The more Jamie used the blessing, the more he understood how it worked, to the point of learning to master it superficially. He still couldn¡¯t dictate which future he would see or which aspect he was interested in, but at least he could control who would be the target of his ability and when to trigger it. All it took was aligning his will with the current of mana flowing around him.
He felt a familiar tingling sensation, a gentle pull as his mana began to flow.
From soldier to farmer, a fate to bemoan,
Dreams shattered, left to wander alone.
Yet beneath the soil, gold lies in wait,
For a fighter¡¯s heart defies its fate.
Chapter 21: The Liutenant
"I can''t let this opportunity slip away," Jamie thought to himself, the weight of Thomas''s Legend heavy on his mind. The words he''d seen¡ªof untapped potential¡ªurged him to act. Thomas could be the key to strengthening the Golden Fiddle and, in turn, improving his position in Hafenstadt''s Lower Quarter.
Jamie deliberately avoided staring directly at Thomas, not wanting to make him uncomfortable under scrutiny. Instead, he observed him peripherally, noting the subtle lines of worry etched on his face, the protective way he kept his daughter close, and the strength that lay beneath his modest demeanor.
¡®What else might interest him besides money?¡¯ Jamie mused silently. ¡®What does he truly need?¡¯
Breaking the silence, Jamie asked while trying to get a bit more information about them, "Is the little one doing all right?"
Thomas looked down at his daughter, who was still sleeping. He lovingly patted her hair. "Yes, she''s fine. It''s not the first time she''s been in a tight spot, though it certainly frightened her."
"Has she witnessed a Monster Rush before?" Jamie inquired, genuinely curious.
"No," Thomas replied, his gaze growing distant. "But encountering monsters outside the city walls isn''t uncommon."
Jamie nearly smacked his own forehead in realization. It hadn''t occurred to him that Thomas and his daughter might be living beyond the protective embrace of Hafenstadt''s walls.
He was about to frame his next question when he heard a soft rustling beneath one of the tables. Jay, his spectral companion, was stretching languidly, disinterested in their conversation.
Returning his focus to Thomas, Jamie asked, "Have you considered moving into the city?"
Thomas raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You don''t know much about Hafenstadt, do you?"
Jamie offered an apologetic shrug. "I''ve been here for a few weeks, but that''s hardly enough time to understand all its complexities."
Thomas sighed, a hint of resignation in his expression. "I work at the docks, but it doesn''t pay much. The only place I could afford within the walls is in the Lower Quarter. No offense, but it''s perhaps even more dangerous there than outside."
"Don''t worry, I''m not offended," Jamie assured him. "I understand the Lower Quarter has its... challenges."
"With so many gangs, wars, and Monster Rushes, it''s impossible to live here," Thomas said, his voice heavy with frustration. He stood at the tavern''s window, gazing out over the chaotic sprawl of the Lower Quarter. The dim glow of lanterns cast long, flickering shadows across the narrow streets below. "The Commercial District seems better on the surface, but it''s also almost entirely controlled by gangs, even if the defenses are stronger there. But it''s far too expensive for someone like me. The only truly safe places in the city are the Arcane Tower and the Noble Quarter."
Jamie nodded in agreement with Thomas''s assessment. The city was a tapestry of peril and corruption, but this was the opening he needed. ''Does he still hold onto hope?'' Jamie wondered. ''If he does, perhaps I can persuade him.''
"Thomas," Jamie began, leaning casually against the worn wooden bar, "what if you worked for me?"
Thomas turned to face him, a skeptical eyebrow arching. "For you?" he echoed with a wry chuckle. "Can''t picture myself as a barkeep."
"Not as a barkeep," Jamie corrected, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But as our guard."
"Guard?" Thomas repeated, his skepticism deepening. "Since when does a tavern need a guard?"
"Ever since that tavern is in the Lower Quarter," Jamie replied smoothly, "and its owner intends to take control of the surrounding territory."
Silence settled between them. Thomas studied Jamie intently, his eyes searching for any sign of deceit. Jamie met his gaze steadily, projecting confidence and sincerity. He knew what Thomas was contemplating; he''d witnessed this internal struggle in others countless times before. The man was weighing whether he could trust Jamie, a relatively unknown tavern owner with ambitious plans.
"Why do you want to control the territory?" Thomas asked finally, his tone measured. "What do you expect to gain from it?"
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"I have a close friend," Jamie began, his voice low and measured. "So close, it''s as if he''s always with me." His gaze flickered momentarily to Jay, the spectral feline lounging invisibly atop a nearby shelf. "He was promised a destiny¡ªa grand one. He was to become a paladin. But fate had other plans, and reality turned out to be far harsher than any prophecy."
Thomas watched him intently, eyes reflecting the glow of the lantern between them. Jamie could see the skepticism etched in the lines of the man''s weathered face.
"Denied the chance to fulfill that destiny, he realized that fate is often crueler and more challenging than we''re led to believe." Jamie''s fingers traced the rim of his tankard as he spoke. "Destiny. Funny how that word rolls off the tongue, like something solid and unchangeable. They love to tell us it''s immutable¡ªthat the gods weave the threads of our lives while we''re still babes in the cradle. But look around us."
Jamie stood abruptly, gesturing expansively to encompass the worn wooden beams of the tavern, the grime-streaked windows, and beyond them, the sprawling maze of the Lower Quarter. "Do you see the gods here? I don''t. What I see is a rigged game¡ªa deck stacked against us from the start. And like so many others, my friend was dealt a losing hand."
He paused, taking a deep breath. Inside, he hoped his words were reaching Thomas. The man remained silent, his expression unreadable. Jamie continued, his tone tinged with bitterness.
"Fate isn''t fair. It never has been¡ªto me, to you, or to anyone who suffers through Monster Rushes or lives under the thumb of gangs in the Lower Quarter. If destiny does exist, it''s a lazy bastard at best. But you know what I''ve learned?" Jamie leaned forward, the shadows on his face deepening, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"I''ve learned that at the end of the day, no one¡ªnot even the gods¡ªforges our destiny. We do. With the choices we make, the rules we break, the alliances we build, and yes, even with the blood we spill. Because in the game of life, you''re either the dealer... or you''re the bet."
A crooked smile played on Jamie''s lips¡ªdevoid of mirth but full of conviction. "As much as you thanked me for saving your daughter, I must be honest. I''m not a good man¡ªthat much is true." He hesitated for a heartbeat, carefully choosing his next words, not wanting to shatter the fragile trust he hoped was forming.
"I''ve never claimed to be. I''ve stepped over the line more times than I can count. I''ve stolen, lied, even killed. But here''s the curious thing: even the broken can be used to build something good. Maybe it''s survival instinct, or maybe I''m just tired of watching everything crumble around me. Hafenstadt has been left to rot, yet it''s the place we''ve chosen to call home. So, why not make it better? Not for the nobles who look down on us like we''re vermin, but for the rats themselves."
Jamie moved to the corner of the room where his fiddle rested against the wall. He picked it up gently, the polished wood gleaming softly in the dim light. Returning to his seat, he began to draw his fingers lightly over the strings, coaxing a melody that echoed the undercurrents of his words.
"Taking control of this neighborhood will be the first step. A small rung on a tall ladder, I know, but enough to start changing the game. Today, we control the streets. Tomorrow, perhaps all of Hafenstadt. And then... who knows?"
He let the music fill the space between them, the notes weaving a tapestry of possibility and defiance. Finally, Jamie looked up, meeting Thomas''s gaze head-on. A fierce light burned in his eyes¡ªa mixture of challenge and invitation.
"The question is, Thomas: are you with me, or will you stand by and watch?"
