Not Another Hero

Get to the other house! Don't break any eggheads.

"Nah, I'm more of an outdoorsy kind of guy."

> Pitch a tent on the roof of the house.

Shake your head and ask if there's room in any of the wagons. You'll be sleeping in there, only working in the house if need be.

Ask who the egghead is.

I assumed the caravan's owners and well-dressed accountant took up residence in the huge wheeled cottage Graglori indicated. Though the thought made me cringe inwardly, I knew it would be folly to accept luxurious accommodations.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll just ride and sleep with the other workers."

The old gnome looked looked confused for a moment, but pointed to one of the covered wagons nearby. "Should be room in the rear cart for you," and I thought I picked up on a morsel of grudging respect from his tone.

The wagon was packed with dried food and camping gear, but I managed to string a makeshift hammock up in the back. What it lacked in comfort, my quarters made up in privacy. Packed in among the gear, there was no room for anyone else to ride.



I did have an excellent view of the city as we departed. Sure, I'd left Newwald several times as a youth, but always in the comfort of a gilded carriage, sneaking glances at the world outside when my father wasn't paying attention.

This time, every bump was almost exhilarating. I felt like a child staring wide-eyed at a world he'd only heard of.



I'll not bore you with the tedious details of our weeks on the road. I spent my days in the cottage, pretending to pore over stacks of nigh-undecipherable documents to provide a legal analysis. I didn't know enough to make much of a difference, but I appeared to know more than Geoff did. Enough so to keep him from doubting my credentials, at least.

I usually ate and slept with the laborers, helping them break camp in the mornings and cook food later. My inexperience and soft hands were the subject of ridicule at first, but they came to accept me as we traveled together.

One day, we stopped suddenly. I heard shouting from the front of the caravan. The dragons whined as their riders halted them and I was nearly thrown from my hammock when my own cart came to a stop.



I knew we were in the forested foothills leading up to Eddanar. I scrambled out and made my way to the front.

"Banditos, eh?"

Welll. That ain't good.

>Ask about what happened here.

Only sensible thing to do in a situation like this is to start looting.

Try and observe as best you can, you are not one of the leaders of the group technically and you don't want to make too big an impression unless you are being called upon for legal advice. This looks more like a tactical situation than a legal one. Also try not to pee your pants.

A wrecked wagon sat along the side of the road. All but one of its wheels had been removed, and huge arrows were lodged in its planks. Francine and Chad surveyed the derelict while a few of their workers stood guard with spears.



Upon seeing me approach the site, Francine turned. "I never knew these roads were so dangerous. I'm glad you suggested taking some insurance," she said, her typical stern demeanor replaced with concern. "What do you think? Is this the work of thorn pixies?"

I had never even seen a thorn pixie at that point, but I'd heard tales. They bombard their targets from afar and then swarm them from the trees. It looked like it fit the bill. Instead of confirming her suspicions right away, I furrowed my brow and began to survey the site. I'd adopted this mannerism to disguise myself on those occasions when I had to quickly make up a lie.



There were no bodies and no cargo - just a shell, really. The only arrows I found were buried deep in the wagon's frame. In front of the wreck was a large pool of blood and a discarded longsword - battered, but functional.

"Yeah, this looks like pixies. We should get out of here and report this in the next town. Tell the guards to pay close attention to any groups of trees and let everyone know if they see anything."

> PPick up the longsword. You might need to learn about how to use it shortly.

"It seems to fit... But there's nothing specifically pixie about this. Could be staged by anyone wanting to make it look like that. In any case, we ought to move quickly. They might still be around."

Pick up the longsword and gauge its weight. Ask if anyone knows where it's from; if not, and it's particularly heavy, you can probably cross pixies off the list of suspects.

There was no way to know whether the blood and sword were from the attackers or defenders of the wagon. It didn't take a medical professional to tell that the blood was fairly fresh, though.

I picked up the sword.



