Hardbark caught Hat’s wrist before the scroll could emerge from behind his ear.
It would have been an excellent trick. The dwarf was almost exactly the right height, and Hat had already arranged his other hand into a distracting flourish. Instead, Brock Hardbark looked from the captured wrist to the rolled document, took it, and let go.
“But where did the scroll come from?” Hat asked.
Hardbark opened it.
“You have been served.”
The hearth smoked into the little room. Beyond the table, a cot occupied one corner of the chateau, which seemed an ambitious name for a building whose bed and business records had to share the same air. Hat approved of ambition. He had brought enough for everybody.
Behind him, Bhakris was finishing an explanation of why Strongsteel might actually be a bear.
“The man got eaten,” the paladin said. “The bear left the camp. It explains the other animal business.”
Hat had found this persuasive on the way to the door. People could become bear people. Bartholomeow was currently a large tabby cat. The principle seemed well established, even if its application to Strongsteel required further study.
Hardbark gave the document a glance and looked past it.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here.”
“I’ve never been here,” Barnaby observed.
The loxodon filled a considerable portion of the doorway. Hardbark looked up at him.
“Are you with them?”
“Yes. I’m an intern. Provisional, currently. I need to make a good showing.”
“After you hear what I have to say, you might reconsider.”
Thalmiir lowered his armored weight onto one of the stools opposite the table. The stool took it with a complaint. Hat noticed Hardbark’s attention move to it, then back to Thalmiir, who had settled himself with the deliberation of a dwarf preparing to talk business.
“I don’t suppose you intend to pay,” Hardbark said.
“Well,” Hat said, “we’re owed.”
“I’m trying to talk this out like businessmen,” said Thalmiir.
“I’ve been sending my people looking for you for ten days.”
“We were off saving a village.”
“We had a lot of good to do,” Bhakris added.
Hardbark’s fingers tightened on the scroll. “And I have a campground. Customers. Employees. This is supposed to be a going business concern. I thought we could make an agreement and both follow through.”
Hat had heard several versions of this grievance already, some delivered by men with weapons. His own version was on the paper Hardbark still hadn’t properly read.
“We liberated a farm,” Bhakris said. “And an apothecary. There was a great deal going on.”
“Sounds important to you. What would you do if somebody took your money and agreed to bring a load of hops—”
“Are you the first small business owner to have somebody miss a shift?” Thalmiir asked. “I ran a brewery for three hundred years.”
“And how did that turn out?”
For a moment, the room seemed to draw close around the table.
“Any advice for me, Mr. Three-Hundred-Year Brewer?”
Hat looked at Thalmiir. There were many productive directions this conversation could have taken. Hardbark appeared to have chosen a particularly narrow one, with spikes along it.
“Get agreements in writing,” Bhakris suggested.
“That is a lesson I’ve learned. I now have a contract with a collections agency.”
“The bandits,” Bhakris said.
“The Iron Vanguard.”
“Led by Strongsteel. The well-known river bandit.”
“Former bandit,” Hardbark said, with less certainty than Hat would have recommended. “I think he said former.”
“He tried to take our money.”
“He came to collect what you owe me.”
“We’re here to fulfill all written obligations,” Bhakris said.
Thalmiir leaned forward. “Show me the accounting.”
Hardbark found his copy among the campground records and spread it on the table. Twelve hundred gold pieces. Hat’s counterclaim reached precisely the same figure, a pleasing symmetry that Hardbark would appreciate once he reached the relevant passage.
The original charge concerned the value of the campsite. Every time Hardbark sent someone after them, he doubled what he said they owed. Then came the collection fee.
“Didn’t you pay him?” Barnaby asked. “Seventy-five gold, you told me.”
“We did,” said Bhakris. “At a discounted rate.”
“So he didn’t give you money.”
Thalmiir’s finger came down beside the original sum.
“That wasn’t money you gave us.”
“It was the value of the campsite you had use of for the entire agreement.”
“One day,” Bhakris said. “We used it for one day.”
Hardbark began to answer.
Thalmiir’s mailed hand shot across the table.
The collar bunched in Thalmiir’s fist. Hardbark came up out of his chair and across the records, close enough to see that Thalmiir had finished with accounting.
“I don’t take kindly to attempts at robbery.”
The anger was there in full now, hot and wonderfully simple. No more doubles, fees, or the cost of a campsite they had scarcely occupied. Hardbark had asked how the brewery had turned out. Three hundred years, dismissed with a question across a cheap table.
Thalmiir felt Bhakris ready himself beside him. The doorway darkened, and somewhere behind the heat in his skull he remembered Merrick, the goliath waiting outside.
He cast Hardbark back.
For one satisfying instant, it looked as though the campground owner might fold. Then Hardbark took out a handkerchief. Thalmiir’s armor spikes had caught him; he wiped away the blood and inspected the cloth.
“That was pretty good,” he said. “You would have been good at the job I hired you to do. Pity you didn’t do it.”
Thalmiir could feel his own breathing through his teeth.
“Have you perused the document?” Hat asked.
“Things got heated before I could.”
“Thalmiir. Trust the documents.”
He stood. The stool kicked away behind him.
If he stayed, the next thing across the table would be an axe. He knew it with a clarity that left very little room for discussion. He turned for the door and punched the frame on his way out.
Wood broke under his fist. A chunk fell.
“Now I owe you money.”
