“I gratefully thank You, O Morning Lord, for restoring the light to my eyes, that I may view your radiant splendor.”
Thanks
Thank you for guiding us safely through danger to see another morning.
Thank you for sending me friends that I can share my adventure with.
Thank you for giving me the power to help those friends when they get hurt.
Blessings
I pray for blessings for my allies, who keep me company on the road.
I pray that the red one can find more books. Her knowledge is important.
I pray for Sonny and his family's continued health. That he may continue to protect and support us. And that he might find some soap soon. Stinky.
I pray for guidance for the green one. That he can keep leading us safely. And that he can stop getting shot with arrows. I would miss him a lot if he died.
I pray for Viola, now my friend! I hope she doesn't get hurt again, either.
And I'll also pray for my enemies, who we felled in battle. I hope they can find peace in the land beyond.
Closing
Thank you Lathander, Inspiration’s Dawn, for all you do. For the warmth and light you wash over us. Till the next dawn comes.
The rutted track emerged from a wooded hillside, and the party caught their first glimpse of Phandalin. The town consisted of forty or fifty simple log buildings, some built on old fieldstone foundations. More old ruins- crumbling stone walls covered in ivy and briars- surrounded the newer houses and shops, implying that it had been a much larger town in centuries past. Most of the newer buildings were set on the sides of the cart track, which widened into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbed toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.
As the party approached, they saw children playing on the town green and townsfolk tending to chores or running errands at shops. Many people looked up as they approached, but all returned to their business as the party passed by.
Sildar, now recovered from the wounds sustained at the Cragmaw lair, seemed much more at ease. “My friends,” he said, “let us secure lodgings. I’m told the local inn is very quaint.”
“Oh, yes please!” Rose gasped. “I would do unspeakable things for a bed and a bath.”
“Shouldn't we drop our stuff off first?” Sonny asked. “We've still got a job to do.”
“That's very dutiful of you, Sonny.” Verne replied. “We'll first head to the Lionshield Coster to drop off the spoils from the goblin hoard, then Barthen’s Provisions to complete Gundren’s request, and after that: straight away to the inn.”
“That's good.” Peri sighed. “Sonny could use a wash.”
“Peri!” Viola hissed. “What's the matter with you?”
Sonny gave a small laugh, “Nah, it's alright,” he said. “S'that why y’all have been so weird with me all day? You know you guys can tell me if I stink.”
“Respectfully, my friend,” Verne offered. “We thought it odd you were not already aware.”
“No, I wouldn't have any way of knowing.” Sonny smiled and pointed to his nose. “She's defective- no sense of smell.”
“How did that happen?” Rose asked. “Seasonal allergies, some kind of sickness?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Sonny replied. “When I was a kid, I was re-shoeing one of our horses and I guess she didn't like the way I approached ‘cause she kicked me clean in the face. Totally smashed my nose. The local clerics were able to fix the structural damage, but it left me with a bum sniffer.”
“You were kicked in the face by a horse…as a child…and you lived?” Viola asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I guess.” Sonny laughed. “Thankfully it didn't leave me too funny looking- just the right amount.”
The others didn't say anything, but stared with newfound respect for (and possibly fear of) the young warrior as they rode toward the Lionshield Coster.
The party rolled up to the trading post, signified by the blue lion emblazoned on the shield-shaped wooden sign that hung above the door. Sonny heeled the horses, then got to work unloading the bulky supplies with Sildar while the others entered the shop.
The interior of the Lionshield Coster was clean, but modest. Wooden shelves and displays lined the walls, each carrying a selection of armor and weapons. Behind the counter was a dark-haired woman in the customary royal blue uniform of Lionshields employees. “Welcome to the Lionshield Coster,” she said, “how can I help you today?”
“We're actually here to return something of yours.” Verne offered.
“Oh?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Well that's too bad. See, we've got an ‘all sales are final’ policy here. So unless you plan to buy something, you'd best be on your way.”
“Listen here, elf.” The woman growled, folding her hands on the desk. “I've got enough trouble on my hands without some two-copper punks coming in here trying to make some quick coin with a phony return. Now I'll ask you one more time to please leave.”
Thankfully, at that moment, Sonny stepped through the front door of the coster, bearing a crate on each shoulder. Immediately, the woman straightened up, seeing the blue lion crest on the face of the crate. Sonny, meeting the woman's gaze, flashed a clumsy smile and sidled up to the counter.
“Hey there miss,” the young warrior said, oblivious to the previous tension. “My friends and I recovered some of your stuff and we thought we'd return it to ya. Is there anywhere I should drop it off?”
“Oh, right there is just fine.” The woman said, gesturing to a space next to the counter. Sonny obliged, gently setting down his load as Sildar walked in with the rest of the recovered goods.
“So that's what you meant.” The woman said, her face awash with embarrassment. “I'm sorry, folks. We've had so many problems with bandits and troublemakers lately that I've been a bit on edge. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Pay it no mind.” Verne smiled kindly. “Caution is a wise practice when you're in the business of weaponry. My name is Verne, and these are my friends Peri, Rose, Sildar, Sonny and Viola. It is nice to meet you.”
“The name's Linene, and I appreciate that, but still,” she replied. “You've done me a service and I'd like to show you my gratitude.” She reached into a pouch beneath the counter and pulled out fifty gold pieces that she distributed between them.
“You mentioned something about bandits?” Rose asked, pulling her satchel close. “Are they a common nuisance around here?”
“‘Fraid so.” Linene replied grimly. “Especially lately. Phandalin has always been a bit ‘rough and tumble’- comes with the territory of being a frontier town. But lately we've had trouble with a bunch of crooks who call themselves the Redbrands.”
“The Redbrands?” Rose pulled out a journal and began scrawling out notes. “What are they like?”
“They're a bunch of thieves and bullies,” Linene growled, “who like to throw their weight around and hassle the townsfolk. They mostly hang around the Sleeping Giant Taphouse, get drunk and beat up anyone who looks at them funny. You'd best avoid them if you can.”
“We will keep that in mind, thank you,” said Verne.
“While you're here, can I interest you in any weapons or armor?” Linene asked.
“I could use some sturdier armor.” Viola piped up. “Ideally something with better coverage.” The halfling gestured to where she'd been shot earlier.
“Sure thing.” Linene replied. She turned into the back and retrieved a set of studded leathers that she held down for Viola to feel.
“Ooh, that's very nice!” Viola cooed, tapping her finger on one of the studs. “I'll take it.”
“Great! We'll need to size that down for you, but since I owe you a favor I can waive the tailoring fee. Without that, the total will be forty five gold pieces.”
Viola quickly withdrew her hand and stepped back, her face scandalized. “That can't be right,” she gasped. “I said I wanted the armor, not your whole shop!”
“Armor is an investment, ma'am.” Linene replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “You need to consider the materials, cost of labor to make it, and how valuable it is.”
“Hmm.” Viola stroked her chin in mock contemplation. “Well, now I've considered it, and it's still way too much!”
“Viola…” Verne warned. But the halfling remained obstinate. She folded her arms and locked eyes with the saleswoman, who similarly didn't seem ready to back down. But eventually, Linene sighed and said, “Alright, miss. Tell you what. You've all done me a favor, and I'd like to recognize that. If you want, I'll let you trade in your current armor and knock ten gold pieces off the final price.”
Viola opened her mouth, seemingly to argue further, but a look from Verne made her reconsider. “Fine. Thirty gold pieces it is.”
“I think you mean thirty-five, little lady.” Linene said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, that's right.” Viola laughed. “How silly of me.”
Linene frowned, but didn't belabor the point any further. “Like I said, we'll need to re-size the armor for you, which should take about two days. So if you'd like, you could put twenty gold down today and pay the rest when it's finished.”
“Sure, sounds great.” Viola grumbled as she fished out her newly acquired gold. “Like slowly ripping off a bandage.”
“Viola, please.” Verne sighed. “If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to partake in this deal as well. As you can see, it would do me some good.” The ranger gestured to the many holes that now dotted his leathers.
“Oh my,” the clerk replied. “Yes, let's get you into something sturdier.”
Verne and Viola each placed twenty gold on the counter, which Linene carefully placed into a pouch. Verne also picked up a bundle of arrows for an additional gold piece. Rose had no need for weapons or armor, and Peri's and Sonny's equipment already met what the store could provide, so they held onto their coin. Then, with their business completed, the party took their leave of the Lionshield Coster.
When they got outside, Sildar said, “Go ahead to Barthen's Provisions. I'll head to the Stonehill Inn and secure us lodging for the night. Meet me there when you're finished.” The party agreed, and Sonny drove the wagon down the road.
Where the Lionshield Coster had been a small, modest trading post, Barthen's Provisions was an expansive emporium of supplies. The building was nearly twice the size of the coster, and the shelves were lined with all manner of adventuring equipment. Backpacks, bedrolls, ropes and rations sat on well-kept displays, clearly labeled and with pops of color to draw the eye.
Sonny drove the wagon to the rear entrance of the shop, where they were greeted by two clerks who introduced themselves as Ander and Thistle. The party went through their own introductions before explaining to the two clerks why they were there. Upon hearing Gundren’s name, the two nodded and said that they'd been expecting the party's arrival. After securing the goods (and profusely apologizing for the white pawprints across the interior of the cart) the party was led inside and introduced to the owner of the shop, mister Elmar Barthen.
“Thank you so very much,” the shopkeeper said, clapping his thin hands together. “It's so nice to have adventurers such as yourselves to help our little community here.”
