Upon splitting from the other group, Timothy and Alena started their investigation by questioning the peasants immediately outside the inn. Apparently, many of them still huddled around the front entrance, anxious to get a glimpse at a member of royalty and completely ignorant of the fact the "Princess" was no longer within the town.

After nearly a futile hour of asking about the golden bracelet, Alena began to wonder if she had heard the ransom incorrectly. None of the peasants seemed to be aware of anything within their town that resembled the description.

Growing tired of this tedious and useless strategy, Timothy, whom seemed to be having just as much success, walked over to the princess. "You know," he muttered, "there must be a better way of doing this."

"What do you mean?" Alena asked.

"I seriously doubt these peasants know of any golden bracelet," the thief explained. "How could they when I haven't even heard of it?" Alena shrugged, not completely understanding what Timothy meant.

"Think about it," he continued. "Such a treasure would be quite a prize should any thief hear of it. I may not be the most successful one around but I still generally know of whatever treasures the lords of this region own." He paused for a moment, as though embarrassed. "Not once have I ever heard of a golden bracelet as Frenor's treasure."

"So, what are you saying?" Alena asked.

"This ransom may not even exist," Timothy replied, "in which case, we have to explore other options."

Alena thought about it for a moment, finally coming with an idea. "Why don't we check the graveyard, then," she said.

"What for?"

"The kidnappers said we were to meet them there, right?" the princess replied. Timothy nodded. "It could mean they have someone working for them there," she continued. "The undertaker, perhaps?"

The thief opened his mouth to argue seeing Alena's theory as nonsense. However, he realized he had drawn a similar conclusion with the innkeeper. For situation this important, any possibility should not be overlooked. Shrugging, Timothy agreed and the two headed for the cemetery.

Located just on the outskirts of Frenor, the cemetery was the only mar in the city's otherwise tranquil atmosphere. Tombstones half-buried by uncut grass were covered with moss, their original epitaphs erased through years of erosion. A few, larger statues were at the far end of the area, depicting where former lords of the region were laid to rest. Other markers were crude sticks or mounds of stone, a few with wilted flowers layered on top. The area had a sodden feel to it with the ground mainly made up of moss and several trees casting dark shadows across the landscape.

The sight of an old, rotting shed to one side of the cemetery did nothing to improve the scenery. Seeing it was the only building around, though, made the two draw the conclusion this was where the undertaker resided. Heaving a heavy sigh, Alena entered the cemetery, followed by Timothy.

The thought of walking over dozens of rotting corpses was very disturbing with the princess. The soft, mossy ground did not help, either, as she repeatedly thought she would suddenly be engulfed by the ground, coming face to face with the rotting grin of a buried peasant.

So occupied in her own thoughts was she that Alena did not notice a short, dirty figure suddenly leap from behind a tombstone. He tackled her, grabbing the princess by the waist and knocking her to the ground. Having taken her by surprise, the figure was able to clamp her into a headlock.

"Alena!" Timothy called out, immediately rushing to her aid, though it quickly proved to be unnecessary.

The hold her assailant had her in was a common one and, for one of Alena's training, easily escapable. Methodically, the princess jutted her elbow into the gut of the attacker, knocking the wind from him. In the instant his arms relaxed, Alena was able to slip from their grasp.

To be sure he would not be able to attack again, she grabbed one of his arms and flipped him over her shoulder. The man landed on his back with a groan, although the moss covering the ground softened the fall. Alena stepped on his chest, pressing down a little so he could do little more than squirm.

Once Timothy had caught up to her, the princess had been able to get a good look at her assailant. It was not been one of the kidnappers, as she had first thought. He was a man with long, knotted, curly hair and dirt covering his skin. His clothes were rotten and ragged, holes in seemingly random areas. His face looked and smelled as though it had not been washed or shaven in years and one eye rolled up instead of remaining central, giving him a somewhat deranged look. The rancid smell that came from the man made the princess recoil, her hand unconsciously covering her nose.