Outside, the air felt too large after the smoky office. There were people gathering: campground staff drawn by the raised voices, Merrick watching him with the wary attention of someone who might shortly have to do something unpleasant. Pippa Brightstone started to offer a greeting, saw Thalmiir’s face, and let it falter.
He could not make himself answer her. He went past.
From inside came Hat’s voice, perfectly composed.
“You don’t have to forgive my angry friend. He is, as you guessed, a terrible businessman. Business dwarf, excuse me.”
Thalmiir made a noise that could have stripped paint.
“Keep an eye on that one,” Hardbark told Merrick. “And tell me when the Iron Vanguard gets back.”
Thalmiir stalked along the front of the chateau. The pressure in him wanted a place to go. He stamped, turned, and stamped back again, the office door passing through the edge of his vision each time.
A bucket caught on his armor.
He shook his foot. The bucket followed it.
Inside, somebody was explaining the diet of a plant horse.
“Sunshine and water, I think,” Bhakris said.
“And nutrients from soil,” Hat added. “Things that decompose. Corpses, for example.”
Hardbark paused with his hand over the counterclaim.
“Are they eating right now?”
Hat considered the question.
“My nutrients aren’t free.”
This was a useful reminder of why one should establish terms before entering into any arrangement. Hat let the point pass. Their horses could wait. The document was finally receiving the attention it deserved.
Hardbark’s brow furrowed.
Hat watched him read, following the argument in the movement of the dwarf’s eyes. Here came the doubtful pause. Next, the passage concerning the unused campsite and the refund. Hardbark went back over a line. Excellent. Confusion. A short, gratifying stillness suggested he had reached the implications of the collection charges.
Beyond the door, Thalmiir went past with a metallic clatter.
Hardbark continued.
Hat knew this route. He had laid it out carefully: grievance, calculation, consequence. By the final reckoning, the anger had gone out of the dwarf’s face sufficiently to make room for something less comfortable.
“Yeah,” Hardbark said at last. “I went overboard with the collections thing, didn’t I?”
Bhakris nodded.
“I thought I’d found people who could solve my problems. I’d solve yours. We’d both benefit. Then you just left.” Hardbark rubbed at his face. “It made me so mad.”
“As you can see,” Hat said, indicating the doorway as Thalmiir’s silhouette crossed it again, “there’s anger on both sides of the table.”
The bucket sounded again.
“Perhaps the ledger can be rebalanced. Reset. An opportunity for mutual business benefits.”
Hardbark nodded, cautiously.
“Of course, there’s still your collections agency. They now have nothing to collect, since we agree there’s nothing owed. For a fee, I could examine that contract as well. Turn it to our mutual benefit, now that we’re about to be in the campground business.”
Hardbark stopped nodding.
“Wait.”
Bhakris looked at Hat. Hat looked back, momentarily disappointed. Apparently stopping the collectors had been the main objective. He had understood that to be the beginning of the discussion.
“If you prefer to deal with the former bandits yourself,” Hat said, “we can be on our way. Figure out what our horse plants eat.”
“No. Don’t move past the part where you offered to help with Strongsteel.” Hardbark leaned over the table. “I paid a deposit. I don’t expect that back. But I’d become convinced you would pay eventually, and I need the money to keep this place afloat.”
“Check whether he gets a percentage of whatever you collect,” Bhakris suggested. “If you’re collecting negative money now, perhaps he owes you.”
Hat appreciated a colleague willing to explore possibilities.
“I would happily examine it,” he said. “For a documenter’s fee.”
“Set by the Documenters Guild,” Bartholomeow supplied. “Very modest. Fixed.”
“Out of my hands.”
Hardbark stared at them. “Could we waive the fee and move smoothly past the part where you tried to take over my business?”
“Did I say that? I thought we were going into business together. If you’re proposing selling the campground in exchange for documancy fees, who am I to argue? A brilliant idea, really.”
Hardbark called toward the door for another member of staff. A halfling came in to join them.
“I need an extra set of ears before my brains fall out.”
Bartholomeow’s ears pricked. “Have you been afflicted by the zombie plague as well?”
“There’s a zombie plague?”
“There would have been,” Bhakris said, “if we hadn’t intervened. You’re welcome.”
Barnaby offered a way forward before the discussion could grow further limbs. Hat could review the contract in good faith. Any fee for constructing a counterargument could follow an actual assessment of what he could do.
“That could get me into trouble with the Documancy Guild,” Hat said. He allowed the proper amount of reluctance into his voice. “For a friend, I suppose. If it stays between us.”
Bartholomeow laid a paw against him.
“Your services would be well regarded.”
The tabby’s words had a resonance that made Hat feel the excellence of his own position all the more keenly. Somewhere in the future, perhaps, there would be a guild sufficiently established to object to his concessions. He could hardly let its present lack of incorporation inconvenience a client.
Hardbark produced the contract.
“I’m over my head,” he admitted. “Maybe you can help me.”
Hat bent over the signatures of Brock Hardbark and Captain Strongsteel.
There was good work in the document. Unfortunate, but he could admire it. The collection fee was four hundred gold, and the intended protection was plain: if the money couldn’t be recovered, or the client called off the collectors, the fee would remain secured against him.
The wording was another matter.
Hat went back through the clauses describing unsuccessful collections, then the client’s withdrawal. Bartholomeow encouraged him again. Under the table, Hat’s feet shifted as he followed a sentence to its end.
