A sea breeze washed a heavy mist over the docks outside. The sun was barely visible through the clouds, and captain Fin thanked his stars that he'd reached port. The storm outside was nasty. Fin sat inside a tavern next to the docks, holding a mug of something hot, catching up with an old friend. The tavern's fire was warm and kind, enough to soften even old Fin's permanent frown.

  "There's a new player in town," Reeves said, sipping his mug of hot cider. His eyes darted around the tavern as he spoke. He was a slippery bugger, but always seemed to know what was going on. "Big money, it seems. They call 'im the Alchemist. Nobody's seen him directly, so far as I know, but if you have what he wants, his team'll buy it up higher than market price. Sometimes a full gold over."

  Fin spluttered and coughed as he breathed in a little drink.

  "Each item, a gold over what we'd normally get? Give me hooves and call me a pony. What's the catch? I have to marry his daughter?"

  "It gets even more interesting," Reeves leaned in. "They always pay in full, real gold, on the spot. Before they even know the price."

  Both the captain's eyebrows raised, and if he had a third he'd raise that one too.

  "Some lad is walking around the docks of Liston with a few hundred gold in their pocket? Well. Well. Well."

  The grizzled captain stroked his beard thoughtfully, then narrowed his eyes at his old friend. "Let's say I take the man up on his business. I suppose you want a finder's fee then? Hmph, well if the money is true you'll get something, don't you worry about that."

  The captain's brow furrowed.

  "Only problem is what this Alchemist is up to. I know Liston is a big supplier of grip, and I don't want guards breathing down my neck. A lot of gold though... A lot of gold, if you think about it."

  Over at another table, somewhat hidden but within earshot, Zig leaned towards Jints and whispered.

  "The Alchemist? Do you think it's that guy we met in the middle district? Because I kinda destroyed his lab and warned him to stop..."

  Jints shook his head, a twinkle in his eye, and whispered back.

  "That conversation is exactly why I brought you here, mister Zig. I've been spreading rumors for days. Here, you'll need to wear this."

  Jints pulled out of his bag a heavy cloak made of shiny black material. Zig frowned.

  "Jints you're gonna need to clue me in here."

  "It's more fun if I don't. Go upstairs to the first door on the left, put these on, and look mysterious."

  Jints shooed Zig away then walked over to the two men talking.

  "Good evening, gentlemen. I couldn't help but notice the good captain has just arrived to Liston. Welcome, sir!"

  The two men turned to Jints suspiciously.

  "In my line of work," the captain said slowly, "a man appearing by coincidence is never a good thing."

  He looked wary but calm, as if he'd been in many dangerous situations, and this didn't even come in the top 10. Jints hastened to reassure them.

  "Ah! You misread me, sir, please. My name is... well, we won't do names, will we? But I happen to be under the employ of the Alchemist."

  "I'm talking to my friend here about the Alchemist, and a man under his employ happens to be waiting in the wings?"

  Jints spent a moment trying to think of the right thing to say.

  "...yes."

  The captain gave a gruff laugh.

  "Fair enough. Well, I don't care who the Alchemist is, or what he does, as long as it doesn't get me in front of the guards. What I do care about is real coins in my pouch. Can the Alchemist provide that for me?"

  "Of course, of course, but you understand the other side of the coin," Jints leaned in, "it would be foolish to flash gold without seeing items of value to spend it on. How about this. My master is seeking alchemical plants of high value. The most plants two men can carry. No more. Bring them to this establishment within ten minutes and you'll walk away with gold in your hands. Skip the markets, skip the..." Jints did a quick check of the tavern's patrons. "...taxes, I'll give you market rates as if you spent the whole day haggling in the sun."

  The captain looked up.

  "You got gold here?"

  "I have gold nearby," Jints answered with a polite smile.

  Fifteen minutes later, the captain and his friend did indeed return with a wooden handcart loaded with potted plants. They'd sailed from the Reshman Empire, across the Middle Sea, so they had some incredibly rare and valuable plants with them. They came into the tavern, and Jints led them upstairs into a room. The shutters were closed and but for a few candles it was dark. In the center was a plain wooden table, and in the far corner stood a man wearing a thick black cloak, with a hood over his face. Jints bowed to the Alchemist, who inclined his head back to Jints.

  "You must be the Alchemist." The captain said.

  "I must be," the Alchemist replied.

  "Turn water into gold, can ye? I've been hearing stories about you since I landed."

  "I can turn your plants into gold, if they have value," the Alchemist replied.

  The captain nodded. He placed his hands on his hips, not quite on the handle of a large knife he wore.

