Agris turns his head and spits. The pot five meters away dings as the globule lands inside. He looks back at the angry [Trader]. “Look, don’t come complaining to me about the caravan not moving. It’s the [Caravan Master] you should be talking to.”

The [Trader] gnashes his teeth, desperately wishing to punch the [Barkeeper], but such an action may get him kicked out like the others before him.

Instead, he scoffs. “You think I haven’t tried? He keeps talking about danger, but we are already double the size of a normal caravan.” He sighs and slumps forward onto the counter. “It’s been weeks. I’m being bled for money every day I- we wait.” He waves his hand at the packed tables filled with [Traders] and [Merchants].

Agris turns away, grabbing an empty mug and begins polishing it. “Well,” he says almost idly, “you can still take the long way.”

The [Trader]’s face turns red. “And do what? Get taxed into oblivion?” he says, slightly louder than he wanted, which grabs the attention of several people in the room. “Look, Agris! You’re the father of that worthless coward [Caravan Master]! Tell that fucker to-”

Ptew! The room shakes as Agris spits at the [Trader]. The chewed tobacco and saliva knocks the man out of his chair and skids across the floor.

Silence sweeps the room, the attention of all upon the coughing and groaning [Trader] and the thoroughly annoyed [Barkeeper].

Agris glares at the room in its entirety, the air turning heavy. “I’m a tolerant man. I’ll listen to your whining and complaining, but…”

Agris resumes polishing his mug. “We’ll have problems if you insult my son.”

The [Trader] hacks and coughs, a rib or two cracked. After a moment, he pushes himself to his feet. He glares at Agris. Agris pointedly continues polishing his mug..

“This…” The proud [Trader] points at Agris. “This isn’t fucking over.” he warns before shuffling painfully to the door.

He reaches the door and yanks it open

A boot violently greets his crotch with the force to shatter wood, which coincidentally, was the purpose of such a kick. Instead, the foot strikes with a crack that sends the [Trader] skidding back across the floor to the counter, unconscious.

The whiplash leaves the patrons stunned as they look between the unfortunate victim and door.

Light shines around the silhouette of a man with a hat as he stands just beyond the door. He enters, slowly, a mask hiding his features from those curious to see who did the terrible deed the day drinkers just witnessed. He turns to look at the open wooden door and then the man he had just kicked.

“Huh,” he says thoughtfully after a moment.

He casually surveys the tavern, the shiny polished surfaces, the absolutely packed tables, and the many staring eyes filled with mixed emotions. Then, with aplomb, he shrugs and walks up to the bar, stepping over the poor sod on the floor, rights a fallen stool just recently vacated, and sits down.

The masked man faces Agris as he removes his tall hat, reaches inside, and pulls out a crystal most likely worth a small fortune.

He idly rolls the crystal across his knuckles. “So, name’s Bone. Just recently arrived here, and I am in need of a drink and someone to chat with.” He lowers the shard and taps it twice on the counter before leaving it there. “I also can’t stand all this quiet, so I’d like to buy everyone a round of drinks.”

A moment passes in silence. Then Agris takes the shard and the entire bar cheers. A smile forms on Agris's face as he shakes head. He moves to the back and starts grabbing bottles and glasses. With the skill born of decades of experience, it takes the [Barkeeper] less than a minute to have dozens of glasses lined up, the two [Barmaids] rushing about as they deliver drinks. In the corner of the room, a low-level [Bard] strums a lute, the room quickly regaining its normality as conversations continue, the man laid out on the floor forgotten.

Agris, once done with serving drinks to the crowd, enters the backroom and opens an enchanted cabinet. He grabs a chilled jug and pours the contents into a glass. The white liquid flows out easily. He returns to the bar and places it in front of the masked man.

Bone removes his mask. He grabs the glass and swiftly downs the beverage. He releases a content sigh.

“Good milk,” he comments, Agris snorts and shakes his head. His skill, [Surmise Desire: Beverage] had informed him that the man was looking for a non-alcoholic beverage. He keeps juice and water on hand for mixing drinks and nursing hangovers, but milk? That is a first. Anyone who tried to order milk would be laughed out of his bar… unless said person just bought everyone a round of drinks.

Agris takes a stool on his side and moves it to the opposite side of the man. He sits

“Name’s Agris. I’m the proprietor of this here establishment. What questions you got” he asks.

“Hm. That big caravan parked next to the town, why haven’t they left yet?”

