Repairs, and a little extra

[Rehtul Orlouge]

“Did you see the flier? A smith's going to the Tular Plains... needs a bodyguard,” one of the men at the next table over said to his slightly more inebriated partner. The other man snorted and shrugged his leathery shoulders as the old candles on the table flickered. He seemed completely uninterested in the job at all.

“Whazzat mean to us, Nicky? You stupid enough to go into the demon wastes?” he asked as he put his muck caked boots up on the table. He sighed and took a long swig of his flagon and turned back to his companion. “Seriously, what are we gonna do with the gold when we're dead... or worse...” The implication that possession was possible was almost enough to make Rehtul laugh as he eavesdropped on the conversation.

The ice mage sat at the old bar, alone, dressed in his usual flamboyant finest, but much dirtier than he usually liked to be. He'd been helping in the garden at the old family home and had come up to the bar for some chilled wine and time to think. Ever since that night he'd spoken with his sister, he'd been a mess. Spending any large length of time around his family would give away his inner thoughts, so he spent as much time away as possible.

“So, someone needs a bodyguard for a trip to Tular... I have been wanting to study the magical impact of the demonic invasion,” he said to no one in particular as he stood up and brushed off his shirt with a single hand. He finished his wine and slipped a tip onto the bar for the bartender. “You got any idea where this flier is?”

The bartender slipped a piece of paper across the bar as the coin disappeared into his pocket simultaneously. Without a word, Rehtul took the parchment and stuffed it into his own pocket. He disappeared out of the door to the inn.

A few hours later, Rehtul's horse had begun the slow ascent to the farmhouse advertised in the flier. He let the steady gait of the old girl echo up the dusty path as he took in the sights around him. There were no real plants to harvest. Not surprising considering that this place had apparently been repurposed for the use of a smith, though there were some apple trees in a grove not too far off the path.

“Should probably bring a few of those with us if this person expects to go by boat,” he said as he continued the slow ascent to the actual farm above. He appreciated the design. Whoever had redone the exterior new precisely where to put the vents to keep the interior from filling with deadly smoke, and there appeared to be a good amount of safety equipment nearby in case something did go wrong.

“I'm honestly impressed,” he said as he pulled up on his horse's head, bringing the chestnut mare to a trot and finally to a stop. He unhooked his leg from around her back and jumped to the ground with all the grace of a rockslide. The horse would probably have laughed at him if she could.

He sighed and took a last look around before he went up to the door to the smithy itself and knocked. He hadn't even considered that the other man might be in whatever constituted a sleeping quarters around here.

“I hear you're looking for help in Tular,” he said just loudly enough to hopefully be heard through the door.