"Welcome to Walants"

The brigands took the road to Malboncton. Soon enough the group found itself looking upon the high stone walls of the 'unofficial' town set up by the dreaded Black Market Cult. The masonry was a marvel to behold and each stone seemed to have a tale to tell. Walants (within the lands of MalBoncton) was originally constructed under the command of the Engineers of the High King Norman, now it was simply one of the many holdings of the greatest communion of thieves, smugglers and lawyers the world had ever seen.

A city guardsman stood upon a small tower appraising the group. "What be yer business in these parts?" he called down to them.

Fred looked upon his warrior companion and he recalled how they had entered this place the first time. Today was a far cry from days gone by.

"Our business, you old tin can," growled Tolan. "Is to drink your wine, make love to your women, and sell our goods! We've got slaves today and they'll make a fine penny, so let us in!"

The guard snorted at the man, yet with a raise of his hand gave the signal to open the gates. The metal bars began to rise, their grating sound seemed to be a warning to any and all that passage within came at a price. For Fred, he knew all too intimately what that price could be.

As they passed the guard, an attendant approached the group. He was dressed in the finery of minor royalty. He carried a sheathe of parchment and a pen hung at his side. A small boy followed him, his robes sullied by black ink; this was the apprentice ink bottler, and as has been said before, a necessity for any royal undersecretary desiring to one day rise to a higher level of duty, respect, and most importantly medical benefits.

"Ahem," said the Attendant. "State your name, kingdom of origin, and current monetary value in gold."

Fred wondered what the brigands would say, would do. He could not believe that they would prostrate themselves to the whims of this man who was nothing but a political leech.

"Scribe!" yelled Tolan. "We're in the registry already! Look under Paine."

The Attendant did as was 'suggested' and shortly lifted his head from the scroll of papers and grunted, "It all checks." With that, the Paine Gang entered the main streets of the shadow town and with a flair that only they could manage began to live it up. Meanwhile one brigand, Lester by name, was in charge of the soon-to-be "cashed in" prisoners. He took the horses to a nearby stable and with one eye on the horse-girl and the other on Astra, he lit his simple pipe and whittled a bit of wood with a very sharp knife.

1. Astra again tries to gain the trust of the bandit.
2. The brigand Roddy takes leave of his comrades and meets up with a regal-looking lawyer, a gleam is in his eyes and a plan within his mind.

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