Compared to the peaceful quiet of citizens not wanting to talk over each other in the Upper District, the Lower District was an altogether different beast. Merchants hawked their wares into the ears of passersby and occasionally spat on those who ignored them. Children chased each other around the muddy cobblestones. Every so often one of the tykes would trip up and fall. His mother would then collect him, whispering angrily at him for running. While it was nicer the closer it got to the main road into town, the areas beyond what visitors saw were dirty and filled with vagabonds. Men and women panhandled on the roadside in tattered rags. Beggars were few, but they were loud.
A young half-elf sat on the sidewalk of one of the wide streets. His dark blue silk shirt and neatly coiffed black hair drew sidelong glances, but Duncan knew that any attention he could draw was good for business. He sat cross-legged on a woolen square in order to keep his neatly pressed pants clean. Strangely, even amidst the grime he surrounded himself with, his gaudiness seemed almost equally at home.
"Behold the wonders of magic!" Duncan cried, expelling a dazzling shower of lights from his palms. Children watched him, their mouths agape. He flicked his finger and the lights coalesced into a dragon's head. Illusory flames flickered within its maw. He watched it for a moment, his eyes gleaming.
"Hey mister!" one of the kids said, stepping forward. The illusion flickered and faded. "What's wrong with your arms?" The kid leveled one finger at the shimmering silver scales on Duncan's arms. "You some kinda fish man?"
Duncan looked at them, then his silver eyes darted back up to the child.
"Heh, not quite," he replied, flashing a smile with incisors just a hint bestial. "Pull up a seat, it's quite the story." The child didn't move. Tough crowd. He waved his hands and conjured a sparkling dragon the size of a cat. "You see, one day, years ago, I was wandering around as an adventurer. The contract I'd taken had sent me to rescue a damsel from a dragon. When I went in, I found out that the dragon was even larger than I first thought." A thimble-sized figure appeared in front of the dragon. "Of course, seeing him terrified me, but before I could escape, he wrapped his fingers around me and lifted me right off my feet." The sparkling figures acted out each part of his story. "While he was clutching me, you see, the dragon told me that the damsel was there by her choice, keeping him company."
He took a sip from the closed container of water he'd brought with. "It turns out he was a friendly silverscale just looking for someone to talk to. So he and I sparked up a conversation. It went back and forth for so long I think I may've grown a beard. We spoke about all sorts of things, but he did most of the talking. He told me about things I think the magisters in Justiciar's Rest would kill to know. A bit about Ur-Haraq in its prime, something about the Ven'Sei, and maybe even a thing or two about the Conflux. I didn't talk much, but he seemed to like the chat. When I left, he gave me these scales and this magic so that he would recognize me if we met again."
"Whoa! Really?"
"Really." He snapped his fingers shut and the dragon exploded into harmless sparks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw three figures watching from the other side of the street. One of them jerked a thumb at a passing young woman. As the scene unfolded, his smile waned. He watched as they turned and followed her down a nearby alleyway. There was nothing about that brewing situation he liked.
"There are plenty of more stories to tell, but if you want to hear them, find me tomorrow. Same place, same time. It's been a pleasure," he said, sweeping his black hair back. An elderly woman passed by and tossed a silver coin onto the ground in front of him. "Oh, no." He picked up the coin and handed it back to her. "I don't need this, ma'am. But thank you for the sentiment."
"You'll be here again tomorrow?" one of the children asked.
"Probably." He laughed, throwing his hands out as he walked backwards towards the alley. "Good luck, kids. Ma'am." With a final bow to his small audience, he turned and walked down street after the rough-looking men. He saw one disappear around the next corner and quickened his footsteps. This really smelled fishy.
"Hey, where are you going?" he heard a low voice ask in the distance. Sounds of struggle followed it. A woman's voice. Duncan started running.
"Scream and we'll gut you like a fish-"
Duncan rounded the next corner in a rush. The three men had crowded around the woman, backing her against a wall. The alley was wider than the others, offering him plenty of room.
