There are three light carriages on the premises. A woman is greasing up a bridle. She sees you. “You want to go somewhere urgently?”
- “Yes, to Hermit’s Lake.”
- “We just have a question.”
- “With you anytime, beautiful.”
“I’m not going there. I don’t like that place, so you can go look for someone else or walk.”
With those words, she leaves you standing and goes into the house.
“Well? Get a move on, I haven’t got all day.”
- “Where is Hermit’s Lake?”
- “Do you know Hyggelik?”
- “Where can we find Alrik Derondan?”
“Get lost, dimwit, before I set the dogs on you.”
“Several days southeast of here.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Who knows. Somewhere about town.”
“And now beat it, I’ve got work to do.”
The town hall, a large brick building, is almost empty. You hardly notice the desk sitting in one corner of the spacious hall. There is a mousy looking fellow sitting behind it… Must be a scribe. He looks up with surprise as you approach.
“What, strangers? What brings you here?”
- “Beg pardon, it was just a thought.”
- “What do you know about Hyggelik?”
- “We would like to use the town archives.”
You see the scribe shaking his head as you leave the building.
“For any kind of enquiries about the town, its citizens or the surrounding area, including use of the archives, a surcharge of ten ducats is payable.”
- “Why, certainly.”
- “No way.”
“Okay, but only under duress.”
“Well, good bye then.”
“Thank you. Now, if you would be so kind as to fill in this form… in triplicate? You will be informed in writing about the decision pertaining to your application following the next council meeting in about three weeks. Ink and a quill are over there.”
The gambling hall is filled with the noise of drunken gamblers, the rolling of dice and the crack of cards being slammed on the tables.
You stand around a while without anyone taking any notice. Finally you are addressed by someone who is quite obviously an overseer.
“Did you just come to look, or do you want to gamble?”
- “Actually, we came to gamble.”
- “We are looking for Alrik Derondan.”
- “We’re looking for someone who knows this town.”
“Then why don’t you? There are some places at the table in the back there.”
Some hours later you have lost [N] ducats, but you had a lot of fun doing it. Mind you, the gambling made you completely forget what you came here for in the first place.
Some hours on, you have won [N] ducats, and you had a lot of fun doing it as well. Mind you, the gambling made you forget what you came here for in the first place.
“He’s probably roving about town. But if I were you, I’d check the taverns. Good chance he’ll be hanging out in one of them.”
“Well, I’ve lived here for years. I could possibly help you, but I’ve got work to do. Life is dastardly expensive around here…”
- “Tell us about it!”
- “Could five ducats change your mind?”
- “No! We won’t buy any more information!”
“Well, I better get going then,” the man says and disappears into the crowd.
“They already did, honored friends. What do you want to know? Hyggelik? He’s gone. He disappeared a long time ago. It is said he travelled to the Golden Country, but I don’t know whether there’s any truth to that. Ah well, have a nice day anyway.”
There are four armed guards posted in front of the splendid villa. As you set foot on the grand stairway, the four look at each other, nod and attack.
The resplendent villa of Ektor Gremob is guarded by four well armored men. As you enter the gardens, two of them approach.
“This is private property. No trespassing allowed. We request that you leave the grounds immediately. Please do so or face the consequences!”
The pink building radiates the impression of high quality at tremendous expense. Mind you, the interior makes the facade seem barren in comparison as the extravagance leaves you breathless. So does the gorgeous young fellow gliding towards you (at least according to the women in the area).
“How can I be of service? Or do you prefer female company?”
- “Nothing of the sort. We are looking for Hyggelik.”
- “We’re not fussy when it comes to that.”
- “What?! Do you take us for perverts?”
“Please! Keep your voices down! The mistress does not like us to make a coin on the side. Hyggelik you say? I have heard about him. Meet me in half an hour, two houses north of here. If you can afford it, that is.”
- “Oh, we can be quite generous.”
- “We should be able to manage.”
- “Oh no, that’s not the way we do business.”
