Book 3: Chapter 27: No Harm, No Foul |
The greatest of rivers is formed from the smallest of streams.
- A Quassian aphorism.
After washing off what felt like months of dirt and grime, I was finally able to enjoy simply soaking in the cool water of the bath. The water enveloped me, a balm for my weary soul, as I surrendered to the simple pleasure of idleness. It almost felt like I had achieved a zen-like state of emptiness.
But there was still light left in the day and time was, after all, money. The gold coin I had given Naira would only pay for less than a week. Perhaps I should have been less chivalrous?
Dragging myself out of the bath, I dried myself with a towel and made my way back to my room. God in heaven, it felt good to be clean again. The fairy tales never spoke of the hero’s fight to maintain a certain standard of basic hygiene.
I slipped into the loose, flowing garments favored by the locals in this sweltering climate and attached my sword to my waist. Yet, the sword felt awkward and unbalanced without my armor, leading me to opt for a more manageable knife instead. Now, fully prepared and significantly fresher than a few hours earlier, I set out to see what the rest of my entourage was up to.
“Elwin, Kidu, you alright in there?” I inquired, knocking twice on the heavy wooden door.
“Come in, Gil,” Elwin’s voice responded from within.
The pair had yet to change and bathe, and my nose was made immediately and painfully aware of it. I could not hold it against them, as I, no doubt, was in a similar condition only a while ago.
The man had stolen what I was about to say right out of my mouth. “Indeed, we should try to get a lay of the land?” I suggested.
“Just what I was thinking, Gil, there mate,” added Elwin to the mix as he adjusted a buckle at his waist.
“Well, then, let us see what we can see.”
“Beg, your pardon, but the kind of scouting I was thinking of doing is the type that you ain’t best equipped to do. I best do this part by myself, if you don’t mind me saying. Maybe find some people who know some people who know some people. Also, been cooped up with you lunks for months, and a man needs some time for himself, if you be catching my meaning. Big guy, why don’t you go with Gil here, get a little taste of the city life?”
“Later. I must see to the little one,” he rumbled in his gravelly voice.
“Can’t we just take her with us?” I suggested.
“She has grown, how do you warm land people say it, become the slack? She is distracted… she needs focus. She must train. I will see to it,” he responded simply, rolling his shoulders.
“Well, there’s your answer then. Why don’t you ask the redhead?” the Rogue put forth with a wink.
“Yes, there is that. I suppose I will do just that,” I accepted, a little annoyed at being rebuffed.
I left the pair, taking Elwin's suggestion to heart. After all, there were arguably worse ways to spend a late afternoon than with a beautiful woman.
Nearing her door, which was left slightly open due to the finicky latches typical of this place, I could hear the monotonous hum of prayers. Phrases imploring the Goddess for mercy and salvation were being repeated, first by Cordelia’s fervent voice and then echoed by Larynda’s reluctant tone. I wondered if the half-elven child, still so young, should be so exposed to religion. There was a part of me that felt a twinge of sympathy for her.
Deciding it best not to intrude, I left the women to their prayers. Having second thoughts about inviting Cordelia, as having a religious zealous goddess-botherer accompany me about the town might not be the wisest choice, I opted to leave well enough alone.
So, it seemed I was to be on my own for the afternoon.
Realizing I had forgotten my bag, I returned to my room to fetch it, taking care to include my Health and Mana potions. Anticipating frequent use of the spell Identify in this unfamiliar city, and possibly danger, I wanted to be thoroughly prepared.
This train of thought unexpectedly brought Zariyah to mind. Perhaps it was time for her to fulfill her role and show me around. Surely, she must have finished catching up with her mother by now? But then again, women did have a habit of going on when left to their own devices.
Making my way back to the ground floor, I noticed that Begonia’s Shade was gradually filling up. Observing the diverse attire of the patrons, I could discern that the clientele of the inn came from a wide range of professions and social standings. There were what looked like working-class field hands, likely wasting away their modest earnings, minor merchants draped in luxurious silks, and a group of stern-looking men in serious-looking arms and armor. The presence of these armed men made me feel particularly vulnerable without my harness. Naked almost.
I found myself at the bar and took a seat. I asked the bartender where the mother-daughter pair were.
"The mistress and Zari still be in the back room. They're likely to need more time together," he explained. "I've been instructed to offer you anything you'd like. So, what can I get for you, samasa?" he asked, leaning across the bar with his hands spread.
