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Po Quay, Wizard of Guildhall

LOCATION: Celestial Temple Northeast of the Inn

SUMMARY: Po brings the medicine recovered by the Guildsmen of Evermore to the sick people at the Celestial Temple. Po Quay, the retired Wizard LoreKeeper, hurried into the main room of the Celestial Temple with the four bottles of medicine. Dozens of sick people lay on straw-stuffed pallets shivering under threadbare blankets. Each had a few family members huddled around them. All had worried, tear-stained faces. They all knew this sickness could be bad. Real bad. Everyone looked up as Po entered.

“Highlanders robbed the caravans carrying our medicine,” Po announced, but before his people could panic, he added. “The Guildsmen of Evermore recovered these bottles. This should be enough medicine to end the outbreak.”

Po passed the bottles to the temple priests who hurriedly administered the medicine to the sick.

One of the Shorians said, “We must do something about those Highlanders. My daughter could have died without this medicine.”

He was a large man, wearing two swords and a fine-looking kimono.

Po bowed deferentially to the speaker. “The Guildsmen of Evermore recovered sufficient bottles. Your daughter will be well.”

The Shorian’s hand drifted to his sword. “What about our businesses? These caravan raids are destroying our economy.”

Po bowed again, “With respect, the Guildmasters of Evermore have a plan to capture some of the Highlanders who are raiding.”

Most Shorians looked relieved, but the man with the blades did not seem convinced.

As the medicine was distributed, Po offered a silent pray of thanks that Lavinia, the Guildmaster of the Druid’s Guild, had come up with a plan of action. He didn’t explain the plan to the Shorians because the Guildmasters were trying to keep the details a secret.

Lavina had suggested that the Guildsmen of Evermore pretend to be the wagon drivers and let the Highlanders ambush them. A very sensible solution. To keep the plan a secret, the Guildsmen had put into the minutes of their Guild Meeting that the plan was voted down, but Po was to secretly gather wagons and facilitate the plan. Next month, the Guildmasters would amend the minutes and rectify the vote. Subtlety was needed because investigations revealed there was a spy in the Guildhall Compound.

Ambushing the ambushers at the market day is the kind of plan that can make a real difference. Sending letters asking for other people to help solve their problems or bumbling between market days never fixed issues, and most often just delays the problem, often making it worse. The best plans were always those that could be undertaken during the market days by the Guildsmen themselves. Relying on allies and others never seems to work.

Po crossed his arms. A vote by the sitting Guildmasters to undertake definitive action is always the way to settle a real problem. Sure, sometimes the Guildmasters suggest unfeasible ideas, he’d seen that before. Convoluted plans with too many moving parts or solutions that require other people to solve their problems are commonest impractical ideas. Usually, the Charter Sponsor, the Mayor, or another dignitary will help them realize why those ideas aren’t workable, and the Guildmasters will try another solution.

The Shorian with two swords asked his daughter, “How do you feel?”

The sickly girl who had just been given the medicine replied in a weak voice, “I feel better, Father. I do. Thanks, Mister.’

Po leaned forward and tousled the child’s hair. “It was the Guildsmen of Evermore who saved your life. They recovered the medicine. All I did was bring it here.”

The Shorian nodded to Po. “We will give the Guildsmen of Evermore time to act, but Po, please do not expect us to wait as our businesses fall to ruin. We need those trade goods. If the Guildsmen do not solve this in a timely matter, we will attack the Highlanders and recover our goods and materials.”


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