Sleeper

Outpost

"We both know it's at least worth forty gold coins." I snapped irritably, fighting to keep my voice relatively low. Despite being at the counter of a crowded, noisy bar, I didn't want to risk drawing attention to this minor altercation. 

Minor, I say, as if we hadn't been issuing thinly-veiled threats for the past thirty minutes. 

Drawing a deep breath and trying (again) to school my face into the most commanding expression I could, I eyed my fellow haggler with a severe look of condemnation. 

"Alright. I know what your game is, and I know who've you've gotten involved with." I allowed a grin to creep across my expression. "We could work this out at 37 golds, or I could let the guards out front know who supplies your drinks."

At this, the bartender's eyes doubled. "You wouldn't."

I took a casual, lazy sip from the glass in front of me. "I certainly wouldn't if I could avoid it." I allowed after a long, thoughtful pause. 

His nostrils flared and his jaw tensed, but he knew he was outmatched. After a few aggravated seconds, he slammed the payment in front of me. 

"Get out of my establishment." He spat. I snatched the bag from the counter, hopped from the seat with a hasty salute, and darted for the door, leaving the ancient map crumpled on the counter behind me. 

It was an old piece of crap, but Tévan often purchased such artifacts for the sake of memory. I preferred to collect them for the sake of increasing my wealth, but that was just me. 

Having secured the satchel to my hip, I swung into the carriage that awaited me in the front. 

"Let's ditch this dragon heap." I muttered to my driver. 

"Way ahead of you." A voice--which was most certainly not my driver's--crooned from the front seat. 

There was an ominous click in the darkness, and I knew without looking that I was effectively trapped inside my own carriage with an unknown abductor who had somehow gotten rid of my driver. 

I simply loved these stupid outposts.