An Introduction Of Sorts.

My name is Matthew. I like to write/tell stories. I'm a husband and father of four. Every day I battle the sinister shackles of sleep and its demons of dream.

Sound strange enough? Do I have your attention, or at the very least your curiosity? I'll settle for your passing glance to be honest.

My point here is a rather mundane and simple one; to establish some idea of who I am to those just discovering me. And for those who have known me for awhile this can serve as a refresher course. There may be a test on this in the near future.

My initial introduction is a fairly boiled down base of the myriad of aspects I suppose one might use to describe me. But they are all true - even the waging the war for being awake. As surreal as it sounds I spend the majority of my day dealing with the monumental effort of remaining conscious. In that attempt I have my share of victories and defeats. I never quite know if I've drifted into a waking dream or if that tingling feeling in my left side is a chill or the fact that I am in the process of becoming paralyzed.

Around 2009 I was diagnosed with Narcolepsy with Cataplexy. Over the time since then I have had to come to grips with some uncomfortable concessions. For one, my day always begins with a cup of coffee and 40mg of Ritalin. Around four hours later I rinse and repeat. What that means is I take the medically allowed maximum of a commonly recognized stimulant just to give me a fighting chance of not being a zombie.

In case you need to further punctuate that little point, consider this: I can take as much Ritalin in one dose that some people take over an entire day. And right after, rather easily I must add, I can quite honestly take a nap. Let that sink in for a minute.

Added to that constantly nagging pull of drowsiness I have to accept that my left side can go limp at any time. I've used a cane so much with my right over the last few years to support myself while dragging my left leg when I have trouble that I believe I have passed my wrists serviceable limits. I just had Carpal Tunnel Release surgery on it the past November (on my birthday in fact - poetic irony anyone?).

Now I don't drive anymore. I don't work anymore. I very very rarely do much of anything alone either.

But don't get me wrong; I do have a life.

I enjoy reading (or writing) a good story or book. I walk my kids down for the bus every day and get them off the bus. I check the mail, my wife and I go to the store - there are lots of ways for me to spend my time. Even if there are times things manage to get the best of me, I try not to let depression win.

It isn't easy, I won't lie. But I have a wonderful wife to support me and a family the likes of which would make saints jealous.

So if your ever curious where these stories come from, they come from an imagination that never stops. It comes from dreams that aren't content to remain to the nocturnal hours. They are born of a brain that must be kept busy. So I keep it busy and if I am really lucky I get to make someone else smile.

I do it for the happy.

Making people happy makes me happy.

Are you happy?

If so I'm happy.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 11.

Nestled somewhere near the heart of Emberhelm is Castle Virtus, home of the royal house of Wyatt. The Wyatt line has ruled over Emberhelm since its earliest days, and despite my own personal issues regarding the throne I can’t say I hold anything against any member of the family. It isn’t like they are ruthless, reckless or known to be foolish in their judgment. They’re still people though, and in the end I couldn’t keep living on a leash.

The Castle itself is a massive sprawling structure made out of a mixture of white marble and granite. Equally impressive under the moon and stars or the light of day the stone could almost seem alive. It flowed with flawless lines to form wondrous walls along with titanic towers. Castle Virtus was a marvelous majestic sight, a testament to the throne that resided therein.

I didn’t bother with approaching the primary gate, even so close to mid-day. It would be swarming with other official solicitors and courtiers, not to mention guards already past their patience to tolerate anything out of the ordinary. No, I decided to instead redirect my steps straight for an alternative entrance used by SpellHounds when they came and went for duty assignments.

There would still be a gate to contend with, but if I had been summoned for an audience then I might have better luck getting through there instead. Among the SpellHounds the area was often referred to simply as ‘Ward Way.’ It was a fortified stone archway complete with barricades of iron and steel to cut it off from the outside if needed. There was never any shortage of available manpower to defend it, since it lead directly into the garrison where SpellHounds slept and were stationed in all the manner of duties they participated in.

Actually, if I was someone who wanted to engage in any manner of mischief; Ward Way was the last place I would try to do it. It’d be like trying to walk straight into a den of sleeping starved beasts at the end of winter, waiting for them all to wake up and then daring to threaten any one of them with violence. Nobody had ever been that foolish, or death craved to me memory.

I was certain to still receive more than my fair measure of menacing looks and serious suspicion by showing up there I estimated. But at least it was less likely to be used as eager entertainment or a display of warning to the general public. If I casually waltzed up to the front door, smiled and simply said I was an invited guest on matters of the realm then there was bound to be laughter and some serious stress release. And I couldn’t ensure that my mood would be entirely accommodating.

So I marched purposefully over the alternating polished pavestones of glistening alabaster and ivory to navigate my way around a long length of the primary perimeter wall. This took quite some time, if anyone had ever had to patrol the entire path around it as I had in my early days of training they could appreciate the sheer size of Castle Virtus and its vast defenses. Especially since just making a pass along one side of the outer wall could take at least an hour to an hour and a half – the place is that big.

The entire time I made my way around I could feel the constant companion of scrutinizing stares. Even with a place as big as Castle Virtus was, you couldn’t expect to just sneak up on it. There were always guards you could see as much as deadly defenders you might not. Like I said, the Wyatt’s had been securely seated on the throne pretty much since it had existed in Emberhelm. They hadn’t done so by taking chances or suffering sloppy security.

This gave me a double cause for lifted spirits when I caught sight of a familiar face awaiting me just outside Ward Way. Standing as straight and stoic as a statue was none other than Maeredith Starseer, her hands resting atop the end of her hammer’s handle in front of her. If I squinted enough to allow my imagination some room I could almost picture us still in Minstrel’s Market. But sadly our surroundings had changed, even if she hadn’t seemed to.

Maeredith waited wordlessly until I closed the distance between us to stand a pace or two in front of her. There were other SpellHounds busy around us, but not a single one seemed interested in interrupt either of us. The assigned Interdictors acting as guards on either side of the gate itself didn’t even blink at my presence. Which truly was a sight worth savoring since there was at least two outside the gate, matched by a pair on the other side as well as a couple in between. And not a single one of them so much as looked my way or acknowledged my existence.

There was no way that the untold number of men monitoring me heading this way hadn’t alerted someone. These guys were too good to just not be paying attention when anyone approached within a short dashed distance of slipping inside. Besides that, Maeredith had been standing out front in what I had to assume was meant to be for the sole purpose of meeting me.

Glitch wasn’t the only one who has more than his share of curiosity to deal with. My eyebrow rose sharply and my smile shifted to a half grin as I let the clues start to sink in. Maeredith gave me a long hard look that seemed to confirm that I had indeed picked up on something and nodded curtly. She didn’t have to say a single word, nor did I think she could allow herself to out here among so many extra ears.

“Follow me, if you please,” Maeredith instructed formally. As I automatically fell in to drift along behind her she flicked her hammer up in a swift motion and pivoted around. She led me directly through the gate and down a dizzying number of paths and walkways systematically. We walked in silence and the further we went it seemed the fewer faces we encountered. Of those that we had, none questioned me; nobody so much as uttered a single sound at either of us.

It was bizarre, and I wasn’t above admitting that it was just a little unsettling if I was being honest. We had entered a long corridor that felt like it sloped down below the ground level above. The stone around me was washed in white with shades of blue and grey woven through it. There was only scarce light splashed about from broadly spaced lanterns along the walls around us. Which made the whole atmosphere all the more awkward – especially when it occurred to me that these lanterns weren’t giving off any traces of magic.

Where in all of Emberhelm was I being led? An official audience was generally held in one of the greater halls or some other place of power to the public eye. While I couldn’t claim to have seen every square inch of the castle, I had seen a respectable portion of it. Enough to know that I was in unfamiliar territory and likely reroute to anything other than a greater hall.

Maeredith’s voice startled me when she finally spoke. She kept her tone hushed and subdued but I could still make them out thanks to my close proximity behind her. “The girl has been confined to a healers care for the duration of her recovery. They can’t guarantee that she will ever completely return to the way she was but at least she is being treated to help her deal with it. I thought you should at least know that she received a compassionate sentence.”