Outwardly, the bard exuded confidence in the bold vision he had just laid before Thomas. Yet internally, Jamie grappled with uncertainty¡ªhe couldn''t quite read the man''s expression. Thomas appeared subtly moved by his words, but his eyes were distant, immersed in deep contemplation.
A heavy silence hung between them, punctuated only by the faint crackling of the hearth. Then, Thomas sighed softly, his gaze dropping to the worn wooden floor.
"For a long time," Thomas began slowly, "I''ve wrestled with similar questions about my destiny. I wondered what I should do once I''d lost my purpose¡ªor what I thought was my purpose." He paused, his rough hands clasping together. "Then Julie came into my life."
At the mention of his daughter, a gentle warmth flickered in his eyes. "She became my new purpose," he continued. "If you''re telling me that you intend to improve this city. For Julie''s sake, I''ll agree to be your guard."
Relief and gratitude surged through Jamie. Thomas''s agreement was more than just accepting a job¡ªit was a pledge of trust and shared purpose.
Thomas stood up, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the dimly lit room. He extended his hand toward Jamie, the calloused palm reflecting a lifetime of hard work. Jamie rose to meet him, grasping the offered hand firmly.
"Welcome aboard," Jamie said, his voice steady.
As their hands clasped, a familiar sensation washed over Jamie. Golden letters materialized at the edge of his vision, shimmering softly like distant stars. The mystical interface¡ªvisible only to him¡ªunfolded new information.
| Member Slot consumed
| 2# Member: Thomas Hartfield
| Trust: [50/100]
| Class: Farmer
| Level: 1
| Experience: [688/1000]
| Your member has high trust in you.
| You don¡¯t have a Lieutenant.
| Do you wish to turn [Thomas Hartfield] in your Lieutenant?
Jamie considered the prompt. He wasn''t entirely sure what appointing a Lieutenant entailed or what effects it might have. Yet, he sensed that doing so would strengthen their bond.
[Yes]
Chapter 22: The Three Gangs
[Yes]
| Thomas Hartfield - Registered as Lieutenant
| EXP Boost applied to Thomas Hartfield
| The God of [Mystery] looks at you
| The God of [Mystery] smiles at you
Jamie wasn''t sure what to make of another god''s interest in his affairs, especially so soon after his passionate monologue about destiny, deities, and ambitions. The divine attention was both unsettling and intriguing.
Thomas settled back onto the worn wooden floor, but something in his aspect had changed. He glanced around the tavern, his gaze sharpening, focusing on details as if seeing them for the first time.
"There''s something odd," Thomas remarked, squinting as he scanned the room. "Was the tavern... always this dirty?"
"Oh!" Jamie exclaimed softly, realization dawning. "I forgot to mention¡ªI''m not exactly your typical bard. My specialty lies in enhancing my allies."
"Is that so?" Thomas responded, his brow furrowing in curiosity.
"Since you''ve accepted becoming part of my ''team, '' you''ve started to receive some of my enhancements," Jamie explained. "They''re still modest, unfortunately. For now, they only enhance your perception when you''re near the tavern."
Thomas blinked, tilting his head as he continued to observe the surroundings. The layers of grime on the windows, the cobwebs clinging to the rafters, the stains ingrained in the tabletops¡ªall seemed more pronounced.
"How unique," he murmured. "I''ve never heard of abilities like that. Area buffs, especially ones so broad in effect..." He looked back at Jamie, a note of awe in his voice. "You must have some remarkable blessings. Quite powerful."
Jamie offered a modest shrug, though a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "I''ve been fortunate," he conceded.
Thomas regarded him thoughtfully. There was a cautious respect in his eyes now, mingled with intrigue.
"Well then," Thomas said, breaking the brief silence. "What''s your first step?"
"Our first step," Jamie corrected gently, emphasizing their newfound partnership. "It''s quite simple¡ªwe must make this establishment flourish."
"Is that to weaken the other gangs?" Thomas asked, not fully grasping the connection.
"Not directly," Jamie replied. "But by growing the tavern''s success, we''ll get the funds necessary to challenge them. Sooner or later, we''ll need more people¡ªcapable individuals to help us assert control over the streets. Without a steady influx of gold, we''ll gradually lose our grip on the territory."
Thomas nodded slowly, beginning to understand. "Do you have any ideas on how to make this place thrive?" he asked, casting a critical eye around the room.
Jamie also glanced around, taking in the shabby furniture, the peeling paint, and the air of neglect. The tavern was a shadow of what it could be.
"First and foremost," Jamie began, his voice steady and confident. "You haven''t yet heard me play, but trust me when I say I''m quite skilled." A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "However, talent alone won''t be enough to achieve what we need." He gestured subtly around the room. "Looking over the tavern''s accounts and considering the city''s habits, it''s clear we require something more¡ªa new product."
"Product?" Thomas queried, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "What do you mean by that?"
Jamie met his gaze. "Right now, the beverages most sold are mead and wine. Both are costly to produce and often beyond the reach of those in the Lower Quarter."
Thomas nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Do you have an alternative in mind that might serve us better?"
"Yes," Jamie replied, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "A drink made from fermenting grains like barley or wheat, with a few added spices for flavor."
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Thomas tilted his head skeptically. "Doesn''t sound particularly appetizing."
Jamie chuckled softly. "Well, I''d suggest you try it before passing judgment. It is popular in other regions, and above all, it''s affordable."
Thomas shrugged. "Fair enough."
Jamie leaned back slightly. "By introducing beer, we can offer something unique and affordable to the people here. It could draw in patrons who might otherwise not be able to enjoy a night out."
Thomas''s expression grew serious. "With all the success you''re imagining, won''t the gangs take notice and possibly retaliate?"
"Perhaps," Jamie admitted. "That''s why we can''t wait until we''ve become a threat to them. We need to make our move proactively."
"Do you know much about the gangs operating in the Lower Quarter?" Jamie asked, his eyes meeting Thomas''s as he pulled a folded parchment from his satchel.
Thomas shook his head. "No, I haven''t paid much attention," he admitted. "I''ve mostly kept to myself."
"Understandable," Jamie replied. He got a parchment from his satchel and spread it across the worn tavern table, smoothing out the creases to reveal a rough city map. Thomas leaned over, his gaze sweeping across the familiar yet uncharted territories.
"This here represents the city," Jamie began, tracing the outline with his finger. "The upper part is the Noble Quarter, where the aristocracy resides. Below that, from the west beach until the south gate, is the Commerce Quarter¡ªbustling with merchants and trade."
He moved his finger downward. "From the central streets up to the Northern Gate lies the Lower Quarter, our current target."
Thomas nodded, following Jamie¡¯s hand as it moved across the map.
"Within the Lower Quarter," Jamie continued, "these two main streets divide the territories of the three major gangs." He tapped the intersecting lines. "Understanding this is crucial."
He pointed to a spot on the map. "This is where the Golden Fiddle stands. We''re within the territory of the Cutpurses."
"The Cutpurses?" Thomas echoed.
"A group of pickpockets and street thieves," Jamie explained. "They recruit children and teens to do their dirty work¡ªlifting purses, cutting pockets, running quick cons. They prey on the busy streets of both the Lower and Commerce Quarters."
He circled the area representing the Cutpurses'' domain. "They''re the weakest of the three gangs. Their structure is loose, reliant on their leader and a handful of enforcers at their base. There''s little organization beyond that."
"If they''re so weak, why hasn''t the City Guard done anything about them?" Thomas asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Jamie sighed softly. "Because they don''t want to stir up trouble with the larger gangs. Plus, there''s the matter of coin¡ªthe guards receive payments to turn a blind eye. The state of the Lower Quarter isn¡¯t a priority for them. No noble is losing sleep over what happens down here."
Thomas''s expression hardened as he absorbed the implications.
