《The Epic Crew》 Chapter 1 : The tavern He had been running for a long time in these unknown plains. His dirty, tangled, rain-soaked hair bounced against his sturdy shoulders. His hardened thighs and calves, whipped by the long grass, were beginning to show signs of weakness but he preferred to ignore them. Pain was for the weak or the children! The runner was now staring at the roofs that loomed behind a grove. The village was a shelter for drying, but there was also meat and beer. He turned slightly toward his new destination. For several days he had been moving in a random direction, more or less guided by the wind. He had crossed a portion of wilderness, alone and armed with a simple sword borrowed from his uncle Hok-Dan. He had to defend his life against a pack of coyotes, and thanks to his fighting skills, he only got a bite on his calf. Then he had slept in an abandoned camp, wrapped in a torn blanket that smelled like goat. His journey had led him to follow the river Krouk, for the elders of the Dugal clan often said that it guided warriors to the great human cities. He had not been disappointed on this point, but the height of the walls of Glarg had discouraged him. So he followed the Big River, which he finally crossed in a large "floating cart", near a village whose name he had forgotten. In this village, he was surprised when two people offered him gold coins and a shiny metal bracelet, after they started crying, even though he had not asked for anything and he himself only wanted to know the address of the tavern. Three not too confident militiamen had urged him to leave the village and go west, far away if possible. Then, the warrior had let himself be guided by his instinct through a vast expanse of grass, then on the slopes of a series of hills worn by the weather. His last bivouac had allowed him to sleep in the cave of a long-dead bear and it was there that he had finished his supplies of dried meat. Now he really had to eat. As he approached the village, he had a passing thought and remembered his reason for running west. Cousin Wanell was a bit picky when it came to choosing a man. She was still single, but that wasn''t going to last because the Dugal clan didn''t have many beautiful young women. Perhaps it was because of the unions celebrated through the centuries between the members of a small community of nomads, but like many things, the concept of genetics was far from worrying the people of the Wildlands. Wanell had told the young warrior that he wasn''t strong enough to be granted his favor, but that he was still "kind of her type". Not that he was slender, but the standard of muscularity was quite high among the clan. He could have tried to convince her in a brutal way, but the woman had the reputation of being very accurate in the discipline of kicking the manly organs. Her neighbor Yogar, who was sometimes too forward, had taken three weeks to recover and was still walking with difficulty. So the frustrated Barbarian decided it was time for him to seek adventure. He would soon be strong and brave, and could display the trophies from the carcasses of monsters slain by the sweat of his biceps. He planned to return to try his luck with Wanell with treasures, a fine horned helmet and a legendary sword. All these thoughts eventually led the warrior to the entrance of the village. The sign with the name of the village could have informed him more precisely, but he couldn''t read. Reading was for others, not for warriors. Two children playing in the puddles scurried away as he approached. A little further on, an old woman sweeping up dead leaves began to tremble and hurried back to her cottage. He was still on the outskirts of the village when he came face to face with a man carrying a crate of carrots at the corner of a hovel. The man hiccupped in surprise and dropped his vegetables. - Hey! said the Barbarian. I''m thirsty and hungry! The peasant felt his legs give way under him and he was soon on his knees. The savage warriors from the plains were invading the village! Quick, he had to save his skin! With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth purse containing a few coins. He handed it to the vindictive traveler, but he ignored him. - So? insisted the brute. Which way to the tavern? - He... he... here, that''s all I have! Don''t hurt me! - Huh? - Please! Do you want carrots too? - The tavern! - The tata... tavern... It''s straight ahead! To the left! The Barbarian sniffed and finally grabbed the cloth purse. If he was offered stuff, he wasn''t going to refuse. He frowned: - Where''s left? - It''s... uh... the side of that arm. - All right! Bye! Is it that easy to acquire wealth? The customs of these peasants were very strange. He slipped the coins into his leather purse, where they added to the money he had already collected during his trip to another town whose name he had not been able to know. Usually, to get gold from the humans, you had