“Nice enough to get some coin?” Viola asked.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Honestly, woman, do you think of nothing else?” She huffed.
“What, are we supposed to just do everything for free?” Viola growled. “Not that I'd expect you to know, princess, but here in the real world things cost money.”
The two girls glowered at each other, and Elmar nervously raised his hands from the counter. “Now, now, there's no need to argue.” He said, drawing gold from a nearby pouch. “Here are ten gold pieces for each of you, as I discussed with Gundren. Speaking of which, where is that old goat? I was under the impression that he would be coming ahead of you to investigate the excavation site.”
The party looked at each other, and Elmar’s face fell with the uncomfortable silence. “Oh dear,” he muttered. “Has something happened?”
Verne explained all that had occurred with the Cragmaw Hideout and Gundren's kidnapping. Elmar sat back on a stool behind the counter and placed his head in his hands.
“How dreadful,” he cried. “Gundren is an old friend of mine, so please, if you can, get him back safely.”
“Of course.” Sonny replied.
“It's nice to meet friends of his,” Peri said, “he doesn't seem like the type who'd have very many.”
Elmar laughed, “Yes, he does have a bit of a gruff nature to him, doesn't he? But he's a good man beneath that rocky exterior. A good leader, too. Got a lot of us excited when he talked about finding the lost mine in the nearby hills. Last I heard, his brothers, Nundro and Tharden, were camped out over there, prepping the site for excavation. It sure would be something if they found it.”
“Sildar mentioned something about that.” Rose said. “Do you really think that it's the lost mine? People have been looking for it for centuries!”
“What's so special about an old mine?” Peri tilted their head, curiously.
“Are you serious?” Rose asked. “It has one of the most powerful magical artifacts ever created!”
The witch turned to the others, but was met with blank stares.
“The Forge of Spells?” she asked in disbelief.
“None of us know what you're talking about, bookworm, so just explain already.” Viola rolled her eyes.
“Fine then,” Rose huffed. “Five hundred years ago, clans of dwarves and gnomes made an agreement known as The Phandelver's Pact to share a mine in a cavern known as Wave Echo Cave. The cave had a variety of precious minerals and sources of magical power, which attracted spellcasters from across the land who worked together with the dwarves and gnomes to create the Forge of Spells, which could create magical items. Things were running smoothly until an orcish army swept through the north, destroying everything in their path. In the resulting battles, the cavern collapsed, and the location of Wave Echo Cave (and the Forge of Spells) was lost to time.”
“You've an impressive knowledge of history, miss.” Elmar said.
“Oh, I just like to read.” Rose blushed. “Faerun's history is interesting to me. So much more straightforward than the history of the courts back home.”
“Oh? Where is ‘home’ for you?” The shopkeeper asked.
Rose's smile fell and her posture tensed. “Far, far, away from here.”
Sensing that he was approaching sensitive territory, Elmar changed the subject. “While I have you here, is there anything I can interest you in? We've all manner of supplies perfect for brave adventurers such as yourselves.”
“I could do with some more rations,” Verne said. “I fed most of mine to some wolves, and it would be nice to replenish.”
Elmar widened his eyes, but said nothing as he grabbed ten rations and handed them to the elf. The others used the opportunity to replenish their stores as well. When they had concluded their business, Elmar waved them goodbye and thanked them once again for their services. “Oh, and one more thing!” he shouted as they were walking out the door. “Avoid the Redbrands if you can- they've been making all sorts of trouble for the townsfolk.”
The party waved their acknowledgement and continued down the road to the Stonehill Inn.
“These Redbrands sure do seem like trouble.” Peri said. “I hope we don't run into them.”
“Eh, I'm not worried.” Viola replied. “They sound like a bunch of losers who only mess with people weaker than them. Nobody who can actually fight beats on old people.”
“Maybe we should do something about them.” Sonny offered. “If they're really going around hurting people for no reason, I'd feel weird ignoring it.”
“An admirable sentiment,” Verne replied. “But we need not get involved in local squabbles. Little good can come from seeking out trouble.”
“But if we know something bad is happening and we don't help out, doesn't that make us part of the problem?” Sonny asked.
“Not if us interfering makes the problem worse, Sonny.” Rose replied. “If we attack the Redbrands, they might take their frustrations out on the townsfolk, and they'll be worse off than if we'd done nothing.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Sonny frowned. “But I don't like it.”
Rose and Verne looked at each other, unsure of what to say. They soon arrived at the Stonehill Inn, and all thought of justice and retribution was driven from their minds as they were greeted by warmth and the promise of a good night's rest.
The Stonehill Inn was a large, newly built roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers at the center of town. As the party walked through the door, they were greeted by a crackling fire in the hearth, the scent of roasted chicken in the air, and several townsfolk sitting around the room, nursing mugs of ale and cider, all eying the party curiously but not saying a word to them.
Verne approached the bar, behind which were two humans, a man and a woman, who worked dutifully, pouring drinks and cleaning tankards. “Good evening,” Verne began. “If it isn't too much trouble, we would like to reserve some rooms for the night.”
“I take it you must be Verne.” The bar man smiled. “We were told you would be coming.”
Verne raised his brows. “My apologies,” he said, “but in our line of work that can be a troublesome phrase. I pray, please explain yourself.”
“Oh, my apologies,” the man said, flustered. “I just meant that your friend, Mr. Hallwinter, let us know you'd be staying with us this evening. He already reserved your rooms.” The bar man fished five keys out from behind the bar and handed them to Verne.
“Ah, I see,” the elf replied. “And where is Mr. Hallwinter now?”
“Wherever the nearest mug of ale is, my pointy-eared friend.” A voice laughed from nearby.
The party turned to find Sildar, freshly bathed and clothed, walking up to meet them. Though the bruises and cuts still showed prominently on his face, the old veteran looked better than he had in days. “A round of whatever drinks they like, Toblen,” Sildar said, dropping a heavy coin purse on the bar. “They've earned it.”
“You flatter us,” Verne said, “but we can't accept-”
“He doesn't speak for me,” Viola said, hopping up onto a bar stool. “A tankard of the hard stuff, and keep it coming.”
Sildar laughed, and though the rest of the party sighed, they smiled in spite of themselves. It was their first night in a long while that they had the opportunity to relax- they may as well enjoy it.
Toblen (who, as it turned out, was the proprietor of the inn) handed Viola a tankard of ale. The halfling grasped it with both hands and hopped down to the floor, holding what was to her a bucket of alcohol, close to her chest. “Don't take this the wrong way,” she said, intermittently taking sips off her drink, “but I've had nobody to talk to but you four for the last two weeks. So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to mingle.”
“That may be a good idea,” Verne mused. “Perhaps some time apart would be beneficial. It would certainly allow for us to get more information on Cragmaw Castle and the lost mine.”
“I don't know,” Sonny frowned, scanning the room. “We've never been here before. Shouldn't we stick together?”
“At-ease, soldier,” Rose rolled her eyes. “I'll call you if I get a splinter from my bar stool. But until then, just relax.” The witch daintily took a glass of cider and strode off into the bar.
Sonny watched as she walked away, frowning as she sat down to a conversation with an old man by the window.
“Don't worry, friend,” Peri smiled, “if you get scared, I can hold your hand.”
Rose sauntered across the tavern, eager to mingle with the Phandalin townsfolk. Loathe as she was to admit it, Viola was right: the party had spent entirely too much time together as of late, and it was high time they got to speak with new people that had different life experiences. Seeing the old man by the window, she confidently strode over, sat herself down, and said, “Mind if I join you?”
“By all means,” the old man replied, raising his tankard before taking a swig. “Name’s Narth. What’s yers?”
“Rose,” the witch replied. The young witch almost extended a hand, but upon seeing the dirty clothing of the man across from her, opted for a tip of her glass instead. “So what do you do for a living, Mr. Narth?”
“Just ‘Narth’ is fine, darlin,” the old man chuckled. “An’ I’m a farmer by trade. Own the homestead just down the road.”
“Oh,” Rose’s face fell. She’d assumed from the old man’s beard and floppy hat that he was a traveling wizard, like the kind she’d read about in her stories as a girl. But instead, it appeared she had simply traded one farmer for another.
“I suppose it’s not all that exciting,” Narth sighed. “But it keeps food on my table and the tables of my friends and neighbors. Can’t ask for more than that in this life.”
“I mean, you could,” Rose mumbled into her cider. Thankfully, the old man seemed to be hard of hearing, or was otherwise very patient.
“So what are the goings-on in Phandalin, Narth?” Rose asked.
“Hm,” the farmer stroked his chin ponderously, “I s’ppose I seen Sister Garaele come back in an odd way.”
“Sister Garaele?” Rose raised an eyebrow and drew out her journal. “Do tell.”
“Well, the Sister tends the Shrine of Luck over yonder,” Narth pointed through the window at a small, stone shrine at the center of town. “She’s been at it for a handful of years now. About a tenday ago, she left and three days later she came back all bruised and dog-tired. She’s been real hushed about the whole thing.”
“Do you have any idea where she may have gone?” Rose asked, furiously scribbling her notes.
“Nah, I couldn’t say,” Narth folded his arms and looked out the window toward the shrine. “The Sister is a kind soul, but mighty private. She tends to keep to herself most days, unless she’s helping folks with something.”