"Near the Commerce Quarter are the Dusters," Jamie continued, pointing to another sector on the map. "They''re more tricky¡ªa gang of dwarves. They produce Dragon Dust and sell it on the black market. Information about them is scarce. They operate in secrecy, and their numbers are unknown."
"Impressive," Thomas remarked. "How did you come by all this information?"
Jamie offered a mysterious smile. "A bard has keen ears. All you need to do is listen in the right places." In truth, he''d spent countless nights in dimly lit taverns, overhearing the secrets that spilled from loose tongues. It''s remarkable what people reveal when they believe no one is paying attention.
"And finally," Jamie said, his finger hovering over another part of the map, "there''s the Red Veil. They operate out of this temple."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "A temple?"
"Yes," Jamie confirmed. "They use it as a front. Behind its facade, they own several brothels along this street. Worse still, they ensnare the women who work for them with debts and loans, ensuring they can never leave"
"That''s abhorrent," Thomas said, indignation flashing in his eyes.
Jamie nodded gravely. "They wield a lot of influence and resources. Confronting them directly would be unwise at this stage."
Thomas took a deep breath, steadying himself. "So, where do we begin?"
Jamie placed his finger firmly back on the area marking the Cutpurses¡¯ territory. "Here. We''ll take down the Cutpurses."
Thomas glanced up from the map, his brows knitted in concern. "But how?" he asked, skepticism evident in his tone.
"Simple," Jamie replied, a faint, calculated smile curling his lips. "We''ll cut off the head. Their organization is so poorly structured that we can strike directly at their base."
"Just like that?" Thomas questioned, doubt lingering in his voice. "Won''t there be guards? Soldiers? Other thieves?"
Jamie nodded slightly. "No doubt, there will be all of those," he conceded. "But we have the element of surprise. We know we''re going to attack, and they have no idea that there''s a new player in the game. All we need to do is arm ourselves appropriately to deal with each of those obstacles."
Thomas leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as he considered the plan. The weight of what Jamie was proposing settled heavily between them. "It''s a bold move," he remarked cautiously. "Perhaps even reckless."
Jamie met his gaze steadily, his eyes reflecting a mixture of steely resolve and something darker¡ªa hint of the lengths he was willing to go. "Now," he said evenly, "you will see that I''m not as good a person as you imagine."
Chapter 23: The Dwarf
Over the next few hours, Jamie delved deeper into his plans with Thomas, the two of them huddled over the worn map spread out on the tavern table. The glow of lanterns cast dancing shadows around them as Jamie outlined what needed to be done and the strict code he lived by.
"These are the rules I operate under," Jamie said firmly, his gaze steady on Thomas. "No one under my command may break them, even if our opponents choose to ignore such principles."
Thomas listened intently, eyebrows occasionally rising in surprise at some of the tenets Jamie insisted upon. Some rules seemed rigid, perhaps even burdensome, in a place as ruthless as the Lower Quarter. Yet, there was an undeniable conviction in Jamie''s voice. It was a confusing combination of a skewed moral compass with another pointing steadfastly north.
When Jamie finished, Thomas sat back thoughtfully. "I have to admit," he said slowly, "I didn''t expect such... stringent guidelines. But I respect them and agree to abide by each one."
A satisfied smile touched Jamie''s lips. "I''m glad to hear it."
Thomas glanced toward the tavern''s entrance, where the first rays of sunlight seeped through the cracks. "I need to take Julie home," he said, referring to his young daughter still sleeping. "After I return, I can show you where Knall''s workshop is. That''s our next step, isn''t it?"
"Exactly," Jamie affirmed.
"Very well," Thomas said, standing up. "I won''t be long."
"Take your time," Jamie replied. "I''ll be here when you get back."
As Thomas left, Jamie made his way back upstairs to his quarters. Jay, his ever-present companion, followed silently beside him. Though Jay''s expression remained indifferent, his eyes betrayed a keen interest in what had transpired.
"What did you think?" Jamie asked, turning to face Jay.
Jay lounged casually against the wall, arms crossed. "He''ll be quite useful," he remarked. "But don''t forget the risks you''re taking."
Jamie chuckled softly. "You warning me about risks, Jay? That''s rich."
Jay''s gaze sharpened. "He has a daughter," he pointed out. "Don''t unintentionally break your own rules."
Jamie paused the weight of the comment sinking in. "You''re right."
"Just keep it in mind," Jay advised before moving to sprawl atop the bed, eyes drifting toward the ceiling.
Hours later, as the sun rose high above the rooftops. Eliza made her way back to the tavern for her first official shift.
Entering, she spotted Jamie behind the bar, organizing bottles and wiping down the recently polished wood surface.
"Ah! You''re alive?!" she called out teasingly, a playful grin spreading across her face.
Jamie looked up, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "Without a doubt," he replied, feigning indignation. "Did you truly think a mere Monster Rush would be enough to do me in?"
She laughed, the sound light and melodic. "Perhaps just a little," she admitted, her expression softening. "I might have been a little worried."
He leaned forward on the bar, resting his chin on his hand. "I''m touched by your concern," he said with exaggerated sincerity.
Eliza rolled her eyes but couldn''t hide her smile. "Don''t let it go to your head."
Their banter was interrupted as the tavern door swung open with a sudden force. Thomas stepped through the threshold, fatigue evident in the slump of his shoulders and the shadows under his eyes.
"We''re closed for now," Eliza said quickly, moving toward him with a hand raised, intent on stopping any premature patrons. "You''ll have to come back later."
"Don''t worry, Eliza," Jamie interjected from behind the bar. "He''s with us. I hired him yesterday."
Eliza turned back, confusion flickering across her face. "You did?"
"I did," Jamie confirmed, coming around the bar to join them. "Eliza, meet Thomas¡ªour new guard."
"Guard?" she repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Yes," Jamie said. "The Lower Quarter can be unpredictable, and I felt it wise to have someone to ensure the safety of our patrons and staff."
A spark of appreciation lit in Eliza''s eyes. "That''s... wonderful," she said sincerely. "It''s about time someone thought of that."
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Thomas offered a modest smile. "I''ll do my best to keep things peaceful."
Eliza extended her hand. "Welcome aboard, Thomas. I''m Eliza."
He shook her hand gently. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Eliza, could you continue with the cleaning? I''m off to find Knall," Jamie said briskly, his eyes already drifting toward the door. "Oh, and we should be expecting some barrels of wine delivered for tonight''s opening."
Before Thomas could utter another word to the young woman, Jamie pulled him along. Thomas barely had a chance to cast an apologetic smile at Eliza before being swept out of the tavern.
They stepped into the bustling streets, the morning sun casting shadows across the cobblestones. As they walked, Thomas began pointing out various landmarks along the waterfront¡ªthe best trading posts, hidden gems among the market stalls, and even the secluded areas where clandestine fights took place under the cover of darkness.
"I spent a long time trying to become a soldier," Thomas explained, his gaze distant as memories surfaced. "Those underground fights helped a lot; it was an easy way to earn money."
Jamie glanced at him, surprised by the revelation. "I didn''t realize there was such a... vibrant underground economy."
Thomas chuckled softly. "Oh, there''s more to this city than meets the eye. The shadows often hold the most activity."
They continued along the shoreline, the scent of salt and sea mingling with the aromas wafting from street vendors'' carts. As they neared the end of the beach, a peculiar building came into view¡ªa modest workshop with a large chimney, puffing plumes of black smoke into the sky.
"That''s Knall''s laboratory," Thomas said, nodding toward the structure. "Most of the time, he helps out with brews and potions. But he dabbles in a bit of everything."
Jamie observed the building with interest. It stood out among the surrounding edifices because of its billowing smoke, massive sliding doors, and unique blend of stone and dark timber.
