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"The price of ashplums has gone up again!""Yes, apparently the farmers have refused to work--""Maybe I'll move to the Imperial City instead.""Oh? Their Saint Valentine festivals are amazing I hear...""Rats! It's always rats!"

The marketplace was full of voices that

were gossiping through contented smiles and looks. Citizens and travellers

alike populated the area as they perused the wares that common peddlers and

merchants shouted from their stalls. All the while, city guards watched from

omniscient corners of the marketplace, whilst thieves surreptitiously prowled

drifting through the crowd and between the stalls. Akalgan took in the

marketplace as he leaned against the statue in the centre. Warily he watched

all that happened and he overheard all manners of different conversations, from

disgruntled customers complaining and bitching about prices, to rumours or

small-chat from happy shoppers.

Akalgan wanted to take the time, as he

usually did on his travels, to find if things were done or said differently in

places. The marketplace was one such place he always made observations at, as

aside from eavesdropping in on people, there was always at least a few things

that were being peddled that might catch his eye. He would never buy any

trinkets or keepsakes, but that did not stop him from being curious or

interested. As for his observations of people and social dynamic, Akalgan felt

that this marketplace had little difference to many others he had seen, only

that the general demographic was comprised of mostly Dark Elves and then their

few servant beastmen.

There was little more information

Akalgan felt he would gain from standing around any longer. He pushed off the

statue, but not before he spared it one more look. It was a sculpture of a Dark

Elven maiden with flowing hair that cascaded over her fallen hood, she did not

seem to wear gear that was at all similar to that of city guards or Ordinators.

Her expression was noble, and her sword arm was raised holding a very detailed

sword. Akalgan finally cast his eyes upon the epitaph of the statue.

In honour of Miralin Sendalas, blessed by the Three,

Who stood her ground at the Battle of Ashenhelm 2E1115.

Akalgan noted the name and date

mentioned, and started to walk away with his arms folded behind his head as

usual. He shifted his wings slightly in discomfort at the image of the Dark

Elven maiden standing against what would have been a seemingly endless horde of

Sheogh's children. On the other hand, he felt nothing but respect for a heroine

like that, but otherwise felt rather disappointed that he has not had the

pleasure of knowing more people who provoke such admiration from himself.

Perhaps Akalgan was wrong. He thought

about it for a moment, and realised that a lot of heroes do not find their

heroism and courage that people will applaud long after their death until the

day truly comes. And there were people he had met at certain points that made

him genuinely believe that they were capable of great things. He then supposed

that despite not being able to live to see the Ending of this era, as insane as

it was to even hope to witness it, Akalgan would still see some extraordinary

things done by ordinary people.

The Dragonian thought no more of it as

he mixed amongst the crowd. He dropped his arms to up his guard, as he was not

intent on wasting any more time chasing thieves. Akalgan held onto his purse

only tight enough that no thief would really dare to test him. That aside, he

was now focused on his destination. If ever he might want to paint his

short-term wanderings in an epic form, Akalgan could tell himself he was on a

sworn quest to find the "Grail of Mercenaries". He smiled once his eyes were

laid upon it: The Noticeboard.

Every mercenary, sellsword or vagabond

worth his salt knew that this was the only place, beside the closest tavern or

inn, they had to be visiting at all times. Akalgan was free of the crowd once

he was close enough to the noticeboard to read the pleas of help from

Blackhold's citizens. He smiled half-heartedly at the reality that most, if not

all the jobs on this board would be mundane tasks that any halfwit could

possibly accomplish.

"Let's

see how I can earn my living today..." He muttered as he

looked it all over.

From there the day went by in flashes

and moments for Akalgan. In one instant, he was returning a lost dog to its

owners. In another moment, he was delivering a love potion from an alchemist to

a client. This went on and on, and the only satisfaction Akalgan gained was

when money was paid for his 'help'. Some jobs at least actually utilized

certain talents he had. On one job, he helped a blacksmith get his forge up and

running with his fiery breath. Akalgan even stayed for a while and practiced

his smithing skills that Dragonians were well known for. It was perhaps one of

only a few jobs he actually enjoyed.

The strong Dragonian hammered away at

all kinds of weapons of war, and worked quickly to help the blacksmith with his

orders. He constantly made sure that the forge was fed with fires that were

like Arkath's own. Akalgan managed to finish a few items every now and then,

and clients were more than pleased with the results. The humble blacksmith

always accredited the work towards the Dragonian, however, and simply handled

the transactions. Once it all quieted down, he thanked Akalgan for his time.