“There.”
Hardbark leaned in.
“This wording supports a reading that you forfeit your deposit. Nothing further.”
“Supports?”
“It would be an argument to put before someone with the authority to enforce a judgment,” Hat allowed. He would have preferred something so clear that even Strongsteel could not fail to admire it. “But given that you’ve agreed to stop collections, you can argue that you owe nothing additional.”
“And the deposit?”
“Difficult to demand that back through the contract. Disingenuous, even.” Hat glanced toward the door. “Of course, there are other methods of obtaining refunds. We have a wide variety of talents.”
Thalmiir passed outside again. There seemed to be more bucket involved than before.
“My friend also belongs to a guild,” Hat continued, “with its own fees for extracting refunds. I won’t speak further unless you’re interested.”
Before Hardbark could answer, a voice rose outside.
“Hardbark! Got to have words with you.”
Strongsteel had arrived breathing harder than the five armored mercenaries behind him.
Thalmiir got one bucket off his foot in time to enjoy this properly.
“What took you so long?”
“None of your business. We’re here to see Hardbark.”
“Stop for a snack? Tea and crumpets?”
Strongsteel looked from him to the chateau.
“How did you—never mind. Merrick. Is he in?”
“Occupied,” the goliath said. “You might need to wait.”
The staff had gathered thickly enough that Strongsteel had an audience for the pause that followed. Thalmiir watched him take in the doorway, the waiting employees, and the five members of the Vanguard.
“Boys,” Strongsteel said, “we’re going in.”
Thalmiir stepped into his path.
“Now, now. The adults are talking.”
He had been furious with the man inside. This man, at least, he could enjoy being furious with. He planted himself in front of the damaged frame and let Strongsteel come close enough to discover whether he intended to move.
Strongsteel stopped. Looked over his shoulder.
“Hardbark!”
Barnaby emerged behind Thalmiir.
“They came to an agreement,” the loxodon told him. “Apparently we’re in the campsite business now.”
Several employees turned to look.
Thalmiir laughed. Once begun, he found it difficult to stop. Strongsteel’s face made a fine accompaniment.
“Not how you saw your morning going, was it?”
“Hardbark! What is this nonsense? We have a contract!”
Hat appeared with that very contract. Bartholomeow followed, bringing the composed expression of a cat for whom the world had provided another useful ledge.
“Strongsteel,” Hat said. “Good to see you again. You may remember me from earlier.”
“I don’t even like you.”
“It seems a while. Perhaps you stopped for tea. Anyway, we’ve been reviewing your contract, and it appears there’s no more collection needed.”
Thalmiir listened while Hat explained the relevant wording. This was the part he had left the room to make possible. He hoped it would be worth the restraint.
Behind Strongsteel, the Iron Vanguard listened too.
Bartholomeow had heard the clauses already. Hat understood their construction; he understood how they needed to sound.
The five mercenaries stood in a line of worn metal and restrained attention. He remembered sharing a ship with them. They were people with ears, principles, and presumably a desire to get paid. Strongsteel was presenting an increasingly poor prospect on several of those fronts.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear,” Bartholomeow said, moving into the discussion. “You had your mind on your teas. Let me repeat what our friend Hat has pointed out.”
He took the clauses in order, giving each the weight it deserved. Beside him, Thalmiir supplied an occasional sound of encouragement that might have been mistaken for a growl.
By the time Bartholomeow reached the cancellation language, something had altered in the Vanguard’s stance. Their attention had settled fully on the contract. Strongsteel’s had settled on Bartholomeow.
“And taken together,” the cat continued, “one might even interpret these passages to mean that you owe Mr. Hardbark money.”
Hat looked at the document again.
Strongsteel said, “I’m going to cut the throat of the man who wrote that.”
A small silence followed.
“We can offer services along those lines,” Hat began.
“Let me see it.”
Strongsteel held out his hand. Bartholomeow watched the set of his mouth and the impatient reach. Whatever he wanted from the parchment, it did not look like a better understanding.
Strongsteel grabbed it before Hat could draw back.
“Nonsense.”
He flung it into the dirt and stamped on it.
Bhakris inclined his head. “Thank you for agreeing to nullify the contract, now that it’s no longer needed.”
Barnaby’s attention went to the paper. Its edge stirred under the pressure of an invisible hand, then stopped: Strongsteel’s heel held it fast. He ground it into the earth.
“Fake nerd stuff. Doesn’t matter.” He turned his head. “Vanguard. Time to earn your pay. Kill these bastards.”
Bartholomeow felt the air tighten around the words.
Thalmiir was close. The Vanguard were closer than anyone would have wanted if steel came out. Around them stood campground staff who had gathered to watch a dispute over money.
“Oh,” Bartholomeow said. “He hasn’t paid you yet?”
Strongsteel waited.
“We’ve just established he isn’t receiving anything from this contract. I’m not sure how he intends to pay you.”
The five mercenaries stayed where they were.
No rush of armor. No blade scraping free. Bartholomeow could hear the small, ordinary noises of the campground beyond them.
“If you’re looking for employment,” he went on, “Thalmiir’s Thunder has uses for mercenary services, and a pocketbook—”
Strongsteel turned.
The Iron Vanguard stood with their arms crossed.
Commander Dorian Steelheart spoke.
“You knew we had reservations about this kind of work in the first place. But murder to get you out of a contract?”
