesmythe." She looked up at the warrior and found his one good eye focused intently upon her. "My name isn't 'Master,'" he said, "My name is Alidorim." His tone was flat, but his gaze was locked with hers. It was the same stare he'd used the night he'd bought her, but there was softness she hadn't noticed before. It was hesitant and fleeting, but it was there.

"Of course, Mas-" She caught herself, ears going pink. Clearing her throat, she amended, "-Alidorim." He nodded before stepping down from the seat.

Moving around to the back of the wagon he roused the Tiefling with a gentle shake. Yulia yawned and stretched before sitting up. "Father?" she questioned, rubbing her dark eyes, "We home?"

Alidorim looked at his daughter with a softness that belayed his scars. "Almost, Yulia. Almost."