I welcomed those words and allowed myself a moment to close my eyes and take a breath before I had to open them again to ensure I was still keeping pace with Maeredith. They truly were a comfort, one that I would like nothing more than to share with Baylen as soon as time allowed. It was also the kind of news that I could make use of to help put me in the good graces of anyone close to Lillian. As callous as it may seem, I had to keep in mind that if she had kept from alerting anyone about her changes in behavior there was also the chance that loved ones might not welcome any word of her bizarre behavior. The least I could do was soften the blow with mercy that she was being helped instead of thrown in some hole – or worse.

“Thanks Mae, I do owe you a massive one,” I said sincerely. “Any chance you can spare my endless stream of speculations as to where you’re taking me and what this is all about? Wynna wasn’t exactly forthcoming when she delivered the demand for me to appear, nor was she altogether straight forward. Care to illuminate our strange surroundings, or am I to continue to be kept in dark awhile longer?”

Maeredith’s speed didn’t shift in the slightest in response to my words. The whole time either of us had spoken she had just kept moving further on down the passageway. I did keep my ears trained forward on her, just in case. This turned out to be fortunate; as we rounded a series of sharply curved turns that kept angling us ever so gradually downward she decided to answer me.

Thankfully I was better prepared this time and didn’t jump. Not being able to see someone’s mouth beginning to move can have that effect on you when you’re following them down an empty stretch of stone and shadow that you’ve never sat foot in before. Much less if it’s a place you didn’t know existed and leading you to some similarly unknown destination. I may have twitched ever so slightly though as my heart skipped a short beat however.

“We can’t risk this being widely known, not even among the ranks of the SpellHounds,” she explained with the full weight of a Justicar’s conviction. It made me immediately reevaluate me previous fears and decide they needed to be raised up a notch or three. “You’re meeting with Aethen Wyatt under the guise of a petty matter beneath the concern or prevue of a SpellHound. However, as part of the plan there has been a general mandate to ignore your presence while you are here and assurances have been made that you are being kept isolated from any sensitive areas.”

“So everyone pretends I wasn’t here while they wait to laugh behind my back like I am the butt of some kind of joke then,” I tried to sum things up in a way that sounded like a better description. There was no way to look at it that didn’t leave me feeling a little less valued. Knowing that I was needed for something important enough to keep off the record might have made it easier to swallow but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Wounded pride aside,” Maeredith continued still keeping her voice down. “You aren’t on the castle grounds, this meeting never occurred and anything said will never be mentioned. Once you are escorted back beyond the gates, everyone is to be told that you were called upon to find an errant pet or something similar and that it found its way back on its own. Either way; you’re professional services weren’t needed and you had to be dismissed after you arrived.”

“Yeah, I get the message,” I admitted, trying my best to sound as apathetic as I could. “Let’s just get this over with then, the longer I am here the harder people are going to have believing your story. The faster I can be on my way the quicker everyone can start laughing about it.”

Without any attempt at addressing my last barbed remark, Maeredith guided me the rest of the way through what I had begun to think of as tunnels. Our journey ended rather abruptly at an unassuming doorway that surrendered to a chamber. A solemn gesture from Maeredith encouraged me to enter before she turned to take a position behind me effectively blocking the passage that led us here.

A tiny tickling sensation worked its way through me as I stepped through the entrance and I had to remind myself that it must be my nerves. Yeah, just a perfectly understandable and expectable case of garden variety anxiety I nearly mumbled aloud. It couldn’t have anything to do with me walking into some covert conference complete with its requisite shadowy secret setting.

“Maybe we’ll be able to skip straight to the punch line,” I told the still air. But even as I breathed the thought into words I also tried to steel myself against the flicker of fear. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen? No sooner had I conjured the concept before I recalled my current trend of luck and desperately cast the notion away in hopes of avoiding tempting any more ill fortune.

“Let’s not make a game of this, Anchor-Heart,” I called aloud. And a hearty deep chuckle of amusement rang out to answer me.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 10.

With Garuff gone my head was still spinning with thoughts of malicious matters and missing money. I couldn’t keep myself from fearing what else the less than likable landlord might have been up to while I was away. This meant that a quick check of my belongings was in order.

My humble home isn’t much to look at, kind of like me I’d wager – but looks aren’t everything. It is a curious little caravan that has seen better days but still manages to keep holding itself together. Without its wheels the rectangular base rests on the dirt ground removing the requirement for a step up to go in. Rising up from the sides its canvas covered rounded roof is supported by ribbed struts.

I made a mental note as a reached for my door to make more efforts to take some time out to really repair things. My eyes caught several potential candidates for some tender loving care. There was looses exterior pieces of siding that threatened to come loose along with the growing gouges in the canvas. And now my door had been roughed up and marred with holes to hold a chain. All gifts I could be grateful to Garuff for, no doubt.

The second I opened my door I found myself regretting it. Like I said, I don’t have much nor is my diminutive dwelling able to accommodate a horde. But even so it is my stuff and my home – neither are things I had ever really had since I was a child. A wiser man than I could probably say it better but the simple truth is it is never a good idea to mess with a man’s home or what he holds dear. It just isn’t.

On the right my cot took up a good portion of the floor space surrounded beneath, above and on both sides by a series of cabinets, shelves and other containers. The cot had been tossed and every drawer, door or anything that could be was flung open and pilfered through. Even my small collection of ledgers, journals and what few books I owned were carelessly strewn about. Who manhandles works of literature? I pushed the query aside, already sure of the answer.

The left of my intimate interior had held space for a small stove to cook and heat with when I needed. Along with it was a serviceable basin with a container for water and various implements for cooking. In the corner I had kept a couple of comfy chairs across from a tub that doubled in use for both bathing and washing things in.

Luckily I hadn’t been in the habit of leaving my tub with anything wet in it. And who would? When you live in a confined space like man it wouldn’t be smart to just leave a big open topped container just ready to spill over and turn your home into a swamp. I’d played it smart when I first started to set it up and installed a little valve and hose to drain the thing off when not being used. I suppose I do have my clever moments, go figure.

The tub had been flipped onto its side, both my chairs were busted up fairly good but after a few minutes I managed to piece them back together at least in a sort-of working fashion. They wouldn’t be holding up to any heavy-duty use anytime soon but I figured I could make do until I could more thoroughly repair them. I’ve never been big on jumping into thoughts of replacing something – never been able to afford that line of thinking.

Even my clothes and other sundry stuff had been unable to avoid intrusive inspection. They were everywhere, mixed up into all manner of piles and some things were even dangling off of cabinets or other objects. I wanted to ask what reason there could be for someone to so savage my simple sanctuary. But even that I could guess; it wasn’t to seek out anything of value. It was because nothing here held much worth to anyone other than me. No, it was yet another carefully contemplated and executed effort to express to me that whenever I didn’t pay Garuff; I would still pay in other ways.

I wasn’t sure if it was from my long night or from the recent closer than I cared for contact with Garuff but I felt dirty. Between my head and the shape of my surroundings I grabbed the first thing I reached for and started putting some water into my basin. It may have been an old shirt or even some undergarment, I didn’t care, I just plunged it into the waiting water and started wiping my face and arms down.

The cool water tried its best to make my mind admit it was something that it should feel but to little affect. Already I was trying to establish my next steps, and even though I thought taking care of my rent would remove a distraction it only left me with a lingering other one. And while I didn’t have the time to take towards the task I could at least make some attempt to address it.

Hunting around through what had become a mix of my things I hooked my hand on the first clean-looking clothes I came across and put them on. Falling into the automatic routine or practiced ritual I started securing my sword and dagger, making sure to tightly lace up my armor as well. Dark humor gripped me as I finished putting on my bracers, pieces of prepared leather reinforced with steel that wrapped around my wrists and forearms. I wasn’t wearing the thick impressive plate that protected the likes of Corrin or others. And to some who looked on my leather exterior studded with steel they might look on that as a factor that made me less dangerous. While instead I had always found that it had often made me quite the opposite.

