The noise of the place was a lot for the little halfling’s sensitive ears. It wasn’t just that the volume was louder than he was accustomed to, it was the overwhelming and constant din of conversation and sounds. There had to be at least a dozen conversations happening within earshot and it made Fenric’s head hurt to try to filter it out and push it to the background. How can these people stand all this buzzing? How could you focus on anything somebody was saying with all those other voices in your ears?

Briefly closing his eyes, Fenric tried to shut it out and calm himself down. It would do no good to come all this way to find Gundren and then miss out because he was hiding in the corner with his hands over his ears. The rapid beating of his heart slowed down…the voices were still there, but Fenric pushed them aside, dulling his hearing and focusing on the smells.

That was a bad idea.

Fenric almost reeled as the smells of the room overwhelmed him. A fey, somewhere to his left, was emitting a scent so strong that he felt like he had a bunch of lavender held to his face. One of the nobles by the bar was giving off the unique smell of incense combined with an overly strong and musky perfume. The tempting odour of a meat stew wafted by as it was rushed to a hungry diner’s table. The thick smell of hide and leather was everywhere, mixed with pine, oak, ale, and feet. The sounds of the room had been a distraction, but the assault on his nose was even worse.

Mother had always said that you were given a brain to make sense of everything your senses told you, but the techniques she had taught Fenric as a pup were failing him now. He had never been as good as his older sisters, but he had done the best he could to make his mother proud. She would not have accepted the nearly-stunned state her son was in right now, standing in the middle of a tavern with his eyes closed, wrinkling his nose at the room.

“When hunting, remember: sound, then smell, then sight, then seek.”

The words of his mother’s mantra repeated in his mind. Sound, then smell, then sight, then seek. Sound, then smell, then sight, then seek…Fenric opened his eyes. The overwhelming scents receded to the back of his mind, the noise of the room becoming a din, as he focused everything into what he saw before him.

Two ladies on the far right wall, trying to appear relaxed but the older one with the red hair kept eyeing the door.
The drunkard he had just passed by was now passed out on his table, his friends laughing and talking as if nothing had happened.
A large figure in full plate mail was seated uncomfortably at the bar, looking straight into a drink that was held in both hands.
The barmaid’s pigtails were a dull gray and braided in a style common on the Sword Coast, but frizzy and attempting to escape their binds.
A small black bird was seated in the rafters, eyeing the tables below for anything that might go unwatched.
A large sword hung on the wall behind the bar, easily three times the size of Fenric, with an odd hilt that curved and ended in a steel ball.
A nobleman was leaning over a table, gesturing at something placed there, in an animated discussion with a gruff-looking dwarf.

Fenric couldn’t see what they were looking at, given it was on the table above his eye-level, but the way the dwarf and the noble were pointing at the table led the barbarian to assume it had to be a map of some kind.

“Gundren?” Fenric asked in a rough, gravelly voice, looking up at the dwarf perched on his stool.

The dwarf looked down from his high stool at the diminutive figure before him. The new arrival to the dwarf’s table featured thick matted hair, tattoos, a hunched physique, and an almost wild look in his eyes… not exactly a common sight in the city. Gundren had travelled enough to recognize a wild halfling when he saw one. And this one looked familiar…

“Those axes of yours are looking for work?”

Fenric’s teeth bared in what the halfling thought was a smile, but to the noble man and dwarf looked more like a snarl. Pulling over a tall stool from the nearby wall, he smoothly leaped up to bring himself up above the level of the table. A rough map of the wilderness just outside of Neverwinter lay on the table, the main roadways snaking across the landscape with a large circle marking a point somewhere to the south east of the city. Fenric took it in quickly, noting that the other two had stopped talking and were staring at him. Breaking his gaze away from the map, he locked eyes with the dwarf, purposefully ignoring the sneering noble who was looking down his nose, quite literally, at the halfling.

“I help. Strong arms, sharper axe!” Fenric shouted out in broken Common, banging the butt end of his weapon against the top of the table for emphasis. He detested having to speak this trader’s tongue. He always felt he couldn’t speak his mind the way he would like. The words were wrong. It wasn’t that he was simple-minded, just that in the woods surrounded by his people there was rarely a need to speak this language. His father had insisted they all learn it, however, for you never knew when you’d need to trade for food or gear with a caravan.

