Getting Gone

Getting ready to leave the town wasn't a long affair. Most of their equipment was stored in the strange space 42 gave them access to. What they actually carried was only enough for show and weathered so that the quality wouldn't be immediately apparent. In truth they were outfitted like princes with an apparently unending supply of food just a thought away.

Jarod wouldn't have been ashamed to admit he'd kill a man for a lot less than a lifetime supply of the valley's food. No one asked though. They were also encouraged to throw anything in they found or bought as 42 would be able to improve it through her strange magic. The whisper like soft boots he was wearing were made from a pair only a little better than the ones he'd walked in wearing.

"Everyone got what they need?" Jarod called, mostly out of habit. They'd be able to ask for anything they were missing on the road. He just didn't like the idea of them becoming that level of complacent about the basics.

A chorus of mildly hungover grunts of agreement went up. They'd all taken full advantage of the adventures guild's bar. It was why they were leaving well past sun up;not a first or a sign of decay of discipline. It was more a confirmation that it was basically as bad as it had always been.

Jarod tightened the final strap on his saddlebag, pausing to survey the other Daggers as they finished their own preparations. Pip fussed over his horse, oddly taken with the creature though it had a temper like hot vinegar. Cord adjusted the heavy maul across his back, testing its weight as if the weapon had somehow changed since he last swung it. Quint fussed over his scroll case, checking seals and muttering quietly,no doubt working through some mental equation that would baffle the rest of them if voiced aloud.

Argent, for his part, sat cross-legged on a nearby barrel, nose twitching in the morning breeze, eyes closed as if meditating. Jarod suspected he was just savoring the smells, cataloging them in whatever strange mental library he kept behind those gold eyes. He'd declined a horse, as always but would be taking charge of the little baggage cart and donkey pulling it. A bit of theater in case they needed to produce something that wouldn't fit in a pocket or saddle bag.

"Let's get to it then," Jarod said decisively. He adjusted his armor one last time, feeling the reassuring weight settle comfortably. They might have better equipment now, but old habits of caution never faded.

The town's outskirts melted away behind them as they moved onto the road. Silence settled heavily among the Daggers, each man lost in his thoughts. Jarod's own mind wandered, unable to escape the vague sense of unease at the journey ahead. They were returning to the post town, the place that had indirectly sent them to Deux's valley and set them on the path they now followed. The circle felt oddly complete, but also… off.

Cord broke the silence first, rumbling from his position at the rear. "Think the post town folk will recognize us in all this fancy new kit?"

"Probably not," Jarod admitted with a smirk. "I think they clocked us as broke and forgot accordingly."

"Still the same ugly mugs under," Pip muttered with mock bitterness. "Whores'll just charge us more for being shinier."

Argent barked a laugh, startling a pair of nesting birds into flight. The laughter lingered, easing some of the tension. Jarod appreciated it. They weren't far from the valley nor particularly freer from it, but it felt good to be out all the same.

They didn't push the pace, sleeping in the bush that night and being more comfortable than they had often been in rented rooms. The bedrolls 42 supplied being one of the most comfortable things Jarod had ever slept on.

They reached the post town the second day. The gates loomed ahead just as evening threatened, lanterns already lit, casting flickering yellow pools of light against wooden palisades. A guard stood lazily by the gate, a figure Jarod half-recognized from their previous stay. The man perked up slightly at their approach but didn't challenge them, his attention clearly divided between them and the bowl of stew resting atop a barrel.

Jarod and the others dismounted and he tossed over the needed coins and a few extra, just to keep things peaceable. Walking the streets while leading their horses, they took stock of things. The post town seemed somehow different, busier, yet subdued. Groups of soldiers in the Earl's colors moved along the streets, clearly reinforcing the existing watch. Jarod felt his gut tighten in instinctive caution.

It wasn't until they were inside the town proper that they noticed poles set up near the well at its heart. Three, each with a dark mass atop it that he knew quite well would be a head.

"The mayor and his lot were taking slaver coin, letting them pass through and handing out pamphlets," someone offered conversationally in passing.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Ah, well fuck him," Cord said and spat in the direction of the poles. Jarod followed suit.

That little mystery solved, they found an inn with an open stable and paid for a night. Just one room for them but a larger one than they'd have been able to afford before. They weren't trying to hide that they'd come upin case anyone noticed. The business with the innkeeper was done quickly since they didn't need to haggle unreasonably, and they focused on putting up the horses.

"You lot here for long?" the stable boy asked cautiously. He'd been eyeing them, not suspicious exactly but clearly something more than just curious.

"Just passing through," Jarod replied, tone softening to reassure the lad. "What's with the Earl's soldiers? Trouble?"

"Yeah," the boy said quietly, looking around before leaning closer. "Folks in white calling themselves seekers been about, making trouble, hunting demi-folk or somethin'. Earl doesn't like it. Sent soldiers to reinforce."

