“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before,” Dylk said, “but I still can’t believe that magic is real.”

“You get used to it.” Vix picked up a wilted flower and blasted it away with a one-handed light beam - which is significantly less powerful than its Super Duper equivalent - lighting the night-shrouded street.

Speaking of Vix, he was having a great time in the city. Lots of new faces, new experiences, and many new smells to be enjoyed. He especially liked the meat market. It was like he was back in the temple; he got flashbacks every time one of his companions pulled him along when he stopped to admire something, just like Seemo did. There was even a short fella following them around. Just like Seebo! The second short guy, however, had left under suspicious circumstances. Vix didn’t even get to learn his name, though someone had definitely mentioned it. Todd, he thought, I think his name was Todd.

Vix focused his attention, by and large, on the sights and sounds of Rattwater, which meant ignoring the mission at hand. He drank them in the same way he assumed Dylk would drink in a plate of normal sized food. Ironically, he didn’t seem to share Vix’s excitement.

“Hey, Dylk,” he said, sniffing a horse’s trough.

“Yes, Vix?”

“What do you think of the big city?” He was thinking of taking a sip.

“It’s ok,” Dylk said, unmercifully pulling him away from his boon.

“Ok? Ok? I think it’s great! I mean look at this place!” The two of them, now lagging behind the far-too-fast others, were standing in a dark, dank alley. “This place is so good! How could anyone not love it here?”

“I don’t know, Vix. I don’t know.”

He was eventually persuaded to keep pace with his friends despite the incredible sights around them. They passed through the dwindling late night crowd as it slowly funneled into the inns and taverns, which left the four of them at points alone on a barren street.

“Have you been here before?” he asked the scaly guy.

“Yeah, but only when I need to. I love the forest around Rattwater more than anything.”

“You and I are going to get along,” Salman said, cupping his hand on the scaly one’s shoulder.

“I hope we all do!” said… what was his name again?

“What’s your name, scaly dude?” Vix asked.

“Krerrhenthes.”

“Huh?”

“It’s an old sabran name. You can call me by my family name if it’s easier! I come from the Ballin family.”

“Ballin! Good to meetcha!” Vix smiled and Ballin smiled back just as wide.

“So, Ballin,” Dylk said.

“Mhm?”

“Are you in it for the long haul or are you just tagging along for a while?”

“Hm, I’ll see which way the wind blows, Dylk.”

“Ah, really? You might leave?” Vix asked, tears forming in his eyes. Ballin stopped walking and turned back toward Vix, his grim face changing to another smile, then to laughter.

“Just kidding, Vix! I wouldn’t leave you guys for the world!” Vix felt a rush of happiness fill his body as Ballin’s laughter gave way to a soft, gentle smile.

“Oh, thank you, Ballin! Thank you!” Vix lunged at him for a hug. Ballin accepted it.

“Of course! Now,” Vix’s new friend said, “to business.” He looked up. Vix followed his gaze and saw a faded, white brick building towering over them.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The council chambers,” Salman said. They all stood looking at it for a time.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” Dylk said.

“Hey!” came a voice from in front of them. “Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“Oh, apologies,” Salman said. It was one of the guards, clad in Dennish emerald.

“Yes, yes, just stand in front of us, creepily staring at the building. It’s a free country, after all.” The other guard elbowed him in the side.

“Just say the line, Scrum!” he whispered loudly.

“Fine! Business with the council, gentlemen?” He was rubbing his side.

“We have information which may be helpful to the council,” Salman said.

“Name, please?” Scrum asked.

“Salman and companions,” he said.

“Salum?”

“No, Salman.”

“Sorry, thought you said Salum, with you being a dwarf and all. Hm… you’re not on the list.”

“List?”

“Yeah, you’re not on the list.”

“I don’t understand, you don’t have any parchment in your hands.”

“Did you make a reservation via carrier pigeon?”

“No,” Salman said sheepishly. Everyone stood in silence for a second.

“Ha! Only joking! Go ahead!” The guards parted to make way for the entrance, not before the other guard elbowed him again, with an “asshole!” this time for good measure. Vix thought he heard Ballin whisper “that was a good one” as they passed.

The four of them stepped through the door, and the shock of the interior weakened his knees for a second. It was like a smaller version of Lord Tido’s office with an elongated archway at the back instead of his desk. Mesmerized, Vix glided across the emerald green carpet in a trance. The pearl white pillars, the paintings, the general feeling of unwelcome, it was all the same.

It wasn’t long, however, before they’d reach the archway at the end of the hall, to his great disappointment. Shoulda made it longer, he thought.

Two more guards blocked the way.

“Council of Rattwater,” one of them said, “here enters four guests for consideration!” They stepped aside.

He stepped between them and saw the large, circular room inside open up before them. Directly in front was a series of lush, white couches, which Vix tried one by one. After he’d chosen the best one, an L-couch with green lining, he finally looked up to see a second tier, a circular balcony held up by yet more pillars. Above that was a glass dome, through which stars shone.

“Vix,” Dylk whispered, sitting across from him on an ottoman.

“Yeah?”

“I think this is important, could you maybe chill out for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m chill.” He sunk into the cushion and relaxed.

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah, Dylk?”

“Why are there four of them?”

“Guests of the council.” There was a stirring on the balcony. Four lamps were lit and four silhouettes came to block parts of their light. “What brings you here?” It was the voice of an old man. Salman said:

“We come seeking an exchange of information, and bearing an item of interest.” Dylk reached into his pocket and held out the pebble for the council to see. “This only recently resided in the crypt of an ancient king of Jub,” Salman said. “It has weight far beyond its size. We wish only to know what the material is.” There was some hushed chatter from above.

“Tell me, honored guests, what have you done to prove that you are fit for our task?” Then Vix had an idea.

“We burned down the goblin town!” he said, sitting up on the couch. Dylk and Ballin shushed him.

“Hm, we have heard reports of its destruction from our outer patrols. This was you?”

“Yes, it was,” Salman said, nodding to Vix.

“Our guards have been unable to quell it for quite some time now. They have killed countless traders coming in and out of the city.” He paused. “Very well. The council will grant your request. Upon one condition.”

“We will do as you command,” Salman said.

“Rattwater is hounded by a subterranean rumble of unknown origin. We have sent many guards and mercenaries alike into the underground of our city, and all return but those sent into the tombs of our predecessors, the councilmen of old.

“Our task is this:

“Seek out the source of these rumblings and destroy it. Upon your return, and the return of evidence to prove you’ve completed the task, we will tell you all we know of this material, including access to the knowledge of our wisest mages.”

“We accept,” Salman said.

“Good. We will send you there with a guard as a guide. He will lead you to the lodgings of the tombkeeper, our very own councilman Garrel. There, you will find his housekeeper. She will assist as she is able.” As he finished the last of his explanation, a guard came in the same way they had.

“Come with me, my gullible friends!” It was Scrum. Vix thought it was great. The other three did not.