Chapter 4

Sid stepped through the portal into a small wood paneled room in Chaos. The hole in the wall that allowed him to retrieve his storage box was in the normal space. He put his finger in it and waited for his storage box to appear. Every time he did that, his mind flashed on an image of inserting his finger in a hole attached to an attractive young woman. This time it was no different.

There was a slight noise and the box was on the table. He opened it and examined the small collection of weapons inside. There was the older sword that he had taken from one of the hoodlums, the set of knives from the Surgeon, and his staff. It wasn’t much, but this was his third adventure and he had started with nothing.

Recalling that the knives were poisoned, he carefully lifted them out of the box and set them to the side. He grabbed his staff and examined it carefully. It was in just as good of shape as the day he had placed it in the box. Satisfied with his choice of the staff, he returned the knives to the box before closing it. He watched as it disappeared. It was time to get his inheritance.

Stepping out of the bank, the odor of unwashed humanity assaulted his nose. It always surprised him how filthy the air was in a non- technological environment. He knew that in a day or two he wouldn’t notice it while in town, but entering a new town after being in the country for a couple of days it was always the same shock to the nose. He wondered how environmentalists who sang the virtues of the purity of the past would react to the filth and odors of ancient cities. Undoubtedly they would be disappointed that the modern world was much cleaner than the ancient world.

He looked up and down the patch of dirt that passed for Main Street in this town. He spotted a likely candidate for an inn, but the sign in front was of a fish and not a rooster. The street was crowded and he stopped one of the men walking past by asking, “Could you tell me where the Rooster Inn is located?”

“Rooster Inn?” the man mused for a moment while examining Sid carefully. The kind of folks that stayed at the Rooster Inn were a mixed lot. Adventurers, traders, assassins and the kind of men who hired the others were known to visit the place. After an unpleasantly long pause, he said, “Next street over.”

“Thanks,” Sid said. His thanks were almost too late as the man had started on his way again.

Stepping into the dusty street, Sid made his way towards the next street over. While walking, he overheard snatches of conversation about slave traders, entire towns disappearing, and predictions of doom. Considering that the news was about events that were more than five weeks ride from the town, the people seemed quite excited and concerned.

It took Sid five minutes to locate the Rooster Inn. It was a small inn that appeared to be much better maintained than the buildings on either side. He knew that if his uncle had anything to do with the inn that it would be well maintained. He entered and found that the interior was in even better shape than he had expected.

Hard looking men were seated in groups of two and three at tables talking in the low hushed tones of men wanting to communicate, but not wanting the whole world to know what they were talking about. His entrance caused everyone to look him over, but none of the examinations lasted long enough to provoke insult. Sid was impressed.

He walked over to the counter and examined the man behind the counter. The man was seated on a high chair placed where he could watch the entire common room without having to stand. The need for the chair was obvious. His left leg ended below the knee and a wooden peg was fixed to the stump. Based on the other scars, it was easy to see that the leg had been lost in a fight. Sid nodded to the man and asked, “Are you the owner?”

“Yes,” answered the man.

“My name is Sid Jones and I was told to come here.”

The man’s face went through a series of expressions; one emotion replacing another in rapid sequence. He had dreaded this day for years. He asked, “Are you related to Gerald?”

“He was my uncle.”

“Was?”

“Yes. He passed away.”

The man sized up Sid and said, “I’m sure your family is saddened by his passing.”

“Saddened? They were overjoyed. The bastards came out of the woodwork hoping to get their share of his money. My family is a bunch of no good lazy bastards. The only exception was my uncle,” Sid replied. The anger in his voice was unmistakable.

“The name’s Chuck, but after I lost my leg your uncle always called me Stumpy.” He twisted in his chair and called out, “Barson, get out here and watch the bar.”

Sid noticed that the shout got the attention of a large number of the men in the common room. A younger man came out from the kitchen. It was easy to tell that he was Chuck’s son. He had the same hair color, eyes, and mouth as his father. He wasn’t nearly as strong looking, but carried himself with a confidence that spoke of some training. Chuck said, “He’s my boy.”

“Nice looking young man.”

Chuck smiled and nodded his head towards the door at the end of the bar. He said, “Come on back. We’ve got to talk.”

Sid followed the man behind the counter and into a private room. There was a small table and two chairs in the room. Sid knew it was rare for a man to have a private office in Chaos. Chuck pointed to a chair and said, “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it you are the nephew that he liked.”

“I guess you could put it like that. I loved my uncle more than any other member of my family. I was the only one he would even talk with.”

Chuck walked over to a shelf. His steps, awkward because of the wooden leg, made a click when the wood of his peg leg hit the wood of the floor. At the shelf, he reached into a pewter mug and pulled forth a medal on a golden chain. He tossed it to Sid and said, “Here is the key to your inheritance.”

Sid caught the medal and looked at it. Much to his surprise, it was his image that had been imprinted on the medal. Choked up with emotion, he said, “I really miss him.”

Chuck looked at him from across the small room for a half a minute as Sid came to grips with the image on the medal. In a soft voice, he said, “Your uncle really loved you. He used to tell me about how you trained and served in the military despite how the rest of your family felt about the matter. He said that you were the only one in the family who understood honor and duty. Coming from him, that’s a great compliment.”

