The bustling village of Bogtown was crammed between deep swamp trenches, flat grassy marshes, and the grey-green sea. Its population of ten thousand were as busy in the bog as they were in the handful of shops and alehouses. Tea leaves, medicinal herbs, and nuts and oils were the primary extracts of the small harbour. These resources and more were harvested by the sturdy men and women of the town.
When they arrived at the northern gate, Farek and his men were already tired. The road to Bogtown was a winding one, like it had to fight to stay out of the bog. The mountains of Var Nordos’ main ridge sat in the distance like big hills, barely moving with each hour of their marsh-side hike.
The Mazaar of Bogtown, Ranisar, offered Farek his finest guest quarters, but Farek barely got a glance at them. He dropped in his supplies and had Matek round up their troop into ranks. From Ranisar, Farek requisitioned nearly half of his entire force. With his thirty Gallendris guards and Ranisar’s twenty-five, Farek soon addressed a street of over fifty. The townsfolk gathered to listen, but Farek kept his address short and focused on their tactical needs. The guards would search the streets and question the merchants with a sketch of Lannon.
Known only to Matek, Farek himself would wander around Bogtown in costume. Disguised as a villager or traveller, Farek would overhear the guards’ questioning and follow any leads discreetly. He hoped that anyone hiding something would reveal it when the soldiers weren’t looking.
Their search commenced on the afternoon of the 21st. The harbour was full of sailors who were bothered by the commotion of the guards—likely a few smugglers in their lot—and the markets were full of merchants who claimed that these searches were disrupting their business. Ranisar thanked Farek that evening for the dozen criminals and pickpockets their patrols had caught—but no Lannon.
Farek was mildly surprised when nothing was turned up that first day. There seemed to be no sign of the would-be assassin in town. Farek considered that Lannon could have left Soros south-westerly in order to deceive them on his route. But it would take a few days to be sure.
By the time that he retired to those lavish guest quarters, Farek was near collapsing. Lannon was a ghost. If he had attacked the Gallendris estate on his own, he was an operative with the capabilities of a god. If he was working with others, they knew how to protect him. Farek’s last thought before he dozed off was that he might awake to find Lannon standing over him with a knife. This man was getting under his skin.
When he awoke, Farek began it all again. They searched all day, collapsed at night. By the third day, Farek was contemplating if they should begin night searches. They had learned nothing, and Farek wasn’t content to call the search off without waiting at least one week. Someone here had to know something.