  "So to make these purchases, I'm guessing you have a lot of gold on you. Quite a lot of gold. Enough to kill for, so to speak."

  "So to speak."

  The Alchemist shifted, his hand brushing the handle of a crude club hanging off his belt. As soon as the hand connected with the club, the captain's danger sense started screaming. It felt like a hurricane was bearing down on his ship. He had to concentrate a moment just to keep his breathing steady.

  "Of course," the captain said, "sometimes a trade is a trade, and nothing ill comes of it."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Of course," the Alchemist repeated.

  "Sirs, I do believe I have finished counting 14 plants worth a total of 83 gold if sold in bulk to the warehouses. My hat is off to you, captain, for such a high value cargo." Jints broke in smoothly, releasing the tension in the air. "For such an esteemed client, the Alchemist would be willing to pay 114 gold for the very same goods. Again, without taxes or any such complications."

  One of the captain's eyebrows twitched at the amount of gold freely offered.

  "I heard rumors you could match two gold for one," he lied smoothly, "that'd be 166 gold in my books."

  "Ah, what a paradise that would be," Jints agreed cordially, "alas, 114 gold is the price for today. Far beyond a fair price, and indeed you wouldn't even need to go to market nor find a buyer."

  They haggled some more, with the Alchemist standing in the corner, staring at the captain throughout the entire process. Eventually Jints handed over several pouches of gold, causing the captain's eyes to shine, and the first smile of the day broke through the rough man's face. He glanced at the plants, as if considering something, he hesitated, looking from the plants to the pouch in his hands, then finally nodded to the Alchemist and left, whistling a tune as he stepped out of the tavern.

  The Alchemist sat down with a big sigh of relief.

  "You think he was about to knife us Jints? Or he was it least thinking about it?"

  "Quite probably, mister Zig, that's why I brought you here, along with all the mystery and whatnot." Jints was pulling various bags out of a corner, and organizing the plants next to a table. "If you offer a man a hundred gold coins for his goods, the second best option for him is to trade with you. The best—for him—is to simply take both coin and goods. Leave no witnesses, as it were."

  Zig blew out of his cheeks noisily.

  "Lotta drama just to do business."

  "Such is business, mister Zig. Such is business. We could work within the law and trust the guards to make these trades pleasant, but between you and me, the tax is too high, the paperwork too lengthy, and our clients are not too happy about law enforcement. Here, mister Zig, if you would."

  Jints gestured to empty sacks placed before each pot, and Zig got to work. As he pulled each plant out of its pot, he tried to focus on what was happening, but his eyes always went a bit funny for a second. He'd blink, trying to clear his eyes, only to see he was now holding about ten times the amount he thought he was pulling. He loaded up the sacks, while Jints scribbled little notes on cards tied with string to the sack openings. Zig stepped back, surveying the haul, and scratched his head.

  "We asked them to bring enough for two men to carry," Zig said slowly, "which was a great idea, by the way. Really great idea. But maybe we should have harvested after moving the plants closer to the market."

  The two men stopped working and looked at the room filled with sacks of harvested plants. It would take twenty men to carry all this. Jints nodded to himself.

  "Live and learn, mister Zig. Live and learn."

  Jints left Zig to stay and guard the goods while he sought out Gretta, Teeth, and a few spare carts.

  In the few weeks after breaking Zig's curse, the Red Daggers had begun to establish themselves in Liston. Zig still wanted to go to Northsong. He worried about his old friends, Erica, Abed, and David. But they needed to get funds for Jane to get into the academy, and after all that happened, Zig felt the team also needed time to level up before hitting the road again. That was why the team stood in front of a new inn that would be the home of the Red Daggers for a time.

  "The Broken Leg," Hepp read the sign hanging above the entrance. "It doesn't sound..."

  "Promising?" Jane asked.

  "Adventurous?" Gretta suggested.

  "Fun?" Zig offered.

  Teeth whinnied uncertainly.

  "Ahem," Jints coughed, "the Broken Leg is exactly what we need. I've searched every inn in Liston, and this—while being a bit costly—has the kind of services that can help the Red Daggers. Go ahead, I'll bring Teeth around the back to the stables."

  "How costly did you say it was?"

  Zig called out but Jints had already turned the corner. The team shrugged and headed inside.

  "Ah, you must be the Red Daggers."

  A man dressed in a fine suit with the longest mustache Zig had ever seen came up to greet them. It came down to his chest, falling like two little hairy waterfalls, swaying when the man turned his head. Zig was mesmerized. The man coughed politely.

  "Ahem. I am Lutor, the owner of the Broken Leg. On behalf of myself and my wife, welcome to the Broken Leg. You can leave your belongings in the entrance, some staff will come by shortly to bring it to your rooms."

