“So, this is our bandit?”

Helbram nudged the thief forward. His feet still bound, he stumbled into the guard captain’s desk. The bandit cut Helbram a glower.

“Eyes forward thief,” The guard captain commanded, his deep Freemarks accent radiating with the gruff authority of an Orc. So much so that the bandit snapped his head forward out of instinct and righted himself up.

The guard captain eyed the bandit with a look of impassivity, which radiated intimidation from his burly features. The bandit opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it when the guard captain regarded him in silence. Helbram had to admit, he was jealous of the captain’s ability to command such a presence. It would have helped with the noise from before at the very least.

“Did you manage to retrieve what he stole?” the captain asked, his eyes fixed on the bandit.

Helbram shook his head, “Afraid not. Bringing him in was my first priority, but the thief did keep his coin purse on him,” he said, tossing a ragged bag onto the table. It landed with a heavy thud, “Judging by the weight it doesn’t look like he spent much of what he stole,” he smirked from behind his visor, “Perhaps he was saving up for something nice. A fancy suit, maybe?”

The provocation was enough to break the bandit from his controlled posture as he cut Helbram another vicious look.

He ignored the daggers glared his way, “I trust you’ll get the money back to the victims then?”

The captain nodded, “Yes, thank you again for your help.”

“It was my pleasure,” Helbram said, “Now about my pay…”

“Ah,” the captain produced a smaller cloth bag from his desk drawer and tossed it at Helbram. The purse landed in his palm and he examined its contents.

“200 marks, as agreed,” the captain said.

The armored man counted the coins within the bags, noting the mix of silver, copper, and sparse bits of gold, “Everything looks to be in order. Do you have any other tasks that require my attention?”

The captain opened the notebook that sat neatly at the center of a well organized desk. After a moment of checking its contents he shook his head, “Not at this moment. A shame really, I could do with an excuse to keep a man like you around.”

Helbram chuckled, “Hardly, wanderers such as myself should be taken at small doses.”

“Well if you do ever find yourself back in Silverglen do drop by will you? This town could always do with the help,” he motioned to the bandit, “Loathe as I am to admit it most of my men are still too green to handle things such as this.”

“Noted, I’ll be sure to stop by should my travels guide me back to this quaint little town, though I suppose in time that won’t be so true anymore, will it?”

The captain sighed at that statement, but said nothing.

“I do believe I must be going, have yourself a pleasant day captain.”

“The same to you Helbram, may the gods bless you with safe travels.”

Helbram waved and left the captain and bandit behind, leaving the guardhouse and stepping into Silverglen’s town square.

In its current state, Silverglen was much like any town in the Freemarks. Small, its buildings clustered around some semblance of a town square with perhaps one or two of them reaching higher than a story tall. In some cases you’d see farmland in the outskirts, perhaps a logging station if the town was located deep within the woods. Silverglen, however, was in the fortunate position of expansion. The beginnings of new houses, new buildings dotted the relatively flat plains that surrounded the town’s origin, and much like the wagon he rode into town, some semblance of Esperian magitek wires and circuitry could be seen within their foundations.

The town square itself was alive with midday activity and his thoughts receded at the presence of chatter that rang throughout the square. Though Silverglen was growing, it had not quite grown out of its small town shell. There were no shops within the town, and instead the vendors hawked their wares to young and old alike. Some lined their stalls with simple produce and others with finely crafted clothes or other sundries. The square was quickly becoming too cramped as more people flooded in during the peak of business, and Helbram was eager to make his way out of town before it became too packed to navigate.

He shouldered his rucksack and proceeded into the crowd, making his way towards the main road. He bumped a few shoulders on his way out, giving a small apology to any irritated glances that were thrown his way. He had not quite inherited his father’s large build, but crowds still proved to be difficult to navigate for his size, and he’d resigned himself to shouldering a few others out of the way unwillingly.

As he finally emerged from the crowd he gave a sigh of relief and could only shudder at the prospect of navigating the larger crowds of cities. Alas, as soon as he set his sights upon the road ahead a voice rang from the crowd behind him.

“Hear me, all, for I come to you seeking aid,” a man said, his voice loud, but unnaturally so.

As Helbram turned, he could see why. For at the center of the square stood a halfling man atop a large wagon. His hair was cut short and combed over and he held one hand up to the side of his throat, a chain wrapped around his fingers akin to a piece of jewelry. Even from his distance Helbram knew it to be a magic focus, indicating that the halfling held some talent in Thaumaturgy. Of course magnifying one’s voice was hardly a complex spell, but the robes that hung from the Halfing’s gaunt frame indicated that, on first impression at least, the man was practiced in some regard.

The chatter from the crowd died down, the intrusion of this new voice enough to grab their attention if only for a moment. One that the halfling wasted no time capitalizing upon.

“I speak at the behest of my master, the renowned Tristan Bereton, owner of the Goldshire mines,” he said with a bow, “It is with much distress that I come to you, for the mine has been occupied by a band of vicious bandits.”

Gasps rang throughout the crowd.

“Now how did that happen?” a man from the crowd asked, “Goldshire is bigger than we are, how’d some band of thieves come and stink up the place?”

Mutterings spread throughout the crowd, a tide of discontent that was interrupted again as the halfling’s voice boomed through the square.

“Were it some common rabble I would understand your confusion, dear sir,” Helbram detected the hint of an edge to the halfling’s voice, “but this is no mere band of rudimentary thieves. They are well armed, organized, and numerous. We were caught unawares, and they struck quickly and decisively. Rather than die in the chaos we elected to retreat to retake the mines at a later date,” the halfling swept his hand over the crowd, “and that, my good people, is why I come to you for succor.”

Helbram pushed himself back into the crowd, noticing a group of men and women already surrounding the wagon. Most were adorned in fresh leather armor with a spear, sword, or bow at their side. Their faces were young, their chests puffed out with pride as the crowd directed their attention towards them. The remaining few, he noted, were outfitted in much more weathered, robust gear, with one notable member clad in brigandine.

“My master requests the aid of any able bodied man or woman willing to take up arms, for he intends to take back the mines within the next few days. You will, of course, be handsomely rewarded for your contribution.”

Chatter once again surrounded Helbram and he made his way further into the crowd.

“Didya hear that? I could do with more marks in my pocket,” a nearby adolescent said.

“More marks? You’d be lucky to come back alive from something like that, don’t be a fool boy,” a deeper voice responded.

This sentiment appeared to be the majority opinion of the town, as no one stepped forward to the halfling’s request.

The halfling cast his eye over the crowd, the disappointment clear on his face, “Truly? None of you wish to offer your aid for such a dire situation? The very Aether crystals that this region relies upon are at stake.”

Still, no one stepped forward. Helbram could not blame them. As it was now, Silverglen was no military power and while it was still growing there were hardly any armed travelers around to offer their service.

Except one in particular.

“Ho there,” he called out, “I’ll join you.”