to take out your sword, hit people, they would get scared and then you would get the loot. This is what the warriors of the clan used to say. The houses were getting closer and it smelled less like pig litter, but there was still no tavern. He came to the conclusion that it was probably necessary to read directions to get there, and so it wasn''t going to be easy. He came across a couple a little further on, and approached them with a determined step in order to obtain new information. The woman hid behind her husband and shouted, the man looked for a way to escape, but he realized that he had no chance to outrun such a warrior. - I surrender! Take my gold! - Huh? The Barbarian''s frustrated face, intensely pondering this curious new custom, was probably mistaken for a grin of hatred. Terrified, the man opened his purse and showed him that it contained coins, then threw it to him. The traveler caught it in mid-air. - Honey, give your necklace! - But, Gerard... It''s the necklace from... - Don''t argue! Give your necklace, damn it! The woman unclasped her pearl necklace, crying, and her husband handed it to the hairy brigand, stammering: This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.- Here''s an offering in exchange for our lives! So you let us go? - What? - You... You want my wife too, right? She looked terrified and clung to the arm of her husband. The Barbarian hesitated: - Well... No. Where''s the tavern? The villager hesitated for a few seconds. Was this savage going to ransack the whole village like this? And where were those damn guards? Well, anyway, he had to try to save his skin, and besides, it was quite possible that the militiamen were themselves at the pub, which would allow them to intercept the brute. He gave out the information: - The tavern! Yes, yes! You go on straight, on the left after the market. - The left is this arm? - Yes, that''s right! The man and his wife hurried away along a side street, checking that the warrior wasn''t chasing them. The Barbarian looked down and examined the purse and necklace that now belonged to him. There were many coins in the purse. He found it strange that no animal bones, claws or teeth were used to adorn the jewel. Necklaces were made to show that one had killed beasts, or monsters. His, for example, was adorned with several teeth of a young plains bear, a ferocious animal he had killed with his bare hands when he was younger, with the help of a stone. But what were the beads for? Could one brag about killing oysters? Then his stomach growled, reminding him of more urgent considerations. Destination: the tavern. ---- Three peasants playing dice, two guards off duty, a tired merchant, a trio of over-aged regulars, a sickly dog, and an overweight couple. Most of these people probably only knew how to use a hoe. Gotran observed them in turn and sipped some of his mulled wine. They did their best not to meet his eyes. He wasn''t satisfied. The wizard needed to find his crew quickly, as the next lunar window was approaching and it would soon be time to gather the last of the ingredients. He already had eleven of these statuettes, collected over the years with patience. He was so close to his goal... so close to achieving supreme power! But these country inns were worthless, despite all the good things people said about them. He had wanted to save time and get closer to the dungeon, but it might have been more efficient for him to go back to recruit in Glarg. It was the capital of adventure and commerce, sometimes all it took was a sign in the right place and the morons would line up to beg you to hire them. Three days earlier, while he was looking at the window of The Fricoleen store, he had most easily recruited a young female magician fresh out of university, who was teamed up with a ferocious ogre. These two heroes seemed very determined, and they had eagerly embarked on the mission he had given them. Without further ado, they set out for Bentvale, a picturesque village on the stagecoach route near Nahel Dungeon. The ogre didn''t speak the common language, but he was docile, as if he was under the spell of the young girl. Yes, it was in Glarg that he should have stayed. Instead, he was dining among the peasants in a Tulmor''s inn. A guy of his standing, after all... it was pathetic. And those damned pig hooves had an aftertaste of manure! It was as if the chef had pulled them out of the mire two hours before. The wizard could sense the fear he inspired in the other patrons: shifty looks, whispers, feigned ignorance, and nervous tics. Perhaps it was his dark blue robe with runes on it, or his piercing gaze, his strange pendant, his city accent, or the staff of Radzar he had resting against the chair beside him. Simple people distrusted mages and priests, and he was a bit of both. The double door of the inn opened once more. Gotran relaxed, for his luck had changed. Indeed, a man of tall stature stepped into the