As he squirmed under Alena's booted foot, the dirty man managed to scream, "Why ye' disturb me dead?"

Timothy and Alena looked at each other for a moment, bewildered. "'Your dead'?" Alena repeated at length.

"Yes!" the dirty man said. "Me dead!"

"I get it," the thief said after a moment's thought. "He's the undertaker, so, in one sense, these corpses are his since he has to take care of them."

"Yes!" the dirty man said again. "Me dead!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Alena exclaimed, removing her boot. "I didn't realize…"

"Don't worry about apologizing," the thief whispered to her. "This guy's a bit of a brahmird. Just look at him." Alena did so and saw the undertaker busy dusting himself with long, exaggerated strokes, most of which were futile given his unwashed state. Timothy shook his head, disgusted. "Figures only the village idiot would end up living at the graveyard," he muttered.

The undertaker, having finally given up wiping the dirt off his clothes, turned to the two, promptly placing his hands on his hips. "Well," he said. "Where dead?"

"Excuse me?" Alena said, raising an eyebrow.

"Dead!" the undertaker exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. "No one see me unless bring dead ones."

"No, no!" the princess said, shaking her head. "You have it all wrong. We just…"

"Don't bother," Timothy interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I doubt the kidnappers would entrust their plans with a lunatic like this." The thief looked at the undertaker, a smile crossing his face as he watch him seemingly polishing a tombstone. "I doubt he even knows what a Princess or golden bracelet is," he chuckled. "Let's go."

They were just about to leave when the dirty man suddenly looked up, his deranged gaze briefly retreating in place of a more serious look. "Sshh!" he said, bringing a finger to his mouth. "Don't say of it. Secret, it is!"

"What is," Timothy asked, a little intrigued.

The undertaker looked around for a moment, as if making sure they were alone. Once satisfied, he hopped over to Timothy and Alena, cupping his hands over his mouth. The two companions leaned forward to hear what he had to say. "Bracelet," he whispered.

Timothy and Alena's eyes widened with shock. The princess grabbed the dirty man by the shoulders, lightly shaking him. "What do you know of it?" she demanded. "Does it really exist?"

"S…secret!" he replied, stuttering from Alena's sudden questions. "N…not sup…p…posed t…to t…tell."

"Why you…!" Alena's eyebrows furrowed and she raised an arm, ready to strike the deranged man if that was what it would take to get some answers from him. However, he was more nimble than she had guessed and the dirty man skipped from her clutches.

The undertaker began dusting himself again. "Secret," he muttered to himself. "Only me dead keep secret. They no talk back to anyone, so they keep me secret."

"We can keep secrets, too," Timothy said, stepping forward.

"No, ye' can't," the undertaker said, looking away.

"Sure we can," the thief repeated. "I have a secret, so I won't tell you my secret, right?"

"Right…" he replied slowly.

"Therefore, I won't tell your secret," Timothy concluded, smiling. "Right?"

"Right…" the undertaker slowly said again. After what seemed like a moment's thought, he turned to Timothy, a stern look on his deranged face. "I tell you, not her," he said, pointing to Alena.

Shrugging, the princess stepped back and sat down on a tilted tombstone. She watched the undertaker lead Timothy into the shed, the thief giving her a reassuring salute before entering.

The princess sighed and leaned back, looking up through the canopy of birch and cedar trees. Light grey clouds slowly rolled over the bright blue sky behind them. The sky was beginning to overcast again despite a clear morning and rain seemed like a good possibility, as she had seen the sky grow overcast in such a manner many times before to understand the early signs of such weather.

What she had difficulty understanding, though, was just how Timothy had been able to get results from the deranged undertaker. It seemed as though he and Brey were always able to get what they needed through words instead of fists. Alena found she tended to go the other route, relying on her actions for results.

Maybe it would be a good idea to learn how to talk her way through situations. After all, as a Princess, she would need to employ such skills for diplomatic purposes. It would not be a good for her country should she strike the King of a country like Endor should she did not get what she desired.

