Lucas could see that he’d stirred up a hornet's nest even before he left the small courtyard. Well, he hadn’t, not really. It had been that asshole mage that had knocked half a building over. He didn’t want to think about how many people were buried under those bricks, but it wasn’t like it was his fault. 

There were already lots of guards on the main streets in and around Greybottom, but he bought a cheap cloak to cover up his bloodstained shirt and hide his fucked up book, walked north out of the main gate, and no one gave him too hard of a time. 

He was certain this would have consequences, and he kind of regretted that the mage didn’t die with the rest of his victims, but the fact that he’d survived wouldn’t make revenge any less likely. Mages didn’t seem to be the forgiving type, and even without a dagger that always pointed to him, Lucas doubted that the weasel would forget his face any time soon. 

By the time Lucas made it home, the sun was getting low in the sky. Even though he shed his cloak as soon as he was well away from the gates, no one troubled him. He was just one more loser with a donkey heading back to his village after selling his wares as far as anyone was concerned, and he made it back to Parin Manor without incident. 

By the time he reached it and walked by the main house, he saw Gerwin looking at him from the porch with disapproval. “So much for just going for a little talk,” he said stiffly. 

“Look, I wasn’t expecting to get jumped either man. I’ll buy you a nice new shirt, alright?” Lucas answered. 

“Will that be in place of, or in addition to, an apology?” the manservant asked. 

“Jeez, man, I’m sorry, okay,” Lucas sighed. He didn’t even bother to stop as he walked past, and when he was well past the porch and walking along the side yard, he finally muttered, “Asshole.”

He found his friends where he’d left them. No, not friends, he corrected himself. Business associates. Partners in crime. Thinking about strangers that might slit your throat while you sleep was a good way to end up dead. Adin was a junkie waiting to happen, Hura’gh was a killer, and while Kar’gandin might well be growing on him, the man was a known liar and a cheat. 

Still, that resolve became harder to hold when they were so sympathetic. When he arrived at the cider house, Hura’gh was chopping wood, and Kar’gandin was on the porch fiddling with his account books when Lucas walked up. To their credit, not even the half-orc laughed; instead, he said, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Two ambushes, a fight, a mage, and a big ass sale to the Knights of Brass,” Lucas said. “That’s what happened.”

“Ye have the money, though, right?” the dwarf asked, pointing at him with his pen. 

“Yeah, most of it,” Lucas nodded. “But before you blow up about it, let me tell you how it all went down.”

So, as Adin came out Lucas sat down on a firewood round that hadn’t been split yet and the them the whole story from the beginning. “So I started with this nice clean shirt,” he said, holding out his arms, “and it all went down hill from there.”

He told them about his meet up, and the easy sale followed by the hard sell that followed. There were a few chuckles as he explained how he got one over on Sir Tristen and salvaged that situation, but the laughter stopped when he was almost murdered by the mage that had been waiting for him. 

“Boy someone sure wants you bad,” Kar’gandin said. “Do ye know how much it costs to have a mage in your pocket every day just waiting for yer sorry self to show up? All the dragons we just made wouldn’t be enough for a week.”

Lucas had not, in fact, considered that. It was a sobering thought, and in his mind, the only place it pointed to was the castle. There were noble houses that could certainly afford that bill, of course, but he hadn’t busted out of their dungeon and made a fool of them in their own city. 

Or maybe there’s more to it than that, he thought. Maybe someone in the castle has a taste for…

“Do you think he can follow you here?” Adin piped up, disrupting that train of thought before he could get any further. “Like - are we in danger? You saved my life, but If they’re going to turn us into toads or light us on fire, then maybe it's best if—”

“Don’t be a baby,” the half-orc said. “If a wizard thinks they can come on our turf and do as they will, then I will teach them the error of their ways.”

Lucas doubted that the orc would have much luck with that, but he ignored the comment and said, “Why do you think I didn’t bring the dagger with me? Who knows what they could do with their magic if they got close to something they’d already cast a spell on. Better to bury somewhere no one will ever find it again.”

Kar’gandin was less concerned about the mage than he was about the protection money, of course, but he agreed that Lucas had done the right thing. “I’d hoped that they would have seen the value in the relationship, but it seems they got greedy as well,” the dwarf nodded. “Still, ye showed spine, and that counts for something. The next time ye go back, we’ll have to have a couple tough-looking men with ye to show that we’re growing so they don’t—”

“Back?” Lucas exclaimed. “I’m not going back. The fucking mages are hunting me, man. I may never enter Lordanin again at this rate.” 

