A Land of Legends

The Missing Treasure

The Kingdom of @MythandLegend and @SecretTreasures.

***

They call him "Merrick the Mighty", but the Pirate King sobbing into his ale beside me doesn't sound mighty at all.

"It's gone," he wails.

I scan the tavern. The torchlight flickers across the empty room. Through the window, the midday sun illuminates the unoccupied benches.

Merrick the Mighty and I are alone except for the tavern-keeper shining glasses behind the counter.

"What's gone?" I ask.

"It's very valuable, but"—the Pirate King swallows— "I cannot speak its name."

"Then how do you expect anyone to find it?"

I glimpse a flash of silver, but I'm faster than Merrick. I snatch my hand from his hook's path, and its pointed tip carves a hole into the wooden tabletop instead.

"By offering the greatest reward conceivable!" he says.

My ears prick up.

I take a swig of mead, rolling it in my mouth to savour the taste. I haven't been to Zauthean in so long that I have forgotten how the alcohol tastes.

I was in Scydelle with my wife and our newborn daughter for the last month. I miss my family already, but it's because I love them that I must be away from them. I can provide for them only if I hunt treasure across Quorin.

Sometimes I sniff out opportunities. Sometimes they present themselves to me, as if by a divine hand.

"What is this reward?" I ask.

"The legendary Pathfinder."

I choke on my mead.

Everyone knows about the Pathfinder. It's a magical lamp that leads the bearer to unimaginable treasures. It would sound like a legend whispered around fires in the night to give people hope for a better life if I didn't know a fellow explorer who had seen it.

With the Pathfinder, I'll be richer than I ever dreamed! I won't have to stay away from home, scouring the land for precious trinkets I can exchange for money. Instead, I can raise my daughter and grow old at my wife's side.

I set down my mead before my trembling hands betray my excitement. "Has anyone found your missing object yet?"

The Pirate King sniffles. "No."

My chair scrapes against the ground as I stand. "I'll be back before sunset with your treasure."

Merrick studies my face in the torchlight that obscured more than they revealed. "Who are you, boy?"

I'm in my twenties, too old to be a boy, but I know better than to aggravate my potential benefactor. "Barnabus the restless."

The nickname cropped up as tales of my wanderings spread throughout Zauthean. Those weren't as frequent since I got married, but my nickname is still mine.