With the setting sun on the seventh day, we arrive back in Nodkis and check in with the Adventurer’s Corps. Surprisingly, Corporal Level is still there and crowds us into his cramped office almost immediately for our report.
He glances at his ledger, “C-4, around Tullikins. How’d it go?” Level smiles and waits patiently to write it all down.
I’d nearly forgotten how genial the man is.
I sit quietly in the corner and let Vong deliver the rope to hang himself with.
“Well first Gala didn’t show, as you know. We left a note. Then I heard about some curse at Endolkin farmville that Mister Messer told me about and we were thinking of checking it out but then I remembered that Gala wouldn’t be able to find us if we went to a different sector. Rakatha ran back to town to look for her but he didn’t find her so we went to Tullikins after that.”
Drat, it might have been amusing if he’d revealed that she was dead and Rakatha hadn’t reported it. Actually, strike that—I still don’t want to be questioned on account of Rakatha’s suspicious behavior.
Vong continues to rattle off what is essentially a play-by-play of our week while Level jots notes down on his paper.
“We were ambushed by some goblins but they got away. We asked around and we think they were the same ones from the orchard. So I tracked them to the east and we found this copse of trees we thought they might be hiding in, but it turned out to be a crazy guy. Voella wanted him treated so we escorted him back to town and left him at the clinic. Any update on him?”
Level looks up, raises an eyebrow, and shakes his head.
Vong shrugs, “I’ll go check on him in the morning. After that, we went back out—oh, there was this rat storm that happened. Not sure if that’s helpful. Anyway, we found some goblins, maybe the same ones, only there were more and they had trapped a military patrol who had been pursuing them. I had us pull their attention so the patrol could regroup and then we finished them off together. Nice guys. Do you know Sergeant Filent?”
Again, Level looks up from his dutiful note taking and shakes his head. Then he squints one eye and nods, “Filent, yeah. Wasn’t in my platoon but some of the boys liked him. Met him once? Little after the invasion last year.”
Vong purses his lips and nods in agreement, “He seemed good.”
A long pause.
Level taps his quill in the inkwell, “Anything else?”
Shrugging, Vong says, “That’s about it. Unless you’d like my assessment of the unit members.” He nods in the direction of the rest of us.
I can’t fully keep my eyes from narrowing but I do pretty well. This is not going the way I had imagined. Corporal Level doesn’t seem too perturbed, and why should he? The way Vong describes it, the group was the very embodiment of charity, risking life and limb to help any person in need. I noticed his clever use of ‘I’ and ‘we’ at all the appropriate times. His personable manner, too, asking questions and drawing Level into his story. Did he learn that or is it natural? Come to think of it, he’s had an easy way about him with everyone we’ve come across in the last week.
Corporal Level shakes his head, “Not this week. I’m glad to hear you’re all safe and sound. I do have some unfortunate news though.”
It’s probably about Gala.
“Gala was found but, sadly, not among the living. Tragic, really. I think the Corps was going to be her way to better herself.” He sighs and frowns, earnestly mourning that miscreant.
Voella’Tien reaches over the desk and gives him a comforting touch, “You cannot blame yourself, Orvan. It is a cruel world at times but her place is not your responsibility. I fear she made choices you would not have and they were hers to make. Put this from you, please.”
How touching. Is there something going on between these two that I need to be aware of? I will assume, for the time being, that anything Voella’Tien knows, Level knows. Will she tell him later about the hand? Kurdu’s Eye, that was idiotic!
Vong gets in on the sappy scene, “She’s probably in a better place now. Did she have family?”
Orvan Level shrugs.
“I want her share of the pay to go to them, if you can find them. It’s the least we can do.”
What?! She did none of the work and is partially responsible for the overall ineptitude of the week. Not only is it foolish to pay her, it is inappropriate to decide this without discussing it with the rest of the group.
I glance at Voella’Tien and her eyes sparkle at the declaration. Ugh, of course she’d agree to that. Rakatha seems a greedy sort, though, and will probably protest a reduction in pay but, when I look at him, he is staring at the floor as though it were insulting his mother; his thoughts are far off. He’s not even paying attention. Now, if I say something and Rakatha agrees then it’s an even split. If he continues to space out or sides with Vong then I look like an ass.
I can’t believe this. We are on the verge of paying out nearly sixty gold to a dead criminal’s family. I decide to attempt a neutral approach.
“And if there is no family to be found?” My voice is perfectly neutral. My face is perfectly expressionless.
Corporal Level thinks for a moment but it is Vong who answers first, “It would be wrong to keep it. What about donating it to the crazy, naked guy?”
This boy clearly has never had to want for money. Only the wealthy can afford to be so lofty and charitable. I’ll bet he hasn’t even noticed that Rakatha’s coin purse is empty and that he inquired intently about a bounty on the giant. Probably didn’t notice that Gala had no travel pack and that her daggers were falling apart. He probably can’t even see that we are sitting in a converted pig pen with thin, cheap walls made from leftover wood scraps. Or that Level is using a wood horse as a desk. People from money can’t see poverty.
But his altruism has painted us into a corner. There is no way to keep the money without being the bad guy and I need to do at least two months of this to earn what I need. Khanhein is expensive and I will need to make some bribes in order to get residency papers made. They have strict rules about who can go in which city and which sector of that city. If I hope to establish the roots of my empire there any time soon, I will need to expedite a few steps.
Corporal Level agrees to the plan and he and Vong shake hands on it. He hands us our wages: forty-five gold pieces, eight silver, and one copper penny. Less than I had estimated. Disappointing. The group gets up to leave and I pause, intent on staying behind to reveal Vong’s many incompetencies during the week. Then I notice Voella’Tien hanging back. Is it ‘hand’ time already?
“Orvan,” her tone is soft and neutral, “Has another cleric been recruited for this group?”
Corporal Level smiles a great, big smile, “Thanks for the reminder! I have, actually. He won’t be ready until Wednesday, though, so how about you guys have a couple days off and we’ll start you out again then?”
Voella’Tien can’t hide her relief now. She sighs and smiles, “I will return to the clinic, in that case. You may call on me any time.” Waiting just long enough for a warm acknowledgment from Level, she glides past Vong and out the door.
This has also got Vong’s wheels turning, apparently, “How about a fifth member?”
“Yes, uh,” Level sifts through some papers and plucks a contract from the pile, flicking it with his finger to punctuate. “Rill Weynpoint.”
“Will he be ready on Wednesday too?”
“She, and yes.”
“Awesome! Well, see you later, Level!” Vong has this smile like he’s expecting an ovation as he saunters through the door and out into the corridor.
There’s too much positivity in the air. I decide against my report on his leadership this week. Next week, however, I will be prepared with a written account. What is another week?
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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