“Curious…” Rose trailed off, studying the well-shaped letters of her journal. “I suppose we’ll need to pay her a visit, then. Is there anything else you can tell me? Other odd things going on?”
“Not that I can think of,” the old farmer sighed. “Those Redbrand boys have been troublesome, but they mostly stick to the Sleeping Giant.”
“Ah yes, the infamous Redbrands,” Rose drawled. She had been excited upon hearing the name when Linene first brought them up, but upon referencing her books on the historical factions of Faerun and discovering that she had mistaken them for the Red Wizards of Thay, she quickly lost interest. “We’ll be looking into that. I’d expect Sonny probably wants to punch their leader in the nose, or some other boyish nonsense.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that, miss.” Narth’s face darkened. “They may be common thugs, but there’s a whole mess of ‘em. I’d hate to see you and your friends get hurt.”
“That’s very kind of you, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Rose said, finishing the rest of her drink. “On an unrelated note, you wouldn’t happen to know any magic spells, would you?”
“Magic spells?” the old man laughed. “No, I can’t say I do.”
“That’s too bad.” Rose said, snapping her journal shut. “Well, that’s all I need for now. Ta-ta!” And with that, the young witch turned and traipsed back to the bar, leaving the old farmer to scratch his head in confusion.
Sonny stood with his back to the bar, looking intermittently between Rose and Viola, as if expecting either of them to be attacked at any moment. He had no reason to distrust the townsfolk of Phandalin, nor did he think the girls were incapable of protecting themselves, but hearing about the Redbrands had Sonny's hackles raised, putting him on a high alert that ill-suited the relaxed environment of the tavern.
“Excuse me, sir,” a voice called from behind the bar. Sonny turned around to find a middle-aged woman smiling at him. “Well, aren't you handsome,” she said, giving him a once over. “Is there anything I can get for you to drink, hun?”
“Oh, um, no thank you, miss.” Sonny stammered. He began to stand from his stool, but the woman laughed, “‘Miss!’ Well, isn't that something? Honey, I haven't been a ‘miss’ since before you were born, but thank you!”
“Don't mention it.” Sonny flushed. This time he did stand up, but the woman continued, and politeness dictated that he sit once more.
“I have to say,” she mused, while polishing a tankard, “we don't usually see such colorful strangers around here- not even when word of the mine first got out. What brings you all to Phandalin?”
“We're friends with Gundren, and we did some work for Barthen's and the Lionshield Coster.” Sonny replied, tapping his foot against the bar stool.
“Oh, you're the ones who helped Linene!” she exclaimed. “She told me about you- how you got her goods back, and even delivered them. That was right kind of you.”
This pattern continued for several minutes. The young warrior wanted to keep an eye on his friends, but each time he began to turn, the barmaid threw in another conversational barb to keep him hooked in. It reminded him of when his relatives would come to visit, and spend hours on the front porch cycling through goodbyes before finally leaving. Sonny knew it was rude to think this way, but even for the most adept of wordsmiths, the extended goodbye is a deadly trap. After his sixth failed escape attempt, Sonny sighed and resigned himself to his fate.
“Adventuring seems so dangerous.” Elsa said as she filled a tankard with ale. “I don't know how you all do it.”
“It's not so bad,” Sonny replied. “Sure it gets scary sometimes, but it helps to have folks at your back you can trust.”
“That’s sweet,” Elsa smiled. “I remember Daran saying something similar when he first came to town.”
“Daran?”
“Daran Edermath,” Elsa explained, “half-elven fella, owns the orchard up the way. He used to be an adventurer too, before he retired.”
“And he picked an orchard,” Sonny smiled to himself, “that’s nice. I’ll have to chat with him some time- maybe get some farming tips.”
“Farming tips? Do you grow much out on the road?” Elsa asked, confused.
“Oh, I’m just traveling with these folks temporarily. Once I settle up here, I’ll be going back home to Goldenfields. My ma and pa have a farm there.” Sonny replied.
“That’s too bad.” The bar maid said as she stowed the clean tankards.
“What do you mean?” Sonny frowned.
“You seem to care an awful lot about these folks, what with how you keep trying to watch them,” Elsa grinned as Sonny’s face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s a shame you’ll be leaving them behind.”
Sonny turned in earnest to look at his new friends. At Viola, chatting with a woman in an intricate dress, at Peri, laughing with a woman and her young son. At Verne, calmly trading stories with Sildar, and at Rose, who met Sonny’s gaze with a teasing roll of her eyes.
“Yeah,” the young warrior replied as he turned back around in his seat. “I guess it is a shame. But I know where I belong. My family needs me.”
“Family is what you make of it, kiddo.” The barmaid smiled. “Speaking of which, I actually have a daughter who’s around your age who I think you would be-”
Sonny shot up from his stool, his face beet-red. Growing up in a religious farming community, he knew well where this conversational path led, and it was not a destination he sought to return to. In his panic, all he could think to say was, “I need a bath,” as he pushed off from the bar and ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would take him.
Verne watched as Sonny sprinted across the bar and up the stairs, leaving the poor barmaid blinking in disbelief. Sildar, who had been watching the same scene play out, slapped his hand on the table as he laughed. “Guess the lad’s not much of a charmer, eh?” the veteran nudged the elf in the ribs. Verne sighed as he lifted his glass, “In all my years, I have never met someone so unphased by bodily harm, yet so petrified of casual conversation.” he said, before taking a long sip of his cider.
“He reminds me of my son, actually.” Sildar said, cupping his ale with both hands.
“I didn’t realize you were a father, my friend,” Verne replied. “Respectfully, you don’t seem the type.”
“Perceptive, if a bit cold,” Sildar sighed. “In truth, I’ve not been much of a father to him for most of his life. My work with the Lord’s Alliance kept me busy, and far from home. And when my marriage fell apart, so too did my relationship with Edwin.”
“There is always time,” Verne said, kindly but firmly.
“Easily said by one for whom years are but a pittance.” Sildar smiled sadly. “It is a shame that unlike gold, an abundance of time cannot be shared.”
“I stand by my answer.” Verne folded his hands in front of him.
“As you should,” Sildar held up his hands in mock surrender. “I pray you don't think less of me for it. If it helps matters, he and I have reconnected recently. In fact, once my business here in Phandalin is concluded, I plan to retire from the Lord's Alliance and travel across Faerun with him, to hopefully make up for lost time.”
“That should be nice,” Verne replied, taking up his drink once more.
“What about you?” Sildar asked, cocking an eyebrow. “With such strong opinions on the matter, I suppose you are a father as well?”
Verne stared into the golden liquid of his glass and his eyes took on a faraway look. “A lifetime ago, yes.” The elf tilted his glass back and finished his drink. “Unfortunately, it is as you say: my abundance of years cannot be shared. No matter how strong we get, or how desperately we wish it so, time is a beast that claims all travelers.”
“I’m sorry, my friend, I did not realize.” Sildar’s brow furrowed. “If there is anything I can do, just name it.”
“Go on the trip with your son.” Verne stated, his mouth a firm line.
The two men fell silent for a moment. Sildar gestured to Elsa behind the bar, who fetched the men another round of drinks. As they arrived, the old veteran asked, “Do you still plan to rescue Gundren from Cragmaw Castle?”
“Of course,” Verne replied. “We cannot give up if there is even a chance of his safe return.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Sildar replied. “The Rockseeker brothers will be instrumental in finding the lost mine.”
“You don’t strike me as one for magical history, my friend. What benefit would an old spell forge bring to Phandalin?” Verne asked.
“The spell forge, if it exists, is but a ribbon on top of what the mine provides,” Sildar replied. “The minerals and ores the mine produces can provide a much-needed resource for trade. With prosperity comes peace. That’s why the Lord’s Alliance has such a vested interest.”
“Which is why they initially sent your ally, Mr. Albrek, correct?” Verne stated.
Sildar’s face darkened. “Yes. I talked to some of the locals, who say Iarno disappeared two months ago, while exploring Tresendar Manor. He is a powerful mage, but with so much time passed without contact, I fear the worst. If you could keep watch for him, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course, my friend.” the elf replied. “Did the locals mention anything else? We have the general location of the castle, but would appreciate more details, if available.”
“Not that I can think of,” Sildar stroked his chin. “I would suggest searching the area around the Triboar Trail for more raiding parties. Be careful though, there are whispers of orcish bands roving the east end of the trail.”
“We will keep that in mind, thank you.” Verne took up his cider and drank deeply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe it is time I took my rest.”
“Of course,” Sildar stood and pushed in his stool. “Before you go though, I did have a question.”
“What is it?” Verne tilted his head, curious.
“Do you ever regret it? Having children in our line of work.”
Verne gave the old veteran a sad smile. “I was a father, a grandfather and a great-grandfather for years before I took up the bow,” he said. “And I will never regret a second of it.”
“-and then Lathander rose into the sky, and with a burst of light he drove the darkness away, restoring peace and prosperity to the land!” Peri leapt up onto their stool, gesticulating wildly with paws outstretched.
“Wow,” said Pip, the wide-eyed son of Toblen Stonehill, “did all that stuff really happen?”
“Of course!” Peri squawked as they hopped down to the floor. Despite the boy being a paltry six years old, the tabaxi was just above eye level with him. “The Morninglord performs all kinds of miracles every day.”
“Like what?” The boy asked.
“Well,” Peri grinned, then struck a dramatic pose and lifted their paws to the ceiling, “every morning, Lathander uses his mighty strength to pull the sun into the sky.”
