Delphine wrinkled her nose at the smell of wood smoke and burned flesh. The worst of it seemed to be coming from the docks where columns of black smoke still rose lazily. Gulls circled lazily on the resulting thermals in unusual numbers. What was attracting them did not bear thinking about. There were few people in the street, though eyes peered out from doorways and windows. Somewhere a man was sobbing, a savage heartsick sound that made Delphine flinch.


“How did they breach the wall do you think?” Amal asked as they headed towards the center of town. Delphine twitched her nose slightly and scowled, the subtle but unmistakable scent of void salt tainted the air.

“Daedra,” she said shortly. Amal cast a sideways look at her.

“Really?”

“Really,” Delphine confirmed. They passed into a small square where several armsmen in the livery of the Baron of Holbine were attempting to defend a wagon against a dozen or so townsfolk. A shower of debris and rubbish struck upturned shields and the armsmen scuttled away, surrendering the prize. The townsfolk swarmed up onto the wagon and began tossing sacks of flour down to their fellows. The soldiers milled around for a few moments and then slunk away, unwilling to put their lives on the line for the food. Delphine wondered if they had been in town when the slavers struck.


The town hall was one of the few buildings in Keogria made entirely of stone. It was built around an ancient abbey of Dibella with a large central tower at the center of two crossed halls. What once had been cloisters were now gardens that featured carefully tended apple trees. The city guard, never a large body and more accustomed to taking bribes from merchants and busting up drunken brawls, were there in force. Most of them looked to have had a rough night and several of them bore bandages or visible bruises. They eyed the two adventurers with flat unfriendly eyes but made no effort to stop them as they crossed the lawn and entered.

Marcel Gross was sitting at a desk, his three hundred pound bulk all but concealing the abused stool beneath him. His bald pate shone and his fatty neck spilled over the side of a stained velvet doublet. He looked up at Delphine and Amal as they entered and narrowed his piggish eyes. Undeterred, Amal tossed the bag of ears down on the table top with a wet slap. Gross reached out and opened the bag then paled with disgust.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“The bounty on the mine, we cleaned it out of goblins, and an ogre,” Delphine declared proudly.

“An ogre? Surely you…” Gross reached in and pulled out the dinnerplate sized ear of the troll and went a shade of green. He thrust it back inside and began routing through a desk. Finding a key he stood and half waddled over to a large iron bound chest and unlocked it, counting out coins with deceptive agility. He turned and bounced a leather pouch on his palm and tossed it onto the desk. Delphine checked quickly, earning herself a glare from the alderman who was already sitting down and going back to his paperwork.


“Get out of my sight,” he wheezed and waved a hand dismissively.


____

“Are you going to pay your thieves or your mages?” Amal asked as they stepped out of the town hall. Delphine jingled her pouch enjoying the very temporary clink of septims. It was almost physically painful to think of what she could accomplish at the mages guild with such funds at her disposal. She could get access to alchemical texts and equipment that would allow her to do all manner of wonderful things.

“The Thieves Guild,” she said reluctantly, “on account of the fact that my magic will work better if I still have my thumbs.”

“What about you, have a bender planned?”