Agris turns his head and spits. The spitoon dings. “Caravan ain’t ready yet. Harry thinks they need more people and more [Guards] to get through the mountains.”

“Harry is…?”

“The [Caravan Master]. Also, my son. He’s high level, knows the route. He thinks it’s dangerous? I wouldn’t take my chances.”

“The caravan looks pretty large as is.” Bone counters. “Do you really need more protection?”

Agris leans forward and grunts. “Do you want the short version or the long one?”

Bone claps and rubs his gloved hands together. “Tell me a story.”

Agris’s lips quirk upwards into a smile. It's been a while since someone wanted the long version.

“How much do you know about the mountains?”

“Little to nothing.”

Agris gets up and heads into the back. He returns carrying a map, which he unfurls in front of Bone.

“Well, the high passes are narrow and treacherous. They’re a natural wall between us and the Aesir. The low passes are way up north and get taxed all to hell to use them.”

Bone nods and continues listening.

“In the stretch, only two kingdoms exist, Crusix and Kuwidal.” Agris points at the two cities in question on the map, far apart and located on mountain peaks. “You know them?” he asks, and Bone shakes his head.

“Crusix is known for their [Griffin Riders] and Kuwidal has their [Wyvern Riders]. They keep peaceful, usually. They’re the ones that are supposed to take care of monsters and hunt down [Mountain Bandits].”

“Something happened.” Bone comments and Agris nods.

“War happened,” he states. “Too many monsters were killed, and that made food for the wyverns and griffins scarce.”

“They ran out of resources- Wait, why now? What changed?”

Agris frowns. “The Aesir sent their [Heroes] there to level. They were to hunt down dangerous beasts and [Bandits]. They did a good job taking care of the monsters, but the [Bandits] mostly made it through.”

Bone perks up at the mention of heroes, his relaxed posture changing to something much less laid back.

“They overhunted?”

“They did. Destroyed griffin and wyvern nests, killed all the big game, collapsed caves and tunnels, and now all the monsters here are weak. Bunch of hunting grounds, ruined. Those two kingdoms, Crusix and Kuwidal, they’re warring over what’s left for their wyverns and griffins.”

Bone touches his smooth chin as he thinks. “Fewer monsters should make it safer to travel, not more dangerous.”

Agris nods. “Yeah, all the dangerous monsters are gone, but the [Mountain Bandits] have gotten worse. Way it used to be, the [Mountain Bandits] were broken up into a bunch of groups. They’re tens of thousands of them, maybe even more, but they didn’t get along. You only got a hundred or so in a tribe, so you only have to worry about a couple dozen of the [Bandits] for each caravan, which’ll have about as many [Guards].”

Agris looks at the empty drink in front of Bone. Mentally deciding something, he walks to the back and returns with the jug of milk. He pours another cup and continues his tale.

“With the [Heroes] hunting them, the [Bandits] did the smart thing and started working together. Only took a year for them all to start working together under their [Mountain Bandit King]. First to ever exist, I hear.”

Bone takes the milk and sips. “How did they defeat the [Heroes]? I’m guessing overwhelming numbers?”

Agris chuckles. “They aren’t that stupid. If a [Hero] was killed, they’d be swarmed by angels and holy men.” He shakes his head. “No, they hid from the [Heroes] until they left. They were sent to level, not to spend weeks trying to find [Mountain Bandits] that just ran away.”

“And now that the [Heroes] are gone, the bandits are all working together to tackle caravans, all while the two kingdoms that should be taking care of them are fighting over scraps.” Bone adds while sipping his milk.

Agris nods, though he doesn't seem too bothered by what he discussed.

“And your son? Aren't you worried he could be killed?”

Agris shakes his head. “My son’s smart and high level. He knows when it’s too dangerous to travel and what to do to stay safe. That's why he hasn't left yet. He wants a bigger group to keep the [Bandits] away.”

“Hmmm,” Bone hums. “Your son is able to deter an army of bandits? Seems impossible unless you want to bring your own army.”

“People like you have said the same,” Agris agrees, “but my son has traveled through the mountains untouched several times recently. He’s one of the very few that could, which is why so many are willing to wait.”

Bone chugs his glass of milk all at once, the liquid going down smooth. He licks his lips. “Right. I’m guessing such fame comes with a premium price?”

Agris shrugs. “Still better than taking the safe routes and losing all your profits to time and taxes.”

