As the first light of dawn touched the rooftops of Hafenstadt, golden rays began to illuminate the facade of the Golden Fiddle tavern. Inside, the atmosphere was taut with anticipation. The mercenaries had gathered in the common room, awaiting the final component of Jamie's plan.

Aldwin and Bertram stood near the hearth, the warm glow highlighting the fading bruises and healing cuts that marked their faces. Though still bearing the remnants of their recent ordeal, both wore resolute expressions.

Beside them, Thomas and Camille made quiet preparations. All four were clad in light armor fashioned from supple leather, each piece emblazoned with their company's emblem.

Each member meticulously inspected their gear. Camille adjusted the straps of her vambraces, ensuring her extra daggers were securely sheathed yet easily accessible. Aldwin ran a whetstone along the edge of his short sword, the rhythmic motion steadying his nerves.

Thomas sat apart from the others at a sturdy wooden table, his focus entirely on the sword laid before him. With deliberate care, he polished the blade, the cloth gliding over the metal in measured strokes. The repetitive action served as a meditative practice, his mind honing alongside the weapon.

Amidst the deliberate movements and quiet concentration, Jamie stood by the window, exuding an air of calm that contrasted with the undercurrent of tension in the room. He gazed out onto the awakening street, his eyes tracking the subtle stirrings of the city coming to life. A yawn escaped him, and he stretched lazily, appearing almost nonchalant about the impending mission.

"Knall should be here any moment," he remarked casually, his tone light. His confidence was unwavering, a steady anchor for the group.

Minutes slipped by, the silence punctuated only by equipment clinking and the soft rustle of armor. Just as Thomas finished polishing his weapon, the distant sound of hooves reached their ears; a steady, rhythmic clatter against cobblestone, drawing closer.

"That'll be him," Jamie noted, a faint smile touching his lips.

The five companions exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Gathering their belongings, they moved as one toward the entrance. The heavy door of the tavern swung open, and they stepped out into the crisp morning air.

Parked directly before the Golden Fiddle was a familiar sight, the same carriage they had used days prior. Yet, it had undergone significant transformations at the hands of Knall. The two horses hitched to it stood patiently, their breaths creating soft clouds in the cool air.

Knall sat atop the carriage, his stout figure clad in a sturdy leather apron dotted with pockets bulging with tools and gadgets. His long, braided beard glinted with copper rings, and his eyes sparkled beneath bushy brows.

The carriage bore several noticeable modifications. Two additional seats had been installed on the roof, secured firmly to the frame and fitted with footrests and safety straps. Along the sides, metal hooks and handholds had been attached, allowing for easy climbing and the option for passengers to ride externally if necessary.

Most intriguingly, the carriage's interior was now completely sealed, reinforced with layers of protective material. Only a small aperture on one side broke the smooth surface, a carefully crafted opening from which extended a flexible tube made of treated fabric and wood. The apparatus resembled a bellows or perhaps the nozzle of some device.

Jamie approached the carriage, his keen eyes assessing the alterations. "All set?" he inquired, a note of satisfaction evident in his voice.

Knall gripped the reins with one hand, offering a confident nod. "All set," he confirmed. "Tested her as best I could. She's ready for what's to come."

"Great," Jamie commented. "Climb up!" the bard commanded.

[God of Engineering is unsure if it will actually work.]

[God of Mischief is excited, waiting to see how it will work.]

[God of War doesn't really like the method but believes it to be brilliant.]

Jay leaped onto the side of the carriage, climbing to the top. "I have to agree with the gods," the cat commented upon seeing the notifications.

Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin clambered onto the upper seats of the carriage, settling themselves securely atop the vehicle. Jamie and Thomas positioned themselves on either side, gripping the sturdy hooks affixed to the carriage's exterior. As the horses began to pull, the carriage lurched forward, wheels creaking against the cobblestones of Hafenstadt's awakening streets.

"No mercy," Jamie called out, his voice firm and clear above the rumble of the moving carriage. His gaze swept over his companions, ensuring his words resonated with each of them. "Bertram and Aldwin, you'll stay outside the entrance. Assist Knall and protect him at all costs. Thomas and Camille, position yourselves near the entryway. If anyone tries to escape, you deal with them."

Stolen novel; please report.

"And you?" Thomas asked, a hint of concern creasing his brow.

"I'm going in," Jamie replied, his tone steady.

"Alone?" Thomas pressed, unable to mask his worry.

"Only one of us is needed," Jamie assured him, a confident glint in his eyes.

The carriage continued its journey through winding alleyways and quiet thoroughfares, drawing ever closer to their destination. The city's usual clamor was subdued at this early hour, with only the occasional vendor setting up shop or a lone passerby hurrying along.

With a sharp tug on the reins, Knall brought the carriage to a halt. It stopped with a jolt in front of a dilapidated two-story house. The structure stood like a forgotten sentinel among a row of similarly worn buildings, its shutters askew and paint peeling, a facade of neglect masking the den of the Dusters.