Up close, his distinct features and scars were even more apparent. The pronounced brow ridge gave him an almost ogre-like appearance, and his wide nose, evidently broken multiple times, contributed to his somewhat intimidating demeanor.
Driven by curiosity, I decided to cast an Identify spell on the man.
Laman Al-Qurashi - Soldier (Human lvl.11) Health: 203/203 Stamina: 38/43 Mana: 7/7
Despite his formidable appearance, I was surprised to find that the bartender was of a relatively low level. He posed no real threat, and I felt almost foolish for my initial apprehension. In gaming terms, he would be the equivalent of a trash mob and easily handled even without my magic.
“I’ll have juice please, something sweet, or wine, twice watered, if you don’t have any juice.” I answered, feeling more confident.
“Sure you don’t want anything stronger? The mistress said to open up the good stuff if you…” he gave me a conspiratorial wink, “I mean the really good stuff. Better than even the stuff we give to some of the hoity-toity types we get every now and again. Got us some Aranthian spirits. If there has ever been a time to open it, can’t think of a better time than now,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Laman Al-Qurashi, right?” I replied, enjoying the puzzled look that crossed the battle map of scars that served as his face. “It is still a bit early in the day for me to drink, but please pour yourself something nice,” I offered diplomatically. “You have a look about you, a military man I take it?”
His face broke into a wide smile as he guffawed, "Well, I don't mind if I do." He turned and reached for a dark bottle on a shelf behind him. "It's almost a sin to just leave this beauty sitting up there," he commented. Then, as he poured the drink, he began to share his story. "And yes, I've served before. Got drafted into the levies, and ended up staying longer than I'd planned. Eventually, I realized that risking my life for the glory of the Empire wasn't for me. So, I joined the Mercenary’s Guild, rose to the rank of Claw Leader. The stories I could tell you! Some of my old mates drop by every now and then, and we exchange stories from the old days…"
A new, cultured voice interrupted our conversation.“I heard that someone is offering free drinks, Aranthian spirits no less. It would be wonderful to have a taste of home,” said the alluring feminine voice to my right. “Oh, what do we have here? I can usually tell where someone is from, but you are a mystery…”
Curiously, I turned my head to see who had joined us. I
It was a woman, dressed in a style that was clearly not local. She wore black knee-high leather boots and off-white trousers, paired with a fluffy, frilled short-sleeve blouse that revealed her sun-kissed, tanned skin. Her hair, a fashionable medium length and dark oaken brown, framed her face perfectly. A silver circlet with a green gem at its center adorned her brow, giving her a regal air that contrasted with her bright, sunny smile. My gaze involuntarily drifted down to the silver badge hanging from a copper chain around her neck – an Adventurer’s badge.
“Kaila,” muttered Laman under his breath in an almost exasperated warning.
“Why thank you, Laman, for introducing me,” she drawled, her voice a spun melody, offering me a little wave as she pulled out a stool and sat down one space away from me.
The troubled barkeep shot me a questioning look as if seeking permission. I simply shrugged my shoulders before answering his silent inquiry, “Why not? Pour her a glass. Today is cause for celebration, right?”
I noticed a leather belt cinched at her waist, and hanging from it was what appeared to be a simple wand or scepter, adorned with yet another green gem at its tip. This gem provided me with some hints about her chosen profession. Intrigued by the slightly aggressive and imperious demeanor of the woman, I decided to cast another Identify spell.
Stolen novel; please report.
Kaila de Arancrai - Enchantress (Human lvl.19) Health: 175/175 Stamina: 25/26 Mana: 14/16
The woman had a few levels on me, but her attributes were sorely lacking. Unless she had some formidable spells in her arsenal that were of the dangerous sort, I could probably snap her delicate neck like a twig. With a class labeled ‘Enchantress’, I doubted that would be likely.
"Miss Arancrai, I presume?" I offered casually, only to be met with a dainty snort of amusement. Unlike Laman, she seemed hardly surprised by my little trick.
She played with a strand of her hair, not meeting my gaze. "It seems my reputation has finally caught up with me, which is only fair considering the effort I've put in," she said with a hint of pride. Drawing a small breath, she continued, "Yes, I am Arancrai. Kaila Arancrai... And you are, of course...?" Her question hung in the air, a mix of curiosity and challenge.
With practiced finesse, Laman poured the fragrant spirit into three small cups, earning a nod of appreciation from Kaila.
"I am Gilgamesh of Uruk," I replied, a touch flatly, still uncertain about how to deal with this intriguing woman.