Jarod nodded, pressing a coin into the stableboy's hand as thanks.

The inn's common room was lively, smoke drifting lazily among the rafters, mingling with the aromas of stew and fresh bread. It felt familiar, a scene the Daggers had known countless times before. Though this time, their circumstances were distinctly improved. Jarod settled into a chair, creaking comfortably beneath him, while Pip sprawled out, elbows spread wide as he glared over his mug.

They'd been served decent food; there were actual chunks of meat and vegetables in the stew, but it had tasted awful compared to what they'd gotten used to. When no one was looking they traded it out for valley fare of the same kind. Cord and Argent were already tucking into bowls of stew, eating with an enthusiasm that drew amused looks from neighboring tables. The food wasn't bad, but it wasn't that good unless you were truly hungry.

Quint sat slightly apart, nibbling bread as he buried his nose in a book. Jarod motioned for ale, and soon enough mugs arrived, the innkeeper herself setting them down with a careful hand, lingering a moment too long as she studied them.

"Haven't seen you lads about in a bit," she finally remarked, feigning casual interest as her eyes flicked across Jarod's improved gear. "Looks like fortune smiled on you somewhere out there?"

Jarod took a measured sip, his smile easy. "You could say that. We followed up on that posting for the adventurer's guild, back a ways near in valley. Turned out a decent prospect."

"The one the Red Suns chased after?" she asked, a faint smirk playing about her lips.

"The same, though they didn't make anything of it. Too proud," Jarod offered.

Cord chuckled darkly into his bowl, glancing at Jarod. Pip snorted openly, muttering under his breath, "More than they bargained for."

The innkeeper laughed lightly, nodding. "Seems like. They haven't come back through at any rate."

"Won't either," Cord murmured, mostly to his stew, but loud enough that the nearby tables caught it. A few eyes flicked their way, wary curiosity coloring their gazes. "Not good enough for them."

That got some understanding looks and nods. The Suns hadn't left the best of impressions on people.

Jarod leaned forward a bit to capture the innkeeper's attention fully. "What's all this trouble with the Seekers, then? Noticed a bit more steel about than last time."

She sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly as she settled into easier territory. "They've been sniffing around, pushing pamphlets and coin, buying off the mayor and his lot. Got ugly fast once the Earl's men got wind of it."

Argent, ears twitching, gave an approving nod. "Good on the Earl's lads, then."

"Better late than never," she replied, her voice sharp with bitterness. "Can't say any of us are sad to see those heads up high. Bastards."

The sentiment carried around the room, murmurs of agreement rising along with mugs raised in toasts.

"How's the work been?" Jarod asked casually. He'd asked enough to seem reasonably curious for a new comer. "Still enough business flowing through?"

"Better now that those heads went up," she admitted frankly. "Had people staying clear before, on account of the Seekers, but they'll trickle back now, seeing things done right."

"Good to hear," Jarod said firmly, lifting his mug in a subtle toast. She gave a sharp nod before moving off to see to another table, leaving the Daggers to their meal. They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, broken only by the ambient noise of the room. People were curious about them but not quite far enough into their cups to start asking too many questions.

When the questions did come, they were more about the guild than the dungeon once Jarod made it clear the guild didn't require anyone to go into it. Things like cost to join and such were discussed. Available work. Some muttering that it sounded too good to be true, others that it was just a better organized notice board.

Jarod didn't argue with anyone, let them have their opinions, just told as much of the truth was was prudent and let them be if they didn't ask. They left for their room early enough to get real sleep but not enough that it would seem strange. "You think any of them will go to the valley?" Quint asked once they were all laid to sleep.

"Dunno," Jarod admitted. "Probably one or two."

"Does it bother you any, what might happen to them?" Quint asked. Cord groaned on hearing that while Pip thankfully was snoring lightly. Argent had disappeared somewhere, though Jarod wasn't sure when. Likely off chasing a scent or oddity, maybe a fuck. He'd be back by morning, probably before anyone missed him. If not, well, he always caught up eventually.

"Not really, we told them there's a dungeon. If the mayor plays fair like she says, they have a shot at something good. If she lied, they'll end up how they were probably going to eventually. If not there, then in the midst of some other opportunity gone wrong," Jarod said honestly. It was something that could have happened to them just as easily a dozen other places if they hadn't stuck together as in a place like the valley.

Silence settled heavily over the Daggers, broken only by Pip's rhythmic snoring and the occasional restless shifting from Cord. Jarod lay awake a while longer, staring up into the dim rafters, thoughts drifting inevitably back to the valley. He knew Quint's question was more about his own conscience than any genuine concern for others, and the answer he'd given felt true enough. They'd laid the path open, what anyone else made of it was none of their affair.

As he started to drift toward sleep he thought about the two younger men he'd pulled away from the Sun's disastrous dungeon attempt. They were still in the valley, unaware. He supposed if they met again he'd get to see how well 42 kept her word and if he'd made a mistake or not.

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