The Listener watched the old Storyteller. "This is all very interesting, but what about the Sword?"

The Storyteller smiled. "Patience. Your price was the whole story. But I think you will not be disappointed by what comes next."

---

Captain Murkagh was as ugly as sin, not that that bore much matter to Faith and Grace. He was half Stone-Goblin, one of the more tolerable Goblin races to be sure. His mother was probably a humanoid of some kind, and may even have been beautiful, but there was no way for her to pass on her good looks to her son. Faith and Grace tried to imagine him as a child, but right now, he was a man past his prime by just a hair, though still quite intimidating of form and very fit. He sighed as he set down their report.

"Well," His voice was deep and almost even melodic in it's own rattling way. "I've seen worse. I guess I should be glad I'm not notifyin' your comandant of a death."

"We share that sentiment," Grace said.

"As if we needed more bad news. Still, I can spare a contingent to check out that dock. That's something, at least. Though I could still do without the gods-damned Savage Horde on the western end of the county." He stood up, walking to a map on the wall. "Do you trust Morphiel Hinterstrad?"

Faith and Grace glanced at each other. It was Faith who answered. "Well, he did help us, and didn't abandon us, so that's one thing."

"We think he was a Staff of Justice once," Grace added.

Captain Murkagh looked at them both with a squint of confusion that only seemed to make his face uglier. "Lord Morphiel Hinterstrad? He's a local noble, why the hells would he ever be a Staff of Justice?"

Faith took the lead. "It's...just some things he said--"

"--and some things Trent said," Grace added.

"Well they did seem to know each other." Faith shrugged.

"And hate each other." Grace took over. "I think they may have served together once."

Captain Murkagh sat down with a sigh, staring into the distance as he thought. "I guess it's possible." He scratched a patch of scraggly hair on an otherwise bald, lumpy head. "Look, I think it's time I told you the rest of what I know about Trent. There are details the Citadel wants to keep quiet, and if I tell you this, it does not leave this room."

Both sisters said, "Yes sir."

Murkagh sighed in frustration. "Steuben Trent was a merc from Starfall who served with the Staves in Marraddon City during the riots. They were short-handed, they needed all the help they could get, so they got a dispensation from the Citadel to outsource a little. The Staves found out that the Brotherhood of the Lamp had their hand in the riots, but they couldn't seem to get ahold of the situation. At that time, Steuben had a close friend in the Staves named Hines. Trent and Hines finally caught one of the Brotherhood's mid to high level fixers, but the Brotherhood put out a hit on 'em. Hines was almost killed, lost his wife in the explosion. In a fit of rage, he murdered the fixer, before we could interrogate him, with Trent right there with him. Trent didn't lift a finger to stop him. No one could really blame Hines for that, but that move cost us a lot of info, and it lost a lot of Staves their lives in the setback. Trent was fired, Hines was brought up on ethics charges and drummed out. We don't know what happened to him after that."

Faith and Grace nodded. Faith said. "Alright. I follow you so far."

"Well here's the part the Citadel doesn't want getting out." His voice got quieter. "After his ungracious exit, Trent decided to take his revenge. Captain Stillwell in Marraddon City was a desk-jockey and an ass-kisser, make no mistake, but he had a trump card that was helpin' us in the riots. He had the Sword of Creation."

Faith's eyes went wide.

Grace said, "The Sword of Creation?"

"The one." Murkagh grimaced. "I don't understand why the gods give us that kind of power, especially the All-Father, but hey, I'm a mortal, so what do I know. Anyway, Trent slipped in in the night and murdered Stillwell and took the Sword."

Faith and Grace looked at each other dubiously. "If Trent had that kind of power--"

"He couldn't hold onto it. If he ever brought that thing to bear, he'd have every Staff in a thousand miles up his ass before he could say I surrender. Not to mention every Paladin we can talk into helping, and everyone he ever pissed off, and everyone who wants to get their hands on that Sword."

