MereScales Bank was an imposing, austere affair from the outside. Solid gray pillars framed the large double doors, and a pair of guards flanked the entrance, standing still as statues in their polished plate armor. There was shade beneath the overhang, but it was still hot in the late afternoon.

  Must have some sort of cooling enchantment in those things.

  Cool, still air hit them as the team stepped inside. The polished marble floor reflected the aqua hue of the high domed ceiling, creating the feeling that they were under the sea. It was quiet, broken only by occasional muted voices from the desks spaced out along each side of the room. A long wooden counter ran along the back, blocking access to an enormous steel vault door covered in glyphs.

  Thea turned to the brothers and pointed towards a severe-looking man sitting at a nearby desk.

  “You two need to talk to him to create an account. Tolliver and I are going to the counter to make a deposit, then I’ve got some errands to run.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Just a report to the city’s [Druid] conclave. Turn over the stuff we collected from the Rootmother’s house.”

  “There’s a conclave here? Does every city have one?”

  She gave him a look that said that was a stupid question.

  “Every city that doesn’t want a rat problem has at least one [Druid].”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. We’ll meet you back at the guildhall for dinner.”

  The two brothers approached the man Thea had indicated and stood politely back from his desk as he scribbled in a ledger. Without looking up, he spoke in a voice that made Tolliver’s sound unpretentious by comparison.

  “Sit. I will be with you in a moment.”

  The plain wooden chairs were more comfortable than they looked, and they both sat in awkward silence for several minutes while the man worked. When he finally set down his pen and looked up, it was with a frown of disapproval.

  “Yes?”

  “I…uh, I mean we…need to open up accounts.”

  He eyed them up and down, gaze lingering on Raith’s tattered skirmisher leathers.

  “We require a five gold fee and ten gold minimum deposit.”

  He looked back towards his paperwork, clearly assuming they would leave at this news.

  “We have that.”

  Raith pulled both bags of platinum from his satchel and set them on the desk.

  “That’s four hundred and fifty platinum each.”

  He’d been expecting the large sum to change the man’s demeanor, but if anything it became worse.

  “We do not secure stolen funds and will fully cooperate with any lawful investigations into theft allegations.”

  “What? None of this is stolen. We’re adventurers and this is a [Quest] reward.”

  “Ah, I see now. Adventurers.”

  He said it the same way someone might remark on finding mold on a piece of bread they were already eating. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out two neat stacks of paper and passes them over.

  “Can you read and write?”

  “Of course we can.”

  “We shall see. Fill out these forms, and if you find anything confusing I will attempt to explain it in a way that even you can understand.”

  What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

  Rather than start an argument with someone who’s help they needed, the brothers dutifully filled out the paperwork. It was pretty straightforward: Name, Home City, Occupation, Classes, Next of Kin. Agreeing to a bunch of legalese that he didn’t really read, but he presumed that everyone else with accounts signed it so it was probably fine.

  They finished up and handed the paperwork back, which he read over with a deepening frown. Raith thought they’d messed something up, but he was evidently just disappointed they weren’t quite as stupid as he’d imagined.

  “You are both from the City of Threads and dressed like that?”

  He harumphed, then rung a little bell to summon one of the guards over.

  “Please give this paperwork to Mrs. Fetlix for runic registration and bring these bags to the vault.”

  Without a word, the guard grabbed the items and marched off across the room. The clerk returned to his ledgers. Raith shifted uncomfortably as the man ignored them.

  “Is that it?”

  “Were you expecting trumpets? Yes, that is it. You may leave now.”

  “But how do I get my money? Is it going to be safe there?”

  The man set down his pen and looked up again with lips pressed thin.

  “Is it safe? The MerScales bank spans every city on the face of Tela, and throughout empires beneath the sea more vast than you can imagine. Our subsidiaries control every trade route across the ocean. Relics of the gods lie secure behind our doors. Kings and Emperors have entrusted their fortunes to our vaults, and not once in over three thousand years have they been breached.”

  He held up a finger.

  “Not once. Now, if you would like to make a withdrawal, that is done at the counter.”

  The two brothers followed his direction to the counter at the back, unwilling to bother the unfriendly man with more questions. The process of taking out a few hundred gold was considerably less painful than dealing with that harpy’s ass of a clerk had been. When the two brothers finally made their way back outside, it was with a huge sigh of relief.

  They got to the bottom of the steps, and Raith turned towards Nyhm.

  “I need to find the Book Nook and drop off these scrolls for Vandamir. What’s your plan?”

