Chapter Text
As Ashton made his way back to the group, a collective groan emanated from the crush of people surrounding him. Glancing back he saw the small tiefling woman he’d pushed aside had somehow nabbed the last spot, and was currently writing down her teammates names. With the final spot taken, the crowd began to disperse dejectedly. Setting the pencil down, the tiefling caught Ashton’s eye and winked.
‘Don’t expect to knock me down so easily next time’, she grinned wickedly as she brushed past him, ‘I fully intend to return the favour’.
‘Wouldn’t expect anything less Rian’.
She chuckled at that, and gave a little handwave as she sauntered off towards the now-packed bar.
‘What was that about?’, Dorian asked as Ashton rejoined them.
‘Nothing’, Ashton cracked his neck, ‘Anyway now that’s sorted we should probably head up to see Bell’’.
‘And here I was hoping we could put it off a little bit longer’, Laudna sighed.
‘That bad, huh?’, Jerrard said as he leaned back in his chair.
‘You have no idea’, Imogen rubbed her temples before straightening up, ‘Come on, best get it over with’.
‘Good luck’, Jerrard called out with a snigger as they all trudged up the stairs toward the guildmaster’s office. Ashton flicked his middle finger at him, causing the half-orc to laugh even more.
In keeping with the unusual activity this early in the morning, the first floor was full of people. Most had a cup in their hand, and were talking excitedly about the tournament. It was all anyone seemed to be talking about and, from the snippets Orym caught, quite a few of them were going to be their competitors. In the corner he could see one opportunistic guild member had already set up a betting circle, with quite a few customers pressing gold into his outstretched palm.
‘This tournament is going to be a bit bigger than I thought’, he commented, ‘Is it bad that I’m already regretting agreeing to this?’.
‘Don’t you worry Orym’, Chetney said as he flexed his arms, ‘Just follow my example and we’ll win for sure’.
‘Sure Chet, I’ll do that’, Orym said as the others tried to hide their laughter.
Sooner than they would have liked, they found themselves stood outside Bell’s door.
‘Ok everyone remember what we agreed on’.
‘Say we did the job, leave out all the details, and get the money’, Fearne ticked the points off on her fingers.
‘Exactly’, Imogen nodded, ‘Ready?’.
Not waiting for an answer, she knocked sharply on the door, ‘Mr Bell, are you in? It’s Imogen, we’re back from our job’.
‘Oh yes, come in the door’s open’.
As they all shuffled into the office, they were surprised to see two people in the room.
They knew their guildmaster of course. Bertrand Bell was sat behind his desk as usual, red tunic as impeccable as ever. A rapier hung above him on the wall, hilt polished to a bright sheen, and his salt and pepper hair was neatly combed. The woman whose hand was lightly resting on his shoulder was a complete stranger however.
Her pale skin stood in stark contrast to the raven-black feathered robes she wore, but created an ethereal beauty that took the breath away. Dark brown hair was tucked behind pointed ears, and a silver necklace of stars hung at her neck. A cool confidence radiated from her, and if the flush of Bell’s cheeks were anything to go by the two were well-acquainted.
‘I think that’s my cue to leave Bertrand dear’, she said as she gave them an appraising glance, ‘It looks like there’s a story here that’s not for me. Do come by my rooms soon though, I would hate to waste a visit without receiving your counsel’. Running a finger through his beard, she gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room with a soft smile on her lips.
‘Wow, that is someone I would like to get to know’, Fearne breathed as the door shut behind them, ‘Who is she?’.
Bertrand cleared his throat, his face now matching his tunic, ‘Just an old friend of mine, Lieve’tel. She’s a priestess of the Raven Queen from Vasselheim, quite formidable but a generous woman in many ways’.
‘I bet she is’, Ashton muttered.
‘Anyway, that’s now what you came to talk about’, Bertrand collected himself, beckoning them over as he looked down at the papers spread across his desk, ‘From the initial report it seems like the job was completed, but the client did mention there were some issues?’.
‘Issues is a strong word I feel’, Laudna said as nonchalantly as she could, ‘Just a slight misunderstanding’.
‘A misunderstanding?’, Bertrand raised an eyebrow, staring Laudna down.
‘Yes and resolved very quickly I might add’, Imogen smiled sweetly, ‘And the client did get all their possessions back’.
‘All in perfect condition too’, FCG piped up hopefully.
‘Hmmm…’.
Bertrand stroked his beard as the group waited with bated breath. As the silence stretched on they began to look at each other nervously, all aside from Ashton and Chetney whose eyes were fixed on the guildmaster.