common room. He was young but strong, dark and wild, as dirty as he was fierce. His skin was tanned by the sun, dust and wind of the plains. The traveler carried a sword strapped to his back, along with a hunter''s pouch and large, soft leather boots that looked like they had trampled on something other than clods of dirt. He looked quite angry, so there was immediate silence in the room. - Hello! he said without even looking at the other customers. The owner of the inn, who had been wiping his counter, had frozen in action. He was now staring at the Barbarian with a slight doubt, as the latter approached him in long strides, a spark of violence in his eyes. The stranger spoke: - Some asshole stole my purse at the market! he growled. But I''m thirsty and hungry! So I can just pay with this! He put a pearl necklace on the counter, with a sudden gesture, under the eyes of the still petrified tavern keeper. - Mister will be my guest! said Gotran. - Huh? - Come and sit down, you look tired! - I''m not tired! Being tired is for wimps! The Barbarian nevertheless walked towards the table where he had just been invited, forgetting behind him the tavern keeper who had stopped breathing. - Are you gonna pay for my food? grumbled the warrior. - Yes yes, that''s what I said. - Oh, cool. Then turning around: - Roast chicken, bread! And beer! - Uh... Okay, okay sir! The owner took a pint from the rack and gestured to his wife, moving his lips and frowning. In the secret code of pub keepers, this meant "goddamn it, hurry up to the kitchen and prepare the customer''s meal before he sets the place on fire!" Gotran waited for the Barbarian to take a seat, to sigh with relief, and to express his first wish: - I''m hungry. - It''s good, you''re going to eat. Let me introduce myself: Gotran Tegal, level twelve mage, Great Ordainer of Wimaf''s Bliss, and I. - I''m a Barbarian, I live in the plains. It''s far away. I ran and I''m thirsty too. And I''m hungry! - Sure, uh... You''re going to eat, be patient. Gotran was himself quite phlegmatic, but his right leg began to tremble without him being able to stop it. The stress was getting to him. In the common room, the other customers were waiting for something crazy to happen, but it was difficult for them to observe the two strangers discreetly. Nobody wanted to have anything to do with them! The guards, no longer on duty, had followed the Barbarian''s entrance and still didn''t know what attitude to adopt: there was still time to go out and get reinforcements, but on the other hand their wine jug was half full, and it would be a real waste to abandon it like that. With a nod of agreement, they chose to finish the jug. - I''m a warrior of the Dugal clan! said the Barbarian proudly. I went on an adventure! Gotran nodded: - I can see that... The tavern owner stepped forward, not without some caution, and placed an imposing mug within reach of the warrior, then returned behind his counter, mopping his forehead. The satisfied customer chuckled and took the pint: - Yeah! Beer! Amused, the wizard checked that no one was listening to them. Of course, the exact opposite was happening, and all eyes seemed to be on their table. So he leaned over the table and spoke in a low voice: - My good man, I''m looking for a crew of adventurers. I need to hire mercenaries as soon as possible, to retrieve a valuable item from a dungeon west of here, beyond the Oaks of Lughar and behind the hills. A large reward is expected. The Barbarian wiped his mouth and sniffed: - Hm, I don''t understand. - What do you mean, you don''t understand? - You have to talk slower, and I'' m hungry. "It''s not going to be so easy after all," thought Gotran. He turned to order new drinks. Chapter 2 : A mission An hour later, a frail man was walking up Great Oaks street. It was dark and the humidity was stinging his cheeks, so he eagerly pulled up his hood, leaving only his dark eyes visible. Little did he know that he was already walking towards a flamboyant destiny, towards a history as epic as it was fateful. He had been born in a quasi-rural environment, but he had always aspired to live differently, and he had developed his erudition in that direction. What could he possibly have to do in a family-owned ham slicer spare parts factory? He was fascinated by mechanisms, of course, but also by games of skill, enigmas, sharp tools, locks, safes, easy money and the comfort of obscurity. Since he had left the company and his parents to settle in Tulmor, he had found his calling. ---- THIEF''S BRAIN REPORT Another good day, I think I made good progress! I''ll be able to refer to my apprenticeship master. This morning, I took two croissants from the baker without attracting her attention. At lunchtime, I managed to steal my neighbor''s ring by simply saying hello, and I was able to break into a storeroom to steal two sausages and a complete set of silverware. The lock didn''t hold for more than forty