The uninspiringly named town, Mining Camp, was more developed and much bigger than I had been picturing in my head. There was even a ‘Welcome To Mining Camp’ sign that was in good repair. The buildings were made of stone, though most only for the first story. The dark gray stone was mottled with lichens of green, blue, and yellow, adding a nice counterpoint.

  Though this was likely still a mining town full of miners, many of the people going about their business were obviously not. An entire community had grown here, now consisting of artisans, traders, businesses, and culture. I saw what looked like temples and I think a theater.

  And there were multiple inns as well. We stopped at one called the Nugget and Nail. It looked nice, simple, and clean.

  Harper approached the innkeeper. “You have bathing facilities, yes?”

  The man jumped, startled. “I, uh, yes, mistress. We do. A bathhouse out back, or we can place a tub in your room, if you like.”

  “Good. I’m going to need a couple of rooms, a tub in one, and then dinner,” Harper stated.

  The man looked at Jerseil and me, then back to Harper. He brightened, wiping some sweat from his brow with a small towel. “If that is what you wish, mistress. I have two rooms available right next to each other. I’ll have a tub in your room and hot water hauled up in less than 15 minutes,” he said and flagged a waitress’s attention.

  She bustled over, and the man quickly gave her some orders. “…and make sure the sheets are fresh this time!” he said sternly. She ran off to get things taken care of, and he turned back to us with a smile. “Now, would you like something to drink while you wait?”

  The bathhouse air was heavy with moisture. Water gently lapped as Jerseil and I soaked in a large tub, letting the dirt and sweat ease off our hides. I let out a sigh of contentment as my muscles relaxed. The knots in my back and shoulders melted in the heat, and I really did not want to move.

  “This is the best way to end this day,” Jerseil said. He had a soaked washcloth on his face and held it in place with one hand as he sipped a glass of wine. The glass clinked as he touched the bottle with it, setting it down.

  The wine had been complimentary, and with its high quality, I thought we had stopped at the expensive inn. It was tasty, and the alcohol helped my muscles relax further. “Yeah. I could stay in here for hours. Might just sleep in here.”

  Jerseil laughed softly. “Then you’ll look like an old man, all wrinkles and stuff. Besides, dinner should be decent, if this wine is any sign!”

  “You are probably right, bud. I could go for some proper food,” I said and finished my wine. “Whelp, where’s the soap? I’d like to look good for dinner.”

  The main room of the inn was a large, open space that included the dining area, bar/front desk, front entrance, doors to the kitchen area, and the stairs up to the second floor. Opposite the bar, there was a massive stone fireplace with an energetic fire blazing, easing the surprising chill of the massive stone room. Between the bar and the fireplace, there were a variety of tables. From trestle-type tables with benches to small two-person tables positioned off to the sides.

  The waitress, I believe her name was Anya, sat us at a medium-sized table, with spots for 5 or six people. Unlike some inns I’d stayed in over the course of my time in this world, this one did not have options for dinner. Which may have explained why the room was not full of customers. The only option for dinner was a stir-fry dish served over rice. The sauce was thick and tangy, with a delightful kick of heat that went well with the chunks of meat that may have been pork and the mix of vegetables that I still didn’t know what they all were.

  After the filling dinner, we sat at our table drinking the last of the wine from dinner. “So what do we know about this area or the caverns?” I asked. “I know little about it from the quest description.”

  “We’ll need light, for one thing, and other cave-delving supplies. I would assume that those things should be relatively easy to come by in a mining town,” Jerseil mused.

  “That’s stuff a local should know,” Harper said. “When that waitress makes it back to us, we can see what she knows. Speaking of which, here she comes.”

  “Can I get you folks anything else, maybe another bottle of wine?” Anya asked pleasantly.

  Harper nodded to the woman. “Please, and we were also hoping for some information about the area, specifically the mines and the caverns.”

  “There’s not much to tell, hon. The mines are closed because of a cave-in a couple of months back, and that was the only way into the caverns I was aware of. But you might ask Old Marken about it. He used to be the mine foreman, but he’s retired now,” the waitress said.

  “Where can we find him at this time of day?” I asked. This was interesting, as the mine collapse was not too much earlier than when I arrived.

  “Marken? That old gnome should be here soon. Lives by himself, and he fancies the cooking here,” she said. “Why don’t I get you that bottle while you wait?”

  “This mine closure seems pretty convenient,” muttered Jerseil, as he leaned back in his chair. “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “If I remember what my brother used to say, quests sometimes give multiple challenges and multiple routes to completion. I bet if we hadn’t asked, we would have been stopped at the mine entrance or something and been required to do someone else a favor in return for information,” I mused. “Sean also said those were the best quests. Just sounds like a pain to me.”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I turned inward for a moment after I realized that I had remembered most of that conversation with Sean. Usually, all of that—now priceless—information was unavailable to me. Before, I just remembered scraps of conversation and the odd, interesting thing that caught my attention. Why did I remember this conversation when I couldn’t remember much before? Maybe this is some sort of side effect of all the exercise and clean air. It occurred to me that this also could be, as the Voice had explained on my first day here, a bonus side effect of the increased intelligence stat: super-improved memory. Harper pulled me out of my reverie.

  “Yeah, sometimes that happens with quests,” agreed Harper. “I remember a couple of quests I had to complete that went differently than I was told they would be based on my choices and class.”

  The waitress placed the full bottle on the table and opened it for us. “Here you go, hons! Now don’t you worry about Old Marken. Buy him dinner and a few drinks and he’ll tell you everything you want to know. He loves talking about mines and everything underground. Think he was a dwarf for the way he talks about mineral composition and fluid stresses.” She giggled before she wandered off to talk to some other tables.

