Chapter Fifteen

## **“What the fuck is up with that?”**

**Vortbjorstandag 23rd Biriskjur 1770**

Still aching from the day before, the members of The Fellowship awoke from their much-needed rest, safe within the confines of Ranger Station #2. Wilf had slept in the taxi-wagon and had been clumping around since the early hours of the morning tending to the goats and the recently acquired horse. Delg on the other hand, had stayed indoors with the rest of the party, having soaked his clothes in a wooden tub and leaving them to dry overnight.

As Brandyr prepared a breakfast of soaked-oats and berries, Nixe stepped outside to talk with his horse. He found the steed still tied where he left it, but it had been washed and groomed by Wilf sometime this morning and was looking altogether healthier than it had the day before. Having taken a disliking for the name Uraeus, Nixe spoke with the horse and asked if he would allow him to give him a new name. The horse wasn’t fussed either way, so Nixe dubbed him “Quicksilver”, despite the horse being brown and white in colour.

With the morning’s ablutions conducted, The Fellowship piled into the taxi for another uneventful day of travel, broken only by Nixe’s largely ignored ramblings as they moved from the icy tundra of the north, the heartland plains. Eventually the group decided to make camp and a suitable, open area was selected.

As they set up camp, Nixe and Brandyr engaged in a heartfelt conversation about religion, a subject that the ranger had been increasingly curious about in recent days. Then, before it got dark, Nixe located some rabbit warrens and set some snares for the night. Confident in his handiwork, he returned to the camp. Meanwhile, Booker, ever Wilf-curious, had been probing Delg for some answers. Retrieving two-thirds of a bottle of whisky that he had won in a game of chess, Delg suggested a drinking game so that they could better get to know each other.

*“It comes from a far-flung land”,* he said *“but the rules are simple enough. It’s called; ‘what the fuck is up with that?’”*

The games rules explained, each member of the party took it in turns to ask one-another a question, that must be followed up with “what the fuck is up with that?”.

Nixe went first, asking Booker about the casual animosity that he holds for elves. Booker explained that, growing up on the reservations, that sort of talk had been commonplace. He then produced his grandmother’s journal and gave it to Nixe to read, believing it would give him a better idea of the culture from which he stems.

It was then Booker’s turn and, seeing his opportunity to pry, he asked Delg about Wilf, laying out in no uncertain terms that he believed the coachman to be a warforged. Delg explained to the curious gnome that the game was intended to get to know each other and that was Wilf’s story to tell, if he felt ready.

Changing tacks, Booker instead asked about how the two had met. Delg explained that he had been a poor, malnourished dwarf, growing up the streets of Bezmadanbaor, too weak to defend himself and regularly the victim of violence and crime. One day he met Wilf, also alone and fleeing from something, and the two became inseparable, protecting each other from harm. Wilf the muscle and Delg the mouth.

Delg asked Brandyr, dwarf-to-dwarf, how he felt about the way dwarven society treats the so called “lesser races”, to which Brandyr gave an answer that caused Delg to muse that he was either very optimistic or extremely naïve. And so, the game went on, with each of the six men answering questions about their lives, their hopes, their beliefs, getting increasingly squiffy with each question.

Fitz opened up about his warlock abilities, the first time he had spoken openly about such things. He talked about the pact his ancestors had made, his uncertainty as to the true origin of his powers, and the mysterious dream that he had recently had, the imagery of which reminded Delg of a description given to him by a man as he lay dying from Lyssa’s blight.

Plymouth talked about his mother, his thoughts about her arrest and whether he believed she was in league with the Ungermoth Reparation Army. He was also quizzed by Nixe about whether he knew anything more than he was letting on about the artefact they had found, to which he answered that he did not.

Nixe in return was asked about his unusual hue, so he opened up about his uncertain origin, his family and the other blue-skinned elf they had seen on their journey. Booker also asked whether he still thought they should have killed the changeling, but Nixe explained that he acted impulsively and did not believe them to be a threat any longer.

Lastly, Delg was asked what his and Wilf’s plans were. Delg explained that his goal was to secure enough money for them to restart their business, in some isolated corner of the Empire. Brandyr, clearly a little crestfallen by this response, commented that there was more to life than money, a statement that Delg incorrectly remarked, would only be made by someone who had always had it.

As the hour grew increasingly late, the party polished off the rest of the drink and headed for bed, each having learned more about their companions. They had shared more than a bottle of whisky that night and had become closer (and drunker) as a result.

Next: Chapter Sixteen. Watch and Quern