"It certainly has character," Jamie remarked.
They approached one of the enormous doors, left slightly ajar. Thomas pushed it open further, calling out, "Knall? Knall?"
Silence greeted them. Thomas frowned, stepping inside. "Are you in the workshop?" he shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. Still, no response. "He never leaves this place. That''s odd."
As Jamie crossed the threshold, his senses were immediately assaulted by a myriad of aromas¡ªsome sweet like honey and lavender, others pungent and sharp enough to make his eyes water. The workshop''s interior was vast, extending upward to a second floor accessible by a wrought-iron spiral staircase. The building was constructed of sturdy wood and dark stones, giving it an air of antiquity. High windows and a few strategically placed skylights allowed shafts of light to pierce the dimness, illuminating dust particles and aiding in the ventilation of chemical fumes.
Every wall was lined with shelves, and every shelf was crammed with glass vials and jars in an array of shapes and sizes. Some containers held vibrant, glowing liquids that seemed almost alive, shifting and swirling of their own accord. Others housed dried herbs, curious minerals, or preserved creatures¡ªsmall rodents, insects, even a few things Jamie couldn''t readily identify. A few substances pulsed gently as if possessing a heartbeat, while others sat inert, appearing as innocuous as water.
In the center of the space stood several robust wooden tables cluttered with alchemical instruments¡ªdelicate glassware, intricate scales, mortar and pestle sets, and numerous cauldrons simmering over low flames. Strange apparatuses with tubes and coils gurgled softly, their purposes a mystery to the untrained eye.
Jamie walked slowly, his footsteps muffled by the thick rugs strewn across the stone floor. Each step was taken with care, and his eyes were wide with wonder and caution. He reached out to examine a nearby shelf, attempting to read the labels on the vials. Some were inscribed in the Common language, detailing contents like "Essence of Nightshade" or "Powdered Ruby." Others bore the angular, rune-like script of the Dwarven language, which was indecipherable to him.
"Knall''s work is... extensive," Jamie murmured.
"He''s a genius in his own right," Thomas agreed. "Though his methods are sometimes... unconventional."
Jamie picked up a worn notebook lying open on one of the tables. Scrawled across the pages were diagrams and notes, some in Common, others in Dwarven. Complex formulas intertwined with sketches of mechanical devices and botanical specimens.
"Knall? Knall?" Thomas''s voice rang out as he ventured deeper into the dimly lit workshop, his footsteps echoing on the worn stone floor. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of rare herbs, smoldering metals, and arcane concoctions bubbling in glass alembics.
"Maybe he''s upstairs?" Jamie suggested, eyeing the shadowed staircase that spiraled to the second level.
"Perhaps." Thomas began navigating through the labyrinth of workbenches and towering shelves, intent on finding the stairs.
"What''s that on the floor?" came a soft whisper. It was Jay, whose voice only Jamie could hear.
"What?" Jamie turned sharply, following Jay''s gaze. But before he could see, Thomas''s alarmed shout cut through the haze of the workshop.
"Knall?!"
Thomas sprinted toward one of the massive cauldrons, concern etched across his face. Jamie hurried after him, his heart pounding with a sudden rush of apprehension.
Lying sprawled upon the rough-hewn stone floor was Knall, the dwarven alchemist. His formidable body looked out of place against the cold ground¡ªa titan of muscle and grit brought low. His beard was a magnificent cascade of fiery red, so vast and vibrant it seemed woven from strands of molten lava. It spilled over his broad chest, intricately braided and adorned with faintly glowing runic beads.
Knall''s skin bore the ruddy hue characteristic of his kin, weathered by countless years of toiling over roaring forges and intricate experiments. His muscular arms, still tense even in unconsciousness, were encircled by heavy bronze bracers etched with protective sigils.
Clutched firmly in his calloused hand, a small wooden pipe, its tendrils of smoke still curling lazily upward in delicate spirals.
"Knall?" Thomas''s voice cracked with worry as he knelt beside the dwarf, gently shaking his shoulder. "Can you hear me?"
Jamie dropped to one knee on the opposite side, his gaze scanning Knall''s face for any sign of consciousness. The alchemist''s eyes were closed, and his ordinarily robust complexion had paled slightly.
Jamie reached for Knall''s thick wrist without wasting another moment, pressing his fingers against the pulse point. A fleeting thought crossed his mind. ¡®Let¡¯s hope a dwarf''s pulse isn''t too different from a human''s.¡¯
For a tense few seconds, there was nothing. Then, a faint but discernible beat thrummed beneath his fingertips.
"His heart''s still beating," Jamie announced, relief mixing with urgency. "But it''s weak. We need to act."
Chapter 24: Belladonna
"His heart''s still beating," Jamie announced, though his relief was tainted with urgency. "But it''s weak. We need to act."
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jamie realized that Thomas was too shaken to be of immediate help. The color had drained from Thomas''s face, his eyes wide with fear and helplessness as he stared at Knall''s unconscious form.
"Do you know anyone who can help?" Jamie asked, trying to anchor Thomas back to the present.
"N-not at this hour," Thomas stammered. "I could call a healer¡ªa witch doctor¡ªbut it would take hours for them to arrive."
"Hours we don''t have," Jamie muttered. He gently opened one of Knall''s eyes; the pupil was unnaturally dilated. The dwarf''s skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, yet to the touch, it was cold as stone.
"A poison, perhaps?" Jamie mused aloud, his mind racing. Rising swiftly, he scanned the immediate surroundings. The workshop was a labyrinth of alchemical wonders¡ªshelves upon shelves of potions, elixirs, and ingredients both common and rare. Knall was meticulous; he would know every substance here intimately. It had to be something unexpected, something ordinary.
Jamie paced, his boots tapping against the stone floor, until his gaze caught something near the cauldron. A wooden plate and a knife lay discarded on the ground, as if knocked over in haste. He knelt beside them, inspecting the remnants of a meal: chunks of bread, slivers of roasted chicken, and an assortment of fruits. Among them were several plump berries.
"Blueberries?" Jamie picked up one of the berries, holding it up to the light filtering through the high windows. They were larger than any he''d seen, almost swelling beyond their skins. A subtle, unnatural shimmer clung to their surface.
"These berries¡ªthey shouldn''t be this large," he whispered.
Without wasting another moment, Jamie returned to Knall''s side. He gently pried open the dwarf''s mouth, leaning close to catch a hint of the scent within. A sweet aroma met his senses, tinged with something faintly metallic.
"Sweetness," he confirmed, glancing back at Thomas. "Quickly, Thomas, I need your help."
Thomas blinked, snapping out of his daze. "What do you need?"
"Dwarves are resistant to poisons, aren''t they?" Jamie asked, with sliver of hope that the mythology he knew about Dwarfs would also work on this world.
"Y-yes," Thomas replied, nodding. "Their constitutions make them less susceptible."
"Good. But even so, someone has managed to poison him¡ªlikely using something he wouldn''t suspect." Jamie gestured toward the fallen plate. "Perhaps through his food."
Thomas''s jaw clenched. "But what can we do?"
"We need to purge the poison from his system," Jamie said resolutely. "If we can induce vomiting, we might be able to expel enough of it to give him a fighting chance."
"How do we do that?" Thomas asked, moving to support Knall''s heavy frame, propping the dwarf into a more upright position.
"Like this." Jamie thrust his fingers into the dwarf''s mouth, determined to induce vomiting. "This is going to be unpleasant."
He persisted until poor Knall began to retch, culminating in the dwarf emptying the contents of his stomach onto Thomas''s boots. The acrid stench of the vomit assaulted their senses, causing both men''s stomachs to churn. Yet, as soon as Knall finished, his breathing eased, and the ghastly pallor of his skin began to subside.
