CHAPTER VI: POKING AROUND TOWN

Krougu darted around the town like a child playing tag – hiding behind barrels of water, diving into piles of hay and flattening himself against walls, he did everything in his power to stealthily find another rogue he could learn from – or steal from. Eventually, after a few attempts, he spied a short, stubby man in a tattered, black cloak. Krougu tried his best to follow him through town – rouges were typically admired for their tracking skills and stealth, and this newcomer was no exception. Giving Krougu the slip several times, they finally reached the city limits where Krougu decided to give up the chase. It wasn't worth getting led into a trap by some raggedy little bastard, he finally said to himself.

"Probably doesn't even have a copper…" he grumbled to himself as he headed back to town. He crossed one of Suffolk's beautiful rivers as he came upon the TWINN. An odd name for any building, he soon realized that it was a sister site to the Three Winds Inn – apparently, the inn had become so big that the needed to expand – it was the innkeeper's idea of a 'cute joke' to call it the 'TWINN'. Krougu just rolled his eyes as he walked back toward town, his eyes shifting around, always searching vigilantly for a stray piece of copper…

Meanwhile, Barakus shared a large meal with Furrius in the inn. After reaching their fill, Barakus decided to sleep up in room fourteen while Furrius went off in search of Celathiel – sure enough, he found the sorcerer with the bard, Sic.

"Well, we're on hiatus for two weeks…feel like making some gold while we're here?" Sic proposed. Furrius and Celathiel agreed to help the gnome make some money. As he set up a small stand where he could play his guitar, Furrius shot around to crowds and convinced them into coming to watch the show – eventually, his job was nothing more than to provide support by clapping, getting the crowd excited and keeping away riff-raff. Celathiel concentrated and cast a beautiful round of prestidigitation spell effects as Sic plucked away at his instrument.

Lights of all colors shot around the makeshift stage as the bard played in unison, making the commoners who had come to watch gape in awe. When the set was finished, they had made over eighty gold altogether. "Not bad, eh gents?" Sic asked, tossing a sum of the overall taking to his partners.

Over the course of the two weeks, Furrius procured himself a new punching dagger while his comrades stocked up on simple supplies – torches, lanterns, some new weaponry. Illonel had shown an interest in crossing classes – already a proficient fighter, he wished to have some of the more powerful elements of a wizard, and attempted to join the local wizards guild. As he stepped into the room across town, he noticed several skilled wizards dueling, teaching each other spells…he longed for that kind of acceptance, though, as an elf, he was not granted it from the humans of the guild.

"Can't I just…" he bargained.

"No. Get out, ya freak…" one of the larger wizards commanded while Illonel poked around the school. Dejectedly he headed outside, only to run into three wide-eyed, grinning youths.

"What's amatta, old Elgar bein' a pain in the ass again? Sorry 'bout that, guy…some o' the wizards just don't like elves…sure ya dealt with it before…" the tall, dark skinned male said. "Name's Stev. Emily and Karl – we're trainin' to be wizards, too…"

Illonel's eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on the two boys and lady wizards – they seemed genuinely intrigued by him, if for nothing else than his different race.

"I just want to know some cantrips…nothing spectacular…I'd be willing to pay for your services…"

"We…can teach you whatever we learn after classes each day…I mean…" Emily started to suggest.

"Yeah, it'd be good practice for us. Whaddya think, Stev?" Karl asked.

Pretending to think it over, Stev clapped Illonel on the shoulder. Though the human wizards were all teenagers, they seemed strong…and Illonel would take any training he could acquire.

"Sure thing, guy! And don't worry 'bout payment…bein' able to tell me mum that I'm trainin' an elf will be prize enough!"

After several rigorous days of training, Illonel was proficient in all the cantrips of a wizard. Seeking to move on with the quest, he and Celathiel approached the innkeeper of the Three Winds.

"Does the Duke ever come around here?" Illonel asked.

"Oh, sure. He likes to do tours of the town…really proud of it, he is…we'll, he'd hafta be…anyway, he's got this massive golden carriage pulled by white horses. You'll know 'em when ya see 'em – they're almost fake lookin', like their hooves are painted black or something," the innkeeper divulged. "Now that I think of it, maybe they are…"

"Do you know when he's coming back around?" Celathiel asked, hoping to catch him sooner rather than later.

