The Unwitting Thief

Chapter 6e - Plans

A bell sounded, sending vibrations through every nerve in Thomas's body.

It came from downstairs, but due to the holes in the floorboards, the sound filled their room as if the bell was in there with them.

He grimaced as he sat up, his stomach heaved and his head throbbed. He cursed Monty for the hundredth time. Not just for his bed time antics, which had gone on into the very early hours of the morning, but for his absurd idea to drag him into a drinking contest far out of his league.

His clothes were caked with mud and leaves, and so was his bed. He cursed again and tried to scrape it off as he stripped.

He grabbed a fresh set of clothes from his pack, and stuffed the old ones in after only mildly considering having them burned. He didn't know when he may need them, so he wrinkled his nose, and stuffed them in.

Dennis had rung the bell to summon the Travellers for a quick breakfast before they set off, moving further away from civilisation.

This was met with much annoyance by each of the group, but nowhere near as much as the few other residents who were probably furious at the late hour they'd kept them up till as well.

Thomas apologised to these residents as he passed them on his way to the stairs, sticking their heads out of their rooms to scowl at them.

Monty laughed and clapped him on the back causing Thomas to wince. He knew now that Monty had left a bruise there yesterday.

"You're too nice for your own good lad. We'll beat some of that out of you before long."

If only he knew.

They made their way downstairs, where the smell of breakfast beckoned. Most of the group were already there, and they were surrounded by their packs, taking up most of the common room.

Thomas scanned the crowd for Avelyn without even realising he was doing so.

"Careful lad, she's trouble she is."

Shocked, Thomas gaped up at Monty.

"Don't look so surprised. Every new boy has a go, and every new boy gets his ass handed to him in some shape or form." He shrugged as he collapsed into a chair that seemed to shiver with the effort to stay in one piece. "Not that I believe you'll stop trying, none of them do. But, I kinda like you, and not all of her suitors stick around afterwards to lick their wounds."

Sitting down himself, Thomas felt his stomach turn cold, despite the delicious aromas.

Monty was right, though for a different reason. Thomas knew he shouldn't be thinking of Avelyn like this. Monty thought she was the one who would destroy him, when Thomas knew it would be the other way around.

It would be easy to follow Monty's advice, but she had wormed her way into his head now. Plus, not that Monty knew, but she had been the one to follow him into the woods last night, not the other way around.

All the same, he wrinkled his nose at the food in front of him, worried his stomach wouldn't make room for food at the moment.

Monty was having none of it though. He pushed the plate at him, sloshing some of the meat juices down his front. "Eat. It'll be the last home cooked meal you'll have in a while, and we have a lot of distance to cover today."

Thomas picked up his fork, and tentatively took a bite.

When it didn't immediately reappear on his plate, he realised how unbelievably hungry he was, again, and wolfed the rest down.

He wasn't really accustomed to hangovers, but he had always seen Jeff pile his plate high the morning after the night before. Now he could see why. He could practically feel the grease and fat move through his system, giving him the energy to shovel more onto his plate.

Between his second or third helping, Thomas suddenly picked up on what Monty had said before. "A lot of distance? Is that in general, or is there a destination in mind?"

Monty smiled, not his usual friendly giant smile, rather a greedy smile that Thomas didn't think fit his features. "Oh there is a destination in mind. You heard of the Ruins of Roimar?"

Thomas shook his head, though it did sound familiar. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd heard a tale about the Ruins just last night. Laughed in the face of the narrator actually. He winced and looked around for the guy he had interrupted. Not the best way to make friends.

Monty didn't seem to notice as he pushed on, "Well that's where we're going. It's about a a month from here on foot, but it'll take a while longer to get back with the load we're going to scrape together." He rubbed his hands together with glee.

Thomas stretched his mind back to the story, and remembered snippets. Something about an old hero's sacrifice to beat an immortal lord. "I thought the Ruins of Roimar were just part of some made up story."

Monty gave him a quizzical look. "Lad, do you know anything about us Travellers?"

Thomas cringed, he'd heard a few stories about them, but he was loathe to rely on stereotypical stories when he sat with a group of actual Travellers right now. So, he shrugged slightly and pulled a face as he scooped up a forkful of mushrooms.

"Well blimey, you really did jump in the deep end. What made you join without even knowing the first thing about us." His eyes strayed from Thomas and locked onto Avelyn. "Please, oh please, don't tell me it was her?"

Thomas couldn't tell him the truth, so he played the card Monty dealt him. "I was planning on leaving the city anyway. But on my way out, I got slammed in the face by a pretty girl, and then just so happened to pick a good place to sit to nurse the pain I suppose. Figured it's better to travel in a group, no?"

Thomas could tell Monty knew he was withholding information, but Thomas suspected he assumed it was all to do with Avelyn. His secret was safe, for now.

"Yea, but don't know if we're the safest group you could have picked. Either way, we're often referred to as legend chasers. Things that most common folk assume are just for bed time stories and the like, we go hunting for. There's alot of money in the unknown, the rare, and the damned obscene."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the rare and slightly concerned by the damned obscene.

Monty must have suspected scepticism. "Seriously lad, I've seen things that would keep you awake at night."

Now Thomas laughed. "You keep me awake at night, you animal."

Monty actually blushed, and looked away.

Thomas almost felt bad for him, but then remembered his terrible night sleep, and his raging hangover, so he left him stew.

"Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away there."

Thomas slapped his hand across Monty's back, trying to imitate the gesture. But, his hand stung as he pulled it back, and Monty hadn't even flinched. It was a very unbalanced gesture. He shook out his hand, ignoring the tingling sensation.

"No worries. So, what are you expecting to find at these supposed Ruins of Roimar?"

Monty shrugged, but that greedy gleam was back in his eyes. "Treasure is always what I hope for."

Thomas faltered. He had been cynical, doubtful even, when Martin had said treasure. It just didn't seem real. Everyone imagined getting their hands on some, but the realists knew the only way to move up in the world was either with good connections, criminal behaviour, or a hell of a lot of luck. But, treasure would explain how they could afford to splash out on drink, food, and other luxuries with such reckless abandon.

He just had to hope that whereas the treasure was real, the legends were just that; legends.