‘Well I can’t see anything to worry about so long as this doesn’t become a recurring problem’, Bertrand finally said. The tension seeped from the room as he continued ‘ We’ve all had misunderstandings happen from time to time. Why I remember back when I volunteered to go down to save a spirited warrior from Pandemonium…’.
‘That sounds fascinating, sir, but we were really hoping to get back to our home’, Imogen said hurriedly, praying that she’d been quick enough. Bertrand Bell had been known to trap unsuspecting members for hours as he regaled them with tales of his past adventures, most of which seemed to be highly embellished, ‘It’s been a long journey as I’m sure you can imagine’.
‘Oh, right’, Bertrand frowned, clearly disappointed, ‘Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting your pay now?’.
‘If it’s not too much trouble’.
‘Oh no, perfectly fine’.
Bertrand pushed his chair back and made his way over to a portrait of himself brandishing a sword at a Beholder. Pressing a thumb into the frame it swung back to reveal a safe, and within a matter of moments he was handing a pouch of gold into Ashton’s outstretched hand.
‘1000 gold, all accounted for.
‘Thank you sir, we’ll get out of your hair now’.
‘A pleasure doing business with you all’.
As soon as Bertrand had turned his back, signaling they could leave, the group quickly exited. As the door clicked close, Bertrand could just make out Ashton’s voice calling out to someone about a round of ale. He smiled to himself, memories of his younger years flooding back, but a small cough startled him from his reverie.
Turning to see the source of the noise, he found Orym staring intently at him.
‘I’m sorry for intruding on your time but I was hoping you could give me the answer to a question I have’.
‘Of course my boy, fire away’, Bertrand said as he settled back into his chair, his curiosity piqued.
‘Well, you won’t know this but we just signed up for the tournament you're holding for our latest client’.
‘Is that so?’, Bertrand raised an eyebrow, leaning forward on his desk, ‘I wondered if you would make it back in time to have a go at it. ’.
‘We got lucky’, Orym said as he glanced back to see Dorian waiting for him in the doorway. Dorian gave him an encouraging nod as Bertrand’s attention remained fixed on the halfling, ‘We arrived just as the last spots were being taken’’.
‘I see’, Bertrand waved a hand for Orym to continue.
‘I just wanted to ask if you could tell us who the client is? If we know who we’re fighting for then we could prepare ourselves better, and it can’t hurt to show the client we can do more than fight well’.
‘Ah but that would be telling now wouldn’t it’, Bertrand tapped the side of his nose, ‘I applaud the audacity though. Knowing your group’s skill set though I expect you’ll do quite well even without such information. Now, I have some things to sort out here, and a guest I need to see to, so if that’s all…?’.
‘Yes sir, that’s everything’, Orym bowed his head respectfully before exiting, Dorian following behind.
As the door closed behind them, they could just make out Bertrand chuckling to himself, before the noise of their compatriots blasted over them. Within the short time they’d been speaking with Bertrand, the hall had filled up even more and wherever they looked there were people drinking and talking.
‘It was a good attempt’, Dorian said as they made their way down to the bar, ‘But you know how secretive the man can be when it benefits him. Besides, he seems to be enjoying keeping everyone in the dark’’.
‘I just wish we knew more’, Orym replied, dodging past a goliath as they ran to talk to someone over the railing.
‘At least we know Bell thinks we have a good chance in the tournament’.
Orym sighed, ‘I know you’re trying to reassure me but that doesn’t really fill me with as much confidence as you think’.
‘Well, who knows’, Dorian grinned mischievously, ‘Maybe if you offer to listen to his Pandemonium tale he might be more open to spilling some secrets’.
Orym grimaced, ‘I don’t know if I’m that desperate’.
‘Don’t worry, I would sacrifice myself too’, Dorian said with a wink.
Orym paused at the top of the stairs, looking through the bannister to see if he could spot their friends amongst the crowd.
‘Think of it like this, we have no leads true, but neither does anyone else, so we're not at a real disadvantage’.
‘That’s actually a decent point’, Orym conceded as he suddenly spotted Mister curling on top of Fearne’s staff, ‘Which you can make to the others when we put together a strategy later’.
Grabbing Dorian’s hand, he pulled him down the stairs towards where their friends were gathered. As they arrived at the table, two tankards were thrust into their hands by Ashton.
‘Good you’re both finally here, now..’, Ashton looked around the group as the pair squeezed in beside Fearne, ‘Let’s figure out how we’re going to win this fucking thing’.