  Is the Voice doing this? If it’s trying to force us in a certain direction, to what end? Success or epic failure? I had so many questions. “This is normal? It’s really like something is trying really hard to help us.”

  The corners of Harper’s mouth twitched upwards. “And you have a problem with that? Gift horses and all that.”

  “God no. I just don’t like being led around by the nose. I don’t care if it’s the Voice or a god.”

  Jerseil put his hands up. “Whoa, careful! I don’t know if the Voice would care, but Gods have feelings, too. You can’t just go around telling them to stick their help where the sun shines least.”

  Jerseil was right, but I wouldn’t admit it just yet. The idea of Gods being offended by my words was an alien concept to me. It wasn’t like I was flipping them off and saying nasty things about their sexual proclivities. Did Gods have sex? I don’t think I really wanted to know.

  Before I could respond, the front door of the inn opened and a wizened, yet spry, old gnome walked into the main room. The innkeeper greeted the gnome with a great deal of respect.

  “Master Marken, how pleased I am that you would brighten our inn tonight! Would you like your usual table?” the innkeeper asked.

  “Eh? Yes, of course. How could I not show up? I’m hungry, and your kitchen is the best in the camp,” Marken replied somewhat testily. The innkeeper led the old gnome to a table in the corner near the fireplace. Anya, the waitress, brought him his dinner and whispered something in his ear. He looked at us and raised his glass before drinking it down and digging into his food.

  We drank another bottle, making small talk while he ate. When he was done, he came over with his glass. “Mighty generous of you to buy an old gnome’s meal. Being as you’re strangers here in Mining Camp.”

  Jerseil gestured to an open seat. “Please join us. We heard you know more about the mines and caverns than anyone else. And with the mine collapsed, we were hoping you could help us,” he said with a smile.

  “We need to get into the caverns,” I added. “Do you know another way other than the mines?”

  The old gnome sat down slowly, eyeing us critically. “The caverns are not the most welcoming of environs. Why, in the name of Criminon, God of delving, would you want to go there?”

  “We have a quest to complete in there,” Harper said bluntly.

  “A quest, eh? Hmm. I might be able to help. But it’s going to cost you. Not much, just a bit of your time and effort,” Marken said.

  “And what do you need us to do?” I asked. If he could get us into those caverns, I’d do anything. Well, not just anything. I have my limits.

  “There is a question as to how the mine collapsed,” explained the old gnome. “I helped build the mine, you see, and I know how stable it is. I’m an engineer by trade, and I am very much aware of the pressures different soils can put on rock and stone. Things like moisture and temperature can affect the stability of any wall or ceiling, no matter how well you brace it.”

  “But the thing is, we didn’t dig the mine in soil. We cut into the rock, creating stable lateral and vertical shafts that needed little added support. We chiseled out the weak areas in the stone, following fractures to reduce the stresses. And yet, it collapsed.”

  Harper cut into the gnome’s explanation. “And what does that have to do with us or what you need done?”

  “Well, young lady, it’s simple, really simple. I believe the mine was sabotaged with explosives. And I think I know who did it. But I need proof. And despite my knowledge and expertise, those bastards won’t let me near the mines to find it!” The gnome slammed a fist onto the table. “So much so that they got the constabulary involved. If I go near the mines again, they will place me in shackles. Me!”

  The gnome’s face had flushed, and he took a moment to calm down. He finished his wine and Jerseil refilled his glass from our latest bottle without saying a word. Marken thanked him with a nod and took a sip before continuing.

  “Find and bring me the proof, and I’ll get you into those caverns. Though why anyone would want to go down there is beyond me.”

  The Voice began talking with an unusual amount of excitement, which did not bode well in my book. ‘Track The Beast New Quest Objective! Finn the Mage and his merry band of adventurers have a little problem: they can’t enter the caverns! Something has happened to the mines, the preferred entrance, and they need to find a new way in. Fortunately, the old foreman of the mine, an old gnome by the name of Marken, is willing to help. But only if you can figure out how the mine collapsed and bring him proof. Good thing Finn the Mage is not on his own, as his chances of figuring this out are slim. Maybe… he should leave the talking to someone who is less irritating. Perhaps someone with higher intelligence, like a month-dead rat. At least it would smell better!‘

  I glared up at the ceiling. It knew I had just taken a bath. “Really?” I muttered angrily.

  The town of Mining Camp was built around and out from the mine itself, in an arc. What I had first taken for straight streets were curved boulevards, each longer than the ones closer to the mine. The closer we came to the mine, the shorter the arced streets, and the less nice the town became. I actually saw my first canvas tent right outside the walled-off entrance to the mines. There were guards or constables all over the area, and they looked armed for bear.

  “We are not getting past all of them,” I said. “Not without a fight.”

  Harper snorted. “You have no idea how right you are, Finn. ‘We’ are not going in there; I am. And they will never notice. Why don’t you two go sit at that tea shop and wait for me?” she asked.

  “Wait for you? I don’t—” Jerseil said before noticing that our rogue friend was nowhere to be seen. “Never mind, I guess. Want some tea, Finn?”

  I shrugged and walked over to the indicated tea shop, which was just a wooden stand with a built-in bar for the mugs and attached stools. I was actually relieved to see the mugs were ceramic and not wood or tarred leather jacks attached to the stand by chains or rope.

  “You two want tea?” a gruff voice asked as we sat. The man behind the bar looked more suited to a rough biker bar that served toilet wine and cheap beer.

  “Yes?” I asked uncertainly.

  “You like it bitter or fresh?” the man growled at me.

  “Fresh?” I answered.

  “Good, this pot has been steeping too long.” He emptied the pot onto the street and poured some loose tea into it. The grizzled man poured some hot water into the pot that he had on what looked like a hot pad, boiling. “Give it a minute.”

  Jerseil looked toward the mine. “I hope she is okay.”