Blind Devotion

by dnd4evr

While on the run from a haunting past, a half-orc warlock finds himself the chance companion of a blind elf doctor. Despite her quirks, he finds great comfort in her company, and the two make fast friends...even if their enemies are never far behind. All original characters that are HIGHLY INSPIRED by the cast of Critical Role.

11. Cold Trails

Jayce raced down the stairs, the plate still precariously balanced in his arms out of habit. As soon as he arrived at the bottom, he turned far too quickly, and the plate of food clattered noisily to the floor as he swore in embarrassment. Of course, this had the added effect of nearly the whole room turning toward him, and he capitalized on the attention.

"Dahlia's gone!"

Al rolled his eyes and spoke up first. "She could be using the restroom."

Jayce couldn't believe how stupid that sounded. "First off, her door was open. She never leaves it open. Second, her bag was still there. She never leaves behind her bag. Third, her tools were a fuckin' mess. When has she ever left her things like that?!"

The argument was far more than they could ignore, and Al jumped up from his seat. "Gauth, check the back alley, and Zoe, follow me outside! Jayce, talk to the people in here, find out who saw what. The asshole might still be nearby!"

Gauth launched himself up from the table and practically pulled a shocked Zoe from her seat as he passed, and the three of them raced outside. Jayce turned toward the bar just in time to nearly trip over Bera, who had run up to him in the chaos.

"I can help!"

"Fuck!" Jayce yelped, but he kept his footing. As Bera was just about as tall as his hip, he felt awkward talking down to her, so he kneeled to look her in the eye and cleared his throat. She looked determined and intense.

"Please, if ya got anythin' that can help, you gotta tell me. She's bein' hunted by some assholes who wanna fuckin' break her. I can't let that happen," he begged.

Bera's eyes never wavered in their intensity. "As you guys were eating, I saw a man in a dark cloak head upstairs. I didn't get a chance to head him off, as I was busy delivering food and drinks, but I noticed, well, almost didn't notice when he came back down." Bera glanced over to the stairs and then to the door. "Thing is, that's not normal. I see everything that happens in this place. I would bet you my whole damn bag, and I love my bag, that he was using magic to avoid notice. That's, as you would say, fucking suspicious."

"Did he have anyone with him?" Jayce asked, and he let some of his desperation fall into his voice.

Bera shook her head. "I have no idea. I could barely keep my eyes on him for more than half a mite. However, that makes me think he did have someone with him, and he didn't want me to notice."

"Can you describe him?"

Bera shook her head and sighed. "No. As much as I tried, I could barely see him. Actually...why am I smelling peppermint?"

Jayce, confused, took in a few sniffs to try and catch the culprit. A soft waft of peppermint oil tickled his nose, and he suddenly remembered the room.

"Her room was practically choked with the stuff; probably brought some down when I ran," Jayce explained. "She used somethin' with that stuff on a friend of mine, but it was fuckin' strong upstairs."

Bera's eyes widened with an idea. "By the W-Lawbearer, your friend is brilliant! If she managed to get that smell on this culprit, then we can track the smell, whether or not they've got magic to keep our attention off them! You stay here; I'm off to find a dog!"

Bera raced off, only pausing to inform a regular at the bar of her plan, and disappeared out the door into the brisk noon sunlight outside. Jayce immediately began to fidget as he was worried and he did not want to wait for anything; he very much wanted to be doing something to find Dahlia.

Doubt immediately began to creep into his mind. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe she was just off to relieve the call of nature. But then, what about her tools? She was always tidy, and by necessity. Dahlia couldn't just toss things around because she had to know exactly where they were to find them again. That desk was a mess. That wasn't like her.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced something was wrong. He couldn't stand it any longer and started darting around the room, asking anyone who would listen if they saw anything that could help. Unsurprisingly, no one had anything useful, but he garnered a lot of sympathy from increasingly anxious patrons.

Al rushed back in, and gave a short whistle to grab Jayce's attention. Jayce briefly thanked the man he was speaking to and jogged over to the doorway, where Al was standing.

"Anything?" Jayce asked, clearly more desperate by the minute.

"Against the odds, yes," Al smiled. "Found a witness who saw someone shoving something suspicious in a large barrel, and, here's the part that stuck out, there was a Shield of the Plains helping him!"

"What the fuck?" Jayce's face screwed up in disgusted shock. "The Shields are involved?!"

"At least a corrupted one, and Zoe's tracking him. I came in to grab you and swing around back for Gauth. Think Jonathan will be okay?"

Jayce shook his head in frustration. "Let the man sleep. Let's go- Fuck! That halfling woman said she's got a lead, and she'll be back soon. Dammit. I gotta stay."

Al immediately looked annoyed. "This lead will not last, Jayce!"

"I know-!"

Bera raced into the tavern and immediately slowed to a dazed and sauntering walk before she shook her head violently to clear it. "Damn door-! Ah! There you are! I brought a friend!"

Attached to a leather cord in her hand was a fluffy golden retriever who was panting from both the jog and excitement. Jayce immediately looked relieved.

"A...dog," Al sighed, clearly unimpressed. "Why?"

Bera crossed her arms and looked smug. "Because your friend smacked her assailant with peppermint oil, and this sweetheart of a fluffer boy can track a falcon from almost a mile away. Meet Ralphye!"

Ralphye barked with joyful anticipation, his tail wagging hard enough to shake his hips. Al looked unconvinced, but he conceded the point.

"Fine. Let's go. Lead the way, uh, Ralphye," Al grunted.

Bera shook her head. "You go. I need to take Ralphye upstairs to get the scent. If all goes well, we'll meet up in a bit. Good luck!"

Now with permission, Jayce and Al raced outside and quickly collected Gauth from behind the building. The increasingly frustrated goliath was unable to find anything, despite his efforts, and was more than willing to join in more fruitful endeavours. Once back on the street, Al led the way toward Zoe's last known direction, and despite the chaos of the midday street, easily picked her out as she flailed her arms and pointed from her vantage point on top of a nearby two-story building. With a signal of thanks, Al led Gauth and Jayce in that direction, and landed at a small eatery with outdoor seating, where, unfortunately, seven Shields of the Plains were eating lunch together. Their conversation of local idiots and how they got arrested was garnering plenty of laughs among them.

"Great. Which one is it?" Jayce hissed under his breath.

Al shrugged. "Unfortunately, no clue. All we managed to get was a witness statement, and all they said was 'Shield of the Plains'."

"Think Zoe pegged one?" Jayce asked. He glanced over at Zoe's perch, but she was already gone. Hopefully she had planned to join them.

"I hope so…" Al grumbled. He kept thinking back to Jayce's comment the night before about the men who wanted to break Dahlia. Had they found her? His imagination plagued him with images of Dahlia, bones broken and limbs at odd angles, in a pool of her own blood. He silently prayed he was wrong.

Zoe jogged up just as Gauth almost charged forward, and Jayce and Al both jumped in front of the determined giantkin in time to stop him.

"Whoa whoa whoa! What's the plan here?!" Al yelped. "Please tell me you aren't going to grab one and try to slam him into the others!"

"That was the plan," Gauth growled. "They took our healer."

"One of them took Dahlia," Jayce cut in. "We can't assume they're all crooked!"

Zoe spat a humorless laugh and crossed her arms. "Considering what I've seen, they're all as bent as a shepherd's crook. I say we start throwing fists until they start throwing answers."

Gauth, grave and angry, nodded in agreement.

"Against seven guards in full plate?!" Jayce tensed his fists in frustration and nearly continued the comment with a far less friendly phrase, but he tamped down his temper and locked Gauth's gaze with his own. "We need to be smart about this. There's enough of them that, even if we take them on, at least one's gonna get out; They get back to the Margrave, and that makes us enemies of Westruun, which runs us off the street. We can't search for Dahlia if we're on the run ourselves."

Gauth hissed through his teeth and stomped off a few feet to seethe under his breath. Jayce breathed a sigh of relief before he turned back to Al and Zoe. Both were tense, but in different ways; It was clear Al felt anxious, while Zoe felt a temper that was clearly on a very short fuse.

If he didn't play this right, he could easily see that a fight would break out anyway.

Jayce bit his lip and rubbed his face in frustration. He had to think of something, fast, because he couldn't trust the others to come up with anything peaceful. He turned to the others. "Look, it's obvious we gotta talk to 'em, but it can't be me. So-"

"Wait, why the hell not?" Al asked. "You're the best talker we've got!"

Jayce, glaring at Al in disbelief, motioned across the front of his body. "Have you fuckin' looked at me lately?! I barely got out of Margrave's Keep alive; I ain't about to cross the Shields!"

"Then just do what you did there!" Zoe cut in. "Use that spell of yours to change your skin color and eyes. Problem solved. Now get in there and find our girl!"

Jayce glanced at his hand. He didn't know if he had a limit to that particular power, and he had already used it twice that day. Would he really be okay to cast it again? After all, he felt fine, but if it cut out on him early, or simply didn't take, he'd have to rely on Al, Zoe, or Gauth to speak for him. That almost seemed like the worse option.

"Alright, fine, say I go in with a 'new look'," Jayce grunted, emphasized by a pair of air quotes just to drive home the point, "what the fuck am I gonna ask?! 'Hey, folks! Any chance you cockheads shoved a full grown woman into a barrel recently? No? Great! Good day!' Gonna go over real well."

"Well, obviously you'll have to be subtle!" Zoe spat. "Maybe ask if any of them have helped a merchant load wares recently, or something!"

Jayce rubbed at his temples. As apprehensive as he was, Zoe was definitely on to something. The question was how to manipulate the conversation in a favorable direction. Could he bring up the mint? No, that would be too unique; it would stand out. What if he asked specifically about Dahlia being missing? No accusations, of course, but as a concerned citizen looking for a friend. If he was vigilant about it, their faces should tell him everything he wanted to know.

With a sigh of resignation, Jayce nodded and tapped a hand to his chest. Again, his skin took on a tanned, toasted coconut look and his eyes became a human blue. Al sputtered into a cough and turned away, thoroughly embarrassed that his face was probably as red as a beet in that moment. Thankfully, he was practiced at hiding things, and so all he garnered was confused expressions from everyone except Gauth, who was finally calming down.

"Right… So, y'all watch their faces while I'm talkin'. Any of 'em grimace or look nervous, that's who we gotta track when they leave." Jayce took a second to steady himself and get into character again. He cracked his knuckles out of nervousness. He hesitated long enough that Zoe shoved her shoulder into his back to force him forward toward the seven guards in full plate armor sharing a meal. Their laughter quickly died as Jayce barely caught his footing before nearly crashing into the edge of their table, and to avoid an argument, he quickly hopped back a step and awkwardly cleared his throat into his fist.

"Good afternoon, sirs!" Jayce said brightly. Immediately, one of the Shields took on a sour face, and Jayce quickly realized he had completely missed one of them was female. "And madam," he added awkwardly. The Shield at the end of the table nodded her approval. They waited expectantly as he fought against every instinct he had to avoid people in constabulary positions. "I was hopin' you fair folk would be able to help me; a friend of mine went missin' barely an hour ago, 'bout my size, elven woman, green eyes, black hair. She just got ordained by the church today. Please, she ain't the type to go wanderin' off; she's blind, and new to the city."

One of the men rolled his eyes and turned to Jayce. "Let me get this straight; You want us, the Shields of the Plains, sworn protectors of the citizens of Westruun, to care about some random traveler who happened to cross paths with some bad luck? We have enough trouble as it is without listening to every Harry Hardluck sharing a sob story. Get lost."

Jayce gritted his teeth through a smile and fought his knee-jerk desire to snap something less than polite at them. He had to keep prodding, and hopefully one of the others would spot something.

"Surely you ain't the type to go ignorin' the plea of a well-meanin' bloke," Jayce said kindly. "My friend an' I were involved in savin' the Margrave, just the night before. We may not be citizens of Westruun, but we care for the order of law here, same as you."

"Wait, that was you?" a younger Shield piped up at the end of the table. "Prove it."

Jayce quickly thought over the events of last night. He glanced over at Gauth, who was still standing off to the side by Al and Zoe. He pointed to his friend and looked back at the guards.

"See that guy over there? That goliath was there that night; he's got the same scars on his arm as the one seen by the Margrave. I can take it one step further." Jayce held out his hand and concentrated on that strange fire that would appear when he was angry. He could feel the magic prickle through the veins in his arm as his skin went deathly cold, and he winced as a tongue of blue, oily flame burst out of his palm and licked across his fingers in an unnaturally sustained burn.

"This was framin' that 'noble' that was talkin' to the Margrave, yeah? That was me. Apologies for the disguise, but I ain't the typical patron of the World Market, and the assassin wasn't waitin' for me to check my options."

The younger Shield at the end of the table, his eyes full of awe, nearly spoke, but he was cut off by a grizzled man in a scuffed and weathered suit of Westruun armor. "Wait a damned minute, 'sir'." He stood from his seat and advanced on Jayce, who took a nervous step back in response. "If that was you, you just admitted you lied then; how do we know you're not lying now? Any mage can summon a flame, and stories about last night are literally all over the damn place. It wouldn't be that hard to fake a story."

The guard's hand snapped out and grabbed Jayce's wrist before he could react, and despite Jayce's attempt to recoil, the guard's grip held firm.

"Besides, I had that 'noble' followed when I noticed he walked out of the Keep wearing a different face. Why don't you drop the disguise, orc spawn?"

Jayce's blood went cold as the Shields all scrambled up from their seats and grabbed for their weapons. He fought his own fear to take on a look of indignation. "That's some fuckin' thanks for savin' your boss, asshole! Let me go!"

The Shield yanked Jayce in close, growling in his face with such barely restrained rage that spittle was speckling his cheeks. "There's only one way you monsters walk this world, and it's a fucking travesty. So did your rapist of a father send you in to get close to the Margrave? You playing nice so the Ravagers don't eat your mother?"

