As the raft pilots and horse handlers worked to undo the chaos the wyvern had caused, the mercenaries took it upon themselves to tend to the dead. It seemed like the very least they could do.

Archimedes’ ‘White Fangs’ and Gabriel and his misfits dug five large-ish graves on the Western bank, and one much smaller one. They gathered the bodies and wrapped them in cloaks, laying them carefully beside each grave whilst Figo and one of Archimedes’ craftsmen pieced together some makeshift grave markers, which Archimedes personally carved the names of the deceased into, where those names were known.

Two merchants travelling to Jandrir had died in the attack, including the man in red Gabriel had so painstakingly rescued from the water at a decidedly ill-fated time; the third merchant watched from a distance as his travel companions were interred. The ‘punter’, or raft operator, from that same vessel had unfortunately drowned, his body sadly recovered by a colleague and friend further down the river. A groom had also met an ignominious end, trampled to death by the horses he tended as they attempted to flee. Of the White Fangs, only Raymond had perished.

“I can’t believe it. I know it, but, I just, I can’t really believe it,” Vish said, staring into the graves.

“I know, Vish, I know,” Gabriel agreed.

“It’s like, there one minute, gone the next, you know? Just like that. Just like that a life, and a legacy, is squashed,” the mind-mapper droned in monotone.

Violet overheard Vish’s reflections and came to stand beside him. She made to take his hand but thought better of it, “I feel it too. I’m sorry, I had no idea you were so close. That’s silly of me though, there must have been a long history between you two.”

Vish snorted, “Like you can’t even believe,” his eyes were lifeless, “He was a companion. He was an ally. Gods, at times, he was even a friend.”

“I must admit, I’m surprised; I thought you hated each other! I’m glad I was wrong. He would be happy to know you cared, I think,” Violet smiled to herself.

“Hated each other? Gods, no! We had our differences, for sure, and we didn’t always see eye-to-eye, that much is true,” he recalled with a smirk, “but, no, there was no hate between us,” Vish hugged himself, “I just wish I didn’t have to feel so responsible.”

“I understand. I also feel responsible. It’s a hard thing to accept but, we just have to believe that things can only have been the way they were.”

Vish chewed on the hairs of his moustache, mulling this idea over. Finally, he simply said, “Thank you.”

This time Violet did make contact. She squeezed the mind-mappers shoulder, and clasped his hand when he patted hers.

“It’s time, Vish,” Gabriel said somberly, “Would you like to say a few words?”

It took Vish a moment to react, lost in his memories as he was, but he finally shook himself from his recollections and stepped forward, “Yeah, yeah, I suppose I better had,” he cleared his throat and raised his voice for the congregation to hear, “Life,” he began, “it’s rarely fair. We plan, and we work, and we hustle, trying to be exactly what we want to be, or what others want us to be, and trying to achieve what we want to achieve. Even then, a giant wyvern might one day appear and fuck all of that up,” a few people nodded in agreement, “I guess what I’m trying to say is, life is a journey. It’s not something we can always predict, no matter how hard we try, but sometimes we’re lucky enough for it not to be a journey we have to make alone. I,” he wiped an eye with the back of his sleeve, “I’m glad you didn’t make your journey alone.”

There were a few sniffles at this stage, and Violet muttered a quick, “So am I,” from behind her handkerchief.

Vish looked up to the sky and sighed, “It’s hard to sum up a life in so few words, to do justice to a whole existence, and even harder to express how we really feel. So, I’m just going to say, quite simply, you were the best cricket a man could ask for. Gods be with you, Rodney.”

Violet tensed at the perceived mistake, “Uh, Raymond, Vish, you mean Raymond.”

“What?”

“We’re burying Raymond, remember?”

“Who?”

“Raymond, R-Ray-” Violet was flabbergasted, “You know, you were just saying how well you knew him? From your adventuring days together?”

Vish caught that look from Gabriel which normally told him that he was in the process of misreading a social situation, the one where Gabriel’s face became 90% eye, “Oh, oh yeah. It’s very tragic. Poor Raymond. What a guy… But right now we’re burying Rodney.”

“Do not,” Thomas seethed, “tell me I just shed a tear for your fucking cricket!”

Vish nodded solemnly, “He would have appreciated that.”

“You son of a bitch!”

