The life of a wandering sellsword was the only life suitable for Niklas; his soul would wither and fade if he had to live a life chained to one place. As a young child, he yearned to explore as far as his feet could take him, much to the ire of his protective mother. When he came of age and finally broke his chains, Niklas set out upon a world filled with opportunity, carrying nothing but a sword and a half-full canteen of water. Unchained from home and unbound to any allegiance, all that mattered was the road and the next job.
Strangely, while the now twenty-nine year old Niklas waited inside the manor for his next client, he felt something he had never experienced before. After years of wandering the thinly unified provinces of New Brauven, he wanted to return to his hometown of Erteau. He wasn't sure if it was because he was homesick or if he simply wanted to see his family again after being on the road for so long. After nine years away, things were bound to be different, new people, new houses, and new laws. Home, however, would still be home, despite whatever changes there may be.
That idea would have to wait, as his client entered the room.
"I suppose you're here because of the listing, the one regarding the 'monster,' as the commoners have been calling it?" Baron Rastofer asked, his tone taking a condescending shift when referring to the query.
Niklas's client was a rather unremarkable baron who scarcely looked the part of a local lord, though he still carried the demeanor of a sneering noble. The middle-aged baron's hardly trimmed beard and sun-damaged skin would allow him to perfectly blend in with his subjects, if it weren't for the moderately luxurious clothing he wore to make himself feel important.
"You'd be correct," Niklas answered briskly, already bothered by the baron's attitude.
"Good, the more muscle, the better. I want this matter to be done and over with as soon as possible," Rastofer replied, attempting to shift his tone to a more personable one. "I'm sure you've seen the fog that has overtaken the nearby woods?"
"I did, though I didn't really think much of it. Is that what this is about?" Niklas asked, unswayed by the baron's attempt at charisma.
"Not thinking much of it is how any reasonable man should think about it. While it has lingered for as long as it has is odd, it isn't something to worry about." Rastofer sat down in his old wooden chair directly facing Niklas. "Unfortunately, my workers have started thinking it's a bad omen and that a monster now haunts the woods. Bunch of damn idiots, I tell you." He returned to his dismissive demeanor once again. "Once one worker starts getting superstitious, it spreads like a plague across the whole town. The workers at the lumber mill refuse to work now since they're too scared to enter the woods. That lumber is this town's main source of income, and we'll be out of money if these fools let it run dry." The baron continued as he leaned forward to say more before Niklas interjected.
"What have they been claiming to see exactly?"
"Nothing, they have reported nothing of substance. All they got is nonsense ideas that range from monsters to demons or the end times. They've given up on reason and are willing to run this place to the ground because of it." Baron Rastofer exclaimed angrily, a faint shade of red creeping up his face.
"Did they ever say what kind of monsters might be lurking in the woods?" Niklas asked calmly.
"Don't tell me you believe them. If you do, I want you to get the fuck out of my house and far away from this fucking town. I’m dealing with enough idiots, and I have no intentions of putting up with another." The red on Rastofer's face remained, despite his lowered voice.
"Without anything to back it up, no. But, there may be a possibility that someone is taking advantage of your workers by making them believe there is a monster in the woods. With some idea of what they think it is, I may be able to better find who's behind it." Niklas answered, hoping it would be enough to satisfy the red-faced baron.
"Huh, I hadn't thought of that. Neukom over in Agathestatt has had it out for me over the last few years. He's far too dull for something like that, though I can see one of his lackeys pulling that off." Baron Rastofer pondered, his skin returning to its natural color. "That's the kind of thinking I want to see. You're the kind of man I've been looking for. If you uncover some grand conspiracy to bring this town under, I’ll make sure to add a little extra to your pay."
"I'm flattered," Niklas replied in an obviously subtly sarcastic manner.
The baron dragged himself off of his chair and began looking out into a window overlooking the foggy woodlands. Niklas stayed where he was, taking in the sheer bareness of Baron Rastofer's study. The room only had the minimum to be considered a study, with his wide desk made of fresh oak wood and two bookshelves barren of any books. Perhaps it was fitting room for someone like Rastofer, a man perpetually projecting his insecurity. Niklas knew from experience that barons were the lowest of nobles in New Brauven and that, despite their power, they were treated as nothing more than middlemen. The right to have power but none of the respect that these men craved made them bitter individuals looking to share their despair. Niklas was never fond of people like Rastofer, but they always paid the best.
"Earlier, you mentioned the more muscle, the better. Who else have you hired?" Niklas asked. He wasn't opposed to working with others, though men like Rastofer often hired backstabbers or pretenders keen at the art of lying.
"I'm of the opinion that sending one of my men to the woods and informing them that there is nothing in the woods to be afraid of won't convince the workers to return to work. I firmly believe that a group of well-meaning individuals who appear to be unassociated with me doing the same will be more convincing." Baron Rastofer finally turned back from his window to face Niklas. "I've hired three others for this task, two errants from the capital and a knife ear that wandered into town. I'm sure the four of you will work together wonderfully."
Hearing of the two errents hired for this task did little to change Niklas's initial judgments of Baron Rastofer. In his time, almost every errant he'd ever encountered has proven to be incompetent fools chasing fame. The elf, or knife ear, as Rastofer eloquently put it, could be interesting. Provided they weren’t a glory-chasing fool or back-stabbing cretin, an elf could be quite helpful, depending on the type. Elves of any variety were a rare sight in New Brauven, and even moreso in a place like this.
"Tell me about them. I'm interested in knowing who I'm working with." Niklas asked sharply, the growing feeling of annoyance with Rastofer pushing him to end this conversation.
"Gladly. Marc and Gauthier are excellent young men who've made quite a name for themselves up in Vionhol. The workers will no doubt believe everything they say." Rastofer sat back down in his plain wooden chair. "As for you and the elf, the two of you will further back them up. The four of you will be more than enough to set the workers' minds straight. But, before you think it, you're all being paid the same. Even if you don’t say a word, you’re doing me a great service. Any further questions?" The baron asked after a brief pause.
"No, I have all the information I need," Niklas answered while getting up from his chair.
"Perfect. Meet the others at the inn and inform them they can start." The baron remained seated while Niklas began to exit the room. "Once the four of you are done, tell a guardsman, and they’ll send a runner with your pay."
Niklas gave a silent nod to the baron before he exited his study. The hallways of the baron's manor matched his study, only doing the bare minimum required to present himself as a powerful man. The baron's personal troop of guardsmen garrisoned in the manor all seemed ill-equipped in terms of their gear and training. Their armor was nothing more than cheaply made leather padding on a white tabard marked with a blue falcon.
"Sir." One of Rastofer's personal troops, a young man whose acne-covered face announced his age to all who saw him. "You're one of the sellswords the baron hired to get rid of the fog, right?"
"What about it?" Niklas asked.
"You do know where you're going, right? If you need any help I..."
"Straight to the inn to meet with the others. Let them know to get ready." Niklas cut him off and continued out of the manor. The kid did nothing wrong; he was only doing what he was told. Any rudeness was due to a lack of time and patience on Niklas's part. Perhaps later, he would apologize for his rude behavior once he returned.
