Kadmin leads Blizzard onto the road and begins to walk eastward at a slow pace, as the clatter and clang of weapon practice fades behind them. They walk past the small shrine and the outpost's main entrance, and look on as some of the local homesteaders fetch water from the well for finishing the evening meal's preparations. The setting sun at their backs casts faint shadows before them as they go beyond the last hovel and look toward the treeline ahead.
All right, old friend. I know you've been given a lousy task, what with herding this pack of kids into who knows what in the next several days, but I've got a couple more things to add to the load. I'm not going to be able to leave the post until after I make my official report to Count Ferren on his arrival, and there's no telling what I'll be in for once he and the commander find out what I've done here to give these pups a fighting chance. Kadmin pulls thoughtfully at his goatee as he scans the dark forest ahead. A miner came into Last Rest about a month ago raising nine kinds of hell about having been robbed. Word is that he claimed to have stocked up about forty pounds of silver ore in his shack, but came out of his little dig late one afternoon to find the bags missing. He got into Last Rest, found his way into a bottle, . . . here Kadmin pauses and regards Blizzard closely, . . . and started moaning about strangers in the mountains. One of my couriers overheard his ranting, and mentioned it to me. I haven't been able to free up anyone to go look into it, but I'd appreciate it if you could find out what you can, and get word back to me.
The captain turns and squares up on Blizzard, not threateningly, but in a direct way that calls for attention. I want you to find this miner, get the story from him. I'm not so interested in the silver ore as I am the "strangers" he talked about. I doubt that it's got anything to do with what happened to the young Countess, but it might be that the Syndicate are looking for a quiet route over the mountains, and this old fellow was just a victim of opportunity. A pause. Something tells me that this random theft is important, Blizz. I don't know why, but I think there's something in that miner's story that we need to know. You're already headed that way, and likely to find the same tavern that digger is in, so I've got to ask you to get me something, if there is anything to it.
Kadmin hesitates, and looks at his feet as he scuffs a boot over the dirt. And the other thing. . . . . I'm not trying to rake you over the coals here -- I'm sure you got plenty of that back in Three Waters -- , but let's be honest: it's been years since your fieldwork was up to par. You still haven't told me what it was that pushed you so hard toward the booze -- and you don't have to! -- , but some of those kids are gonna get real curious once you get to . . . where it happened. Where she died. They're gonna look to you if only because of the uniform. You'll have a chance to show that boy Adric, and all the rest of them, that you do have what it takes to be a Ranger. A chance to make an impression. And I'm willing to wager a month's pay that your next disbursement will be your last if you don't show somebody your worth. The rumor mill is already grinding that grain, friend -- some say you're as good as done as a Ranger. And I don't want that for you. I want you back. Back in fighting trim, back in the know, back running your patrols instead of touring every alehouse in the Gladden. I've seen you do it before. Do it again, before they retire you for real.