My father considered swordplay to be beneath the ruler of the realm, and so the only weapons I'd ever lifted were wooden toys. Despite its size, the blade was astonishingly light. Long and thin, with a wide crossbar, this was the weapon of a duelist. The patina on the metal made it appear old and poorly cared-for, but it fell off like dust when I took a swing. The edge was razor sharp. I found an empty socket where the pommel should have been, but the lack of it did not appear to negatively affect the weapon's balance.

No one seemed to mind that I'd claimed the weapon, likely because I was the least armed member of our party.

Confident that this was the work of pixies, I nodded briefly to Francine. I thought it best to leave it up to her to come up with a plan and break the news to her people.

"We work in shifts starting now," she bellowed at her crew gathering nervously at the head of the convoy. "We don't stop until we reach Eddanar.

No one complained as we toiled day and night. I had no experience with dragons and so I was unable to help drive the wagons, but I worked as a lookout.

Whether the bandits had gorged themselves on the wreckage we found, or they didn't think we were worth the effort we would never know. Either way, we all felt better when the thick forests gave way to the dusty crags of the western mountains. Eddanar was close.



It had been years since I last visited the industrial city, and even then I did not get out of our royal accommodations much. I knew the city was built atop an even larger granite gnome settlement, and I knew that the mining and smelting of iron ore was Eddanar's chief source of income. Furthermore, it was the only profitable part of my entire kingdom and a good place to start if I was ever going to turn our fortunes around.

Now, as merchants, what did you come here to do? Trade? Tour the gnome settlement? Both? Get to it; you might find something out!

>When you have some free time, talk to some of the locals. See if you can find out anything.

Find the local granite gnome leadership. With any luck, the head honcho will have some ambitions or ideas for expanding their power or influence. It's dangerous to risk a secession by fostering such ambitions, but granite gnome expansion is exactly what you need.

I think finding a way to extend the industry to encompass metal goods or steel smelting is the best way forward.
Increasing the market supply of metal tools will hopefully allow farming to become more affordable as an upstart, not to mention y'know. The export of said metal goods to trading partners.
Steel smelting is also a complex, profitable, labor-intensive task. It'll feed into the hypothetical metal goods industry, and it'll create jobs for the many starving laborers. Heck, even plain steel is relatively valuable.

Just keep that in mind while you explore the city.

I could smell the city before I could see it. A cloud of acrid smoke hung above the foothills - a product of the smelting factories that filled my country's coffers. Built on and around a hill, the city looked like a strange stone hump leaking smoke and steam into the air.

We entered through the main gate and made our way to the warehouse district.



"Here's your payment, Marcus, plus a little extra." Chad handed me a bag with one hundred and fifty pieces. "We'll be here a week or so before we turn north. You're welcome to travel with us any time."

After we said our goodbyes, I headed into the city proper to look for a way to get into the gnome section.



I found a man who looked like he could be a merchant and asked him how to get into the undercity. He seemed confused, but gave me directions to a large stone building several blocks away.



Two guards stood next to an ornate iron and wood door with a peculiar lock.

"Alright, then. Let's see your pass." One of them barked at me.

"I don't have one. Where can I get one?"

>"Whoops, silly me, I forgot it."

Then get yourself a letter with the King's signature on it.

Misunderstand guards. Fail to hear the letter 'p'.

"Why do I need a pass?"

"Why do I need a pass to get into the undercity?" I asked. "I thought we were friends with the gnomes."



The guards seemed to sigh collectively and I got the idea that they had to go through this with nearly every new arrival to Eddanar. "I guess that answer depends on how specific you want me to get," one of the guards said with a smirk. "Your more immediate concern is the fact that two gentlemen with spears are going to insist on it." The other guard chuckled as he heard this. "But if you're the inquisitive sort, I can say that both the governor and the gnome matriarch have closed the area off to the general public on account of the sickness."

This was new information - to me at least. The capital had received no reports of illness from Eddanar. It would have been a major issue. It seemed there was no reasoning with the men at the door to the undercity, so I shuffled off.

If I obtained the right materials, I could forge official documents from the capital and put my royal seal on them. However, I doubted very much that the peons watching the gate would even accept them.