“You can’t seriously be considering this… this…” stuttered the finely-dressed man, addressing Gundren directly.

“This what?” asked Fenric, one eyebrow raised as he glared up at the man’s powdered face. The noble’s face bore no scars, no blemishes, a ridiculous mustache, and an unsettling amount of powdering that highlighted piercing blue eyes filled with a certain contempt.

“Enough” interrupted Gundren with a strict tone, one finger pointing directly at the noble. “Sit down and know your place.”

“But I’ve seen children larger than this one!” he protested. For all the noble’s comments, the red-haired man had taken his seat and the previous look of contempt had been replaced with a bit of fear.

Fenric laughed. He knew how small he was and he took advantage of it whenever possible. People underestimated you when your head was at their waist. Those people tended to have their estimates change when they found an axe blade embedded deeply in their knee. But that trace of fear was not because of him. Gundren must have some level of power here, Fenric thought, to be able to command such respect.

“If you want this plan to work, you’ll let me put the crew together” stated Gundren, firmly, stopping the noble in his protests. The dwarf turned his attention to Fenric, sizing up the figure before him. “The man has a point though. This work will be rough and highly dangerous. What I need is somebody not afraid to take an arrow for another, and used to the perils of the wild. You need to know what you’re signing up for. When we spoke a few days ago, you said you were ready, but tonight you’ll know more about what you have ahead of you.”

With that, the dwarf elbowed the noble and nodded his head towards the back of the tavern. With a sigh, the aristocrat stood and walked purposefully towards the bar. Fenric thought the man was being sent to fetch drinks, but instead the man stopped near the large armored warrior Fenric had noticed earlier and leaned in to whisper in their ear. The mammoth mountain of steel and muscle slowly stood from their stool and looked back, revealing the stern face of an orc, a single tusk protruding from their lower lip. The giant soldier lumbered past the tables, nudging a figure leaning against the wall on the way.

Fenric hadn’t noticed them earlier, which was odd. It was as if they had just appeared out of the wall. The new arrival fell into step behind the orc, slinging a bow over one shoulder as they went. Sharp ears, slim figure, long hair, copper skin… had to be one of the Llewyrrwood wood elves. Fenric had met many of their kind in his time in the woods and now he was no longer surprised he hadn’t noticed the figure earlier. Those elves had a habit of disappearing when they didn’t want to be seen, almost as good some halflings he knew.

The noble and the warrior joined Gundren and Fenric at the table while the elf chose to remain standing, looking over the orc’s shoulder. The warrior gave Fenric a nod and a deep grunt in greeting before turning attention to the map before them. Up close, Fenric noticed that the warrior’s shoulder guard bore a striking symbol of an open, unblinking eye emblazoned upon a closed white gauntlet curled into a fist. A follower of Helm, not unusual, but the three distinct streaks of gold stretching from the iris was more specific. Fenric had seen this before: the Gilded Eye. This was not someone to trifle with.

“We’re all here, so let’s get started. I’ve shared some of the details with you, but not everything” Gundren began, leaning in now as his voice lowered. “You know that the job is to be part of an escort guard, to protect something valuable, and that the pay will be good.”

The archer and Fenric nodded their heads, but the orc just waited. They seemed to know something the other’s didn’t. Gundren continued, putting his hands together.

“Kovak knows this next detail: you’re headed for Helm’s Hold, the safest place outside of Neverwinter itself. Kovak and her order will know how to keep your charge safe. The detail that none of you know is what you’ll be protecting.”

Gundren seemed to be pausing for effect, perhaps too much love for the drama. Fenric was getting impatient, fidgeting on his stool waiting for something to happen.

The dwarf placed his hand on the shoulder of the noble beside him. The fop was holding his head down, trying to avoid eye contact.

“I’d like you to meet one of Lord Hawkwinter’s sons, Roderick. You will be escorting him to Helm’s Hold.”

Fenric looked in surprise at the young noble who had so recently been mocking him. So Gundren was Hawkwinter security? Why was a Hawkwinter headed to Helm’s Hold? What had Fenric signed himself up for?

“Oh, and one more thing… Someone is trying to kill him. It’s your job to make sure that doesn’t happen.

Any questions?”

Credits

• Banner image: “Isaac Hemsworth” by NESSI +, from Soul of Heroes, copyright Entermate (sourced from: https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/018/161/787/large/nessi-11.jpg?1558517518)