Chapter 1-1

John, for all of his sixteen years, had always wanted to be a hero. Not content with being a farmhand in his small village, he wanted to travel the world, fight dragons, screw princesses, and all that jazz. Of course, everyone knew there were no such things as dragons, and there weren’t many princesses any more. But the principal remained. All he needed was a chance, a quest, a purpose. And now a pair of strange merchants had rolled into town, loudly hawking that exact thing.

“I-is that real?” John said.

“As real as you and I,” said the woman, gesturing to the map on the table. She was easily the most beautiful woman John had seen, although he may just have thought that because of how little she was wearing. Her fiery red hair topped a body that looked as though it had been sculpted by a particularly perverted artisan. Across her back was a sword thicker than her legs, almost comically oversized.

And in her hand, what he needed. A real-life treasure map, showing the location of the legendary Cyril Horde. A treasure that would make kings drool, according to the legends, hidden somewhere in the frigid Soleias mountains. And he could find out where it was.

“We would go for it ourselves, but I don’t think we could survive the trip,” the other merchant, a thin reedy man, said. John would not be able to provide nearly as good a description of him.

“I think I can make it,” John said. “How much for the map?”

“Fifteen crowns,” the woman said.

John gaped. Fifteen gold crowns was more money than he’d ever seen in his life. Heck, his father only pulled in about six at harvest season – fifteen for a map?

“That’s bullshit,” he said. “I’ll pay you five.” He didn’t have five, but if he pooled his money together with some friends, and took some of Dad’s, he might be able to make it.

The man laughed in his face. “It’s fifteen, and I’m not going any lower. Do you know how many legitimate treasure hunters would love to get their hands on this? I don’t need to sell it to some yokel, I just happen to feel charitable today. Don’t test my charity.”

“Don’t be so mean, Leo,” said the woman with a smile. “Tell you what, kid. I like you, so I’ll give it to you for twelve crowns.”

John bit his lip, war raging in his eyes before he finally came to a conclusion. “All right, I’ll try to go find enough money. Don’t sell that to anyone else!”

“I’ll try to hold onto it,” the woman said.

---

There was no one else around, so after John left the two “merchants” were free to laugh uproariously. “Did you see the way he was looking at you Anj? Let’s just say little Johnnie was really interested in what you had to offer.”

“You would be looking there, wouldn’t you?” Anjanette chuckled.

“And you haven’t wanted to take aside a cute farmboy and give him the big city treatment?” Leonas looked feline enough to suit his name – he was lithe, skinny, and he gave off an air of simplicity that served him well. His golden hair and soft face didn’t make him look very masculine, but he didn’t mind. His clothes were simply cut traveller’s clothes, as opposed to Anjanette’s fashionable and revealing ones.

“Eh. I did once, back when we were starting this racket. The kid was paralyzed the whole way, and still came in about half a minute.” She grinned.

“Probably spoiled him for life too,” Leonas chuckled. “Can’t be happy with a frumpy farmgirl now, eh?”

This town was like all the other small villages. A small cluster of shops and cheap brick houses, surrounded by rings of old farmhouses and the plains of the Dutchies. This meant that the town constantly smelt a little bit like manure, as it was always downwind from some farmhouse or another. Leonas and Anjanette had gotten so used to the smell they didn’t notice it anymore.

The market square they stood in was almost deserted, the only other occupants being an old woman selling trinkets spread out over the cobblestone ground and a ramshackle wooden booth selling old ilscs. In the background frumpy girls in old dresses flirted with greasy, dirty farmboys while their flabby fathers went through the same motions they had for decades.

Another half hour under the boiling sun later, John returned, a full party of youth with him. As usual accompanying the ringleader there was a short shifty one, a big stupid one, and a girl. John opened his changepurse and pulled out a fistful of coins. He let them trickle out of his hand to clatter against the merchants’ wooden table.

Anjanette went to count them. John said “seven gold and three silver. It’s all we got.” She continued counting.

“Twelve crowns or bust,” Leonas said.

John frowned, before digging into his pack to produce a thick, ancient-looking book. The spine was cracked in many places, and the pages were dusty, but what really mattered was the writing – long cursive characters that looped and explored the page, indecipherable to modern eyes. The Ancients’ language.

Leonas and Anjanette leaned together to confer with each other, looking like a schoolyard huddle. “There are collectors who pay a fortune for Ancient books,” Leonas whispered. “Size of this thing, it’s easily worth whatever gold we might lose. Let’s do it.”

Anjanette nodded and turned to John with a cheery smile. “We’ll take it.”

“I guess it’ll be sufficient,” said Leonas, no less enthusiastic but much better at hiding it.

John moved to push the money over, but hesitated at the last minute. Anjanette suspected that a good bit of it was stolen, and that the kid was feeling a spate of guilt. That wouldn’t do.

She leaned further, threatening to spill out of her shirt. “Kid, buy it or quit wasting my time.”

John hastily pushed the coins and book forward, snapped up by Leonas like a snake striking. Anjanette smiled and handed him the withered map.

“Thank you so much,” John said, cheeks reddening.

“Have fun, kid,” Anjanette replied with a smile. John and the other youths ran off excitedly.

Anjanette smiled, the familiar warm haze of nostalgia beginning to surface. “Y’know, I kind of feel bad about that one.”

“Hey, if they actually make it to the Soleias Mountains, I’ll give them all the treasure they want myself,” Leonas said. The map was, of course, a fake – everything they sold was either fake or severely overpriced.

“But still Leo, don’t those kids remind you of us back in Marillion? Bored, not fitting in, looking for adventure...”

“Yeah, except we weren’t stupid.”

Anjanette frowned and stared forward, not convinced. Leonas patted her on the back. “Hey, think of it this way. Those kids probably won’t make it out of the Dutchies. They’ll fight a troll or two, go back home and have a big adventure to tell their grandkids. You satisfied now?”

She shrugged it off. The first unwritten rule of scamming was that you never thought much about morality.