McBride told me to meet Willem behind the abbey. He'd set up a small post with a wagon or two, and the dude had the fanciest armor I'd ever seen. Giant gold shoulder pads with wings, like eagles perched on his shoulders. Guy's not one for subtlety.
|Willem the Fancy|
He told me about some goblin assassins the orcs had hired. And, of course, wanted me to take out as many as I could. They were like miniature orcs. A little more skilled, but still fodder as my skills have been growing. After I killed eight of them, he sent me back to McBride who, with no hesitation, sent me over to the vineyard. Finally, I thought. The thing's only been burning for three days straight. It's like a mini-war zone over there.
For some reason, McBride told me he wanted eight orc weapons, just to prove I had done my duty. I have no idea where this sudden mistrust came from. Did he think I was lying about the slaughter I was racking up? I had plenty of witnesses. Did he think I was ducking back behind the tree for a smoke of sicar and coming back saying "oh, yeah, got them all, no problem." Come evening, I trudged back across the river with eight heavy swords on my back. A volunteer's work is never done, I suppose. I'm looking forward to the reinforcements, if they ever come.
Before I went back into my spot of the common room (giving McBride the stinkeye), I noticed a woman crying near the entrance, looking longingly across the river. Scuttlebutt in the commons told me she was the owner of the vineyards, now up in smoke. I felt like I should've gone out to talk to her, I felt bad that I was being ordered to quell all this mischief, I forgot real people were being affect. But I was too exhausted to continue.