seconds. But the highlight was tonight''s haul at the market! What a haul! The purse of this shaggy peasant contained more than thirty gold coins! Purse cut in his back, without him even seeing my face, brilliant work. Is it possible that such a boorish guy walks around with such a fortune? With this last petty theft, my teacher will be forced to admit that it''s time for me to go on an adventure. All I have to do now is sell the loot of the last few weeks and buy the rest of my equipment. I''ll take care of that tomorrow, but first I''d like to have a bowl of cider. Oh, but I can already see the sign of the Magpie! ---- He soon found himself facing Gotran Tegal. Fiddling with his almost empty bowl, the young trickster admired the poise and rich clothes of this mysterious man. This was his lucky day. He had overheard the traveler''s conversation with a powerful warrior whose figure seemed strangely familiar. The traveler had spoken in a low voice about battles and curses, a crew of adventurers, a mission, and above all a large sum of money. The apprentice had waited for the second guest to leave, who had finally stumbled towards the dormitory of the inn. He had noted the presence of the apathetic guards, undoubtedly at the end of their shift, then he had joined Gotran at the counter and he had invited him at his table. This stranger, whom he had never seen, looked at him for a few moments. He had a small smile and told him: - I think I know what you do for a living, judging by your appearance and manner. I may have a job for you, young man. What are your records of service? The novice hesitated: - I''m currently finishing my apprenticeship, but I''m very good at it! - I see. Can you prove it? From under his cloak, the Thief pulled out his loot: - Here... See for yourself, I stole this beautiful purse a little over an hour ago at the market! In the back of a peasant with a lot of hair. The fool didn''t see it coming. - Um... - I sense indecision in you. You don''t believe me? - No, no. The performance is respectable, especially since it wasn''t a peasant. - Oh? You think so? - I''m sure of it. I know who this purse belongs to. - Really? - But... That''s not the point. You clearly have potential. - Oh... The apprentice smiled frankly as he waited for the rest. Gotran approached him over the table to speak in a low voice: - My good man, I''m looking for a crew of adventurers. I need to hire mercenaries as soon as possible, to retrieve a valuable item from a dungeon west of here, beyond the Oaks of Lughar and behind the hills. A large remuneration is expected. The innkeeper, who was passing by the table at that moment, shook his head as if he was trying to chase away bees. He had a very clear impression of d¨¦j¨¤ vu. ---- The next morning, Gotran decided to take the fast coach to the next stage of his journey, a little further south. He had searched as hard as he could, after scouring the three taverns and the employment office, but there seemed to be only two adventurers available in Tulmor: the taciturn barbarian and the enthusiastic young thief. With the Magician and the Ogre, that made a good beginning of a crew but it was left to find them other companions. This evening in Tulmor had also given him a headache, he didn''t know how many drinks he had ordered to escape his boredom. Time was of the essence as the lunar window was approaching. The members of his crew had an appointment in front of the dungeon, on the morning of the first day of the late harvest decade. This wasn''t difficult to understand, even for a savage. In the Bentvale region, everyone had heard of the tower in question, especially since it was visible from a distance. At the end of the day, the wizard arrived in Nogal with a sore back and legs. He was past his prime, and he felt foolish for not having paid one of his employees to make the trip for him. On the other hand, he couldn''t bear to be betrayed, couldn''t trust an incompetent, not now. The stakes were too high! He bid farewell to the coach crew in the backyard of Nogal''s great inn, The Amazed Owl, dropped a silver coin into the dirty hand of the boy carrying his luggage, then pushed open the door that led into the common room. - It won''t be easy, he grumbled while dragging his feet towards an isolated table. The customers were similar to Tulmor''s, a sullen, rural sample of men with limited leisure time and flat purses. He was just thinking that it would be better to move to another establishment when he noticed the two travelers sitting behind a partition, potential recruits. They had placed a sword scabbard and two longbows behind the table and were eating meat in sauce and a bock of clear wine. Their worn travel clothes, in shades of gray and brown, with a mixture of leather and reinforced canvas, covered with dust, were enough to tell the average person that they were adventurers. One of them had ears too pointed to be human, a clear and penetrating