"Alright, Jeremiah," said Delilah. "It`s obvious we`re not getting anywhere with farmers and funerals." She had just returned for the evening, her business-like appearance only slightly disheveled from the day of meetings.

　　Jeremiah nodded. Despite all the work he`d been doing, and all of the affidavits Delilah had submitted, they had received no word of feedback from the courts, or even any indication that the Seven Judges were listening.

　　Delilah continued, "It`s become clear that the judges have already decided the outcome of this case. They`re just waiting out the clock. We need somebody who can force them to reconsider. It`s past time to talk to someone with some actual influence. Listen up you two, this concerns you as well."

　　Allison and Bruno joined Jeremiah and Delilah around the table. "Someone with influence, huh?" asked Allison. "Is that who I think it is?"

　　Delilah nodded. "I`m afraid so. I decided to hear out Colonel Valen`s offer."

　　Jeremiah`s stomach sank. "I don`t want to go to war."

　　"You won`t have to. At least, not yet. Before you can even be considered for employment by the crown, you need to be vetted on a smaller-stakes mission. That`s where you two come in." She turned to Allison and Bruno. "There`s a group of bandits that have been attacking small towns and caravans south of Dramir.

　　Bruno leaned in. "This isn`t the White Light bandit group, is it?"

　　Delilah looked surprised. "Actually, yes. What do you know about them?"

　　Bruno nodded grimly. "We heard about them on the barge, remember? They`ve been gaining territory for months, marauding and pillaging. It`s the life cycle of bandit culture: someone big and mean enough takes over a gang, and other criminals flock to him. The group gets bigger and bolder until it eventually gets broken up by do-gooders, such as ourselves, or destroyed from within and the process starts over. White Light`s been going strong for some time now. They seem better organized than most, but taking out whoever`s in charge should scatter them to the winds. Do we know where they`re based?"

　　"Not exactly. Intel has placed them somewhere in the Tarnothy Desert, at least a week`s march east. But it`ll be up to us to find them. If you two are willing to help, that is."

　　"GODS, YES!" shouted Allison. "I`ve been so bored! Delilah, I`ll fight whatever you want, just point me at it. Oh, and yeah, I`d love to help you and Jay." She grinned.

　　Bruno frowned. "I don`t know. This isn`t squabbling goblins or kobolds or even an orc raiding party. This is a whole bandit camp. No offense you two, but doing something that dangerous for no pay? I like you guys a lot, but&"

　　"Actually!" said Delilah, perking up, "I`ve negotiated salvage rights for the camp!"

　　"You got us right of salvage? Hell yes, I`m in!" said Bruno. At Allison`s and Jeremiah`s confusion, he explained. "Normally if you bust up a bandit camp, everything needs to be returned to its previous owners in a drawn-out bureaucratic nightmare. But this wonderful, half-elven snake in the grass," Bruno gave Delilah an affectionate push, "arranged it so everything in that camp belongs to us! Every silver, every gold, every gemstone, cow, sheep, shipment, writ, deed—the combined spoils of an entire organization`s worth of effort—belongs to us!" His eyes gleamed.

　　Jeremiah didn`t share his enthusiasm. "You just said yourself how dangerous this was going to be. I don`t think I can ask you guys to do this, treasure or no."

　　Allison cocked an eyebrow at him. "We`re adventurers. Going into dangerous situations for money is literally what we do. Being able to help your case at the same time just sweetens the deal."

　　Bruno clapped him on the back. "Jay, we want to help you. You`re our friend. And you obviously don`t understand just how much treasure is going to be at this camp."

　　Allison stood. "It`s decided. This is officially an operation!" At once, the mood in the room turned serious. "We`re a four-man team going after a fortified and guarded position. Not easy. Bruno, given your experience and breadth of knowledge surrounding our goals, I`m giving you command of preparation and field operations until such time you decide to hand it back to me."

　　Bruno`s jaw dropped. "Seriously? Are you sure?"

　　Allison nodded and grinned. "You`re in charge. I know you`ll do well."