“Easy there, Thomas, Rodney was one of us,” Gabriel reminded him with narrowed eyes, and the others nodded their agreement, “Let’s show a little respect here, yeah?”

Maybe it was Archimedes’ palm on his chest that de-escalated the situation, or maybe it was the fact that Thomas caught sight of Lydia lovingly caressing the pommel of her sword, either way, the mage backed down.

“You’re mad. You’re all completely, fucking, mad,” Thomas said in disbelief, apparently only realizing this for the first time.

“Vish and, and, Rodney,” Archimedes said the name reluctantly, “have a bond that it’s difficult for us to understand, Thomas. I know you’re upset, but let’s allow them to mourn in their own way.”

“Many of us have felt very close to Rodney,” Gabriel said, prompting a shiver from himself and Figo.

Thomas stared at his leader in total bafflement, shaking his head as he backed away.

“I suspect that isn’t the last I’ve heard of that,” Archimedes sighed, “Vish, perhaps you could hurry this along a little?”

“Go on, Vish,” Gabriel said more gently, “he would want you to do the honours.”

Vish exhaled and pulled the cage from his cloak, that cage that had been both home and coffin to Rodney. A strip of cloth covered the deceased, lovingly provided by Bling, from one of her favourite scarlet cloaks.

“So long, buddy,” Vish said as he stooped beside the grave.

“Vish,” Gabriel said quietly.

“Mm?”

“The small grave, Vish.”

The mind-mapper rolled his shoulders as if readying for an argument, but finally relented, and lay Rodney, and his eight little cricket body, to rest. He said his final farewell, and scooped dust into the grave before, with a heavy heart, turning to leave. Gabriel had to subtly remind Vish that it was polite to sit through the speeches for the other deceased before wandering off, which he did so reluctantly.

By late afternoon the procession was underway again. It had not been an especially joyous parade to begin with, but now the tone was understandably somber. The losses were felt acutely amongst the mercenaries, steersmen and teamsters. Nobody was unaffected.

Their arrival in Jandrir was anti-climactic. They were almost at the disembarkation point in the centre of town before the mercenaries realised they had crossed the threshold into the city, so lost in their thoughts were they. They blinked in disbelief as the full glory of Jandrir materialized around them, hardly aware that a city could look so opulent.

The first thing anyone would notice when entering Jandrir by boat, had to be the wharves. As was to be expected, the river was lined with warehouses and counting houses, which pushed back from the edge of the river in ascending tiers, so that the trade guilds four streets away had just as much as a view of proceedings as those pressed along the banks. Despite their humble purpose, these buildings were far from simple. Whilst the warehouses of Ponbus had looked like oversized barns, the trade-houses of Jandrir were three-floored affairs, painted in garish colours, with slatted windows and crenelated rooves. The facades of many of these buildings sported carved friezes, and more still bore a coat of arms or house sigil.

Curiously, this style of architecture ended abruptly at the edges of the trade district, as if the housing had been imported along with the myriad of wares that flowed into Jandrir. Beyond these flamboyant structures, high on the hills that built up towards The Crest, the outer demarcation of the elven boundaries, the buildings were of white Tindran limestone, meticulously carved and, for the most part, lovingly cared for. These buildings were in a much older style, featuring towering columns and carved grotesques, incorporating a completely impractical network of polished limestone arches. It looked like a bunch of albino unicorns had pranced from building to building, trailing bleached rainbows from their arses.

Regardless of whether or not a person liked either or both of the clashing styles, one had to admit that Jandrir sent out a clear message: we like money, and we have lots of it. Sure, there was also an ever pestilent sprawl of slums tucked away on the other side of the hills, far enough from any of the main trade arteries to still appear respectable, that screamed, “Ef ye won kom en hier dan aye’ll fokkin stab yous,” but the touristy parts seemed nice!

Leaving the rafts was something of an ordeal. The chain of commerce did not end with the passengers, and the crews certainly weren’t about to allow trade to slow for their sake. The mercenaries were instructed to jump from raft to pier while the barges were still moving. They made it on to shore without taking another dip, but they bungled into one another as they fought to adjust to the now static surface. Gabriel had to prop his hands on his knees to save from losing a lunch he was pretty sure he’d missed. He was also fairly sure that he was still mildly concussed, but he reckoned this might not be the time to mention it. The rest of them watched as the rafts were dragged further upstream.