A sudden strum of strings caught everyone's attention, and Bera hopped up on the far end of the table with an awkward, but clearly distracting, flourish as she continued to strum a lyre that she hooked on her hip as she played. Her gaze brushed across them all, suggestive and playful, until her eyes landed on the grizzly Shield that held Jayce's arm with dangerous intent.

"Good sir," she purred, her dark eyes half lidded and her tongue playing across her lip as she sashayed across the tabletop, "you must tell me your name. You look familiar to me. I must know if I know you from your deeds protecting this wonderful city."

The Shield of the Plains was completely caught off guard, and stammered at Bera, "Uh, Geof, Geoffry Kesev. Sergeant Geoffry Kesev."

Bera's voice went low, almost husky, as she continued to strum on her lyre. "Yes! Yes, I know you. You personally headed off the resistance against the Ravagers who snuck in through the Underwalk. It was your efforts that sent them packing back to the Bramblewood. Bravo, sir. We owe our lives to your instincts."

Bera turned to Jayce, as everyone's jaws were slack in the shock of the moment. "We should trust your judgement on this as well, Sir Kesev. Clearly this disguised man has ill intentions. You should release him to your colleague, here." She motioned to one of the men with a nod and a swing of her hips. "He will take this man to the Hall of Reason, and you will be free to spend your day as you had intended. After all, why subject yourself to menial work?"

Sergeant Kesev practically threw Jayce, by the wrist, into the table, where he only barely caught himself from going face first into the day's special stew. His muscles instantly thrummed with adrenaline and he lashed out with his elbow, which crunched directly into the jaw of the originally indicated Shield, who responded by swearing and cracking his armored fist into the back of Jayce's skull. Briefly dazed, Jayce was powerless to fight off the second armored man who came to the aid of the first, and he was swiftly manacled.

"I'm not some fuckin' spy! I genuinely need your help!" Jayce yelled. Speaking of help, where the hell was the rest of his team? Did they really abandon him? He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and the adrenaline was quickly twisting into rage. This was nothing new, and it wouldn't be the last time he would have to fight for his own survival from so-called "protectors of the innocent". He threw his shoulders around as he tried to throw off the two men who were pinning him to the table, and nearly got some leverage before he took another blow to the back of his head.

"Stop writhing like a stuck pig, you bloody tusk-face!" the first man spat. "It's bad enough you interrupted my lunch, and now you've got my face all bloodied and bruised. You're lucky you didn't knock loose a tooth, or I'd knock out those damn-!" The man grabbed a fist-full of Jayce's hair and yanked him back to glare at his face, only to realize his intended target was not what he expected. "You...Drop that damn spell before I bury a knife in your gut, greenskin. It's throwing me off."

Jayce was dazed from the repeated hits to his head but used his anger to keep himself coherent. With a glare, he managed a smirk, despite struggling to stand on his own. "How do you know your sergeant pegged me right? Maybe this is the real me."

"Bullshit," Sergeant Kesev grunted, and then spat to the side. "He won't be able to keep it up for the hour. Take him to the Hall of Reason, and it'll drop by then. If it doesn't, I'll pay his fees myself."

Grumbling, the Shield of the Plains hooked his hand in Jayce's manacled arm and yanked him along, and if Jayce hadn't caught his footing, would have dragged the poor man down the street. Jayce tried again to resist, this time by shoving his entire body into the Shield's side, but he had both the man's full weight and the weight of the full plate armor to contend with. To his credit, he almost knocked the man off balance, but his best attempt was not quite enough to throw him off his footing.

Instead, the Shield turned and body slammed Jayce into the nearest wall, pulled off his namesake heater shield emblazoned with the crest of Westruun, and pinned Jayce to the wall by hooking the top edge of the shield just under Jayce's chin.

"You try that shit again," the guard growled, his teeth bloody and bared and his eyes dark with rage, "and I will make you walk on bloody stumps all the way to the Hall. You understand all that, or do I need to use smaller words?"

So many plans were racing through his mind. A bolt of energy through the man's eye, a cloud of poison in the man's face, a flaming weapon aparating right in the man's gut...if only his arms weren't shackled behind his back, as he couldn't figure out how to get the magic to flow through him without moving at least his hands. He had no choice but to submit as, even with the leather armor under his coat, it was getting hard to breathe with the guard's full weight pressing on him. As much as he hated it, he had to yield.

Glaring, he released the thread of magic that held the magical disguise in place, and narrowed his eyes at the guard, even as he nodded his submission. The guard was satisfied, but clearly perturbed enough that his own rage had left him. He released Jayce from the wall, and Jayce did his best to hide a much needed gasp of air.

With a rough yank of Jayce's arm, the Shield pulled Jayce into a nearby alleyway, as a shortcut between streets. Jayce was immediately on edge, and worried he was being dragged away to be beaten to death while there were no witnesses to disprove whatever story the Shield was likely thinking up. Instead, he was thrown into a brick wall as the Shield cried out in alarm.

Confused, he glanced up to see the Shield struggle to pull his own weapon, a short sword, as Al's daggers were flashing furiously across the man's armor. Instantly, Ralphye, just a yard behind them on the street, dropped into an aggressive stance, hackles raised, and charged, leaping at the Shield at the sound of a harsh whistle in two short bursts. The Shield's exposed arm, partway through the motion of retrieving his weapon, was too good of a target to pass up, and Ralphye's jaw clamped down on the exposed leather just below the forearm bracer. His body twisted violently as the man started to scream in panic and pain as Ralphye's jaw began to be coated with pink foam as he growled.

Gauth loomed out of the shadows of that alley and slammed his fist into the Shield's chest, practically bouncing him off the far wall from the force. Ralphye stubbornly held on and kicked out, twisting the wound on the man's arm ever more viciously. As the Shield returned to the center of the alley, Zoe came flying from over Gauth's shoulder, her eyes as steely and cold as the frozen surface of a black ocean. Her foot landed on the man's collar, and before her companions could blink, she had kicked him back into the wall, flipped back onto her back foot, and struck him twice in his barely exposed neck with her jabbing hands.

His body was silent as the Shield hit the ground.

"That's how you do it, you morons! The dog did more damage than-" Zoe glanced at her shaking hands and twisted away, as she gripped her arms. She felt slimy. She didn't know how to describe it beyond her soul had somehow reached out and shook hands with an utter garbage can of a human being. Somehow, when she struck him, she made a connection, but what was it? It was over too quickly to know.

Bera made a point to ignore her. "Who's my favorite fluffer pup in the whole wide world? Yes you are! Yes you are!" she squealed, fluffing up Ralphye's cheeks as she booped the dog's nose with her own, despite the blood all over the poor animal's muzzle. Ralphye, pleased to know he had been a good boy, was panting from the exertion and thumping his tail into the dirt path between the buildings, where they currently stood. He liked his master's tiny friend very much, and accepted her offering of rosemary herbed jerky very readily as soon as she offered it.

"So," she smiled, as she wiped her hands off on the repurposed apron she still wore from the Sleeping Sage, "how's our demoiselle in distress? You get beat up enough on the way here to knock some sense into you? I thought it was pretty clear that me literally jumping in the middle of all that was enough of a clue that I was trying to help."

Bera cocked a hip and crossed her arms as she turned to Jayce, who was sitting on the ground, right where he had been thrown against the wall, slack jawed and in shock at what he just saw. She couldn't help but laugh at his expression.

"Gods above, your face right now!" she wheezed as she held her stomach. "Let me know when you recover. Hey! Uh, you're…" she snapped her fingers as she tried to remember. "Um...you…?"

"Al," Al responded. He barely paused his attempt to determine if the man was still breathing, and was continually reminded that they really needed their medicinal specialist, Dahlia, back as soon as possible. He had no idea how to check if that man was on Death's doorstep or not. "What?"

Bera hopped over and leaned in enough to peek at what he was doing, and her small stature as a halfling didn't even impede Gauth's curious view. "How's he look? Alive enough to interrogate at the Sleeping Sage?"

Al sighed heavily and glanced at Zoe, who still looked as if someone had just dipped her in a vat of slugs and her skin was still crawling. "No idea. She hit him pretty...pointedly. I'm honestly not sure my blades would've done that much damage. Sure, I haven't seen her fight that much, but I've never seen her fight that fast either. And, ugh, at his neck."

Al rubbed his own neck out of sympathy. Just the thought of those three rapid-fire strikes right across that man's throat made his own feel squeezed.

"Are we taking him back or disposing a body?" Gauth asked gravely.

Bera shivered. "We're taking him back. As far as I can tell, he's still alive, and once he's awake, we'll start asking questions."

"How- How'd you know it was him?" Jayce suddenly cut in, having finally recovered. "And can somebody get my fuckin' hands free?!"

"Keep your shirt on!" Zoe snapped, and she rifled through the Shield's belt pouches to look for the keys to the shackles. It took some fumbling, but she yanked out a keyring. "There. Found it."

"As for how we knew it was him," Bera smirked, "Ralphye parked his tush right next to the bloke as soon as that old fart started chewing you out. He was following the mint, so whatever magic that kidnapper used to keep himself from being detected, it thankfully didn't keep the smell from passing to that ill-bred glob that helped him."

"Well, pardon me for bein' fuckin' distracted," Jayce mumbled. Zoe clicked the correct key in the lock after the third try and finally freed Jayce from the shackles. Jayce nodded in thanks and rubbed his rather sore wrists. "I did think it was rather strange you all up and leavin' like the fog come high noon. I thought it was pretty obvious I needed help."

"Nah, you had that handled," Al grinned. "Gauth, you find a barrel this guy will fit in?"

Gauth tipped over a barrel that was no longer filled with pickled fish some distance down the alley and rolled it back. "Not with his armor. We will have to leave it."

Al grimaced. "That's really the biggest one you could find?"

Gauth rolled his eyes. "They are all the same, but this one smells bad. He will wake up smelling like sour fish."

"Eh, can't fault the logic," Bera giggled. "Okay, you guys help me get him out of the armor, and I'll keep an eye out to make sure no more of those Shields are between us and the tavern, deal? I gotta clean up this little pupper anyway. Him walking around with a face like that is bound to get us in trouble."

No one could fault her. She took off the apron she had repurposed as a skirt to clean Ralphye's face and then stuffed it in a pouch rather than put it back on. She managed to be so incredibly thorough with Ralphye's face that Jayce, Zoe, Al, and Gauth had nearly managed to completely strip the guard down to his undergarments by the time she joined them.

"Oh! Looks like all that's left is his gloves! I'll get that," Bera said sweetly, the very picture of enthusiastic help. Not even Gauth was fooled, and he made no effort to save her from the sloshing juice left in the barrel when they tipped the man inside.

"Ugh! That's rank!" she gagged and recoiled from splash, and narrowly avoided being marked by the fluid. "You had to pick the one with the lutefisk, didn't you?!"

Gauth shrugged. "I don't even know what that is."

"Trust me, you don't want to," Bera grumbled. "I have never met a lutefisk I liked. Back to the Sleeping Sage!"

"I trust you ain't gonna want us to set up shop in a room, what with all the pickled personage we're luggin' around," Jayce smirked, as Gauth easily hoisted the barrel over his shoulder, and then promptly dropped it right behind him. Zoe and Al dove for the barrel and managed to perfectly but awkwardly cushion its fall, preventing any damage to the container or its occupant. Gauth then apologetically lifted it again and braced it with both arms, held in front, instead of on his shoulder. Bera watched all of this beyond Jayce's hip with deep amusement.

"Uh, sorry, what?" she asked, and Jayce clearly caught her eye line struggle to meet his. He smiled gently.

"Just thankin' ya for offerin' the cellar. Good idea, keepin' potential screamin' away from the customers, and that damn awful smell too. Can't be good for that beautiful bouquet you and the barkeep got set up. Who is a lovely lady, I must say."

"Oh! Right, yeah, that was a good idea. Yeah," Bera said, although something felt off. That sounded like something she would have said, but did she actually say that? Then again, his friends had been awfully distracting just a moment ago.

Besides, it was a good idea. Of course it was hers.

xXxXx

"Bera Galpsi Brewpack!"

Bera winced hard enough to nearly stumble back a step, but Jayce kneeled down and placed a hand on her shoulder. Unsurprisingly, the cellar's outer door had been locked, and the spare key was in the kitchen. Jayce had offered to assist in grabbing it, once Bera mentioned Benne liked to stash it on very high shelves, specifically to discourage some of her shorter patrons from making off with it.

Perhaps she actually meant Bera.

Benne was standing at the bar, her arms crossed and her expression livid. "There are nineteen bottles of ale missing on the shelf. Should I take a look behind the bar and see if anything else was pilfered while you were running around town and not doing your job?!"

"Thanks a lot, Radcliffe," Bera hissed at a pink-nosed older man who was practically a fixture by the fireplace. Despite Bera's angry expression, Radcliffe hoisted his mug with a cheerful smile and downed whatever was left in the container.

"In her defense, ma'am," Jayce said earnestly as he rose to his feet, "there weren't much time to look for a barkeep." He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. Some gut feeling told him swearing and embellishing would be a bad idea, so he did his best to keep it to a minimum as he appealed to the owner of the Sleeping Sage. "You already know we ain't the type to tell tall tales, so keep that in mind when I say this; one of my friends was abducted straight outta the rooms upstairs. We figure the, uh, miscreant used some sorta misdirection magic to make it hard t' track 'em, but my friend ain't yer run o' the mill traveler; she's damn smart, and marked the man with a smell so fu-strong the magic couldn't hide all of it. Problem was, it hid enough that our noses did almost nothin', so yer hired hand offered t' help before what little remained of the trail went cold. We got a solid lead, all thanks to her, and if it pans out, we may get our friend back alive."

The room went quiet as the free entertainment played out before them, and Benne's freckled features softened as she watched Jayce plead for his friend.

"Lawbearer's mercy," she breathed as a hand drifted to rest over her heart. A whirlwind visit with her best friend had confirmed the half-orc's previous story, and the man's additional effort to be civil won her over. "We'll talk in the kitchens, sir. Bera, watch the bar, and we'll discuss the missing merchandise when I'm done talking to this one."