Observing the dwarf''s features relax, Thomas felt a surge of relief mingled with curiosity. "How did you know?" he asked, wiping his brow.
"I''ve dealt with plenty of poisons in the past," Jamie replied, moving to collect some of the scattered fruits from the floor. "This isn''t one I''d typically use. Nightshade¡ªIt blends easily into food. In humans, it usually causes hallucinations followed by death, but it seems to have a weaker effect on dwarves."
He examined one of the berries closely. "These will be useful to us, regardless."
Thomas watched as Jamie continued to survey the laboratory, his movements deliberate as he gathered the tainted fruits.
"Stay alert," Jamie cautioned, glancing around the dimly lit workshop. "If someone tried to kill him, they might still be after him."
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The warning snapped Thomas back to attention, making him look around the lab for any signs of movement.
After several tense minutes, Knall began to stir. "What in the blazes¡ªmy head feels like it''s been split open," the dwarf groaned. "Am I hungover?"
| Knall, The [Alchemist] was saved
| 130 Experience Points obtained
Jamie and Thomas exchanged a relieved glance as they heard Knall¡¯s gravelly voice.
"If only it were just a hangover," Jamie remarked wryly.
Knall squinted up at them, pressing a thick hand to his temple. "Eh? Who are you?" His eyes focused on Thomas, and recognition flickered. "Ah! Thomas, my boy, what brings you here?"
"Old Knall, we should be asking you that," Thomas replied, crouching beside him. "We found you collapsed when we arrived¡ªyour heart was barely beating."
"Collapsed? Barely beating?" Knall echoed, confusion etched on his rugged face. He propped himself up, leaning back against a stout workbench cluttered with tools and alchemical instruments.
"We found you lying on the floor," Jamie explained, holding up one of the ominous berries. "It looks like someone tried to poison you."
Knall frowned deeply. "But dwarves are resistant to poisons."
"Then it must have been someone who knows exactly which poisons would affect you," Jamie concluded, his tone serious.
Knall¡¯s expression darkened. "That asshole," he muttered under his breath.
"You have an idea who it might be?" Thomas asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Of course I do. It was that fucker Thorgrimm," Knall spat the name like a curse.
Jamie and Thomas shared a meaningful look. They both knew of Thorgrimm¡ªa notorious figure who led one of the most ruthless gangs in the Lower Quarter. He was infamous for producing Dragon Dust, a dangerous and highly addictive substance that plagued the country.
"But what would Thorgrimm gain by assassinating you?" Jamie asked, his gaze sharp with intrigue. ¡®Have I found Thorgrimm¡¯s weakness?¡¯ He mused silently.
"That conniving scoundrel!" Knall burst out, his voice thick with anger. "He thinks that if I don''t join him, I''ll end up becoming his rival. That thick-skulled oaf must have been drinking spoiled wine. I''ve told him time and again¡ªI will never, ever sell Dragon Dust."
Knall attempted to rise, but pain flared across his ribs, and he could barely manage more than a feeble shuffle.
"Easy there, Old Knall. Let me help you," Thomas said, rushing to the dwarf''s side. He placed a steadying arm around Knall''s sturdy frame, assisting him to his feet.
"Why does he call him ''Old Knall''?" Jay whispered, his feline eyes reflecting curiosity as he watched Thomas. Only Jamie could hear the spectral cat, but the question mirrored his thoughts.
"Why do you call him ''Old Knall''?" Jamie echoed aloud.
"Oh! Because he''s a grandpa. Knall is over two hundred years old," Thomas explained with an affectionate grin.
"Thomas was still in diapers when he wandered onto the beach and stumbled upon my workshop," Knall added, a twinkle in his eye despite the pain. "He used to break my lab equipment all the time."
Jamie arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. Looking at Knall, the dwarf seemed to be in the prime of his life. Aside from a hint of weariness in his expression, there was no sign of his advanced age.
"Alright," Knall said, his sharp gaze settling on them, "but something tells me you didn''t come all this way just to save an old dwarf. What brings you to my workshop?"
"Are you sure?" Thomas asked with a tone of concern. "You just woke up."
"Hmm. True. One moment." Knall stepped away from the two, walked over to where his posioned lunch was, crouched down, picked up a huge mug, and took a long, deep sip.
With a small wine-scented burp, the dwarf returned. "Alright, now I''m good. Go ahead."
Jamie clapped his hands together briskly. "Excellent. Let''s get straight to business."
Knall hobbled over to a nearby table, retrieving a small pair of spectacles that seemed almost comically small against his broad, weathered face. He perched them atop his nose, the lenses catching the light.
"I need your help developing a new beverage," Jamie began.
"A new beverage?" Knall repeated, interest piqued. "A new kind of wine or mead? I''ve worked with several producers before, but why come to me?"
"Not a new kind of wine¡ªa completely new drink," Jamie clarified. "Without using grapes or honey. I''ve recently acquired a tavern, and our biggest challenge is the cost of drinks. While they''re profitable, our patrons in the Lower Quarter can''t afford to consume much. It makes them inaccessible to the very people we want to target."
Knall stroked his long red beard thoughtfully, fingers weaving through the intricate braids adorned with tiny metal beads. "And you believe you can solve this problem, how?"
"Simple," Jamie replied confidently. "We''ll use more common and inexpensive ingredients for fermentation. Instead of grapes or honey, we''ll use barley and other grains. A few select spices will help with the flavor."
"Doesn''t sound particularly appetizing," Knall remarked skeptically, his eyes narrowing.
"You''re the second person to tell me that," Jamie said with a chuckle. "But just wait until you taste it."
Knall peered at him over the rim of his spectacles. "You seem to know a fair bit about what you''re proposing. Why do you need my help?"
"I need help finishing the recipe and crafting the necessary equipment for production, fermentation, and storage," Jamie explained. "Your expertise in alchemy and engineering is unique. Together, we can create something truly extraordinary."
A spark ignited in Knall''s eyes¡ªa blend of curiosity and excitement. "Now, this is the kind of project I like," he said, adjusting his glasses. The lenses reflected the warm glow of the workshop''s lanterns. "What''s the name of this new drink?"
"Beer," Jamie announced.
Chapter 25: Opening Night
Jamie leaned over the cluttered workbench, using a piece of chalk to sketch crude diagrams on a scrap of parchment. He gestured as he explained his vision to Knall. Though not an expert, he conveyed the basics of brewing beer¡ªthe selection of grains, the fermentation process, and the importance of temperatures. Where his knowledge faltered, he trusted in Knall''s alchemical expertise to fill the gaps.
"So, what do you think?" Jamie asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Do you believe you can figure it out?"
Knall stroked his fiery beard thoughtfully, his fingers absently tracing the beads woven into the braids. Behind his small spectacles, his keen eyes scanned the notes and sketches Jamie had provided. "From what you''ve described," he began, his voice a low rumble, "it won''t be easy. Brewing without the usual staples¡ªgrapes or honey¡ªusing grains instead... It''s unorthodox."
He paused, jotting down a few calculations in a weathered stack of papers. "But not impossible," he concluded with a hint of a smile. "In fact, you''ve piqued my curiosity about the flavor of this new concoction."
Jamie grinned broadly. "That''s wonderful!"
"Hold on," Knall cautioned, raising a hand. "This endeavor will require significant resources¡ªequipment, ingredients, time. Have you considered the cost?"
Jamie hesitated. "That''s actually something I wanted to discuss. How much do you think it will cost to get everything up and running?"
Knall leaned back on his stool, his eyes drifting to the ceiling as he mentally tallied the expenses. "Hmm. Hard to say without seeing the space you plan to use. If you could show me the cellar of your tavern, I could get a better idea of the equipment sizes and quantities we''ll need."
