rely upon such factors. I will trust in my own strength and the gifts our masters have given me.' He strode off, towards the balcony's far end, and disappeared into the building, heading back towards his own quarters. There was still much to do.
Varlek watched him go, the Chaos sorcerer's thoughts hidden once again behind his calm, focused features. He glanced back down one last time and then shouted a few additional instructions and departed, leaving the beastmen below to continue their blackpowder practice unobserved.
CHAPTER NINE
'This is why I hate villagers,' Alaric was complaining, gnawing on a piece of hard bread as they walked. "'Beware the fog, particularly near the bones". What sort of a statement is that?' He squinted up at the leaden sky and glowered at the valley they were slogging through, which looked much the same as the ones they had been traversing for the past two weeks. 'Of course you should beware a fog. You could break your neck stumbling around when you can't see. And any place that has bones, particularly fresh human ones, is worth steering clear of. Couldn't they have said something more useful, like "Don't take the left fork it leads into swampland," or "There are beastmen in the caves to the west so steer clear"? Instead it's just a bunch of vague mutterings from people who've never even learned to read.'
'Hm.' Dietz was chewing his way through a hard cheese, rind and all, and swallowed before replying further, Vague, maybe, but still wise.'
His friend spared him a weary 'oh, please' look, but Dietz shook his head. '"Don't go beneath the city, monsters lurk there",' he reminded Alaric. 'Or what about "The Strigany worship daemons" or "The dead walk the mountains"?'
'Yes yes,' Alaric said irritably, tossing the bread heel aside. Glouste scampered after it and returned to Dietz's shoulder a moment later, chittering excitedly about her new acquisition, which she began nipping at greedily. 'I take your point. Not all mutterings are useless, and even vague warnings should be heeded.' He slipped back into lecture mode for a second. 'In fact, many superstitions have their roots in actual past events. People were forced to adopt strange activities to combat certain menaces, and passed those habits down to their children, who passed them along in turn, until the menaces were long gone and their very existence forgotten, but people still turned widder- shins and stepped carefully over thresholds and never brushed dirt out of the door, even though they had no idea why.' He frowned, recalling his irritation. 'But that's not the case here,' he insisted. 'This is just foolishness. These people are vague for no reason other than they're not smart enough to add more detail to their crude fears.'
'I think you're just annoyed because they wouldn't sell us better food,' Dietz commented, finishing the piece of cheese, and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
'Well, what of it?' Alaric replied sharply. 'They clearly had other food there, but all they would part with was that rock-hard bread and the equally rock-like cheese. Is that any way to treat a pair of noble adventurers? And the prices. They're insane! They might as well have held us at sword point and taken our coin, at least then I'd feel justified in the loss.'
Dietz nodded. Yes, the villagers had been stingy in selling them food, and the prices had been steep, but they had obviously seen how desperate the two men were for fresh
food. There was little game in these hills, and the supplies they'd bought in Nuln had run out days ago. So, the villagers had sold them only what they didn't want themselves, and had overcharged them for the privilege.
Dietz was relieved that his friend's temper had returned. He knew Alaric well enough to know that the nobleman became mild and meek when he was seriously ill or badly wounded. This sudden vehemence about the villagers meant that Alaric must be fully recovered from his
Varlek watched him go, the Chaos sorcerer's thoughts hidden once again behind his calm, focused features. He glanced back down one last time and then shouted a few additional instructions and departed, leaving the beastmen below to continue their blackpowder practice unobserved.
CHAPTER NINE
'This is why I hate villagers,' Alaric was complaining, gnawing on a piece of hard bread as they walked. "'Beware the fog, particularly near the bones". What sort of a statement is that?' He squinted up at the leaden sky and glowered at the valley they were slogging through, which looked much the same as the ones they had been traversing for the past two weeks. 'Of course you should beware a fog. You could break your neck stumbling around when you can't see. And any place that has bones, particularly fresh human ones, is worth steering clear of. Couldn't they have said something more useful, like "Don't take the left fork it leads into swampland," or "There are beastmen in the caves to the west so steer clear"? Instead it's just a bunch of vague mutterings from people who've never even learned to read.'
'Hm.' Dietz was chewing his way through a hard cheese, rind and all, and swallowed before replying further, Vague, maybe, but still wise.'
His friend spared him a weary 'oh, please' look, but Dietz shook his head. '"Don't go beneath the city, monsters lurk there",' he reminded Alaric. 'Or what about "The Strigany worship daemons" or "The dead walk the mountains"?'
'Yes yes,' Alaric said irritably, tossing the bread heel aside. Glouste scampered after it and returned to Dietz's shoulder a moment later, chittering excitedly about her new acquisition, which she began nipping at greedily. 'I take your point. Not all mutterings are useless, and even vague warnings should be heeded.' He slipped back into lecture mode for a second. 'In fact, many superstitions have their roots in actual past events. People were forced to adopt strange activities to combat certain menaces, and passed those habits down to their children, who passed them along in turn, until the menaces were long gone and their very existence forgotten, but people still turned widder- shins and stepped carefully over thresholds and never brushed dirt out of the door, even though they had no idea why.' He frowned, recalling his irritation. 'But that's not the case here,' he insisted. 'This is just foolishness. These people are vague for no reason other than they're not smart enough to add more detail to their crude fears.'
'I think you're just annoyed because they wouldn't sell us better food,' Dietz commented, finishing the piece of cheese, and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
'Well, what of it?' Alaric replied sharply. 'They clearly had other food there, but all they would part with was that rock-hard bread and the equally rock-like cheese. Is that any way to treat a pair of noble adventurers? And the prices. They're insane! They might as well have held us at sword point and taken our coin, at least then I'd feel justified in the loss.'
Dietz nodded. Yes, the villagers had been stingy in selling them food, and the prices had been steep, but they had obviously seen how desperate the two men were for fresh
food. There was little game in these hills, and the supplies they'd bought in Nuln had run out days ago. So, the villagers had sold them only what they didn't want themselves, and had overcharged them for the privilege.
Dietz was relieved that his friend's temper had returned. He knew Alaric well enough to know that the nobleman became mild and meek when he was seriously ill or badly wounded. This sudden vehemence about the villagers meant that Alaric must be fully recovered from his
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