Bartholomeow let the commander have the silence.
“We serve with honor. We have a code. This is not what we signed up for.”
“Exactly the sort of lily-livered—”
Strongsteel ran.
The unfinished insult seemed to hang a moment where he had stood. Then he was tearing toward the campground entrance, leaving the parchment in the dirt and all five mercenaries behind.
Hat looked at Hardbark and began taking out one of his little devices.
“Would you like us to—”
“No murder in my campground. Bad for business.”
“Refund assistance,” Hat corrected, but put the offer aside.
Barnaby raised his attention toward the fleeing man.
Dust began to spin around Strongsteel’s legs. Another little whirlwind formed nearby, an empty destination waiting for an unwilling traveler. Bartholomeow opened his mouth, but Strongsteel had run beyond the reach of his most useful words.
For an instant the dust tightened.
Strongsteel stumbled. He pushed through the spinning air; the vortex broke apart, and the second swirl collapsed without delivering him. He looked back, recovered his stride, and kept running.
Barnaby lowered his hand.
Bartholomeow watched the captain’s diminishing figure.
“I think he is the bear,” he told Hat. “And he did devour his crew.”
“Glad we’ve solved that. These things happen when you’re hungry.”
“Sometimes you get the bear. Sometimes you turn into the bear and eat your friends.”
“Too many times to count.”
The road kept its answer. Strongsteel disappeared along it.
Hat had watched a collection dispute become a threat of murder and then an unexpectedly brisk departure. There was probably a fee for each stage. He chose, for the moment, to concentrate on the opportunities still standing in front of him.
“Hardbark. You need protection. These gentlemen need employment involving a code of honor. For a small finder’s fee, I could draw up something mutually beneficial.”
“As a member of the campground board,” Bartholomeow said, “I support this arrangement.”
“I don’t like this talk about boards,” Hardbark said. “But you’ve solved a problem for me. Again. I appreciate it.”
Hat waited.
“Unless they’ll work for free camping, I don’t know that I can afford them. Small business is tough.” Hardbark looked toward Thalmiir. “You know that. One day people want to pay a hundred gold to stay in my meadows, the next they want a hundred gold for firewood. How am I supposed to plan?”
Bartholomeow’s tail moved.
“Have you considered Moonflower Creations?”
Hardbark blinked.
“On-site pastries,” the cat said. “Increase the attractiveness of the venue.”
“Moonflower?” Pippa called from among the staff. “The bakery you can’t get anything from because there’s never anything available?”
“We might arrange bulk orders.”
Hardbark looked between them. Hat could almost see him deciding whether to let another piece of paper enter his life.
“Pippa already talks my ear off about spa services. Fancy breakfasts. It’s a campground.”
“Pippa,” Bartholomeow said, “how many people would you say turn away because there aren’t pastries and spa services?”
“Half.”
Hat admired the promptness.
“Quite a feather in your cap,” he told Hardbark, “to secure those customers.”
They explored the arrangement while the gathering outside began to lose the sharpness of a confrontation. The bakery could supply muffins. Hardbark could offer them to campers, perhaps as part of a more expensive stay. Barnaby suggested a muffin every morning. Pippa’s ambitions extended considerably beyond muffins, but there was room to begin there.
Hat allowed himself a moment to consider the reach of it. Moonflower Creations already supplied Thalmiir’s Thicket Cafe in the upper town. The meadows lay on the southern edge, where a camper could be persuaded that breakfast arriving close to the tent was worth a little extra.
The whole business depended on Saffron remaining happy to bake and well supplied with ingredients. Thus far, neither had proved difficult. Hat could see no immediate reason to deny her products another audience.
Hardbark’s concern was simpler.
“How much?”
They came around to prices that could hold for several months, with a reliable supply to match. He needed to know what he would be paying. They needed customers for the baking. Hat kept the proposed board in reserve while the more attainable business took shape.
A fair agreement, then. Muffins for money. A period in which they could see how well it worked, and room to revisit the arrangement if it prospered.
He spread fresh paper.
Bartholomeow settled where he could look over Hat’s shoulder.
“Make sure you draw up a fair one.”
Hat dipped his pen.
This was work he understood. A disputed sum could mean one thing to a furious dwarf and another to the people standing across his table. Promises could expand in the memory. Here, he could give each party a place, each obligation its boundary. Even his flourishes had jobs to do.
He wrote the supply arrangement plainly. He gave the future a little more room. If business went exceedingly well, there were provisions that might allow them a greater part in the campground’s affairs. None transferred control today. The ordinary exchange remained exactly what they had proposed.
The pen traveled smoothly. Hat found himself pleased with a turn of language, then more pleased with the clause it supported. Bartholomeow’s encouragement stayed with him as he worked.
By the time he finished, the contract looked equal to almost anything anyone might ask of it.
Hardbark read. Hat let him.
Then the campground owner put his signature on the page.
“I don’t know how to feel about you people.”
“Consistently?” Hat suggested.
“Right now, you seem like the answer to my problems. This morning I thought you were a whole different answer to my problems.”
“We’re like alcohol,” Bartholomeow said.
“The cause and solution of almost all of them,” Hardbark muttered. He regarded the signature a moment longer. “For now, let’s hope the muffins make my customers happy and keep Pippa off my back.”
“Put them in the advertising,” Bartholomeow advised her.