"Of course," Jamie agreed readily. "That makes sense. Shall we go now?"
Knall hopped down from his stool, landing with a solid thud despite his short stature. "No time like the present."
Thomas joined them at the door, and together, the trio set out toward the Lower Quarter. The sun bathed the city of Hafenstadt in golden light while they walked across cobbled streets bustling with activity. Merchants shouted their wares from colorful stalls, children darted through the crowds, and the air was filled with the mingled scents of fresh bread, sea salt, and exotic spices.
As they descended into the Lower Quarter, the atmosphere shifted. Buildings leaned more precariously, their facades aged and weathered. The streets narrowed, and the lively chatter of the upper markets gave way to hushed conversations and furtive glances.
At last, they arrived at Jamie''s tavern. A creaking sign swung above the entrance¡ªa faded image of an overweight pig and the words "The Fat Pig" barely legible beneath layers of peeling paint.
"Fat Pig, eh?" Knall mused, scratching his nose as he eyed the establishment. "You''ve chosen an... interesting place."
Jamie chuckled, making a mental note¡ªonce again¡ªto find a carpenter who could craft a new sign reflecting the tavern''s future identity. "Yes, it''s not in the most prestigious part of town," he admitted, "but it''s always bustling with patrons. There''s a certain charm to it."
Knall raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."
They stepped inside, greeted by the familiar aroma of hot wine. The tavern was in a state of semi-readiness; Eliza and a few of the barmaids were already hard at work, scrubbing tables and sweeping floors in preparation for the evening rush.
Eliza gave a quick nod to Knall before swiftly returning to cleaning the tavern. Jamie observed her for a moment. She was naturally taking charge of the other girls, directing them with ease. It was clear she didn''t need his assistance at the moment. Satisfied, he led Knall and Thomas straight to the back of the tavern, where they found the staircase leading down to the cellar.
Jamie had only ventured into the cellar once before, just after purchasing the establishment, to check if any valuable items remained. As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, he was once again confronted with the sight of the storage room in its neglected state.
The cellar lay in ruins. The stone walls were heavily worn, bearing the marks of long years without care. On one side, a thick layer of moss clung to the damp stones, a testament to Bones''s neglect of this area over the past few years.
In days past, the cellar might have housed large barrels of mead or wine, but now, only a few scattered wooden planks and bent, rusted nails remained on the dirt floor. Shattered glass bottles were strewn about, their contents long since spilled and dried, leaving behind dark, sticky stains that marred the ground.
Despite being below ground, a few small windows high on the walls allowed glimpses of the street outside. Sunlight penetrated through the grimy panes. From the ceiling hung rusted lanterns, appearing as if they might collapse at any moment, their weak and flickering glows doing little to dispel the shadows.
In one corner, an aged bench rested at an angle, one of its legs visibly broken. Rotten wooden crates and assorted debris littered the floor, adding to the overwhelming sense of decay.
"This is going to be a lot of work," Knall remarked as he took in the dismal scene. "First, we''ll have to clean everything out, then reinforce the ceiling to keep it from caving in. We''ll also need to shutter the windows¡ªthe light can ruin the stock, especially anything still fermenting."
Without waiting for any instructions from Jamie, the dwarf plunged into action, rapidly forming plans to transform the derelict storage room into a functional brewery. He beckoned Thomas over, directing him from one spot to another as they measured every inch of the cellar, Knall''s enthusiasm undimmed by the daunting task ahead.
Watching Knall''s proactive approach as the dwarf surveyed the dilapidated cellar, Jamie couldn''t suppress a surge of admiration. The way he effortlessly translated vision into actionable plans was something Jamie deeply respected. ¡®I don¡¯t know how. But, I need to secure him on my team,¡¯ he thought decisively.
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Without a second thought, Jamie activated his unique ability, [Legends of the Future], hoping to glean more information about Knall that might aid in convincing him. The air before him shimmered subtly as ethereal words materialized.
"Knall the Alchemist, wise and small,
Loved blueberries most of all.
''In potions or pies, their magic''s true,
A berry''s worth more than the rarest brew!''"
Jamie blinked, reading the rhymed verse once more to ensure he hadn''t missed any hidden meaning. From his shoulder, he heard the soft snicker of Jay, his ever-present companion.
"Well, that explains a lot," Jay mused, his tail flicking with amusement as he too took in the verse.
"Fucking useless," Jamie muttered under his breath. Though his ability had offered profound insights in the past, it seemed this time it only confirmed what he had already suspected: Knall had an affinity for blueberries. Not exactly the leverage he was hoping for.
With a resigned sigh, he let the vision fade and refocused on the present. For nearly an hour, Knall meticulously inspected the cellar, tapping walls with knuckles, measuring dimensions with a worn but reliable rope, and scrawling detailed notes in a leather-bound journal. Thomas assisted where he could, holding measuring ropes and jotting down numbers as the dwarf dictated.
At length, Knall approached Jamie, wiping a smudge of dust from his forehead. His eyes were sharp behind his small spectacles, reflecting both enthusiasm and gravity.
"This is going to be tricky and expensive," Knall admitted. "We''ll need to clear out all this debris, reinforce the ceiling to prevent collapse, and seal off those windows to control the light and temperature. Ventilation will need to be addressed to handle the fermentation. For the repairs alone, I''ll need one gold piece. Two additional gold pieces will cover the research and development of the specialized tools we''ll require."
He paused, gauging Jamie''s reaction. "I realize that''s a significant investment," he continued. "Perhaps it''s more than you bargained for. We could consider scaling back or postponing until¡ª"
But Jamie was already reaching into his satchel. ¡®No investment comes without risk. If fortune favors the bold, let¡¯s be bold.¡¯ he thought to himself. Counting out three gleaming gold coins, he placed them firmly into Knall''s palm.
"Will this suffice?" he asked, his tone unwavering.
Knall''s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the coins in his hand. Gold was not the type of coin handed over lightly. Beside him, Thomas appeared equally astonished at Jamie''s readiness to fund the venture without hesitation.
"I... Yes, this will cover it," Knall stammered, recovering from his initial shock. "Are you certain about this?"
"Absolutely," Jamie affirmed. "I still have enough to keep us going for a while. Besides, this project is critical. When not working on the tavern''s security, Thomas will assist you. We need to get this operation running as soon as possible."
A broad grin spread across Knall''s face. The weight of uncertainty lifted, replaced by a burgeoning confidence fueled not just by gold, but by Jamie''s evident faith in him. The dwarf gave a respectful bow, a hand over his heart.
"You won''t regret this," he vowed. "I''ll begin the preparations immediately."
As they made their way back upstairs, the ambient light in the tavern had shifted. The sun was dipping low, casting warm hues through the windows.
"Thomas, could you accompany Knall back to his workshop?" Jamie suggested. "We''ll need to start preparing the tavern for tonight."
"Of course," Thomas agreed, though a hint of concern lingered in his eyes. He glanced at Knall, remembering the recent attempt on the dwarf''s life. "Are you feeling up to the walk?" he asked.
Knall waved off the concern with a hearty chuckle. "Ha! It''ll take more than a little poison to slow me down. Besides, we''ve got work to do."
Jamie watched them depart, a contemplative expression settling on his features. ¡®I can only hope Thorgrimm doesn''t decide to target him again,¡¯ he thought grimly.
¡®I can''t assign Thomas to protect him at all times¡ªnot yet, at least,¡¯ he mused. Resources were thin, and they were venturing into dangerous territory by challenging the established order of the Lower Quarter. ¡®It''s time to start expanding our territory and building our team.¡¯
Eliza approached Jamie''s side, her hands wiping the last traces of dust from her apron. "Shall we open?" she asked, her eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and readiness.