I let that thought warm me, putting a wicked grin on my face as I collected my money and my jacket before going back out the door. Once my feet struck the stone dust beneath them I trained my senses on tracking down a singularly familiar trail. There was one acquaintance I had made while living in Gutterside, someone I had even ran across on occasion before I was released from royal service. We weren’t fond friends or anything, but I knew him to be trustworthy.

Glitch was a gremlin, a kind of creature related to imps and cursed with an overwhelming curiosity for all manner of magically crafted creations. He and his kin are happiest tearing something apart to fiddle with. There was a time when they were a real problem, always destroying anything with a trace of magic to it. Even now they aren’t exactly looked on favorably by most – they are small fiendish looking folk after all. Add to that their innate natural magical talent for meddling with magical objects, a driven desire to dismantle things and it isn’t too hard to understand.

Most of the gremlins are happy to call home a portion of the deeper depths of Emberhelm where they are left alone. But Glitch, for whatever reason, had managed to find himself like so many others calling Gutterside home. I had never asked him and he had never offered an explanation. It wasn’t like we sat and talked the night away or anything. He’s fixed a few things for me, helped unravel unusual objects origin and some other jobs. And all the while he has always been honest, fair and dependable. It’s rare enough to find such dealings with most folks, but I figure Glitch must have to work extra hard at it to prove himself.

His trail wasn’t too hard to find, it was a curious mixture of mingled magic braided around a base black-grey core. It was stretched about all over Gutterside, but as I carefully observed it was at its strongest leading back to where he lived. Which wasn’t much; Glitch lived in what you could at best describe as a hovel of salvaged scrap. I whispered my appreciation to the stars above that I was spared the time it might have taken to stalk him down and wandered towards his home.

Without so much as a glance at me, a hand was raised in greeting and long pointed ears pricked up at my approach. Glitch’s eyes were focused firmly on an odd orb of worked silver and sapphire that floated before him with a hushed hum. His other hand carefully felt around it to try and discover its design, all the while muttering to his self.

For a second I watched in appreciation as he probed his project, reminding myself that Glitch couldn’t see the energies that I could. That didn’t halt him from being able to blindly feel his way around to sense the spells that shaped it. Even being able to see how arcane energy had been altered to power it and give it life, I had to confess I was fairly ignorant in the intricate methods that were used to invent such things. Glitch on the other hand, just had some kind of impressive instinct about them instead.

Sitting down made Glitch seem even smaller I thought to myself while I waited. Standing wasn’t much more impressive, but at least when he was upright he could meet me just above my belt. While he was working from a makeshift mat on the ground it only made his size even more pronounced. The ball before him cast a glow that when mingled with the morning sun also highlighted his charcoal skin.

After a few more gestures from his deft hands I detected a subtle shift in the way the small sphere was moving. Gradually it softly lowered itself to the ground and fell asleep, its magic now fading away into a faint whisper. As it did, Glitch smiled humbly to himself and nodded politely towards me.

“Heard greedy guy and his goons have favored you for their fun lately,” Glitch told me, wrapping up his trinket in an oiled cloth to put it away. “Shame says me, that he cannot be happy without hurting. If he keeps it up, I think he should deserve a different skin; something similar to my own would be fitting. What thinks you?”

I had to laugh at that, it made for a funny mental image. And it would be welcomingly fitting as punishment for Garuff – making him look like something more appropriate to his nature. The only downside is that it would be an insult to all gremlins in my opinion. Still, it would be worth it to watch people react to him when he showed up trying to act all civilized.

“We’d all enjoy that entertaining experience I bet,” I agreed, amusement all over my face. After a good laugh he turned his twinkling teal gaze towards me and I could almost feel the curiosity clawing away inside him. Glitch might be lacking in height but his intellect was impressive enough to require respect when dealing with him. And I generally stuck to a policy of being genuine and honest with anything I handled with Glitch. It did seem only fair since he typically did likewise.

“What brings you here today,” Glitch asked. Somehow he even was able to make the question sound more like a pleasant greeting for customers than a desire to uncover anything. Although with Glitch it was likely to be a bit of both. “Need a fix, something fiddled or figured?”

Typically people came to Glitch to have a possession patched, explained or outright taken apart for whatever reason. Today I didn’t need any of those things. So I just decided to skip straight to the point and held up a Steel Shield in my hand to catch both the light and his attention. And just as anticipated it worked well enough.

“Glitch, what I need from you today is a little outside your usual work,” I tried to explain. “There is some important work of my own that I have to be seeing to, and I can’t keep getting distracted by the notion that Garuff might be harming my home. Could you keep an eye on it for me and just make sure it isn’t bothered?”

An eager eyebrow raised itself up at the idea but the world had taught Glitch the value of being wary as well. “You pay me only to just watch wagon,” he called me to clarify. I nodded in agreement and placed the coin into his hand, still smiling.

“All you have to do is keep an eye on it. If anyone bothers it you can get word to me and I’ll deal with it. Is that fair enough?”

With a great grin my gremlin associated gave the coin to his pocket and held his head a little higher. “The deal is good and accepted,” he agreed. “Glitch will keep your worries as his own while away.” And even without him giving me his own form of assurance I was quite certain my concerns were in good hands.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 9.

The walk to my neighborhood took me through various side streets and less traveled districts. Pavestones beneath my boots slowly gave way to loose gravel that crunched at my steps before finally surrendering to packed stone dust. I hold no illusions that I reside in one of the more glamorous or refined residential areas of Emberhelm. But, I can say that the rent is reasonable, people don’t bother me much and nobody looks down on anyone here.

It really is a wonderfully welcome experience, one that I don’t think I could place a price on. After living among the other SpellHounds in our assigned quarters for so long the freedom to come and go was sublime. I had the blessed ability to do as I pleased, absent any authority to reprimand or order me about. No one even took any offense if I was different than them or didn’t adhere to the same ideals as them.

The only exception was a local landowner by the name of Gerald Garuff. There were only two major pleasures that Garuff enjoyed equally and without abandon. One was collecting his due from anyone who leased or rented space from him. The other was making sure he also acquired a similar amount of misery along with the money.

Even before I came to call this region as my home I had heard the stories about Garuff. He had established himself as the primary owner of much of what had commonly become known as Gutterside. Emberhelm itself was a sprawling thing that had started off as a settlement shaped into the very stone of a mountain side. The early inhabitants had progressively managed to carve out their civilization along the outside of the rocky region and then down into its interior.

Gutterside was a remnant of those earlier times, the view was nice enough but in the rainy seasons water was channeled at its edge. It was relatively safe enough but most people didn’t look too kindly on its cruder conditions. This allowed those without discriminating tastes to find an affordable place to settle down.

Garuff had locked up virtually every bit of space he could in Gutterside, so everyone had little choice but to deal with him. Sure, he didn’t leverage his monopoly of the landscape to extract a premium in payment. However I had come to suspect that was only thanks to the fact that he was aware that nobody could afford to pay higher prices. By keeping his rates reasonable he could enjoy a predictably steady stream of income instead. That and the honest truth that he didn’t want to draw the attention of the authorities by ruthless practices.

Despite his reasonable rates, Garuff was anything but compassionate. You never wanted to fall behind in your payments and even on the days your rent wasn’t due you could count on a visit to remind you it was impending. Garuff was tireless in ensuring that you never forgot his involvement in your life, he was rarely unseen for long.

As I approached my humble home I was rapidly reminded of how capable Garuff was at communicating a message. I had established myself in an old covered cart used by craftsmen, something I had acquired for a song. It wasn’t grand by any stretch of the word but it was serviceable and it was all I needed.

The first time I had started to fall behind in my rent I had awoken the next day to discover exactly how forgiving Garuff could be. My wheels had all been removed and were nowhere to be found. It was a clever tactic I had to concede; without a means of mobility I couldn’t easily just up and move now. Over time though, my wheels were never returned – even when I had kept my rent paid up.