After a while, Timothy emerged from the shed, a worried look on his face as he stuffed a rolled parchment into his shirt. Upon approaching the princess, Alena sat upright and asked him what he found out.

"Come on," the thief said, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

"What?" Alena said, finally realizing something was wrong.

"We have to find the others," he replied sullenly. "This is going to be much tougher than I thought."

"Why are we here?" Brey asked, gazing up at the carving of Master Dragon. "This isn't really the time to go into prayers, Cristo."

"I don't know," the bodyguard mumbled, his eyes pointed forward as though in a trance. "I just…have a feeling about something."

"What?" the old tutor irritably demanded but no answer came forth, Cristo already having pushed the wooden doors open and entered the Zenithian Temple of Frenor.

Brey frowned, anger welling in him. Ever since the previous night, the bodyguard's usual worrisome actions were all but vanished, as though he had stopped caring about the world around him. This new attitude Cristo displayed seemed to be of complete ignorance of others around him. Somewhat regretting the thought, Brey found himself missing Cristo's old behaviour.

However, try as anyone had, Cristo was unshakeable. Something strange was going on and Brey felt determined to unravel his companion's little secret. Straightening his back, the old tutor followed the bodyguard into the temple.

The temple was not very large, perhaps able to hold fifty people during a sermon. Very few benches rested inside and a single podium stood at the centre opposite of Brey. Why it was so small, Brey could not understand. Perhaps it was a sign of how little devotion to the Zenithians there was in this far-flung corner of civilization. Without any large temples or churches around to influence the peasants, most of them mainly concentrated on their daily lives to just make ends meet. The temple here in Frenor seemed as though it was built merely as an afterthought.

Cristo was already at the other end of the temple, looking for the residing priest. Even after a few calls for him, no one appeared.

"There doesn't seem to be anyone here," Brey called from the other end of the temple. "We might as well…"

"Wait!" Cristo ordered, holding a hand up.

Brey looked at the bodyguard, irritation now growing inside as well. "Now listen, Cristo," he said, stamping his crooked staff on the stone cobbles of the floor. He thought its resounding echo would grab his attention but Cristo kept his face turned. "Cristo!" the old tutor shouted. "You just can't…"

Again, he was interrupted but from a different source. The priest Cristo had been calling for finally arrived through a door in the back of the temple. He was without his ceremonial hat, had garden gloves on his hands, and splotches of soil stained his robes. "Yes, yes," he said hurriedly to Cristo. "What can I do for you, my son?"

"I wish to use your Texts, if I may," Cristo replied.

"Mine?" the priest said, startled. "Why mine?" I can tell you are a Zenithist as well so shouldn't yours be adequate?" It was apparent this priest was much busier with other things and wanted the two to leave quickly.

"As merely an apprentice cleric," the bodyguard explained, "my Texts are not as detailed as a priest's."

The priest rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine," he irritably muttered, finally looking at Cristo in the face. "I'll be just…a…minute…" His voice trailed off, his eyes widening in shock. He stared at the bodyguard, drawing a curious look from both Cristo and Brey, before taking off towards one of the dorms. He quickly returned with a larger and thicker version of Cristo's Zenithian Texts. He placed it on the reading altar at the podium, cast a nervous glance in Cristo's direction, and rushed back the way he entered the temple.

"What was that about?" Brey asked, walking up to Cristo as he kept his gaze on the departing priest.

"I…don't know," he replied sincerely, watching the priest as well. Brey was not satisfied with the answer.

The old tutor opened his mouth to deliver a stinging remark but stopped. The bodyguard was already buried in the large book, flipping pages as he quickly gazed over each one of them. Brey furrowed his brow out of irritation. "Now what are you looking for?" he asked sarcastically. "How many times the Master is praised and worshipped for using latrines?"

Cristo seemed to involuntary shake. "If you must know," he uttered through clenched teeth, "I'm looking for something on the golden bracelet."

