Page 43 of Wanted: Rogues and Bards

“Well, evil shit is gonna have to wait a little while. We need money first, and I’ll take it by any means necessary—good or evil.” They needed coin for their own daily living expenses, and by Fenric’s accounting, he owed the group five silver and twenty coppers for funding his recent adventure at The Secret Moon. He didn’t like being in debt to his companions. On the way to the tavern with Bel, he’d picked a few pockets, but he’d not had a chance to go through his ill-gotten gains yet. It was doubtful, though, that it would cover what he owed.

“What about this one?” Belstrom reached out and pressed his finger into a lengthy job posting. “Lord Mire is requesting the assistance of a band of heroes to rid his village of a finfolk infestation. Apparently, the creatures have started to flood the region, and the good people of his village are in danger of being trapped.”

Fenric’s upper lip curled. “You know anything about finfolk? I’ve never encountered them.”

Belstrom shook his head, his eyes still locked on the board as he skimmed more postings. “I have not had a personal encounter with their kind, so any knowledge I possess is hearsay or something I have acquired through text.”

Fenric swallowed a sigh. “Yeah, but I trust your judgment.”

“I am aware they are vicious, dangerous creatures with the strength and speed of sharks while in the water. However, I am not aware of whether they go on land or if they possess any fighting skills while on land. I also believe they possess some magic skills, but I would need to conduct further research for more accurate details.”

Vicious, fast as sharks, and they had magic. Lord Mire’s posting didn’t sound the slightest bit appealing.

“Seems like a lot of work. Wonder if that was the job the heroes were supposed to be handling.”

“Quite possibly. Judging by where Lord Mire’s village of Dunley is located, Björnkill would be the largest nearby town. Posting here would be the only way of catching the attention of heroes looking to ascend the list. That is also assuming any pleas he sent to the royal capital went unheard.”

“Not sure I want to take it if we’re going to be tripping over heroes.” Fenric huffed and started looking at some of the other postings. “Plus, we’re villains. Not exactly a people-saving line of work.”

“True. This job will not aid the rise of our villain reputation. However, Lord Mire is offering a reward of one hundred gold pieces, and that⁠—”

“How the fuck much?” Fenric zoomed back over to the job posting. He grabbed the curled paper and ripped it off the wall. A hundred gold pieces. Even if he dragged along the entire gang, the reward split among them still left Fenric with more than enough to operate for a while. “We should go see this Lord Mire and check out his problem.” He folded the paper and stuffed it into his back pocket to keep other job hunters from sniping this delicious payday. “You keep looking at the jobs. I’m going to chat up the barkeep.”

“Would you order me an ale and two lunches?” Belstrom requested.

Fenric stopped and peered over his shoulder. “You got money for two lunches?”

Bel sighed long and weary, as if he were the man who suffered most in all the world. “Why did I have to be blessed with such an endless appetite and dominating physique but not the purse to meet such demands? One lunch will have to suffice.”

“Yeah, we all got it rough,” Fenric muttered and resumed his walk to the bar. More customers were pouring into the place the closer it drew to midday—port workers and people fresh from their boats looking for a hot meal and a good amount of ale to wash away the aches and pains. Fenric dodged several rowdy characters until he made it to the bar.

The barkeep was a rotund man with a long scar on the right side of his face and one milky white eye. The other eye was a startling pale blue, like a robin’s egg. His mouth was largely hidden under a bushy handlebar mustache. He stood behind the bar with its giant casks of ale and a motley assortment of mugs and tankards, wiping down the counter, but his one good eye remained locked on Fenric.

Slipping onto a stool near the barkeep, Fenric pushed an overripe smile onto his lips. “I’m gonna need two ales and two of your lunch specials.” The barkeep grunted but didn’t move from his spot. “And I could use some information.” As Fenric spoke, he slid a silver coin across the surface of the bar.

The man’s hands were like lightning. Fenric had barely lifted his fingertip from the coin when it just vanished.

“What are you looking for?” the barkeep asked, his lilting accent indicating he’d likely grown up in a more northern town.

“Who, actually.” Fenric leaned his forearms on the bar, only to have the bartender scowl. He hastily straightened, lifting his arms from the nice “clean” surface that contained a lifetime of scars, stains, and the gods only knew what else. The only thing for sure was that no amount of wiping would fix its appearance. Fenric cleared his throat and started again. “Calder Rigs. Deals in unique and valuable items. I heard he was passing through town. Do you know where he might have set up a temporary shop?”

“Nope.”

Fenric closed his eyes and swallowed down a frustrated groan. His silver coin was wasted if all they got out of it was lunch.

“But you can find him over at that table near the wall. Grey hair. Slender. Twitchy.”

Fenric spun around so fast he nearly fell off the stool. Just as the barkeep had described, he saw the skinny middle-aged man with bushy grey-and-black hair and spindly arms. He looked as if one of Hapi’s skeletons had stolen someone’s skin and snuck into the bar for a bite.

“Thanks,” Fenric muttered, hopping to his feet.

“The ales and lunches are four coppers,” the bartender called to his back.

Fenric rolled his eyes. So much for the silver covering the price of a meal and information. He swung one arm toward the back of the room. “Take that fee up with the big guy.”

Either Bel would cough up the money or the bartender would decide he’d been more than paid for some information.

As he approached the small table, Fenric palmed the dagger he wore on his hip and then slammed it into the table just in front of the fence’s plate. The man choked on a hunk of meat as he jerked upright, his wide eyes snapping to Fen, who grinned.