Currently I had managed to fall a few weeks behind, bringing my owed rent to something around three or four Steel Shields. To add to the tally my rent was due again in a few days which meant to balance the matter I would need to part with no less than half of the funds I had left. Spending so much of what little I had left wasn’t exactly a warm feeling. But earning even a small reprieve from Garuff would be a reward in itself.

Waiting for me when I reached for the door was another unspoken statement – heavy chain had been latched to secure it from opening. A few fresh tears were also visible along the canvas covering that served as my roof as well. It didn’t take a scholar to figure out that Garuff was politely trying to emphasize his dwindling patience. This meant that he wouldn’t be far; likely he would be nearby looking to ambush me as soon as I showed up. That way he could enjoy my sweating shocked reaction along with emptying my pockets of anything he could in the name of my debt.

So when I hear the footfalls of heavy soled boots behind me stomping to a halt, I was anything but surprised. A mixture of building fury at being locked out of my home was rising up alongside an appreciable humor at being caught with my pants down so to speak. I couldn’t say it wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done if someone had owed me a bit of money. But then again if Garuff had been a bit more civil in his transactions he might have been able to expect a measure of reliability.

“A bit of bad humor running into you like this, eh Gerald,” I asked with a chuckle to whoever was behind me. He didn’t wait for me to turn around before deciding to seize upon the moment. Ever quick to leap straight into matters of money, that is Garuff. Well, when it was coin he thought was owed to him anyways.

“Always a pleasure Master Vaen,” Garuff cordially commented. His voice carried with it his usual deep gravelly tone, one without the hint of expected humor or pleasantry. Making only slow careful movements I maneuvered myself around to face him, best to keep my eyes on him I generally preferred. You could only trust men like him to be predictable with regard to their unwavering relentless pursuit of profit. Other than that I didn’t hold any faith in any fairness from him, especially if your back was turned. My home being shackled shut and minus its mobility was proof enough of that.

Garuff was a short stocky man whose dwarven heritage was as plainly evident as if he was wearing a sign to proclaim it. He stood about even with my chest by my reckoning but I had never let my own height influence my measure of the man. A formidable frame marked him as anything but a pushover in a fight. In truth, I knew a rather renowned street fighter who fell far too behind in his bills to Garuff and when confronted about catching up decided it best to attempt to resort to his fists. Now his weekly debt continues to grow while he recovers at a healing house under a tab tied to Garuff. He’ll never see his way clear by my estimate.

In the mid morning sun Garuff’s slate grey suit almost shined against the brilliant blue shirt beneath. His once deep brown hair had already paled greatly; turning towards white with age was neatly trimmed into a short manageable style. Even his beard was all sharp angles and crisply cut as opposed to being the longer braided tradition among so many of the dwarf houses or clans. He carried no visible arms, nor did he wear any armor to protect him. And why would he, here in Gutterside what did he have to fear? My instincts still warned me not to assume Garuff didn’t keep some manner of weapons hidden on him as a precaution.

“You have managed to remain in the red in regards to your rent, Master Vaen,” Garuff proceeded to point out. “It would be wise to remedy the matter before more drastic actions need to be taken to deal with the debt.” He let the threat linger between us like a silent specter, certain that nothing more need to be implied. In that regard, Garuff was quite correct.

“I do confess, I was in truth on my way engaged in the task of locating you,” I explained. Doubt and disbelief stared back at me while I spoke. “Perhaps it does look a little to the contrary, seeing me first arrive at my home instead. But, honestly, I was just on the errand of finding you to balance my bill. Aimed to pay up what I owed and provide you with my upcoming rent due at the end of the week.”

“It isn’t that I don’t have faith in your financial fortitude,” the bully baron began. “But in my position I have little use for petty promises of payment. Hard coin in hand is all the assurance I can accept. So until I see the shine of your steel I think I will keep my caution instead of confidence.”

Garuff’s skepticism left a bad taste in my mouth as I reached for my coin pouch. I knew a big part of what he was doing was just trying to push me into paying him by saying such thing. And I wanted to do exactly that – just to get some smug satisfaction. Yet, knowing that I was about to give him exactly what he wanted didn’t make me feel any better about it.

Reaching into the bag I counted out five coins with my fingertips and slipped them free to rest in my palm. At the very least I could savor some small measure of the moment; so I closed my hand around the collection of coins and hid them from view. If he was so dubious, then let him set there and sweat for a few seconds over if he is really about to get paid.

“If my memory serves me,” I attempted to feign a forgetful nature. “My current debt sets at four Steel Shields behind for the last few weeks and I will owe you another at the end of the week…” While I spoke his face remained as expressionless as solid stone. There wasn’t even a smile of self satisfaction etched onto him like he wore often.

I stepped forward with my hand extended to offer him my owed amount but had to pause in hesitation. Just as I reached towards Garuff, his face exploded in an expression of colossal conceit. He was being so brightly I could hear alarm bells ringing in my head. Even though I tried to shrug it off and tell myself it was an affect of the sun still stirring my headache up.

“Actually,” Garuff said while in the throw of a deep throated chuckle. “By my own calculations you owe me a sum of some six Steel Shields total. You have been in the negative long enough that I have to add a fee for running you a line of credit. Strictly business you understand nothing personal. Can’t expect me to simply set around and allow anyone to go without paying their bills for any length they want. Its bad for everyone, if I did that everything might fall apart.”

“Yeah, you’re a real gleaming gem of generosity,” I snarled strongly. He knew before I had even fished out all five coins that he held me in his hand. My debt had been growing gradually, and even though he could expect me to be forced to pay up eventually (my belongings weren’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon since they weren’t mobile anymore) he also held the keys to me even being able to access my possessions. Garuff had me leveraged with my own situation to use against me, and it stung.

Disgusted by my own fault for putting myself into the position I had to swallow my pride and surrender to logic. The longer I stayed in Garuff’s debt the worse everything would be. My only real option right now would be to pay him what he wanted and move past the hurdle he represented. Then I could get out from under the burden, if only briefly to handle everything else that demanded my attention. But that didn’t mean that I would let this stand. Oh no, one day I would see myself clear of this scheming snake and his advancing attempts to pocket everything from your purse.

The five Steel Shields fell to the dirt with a chorus of thuds and then I tossed down another to add its own clink. Garuff didn’t take his overly joyous eyes off me to even regard them, instead still bent on laughing his belly into a bouncing rhythm. This only made me all the angrier.

“My debt is satisfied, Gerald Garuff,” I seethed with ill-restrained temper present in my tone. “Now remove yourself and your barriers from my property, immediately.” Garuff only made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if bidding a child to run along and play. But as he did so I could make out the sound of a metal chain being moved along a wooden surface.

Spinning around I found a pair of thick armed thugs collecting the length of chain and a similar pair stepping forward to warn me against doing anything rash. Turning my attention away from Garuff himself I had only just then started to realize that there was no less than half a dozen grim goons awaiting all around to engage me if I had made any move other than payment. Like I said, Garuff wasn’t stupid – just a jerk.

“You aren’t always going to hold a debt against me you know,” I advised the cruel coin collector. “Some day I’ll be clear of you and you should take heed that you won’t always have your hired hands around to help you.” Let him take my words any way he wanted, he could consider them a threat for all I cared. But they weren’t meant for his ears alone, instead they were a promise I was making to myself.

And I always keep my promises.

“Entertaining as always,” Garuff giggled while someone else scooped up my money for him. “Be seeing you again next week and the weeks thereafter as well.” As he walked away presumably to go abuse another resident of Gutterside I watched him go. There wasn’t a royal leash to restrict me anymore, and I wouldn’t ever submit to anyone else trying to keep me controlled either. We’d have our day to deal with things like debt and I told myself to mark my own words; Garuff wouldn’t be the one giggling about it.

Right now, I had other promises to keep. And it was best that I got myself to keeping them.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 8.

Waiting outside along with the risen rays of sunlight was the honey haired SpellHound; Wynna Snowsong. In my current mood I wasn’t sure which of the two the more unpleasant sight was. On the one hand, I had an unsettling headache currently being agitated by one of them. And on the other I had too much on my already strained thoughts to deal with any more distractions. Still couldn’t decide which one was promising to be more promising in the impending pain department.

