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“Please, I got a family! I thought he was dead...” Guard Inofus protests.
Filbus smiles at him. His hands edge a bit closer to his sword hilts. “You still haven't told me who helped you burn Jacko!”
Inofus's voice trembles. “L-listen. I don't know where the case of platinum is buried!”
Filbus stops cold. His head cocks to the side.
“But I got a little left from the heist,” Inofus continues. “It was me and Hrakin, I swear! Listen... how much is Jacko paying you to kill me?”
“Five hundred platinum,” says Filbus.
Inofus draws out a leather purse packed to the brim with coin. His hand shakes and it makes the purse jingle. “I'll give you one thousand plat to go kill that bastard!”
Filbus smiles. A bead of sweat rolls into his eye and he blinks it away. “One thousand? That's a pretty sum. One thing you should know about me, Inofus...” Filbus whips his swords forward and pierces Inofus's heart. “I always finish the job.”
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It doesn't take long for Filbus to find Hrakin.
“You did it, you did it!” Hrakin cries. He thrusts money towards Filbus, who does not move to take it.
“I did, and now the secret of your buried treasure is safe.”
Inofus starts. How did Filbus find out about the money? He blinks. “How did you--”
“Enough. I did the job. You want to hear something funny? Inofus offered me one thousand to come back and kill you.”
Inofus laughs nervously.
Filbus takes the money from him. When their hands meet, Filbus breaks Hrakin's wrist. The man falls forward screaming, and the halfling puts a blade against his neck. “How much money?”
“Two... hundred... thousand!” Hrakin manages.
Filbus's eyes light up. He presses the sword a little harder down. A drop of blood rolls along the edge of the blade. “Where is it?”
“I won't tell you...”
Filbus hacks off one of Hrackin's hands. “YOU'VE LOST A HAND!” the hobbit roars. “MONEY WON'T DO YOU ANY GOOD IF YOU'RE DEAD!”
Hrakin screams feebly. His face is pale like a boiled potato. “South Karana,” he whispers. “Buried in the northern graveyard...”
Filbus grins and leans back. “Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?”
Hrakin shakes his head and sits up.
“Remember, Hrakin,” Filbus warns. “I always finish the job.” His blade flashes in the dusk.
Hrakin falls to the ground, dead.
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Filbus quickly makes his way out of Freeport, stopping only briefly to stock up on provisions for the long journey ahead...
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He will have to do it by foot. No druid can be trusted. Freeport to the Commons. Commons to Ro. Ro to the swamps. The swamps through the mountains, sail across the lake, and finally arrive at the graveyard. Two hundred thousand platinum... he'd never have to tank another day in his life.
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