“I will crush your bones and use them to pave the way for vengeance, old whisker,” Andromadus sneers as he ascends into the cold air to dodge Allard’s attack. “The road will stretch far and wide all the way to Windrose City.”

DON’T GIVE HER THE ATLAS AND FIGHT BACK!

You look over to the lifeless bodies of Allard and Burt. Something tells you that this menacing whisker will not let you and your friends go, even if you hand over the Atlas. You firmly wear Burt’s bag on your back…

It has been a perilous journey north, but somehow, between Burt’s perpetual whining and Allard’s penny-pinching, your party has made it as far as the Northern Creek, which winds through the countless misty valleys of the mountain ranges. You had spent a cozy night at the Hawk’s Beak Inn a few nights ago, but the strength you had gained from its comforts has been all but sapped away by the vicious climate.

I still think about him. That fat fool of an old whisker. No matter how bad a day he was having, my father would always come home with a grin plastered on his face and greet me. He would prattle on about the wares he had sold and items he had acquired throughout the day, which I hardly cared for, but at the end, he always said, “As surely as the sun goes down, your father will always come home to you, Andromadus.”

“Finally, back home.” Burt kicks off his boots and lays himself down on the couch. “I love what you’ve done with the place, Allard,” he says sarcastically.

The Adventurer’s Guild Quarters looks like it has been neglected for some time. Dust covers the tomes along the shelf and the couch looks almost tasseled from the shredded upholstery…

“Come on! Pick up the pace!”

You point out how strange it is that Burt’s interest in the Atlas peaked only after seeing it in the library as the two of you make your way toward Windrose City.

“How dare you? I’ve been excited this whole time!” You roll your eyes. You know Burt is in some sort of trouble with the Adventurer’s Guild.