"Hey, meatheads!" he shouted. "Back off."
The one he had heard speak earlier turned to face him, a cruel smile on his lips. "Oh yeah? Or else what?" While he was distracted, the woman drew her leg back and kneed him square between the legs. He wheezed in pain and folded.
In that instant, Duncan punched out, feeling a familiar tingle of raw energy explode from his fist. It connected squarely with the man holding the woman, now doubled over in pain. The force of the magic threw him backwards almost a dozen feet. The woman, now free, fled down another alley, screaming for help.
The remaining two turned to Duncan, their eyes wide. Slowly, the heavier of the two men advanced on Duncan, his eyes narrowing. A knife glinted in his right hand.
"Magic or not, you best get out of here, hero. Before we cut you up."
"Alright, here's the deal, Fatty. Can I call you Fatty? You and your pal Skinny there are the ones who should get lost," Duncan said. Anger flared in Fatty's eyes.
"Let's see you say that when I cut out your ton-"
Duncan let a surge of magic out of his hands, wrapping the invisible tendrils around the man's throat. With no effort, he lifted him off the ground and slammed him into the wall before throwing him back to the ground. Fatty grunted loudly as his back crashed into the wall; the knife slipped from his hand, skittering across the ground.
"Knife-ear son of a bitch!" Skinny shouted, sprinting towards Duncan and slashing at him. Duncan grabbed his wrist, dug his heels into the ground, shifted his own weight, twisted, and hurled the mugger over his shoulder. By that point, the battered fat one had stood up and picked up his knife again. Duncan glanced over his shoulder and saw the skinny one getting up as well. Magic flowed out of his fingers again and encased Skinny, slowing him to a crawl.
"Listen, just give up," Duncan said, turning back to the other mugger. Fatty stabbed down at Duncan, who sidestep it. "Boy, pretty quick for a fat bloke, aren't you, porky?" Another two slashes whipped past Duncan, accompanied by Fatty's animalistic roars. For a split second, Duncan lost track of where Fatty's hands had gone.
Suddenly the knife flashed in his peripheral.
With no time to react, the blade connected with his forearm, but skidded uselessly against the hard scales. Duncan locked his fingers around Fatty's arm and sidestepped, bringing his foot up to kick Fatty square in the seat of the pants. The kick sent him barreling into Skinny, who had just managed to escape the slowing magic.
The muggers caught on each other, crumpling into a pile of writhing limbs. Fatty heaved breath in and out, trying to sit up and face Duncan. Before he could, Duncan wrapped his magic around his ankle and lifted him off the ground. Another tendril yanked the knife from his grasp, leaving him unarmed and helpless suspended in the air. The tendril turned and leveled the knife at Skinny. Skinny stared at the knife, fear in his eyes.
The knife whizzed forward, slicing into Skinny's cheek. Blood spattered from the force. After it did, the blade whipped back and stabbed forward with enough power to pin him to the brick wall by his shirt. "You can stay there," Duncan growled. "As for you," he turned to Fatty, "let's have a little chat."
The sound of rapid footfalls distracted him. He looked over and saw his sister skid around the corner. She looked at the crumpled mugger at the base of the far wall, then peered over at Duncan.
"Hello, sister."
"Hello, brother. Quite the catch you have there," she said, fixated on Fatty. "You could feed a family of seven for a month with all that," she chuckled.
"Do you know him?" Duncan demanded, pointing to the mugger suspended by his leg.
Paige pursed her lips and leaned in. She studied the dangling ruffian intently for a second. "Ah!" she exclaimed, leaning in to examine his pockmarked face. "You're that fellow that was on those wanted posters a year back. Yeah, I know him." She straightened her stance. "That right there is none other than Jerric Hans. You might know him by his nickname: 'Bugsy.' Not sure where the name came from, but I don't much care. He's uh, shall we say, a consummate scumbag. Thief, mugger, raper. In fact," looked into his upside-down eyes again, "i'm not at all certain what he's doing out of prison." She tsked. "Jerric, you naughty, naughty boy. What's the price on your head?"