“Nonsense,” the dwarf said, putting down his book. “Ye have the relationship with them. It’s vital you’re the one that does this. We just have to be smart about it.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Lucas asked. 

“As a human, ye might not be the most aware of this, but not all the people of your kingdom care for my kind,” Kar’gandin said. “Aye, I could go and handle it, but we’ll get a much better price with fewer troubles in the long run if it's a human face that shakes their hand and drops the product. Still, if you feel comfortable letting someone else walk off with years worth of magic potion, I’m sure I could think of a name or two that could do the delivering for us for a modest fee. They might even come back with all the dragons.”

Lucas sighed. He remembered just how violently Sir Tristan had reacted to talk of a half-orc as Lucas’s champion. That was more than enough to prove Kar’gandin’s point. “Nah, I think I’m good on that front. I just want to know how I’m supposed to get in and out of the city without getting pinched.”

“Well, that part’s easy. We just have to make sure that you look so different that you hardly recognize yourself,” Adin answered with a grin. “It just so happens that my dear sister has engaged a tailor to take your measurements tomorrow after lunch. If we pair a nice new suit along with a haircut and a shave, then you’ll look like a—”

“An idiot,” Lucas snorted derisively. 

“A whole new you,” Adin finished. “This won’t be enough to make you fit in amongst the upper crust, of course. We’ll still need to book a dancing instructor, a riding instructor, and then there’s the table etiquette to consider of course…”

“Sounds like a lot of work to sling a little product at parties,” Lucas grumbled. 

“Nah,” the dwarf said with a shake of his head. “You said so yourself. We’ll get more money from the gentry and their parasites than we ever will for the working stiffs. It’s just going to take some prep work, is all.”

Kar’gandin managed to say all that with a straight face, but as soon as he finished, he cracked a smile and said, “I’m just glad I ain't the one that’s gotta get dressed all nice and fancy.” After that, he laughed, and everyone else, including Lucas, joined in. 

After that, they ate. Eventually, Lucas got around to sorting out all the mushrooms and other herbs that Adin had spent the day gathering. Well, a day might have been a bit of an exaggeration. There were two full baskets and a pile on his bench, which probably meant four hours of work and eight hours of relaxing and complaining. 

Though he'd end up throwing a lot of them away, the haul was mostly useful, though. In addition to the wizened gnome caps he needed, there were some black spots, a few bearded ladies, and an assortment of shelf style mushrooms in golden, grey, and curdled milk. While he hadn’t planned on making any potions of night sight, he definitely could if he tracked down a little copper leaf, and some of the rest could be pondered down for catalyst purposes. 

All in all, it wasn’t a bad haul. There was no goblin bile, though, which meant making another batch of blue, which was out until he went on a hunt. Adin swore he hadn’t seen any, which was strange this time of year, but Lucas dropped it. If the man was lying because he’d been too squeamish to butcher the little bastards, then it wasn’t like badgering him was going to change that. 

It was only when he was lying in his bed later that night, listening to the war of snoring between the dwarf and the half-orc, that he realized that moments like this were why he couldn’t help but think of these guys as friends. Well, except maybe Adin, between being a junkie and holding on to some idea that he was somehow better than the rest of them, that gap was probably unbridgeable, but he’d play his part or tragically disappear if worst came to worst. 

The rest of them, though, hell - even Gerwin and Denaria were pretty great. If they could just bring on some more muscle that wouldn’t try to kill them in their sleep to ward off any further encroachment by the Knights of Brass or any of Lordanin’s other gangs, they’d be all set. 

Honestly, he’d been surprised that no one else had been more upset at the idea of paying the other gang protection money. Is that just because I’ve seen too many mob movies or what? Lucas wondered. To him, it felt like weakness, but not even Hura’gh saw it that way. 

“It is not dishonorable for a smaller tribe to pay tribute for peace,” the big man had said. “In time, when they are the smaller tribe, and we are the larger one, they will pay us for peace. This is the way of things.”

Lucas didn’t know if it was or wasn’t, but to him, it felt wrong, even if there wasn’t really a choice in the matter right now. That was the thought he fell asleep to that someday they’d be the bigger gang, and they’d be the ones to decide what was right. He just didn’t know what he’d decide when he got that far.