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Higslaff found his homunculus’s report interesting.
Certainly, the ambush came from a band of brigands, intent on looting any worthwhile target traveling on the road. A single wagon would normally be an easy target. How often does such a wagon carry a party of adventurers—a group of Favored Souls?
The brigands got what they deserved, taking advantage of the guild’s temporary inability to extend its influence beyond Three Hills City due to the guild war.
But a Soul Stone? Now that was very interesting. And the lich seeking it? Liches, thankfully, were extremely rare. Worse than dragons. The only one he’d heard whispers of supposedly had an isolated stronghold deep in the Dark Heart Swamp. Malthia the Cursed was the name not mentioned—at least not by those with any brains.
The half-goblin thief, Gurk, and his party traveled twice on adventures into the Dark Heart Swamp. Once on behalf of the Church of Apollo, and the second time for the silversmith, Timz Simman. He’d have to get more information on those adventures. The silversmith would be easier than the Apollo Church.
Higslaff pondered. He had a good working knowledge of enchanted items. It was necessary for success in his line of work. Getting ahold of such a stone could benefit him greatly. Offer him abilities he’d only dreamed of. Better yet, the sale of such an item would bring wealth and valuable favors.
Certainly, a powerful, spellcasting undead creature like a lich would crave such an enchanted item. But there was no way he’d ever initiate dealings with a lich. He’d be reduced to a pile of ash, scattered by the next breeze, before negotiations even began.
But, there might be other options...