Two days after the bloody battle, the most injured of the adventurers were transported back to Wayfarrow.

  They were the last to return, following those that had been able to move under their own power, and then the bodies of their fallen comrades. Those that had been recoverable at least.

  A skeleton crew had been left at the captured enemy camp for now - a score of Bronze-rank adventurers, a few of the Town Watch and a handful of Silver-rankers who led them, with strict orders to retreat if anything too dangerous reared its head.

  Marie stood at the southern gate with Thror and Wilhelmina as the wagons rolled in, Halster and his brothers driving them with as much care as possible over the cobblestones to the warehouse that Wayfarrow’s council had agreed to rent out as an infirmary for the time being.

  Squads from the Watch and small groups of Bronze-rankers and a few of the higher-level civilians still patrolled the streets and walls, and would do until Thror deemed the threat to have passed. Each of them stood in respectful silence as the wagons trundled past. The ram-headed [Magistrate] Quintal leaned heavily on his cane and made a sign with one hand that Marie had come to recognise over the past couple of days: respect for sacrifice.

  The three representatives of the Adventurer’s Guild fell in behind the carts and gave a nod to Eldun who’d been one of the group escorting them back. The human [Sentinel] had one eye bandaged over and one arm in a cast, as well as a myriad of salves and bindings applied underneath his armour, and that was just the injuries Marie knew of, but he was mobile and had insisted on accompanying this last run for one specific reason.

  Nearer the front, the Silver-ranked Jenila kept one hand on her hammer and the other on a leash that led to a set of manacles clamped around the captured [Healer]’s wrists, and glimpses of Shen came every now and then as he stood up from tending to one of the wounded lying inside the carts.

  But it wasn’t any of these that Thror was concerned with at the moment, and the dark-furred tabaxi quickly turned to Chiritta who plodded along at the rear.

  Marie had never seen the squirrelkin so exhausted.

  “Are they coming back?”

  It took a moment for Chiritta to respond, the butt of her staff trailing along the ground with irregular clacks.

  “No. I don’t think so.” She drew a deep breath. “I killed a few more. The rest kept running. They’re heading south - past the langschloss outpost. If they make it, they’ll have nowhere left to go but through the Dirgeplains and back to where they came from. I doubt any will survive.”

  Marie could almost see a weight lift off Thror’s shoulders.

  “Thank you, Chiritta. There are refreshments at the guild, and the house that the Spellswords and Evermore’s were renting is open to anyone who needs to rest.”

  The squirrel-headed beastkin left with a nod, feet blurring as she activated a Skill and walked off faster than Marie could jog.

  Running clawed fingers through his mane, Thror turned to Wilhelmina.

  “Find Amit and tell him that if we don’t pick up anything through [Dangersense] and the like by tomorrow night, we’ll stand down the emergency measures, but I’ll need a rotation of [Guards] to cover the camp until enough of us are back up and mobile.”

  The orange-haired woman nodded and hurried off, and Marie took the opportunity to get a quiet word in.

  “We would have more capable help if you would let me distribute-”

  A paw the size of her head cut her off as Thror held out a hand.

  “I’m not having this discussion again, Marie. Everything we’ve recovered is property of the Adventurer’s Guild.”

  “The people deserve-”

  This time he actually stopped in the middle of the street and glared at her.

  “My office, after this is done.”

  She swallowed what she’d been about to say. The ire of the huge tabaxi was not a thing to shrug off lightly, and it was something she’d drawn surprisingly little of so far.

  They walked on in silence until the trio of carts pulled up outside the infirmary and he motioned her to go help.

  The first cart already had the handful of infirmary staff unloading the injured adventurers, so Marie went straight for the second.

  In the back were four individuals, propped up against boxes covered with blankets. She knew all their names by now; she’d spent the entirety of the previous day reviewing reports and making notes and tallying losses and updating files. The people in these carts could be crippled for life, and Thror insisted that they were only due the payment for the emergency mission they’d undertaken.

  Hazard pay. Sick pay. Healthcare. Compensation. They do not care for the worker at all.