“Morning Wynna,” I decided to try to be at least some manner of polite and greeted her. She was tall for a woman by most estimates, meeting me about at my brow. Wynna was all lean muscle too; she had always had a runner’s build even in her youth and as she aged her athletic nature had only given way to the curves of a feminine physique begrudgingly. Her hair was cut in a loose straight fashion that hung even with the base of her neck and parted along the middle to frame her face in a curtain of brown warmth.

In the morning sun it only managed to amplify her smile and set her emerald eyes shining. She was still wearing a winter white cloak trimmed in blue to match her customary light leather armor and official uniform. Wynna had always been a fan of preserving speed and mobility over protection when it came to performing her duties. It was something I used to point out to her when we argued over who had been faster in the chase of a captured criminal. Always did manage to ruffle her feathers if I implied that she needed every edge she could get to keep up. Even if the truth was that she was almost as genuinely fast as me regardless.

“Well don’t you look rested and ready for the day,” she scolded, her mouth wrinkling up in disapproval. I was in no mood for playful arguments let alone a lecture so I shot a hand up to dismiss the matter before it went any further. As a testament to our long history she graciously caught my meaning and gestured her head to one side in a show of surrender.

“Been a rough night,” I offered as an explanation. Wynna seemed to welcome my words as all the answer necessary. That was at least one measure of relief I could welcome and relaxed a little with a sigh. “Decidedly bizarre and puzzling affairs to be sure, please do endeavor to keep your voice down.”

In reply I received a broad wolfish grin from Wynna that was immediately followed up by a deep throated chuckle at my own expense I was quite certain. The sound of her hearty humor swept through my skull like the thunderous waves of summer storm. And I was promptly resenting her presence even more.

Wynna hadn’t changed much then, because she had always relished any opportunity to take pleasure at my pain. She had to be really enjoying my current condition then. Which made me doubly determined to provide her with as little entertainment as possible. So I sucked in a deep breath and tried to stand up as straight as I could. It would be best to keep myself from being an easy target by looking anywhere near as bad as I felt.

“Spare us both the song and dance; we both know you didn’t come just to enjoy the show,” I challenged, figuring it was best to go on the offensive. “So, let’s review: I run into some unexpected issues while on a case and bump into you already last night. Now, come morning I walk out to try and sniff up some idea about what I have gotten myself into only to find you waiting for me. We can save us both a fair measure of our valuable time and forgo coincidence as an explanation.”

“That we can,” Wynna confirmed, her face returning to a more stern and serious look of someone on official errands. At least she wasn’t disputing the fact that she was not here by accident. But she also hadn’t volunteered an explanation either. Knowing Wynna she could be trying to make me sweat before taking me in for questioning just as easily as she was having a good time making me wonder.

When Wynna left me last night she had been in the company of Stane Stormaxe, Corrin Cindercleave and one badly broken legged Butcher. I couldn’t even begin to believe they had any knowledge of my visit to Maeredith Starseer or Lillian’s situation. That had all transpired after the fact and not only could I count on Lillian’s fragmented mind to base my assumption – I could trust Maeredith’s word as well.

No, by my own reckoning and everything my gut was telling me this could only be about one of two things. Either they had found something curious when they examined the Butcher or they hadn’t bothered and came calling on me to provide an easy repository for any blame. I had to face it, as the only living SpellHound permitted to leave the service that I knew of I was in a prime position to hang a noose around. Everybody already had plenty of suspicions enough about me and this would be all they needed to seal their opinion of me.

Seizing on that train of thought I refused to retreat from my initial attack. “What story are you saddling me with then,” I snapped into a violent verbal volley. “Corrin is probably beside himself with glee, unable to wait to celebrate. Is he even bothering with an explanation to justify himself, or did he simply send you straight away to put me in shackles?”

To Wynna’s credit, she had actually improved her skill at maintaining a mask to keep her reactions from her face. It wasn’t perfect, by any means; I noticed her flinch just a bit for a second and it took a visible effort for her to keep her expression empty. But there was a time when Wynna couldn’t have even told a white lie with a straight face. Some people just aren’t terribly talented at such things, its part of their nature.

I fanned at the flame in my belly, if for no other reason than to displace the other feelings lodged there. “Or is it you, my old friend, who is enjoying this bit of sport. Am I to entertain you by this encounter,” I spat with more spite than I had aimed to.” But even so overshot my barb managed to strike true and I saw Wynna stumble once more. Either it was working well enough, or perhaps I had struck a nerve somehow. My mood and my aching head both cared little which it was.

“Hold your tongue,” she announced with a full measure of authority. Her voice carried with it a ring of restraint that washed over me and I had to shake it off with a conscious effort. Once a SpellHound has been sworn into the oath of duty their commands can carry with it a subtle power. In a way, it is a kind of compulsory enchantment that allows them to enforce others to respect their granted influence. But it is also the kind of thing SpellHounds are taught to defend against. It wouldn’t do to have the official arm of the kingdom administering law and order if they could be easily swayed by the will of others.

A static tingle still clung to my skin as the majority of Wynna’s summoned majesty dissipated away. It wouldn’t prevent me from continuing to speak against her, let alone from acting in any way hostile towards her. What it had done though was provide her with a temporary pause to my rage building ranting. Which, I had to admit was a clever tactic considering the circumstances.

“Now, if I might be offered the polite opportunity to speak my piece,” Wynna offered unapologetically. She didn’t wait for me to regain my verbal footing and compose myself. The witty woman was making use of my own similar strategy; it was just like old times. I had to smile despite myself at that.

“I have come seeking you out, former SpellHound Vaen, because your talents are needed – you are called to be of service again.” The words reached my ears but somehow my head hadn’t heard them. Instead, in their place was a swirling whirlwind of nonsense that refused to be understood. What was she saying, I tried to ask myself but my eyes cautioned me that her mouth was still moving.

“You are to return with me for a formal audience and your compliance isn’t optional. I am here to escort you back civilly or drag you back using any means necessary. So, which is it to be? Can you behave yourself or must I muzzle you like some savage?”

“Could always give it a try,” I challenged with my hand already at the hilt of my sword. “But we both know how messy that could become, and how well I react to threats. That is why you decided to use that approach.” My eyes narrowed at her, she was trying to manipulate me.

“We are both aware that I am no longer bound by any act of summons. I have done my duty and been released from service. The throne holds no command over me any more, nor do I have any desire to return to its leash. Make any threats you want Wynna, I will not willingly walk back into those ranks. Call as many others as you think you need but be prepared to be responsible for each one. I won’t be cheap to capture.”

A half smile started to show on Wynna’s face and I had to curse myself at seeing it. She was still yanking my chain, playing around with me. Here I had a task of some importance to be getting on with and despite claiming to be likewise engaged she was toying with me. This was a waste of time and the more of it I let slip by the more likely it might cost other innocent people their lives.

“I haven’t the time for these games,” I roared, riding the warming wave within me. “There is actual work for me to be seeing to, I have an obligation to my client to deal with a problem and that is precisely what I intend to do. Stand aside SpellHound Snowsong lest I mistake your intentions as an attempt to prevent me from plying my profession.”

Hesitating for a long handful of breaths, Wynna stood in my way with a look of confusion mixed with curiosity. But as I took a few steps forward she moved to the side to allow me to pass. When I wasn’t even three paces past her I heard her voice call out once more and I had to push my irritation back down long enough to listen.

“They haven’t told me everything,” Wynna revealed reluctantly to my back. “But they did want you brought in to talk to. The whispered word is that they might want to hire you for some unknown reason.” Pausing to take a long breath Wynna sighed before she continued. I could almost hear the pretext fall away from her as she did.

“Please,” she politely pleaded. My conscience counseled me that it might be worth looking into if she might be telling me the truth. But my ego still was rather unhappy at being threatened first and confided in only as an act of desperation. Given time enough my mood might improve but I have long suffered with the strain of my own morality.