Bone yawns and slowly stands up. ”Well, I got the info I needed.” he says while moving the mask back in front of his face, “Thanks for the talk and the drink. It was good.”

Agris nods. “Good luck on your travels.” he adds as Bone heads towards the exit, almost tripping over the unfortunate [Trader].

When he arrives at the door, Bone takes a quick glance back at the [Barkeeper].

Agris Seratin

Level 81 [Barkeeper]

Level 131 [Bandit Infiltrator] {Hidden}

Bone chuckles as he leaves the building.

__________________________________________________________________

Jessica lies on her back upon the carriage roof. She should be out exploring the town, the new scenery, and yet…

She sighs. It’s been over a week since the massacre at Kurzix. It should still be haunting her. She should still feel upset, angry, grieving over what had happened, but she isn’t.

She caused that. She killed them. Mule may have been the one to do the deed, but she unleashed him upon the world.

When she asked Quasi why he would have ever made Mule into that monster, he had just told her, ‘He was always a monster. Now he’s just a more dangerous one.’

Looking back, Jessica realized that she had never seen a point where Mule tried to be good, tried to help people. He followed orders, fought monsters, and protected her. That was it. She didn’t know why she thought he was better than that, more than that.

“Are you going to keep moping all day?”

Jessica blinks. She sits up and sees Abernick peeking over the edge of the coach, staring at her. Smoke rises from the cigar in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for you,” she admonishes him. He scowls.

“I know. I found a trader selling them, and I had an idea.” He takes a draw from the cigar and exhales. “Your boss-”

“He’s not my boss. He’s my friend.”

Abernick smirks. “Sure. Anyways, your ‘friend’ Quasi still won’t let me keep any undead because of that addiction nonsense. So my idea is to try to substitute my addiction for another.” He takes another draw. Exhales. “Smoking seems harmless in comparison.”

“Why not just…” Jessica hesitates, “just wait until he says you’re fine?”

Abernick goes back to scowling. “I can’t. I’ve spent over a week without a single undead.” Jessica is about to say something, but Abernick stops her. “No, it’s not about the undead addiction. It’s about vulnerability. One moment.” He starts climbing onto the roof.

Jessica watches as he does so, somewhat clumsily. Once he’s up and sitting comfortably he continues. “Quasi, though he doesn’t have his undead all the time, is wearing all his fancy enchanted items and wielding that damn cane. He also has skills which make it easy for him to deal with enemies and attacks before they reach him.”

“And you have none of that.” Jessica finishes.

“Right.” Abernick sighs. “I have none of that. I have to hide away in the carriage or in the castle rooms in case something dangerous happens, because if it does, all I have is some basic dark magic and some useless [Prince] skills.”

“Dark magic? I thought you were a [Necromancer],” says Jessica.

Abernick cocks his head to the side. “[Necromancer] is an improved version of [Dark Mage]. Of course I know some darkness magic, even if now most of my spells focus on undead.”

“Ah, right,” Jessica mumbles. She’s too used to Quasi, who skipped the [Dark Mage] class for reasons she still doesn’t fully understand.

Abernick squints at her. “Yes. Anyways, are you done moping now?”

It’s Jessica’s turn to scowl. “I’m not moping.”

“You’re done grieving,” the [Grand Necromancer] tells her. “Now you’re wallowing in self hate, blaming yourself for everything that happened.”

“I’m not! I’m just,” Jessica struggles to put her feelings into words, “I wanted to save the [King], but I didn’t do anything. I only let Mule out once he was dead. I could have saved him!” She drops her head. “But I let out Mule too late. Then, Mule-”

Abernick cuts her off. “As I said, self hate and self blaming. Let me tell you something we all need to learn someday.”

He takes another draw from the cigar. “Did you mean for it to happen?”

“I- No!” Jessica recoils at the question.

“Then it was a mistake. You didn’t know everything would go wrong, but it did. And you…” He trails off and sighs. “My wife was better at this.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes.” Abernick doesn’t elaborate. “You did what you could. You tried your best. Sometimes, that is all you can do.”

The two lapse into silence. Jessica realizes this is the longest conversation she’s had with the [Necromancer] since they first met.

“Hey! I got the [Bandit] information! It’s time for adventure!”

Looking over the side of the coach, Jessica and Abernick see Quasi striding over, waving his cane. Abernick sighs and stands up. “Did anything I say help?”

Jessica considers this. “No,” she decides.

Abernick just frowns and hops down. Once he leaves, Jessica lies back down. She smiles softly.