Role

Chapter 4

Gochon sat in the tavern, head full of the comfortable numbness that only
excessive drinking can provide.

Four weeks.

Four weeks since his old man had been snatched out of their forge just like
that. Four weeks of drinking himself to sleep.

A necromancer, the guards had said. The vilest sort, and ones who often
prayed upon their kin. Nothing to be done. Likely dead within an hour of
being snatched.

Gochon reached for his tankard, but it was empty. He was about to call for
another, but a dwarf dropped into the seat opposite him with a grunt.

Gochon recognised him, of course. More grey in that beard now, but it was
undoubtedly the regular who all that time ago had given him that good clip
about the ear.

"You, lad," said the old dwarf, "Have got to sort out your shite right
quick."

Gochon shrugged. "Ain't much to sort out is there? It be too late."

The grizzled warrior snorted. "Aye, it be too late for your old man. So you
goin to just sit here and let the people who be doin this every day get
away with it? Hopin someone else will take care of it, eh?"

Gochon scowled at the stupid bird depicted on the warrior's tunic. He was
sure it was moving, along with the spinning room.

"Hell lad," said the dwarf from a long way away. "You be proper smashed you
be. Lets get you home."

Two days later, Gochon with smithing hammer in hand entered the Akan guild
of warriors.

There would be no peace until the work was done.