I tried to weigh my warring feelings between the two and found myself sighing as well. Pinching just between my eyes I tried to find anything to placate the little voice inside but it was quite insistent. In short order it had managed to stifle my stubborn hold on my pride that wanted nothing to do with being royally requested.

Groaning, I begrudgingly conceded to my conscience. It would wear me down sooner or later I had learned, so it was far better to forgo the torment and surrender. Saves time and in my current condition I could do without any additional agony. Even so, I had no desire to provide Wynna with the satisfaction of showing up with the claim that she alone had brought me in. There was only so much I could stomach after all.

“Tell them that if I find myself in a charitable mood that I will try to pay them a visit later today,” I mentioned. “Currently I am otherwise occupied with pressing business and if they seek some of my time they will have to be patient. However, I can make no promises.”

Not wanting to waste any more time, or allow Wynna any implication that I would doubtless show up to at least investigate what reason I had been summoned I once more set my feet into motion. She made no action to follow me, and for that I was grateful. If I was being requested by royal command, and especially if it was connected to what I was already involved in it wouldn’t do me any favors to ignore it let alone put it off.

Nothing could ever just be easy could it, there had to always be complications thanks to my luck. I suppose if fortune was a lady she had never been granted the virtue of mercy. A fact I could painfully attest to. Thinking it over I realized that I simply had to prioritize my options. This meant seeing to the things that could manage to be the biggest problems first.

An appearance for an audience could wait awhile; the more uncertainty they had of me showing up the more Wynna could worry. Well, that, and the better the odds were that they might deal with me in earnest if they were also seriously interested in dealing with a dangerous problem.

And as much as I hated to admit it, my investigation deeper into Lillian could stand to be postponed perhaps temporarily. It wasn’t something I would enjoy delaying, especially since the longer I did the more any clues might become even harder to find. But there was one thing I couldn’t avoid if I wanted some breathing room to deal with everything else.

My rent was due, technically over due if I were being honest. And if I didn’t do something to deal with it while I had the coin I would have the added pressure of it on my mind. Not only that, but I couldn’t afford the additional antagonism of people making my life miserable over owed money.

First thing first, I had to square my debt. Then I could find out what was so important about needing to try and bring me in. Once I had those two things off my back I could then get myself focused back on figuring the rest of this mess out. Of the three I didn’t welcome having to deal with the first. But at the least, I could try to get it over with I tried to tell myself. It didn’t help my motivation much.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 7.

Amber arrows ambushed me awake and speared me with a spasm of sadistic sharp stabbing pain. The world around me was at once a quiet calm blur of bland background, and yet my insides were a deep resonating drum of pounding pandemonium. And while I had tasted the captured and glorious nature of light itself now a thick ball of dirt seemed to be holding my mouth hostage.

The sore strain of an aching back was one of the first feelings my body managed to process and be able to make any sense of. With it came the revelation that I was seated in the remains of some ruined collection of wood that may or may not have been a chair at some point. Everything was coming to me in a slow crawl, and it took forever it felt like before I could even make myself move to stand up.

Getting my feet beneath me was the next huge hurtle, one that proved to predict its own inherent impending dangers. It spurred my head into a dizzying spiral and made me question the natural orders newfound allegiance against me and my ability to balance. After only allowing the floor to assume a fleeting victory over me graciously for three times, I discovered it satisfactorily appeased.

Howlers Hall was in a rough state as my vision fought to take everything in and find anything it could relay to my mind that might provide an anchor. Only one or two other limp forms looked to be lying around as well and providing some comfort was the absence of blood stains or abundance of broken furniture.

What had happened here last night? I tried to summon up some image, any recollection of the events after I had returned but only a harsh headache heralded the missing moments. Now, in hindsight, it was perhaps not the best choice to have had a drink after already having so much on my mind. Much less… How many drinks had I even had? By the way my body was expressing its ire towards me I had to assume it was markedly more than remotely reasonable.

Attempting to impose some structure or stability I reverted to an old reflex, a byproduct of the relentless training I had received in my youth. Beneath my left hand was the reassuring presence of my sword, still sheathed high and tight on my hip. My trusty dagger was still in its rightful place, I was fully dressed (thankfully) – not even the pouch containing my coin was absent.

I had just opened my eyes amidst the aftermath of spending an entire night in Howlers Hall. A sobering thought that sent a shockwave down my arm and ended in an immediate review of my financial resources. The feeling of being blasted by a sudden bucket of cold water washed over me, taking with it any attention towards my current condition.

Settled solemnly within the small sack were only ten pieces of shaped steel. I had ten Steel Shields left me, barely enough to square my debts and last me little more than a week. How could I have spent the other fifteen Shields, much less an entire Sigil in one night? I mean, I felt pretty terrible, but I doubt I could still be breathing let alone upright if I had allowed that much money to pass through my fingers in a single night.

While I stood in stunned silence, Baylen’s friendly face appeared from his store room with a new chair in hand. On impulse alone I felt the stirrings of guilt at the likelihood that I was the reason for necessitating a replacement. I did wake up in a broken collection of bits that you could argue had been a chair. But for the life of me, I had no notion to base on if I had caused its collapse or even shared in the blame of it becoming busted.

Baylen Hereward was half-humming some merry little melody as he went about his work. It was sadly a sentiment I couldn’t share, but then again of the two of us he looked to be in superior shape. My mood didn’t seem to be showing much sign of improving past dour I decided. Confronted by anything remotely resembling cheer would only try my temper and yet knowing that I allowed my mouth to open.

“Show me mercy Baylen, help me free form this fog,” I implored the horribly happy man. By this point I was confident any lapses in judgment were going to remain confined to the previous night. So I figured I might as well continue forward and allow them to fall where they may. Who knows, maybe I would be able to go ahead and get any remaining bad luck out of my system now.

“What happened here last night? The last thing I remember was getting paid and you offering me a drink. The next thing I know, I am waking up here feeling like I have been thoroughly thrashed by thugs. A fact I could almost argue as an explanation except for being left with at least some of my coin.”

Patient and calm, Baylen waited for me to finish my plea before attempting to address me with an answer. “Well,” he began with a casual chuckle. “You my friend were quite fond of your drinking last night. Figured you were eager to unwind and you weren’t making a scene so I figured there wasn’t any need to cut you off. Besides, it was a welcome change to have so many paying patrons enjoying each others company.”

“That speaks to my sore skull, but not my fallen funds,” I heard my thoughts tripping their way over my thick tongue. Baylen’s look was one of experience and understanding as he sympathetically smiled back at me. At least he hadn’t taken offense at my comment, but just to be safe it was probably for the best to avoid any further slips.

“Obviously, you spent it,” he told me without flinching. “You were somewhat spirited in that regard; buying rounds – even inviting in strangers off the street. My friend, you let it slip of your own need of your earned coin so I did my best to limit your spending as I could. But something else was outweighing your worries. Tell me now, no longer under the uncertainty of the night: what danger do you sense descending on us?”

You can say what you want about Baylen Hereward; the man is far sharper and shrewd than most give him credit for. Any ale-slinger could bend his ear your way when you’ve had enough to spill your guts. But Baylen was keen enough to pick up on all that you didn’t say. Not only that, I suppose I owed him some measure of gratitude for helping me to keep some of my money when I might have otherwise abandoned it.

“So I was engaged in attempting to keep people off the streets last night then,” I asked more to myself than Baylen. Humoring me he just nodded and offered forward a steaming mug. Accepting it I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the aroma as I reflected over the details.

“I needed to talk to you about Lillian, Baylen; you said you had known her for a lengthy stretch.” Without argument, the brewing businessman nodded in agreement and waited for me to continue. “Has she been acting any different recently? Notice any changes in her work or personality at all?”

“Lillian was a well mannered woman and a hard worker,” Baylen explained. “She wasn’t above being slightly amiss about arriving on time, but otherwise she didn’t give me any trouble. I hired her when she was little more than a slip of a girl as a kindness to her folks. But she proved in short enough order capable of earning her keep.”