  Hepp whistled, turning around the main room of the inn. It was an inn, and it had inn things. But somehow everything was a little bit nicer than anywhere else. Tables dotted the room, but each one was its own cozy enclosure, not the mess most inns made of cramming as many seats in as possible. In the center of the room was a fire, looking quite familiar.

  "Does that fire have a skill active on it? I've seen something like it in Lancre and it feels similar."

  "It does indeed, mister Zig. The specialty of the Broken Leg is rest and recovery, and we find that the mind can take much longer to heal than the body."

  Lutor spoke in a kindly voice, and smiled like he himself had gone through a lot, but healed and came out the other side. He walked up to Gutters and Knob, who were hanging at the back of the group with Jane. He offered his hand to the two boys.

  "I hear that something terrible, absolutely terrible, has happened. Please, let me take you to the hearth."

  Gutters hesitantly took Lutor's hand and grabbed Knob with his other hand. The three of them walked up to some couches in front of the fire. There were cushions and blankets, and little tables to set cups and plates of food on. It was a really inviting and cozy space, and Zig was a bit jealous of the two boys, but had enough sense to realize this was a special moment just for them.

  "Hey, what about me? Wait up!"

  Hepp rushed over to join the two boys on the couch, jumping into a nice corner spot and throwing blankets over himself. He ordered snacks and mugs of warm milk for the three of them. Jane and Gretta didn't run, but they also went over and took another couch. Zig gave up on his "it's special for the two boys" idea and also joined them. There was a bean bag next to the couches, and he sat on it. It was far firmer than he expected.

  "Huh, I think this is actually filled with beans."

  "Of course. It's a beanbag," Gretta responded. "You don't have that in your world?"

  "We have beanbags, but they're filled with, um, bits of foam. I don't know. Not real beans."

  Zig wiggled his back into the beanbag, reshaping it to his form. Lutor came back with cookies and milk for everyone. The milk was warm, and the cookies were soft and sweet. The fire was bright and friendly, and washed over the Red Daggers. Zig sighed and felt his body relax more than it had in a long, long time. Since he'd landed in this strange world, there was so much to be tense about. Zig had had to survive, to fight for his life, he'd been kidnapped, shot with an arrow, and stabbed in the leg. Hepp almost died, and then Zig had had that blood contract hanging over him. Zig took another sip of milk, feeling the warmth spread down his chest.

  "Life's been nothing but panic, for months now. I'd never actually killed anything before, you know? Before I came to this world, I mean. I don't know how you guys grow up like this."

  Zig spoke aloud as he felt muscles in his arms relax. He hadn't even realized he was tensing them. The same sensation spread to the back of his neck, and down his shoulder blades. Tiny bits of tension suddenly released and he felt like he could breathe again. A knot in Zig's stomach unclenched, and suddenly he felt light.

  "This. This is much better than the one in Lancre."

  Over at the bar, Lutor beamed as he polished the counter. These moments were why he'd started this inn.

  "I saw my dad," Gretta spoke into the comfortable silence. She looked as peaceful as Zig felt, wrapped up in a blanket and staring at the fire. "When the bandits killed my people. I was hiding by a table that toppled over, but in the distance I saw my dad, and he saw me. He didn't blame me for hiding. He actually motioned for me to run away. Like he wanted me to leave him to die." Gretta smiled as a tear ran down her cheek. "I've always wondered if I should feel lucky to survive, or ashamed that I didn't die with them..." The dwarf trailed off, taking another sip of her warm milk. Silence rested over the Red Daggers until another spoke up.

  "I'm not actually 12." Knob said. "I was 12 a couple years ago. It helped when we begged for food. I've been 12 ever since."

  "I've been 12 for five years." Gutters admitted. His eyes were closed and he was holding his mug between his hands. Zig couldn't believe it.

  "But you're so small!"

  "Thanks mister Zig, comes from being a halfie, I suppose? The lack of food helped too, I'd bet."

  They lapsed into another silence, absorbing the warmth of the fire.

  "I accidentally shot my neighbors cat," Hepp admitted slowly. "It was how I first got Bow Proficiency. I was mucking around with a bow and the cat jumped out of nowhere. Never told a soul."

  Nobody knew what to say in response to that, so after a pause, Hepp kept going.

  "I also stole from my dad when I ran away. I feel bad about that. Oh, and I peed in a stream that Zig was drinking from. I didn't realize until I was, like, eighty percent done, and by that time I thought I might as well—"

  The peace of the fire was finally overcome as Zig leapt on Hepp, wishing he had a Legendary Punch skill.