Chapter 21 Campfire Tales and Information Trading

### Chapter 21: Campfire Tales and Information Trading

*Trill's Point of View*

The campfire crackled as Trill poked at the embers, his thoughts swirling in the shifting warmth of the flames. The night was cool, the kind of chill that made the air crisp and the shadows seem to stretch unnaturally long. Across from him, Bren sat in quiet contemplation, her gaze flickering occasionally to the merchant who sat on the opposite side of the fire, no longer the arrogant fool he had been earlier in the day. He now looked subdued, his shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping that the two travelers wouldn't turn on him.

It had been an hour since the bandits were secured—tied up and left in the capable hands of Trill's Pitcher plant soldiers—and since then, the merchant had been unusually cooperative. He had, in the span of minutes, gone from boasting about his wealth to offering apologies and promises of future deals. A shift Trill didn't mind taking advantage of.

"So," Trill began, leaning forward with a knowing look in his eye, "now that we're all on the same page, you've got a bit of information, don't you? I'd be more than happy to hear any news you've got about what's happening out there. Could be... useful for our future arrangements."

The merchant squirmed slightly but nodded. He had no choice. Bren, ever the silent observer, didn't take her eyes off the fire, but her posture remained tense. She was always ready for whatever might come next. Trill couldn't help but marvel at her discipline—how she could maintain such an unflappable exterior while their entire conversation was a game of chance, each word a potential move in the grander scheme of things.

"Well," the merchant began, clearing his throat, "you might not believe it, but there's always news. Always something to stir up the air, you know? Kingdoms are in flux, alliances shifting like sands. And, of course, there's always rumors."

Trill's eyebrow arched. "Rumors are what we're after. Spilling secrets, are we?"

The merchant chuckled weakly, clearly sensing the game in Trill's tone. "Rumors, yes. But it's more than that. I've been to many places, seen many things. I know things that are better left unsaid... until now, perhaps."

Bren's gaze flickered briefly toward Trill, catching his eye for just a moment. The exchange was quick, a silent communication shared between them—nothing more than a fleeting glance. But it spoke volumes. Bren wasn't fond of this sort of deal. She didn't trust this merchant. Trill knew that. And he didn't either. But it was useful. Information had its price, and the merchant's fear made him a perfect source.

"Tell me what you know about Malgrin," Trill said bluntly, his voice low and demanding. He had no intention of wasting time with pleasantries tonight.

At the mention of the name, the merchant's face paled. He glanced at Bren, and then back to Trill, his eyes narrowing. "Malgrin... I've heard things. Bad things. He's been stirring up trouble, sending his agents all across the lands. I heard he's using people—" he paused, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "—the Sherpa, specifically. Those goatmen you've no doubt crossed paths with. He's been capturing them, enslaving them... and using them to do his bidding. Assassins turned into puppets."

Trill's eyes narrowed as the merchant continued, but he could feel the weight of the words hanging between them. The Sherpa—his past—was far more than just a memory. The thought of Granny Gruff and the others enslaved was enough to churn his stomach. Malgrin had crossed a line.

The merchant continued, oblivious to the inner turmoil stirring within Trill. "And that's not all. Rumor has it that Malgrin's looking to expand his reach. There are whispers of new weapons, dark magic even. I've heard talk that he's trying to create something... something that will change everything."

"Something?" Bren's voice cut through the air, sharp and focused. "What kind of something?"

The merchant hesitated, clearly unsure if he should divulge more. But then Trill gave him a pointed look, a flash of danger in his eyes, and the merchant gulped. "Something... that could make him invincible," he whispered. "A weapon. An army. I don't know much, but I know he's using his... captives to create it."

There was silence after the merchant spoke, the fire crackling in the background like an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Bren's eyes glinted with barely contained rage, and Trill's thoughts churned as he processed the information. Malgrin's influence was growing. The idea of him creating an unstoppable force using the Sherpa was an affront to everything Trill had been trained for. He had to stop it.

"What else?" Trill asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

The merchant hesitated again, clearly nervous, but then he added, "There are those who oppose him. Other factions, kingdoms even, who are beginning to move against him. There's word of a rebellion starting to form... but Malgrin's allies are strong, and those who go up against him don't often come back. It's hard to say who's really on the winning side these days."

Trill absorbed this news carefully. He'd heard hints of rebellion before, but this—this sounded different. If more kingdoms were beginning to realize Malgrin's reach, that could mean war. The kind of war that would tear everything apart.

"We need to get out of here, then," Bren said, standing up abruptly, her hands tightening into fists. She clearly wanted action, something Trill didn't blame her for. "We need to stop him."

But Trill held up a hand, signaling for her to wait. "Not yet," he said. "First, we learn more. Information is power, Bren. Right now, we don't have nearly enough."

Bren didn't respond, but Trill could sense her agreement. She understood. This wasn't just about revenge for her or him. This was about survival. About stopping a force that was too big to ignore.

"Let's talk about something else," Trill said, shifting the subject. "I'm curious about the roads ahead. What do you know of the nearest towns? We need a safe place to rest before we make our next move."

The merchant, eager to please after the threat hanging over him, quickly offered details of the nearest towns. He spoke of their sizes, the guards, the types of goods that could be found in each one. It wasn't much, but it would help guide them to the right place for a brief respite before continuing their journey.

Bren listened quietly, and Trill let the merchant talk, focusing instead on the larger picture. They were close now, close to finding the answers they needed to finally confront Malgrin. But something else lingered in the back of his mind—the way the merchant had looked at Bren when he mentioned the Sherpa. The fear in his eyes.

There was more to this story, Trill could feel it.

As the night grew darker, Trill summoned his Night Blossom sprites. These small, glowing creatures flitted around the camp, their gentle hums a reminder that they were the first line of defense if anyone tried to sneak up on them. With their ethereal presence, they would alert Trill to any danger, whether human or beast.

When the fire burned low, and the merchant finally settled into a restless sleep, Trill and Bren exchanged a long, silent glance. There was something unspoken between them, but neither of them said a word. They both knew what they had to do next.

At dawn, they packed up their things quickly, silently, and without fanfare. The night's events had only solidified their determination. The merchant awoke groggily, still too fearful to speak, but he followed them obediently as they began to lead the way down the road.

The bandits who had tried to rob them earlier were left behind, their fates now sealed by Trill's Pitcher plant soldiers. But their warrants for capture weren't forgotten. Trill intended to take them to the nearest town, making sure that justice was served. They'd use the town's resources to find out more about Malgrin's operations.

Bren, silent as ever, followed his lead. They had no idea what lay ahead, but one thing was certain—the road would be long, and the answers would not come easily.

And yet, they walked it together.

**To be continued...**