Chapter 16


    Nicco


    Nicco awoke from pleasant dreams of Bianca the next morning with a back as stiff as the floor he slept on. Leo lay on the couch, still unconscious. Allie slumped awkwardly in a chair near Leo. Nicco prayed to the All-Father. All-Father grace Leo’s Essence and body with your protection. Nicco rose to his feet and stretched, noticing the unoccupied bed. “Allie, wake up.” He kicked her foot, and she stirred, eyes peeked open. “I wish you would’ve told me you weren’t planning to sleep in the bed.” Allie wiped the crust from her eyes.


    Leo stirred awake. “Most bewildering.”


    Alessandra’s eyes widened, and she smacked Leo’s arm. “That was stupid and irresponsible.”


    “That won’t be the last time I hear those words,” Leo said. Alessandra slapped him again. “Ow!”


    “You’re still training, and yet you take--”


    “I know,” Leo said, uncharacteristically remorseful.


    The tone stopped Alessandra’s next strike, leaving her hand hanging in the air. She lowered her arm. “Don’t do it again.”


    Whatever had happened, Leo appeared to be fine. Nicco picked up an empty mug and refilled it from the pony keg. “After last night’s adventure, I should be the one to speak with Bastian.” Nicco swallowed the warm beer.


    “Have the effects worn off?” Alessandra asked Leo, oblivious to Nicco’s statement.


    “Which effects?” Leo sat up and stretched his neck. “The mushrooms, or the salts?”


    “How could you be so stupid?” Alessandra asked rhetorically. “I told you the dangers of ingesting too much salt, yet you did it anyway.”


    “I wanted to succeed,” Leo said.


    “Irresponsible and--”


    “How much of that experience was Essemancy and how much were the mushrooms?” Leo cut in with an eager tone, intended to end her berating.


    “Fainting,” Alessandra said. “Attribute that to the salts. Until then, everything else was the mushrooms.”


    “The introspection was very therapeutic. It helped me to realize some of my own faults.”


    Nicco snickered, grateful he had already swallowed his beer, otherwise, he surely would have to spit it up. “Faults? You? Has a specter stolen your Essence?” He placed his mug on the table.


    “Very funny,” Leo said dryly.


    Nicco leaned to the left and massaged the stiffness in his back. “I prefer swinging a sword for my therapy. Nothing clears the mind like physical exertion.” He released a stretch and let out a satisfying sigh. “Safer too apparently.”


    Leo chortled.


    “This is no time for jokes,” Allie said. “Leo nearly died.”


    “But he didn’t.” Nicco stretched to his right. “And now Leo has a deeper understanding of the ideals of Essemancy. Should we go a few bouts?”


    Leo shook his head. “Regarding first experiences, that one sits near the top.”


    “Really?” Nicco asked. “Above getting drunk for the first time? Or your first kiss? Sex?”


    “Definitely the first two. The latter is hard to say. It’s too different. Hard to compare the two.”


    Having finally captured their attention, he reiterated his prior statement. “Well, while you two flirted with a journey to death, I managed to locate Captain Bastian. He stays at an inn called the Black Buck.”


    Alessandra closed her eyes for a moment and frowned. Whenever Allie randomly closed her eyes, it usually meant someone was communicating with her. After all these years, Nicco still found her random ‘catnaps’ a bit jarring. “Sabine finished reviewing the records and found nothing.” Allie opened her eyes. “Let’s hope today proves more fruitful.”


    Nicco still didn’t understand telepathy’s appeal. “That must get annoying. Having someone else’s thoughts intrude into your mind.” He bent over and touched his toes trying to stretch the soreness from his back.


    Alessandra shrugged. “You get used to it.”


    “Call me old fashion, but nothing like conversing face to face.” He released his stretch. “Let’s get breakfast, I’m starving.”


    They ate at a nearby inn. To his disappointment, Nicco had porridge again. But the worst part was, there was no bacon, so he had to settle for sausage. A lump of inferior breakfast meat that lacked the satisfying crunch of bacon. Like a mother hen, Alessandra pestered Leo to drink plenty of water after his ‘incident.’


    “I’ve been thinking,” Leo said. He spooned some sweetened oats. “Theogony has a triple diamond, and there are three salts, three branches of Essemancy.” Nicco flicked his eyes toward Allie, who leaned in with curiosity. “The salts grant divine power. Think about it, telepathy are gods hearing your prayers. Telekinesis is god’s divine intervention.” Leo picked up his fork. “And this lightning, well, that’s god’s wrath.” Leo stabbed his sausage link to emphasize his point. “I suspect the Acolytes know more than they let on.”