"I

am so glad you came today, and even helped out with the orders I had!" The

blacksmith said to Akalgan. He simply smiled.

"I

was happy to help out a brother of the forge." He

responded. The blacksmith appeared joyful at the politeness of the Dragonian,

and he subsequently handed over more than the originally agreed upon payment.

"For

the extra help, and even still I owe you a debt." He

told Akalgan. The Dragonian felt only slightly uneasy taking more than he was

originally owed, especially upon hearing the immense gratitude of the

blacksmith, but he accepted it graciously.

"It

was my pleasure, truly." He replied honestly. The blacksmith

nodded and smiled.

"Would

you... Consider a place here in Blackhold? I would wish for you to be in charge

of this smithy..." The blacksmith proposed, but Akalgan

had no wish to entertain the thought, however kind it was.

"My

place is not in one for too long." He replied without a

hint of uncertainty. "There were times

when some have asked me the same thing you are now, but I am sworn to a certain

oath." He explained as he picked up his things. The blacksmith appeared

saddened, but curious.

"I

see. Then, if I may ask, why do you travel?" He asked. "Is it not to find a place to settle?" Akalgan

smirked at the question.

"If

my homeland is no longer my home, then no other land will be. And I want to see

all things that anyone can only dream of." He answered. Akalgan

then stepped towards the door and spared the blacksmith a final look. "But I know I will never see even part of

it before I die." He added. Akalgan smiled once more and then waved upon

departing. The blacksmith simply returned the courtesy, before heading back to

work.

Akalgan stepped out of the smithy and

held his hand aloft to block the rays of the afternoon sun. It brightly shone a

fierce fiery hue down the dark street towards Akalgan as it dipped towards the

horizon. He figured to himself that he had time for one more job before

retiring back to the inn. As he started walking down the streets with his arms folded

behind his head, Akalgan thought again about the Dark Elven pickpocket that he

was going to deal with later. He smiled at the images that came to mind, but

thought nothing more. He instead made his way to his next job and put the

fantastical wonderings to the back of his mind.

"Come

now, there has to be something quick but challenging here..." Akalgan

muttered to himself as he scanned the noticeboard. Many of the notices were

ones he already completed, some already taken down. There were still a few menial

tasks that might not have been taken already, but Akalgan had no interest in

taking them. His sword arm was aching for a fight and he wanted to satisfy that

need somehow, preferably in a way that gets him plentifully paid for his skills

in combat. After a short while of looking, Akalgan concluded that there were no

real jobs for his needs. He glanced around the marketplace. It was bathed in

the afternoon light and still filled with people doing their light browsing and

shopping. He then sighed and stepped out to ask around, even though interacting

with people was his last resort.

"Excuse

me--" Akalgan began toward one citizen, and

the citizen gave him an attentive but nervous glance. "Do you know where I could find bounties?" Akalgan simply asked.

The citizen pointed him towards a guard and shuffled away, and Akalgan bowed

his head in minor gratitude. He proceeded to visit the nearest guard. "Excuse me, sir--" He began towards the

guard, and the guard gave him an acknowledging yet wary look. "I've been told you can point me towards

any bounties that might be available." The guard nodded.

"Bounties

for people like you are posted on guard sanctioned bounty boards in most

publican establishments, and are turned in at any of the City Guard barracks." The

guard clearly explained. Akalgan nodded once more in gratitude and made his way

to the closes tavern. Of course I chose to stay in possibly the

only the inn without a bounty board. He thought in annoyance.

If Akalgan has learned anything about

Dark Elven publican places, it was that they were all extra dimly lit and quite

suspicious in appearance. Or perhaps it was just Akalgan's generalization of

Dark Elves, or perhaps even both. Putting the scene to the back of his mind,

Akalgan stood before the bounty board, the 'actual' Grail of Mercenaries, as

opposed to the collection of mediocre tasks he just braved in a slight waste of

time. There were plenty of bounties but very minimal in return for the effort

in capturing them. Too many were thieves and common criminals that would yield

no real fight, and the bounties who would were possibly too far for Akalgan to

even consider doing. He almost sighed with disappointment, but something caught

his eyes. Amongst all the wanted posters for the deaths or captures of people,

was the death of a creature. It piqued Akalgan's interest enough that he took

the bounty poster and made his way to the nearest sewer grate. How

this feels worth it, I will never know. Akalgan muttered in his head.