Role

Chapter 4

Gergan was resting in his makeshift camp on the outskirts of Balator when
he got the news. The messenger arrived on horeback. He'd been riding
through the night from the village and he and his steed were in desparate
need of provisions and rest. He pulled a small scroll from his leather
saddlebag. It was from the Galadonian tax assessor:

To: Gergan Goldfeather, Next of Kin
Your Father's passing has left a considerable liability unpaid to the
city of Galadon. Please make arrangements to settle these debts in full
as the auction of the smithy produced far less than what he owed...

Gergan could not read anymore. Here he was tending to the wounds of his
village brothers, fighting hand over blade for the very future of Thera
and this is how he learns of his father's death. A bill. A tax bill.

He had always felt guilty that he could not apprentice with his father
and take over the smithy, but, alas, his aversion to mithril had made
that decision long ago. His father had never shown his sadness overt
the matter, but Gergan knew that he lamented on not having a human son.
Now, Gergan wasn't even able to save the smithy from the block. He had
the gold. He's never had a problem acquiring coin, but the time and
pressure of battle had allowed his dads passing and the sale of the
smithy to occur in his absence. Goddamn mages.

He will pay the assessment, but his ties to Galadon have been severed.
How this will affect his intention to stage a coup on the Kingpin is
for another day to decide. Gergan, battle weary and sad, drifts into
slumber.