　　Bruno devil-may-care smile faded. It was as though he had been hampered by the sudden weight of responsibility, and he wasn`t sure how to lift it. "Well&.we`re going to need intel," he said. "I`ll do as much fact finding on White Light as I can, but the three of you will have to help pinpoint their location."

　　He glanced toward Allison, and she gave him an encouraging smile. Bruno continued. "If there`s any gear you think could help, buy it, and get proficient with it as soon as you can. We`re going to need every edge we can get."

　　Delilah managed to gain approval for Jeremiah to travel the city the next day. Temptation tugged him in a hundred directions—for the first time he had not only gold jangling in his pocket, but the freedom to spend it. He resisted the aromatic delicacies on every corner and bought a pair of rugged traveling boots and a high-quality leather cap for protection.

　　Jeremiah considered the sums of gold still weighing down his pockets. There seemed few ways for him to use money to improve himself as a caster, at least in the short term. He realized, however, that helping the entire party would be just as valuable as helping himself, and he had a couple of ideas. The first would require money, enough to make him feel slightly sick to his stomach. The other was to collect on a promise made.

　　Jeremiah returned home well after dark, clutching a large rolled up parchment parcel under his arm. Bruno stood in the living room, leaning over an open book. His leather armor sported seven new sheaths distributed across his torso, shoulder, and hip. Each sheath held a wicked looking dagger.

　　As Jeremiah watched, Bruno began an elaborate dance of attacks, circling a wooden training dummy in the center of the living room. Each swing of his shortsword was matched with a thrown dagger, flicked from his off-hand and replaced in a blur of motion. For every dagger that lodged in the dummy`s chest, two more embedded in the wall or clattered off the furniture. Bruno grumbled and returned to the book on the table.

　　"Dominique the Blademaster," said Bruno, answering Jeremiah`s unasked question without taking his eyes off the page. "His style was all about maximizing attacks of opportunity."

　　Jeremiah could see it now—Bruno was fluidly trying to weave ranged attacks into melee attacks. "Don`t you have a bow? Why throwing knives?" asked Jeremiah. The weapons were big for throwing knives, almost short swords on their own.

　　"Because I lose a few seconds of push`, as Dominique calls it, when I switch to my bow," said Bruno. "Technically these are called throwing swords, and they`re damned expensive."

　　"Excuse me&" said Delilah from behind Jeremiah. He stepped out of the way to let her trudge past, carrying boxes full of delicate glassware and something so odorous that tears sprang to Jeremiah`s eyes. Two porters followed, similarly laden. "Good to see you again, Bentley," she greeted the dummy on her way upstairs.

　　Allison arrived home as Delilah`s porters were heading out. "Sorry, Bruno. None of my contacts were able to tell me much about the Tarnothy Desert. But at least I was able to get my name on the list to speak with an enchanter."

　　Bruno groaned. "They didn`t know anything? They couldn`t even tell you who might know more?" Allison shook her head, and Bruno sighed.

　　Jeremiah cleared his throat and presented his parcel. "I hope this will help." He untied the fraying string and let the vellum unroll on the table.

　　"A map!" Delilah said. "That might be use—" She trailed off as she leaned in for a closer look.

　　"Wooooah&" said Bruno and Allison together.

　　It was as though the landscape of the desert itself had unfurled before them. The map detailed every hill, river, and elevation, underground water sources and countless other features alongside precise scale measurements.

　　"Jeremiah, where did you get this?" asked Allison. "This is a military intelligence map. If I were to describe this as highly classified` I`d be doing it a disservice. You are not supposed to have this."

　　Jeremiah smiled coyly. "Oh, just a friend who owed me a favor." Allison stared at him and the truth boiled up from his stomach. "Uh, Harwick Featherfall. The man whose family I saved from the fire. He`s a cartographer. He pulled every string he could to get me something we could use."

　　"By the pickpocket`s promise, this has everything!" said Bruno. "I didn`t even know they made maps like this!"

　　"You think it`ll be useful?" asked Jeremiah, grinning.

　　Allison jabbed him in the chest. "Never, EVER, underestimate the power of an accurate map! Battles have been won because of good maps, and wars have been lost because of bad ones." She traced her finger along a mark indicating an underground river. "This map is a test of your creativity, intelligence, and preparation. The longer you look, and the harder you listen, the more it will reveal to you."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　They all bent over the map, trying to hear its secrets. Jeremiah, Delilah, and Allison soon retired to bed, leaving Bruno still listening.

