The ball popped away, revealing a thin, grey set of armor. Eric picked it up, shocked at how soft and pliable the fabric was. It felt more like cloth than armor, which wouldn’t do him much good against more demons.
“Soft as it is, veilpanther hide is roughly as strong as toughened leather,” Mayor Branders informed him. “Not useful for anyone who prefers chainmail or stronger, but a fair sight better than just the tunic on your back. Besides, veilpanther armor still holds of a bit of the monster’s magic. It blends with the shadows perfectly and makes no more noise than a whisper when moving about. Perfect for someone who likes to get into places without being seen. Places like the tournament storage sheds, for example.”
Eric jerked his head up in surprise, but the mayor gave him a small wink of reassurance. It seemed he knew Eric was the one who’d broken into the site, and he wasn’t going to hold it against him. It was a small kindness, given what Eric’s unlawful entry had accomplished, but it was still one he was grateful for.
“Your kindness is greatly appreciated. I’ll try it on right now.”
As Eric was set upon by a single attendant, Mayor Branders looked at the central reason for his outpouring of generosity, the small gnome who had been sitting there patiently while the others received their equipment. The mayor had trouble getting much of a read from Thistle, though whether this was due to the trademark stoicism of a paladin, or the slightly misshaped nature of his face, Mayor Branders was uncertain. What he did know was that the unassuming body this gnome had been given belied the courage and intellect housed within it. In another time, under different circumstances, he’d have tried with all his might to convince Thistle to stay and work as his right hand. The mayor didn’t know it, but his mind and courage were among the set of traits that had endeared Thistle as a minion to countless other wielders of power. He was also loyal, capable, and small enough to kick if he got uppity.
“Finally, I have armor and daggers for the savior of my children. I presumed that, as a paladin, you might not feel comfortable wearing demon armor or weaponry.”
“Thank you for the consideration,” Thistle replied. “While I’m not certain Grumble is too particular about those sorts of things, I’m happier not trying to chance it.”
Mayor Branders pulled out three mist-balls this time, setting each one on the ground in succession. The first two turned into daggers: long, sharp tools that were well-made and honed for killing. The final ball made a loud pop before revealing a set of gleaming steel armor, sized perfectly for one of Thistle’s stature and proportions.
“The armor has been mildly enchanted. It will offer a slight increase in resistance but, more importantly, it should conform to the nooks and bends of your body like fitted cloth. The daggers are mundane, but the finest I was able to procure.”
“Your generosity overwhelms me,” Thistle said, hopping from his perch and hobbling over to examine the wares. The daggers felt exquisite in his hands, second only to the ones he’d borrowed from Sierva. Polished, balanced, and actually made for hands his size, these would be true weapons when he wielded them, not mere slapdash tools of defense. The armor was also notably well-made, so much so that Thistle felt he’d look ridiculous wearing it. Who had ever heard of a gnome, a minion at that, in plated steel? Well, the kingdom of Solium would, once they arrived to serve the king. Best to get comfortable with the idea now; soon enough, he’d have to be selling others on it.
“I’d like to get suited up, if your people would be so kind as to assist me,” Thistle announced. “We have a long ride ahead of us and the roads are perilous. Best to be ready for anything.”
“Of course.” Mayor Branders gestured and the remaining two attendants hurried over to help Thistle don his armor. “The remainder of the supplies you need have been loaded onto horses outside. When you’re ready, you are all free to ride out of town.”
“We cannot thank you enough,” Thistle insisted, knowing full well that by the time they were ready to go, the town would be bustling with adventurers, all getting an eyeful of the mayor’s kindness as they left.
“No, good paladin, I cannot thank you enough,” Mayor Branders replied, knowing the same things as Thistle, but one thing more. He knew that, pageantry aside, he truly did intend to make good on his word and turn Appleram into a haven for well-meaning adventurers. He didn’t begrudge these people the twinkles of doubt in their eye, even as they accepted his gifts. Mayor Branders was a man who came from working stock and considered himself one of them. He understood that actions, not words, proved the merit of a man.
This was a good start, but he had a long road of his own ahead of him.
The four adventurers who left Appleram that day, amidst the stares and curious whispers of adventurers and townsfolk alike, could scarcely have been recognized as the same foursome who’d traipsed along the road only days prior. For one, they were no longer dirty or road-weary; instead, they held themselves tall and proud atop their strong horses. For another, they were no longer clad in filthy clothes and clutching meager belongings. Whether it was the wild-eyed blonde in the blood-red scales, the tiny gnome in the gleaming plate, the stoic half-orc with the book clutched under his arm, or the lean human who made eyes water if stared at for too long, they were each an impressive sight to behold.
They encountered no resistance as they made their way out of Appleram, save perhaps for the occasional nod or wave from a fellow adventurer. Some of these were superfluous, but many were gestures of recognition, gratitude, or respect. In the melee of the demon’s attack, there had been no time for formalities such as name exchanges, greetings, or even words. Still, when one was saved from a monster by a fellow warrior, that face tended to stick about in one’s memory.
Despite lingering about long enough for breakfast and taking a slow, trotting exit out of town, the four travelers passed the last of Appleram’s outlying farms before midday. With that, they were officially on the road, subject to the whims of the wild, and facing the possibility of danger at every turn. Even so, it was another hour into the ride, when the sun hung directly overhead and bore down on them with relentless intensity, that the first words finally exited their mouths.
“Think it’s safe to slump down a bit yet?” Eric asked, his tone terse as the spasms from holding his spine in place threatened to make him yelp in pain.
“A bit more,” Grumph instructed. “We need to leave strong.”
“I know, I know; we want to be high-profile and easily recognizable in case anyone checks our story. I’m just not used to riding like this and it’s killing my back.”
“Hey, one of us is wearing much heavier armor than you and managing not to complain,” Gabrielle piped up. “I think you can pull it together for another few miles.”
“Says the girl who has more experience than any of us riding and holding proper posture,” Eric replied, pain making him a touch more snappish than he might normally allow himself to be.
“We’ll be on a proper forest road soon,” Thistle said, pointing to the large patch of green in the distance. “Once we’re in there, I think we can get more comfortable. If nothing else, there are wild animals about, and I’d hate for us to die on the road because we were too stiff to react properly, especially after coming all this way.”
“That’s actually something I wanted to bring up.” Eric bit his lip a bit, this time not from the pain but from uncertainty. He wasn’t quite certain how to broach this topic, yet he felt like it needed to be addressed. Better to do it clumsily than not at all. “After everything we did in Appleram, building up our profile and the like, is it possible that Maplebark might already be safe? I mean, we definitely made a name for ourselves, and no one will go looking for dead adventurers in Maplebark when they were fighting demons days later in Appleram.”