The next person Raynold found was Mitchell. The two ran into each other while searching for the other. Raynold was apprehensive, wondering whose side Mitchell might have taken, and what reaction he’d give him.

  “Frey just told me that he’s going to found a clan without you. He’s fucking crazy!”

  “Yeah? That’s not all he did, he took my share of the money from the dragon corpse.”

  Mitchell stared at him, stunned.

  “That’s it, we’re going to find him right now. There’s no way that we’re letting him get away with this.”

  Raynold felt some relief knowing that he had at least one person on his side. Mitchell was right, they would figure this out. He just had to talk to Frey, figure out what had happened, and resolve it. It didn’t have to be the end of the world.

  Raynold thought that all the way until they reached Frey’s inn, where they were told that he had checked out that morning and left in a hurry with a blonde woman.

  He had to have known that they would confront him, especially after Elaine filled him in on how their meeting went.

  “Mitchell, get your weapons and armor ready, then meet me back here as soon as possible.”

  “We don’t have time for that! If we hurry we can still catch them.”

  “Catch them where, exactly? We don’t even know if they’ve left the city or where they could have gone. Besides, we need to prepare. You don’t think Frey is just going to roll over and hand us the money, do you?”

  “Of course not, that’s why we’re going to beat some sense into him and drag him back.”

  “Oh, and could you kill Elaine? Taking out the healer first is a no-brainer.”

  “We don’t have to go that far.”

  “We do if we go alone. Mitchell, I won’t pussy around: if the two of us confront them someone is going to wind up dead. Not defeated, not beat, dead. I’m not saying this to sound tough, either. Maybe it will be on purpose, or maybe it won’t. But all it takes is an unlucky punch at the wrong angle, or a bad fall. We only win if we don’t fight in the first place, and that’s why we need to prepare.”

  “... Alright. You’re right. Give me ten minutes.”

  “Good. Make sure you look fierce, we’re going to see a friend.”

  ***

  When Mitchell heard where they were going he actually insisted that they not. Whether it was out of fear, pride, or a need for control over the situation, Raynold couldn’t tell.

  “Whatever you do, don’t say anything and let me do the talking.”

  “Just how the hell do you even know this guy?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Right. I’ll bet it's ‘complicated’ too.”

  The banter stopped as soon as they closed in on their destination. The pair were in one of the rougher parts of the city, where people fell through the cracks. Facing straight ahead, Raynold made it a point to only use his peripheral vision to observe his surroundings.

  Homeless people sat on the sides of the muddy, unpaved street, wallowing in damp darkness and despair. They stared aimlessly at the walls of dilapidated buildings right in front of them, barely moving to conserve what little energy they had.

  They were, all of them, former adventurers.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Just as dangerous as the dungeon was the machinations of the society built around it. Sometimes shit happened, people died, and the survivors weren’t lucky enough to claw their way back to normalcy.

  As if the Guild had wanted to waste the least amount of real estate on the "undesirables,” they squeezed them all into the outskirts of the city. There had been no planning.

  The streets were a maze of half-built houses and winding narrow alleys. Pools of unidentifiable grey muck congealed in deep potholes that went up to the knee. Roots that had never been properly removed from the ground tilted the foundations of buildings, shifting them so that no one inside could ever sleep laying down.

  They called it the Deep. There were no limits to how far someone could sink here.

  As they passed rows of unwashed bodies huddled shoulder-to-shoulder, Raynold could pick out a few who had been warriors from their trained physiques. They were the unlucky ones, forced to see something they’d built up diligently their whole life wither away from lack of sustenance.

  Raynold steeled himself. He would not end up like them.

  Ahead of the pair was the only building with a door on its hinges. Gentlemen of a rough disposition stood outside and spotted them coming. Mitchell showed them their invitation: a massive battle-axe longer than they were tall. They were ushered in, and went straight for the bar at the end of the room.

  “You need to get a better leash on your guard dogs outside, they didn’t recognize us.”

  The bartender raised an eye at Raynold. He had a long, thin face, as if his chin were drooping off his skull. Practically triangular.

  “They’re still new. The usual?”

  “No, I’ll try something else. Get me a glass of Thaum’s.”

  “I’m not sure that we have that in stock.”

  “You sure you don’t have that in the back?”

  “I can go check. How do you want it?”

  “On the rocks.” The bartender nodded and disappeared behind a door behind him.

  “Raynold,” Mitch asked nervously, “why the hell are we here? Where’s your friend?”

  “Just be quiet and watch.” Mitchell looked torn between asking more and keeping quiet. He eyed the other patrons of the bar, people with mangled faces and scarred bodies. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here.

  “Mitch, here’s some food for thought. Do you think a place like this has ice?”

  Mitchell was so confused that he barely noticed when a cloaked man joined them at the bar. He appeared out of thin air, his presence undetectable even now that he was sitting right next to them. Try as he might, Raynold’s eyes slipped away from the face beneath the hood.

  “You looking for Thaum’s? I hear there’s a guy upstairs who's got a bottle of the stuff.”

  “Room?”

  “Number four.”

  Raynold left a few coins on the counter and motioned to Mitchell to follow him. Upstairs were only three doors in a short hallway and a crooked bookshelf at the end. Raynold confidently walked to the end, pulled a thin book from the shelf, and opened a secret passage. The two entered room number four.

  Inside was a small lounge: two cushy seats, a coffee table, and a rug covering the old, splintered wood. A lantern bathed the room in bright light; there were no windows to the outside world.

  Someone was already inside, lounging in the seat across from the pair, feet resting on the coffee table. He played with coins in one hand, flinging them up and down. They were the same coins Raynold had left on the counter.

  Wordlessly, the man drew back his hood, revealing a sharp face.

  “The bartender?” Mitchell couldn’t help but ask.

  “Yes, the bartender,” he answered. “And the man in the cloak, the man with the mangled face in the corner of the room, and the owner of this here bar.”

  “And the friend I was looking for. It’s good to see you, Thaum.”

  “How? I didn’t even notice.”

  “Mitchell, all you need to know is that Thaum has a very particular set of skills, and he is very good at what he does. Just come here asking for a drink with his name, and something they can't possibly have in stock, and maybe he'll hear you out. Don’t think about it too hard.

  And Thaum, stop messing with Mitch. You were not the guy with the weird nose. You were the bald guy sitting on the opposite side of the room.”

  “Sharp as ever. Now what do you want? It’s not time for our monthly game of cards, and if you’ve come to collect last month’s earnings…”

  Mitchell did as he was told and didn’t question anything, but he look from Raynold to Thaum curiously, noticing a tension between the two. Of course, he didn’t have the full story.

  He didn’t know that Thaum was a gambling addict, that he was terrible at it, and that Raynold was the only person who played with him because everyone else tended to disappear.

  “Relax, Thaum. I have a favor to ask.”

  “I’m not teaching you any more assasination techniques. I’ll get in trouble with the Union.”

  “I need you to find some people for me. Do that and you can forget about last month’s debt.”

  “Those two party members of yours?”

  “You already know?”

  “Please, who do you think you’re talking to? I can find them for you, just give me an hour.”

  It took only half.