"Let them go? They're lawbreakers. What kind of example would we be setting for the town if we just let them go." Cimri says through a mouthful of food. "We're being paid for this. Maybe fancy-pants here can deal with sleeping in less-than-oppulent conditions for the gold, cuz I sure don't see any OTHER gold making it into his pocket! I noticed his coin pouch was rather empty as soon as he started his whole better-than-thou parade."
”Bwah-hah-hah-hah!” The red-haired woman nearly falls out of her chair from the raucous laughter. ”You know, Cimri’s got a point there, Marky,” She wipes a tear from her eye. ”Where is all that ‘noble lineage’ of yours? Hm?”
"So, what are you suggesting, Cimri? Sicaria's intent is clear. Yours, less so."
“If it pleases Your Lordship, our friends here should arrest The Last Stand’s owner, Bolgart Caggan, for defying the new law. I suggest pillorying him in front of the jail as an example to others. Additionally, see what you can find out about the Angel Knight from Kels.”
"We were told to pillory him. Without a duration, I'd assume the pillorying is indefinite, and that we're expected to stay here and keep the man alive and on display. Show the people we aren't a bunch of pushovers who put our personal comfort over the will of the Archbaron."
Cimri kicks her feet up on the nearby table and begins playing with the business end of a dagger. "I think we just ought to wait until we have more orders. For now, we pillory Bolgart. As for Kels, if we wish to throw him out so be it. He's an imbecile with less-than-half-decent musical talents anyways."
Marcianus groans. "Indefinitely is not something that I am willing to consider, but another day or two is acceptable.
Sitting here on our thumbs is no way to gain the Archbaron's favor though. We need to find this Angel Knight, and the longer we have to mind prisoners the less we are doing to accomplish what is important."
His patience with Sicaria's snickering having eroded, he glares at the assassin. "If this hamlet had any place at all that could be hired for lodgings or anything worth buying, I would be spending coin. I am not the one who decided it was all right to sleep in a haunted, derelict shack, after all.
I had to twist each of your arms to even get us upgraded to these meager accommodations."
Beginning to gather his things, he mentions, "Now, I am going to see if there is Anywhere else to get a decent drink and something to eat. My shift as guard is ended. One of the rest of you can take over making sure our prisoners don't die of thirst."
Personal comfort? Oh, right, because the townspeople might decide that they do not like to see one of their own pilloried for so long and might take out their anger on us. I can see how that might become unpleasant. Probably not as unpleasant as the consequences for failing to carry out the Archbaron's directions, though.
"Oh, not to worry, Cimri. I am comfortable enough leaving that a$*&!~& Bolgart in the stocks for as long as the Archbaron likes." Wolfgang gives the Miscreants' manager a disconcertingly toothy grin and leans back in his chair with feigned nonchalance. "As for Kels, like I said before, I think we should give him the boot. We have squeezed him for what little he knows about this Angel Knight and now he's just a waste of valuable bread and water. If we kick him hard enough, he is not likely to try to come back."
"It is not as though the haunt were bothering us before you started complaining about wanting a bath, Marcianus. Or was it that you wanted the rest of us to bathe? In any case, some good came of it - we did find those medallions, after all. Go find yourself a drink and relax a bit, I will take the next shift. Sicaria, Gravenail, do you want to escort our extraneous guest through the gate?"
”Wait, he’s still sitting in the cell?!” Sicaria stands up as she cracks her neck and knuckles. ”Where’s the key? I’ll do it myself.”
Cimri smiles as she grabs Kels' mostly broken lute. "We gonna kick the loser out tonight? Or tomorrow morning?"
At the question of more places to eat, Cimri sighs. "If you like bland slop and watered down mead, The Arch and Lark is the only other place here in town for food."
Sicaria looks at Cimri, confused. ”Why would we keep him here longer than we need to? Just let ‘im go.”
Bewildered, Wolfgang tilts his head and looks at Cimri, then nods in agreement with Sicaria.
"What's the matter, Cimri - afraid the creatures of the night might ruin his pretty face if we give him the boot now? If we're going to turn him loose outside the gate, I can't see any reason to hold off until morning."
"I'm tired, Wolfgang. Got most of my armor off and everything." Cimri grumbles as she begins putting on some bracers. "But if you insist, we'll do it now."
The miscreants walk to the north gate with Riley Kels in tow. Two guards stand at quick attention as the miscreants arrive. Cimri throws Kels busted lute to the ground first, being sure to splinter it just a bit more before spitting on it.
"Maybe next time, write a ballad about the trees or some s&*%."
And with that, the miscreants give Kels the boot and spend the evening eating notably bland food from the Arch and Lark, and sleeping.