gaze, a determined face framed by fine hair. The second was almost bald, with broader shoulders and a short beard. Gotran ignored the owner of the establishment, a good man with a moustache who was waving at him, to approach the two men. He prepared his entrance but the half-elf spoke to him first: - We''re not interested. - Excuse me? - You''re a MOHM, right? You''re going to offer us a mission. Gotran hesitated: - A... A mom? The second traveler explained, as he finished chewing his chicken leg: - A Mysterious Old Hooded Man. Haven''t you heard of it? It''s a kind of code we use among ourselves... - Yeash! chewed the half-elf. You get to the inn, you see some adventurers, so you think you can come and ask us for anything in exchange for three coins. - But it doesn''t work with us! It''s too clich¨¦. The wizard moved from one foot to the other and called upon his patience:This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. - Oh, I see what you mean. But I''m not really old, I''m just... high level! And my hood, well... It''s part of the mage''s robe. It''s easy to catch a cold this time of year. Anyway, this is a little different, I have a real mission for you. The two travelers exchanged a glance and the half-elf shook his head: - You''re a MOHM. I knew it. Gotran leaned over their table and persisted: - Nahel''s Dungeon? Does it ring a bell? - Don''t push it, man. We''re not the kind of people who get missions. I''m Yarg the Fatherless. And he''s Bagh Turnblade. We usually avoid suspicious plans. Have you never heard of us? - We just fought some ogres in Hekbrok, it was no picnic, but we got a lot of loot. And we leave tomorrow to do the first floor of the Lubo dungeon with a paladin we met on the road, then we go on with the Gask caves. Yarg raised his glass as if to make a toast, and added: - If you''re looking for mercenaries to do your wizard''s job, it''s not us. Gotran sat up, surprised and embarrassed. It was his luck to run into snobbish backpackers when they seemed so promising. The owner of the inn, who was standing quietly next to him, waiting for him to finish his conversation, handed him a grease-stained menu. He gave him a mushy smile: - I have the table at the back if you want to eat? Tonight we have hare stew with mashed carrots. The dessert''s with apples, and it''s really good, because my daughter made it with love for our customers! Pushed by the tavern keeper, the dejected wizard sat down by the wall and made himself comfortable. He ordered the daily special and waited for a moment while enjoying his meal, hoping that this establishment was frequented by other adventurers. His patience was rewarded when a young blonde girl entered the common room, seemingly looking for directions. The mostly male patrons turned around one by one and the conversations quietly died down, as if some trickster god had turned down the volume. Yarg the Fatherless and his sidekick nudged each other. One of them whispered: - Wow, that''s heavy! Where did this one come from? Dressed in shades of green, in a short skirt and tight tunic, her long blonde hair cascading over her delicate curves, this representative of the beautiful people seemed to be fresh out of the forest. She carried a bow on her shoulder, a small quiver and a travel pouch. Her eyes were also bright and lively and she gave the impression of moving while dancing. The Treefolks rarely mingled with humans, but they weren''t too shy. They just had a hard time understanding other people and were often self-sufficient. They were sometimes seen hanging around Nogal, however, as the great forest of Nastysnout was quite close. - Hello everyone! she said, waving her hand. I''m a little hungry! She walked towards the counter, followed by the eyes of all the customers. Many lingered on her buttocks, whose swaying had something hypnotic about it. The innkeeper stammered something as he handed her a menu, and it was clear by the look on his face that he was struggling to keep his eyes in their sockets. Eventually, a customer decided to holler: - Hey, cutie... If you wanna eat something, I have an idea! A few hearty laughs followed the comment. - Thank you! hummed the Elf without even turning around. But I''m going to read the menu that the kind man gave me! And then I''ll take a pear juice! She ignored other more specific remarks, such as the shape of the pears, comparisons with watermelons, the personal use that one could make of the sausages, or the availability of the knees of some customers to sit on. She didn''t understand much of this and it was confusing. Humans had always seemed strange to her. Tired of having to put up with the local fauna, Gotran Tegal stood up, his staff in hand. He took a few steps into the room and declaimed: - Shame on you, gentlemen! This is no way to welcome a young girl! In response, a plump and gruff bearded man hailed him from his table: - Hey, old man! Why don''t you shut your... He froze