II: One for the Road

Before

1349 Dale Reckoning, Year of the Bridle

Thirty years earlier

"And I think you will find, sir, that I am quite capable of dealing with whatever this city may throw at me."

The officer frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's Lieutenant Centius, not 'sir'. And Riftmere Island isn't like the quaint countryside of Cormyr, boy. We don't just hand out jobs on the City Watch to any spoon-fed lad who walks in with a written history of his life." He waved a hand at the sheet on the desk between them. "Truthfully, Mister Loin, I'm not even-"

"Ah, it is actually 'Loynis', lieutenant. Loynis Renault. It says that at the top of the page." He leaned forward and pointed to his name.

Ignoring him, the officer went on. "I'm not even certain why you'd come here of all places. A backwater island that sees constant storms for the better part of the year." The guard raised the sheet and waved it in the air. "You briefly served in the Cormyr army. So you've trained to handle weapons. But so has every other bloody brigand, sellsword, and piece of scum that sets foot on the dock. This city is no place for someone like you."

Loynis put forward his best smile. "That just means there is more room to do good here. What can I say? I'm an idealist."

"I can see that, which is why there is no place for you in the city guard. Your application is rejected." Centius crumpled the sheet into a ball and dropped it in the trash pail beside his desk. "See yourself out."

Despite the confidence he tried to project, Loynis was screaming with frustration on the inside. He offered the guard a curt nod, then rose and left.

Outside, he kicked loose one of the cobblestones in the road and then began booting it along as he made his way back to the dockside inn where he was staying. It felt like he had knocked on at least a dozen doors on this island looking for work, and all he got for it was a head-shaking and a lot of condescending words. As much as he despised the thought of it, Loynis wondered if he might have to make the journey back to Cormyr and re-enlist with the army. Maybe there would be less corruption this time.

His parents and siblings thought he was crazy when he announced that he was leaving the family business back home. They even tried to bribe him into coming back by offering his share of the family inheritance early, but he was deadset on making his own way in life. Since then, the only contact was via the letters he would send to his sister from every town he passed through. It would certainly be an awkward conversation with the lot of them when he got back.

Sighing heavily, he pushed open the wooden door to the inn and walked inside, cringing as every step caused a high-pitched creak to escape from the worn floor boards. Decrepit as the building was, at least it had a tavern on the main floor. He made his way to the closest bar stool and motioned to the server for a drink.

As the bartender poured him a mug of ale, Loynis sighed deeply and said, "I have had quite a long day, let me tell you."

"I didn't ask," the server said with some annoyance. "Five copper."

Loynis rolled his eyes and dropped the coins on the countertop. The bartender quickly scooped up the coins and retreated to the other end of the bar, apparently to avoid any further conversation. With all the bad moods in town, it was no wonder that the skies overhead seemed perpetually grey.

The young man raised the mug, but before the liquid could touch his lips, a black-cloaked individual approached on his left side.

"If you were looking to take up drinking, you should've at least started with a place where they don't water down their bottles." The man had a familiar voice. Loynis set the glass down and turned as the figure took the seat beside him.

"Dace! I cannot believe you are here as well." A broad smile crossed the young man's face and he signalled to the bartender for a second glass, but the server had already moved off and seemed to be trying to ignore the young man.

Instead, Dace stoically reached over and took Loynis' drink, which he downed in a single gulp. "I had business in town," he said, turning the glass over on the bar. "It's only been two years since we left the army. Don't tell me you've hit rock-bottom already."

"Oh no, I just came through to get rejected by every worthwhile employer in town. I am not certain why nobody will give me a chance, I carry a great deal of experience from our time serving back in Cormyr."

"Maybe that's exactly the problem," his old friend replied. "For such a smart lad, you don't know when to take those silver spoons out of your ears. People can tell at a glance that you're from both a family and nation of privilege." Dace pointed a thumb at Loynis' chest. "The way you present and carry yourself, I'm surprised you haven't already been beaten and robbed."

"I can defend myself. I probably defeated more enemies than you did back then."

"That's because you look like the weaker target. No opponent can resist preying upon a skinny cornstalk like you." Dace looked around to make sure the bar staff were turned away, then quickly leaned forward over the bar and grabbed a bottle from behind the counter. "Besides," he went on, hiding the bottle beneath his cloak. "I thought you had the family business to fall back on."

"I have no interest in being chained to a desk and surrounded by a ledger and papers for the next thirty years. I intend to build my own life and accomplishments, not inherit a fortune from someone else, let alone my parents and siblings."

Dace snorted and shook his head. "If our places were reversed, I'd bask in the glow of your family's coffers every morning."

The young m an watched as his friend reached down and removed a metal cylinder from his belt. Popping open one end of the tube, Dace shook out a series of rolled parchments. "But if you really are intent on making your own fortune, you may be interested in these."

Unrolling one of the scrolls, Loynis saw a scratchy sketch of an angry, sneering elf with a thick scar across his face, running from the side of his eye down to his nose. Written below the crude portrait was a number that contained several zeros at the end.

"Bounty hunting?"

"That's right, Loynis. I received these jobs from a contract broker in town. These are guilty men and women that have all done something terrible enough to warrant their deaths, and I wouldn't mind another sword-arm to help me take care of them."

He reached out and took the document from his friend, reading the bounty details. "What is this man's name?"

Another derisive snort from Dace. "The names on the bounties don't matter. First, it is far too simple a matter for a wanted man to assume a new name and identity when he walks away from his old life. Second, these scum do not deserve to be remembered by their names; they are prey, deserving to be captured or killed." Seeing his friend's hesitance, Dace quickly added, "If we don't bring them to justice, someone else will eventually try. But wouldn't this be a grand way to build a name and reputation for yourself?"

Loynis rubbed his chin as the drawing sneered back at him. "I suppose that could work, for a while anyway." He sifted through the papers. "They are all located on the mainland?"

"Yes, and this'll give us a long line of stops leading all the way back home to Cormyr. Trust me, after all this is over, we'll have enough gold to rival your inheritance. Hells, you might have so much that you could even give your share of the inheritance back to your brother and sister."

The young man let out a dismissive laugh at that idea, but nodded to his former comrade. "Well, I never shirk from a challenge," said Loynis, passing the scrolls back to Dace. "And this island has nothing to offer me, anyway. It seems like there is naught to do here but spend one's life wasting away by the sea."