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Sir Alden Oaklight, famed explorer of ruins and bad decisions, stepped up to the podium with his most trustworthy smile and least trustworthy map. He knew most of the audience was there for the spectacle, not for science, but that was all right. As long as there was an audience, there was a chance of funding.
He ignored the giggles.
“Of course, we can find the Lost City,” Alden assured the potential sponsor. “It’s right... oops,” as the bamboo pointer went through the ancient parchment.
“It does transcend time and space, indeed.” The stranger’s smile was sharp. “You are hired.”
The polite smattering of applause died quickly as the man leaned forward in his seat. “This is just pro forma, you understand, and does not affect your employment in any way,” he said, “but as we both appreciate ruins, I am curious. What kind of ruin would you want to be?”
Alden laughed, short, surprised, his first honest expression that day. “Which ruins are the best ruins?”
The man considered this, more seriously than the whimsical question seemed to warrant. “The ones that give you good stories,” he finally answered. “In the end, they are the only ones worth seeking.”
“Are you sure we’re not lost?” Alden asked to his companion’s warm laughter. It was the first time in his life he was uttering these words.
“Lost? Oh, good. Perhaps that means we are getting close. Let us see what the map has to say.” The man held up a vial. Tendrils of black smoke moved inside.
Alden sighed. Traveling with a dark mage was turning out far stranger than any expedition he had been on. The one thing that was worse than following a torn map was following a burned one. And yet...
“I’m sure we are almost there.”