  She reached out a hand.

  “Mister Trillian, we are going to help you inside.”

  With her other hand she beckoned over one of the Bronze-rankers who’d come to help.

  Tavren Trillan was the wren-headed alati, barely five feet high, that she’d charged into battle alongside. She put her shoulder under the stump of one wing whilst the Bronze-rank Lammaran took the other side, and between them they eased him down and supported his weight as he hopped on one leg, the other hanging limp where it was crushed and broken. His feathered head turned to regard her as they helped him hobble inside, his eyes only half seeing her. His voice was cracked and faint.

  “I'd only arrived that afternoon. I’d just got in. Hadn’t even unpacked. Hadn’t even unpacked…”

  She flinched away from his vacant gaze and swallowed the surge of anger that welled up.

  How can anyone say we do not owe these people everything?

  They got the alati settled in a bed, where what passed for a [Healer] in Wayfarrow began looking him over, and went back outside. Marie couldn’t face seeing the dozen bodies laid out in beds, knowing how little help they were going to receive.

  Not until I can give them better news.

  Outside, the first two carts were unloaded, but the third was going to take a concerted effort.

  The last casualty that needed assistance was the most problematic to move.

  Brunalda had not yet regained consciousness.

  The goliath woman had remained on the hilltop she’d almost died to defend for the past two days and nights as the survivors tried to work out how to move her.

  They’d covered her of course, and tended to her wounds as best they could, but they hadn’t even been able to roll her over to check the ones on her back.

  An attempt had finally been made a few hours ago, once Thror was sufficiently healed to assist, and it had taken the [Guildmaster], a trio of [Farmers] with [Enhanced Strength], the burliest [Blasksmith] they could find, and Amorina - a retired Silver-rank who was close to level 30 and built like a tank, to get her onto the cart.

  Even then, it had more been them lifting her unconscious body and the cart being backed up underneath it.

  Getting her into the infirmary was going to be even harder, though they’d thought ahead and prepared a stretcher on the cart before they’d loaded her on.

  Braer had come to help too now they were back in town.

  They’d briefly considered asking Lady Kypria but the [Chief Librarian] had been laid up from the strain her Skills had put on her body and wouldn’t be of use for any physical activity for some time.

  In the end, half a dozen extra townsfolk lent a hand to get her into the wider delivery entrance to the makeshift infirmary and onto a bed which had been made by shoving three regular-sized cots side-by-side.

  Eldun and Fodrin were there to see her settled. Sirrochon had taken the morning off from haranguing the guild about pursuing the [Soldiers] into the dungeon to come visit the [Mage] that had saved them all. Leaping Mist and Rina were still bedbound, and Fila had been helping take care of them and the rest of the adventurers as the few townsfolk with any medical training were overwhelmed by the sudden influx.

  Watching the comatose goliath’s shallow breaths, Marie renewed her vow to help the adventurers no matter what Thror said.

  —

  Back in the [Guildmaster]’s office, the floor shook as the tabaxi sank into his chair. Thror rested his elbows on the desk, dragging his fingers through his hair as he pulled a bundle of files out of a drawer and spread them over the surface.

  Marie waited until he leaned back and gestured to them. Then she reached out and picked up the closest.

  Responsibilities and Duties of Chartered Guilds: The Guildmaster’s Guide, Adventurer’s Guild Edition.

  Thror made no move, seemingly content to sit back and relax for a moment amidst four days of hectic activity and she continued reading.

  Issued under the Seal of the Alloyed Assembly of Varethis, in conjunction with regulations and guidelines agreed on by the official Adventuring bodies of Albraxia, Miravon, Nyvora etcetera.

  As the duly appointed [Guildmaster], [Guildmistress] or other officially recognised position, you are hereby entrusted with the stewardship of your Adventurer Guild charter, the safety and discipline of your members, and the honor of the Adventuring Guild name. This document outlines the mandatory obligations and recommended practices for the lawful operation of a chartered adventuring guild. Failure to uphold these duties may result in fines, suspension of charter, or - should dereliction prove grievous - dissolution and incarceration. The Alloyed Assembly reserves the right to implement stricter punishments, up to and including torture and death, where such action is deemed necessary.