"What are you gonna do, huh? I didn't do anything this time. You stopped me."
"I'm not sure that logic is entirely sound, Jerric," Paige grunted, crossing her arms and facing the second robber. Her dark eyes flickered with a promise of swift retribution should he try anything. "Besides, there's still the matter of whether you broke out of jail or bribed your way out. Either way, you shouldn't be out here."
"She has a point," Duncan concurred. Magic crackled in his hands. "And if you ask me, I think it's fair to let everyone know what you are. Just in case you ever do see the outside of a cell again. Maybe that will keep the girls away from you for good."
Before Jerric could protest, Duncan grabbed the side of his face with one hand. He felt magic spread across his hand. Heat pulsed out of his palms. Jerric screamed in pain, trying to pull away from Duncan's searing grasp, but his grip stayed firm. Once he was confident the spell had done its work, he released him. A single handprint of charred skin clung to the side of his face. Duncan released the magical hold around his ankle and let him fall, still screaming. He crumpled when he hit the ground and descended into pathetic sniveling.
"What happened?" Thaddeus's voice drifted over Duncan's shoulder. "We heard screaming."
"Just dealing with these guys," Duncan spat.
"Dealing with them?" Thaddeus walked around them, observing Jerric's screaming form. "And what's that?"
"A raper."
"Marathel's mercy, Duncan. You can't-"
"An escaped one, at that," Paige said, still prowling around the screaming Hans.
"Escaped?" Thaddeus asked. "Ugh, it's beside the point," he turned back to Duncan, "you shouldn't have done what you did."
"Did what, Thade? Save an innocent woman from him and his goons?" Duncan held up his hand, "I don't need this lecture right now."
"Oh, really? You apparently do, Duncan! Scum or not, that's out of line," he fumed, jabbing a finger at Duncan. "Listen Duncan; you did a good thing. I commend you for that. But it's what followed that I take exception to." Still glaring at Duncan, Thaddeus ripped out the knife stuck in Skinny's shirt and roughly turned him around, locking his arms behind his back. "We're taking them to the guards, first."
Paige hoisted Jerric from the ground, though not without a comical strained expression crossing her face. "Come on, big guy. You've got a date."
"Y-you can't take me back there!" Jerric said, his breathing ragged. "If I do, it'll be the headsman's axe for certain!"
"From what I've heard, it's the least you deserve," Thaddeus snarled.
"So why are you down here?" Duncan said, looking back to Thaddeus.
"We got a new contract," Thaddeus replied. "We'll talk about it once we get back to the Upper District. After we drop these two off."
"And where are Finn and Kriss?"
"They're already up there, you daffer," Paige snorted.
The three looked over the scene one more time. Jerric and his brother sniveled in the grips of Paige and Thaddeus, respectively. It had certainly been a productive day. They turned and walked back through the labyrinthine alleyways, where they eventually met up with the main road and up to the Upper District.
# # #
Thaddeus tapped his finger on the table, watching Duncan pace back and forth on the far side of the room. The team had gathered in the dining room of Krissa's house. The gnome was busy filling teacups for them all.
His eyes fell on Paige, who sat at the corner of the table, her legs crossed as she counted out the bounty money for turning in Jerric and his brother. Every so often he'd experience a new wave of curiosity to think she and Duncan were related, given that she looked more like Krissa than her fair-skinned brother. Only the charcoal hair matched.
"Only ten lousy silver," Paige hissed, tossing the pouch towards the center of the table. It slumped for a moment before she quickly swiped it up again and stuffed it in her pocket, still seething.
"We've only had that for half an hour and yet I swear you've said that at least twenty times," Duncan said from his seat. His face looked less mirthful than usual. A poet might even describe it as glum.