Everything was still blurred and cloudy in my head but I bullied it aside as I tried to take note of what Baylen was saying. “In all that time has she ever shown any skill at spellcasting or a desire to start up a shop of her own?” I had to keep asking questions as I attempted to find any clues in her behavior that might help me.

“As a lass, Lillian had developed a minor hand at magic but she rarely dabbled in it,” he answered me. “There has never been any interest in her in being ambitious; she has always been content working here for me. In truth, we had always made the joke that as I became too old to run the place she would take over for me. Without a wife or wee ones of my own I have always looked on her and Abigail to entrust it to continue with.”

“So, she wasn’t suffering for funds or unhappy in her treatment at all,” I commented quietly. “If I had ever suspected it I would have acted,” Baylen interrupted me. Grief was gravely etched around his eyes as I could almost imagine he was re-thinking every interaction he had ever had with her. It was no surprise now why he had pressed me to try and influence her fate any way I could. The man felt horrible, he had cared and looked after Lillian. Now he was just as desperate for answers as I was.

“Tell me about this problem patron that she acted so agitated about,” I suggested. There had to be more to the story, she had made a show of stubbornly serving the man only to be acting in collaboration with him. “Has he been coming around for long? She ever said anything about why he bothered her or voiced any manner of complaints?”

Baylen’s brow furrowed as it flexed to summon up anything stored behind his eyes. “The fellow first started appearing shortly before we started having trouble keeping patrons in here with open pockets,” he mentioned. “If memory serves he just waltzed in one evening and started ordering an occasional drink. He always seemed to have taken a fancy to Lillian, and it was an aspect she didn’t seem to stomach. I never saw him strike her or slight her openly because I wouldn’t have stood for it. But I also never noticed him manifest any form of manners like my other customers generally kept to.”

“She never spoke about the guy to you?” I had to ask him a little more directly, not just to direct his thoughts but to help me guide my own. With each increasing degree of illumination the sun seemed so happy to share with us my head reared with added demand for attention. “Lillian didn’t seem to have much issue holding back her mouth when he appeared last time.”

“Aye,” Baylen assented easily before pausing only for half a breath before continuing. “That was Lillian right enough, never one for keeping her mind mysterious if something didn’t set well with her. The lass did remark that the man had a peculiar presence about him that she didn’t care for much. Said he was too dirty for her and always seemed to feel like he was smothering her. I think she believed he was either following her around outside of work or watching for her to start her shift.”

“Anything ever happen before last night,” trying to address every angle of this I could I kept trying to call up any and all questions I could think of. But before Baylen could answer me I missed stopping another stray thought before it could get passed my mouth. “You mentioned him being too dirty to her, but beneath his ragged coat the man was actually rather well dressed. Did Lillian say anything further about what she meant – did she explain what she thought was so unclean about him?”

For a long stretch of silence the stalwart shopkeeper stood without even a smile as he frowned in focus. My pulse threatened to step its pace up a notch and I had to slow it with a few long slow breaths. Instinct was still trying to tell me something, there was some detail here that I just hadn’t got wind of yet. The only thing that would help me find a trail to track would be information, and for that I had to keep concentrated on asking the right questions.

“I overheard her confiding in Abigail one evening late, it was early on in our dry spell,” Baylen’s words tumbled out as if he was walking back through the memory of the moment itself. “They were talking about how slow things were and how certain regulars temperaments were adjusting, things like that. Lillian made a strange comment about how the newest face had taken an unwelcome interest in her and that he left her feeling sullied every time he came around. I believe she compared it to how she had felt once when she was just old enough to understand; she’d gotten lost and found herself passing through the Guilty Gutter.”

On reflex I couldn’t repress a reflexive shudder of sympathy. For any decent lady to have been introduced rather rudely to one of the more unseemly areas of Emberhelm was bad enough. But to imagine someone young and potentially ignorant to stumble into that street while lost was not a fond memory I could see her cherishing. I was a man and even I wouldn’t relish walking those corridors willingly. It just wasn’t the kind of place anyone went unless they sought some appetite they couldn’t appease otherwise.

And that one chance experience had left her with a feeling that was the only way she could express how being around the Butcher made her feel. Had she been somehow influenced by the affects of his magic or was some part of her trying to speak out against whatever workings they were engaged in? Knowing now how fragmented Lillian had been reduced to I couldn’t rule out the chance that part of her was acting along with the Butcher while others were blind to it. Maybe somewhere in the mix was something I could use.

“What else can you tell me about Lillian,” I implored while I tried to form a plan of what my next move should be. “Does she still have any family around, any children or anything? Any idea where she was staying or anyone close to her outside of work? I’d like to follow up and try to find anything I can to figure this whole mess out.”

A heavy weight hammered down on me that coincided with the full force of Baylen’s bearing as his posture shifted into a solid stance. His voice rang out crystal clear and resolute as he regarded me when he spoke. There was only a sound of strength in what I could describe as a steel spirit in his tone.

“I’ve answered your questions as well as I could,” he stated and I found myself incapable of arguing the point. “I will continue to tell you everything else that I can to be of assistance as well. But I think before we go another step forward that you owe me an answer as well. So tell me, right now; what is worrying you – what is this all about?”

I could feel my own shame reasserting itself at my ignorance and at the knowledge that all I could say with any certainty was that something sinister was at work. And whatever that strange scheme was I could only guess, with no concrete clues to prove anything. Despite shattering any measure of professional image I may have already established I told Baylen the truth anyway.

“Something has magically meddled with Lillian’s mind, whatever she was doing she may not be completely responsible for.” It felt awkward admitting everything but it also was a relief as well. “There is something in play, some greater plan at work and whoever is behind it is able to cover there tracks in ways I’ve never encountered before. I have faith Lillian will get some help she will need, but I have to figure this out before it spirals into something worse. Getting to the bottom of what has been done to her and why is key. Other innocent people could be in danger and if SpellHounds become officially involved it might only complicate everything.”

Grunting in agreement, Baylen placed an empty glass before me and poured a drink. Then he mirrored the movements and placed a duplicate one before himself as well. “In that case, let us drink to a happy hunt dear hound, and bid fate show us a kind smile,” he toasted with a raised glass. “You said it brother,” I quipped; we shared our drink and our worries before he set about telling me every manner of information he could. This time though, I wisely reminded myself to forgo any further beverages before setting off to sniff out some trouble.

Hound Hunting - Chapter 6.

For the second time tonight I found my thoughts tangled and my feet carrying me back towards Howlers Hall. Try as I might I couldn’t swallow the same lie that I had told Maeredith; I had become involved in whatever was happening. It didn’t matter what words I used to convince myself otherwise, I had caught wind of something and there would be no resting until I got to the bottom of it.

Besides, Baylen had asked me personally to do anything I could on Lillian’s behalf. It had been the right thing to do and to that end I had already given him my word. And that is one thing I can’t bear to break. Whatever was going on had turned Lillian and perhaps the Butcher both into some kind of tools. But to what end, I had to ask myself. What purpose could they have served?

There were still too many pieces in play; I had only unraveled a few loose threads of whatever pernicious plot was already in motion. My gut told me that anyone capable or wiling to so completely alter another wouldn’t stop short there. No, this was too complicated and for there to be no clear trail to follow there was no simple solution.

I didn’t even have a clue as to how much of Lillian was left to her. Could the only remaining bits of her be some strung together creation that was only capable of playing its part? Did she even fully realize the scope of what had happened or would she ever even be able to comprehend what her crimes cost her? The thought that she might be paying the price for someone else didn’t make me feel any better.

If some sinister sorcerer was at work towards a sadistic scheme I would never rest knowing that still more strangers might be the ones to suffer before this was over. My father had paid such a price for doing the right thing when a coward made an attempt on the life of a royal. Before him a hot headed young hex slinger took my mother from me. There was a debt this city owed me that it could never repay; it couldn’t afford increasing in its obligations towards any others.