Brey could not help but smile. Good, he thought, he's getting angry again. Maybe he hasn't completely lost his mind after all. However, something did not make sense. Why would a treasure of the present be mentioned in literature written a millennium ago? "Cristo," the old tutor said at length, "I've read the Texts and not once was there any mention of a golden bracelet that I can recall."

"It's in here," the bodyguard said adamantly. "I know I saw it here before." Brey let him flip a few more pages to humour the bodyguard but the old tutor's patients were growing thin. "This is a waste of time," he said acidly.

"It's in here," Cristo repeated.

"Dammit, Cristo!" the old tutor shouted. "There's nothing in there! Do you hear me? Nothing!" However, the bodyguard merely ignored him, continuing his search.

He was nearly ready to give up on Cristo when Brey heard someone call out his name at the front of the temple. Turning in that direction, he saw Alena and Timothy rushing up the centre aisle. "There you two are," Alena said. "Why are you here?"

"Cristo seems to think the town treasure is hidden in that book," Brey coldly replied, waving a hand in the bodyguard's direction. Cristo did not seem to notice, though, causing the old tutor to sigh in disgust.

"I'll do you one better," Timothy said, walking up to the podium. "We know where it is."

"What?" Brey exclaimed, leaping down from the podium. Excitement filled his body. Perhaps the whole ordeal would be over quicker than he could have hoped. "Where is it?"

"That's the problem," the thief said, somewhat sombrely. "It's not in Frenor but in a cave deep within orc territory south of here."

Brey's eyes widened incredulously. "How can you be certain?" he asked.

Timothy pulled out a parchment from his shirt and handed it to Brey. "This is a map to the cave," he explained. "Apparently, a few centuries ago, the golden bracelet was hidden there, as it caused too much strife among the townsfolk. However, they had never counted on the orcs growing in power in that region. Once that happened, many people eventually just gave up hope of ever reclaiming it and was forgotten."

"Except for a few stubborn thieves and adventurers, I presume," Brey said, studying the map intently.

Timothy nodded. "Only the people of the immediate region seem to be aware of it but it has turned mainly into an old wives tale. Those adventurers who do try and find it are normally unsuccessful."

"And I take it that the owner of this map was one such person?"

"Sort of," the thief slowly said. "The owner's father was the one but a sickness took his life before he could ever make such an attempt. He handed it down to his son so he may try but the death drove his son a little mad and he became the undertaker of Frenor's cemetery."

Brey looked up at the thief, a bushy eyebrow raised curiously. "Are you telling me you got all this information from a madman?" he asked. Timothy did not respond but that was all Brey needed to confirm his suspicion. "Then this is useless, for all we know," the old tutor grumbled, handing the map back.

"But it makes perfect sense, James," the thief said, hoping he might be able to convince him. "Why would local crooks go to so much trouble to kidnap the Princess? She would fetch a grand ransom and the villages would do anything to get it. Even risk their lives to get a seemingly mythical treasure deep in orc territory." Brey opened his mouth to argue but found he agreed with the thief.

He looked to Alena for her opinion on the matter. "I know it sounds a little unlikely," she offered, "but it wouldn't hurt to check it out anyway, right?"

Sighing, Brey turned to Cristo to see if the bodyguard would have anything to say but his nose was still buried in the massive Texts. "Okay," he muttered at length, "we'll go but you do realize that it will be very risky to venture into orc territory unprepared."

"I'll see what I can scrounge up," Timothy said, and he rushed out excitedly.

Brey turned to Cristo and shouted, "We're leaving, Cristo!"

"But I haven't found it yet," the bodyguard said.

"Then we'll leave you behind," Brey said coldly. He then grabbed Alena and they started to walk out.

"What's he looking for?" Alena asked, looking back to see Cristo still hurriedly flipping pages.

"Nothing," Brey muttered. Something to smarten the bastard up wouldn't hurt, though, he thought bitterly.