Chapter One: The Elf, the Gnome, and the Cat
As the sun began to set, Getten Serca felt his strength waning. After all, he thought, It is exhausting work, running away.
To his left, the vast canyon wall stretched high above his thin frame. To his right, the plains rolled off into the distance where he could just make out the far wall of the canyon across the river.
As Getten trudged forward, he fervently began to wish that he had the forethought to bring along a wineskin in the small pack he had stashed with the innkeeper just outside of Ja’Adun. Next time, he thought to himself, Next time, it’ll be a good Vedarin red.
His thoughts occupied by fantasies of grapes and vines, Getten almost missed the faint flickering light coming from a slot in the canyon wall ahead. Curious, he dropped into a crouch, and slowly made his way through the tall grass and towards what he presumed to be a small fire.
Not far into the crack in the canyon wall, the slot opened up into a clearing where a strange sight met his eyes. There, in the center of the clearing, a small but merry fire blazed in a ring of stones. A bedroll and pack lay near the pit and, resting cozily amongst the coals, Getten could just make out a number of small parcels that his nose told him contained lamb and potatoes. The strange part of the camp, however, was not the fire nor the bedroll nor even the seemingly abandoned parcels. No, the strangest thing was the large cat that, for all intents and purposes, seemed to be the proprietor of the site.
It was a massive grey cat that sat like a loaf of bread with its front paws folded politely underneath it and as Getten approached, he realized that it was staring directly at him.
Overcoming his initial shock at the sheer size of the feline, Getten stood and carefully approached the animal.
“I know that it is an unusual request, and I would like to assure you that I mean you no harm, but I was wondering if you would be willing to share your fire this evening?” He said to the cat.
Seemingly unfazed by his approach, the cat stood, deeply stretched its long back and settled back down, resuming its previous bread-like position.
Taking this lack of open hostility as an invitation, Getten carefully maneuvered towards the fire until it stood between him and the creature.
“Where are my manners,” said Getten. “Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Getten Serca. May I inquire as to yours…?” He trailed off questioningly.
“What am I doing?” He asked himself out loud. “It’s just a cat.”
“I don’t think ‘Just a cat’ is a very good description,” said a voice from behind Getten.
“Shit!” swore Getten. In his surprise switching to Cant, the pseudo-language used by the denizens of the canyon’s underworld. In a confusing blur of thin limbs, steel, and leather, Getten leaped to his feet, spun around, and pulled his rapier from its scabbard, ready to face whatever had managed to sneak up on him. There was nothing there. He glanced to either side before he felt a gentle tap on his knee.
“I don’t know that language. What was that? Oh, and I am down here!” said the voice cheerfully.
Looking down, Getten saw a diminutive figure with a voluminous mustache and a small pair of spectacles staring back up at him.
“And,” continued the gnome, “I would describe George as the King of Cats!”
Moving past Getten, the gnome sat down near the fire and began pulling the foil-wrapped packets out of the coals.
“My name is Id! I see you have met His Majesty. This is George,” he said.
The cat, hearing his name, lazily stood up, flicked his ears, and wandered over to the gnome, plopping himself gracefully in a puddle near the feet of the small man.
Getten, still surprised, forced himself to relax. He sheathed his rapier before saying,
“It is my pleasure, Id. My name, as you may have heard during my conversation with George, is Getten Serca. I hope you don’t mind if I join you?”
“Why not at all! Certainly not if George has already given you the go-ahead,” replied Id nodding, his mustache bouncing like an excited child.“I’ll even give you dinner if you make me a promise.”
Sitting back down, Getten considered the gnome. He was old, or at least, he looked older than the few other members of his kind that Getten had encountered in the city. He looked, if Getten was any judge, like some kind of scholar. His fingers were stained ever-so-slightly by ink and his pack, upon closer inspection, contained the largest book that Getten had ever seen.
“What promise?” Getten asked suspiciously. His stomach rumbled slightly as he said it.
“Just the promise of a tale as we eat,” replied Id, turning away from the fire and holding out a bowl. “I am something of a collector of them, you see,” he finished.
Relieved, Getten took the bowl back in his spot opposite the gnome.
“I think I can make that pact,” He said. “Although I cannot guarantee that the tale will be of interest to you.”
As they ate, Getten told Id his tale. How, after his abandonment by his elven parents, he had been entrusted to the care of a halfling family in Brahn. Feeling strangely comfortable with the small man, Getten told Id how his father had trained him in the arts of stealth, deceit, thievery, and assassination, and how he had left home to pursue a life of adventure. He even told Id of his recent mishaps in Ja’Adun and how he had fled the city after his cover had been blown.
Getten finished his tale as the last of the meat and potatoes disappeared from his plate and looked up at Id from across the fire. The small man had brought out his large book as Getten had spoken and had scribbled in it furiously, recording every word with a quick and practiced hand. The gnome made the final touches on his writing before quickly packing away his book, quill, and ink, and then smiled at Getten.
“An excellent tale!” he exclaimed. “I think fate may have brought us together this night, my new friend.”
Quirking his head to the side the cat, George, let out a questioning grumble in Id’s direction.
“Oh, indeed George,” Id replied to the cat before turning his attention to Getten and launching into a tale of his own.
Id told the elf of his studies into history that had led him to an archeological site deep in the desert to the east. There, he had found a number of documents written in the hand of Ganos Vrane, the Warleader of the ancient Ja’Aduans. This letter told of an ancient cache of weapons, gold, and riches plundered in raids against the Kuf Empire. However, it was not the wealth that interested Id. No, this vault contained something far more precious to a student of history. If the letter told true then hidden amongst the gold was the last will and testament of Basileus Anux, the last Emperor of Kuf. The disappearance of which had led to nearly one hundred years of bloody infighting that toppled the once-mighty empire.
As Id finished his tale and fell silent, Getten spoke up.
“I am intrigued by this vault,” he said. “If only Vrane had left a map, we could be wealthy men. But why do you believe our meeting was fated?”
“Ahh,” said Id, leaning back. He had lit a pipe while telling his story and he puffed on it, a look of satisfaction on his small face. “Well, I did leave out a key detail. Vrane did indeed leave a map. As for fate, I believe it brought us together because I know the location of an ancient, hidden, and presumably locked vault full of treasures, and you are a thief!”
As awareness of Id’s meaning settled on Getten, he sat up startled.
“I had intended to procure the services of the guild in Ja’Adun,” continued the gnome, “But given that you have stumbled onto my camp, and that George seems to like you, I would offer the contract to you.”
Getten nodded slowly. It was not a bad move. If anything, his flight from Festral and the thieves guild in Ja’Adun would only be aided by a traveling companion, and the thought of twisting the knife just that little bit more by stealing a potential contract pleased him.
“Very well, what are the terms of this contract?” asked Getten.
“They are simple and generous. You can keep the gold and anything of value to you so long as it is not important to my work or the historical record.”
Getten considered briefly before nodding, standing, and holding his hand out to the smaller man. With a grin that raised his mustache to new and frightening heights, Id shook the hand and said,
“It is good to be in your company, Getten Serca.”
