Long ago, when Lokenth's adventuring days were new, he remembered a time when some taverns in Remton and Saex were filled with the perfumey scent of some kind of incense. He also remembered some other taverns, further south, filled with the rose-smelling and nauseating stench of
ikrif. But in any case, it seemed there was no more incense to be found anywhere in the Far East. He wandered from village to village, marketplace to marketplace, tavern to tavern, and no matter how much of his gold or goods he offered, there was simply no incense. It didn't help that everywhere he went, there were armed militia men peering at him suspiciously, or thick-witted peasants.
He'd nursed some less-than-worthy thoughts of giving up, going back to the King and telling him he couldn't do it. He still had his letters, and so he could still become a true knight, and take an estate, and go about knightly things (he still wasn't entirely certain what these would entail, but he imagined they'd be more interesting than hunting about for incense). This notion was banished when he received a letter from King Velax inquiring about how the repair job was going, and how much the King valued the blade and how it would be a true shame if it were to crumble into rust and dust.
From any noble, such comments were as good as an order. From the king, they were a decree written in stone.
So he continued to search. He'd had sixteen golds when he set out, and only seven remaining; all of it going to just basic meals and tolls for the roads. It was distressing. Such a simple task, for one who had faced down monstrous evil beasts, and yet so difficult! It was hard to believe.
Incense, he thought today, as he laid down to sleep in his tent outside Lasop.
My knighthood for some incense!