Grace shook that image out of her head. Faith said, "The problem is, who wants to be on the front line when he finally decides to make his move."

"Exactly." Murkagh scowled petulently. "So next time you hear that spoiled silver-spoon son of a were-raven call me a coward, just let it slide. The last thing I need is some self-important local lordling digging around trying to find where the hell Trent hid that Sword, and I need even less him gettin' his hands on it. I know what that idiot thinks of me, and I don't care. If he ever did serve the Staves in Marraddon City, it was probably for show, so he could come home and say 'see, look, I contribute to the world, I'm good at something.' It was probably a cushy desk job, and he probably got disillusioned by not getting to play hero during the riots. He thinks he gets to just call in the Staves and save himself the expense of doing his lordly duties, well he can kiss my Goblin ass. I make the strategic calls for my men, and if he wants his forest cleared, he can hire the mercs for it." He looked at both of them. "Am I clear?"

Grace nodded once. Faith said, "Crystal clear, sir."

"Good." He sighed. "Now, having said all that..." He shrugged as if in concession. "That was good work out there, so thanks, both of you, and...as much as I loathe to admit it...thanks to Hinterstrad for helping."

"If we can help in any way finding the children, sir, we want to be a part of that."

"Oh trust me, you will." He looked grave. "This is gonna be a big shit sandwich for everyone and we're all gonna have to take a big bite." He stood up. "Dismissed." Captain Murkagh exited his office.

---

The Mongrelman "camp" was not truly a camp as most people would envision it. Morphiel, in fact, had no idea how this tribe came to be here. They were a long way from the jungles that their kind would naturally call home, but they had adapted rather quickly already, with their fur growing long and multi-layered in the Rendruan cold. Morphiel wondered if perhaps they had been slaves of a traveling circus or something and had broken free in their travels through this part of the world.

It mattered not. They were a danger to his woodsmen and any other traveler that happened to be in their "territory." The indignity of being lectured by those two young paladins aside, she was right. It was in fact Morphiel's duty to protect his citizens, and it was time to go to work. They were about to learn the territorial instinct Morphiel had inherited both from his Rakshasa father and from his noble Rendruan mother. It was time to make contact. For the first time since he discovered their presence, he glamoured himself to appear as a full tiger and stepped into the clearing.

The clearing was silent, but he could smell them. He let loose a tiger's roar, using his glamour to instill them with fear. "I demand to speak with your Alpha!"

He heard hoots and cries around him. in a few seconds, two fur-covered humanoids dropped from the trees around and bowed low, trembling. The older of the two said, "Mercy, great hunter! We ask mercy!"

"I guess I could have just come to lecture them after all." "Are you the leader of this tribe?"

"I am magic one. I speak Human words. This one leader." He indicated the large furry one next to him with a wrinkled black face and shiny sharp teeth. Both kept their head down and low to the ground.

He knew they did not have what he wanted, but he used the command as a starting point. "I want my children and my hunters back."

"No, great hunter! No children! No hunters! We have bear, and deer!" The magic one waved up into the trees with an urgent beckoning gesture. Three more Mongrelmen jumped down and bowed low, offering red strips of meat in their outstretched, trembling hands.

Morphiel sniffed. True to their word, it was game meat, not sentient.

"Good. You may eat on my land as long as you only eat animals. No children, no people, no hunters."

"Yes, great hunter!"

"Have you seen any of my hunters?"

"Yes." The magic one pointed. "By lake. Big, fierce men. They take people, they take us! We do not go close!"

Morphiel turned to look to the west. He looked back to the magic one. "By the lake, over that hill?"

"Yes, great hunter!"

Well that was not good news. The lake over that hill was in Laszlofi's county. Morphiel played the odds in his head of being able to slip in and out without trouble. He liked his odds, all things considered.

He turned back to the magic one. "You may stay on my land, if you only eat animals, and do not hurt people."

"We obey, great hunter!"

Morphiel turned and walked to the west, to see what was going on over by Laszlofi's lake.