  Marie raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Thror, but his head was back and he appeared to be dozing in the multicoloured beam of sunlight that fell through the stained-glass window behind him.

  Section 1: Charter Compliance.

  There were pages and pages, and rather than sit for hours reading she scanned the highlights.

  The maintenance of the Charter Seal. Renewing licenses. Adherence to guild codes. Jurisdictional boundaries. The payment of taxes to the Alloyed Assembly. Administration of guild members. Testing standards and minimum requirements. The issuance of badges. Taxation of guild members (that one she remembered from the codes). Quest confirmation and securing payment. Rules for what the guild could and couldn’t ask of its members. Recording and reporting of adventurer activity. Appropriate standards for adventurers to be held accountable to. Guildhall access and maintenance. Permissible perks for guild members. Loans and repayment for setting up new guildhalls. Civic duties and relationship standards to local governing bodies. Agreements with law enforcement. Emergency powers and granted Skills. Penalties for failures in standards. Penalties for failures in tax payments. Penalties for fraud or misappropriation of funds or loot. Penalties…

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  The penalties section went on for a long time.

  She got to the end and before she could ask anything, without opening his eyes, Thror’s tail flicked out and pushed another folder in front of her.

  The Adventurer’s Guild Master Pricelist.

  Last Updated: 1st Falmune, Age of Recovery year 1182.

  But that was only a few days ago…

  “How did you get a co-”

  “[Mage] paper. It changes when the master copy is altered.”

  Marie filed that information away for later use and scanned the front page, which listed the most notable updates to the previous version. The full list of items covered dozens of pages: basic equipment and services, food and lodging if it was available, equipment, crafting and trading services…

  “The minimum price for a healing potion… that is a lot more than I was going to charge adventurers for Osric’s work…”

  “I know. It’s not too difficult to get around that part; it just has to be set up that Osric is renting a room in the guild and selling his potions as an independent entity. So long as he pays at least half of his profit to the guild it’s all above board.”

  “But I already signed a contract with him…”

  “I know. I decided not to officially file it yet.”

  “Is that not risky, with all the penalties?”

  Thror waggled a hand, still not looking up.

  “Not if he isn’t selling. As far as I’m concerned he’s not up to scratch yet. Anything he does until I approve it is just a testing phase.”

  Marie kept scanning the documents.

  Common magical item prices. Resources and materials. Adventurer hire costs…

  “Wait - does this mean the rates I have advertised downstairs are wrong?”

  The prices quoted on the paper were not even half of what she had recommended adventurers be paid.

  “Not exactly. The price there is what the guild is prepared to pay adventurers when it has cause to hire them. Anyone else can pay whatever they agree.”

  Oh. I think I see the issue.

  “But…”

  Before she could get any further Thror’s tail slid another paper over. This time, a letter.

  Dear [Guildmaster] Thunderous Roar,

  It has come to our attention that you utilised the following emergency Skills on the 3rd of Falmune:

  (i). [Emergency Request: Open the Coffers]

  (ii). [Guildmaster’s Prerogative: Pay for Quality]

  Please be advised that the total amount due to be repaid to the coffers of The Alloyed Assembly for funds provided comes to …two thousand, seven hundred and fifty-six gold, and four silver… minus the standard rate of pay for the adventurers in question.

  Submission of paperwork and payment is required within one month of the emergency in question having passed. Note that further emergency Skill requests may be refused until paperwork and payment for the outstanding has been received. Failure to meet this deadline will result in interest being added to the total amount due and/or punitive action taken against you, should you still be alive.

  If you survive the emergency and require further assistance, please seek a representative of the Mage’s Guild, or any individual with {Scrying} or {Sending} or similar communication measures to contact …[Gold Warden], [Margrave] Alaric van Hauer… who will assess your case.