as he met the wizard''s gaze. Blue flames were already dancing around his strange staff, flames that seemed to indicate that a deadly spell was in the works, that a snap of his fingers would be enough to reduce the tavern and its patrons to ashes. The bearded man became aware of his blunder and hid his face: - No, no, no! I didn''t say anything sir! I''m sorry! - That''s more like it, murmured Gotran. Then, turning back to the archer: - Come with me, young girl of the forest, I invite you to my table. - Oh, that''s sweet! Without any suspicion, she followed the stranger. The customers turned away, not very reassured. Old wizards were never worth provoking. Most of them died young, but those who made it to the end of their careers were bound to be lucky and talented. ---- The strange couple sat down in the back of the room, the Elf ordered a plate of walnut salad and then they talked while sipping their drinks. She came from the village of Folnariel, which was in the center of the nearby forest. For humans, it was the forest of Nastysnout, known for its excessive number of wild boars, but the Treefolks gave it another name, but unfortunately it was impossible to remember. Gotran asked her why she was in the city, and he soon regretted the idea because he found himself drowned in a flood of words: - I decided to go on a little adventure! The forest is great, but I''ve been living there for a long time. You know, for us, time doesn''t really pass like it does for humans, but it still passes! I was tired of staying in the forest doing nothing, and now my sister''s the pony hairdressing champion, so I wanted to change my life, because I''ve already been doing that for fifteen years and it''s a bit boring. My brother Yazef told me about adventure, and we also had books in the House of Knowledge in Folnariel, with adventure stories. It''s very exciting! - Well, actually, began Gotran, I... The Elf, who had only stopped talking to drink a sip, continued: - It seems that groups of adventurers are looking for Treefolks, because we shoot arrows better than the others and we''re always needed because we can see in the night, we can climb trees and we can heal friends when they''re injured by bad monsters. It''s great because I did some natural surgery with the doctors of Folnariel, they are very wise and well educated people! They taught me several techniques that we need when our friends are attacked by bears or wolves, or even brigands who hang out in the forest. So I can do first aid for the small injuries, hi hi hi! - Oh, that''s good news, because... - After that I also learned to shoot with a bow, because in my family we didn''t like weapons very much, and I had never been able to train. My father said that you could hurt yourself, or others, or hurt the little animals. In our village we always have animals, like rabbits or squirrels, that live with us because we''re nice. But I asked my cousin for advice! He''s super famous in the area because he''s a real archer, he even does the competitions and he wins shiny cups. I got his old bow and shot several hundred arrows into these vegetable targets! Now I''m not a hairdressing champion anymore, but I''m a bow champion! Hi hi hi! Isn''t that great? Taking advantage of a pause, Gotran hurried to talk: - Actually! That''s a good thing, because I have an offer for you! - Really? The wizard leaned over the table: - Young lady, I''m looking for a crew of adventurers. I need to hire mercenaries as soon as possible, to retrieve a valuable item from a dungeon located west of here, behind the hills. A large remuneration is expected. His announcement didn''t have the desired effect. The Elf now seemed worried, counting on her fingers and shaking her head. She finally said: - So I didn''t understand the story of the person that marries, what do you want to do with a palpable item and what''s a remuneration? Is it when you make sandwiches? - The valuable item is the statuette of Glafelferha. It''s in the hands of the wizard Zandar. - The clarinet of Gralala? Did you say valuable, or palpable? Who''s Budar? - No, the statuette of... Oh, wait. Gotran sighed, unfolded a map of the Land of Fang under the nose of the Elf who was shaking with impatience, and put his finger on a small drawing that could be seen to the southwest: - You''re here on the map, correct? - Yes? He moved his index finger: - If you go to this place in five days, you''ll find a crew of... friends that will go on an adventure with you. You''ll have to go into the big tower, chase the... really bad monsters and get an item, after which you''ll come and see me at the town''s inn here on the map, and I''ll give you some gold coins as a reward. - Oh! I get it. Is this some kind of adventure mission? - Yes, it is! That''s it, an adventure. - Yippee! That''s great! The elf''s exclamation turned the heads of all the guests in the inn. They didn''t question it for long, seeing that she waddled