  “I was actually hoping to visit an apothecary and try to get a mortar and pestal and maybe some other [Herbalist] supplies.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Oohh, that’s a great idea. Do you want company?”

  Nyhm shook his head.

  “You’ll be as bored as I would in a book store. See you back at the guildhall.”

  As he watched his brother walk off, Raith realized that for the first time in what felt like forever, the whole team was off doing their own thing. Part of it felt liberating, but there was an accompanying sadness that he hadn’t been expecting. It was weird to be so physically close to these people for so long, and suddenly they just...weren’t there.

  Shaking off the mood, he asked for directions and soon made his way to the Book Nook. He’d been hoping it would be in one of the Boxes so he’d have a chance to check those out while he was here, but alas, it was only a few streets over in a quaint little business district with a well-kept street.

  The shop was much smaller than Vandamir’s with no seating area. But it was clean, and the books were organized by topic and alphabetically. Dester was a portly middle-aged man with a thin mustache that didn’t compliment his round face, in Raith’s opinion. The man smiled up from a book he was reading as Raith walked in.

  “Good afternoon, sir. I was just about to close up for the day. What sort of book can I help you find?”

  Raith pulled out the enchanted scroll case and the man’s eyes lit up upon seeing it.

  “I’m actually here to deliver these from Vandamir, acting as an agent of the Guild of Letters.”

  He pulled out the scrolls and handed them to Dester, who quickly opened them up to examine. Raith felt the rush of weft from a [Quest] fulfilled and smiled.

  “How delightful! And a fellow Guild member, you say? Please, tell me of your collection. What is your most treasured tome?”

  It took Raith a moment to realize the man assumed he had a book collection or shop of his own. Which, when he thought about it, was fairly reasonable, considering the nature of the guild. He thought of his [Mnemonic Library] and favorite books within, and decided that Dester guessed correctly, after all.

  “I am partial to tales of heroes and adventure. I have an original copy of The Flamewarden’s Saga, which was a favorite of mine growing up.”

  Which was kind of true. He’d read the book as it passed through Vandamir’s shop years ago and now occupied a place on his mental shelf. He glanced around the room and a thought occurred.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any books of the Dream Realm, would you?”

  The bookkeeper looked thoughtful for a moment, then waddled out from behind the counter.

  “Not specifically on the dreaming, but I have an excellent tome on all the five realms, which includes a thorough section on the topic.”

  Dester pulled a book off the shelf and passed it to Raith, who began to page through it but was stopped by a chubby hand and wagging finger.

  “Now, now. We all have [Skills], don’t we? Perhaps you’d be interested in some sort of trade?”

  He looked greedily at the scrollcase tucked into Raith’s belt.

  You greedy little son of a harpy.

  Raith looked back at the book, his only source of information on a topic he desperately needed to know more about. He hadn’t paid enough attention in the lorehall about the five realms to remember more than the basics. He didn’t really need a physical copy of the book, but that scrollcase was worth more than just a reading.

  “Do you have any good books on [Herbalism]?”

  Dester frowned, hoping to obtain his prize without having to bargain.

  “Several.”

  “Allow me to read this, one more book of my choice, and let me take your best book on [Herbalism], in exchange for the scrollcase.”

  “Second best. My best one is a rarity worth far more than that case.”

  “Deal.”

  Pleased with himself for getting another book for his brother, he idly wished he could simply invite people into his library and share this wealth of knowledge. Putting the thought aside for now, Raith had one more stop to make before heading back. This one was going to be a little more tricky, so he headed to the rooftops to find a good vantage to observe the street below.

  He didn’t have long to wait. With [Hawksight], it was easy to spot the youthful pickpocket dexterously pilfer coins as he meandered down the crowded street. Unlike the street urchin from earlier, this young man was clean and well dressed, clearly confident in his skills.

  Raith followed from the rooftop until he saw him casually turn down an alley and step behind the outcrop of a chimney to count his gold. Leaping silently down from the roof, Raith landed with just enough noise to startle the man and send coins scattering to the ground. The pickpocket whipped out a dagger and pointed it towards him with a shaking hand.

  “If I stole from you, just take it,” he gestured towards the coins on the ground with his weapon.

  Raith held up his palms, then reached into a pouch to pull out his guild medallion.

  “Keep your gold. I’m new in town and looking for the guildhall.”

  The man instantly relaxed and sheathed his dagger, followed by a scowl of irritation.

  “Well, you didn’t need to scare the shit out of me. Help me pick all this up and I’ll take you there.”

