“Ah, so refreshing,” Glacies said as he slipped into the hot water. He had managed to spring for a private room at the bath house, and was planning to enjoy himself. He slipped further down into the water, allowing the heat to slowly untie the knots in his muscles. The steam rising off the bath rose into the air and clouded sight of the small wooden room. The fires had been stoked to just the proper height to allow the heat to build through the water without being overwhelming, and the slight incline of the stones on the entrance side made it easy to just lie back and relax in the tub.

The ice mage pondered his next move a little more while the heat radiated through his body. He had Micah as his personal assistant and bodyguard, but he'd yet to buy the loyalty of any other sellswords in the area. Most of them had heard of the mission that he was planning to take on, a quest left unfulfilled for over a year now as each team that had chased that so-called golem had never been heard from again. It seemed like a fool's errand, some kind of cursed quest. It had gotten so bad that the reward had been tripled and still no one would take it.

“Damn... I'm going to need foreigners who don't know anything about this expedition to take this on... either that or someone fearless and capable enough to know that they can take on this mechanical monstrosity,” he muttered under his breath before he slipped his head into the hot water and let the air bubbled slowly leave his mouth.

He rose in all of his nude glory from the water and wrapped the rough towel around himself and sat down on the bench provided for slipping out of one's boots. He sat there for a few moments, his chin resting in his palms as he considered his options. He would of course check out the Shivering Salamander and see if anyone there was interested, but it was likely he wouldn't have any backers.

“I can promise only so much money upfront, too. It'd be a shame if I had to hire someone from Raiaera, Salvar or Corone. They'd cost more because of the expense of travel. I really need someone local...” Air rapidly passed through his teeth as he grimaced. “But who'd foolhardy enough to take on this mission with an unknown backer like me? It's not like I've run more than a small hand full of small expeditions so far...”

He sighed and sunk his head into his hands. He shook his head for a moment before he took his towel to finish drying off.

“Well, there's nothing for it. I can only do what I can,” he said to himself. He slipped into his freshly washed clothes and walked out of the bath house with an expression on his face that made the guard at the front of the establishment think he had been drinking sour milk.

He walked across and down the street a bit to see the Shivering Salamander. The sign was old, painted wood, but the paint was fresh. A bright red dragon surrounded by snow stood up on its hind legs, blowing fire into its palms, in a futile attempt to warm itself up.

“Cute,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he opened the door to the inn without any fanfare. His man would be behind him soon, or he'd be sleeping his drunk off in the gutters of the city. He walked through the door and saw what he had hoped for, a din of people all looking over maps planning expeditions and adventures while many others simply sat and drank.

Glacies found himself a chair somewhere between the walls and center of the room and took out a notebook. He started writing down things and reached into his pack to pull out a map.

“Alright,” he said as he took out his new mechanical pen and started circling the areas where the beast had been known to show up. “It seems to be sticking close to...” he drew a circle around all the areas the creature had been spotted, “roughly a two kilometer radius. Question is, what do I do with that information when I don't have a team?”

He smacked his head against the table.

“Trouble in paradise, sir?” a waiter asked with a half smile.

“You could say that,” Glacies replied with a forced grin. “I've been looking for adventurers who aren't afraid to face things that people say are impossible to overcome.” He tapped his finger against the aged, splintering wood of the table.

The waiter's eye lit up as he looked at the map and he said, “You're after the Bronze Behemoth.”

“So I've been told,” Glacies responded with a slight nod. “No one else seems keen on trying to kill the thing, no matter the amount of gold involved.”

“For good reason. The damn thing's killed over twelve parties that went after it... my nephew among them.”

“Oh... I'm... uh... sorry for your loss,” he said.

“You'll be lost too if you don't drop the idea of going after that thing,” the waiter said, loud enough for a few of the other tables to hear.

“Can't, I'm afraid. If I'm going to build a reputation, it's going to be by doing jobs like this.”

“Your funeral, friend. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Glacies slid two silver across the table. “Water, for now.”