“Wow, that must be really heavy,” Pip said.
“I definitely couldn't do it.” Peri nodded.
At that moment, Pip's mother Trilena walked up and set a wide cup on the counter. “Here's that milk you asked for, Peri.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stonehill!” The cleric reached up and grabbed the cup with both hands. They quietly recited a prayer thanking Lathander for the beverage before eagerly taking a drink. “I appreciate it- not many taverns have non-alcoholic options that aren't just water, so this is a real treat!”
“Of course, we like to serve our patrons however we can.” Trilena smiled.
“Peri, tell me another story from when you were on the road.” Pip demanded, tugging on the cleric's sleeve.
“Pip, don't be rude.” His mother scolded.
The young boy pouted, but let go of the sleeve. Peri laughed and said, “Don't worry, Pip, I have just the story: one time, we were exploring a dark cave. My friend Greenie had gone ahead to check for monsters, but he came running back around the corner with a water dragon chasing after him!”
“Whoa, a water dragon?!”
“Yeah- a dragon entirely made of water.” Peri grinned. “It came splashing down the tunnel, opening its mouth and letting loose a mighty roar.” The tabaxi let out a high-pitched yowl for dramatic effect before they continued, “the dragon opened its mouth and snapped me up in its mighty jaws.” The cleric fell to the floor, clutching their chest with one hand and reaching for the ceiling with the other.
“Noooo!” yelled Pip, whose eyes widened in terror. “What did you do then?”
“Well,” Peri said as they hopped up to their feet, “I pulled out my mighty mace and I started swinging: whack, whack until I smashed up the dragon from the inside. With its guts all bruised up, my friend Sonny was able to swoop in and deliver the final blow, chopping the dragon's head clean off.”
“Wow!” Pip's jaw slacked, star-struck. “What did you do then? How did you get out of the dragon?”
“What do you mean?” Peri asked. “Sonny cut its head off, so I just walked out of it.”
“Ohhh, that makes sense.” Pip nodded.
“Alright, Pip, I think that's enough excitement for one evening.” Trilena laughed. “Off to bed with you.”
“Aww, c'mon, mama,” the boy whined. “I didn't even get to tell Peri my story!”
“Your story?” Peri's ears perked up. “If you don't mind, Mrs. Stonehill, I'd like to hear what Pip has to say.”
Trilena smiled and said, “Well, alright then. But as soon as you finish, it's off to bed mister.”
Pip nodded, then squatted down in a stance not unlike the one Peri had assumed to tell their story. “Ok, so my friend Carp, from school? He was in the woods and he, um, he was playing with my other friend Feldin. And I don't think there were others there. But they were playing and they found a hole in the woods.”
“A hole? Like, in the ground?” Peri asked.
“Yeah, kinda.” Pip nodded. “There was a hole in the ground and then there was nothing, but then the hole kept going and then it went to a big house. And one of the red guys got mad because Carp wasn't supposed to be there.”
“The red guys?” Peri’s eyes narrowed. “Are these the same red guys that have been hurting the townspeople?”
Pip nodded, but before he could go any further, Trilena reached out and grabbed the boy's hand. “Sorry, sweetie, but we really do need to get you to bed.” She made a pointed look at Peri, who took her meaning.
“Yeah, that's probably a good idea, Pip. Heroes like you and me need our sleep so we can grow big and strong.” they said as they flexed their biceps.
Pip frowned, but nodded, before being led off to bed by Trilena. A few minutes later, she returned, with a concerned look on her face.
“I beg your pardon, Peri,” she said, leaning against the bar. “I don't mean to be rude, I just think there are some things Pip doesn't need to know about, and the Redbrands are one of them.”
“The danger is on your doorstep, Mrs. Stonehill,” the cleric replied. “I'll respect your wishes, but there's only so much you can hide from him. He's a curious kid, after all.”
“Yes, well curiosity killed the-” Trilena stopped herself, as the tabaxi tilted their head in obvious amusement.
“We've heard about the Redbrands all day, but they don't seem like much more than typical thugs.” Peri pondered aloud. “What's so dangerous about them?”
“At first, nothing.” Trilena replied. “The townsfolk who joined up with that outfit had been good-for-nothings well before they started dressing in red. But something has changed recently. There's more of them, and their actions seem more targeted: strong-arming businesses with access to supplies, rather than randomly lashing out at everyone. It's all very strange.”
“If you don't mind my asking, why don't you fight back? There are so many of you, surely you could take them down if you worked together.” Peri said.
“We have to think of our families, Peri.” Trilena insisted. “If we stand up to the Redbrands, we run the risk of them retaliating against our children and homes. I've seen what can happen if you overstep with the Redbrands, and Pip's safety is not something I'm willing to risk.”
“If you don't mind my asking, what do you mean ‘you've seen what can happen?” Peri asked.
Trilena’s face darkened, and she looked around, ensuring they were not being overheard. “A tenday ago, my friend Mirna Dendrar and her husband Thel got into an argument with them. I guess they had been leering at Mirna and he told them off. They got into a fight, and they murdered Thel- right in the town square. They grabbed his body and made off with it to their hideout.”
“That’s terrible!” Peri gasped.
“That’s not all,” Trilena whispered, “now Mirna and her children have gone missing as well. I can’t say for certain, but I fear-” she cut off, and took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears.
Peri gently cupped her hand with both of their paws and said, “It’s ok, Mrs. Stonehill. My friends and I will do everything in our power to get the Dendrars home safely.”
Trilena nodded, too choked with emotion to reply. She wiped her eyes and squeezed Peri's paws in her hands. Suddenly, Peri's face took on a serious look and they said, “Now, Mrs. Stonehill, this will be diligent work. I'll need all my faculties at full power, and for that I'll need your help.”
Trilena started and said, “Yes, of course. What do you need?”
“More milk, please!” Peri said, with a toothy grin.
Viola sidled up to the nearest stool, hoisted her tankard onto the seat and then pulled herself up after it. Across from her was a thin woman in a vibrant dress, brows raised at the impromptu display of acrobatics.
“How's it going?” Viola asked, leaning across the table and extending a hand, “the name's Viola.”
“Freda,” the woman said, gently shaking the halfling's tiny hand.
“That's a nice dress. You buy it new?” Viola asked.
“Oh, this? I actually made it myself. I'm a weaver by trade.” Freda smiled.
“No kidding,” Viola tilted her head, looking over the dress. “Do people pay a lot for something like that?”
“It depends on what I'm making, but I get by. At least, I did, before-” Freda's eyes darted around the tavern, then shook her head in frustration, not finishing her thought.
Studying the weaver's face, Viola guessed, “Before the red guys started showing up?”
Freda's eyes widened, but she nodded and whispered, “They've been a menace ever since they showed up here. They hassle every business owner in Phandalin. Well, everyone but Halia, I guess- they pretty well leave her alone.”
“Who's she?” Viola asked.
“Halia Thornton. She runs the Phandalin Miner's Exchange. Nice gal, but a bit scary if you get her angry. Probably why those thugs don't mess with her.”
“Sounds like my kinda lady,” Viola said, sipping her ale. “Maybe I ought to pay her a visit some time.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if she already knew you were here.” Freda laughed.
Viola frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“She has this way of…knowing things.” Freda replied. “Whenever I tell her news or share a story with her, it usually turns out she knows what happened better than I do. And respectfully, you and your friends are a brightly colored bunch. It's not every day a tabaxi rolls into town- that alone is going to get around.”
Viola looked over her shoulder to find Peri rolling on the ground reaching up at the ceiling while a little boy laughed and clapped his hands. The rogue turned back around and sighed, “I suppose they're not the most discreet bunch.”
“I like it,” Freda smiled. “Things tend to get boring out here. It's nice to have a splash of color every now and again.” she gestured broadly at her dress.
Viola looked at the garment and sighed inwardly. She'd never owned a dress before. She hadn't had much money for clothes growing up, and even if she did, they seemed impractical- not even any pockets! But still, there was something alluring about them, and whether it was by curiosity or genuine interest she wasn't sure. Her thoughts drifted to Rose and Sonny, and an uncomfortable twisting feeling churned in her stomach. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to find Rose striding across the bar and Sonny staring at her- as Viola so often found him doing. Viola suddenly found herself fighting the urge to throw her tankard across the room and scream. She drowned the thought with a long sip of ale and a sigh.
“Say, Freda,” she said after a long while. “How much would it cost for you to make one of those dresses for me?”
The weaver perked up, “Prices can vary, but usually for a tailored garment it costs fifteen gold pieces.”
Viola hissed, and was about to shut down the idea, but then a thought occurred to her. “What if we could come to an arrangement instead?” she asked.
The weaver furrowed her brow in confusion. “What kind of arrangement?”
“Well,” the halfling smiled, “What say my friends and I take care of your ‘Redbrand Problem?’”
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LMoP - Interlude: Arrival (Peri)
16 Tarsakh
Prayer
“I gratefully thank You, O Morning Lord, for restoring the light to my eyes, that I may view your radiant splendor.”
Thanks
Thank you for guiding us safely through danger to see another morning.
Thank you for sending me friends that I can share my adventure with.
Thank you for giving me the power to help those friends when they get hurt.
Blessings
I pray for blessings for my allies, who keep me company on the road.
I pray that the red one can find more books. Her knowledge is important.
I pray for Sonny and his family's continued health. That he may continue to protect and support us. And that he might find some soap soon. Stinky.