"Dunno, mate. It's a crap-shoot. Could be ten minutes, could be a month. He does have a lot on his plate…I mean, he is the DUKE…"

"Yeah, thanks for the tip…" Illonel said, quickly walking out of the room. Celathiel decided to try to gather more information on the Duke's whereabouts as he casually walked along the dusty roads of Suffolk. Soon, he came across a large alchemy shop, bearing a broken glass window in the front.

After entering the shop, he staked out a spot behind a rack of potions and watched the shoppers head up to the counter – the bearded alchemist smiled sweetly as he sold each and every potion brought to him – for double the marked price. Each peon and peasant graciously accepted it as fact, however; the only one that seemed to find the practice odd was Celathiel. The charming shopkeep was indeed manipulative…the prices were marked on a chalkboard above his head. It would take quite a story to charge a silver for a potion that only cost five copper…

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? I saw everything you just did! You owe that woman five copper!" Celathiel called out the shopkeep.

He sneered, looking down from his pedestal at the sorcerer. "Good concentration, lad. But…the townsfolk here don't seem to mind. See, I'm sure ya noticed my shop's been vandalized recently, eh?" he said, gesturing toward the broken window out front.

"That doesn't give you the right to charge double for sleeping draughts and anti-itch powders…" Celathiel continued, trying to be civil.

"No…no, but you see, I was robbed of over FIFTY potions, lad…well, at least fifty, I know that…I don't keep inventory of potions…I mean, you know how long it takes to make a potion! Of course ya don't…well, first, ya gotta boil the contents in a golden kettle, then they need to sit and stew for weeks! Sometimes, even months! It's a long, arduous process, my boy…and the Duke was simply devastated when his order was stolen…so he's enacted a slight inflation to help me get back to work…"

Celathiel's interest was piqued. "The Duke? He buys potions here?"

"He buys potions here…man! He ordered fifty of 'em! All stolen by the dragon!"

The sorcerer laughed openly as he looked at the hole in the window – if a dragon had come to steal the goods, the entire front of the shop would have been ripped off…the shop would have been burned to cinders.

"I'm tellin' ya…it was a dragon. But it was odd…like, only seven or eight feet tall…but it spit fire! Stood on two legs, too…weirdest thing I ever saw. Look, I got customers, if you don't believe me, check the town's records department across the river," he said, ushering Celathiel out the door. At the town's records department, Celathiel hit another brick wall.

"Oh, potion robbery incident reports? Yeah, I can get you those reports…" a fat hag behind the desk squeaked nasally. "It'll take…oh, about six to eight weeks, is that good for you?"

The young sorcerer closed his eyes with frustration. "No…" he said, leaving the department to meet back in room fourteen. The two weeks they had agreed on were almost up; they needed to decide a course of action.

"Chase the dragon," Barakus said after Celathiel brought his five acquaintances back up to speed.

"Where there are baby dragons, there are generally larger dragons. I vote against…" Illonel said.

Krougu chimed in, attempting to defend Barakus' motives. "I'm inclined to agree with Barakus. We find the Duke's potions, we have a free audience with him, we casually ask about the head mage…"

"What about the head mage?" Furrius said, shaking his head vigorously. He really needed to pay more attention during those long, boring sermons that the robed man gave…

"Yes, but what if that's all it turns out to be? We give him the potions, and he sends us on our way? Then it was a waste…and, might I add, I don't feel like being crushed beneath the clawed talons of a dragon…"

"Dragon…" Barakus insisted, gripping his dagger tightly.

"Barakus, the group has surmised-" Furrius attempted to reason with his friend.

"That you are STUPID," Illonel finished his sentence for him.

"Fuck you," Barakus shot back, slouching back in his chair. He idly spun his dagger on his leg, now knowing that he wouldn't get to plunge it deep into the heart of a baby dragon anytime soon…

"Guys, I think it's a half-dragon. Two legs, breathes fire, scaly skin…doesn't sound like a baby dragon to me…" Sic said, perusing his deep knowledge of nature's creatures. "Even so, I also vote against death."

"Then it's settled – the diplomats of the group can go to the Duke's manor and request a meeting with him – it couldn't hurt, right?" Furrius suggested.