Hat made a duplicate so both parties would have their own copy. Two clean documents lay on the table. Outside, the old collection contract had met rather different treatment.
Hardbark looked at the copies, then at the people responsible for them.
“Perhaps I could cordially invite you to vacate my campground before any more problem-solutions arise.”
“That could involve further contracts,” Bartholomeow warned.
“Yes,” Hardbark said. “That is among my fears.”
They took their time getting the horses ready.
Bhakris attended to the practical necessities with enough leisure to watch the Vanguard. The five had stayed nearby. Their weapons remained put away; they seemed to be waiting for a chance to speak to Hardbark.
Hat offered them employment again, or at least a place to discuss it.
“You can find us at Thalmiir’s Thicket.”
Commander Steelheart looked over the group. When his gaze reached Bhakris, it lingered. Bhakris remembered helping one of the Vanguard back to his feet after their earlier fight. That memory sat more easily between them than Strongsteel’s orders had.
“We’ve been on a journey,” the commander said. “This place hasn’t proved to be what we expected. We need some time to decide our next course.”
Bhakris nodded. There was room in that answer for things they had not told him.
“If you’re open to it, we might come by. Discuss a few things.”
“Wonderful,” Hat said. “We can promise we aren’t bears. Never have been.”
“This town is so weird,” came the answer.
“Well,” Bartholomeow said, “I was a bear once.”
Bhakris looked along the familiar armor as the conversation eased. Scratches, fittings, a breastplate he remembered from before. On Corporal Stormblade’s breastplate, something small caught his attention.
A service pin.
It had not been there when he last saw her. Three letters marked it: OODA. With them was the insignia of Operation Daybreak.
His attention stayed on the pin while the others finished preparing to leave. The Vanguard had arrived in town on the same ship as they had. Since then, the party had spent days away in the swamp. There had been time for other work, other choices.
The commander’s words returned to him. Not what they had expected.
Bhakris could not tell from a small piece of metal where that journey had taken them.
They rode out of Hardbark Meadows with their copy of the agreement secure. Behind them, the Vanguard were still waiting to talk to the campground owner. Ahead lay the town and a business with another outlet to supply.
Thalmiir’s shoulders had finally settled. The fury had drained away enough for him to look around.
“You know what?” he said. “I think we’re actually starting to thrive here.”
“A good business day,” Bartholomeow agreed.
Hat glanced toward the dwarf’s feet.
“How did the buckets hold up?”
“A few holes in the bottoms,” Thalmiir said. “Still good.”
Bhakris looked back once toward the meadows, then turned his horse after the others. Their talk of muffins and the remaining uses of a leaky bucket carried along the road.
At Hardbark Meadows, Bartholomeow took responsibility for the Mace of Terror previously awarded by the flower queen. The wooden magic weapon had three charges available for its fear-inducing howl; none was used during the day’s negotiations. Bartholomeow’s selection as its bearer settled the party’s allocation of the reward, though his attunement to it remained unestablished. On the approach to Brock Hardbark’s shack, Bhakris Edge offered a new explanation for Strongsteel’s supposed history as the former bandit leader: perhaps the man had exchanged bodies with a bear, the original man had been eaten, and the bear in human form had walked away from the encampment. Hat approved of the theory and its potential connection to the camp’s other strange animal incidents. This remained the adventurers’ speculation; neither Strongsteel’s claimed former leadership nor a bear exchange was confirmed. Hardbark received the returning adventurers with hostility in his dim, smoky, one-room dwelling and office. A hearth and corner cot shared the space with a table covered in campground records. Barnaby the Prodigious, Emeritus, who had not visited before, introduced himself as a provisional intern accompanying the group. Thalmiir Brukur settled onto a stool opposite Hardbark, initially seeking a business discussion. Hat attempted to deliver the party’s counterclaim by producing the scroll from behind Hardbark’s ear. His ordinary close-up trickery failed a Sleight of Hand check made at disadvantage: the suspicious proprietor caught his wrist, took the scroll, and released him before the flourish could succeed. The delivery itself nevertheless accomplished its purpose. Hat announced, “You have been served.” Hardbark now held the previously prepared demand for 1,200 gold, matching the amount he was seeking from the adventurers. Hardbark accused the party of agreeing to provide campground security and then abandoning the work. He said he had spent ten days sending people after them. The adventurers defended their absence as rescue work for villages and farms; Thalmiir also invoked his three hundred years of experience running a brewery. Bhakris stressed the value of written agreements and challenged Hardbark’s choice to employ an alleged former bandit. Hardbark identified Strongsteel and the Iron Vanguard as his contracted collectors and treated their earlier demand as collection rather than robbery. Asked how the charge had reached 1,200 gold, Hardbark produced his accounting. He explained that he doubled the asserted debt whenever he sent someone to find the party, then added collection fees. These were increases he imposed on the demand, rather than evidence that his actual expenses had doubled. Barnaby recalled being told the party had already paid 75 gold, and Bhakris and Thalmiir agreed. Hardbark described the original charge as the value of having a campsite available throughout the agreement, while the adventurers objected that they had scarcely used it. Their competing accounts did not establish the original lodging terms or prove either side’s financial claim. Thalmiir lost his temper over what he regarded as attempted robbery. Spending one rage, he reached across the table, seized Hardbark by the collar, and lifted him in a display of strength. His armor spikes dug into the proprietor and drew blood. Bhakris offered threatening support by readying his weapon and appearing willing to follow through. Thalmiir declared, “I don’t take kindly to attempts