I pray for guidance for the green one. That he can keep leading us safely. And that he can stop getting shot with arrows. I would miss him a lot if he died.
I pray for Viola, now my friend! I hope she doesn't get hurt again, either.
And I'll also pray for my enemies, who we felled in battle. I hope they can find peace in the land beyond.
Closing
Thank you Lathander, Inspiration’s Dawn, for all you do. For the warmth and light you wash over us. Till the next dawn comes.
Amen.
LMoP - Interlude: Arrival (Viola)
Viola's To-Do List for Phandalin
Count out my GOLD
Buy some NEW CLOTHES
Buy some tasty FOOD
Buy some SOAP for whoever's stinking up the cart
Chapter 3.1: Into Phandalin
The rutted track emerged from a wooded hillside, and the party caught their first glimpse of Phandalin. The town consisted of forty or fifty simple log buildings, some built on old fieldstone foundations. More old ruins- crumbling stone walls covered in ivy and briars- surrounded the newer houses and shops, implying that it had been a much larger town in centuries past. Most of the newer buildings were set on the sides of the cart track, which widened into a muddy main street of sorts as it climbed toward a ruined manor house on a hillside at the east side of town.
As the party approached, they saw children playing on the town green and townsfolk tending to chores or running errands at shops. Many people looked up as they approached, but all returned to their business as the party passed by.
Sildar, now recovered from the wounds sustained at the Cragmaw lair, seemed much more at ease. “My friends,” he said, “let us secure lodgings. I’m told the local inn is very quaint.”
“Oh, yes please!” Rose gasped. “I would do unspeakable things for a bed and a bath.”
“Shouldn't we drop our stuff off first?” Sonny asked. “We've still got a job to do.”
“That's very dutiful of you, Sonny.” Verne replied. “We'll first head to the Lionshield Coster to drop off the spoils from the goblin hoard, then Barthen’s Provisions to complete Gundren’s request, and after that: straight away to the inn.”
“That's good.” Peri sighed. “Sonny could use a wash.”
“Peri!” Viola hissed. “What's the matter with you?”
Sonny gave a small laugh, “Nah, it's alright,” he said. “S'that why y’all have been so weird with me all day? You know you guys can tell me if I stink.”
“Respectfully, my friend,” Verne offered. “We thought it odd you were not already aware.”
“No, I wouldn't have any way of knowing.” Sonny smiled and pointed to his nose. “She's defective- no sense of smell.”
“How did that happen?” Rose asked. “Seasonal allergies, some kind of sickness?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Sonny replied. “When I was a kid, I was re-shoeing one of our horses and I guess she didn't like the way I approached ‘cause she kicked me clean in the face. Totally smashed my nose. The local clerics were able to fix the structural damage, but it left me with a bum sniffer.”
“You were kicked in the face by a horse…as a child…and you lived?” Viola asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I guess.” Sonny laughed. “Thankfully it didn't leave me too funny looking- just the right amount.”
The others didn't say anything, but stared with newfound respect for (and possibly fear of) the young warrior as they rode toward the Lionshield Coster.
Chapter 3.2: The Lionshield Coster
The party rolled up to the trading post, signified by the blue lion emblazoned on the shield-shaped wooden sign that hung above the door. Sonny heeled the horses, then got to work unloading the bulky supplies with Sildar while the others entered the shop.
The interior of the Lionshield Coster was clean, but modest. Wooden shelves and displays lined the walls, each carrying a selection of armor and weapons. Behind the counter was a dark-haired woman in the customary royal blue uniform of Lionshields employees. “Welcome to the Lionshield Coster,” she said, “how can I help you today?”
“We're actually here to return something of yours.” Verne offered.
“Oh?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Well that's too bad. See, we've got an ‘all sales are final’ policy here. So unless you plan to buy something, you'd best be on your way.”
“No, madam,” Verne laughed. “You misunderstand me, I-”
“Listen here, elf.” The woman growled, folding her hands on the desk. “I've got enough trouble on my hands without some two-copper punks coming in here trying to make some quick coin with a phony return. Now I'll ask you one more time to please leave.”
Thankfully, at that moment, Sonny stepped through the front door of the coster, bearing a crate on each shoulder. Immediately, the woman straightened up, seeing the blue lion crest on the face of the crate. Sonny, meeting the woman's gaze, flashed a clumsy smile and sidled up to the counter.
“Hey there miss,” the young warrior said, oblivious to the previous tension. “My friends and I recovered some of your stuff and we thought we'd return it to ya. Is there anywhere I should drop it off?”
“Oh, right there is just fine.” The woman said, gesturing to a space next to the counter. Sonny obliged, gently setting down his load as Sildar walked in with the rest of the recovered goods.
“So that's what you meant.” The woman said, her face awash with embarrassment. “I'm sorry, folks. We've had so many problems with bandits and troublemakers lately that I've been a bit on edge. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Pay it no mind.” Verne smiled kindly. “Caution is a wise practice when you're in the business of weaponry. My name is Verne, and these are my friends Peri, Rose, Sildar, Sonny and Viola. It is nice to meet you.”
“The name's Linene, and I appreciate that, but still,” she replied. “You've done me a service and I'd like to show you my gratitude.” She reached into a pouch beneath the counter and pulled out fifty gold pieces that she distributed between them.
“You mentioned something about bandits?” Rose asked, pulling her satchel close. “Are they a common nuisance around here?”
“‘Fraid so.” Linene replied grimly. “Especially lately. Phandalin has always been a bit ‘rough and tumble’- comes with the territory of being a frontier town. But lately we've had trouble with a bunch of crooks who call themselves the Redbrands.”
“The Redbrands?” Rose pulled out a journal and began scrawling out notes. “What are they like?”
“They're a bunch of thieves and bullies,” Linene growled, “who like to throw their weight around and hassle the townsfolk. They mostly hang around the Sleeping Giant Taphouse, get drunk and beat up anyone who looks at them funny. You'd best avoid them if you can.”
“We will keep that in mind, thank you,” said Verne.
“While you're here, can I interest you in any weapons or armor?” Linene asked.
“I could use some sturdier armor.” Viola piped up. “Ideally something with better coverage.” The halfling gestured to where she'd been shot earlier.
“Sure thing.” Linene replied. She turned into the back and retrieved a set of studded leathers that she held down for Viola to feel.
“Ooh, that's very nice!” Viola cooed, tapping her finger on one of the studs. “I'll take it.”
“Great! We'll need to size that down for you, but since I owe you a favor I can waive the tailoring fee. Without that, the total will be forty five gold pieces.”
Viola quickly withdrew her hand and stepped back, her face scandalized. “That can't be right,” she gasped. “I said I wanted the armor, not your whole shop!”
“Armor is an investment, ma'am.” Linene replied, a hint of irritation in her voice. “You need to consider the materials, cost of labor to make it, and how valuable it is.”
“Hmm.” Viola stroked her chin in mock contemplation. “Well, now I've considered it, and it's still way too much!”
“Viola…” Verne warned. But the halfling remained obstinate. She folded her arms and locked eyes with the saleswoman, who similarly didn't seem ready to back down. But eventually, Linene sighed and said, “Alright, miss. Tell you what. You've all done me a favor, and I'd like to recognize that. If you want, I'll let you trade in your current armor and knock ten gold pieces off the final price.”
Viola opened her mouth, seemingly to argue further, but a look from Verne made her reconsider. “Fine. Thirty gold pieces it is.”
“I think you mean thirty-five, little lady.” Linene said, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, that's right.” Viola laughed. “How silly of me.”
Linene frowned, but didn't belabor the point any further. “Like I said, we'll need to re-size the armor for you, which should take about two days. So if you'd like, you could put twenty gold down today and pay the rest when it's finished.”
“Sure, sounds great.” Viola grumbled as she fished out her newly acquired gold. “Like slowly ripping off a bandage.”
“Viola, please.” Verne sighed. “If it isn't too much trouble, I would like to partake in this deal as well. As you can see, it would do me some good.” The ranger gestured to the many holes that now dotted his leathers.
“Oh my,” the clerk replied. “Yes, let's get you into something sturdier.”
Verne and Viola each placed twenty gold on the counter, which Linene carefully placed into a pouch. Verne also picked up a bundle of arrows for an additional gold piece. Rose had no need for weapons or armor, and Peri's and Sonny's equipment already met what the store could provide, so they held onto their coin. Then, with their business completed, the party took their leave of the Lionshield Coster.
When they got outside, Sildar said, “Go ahead to Barthen's Provisions. I'll head to the Stonehill Inn and secure us lodging for the night. Meet me there when you're finished.” The party agreed, and Sonny drove the wagon down the road.
Chapter 3.3: Barthen's Provisions
Where the Lionshield Coster had been a small, modest trading post, Barthen's Provisions was an expansive emporium of supplies. The building was nearly twice the size of the coster, and the shelves were lined with all manner of adventuring equipment. Backpacks, bedrolls, ropes and rations sat on well-kept displays, clearly labeled and with pops of color to draw the eye.
Sonny drove the wagon to the rear entrance of the shop, where they were greeted by two clerks who introduced themselves as Ander and Thistle. The party went through their own introductions before explaining to the two clerks why they were there. Upon hearing Gundren’s name, the two nodded and said that they'd been expecting the party's arrival. After securing the goods (and profusely apologizing for the white pawprints across the interior of the cart) the party was led inside and introduced to the owner of the shop, mister Elmar Barthen.