"I can't say I've heard of it. Sounds a bit rustic," she responded, raising an eyebrow. "But let's not waste time on formalities. Cheers!" She took a small sip.
“Cheers!” echoed Laman, following suit, and I could only join him. I felt that it would be rude to point out that this was not exactly what I had ordered.
The drink went down, relatively smoothly but still had quite a kick to it. Fruity notes emerged as I savored a second sip. Though I was far from a connoisseur of spirits, the quality was unmistakable, even to my untrained palette. After months of occasionally resorting to swigs of arag, this was a positively delightful change. Still, I couldn't help but wish for some simple juice.
Reminding myself to live more in the moment, I decided against being one of those who whine about every little thing. As I swirled the dark liquid in my cup, preparing to finish it off, I suddenly felt a hand grasp my shoulder.
"Whatcha doing talking to my woman, like, like that? Making eyes at her," an irate, slurred voice cut through the air.
"Sevas..." Kaila and Laman spoke simultaneously, a mix of recognition and apprehension in their tones.
"It's Sir Sevas... I was knighted by the King himself, remember that. I've fought in the Pale Wars. I am a knight," he declared, his words interspersed with sporadic belches.
Sevas, despite his inebriated state, commanded attention. His snow-white hair crowned a ruggedly handsome face, the kind belonging to a man in his youth, barely out of his early twenties. His gray eyes were the color of a misty morning, though dimmed by the excess of drink, burned with the restless energy of boyish indignation. A solitary scar that sliced diagonally across his face, marred, yet at the same time somehow enhanced his appearance, lending him a fierce aspect.
I disliked him from the first, on an almost primal level.
His attire, though stained at the front, was of fine craftsmanship. Like Kaila, he bore a silver badge, not on a chain as hers was, but fastened to the baldric that supported a long, thin sword. A sword that made me acutely aware of my own vulnerability, armed only as I was with just a mere knife.
“That would have made you about ten at the time if you had fought in the wars, boy. We’ve all heard it before,” commented Laman with a huff, rolling his eyes.
“An’ I fought, I tell you. Waz jus’ a boy in the train… I was there when they came. Took up a weapon and fought ‘em back with the men of the line. You don’t be trying to distract me now so you can go back to… I said look at me damn you!” he cried in my general direction, his gaze unfocused as he staggered about, spilling his cup and its contents onto the floor.
Sevas was a perfect example of why I was averse to strong drink, really anything, that robbed you of good sense. If this was the quality of silver-ranked adventurers then it looked like it would be easy for me to get a few promotions under my belt.
“And for the last time, Sevas, I am not your woman,” hissed Kaila, standing up from her stool and sounding like an exasperated teacher. “Gil, from wherever you are, I am so sorry about this. He’s in our party and is always like this when he gets a little deep in his cups,” she apologized backhandedly, looking more flustered and embarrassed than actually apologetic.
Some of the clientele of the establishment had stopped in their conversation and started to look in our direction. Barely settled into my new accommodation and trouble was already finding me.
“...But I left my home and family… for you. ‘Gether we would go onna life of excitement and adventure, new lands, and new sights, or thaz what you said” he whined like a beaten dog, his body starting to tremble with repressed emotion.
Already my hackles had begun to rise as I prepared for a possible fight. Unfortunately, I had gone so native that a barbaric part of me actually welcomed the prospect. I am not a man for starting fights, but I intended to finish this one. Permanently, if need be. The man was basically offering himself to help me reach the next level and it would be rude of me to deny him. Smiling to myself, I realized I was equipped with more than just a knife, I had my magic and a good excuse for casual murder.
“Alright, that’s enough,” said a new man in an exasperated tone long worn with repetition, standing up from his table. He was wearing civilian clothes, dull and drab, and unlike Sevas, was unarmed. He was decidedly average-looking and nondescript, both in appearance and stature. The sort that one’s eyes would overlook on any given day. However, he had a way about him that spoke that he was not a stranger to violence. A fencer’s grace if I was to put a word to it. Outnumbered, I began to have second thoughts about resorting to violence to resolve this situation.
“Sorry, Laman, for the trouble, we’ll take him out of here now, see that he gets back to his room…” the man apologized, giving us an embarrassed smile as he tried to drag Sevas away.
“But… you! You just had to ruin it! You had to ruin everything!” complained Sevas as he struggled against them.
Kaila took one last pull of her drink, draining what was left in her cup before she told the man with a sigh, “Basilio, see to him. ”Sorry about Sevas, he is usually a reliable sort. A good boy and his heart is in the right place,” she offered contritely to me.
