"You can't be serious!" seethed Almecks, restraining his temper and his voice to avoid drawing the attention of the entire room, "I won't hear of such reckless chicanery - absolutely, and completely out of the question!"

The older man's offence at my plan is on the whole not very surprising even when you take into consideration his dislike of me, and honestly, I can't say that I don't understand his objection to the plan. Because I'll admit, I'm making a rather disconcertingly large amount of assumptions here, and this could blow up spectacularly in my face should any one of them be sufficiently wrong.

I glance at the overly touchy-feely couple. Contrasting Almecks' red-faced bluster, they share a similarly confused frown, obviously not all too impressed or all that understanding of my plan either, but still possessed of enough of their wits to not dismiss it out of hand or start cussing me out like Almecks still is. Honestly, I'm tuning him out a little since all he's doing is throwing out a constant stream of insults about how dunderheaded I am for even suggesting we put his precious, sweet, baby girl in danger. The hypocrite.

In fact, I think he spends more time praising Iffmy's attributes than belittling my intelligence. It's a little offputting, but I can't profess to entirely understand the feelings of a father, and given my own parents' reactions to coming back with a Dirolft Alpha's severed head, that much is obvious.

My guilty conscience doesn't have a place in this conversation, though, and to be frank, Almecks is starting to get on my nerves. Maybell and Renth don't look too eager to intervene so I guess it's on me to get this discussion back on topic.

"Alright, alright! Quit yer blusterin' an' lemme jest explain it point by point, real simple so's you can get it through your waxed up ears without it sending you into another tantrum," I sigh, raising my hand to stop him reaching over the table. He clenches his teeth and lurches in his seat like he's going to attack me, but a firm hand on his shoulder courtesy of Renth - thanks for that, by the by - keeps him still, although probably not for very long.

As before, I'll just ignore the part where I got a quest that went out of the way to tell me that I didn't have very long to act before it "automatically resolves itself", whatever the hell that means. I would assume that it means I immediately and unavoidably fail the quest, but without any experience with this sort of thing and no defined reward or consequences, I can only continue to make assumptions. I still don't know what to make of the fact that it appears I haven't investigated enough to clear the first objective. But it doesn't fill me with confidence.

Anyway, I'm getting off-track again. Was I always this scatterbrained?

"Ok..so, first off, ever since this whole mess started all Iffmy's done is sink further and further into her magical widdle dreamland, and even if you've been stopping her from going off as she pleases, so far it's not changed that fact. If anything from what you've all told me, she's getting worse faster now, since she started...eh...'absconding into yon starry night to dance 'neath the hunting moons', as the Bards would say."

I smile sardonically as I quote a line from an old story about a Baker's daughter, and a wandering student who turned out to secretly be a wizard-prince or something. Not one of Nealan's favourites, but definitely one of the more eloquently written ones that get bandied about by passing storytellers. Tales of romance were never his preference, Cyril's, only slightly more so.

Renth nods along, "She don't seem to be getting any better, I have to admit."

I lick my dry lips and continue, "Yep. If she keeps going like this I don't know how much of Iffmy's mind is gonna be left, to be blunt. 'course, I'm not in any way knowledgeable about this stuff, so it could be this is about as bad as she'll get. But it could also end up killing her. I don't bloody know."

"So, bearing in mind that there ain't nobody we can count on to magic her better or figure out what's doing it in the time we probably have, we can only assume that if she's in contact with the dickhead that's put the girl's head in a tizzy that leaving her to her own devices will make the bastard poke their smug face outta the woodwork. If nothing else, finding out where exactly she's trying to go and what she plans on doing there is really good information to know going forward."

I pause to catch my breath, sweeping my gaze over the trio, all of them listening politely and with their full attention, "And if it turns out that what she's doing is trying to go directly to 'em. Then we deal with them in whatever way seems best. Talk it through with 'em or just kick their teeth out; it don't matter much to me, my job's as good as done at that point. I mean, I'll fight if I have to but if it's some local squabble at the bottom o' this I'd rather just go back to my room than listen to y'all argue about it through the night, because I don't got any stake in that and I don't wanna get involved more than I already have. All I care about is making sure the girl doesn't turn up as a gormless husk or a dead body when it comes time for me to get back on the road to Mhin tomorrow mornin'."

You know, I don't ever remember being this talkative about much of anything, and maybe it's just been a long day what with the hours spent hiking across hills and uneven ground to get here, or this whole Quest business, but I'm starting to feel exceptionally tired.

Idly, I wonder if there's something similar to coffee in this world since a few staples from back in reality like bread, pork and porridge made it over, but the only thing I'm aware of is a herbal stimulant Mam keeps in a jar she wouldn't ever teach me how to make. She got really cagey about it when kid Nealan asked what it was since the jar looked expensi-aaand it was an aphrodisiac, wasn't it?

Fantastic.

I shake the thoughts out of my head along with the less than subtle implications they carry. Almecks is sitting quietly, staring holes into the table in front of him with lowered eyes, while the lovebirds keep their eyes fixed upon him, waiting for his reaction to my lengthy spiel about why letting Iffmy go do whatever it is that she's being compelled to do is the least terrible plan we have at our disposal.

His hesitation is still plain, however, so I decide to give him one last little push, "It's the only chance you have to save yer daughter. And if you don't take it, you'll take that shame and regret to your grave."