    Nicco took a bite of sausage. “You’re saying Essemancy is a gift from the divine?”                      “It’s an interesting theory,” Allie agreed.


    “Maybe.” Leo shrugged. “We should speak with the acolytes.”


    “We must speak with the Black Blades first,” Nicco intruded. “There will be plenty of time to investigate your mythical theory later.”


    “Of course.” Leo took a bite of sausage and mumbled. “Priorities.” They scarfed down the remainder of breakfast, Leo dropped some tarins on the table and they left.


    Nicco led them to the Black Buck Inn near the Theogonist temple on the southern side of Avictfell. A shadow cast over the temple by the Imperial Palace, which rested atop Avictfell’s highest hill, dominating the sky that overlooked People’s Plaza. A wide moat and high a crenelated curtain wall with tall square towers spaced at intervals along the wall surrounded the palace. Encased within the walls stood a northern and southern keep, the Imperial Palace, a castle, and the Hanging Gardens of Hiomi. All the structures blended together in a monstrosity of stone. The castle itself lay at the center with increasingly taller towers capped with pointed black shingled roofs that pierced the sky like lances. Lush foliage, fountains, and colonnades of the Hanging Gardens spruced up the appearance. Rows of stained-glass windows depicting Avictus’ twelve triumphs lined the Imperial Palace, which comprised the throne room.


    “Quite a sight,” Leo said. He gestured to the inn before them.


    Black Buck Inn resembled any other building in the city. Timber-framed beams, bars, and braces with limestone and brick walls, capped with a steep sloped shingled roof. Most buildings were various shades of white or tan, but someone had painted the Black Buck Inn entirely black.


    “Wait,” Alessandra said. She adjusted her gloved hand and ate a pinch of violet salts. “Just in case.”


    Nicco fingered the hilt of Vindicator as they entered the inn. Aside from the outside paint, the reason for the name became apparent. Mounted above the mantle was the largest stag he had ever seen. An impressive set of antlers with a vast spread and at least twenty points. Everyone faced them as they walked inside. The more concerning observation was that every patron wore all black and was openly armed with steel. All the presumed mercenaries--grizzled men, scowled and scarred. Not a bit of merriment among the lot.


    “We should be careful,” Leo whispered. “Which one do you think is Bastian?”


    “I need to speak with Captain Bastian ‘the Black’ Bach,” Nicco bellowed to the gathered patrons. “Where might I find him?”


    Leo sucked air through his teeth. “Or we can try your approach.”


    Most of the men returned to their breakfast. Despite recently eating breakfast, Nicco’s mouth watered at the smell of bacon. Nicco stalked past a table of seated men. The table was as scarred and disfigured as its occupants. The innkeeper stood behind the bar, setting plates from the kitchen window onto a large serving tray. “Where might I find Captain Bastian?” The innkeeper looked like he had seen a few battles himself. He pointed past Nicco toward a table in the corner facing the door.


    “Thank you.” Nicco walked to the table the innkeeper had gestured to and addressed the man seated there. “Captain Bastian Bach.”


    The man’s tankard clunked on the table. The painful hollow sound of an empty mug. “Aye,” Bastian burped. “Pardon, my lady.” He wiped the froth from his thick mustache and bushy black beard with a napkin and tossed it on the table. “We rarely get many of your kind in here.” He wore a shagreen-styled hilt accented with gold. Everything about the man was dark, especially his eyes. Dark with death, this man had killed--a lot. He wore a black puff and slashed shirt and breeches with a black hat feathered hat.


    “May I sit?” Nicco pulled out the chair, not waiting for an answer.


    Bastian stomped his heel into the seat. “She may.” Bastian pointed to Alessandra. Allie regarded them both, made a curt bow, and grabbed the chair back. Bastian took his boot free of it. Alessandra sat. “Have you forgotten your manners, sir knight?”


    Nicco squinted. “Like you, my reputation precedes me.”


    “Does it?”


    “We’ve met before, fought before,” Nicco corrected.


    “What battle?” Bastian asked. He worked his jaw back and forth.


    “At last year’s tournament.”


    Bastian tilted his head. “Ah yes. Count Nicco Bizzi! I remember now. Forgive me. All you lords carry yourself the same way. Who won?”