“Not a boy!” screamed the young man childishly as he burst free from Basilio, drawing the fine blade at his hip with surprising swiftness.
As the blade descended with the swiftness of a lightning bolt cleaving the sky, time itself appeared to slow. Instinctively, my shield arm rose of its own accord, interposing itself between me and the sharpened steel. I braced for the blade's bite, anticipating a grievous cut, deep to the bone. Yet, to my surprise, his sword clanged off, as if it had encountered something other than just flesh. Was this the work of my Mimic? Convenient, to say the least.
Unbalanced by the sudden movement, I fell off my stool with an unmanly squawk of surprise, hitting my head against the floor. Humiliated, I reached for the knife at my waist as I struggled to get up. Hot anger fuelled by a sudden burst of adrenaline. The bastard had struck at me, and I would have satisfaction.
As I began to rise, still disoriented, I looked for Sevas, but felt a sharp pressure at my throat. It was the same blade that had struck me, but now wielded by Kailas’ crony, Basilio. I felt trepidation and fear sink their claws into me as I eyed the blade and stilled. His sword was steady, as were his eyes, which were a harder gray than even the steel of the blade he held, and set with professional calm that promised an ending for me.
“Sorry about our friend, but I don’t think you will be drawing your steel,” he stated matter-of-factly, in a calm, superior voice that only caused me to seethe on the inside. You did not apologize with a threat.
Laman's growl cut through the tense atmosphere from behind the bar. "Basilio, there's no need to be brandishing a blade at our guests. You know the rules." The common room plunged into an unsettling silence, broken only by the sound of a few patrons who, sensing the brewing storm, quickly left their payments on the tables and hurriedly made their exits.
Having found myself in similar, if not deadlier, predicaments before, I chose to set aside my concerns. Fear had not yet left me, but it was not the sort that renders one into a state of nonaction, but rather the type that sharpens the mind and grants a desperate yet clear focus.
I cast an Identify on Basilio even as I planned my next move.
Basilio Sanseverino - Warrior (Human lvl.17) Health: 192/192 Stamina: 34/39 Mana: 9/9
He had a common as muck, basic class. I would have laughed at the raw impertinence of his threat if there wasn’t a sharp blade at my throat. But such was life.
Slowly, I got to my feet, reluctantly moving my hand from the dagger at my waist. Basilio totally ignored Laman, and the thin blade followed my rise as I stood up.
The group of adventurers had begun to make their exit, with Kaila shooting me a wry grin and a quick wave before she left. She was helped by a new companion, a portly man of middling height, to keep a struggling childish Sevas in tow.
I remained perfectly still, counting the moments as Basilio backed away with a slow and confident stride, the tip of his sword still pointed at me. In the halls of my mind, I prepared myself, opening up to the sibilant voices that hungered, the voices that fed, and the power they represented.
His eyes remained fixed on me as he crossed the threshold of the inn and stepped outside onto the street. It was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when he was no longer protected by the guest right of this society's culture. They had not left gifts as they should for their host as amends for breaking the peace of their roof. Thus, they had forfeited their protection, and Naira’s responsibility for them. The moment they left the establishment, doubly so. I had them by the very crude laws that bound them. Not to mention they had been rude. Very rude, the lot of them.
Not wanting to cause trouble for Laman or the inn's mistress, Naira, I had decided to rein in my more violent urges until this moment to adopt the local cultural norms. Realizing that I had grown as a person, I gave myself a pat on the back.
The moment was upon me, and so, with savage glee, I unleashed Rust. My will sped the spell along as I directed the voracious energies at the detestable blade. From the outside came a surprised shout of pain that turned into an agonized shriek. Returning my stool to its upright position, I sat down again and took another sip of my drink. I savored the moment as yet another scream rang out from outside, adding depth to the taste of my drink. It was followed up by the shout of “Basilio” and I imagined the sudden heat released, fusing flesh to metal, as iron was superheated to an incandescent level.
Life was sweet, and I could feel the silent gaze of the remaining guests upon me. Inside, I was grinning, but I made sure not to let that sweet feeling show on my face. Some things are best savored in secret. Sweet justice had been served, and I found it much to my taste.
You have gained 1 Charisma.
The added point to one of my more stubborn attributes only added to my smug satisfaction of a deed well done.
“Laman, pour us another,” I asked cooly, noticing his quizzical expression. He poured me another glass, his silence an unspoken question that I had no intention of answering.