"Yes, Miss Loydaye," Bera wheezed. As Jayce passed her to walk behind the bar, he glanced down at the little halfling woman, and beneath Bera's dark curls, she nodded a grateful and relieved "thank you." Jayce smiled in return and walked on, into the kitchen of the Sleeping Sage.

The kitchen was well stocked and smelled even stronger than the front, but a strong scent of vinegar began to tickle Jayce's nose as he dodged the cooks, a half-elf man and a human man, who were swapping jokes as quickly as they were swapping knives and hot pans. As they passed, Benne didn't even flinch as a cleaver came worryingly close to nipping at her ear. The half-elf joked that the human would have his wages cut if he had actually struck their boss, to which the other responded that he would have most likely been the next roast on the fire instead. They both laughed, and Jayce was very glad to make it past them in one piece.

"Don't mind them. I'd make excuses, but I don't have any for those two," Benne sighed. "They're good cooks, and we have regulars specifically because of them. The fact that they work well together is practically gold in this business."

"I can imagine," Jayce mumbled, and he fought the urge to clear his throat or cough. The acrid smell was getting worse. "No offense, ma'am, but what the hell is that...smell back here? My eyes're startin' t' water."

"That," Benne said darkly, "is my lab."

Jayce stopped dead on his heel in shock. "Your what?!"

"This is why I never let anyone in the cellar, good sir. You can investigate your lead in here, under my supervision. I already know about your friends out back, because they set off my magical alarm. Thankfully, they haven't figured out the lock. I'm glad they're the patient type."

Benne touched the doorframe and traced a glowing blue symbol that looked almost like a trident, but with two horizontal marks across its base, before she tapped it twice and whispered a word Jayce couldn't hope to catch as he sneezed at the worst possible time. She smirked as he desperately tried to stop his eyes from watering as the door swung open silently.

"At least I don't have to worry about you breaking in," Benne snickered. "Now, about Bera-"

"Look, ma'am, I ain't the kind of bloke to do wrong by those who do right by me," Jayce said quickly as he almost chased Benne into the room. It was dark and, amazingly, smelled somewhat less like a vinegar factory which was an absolute relief that Jayce was not about to question. "You tell me the extent of Bera's transgressions, I'll pay 'em in full. For once in my life, I got the coin t' spare, and if there's a time to use it, it's this."

"I can eat the losses," Benne sighed. She petted a hanging globe and several similar orbs began to glow softly with white light, revealing shelves upon shelves of strange bottles and boxes, ichors and oils, tomes and tinctures that were so mysterious Jayce refused to guess why they were stored there. There were the more typical kegs and crates that belonged in a tavern, and very clearly labeled, but they were also clearly in the minority and shoved against the back wall.

"The part that I find unacceptable is that my haven, my home away from home, has been violated by a third party, and your friend is the victim of that heathen defiling my unwritten promise to every man, woman, and child that walks through my front doors," Benne hissed. She began grabbing bottles and small boxes and spread them out on a small table next to an equally small copper pot on a portable burner. "If the blow to my reputation is minimized, then nearly a score of ale bottles is a small price to pay. Now, I believe...I have what I need for a rather, shall we say, motivating truth serum, so let's call in your friends, shall we?"

Benne stepped away to open the only other door, at the top of a short set of stairs, in the exact same way as the previous door. If it was sealed by magic, that would explain why Bera always had trouble finding the key. Jayce, once again, tried to subtly listen in for the code word, but by the time he had finished looking over the sheer number of ingredients on the table that had the word "acid" on the label, she had already finished the spell. Jayce hissed a swear under his breath as the door creaked open and a crisp breeze of cold air swept in from outside.

"Finally!" Zoe huffed, as she shoved past Benne. "Took you long- ...This...Where the hell are we?! I thought this was the cellar to the Sleeping Sage!"

"It is," Benne sighed as she brushed her blouse back into place. "It is also my lab. And, if your friend here is to be believed, some bastard has defiled my tavern and I want compensation, be that by blood or bile. Where's the 'lead' you have?"

Al, horrified, looked over at Jayce from his position just behind Zoe. "What the hell did you tell her?"

"I swear I never mentioned the lead was a man," Jayce winced.

Gauth ducked far just to squeeze into the stairwell of the cellar and had to sit on the steps just to have the room sit comfortably. He placed the barrel at the bottom of the stairs as Benne stepped over to it and brushed her fingertips over the lid.

"You didn't have to. You wouldn't be regrouping here, midafternoon, for a lead you could potentially follow. I assumed it was a lead you would have to interrogate." She motioned for Gauth to open the barrel. "If you would, sir."

"Should we even bother with names, or should we keep this all as cloak-n-dagger as possible?" Zoe smirked.

"I could always just check the register," Benne grinned. "Might as well tell me now before we potentially tell your victim here."

"I am Gauth, that is Zoe, that is Al, and that is Jayce," Gauth cut in before anyone else could object. "And you are the lady who owns the tavern."

"Benne Loydaye," Benne smiled. "Thank you. Gauth, please open the barrel."

Gauth nodded and easily popped it open with a rather significant thud of his fist along the edge. All of them, except Benne, nearly winced when the pungent smell of lye pickled fish smacked across their faces, but the man inside was still unconscious.

"...You idiots," Benne hissed. She ducked a hand into the barrel and pressed her fingers against the man's neck, just below the side of his jaw. "He nearly asphyxiated in the barrel! If we're lucky- Shit! You better hope this man wakes up, or this just got a whole lot more complicated!"

"I just thought the stink would be funny," Gauth mumbled.

Benne pulled a small vial from a pocket hidden inside her apron and popped it open. An absolutely awful, rank smell wafted by Al, who was standing next to her, as she leaned over to wave the vial under the man's nose.

"Ugh!" Al gagged. "What the hell is that?"

"Smelling salts. Now shut up and let me work!" Benne snarled. "Now wake up, you pitiful excuse for a skin bag of meat and gristle…!"

"I ain't sure I'll be eatin' here again," Jayce mumbled under his breath.

The man did not even stir, and Benne howled an absolutely cacophonous curse inviting mayhem and disease upon the next seven generations of his family as she shoved the barrel hard enough to nearly slam the side of it into Gauth's gut. Despite his surprise, Gauth grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

"This rage is good, but not like this. Make it help you, not hurt us," Gauth said simply. He nodded to the table. "That looks full. What's there?"

Benne threw off Gauth's arm, but it was clear the only reason she was free was because he let her go. "That was set up for a truth serum, which only works if the person is awake. It does bupkis if the person is in a fucking coma."

"Well, that's...fuck." Zoe dropped her head into her hand. "I knew I hit him too hard."

"It was probably a combination of that, and trapping him in a barrel filled with lye water," Benne hissed. "Pull him out and let's make sure he still has all his fingers and toes."

The angle was awkward, but Gauth grabbed the man by the nape of his neck and lifted him out of the barrel, and it was clear the exposed skin that had been in contact with the barrel sides and begun to develop rashes. Benne nodded, but did nothing else as she turned back to her table of jars and tomes.

With that done, the others helped Gauth maneuver the man to rest on top of a few crates hastily arranged for a make-shift table. At that point, any whiff of mint was well and truly gone, and all that remained was the metallic smell of what had been in that pickling barrel, but that did not mean the body was bereft of clues. Everyone who could do so poured over it as Benne lent herself to her mysterious work, and they found many callouses and scars, but seemingly nothing helpful.

"Gods above, I wish my brother was here," Zoe groaned as she leaned on the crates. "He could always see the connections. As far as I can tell, we're looking at a slob who happened to work for the Margrave."

"A corrupt one," Al cut in. "Look here, this ring? It's iron, right?"

"So?" Zoe asked. "Iron's cheap. Maybe he's got a girl, or some sort of brotherhood or something-"

Al shook his head. "No. If he's corrupt, he's likely got contacts with the underground societies, and if he's got that, he's going to need a way to talk to them without getting killed on sight. Check the ring."

Jayce, closest to that hand, obliged and removed the ring. Initially, it seemed like nothing more important than a plain iron band, but inside, it was etched to be the pattern of a fastened belt, wrapped around a small turret tower opposite from the belt buckle. It looked worn, but it was still visible as the light caught the etching.

"The fuck?" Jayce asked, mostly under his breath as he twisted it in the light to catch the pattern more clearly. Zoe easily snapped it out of his hands and looked at it herself, and Jayce responded by smacking her shoulder. She gave him a momentary glare before she studied the inscription.

Gauth patiently waited his turn. He doubted he could add anything to the conversation at this point.

"Okay, so, mysterious pattern inside the ring. Very suspicious," Zoe huffed as she rolled her eyes. "What's it mean, genius?"

"Hard to say if I can't see it," Al grunted. He held out his hand for the ring, and Zoe reluctantly handed it over. Wordlessly, Al looked it over. "Right, this is...ugh, a stupid pun on the Clasp. It's a fastened belt, so it's 'clasped', right? And this, on this end, is a Dragonchess piece. It's a rook. Rook is the name the Clasp gives to the representative they've got in charge of the bent Shields on payroll. This guy answers to Rook, so, show the ring, he gets access to Clasp perks without getting shanked and tossed in the cistern."

"You...know a lot about this," Zoe said softly, her eyes narrow. "Why."

Al didn't even flinch and locked eyes with her. "A good rogue has contacts from all walks of life, not just the clean ones. Really seemed to help us here, didn't it?"

That seemed to assuage them, but truthfully, his knuckles were white under his cloak. He hated being beholden to the Clasp. He'd have to send a letter to his mother soon.

"So, if I'm hearin' this right, we take this ring, and, figurin' this piece of shit's worthless to us now, we find Rook, we can find somethin' useful, yeah?" Jayce asked.

"That's the backup plan," Al said with a nod. "Hopefully Miss Loydaye's got something we can use."

"Speaking of," Zoe cut in as she tossed the ring and easily caught it, "Miss Loydaye, do you need any help over there?"

"Just some quiet, please," was the response, with Benne's back toward them. Her hands were working deftly across her workspace, continually adding things to the copper pot off to the side as a bright orange flame crackled underneath. "Although I wouldn't mind borrowing your giant. Gauth, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Gauth said politely.

Benne pointed to a large, nearly gallon-bucket-sized mortar to her right, which rested on a barrel of something that was only labeled "booze". "I'm dedicating some of my more rare ingredients to this cause, so I need them finely ground, and I don't have the strength for it. I need a powder so fine it is nearly paste. Can you do that for me?"

Gauth nodded and pulled the mortar into his lap, where the pestle rattled around several green crystals that looked almost like surprisingly clear soda-lime glass, rather than a natural mineral. With a shrug, Gauth took the heavy pestle and began grinding the crystals down to a finer and finer particulate, until finally the powder began to cake and stick to itself. His nose began to burn, even though he could smell nothing, and he could catch sparkles dancing through the air that settled on his skin.

"I'm done, but, what is this? My nose itches," Gauth winced as his nose twitched.

"We met hours ago; that barely makes us acquaintances," Benne said flatly. "Suffice to say it's expensive, and I appreciate the work you've done."

She looked inside the large mortar and smiled with a nod, and once it was replaced on the original barrel, she began to scoop measured cupfuls into the same copper pot. Since there was little else to do, the others watched Benne with increasing fascination as the concoction took on a smell of allspice and rancid oil, with a hint of peat moss and petrichor, and began to glow a deep, almost imperceptible red.

Jayce cleared his throat to avoid catching Benne off guard and potentially causing an issue with her work. "I ain't typically the type to be interested in alchemy, but somethin' tells me that ain't a truth serum."

"You're correct," Benne said cooly as she began to decant the fluid into a crystal jar with a twisted neck. It never settled, continually pulling into itself as if some sort of pearlescent fog was caught in a perpetual implosion. She held it up to the light, and it glimmered like fresh blood.

"This, my unlikely companions, should be a draught that can transfer memories from one target to another." She looked over all of them and grimaced. "Unfortunately, none of you seem to have the acumen to withstand the results."

"The, uh, wait, are you sure you have the right word?" Zoe stammered. "Don't you mean like fortitude or something?"

Benne shook her head. "No. You need to be able to parse your own memories from the target's, likely while under duress. You'll be making judgement calls against two sets of backgrounds. You will need to stay true to your core being without being contaminated by an alien mind. Can any of you do this?"

They all exchanged worried looks. It sounded like a tall order for any of them.

Benne nodded, satisfied. "That's what I thought. I'll be taking the draught, and relaying the information to you-"

"My brother could do it."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Benne looked over them all. "The...You can't mean the young man who was barely conscious when you dragged him in here on your arm."

Zoe crossed her arms and nodded. "That one. Mind sharper than any else I've seen. If anyone could keep their thoughts separate from a weird entity, it would be him." She withered slightly as she glanced toward the inner doorway. "Problem is, he's...in the middle of one of his headaches right now. He might be a bit hard to convince."

"Then you can move as soon as he's ready, but I had the impression you couldn't afford to be patient in all this," Benne hissed. "Regardless, giant, hold him down, in case he thrashes. I don't know how this will affect him, beyond what it's supposed to do."

"You really sound sure of yourself," Al grumbled sarcastically.

Benne tipped the unconscious man's head back and smirked at Al. "The theory is sound, and you're all desperate enough to test it for me. Now, everyone, grab a limb."

Unsure of how to react, they did as they were told, and Benne poured the fluid down the man's throat. Immediately, the body convulsed, limbs thrashed, and several of them cried out in shock and alarm. Benne called out for them to hold, to keep him still, until she spotted something in the man's ear, and twisted his head to the side. As she did so, a white liquid, as thick as syrup, flowed from his ear and into the emptied jar. Within seconds, the body was still...and the eyes gave a sickening squelch as they fell back into the now empty skull of the once living Shield of the Plains.

Jayce dry heaved as Al voided the contents of his stomach into the corner, with Zoe staring at the suddenly gaunt face in horror. Gauth, who had seen worse in his life, barely twitched, but he agreed with his companions that this was not what he had expected, or would accept without reason.

