Copyright
J.B. Norman
As a freelancer, Kat doesn’t work for any of the adventuring guilds in Porthaven, but that doesn’t prevented by being hired by a guild that needs an extra pair of hands. And so, Kat finds herself working with a guild called the Dockside Seven.
With one of the Seven laid up with a nasty head cold, Kat has been called in as a substitute. And she’s not quite sure how to feel about the whole thing quite yet.
The remaining healthy six of the Seven are a pair of twins named Conan and Ronan — that Kat still quite tell apart — a pretty sorceress named Selene, a peppy Dwarf girl named Adelheid, and a Gallicantien knight named Arsène.
And then there’s Kevin, the less said about whom, the better.
The six and Kat are seated at a table in the Hammered Nail, during an uncharacteristic period of not being engulfed in a tavern brawl, discussing the best way to steal back the Countess-Dowager Dirigible’s 1:1 macramé reproduction of King Leónides of Duradero from a notorious band of art thieves.
Kevin opens his mouth to speak. Despite sharing his name with one of the smartest people in the history of Realmgard, he is quickly proving himself to be a professional imbecile.
“I have an idea!” he exclaims. “We’ll get someone to sneak into their base, then unlock it for the rest of us.”
Kat looks at him thoughtfully. It’s an unexpectedly intelligent plan. Sure, it’ll need to be hammered out, but it could work.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Kevin keeps talking.
“We can disguise Kat as a woman!”
“Hey!”
“No. I meant, like, a pretty woman.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t mind him. He’s just an idiot,” Selene assures Kat, putting a consoling hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah,” Kat mutters. “I noticed.”
“Hey!”
“Besides,” Selene continues. “We do not need to disguise anyone as a pretty woman. Not when we already have a pretty woman right here.”
“Who?” Kevin asks. “Adelheid?”
“You think I’m pretty?” Adelheid asks. “Aw, thanks.”
Kat clears her throat.
“Can we get back on track?” she asks. “Sneaking in is a good idea. Let’s on work on how that’s going to work.”
She turns to Kevin and glowers at him.
“And just for future reference, I’m not a fan of having my femininity questioned.”
“Oh, sorry. I just meant —”
“Kevin,” Selene warns. “Stop talking.”
“Unless you want to keep telling me that you think I’m pretty,” Adelheid adds.
“So,” Kat says, trying to steer things back on track. “One of us sneaks in, unlocks the door from the inside, and then the rest of us going charging in. How are we going to pull that off?”
“What if we were to knock on the door and ask politely?” Arsène muses.
“You’re thinking like a knight,” Selene notes. “If this is going to work, you need to think more like a thief.”
The knight swallows nervously as the colour drains from his face. “How horrid,” he says in a quiet, choked voice.
He clears his throat and steadies himself by gripping the edge of the table.
“But, for the sake of my companions and the good Countess-Dowager Dirigible, I shall endeavour to try.”
Suddenly the door of the Nail bursts open.
“Kat!” she hears Dunstana exclaim. “There you are! Look! Look! I’ve been practicing my Cowbell!”
CLONK! CLONK! CLONK!
Dunstana Darkstone: the Randy Orton of Cowbell.
Image via Dictionary.com
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