Draven settled onto the crate, its weathered wood creaking beneath his weight. The scarred bandit shook the dice in his cupped hands.

  “Three coppers to start?” he asked, looking around the small circle.

  The one with the gold earring pushed forward his coins. “Make it five. Boss is here—got to make it interesting.”

  “You can bet five if you want, I’m not that well off I got 3 kids and a wife!” said the man with the black glove.

  “You mean you got like ten kids one with your sister and nine from the brothel.” the scarred bandit laughed, getting a fist bump from the gold earring one.

  “Good one.”

  “Oh fuck you.” the black-gloved bandit responded.

  Draven reached into his pouch and tossed three copper pieces onto the table. “I’m fine with that I would rather spend my money on better gear than in a game so. Who rolls first?”

  “Ever the pragmatist, eh boss. Anyway, you’re basically new blood,” Gold Earring said, nodding to Draven. “Been a while since you sat with us poor ol barely literate bandits.”

  Draven snorted, taking the bone dice. “Don’t forget Serena taught you idiots how to read!”

  He shook them briefly, then cast them across the table’s surface.

  “Seven,” he announced.

  The bandit with the black glove leaned forward, fishing a strip of dried meat from a pouch at his belt. He tore off a piece with his teeth while studying the dice. “Not bad.”

  The scarred bandit took his turn. He cursed as they landed. “Four. Gods damn my luck.”

  “You said it was changing,” Gold Earring laughed, reaching for the dice.

  “Well obviously it changed again,” Scarred hand grumbled, reaching for a clay jug. He took a long pull, liquid dripping down his chin.

  “Ah that's the good stuff,” he said as he passed it to Draven.

  Gold Earring rolled the dice next. “Eight!”

  “Game’s just started.” Black Glove said, taking the dice.

  As the dice clattered across the table again, the bandits began their conversation, talking about the lands both close and far.

  “You heard? Ogres been acting up as of late,” said the scarred bandit, still nursing the jug.

  “I have, in fact,” said Black Glove. “A tribe of them was spotted just a ten-day away!”

  “Whole fucking land’s crazy everywhere,” Gold Earring chipped in without looking up from the game.

  “Tell me about it. With all the civil war going on around here,” another added, tossing a piece of dried meat into his mouth.

  “Not just here—everywhere,” someone grunted. “For example, I heard Stormy Sands got some internal war going on with the Inquisitors.”

  “Really? North crazy too?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wait, how the fuck would you know that?” Scarred hand scoffed, passing a small wooden bowl of hazelnuts around the table. “No one gets to know Church of Deception business and live like that.”

  “Buddy of mine came around from those northern sands and told me someone spread it,”

  “Though I reckon they’re long dead now.”

  “Your friend?” Black Glove asked, rolling the dice. “Ten! Hah!”

  “No, you idiot,” Gold Earring snatched a handful of nuts from the bowl. “Whoever spread the Inquisitors’ business. Probably got hunted by a Master Inquisitor or something.”

  Gold Earring and Black Glove went back and forth.

  “They don’t like when people leak out their secrets.”

  “Didn’t someone say that already?”

  “I don’t know, maybe they did, maybe they didn’t.”

  “Fuck, that has to be scary,” Scarred hand muttered, watching Draven, who had remained quiet the whole time as he prepared for his next roll. “I heard those fuckers can appear and disappear like shadows.”

  The dice spun across the table. Draven allowed himself a small smile as the others groaned.

  “Luck’s with the boss today,” Scarred hand said, reaching for the dice.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “On another note,” Black Glove cut in, pulling a small pouch from his belt, “besides the ogre issue we have over here in our sweet ol Verdant Expanse, we have another crazy war brewing.”

  “What, another one? Didn’t three start just last season?” Scarred hand sighed,

  “Yup, another. I heard that just two days ago a kingdom fell and was renamed.” Black Glove continued

  Gold Earring nodded eagerly. “Oh, I heard that too. What was the new name again? Mackerel-Dyed? Marron Mine?”

  “No, idiot, it was...” Black Glove paused, sprinkling dried herbs into a small clay pipe. “Uh, Appled-dyea?”

  “MykeralDyea,” Draven corrected, watching as Scarred hand rolled a miserable three and cursed loudly.

  “The new king is called Verdantia,” Draven continued, “though it is a new name after all she was a peasant until recently. Now all her children will take her first name as family lineage, so I guess from now on all will have it as a last name.”

  Black Glove struck flint against steel, catching the spark on a bit of tinder. Once it glowed, he touched it to his pipe, drawing deeply until the herbs caught. Sweet smoke billowed around their table as Gold Earring took his turn with the dice.

  “Boss, I got a question,” Scarred hand said, waving away some of the smoke irritably. “Why is she still called a king and not a queen?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Draven shrugged. “I don’t know how nobles decided these things. Ask Serena.”

  Gold Earring let out a triumphant whoop as he swept the copper coins toward himself. “That’s game! Another round?”