around humming in front of the old wizard, who now looked rather embarrassed. Some nodded condescendingly. Yarg the Fatherless told his traveling companion: - Well. The Treefolks, they''re quite a different culture... ---- ELF''S BRAIN REPORT That''s it, I got my first mission! That''s great! It was super easy, I just talked to the mysterious old hooded man, it was just like in the books. He gave me a map with the location of the turret, and gold coins for the trip. I heard that it''s better for me to buy a seat for the stagecoach that goes by the southern road, because Bentville is far away and there''s danger in the hills. Besides, I have chances to get lost because there are not many trees. If I go on foot, I might be late, which would be a pity because my friends would go on an adventure without me. It''s stupid, so I would have been better off leaving with my pony, besides he''ll be bored. And how will the crew members do if I''m not there? It seems that there''s a magician, an ogre, a thief and a savannah warrior. I''m worried about this ogre thing, I''ve been told that they can eat anything and anyone, even people, and that they smell bad too. Ugh! Chapter 3 : Gladalada thingy Two days later, at the end of the afternoon, a rustic cart stopped on the square of the hanging tree. - Bentvale! Is this your destination, young lady? - Oh? Uh... The Magician was awakening from a bumpy nap, lying on a worm-eaten bench and wedged behind several barrels and two crates of equipment. She grumbled and stretched, panicking for a few seconds before discovering that the Ogre had not disappeared, but had already jumped out of the vehicle. - Oh, here we are, she said to her mustachioed coachman. Thank you very much, dear sir! It''s a good thing we have people like you on the road, otherwise we''d never have made it to this... place. - Grudufl added the Ogre after sniffing the air. The insatiable gourmet had smelled something cooking, somewhere in a neighborhood house, and began to waddle. The Magician searched for her purse, grumbling: - People are so stupid! Most of the stagecoach drivers refused to take us, can you imagine? All because I''m traveling with a companion who''s a little overweight! - Well, as long as you can pay... That gives me a little bonus, eh! I don''t care if your friend''s weird. By weird he meant too big, too tall, greenish skin, huge yellow teeth, almost no hair, ears that moved of their own accord, bulging eyes, an endless appetite and hands the size of a large shovel. - Ten gold coins, as agreed? - That''s right, young lady! With this I can afford a good room and a piece of blood sausage! You absolutely have to try Bentvale''s blood sausage, you know? It''s a real curiosity, they make it with sheep''s blood, it seems. - I''ll keep that in mind. - And if you have the opportunity, buy yourself a sweater from the knitters of Bentvale, it''s very popular. The moustachioed man collected the coins and put them in a small pouch, then he shouted two or three insults in local dialect to his old equine. The latter shook his head to chase away a few flies, and the cart set off. The merchant moved away, waving his hand: - I must leave you now, I have two barrels to deliver to the castle! You''ll see, this village is quiet and very nice! - Thanks again! replied the girl. She started coughing, which she had been doing more and more since she left Glarg. She thought she had an allergy related to the vegetation. This didn''t help her throat problem. Her vocal cords had been damaged a few months earlier by a misdirected Ice Cone, a spell cast the wrong way by a distracted student. Since then, she spoke with difficulty and her voice sounded rough, older, sickly. Studying battle Magic often had painful consequences like that. She could still consider herself lucky, as it was a lesser evil compared to what had happened to some of her classmates. Her roommate had lost an eye, Justin Bamar had a tentacle on his back, Marc Lenido had become very clumsy now with his arms that were a foot too long, and two apprentices from another class had been devoured by a demon from an entropic summoning. There was also the young blond boy in the front row, the one who wanted to become a fire mage and whose parents were very rich, who had lost both his hands in an explosion. The poor guy would never be able to turn the pages of the grimoire he loved so much. The Magician sighed as she studied their new surroundings. She was standing next to the Ogre, in the middle of a large square and facing a single, gnarled tree with faded foliage. On the perimeter of the esplanade she could see several rustic houses, an inn, a butcher''s shop, a bakery, a bazaar with a heterogeneous display and a shabby guardhouse. From the door of the latter, two militiamen dressed in badly sewn tabards, wearing oversized helmets, were watching her with suspicious eyes.