“Thank you so very much,” the shopkeeper said, clapping his thin hands together. “It's so nice to have adventurers such as yourselves to help our little community here.”
“Nice enough to get some coin?” Viola asked.
Rose rolled her eyes. “Honestly, woman, do you think of nothing else?” She huffed.
“What, are we supposed to just do everything for free?” Viola growled. “Not that I'd expect you to know, princess, but here in the real world things cost money.”
The two girls glowered at each other, and Elmar nervously raised his hands from the counter. “Now, now, there's no need to argue.” He said, drawing gold from a nearby pouch. “Here are ten gold pieces for each of you, as I discussed with Gundren. Speaking of which, where is that old goat? I was under the impression that he would be coming ahead of you to investigate the excavation site.”
The party looked at each other, and Elmar’s face fell with the uncomfortable silence. “Oh dear,” he muttered. “Has something happened?”
Verne explained all that had occurred with the Cragmaw Hideout and Gundren's kidnapping. Elmar sat back on a stool behind the counter and placed his head in his hands.
“How dreadful,” he cried. “Gundren is an old friend of mine, so please, if you can, get him back safely.”
“Of course.” Sonny replied.
“It's nice to meet friends of his,” Peri said, “he doesn't seem like the type who'd have very many.”
Elmar laughed, “Yes, he does have a bit of a gruff nature to him, doesn't he? But he's a good man beneath that rocky exterior. A good leader, too. Got a lot of us excited when he talked about finding the lost mine in the nearby hills. Last I heard, his brothers, Nundro and Tharden, were camped out over there, prepping the site for excavation. It sure would be something if they found it.”
“Sildar mentioned something about that.” Rose said. “Do you really think that it's the lost mine? People have been looking for it for centuries!”
“What's so special about an old mine?” Peri tilted their head, curiously.
“Are you serious?” Rose asked. “It has one of the most powerful magical artifacts ever created!”
The witch turned to the others, but was met with blank stares.
“The Forge of Spells?” she asked in disbelief.
“None of us know what you're talking about, bookworm, so just explain already.” Viola rolled her eyes.
“Fine then,” Rose huffed. “Five hundred years ago, clans of dwarves and gnomes made an agreement known as The Phandelver's Pact to share a mine in a cavern known as Wave Echo Cave. The cave had a variety of precious minerals and sources of magical power, which attracted spellcasters from across the land who worked together with the dwarves and gnomes to create the Forge of Spells, which could create magical items. Things were running smoothly until an orcish army swept through the north, destroying everything in their path. In the resulting battles, the cavern collapsed, and the location of Wave Echo Cave (and the Forge of Spells) was lost to time.”
“You've an impressive knowledge of history, miss.” Elmar said.
“Oh, I just like to read.” Rose blushed. “Faerun's history is interesting to me. So much more straightforward than the history of the courts back home.”
“Oh? Where is ‘home’ for you?” The shopkeeper asked.
Rose's smile fell and her posture tensed. “Far, far, away from here.”
Sensing that he was approaching sensitive territory, Elmar changed the subject. “While I have you here, is there anything I can interest you in? We've all manner of supplies perfect for brave adventurers such as yourselves.”
“I could do with some more rations,” Verne said. “I fed most of mine to some wolves, and it would be nice to replenish.”
Elmar widened his eyes, but said nothing as he grabbed ten rations and handed them to the elf. The others used the opportunity to replenish their stores as well. When they had concluded their business, Elmar waved them goodbye and thanked them once again for their services. “Oh, and one more thing!” he shouted as they were walking out the door. “Avoid the Redbrands if you can- they've been making all sorts of trouble for the townsfolk.”
The party waved their acknowledgement and continued down the road to the Stonehill Inn.
“These Redbrands sure do seem like trouble.” Peri said. “I hope we don't run into them.”
“Eh, I'm not worried.” Viola replied. “They sound like a bunch of losers who only mess with people weaker than them. Nobody who can actually fight beats on old people.”
“Maybe we should do something about them.” Sonny offered. “If they're really going around hurting people for no reason, I'd feel weird ignoring it.”
“An admirable sentiment,” Verne replied. “But we need not get involved in local squabbles. Little good can come from seeking out trouble.”
“But if we know something bad is happening and we don't help out, doesn't that make us part of the problem?” Sonny asked.
“Not if us interfering makes the problem worse, Sonny.” Rose replied. “If we attack the Redbrands, they might take their frustrations out on the townsfolk, and they'll be worse off than if we'd done nothing.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Sonny frowned. “But I don't like it.”
Rose and Verne looked at each other, unsure of what to say. They soon arrived at the Stonehill Inn, and all thought of justice and retribution was driven from their minds as they were greeted by warmth and the promise of a good night's rest.
Chapter 3.4: The Stonehill Inn
The Stonehill Inn was a large, newly built roadhouse of fieldstone and rough-hewn timbers at the center of town. As the party walked through the door, they were greeted by a crackling fire in the hearth, the scent of roasted chicken in the air, and several townsfolk sitting around the room, nursing mugs of ale and cider, all eying the party curiously but not saying a word to them.
Verne approached the bar, behind which were two humans, a man and a woman, who worked dutifully, pouring drinks and cleaning tankards. “Good evening,” Verne began. “If it isn't too much trouble, we would like to reserve some rooms for the night.”
“I take it you must be Verne.” The bar man smiled. “We were told you would be coming.”
Verne raised his brows. “My apologies,” he said, “but in our line of work that can be a troublesome phrase. I pray, please explain yourself.”
“Oh, my apologies,” the man said, flustered. “I just meant that your friend, Mr. Hallwinter, let us know you'd be staying with us this evening. He already reserved your rooms.” The bar man fished five keys out from behind the bar and handed them to Verne.
“Ah, I see,” the elf replied. “And where is Mr. Hallwinter now?”
“Wherever the nearest mug of ale is, my pointy-eared friend.” A voice laughed from nearby.
The party turned to find Sildar, freshly bathed and clothed, walking up to meet them. Though the bruises and cuts still showed prominently on his face, the old veteran looked better than he had in days. “A round of whatever drinks they like, Toblen,” Sildar said, dropping a heavy coin purse on the bar. “They've earned it.”
“You flatter us,” Verne said, “but we can't accept-”
“He doesn't speak for me,” Viola said, hopping up onto a bar stool. “A tankard of the hard stuff, and keep it coming.”
Sildar laughed, and though the rest of the party sighed, they smiled in spite of themselves. It was their first night in a long while that they had the opportunity to relax- they may as well enjoy it.
Toblen (who, as it turned out, was the proprietor of the inn) handed Viola a tankard of ale. The halfling grasped it with both hands and hopped down to the floor, holding what was to her a bucket of alcohol, close to her chest. “Don't take this the wrong way,” she said, intermittently taking sips off her drink, “but I've had nobody to talk to but you four for the last two weeks. So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to mingle.”
“That may be a good idea,” Verne mused. “Perhaps some time apart would be beneficial. It would certainly allow for us to get more information on Cragmaw Castle and the lost mine.”
“I don't know,” Sonny frowned, scanning the room. “We've never been here before. Shouldn't we stick together?”
“At-ease, soldier,” Rose rolled her eyes. “I'll call you if I get a splinter from my bar stool. But until then, just relax.” The witch daintily took a glass of cider and strode off into the bar.
Sonny watched as she walked away, frowning as she sat down to a conversation with an old man by the window.
“Don't worry, friend,” Peri smiled, “if you get scared, I can hold your hand.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Sonny sighed. “I appreciate it.”
Chapter 3.5: The Stonehill Inn (Rose)
Rose sauntered across the tavern, eager to mingle with the Phandalin townsfolk. Loathe as she was to admit it, Viola was right: the party had spent entirely too much time together as of late, and it was high time they got to speak with new people that had different life experiences. Seeing the old man by the window, she confidently strode over, sat herself down, and said, “Mind if I join you?”
“By all means,” the old man replied, raising his tankard before taking a swig. “Name’s Narth. What’s yers?”
“Rose,” the witch replied. The young witch almost extended a hand, but upon seeing the dirty clothing of the man across from her, opted for a tip of her glass instead. “So what do you do for a living, Mr. Narth?”
“Just ‘Narth’ is fine, darlin,” the old man chuckled. “An’ I’m a farmer by trade. Own the homestead just down the road.”
“Oh,” Rose’s face fell. She’d assumed from the old man’s beard and floppy hat that he was a traveling wizard, like the kind she’d read about in her stories as a girl. But instead, it appeared she had simply traded one farmer for another.
“I suppose it’s not all that exciting,” Narth sighed. “But it keeps food on my table and the tables of my friends and neighbors. Can’t ask for more than that in this life.”
“I mean, you could,” Rose mumbled into her cider. Thankfully, the old man seemed to be hard of hearing, or was otherwise very patient.
“So what are the goings-on in Phandalin, Narth?” Rose asked.
“Hm,” the farmer stroked his chin ponderously, “I s’ppose I seen Sister Garaele come back in an odd way.”
“Sister Garaele?” Rose raised an eyebrow and drew out her journal. “Do tell.”
“Well, the Sister tends the Shrine of Luck over yonder,” Narth pointed through the window at a small, stone shrine at the center of town. “She’s been at it for a handful of years now. About a tenday ago, she left and three days later she came back all bruised and dog-tired. She’s been real hushed about the whole thing.”
“Do you have any idea where she may have gone?” Rose asked, furiously scribbling her notes.