at robbery.” Merrick Stonebrow’s large silhouette filled the doorway, giving Hardbark enough reassurance to resist the pressure. His presence canceled the advantage offered on Thalmiir’s Strength-based Intimidation check, which failed. Hardbark briefly seemed close to yielding, but wiped away the blood and held his ground. He observed that Thalmiir’s display showed how useful he could have been at the security job. The injury did not secure a concession, and no numerical damage or lasting condition was established for Hardbark. Thalmiir kicked his stool aside and stormed out before his anger could become a lethal attack. He explained that remaining inside risked his putting an axe in Hardbark’s head. On the way out, he punched a chunk from the doorframe, dealing six damage to it, and acknowledged that he now actually owed the proprietor money. No repair payment or bill was agreed. His rage continued outside while the others carried on negotiating; no additional rage expenditure was recorded. Hardbark sent Merrick to watch Thalmiir and report when the Vanguard returned. Campground staff gathered as news of the confrontation spread. Pippa Brightstone tried a friendly approach but faltered at the furious dwarf’s expression. Thalmiir continued stamping around, eventually getting a bucket caught on his spiked armor. The developing audience and his position outside would put him directly in the returning collectors’ path. Inside, Hat explained the counterclaim using Hardbark’s own escalating financial logic. An unused campsite, he argued, merited a refund; failure to return it could attract interest, and collection fees could be added as well. A brief discussion of the vine steeds’ needs diverted Hardbark into objecting that the nutrients in his soil were not free for the plant horses to consume. The central point remained the matching 1,200-gold demand and what it revealed about the proprietor’s methods. Once Hardbark read the document, Hat recognized his skepticism turning into confusion, fear, and a guilty conscience, with an Insight result of 20. The counterclaim persuaded Hardbark that he had mishandled the dispute. He admitted, “Yeah, I went kind of overboard with that whole collections thing, didn’t I?” He explained that he had hoped the adventurers would solve his problems through a mutually beneficial arrangement and had become angry when they left. Hat proposed balancing the opposing claims and resetting the ledger. Negotiations continued on that accepted basis: Hardbark would stop pursuing the party, and neither side would pay the other. The settlement resolved the practical collection demand without determining whose recollection of the original lodging agreement was correct. It also left a separate problem to solve—Hardbark had already committed himself to Strongsteel under another contract. Hat offered to inspect Strongsteel’s agreement for a fee while also floating the possibility of entering the campground business. The others clarified that stopping the collectors had been their original objective. Hardbark resisted suggestions of a takeover, but said he had paid Strongsteel a deposit and had come to depend on recovering the alleged debt to keep Hardbark Meadows afloat. He admitted that he was in over his head and needed help. Bhakris suggested looking for a reversal in any percentage-based collection language. Barnaby recommended inspecting the document in good faith, then charging if the party found a useful counterargument. Overwhelmed by the legal and business discussion, Hardbark called for a halfling staffer to provide another set of ears. No document-review fee, recovery fee, ownership interest, or board position was agreed during these exchanges. Bartholomeow lent credibility to Hat’s proposed professional charges by invoking a supposedly fee-regulating guild. Hat agreed to the good-faith inspection while pretending that doing so risked breaching its rules. The guild was an invention, but Hardbark accepted the credentials. With assistance and Bartholomeow’s Bardic Inspiration, Hat’s Deception result rose from 14 to 17 after the inspiration die added 3, turning the attempt into a success. That inspiration was consumed. Hardbark produced the agreement signed by himself and Captain Strongsteel. Hat examined it using his intelligence and document-making tools, with another grant of Bardic Inspiration from Bartholomeow. His final review result was 17; the separate contribution, if any, of that inspiration die was not established. The review uncovered a useful weakness in the wording, sufficient to support an argument but short of an unequivocal cancellation clause. The contract was intended to impose a 400-gold collection-fee lien if no money was recovered or Hardbark stopped the collection effort. Its wording also supported a competing interpretation: ending collections would cost Hardbark only the deposit he had already paid. That deposit’s amount was not specified. An authority willing to enforce the alternative reading might uphold it, but Strongsteel could still refuse to accept the argument. Hat had found leverage rather than a settled legal judgment. Hat told Hardbark that he appeared to owe nothing further if collections ended, while acknowledging that reclaiming the deposit would be much harder to justify. He also hinted that the party had less scholarly ways of seeking refunds, indicating the angry Thalmiir outside. Hardbark did not commission such a recovery. Before the private discussion could reach a conclusion, Strongsteel and the Iron Vanguard returned to the campground. Strongsteel arrived at a quick march with all five armored members of the Iron Vanguard. He was astonished to find the party already there and was breathing harder in his leather armor than the mercenaries were in half plate. Thalmiir shook a bucket off his foot, mocked their delay, and remained at the entrance. Merrick told Strongsteel that Hardbark was occupied and asked him to wait, but the collector announced that his men were going inside. Thalmiir blocked the doorway and insisted that Strongsteel wait while the discussion continued. Strongsteel stopped short of striking him and called over his shoulder for Hardbark instead. Inside, Hardbark asked the adventurers to explain the contract’s weakness to his collector. He said he had hired Strongsteel because he looked dangerous, not because he wanted the party injured. Barnaby stepped out to announce that an agreement had been reached, prematurely