　　Jeremiah grew used to finding Bruno poring over the map when he came downstairs, but one day he discovered Bruno with a gnome and a halfling in the kitchen. "Hey Jay," said Bruno. "Meet Parnoogle and Cynthia."

　　Parnoogle was a bulbous gnome wearing a painter`s apron splattered in a dizzying array of hues. A small collection of pots was arrayed before him, full of brilliantly colored pastes, which he was mixing in precise amounts, adding the tiniest drops of reds, browns, and ochres, pausing periodically to compare with a jar of red and pebbly earth. After each new concoction was created in a tiny glass cup, Parnoogle would write out a label with a numerical code and affix it to the jar.

　　"I`ll need to make a hue shift in case it rains," said Parnoogle in a nasally voice, "otherwise you`ll stand out like a sore thumb. Can you make a reversable suit, Cynthia?"

　　The halfling woman had tight, curious features. Her eyes darted back and forth as she thought, and her tiny hands twitched in a staccato rhythm as though they were making invisible stitches at blinding speed. "Yes, that shouldn`t be a problem, provided the paint isn`t too thick. I`ll send over three or four test patches for you to try."

　　"Good," said Parnoogle, mixing another swatch of reddish paint, browner than the others. "There we are." He continued mixing colored swatches, labeling the scraps of parchment while Cynthia took Bruno`s measurements.

　　Once they left, Bruno turned, grinning, to Jeremiah. "Artists can make miracles for their valued patrons."

　　"What miracle are they making for you?"

　　"Camouflage suit! Parnoogle is a painter with quite an eye for color, and Cynthia is a tailor. A friend in the geological society lent me a soil sample from the Tarnothy Desert as a reference."

　　Bruno retrieved their new map from his room and unfurled it across the table. "I`ve been coming to understand this beauty. A bandit camp as large as White Light`s would need access to water, a defensible position, and smooth terrain to transport stolen cargo. There`s only one place that meets those criteria." He traced an area towards the south of the map, nestled in the shadow of a ridge. "But I`ll need to scout it out and cover will be sparse, hence the camo suit."

　　"I`ve got this end, do you have your end?" asked Bruno, stepping backwards onto the next step.

　　"Yeah, just don`t go so fast!" said Jeremiah, clutching the crate of alchemical supplies Delilah had requested be brought to her lab.

　　"I`m not going fast! You have to push a little to tell me when you`re ready to move."

　　"If I push, and you`re not ready, you`re gonna trip on the stairs!" Jay could feel his grip slipping.

　　"I don`t trip, Jay. Wait, hang on, this grip isn`t working."

　　"So set it down or just wait so you don`t trip?" asked Jay.

　　"Just set it down, set it down!" said Bruno. They lowered the crate together and finally let it rest precariously on the stairs.

　　"There are really no good handholds," said Jeremiah.

　　"Nope, there`s nothing to grab at all," said Bruno.

　　Allison burst through the door, grinning ear to ear, and shouted up the stairwell. "I`ve done it. I`ve ordered my first piece of magical equipment!"

　　"Lemme guess," said Bruno. "An enchanted sword to smite your foes!" He swung his fist and pantomimed an explosion.

　　"I`ll admit, the magic weapon was tempting. Slicing through armor, never needing to be sharpened&" Allison`s eyes stared wistfully into the distance. "But no! Not a sword. I`m getting my armor enchanted!"

　　Jeremiah nodded, using his knee to brace the crate in place. "Not as flashy, but useful in every fight. Much harder to steal as well. Very wise choice."

　　Allison beamed at him. "Thanks! That means a lot, coming from the party mage."

　　Jeremiah grinned and turned back to the crate, pretending to inspect it to hide the flush rising in his cheeks. She had called him part of the party. He didn`t quite believe he was one of them, but it felt good to hear anyway.

