I talked to the town's mayor and offered my services. He scowled at my rough guard but relented at last, offering me half price on all goods and the contents of a brass box he placed before me, if I return alive.
I led his eye to my icy dagger and crude but sharp sword, my more than adequate leathers squeaked as I shuffled in my seat. He nodded definitively and said:
"Good enough. Good luck."