---
The morning arrives with a bit of a chill in the air and the incessant pecking of a nearby woodpecker. As the miscreants go about getting ready, Cimri takes a knife to a squash of some sort and heats it over the range in the prison. "Alright." she squawks, "Let's get Bolgart out to the stocks again. Breakfast will be ready in abo---"
BANG BANG BANG! Loud, almost thunderous knocks seem to almost knock the door to the prison off its hinges. "Uhh, Archbaron Fex said you guys are the ones in charge for a bit. We have a situation at the north gate." ekes a shivering voice through the door.
"In charge" sounds good to me, but what kind of problem could they have at the north gate? Of course, probably that damn warbler back to beg for scraps. Still, better to be cautious.
Wolfgang closes his spellbook and picks up his rapier, and nods at Sicaria, Gravenail, and Marcianus. The tiefling calls out, "Oh? What kind of situation?", then squeezes behind the desk to peer out the window for a look at their early morning visitor.
Sicaria wordlessly sighs, straps her Sabres to her hips, and opens the door to see who it is.
Sicaria opens the door just as Wolfgang confirms that the man at the door is a member of the town guard. "There's a....thing.....yeah let's go with thing...at the gate. It wants in, and won't leave us alone because we won't let it in. Will you come deal with...it? We're not authorized to do anything major without the Archbaron's approval."
The guard continues shivering as he waits for a response. He can't answer any more questions: all he knows is above and, well, the following.
What is the thing?
"It's about as big as a man, dressed in armor, has a weapon and some rough green skin."
Sicaria pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "You're telling me that it could be anything from a werecrocodile to a guard with the nasty skin rash? Okay. Fine." She turns to the rest of the miscreants. "This is...I think...what the Archbaron pays us for."
Gripping the ranseur and standing, Zeke laughs. "I think he would have mentioned the werecrocodile's tail."
Flexing his pecs, he looks down at the guard with a deprecating grin. "Most likely its a half orc trader who shies a bit more to the other half. Well, let's have a look. Perhaps he has something worth buying."
Sighing, Marcianus heads back to Bolgart's cell to ensure the cell is properly locked. "Looks like you get an hour of respite. Don't enjoy it too much."
Gathering up the keys, he makes sure all of the windows and door are properly secured and heads toward the main door. "Let's get to it, if we're going to. Checking on this traveler has to be more interesting than sitting around here."
After locking up the jail nice and tight, the miscreants head out to the north gate.
There, they find another guard dressed in traditional Cheliaxian plate and a tall green creature, also dressed in almost ceremonial armor. The creature's head is longer horizontally than vertically and features a pair of pointed ears, which frame the creature's sharp teeth as it speaks out in a rough, but high-pitched voice.
"Oh finally. You can actually do something right?" the creature speaks.
"Listen. Listen. My name is Zaggar, and I just want into town." the creature sighs loudly. "I need to resupply. That's all. And the whole damned place is on lockdown for some reason. I'm going to guess it's got something to do with those Iomedaeans f&*(ing things up? Saw a few of 'em on the way here!"
Marcianus glances at the guards. "It hasn't been all that long since the Goblinoid Wars. I'd think someone would recognize a hobgoblin when they see one, but you did well to keep it outside. They are warlike and I've never heard of one coming to trade in a human settlement before."
Raising his voice to be heard by the hobgoblin, he call out. "Where have you traveled from, Zaggar and where are you headed?"
Wolfgang recognizes the hobgoblin for what he is as well. He nods at Marcianus's questions, then adds more quietly only to the other Miscreants (but not making a particular effort to avoid being overheard by anyone else), "Regardless of his business, I think we ought to hear more about these Iomedans he says he encountered on his way to town."
"I hail from Isger." responds the hobgoblin. "Nowhere in particular. Was all of the place. I seek resupply on my way to serve the Duke of Remesiana."
The hobgoblin's eyes light up as he hears Wolfgang. "Hey, uhh, tiefling. Let me in and I'll tell you all about 'em. They've got a pretty good gig in that once-Hellknight fort."
Huh. Wasn't expecting a hobgoblin.
"Agreed. Keep talking about these Iomedaeans, hobgoblin."
"Listen lady, I understand how bartering works. Or bribing. Call it what you want. You let me in to resupply and I'll tell you everything I heard and saw on the way here. Sounds like a reasonable trade for somebody whose way of life is probably threatened by their 'glorious reclamation', don't ya think?"
"Are you willing to surrender your weapons while you are in town?"
"So long as one of you carries them and they're always in sight, I have no problem with that. Oh, and so long as I get them back, of course. A mercenary without a weapon is as good as a beggar on the streets."
Marcianus and Zeke head down to the gate and address the watch captain. "All right, let him in. We'll take care of him."