“Follow me.” after an extremely enjoyable night (so use your imagination already!), you are back on the streets in the morning. Rats, the joys of last night made you forget all about asking any questions…
“Dear me, what puritans. You better leave then, before you go all red from shame.”
“All right, I was just asking!”
“See you later then, sweeties. Away you go now, before the mistress sees us blabbing.”
The Apothecary
The small shop reeks of herbs and potions and looking around you see relics from all corners of the world. The apothecary appears from a dark room in the back when he hears the doorbell.
“What can I do for you?”
- “We are looking for some healing herbs.”
- “Do you know the name of Hyggelik?”
- “Nothing, if your shop is true to its looks.”
“Healing herbs? I shall take a look.”
The man disappears and comes back some minutes later with a measly bunch of whirlweed.
“It’s not very fresh, I’m afraid, so I’ll let you have it for just ten ducats.”
“Hyggelik? Yes, I know him. Now… where did I hear that name?”
“Oh, it’s much better.”
- “That’s what I call a fair offer. Here’s your money.”
- “Not very fresh?? That stuff is ancient!”
- “That’s extortion! Keep it!”
- “Do try and remember!”
- “Might five ducats jog your memory?”
- “Are you trying to beg from us?”
- “I don’t think so.”
- “We’ll take our chances.”
“I bet you have healing herbs as well.”
The man just shrugs and disappears into the back room.
“Sorry, I simply can’t remember. I guess it’s been too long. I’ve been too busy earning a living to keep track of trivia like that. Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“Thank you very much. Yes, I remember now. Hyggelik is in Riva right now, or so people say. Riva? Well, its some weeks away and you have to travel through the Orcish Lands. Either that or take a ship from Thorwal.”
“Well, you’d have to tell me what you want for that.”
“Just out of here.”
“Poisons. Beautiful and potent poisons.”
“Just who do you think you’re talking to? Get out!”
The sign at the door shows this building is a chirurgeon’s practice. Mind you, the people in this town must be uncommonly healthy since no one answers no matter how urgent your knocking.
When you knock at the door, nothing happens. Only after several minutes of heavy banging does a window on the first floor open and a man pokes his head out, shouting down at you:
“We’re closed! Come back tomorrow!”
The front door is open. On entering, you are greeted by the faint odor of antiseptic and a room obviously used for medical treatment. Some frightening tooth pliers and scalpels are lying about, and bloody bandages are heaped in a mound in one corner. The chirurgeon is sitting in another corner, watching you.
“You don’t look sick to me.”
- “Well, we are.”
- “We’re not looking for treatment, either.”
- “Not particularly clean around here.”
“Well, let’s have a look then.”
“Then why are you here?”
“If you don’t like it, you can leave. Actually why don’t you just leave anyway? The door’s open.”
- “Just out of curiosity.”
- “Would you give us all a check-up?”
- “We are looking for Hyggelik. Do you know him?”
“There’s nothing to gawk at here.”
- “That’s what we figured.”
- “We just wanted to ask about someone.”
- “Are you sure about that?”
“All right then. Let’s take a look. Would you undress, please? Stop that, are you heroes or what?! I treat small children braver than you. It couldn’t possibly hurt. What’s that you’ve got there? Oh.. Hmm.. I see.. Well, I’ve got good news. You’re a bit tired maybe… but perfectly healthy. There isn’t a thing wrong with you. The bad news is that it’ll be two ducats.”
“Yes, I know him. What’s it worth to you?”
- “Let’s say one silver crown?”
- “Would five ducats be enough?”
- “What?! Forget it, we don’t need you.”
“Hyggelik is dead, but I do happen to know who got his inheritance. A fellow by the name of Beonwulf took the lot of it with him to Thorwal. But if you want him, you’ll have to hurry, because he and his otta are said to be negotiating with Grangor.”
“Hmm. As far as I know, he is hanging out at Hermit’s Lake some days journey southeast of here.”
“No way without a certificate…”