Chapter II
 
The cart clattered along the dusty road. The merchant, a sun beaten and pinch faced man named Albrecht, smiled in evident relief. Before him rose the great city of Nuln, with it’s fluttering banners and the smoke of hundreds of forges drifting skyward. In the back of the wagon he had two dozen casks of wine. Not quality stuff but suitable for the taprooms of any inn in the city. Albrecht made his living taking cheap pots, knives, needles and other such goods to the outlying villages where he sold them or traded them for a variety of food products.
 
Atop the casks sat three figures, two of whom were heavily armed. One was a hard faced soldier, familiar across the length of the Empire, the other two were women, though one of the women carried pistols and a short sword. They had emerged from the forest in front of his wagon a week ago and requested passage to Nuln. Albrecht, relieved beyond words that they weren’t bandits or highwaymen, had agreed. They had their own rations, talked little, and didn’t trouble him. Still they were unexpected an in Albrecht’s world the unexpected was the dangerous.
 
The guards paid no attention to the wagon as it clattered through the city gates. Their eyes lingered on the women, in the manner of bored men but flicked back to duty quickly enough. Albrecht cocked an eyebrow at the three and the brown haired woman nodded and rose, working the kinks out of muscles made tight by sitting.
 
“Leaving me now girlie?” he asked. They had given him names but he didn’t remember them.
 
“Yes Master Clausman,” she responded before hopping nimbly to the ground, her face wincing with pain at the impact for all her grace.
 
“Thank you for the ride.”
 
“Enjoy Nuln missy,” he responded as the remaining passengers hoped to the ground, but she had already vanished into the crowd.
 
 
“So where first?” Hilde asked Cedric. In the week since they had emerged from the bolt hole beneath the templar’s keep their wounds had began to heal. Hilde checked them every night, cleaned them and said her prayers to Shallya. So far so good.
 
“We have no money, and I doubt that they will let us near the countess dressed like rag pickers.”
 
Their clothes were torn and dirty. Hilde had washed her clothing in a stream but it still stank of smoke and burned hair. She had no money and no powder or shot for her pistols.
 
“Any ideas?”