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. - Takula zuduf! she whispered to the monster who accompanied her. Which, in the language of the ogres, more or less meant "let''s get the hell out of here before someone comes to mess with us". She had been told many times in her S.F.T. (Survival and Field Techniques) class that adventurers, even novices, should always be wary of guards and militiamen. Peacekeepers, both in large cities and in smaller towns, used to watch them, question them, search them, and accuse them indiscriminately. Considering the actions of some Fangi adventurers, it must be said that they had good reasons to act this way. Under the illusion of having a mission to accomplish, and even if it wasn''t necessarily brilliant, the adventurers allowed themselves everything and anything. They stole from stores, sometimes beat up citizens to get information, insisted for hours on getting discounts from weary shopkeepers, stole anything of value and shamelessly entered homes without being invited. Adventurers were wary of the guards, but they tended to fight them when they were outnumbered and tried to get in their way, which had created a tense atmosphere over the centuries. It was said that adventurers would sometimes kill the big dogs, or even the cows in the fields, in the hope of getting a few experience points to advance to their next level, imagining they were dealing with monsters, or simply out of idleness. These scoundrels never felt any remorse and would kill anyone to get their way or to collect three gold coins. All this led the guards to confuse adventurers with brigands. As cautious travelers, the Magician and the Ogre instinctively went to the inn to book a dormitory for two nights. It was the last day of the decade of great returns, the day before the feast of Obulos. Therefore, they had one day to spare before reaching the Nahel''s Dungeon, about seven miles away. They would take advantage of this time to rest, stock up on supplies and check the state of their equipment. Then it would be the adventure! Finally! The opportunity to test her powers other than on straw dummies! ---- Not far away, sitting at a table in the back room of the Weeping Dog tavern, was a short, bearded traveler. He was unhappy because his chair was too low and he couldn''t study the map the old man was showing him properly. - You see this little drawing, here behind the grove? - Well, it would be easier if the table wasn''t poorly designed, but hey... - This is where you''ll meet your comrades, in two days in the morning. - Yeah, so I don''t really like the word "comrades," for one thing... My own friends live in the mines. - Your colleagues, if you like. - Yeah, okay, I''m good with that. The bearded man nodded in annoyance, pulled himself up on the chair and looked at the map, then grumbled: - Ah, shit! If I look at the scale, we must already walk at least seven miles! How much is the reward already? - Eight thousand gold coins, but you''ve asked me that three times already! - Eight thousand, good. But... Is it per person, or do we have to split? - YOU HAVE TO SPLIT! I''ve already told you that too. Do you realize how much money this represents? The old man may have run out of patience, but the traveler was used to it. Ever since he left his home, he had been constantly encountering humans in a bad mood. It was as if they didn''t like his people. - I mean, the axes are of good quality, they''re expensive... he grumbled. - So, let''s summarize, said Gotran after having regained his composure. You leave the day after tomorrow at dawn, you go to the dungeon and you find the other members of the group, then... The bearded man cut him short: - Hey! I have an idea! If I go alone tomorrow to do the mission, I''ll be back with your thingy in no time, and I can have all the gold coins for myself? The flabbergasted wizard leaned over the table, trying not to scream: - No, it''s impossible, come on! It''s far too dangerous! You''ll be slaughtered by the wizard''s acolytes! Do you know what a dungeon is? It''s full of monsters and traps! That''s why you need a crew! - Ah, damn it. It was a really good plan though. There were a few seconds of silence, during which Gotran tapped nervously on the table, wondering if he had not made a mistake by hiring this shaggy adventurer from the mountains. He knew that his people could be very efficient once they were in the field, but it was still embarrassing. The mage sometimes felt like he was talking to a wall that had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. The bearded man in front of him plunged his nose into his beer, but it was empty. He waved the container and winked: - Tell me, the beers, you''re buying right? - Yeah, yeah, the wizard said wearily. Whatever. - Oh, that''s cool. HEY! THREE MORE! Then, seeing the face of his new boss, he added: - AND ONE FOR MY FRIEND TOO! I mean, you look a little pale, you don''t want to get too depressed, man. We''ll get you your Gladalada thingy!