“Are you sure you want to give all the potato to us for free? Not that I am complaining...”

“Don’t mention it,” shrugged Beldrak. “That is the least we could do for you.”

“We are thankful,” answered mayor Amarro. “That much potato is enough to feed a man through all winter. Bows and axes are always welcome here, where the raiders always stir up trouble. And the three slaves...”

“I am sure you will put them to good use. Now the price we agreed upon...”

“Of course, of course!”

Mayor Amarro was rather pleased with our accomplishment, and he had even more reason to be pleased with the bargain Beldrak drove. The three slaves and all the weapons we took off the ork corpses cost the city hundred and fifty pieces of gold, which was but a fraction of their real value, and we also threw in all the potato we carried, free of charge.

We also offered to haul back more of the stockpiles the orks left behind if we got some muscle to help out, which offer the mayor gladly took. It seemed he would send five men and twice as many mules to carry off as much food as they could. While Blessingdale was ready for the winter (it was already November, after all), more supplies would never hurt. Also, much of the ork stockpiles were taken from farmers who lived in the wilderness around the town. Thus, surplus food could keep them alive. Provided the ork raiders hadn’t murdered them when they stole their food.

The only things we didn’t sell to the mayor, were the pelts of Great Jules’ pet wolves. I took that matter into my hand, leading the negotiations with the various fur traders. While Beldrak was of a charitable disposition, I was less inclined to generosity. The merchant, who ended up buying the two wolf-pelts, was decidedly unhappy with the price I made him cough up.

“It is true that they were in their prime. Their hair was good and dense already this late into the autumn. But whoever skinned them was a half-wit!” he complained. “I am out of my mind that I am willing to pay sixty pieces of gold for this botched thrash. I will be lucky if I get the price back. My wife will beat me when she sees what I bought!”

“If you feel yourself that badly cheated, I can still give you back the money, and take the pelts to Trapper Mortenk,” I said impassionately. “He offered me fifty-nine gold, after all. I will take one gold less, over being called a cheater.”

“Oh, just get out of my shop,” said the man with a sour expression. I complied, then I made my newly acquired coins clink in their pouch. I grinned. It seems I did learn a thing or two from Mother, after all.

We had lunch with Rhodarr after that. The man was doing surprisingly well. Somehow, he was able to stop himself from drinking himself into a dreamless stupor as usual. What’s more, he made handsome money with amusing the townsfolk with his stories and his theatre pieces reworked to one actor.

“And you didn’t have to kill orks to find the better half of your nature,” I said to him. “How did you do it?”

“To each of his own,” he grinned. “We all have holes in our soul. While yours can be satisfied with murder and mayhem, my gaps are plugged by the art of theatre.”

“If that’s what you need to stay away from the drink, I will gladly suffer through your performance now and then,” I declared magnanimously. “There are precious few things I wouldn’t do for my dear friends, after all.”

“Pay for my ale, then,” Rhodarr smirked.

“As your friend, I cannot encourage you to drink in good conscience,” I smirked back.

We spent the rest of the day with lazing around, learning Draconic, and playing cards. We started on our journey back to Durgeddin’s fort on the 9th, and arrived on the 11th, after nightfall.

Our march was relatively uneventful, only once was our merry little caravan attacked. A pack of wolves led by a giant beast tried to take on the mules one night. We killed the leader, few of the smaller wolves, and chased the rest away without any harm done to our mules.

The fort itself was largely unchanged, except that the ork corpses were gone. We concluded that some of the raiders still out came back in the meantime and buried their comrades. Or the ork-eating troglodytes have realised that their housemates are unlikely to fight back anymore. Either way, the stockpiles were mostly untouched, so the men of Blessingdale were able to load their mules with all kinds of food. They weren’t thrilled that they would have to make their return to the town without our protection. But waiting for us was not an option either, so they left early in the morning on the 12th of November.

We, on the other hand, were here to stay, and pay a visit to the infamous troglodytes.

“They are speaking Draconic, isn’t that right?” I asked Beldrak.

“They do, but remember what Rhodarr said about their dialects? He said even he has trouble understanding troglodytes.”

“I remember. But we could still try.”

“Or we should have brought Rhodarr with us,” grumbled Jim.

We did offer that to the actor, but he flat out refused. He said Durgeddin’s fort was a place too dangerous for his taste. Also, he was having too much fun with doing actual stage-work on in Blessingdale.

Thus, after we saw off the townsmen, there were only the three of us left to disassemble the barricades and see what the orks walled themselves off from.

The closed entrances, and the corridors they spawned all led to one big hall, where the mouth of a large cavern gaped in the floor. The hall was oval, and all of its entrances were on the eastern wall; except for one that led north, and the cavern that led downwards.