Chapter 2: City of Trade

"Ah, so you here on the behalf of the Pathfinder Society," Murqual says with a knowing nod. "I assume they sent you with an offer?"

When shown the promissory note, the merchant nods appreciatively. "Not bad. But I have already received another offer for the item well exceeding this one. While I respect the Pathfinder Society, to sell to you would seem favoritism. And I’m not inclined to favor one customer over another—without there being an equal favor, in return..."

Murqual hesitates a moment before replying. "I have two tasks for you, actually. First, I have some special goods being delivered by problematic dealers. They are kholos. I've had dealings with this tribe before. They tend to ‘forget’ the agreed upon price. You’ll be carrying some additional funds—I regard it as a standard tax when dealing with them—but beyond that, I expect you to convince them that they’re not getting any extra.

"Second, a recent acquisition of mine has some unpleasant protective magic that I need dealt with. It is a mask that allows its wearer to frighten those who would threaten them. Unfortunately, it has a minor fiend bound to it as a guardian. I would have you eradicate the fiend. Somewhere away from the shop, of course. Maybe not on the streets, either—we don’t want any passerby victims. There’s a flat-roofed warehouse nearby. It should suffice.

"Complete both tasks, and I will sell you the Archive."

"I'm not entirely sure what kind of fiend it is, but it has the stink of Abaddon about it. Given the origins of the mask, I believe it’s a creature called a div. They are weak to holy weapons and those made of cold iron. As it so happens, I do have a cold iron rapier here in my shop. I'll let you use it, and if you defeat the fiend, the blade is yours to keep, as well."

Murqual sets you up with a small donkey-pulled cart before you depart his shop. Most of its contents consist of trade goods, bolts of cloth, and several casks of liquor. In addition, he gives you two sacks containing 100 gp each as additional "payment" if the kholos prove recalcitrant.

By night, the streets of the Twilight Gate district are mostly empty. The courtyard surrounding the Ruined Monastery, a popular tourist attraction by day, is even more deserted than the surrounding streets. Shadows lie thick underneath these crumbling walls.

A pair of the hyena-headed kholos wait for you in the plaza. Behind them in the gloom is a small crate. They snarl at you in disdain before one of them, a larger female, steps forward. "You are not the normal humans that Murqual usually sends. Who are you?"

The kholos grumble and complain as they inspect what you've brought. ("These linens are mothridden." "There’s only one donkey?" "Do they expect the tribe to starve?") Eventually, the female turns to you again. "This stuff is not worth the cost of what Murqual wants. We are going to need more compensation."

Rone's persuasive words seem to pierce the kholos' bluster. The female snorts. "Fine. It is begrudgingly, but we will accept the trade." They hand over the crates of goods they have procured for Murqual. Once they have their payment, the pair swiftly departs.