Zeke places his bulk in front of the door, grinning malevolently as he holds out a meaty hand. Meanwhile, Marcianus examines the hobgoblin with Detect Magic
"Right, then, follow us back to our headquarters. We've already taken enough time away from our charge. He might start getting comfortable in that cell of his."
Turning, and walking back toward the jail, he walks a pace ahead of Zeke who places himself to one side of the hobgoblin, assuming the rest of the Miscreants will flank him.
Sicaria silently follows, flanking the hobgoblin with Zeke. Her mind races as to what this goblinoid might know.
The hobgoblin hands Marcianus a longsword fro the sheathe to his side, a crossbow from his back, and a dagger from his boot. Detect magic finds absolutely nothing on this hobgoblin is magic, aside from the sword in your possession.
"Sure. After we do...whatever you need, I'll need a quick stop at the general store for some trail rations and a few extra crossbow bolts --almost ran out when I was attacked by bandits on the way here. Nowhere near here, of course. Too close to Egorian for bandits."
"Now, as for my part of the deal, here's what I know:
As of a week ago when I passed through the area, Citadel Dinyar is currently occupied by Iomedaean knights, having driven out the Hellknight Order of the Godclaw. Supposedly, the Godclaw found an ancient sword from the Menador Mountains. Some kind of artifact supposedly wielded by Iomedae herself. The stupid Godclaw took the sword and announced to the world that they had this special thing, and decided it would prove their order's righteousness and proof of divine favor.
The Iomedaeans had other plans. After the Hellknights refused the church's request for the sword's return, a chick named Alaxeara Cansellarion issued a call to reclaim the sword from 'em. She found them heretics, wielding the sword as an ill-gotten-gain, not a divine right. Hundreds of people followed her call from all over the place, and the siege on the citadel was quick.
After they got the sword, Alexeara founded some sect called the Glorious Reclamation, promising nothing less than a purge of the diabolical ideals that the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune embodies and a reclaiming of the nation in the name of Iomedae. It sounds like a bunch of hogwash to me, but they seemed pretty dedicated with how they guarded the place."
Sicaria listens to the hobgoblin silently, digesting every word from his mouth. She takes about a minute after he finishes to fully comprehend what he’s said—looking off into the distance as she does so. After walking silently for so long, the red-headed human says a single sentence:
”Awful lot of intel for someone who ‘passed through.’” Skepticism combined with a little worry marks her voice.
"I make a living in mercenary work. When a whole bunch of paladins and clerics showed up all at once, I asked questions. I got info. You accusin' me of somethin'?"
"Hold on for a moment, Sicaria," Wolfgang says. "Let's assume that Zaggar's information is accurate. Not to suggest that you might be lying," he adds, turning to the hobgoblin. "Just that gossip can be exaggerated. If, however, what you have heard is even close to correct, this Glorious Reclamation is not just some urban legend spread among nobodies, but an honest-to-Asmodeus rebellion against the Queen and House Thrune - with enough bodies to oust a group of Hellknights from their own castle. Don't you think that sounds like a threat we ought to bring to our employer's attention? And quickly?"
"Hold on for a moment, Sicaria," Wolfgang says. "Let's assume that Zaggar's information is accurate. Not to suggest that you might be lying," he adds, turning to the hobgoblin. "Just that gossip can be exaggerated. If, however, what you have heard is even close to correct, this Glorious Reclamation is not just some urban legend spread among nobodies, but an honest-to-Asmodeus rebellion against the Queen and House Thrune - with enough bodies to oust a group of Hellknights from their own castle. Don't you think that sounds like a threat we ought to bring to our employer's attention? And quickly?"
”Why do you think I was corroborating how he got it? This isn’t something we can risk raising a false alarm over.”
The miscreants arrive back at the jail with no incident. Zaggar continues to convince the miscreants as they walk. By the time they make it to the jail, the hobgoblin's story seems solid.
The miscreants arrive back at the jail with no incident. Zaggar continues to convince the miscreants as they walk. By the time they make it to the jail, the hobgoblin's story seems solid.
When they get back to the jail, Marcianus send Zeke to drag Bolgart back out to the stocks. He then addresses the hobgoblin.
"Well, the information you have for us in useful, and we appreciate it. If you think of anything else that we would find interesting, we will be here.
Your weapons will be held here. Come back when you are ready to be on your way and they will be returned."
Grabbing a piece of paper Marcianus writes out a receipt indicating the weapons that were turned over, signs it, and hands it over to the hobgoblin.
"Right. On your way."
Wolfgang rolls his eyes at Zaggar behind the aristocrat's back. Strange that Marcianus is being so rude. Hobgoblin or not, mercenary or not, if this Zaggar is going to work for the Duke of Remesiana, he will have to take the same oath we did, if he hasn't already. Marcianus is too young to have fought in the war, but maybe his family lost property along the border. Not my problem, whatever it is.