His fist slams the table hard, hissing through clenched teeth...before he deflates, utterly defeated, and looking more his age than he ever did before. There is a deep sorrow in his crumpled frame that struggles to accept that I might be right, but it's clear that he doesn't have the means to refute me.

Taking advantage of his fatherly protectiveness like that makes me feel a little - no, extremely - guilty, but if it weren't for his cowardly reluctance in his refusal to confront his daughter over this whole affair, maybe it wouldn't have escalated this far in the first place. He can't keep coddling her like this.

Ultimately, it's not me or Almecks that speaks up, but Maybell, her face stoic determination, staring up at the much taller farrier, "Uncle Al. He's got the right of it."

Wordless, Almecks opens his eyes and nods slowly at the seamsmith before turning back to me, sadly, "...Fine. Though it goes against every bone in my body, I accept your mad scheme. Olgra, my love, forgive me for this..."

Renth frowns with distaste, but swallows whatever objection he has in favour of a more pertinent question, "So, how exactly are we gonna do this? I can probably get a few guys together."

I rap my fingers in sequence on the table a couple of times, "Part of me wants to agree, but I don't know if we can trust anyone not sat at this table right now - and even that's pushing it for some of us."

I glance pointedly at Almecks.

"Besides which, I don't think riling up the entire village is going to accomplish much other than tip off our wannabe villain that something's up. The idea is to follow Iffmy and catch them in the act. Can't do that if they're hiding from a lynch mob."

If it does come to a fight, having backup would ordinarily be reassuring considering my still injured arms. But it could very well be that they'd use whatever magic is twisting Iffmy's mind on the gathered mob. Better to not give the mind control guy more minds to, y'know, control. So far they've only bothered with Iffmy but as the old saying goes, never attribute to malice what can be adequately explained by laziness and stupidity. In other words, don't give them any ideas.

I can maybe handle a couple enthralled peasants with no combat training to speak of if it came down to it, but that's being extremely generous given my own combat experience is rather limited. More than one or two at a time is almost certainly a death sentence. Nealan may have been part of a mercenary band...but that mostly just involved walking around and looking imposing as opposed to constant, heated conflict, gruelling training and epic showdowns. The Flood was the most action any of the Loranics had seen in years, which probably contributed to the death toll they incurred.

Cheap workers, for cheap work and cheaper pay.

"That's my pair of pahnc, anyway. If there's any weapons we can grab from your forge we should head there before we do anything else, though," I wave offhandedly at the old farrier, who's barely paying attention at this point.

Maybell shakes her head, though, "We don't make weapons in Gilmy. Just horseshoes, stirrups, the studs I use for saddles, and all associated tools."

Renth sighs, "Yeah. Monsters don't normally bother us this far from the heartlands. The only thing that comes this far south are smearlings looking to bother travellers further east, and an Adventurer crew wiped out the latest bunch about two months back."

I nod, "Understandable. Still, I'd have thought there'd be at least an old shortsword or something. Not like you're completely safe out here - just look what happened to Klennock."

He shrugs, "Maybe there is, but the only weapons you're like to find in Gilmy are in the hands of the travellers passing through like yourself, and you already struck that off as an option, dincha?"

I frown. He's right, I suppose, between the travellers, adventurers and mercenaries roaming the plains, a famous ranch like Gilmy Village would probably never see the like of a smearling for years on end, without the locals having to really do anything. I still find the lack of weapons odd, even so, but there's little point in complaining about it.

Almecks breathes deep, the intake turning into a cough rather quickly, "I'd try t' hammer a blade together if I had the time, but it'd be shoddy work, and the forges are already cold. There is little time until sundown, on top of that."

Maybell grumbles, "Guess we just gotta grab what we can an' make do, huh?"

Renth pats his fiance's shoulder supportively, "I'll grab a couple knives from the house. I think we still have Alec's mallet from when you fixed the fence last week too, if you know where that is."

She thinks for a moment, then nods, "Oh, yeah. I think I left it on one of the barrel's out back."

The two look at me next, expectantly.

"...I have an ol' hatchet an' seax knife in my room."

Taking their cue, I look back to Almecks again next, and they follow suit. The farrier shrugs nonchalantly, "I'll just get some rope, Don't need a weapon. Better without one anyway."

I can believe that. I still half-expected him to use a forge hammer though, on account of his profession. But if the man thinks he's better off punching something with those big meaty fists of his, far be for me to disagree with his judgment. They're probably like hammers themselves after years of smithing metal.

I cough. Ok, stop staring at this guy's muscles, Cyril. Envy is unbecoming of me.

"I'll meet up with you all at sundown, then. Where're we gathering?"

Almecks closes his eyes, thinking for a moment. After a minute he opens them and answers with the same confidence he exhibited when he was ranting at me for my supposed idiocy earlier, "Behind the mayor's home, just across from mine. I'll tell Iffmy I'm going to the Solace for a quick drink with my 'prentices and 'forget' to lock the doors and windows 'fore I leave."

Maybell and Renth nod at him, and we all stand. I proffer my hand to Almecks, "Then we've got ourselves a plan."

He looks at it, then shakes it without hesitation, "That we do. Don't muck this up, or there'll be hell to pay."