A heavy silence hung in the air. There was no sign of movement from within.

Jamie surveyed the scene, his senses attuned to the slightest hint of danger. "Everyone ready?" he asked softly.

"Yes, sir," came the unanimous reply, each voice tinged with determination.

"Excellent." Jamie took a deep breath, steadying himself and reaching to invoke the [Questmaker].

As he concentrated, shimmering letters materialized before his eye.

[What will be the objective of the Quest?]

'Destroy the Dusters,' he thought.

[How much EXP do you wish to invest in the Quest?]

'One thousand experience points,' he decided, confident the reward would be even greater.

[Who will take part?]

'Thomas, Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin,' Jamie affirmed.

[New quest created. Quest sent…]

[New Quest: Destroy the Dusters

Any new EXP will be held off until the quest is completed.

Reward: The gods will decide upon quest completion.]

His companions subtly acknowledged the reception of the quest, Thomas with a firm nod, Camille's eyes flickering with steely focus, Bertram and Aldwin exchanging a resolute glance.

Jamie approached Knall, who was adjusting intricate mechanisms atop the carriage. The dwarf's deft hands moved swiftly, checking valves and seals on the alchemical apparatus concealed within the vehicle. His face bore a mixture of concentration and anticipation.

"Knall! What's our next step?" Jamie inquired quietly.

Knall sprang from his seat atop the carriage, his sturdy boots hitting the ground with a thud. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed the fabric fashioned into a makeshift hose. "Get this into the entrance!" he called out. "And someone help me with the pump!"

He thrust the fabric hose into Jamie's hands before hurrying back to the front of the carriage. There, a complex array of levers and gears awaited his skilled manipulation. Knall's fingers found the main lever, ready to set the mechanism in motion.

"Camille, Thomas, with me," Jamie commanded. The trio moved swiftly toward the dilapidated house that loomed ahead.

Thomas wasted no time. With a powerful kick, he shattered the fragile wooden door, the splintering sound echoing down the quiet street. The entrance now lay open before them, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp earth and stale air.

Inside, it didn't take long to find the passage leading underground. Near the entrance, a wide staircase descended into darkness, its steps worn smooth by countless footfalls.

Jamie moved quickly, uncoiling the fabric hose and extending it so that its end hung just inside the tunnel's entrance. The hose was secured firmly, its length disappearing into the shadows below.

"Back to the entrance," Jamie instructed, his gaze sharp as he scanned their surroundings. Thomas and Camille followed without question, retreating to a strategic position near the doorway. They stood poised, weapons at the ready, eyes fixed on the silent interior.

"Start pumping!" Jamie signaled.

At the carriage, Bertram and Knall heaved against the large lever affixed to the side. The mechanism groaned to life, releasing a steady flow of air as pressure built within the sealed compartment. The hose began to inflate, the fabric stretching taut yet holding thanks to the strong adhesive applied along its seams.

From their vantage point, Jamie observed the hose swell before a faint, yellowish vapor began to seep from its end, drifting downward into the subterranean depths. "Gas is being released," he informed the others, his tone measured.

"Mask up!" Knall shouted from the carriage, tossing small, improvised masks to each of them. Jamie caught his and secured it over his nose and mouth.

"Remember, these aren't perfect," Knall cautioned. "If you come into contact with the gas, they'll only protect you for five to ten minutes."

Jamie nodded, adjusting the mask to fit snugly. The world took on a slightly muffled quality, his own breath sounding louder in his ears. He could feel his heartbeat steadying, his focus narrowing to the task at hand.

It wasn't long before the first sounds reached them—a distant coughing, then muffled cries that grew steadily louder.

Occasionally, a resident from a neighboring house would peek out, curiosity momentarily overcoming caution. However, upon realizing the commotion centered around the Dusters' hideout, they would hastily withdraw, shutters closing with a decisive clatter. No one wanted to be involved in whatever reckoning was taking place.

"They're coming!" Thomas warned them.

The cries intensified, sounds of distress that crescendoed until, at last, the first figure emerged. A dwarf with a long, unkempt black beard stumbled into view at the top of the stairs. His eyes were wide with fear, and his hands clawed at his throat as he gasped for breath. A sheen of perspiration gleamed on his pallid skin.

"Help me!" he rasped, voice strained. He staggered toward the doorway, desperation propelling him forward.

Camille moved with swift precision. In one fluid motion, she drew her crossbow, the well-oiled mechanism snapping into place. She leveled it, her gaze steady as she tracked the dwarf's erratic movements. With a soft exhale, she squeezed the trigger.

The bolt flew true, striking the dwarf's throat and piercing it from end to end. The target faltered, dropping to his knees before collapsing onto the threshold.

"Maintain your positions!" Jamie called out, his voice firm. "Don't let anyone pass."

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