Although Charlatan’s ‘plan’ and eager smile promised a night of adventure, wealth, and possibly imprisonment Guntor couldn’t bring himself to accept the invitation. Instead, he headed to the western edge of the city. As his feet carried him down the familiar paths and side streets Guntor reminisced about the past few day, something that had occupied most of his time since he had left the castle. He could still remember the horrid trip to Neverwinter; all the anger and paranoia that had accompanied him on that journey had finally subsided. The cobbled stones under foot turned into a well-kept dirt road that extended into a more heavily wooded area which opened up into a small clearing. A modest cabin took up most of the room in the clearing, and the rest was taken up by his father’s odd mix of unfinished woodworking projects that he would swear he’d complete soon. The familiar cabin brought a smile to Guntor’s lips and a dragged him out of his grim thoughts. He approached his parent’s home and let himself in. His mother looked up from what she was doing and gave him a quick smile then returned to what she was doing.
“Sit down, I was just about to make lunch.” She said nonchalantly, “Your father is off working on a house in the city so there’s plenty extra.”
Guntor tucked his pack, longbow, spear, and shield into a corner of the three room cabin and sat down at the table.
His mother glanced over to him and his meager provisions and asked, “What happened to that rusty old sword of yours?”
“It was a Great-sword and it wasn’t rusty.” Guntor retorted, “Anyway, I sold it to Alabatin, you know the town guard on the south side of town.”
“Good riddance, that thing was only good for tripping me every time you would come home, but I thought you said you’d never sell that hunk of steal though?”
She brought over a plate of meat and vegetables that she placed in front of him
“Well it hasn’t done me that much good recently, I’m thinking of trying something new.”
At that she looked at him more intently and noticed the bruises on his arms and small scrapes on his face. She didn’t say anything as she got her own plate and sat down, but Gungtor knew what she would say and knew that she didn’t approve of his ‘career decisions’ as she called them.
“If it makes any difference,” Guntor said through bites of rabbit and lettuce, “I’m not with that mercenary group any more. I’m with a group of adventurers, we’re making a difference and have even already been to Thundertree.”
This last statement made his mother look up with a surprised expression, “
really? I hope you’re not getting into things that are out of your league.”
Guntor thought for a second about the acid green dragon and said, “nah, we’re a pretty capable group.” Unwittingly his mind wandered to an image of Amon as he lay on the floor looking up at him.
“Something has happened hasn’t it?” his mother inquired with concern in her voice.
“Yea… We lost somebody.” Then he added quickly, “Don’t worry though, I’m fine.”
“She looked at him with sad and empathetic eyes, “Guntor, you don’t have to go, you could stay here. You’re still so young, you could just find a job here.”
Guntor laughed and exclaimed, “You’d love that wouldn’t ya’. Dad and I build another cabin, you marry me off, and then get me fat from all your cooking.”
The mood lightened and after a hearty lunch and conversation Guntor got up, hugged his mother, and promised that he would visit whenever he gets back. He was in good spirits when he finally got back to the group. He finally felt like he had come to terms with Amons death.
Claudia waved a goodbye to her son as he walked down the dirt path. She turned back to the table to clear it and noticed a coin purse sitting there. She opened it up and huffed at what she would later count up to be sixty gold. ‘This was just like her son,’ she thought, ‘to not even let her protest or refuse… how selfish.’ She smiled as she wiped away a few joyful tears.