  Draven hesitated, looking toward the tavern. “I don’t know...”

  “Come on,” Black Glove urged, passing the pipe to Scarred hand. “Trippy’s not even back yet. One more.”

  “Fine,” Draven conceded, tossing more coins onto the table. “But make it quick.”

  As they reset for another game, a woman with dark hair hanging in uneven strands passed through the narrow lane between tents.

  “Ladiana!” Gold Earring called out. “Join us for a game!”

  She glanced their way, shoulders tensing slightly. “Can’t. Got to finish these repairs before dark.”

  “Come on, I’ll help watch your little one for a day if you play a few rounds.”

  Ladiana paused, the basket shifting in her arms as she considered. After a moment, she sighed and approached the table. “One game.”

  Black Glove kicked an empty crate toward her. As she settled the basket at her feet, Draven pushed some copper coins toward her. “House credit,” he said with a nod.

  “Thanks, boss,” she murmured, her pale blue eyes darting around the table.

  Draven took the first roll, the dice landing on nine. As he leaned back, Gold Earring turned to Ladiana. “Heard about what’s happening in the Storming Isles?”

  “What?” Ladiana asked.

  “Some creature appeared, tall as a mountain they say, made of wind and thunder.” Gold Earring’s voice dropped dramatically. “They’re calling it a Belujum.”

  “A what?” Scarred hand frowned as Ladiana rolled a five.

  Gold Earring shrugged. “No idea what it means. I might not even be saying it right. But some are claiming it’s a Titan—one of the old gods.”

  “Ha, yeah right,” Black Glove scoffed, taking his turn. “Everyone knows the Titans were killed by the Champions of the Nine Gods. No one’s seen one in thousands of years. All that's left are Titanspawns and demons and those are hunted by the church’s knights and soldiers.”

  “Yeah those soldiers are crazy taking on demons, ghosts and Titanspawns.” The golden-earring bandit said as he turned to the black gloved bandit.

  “Well yeah, don’t forget the soldiers of the churches are as well trained as most knights from common kingdoms. They fight crazy things.”

  “Anyway I’m just saying what I heard, I don’t know how much is true and how much is tale,” Gold Earring shrugged, watching Black Glove’s roll land on eight.

  “The Stormy Isles nine islands, is not nine anymore, not after the Belujum sunk one,” Draven said.

  “And the Belujum might be true. After all, how many things do you think can sink an island filled with quill users?”

  He took a sip from the jug before continuing. “Don’t forget the Storm Isles and Frozen Wastes are home to the most powerful tribes of quill.”

  “Wait but boss does that mean that the East and west are stronger than us poor southerns?”

  “Not necessarily. While we have knights and kingdoms to keep us safe, those lands are more tribal and rely on smaller groups to survive, a lot more quill users and a lot less knights is one way to think of it. But if you think of it on an individual term then yes. From monsters to humans they have stronger individuals while we have larger in scale.”

  Draven gestured around them. “Think of just this large bandit camp—we probably have thousands or close to it here, but it would take dozens of us to kill an ogre. In those lands, a large bandit camp would be close to a hundred, maybe even less.”

  His fingers tapped thoughtfully against the table as Gold Earring took his roll. “Damn, thinking about it, they might even call half that amount a large camp. But it wouldn’t take more than two or three of them to defeat an ogre.”

  “Damn, boss, you know everything, huh?” Scarred hand passed the pipe back to Black Glove, who was already refilling it from his pouch.

  “No,” Draven smiled. “But I hear things, plus Ratty is good at hearing things. With me in the sky and the rat on the ground, everything is revealed.”

  The bandits laughed, and even Ladiana’s lips curved slightly upward.

  “Speaking of the rat,” Gold Earring said, tossing the dice, “wasn’t he supposed to be back by now? That city run shouldn’t take this long.”

  Draven collected his winnings before answering. “Could be any number of reasons for the delay.”

  “That new recruit he took along seemed solid enough, eh boss? Not the usual greenhands we get.” The black gloved bandit took one of his gloves off and replaced it with one red.

  “Ratty seems to like him,” Draven said simply.

  “True enough,” Black Glove nodded, lighting his pipe again. “Going back to our talks about these far-off lands—anyone know anything about the Frozen Wastes?”

  “Nope,” Gold Earring shook his head.

  “Not I,” Scarred hand added.

  “Well I haven’t heard much, but—” Draven began, but was cut off as Gilbert burst into the small clearing, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  “Boss!” he wheezed, pointing back toward the tavern. “Trouble... big trouble!”

  Draven was on his feet instantly, the dice game forgotten. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Fight... broke out... Little Sand Bear and... that Scutorian... weapons drawn...”

  “Fuck,” Draven muttered, turning to the bandits. “Grab your weapons.”

  Black Glove and Gold Earring were already reaching for the blades that never strayed far from their sides. Scarred hand kicked over the table in his haste, copper coins scattering across the dirt.

  QUILLTOME VII

  END