So what if I would be taking on the extra trouble of a case without a paying client. I could always just bill the throne, right? They’re good for it. I didn’t even know if Lillian had any family herself, or children for that matter. But I knew one person who might, someone who had already assured me that he had known her for a long time. As for the Butcher I supposed there might be someone out there who care about him, I mean everyone has a mother. Or so, I’ve been told. But I had no way of locating them, nor did I even have any information regarding who he was or how they were connected.

The first scent to seek out would have to be anything more I could uncover about Lillian, and that aligned nicely enough with my current destination. Once I had been paid I could try and put myself on the trail by looking into her. Either way it could help my hunt along and keep a few folks I owed off my backs while I did so. The last thing I was going to need any additional assaults on my attention. And if a debt is owed and the issue is constantly brought before you it can do just that. It’s never good to avoid your obligations.

Something still didn’t smell right though; literally. While I walked back across town to navigate my way towards Howlers Hall I was bothered by it. An overwhelmingly out of place odor on the air that seemed to mingle with everything else, yet was barely detectable. It was the strangest scent I’ve ever encountered, some manner of sorcery that stained the air in every direction.

I’ve hunted down murderous mages before, even sniffed out saboteurs using spellblast seal way to stop a signed treaty. There was a case of cursed clothes a mischievous merchant had planned to peddle as a joke that I accidentally ambushed. But never had I found anything so faint and so pervasively, well – everywhere. It set my ears on edge; I ran threats down, but I always had a trail to follow to do so. All of Emberhelm was one giant trail now.

How do you hunt something when its scent is simply everywhere? I’ve heard of a trail going cold, even following the remnants of a spells magical mark could eventually fade into oblivion. There were tricks; I am sure there were even so many more than I was aware of that I could never comprehend. But something like this, this kind of thing could only set SpellHounds into a frenzy chasing their own tales. It would only succeed in wasting time.

Which is exactly what I was letting it do I realized with a start. I was distracting myself with this presented puzzle, and if I started allowing myself to pursue it I would only add a former SpellHound to the number of goose-seekers. No, I had to remind myself that my best plan was for my next action to be securing my funds and further information. Something told me that if everyone kept running at whatever was going on blindly that it would end badly.

And if not myself, who else would stop and start asking questions? That thought made me pause to review recent run-ins I’d had with my past peers. As much as I might not agree with some of them all the time, I couldn’t see some of them ignoring some of the signs of impending danger. Maeredith couldn’t ignore whatever she had seen I was certain. Stane was a dependable guy, and although he could be a little lacking in scholarly smarts he was by no means un-observant or capable. I had faith that any clues he caught eye on were already keeping him on his guard. Wynna would always be eager for some fresh fiend to chase in her endless attempt to prove her supremacy. Besides, despite her jesting jabs at my expense she’d not be above looking for any excuse to hunt me down, even just for laughs. And Corrin, no doubt would welcome any reason to put him to the task of eliminating any threat to appear. That man seemed to be crafted for the sole existence of extinguishing enemies of Emberhelm.

Doubt still drilled away inside me. All of them, every single one were constrained by an almost literal leash that lay at the foot of the throne. No matter how competent they may be, or how driven in their appointed assignments; at the end of the day they still were bound by sworn service. All it would take was one official order, one refused request and they could be defeated – derailed.

They were tied to the throne and the royals who ruled from it. Regardless of the wisdom at work all it would take is one foolish fancy or reckless reaction and any serving SpellHound could be sent sniffing after smoke. I didn’t even want to begin to picture all the city streets with spooked SpellHounds on the prowl for elusive enemies.

Its bad enough most folks find it uncomfortable in the company of anyone who can see aspects of nature all around them at work when they can’t. Add to that a potential witch hunt for some ghost that we may or may not be able to track and you’re asking for anarchy. Besides, not every SpellHound is patient in their performed service. Some are simply far too eager to follow their quarry to the hunts conclusion. No matter what the end result is.

While I’ve never been good at letting go of a scent once it attracted my attention, my conscience couldn’t permit me to do so in ignorance. Maybe I couldn’t keep from seeing this thing through but I had to ask the questions that would haunt me otherwise. Because once you reach the end of the trail and you find something standing there it is never a clear situation.

Without knowing the details, you can’t damn someone to their death – even if it is by another hand than your own. My blade’s edges may be blunted but if I used it to harry anything than I would be just as guilty as if I introduced them to their end myself. If you are going to put yourself against something then it is best to do so knowing what you face. Right now I was impotently ignorant to whatever was making a move, and that was doubly dangerous.

So lost to my own mess of a mind had I become that without warning I nearly collided quite completely into a firmly fortified pole bearing an Everlight lantern. Under its now swaying spell light I stumbled to reorient myself. The sounds of conversation, clinking glasses and a crackling fire reached me at once. With Howlers Hall once again before me, I shook my head to try and clear any of the confusion I could from it. Finding it mostly a failure, I decided to go on in anyway.

Things had already started to pick back up, a fact that I could only attribute to a quick-paced word of mouth about what had already transpired earlier in the evening. The place still was far from packed by any means but compared to the meager amount around before there had to be two or three times their number now. Baylen was busy back behind his broad topped bar, once more looking comfortable in his craft.

It didn’t take much effort to navigate my way over to find an empty space along the bar. And true to form, Baylen didn’t waste any time before giving me his customary grin of greeting. Then he turned his attention elsewhere and continued welcoming others whiling keeping their cups wet. The man seemed to make an effortless display of juggling all the work that it would take multiple other hands to handle in some establishments.

As politely as I could manage it, I tried to time a friendly gesture to call on Baylen when next his gaze passed my way. My hand was casually extended upward ever so slightly in anticipation of asking for a moment when something flew frighteningly fast towards it. It smacked into the bare skin of my palm with more weight than expected and left my hand tingling to the point of threatening numbness.

“Sharpened spears,” I muttered a curse under my breath and reached down to examine the mysterious missile. A plain pouch of thick cloth lay atop the table, the bulged bundle skidding to a stop after hitting my hand. There was an audible tinkle of coins bumping about when I retrieved it and Baylen was suddenly standing behind it.

“Your fee, plus a meager token of my appreciation – twenty five Steel Shields and a Silver Sigil,” the bearded barman beamed. Had he just said what I think he did? My standard rate should have only amounted to fifteen, maybe twenty Steel Shields at most. I wouldn’t by any rights be above accepting a generous increase of twenty five; that would be enough to keep me in the clear for the next few weeks easily.

But to add an extra Silver Sigil into the deal, that kind of money could keep me afloat for months. Had I really earned that manner of compensation? Perhaps old Baylen had indeed been suffering far more than I had ever truly anticipated. Most day to day transactions were made using the infamous minted metal money we all called Steel Shields – because they were made of steel and bore an emblem of a shield ironically enough.

Traditionally you could still pay for purchases or other business in worked goods instead. That is how the whole necessity of using metal as money began. Gold became scarce and was relegated as a royal resource too valued for trade. Silver was then the coin of higher cost currency, and with many commoners needing metal for various trades it simply developed. One person might pay you a dagger for cow; another might offer you a steel staff for a tract of land.

In short; there is value in the material and in the craft of shaping it. But let’s face it, not everyone wanted to carry about a series of various metal items or what not to do trade with. Hence the solution of the Steel Shield piece: you could pay a smith a number of coins for his work and he could literally turn a portion of them into a tool you needed while keeping the remainder. And the result could still be traded or valued just as highly – possibly more if he is quite skilled.

I could only stare at my sack of steel and silver, thoughts of fortune finally finding its way to smile upon me. Baylen punctuated the moment perfectly by playing a heady brew before me and his smile somehow managed to grow even warmer. “I believe I owe you a drink as well,” he said ever so friendly.

Delightfully I accepted with a merry bow and took a swig. It was like drinking in liquid sunlight from a summer’s day. Refreshing and clean, warming me all the way to the core. While I relished the relaxing sensation I couldn’t help but consider that I did have time to perhaps order another drink while I engaged in educating myself further. I had indeed earned it after all and there was some breathing room in my finances of late.

So I called for Baylen with a wave of my hand and set myself to the task.