Thaddeus looked back down at the contract paper in front of him again. There, penned in a neat yet elegant hand, the message read:
"Justiciar Wilhelm, if you and your company are half as good as your reputation suggests, we could use your help in Stormborne. A representative awaits you in Mir inside the Meloria Blue tavern, on the boardwalk. Further details when you arrive. Haste is encouraged." A signature of a simple "P" marked the bottom of the page.
"So do you know anything else?" Finnegan asked, his hands folded in front of him.
"We'll meet the representative in Mir as soon as possible," Thaddeus said, prodding at the parchment. "A two day journey on horseback. One, if we hurry."
"Stormborne." Finnegan shivered slightly. "I don't like the water."
"It's water, Finn," Thaddeus grunted. During their shared career, Thaddeus had unearthed no shortage of the halfling's fears. Fears of rats, the undead, and now the fear of water was the most recent addition to the growing list. Truly, the halfling was out of his element, yet Thaddeus kept his opinion quiet. Finn had saved their hides more than once. He was a loyal man. But Thaddeus still worried in his own way.
"It's pretty nice." Krissa entered with a platter topped by teacups and a kettle. "I came from Skywatch. The weather in the isles is so nice," she crooned, "I'm sure you'll love it, Finn."
She poured tea for each of them, humming quietly. Thaddeus lifted a hand as she moved to fill his cup. Although the gnome nodded, he thought he saw a momentary frown. Once everyone was topped off, Krissa set the kettle aside and took her own seat. "I wonder why they wouldn't just use a teleportation circle."
"Those are for trusted allies and emergency transport. There's no reason to let random civilians use them," Thaddeus said.
"We're heroes, though," Duncan said. All eyes all slowly turned to look at him. He paused. "I mean, it's true," he said with a shrug.
"And they asked for us by name," Paige added. "You'd think they could give us a pass."
"We take the ship," Thaddeus said resolutely, though perhaps a bit too strongly. He ignored Duncan's sour face before the scaled sorcerer turned around and resumed pacing. "Any thoughts, Paige?" While perhaps not someone he'd trust to with his house key, Paige's counsel was handy.
She frowned, then shrugged. "Not really. Ebonsong hides out in Stormborne. Maybe we'll run into them. I could strike up a few contacts."
"I'd rather you didn't." While perhaps they were less bloody than others of their ilk, fraternization with criminals and spies-for-hire would bring no good. Too many loopholes, wheels within wheels, hidden hands within innocuous contracts. "For all we know Ebonsong are the problem," he continued.
Paige chuckled. "We'll see. I know you Justicars are all about the gods and law and what have you, but you'd be surprised what you can do with a little..." she trailed off, twiddling her fingers as she searched for the appropriate euphemism, "help," she concluded with a smile.
Her lips twisted comically as she sipped the tea. Thaddeus saw her shudder. She sputtered and coughed, scraping her tongue against her teeth like a cat with a mouthful of its own fur. "Krissa, do you have any sugar? Or milk?" she asked, lifting the cup and brushing a thick black lock over her ear.
"Oh! Yes I do!" Kriss pushed herself out of her chair and hurried to the kitchen.
"Thank you." As soon as she was gone, Paige set the cup down and stared across the table. "So we don't know anything else? Just 'show up and we'll tell you?'"
"We'll talk to the representative," Thaddeus said again, pushing his chair out and standing. "Do any of you need anything before we leave? I'm going to the bank."
"I could use some spending money," Paige said. Just then Krissa arrived with a bowl of sugar cubes. "Thank you, Kriss."
"Specifics, Paige."
"I don't have specifics," she plopped two cubes into the cup, "it's just good to have some money on hand."
"How much?" Thade asked impatiently.
"Ten gold? Something more than ten bloody silver."
Thaddeus groaned wearily. "Fine." He turned and walked out the door, pretending not to see Paige's triumphant grin. Midday heat swept inside as he pulled the door open. "We leave for Mir once I return. Gather your equipment, then make your way to the stables." Not waiting for a response, he pulled the door shut behind him and stepped into the street.