  It was a long walk to through the city to the district where the Thieves Guild was located. The streets grew increasingly dirty and so did the people. Raith was becoming worried that someone may try to rob him in spite of it being broad daylight. Even the worst street in Beckhaven wasn’t nearly this bad. His companion, however, was profoundly unconcerned.

  His name was Menrose, and he was a proud [Filtcher]. The lack of concern stemmed from being a well known member in excellent standing with Guild. Menrose was an earner, and no one who valued their lives messed with the Guild’s earners.

  The Old Valen guild entrance was in a dark and smelly alley that no one in their right mind would voluntarily walk down. The buildings looming on each side cast deep shadows, and something squished under his boot as he followed the pickpocket.

  They arrived outside a steel door, and Menrose rapped out a coded knock. A window opened with a squeak, and beady eyes glared out the hole. A gruff voice came through.

  “Whose that with you, Menny?”

  “Raith. He’s a guild member from Beckhaven.”

  Raith held up his medallion for inspection. A moment later the window swung shut with a clang and the door opened up to admit them.

  A rough looking man that put him in mind of Willoughby stood there, only if Willoughby had been one of the furriest humans to ever live. Except for his bald head, thick black hair sprouted from the man’s arms and out the top of his shirt. The shadow of his beard seemed to rise almost to the bottom of his eyes, interrupted only by a jagged scar across his jaw.

  “Whatchu want then?”

  “I completed the safehouse [Quest]. Recovered a medallion from the gnome who died there, and was returning it to the guildhall.”

  He nodded and stepped aside.

  “Boss ‘ill want to see you. Have a drink while I tell him.”

  The inside was exactly what he expected when he had thought of a Thieves Guild. Dubious stains on the floor, tense card game, sparsely dressed women with too much makeup. He sat down at the bar, and the toothless bartender was cleaning a glass with an absolutely filthy rag.

  “Get you an ale?”

  “Uh, no thank you. I can’t stay but a moment.”

  And fortunately, that turned out to be true. The doorman was back and gestured for him to follow down a hallway. The office they arrived at was considerably cleaner than the rest of the place and decorated quite ostentatiously. Everything was dark wood and gilded, with tasteless but expensive looking art on the walls.

  The man sitting behind the desk was a dandy, with long black hair and lots of lacy frills poking out from the neck and cuffs of his dark red coat. Shiny leather boots were kicked up onto the desk as he reclined in the chair with a lazy air.

  “Have a seat.”

  It didn’t sound like a request, so he sat. The doorman assumed a position directly behind his chair. The Guildmaster held out his hand expectantly, and it took a moment for Raith to realize he was supposed to hand over the gnome’s medallion.

  “Sorry, sir. Here you are. If you don’t mind my asking, what was his name?”

  The Guildmaster examined the medallion for a moment before making it disappear with some slight of hand and looking back up at Raith.

  “Thank you for returning this. His name was Trandion Deepgar. He was one of our specialists. An earner, he was.” and he lifted his wineglass to toast that fact. Doorman gave a grunt of approval. “I hadn’t realized it was his body at the safehouse, or we would have resolved that situation long ago. Alas, there is always more that must be done than there are men to set to the tasks.”

  The Guildmaster sipped his wine and set the glass carefully down before swinging his feet to the floor. He leaned forward and met Raith’s eyes with a steady gaze full of threat.

  “And the chalice. What of that?”

  The question caught him so off guard he didn’t have to fake confusion.

  “The what?”

  The Guildmaster’s eyes narrowed.

  “Where. Is. The. Chalice?”

  “I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about. We were only there to complete the safehouse [Quest]. There was no chalice of any kind.”

  Raith saw the man’s eyes dart to the lamp on his desk, that Raith now recognized as a copy of the lie detecting lamp from his own guildhall. The man then looked up towards the doorman and gave a subtle shake of his head before resuming a look of boredom and reclining back into his chair.

  “Well, then we thank you again for returning the medallion. Do send Embrey my regards. That will be all.”

  Raith breathed a sigh of relief and followed doorman back down the hall before returning to the stinky alleyway. The sun was beginning to set and his guide had disappeared. It probably wasn’t a good idea to wind his way down these streets by himself.

  Raith grinned to himself and scrambled up to the rooftop, taking a breath of mostly fresh air.

  [Squirrel Running] is more fun anyways.

  With a joyful leap he sped back towards the Adventurers Guild to rejoin his team.

  Thanks for reading! Don't forget to the story.