embellishing the settlement into a claim that the party was now in the campsite business. Hat began explaining that collection was no longer required and could end under the agreement’s own language. Bartholomeow took over, repeating and elaborating on the clauses Hat had studied. His Persuasion result was 28 despite disadvantage from presenting a document he had not personally examined. He went beyond Hat’s defensible deposit-only reading and argued that Strongsteel might even owe Hardbark money. The presentation affected the Vanguard, but it did not establish a refund obligation or secure Strongsteel’s peaceful agreement. Strongsteel responded by threatening to cut the throat of whoever had written his contract. He demanded the document, and Bartholomeow recognized with an Insight result of 22 that he intended to mistreat it rather than read it. Strongsteel nevertheless won the contest to snatch it from Hat, threw it into the dirt, and ground it beneath his heel. Bhakris sarcastically treated this gesture as agreement to nullify the contract. Barnaby attempted to retrieve the paper with his invisible, componentless Mage Hand, but the hand could not lift it while Strongsteel stood on it. Rejecting the legal argument entirely, Strongsteel ordered the Vanguard to kill the adventurers. Bartholomeow challenged the practicality of that order, asking whether the mercenaries had been paid and how Strongsteel expected to pay them without the collection proceeds. He also mentioned that the Thunder Thicket had money and could use mercenary services. The confrontation moved too quickly for that suggestion to become an employment negotiation, and the Vanguard’s existing payment arrangements remained unanswered. The mercenaries stood with crossed arms instead of drawing weapons. Commander Dorian Steelheart explained that the company had already had reservations about collection work and would not commit murder to get Strongsteel out of a contract. “We serve with honor.” The five were Commander Steelheart, Lieutenant Stonefist, Sergeant Ironshield, Corporal Stormblade, and Private Swiftwind. Strongsteel’s self-styled captaincy also irritated their actual commander. Their refusal removed his armed support, and no combat began. Strongsteel began insulting the company’s courage, then abruptly ran toward the campground entrance. Hat started taking out his fire-shooting magical devices and asked whether Hardbark wanted him killed as a form of refund assistance. Hardbark refused to allow murder at his campground, describing it as bad for business. Hat made no fire attack. The immediate threat had collapsed, but Strongsteel was still escaping. Barnaby cast Vortex Warp while Strongsteel remained within range, intending to teleport him back. Strongsteel succeeded on the Constitution saving throw: a dust-devil-like swirl formed around him, broke apart as he stumbled through it, and failed to stop his flight. Bartholomeow offered Cutting Words, but Strongsteel was already beyond its sixty-foot range, so the ability was not used. Barnaby expended one casting of Vortex Warp; its slot level was not specified. Strongsteel escaped alive, and his destination remained unknown. The escape revived the party’s bear theory without supplying evidence for it. Attention then returned to practical business. Hat proposed matching Hardbark’s need for security with the Vanguard’s need for honorable work, with a small finder’s fee for himself. Hardbark acknowledged that the party had solved a problem but rejected the continued jokes about a campground board. He said he could not afford the company unless it accepted free camping. No guard hire or finder’s fee resulted, and Strongsteel’s trampled contract was not shown being recovered. Hardbark described Seacomber’s unstable economy, unpredictable lodging demand, and fluctuating supply prices. Bartholomeow proposed a way to improve the campground’s appeal: a Moonflower Creations outlet or bulk supply of its pastries. Pippa immediately recognized Moonflower as the bakery where, she complained, nothing was ever available. She supported better breakfasts and had broader ambitions to turn Hardbark Meadows into a fancy bed-and-breakfast with spa services. Asked how much business the campground lost through the absence of pastries and such amenities, Pippa claimed that roughly half of prospective customers turned away. This was her enthusiastic sales argument, rather than a measured count. Barnaby suggested premium camping with a morning muffin. Thalmiir supported beginning with the straightforward exchange of muffins for payment. The concrete objective became a profitable written supply agreement; the resort, spa, and board ideas remained proposals or jokes. The expansion depended on the party’s existing arrangement at Moonflower Creations. They effectively ran the business, supplied Saffron with ingredients, and sold her baking at a substantial markup. Moonflower already served its own customers and the Thunder Thicket café. There was no present indication that ingredients or Saffron’s willingness to bake had run out, so no current production shortage blocked the campground deal. More ambitious expansion could eventually test that capacity, making continued supplies and Saffron’s cooperation essential. The adventurers considered boxed muffin sales against a more hospitable arrangement in which pastries supported Pippa’s plans for serving guests. They favored helping her through pastry supply. Spa services and dragon-heated stones remained ideas for the future. A brief discussion of possible zombie trouble also brought up Pebblesong: Bartholomeow credited her with keeping it away, but the party had not checked in with her for several days. The quiet offered no confirmed news of her circumstances, and no renewed outbreak was reported. Hardbark was willing to accept fair terms that gave him reliable deliveries and predictable prices over the coming months. His concern about volatility made that offer attractive without further persuasion. Bartholomeow advocated mutual benefit, and Hat suggested a trial followed by renegotiation if successful. They proceeded to drafting, though exact prices, quantities, delivery schedules, and contractual duration were not specified. Hat drafted the pastry agreement with his intelligence and tool proficiency, supported by a third grant of Bardic Inspiration from Bartholomeow. The inspiration d8 was added, and the final drafting result was 33. The resulting document