As the sun began to peek through the small window Ragnar awoke from his slumber. With a low groan he got up from his bed, striking his head on the slanted roof of the room. While wincing he rubbed the crust off his eyes and scratched his head. The room was cramped and dim, but he had gotten used to it.
He dressed quickly, his hand lingering on his vambrace that he had forged the night before. The polished steel caught the morning light, gleaming with satisfaction. Ragnar slid it onto his forearm fastening the straps tightly. He hilted his great axe to his back, swinging it a bit to make sure the repairs were sturdy enough to fight. He swung his cloak over his armour, hiding his gear from anyone bothering to look. The muffled voices of his hosts drifted up from below, the familiar grumble of Brom's nasally tone mingling with the softer cadence of Tilly. The elderly dwarves had taken him in without hesitation, and though their home was small, their generosity had been vast. Ragnar made his way down the creaking stairs, catching fragments of their hushed conversation.
"So do you think we should tell him Brom?"
"Yes I think that would be best"
Ragnar began to wonder. Tell him what? He continued his descent down the stairs and entered the dining room where he was welcomed with smiles.
"Ah good morning Ragnar, were you forging late last night?" The male dwarve, Brom spoke with a nasally voice, like there was something stuck up his nose.
"Good morning, yes I was making that piece no smith said they would make" Although Ragnar had a sneaking suspicion for what was to come he still felt a sense of pride and accomplishment for his creation.
"So I suppose you settled your debt with the smithy then" Brom was rubbing his hands together trying to keep warm on this particularly chill morning.
"Yes, I owe nothing to that man anymore"
"That's wonderful, we just have one problem…"
Brom's speaking was hesitant and he couldn't finish his sentence, until his wife Tilly spoke up.
"We've been running through a tough patch on payments for the house, we were wondering if you could help out, y'know chip in?" They both seemed disappointed in themselves, they had let him stay with them as their way of doing a good deed for the world but now they needed his help financially.
Ragnar stumbled through his back pockets, searching for anything he could give them, all he pulled out was 1, singular golden piece. He placed it on the table and muttered.
"This is all I have"
"We appreciate it lad but we are in a bind here, no one wants two old dwarves working for them, the landlord is so cruel, if only we had the deed. He refuses to sell it to us" They seemed to be helpless. Completely at the mercy of the landlord that owned more land than the mayor of Galdor.
Ragnar seemed to know what he had to do. He grabbed some food and shoved it into his sack.
"I'll see what I can do" With that Ragnar began to walk to the Mercenary guild.
The streets of Galdor had come alive by the time Ragnar stepped outside. The chill of the morning had given way to a pale sun, and the bustle of vendors, beggars, and merchants filled the cobbled roads. Laughter echoed from the wealthier quarters, while farther down the lane, gaunt figures gathered in silent struggle. Despite the hum of the city, suffering still clung to its edges. Tyrants ruled without question, and the poor bore the brunt of their whims.
But not today.
Ragnar's boots struck the stone path with purpose as he made his way to the mercenary guild.
The moment he entered, the familiar stench of ale and sweat hit him. A man lay sprawled across a table, his mouth slightly agape, remnants of last night's drink still clinging to him. Nearby, a group of hooded figures snickered, tossing buttons toward the drunkard's mouth like some twisted game. Each near miss brought another burst of laughter, though they scrambled to feign innocence whenever the man stirred. In the shadows, another figure brooded beneath an extinguished lantern. He wore a heavy cloak and sat in an exaggerated pose of mysterious contemplation. Ragnar couldn't help but scoff. Everyone knew the man was nothing more than a poser, desperately clinging to whatever intimidation he could muster.
"Hello sir, welcome back. Is there anything I can help you with?" There was a hint of something almost like boredom in her voice as she talked. Why did she seem to not like him? As Ragnar wondered he noticed some faint blood stains on the desk that was where had a put Geoffrey's head. As he looked at the stains the receptionist started to get mad at him.
"So you've finally saw what you did the other day. It was gross enough you just dumped his head on the desk but what was worst is that you just left it here! This is some high quality wood and now it's ruined because of you!" The ends of her ears had gone red with anger, this desk must have meant quite a bit to her, you must think so when it's all you look at everyday.
"I'm sorry I just wanted to know if there was a bounty on the man who owns most of the properties in Galdor" Ragnar did feel bad for the desk but it wasn't why he was there. He wanted to do something about this man.
"Well I would have to check, but I'm sure you know how the mercenary guild works. When someone is wanted by the mayor a bounty is placed on them and it is advertised here. Bounties can be placed on anyone by anyone but we only show them for the public if we are given proof that they are worth being captured or killed. Depending on the situation the guild may add to the reward. Geoffrey' Moore's bounty was so low because it had only just been posted, his crimes had only just been revealed, a proper reward hadn't been given yet, so if you just waited a bit you would've made your 50 gold or whatever it was that you needed"
Ragnar became a bit embarrassed, he had took that bounty as their whereabouts were nearby and he was still getting used to everything in Galdor. The bounty was so new that a reward hadn't even been put on it yet. As he watched the elf woman walk into the back trying to find the bounty he glanced over the main notice board. Posters were pinned haphazardly, detailing the crimes of murderers, thieves, and deserters. Many had likely fled to distant lands, their images spread across every guild in the region. The odds of capturing such fugitives were slim.
A loud stumbling sound came from the back rooms and the elf receptionist came bursting out. Piles of paper followed her out of the room, she had old sheets stuck to the soles of her shoes and she looked like she had just gotten into a bar fight.
"Vorrick Greaves, that's the man. There was an old bounty posted for him a long. Long time ago. There's evidence attached to his file that proves he's been getting others to steal deeds of homes and then he gets these home to pay him to keep their own home." The woman looked quite distressed.
"Normally there should be more attention on this but no one took the bounty, so we scrapped it, I wonder why." She began to flick through the pages of the bounties file, trying to search for clue of why this bounty was abandoned, why this man was allowed to run free for his crimes.
"Oh. That's probably why" Her ears drooped as she read the pages.
Ragnar's interest was piqued "What is it?" He tried to lean over the desk to see behind the sheets but the elf pulled away.
"Well he's got an Orc working for him, no one would even be able to lay a finger on him when he's got one. You can't even make these Orcs names up, it's always something like Bone-piercer or Skull Crusher." She continued to read the file, she turned over to a page that was more crumpled than the rest, it stated who the Orc was. Whoever made this bounty was quite thorough.
"His name is literally Drogul The Thunderfist, you can't make it up I swear." She began to rub her temple doing some mental maths.
The receptionist slid a worn, yellowed parchment across the desk, the ink slightly smudged from years of handling. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the polished wood, the remnants of the bloodstain still faintly visible. Her eyes flicked up to Ragnar, studying his reaction.
"Look this is an old bounty so the price should be more and because of what Vorrick is doing i'll give a bonus if you can bring this guy in, how's 58 gold sound?"
She arched a brow, clearly gauging whether the offer was enough to tempt him. The soft chatter of mercenaries and the occasional clink of tankards echoed from behind, but the tension between them felt heavier. A fly buzzed lazily around the stained lantern above her, its dim light casting uneven shadows across the notice board.
"I'll take the bounty" Ragnar swiped the file from the desk and began studying it. Trying to ready himself for the challenge ahead. He knew one thing, Vorrick Greaves would know the name Ragnar.