  Please note that as guild funds were requested for emergency purposes, any loot from quests or missions paid for with these funds is claimed as property of The Alloyed Assembly and a submission of any relevant items should be included with the paperwork requested above.

  Failure to comply with guild standards as laid out in ‘Responsibilities and Duties of Chartered Guilds: The Guildmaster’s Guide, Adventurer’s Guild Edition.’ will result in the appropriate penalties being sought, and the Alloyed Assembly reserves the right to seek …Death and Dismemberment… in the case of misuse of emergency Skills and any evidence of fraud therein.

  We hope this finds you in the best of health and wish you luck in whatever trials your branch of the Adventurer’s Guild is facing.

  Best Wishes,

  Daria Celesta, [Trusted Senior Secretary] to The Alloyed Assembly.

  Dictated but not read.

  Marie put the letter down and blinked.

  “That is…”

  “The reality that I am facing.”

  “...I was going to say slightly terrifying. And unfair. They will only cover their rates for hiring adventurers, and they want all the equipment and items that we recovered? Is that really all part of the rules you have to follow?”

  Thror finally leaned forwards, and began to shuffle the papers back together.

  “Yes. You see now why I denied the requests you made yesterday? We don’t even have enough saved in the guild treasury to make the payment they want, let alone pay the adventurers your advanced rates or share out the spoils.” He sighed. "Perhaps I should have been collecting loot taxes all along."

  Marie felt the heat beginning to rise and struggled to turn her ire away from the [Guildmaster].

  “But, how will the bill be paid? The people here deserve better. What if another threat comes? What if more [Soldiers] come? What if something dangerous emerges from the dungeon? Why are they allowed to even make these demands?”

  Thror sighed.

  “They can make these demands because we need them. When I used those Skills, where did you think the money came from? Not here - not this guild - not in Wayfarrow. It comes directly from the treasury of The Alloyed Assembly. Without their resources, and those Skills, which I get from my position, we wouldn’t have survived the other night. [Guildmaster’s Prerogative: Pay for Quality] - that gave every one of us at minimum the equivalent of a couple more levels. Do you think as many of us would have survived otherwise?”

  “As many?”

  Thror nodded.

  “They might not have been the best [Soldiers] I’ve ever seen, but that was part of an army we faced, Marie. We were a group of adventurers less than half their number. Without the Skills and the backing of the leadership of the Adventurers Guilds - The Alloyed Assembly - none of us would have come back from that. We were a mostly Silver-ranked group going up against a Gold-ranked threat.”

  It was a sobering thought, and Marie felt some of her anger drain away.

  “So, what do we do?”

  Thror waved a hand in the direction of the window.

  “I can petition the council to cover some of it; they’ll have to requisition funds from the [King], which will take time, but there’s enough information to argue the case. I haven’t officially noted the ‘Bandit Quest’ as completed yet, but with Chiritta’s evidence I can’t put it off much longer. I’ll empty the guild’s treasury and we’ll send everything we have with the paperwork and, hopefully, signed affidavits from the Council to buy us some time.”

  I did not even know there was a king. I need to learn more of Varethis. And beyond.

  “Could you ask some of them to help?”

  A snort came from the tabaxi as he returned the files to their drawer and stretched out his arm - only partially recovered from its dislocation.

  “Do you know why I came to Wayfarrow, Marie?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s because it was a small, backwater, quiet little town that no one cared about and, apart from the monthly allagi business, nothing much happened. I wanted a quiet life after I quit adventuring. I could sit back and relax with a couple of reliable underlings to take care of running the place and, as long as nothing too egregious happened, I could give the adventurers the freedom to do what they wanted. Understand this: no one cares about Wayfarrow, not even many of those that live here. Now that something has happened here, that’s come back to bite us on the tail: there’s no one around to call on for help.”

  Marie’s head was bowed in thought.

  “Then you need to find other ways to cover the shortfall.” She glanced up to meet the tabaxi’s eyes. “And help the adventurers get the compensation for the work they deserve.”

  At that, the tabaxi’s eyes lost a measure of their exhaustion and she detected a twinkle of amusement.