was exceptionally strong. Hat described its basic bargain as the fair supply arrangement they had proposed, while also including wording that might allow the party greater influence or control if the business went exceedingly well. The conditions and scope of that possible future involvement remained undefined. Hardbark signed the agreement. It created a contracted outlet for Moonflower pastries at Hardbark Meadows, with no present transfer of campground ownership or establishment of a governing board. Both sides received copies: Hardbark kept one, and Hat retained the other and recorded the drafting result of 33 with it in his inventory. Deliveries had not yet begun. Hardbark hoped the muffins would satisfy his customers and Pippa, while Bartholomeow encouraged her to advertise the new offering. Discussion of distribution placed Hardbark Meadows on Seacomber’s southern outskirts. The route north led toward the lifts to the upper town, where the Thunder Thicket stood. Moonflower itself was not far from the campground, but the new outlet offered a useful distribution opportunity rather than simply drawing away the bakery’s existing trade. The party discussed further expansion across the river into faction camps, and Barnaby expressed interest in increasing production. No exclusive sales territory or additional outlet was contracted. With the agreement completed, Hardbark cordially asked the adventurers to leave before they could produce any more problems or solutions. They prepared their vine steeds for departure, having turned a hostile collection dispute into a new customer relationship. Hardbark still owned his campground, and its security needs remained unsettled, but the party no longer faced his practical demand for 1,200 gold. The Iron Vanguard appeared to be waiting for an opportunity to speak with Hardbark. Bhakris suggested leaving slowly in case paid protection became necessary, and the party took its time preparing and watering the vine steeds. Hat told the mercenaries that they could find the adventurers at the Thunder Thicket if they wanted employment. This renewed the earlier suggestion at a calmer moment, without yet offering specific wages, duties, or a contract. Steelheart considered the party with particular regard for Bhakris. The company’s respect drew in part on Bhakris’s earlier help to a fallen Vanguard member during the river fighting. Steelheart said that the company had been on a journey and that its experience in town had not met expectations. They needed time to decide their next course, but might visit the Thunder Thicket to discuss matters. The adventurers welcomed that possibility. Neither an employment agreement nor a definite visit was arranged. While the mounts were being prepared, Bhakris noticed a change in Corporal Stormblade’s equipment. With passive Perception 14 and familiarity with the company’s earlier appearance, he spotted a small service pin newly attached to her breastplate. It bore the letters OODA and the insignia of Operation Daybreak. Barnaby’s higher passive score did not provide the same opportunity to recognize a change, since he had not previously met the mercenaries. The pin raised questions about what the Vanguard had been doing while the party was away in the swamp. The adventurers speculated that the company might have joined the urn expedition and found the experience less noble than expected. Nobody explained the service represented by the pin, the meaning of OODA, or whether it had anything to do with Steelheart’s disappointment. The visible insignia supplied a lead, rather than an account of a completed or abandoned mission. The party rode away from Hardbark Meadows on the vine steeds in better spirits. Thalmiir’s rage had ended, and he remarked, “I think we’re actually starting to thrive here.” Bartholomeow likewise considered it a successful business day. The buckets and pails caught on Thalmiir’s armor had acquired holes in their bottoms and were no longer useful for carrying water. The session ended during the departure; no destination, arrival, or rest followed. The collection dispute is settled in practice. Hardbark and the party treated their opposing 1,200-gold claims as balanced, with no payment by either side. The settlement did not resolve the disputed original lodging terms. Thalmiir bloodied Hardbark and dealt six damage to the shack’s doorframe; no repair charge was agreed, and no party injury was recorded. Moonflower has a new contracted outlet. Hat and Hardbark each hold a copy of the signed pastry supply agreement, drafted with a final result of 33. Reliable supply and predictable prices form the bargain. Exact commercial terms and any possible future control provisions remain unspecified. Keeping Saffron supplied and willing to bake will support the expansion; no current shortage was established. Strongsteel remains at large. He lost the Vanguard’s support after ordering murder and escaped Barnaby’s Vortex Warp. His alleged bandit history and the party’s bear-exchange theory remain unconfirmed. No deposit refund was obtained, no authoritative ruling settled the collection contract’s interpretation, and the trampled document’s recovery was not shown. The Vanguard offers both an opportunity and a question. Steelheart left open a later employment conversation at the Thunder Thicket, but no mercenaries were hired. Stormblade’s new OODA pin bears Operation Daybreak’s insignia; its origin, the company’s recent activities, and the reason for its disappointment remain unexplained. Pebblesong is another possible follow-up, since several days have passed without a check-in. Resources remain spent at the close. Thalmiir used one rage, which has ended. Barnaby expended one Vortex Warp casting. Bartholomeow granted three Bardic Inspirations: the first was consumed for Hat’s deception, the second accompanied the contract review with its die use unresolved, and the third contributed to the pastry contract’s 33. Cutting Words was not used. Bartholomeow holds the Mace of Terror with all three charges unused; attunement remains unestablished. No rest or resource recovery occurred before the session ended.Session Notes
Hardbark’s shack: serving the counterclaim
The office and doorway: anger outside, documents inside
Hardbark’s office: professional credentials and a contractual opening
Outside the shack: the Vanguard’s refusal
Hardbark Meadows: muffins for pay
Departure: a possible employer and an unexplained pin
Where things stand