He turned to Benne and did his best to stand at his full height, which put his head and shoulders among the hanging bottles and glowing globes hanging from the rafters. "You just killed this man."

"Yes, that is a curious side effect," Benne mumbled as she scribbled into a small pocket notepad. "The potion has also turned white, which is interesting. Will it do the same for any person, or will the color change by race?"

Gauth grabbed her shoulder and spun her to face him. "You just killed this man!"

Benne faltered and immediately went on the defensive. "You think I was deaf earlier?! I heard you talking about how he was corrupt, with ties to the Clasp! He was involved with the abduction of your friend! He's hardly innocent! He-He probably had other victims! He clearly deserved to die!"

Gauth's hand clamped around her throat as the muscles in his neck went tight from restrained rage, and as hard as she tried, Benne couldn't even get her fingers into his grip. She gasped and began to choke, even as she briefly marveled that his single hand was large enough to completely encompass her neck. The jar, forgotten, clattered to the ground, and as it was already corked, not a precious drop was spilled as it rolled away.

"No," he seethed, "he deserved to be punished."

Benne struggled to breathe as she clawed at Gauth's mighty hand, her feet lifting just enough that her toes barely scraped the rough floor of her lab. Benne's eyes went wide as she gasped for air, as her face shifted to an ever darker shade of red.

"Gauth," Al wheezed, with a hand on his friend's arm to calm him, "let's just go. We can use the potion, get Dahlia back, and go. We won't even stay the night." Al forced himself to swallow back the bile that was still in his throat and leaned on Gauth's arm instead. "Please, this...is punishment enough for her. Let her go."

Al's voice cut through the fog in Gauth's mind, and he shook his head to clear it. With a more clear, but hardly less angry, glare, he locked eyes with Benne and abruptly dropped her to the floor. She collapsed in a heap and grasped at her throat, coughing and wheezing as air finally entered her lungs once more.

Jayce kneeled down and looked Benne in the eye. "Ma'am, I ain't a fan of burnin' bridges, but it seems we ain't gonna be requirin' your services from here on out. Outta respect for your privacy, would ya mind openin' the door for us, providin' I help you there? Other option is tellin' me the password."

Benne glanced at Gauth with clear terror in her eyes, and dumbly nodded as she gestured to the door to the back alley. Jayce took her arm over his shoulders, and while she traced the magical lock, Zoe scooped up the potion and Al and Gauth made sure each other were okay. It took Benne several tries to speak the password, as her throat was so sore she kept croaking and mangling the word. By the time the door actually opened, Jayce had heard almost four different variations on the possible password, and all of them were garbled beyond his understanding. Was it in a different language? Was that why he was having such a hard time?

With the door finally open, Zoe and Al rushed out, and Jayce gently rested Benne on the rough wooden stairs. Gauth finally shoved past, and Jayce leaned over to Benne's ear.

"Take it from me; actin' out in anger like that ain't gonna get you any favors. Been cursed with that my whole life, even from people assumin' before I even act, so please, be better'n me."

He patted her arm for comfort as she whimpered, and he climbed outside, where the door magically swung shut on its own. Startled, Jayce yelped, but only because it nearly caught his heel.

"Fuckin' hells!" Jayce puffed out a breath of relief. "Damn door nearly bit me."

"Probably a feature of that magic she was using," Al sighed. "Finally. Fresh air. Ugh. I can't believe what she did to that man."

"I'm just sad he wasn't awake to feel it," Zoe hissed. "Fucker."

Gauth just grunted in disgust. He believed his opinions on the matter were already well known.

Jayce shook his head and sighed. "That's behind us. We gotta collect John and figure out what's next. He still low?"

Zoe looked away in shame. "He probably will be for a day or so."

Jayce grumbled in frustration and crossed his arms. "We ain't got the time. If that alchemist's to be believed, we ain't the type to use that potion. If John's our best bet, and he ain't an option, we gotta come up with a backup plan."

"Funny how Dahlia's barely been gone a few hours and I'm already missing her many talents," Al sighed. "She'd probably be smart enough, or could fix John enough that it would work."

"Told ya she's special," Jayce smirked, but it was humorless. He was clearly too worried for his friend for the joke to land. "Headache or not, we can't make this decision without John. Miss Loydaye will be busy with that body for a while yet, so we got time. Let's head in."

"Okay, but, just," Zoe stammered, "let me go first. He's...rough when he's like that."

They all nodded, but Jayce spoke. "That's fair. Let's go."

xXxXx

Jonathan's head was pounding. Despite the darkness of the room, the slivers of light that slipped their way through cracks and corners of the window shutters stabbed at him like shards of steel, and the very air around him seemed to press on his skull like a vice. He shifted to his side, nearly oblivious to the actual comfort the bed provided, and took brief respite in the numbness of the side of his head. If he didn't keep turning his head, the very weight and pressure of his own skull seemed to make the headache worse.

He happened to turn towards the nightstand, where a pitcher of water rested next to Dahlia's canteen. Jonathan reached toward it, and winced. The movement was too sudden and a flash of pain shot through his skull. He whimpered and gripped at his face, but he tried again. Water would help. It used to help. He prayed it would still help.

The canteen was heavy in his hands and it sloshed with the water that had replaced her miracle solution. That moment in the bookshop came to mind, and he marveled at it. How much of his life had changed since that moment, and hopefully for the better. Within a day, he had coin, and food, and even his sister back. Lady Puffpaw was back.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Puffpaw alighted on the bed with barely a sound, save for a soft chirrup to announce her presence. She gently worked her way to his limp arm, his hand still gripping the canteen, and nudged her nose under his wrist to help lift it. Her concern for him washed over him, and he could feel she wanted him to drink.

"Just...give me a minute, Puffles," he whimpered. "I'm...so tired."

A soft knock at the door almost startled him, but then he remembered Zoe had promised to come back with food. Maybe she had it. "Come in," he called, although he barely had the strength to project his voice.

The lock rattled and the door creaked open just a crack. Jonathan could barely make out Zoe's eye peeking through. "Hey, John. You okay?"

Jonathan glared at her with all the venom he could muster.

Zoe opened the door the rest of the way and he noticed the bottle of white liquid in her hand faster than her apologetic look. "Ow. Okay, I deserved that. I meant, do you feel better? Because...we could really use your help."

"Why?" Jonathan moaned. He kept glancing at that glass bottle with the twisted neck. "I just want to sleep."

Zoe fought with her own courage before she could speak. "Just...don't be mad."

"I doubt I could feel any worse toward you," Jonathan hissed.

Zoe, crushed, just sighed and put down the bottle on the nightstand. She then moved to sit at the end of the bed. "Dahlia's missing."

Jonathan nearly jerked up in bed and his vision went white with pain. He collapsed backwards on the bed, his free hand gripping his face as he hissed through the stars speckling his vision.

"Shit! You okay?!" Zoe said, and she barely held herself back from lunging toward him. Jonathan didn't immediately respond, and forced himself to breathe.

"Please...explain," he huffed. "What...happened?"

Zoe filled him in to the best of her ability. Jayce racing downstairs and then yelling like a maniac, Bera's canine help, confronting that one Shield of the Plains, Benne's grim assistance, and finally… the potion.

"So...I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure you'll be drinking that fucker's brain juice," Zoe grumbled, disgust clearly dripping from her voice. "It's completely untested, and you'll have to fight off his memories, but we wanted to tell you-"

She jolted and whirled toward her brother the second she heard the cork pop, and she lunged for him as he pulled the potion to his lips. She barely grabbed it before Jonathan was able to make a sip.

"Are you insane?!" she hissed, and it was clearly an effort to keep her voice down. "Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

Jonathan fought to keep his vision steady as he glared at his sister. "Yes. The memories in this bottle are what's between us and Dahlia. The same woman who reached out to me in my moment of need. That beautiful woman who had no damn reason to be kind, and did it anyway. She took a risk on my behalf, and saved your life without a second thought; I'd be a bastard if I didn't do the same."

Jonathan slammed the bottle to his lips and swallowed as much as he could before Zoe could recover from her shock. It was oily and viscous, and somehow the lack of any discernible taste made the texture worse. Twisted strings of lumps began to travel down his throat, and he slapped both hands over his mouth to try and resist the urge to vomit it all out. Zoe called out for her brother as that milky fluid nearly splattered through his fingers, but he persisted, and finally, after much effort, he consumed the potion.

He fell into darkness. He was floating, and for a moment, everything was numb. He wondered where he was, if such an effect was normal, when a fist flashed out of the black. It slammed into his jaw with fury, but the pain was suddenly amplified as the effects of his headache returned with a vengeance. An alien voice cried out in pain as Jonathan collapsed to the ground.

"What the hells?!" the voice screamed, followed by cries and yelps. Jonathan crawled his way back to his knees and glared at his assailant.

A scruffy, older man with scars on his shoulder and side, nude and exposed, was curled up in front of him, gripping his head for dear life as he fought off the urge to sob in pain. Jonathan, far more used to the pain, grinned to himself and gripped the man's hair to turn his head. It was clear the man was afraid.

"That is the prison you've been subjected to, sir," Jonathan hissed, his own voice panting from the exertion. "Your memories are now mine, and should you fight back, I will subject you to that same pain, a thousand times over. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you!" the man spat, and he lashed out at Jonathan again. Jonathan braced for the pain and took the hit, and the black void around them rang with the shock to his system.

The man began screaming, writhing on the floor as the world around them shook and stabbed at them with thousands of impossibly fine needles. Jonathan forced himself to breathe, and repeated the mantra Zoe had taught him. No pain is forever, and the moment before is already over. He just needed to last.

Finally, the world around them calmed. Jonathan's limbs felt heavy and wooden, and he used that to his advantage to grab at the man. Although it was a clumsy toss of his arm, his hand landed on the man's throat. He tried to squeeze, to dig in his fingernails, but the man's arm flashed across him and gripped his throat in a similar way.

"If I kill you," the man hissed, "this all stops."

"No," Jonathan grinned, "then this gets worse."

The man hesitated, so Jonathan continued. "Imagine the pain, but without me to take it with you. Without a filter, so to speak. Imagine that pain wracking your body, day in and day out, with no relief. There will be no end. The only reason there are moments of peace is because I am keeping the pain from you. If you wish that to stop, by all means, take my life. I could do with a rest."

The man whimpered, his eyes desperately searching Jonathan's for any hint of a bluff. Finding none, he went limp, and faded away into the darkness. All that remained was a shadow that reached for Jonathan's forehead, and disappeared, as if pulled directly into his soul.

Jonathan finally relaxed, and sunk deeper into the black void.

xXxXx

"I swear, he just went nuts!"

Zoe, still in a panic, was pacing as Gauth held Jonathan to the bed. Shortly after taking the potion, Jonathan had lashed out, swearing in a hoarse voice and swinging at Zoe with clear intent to harm. Unable to fight back, she called for the others, who raced into the room to restrain him.

Al nudged the emptied bottle with his foot. "I don't like this. If that...thing in his head wins, you've lost your brother."

"I don't like it either!" Zoe screeched, and she turned to punch the wall next to the window. A clear dent was left in the wood panelling. "I tried to stop him, to talk to him, and he just...he fucking chugged the thing!"

"I'm just hopin' he comes back," Jayce mumbled under his breath.

"Another vintage already…?"

Everyone paused and turned toward Jonathan. His eyes were rolled back and his body was limp, but his lips seemed to move with a life of their own.

"I swear he picks up more of them every month. … I know he rations them out, but you think I'm the only one who noticed? Rook is asking questions. … I'm already working for you both, sir. If I don't have answers, they'll suspect I'm funneling info. What should I say?"

"Why do I suddenly feel sick?" Al mumbled as he held his stomach.

"No!" Zoe snapped. "I don't care what that sounds like! He shoved our friend into a barrel and clearly did so under orders! He was awful and he deserved what he got!"

Gauth nudged Jonathan, gently at first, and then with more vigor as Zoe's pitch got higher. Jonathan startled awake and then immediately recoiled, as if some incredible pain had gripped his head.

"Oh gods…" Jonathan wheezed.

"Thank the gods! You're back!" Al said, relieved. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Jonathan panted. Gauth tried to be gentle as he helped Jonathan sit up.

"You started quotin' somethin' just a minute ago," Jayce explained. "Sounded like that Shield's side of a conversation."

Jonathan slowly nodded and winced from the effort. "I think...it was. I wanted to know his most recent...memory of Dahlia. He was talking to a...man I couldn't focus on."

Jayce nodded. "Magic. Bera, the halfling barmaid downstairs, thought Dahlia's kidnapper was usin' some sort of magic to make it hard to notice 'em."

"Makes sense," Jonathan said with a much more subtle nod. "There's a spell known for that, called Pass Without Trace. That's probably what he used."

"I could use that," Al mumbled to himself.

Zoe hesitated, but still moved over to her brother's side. "So, tell us what happened. What was that whole conversation?"

Jonathan shuddered. "They were talking about a 'vintage'. I got the strong impression from Helman that this was a somewhat common thing."

"You've gotta be joking, right?" Jayce asked, dumbfounded. "And who's Helman?"

"The man who owned the memories," Jonathan answered simply, and silently agreed with his sister's assessment that the name was appropriate. "And, no, I'm not kidding. Some benefactor was paying them to collect, hold on…" He took a moment to parse through the memories. "Elves. Elven women, specifically."

"Any idea why?" Zoe asked, clearly disgusted. She had many thoughts she hoped were not the case.

"Well, considering they mentioned a 'vintage', I think..." Jonathan gulped. "...they're consuming them."

"Then we must find her as fast as we can," Gauth huffed. He rose from the bed, with Jonathan in his arms. "Use that man's memories to find her."

"I don't have much!" Jonathan squeaked, as the feeling of the vice intensified as he was lifted. "Just that...that Helman was supposed to blow a whistle and invite the local Shields to lunch. Probably to clear the way."