　　"This thing going upstairs?" asked Allison. "Out of the way, both of you." She squeezed past Jeremiah and gripped the corners of the crate. Tilting it backwards with a grunt, she slid the crate up the stairs as though it were empty.

　　"There`s nothing to grab," Bruno said again, as Allison and the crate disappeared around the corner.

　　Delilah had scheduled Jeremiah to meet her in the lab with three days` notice. It felt strange, given he lived with her, but she was perpetually busy, and schedules were just how she operated. She put him to work the moment he set foot in her lab.

　　Delilah dumped a bottle of lavender colored liquid into a great wooden basin. She held out the empty bottle and Jeremiah took it and replaced it with a bottle of orange liquid.

　　"Can you crush up a pair of green quartz for me?" she asked, wafting the steaming concoction toward her nose and sniffing.

　　"Two or three?" asked Jeremiah, he opened one of a dozen of Delilah`s ingredient cabinets, went to the crystals section, and opened the small box that contained the jagged green crystals.

　　"Two, three if you think they`re on the small side," said Delilah. She dipped a long strip of scrap fabric into the basin and pulled it back out, inspecting it closely.

　　Jeremiah considered three of the crystals. It was a tough call. He brought the crystals to a set of scales and weighed the smallest. He crushed two separately, banging them between two leather sheets with a block of wood. The third he crushed and divided, returning half its dust to the cabinet in a small glass vial.

　　"Two and a half," he said to Delilah, bringing the crystal dust.

　　She glared at the small pile of crystal dust, then back at Jeremiah, eyes narrowing. She looked like she was dying to say something, but just nodded instead. Jeremiah poured the crystals into the basin.

　　A few minutes later Delilah used a hefty wooden paddle to fish a soaked black robe from the basin. "Once this dries, your robe will be more durable and offer you some protection, without affecting movement," she said, closely inspecting the garment.

　　"Like armor?" asked Jeremiah.

　　Delilah nodded. "It`s just a single layer, so it`ll be about as tough as leather armor. Don`t feel compelled to test it."

　　A few days later, Jeremiah found himself deep in the temple of Meandris, goddess of healing. Allison was seated next to him, both across a large desk from the high priest and his warhammer armed bodyguard. The high priest had taken every pause in their negotiation to silently glare at Jeremiah, his bodyguard picking up the slack when the high priest and Allison exchanged pleasantries.

　　"Anyways, your worship," said Allison, "we`re budgeted for four healing potions."

　　"Of course, Ms. Allday," said the high priest, gracing her with a gentle and disarming smile, "will you be paying the next installment on your debt as well?"

　　Allison sighed, but didn`t respond. Her gaze slowly sunk to the desk, eyes going glassy and unfocused.

　　"Allison? You okay?" asked Jeremiah.

　　"Yes!" She popped back to them. "Yes. I`ll pay my next installment as well."

　　"Excellent Ms. Allday! Now, I`m afraid the price of healing potions has gone up, just a little," said the high priest. He held up his thumb and finger to show the tiny amount.

　　"Undoubtedly. How much?" said Allison. Her pleasant smile went rigid.

　　The high priest told them, and Jeremiah jumped out of his seat, "Are you serious!?" he exclaimed. The bodyguard`s warhammer was drawn and poised to crush him to paste before Jeremiah had even finished his exclamation. Jeremiah dropped back into his seat with a thump.

　　The high priest totally ignored him, pulling four glass potions from the desk and setting them on his side of the table. Allison produced a sack of gold coins and placed it on her own side. The bodyguard reached across the table, still eyeing Jeremiah, and fetched the bag.

　　"Allison, are you sure we need these?" Jeremiah asked. The cost was astronomical. Even one fewer potion represented huge savings.

　　The high priest slid the bottles across to Allison. She slid one to Jeremiah.

　　"Alive," she said.

　　She slid it back across the table.

　　"Dead."

　　She slid it back to him again.

　　"Alive," she repeated.

　　Between books, supplies, potions and equipment, Jeremiah was beginning to see where the money went.

　　One evening, Allison shoved a spear into Jeremiah`s hands.

　　"What`s this for?" Jeremiah asked. The spear felt heavy and strange. It was shorter than Delilah`s, only slightly longer than Jeremiah was tall. The steel tip was leaf shaped, and freshly sharpened to a razor`s edge.