Where the river narrowed, the horses were detached from their lines and led to broad bridges, where they would pick up the same rafts on the other side, as they returned to Ponbus, and the sea, with new produce. In the meantime, teamsters manually dragged the boats along the river, whilst porters attacked them for their contents, stripping each boat like a swarm of crick… a swarm of cric… a swarm of trolls devouring a crop (I know, right? Vegetarian, who’d have thunk?). Just before the current of the river became too strong, as it pinched into rapids that bit their way through the highlands, the rafts were walked across a pair of twin bridges and handed off to loading crews on the East bank. It was quite a mesmerizing process, and the mercenaries allowed themselves to get lost in the practiced routine of it all.

Archimedes took this opportunity to pull Gabriel aside and finish their chat.

“We got a little distracted there,” Archimedes said with a grim smile.

“Yeah, funny that,” Gabriel scoffed, “Hey, sorry you didn’t manage to get a wyvern head to add to your trophy collection.”

Archimedes waved a hand, “I suspect there will be others,” he said, apparently missing the sarcasm, “What do you plan to do now? The situation is no less risky than it was.”

“Oh, you’re referring to the fact that we may have a killer, or killers, on our trail, and have almost certainly pissed off a creepy revolutionary cult? Don’t worry, hadn’t forgotten.”

The Captain of the White Fangs raised an eyebrow, “A revolutionary c- You know what, it’s best I don’t hear any more. This is not something to be taken lightly, Gabriel. Dexy may not have been the most careful of men but, well…” Archimedes struggled for polite phrasing.

“But he was a good deal more useful in a crisis than me? Gotcha.”

“I just want to make sure you are being careful.”

Gabriel clucked his tongue, “The way I see it, that’s not really up to us anymore. My gut tells me that we’re not just going to be left alone because we decide to call it quits now. I think somebody has tucked our names away in an envelope marked, ‘Loose Ends’. I don’t like it, but I think our best bet is to see this through, and then take full advantage of whatever protection Vagalad can offer us.”

“Assuming he’s not the one who is out to get you.”

Gabriel frowned, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Perhaps not, but I’m just reminding you to be wary of who you can trust. I don’t know what you’re involved in and, frankly, for the good of my people, I don’t want to know. What terrifies me though, what really scares me, is that you don’t seem to have any idea either.”

“Oh, that? That’s just the way we operate.”

“This isn’t really one of those things to joke about, Gabriel.”

“That’s a distinction I lost sight of long ago.”

Archimedes sized the other mercenary up, “Perhaps not unreasonably. Anyway, I ask you again, what now, Gabriel?”

“Now, I think we’ll be getting Vish a much needed drink,” he slapped his forehead theatrically, “Oh, wait, shucks, would you look at that? We’re abysmally poor again.”

Archimedes rolled his eyes and handed Gabriel a few coins from his own personal pouch, “When you do figure out what you are doing, I expect to be kept informed. You’ll find me at the guild, no doubt. Until then, Gabriel.”

Gabriel mimicked, ‘I expect to be kept informed’, as Archimedes turned his back, and then set about counting the coins he’d been given.

“Everything okay?” Figo asked as he approached.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I was just scoring us some dinner.”

“Ah, well, thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Gabriel waved to the others and then led the way through the portside buildings in search of somewhere affordable. As they walked, Gabriel leaned in towards Figo and whispered, “Hey, Figo, with Rodney’s unfortunate passing and all, well, do you, err, do you think this means I’m the leader again?”

“Lord, f-” Figo hushed the expletive before it escaped his lips and looked over his shoulder conspiratorially, “I don’t know if that’s going to be a very popular move.”

“Hmm, perhaps not the time to bring it up,” Gabriel agreed, “By the way, you do know you can swear, right, Figo? We’re all adults here.”

Figo looked at the toes of his boots, “It’s just, I can’t help but feel that it’s a little vulgar. No offence,” he added.

Gabriel scrunched up his nose as he thought about that, and then further still as he thought about how they had become embroiled with ‘The Order of the Rising Dragon’. He thought of goblins, and of bandits, and of wyverns. He thought of conspiracy, and Archimedes, and trust. Finally, he thought of the guild, of Dexy, and of that death that had followed them from Gladstone.

“None fucking taken,” he said.