Guto and Frøya stood outside the nondescript building, its faded sign proclaiming it as the office of "Rikard Enterprises." The man they had met in the pub had given them this address, claiming that it was a place where they might find answers about the mysterious flasks they carried.
The building itself was unremarkable, blending into the cityscape like any other office. Guto exchanged a glance with Frøya, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension in their eyes.
"Here goes nothing," Guto murmured, and they entered the building.
Inside, they found themselves in a modest reception area. A young woman sat behind a desk, typing away on a computer. She looked up as they approached.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone polite but disinterested.
"We're here to see someone about a matter of some importance," Frøya replied, her voice steady.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an appointment?"
Guto leaned in slightly. "We were told this was the place to come if we had questions about certain items."
The receptionist hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Wait here, please."
They watched as she picked up the phone and dialed a number. A brief conversation ensued, after which she hung up and gestured for them to follow her down a hallway.
They were led to a small, windowless office where a middle-aged man in a suit was sitting behind a desk cluttered with paperwork. He looked up as they entered.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone brusque.
Frøya stepped forward, holding out the two flasks they had brought with them. "We have a question about these."
The man's eyes narrowed as he took the flasks from her. He examined them closely, his fingers tracing the intricate designs on their surfaces.
"These are products from a big company," he said, his voice cold and calculating. "Where did you get them?"
Guto and Frøya exchanged a cautious look. "That's not important," Guto replied. "What we want to know is what's inside them."
The man leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving the flasks. "I can tell you this much," he said. "These are part of a limited production run, and they were never meant to be sold or distributed. They contain highly sensitive and valuable materials."
Frøya leaned in closer, her voice low and determined. "We need to know more. What are they for? What's their purpose?"
The man regarded them with a hint of amusement. "I'm afraid I can't share that information with you. But I can make you an offer."
Guto and Frøya exchanged another glance, their curiosity piqued. "Go on," Guto said cautiously.
The man leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. "You see this is property of BioHealth corp. I'm willing to make a deal with you. If you hand over these flasks, we'll compensate you generously for your trouble. And maybe if you acquire some more of these you could bring them here, I'll buy as many as you can bring."
Frøya's eyes narrowed. "How much for each?"
The man's smile never wavered. He took out a pouch full of silver and said "Here, one pouch full of silver for those 2."
"And if we refuse?" Guto asked.
"Then we would both lose a lot of money."
Guto and Frøya shared a silent conversation, their options limited. They had come seeking answers, but now they were faced with a choice: hand over the flasks and accept the compensation, or don't and leave without money or without answers.
As they deliberated, the man watched them with an air of quiet confidence, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. The fate of the mysterious flasks hung in the balance, and Guto and Frøya had to decide whether they were willing to make a deal with the man or continue their quest for answers through other means.
Guto and Frøya exchanged a final, resigned glance before nodding in agreement to the man's offer. They had little choice but to accept the compensation and hand over the mysterious flasks. The man behind the desk nodded in satisfaction and counted out a generous sum of money, which he handed to them in a pouch.
"Thank you for your cooperation," he said with a tight-lipped smile.
Guto and Frøya took the money without a word, their minds racing with the implications of their actions. As they left the office, the weight of their decision hung heavily over them.
The city streets were just as bustling and chaotic as when they had arrived. Guto and Frøya navigated the crowded sidewalks, their thoughts still consumed by the secrets of the flasks.
But as they turned a corner onto a quieter street, their footsteps faltered. Before them stood a group of mercenaries, their weapons drawn, forming an impenetrable barrier.
Guto and Frøya exchanged alarmed glances, their hands inching toward the concealed weapons beneath their robes.
As they stared up at the mercenaries, a shiver of dread coursed through Frøya. Above them, standing on a raised platform, was a figure clad in imposing, blackened armor, every inch of their identity concealed.
But it was the man beside Dyskólios, the one armored from head to toe, who sent a jolt of recognition through Frøya's veins. The fox insignia on his armor was unmistakable, the same symbol she had seen in her past.
Her voice trembled as she whispered, "No..."
The man in the armor turned to her, his concealed face impossible to read. But there was a cold, calculating edge in his voice as he spoke, addressing her by a name that struck a chord from her past.
"It's been a long time, Amber."
With the mercenaries closing in on them, Guto and Frøya bolted down the city streets, their footsteps pounding against the cobblestones. Panic and adrenaline surged through their veins as they weaved through the chaotic maze of alleys and thoroughfares.
Their breaths came in ragged gasps as they reached the location of the office. Guto's eyes scanned the area frantically, and he spotted a horse tethered to a post nearby. Without hesitation, he rushed toward the animal, frantically untying its reins.
Frøya followed closely behind, her eyes locked on the approaching mercenaries. She loaded a bolt into the hunter's arm, her fingers trembling with urgency. As soon as Guto mounted the horse, she clung to him, her body pressed tightly against his as she aimed the hunter's arm behind them.
The weapon discharged with a loud crack, and a bolt whizzed through the air, striking one of the pursuing mercenaries. The man let out a cry of pain as he tumbled to the ground.
Guto urged the horse forward, its powerful muscles propelling them through the city streets. The mercenaries, some of them on horseback as well, were relentless in their pursuit. Arrows and bolts whistled through the air, narrowly missing their mark.
Frøya fired some more bolts, this time hitting one of the pursuers in the leg. He fell from his horse with a pained shout.
But their luck couldn't hold forever. An arrow, fired with deadly accuracy, found its mark. Guto cried out in pain as the projectile struck his side, the force of impact knocking him from the saddle. He crashed to the ground, rolling in the dirt.