　　"Acid balls are nice, but I want everyone to be able to really defend themselves if it comes down to it."

　　"I can channel pure necromantic energy into someone if I get my hands on them," said Jeremiah. "It`s an ugly solution and tires me out quickly, but it`ll do the job."

　　"Sounds horrifying, but needing to physically touch someone is going to get you knifed in the lungs. A weapon gives you range, and the perception of threat."

　　"Can I pick something different?" Jeremiah asked. His childhood fantasies had always included a fearsome axe or a shining blade. A spear seemed so&mundane.

　　"No offense, but I don`t want some novice swinging anything near my head. With a spear, you poke. You`re lethal in minutes, you keep your distance, and you probably won`t injure any of us. Speaking of swinging&" she waved down Bruno who was, once again, darting through the house. His presence had become as ephemeral as a breeze through an open window. "Can I get your approval on a primary weapon?" she asked.

　　Allison raised the weapon she`d settled on for the assault, a heavy flail with an ugly lead weight at the end of a thick chain. She whirled the flail in an idle circle, and a strange hole in the weight began to emit a low whistle. Then she dropped into a stance and into a series of complex arcs. The whistle heightened to a fevered scream as Allison swung the flail with increasing vigor. Jeremiah struggled to follow its movement with his eyes, the spear feeling all the more like a dead weight in his hands.

　　"That`s perfect," said Bruno. "An exotic weapon bandits won`t have encountered before, with an unpredictable movement pattern. That horrible noise is great, too, just keep it muted for the quiet part of the plan."

　　To Jeremiah`s relief, Allison did not insist on sparring with him, leaving Delilah to instruct him in the basics of spearsmanship while she and Bruno practiced elaborate attack sequences on Bentley. Jeremiah went to bed that night with aching shoulders and forearms, glad to have done something that at least felt productive.

　　It was the day before their scheduled departure, and Allison hadn`t stopped glancing out the window every spare moment.

　　"It`s here!" she shrieked and ran to the door. Allison`s newly enchanted armor had arrived, delivered by an armored carriage with a cadre of guards.

　　They gathered around Allison as she inspected every square inch of the newly polished full plate armor. The gauntlets sported some new claws on the knuckles, but otherwise the armor looked no different. Allison flipped the pieces over to show them the fine silver lines tracing across the inside of the steel plates, spotted by tiny deposits of copper or gold. To Jeremiah, the pattern looked similar to Flusoh`s ritual diagram that gave him Gus. The silver lines represented only the simplest level of enchantment, but Jeremiah knew this foundation was necessary before layering on enchantments of greater complexity.

　　Allison held up pieces of armor for the others to admire. "The enchanter said a blow that would have hacked through before will only get through at the joints now. And anything weaker than that won`t do a damn thing." Her grin was childlike in its excitement.

　　"I should look into learning this stuff," said Jeremiah. "Maybe I could enchant equipment for us."

　　"We can discuss the ridiculous ramifications of that statement later," Bruno said. "It`s time to pack out. We leave tomorrow at first light."

　　That night Jeremiah was too excited to sleep. He was aware of the very real possibility of death during the upcoming mission, but his mind was filled only with visions of his own heroism and glory. He imagined boasting like Allison had at the bar, with people cheering his name. He saw himself holding court with nobles and aristocrats, regaling them with stories of his victory while their young and beautiful daughters sought to capture his attention.

　　He imagined triumphing over evil, but his fantasies were interrupted when he remembered Flusoh`s thoughts on Evil. With an uncomfortable jolt, he realized that the bandits they would be fighting were likely not Evil. He tried to weave his way back to the tone of his earlier fantasies, but they felt overly simple now, childish. Like a boat being rocked against a pier by stormy seas, he felt himself skirting up against a jarring truth, a truth about suffering and desperation, with which he did not want to fully engage.

　　Jeremiah tossed and turned in his bed. Gus fidgeted in his bowl on the nightstand. They`re not Evil. He heard Flusoh`s words in his mind over and over. "They`re just my enemy," he muttered.