"You have been to Longacre before, haven't you, Zaggar? If not, I am sure Cimri can point you to our most ... reputable shopkeepers and suppliers."
"I have resupplied here once or twice. I'll find my way around."
Zaggar leaves, gets his supplies, and returns. But not without a bit of a ruckus.
By the time Zaggar comes back to the jail, he's practically sprinting. "You're town's full of a bunch of spiteful lunatics," Zaggar froths, obviously furious. "I've got what I came for. Give me my equipment so that I may leave this gods-forsaken town and choose a different route next time I travel!"
As the miscreants raise their eyes to see who he's talking about, they notice a few of the townsfolk throwing rocks at the hobgoblin. "GET OUT OF HERE! We have enough troubles without the Archduke hiring mercenaries!"
"You aren't wanted here!"
"Go back to your employer and tell 'im where to shove that sword of yours!"
"What's to stop Fex the F*(& from bringing in other monsters!?"
Zaggar receives his equipment and bolts out of town as quickly as he can.
In the evening of the second day after the mob lobbed rocks at the hobgoblin, Wolfgang makes his way to the riverfront, sticking to side trails and shadows. Once there, he hunts down the dockmaster.
"Hello, Ingoe. What's new?"
Sicaria stays silent as she goes with Wolfgang to the docks.
Ingoe's sly smile spreads across his face as he turns around and sees Wolfgang and Sicaria. His rubs his mustache a bit before turning around to the cargo he's inspecting. "No no no. It's all wrong. This box is 2 pounds too heavy to be allowed here without an additional 10gp fee per box."
"I can't possibly..."
"Fine. 10gp extra, and a quick scramble outta here and you've got yourself a deal."
The deckhand rolls his eyes before withdrawing an additional platinum piece and placing it in a bag. "There's your damned tariffs. I'm leaving."
Ingoe quickly kicks the ropes keeping the boat in place off of the stump before wiggling his fingers at the boat as it sails away. "Toodles!" he shouts before turning around. He opens his arms wide before continuing, "What's new you say? Well, your little assassin friend might be happy at the news, but I also intercepted a letter you might be interested in. But first, please, come to the cabin."
Ingoe leads the miscreants to a small cabin near the dock. For the brief moment the door is open, the miscreans can see piles of junk, equipment, and small boxes before Ingoe shouts, "Be back in a sec."
He returns a minute later with a rectangular flat-pack and a rolled up parchment in his pocket.
He addresses Sicaria first. "Your weapon tastes may have earned me a contract, little missy!" Ingoe prods, obviously joking, as he takes a crowbar to the top of the flat pack.
Inside lies a blade with an ornate silver-and-gold scabbard. Ingoe carefully lifts the sword from the box, revealing its handle to be made of gnarled red wood, featuring a single protrusion for a hand-guard. He slowly unsheathes the blade to show the curved sword's delicately crafted insets and the red gem set just above its hilt.
"She's a beauty, ain't she!" Ingoe says. "No magic this time, like you asked. And, because I'm generous, I'll give it to ya for 37 platinum. I'd round up, but you're already paying me for the forseeable future."
He leaves the box in Sicaria's possession as he meanders to Wolfgang. He whistles as he does, recognizable as some Chelish Opera tune as he takes the letter and "accidentally" drops it at Wolfgang's feet. "Oh no," he says sarcastically, "where did I put that letter? Huh. Guess it fell in the river."
Ingoe then waits for a reply from Sicaria.
Sicaria looks sidelong at the scoundrel. ”You did round up, Ingoe.”
Sicaria draws the sword and admires its craftsmanship and a smile spreads across her scarred face. ”Well, you no-good, quick-talking, walking filth of a man, I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Reaching into her belt pouch, the red-haired woman counts out several handfuls of platinum and hands them to Ingoe.
”Now, what was in this letter you,” She glances down at the envelope at Wolfgang’s feet. ”’Dropped in the river’?”
"Thank you your saw-iness." Ingoe replies, bowing. "Listen, I prefer to do business in platinum and I'm DEFINITELY not rounding down. Just be lucky it wasn't an even 40." Ingoe says with a wink.
"As for the letter...just an interesting piece of mail. I hear the doctor may be in trouble or something. Not really my business."
Out of habit, Wolfgang makes an effort to open the letter carefully, but does not worry himself about whether the doctor or her cousin will realize the correspondence has been tampered with. He quickly reads the contents and passes the letter to Sicaria.
"Your find does make for interesting reading. How does a small town doctor find herself in that much trouble all at once, I wonder."