"He mentioned Rook, though," Jayce cut in. "If Rook was 'asking questions', whatever is goin' on is happening outside the knowledge of the Clasp, and they will definitely be lookin' into it. Besides, didn't Herman have a message for Rook?"

Jonathan didn't have the strength to correct him. "Yes. He had to tell Rook that the investigation into the disappearances was making progress. They had a new suspect after another woman vanished. And who is Rook?"

"It's a little underhanded, but mostly true," Jayce mumbled, as he had missed Jonathan's question. "Think Rook'll help us if we come up with some info?"

"The Clasp is not something you get mixed up in lightly," Al said quickly. "I might be able to find Rook, sure, but we trade some information, they offer us some work, suddenly something goes wrong, it gets mysteriously fixed, and next thing we know, we owe a favor. From then on, we're puppets. You will never work off that debt."

They all went quiet for a moment as they thought it over. Finally, Jayce spoke, albeit softly.

"Do we have any other leads?"

"Wh-what about, uh, the man the guy was talking to?" Zoe said hesitantly. "Did he recognize him? Or, John, can you go farther back in his memories to find some clues? I mean, if this is a thing, this can't be the first time, right?"

"I can try," Jonathan replied. He tried his best to relax in Gauth's arms and shift through the memories of the other man, but suddenly winced and gripped at his head, his body tense as he grunted in pain. Gauth, who wasn't expecting the sudden movement, nearly dropped the poor wizard in surprise.

"Sorry," Jonathan wheezed. "He...keeps trying to…take over, I guess. I found… The last time he was involved with this was almost a month ago, and I still can't make out his face."

"A face ain't gonna help us anyway." Jayce shook his head and rubbed his forehead as he tried to think. "A name'd be better, especially if we're still goin' to Rook."

A knock at the door startled them all, and they shared a moment of quiet as they collectively contemplated if they should answer. Before anyone could come to a conclusion, a familiar voice eked its way through the wood.

"Hello? Um, it's Bera. From downstairs. I, uh, already checked the other rooms, and those were empty, so...are you there?"

Jayce glanced around the room and, with the exception of a confused Jonathan, they all nodded in agreement. "Yeah, ya found us, Bera. All good?"

"Not- Uh, can I come in? Please?"

Again the room was quiet, but it was only until Jayce moved over to the door and pulled it open. Indeed, Bera was standing there, but her curly hair was tied back with an embroidered headscarf, and she had donned a coat and an odd pair of hiking boots. Instead of the wispy clothes and apron from before, she had taken the guise of someone who regularly traveled.

"Bera?" Jayce asked, clearly a little shocked and definitely confused. "What's wrong?"

Bera shoved her way in and stood among literal giants, compared to her size, but she never faltered. As soon as the door was closed, she started rambling.

"Okay, so first off, I know he knows this," she began, with a motion to Jayce, "but I don't miss a thing, a damn thing, in this tavern. So when Benne rolled out a barrel from the back room with bruises on her neck, I got halla suspicious. Especially when you followed her back there but then didn't come out. Cries alive, I was worried you were in there!"

"But I'm right here," Jayce said curtly. "What's this gotta do with why you're here?"

Bera shivered and grabbed her arms. "I followed her outside and popped open the bung when Benne went back inside for something. I saw...liquid fat pour out, and a skull caught in the opening. I plugged it up right quick, and before you ask, I know what human teeth look like!" She shook her head hard, as if she could literally shake off the bad memory. "Point is, I'm getting out before things get bad. You're travelers, so I'll travel with you until I can make my own way."

"Really?" Zoe huffed as she crossed her arms. "What makes you think we weren't involved with that whole thing?"

Bera motioned at Al with her thumb. "Because that one over there blanched and nearly lost his lunch when I mentioned the human soup."

"You're not helping!" Al gurgled.

"Point is, I will from here on out," Bera added quickly. "I'm no pushover, and I've survived years without help. I just need some tallins to get out of the city."

"Okay, stop, what?" Zoe said, clearly frustrated. "You keep saying nonsense. What's a tallin?"

Bera looked shocked that she didn't know. "You. Tallins. Tall people. A 'tall one'. Tallin. Get it?"

Jayce cut in before anyone else could talk. "We ain't goin' anywhere until we find Dahlia. Far as we know, someone's out there about to fuckin' eat her, and every minute we waste is a risk there's gonna be nothin' left by the time we get to her. You want in? Fine, but she's priority."

Bera held up her hands in surrender. "You got it. We find her first. Just get me out of this place." She dug her hands in her coat pocket and pulled out silver coins. "Here's the money for the rooms, if that helps smooth things over."

Jayce kneeled down and took the coins. Six pieces of silver. He nodded. "It'll help. We're leavin' here anyway."

"Good, because I'm sure Benne will notice the missing silver eventually," Bera said as she fidgeted with her shoulder bag strap. She glanced over to Gauth. "Aw, I'm jealous. What do I have to do to get carried?"

Gauth's face went tight with disgust. "He is ill. Leave him alone."

"Makes sense, the way you all dragged him in," Bera mumbled. "Anyway, let's head out. I'm sure Benne won't be busy for too much longer."

With a collective sound of agreement, they followed the halfling outside, being careful to avoid Benne's gaze for the brief moments she was visible behind the bar. Once on the street, they began to meander, as Jonathan dove back into the late Shield's memories for any information on the strange authority who was responsible for Dahlia's abduction. Despite the memories' multiple attempts to overtake Jonathan's personality, he remained resolute, but unfortunately, none the wiser.

They would have to go to Rook.

xXxXx

The stagnant air of the Underwalk Ward was oppressive, and even by moving briskly down the winding streets, there was barely any relief from the smell of refuse and stale filth. The companions rushed themselves along, as it was common knowledge what kind of person liked to hide in the permanent shadows of the city's underbelly.

Bera had to practically sprint to keep up with the group, due to her small stature, and often called for breaks as they passed piles of crates or barrels that could potentially offer a seat. Al more or less ignored her as he looked for a clue about Rook, and as the rest of them were following his lead, they did the same. Eventually, Jayce took pity on the poor woman, and scooped her up into his arms just like how Gauth was carrying Jonathan. It was a bit awkward, as Jayce had neglected to ask first, but Bera took it in stride and took the opportunity to keep her eye out for trouble.

Al motioned for them all to stop at the entrance to a dark and foreboding alleyway. A dark figure watched them, leaned against the wall, and Al nodded to Zoe, as she was closest. She was nervous, but she understood his intent, and held everyone back from the alley as Al ducked inside.

"Evening, sir. I'm searching for a cove to find a limping pig. Know of Captain Sharp and his crew?"

The dark man lifted his hood slightly and smiled through a scraggly tangle of a beard. "Aye, sir. There's a beggar maker down wayward with a finger joint and a chunk o' brandy, should've heard a word or two."

Al nodded and put on a friendly smile. "That's a turn of luck. They got an oak mug?"

"Shiny tin, patter flash. They also dress up a broken finger, should things turn sour."

Al waved off the comment. "Don't worry, I'm looking for pork. I won't cry beef."

The man pulled his hood back over his head as he gave Al a friendly nod, and then ducked further back into the alley. Al only saw him disappear behind a corner because of his more sensitive sight, but he didn't trust the informant to be truly gone. He'd have to be careful what he told his companions.

And then the fun part. He turned around to see five completely lost and confused faces and it took almost everything he had not to burst out laughing.

He crossed his arms and looked smug. "What?"

"I...thought we were looking for a guy named Rook, not a...pig? Seriously?" Zoe asked. She could barely put her thoughts in order with how confused she was.

Al rolled his eyes and suppressed the urge to start giggling at Jayce's shocked face. Gauth was rather used to the nonsense speech, so his face wasn't nearly as entertaining, but it was clear he was still confused.

"Look, I can't explain much, trade secrets and all, but I will say we're looking for a bar called The Ruby Ring."

The looks of disbelief almost had him laughing. Bera hopped out of Jayce's arms and planted herself right in front of Al and crossed her arms.

"Bullshit. Bull. Shit." Bera huffed. "There was no mention of a gemstone or ring of any kind in there! I was listening!"

"And that's the point," Al snickered as he teasingly rapped his fingertips on her head. Bera did not appreciate the gesture. "So, if we're ready, we should look for Rook. And, quick bit of advice, follow my lead, and don't talk if you can avoid it. Most Clasp rogues don't like their names bandied about." He turned to Jonathan, who was still in Gauth's arms. "You still remember that message for him, right?"

Jonathan looked pale and was panting from the pain, but he grimaced and tried to remember. He twitched suddenly and almost startled Gauth, and then sighed.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan wheezed. "I can barely concentrate. Something about...a new lead? I think?"

"You rest," Gauth said firmly. "You are no heavier than Yoxsim, so you are no burden to me."

"Who's Yoxsim?" Zoe asked.

"Just some asshole we don't have to deal with anymore," Al grumbled. "But he also liked being carried, and he was also a wizard. And a gnome." He huffed a humorless smile. "He practically used Gauth as his personal mule some days."

"I thought I was doing him a favor. Now I see I was used," Gauth growled. "We must find Rook now. Dahlia is in danger and John is sick."

"Then to the Ruby Ring. Stay close and watch your pockets," Al warned, and he turned to lead the way.

Now that they had a more concrete destination in mind, they slowed their gait considerably, which Bera appreciated. Somewhere, tucked in the shadows cast by the oil lamps, was the Ruby Ring, the bar that held their quarry. They nearly passed it, but Bera managed to catch a glimpse of the ramshackle signage as it barely hung from a single chain.

"You know," Bera said quietly, as she looked over the tattered facade of the bar, "I often wonder why the Underwalk rots so quickly. Is it the sewers it was built out of? Or the people who live here? Or...worse, is it the people who were forced to live here, who had no other choice?"

Al put out a hand in front of her to stop her from walking, and talking. "Fascinating thought, but we're walking into a dive full of cutthroats and thugs. Keep the philosophising to yourself."

"Regretting this yet?" Jayce said quietly to her.

Bera didn't reply, but she did drop her gaze. There was no doubt she was afraid.

They all filed into the bar, quietly and carefully, and the crowd inside seemed oblivious. A veritable melting pot of undesirables, the rough and tumbled motif of the bar seemed mirrored in its patrons. Dodging the full tables of boisterous thugs playing Five Finger Fillet and cards was a single barmaid, a slip of a thing with dark hair badly tied back and a messy outfit, complete with an apron covered in stains. She seemed to struggle to get orders to the proper tables, but amazingly, everyone inside was quite patient with her. Then she turned and noticed the new group at the door.

With a squeak of panic, she dropped her tray, and a mug of beer noisily splashed and clattered at her feet. The room went dead quiet.

The feeling of the room seemed to shift to murderous as glares came at them from all angles, and a particularly large half-orc man stood from a nearby table. His hand was already on a mace lashed to his back, so Jayce dove to action, literally, by ducking to the floor.

"Many apologies, miss," Jayce said brightly as he scooped up the mug and tray. "Ain't good manners t' startle a lady, that I know. Here-"

Al grabbed Jayce's shoulder and ducked to whisper in his ear. "Add a platinum."

"What?!" Jayce whispered back, barely able to believe his ears. Unfortunately, Al's gaze showed he was completely serious.

"Just trust me," Al said quickly, and then stood back up.

Jayce hesitated, but handed the tray and mug to the young woman. "Here's yer tools, miss, and...here, for the inconvenience."

Reluctantly, Jayce ducked his hand in the pouch and placed the resulting platinum coin on her tray. Her eyes brightened considerably, and the second she started to smile, the half-orc with the mace sat back down.

"Th-th-thank you, si-sir," she stammered, and with a quick bow to be polite, she pocketed the coin and dashed away to the bar. The conversation of the room slowly resumed.

The team slowly made their way through the bar to an empty table at the back of the room. Somehow, none of them had noticed it when they first entered the Ruby Ring, but they were glad for the space. As soon as they were seated, and Gauth had shifted Jonathan into a seat where he could lean on his sister, Jayce turned to Al.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed as quietly as the loud room allowed. "Why'd I have to pay a hundred times the price of a fuckin' beer?!"

"Two reasons," Al said venomously, as it was clear he didn't appreciate his knowledge being questioned. "First, she's a nypper's mot, basically the little sister of every regular in this bar, and they were ready to throttle all of us for startling her. Second, that platinum is a signal to the Rook that we want to talk. I know I should've said something sooner, but unfortunately, I didn't have the time."

"Bullshit," Jayce growled under his breath. He glanced over at Jonathan and saw the poor guy was pale, panting, and covering his ears as he laid his head on the table. Zoe, distraught, was rubbing her brother's back, but it was unclear if that did anything to help.

"Gods be damned!" a voice cut through the din. "Al?! Is that you?!"

Al nearly twisted himself right out of the chair to see who was calling for him, just as a blond man in light leather armor and a quilted coat rushed over. Half his hair was long enough to fall in careless waves across his face, but the other half was cropped short enough to nearly be shaved clean. This hair style made it easy to see the long scar on his cheek, and the stunted but elongated ears of a half-elf.

The strange man nearly yanked Al out of his seat to pull him into a friendly hug, while, unseen by all present, he slipped a hand under Al's cloak to grab his ass. Al used the surprise to play into his reaction of seeing a long lost friend.

"Taneli?!" Al gasped, although just a bit too sharply due to the surprise grip on his rear end. "It's been years! How've you been?"

"Honestly shocked you came with a team! What happened to Mr. 'I work alone'?" Taneli laughed. Without waiting for a response, he turned to face the table. "And you! How did the group of you manage to grab Tal'Dorei's most infamous pennyweighter? I swear, his prices were high because he wanted people to leave him alone."

With another friendly laugh, Taneli slipped right into Al's seat and patted his lap, as he gave Al a suggestive look. Rather than take the bait, Al nabbed a nearby stool and yanked it over to the table before the previous owner could notice it was missing, and settled on that as if he had been sitting the whole time. The crash behind him clearly amused Gauth and Zoe, as did the ensuing fist fight with other members of that other table.

