Episode 1 (Part 2) - Zamzidar

Zamzidar took to a market like a moth to flame. He had been in Dale for the last three weeks and had become quite familiar with the merchants who sold their wares in the parade square. It reminded him of home, and of simpler times. He had travelled far, and in less-than-ideal circumstances but had become quite comfortable in Dale. The people were certainly more welcoming than those in Korth. It was something he appreciated quite deeply. He spent most of his days wandering around town, keeping his head down while chatting to many of the merchants and townsfolk.

On this day, Zamzidar found himself wandering around the market just as the end of business. As he walked through the crowds, he overheard two dwarven merchants chatting casually. The conversation wasn’t anything of interest until one of them mentioned a merchant named Rodin was coming to town but wasn’t setting up shop. Apparently, he was heading straight to Olstorn to sell an item at auction which was set to make him rich. Intrigued, Zamzidar turned to the pair and struck up conversation.

“Hello there! Nice to meet you, I’m Zamzidar.” He said, brightly.
“Oh, hello there. I’m afraid we’re closing for the night but if you stop by tomorrow…” Said one of the merchants.
“No, that’s fine. Say, you have a wonderful shop here. I’m a wealthy businessman from the city of Tanrest in Korth and I’m looking for people to invest in. Would you be interested in hearing some financial investment?” Zamzidar asked jovially. He had no intention of investing but knew that this would loosen their tongues if required.
“Oh! Well, it’s an interesting proposal. Perhaps we can talk about it in greater detail later tonight?” Responded the merchant happily.
“Wonderful! Let’s arrange something for this evening. While I have you, I just overheard you mentioning Rodin. He’s an old friend of mine. Did you say he was coming to town?” Zamzidar lied convincingly.
“Yes, did you not hear? He should be arriving this evening with the convoy from the east. Rumour has it he’s made a big find and has even arranged to park his stagecoach in the guard’s quarters.” Responded the merchant.
“Oh, wow! That’s exciting. I’ll have to ask him about it. Thanks for letting me know, have a nice evening. I look forward to speaking to you later on.” Zamzidar said with a flamboyant bow.

Whatever this Rodin had, Zamzidar wanted. He had a time and place to find his quarry but didn’t know enough about the location to determine an opportunity. He wandered in the direction of the barracks to begin scoping the area. Zamzidar had learned in his short time there that Dale was once a barracks town for soldiers fighting in the Albasran War more than fifty years before. After the war, the barracks was re-established as a market town and landmark between the Portisian Republic and the Qey Empire. The last remaining barracks building in Dale was situated against the well-fortified inner walls of town where the original fortification line was. It now served as the headquarters and sleeping quarters for the town guard.

The guard’s quarters itself had its own retaining wall which kept out prying eyes but they were only fifteen feet tall. Zamzidar realised that if he could somehow climb on top of the old fortifications that stood at some thirty feet, he could look over and have a birds eye view of the entire barracks. As luck would have it, he came across a group of tourists being led around by an old, sullen man. His voice was droning but they appeared to be heading towards the guard tower that would eventually lead up to the walkway along the inner walls.

Zamzidar slipped into the crowd and suffered through the tour guide’s monotonous voice. He slowly explained to the group which quarries in the Peaks of Solem formed the walls in excruciating detail. The tedium came almost too much to bear as the rag-tag group of intrigued tourists ascended the circular stairs to the top of the wall. Once they were out onto the thin walkway, Zamzidar finally had his chance to look down onto the barracks courtyard. The guard’s quarters itself was reasonably large. The outer wall around the outside was guarded in shifts. There a small stable, a dorm where the guards stayed and enough room to park a few stagecoaches.

The tour guide continued his lecture on the town’s history. On any other day, Zamzidar might have been interested. Unfortunately, today he had an ulterior motive and tuned the man’s voice out. As he peered down to ground level, he noticed the doors to the guard’s quarters opening and a stagecoach rolled in. It was black and varnished, much more conspicuous than those of the town guard. Driving the coach was a well-dressed Dwarf who was chatting with the person leading the coach. Zamzidar immediately recognised the guard as Oz. She had a reputation for being intimidating and imposing. Zamzidar was convinced that this was Rodin, and whatever valuable item he possessed was stored within that coach.

The coach was parked, and the horses were housed in the stables. After a final exchange, Rodin strode out of the barracks confidently. Oz took one more look around the courtyard before she left as well, heading towards the parade square. All Zamzidar needed now was an opportunity to root around in the coach. Not an easy feat.

He determined the cover of night was the best option to gain access to the guard’s quarters and went to the Foragers Inn where he had been staying to wait for the stroke of midnight. He wandered in and ordered himself an ale. Looking around, he noticed Oz sitting in dark, quiet corner of the Inn. She looked angry. Maybe Rodin had said something she didn’t like earlier. He couldn’t hear what they had been talking about over the din of the tour guide. He also noticed a fresh face, a young elf girl. She was sat on her own and quietly drinking some of the terrible local wine Jakob insisted on recommending. Sensing the opportunity for some fun, he went to introduce himself.

“Hi! My name’s Zamzidar, what’s yours?” Zamzidar asked as he pulled up a chair. She had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He could see a bow and quiver under the table. She appeared to be an adventurer.
“I’m Olara. Can I help you?” She responded, somewhat confused.
“No, no. I need no help. Say you look like you’re from out of town, wanna play a dice game?” Zamzidar asked with the same enthusiastic smile.

Olara agreed and Zamzidar explained the rules. He fully intended to lose to lure her into playing for money. The game was deceptively simple and was easily rigged. It essentially boiled down to who rolled the highest on three dice. They played one round, which Zamzidar lost as intended. He could see the flash of excitement in her eyes and could see he was in with a chance to earn some quick coin.

“Oh, wow. Congratulations! You’re really good at this game. Are you sure you’ve never played before?” Asked Zamzidar.
“No, this is my first time.” Replied Olara.
“Well, I’m sure it was just beginner’s luck. How about this. Let’s play again but this time for money?” He suggested.

While she was clearly tempted, Olara’s wisdom got the better of her and she declined. “No matter,” thought Zamzidar. Perhaps he could get something more out of this exchange though.

“No, sorry. I don’t think I want to do that.” Olara said matter-of-factly.
“That’s absolutely fine, though how about we play and whoever wins pays for dinner?” Zamzidar then asked, his voice becoming more flirtatious.
“I’ve already eaten.” Olara responded irritated.
“Breakfast then?” Asked Zamzidar with a wink.

Zamzidar could tell his welcome was wearing then but before Olara could speak, a drunken man came bustling into the Inn. He stumbled through the bar and over to Oz in the corner. Zamzidar looked to the drunken man’s side and saw a strange creature. It looked like a frog which walked on two legs. It was black with red markings. Dale was never short of surprises.