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Freshly dressed in neat, albeit tired-looking clothes, Herrin and Tryls settled by the fire to warm themselves whilst Mirra bustled around the bar, tidying up.

Tryls looked around as he sipped his honey liquor. Theirs was the only occupied table; Mirra wiped the tops of the other tables and relit the candles that threw a meagre amount of light into the darkened corners, but they remained empty.

“Is it always so quiet?”

Herrin smiled. “This is more of a late-night establishment, if you get my meaning. By midnight there’ll be little room to move. Of course, we’ll be long gone by then.”

Tryls raised an eyebrow. “We will?”

Mirra passed by the table, placing another tankard of ale in front of Herrin.

“Oh yes,” Herrin said, lifting it to his lips with a smile. “We can’t simply sit here all night and medicate ourselves with alcohol, as much fun as that would be.”

“So you have something planned already.”

Herrin grinned. “Oh yes. I’ve had it planned for quite a while actually, but I’ve been somewhat derelict in making preparations. With you around, however, it becomes distinctly easier.”

The night elf sighed. “Let me guess. This means that you want me to go into some dark place and bring something out for you?”

Herrin leaned back and put his feet on the table. “Just some old forgotten treasure. The last owner died some fifty years ago.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Tryls looked at the rogue with narrow eyes. “Why do I suspect that said treasure was therefore buried with him?”

Herrin whistled and tried to put on an air of innocence. “It’ll be easy,” he said. “And it’ll fetch a pretty penny. Plenty to pay off both our bounties and let us get on with our lives free from the harrassment of the Selbimor’s Guard.”

Mirra crossed the barroom floor and whipped her dishcloth at the back of Herrin’s head. “Feet,” she snapped, and he quickly took them off the table, looking up at her sheepishly.

She folded her arms and stared down at him. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

Herrin whistled again, and Tryls rolled his eyes.

“What?! We have bounties to pay off!”

She sighed, gesturing at Tryls with one hand and putting the other on her hip. “He does. You could just apologise to the Selbimor and be done with it. But that’s beside the point, because you would never do a sensible thing like that, would you?”

Herrin looked at Tryls as if to say, well, she’s right.

“Stay where you are,” Mirra said. “I’ll fetch my crossbow.”

© Kari Fay

(Author’s Note: Three Word Wednesday this week gives us the prompt words Apologise, Derelict and Medicate. Looks like Herrin & Tryls have company on their quest for riches and redemption…)

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