Jayce, unfortunately, spent far too long dumbfoundedly staring at Al before he answered Taneli's question.

"He, uh, well money's no problem, so I've got him on retainer." Jayce shrugged and tried to regain his composure as subtly as possible. "Simple as that."

"Sure," Taneli drawled, clearly entertained and not at all fooled. "I don't suppose there's a culling coming?"

Al immediately cut into the conversation. "Absolutely not. If anything, we're here to let a bird in on a hole that needs plugging on Oak Street."

"Oh!" Taneli cooed, as he turned to Al with a mockingly shocked expression. "So I'm sitting with a bunch of lully priggers? Color me intrigued."

Al shrugged. "Already bobbed a bit for some ivory."

The shocked expression turned genuine as Taneli looked over the group. "Ah. So clearly not a fan of pigs?" he asked as he looked at Al.

"That one nearly got roasted by a hot flank," Al said with a sigh. "Thankfully, the hired help dressed up the meat and we all had tea."

"I know you're speaking doren, I know you are," Bera said as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "but what the hell are you actually saying?! I'm completely lost!"

"Clearly not canted then," Taneli smirked. "Don't worry your pretty head, little lady. I'm asking our mutual friend about the reason for his visit."

"And what's that got to do with a tea party?!" Bera rubbed her face in frustration. "I bet you don't even serve tea here."

"And you are correct," Taneli said, without even an effort to hide the giggle in his voice. "But you're clearly here to see Rook, so here I am."

"Bullshit!" Al nearly yelped. "You're Rook?!"

"Of course not," Taneli grinned. He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head to demonstrate how perfectly relaxed he was. "I'm here to speak on behalf of Rook. You left the proper coin, so you know how much the information is worth, and you were nice to Mitty, which always looks good on newcomers. So, let's trade; your information on the informant, and I'll tell you about the guards on payroll."

"And, just to be clear, we're not using spoken cant anymore?" Al asked.

"No need," Taneli said. "Based on what you told me, there's no worry about any of you running to the guards. Especially with blood of their own on your hands."

Nearly everyone at the table winced at the memory, and Taneli nodded as he noticed, pleased that his assessment was correct. "Good to know he didn't survive; that'll work in your favor. Provided no one finds the body, of course."

"Oh, that ain't gonna be a problem," Jayce said. He glanced at Bera, who visibly gulped. "There ain't much left."

"Bloodthirsty! I like it!" Taneli beamed. "So, what's the trade? Who's the informant?"

"Dead," Al said curtly, "but before you fly off the handle, we have his memories contained in that man over there."

Everyone looked over to Jonathan, who still looked absolutely miserable. He was squinting and slouched, and Zoe glared at Taneli hard enough that Taneli could tell she considered herself the wizard's guardian.

Taneli looked at Al and steepled his fingers. "Explain."

Al shrugged. "Not much to it. We force fed the informant a potion that turned his brain into some sort of liquid, and my associate there imbibed it. From then on, he's been able to access the man's memories as if they were his own."

"The side effects look awful," Taneli mumbled as he more closely scrutinized Jonathan's face. "But it's a bit of a tall tale. Prove it."

Jonathan spoke softly, but clearly. "Helman was supposed to tell Rook that the investigation into the disappearances of the elven population was progressing, as a new victim had been abducted and they had a new lead as a result."

Taneli perked up. "Helman?"

Jonathan nodded. "Helman Erikson. He was funneling information from Rook to someone of authority, but I can't find any reference to the man that isn't magically tampered with. I don't know if the man is part of the Shields or not."

Taneli's face went dark and grim. "Describe the man, and tell me something only he would know."

Jonathan winced heavily and gripped his head as he searched through the memories. "He...was a scruffy man, iron ring with Rook's mark on his right hand, plenty of scarring on his left arm, likely from high handed assailants… He had a birthmark on the back of his ear, a mole. Right ear. Never liked wearing his helmet and so always took it off whenever he was offered a drink."

As Jonathan spoke, Al passed Taneli the iron ring they had pulled off the body.

Taneli hissed under his breath as he looked it over. "That two-timing son of a whore…! Fine. I believe you. I know that man personally, and if he's no longer on this plane, all the better. Now, what do you want in trade?"

"The disappearances," Jayce said before anyone else could talk. "The most recent one happens to be our cleric; we want her back. You got any leads we can use?"

Taneli leaned on the table and locked his eyes with Jayce, who didn't even flinch and returned the hardened gaze. "Let me put it this way; there aren't a lot of elves in this town, and so when they start to regularly disappear every other month or so, people begin to notice. Whoever it is has been careful, so the trail goes cold fast, but...I do have some leads." He leaned back in his chair and briefly looked over the rest of the team. "I know Helman's contact; If you can't see his face or remember him in those memories, that's because he has an amulet that gives him that exact ability...for an hour each day. I know this, because I sold him the artifact. He goes by Ceolmund, and this is his last strike against the Clasp."

"Wait, hang on," Zoe said, her hands up to grab Taneli's attention. "You're telling me this guy is someone you know, and he's already pissed you off? How?"

"Because he's supposed to be a member of the Clasp, and here he is, acting against us, and while it's not concrete proof it's him, it's good enough for me," Taneli said with a growl. "I'll tell you where he usually spends his time between contracts, and you make sure you get what you need out of him before you kill him. Maybe another one of those potions." He winked at Jonathan, who had to suppress a gag at the memory.

"You're puttin' us in charge of this," Jayce said, clearly as a statement and not a question.

"Of course," Taneli smiled. "You're invested. And if you want more help, I'll take the name of the alchemist who made you that potion."

"No."

The table was quiet for a moment as everyone turned toward Jayce. Somehow, even the din of the tavern seemed less oppressive in that moment as they waited for him to clarify.

"I ain't fond of the...person," Jayce began, and he spoke carefully, "but they've got others in their life that I ain't puttin' in harm's way. You find 'em on your own."

Taneli paused just long enough to look Jayce up and down before he answered. "Fine. I hope your cleric is strong enough to last against whatever hell she's been damned to. You'll find Ceolmund at the Trickster's Tankard. It's not too far from the western wall of Westruun, so it'll be a bit of a walk. Hopefully you haven't missed him."

"And how will we know him?" Gauth cut in.

"Ah, the giant speaks," Taneli smirked. "Not too different from your friend here," he said as he indicated Al. "Likes wearing black, wears a cloak, but the main difference is he's fully human and has a milky eye from a dirty fight gone wrong. You'll know him when you spot him."

Gauth nodded. "Good. We will find him."

"And remember," Taneli said with a wag of his finger, "get your information first, and then kill him. I can't imagine your friend wants to take that potion twice."

"Probably not even an option," Bera grumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Taneli asked in a mockingly sweet tone.

"What? I'm sorry, it's so loud in here, I can't hear you," Bera said with an embarrassed smile. She scooped up Puffpaw from the floor and cuddled the confused beast. "I was talking to the cat, if that's what you were asking. Did you ask me something? I'm guessing here."

Taneli was clearly far from amused but let it slide. "Fine. So, when you have a moment, please come back; I'd love to pick your man's brain about Helman's memories, and I know Rook will compensate you for your time."

"We'll keep that in mind," Jayce replied. "For now, we gotta get going to find this Ceolmund. Much obliged for your help, sir."

"At least you're polite," Taneli said. "Good luck to you as well. May the shadows be deep when you need them, and empty when you find them."

They stood up and left the tavern, although this time Jonathan merely leaned on Zoe to walk out, instead of being carried. The cat stalled, briefly, before she too turned and raced off, weaving through patrons' feet as if she could flow like water. Once the table was, again, empty of interlopers, Taneli sat up straight and spoke to the empty seats.

"You get all that?"

A voice behind him snickered. "Of course I did. You know what to do?"

Taneli nodded. "Get our own mage to scry on the asshole, make sure he's where we expect him to be, and head them off at the-"

"No," the voice said softly. "By all means, scry, but we keep our hands clean when we can. Shadow them, and make sure they pull through. Clearly, we need that information, even if they don't plan on sharing. I'm sure your old beau can be convinced to talk."

"I bet I even know how," Taneli said with a cold grin. "I'll be leaving him high and dry for once."

"Try to be subtle," the voice sighed. "Now get going. The pieces are in play."

Taneli smiled and nearly jumped up from his seat, where he nearly crashed into the mousy barmaid that was doing her rounds. He offered the customary apology with a friendly bow and dashed into the streets, as Rook watched him go with a smile.

xXxXx

Bera barely needed any directions to find the Trickster's Tankard, as she had once been to the place as she was wandering the streets of Westruun. Clearly pleased she could contribute to the team's efforts, she led them forward with vigor...on the condition she got to ride on Gauth's shoulder. He was grumpy about it, but he agreed anyway.

Just as they turned the corner that revealed the Trickster's Tankard, Jayce stopped hard on his heel.

"Shit!" He twisted around and looked the way they came. "We left Dahlia's bag-!"

"I have it," Gauth snickered.

"Hu-What?" Jayce looked at him, dumbfounded. "When'd you pick up her bag?"

Gauth pointed to Bera with a smirk, who giggled before she explained. "I grabbed it when I took Ralphye upstairs to catch the scent. I thought having it with would be good to refresh the memory if Ralphye got lost. Once I caught up to you guys, I passed it to this mountain of a man right here."

Gauth cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at Bera, who flashed a bright smile in return. He rolled his eyes and turned to Jayce. "Her bag is in mine. Once we find her, she will have her medicines again."

"Good, because it's very likely she'll need 'em," Jayce said. He quickly turned before they could notice how embarrassed he was. "Let's move it along; ain't sure how long that Ceolmund bloke's gonna stay in one place. How's John?"

"He's been better," Zoe sighed. She glanced over at Jonathan, who had been walking with the assistance of her folding bo staff. "But he's moving on his own."

"I can hear you," Jonathan hissed under his breath. Zoe flinched, even though it was clear his tone was more from the exertion than his animosity toward her.

Regardless of her brother's feelings toward her, Zoe still kept her head on a swivel, increasingly paranoid that their father's thugs would pop out of any corner and strike down Jonathan before she had a second to react. She had to stay alert for his sake.

"So...your cleric, Dahlia, she's really precious to you, isn't she?"

Although Jonathan, Zoe, and Jayce were all caught off guard, Gauth snickered and looked up at Bera. "Of course she is. She is a rare healer, a kind...uh," Gauth paused, and tapped his chest. "Kind inside? She heals here, and wounds. And she is my teacher, a wise teacher who taught me that not all who teach are smart."

"I think what yer lookin' for is kind 'soul'," Jayce smiled. "Beyond that, nailed it in one. Doesn't matter if she's got the world on her shoulders, she ain't gonna pass up a chance to help."

"Okay, I call bull," Bera teased. "There's no way there's anybody in this world that's that perfect."

There was a palpable hesitation, and Bera was curious as to why several of them either subtly patted a pocket or, in Gauth's case, glanced at a leather coil on his wrist that had a piece of cinnamon woven through it. Although she wasn't sure what the significance was, she got the impression they had only told half the story.

"Okay, so not perfect," Bera said quietly. "Can I ask why?"

"No." Jayce shook his head and turned to the team. "We're here. We'll fill ya in later, if you decide to stay."

The Trickster's Tankard was a brick and mortar building that had seen better days, with sparse patches of the roof shingled from a bygone time, and the rest covered in thatch. Plaster and whitewash doggedly hung on in mottled places, clearly oblivious to the futility of their situation, and the walls were lined with scratchings where local children had picked at whatever plaster they could reach. If they squinted, the companions could barely make out the shadows of faded color on an old sign that showed a beer stein wearing a jester's cap.

"Okay," Bera huffed, clearly nervous. "Just need to look for a really well established former Clasp member with dark clothes and cloak, scars, and a milky eye. Easy as wee whistling."

"As what?" Zoe asked, a little thrown off by the expression.

"Wee whistling. You know, when you sip some water and breathe in around it, making a bird call?" Bera asked. "No? Just me?" The pause answered for her, and she looked genuinely shocked. "Wow. I thought everyone did that as a kid."

"You sure are a strange one," Jayce mumbled as he ducked into the bar.

The dirt floor was clearly uneven and worn in paths between the tables, where short stools sat at barely noticeable canted angles. The smell of stale bear permeated the place, and both tables and the floor were oddly sticky in seemingly random places. The small crowd was less a pre-dinner rush and more a slowly rotating menagerie of familiar faces, as most of the patrons seemed well acquainted with one another and frequently interrupted conversations at opposing tables, occasionally from across the bar, to add to conversations almost at random. The patrons themselves seemed to be the adventuring type, as many were clearly built for a rougher lifestyle and sported armor, weapons, and the occasional proud scar. To the team's surprise, their presence was barely acknowledged beyond a few nods from nearby tables, and a wave from the bartender who looked as if he would be more at home in a wrestling circle than behind a bar.

Already feeling more at ease with that type of crowd, Jayce led the way and weaved through the tables toward the bar. The bartender offered a relaxed smile and nodded a greeting, and then immediately turned around grabbed a decorative container that looked like a porcelain vase, but one that would be useless for flowers. The upper half of the bucket-sized container was a criss-crossed latticework at right angles, giving it the look of a chain link fence, but with three prongs sticking outward from the top circumference. Jayce watched, confused and mystified, as the bartender popped the cork on a bottle of ale and poured it right into the base of the strange container.

"You have my attention," Jayce said with an awkward chuckle. "Ain't sure what's goin' on, but I'm game. What's with the, uh, mug?"

"You ain't here for the challenge?" the bartender said quizzically, a mischievous smile growing across his features. "This here's the Trickster's Tankard, the same damn one that named the bar. We're famous for it. You drink the ale without spinllin' a drop, you get a free mug of your choice. You do it without liftin' the tankard from the table, your whole crew gets a free drink. Still game?"

"Are you kidding?" Jayce laughed. "I know when I'm beat! That thing's more air than mug."

