Sanjit marveled at the bustling street of the City of the Lost. Hawkers shouted from every corner, their stalls packed tight with goods both strange and familiar. The buildings looked worn and tired, patched with mismatched wood and stone. Some leaned as homes, others stood as shops or taverns—survivors of time, holding together by sheer stubbornness.
"This is where we part, Sanjit," Subia said, leading his horse through the press of bodies. "Ira and Shivv will remain with your group. They'll ensure your safety. Here—" He handed Sanjit a sack of coins. "This will be enough to buy weapons and armor for all your companions. Look for The Broken Tankard Tavern. I've arranged your stay there."
"Thank you, Master Subia. Will Master Gandy be joining you?" Sanjit asked, his eyes scanning the crowd for the hooded figure.
Subia's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Master Gandy is a very busy man. You'll see him soon enough. Until then, if you need me, tell Ira or Shivv. They'll know how to reach me." With that, he mounted his horse and disappeared into the crowd.
Sanjit watched until he was gone, then turned to his companions. Ira stood at the rear, silent and sharp-eyed.
Shivv stepped forward. "We should move, Master Sanjit. Standing in the open too long can be dangerous."
"You're right," Sanjit nodded. "We'll need a store that sells proper weapons and armor first."
---
Their search took them deeper into the city until they reached a shop guarded by seven dwarves in full plate. Above the door, a carved sign read: The Lost Dwarven Hoard. Whispers had already told Sanjit this was where the best weapons and armor could be found—crafted by a true dwarven smith.
As Sanjit approached, the guards barred their way.
"Ay! Only those with enough coin may enter," growled the leader, a thick-armed dwarf with scars across his cheek.
"We came to buy weapons and armor for myself and my companions, Master Dwarf," Sanjit said, showing the sack of coins Subia had given him.
The leader snatched it from his hands, peeked inside, and Sanjit caught a flash of gold. His stomach lurched. He hadn't even looked inside before. Enough to buy far more than gear—enough to support his family back in Mayeon for years.
The dwarf closed the bag and returned it. "Entrance fee—one gold coin."
Sanjit's eyes widened. "One gold just to enter? That's far too much—"
The dwarf cut him off. "It ensures you're a buyer and not a fool wasting the smith's time. This is no market stall for common adventurers."
Shivv's voice came low, steady. "Pay him, Master Sanjit. If this is their custom, we'll abide. But hear me, Master Dwarf—if this is a trick, and your smith's work is not worth that coin, you'll pay us back twice."
The leader squared his shoulders, puffing up. "Is that a threat, sorcerer?"
Shivv's brow twitched. "Yes. Do you think seven of you could stop me?"
The guards shifted into formation, weapons ready. The air grew heavy. Onlookers gathered. Sanjit's companions looked at him, waiting for his decision. He didn't want a fight—not here, not now.
With a sigh, he tossed a gold coin.
The dwarf leader caught it without breaking eye contact with Shivv. Then he barked a laugh. "Passage paid. Entrance granted, young masters." He bowed mockingly. "I almost hope you'll be disappointed, so we might continue this… conversation."
---
Inside, the smith himself waited. Broader than the guards, arms roped with muscle, he stepped forward with a grin.
"Welcome. I am Hornak, master of this forge. Forgive my brother Durgan—he is quick to test newcomers. The entrance fee keeps away those not serious. Now, Master, are you here to equip yourself?"
"Yes," Sanjit said firmly. "Weapons and armor for myself and my companions."
"Excellent. Follow me."
Hornak led them into a chamber lined with steel. Blades of every kind glimmered under torchlight—swords, axes, spears, bows. Armor gleamed from racks, painted in colors and styles Sanjit had never seen.
His companions could not hide their awe.
"Choose based on fighting style," Hornak advised, watching them wander. "My servants can guide each of your companions. For armor, I suggest a uniform design—let the city know you march as one company."
"That will do," Sanjit agreed. "And can you inscribe our insignia? We call ourselves the Companions."
Shivv leaned close, smirking. "Make it a large C with a small m inside."
Sanjit whispered back, "What does the m stand for?"
"Minions. Trust me—Master Gandy will find it amusing."
They were measured swiftly by Hornak's assistants, who promised delivery to The Broken Tankard Tavern.
"That tavern is just on the corner," Hornak added. "For sale, too. Its keeper lost everything backing a dungeon-mining quest three moons past. Sad tale—most who went never came back."
---
Mistress Maren greeted them warmly as they entered.
"You must be Master Sanjit," she said with a smile.
"Yes, Mistress Maren. We need rooms and a hot meal."
"Already prepared. Master Gandy is upstairs waiting for you."
At the mention of the hooded man, Sanjit exchanged glances with his companions. Together, they climbed the stairs.
They found Gandy seated by the window, still as a statue, until Maren bowed. "Master Gandy, Master Sanjit and his companions have arrived."
He stirred, blinking as if from a trance. "Ah—thank you, Mistress Maren."
Rising, he greeted them with a faint smile. "Come, sit. Food will be here shortly."
"I hope you found proper equipment?" he asked once they were seated.
"Yes, Master Gandy. Thank you for your support," Sanjit replied.
"Good… good…" Gandy pushed back his hood.
Gasps caught around the table. Human. Young—no older than twenty by appearance, though the weight in his gaze told another story. Ira stiffened at attention, while Shivv bowed his head with something like reverence. Sanjit realized then—this man commanded not by age, but by power.
"This tavern is ours now. Our base of operations," Gandy said calmly. "Food and lodging are yours, free. Train, recruit, expand."
He looked around the room, then added with a quiet finality:
"And from this day forward, its name will change. The Broken Tankard will be known as The Dice and Dark Ale Tavern."
A young woman slipped in and sat beside him.
"This is Ava, my treasurer. She will handle your salaries. Fifty gold each."
Sanjit nearly choked. "Master Gandy… we are not trained warriors. Such wages are reserved for seasoned adventurers—"
Gandy raised a hand. "Skill can be learned. Character cannot. You have bravery, loyalty, unity. Do not sell yourselves short. One united company is worth more than ten seasoned mercenaries."
Servants entered with platters of food. The air filled with roast and bread.
"As for your pay—you'll earn it. You'll train, and you'll delve dungeons. Ira and Shivv will guard you. And if that fails—help will always be ready. I promise you that."
His gaze swept across them. "All I ask is loyalty. And obedience to three rules. First—you will not kill. If wronged, Subia will handle it."
At that name, Subia entered and bowed low.
"Second—you will protect those who cannot protect themselves. Especially the innocent.
Third—you will not speak my name. In the world's eyes, Subia leads. I prefer the shadows."
Sanjit swallowed. "But what of the factions here? We heard they rule this city. Outlaws. If they intervene—"
He fell silent as Gandy looked to Subia.
"The guilds have fallen, my lord," Subia said softly. "They now follow you."
"Good… good…" Gandy murmured, almost to himself.