  “Why do you think I haven’t thrown you out of a window for bothering me yet. If there’s one thing I’ve realised about you since you stepped foot in my office for the first time it’s that you’re the ideas person, so, get to work.”

  —

  Her first port of call was, perhaps obviously, Gil. She caught him just as he was heading into a council meeting.

  The rotund tabaxi [Merchant] and councillor had proven surprisingly effective in the battle and was the most successful person she’d come across in this town in terms of business.

  Unfortunately, his first response was not exactly what she wanted to hear.

  “I’m not sure there’s much you can do. Very few have the power to go up against the heads of any of the Guilds, especially the Adventurers Guild. You certainly won’t get them to give up the loot they’re laying claim to, and the coin you owe won’t pay itself.”

  “Please, Gil, is there any advice you can give me? You were there. You saw what happened. Do they not deserve more than the bare minimum the guild has offered?”

  Gilded Paw’s face softened.

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, child. I can certainly lodge a request to claim that some of the loot should be allocated to me. And Lady Kypria I suppose. And perhaps it should be argued that the Watch are due repayment for their horses. I can draft a letter and send it to the Merchant's Guild and they’ll push for recognition.” His eyes darted around to check no one else was listening and then met her with a serious gaze. “Although I am actually significantly out of pocket, so I would recoup my losses before I passed any extra over to your cause. I am a [Merchant] after all.”

  “Anything would be welcome, Sir. This system is… unsympathetic to those that have paid the price. I have skimmed the rules, and this ‘Alloyed Assembly’ puts their own needs above those of the adventurers who bring them their wealth and status. I am just seeking to redress the balance.”

  The tabaxi’s eyebrows rose.

  “Well, I wouldn’t let them hear you saying that, Miss Marie. And between you and me, even if I agree with you, the Assembly and the other Guild Councils serve an important role in Varethis. In every country really.”

  “I did not see them fighting for Wayfarrow.”

  “You didn’t, no. But there was little warning and the danger was ‘only’ Gold-ranked. If we had failed, or if we had detected some greater threat, who do you think might have been called on to deal with it?”

  “Not the army?”

  Gil shrugged as he wiped his brow with a handkerchief, the summer heat bearing down as he made to head into the council chambers with their shade and refreshments. Marie shifted silently to put his bulk in between her and the figure of Lord Entoll stomping across the street.

  “They would certainly come if the danger warranted it, but adventurers tend to respond faster. The Alloyed Assembly is led by some of the most powerful adventurers in the land. The [Silver Marshal] or the [Platinum Champion] would have dealt with what we faced with far greater ease. Do not discount them as mere bureaucrats or has-beens.”

  She frowned as he shuffled off to the relative cool of the chambers.

  That did not help us though. They were not here. Skills are not enough.

  At least Gilded Paw had promised to help.

  In another time or another place, Marie would have presented the case to the council and asked for help, but even discounting Lord Entoll’s presence there, she was well aware she wasn’t in the best of standing with its members. Besides Gil.

  And since speaking to any of the [Lords] was a non-starter, she’d have to do the next best thing.

  —

  Fila Entoll was massaging her feet in the one spare infirmary room set aside for volunteers when Marie caught her.

  “Honestly Marie, I don’t know how you all managed it the other night. It was bad enough on horseback. Two days of shifts in here and my feet are sprouting blisters like a myconid sprouts caps.”

  Marie put that image out of her head before it could fully form. The noble daughter must have been run ragged; she’d not spoken so plainly any time before.

  “Adrenaline.”

  “I expect so.” The [Arcane Songstress] nodded, grabbing a cold cup of tea and swallowing what she could stomach. “What did you want to talk about? I’ve got a half hour before my next shift starts. We’re going to try and check Brunalda’s back…”

  Wincing with sympathy, Marie laid out the issue as succinctly as she could, but before she’d even finished Fila’s face gave her an answer.