“Nah, I couldn’t say,” Narth folded his arms and looked out the window toward the shrine. “The Sister is a kind soul, but mighty private. She tends to keep to herself most days, unless she’s helping folks with something.”
“Curious…” Rose trailed off, studying the well-shaped letters of her journal. “I suppose we’ll need to pay her a visit, then. Is there anything else you can tell me? Other odd things going on?”
“Not that I can think of,” the old farmer sighed. “Those Redbrand boys have been troublesome, but they mostly stick to the Sleeping Giant.”
“Ah yes, the infamous Redbrands,” Rose drawled. She had been excited upon hearing the name when Linene first brought them up, but upon referencing her books on the historical factions of Faerun and discovering that she had mistaken them for the Red Wizards of Thay, she quickly lost interest. “We’ll be looking into that. I’d expect Sonny probably wants to punch their leader in the nose, or some other boyish nonsense.”
“I wouldn’t recommend that, miss.” Narth’s face darkened. “They may be common thugs, but there’s a whole mess of ‘em. I’d hate to see you and your friends get hurt.”
“That’s very kind of you, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Rose said, finishing the rest of her drink. “On an unrelated note, you wouldn’t happen to know any magic spells, would you?”
“Magic spells?” the old man laughed. “No, I can’t say I do.”
“That’s too bad.” Rose said, snapping her journal shut. “Well, that’s all I need for now. Ta-ta!” And with that, the young witch turned and traipsed back to the bar, leaving the old farmer to scratch his head in confusion.
Chapter 3.6: The Stonehill Inn (Sonny)
Sonny stood with his back to the bar, looking intermittently between Rose and Viola, as if expecting either of them to be attacked at any moment. He had no reason to distrust the townsfolk of Phandalin, nor did he think the girls were incapable of protecting themselves, but hearing about the Redbrands had Sonny's hackles raised, putting him on a high alert that ill-suited the relaxed environment of the tavern.
“Excuse me, sir,” a voice called from behind the bar. Sonny turned around to find a middle-aged woman smiling at him. “Well, aren't you handsome,” she said, giving him a once over. “Is there anything I can get for you to drink, hun?”
“Oh, um, no thank you, miss.” Sonny stammered. He began to stand from his stool, but the woman laughed, “‘Miss!’ Well, isn't that something? Honey, I haven't been a ‘miss’ since before you were born, but thank you!”
“Don't mention it.” Sonny flushed. This time he did stand up, but the woman continued, and politeness dictated that he sit once more.
“I have to say,” she mused, while polishing a tankard, “we don't usually see such colorful strangers around here- not even when word of the mine first got out. What brings you all to Phandalin?”
“We're friends with Gundren, and we did some work for Barthen's and the Lionshield Coster.” Sonny replied, tapping his foot against the bar stool.
“Oh, you're the ones who helped Linene!” she exclaimed. “She told me about you- how you got her goods back, and even delivered them. That was right kind of you.”
This pattern continued for several minutes. The young warrior wanted to keep an eye on his friends, but each time he began to turn, the barmaid threw in another conversational barb to keep him hooked in. It reminded him of when his relatives would come to visit, and spend hours on the front porch cycling through goodbyes before finally leaving. Sonny knew it was rude to think this way, but even for the most adept of wordsmiths, the extended goodbye is a deadly trap. After his sixth failed escape attempt, Sonny sighed and resigned himself to his fate.
“Adventuring seems so dangerous.” Elsa said as she filled a tankard with ale. “I don't know how you all do it.”
“It's not so bad,” Sonny replied. “Sure it gets scary sometimes, but it helps to have folks at your back you can trust.”
“That’s sweet,” Elsa smiled. “I remember Daran saying something similar when he first came to town.”
“Daran?”
“Daran Edermath,” Elsa explained, “half-elven fella, owns the orchard up the way. He used to be an adventurer too, before he retired.”
“And he picked an orchard,” Sonny smiled to himself, “that’s nice. I’ll have to chat with him some time- maybe get some farming tips.”
“Farming tips? Do you grow much out on the road?” Elsa asked, confused.
“Oh, I’m just traveling with these folks temporarily. Once I settle up here, I’ll be going back home to Goldenfields. My ma and pa have a farm there.” Sonny replied.
“That’s too bad.” The bar maid said as she stowed the clean tankards.
“What do you mean?” Sonny frowned.
“You seem to care an awful lot about these folks, what with how you keep trying to watch them,” Elsa grinned as Sonny’s face flushed with embarrassment. “It’s a shame you’ll be leaving them behind.”
Sonny turned in earnest to look at his new friends. At Viola, chatting with a woman in an intricate dress, at Peri, laughing with a woman and her young son. At Verne, calmly trading stories with Sildar, and at Rose, who met Sonny’s gaze with a teasing roll of her eyes.
“Yeah,” the young warrior replied as he turned back around in his seat. “I guess it is a shame. But I know where I belong. My family needs me.”
“Family is what you make of it, kiddo.” The barmaid smiled. “Speaking of which, I actually have a daughter who’s around your age who I think you would be-”
Sonny shot up from his stool, his face beet-red. Growing up in a religious farming community, he knew well where this conversational path led, and it was not a destination he sought to return to. In his panic, all he could think to say was, “I need a bath,” as he pushed off from the bar and ran up the stairs as fast as his legs would take him.
Chapter 3.7: The Stonehill Inn (Verne)
Verne watched as Sonny sprinted across the bar and up the stairs, leaving the poor barmaid blinking in disbelief. Sildar, who had been watching the same scene play out, slapped his hand on the table as he laughed. “Guess the lad’s not much of a charmer, eh?” the veteran nudged the elf in the ribs. Verne sighed as he lifted his glass, “In all my years, I have never met someone so unphased by bodily harm, yet so petrified of casual conversation.” he said, before taking a long sip of his cider.
“He reminds me of my son, actually.” Sildar said, cupping his ale with both hands.
“I didn’t realize you were a father, my friend,” Verne replied. “Respectfully, you don’t seem the type.”
“Perceptive, if a bit cold,” Sildar sighed. “In truth, I’ve not been much of a father to him for most of his life. My work with the Lord’s Alliance kept me busy, and far from home. And when my marriage fell apart, so too did my relationship with Edwin.”
“There is always time,” Verne said, kindly but firmly.
“Easily said by one for whom years are but a pittance.” Sildar smiled sadly. “It is a shame that unlike gold, an abundance of time cannot be shared.”
“I stand by my answer.” Verne folded his hands in front of him.
“As you should,” Sildar held up his hands in mock surrender. “I pray you don't think less of me for it. If it helps matters, he and I have reconnected recently. In fact, once my business here in Phandalin is concluded, I plan to retire from the Lord's Alliance and travel across Faerun with him, to hopefully make up for lost time.”
“That should be nice,” Verne replied, taking up his drink once more.
“What about you?” Sildar asked, cocking an eyebrow. “With such strong opinions on the matter, I suppose you are a father as well?”
Verne stared into the golden liquid of his glass and his eyes took on a faraway look. “A lifetime ago, yes.” The elf tilted his glass back and finished his drink. “Unfortunately, it is as you say: my abundance of years cannot be shared. No matter how strong we get, or how desperately we wish it so, time is a beast that claims all travelers.”
“I’m sorry, my friend, I did not realize.” Sildar’s brow furrowed. “If there is anything I can do, just name it.”
“Go on the trip with your son.” Verne stated, his mouth a firm line.
The two men fell silent for a moment. Sildar gestured to Elsa behind the bar, who fetched the men another round of drinks. As they arrived, the old veteran asked, “Do you still plan to rescue Gundren from Cragmaw Castle?”
“Of course,” Verne replied. “We cannot give up if there is even a chance of his safe return.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Sildar replied. “The Rockseeker brothers will be instrumental in finding the lost mine.”
“You don’t strike me as one for magical history, my friend. What benefit would an old spell forge bring to Phandalin?” Verne asked.
“The spell forge, if it exists, is but a ribbon on top of what the mine provides,” Sildar replied. “The minerals and ores the mine produces can provide a much-needed resource for trade. With prosperity comes peace. That’s why the Lord’s Alliance has such a vested interest.”
“Which is why they initially sent your ally, Mr. Albrek, correct?” Verne stated.
Sildar’s face darkened. “Yes. I talked to some of the locals, who say Iarno disappeared two months ago, while exploring Tresendar Manor. He is a powerful mage, but with so much time passed without contact, I fear the worst. If you could keep watch for him, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course, my friend.” the elf replied. “Did the locals mention anything else? We have the general location of the castle, but would appreciate more details, if available.”
“Not that I can think of,” Sildar stroked his chin. “I would suggest searching the area around the Triboar Trail for more raiding parties. Be careful though, there are whispers of orcish bands roving the east end of the trail.”
“We will keep that in mind, thank you.” Verne took up his cider and drank deeply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe it is time I took my rest.”
“Of course,” Sildar stood and pushed in his stool. “Before you go though, I did have a question.”
“What is it?” Verne tilted his head, curious.
“Do you ever regret it? Having children in our line of work.”
Verne gave the old veteran a sad smile. “I was a father, a grandfather and a great-grandfather for years before I took up the bow,” he said. “And I will never regret a second of it.”
Chapter 3.8: The Stonehill Inn (Peri)
“-and then Lathander rose into the sky, and with a burst of light he drove the darkness away, restoring peace and prosperity to the land!” Peri leapt up onto their stool, gesticulating wildly with paws outstretched.