"Let¡¯s start," Jamie replied with confidence, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
As they swung open the heavy wooden doors of the tavern, the familiar faces of long-time patrons began to filter in. The Fat Pig came alive with the usual clamor¡ªlaughter, clinking mugs, and the hum of conversations weaving through the smoky air. The evening unfolded much as it often did, with nothing out of the ordinary disrupting the flow. Customers, wandering bards, and even a few off-duty soldiers came and went over the next several hours.
Thomas stationed himself near the bar, his vigilant gaze sweeping the room. Ever watchful, he kept an eye on the proceedings, ensuring that the night''s revelries remained peaceful. Occasionally, a patron who had indulged in one too many drinks would attempt to lay an unwelcome hand on one of the serving girls or stir up trouble among the other guests. Thomas was quick to intervene, escorting the offenders out with firm resolve.
"I''ll never set foot in this place again!"
"I''ve never been treated so poorly!"
"It was just a joke!"
Grumbles and protests followed each ejection, but the Fat Pig''s rules were unwavering. Respect was expected, and those who couldn''t abide by it were shown the door.
As the moon ascended to its zenith, casting silvery beams through the tavern''s windows, the chatter began to quiet. It was time for Jamie to take the stage. A hush fell over the room as he settled onto the stool, fiddle in hand, the glow of the hearth casting a warm light upon him. Many patrons had come specifically for this moment, eager to hear the bard whose reputation seemed to grow with each passing day.
The first notes flowed from his fingertips, a melody both haunting and uplifting. The crowd listened in rapt attention, entranced by the music that seemed to weave magic in the very air.
"He''s better every time I hear him. How is that possible?" murmured one patron to his companion.
"Just yesterday, he didn''t know this song. Incredible," whispered another, shaking his head in astonishment.
Such whispers circulated among the audience. Jamie''s ability to learn and perform new songs with remarkable speed was nothing short of extraordinary. In truth, his talent was augmented by memories of melodies from another world¡ªa repertoire he drew upon to captivate his listeners in this one.
When his performance drew to a close, a round of heartfelt applause filled the tavern. Jamie offered a gracious bow before stepping down from the stage. The crowd had thinned; many had departed for the night, while others slumped over tables, lost to their cups.
Most of the serving girls had also taken their leave, their duties done, leaving only Eliza and a few others tidying up.
"Thomas," Jamie called, beckoning the weary guard to join him. "They''ll handle closing up for the night."
Thomas approached, dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. It had been two relentless days filled with work and little sleep¡ªnearly forty-eight hours on his feet.
"What''s next?" he asked, his voice edged with fatigue yet laced with loyalty.
Jamie regarded him with a steady gaze. "We have one last task for the day," he explained. "It''s time to scope out our target."
Chapter 26: The Plan
Jamie fixed Thomas with a steady gaze. "We have one last task for the day," he said quietly. "It''s time to scope out our target."
That was all the explanation Thomas needed. Without another word, he fell into step beside Jamie as they slipped into the darkened streets of the Lower Quarter. The night enveloped them, the narrow alleys illuminated only by the silver sheen of the moon and the occasional glow of magical lampposts along the main roads.
"It''s not far from here¡ªjust four blocks," Jamie whispered, gesturing ahead as they walked with a measured pace. The streets were nearly deserted at this late hour; most residents had long since sought the safety of their homes. Only the distant hoot of an owl and the soft rustling of nocturnal creatures broke the silence.
Jamie moved with practiced ease, his footsteps silent on the uneven cobblestones. He blended into the shadows, every movement deliberate to avoid drawing attention. Thomas followed close behind, attempting to mimic Jamie''s stealth but finding it a challenge. His heavier boots scuffed lightly against the ground, and his silhouette seemed more conspicuous against the dim backdrop of the alleyways.
Despite this, they navigated the labyrinthine streets without incident. After traversing four blocks, they emerged into one of the few open squares in the Lower Quarter. The plaza was a stark expanse, its scant benches and withered trees.
"Up ahead is the Cutpurses'' base," Jamie said, nodding toward a two-story building crafted from dark timber. The structure bore no sign or marking to indicate its purpose. To an unsuspecting eye, it might have been a simple residence or perhaps an abandoned relic left to decay.
Thomas eyed the building skeptically. "But how do you know it''s their base?" he asked.
"Observation," Jamie replied with a faint smile. "I''ve been watching them for some time now."
The square was cloaked in darkness, save for the glow of the moon and a few flickering lanterns in nearby windows. In the distance, the end of the street marked the beginning of the Commercial Quarter. Towering above the cityscape was the Arcane Tower, its spire piercing the night sky. Even from afar, its illuminated form was unmistakable, and the perpetual fair at its base buzzed with activity, lights twinkling like distant stars.
Jamie gestured subtly toward two smaller houses adjacent to the main building. "Those two houses," he whispered. "Day and night, you''ll see children and teens entering and leaving."
As if to underscore his point, a group of young boys and girls emerged from one of the houses, darting across the square before disappearing into the labyrinth of streets leading toward the fair. Moments later, another group approached from the opposite direction, slipping silently into the shadowed entrance.
Thomas watched the scene unfold, a furrow deepening on his brow. "They''re using children," he muttered, a note of disapproval in his voice.
Jamie nodded solemnly. "The Cutpurses recruit the young¡ªorphans, runaways, any child they can lure into their fold. They train them as pickpockets, spies, and couriers. It''s how they''ve managed to stay ahead of the city guard for so long."
Jamie gestured discreetly toward the two adjacent houses across the shadowed plaza. "In those two houses live the pickpockets," he explained in a hushed tone. "Children who owe debts to Ezek. In exchange for their services, they receive food, a place to sleep, and the faint hope that one day they''ll be admitted into the main group."
Thomas''s eyes followed the subtle movements of small figures darting in and out of the buildings. His posture remained alert, every muscle tense as he surveyed the situation. They couldn''t risk getting any closer without revealing their presence.
"The middle house serves as their command center," Jamie continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "That''s where the core group operates from and where all the stolen loot ends up. The adults are there¡ªmost of them lack formal combat training but are armed and fiercely protective of their operation."
"How many are inside?" Thomas asked, a hint of apprehension creeping into his voice.
"It''s hard to say for certain," Jamie replied thoughtfully. "From my observations, I''d estimate around ten people, not including their leader."
"Ten?" Thomas echoed, his brows knitting together in concern. "How are we supposed to take on ten of them?"
Jamie cast a sidelong glance at him. "Didn''t they teach you anything in soldier training?"
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Thomas gave a rueful smile. "Truth be told, not much beyond physical drills and how to fight off wild beasts."
"Well then," Jamie said, a hint of a challenge in his tone. "Imagine they''re monsters. What would you do?"
"I''d set up an ambush," Thomas answered after a moment''s thought. "Separate them and pick them off one by one."
"Not a bad strategy," Jamie acknowledged. "But consider that these ''monsters'' are intelligent. The moment you take down a few, the others will be on high alert."
Thomas frowned, the weight of the scenario pressing upon him. "So, what do you suggest?"
A sly smile played on Jamie''s lips as he reached into his cloak. He opened his hand to reveal several berries¡ªdeep blue, almost black, their skins gleaming in the dim light.
"Nightshade?" Thomas whispered, his eyes widening.
"Not enough to kill," Jamie assured him. "But enough to send them into hallucinations for hours. It would make infiltrating their base and neutralizing them much easier."
Thomas considered this, concern etched on his face. "But how do we get them to consume it?"
"That''s where you come in," Jamie replied. "We''ll need to take turns keeping watch over them. Fortunately, they hold a feast once a week for their official members."