"Any of your pals want a go?" the bartender asked while he leaned on the bar, with a comical waggle of his eyebrows. He radiated a calm confidence that made it clear he was looking forward to watching them fail.

Al and Zoe both nearly jumped forward, but Al managed to step ahead as Jonathan had grabbed his sister's arm. "I'll give it a go!" he said excitedly. After all, he was never one to turn down a free drink.

The bartender motioned to the Trickster's Tankard as an obvious invitation to try, and stepped back. Al began by thoroughly investigating the tankard, but he refused to touch it as he assumed that would preclude him from the better prize. At first, his only course of action seemed to be slowly tiling the tankard and carefully sucking at its side as he tried to tip the ale into his mouth, but that was quite risky of a spill. Suddenly, his eyes caught a strange feature of the prongs; they all had a hole at their tip. Curious, he peeked inside the tankard, but the cloudy ale below prevented him from seeing anything useful.

"There's got to be some sort of trick to this," Al mumbled to himself. He looked at the bartender. "You wouldn't offer unless there was a way to win, right?"

"That's for you to find out," the bartender smirked.

By now, most of the customers had paused their conversations to watch the spectacle unfold, as newcomers' attempts to complete the challenge often had them laughing or cheering. However, just before Al lifted the tankard, Zoe tapped his shoulder.

"I'll show you how it's done," she smirked.

Al rolled his eyes, but stepped to the side. "Be my guest. And if you end up spilling everything, you owe me a drink."

Zoe winked, and then reached for the tankard. She capped two of the prongs with her thumbs, and then placed her mouth on the third. The spectators gave it away when they audibly groaned in disappointment.

Soon, a burbling sound of liquid failing to be sucked into some sort of straw emanated from the tankard, and Zoe threw up her fists in victory and licked her lips. "Ha! Free drinks!"

"Now hold on a damn minute," the bartender cut in, clearly displeased. "You got that far faster than the usual bloke; you seen this before?"

"Nope. Just smart," Zoe said, clearly gloating as she crossed her arms. "So are we getting the free drinks or not?"

"They are gettin' free drinks," the bartender hissed. "You already got yours out of the tankard." He then pointedly ignored her and turned to the rest of the group. "What'll it be?"

Puffpaw jumped onto the counter and hissed her opinions of his interpretation of the rules, which caused the poor man to recoil in surprise. As much as Zoe agreed with the cat, she still scooped up the familiar and backed away, grumbling about the bartender being a sore loser. Jayce quickly slipped the man a silver coin to help smooth over any bad feelings about the free drinks.

The bartender accepted the tip with a nod and poured the drinks for the rest of them, and then turned to Jayce. "So, judgin' on your reaction earlier, you weren't here for the challenge; What brings you in to my little corner of Westruun?"

Jayce grabbed two of the mugs, one specifically for him, and the other because he was mostly certain Jonathan would pass, and then sighed. "We're lookin' for a bounty hunter, said to haunt these parts, goes by Ceolmund. Dark clothes, scar on his face, milky eye?"

"I...may know him…" the bartender said cautiously as he looked Jayce over. "Why'd you need a bounty hunter? You seem the adventerin' type yourself."

Jayce shrugged. "My specialty's killin' monsters; I ain't even a fair hand at findin' people. We lost one of our own to a bastard collectin' pretty favors, and we aim to get her back."

The bartender said nothing, but nodded to a back corner before he busied himself with an absolutely futile attempt to clean the bar. With a nod of thanks, Jayce turned and looked over the smattering of faces before his gaze fell upon two, one of which was familiar. A young blond man, whose hair was cut short along the sides but hung long down the back of his head, was in the middle of a rather one-sidedly heated conversation with an older, wrinkled man with short dark hair and a scar over a milky eye. Even though the younger man wore common clothes and a loose burlap coat, Jayce managed to place the man as the monk who attended to him at the library, and he noted with amusement that the older man seemed to reveal in the younger's frustration.

Jayce also noted that the older man, hopefully Ceolmund, was nearly completely hidden under a dark, high collar cloak, even with the hood pulled back. Only one arm was visible at any time, and that was only to pick up his mug for a sip. On the other hand, the younger, who Jayce really hoped was named Gilas and not Gary as he couldn't remember which was right, telegraphed his movements with obvious frustration. With a quick glance to make sure the rest of his team was seated at a nearby table, he began his approach.

"-you do this all the time!" the blond spat at the older man as Jayce made his way within earshot of their quiet conversation. "Why won't you do this for me?!"

"Because," the older one said with a smirk, "my other clients usually pay me. You don't."

"But I'm family! And you know I get paid dirt. I wouldn't come to you if I wasn't desperate," the younger replied. "He was researching demons, Uncle Ceol. If he takes that back to the-"

The older man held up his one visible hand with a slight nod to silence his nephew, and smirked. His one good eye flashed at Jayce, and then looked back at the blond. "Just for the sake of trying, describe the man to me. Maybe I can find him."

The blond looked so relieved and excited that he nearly deflated, and definitely did not notice his uncle watching Jayce over his shoulder. "He's short, a bit shorter than me, with green skin that fades to pale on his muzzle and neck, with those yellow cat eyes that they all seem to have. No tusks, but short black hair and a scar on his lip. Um...leather armor, and a black coat that looked really expensive…"

At the pause, the man winked at Jayce with a mischievous smile and then patted his nephew on the shoulder. "Tell you what, I'll take the job, on the condition you get me a copy of those De Rolo blueprints."

"Uncle Ceol!" the blond sputtered, shocked, "Those are restricted for a reason! I can't just take something like that out of the Library!"

"Then copy them. Either way, that's my price," Ceol said with a smile as he leaned back in his chair. As they had seated themselves at the corner table, Ceol was able to use the wall as his back support, which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy. "Take it or leave it."

The blond stammered and hissed with indignation as he fought it over in his mind, but before Jayce could decide to intervene, he made up his mind. "Fine. I'll take it."

"Good," Ceol said with a smile. He nodded at Jayce. "Found 'im."

The blond nearly whirled hard enough in his seat to fly off it as Jayce put down the two mugs of ale in front of the men. "Ceolmund, I presume? And Gilas, good to see ya again." Jayce sat opposite the two men as Gilas mouth gaped like a gasping fish.

"Wha-? You-?!" Gilas threw a backhand into his uncle's arm as Ceolmund burst out laughing. "You could have mentioned you had already arranged to meet the man!"

"Never seen him before in my life," Ceolmund wheezed, clearly holding his injured arm under his cloak. He looked up at Jayce. "Please excuse my paranoid nephew. He seems convinced you're in league with the Ravagers."

Jayce bit back a snarl and turned to Gilas. "Pretty sure that ain't my crew. Distaste for blood 'n all that," he hissed.

Gilas swallowed hard and, despite a look of defiance, failed to match Jayce's gaze. Satisfied, Ceolmund turned to his nephew and, again, patted his shoulder. "We'll talk later about the blueprints; for now, head back to the Library, and I'll take care of this one."

Gilas shoved himself to his feet fast enough to throw out his stool, and he marched out, seething. Ceolmund sighed as he watched the young man go, then turned to Jayce and pushed one of the mugs of ale back to Jayce's side.

"Forgive him; he's young. Now, stranger, it's clear my reputation precedes me, but very little reputation precedes you; Who are you, and why are you looking for me?"

Jayce took in a deep breath to settle himself, and he looked the man over. He couldn't even begin to guess what Ceolmund was clearly hiding under his cloak, or what kind of skill the man had, but then something caught his attention. He could barely smell a waft of mint.

Jayce put on a casual smile and matched Ceolmund's eye, and placed his clasped hands on the table. "The name's Jayce. We're lookin' for a friend of ours, and when we asked for a specialist, your name came up. You up for hire?"

Ceolmund watched Jayce closely for a moment before he answered. "You're a lucky man; you caught me on my downtime. Four hundred gold, up front, and I'll take two hundred after I deliver. Now tell me about the friend."

Jayce's jaw went tight at the mention of the money, but he managed to downplay it. "Now hang on, sir, that's a fair bit of coin. You really charge that much for your services?"

Ceolmund took on a look of uncaring stone. "Is your friend precious to you?"

Defeated, Jayce had to nod.

Pleased, Ceolmund picked up the full mug. "That's why."

Disgruntled, Jayce pulled forward his bag and pawed through it for his journal. He couldn't remember if he had that much, and it wasn't like he was planning on paying the man anyway; he just had to look like a typical client long enough to come up with an excuse to talk to the others and warn them about the smell of mint. Even with the pretense, he swore under his breath, as he had forgotten to write in the purchases from the last few days. He wasn't sure how much he had, even though it would likely be more than enough.

"Beg yer pardon, but I gotta talk to my crew. Whether or not it's fair, it's a lot of coin to bandy about, and I ain't gonna overstep without talkin' it over."

Ceolmund, clearly comfortable with the arrangement, motioned for Jayce to step away as he sipped at the new mug.

Jayce threw his bag back over his shoulder and took his stool over to the table with his companions. They had been watching the conversation with great interest, and as such had barely touched their own drinks.

As Jayce placed the stool and sat, Al immediately began talking. "So? How'd it go? Is that him or what?"

Jayce immediately dropped his voice and leaned in. "That's Ceolmund alright. Far as I can tell, he gouges clients for coin to look for loved ones."

"Asshole," Zoe grumbled. Puffpaw, still in her arms, agreed.

"But is he the one who took Dahlia?" Gauth asked.

Jayce nodded. "Pegged the mint nearly as soon as I sat down. He still reeks of it."

"I hate to be devil's advocate," Jonathan wheezed, as he leaned heavily on the table, "but we're sure it's not just an odd choice of cologne?"

"His whole gig is findin' people," Jayce hissed, his gaze hard and threatening. "He's marked with mint, and Al's Clasp buddy was convinced it was this guy on a shit ton less evidence. You want proof? Watch 'im while I describe Dahlia, and cover the exits. I don't want this shithead makin' a run for it the second he knows I'm wise."

Gauth nodded. "I am biggest, so I'll take the front door."

Jayce nodded back. "Great. Now make it subtle. I'll do my best to keep 'im distracted."

The team agreed, although it was clear Bera was still nervous. Silently, they all stood from the table and began moving to the edges of the bar, and as Jayce sat down opposite Ceolmund, he almost winced as Gauth accidently hip checked a table. Thankfully, Bera came to his defense, but it was clear Ceolmund had noticed their movement.

"Sorry 'bout that," Jayce said, in as friendly a tone as he could muster. "Unanimous decision, but ain't a happy one. We'll pay."

Ceolmund nodded, and Jayce watched his one good eye dart to check on Gauth's position by the front door. Thankfully, the man didn't seem to have noticed the others move about, but it was still worrying. "Good to hear. Show me the gold, and then describe your friend."

Jayce tried his best to look confused. He had to stall actually producing the money as he didn't want to lose it if the man cut and run. "You ain't interested in my friend first? I figure you'd wanna know who yer searchin' for before you commit."

Ceolmund sighed and put down his mug. "Fine. What does your friend look like? Who is she? Where'd you last see her? And after all that, give me the damn gold so I can go to work."

Jayce nodded. "Her name's Dahlia. Black hair, tied up here," Jayce said, as he gestured on his own head where her bun usually sat. "Green eyes, pale skin. She wears an oilcloth coat, kinda big for her, with a red...damn, brownish smear on the front. She's a doctor, ya see. Her bag's full of medicine, and she recently patched up one of our own, got blood all down her front. Been a day, so it's kinda off-colored now."

Jayce was watching Ceolmund as closely as he dared, but the man made no motion, no twitch, no sign that he recognized the description. Jayce had to keep pushing.

He sighed and leaned on the table. "Last saw her a few hours ago, at the Sleepin' Sage. Roundabout noon, she was workin' on medicine for a friend of ours. Main ingredient was mint."

Jayce snapped his gaze to Ceolmund's one good eye, with a clear snarl on his face. Ceolmund grimaced in a fraction of a second, but then sat calmly. Jayce wasn't sure if he imagined the movement, or if Ceolmund really was shifting under that dark cloak to grab a weapon, but he had the impression he had finally pushed the man enough to make him nervous.

"In fact," Jayce said softly, as he nonchalantly picked up the second mug of ale and swirled the liquid around, "we found the Shield who helped stuff 'er in a barrel. Fucker who took her used magic to keep his face from bein' clear in the memories, but given enough time, I'm sure the man I paid t' collect those memories'll come up with somethin'. Just, ya know, short on time, an' all. Especially with talk of a 'vintage' bein' bandied about."

Ceolmund put down the mug and slowly sat up straight, his gaze never leaving Jayce's own. "Sounds like you had me pegged as soon as you walked in."

"I ain't that good," Jayce said with a dangerous smirk. "I will say your face said a fuckin' lot for bein' a professional."

Ceolmund's face twisted into a malicious grin. "Since it seems an expeditious egress is no longer an option, it seems-" He suddenly twisted toward the room and yelled, "We need a circle!"

The general levity of the room immediately died, replaced by a grave seriousness that choked the air as several people stood up from their seats and pulled tables and chairs to the walls. The resulting void was roughly a circle in shape, and the patrons all filled themselves in to create a living barrier between whatever walked into the center and the windows and doors.

That also cut off Jayce from the rest of his team.

Swearing under his breath, he whirled on Ceolmund. "What the fuck is this?!"

"Combat," Ceolmund smirked. "You called me out, and I'll indulge you. Go on; we're waiting for a show."

Jayce stood up but did not leave his seat. "This ain't some back alley fight, you asshole. Rules. What'll keep their mitts off my neck while we're fightin'?"

Ceolmund snickered humorlessly. "Stay in the center, and don't hit a bystander. That's it. Use whatever you like to take me down, and if you win, I'll tell you where to find that elf you lost."