    “I did.” Nicco stood a bit taller.


    Bastian brushed his mustache. “You use a Senkou-ryu Form to disarm me if I recall correctly.”


    Impressive memory. It seems we both remember our opponents forms. Nicco confirmed his guess with a slight nod.


    “Well won I’m sure.” Bastian held up his hand and snapped toward the innkeeper. “Wine for the lady, and not the cheap stuff.” He smiled, his white teeth contrasting with his black garb. “Let it not be said that I have forgotten my manners.”


    “Indeed you haven’t, sir,” Alessandra said.


    Bastian chuckled. “It’s been a while since I’ve been called that.” He shrugged, “But I’ve been called worse. Tell me, my lady, what brings you to our fine establishment?” Bastian adjusted his silverware knife unnecessarily.


    Nicco spoke up. “We would like to ask you--”


    “I asked the lady, sir.”


    “Does my presence grieve you?” Nicco asked, louder than intended. He heard chairs scrape against the floor. He glanced over his shoulder. Several men had stood with hands on the hilt of their swords.


    “Apologies for my brother,” Alessandra touched Bastian’s arm resting on the table. “He slept poorly and ate an even poorer breakfast.”


    “Hunger makes a man angry,” Bastian said. The innkeeper approached and placed wine before Alessandra. “If your breakfast was so poor, allow me to offer a remedy.”


    “That would be most kind,” Alessandra said. “I’ll have whatever you had.”


    “And for lord Bizzi?”


    “He will have bacon, a double order.” Nicco salivated in anticipation.


    “And the smaller one?” Bastian asked, gesturing to Leo.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Alessandra grinned. “We’ll all have what you had, but please include the bacon.” She dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned in. “It’s his favorite.” Allie’s smile grew wider.


    “Ha!” Bastian bellowed and smacked the table. “Finally, I find myself agreeing with a knight. Who would’ve thought it would be about bacon?” He laughed. A few other patrons did as well. Bastian yelled to the innkeeper. “Jurgen, see to the lady’s order at once. On the house.”


    “Thank you, Captain. Your demeanor surprises me.”


    “Old habits I suppose. You’re aware I was a knight in my former life. But tell me, what rumors are spoken of me these days?” Bastian leaned back, placing his arms behind his head like a pillow.


    “I wouldn’t know,” Alessandra said.


    “You’re either too cunning or too na?ve, and I doubt it’s the latter.” A hint of life glinted in his deathly dark eyes.


    Alessandra blushed.


    What is this? This sellsword seducing my sister in front of me.


    “Perhaps your brother and his escort would care to sit--at the adjacent table.” Bastian’s emphasis and implication were evident.


    “Brothers,” Alessandra corrected. “And yes, they are most obliged to dine with us. I’m sure they could listen and provide any input concerning matters of business should I require their assistance.”


    “Of course.” Bastian grinned. “Though I doubt you would ever need their assistance.” Alessandra eyed Nicco, giving him the look only a woman can muster to command obedience. Nicco sat down. He positioned himself against the wall to see the entire room. Once Leo sat opposite him, the sellswords sat back down.


    “Hey, that’s my breakfast,” a mercenary protested.


    “And now it’s theirs,” Jurgen said. He carried a tray past a table of disgruntled sellswords and placed two plates before Leo and Nicco. “Courtesy of the Captain.”


    The starving sellsword snarled a swear, sitting down. “Apologies, brother,” Bastian said, “but I’m afraid our guest takes precedence. Jurgen will make your breakfast soon enough.”


    “Brother?” Allie prompted.


    “No relation. We’re all brothers here.”


    Jurgen approached, placing a plate before Alessandra and a fresh stein of beer for Bastian. “Freshly laid eggs. Got them this morning.”


    “Thank you, Jurgen,” Bastian said. “Oh! Forgive me. Where are my manners? Will you grace my ears with your name?”


    “Lady Alessandra Bizzi.”


    “Lady Alessandra, a beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman.”


    Nicco rolled his eyes and let out a stifled snicker.


    Leo kicked him under the table. “You should take notes. He’s quite charming.” Leo hid his amused smirk with a hand over his mouth.


    “He can use his charms on anyone but my sister,” Nicco retorted. Still, Leo had a point. Such charms might woo Bianca. Nicco took a piece of bacon from his plate, folded it in half twice, and ate the entire piece in a single bite. The bacon’s salty splendor soothed his pride. There was a buttered roll, hot to the touch, a cut of steak, and fried eggs.


