(Dovakiin)
Lord Vance took them all in with a long, calculating glance before smiling benignly and asking, “Are we ready to begin?”
Everyone made to rise, respectfully, until Lord Vance waved them back down again. One of the humans – Alex Hawke – spoke for the group. “I’m sure we all are, Mr Lord Vance sir. Very eager to find out what all this is about.”
Lord Vance chuckled. He made his way to the chair behind his desk, and took a seat. “Please, call me Jezediah. I’m hoping that we will be friends soon enough. Calliban?”
The butler stepped forward and bowed.
“Is this all of them?” Jezediah asked.
“Almost, milord,” the butler answered, keeping his eyes lowered. “Miss Helga has sent her apologies, and will be arriving later this evening. “Mr O’Faolain-…”
At that moment there was a clattering sound from the hallway. Concerned voices arose. Seconds later, a human in his late forties burst into the room. He had a bald head with jagged scars in the shape of claw marks across the dome of it, and a large bushy brown beard. He wore heavy armour, and smelled strongly of alcohol.
“Where’s ma money?” the bald man slurred. “’S promised some money!”
“…has just arrived,” Calliban finished smoothly.
“Ah, Mr O’Faolain!” Jezediah exclaimed. “Of course, of course! Please, take a seat.” He turned to the group as a whole, and from his desk he picked up a small, silver bell. He rang it. “Lest you not think me a man of my word.”
At the sound of the bell, a procession of servants walked into the room, each carrying an ornate wooden box. The servants handed each of the guests, bowed, and left again.
Dovakiin shook his, cautiously. It had a heft to it, and rattled with the unmistakeable jingle of coins. It was likely not trapped. His wife would have mocked him for even checking, but old instincts die hard.
“Go on,” Lord Vance prompted. “Open them.”
Dovakiin opened his box. The yellow gleam of 200 gold pieces sparkled back up at him.
“The better part of a year’s wages for an average labourer,” Jezediah said. “All yours for just listening to an old man prattle for a bit. Not a bad afternoon’s work!”
It was true. A gold piece was about the wages of a day’s work in the fields. Around the room, Bran was biting a coin, testing to see if it was real. Marion’s automaton had taken her box, and she was looking up at Jezediah patiently. Dovakiin noticed her hands were tightly clasped, however. A little too tightly.
Solstice was staring as Jezediah suspiciously. “This is too easy. What’s the catch?”
“Ah,” Jezediah answered, leaning forward. “No catch. Just a taster of things to come… If you’re interested.”
Dovakiin hadn’t been born yesterday. He knew a hook when he saw one, and Jezediah was reeling them all in. There was bound to be an angle. And yet…
Dovakiin smiled. His wife was going to kill him, but he smiled. A treacherous, adrenaline-junky-fuelled smile. Inside, a voice was awakening within him, one that hadn’t been heard since he was much younger.
This is going to be fun!
“…Long story short,” Jezediah was saying, “I want you to work for me. Not for the guild. For me. I have need of your particular talents. I am a humanitarian at heart, and there has been a surge of dark things creeping out of the Deep Forests of Heldsgard. I need you to be the ones to keep them in check.”
“Why us?” Marion asked.
“How much will we be paid?” asked Hawke.
“’s there drink?” demanded O’Faolain.
“What dark things?” asked the blue giant, Fledinem. He had been kind of quiet up until this point, but was now looking at Jezediah intently, and slightly concernedly.
Jezediah raised his hands defensively, as if to ward off the questions. “To answer those a little out of order: you will be paid handsomely according to the difficulty of the monster I send you after, as well as individual rewards which I’ll discuss with you in private. We’ll start small, but you’ll soon be getting money in the thousands. On top of that, I’ll sponsor you in terms of equipment, and will offer you further gear later at cost price, and you can keep any rewards or treasure you find.”
Dovakiin perked up at that. Jezediah wouldn’t be taking a cut of their loot? He’d be equipping them with higher tier gear at cost price? Adventuring gear could end up being incredibly expensive. Thanks to the high risk, high reward nature of adventuring, a single piece of armour or a weapon could run you up thousands of gold. But a lot of that was profit margin. If Jezediah wasn’t planning on profiting by selling to them later, and he wasn’t getting money from their successes, he was definitely working at a loss on this deal of his.
What was his angle?
“Dark things will vary, but broadly speaking, anything that goes bump in the night. I want there to be no murders of innocents in Heldsgard. If it’s mask-kin, bold-kin or bone-kin and it’s making trouble in the Six Cities, I want it taken care of.
“And as for how I found you…” Jezediah smiled. “None of your business. There will be more information for you once I know you’re on board. But you are all very special. I can honestly tell you: if you don’t sign up for this team right here, right now, you will never find such a group of like-minded individuals ever again. I promise you.”
He looked at them all through his darkened glasses. “Trust me. This team… you’ll be monster hunters. It’ll be hard work, and dangerous. But if you open your hearts to each other, lower a few walls, you will find a family here.”
He didn’t answer the question about the drink.
Everyone in the room chewed on his words for a few moments. Marion didn’t look particularly happy. Neither did Solstice. However, Hawke was leaning forward eagerly, and Fledinem had a determined look on his face that told Dovakiin he was in. Bran appeared deeply moved and was borderline crying from the speech, but that was probably because he was drunk. Dovakiin shook his head.
Jezediah leaned back in his chair again. “That’s my pitch done. You’re now free to go. But if you remain here, I’m going to assume that you’re on board and we’ll proceed accordingly.”
Nobody moved. Dovakiin definitely didn’t.
Maybe… he could figure out a way not to tell his wife about this.
Jezediah looked around with satisfaction.
Hawke spoke up. “It’ll be a pleasure to work for you, sir!”
Jezediah grinned. But it was a dark grin. “Ah, not so fast. I haven’t actually hired you yet.”
Hawke stammered. “But.. you just said-”
“Ah, no, I said that if you stuck around I would assume you were on board. But I like to test out my goods before purchasing. You understand of course.” The Lord of the Manor gestured to his butler. Calliban made his way over to a corner of the room next to the curtained windows.
“In this line of work,” Jezediah said, still grinning coyly, “you will sometimes be called upon to protect individuals from dangerous threats, often with little warning. I have devised a simple test of your aptitude.”
Calliban reached down, and pulled open a trapdoor which had previously lain completely hidden beneath a fur rug. It was a large trapdoor, easily 5 foot across. Calliban jumped back from it smartly. Within it, shadows stirred in the dark. Something was moving.
“Your test is this: protect me and my servant. That is all.”
A giant, clawed hand grabbed the rim of the trapdoor. The something jumped.
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