"My friend that you stole," Jayce hissed, but he complied. He was on the spot and it was clear there was an unspoken code among the patrons involving this 'circle'. He left his bag at the table and stepped into the makeshift sparring ground. As soon as he was in the center, Ceolmund followed, and the patrons filled in the gap in that corner so it was a true arena. Jayce quickly scanned the faces and saw that even Gauth, as large as he was, couldn't seem to push past the men and women edging the circle. Not without physically moving them, of course, and this was an established duel; even he could tell that other combatants were not allowed.

Jayce turned to face Ceolmund, and there was suddenly a cloud of powderized irritant in his face. He flinched away and blocked his head, hissing from the sudden pain in his eyes, but well aware it could have been much worse if he had gotten the powder in his lungs. A flash of dark cloth lunged at him, and he threw out his arms just in time to knock away the first attack, and narrowly leapt out of the way of a second slash of Ceolmund's shortsword.

"Stay still, you dunce!" Ceolmund screeched, but he ended up with a lungful of blue-black smoke that burned at his lungs. He recoiled and coughed, nearly folded in half as he hacked up the poison.

"Two can play at that game, bastard!" Jayce hissed, his blade flashing into existence as he became wreathed in oily blue flame. He brought up the falchion and slashed downward, intentionally aiming low to take out Ceolmund's legs. Ceolmund twisted away, but not enough to avoid the blow as Jayce's blade bit deep and cruelly along the length of Ceolmund's thigh.

Ceolmund stumbled backward, a trail of blood spattered along his path as he struggled to catch his footing. Jayce charged, his blade high and ready, when Ceolmund ducked his arms under his cloak and simply waited for the strike. Jayce failed to notice the trap as Ceolmund's hands flashed out from the shadows of his garment and produced a set of manacles, which snapped into place around Jayce's wrists before he even knew what happened.

Jayce, off balance with his hands suddenly attached to each other, stumbled past Ceolmund, the attack a clumsy miss. In response, Ceolmund grabbed his shortsword again and thrust hard, the tip aimed exactly for an open seam on the side of Jayce's leather armor. He buried the blade up to the hilt, and Jayce collapsed to his knees, barely able to fight for breath.

Pain burned through his side, even into his neck, as his lung filled with blood and he began to choke. Ceolmund's grin was evil and mocking as he stood over Jayce's hunched form, his own leg drenched in blood. Jayce could barely hear the sound of his companions screaming for him, some of them begging for him to get up, but the words began to fade as quickly as his vision. Then, a single voice cut through it all. Cold, sharp, and dark, it froze his blood and clawed at his bones.

"Look down."

Barely aware he was following the command, his gaze dropped to the floor, where his blood was quickly beginning to pool around him. With his hands manacled, he was unable to staunch the wound, and he wondered if he was supposed to see how quickly he was dying. Then a small sparkle caught his eye. A dark pebble with strange speckling through it seemed to draw at him, and he dropped his hands over it.

"Looks like I win," Ceolmund said with a dark laugh.

"I'm not done," Jayce said, fighting to even speak through the blood that continued to bubble up through his throat. "Last...chance. Tell me...where to find her."

"No."

Jayce scratched the ground as he clenched his fist, scraping the pebble and a handful of bloody mud into his palm.

"Then fuck off!"

A thunderous crash rocked the room as Jayce felt the pebble in his hand go ice cold, and a strange energy crackled through his arms that caused his limbs to go numb. Ceolmund pitched backward, his face frozen in a look of shock, as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground, unmoving. No one dared to breathe for several seconds, and after Jayce gagged and choked on another wad of thick blood, the patrons finally parted for the team to collect their member.

The first in the circle was Al, who immediately produced the potion he had originally stolen from Jayce, a move he very much regretted, after seeing the wound on Jayce's side. Jayce tried to take it, but fought and failed to breathe, and so began choking in earnest. Desperate, Al pulled Jayce's head far enough into his shoulder that Jayce nearly tipped over, which allowed Al to pour the potion directly into Jayce's wound. Thankfully, Dahlia's work was effective enough that the wound clearly closed, and Jayce gasped as he was finally able to take in clear air.

Zoe and Gauth were there next, and they dove for Ceolmund. The man's ears and nose were bleeding, and Zoe swore under her breath.

"What the hells did you do?" Zoe yelled at Jayce, who was panting from the previous lack of air. He was still in a lot of pain and covered in blood, but he did look better.

"Not...quite sure, myself," Jayce said. He looked at his manacled hands, only barely registering that his sword had disappeared again, and glanced at the bloodied stone in his palm. "Somethin' new, for sure. He alive?"

"I can barely tell," Zoe grumbled. "He looks like Al after...yesterday."

Al grimaced. "Eugh. I remember."

"Let me through!" Bera yelped as she pushed her way through the legs of the gathered crowd. "If I can get to him, I can keep him from dying!"

The bartender stepped out from behind the bar. "I'd like all of you to step aside, if you will. Your friend clearly won the bout, and as the rules state, there ain't no dyin' on my watch while you've got debts to pay."

Surprised, Zoe and Gauth stepped aside and watched the bartender pull out a wand and point it at Ceolmund. To everyone's shock, Ceolmund lifted a hand to stop him.

"Don't...point that thing...at me," Ceolmund grunted. "You're shit with magic."

The bartender shrugged and tucked the wand back in his apron. "Rules still stand, Ceol. This bloke beat you, an' you better pay up. Otherwise, the rules ain't gonna protect you no more."

"Could...you learn to speak...one of these days?" Ceolmund gasped. "Fine. Just...put me back...in a chair first…"

Gauth easily yanked Ceolmund up by his shoulder. "Now you deal with all of us, shadow man," he growled. "Speak the truth, or I will tear off your arms."

"Duly noted," Ceolmund wheezed.

Gauth was not gentle as he deposited Ceolmund in an empty chair near the back of the bar. The other patrons went to work resetting tables while the bartender set to work using a magical charm to clean up the blood, one small patch at a time. By the time Ceolmund was surrounded by the rest of Jayce's companions, the bar had returned to a strained levity that was still coming to terms with what they saw.

"So, talk," Zoe spat, accentuated by her fist as she slammed it into the table. "You couldn't beat one of us, so don't even think of trying against six."

"And give up the damn key," Jayce said, clearly pissed off. "This is the second fuckin' time I've been manacled today and I want these fuckin' things off."

"Clearly, it did nothing to slow you down," Ceolmund sighed. He took a moment to rub his face before his hands ducked under his cloak.

"No," Gauth growled. He grabbed the cloak and pulled it back, nearly choking Ceolmund as Gauth pulled it up and over the man's head. "We will see your hands, asshole."

"Fair! That's fair!" Ceolmund wheezed. He quickly undid the clasp around his throat and collapsed onto the stool before he leaned heavily on the table. He rubbed his throat and glanced at Gauth. "Just give it back when we're done."

"Sure," Zoe cut in. "Now, key, Dahlia's location. Chop chop."

Ceolmund ducked a hand into a hidden pocket along the seam of his left side, and produced a single, strange key with complicated teeth. Rather than hand off the key, he reached over and unlocked the manacles, which he then scooped up and hooked onto a special latch on his belt.

"I should charge you for cleaning these," he mumbled.

"Don't. Fuckin'. Push it," Jayce snarled as he rubbed his wrists. "We're done with your games. Where is Dahlia?"

Ceolmund looked over the group, but paused when his eyes settled on Jonathan. Whatever he had on his mind was a complete mystery, as his face was unreadable beyond the pain clearly ringing through his ears.

He sighed and looked at Jayce. "Drop this. Whatever your friend was worth, I guarantee she's not worth the agony you'll endure to get her back."

"That ain't for you to decide," Jayce said. His glare was obviously beginning to wear on Ceolmund, as the man failed to meet his gaze.

"I can't say exactly what the elves are for, just that it has to be elves, and they tend to last a month or more before I'm tasked with disposing of the remains and finding a replacement. Take of that what you will, but I will say this; lately, they haven't been lasting as long." He paused as the gravity of the statement sunk in among them. "I will say it's not often that the target is picked out for me. She must've made quite the impression on my client."

"Wait wait wait!" Bera yelped, her eyes wide. "You're saying...Dahlia met the client before she was abducted?"

Ceolmund nodded. "I thought the move was stupid, but desperate times and all that. Not many untraceable elves walk through Westruun."

"Cut the crap!" Zoe yelled. "Who took Dahlia?!"

"I did," Ceolmund huffed.

Zoe nearly took a swing at him, but Puffpaw jumped on the table to hiss at Ceolmund and was in her way. "You know what I mean!" Zoe roared.

Ceolmund held up a hand. "This is where I draw the line. I never offered anything before the fight, and I gave what I did to preserve my own skin. My clients hire me because I'm discreet, and frankly, if you can't find your friend from what I've already given you, you don't deserve her back. I'd say I'm sorry for your loss, but I don't give a flying fuck about you or that bitch who slapped me with that cursed mint muck. It burned, you assholes. It took far too long to scrape that crap off my face."

"You're lucky that's all you got," Jayce hissed. "She's been known to work with acid."

Ceolmund chuckled darkly and smiled at Jayce. "I must say, she's made quite the impression on all of you as well. Loved ones and families don't usually give me this much trouble. But...as a favor, if you pay the four hundred gold now, I'll betray my client."

The table went quiet. None of them, beyond Jayce, had any clue how much was in the communal funds. Would they have enough? Jayce had flashed platinum about before, but no one had that much platinum just on their person.

Then Jayce slapped down forty white platinum coins.

Everyone stared in shock at the small pile on the table, so Jayce spoke to prod Ceolmund on.

"There. Four hundred, in platinum. Tell me where she is, or I will end you before you get a chance to spend a fuckin' coin."

Ceolmund startled back to reality and took half a second to compose himself. He should have asked for more, but that would be a regret for another day. He scooped the coins toward himself and winced as his ears, once again, started to ring, but he ignored it to concentrate on quickly counting the coins before he pocketed them.

"Pleasure doing business...Jayce," Ceolmund smiled, and the way he said Jayce's name dripped with false respect. "Last I saw your friend, she was tucked away in a barrel at the lumberyard warehouse, just inside the southwest gate. Clemont Street."

"Give us a name!" Gauth roared, his palm slammed on the table right next to Ceolmund's arm for extra effect. The wooden table splintered and buckled under his hand, but somehow, the overall structure remained intact enough that the table remained in one piece. What truly impressed the others, those who knew Gauth well, was how well he was restraining himself, and that was obviously only barely.

"I can't," Ceolmund said calmly, although it was clear from how pale he was that he was quite intimidated by Gauth standing just over his shoulder. "I am paid anonymously, and all I know is I work with a Shield of the Plains named Helman Erikson. Oh, but as thanks for the coin, I will add that the last request came directly from a more decorated shield, if you will. Peter's son has a kernel of knowledge that can tell you more."

"That tells us nothing," Gauth growled.

Ceolmund ducked backward off his stool, and before they could blink, he had grabbed his cloak from Gauth's hand and dashed away. They turned just in time to see him literally dive out of a back window, and Al, as the closest, raced after him before anyone could protest. Al also leapt through the window, tucked and rolled, and once he landed, looked up in the direction he thought Ceolmund had gone down the back alley. To his shock, he saw Taneli standing over Ceolmund's unconscious form, a cudgel in his hand. Taneli looked over, saw Al, and smiled coyly, a finger to his lips and a playful wink, before he grabbed the back of Ceolmund's armor and literally dragged him away.

What remained was a coinpurse, which Al gladly scooped up. Inside was the platinum, but also a large sum of gold, likely from Dahlia's capture. Gleefully, Al tucked it away, and blew a kiss in Taneli's direction.

Al calmed himself down and climbed back into the bar, where Zoe and Bera were crowding the window. Bera immediately piped up, asking if Al had found Ceolmund.

"No," Al said with a shake of his head. "I lost him."

"Cut the bullshit," Bera huffed. "You let him go."

"Well, technically, I did lose him." Al sighed. "The Clasp had someone outside waiting for him, and I'm sure they're mighty happy Jayce softened him up so well."

"Dammit," Bera grumbled. Zoe growled her agreement. "Our next lead is this warehouse. If we're lucky, she'll still be there."

"But Jayce's in bad shape," Zoe sighed, "and John's still in bad shape. We can't afford a detour, or letting them slow us down."

"Then I'll ask Gauth to keep an eye on them both, and we'll go ahead. Every second we waste is another chance Dahlia won't be-" Al winced at the thought. "We should go. I'll meet you both outside."

"If it helps, he did say they usually last a while," Bera said, although she wasn't sure if it actually helped to mention that.

"Like I'm gonna trust that fucker," Zoe hissed. Puffpaw leapt up to her shoulders and settled in, which briefly startled her, but Zoe almost smiled at the familiar face. "Bera, let's go. Your small size should help, whatever we end up doing."

Al dashed off and informed Gauth, who was in the process of getting Jonathan back on his feet and out of the bar. Jayce immediately protested, but in his weakened state, he had no chance of keeping pace with Al, Zoe, and Bera, and relented as they disappeared from view.

Jayce gripped his side and turned to Gauth. "We're goin' after 'em, right?"

Gauth nodded and scooped up Jonathan again. "Of course. Whoever took Dahlia will not want to give her up, and I want to punch them."

Jayce nodded back. "My thoughts exactly. We ain't gonna get there first, but we know where to go. Lead the way, Gauth. I'll be right behind you."

The sun began to dip into the evening hours, with lengthening shadows stretching ever farther across the streets, as the two groups made their way to the southwest edge of Westruun. Jonathan, to distract himself from the pain of his relentless headache, dove deeper into the memories of Helman Eriksen, and barely fought back the alien mind from devouring his own. Something had to be there about that warehouse, and if he searched hard enough, he was sure to find something.

Jonathan's consciousness slipped away, completely unnoticed by his companions. Distracted by his investigation, he failed to notice a much more subtle attack against his mind, until the moment when all thought left him, and he was finally at peace.

As the shadows began to stretch across the streets like subtle roots scratching for purchase, Jonathan's face slowly cracked into a smile.