    “You know what he’s doing?” Leo asked.


    “What?” Nicco mumbled through a chew.


    “Seducing us. Her with words, you with food.” Nicco stopped chewing. Leo picked up his fork and knife and cut into his steak. “Don’t be mad. At least we have a good meal.”


    Nicco forced a hard swallow. He leaned in and whispered. “Do you forget he might have murdered our parents?”


    “I haven’t.” Leo took a bite of bloodied steak. “There is no reason we can’t accept his hospitality and pretend to play his game.”


    “It’s not ideal,” Nicco whispered. “And I thought we agreed I was the best one to talk to Bastian concerning such matters.”


    “We did, but obviously Bastian thinks otherwise.” Leo was right, admitting as much as pained him. Nicco trusted in his own knowledge of the mercenaries and knightly orders. But the more he thought on it, the quicker he accepted Allie’s charms might best loosen Bastian’s lips and find the truth. He carved into his steak with a fork and knife.


    “We told Alessandra all we know. She’s smarter than you. She’ll find the answers.”


    Nicco ignored the insult and pointed his knife at Leo. “What about you?”


    “No one is smarter than me,” Leo quipped. Nicco let him win this one. He ate and listened to the conversation.


    “Captain Bach,” Alessandra said.


    “Bastian please,” he corrected.


    Allie arched a brow. “Bastian, nothing would please me more than to listen to your charms all day--”


    “Why stop there?” Bastian''s mustache rose in a lopsided grin.


    “This will never work,” Nicco said. Leo grabbed his arm to restrain him.


    “Trust her,” Leo said. “She knows what she is doing.”


    Alessandra sipped the wine to regather her composure. “If you insist. But let us speak of business matters quickly so we can resume a more pleasurable conversation.”


    Bastian sighed. “Very well. Let’s address this matter so that I might ensure your continued company.”


    “I was hoping I might review your books.”


    So blunt, usually she talked to herself in circles.


    “I’m afraid I cannot allow that--as much as it pains me--surely you understand.”


    “I do, and expected as much.” Alessandra touched his hand with hers, “Then could you tell me of any contracts which have occurred in the last dozenday or so?”


    “I can,” Bastian said. Alessandra smiled. “None.” Her smile turned upside down.


    “Forgive me, my lady, but I had hoped to speak of future contracts, not past ones.”


    “I can imagine that in times of peace, it becomes quite difficult for one to earn a living.”


    Bastian leaned back. “Many men take on other jobs. Jurgen there, for instance. While he is away, his wife runs the inn, but otherwise, you will find him here.”


    “What sorts of other jobs?”


    Bastian shrugged. “Depends on the man, I suppose. Some learn trades; the smiths can always find work. But many are not so fortunate. Mostly day labor or guard duty.”


    Allie’s voice was just above a whisper. “And what if I needed something more...nefarious?”


    Bastian’s brow scrunch, his eyebrows nearly touching his mustache. They sat in silence for a moment. Bastian pressed his finger and thumb to his philtrum and stroked his mustache outward.


    “Not na?ve at all,” Bastian observed. “Such arrangements could be made.”


    “What assurances of secrecy do I have?”


    “All assurances.”


    “At any price?”


    “I cannot be bought.” Bastian bit into a roll, as though that concluded the matter.


    Allie’s fingers rubbed the stem of her wineglass. “But you’re a sellsword. The very profession implies you can be.”


    “Concerning such matters, those contracts are kept secret, otherwise I might soon find myself listed on one.” Bastian washed down the roll with a swig of beer.


    “Bastian,” Alessandra said and twisted the ring on her finger. “You’re aware whores might charge more to a particularly ugly or fat man?” Bastian coughed into his mug. Beer splashed out. Foam clung to his mustache.


    He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t think a lady would speak of such things.”


    “I think we’ve already established I’m not like other ladies.”


    “Indeed you’re not.” Bastian stroked his bushy beard to wipe the fluid from it. “Concerning the whores, I wouldn’t know, er, personally, that is.”


    “Of course you wouldn’t. A charming, handsome, well-muscled man like yourself.” Alessandra scooted her chair closer. So close her leg touched his.


    Nicco leaned in to hear. Who is this woman and what has become of my sister?


    “But like whores who swear they won’t lie with a particularly vile man, eventually they reach a price at which they inevitably change their mind.”


    “If such a price existed, I suppose it would depend on how vile the man was.”