“Wow,” said Pip, the wide-eyed son of Toblen Stonehill, “did all that stuff really happen?”
“Of course!” Peri squawked as they hopped down to the floor. Despite the boy being a paltry six years old, the tabaxi was just above eye level with him. “The Morninglord performs all kinds of miracles every day.”
“Like what?” The boy asked.
“Well,” Peri grinned, then struck a dramatic pose and lifted their paws to the ceiling, “every morning, Lathander uses his mighty strength to pull the sun into the sky.”
“Wow, that must be really heavy,” Pip said.
“I definitely couldn't do it.” Peri nodded.
At that moment, Pip's mother Trilena walked up and set a wide cup on the counter. “Here's that milk you asked for, Peri.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Stonehill!” The cleric reached up and grabbed the cup with both hands. They quietly recited a prayer thanking Lathander for the beverage before eagerly taking a drink. “I appreciate it- not many taverns have non-alcoholic options that aren't just water, so this is a real treat!”
“Of course, we like to serve our patrons however we can.” Trilena smiled.
“Peri, tell me another story from when you were on the road.” Pip demanded, tugging on the cleric's sleeve.
“Pip, don't be rude.” His mother scolded.
The young boy pouted, but let go of the sleeve. Peri laughed and said, “Don't worry, Pip, I have just the story: one time, we were exploring a dark cave. My friend Greenie had gone ahead to check for monsters, but he came running back around the corner with a water dragon chasing after him!”
“Whoa, a water dragon?!”
“Yeah- a dragon entirely made of water.” Peri grinned. “It came splashing down the tunnel, opening its mouth and letting loose a mighty roar.” The tabaxi let out a high-pitched yowl for dramatic effect before they continued, “the dragon opened its mouth and snapped me up in its mighty jaws.” The cleric fell to the floor, clutching their chest with one hand and reaching for the ceiling with the other.
“Noooo!” yelled Pip, whose eyes widened in terror. “What did you do then?”
“Well,” Peri said as they hopped up to their feet, “I pulled out my mighty mace and I started swinging: whack, whack until I smashed up the dragon from the inside. With its guts all bruised up, my friend Sonny was able to swoop in and deliver the final blow, chopping the dragon's head clean off.”
“Wow!” Pip's jaw slacked, star-struck. “What did you do then? How did you get out of the dragon?”
“What do you mean?” Peri asked. “Sonny cut its head off, so I just walked out of it.”
“Ohhh, that makes sense.” Pip nodded.
“Alright, Pip, I think that's enough excitement for one evening.” Trilena laughed. “Off to bed with you.”
“Aww, c'mon, mama,” the boy whined. “I didn't even get to tell Peri my story!”
“Your story?” Peri's ears perked up. “If you don't mind, Mrs. Stonehill, I'd like to hear what Pip has to say.”
Trilena smiled and said, “Well, alright then. But as soon as you finish, it's off to bed mister.”
Pip nodded, then squatted down in a stance not unlike the one Peri had assumed to tell their story. “Ok, so my friend Carp, from school? He was in the woods and he, um, he was playing with my other friend Feldin. And I don't think there were others there. But they were playing and they found a hole in the woods.”
“A hole? Like, in the ground?” Peri asked.
“Yeah, kinda.” Pip nodded. “There was a hole in the ground and then there was nothing, but then the hole kept going and then it went to a big house. And one of the red guys got mad because Carp wasn't supposed to be there.”
“The red guys?” Peri’s eyes narrowed. “Are these the same red guys that have been hurting the townspeople?”
Pip nodded, but before he could go any further, Trilena reached out and grabbed the boy's hand. “Sorry, sweetie, but we really do need to get you to bed.” She made a pointed look at Peri, who took her meaning.
“Yeah, that's probably a good idea, Pip. Heroes like you and me need our sleep so we can grow big and strong.” they said as they flexed their biceps.
Pip frowned, but nodded, before being led off to bed by Trilena. A few minutes later, she returned, with a concerned look on her face.
“I beg your pardon, Peri,” she said, leaning against the bar. “I don't mean to be rude, I just think there are some things Pip doesn't need to know about, and the Redbrands are one of them.”
“The danger is on your doorstep, Mrs. Stonehill,” the cleric replied. “I'll respect your wishes, but there's only so much you can hide from him. He's a curious kid, after all.”
“Yes, well curiosity killed the-” Trilena stopped herself, as the tabaxi tilted their head in obvious amusement.
“We've heard about the Redbrands all day, but they don't seem like much more than typical thugs.” Peri pondered aloud. “What's so dangerous about them?”
“At first, nothing.” Trilena replied. “The townsfolk who joined up with that outfit had been good-for-nothings well before they started dressing in red. But something has changed recently. There's more of them, and their actions seem more targeted: strong-arming businesses with access to supplies, rather than randomly lashing out at everyone. It's all very strange.”
“If you don't mind my asking, why don't you fight back? There are so many of you, surely you could take them down if you worked together.” Peri said.
“We have to think of our families, Peri.” Trilena insisted. “If we stand up to the Redbrands, we run the risk of them retaliating against our children and homes. I've seen what can happen if you overstep with the Redbrands, and Pip's safety is not something I'm willing to risk.”
“If you don't mind my asking, what do you mean ‘you've seen what can happen?” Peri asked.
Trilena’s face darkened, and she looked around, ensuring they were not being overheard. “A tenday ago, my friend Mirna Dendrar and her husband Thel got into an argument with them. I guess they had been leering at Mirna and he told them off. They got into a fight, and they murdered Thel- right in the town square. They grabbed his body and made off with it to their hideout.”
“That’s terrible!” Peri gasped.
“That’s not all,” Trilena whispered, “now Mirna and her children have gone missing as well. I can’t say for certain, but I fear-” she cut off, and took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears.
Peri gently cupped her hand with both of their paws and said, “It’s ok, Mrs. Stonehill. My friends and I will do everything in our power to get the Dendrars home safely.”
Trilena nodded, too choked with emotion to reply. She wiped her eyes and squeezed Peri's paws in her hands. Suddenly, Peri's face took on a serious look and they said, “Now, Mrs. Stonehill, this will be diligent work. I'll need all my faculties at full power, and for that I'll need your help.”
Trilena started and said, “Yes, of course. What do you need?”
“More milk, please!” Peri said, with a toothy grin.
Chapter 3.9: The Stonehill Inn (Viola)
Viola sidled up to the nearest stool, hoisted her tankard onto the seat and then pulled herself up after it. Across from her was a thin woman in a vibrant dress, brows raised at the impromptu display of acrobatics.
“How's it going?” Viola asked, leaning across the table and extending a hand, “the name's Viola.”
“Freda,” the woman said, gently shaking the halfling's tiny hand.
“That's a nice dress. You buy it new?” Viola asked.
“Oh, this? I actually made it myself. I'm a weaver by trade.” Freda smiled.
“No kidding,” Viola tilted her head, looking over the dress. “Do people pay a lot for something like that?”
“It depends on what I'm making, but I get by. At least, I did, before-” Freda's eyes darted around the tavern, then shook her head in frustration, not finishing her thought.
Studying the weaver's face, Viola guessed, “Before the red guys started showing up?”
Freda's eyes widened, but she nodded and whispered, “They've been a menace ever since they showed up here. They hassle every business owner in Phandalin. Well, everyone but Halia, I guess- they pretty well leave her alone.”
“Who's she?” Viola asked.
“Halia Thornton. She runs the Phandalin Miner's Exchange. Nice gal, but a bit scary if you get her angry. Probably why those thugs don't mess with her.”
“Sounds like my kinda lady,” Viola said, sipping her ale. “Maybe I ought to pay her a visit some time.”
“I wouldn't be surprised if she already knew you were here.” Freda laughed.
Viola frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“She has this way of…knowing things.” Freda replied. “Whenever I tell her news or share a story with her, it usually turns out she knows what happened better than I do. And respectfully, you and your friends are a brightly colored bunch. It's not every day a tabaxi rolls into town- that alone is going to get around.”
Viola looked over her shoulder to find Peri rolling on the ground reaching up at the ceiling while a little boy laughed and clapped his hands. The rogue turned back around and sighed, “I suppose they're not the most discreet bunch.”
“I like it,” Freda smiled. “Things tend to get boring out here. It's nice to have a splash of color every now and again.” she gestured broadly at her dress.
Viola looked at the garment and sighed inwardly. She'd never owned a dress before. She hadn't had much money for clothes growing up, and even if she did, they seemed impractical- not even any pockets! But still, there was something alluring about them, and whether it was by curiosity or genuine interest she wasn't sure. Her thoughts drifted to Rose and Sonny, and an uncomfortable twisting feeling churned in her stomach. She chanced a glance over her shoulder to find Rose striding across the bar and Sonny staring at her- as Viola so often found him doing. Viola suddenly found herself fighting the urge to throw her tankard across the room and scream. She drowned the thought with a long sip of ale and a sigh.
“Say, Freda,” she said after a long while. “How much would it cost for you to make one of those dresses for me?”
The weaver perked up, “Prices can vary, but usually for a tailored garment it costs fifteen gold pieces.”
Viola hissed, and was about to shut down the idea, but then a thought occurred to her. “What if we could come to an arrangement instead?” she asked.
The weaver furrowed her brow in confusion. “What kind of arrangement?”
“Well,” the halfling smiled, “What say my friends and I take care of your ‘Redbrand Problem?’”