“What’s this?” Jiron asks as he takes the bundle. When James doesn’t say anything he unwraps it and finds a belt with two exceptionally fashioned knives. “Oh my!” he says as he pulls one from out of its sheath. Holding it up, he tests it for balance and sights down the blade as he checks for straightness. The craftsmanship is exceptional and the balance is the best he’s ever felt.
“Where did you get these?” he asks, replacing the knife in its sheath.
“A present from some friends of his,” the father replies. “For services rendered.”
“Thank you,” he says. Removing his old belt which had held his now lost knives, he discards it and secures the new one around his waist. Once it’s secured tightly, he quickly draws both knives and in a blur of speed, they dance around him briefly before being returned to their sheathes. “Excellent,” he says glancing to the two men. “Absolutely excellent.”
“They were made by a master weaponsmith some time ago,” the son explains. “They were to be a gift but the person died before we were able to give it to him.”
“You may need them where you’re going,” the father states.
“What?” he asks.
“I’ll explain as we ride,” James says as he mounts. Turning to the father and son he says, “Thank you for all the help. It’s much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome,” the father says.
“Stop by again if you’re able,” the son says.
“Will do,” replies James as he and Jiron turn their horses and begin making their way from the Renlon’s complex. After leaving it behind, he glances over to Jiron and pats a bulge in his shirt. “They also gave us some traveling money,” he says.
“Oh?” asks Jiron hopefully.
“Don’t be getting too excited, it’s only about a gold’s worth,” he explains.
“That should at least last a few days on the road,” he says.
Nodding, James returns his attention to the crowded street as they maneuver their way through the people. Making their way across town to where this Orlander’s tavern lies, they eventually see a building exactly as the Renlon’s had described, rundown and looking about to fall apart at the seams.
Outside are several individuals whom James wouldn’t want to meet up with on the wrong side of a knife in some dark alley. They all look like thugs who would just as soon kill you as look at you. When they near, he signals Jiron to continue down the street. After putting some distance between them and the tavern Jiron asks, “Why didn’t we stop?”
“I didn’t think our horses would still be there when we came out,” he explains.
“Good thinking.”
Finding a reputable business, a chandler’s shop by the look of it, they come to a stop and secure their horses among two others already tied there. “We going back?” asks Jiron.
“You bet,” replies James. “If he has our stuff, I mean to recover it.”
They begin walking back and Jiron says, “It could get nasty.”
Sighing, James asks, “You got a better idea?”
Shaking his head, he replies, “No.”
“Hopefully he’ll listen to reason,” James says wistfully.
“Doubt it,” Jiron replies confidently.
One way or another, he has to retrieve that medallion, not to mention the other one he found in the underground temple. Jiron’s necklace designating him a Shynti was also taken. If nothing else, those three things must be recovered.
Approaching the thugs outside the dilapidated tavern, they’re stopped by one of them before reaching the door. “What do you guys want here?” the thug asks. Standing there blocking their way with a sword on one hip and red hair waving in the slight breeze, James thinks he must really think he’s something.
“Want to talk with Orlander,” he says coming to a stop.
At that the others edge their way closer to the pair. “What for?” the red haired thug asks.
“That’s between me and him,” James says with finality. He stares down the man with courage he didn’t realize he had. Before coming to this world he would’ve been a quivering mass of jelly if someone had confronted him like this. Amazed at the backbone he’s acquired he takes a step forward.
The thug stops him by placing his hand on his chest and says, “You ain’t getting in.”
Jiron starts to move to take out this man when James holds up his hand to forestall any violence. Looking into the thug’s eyes he says, “Either remove your hand or lose it.”
In the face of such calm certainty the thug hesitates a moment and then removes his hand. “Thank you,” he says as he begins to move forward.
Shhhhht!
Five swords leave their sheathes as the thugs draw their weapons. “Now I said you ain’t getting’ in and I meant it,” the red haired thug reiterates as he threatens them with his sword. The other four are close and their swords are less than a foot away.
Frustration and anger begins to get the better of him and he’s about to let loose the power when the door to the tavern opens. “What’s going on here?” a large balding man says as he steps out. This has to be Orlander. Big, scars covering most of his exposed skin, and an air of command no one can ignore.
“These fellows wanted to see you,” the red haired thug says.
“About what?” he asks.
“They wouldn’t tell me,” the red haired thug replies.
“What is this about?” Orlander asks.
“I’ll tell that to you inside when things are less public,” replies James.
Orlander considers it a moment and nods. “Very well,” he says as he returns inside the tavern.
James takes a step forward and ‘Red’ has to step aside to prevent from being walked into. Not even looking back at them, he follows Orlander inside.
The inside looks just like every other tavern except the clientele is a little more tougher looking. Seven people are seated at the various tables, four of whom are having a game of cards off to the side. One is seated on a stool by the bar with a loaded crossbow laid across his lap, most likely in case of trouble.
Following Orlander across the barroom, James feels the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. Ahead of him Orlander reaches a door on the far side and opens it. Passing through, he leaves it open for them to follow.
Two men with crossbows and another with two swords strapped to his back are already in the room as he enters and takes his seat behind a desk situated against the far wall. After James and Jiron enter, the man with the swords closes the door and takes position behind them.
“Now,” Orlander says, “what is all this about?”
“We’re here to recover some items which were stolen from us,” he says.
One of the three other men in the room chuckles at that and Orlander gets an amused expression on his face. “What makes you gentlemen think I would have anything to do about that?”
“Word on the street is that you would be the man to see about such things,” Jiron states.
“I have been known to expedite the return of certain articles,” he tells them, “for a price.”
“So you might be able to help us?” James asks.
“First I would need to know of what you are talking about,” he says.
“Two people, a man and a woman robbed me and my friends a few days ago,” James explains. “They took off with our horses and many of our valuables. We know they passed through Illion and left with less than they arrived with. The only items which we are truly interested in are three necklaces.”
Nodding, Orlander says, “It seems I recall such a pair passing through. Don’t know as what they may or may not have liquidated here in Illion. If those items were to turn up, say, what would you be willing to pay for their return?”
“What do you mean?” James asks.
“I mean,” clarifies Orlander, “how much gold would you be willing to give me to expedite their return?”
“We don’t have much on us right now I’m afraid,” admits James.
“Then why should I even bother with you?” he asks. Snickers can be heard coming from those around them.