    “Very,” she whispered. “The kind who would forsake a holy order, like the Tellius Knights, perhaps. An esteemed man, one highly regarded, like a lieutenant.” She took his hand, turned it over, and set her coin purse in it. “All the gold in this purse is yours--for a name.”


    Bastian frowned at the purse. “I’m afraid this price is inadequate.”


    “Of course. Do you see the smaller brother over there?” Bastian looked over toward Leo, who was busy chewing his breakfast. “That man is Leo Medistein, master of his house and head of the Medistein Bank. He’s the richest man in the Glade, and probably all the empire.”


    Bastian set back abruptly. “What game do you play? You said he was your brother. Yet you named yourself a Bizzi and him a Medistein. So which is it?”


    “We may not share a name, but we consider each other family. Otto and Sophia raised us both.”


    “Every sellsword in the city knows Otto Medistein is the richest man in the empire.”


    That caught Nicco off guard. Either the Bastian ‘the Black’ was a fantastic liar or truly was unaware. Alessandra had maneuvered him right into a literal corner. Yet Nicco found himself believing Bastian''s words. “What do you think Leo?” Nicco asked and finished his bacon.


    “I don’t think he knows,” Leo whispered, hiding his mouth with his hand. “But it’s not like he would confess to murder.”


    “One of his lieutenants, perhaps?”


    “Possibly,” Leo agreed.


    Alessandra continued her conversation with the Captain. “Leo is his eldest son.”


    “I’ve enough lord’s names to remember,” Bastian said. “I cannot remember all their sons and whoresons as well. Unless you’re the Imperial family, I’ve no need to discuss matters with sons and heirs.”


    “Unless that son were to succeed his father and become the empire’s newest rich man.”


    Bastian’s eyes flicked over toward Leo. “Otto Medistein has died?”


    “Murdered is more accurate. And we believe a member of your company committed the crime.”


    “What?” Bastian exclaimed.


    “What do you know of this murder?” Allie’s question stabbed sharper than any knife.


    Bastian sat back. “None. This is the first I’m hearing of this, I assure you.”


    Alessandra sighed, looked at Nicco, and shrugged. Nicco gestured with his hand for her to continue. Alessandra turned. “Now you understand the seriousness of my visit. If every sellsword revered Otto because of his wealth, why would a mercenary kill him? Who might have taken such a contract?”


    “Such contracts are done verbally and in secret. There is no way of knowing. Only a fool would keep records of such things.”


    “True, but this fool had a distinctive tattoo. Three crossed swords of black.”


    Bastian shook his head. “Nearly every man in the company has one.”


    “This man had it on the top of his sword hand,” Alessandra added. “And Lord Nicco says the man wielded a sword known to be forged and supplied to members of the Order of Tellius. You and your lieutenants hail from the order, don’t you?”


    “Aye, but my tattoo is on my left forearm.” Bastian pulled his sleeve back and turned his wrist, revealing the familiar triple-crossed sword emblem.


    “I’m not accusing you of such a crime. I’m merely asking if you might know who did.”


    “Which hand was his sword hand?” Bastian asked.


    Alessandra looked at Nicco. Nicco closed his eyes and pictured the dead man on the road. Picking up the amputated hand. “Left!” Nicco said.


    Bastian tilted his head. “That only leaves one man. Davor Dalik.”


    Nicco squeezed his fork. “Sounds like a Westerner’s name.”


    “He grew up in the Expanse. Joined the Order of Tellius, young like me. Left with me, along with thirteen others. If Davor took such a contract, I assure you I had nothing to do with it. Though it’s not in his character to murder.”


    “You’re mercenaries,” Nicco spat. “It’s all you know. Cast out from an honorable order of faith to pursue one of the very vices Tellius preaches against--greed.”


    “Left, not banished.” Bastian corrected and squeezed his hand into a fist. “And I assure you, I know more of honor than any holy knight.”


    Nicco abruptly stood from the table.


    “Nicco enough!” Alessandra yelled. Every mercenary turned toward them. Some stood once again, ready to draw steel. “I’ll not have violence in my presence.” Her tone softened, and she turned to Bastian. “I empathize with you, Bastian, truly. I understand your confusion, your appellation, your feel--” She cut herself off. “I believe you.”


    “Men, stand down.” Bastian gestured downward with his hand. “Let’s not frighten off the only lady to grace our presence without being paid to do so.” A cacophony of laughter erupted.