“He taught me all that I know,” Sid said. Shaking his head, he added, “All the good things I know. My family taught me a lot about the ugliness of human character.”

Chuck walked the few steps to the empty chair and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to the citadel to meet some men and then going off to rescue some friends that are held in the south.”

Chuck fiddled with his peg leg for a moment as he considered Sid’s answer. After a minute, he said, “I’ve got a request to make of you.”

“Anything,” Sid said knowing that any man who his uncle trusted was a good man.

“Take my son with you on this adventure. He needs to get out there and see the world before taking over for me,” Chuck said.

“I’d be pleased to take your son with me. However, I’ve got to warn you that I’m not very experienced. We’d be learning things together and that could increase the danger for your son,” Sid said realizing the significant amount of trust the other man was putting into him.

Chuck chuckled and then said, “You’re so much like your uncle. He’d always warn someone that things might not work out the way they wanted. There are always surprises in life, but your uncle always made sure that folks knew that.”

“I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings,” Sid explained.

“Young men need to adventure together. It forms bonds that will last a lifetime. It gives them a chance to develop a common character and sense of values. It gives them memories that they will cherish when they get old and home-bound.”

“I never thought about it like that,” Sid said.

Chuck was silent for a moment and then said, “One of the things about adventuring with another, is that it gives you quiet times in which to ponder things. Sitting up at night on guard duty under the stars makes you think about your place in the universe. Tending a wounded companion gives you time to come to grips with your own mortality.

“Yes, adventuring with another of your own age is a very good thing. Neither one of you are inexperienced enough that you need a mentor to go along with you. Both of you need more experience taking care of yourselves and others. This will be good for both of you.”

Sid had listened with a thoughtful expression. Traveling with Barson would be good. He’d have a chance to get to know the young man before growing his army. At that point, he decided that Chuck didn’t know what adventure he was embarking upon. He said, “I’m going after the slavers and that’s going to be very dangerous.”

Chuck was silent for a moment. A smile slowly spread over his face as he thought about it. Nodding his head, he said, “That will be a grand adventure for the two of you. I assume you are going to be building an army.”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. You’ll find that Barson will be a good help in logistics. He knows what men need to stay healthy on a campaign. You can’t run an inn without knowing how much food, water, and other things that are essential for folks to live. He knows how to get good quantity and quality for the shell. I wouldn’t put him in charge, but I’d listen to his advice. You’ll need someone with more experience than he has to be in charge of logistics.”

“To be honest, I’ve been worried about that.”

“Your uncle has some good people at his citadel. Take as many of them with you as are willing to go. They know their jobs.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Sid said feeling grateful to the older man. “I’ll do my best to surround myself with experienced men.”

Chuck studied Sid for a moment. He could tell that the young man was listening with the kind of attention that let him know the young man was carefully considering every word spoken. Gerald had always listened to advice, but made his own decisions. Gerald had always taken responsibility for his decisions. He was sure that Sid was of the same cut of cloth. He said, “I’m sure you will.”

Standing up, Chuck said, “Let me send Barson in here for you two to get to know each other for a bit.”

While Chuck was getting Barson, Sid put the chain around his neck. It was far safer there than in his money bag. Cut-purses were everywhere in Chaos. He had just settled it out of sight when Barson entered the room. The young man looked at Sid with a wary expression. He said, “My dad just said something very surprising.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that you were willing to take me on your adventure,” Barson said. For more years than he cared to admit, he’d been telling his father that he wanted to go out and see the world. His father had always told him no. Suddenly he tells him that some stranger is willing to take him along with him. It didn’t make sense.

“Actually, he asked me to take you on this adventure and I agreed to do it.”

The young man sat down and stared at Sid. The suggestion that his father would actually ask Sid to take him along was incredible. Frowning, he asked, “Why would he do that? He’s been keeping me around here for so long that I had given up all hope of ever going on an adventure.”

“I’d say it is because he and my uncle went on an adventure or two together and he wanted you to have a similar experience.”

“Who’s your uncle?”

“Gerald Jones.”

“Ah, that does explain it,” replied Barson. He knew how his father felt about Gerald. All of his stories involved adventures undertaken with Gerald. Now he was going to go adventuring with Gerald’s nephew. Extending his hand, he said, “My name is Barson.”

Sid accepted the hand and gave the young man a firm handshake. Looking the other man in the eye, he said, “My name is Sid Jones.”

The exchange of names seemed to energize Barson as a rush of excitement spread through his body. Barely able to stay in his chair, he asked, “So when do we go?”

“Tomorrow, at the earliest. I’ve got to get my uncle’s stuff from the bank, get a horse, and get outfitted for the trip to the citadel.”

Nodding his head as he considered the information, Barson said, “I’ll take care of outfitting us for the trip. I’ve got a pack horse, so don’t worry about that. You’ll need to select your own horse. I recommend that you go to the stable on the north end of town.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll let you know what else I need when I’ve finished over at the bank.”

“You’ll be staying in the single guestroom until we go,” Barson said.