Sell Sword

“Are you certain this artifact is worth the risk? It sounds as though the potential for death might exceed that of profit.”

            The young master scowled. “The Gwynadael would provide priceless insight in many scholarly disciplines, and would be the making of my career. The risk of death is as nothing. We shall depart tomorrow morning as planned.”

            The mercenary stared at him, brows raised skeptically, but his employer only gazed haughtily off to the side. He sighed. “Very well. In that case, may I suggest we at least stay here awhile? We’ll need better gear, and whatever local knowledge there is to be had of this place.”

            The scholar’s scowl deepened. “I pay you to swing a sword,” he snapped. “Not make suggestions.”

            The mercenary snorted. “You pay me to keep you alive, and if that means pointing out when you have feathers instead of sense in your skull, so be it.”

            “You impudent ignoramus. Perhaps I should not be paying you at all. What use have you been? I should turn you off and hire someone with more spine.”

            “Very well then, pay me for services rendered and I’ll be on my way,” the sell sword said calmly, folding his arms across his chest. “But good luck finding someone else.”

            “Services rendered? Hah!” The scholar muttered. “We have not even reached the ruins.”

            “Are you forgetting the bear? Ah, but I forget. You had that situation well in hand. Beating the beast over the head with your tomes would have made short work of it if I had not interfered. But then what about the highwaymen, hm? Were you planning on putting them to sleep by complaining about ‘those blind backwards old men at the college’? Obviously a more elegant scheme than my clumsy efforts. I wonder that you didn’t try it. And then of course, the time you fell in the river. Should I have left you to your own devices?

“You would not have made it even this far without me. But, if you wish me out of your hair, I will take what I am owed and leave you be.” The young master glared at him, but said nothing. “That is what I thought. Now if we are to continue, I have some conditions.”

            “Such as?” the young scholar asked sulkily.

            “Such as a change in my initial fee. I did not sign up for draugr. If you want me to take that risk, you are going to have to pay me more.”

            “Fine.”

            “Also, in any combat situation, or any circumstance in which combat might reasonably arise, you will follow my orders, and do so promptly. Entailed within this condition are a couple of standing orders. One, there will be no shrieking. It is annoying and distracting. Two, assaulting enemies with books is to be considered inadvisable, and should only be engaged in as a last resort, after all other avenues, including running like mad, have been exhausted.”

            “Hmph.”

            “Finally, in light of your recent efforts directing our travels, from this point forward I will be responsible for the map.”