  “I’m sorry Marie. I could maybe funnel a few funds into it but none of the nobles here are really that well-off. Even if I asked they wouldn't agree to much. They put on a good show but there’s only really one reason for people to move to Wayfarrow. Father sold our family estate after mother died and what was left over is going down year by year. Unless something comes up that changes things, the next decade is going to be problematic. I think he’s secretly hoping I make it as an adventurer, or perhaps that he can find someone to marry me off to…”

  “Forced Marriage? Really? He would stoop to that for his own financial gain?”

  “It might not be so bad,” Fila shrugged, “depending on the person.”

  Marie shook her as her mouth twisted in disgust.

  “That is…cold and transactional. In my country we have only passion in love. You should not be sold off like chattel. Money is important, but not that important.”

  Just when I thought I could not dislike that slimy lord any more. That…batard.

  “Look. It’s not an issue now. Your problems are paying the Assembly and the rest of the adventurers what they are owed. I don’t know the guild laws myself, but I can tell you that any laws have…not loopholes, but ways they can be interpreted. Look at exactly what they say, and exactly what happened, and see if there are ways you can send them paperwork that is both true and in your favour. But do not lie. That is all the advice I can give at the moment.”

  It was enough to get going on, and so, after thanking her, and making a short visit to the library and securing the help of an [Archivist] and a [Scholar], Marie found herself back in her office at the Adventurers Guild, surrounded by books and scrolls and maps, reading page after page of information as she steadily filled a notebook with her findings.

  —

  By the time midnight came, Marie was dead on her feet, shuffling round the table, looking up references to codes and cross-checking details of charters. Her hand was cramping and her stomach growled; she’d worked long past dinner.

  When she stumbled out into the guildhall, she cursed at the lack of illumination. The fire in the hearth was all but dead and the only chandelier that was lit was the one above the reception counter, showing Rudi plugging away at the neverending task of updating files.

  He wasn’t the only other person in the guild, but the handful of adventurers in the armchairs and on the sofas were snoring at various volume levels, and nothing else stirred in the room.

  She didn’t want to disturb them, but a cauldron suspended over the embers of the fireplace promised at least a few mouthfuls of sustenance, or Greeleena would have stowed it in the kitchen before she left, and she didn’t trust herself to make it there in the flickering darkness. Not without tripping over someone or something.

  Fortunately, she had a solution for that.

  “{Ghost-Light}.”

  A pale blue, ghostly ball appeared over her outstretched palm. It had taken her all of the previous day to realise how to do it, but with what little mental focus she had left she willed it to hover above her shoulder.

  It emitted a soft light. Not harsh like fire or a torch, but a gentle illumination.

  Like something you would find in a graveyard in a faerie tale.

  She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand much about this place, but she would make use of what she had regardless.

  A bowl on the table beside the fireplace gave her something to ladle the remains of dinner into.

  Pottage?

  She looked down at the meagre meal under the pale light. It was thick and still warm, and there was a heel of dry bread left over.

  It will do.

  She filled a glass of water and took both it and the bowl back to her office.

  Her tent was still outside the town walls, with almost all of her worldly possessions inside, but she had work to do here and, for the moment, she thought Thror would permit her sleeping at her desk.

  He hadn’t rebuked her for doing it the past two nights.

  Besides, he needs me.

  She used the bread to mop up the savoury grain-filled stew and downed the water, feeling not at all refreshed but a little sated.

  Thror needed her help to get out of this new mess - this debt, and she would do what she could, but she also had her own issues, and some of them weren’t feasible to deal with in a cramped and cluttered tent with nothing but a few Skills standing between her and the wilderness.

  Pulling back a blanket in the corner of the room, she regarded the bones that lay underneath it. She’d put them together as best she could. She didn’t know if that would help. She didn’t even know if any of this would work. But it was all she had to try. It had taken most of the previous night to get it all set up. Now was the moment of truth.

  [Minor Necromantic Font]

  She could feel something, she was sure of it, and the {Ghost-Light} flickered and grew stronger over her shoulder. That was the only real sign she had. So she closed her eyes, and began to try and direct what she felt down to suffuse the skeletal remains of Napoleon.

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