    Allie blushed red as an apple.


    Leo leaned over toward Bastian and Allies’ table. “Apologies for my brother.” Leo turned his head over his shoulder and loudly said, “I know it’s early, but allow me to buy your men a round.” The sellswords cheered.


    “It’s never too early for a free round,” Bastian said.


    Leo stood up, went to the bar, and paid.


    “Do you know who might have hired Davor?” Alessandra asked.


    “We’d ask him, but he’s dead,” Nicco added.


    Bastian smacked his lips. “Justice served by your sword, no doubt.”


    Nicco nodded. “My justice doesn’t stop with the coward who committed the murder. It stops with the person who conceived it.”


    “Aye. I suppose it does. But I don’t recall seeing anyone speak with Davor recently. Likely they likely met someplace else.”


    “What of your men?” Alessandra asked.


    Bastian chuckled. “My men.” He held his arms out wide. “Every man here is his own man, free to negotiate his own contract. I merely started the company.”


    “Yes,” Nicco said, “but you also act as its leader and negotiator for the larger contracts.”


    Bastian met his eyes. “Men listen up!” The glee-filled conversation, fueled by free beer, died down. “The lady asks if anyone saw Davor speak with anyone.” Bastian maintained eye contact with him. He’s hard to read. Is he hiding something?


    The only sound was the scrape of mugs against wood tables.


    “A half dozen gold tarins for any man who can give me a name,” Leo said. “Triple that if the name given turns out to be the man we seek.”


    “Careful now, Master Medistein,” Bastian said. “Such proclamations are likely to reveal the names of a hundred men, and none the one you desire.” A few sellswords chuckled. “Come now. Does no one know? Only speak true. Let’s not send Master Medistein hunting specters.” No one spoke. Nicco examined the faces. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he looked nonetheless. No one stood out. A sea of grizzled men all wearing black crowded around tables, cradling beer mugs.


    Leo stepped up on a chair. “I know you don’t wish to turn against your own. I don’t blame you. Is my price not high enough? A dozen tarins now, and quadruple after.” Absolute silence. Leo looked to Nicco, and he pointed his finger up. There had to be a price. Leo simply hadn’t found it yet. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Leo Medistein, son of Otto Medistein, and now head of House Medistein and its bank. I’m incredibly wealthy. A favor today will earn you more than just gold, it’s an investment of gratitude lasting my lifetime. I’ll pay you a lifetime of service in perpetuity.”


    Silence lingered.


    “That means forever, you idiots,” Bastian clarified. A chorus of laughter broke the silence. “There you have it, men. What better offer could you ask for? Your own personal lifetime benefactor, one of great wealth. You could live a hundred lives and never come across such an offer.”


    Even so, no one spoke. Did these sellswords have that much honor? Could their bond of fellowship be that strong? Men who bled together consider each other brothers, to betray one whom you would trust with your life would be the ultimate sin. I’ve misjudged them.


    “I for one wish I knew,” one man said.


    “Aye,” others echoed the sentiment.


    “Anything at all?” Alessandra pleaded. “These brigands killed our mother too.”


    “I can’t give you a name,” Bastian said, “but you may want to turn your investigation toward the Inquisition. Davor had some contracts with them in the past.”


    The Inquisition? That would imply the High Inquisitor or a Lector had arranged the murder. Leo walked over and placed twelve gold tarins on the table in front of Bastian. “It’s a start. If it proves fruitful, your company will always find employment to house Medistein. Thank you, Captain.”


    “Bastian,” Alessandra said. “You can have my gold, but I want the rest of my purse back.” Bastian smiled, unlaced the purse, and spilled the contents on the table. Every coin was a silver or copper tarin.


    He looked up and smiled pointing a finger at her. “Clever.” He slid the coins back into her pouch, pulled the drawstring, and handed it back to her. “It has truly been a pleasure lady Alessandra. I do hope you’ll speak of my manners here today. Hopefully, such gossip brings us more company such as yourself in the future.” He took her hand and kissed it, lust sparkled in his dark eyes.


    Alessandra rose. “Bastian, for one so mannerly I would have expected you to remember to remove your hat in a lady’s presence.” She winked. The mercenaries roared with amusement. Jurgen folded over holding his stomach. Bastian blushed brighter than a tomato and smirked.


    He stood up, took off his feathered hat, and flourished it with a graceful bow. Alessandra blushed and bowed back. They left the Black Buck Inn with a few answers and another lead.