Thomas glanced toward the houses, his mind racing. "But how do we get inside to poison their food or drink?"
"We won''t need to enter their lair," Jamie said, pointing toward a well situated near the main house. Its stone rim was worn, and a wooden bucket hung from a frayed rope. "Their water source. We''ll add the nightshade there."
Thomas looked skeptical. "But we have to time it precisely¡ªjust before they draw the water for the feast. If anyone else drinks from it, innocent people could be harmed."
"Exactly," Jamie agreed. "That''s why we''ll need to be vigilant. We''ll observe their routines, learn their schedules. When the moment is right, we''ll act swiftly."
Thomas sighed, still uneasy. "It''s risky."
"All great endeavors are," Jamie said softly. He placed a reassuring hand on Thomas''s shoulder. "Our goal is to dismantle their operation with minimal bloodshed. But that doesn¡¯t mean no bloodshed."
Thomas scratched his head, a puzzled expression crossing his face. "I still don''t quite see how we''re going to do this," he admitted, his voice low.
As the two of them conversed in hushed tones, their eyes fixed on the shadowed building across the square, the main door creaked open. Three men emerged into the pale light cast by a sliver of moon peeking through the clouds. The first two were tall and muscular, with short brown hair and the rough attire of seasoned thugs.
But it was the third man who drew Jamie''s attention. He was shorter, lean, and wiry, with an unsettling grace to his movements. His ears tapered to subtle points¡ªa telltale sign of elven lineage mingled with human blood. In his slender hands, he toyed with a gleaming knife, flipping and spinning it between his fingers with practiced ease. The blade caught the meager light, flashing intermittently as it danced across his knuckles.
"The two larger ones," Jamie whispered, nodding subtly toward the men trailing behind. "They''re the leader''s primary guards."
Thomas nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving the trio.
"Up front, that''s Ezek," Jamie continued. "Half-human, half-elf. He''s skilled with knives¡ªdangerously so. His greatest flaw is his arrogance. He consistently underestimates his opponents."
"Clever enough to rise to power, though," Thomas remarked quietly.
"Indeed," Jamie agreed. "But that arrogance might be our advantage."
Thomas furrowed his brow. "I thought the plan was to incapacitate them all with the nightshade. Won''t they be affected as well?"
"Possibly not," Jamie replied, his gaze sharpening. "Ezek may be arrogant, but he''s cunning. To have secured his position, he likely takes precautions. I doubt he''ll consume the same food or drink as his men¡ªhe''d fear betrayal from within."
Thomas scratched his head again, digesting this new complication. "So, even if we taint their provisions, Ezek and his personal guards might not be affected."
"Exactly," Jamie said. "Which means we need to be prepared for a confrontation with them, unaffected by the nightshade."
Thomas''s hand moved instinctively to his side, where his belt was conspicuously devoid of a weapon. "What do you suggest?"
"We need to arm ourselves discreetly," Jamie answered. "You''ll need at least a short sword¡ªsomething you can wield effectively in close quarters. As for me¡" He paused, considering. "A dagger should suffice. It''ll be easier to conceal and won''t draw unwanted attention."
Thomas nodded. "I''ll see what I can get."
"For now, that''s all we can do," Jamie said. "Get some rest. We''ll need to be at our best. As soon as the opportunity arises, we''ll strike."
"Right," Thomas agreed, though a hint of apprehension lingered in his eyes. "Stay safe."
They parted ways, each retreating into the labyrinthine streets of the Lower Quarter.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than they had anticipated. Four days later, under a sky cloaked in heavy clouds, Thomas and Jamie found themselves again near the Cutpurses'' hideout. Crouched behind a stack of weathered crates in a narrow alley, their eyes fixed on the commotion unfolding across the square.
A flurry of activity had taken over the area. The gang members moved back and forth, carrying barrels and crates into the main building. Laughter and snippets of conversation drifted through the air¡ªtones of anticipation and revelry. They were stringing up lanterns adorned with colorful scraps of cloth, casting a warm glow that defied the dreariness of the evening.
"A feast," Thomas murmured. ¡°It''s happening tonight.¡±
Chapter 27: The Feast
"A feast," Thomas murmured. "It''s happening tonight."
"Yes," Jamie replied, his voice steady but laced with tension. "It''s time we prepared." He gestured for Thomas to follow as they navigated the winding streets back toward the Golden Fiddle.
Over the past few days, the tavern had undergone a remarkable transformation. The old sign bearing the image of a fat pig had been replaced by a new one crafted from polished dark wood. It gleamed under the fading sunlight, the intricate design of a fiddle catching the eye of every passerby. The details were exquisite¡ªstrings etched with precision, the body adorned with delicate engravings. It was a beacon of change, signaling a new era for the establishment.
Once inside, they headed straight to their rooms. Rest was essential; they needed to be at their best to execute the night''s plan. Jamie settled at a small desk cluttered with parchments and vials of ink. He unraveled a scroll and began to read, then reread his collection of spells. His mind raced as he contemplated every possible application, every contingency they might face.
Since rescuing Knall, he hadn''t gained any additional experience points, despite performing nightly for the tavern''s patrons. The audiences were impressed, but the routine wasn''t enough to propel his growth. ¡®Perhaps I need to do something extraordinary to earn more points,¡¯ Jamie mused, his brow furrowed. "It''s a shame¡ªI could really use a level-up right now." He glanced at the interface displaying his current status.
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Experience: [620 / 2000]
|
| Attributes
| Strength - 11
| Dexterity - 15
| Constitution - 11
| Intelligence - 16
| Wisdom - 14
| Charisma - 18
¡®It''ll have to be enough,¡¯ Jamie thought, resigning himself to the challenge ahead. He secured the dagger Thomas had acquired for him at his waist, feeling the reassuring weight against his hip.
As the last hues of sunset surrendered to the encroaching night, the duo departed the tavern. They moved with purpose toward a shadowed alley adjacent to the Cutpurses'' lair.
"You won''t be performing tonight?" Thomas asked, breaking the silence as they slipped through the labyrinth of alleyways.
"No," Jamie replied quietly. "I''ve been taking a few nights off here and there. That way, no one can predict exactly when I''ll be at the tavern. It''s better to keep them guessing."
Thomas nodded, understanding the need for unpredictability.
They settled into their previous vantage point, a recessed doorway that offered a clear view of the Cutpurses'' grand manor without exposing themselves. The building was abuzz with activity. Windows glowed warmly, and the sounds of revelry spilled into the street¡ªboisterous laughter, clinking glasses, and the strains of a fiddler playing a jaunty tune.
Jamie surveyed the scene intently. There were eight men outside, some leaning casually against the railings, others animatedly sharing stories. Most were already inebriated, their movements loose and unguarded. Plates piled high with roasted meats and flagons sloshing with wine were being passed around freely.
"Eight outside," Jamie counted under his breath. "Plus the two guards and the leader inside."
"There aren''t any children among them," Thomas observed, his tone a mix of relief and curiosity.
"No," Jamie confirmed, his expression hardening. "They don''t mingle with the children. To them, kids are just tools¡ªmeans to an end for filling their coffers." His voice was cold with indifference.
"And now?" Thomas asked, his voice barely audible over the distant party sounds.
"Now?" Jamie echoed, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knew precisely what needed to be done, though the prospect was less than appealing. "Now it''s time for me to make a spectacle of myself."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?"
Jamie chuckled softly, glancing down at his attire. He was dressed in the most ostentatious garb a bard could muster¡ªa tunic of mismatched patches in vivid hues of crimson, emerald, and gold, adorned with tiny bells that jingled with every movement. A flamboyant feathered cap perched atop his head, completing the outlandish ensemble.
"No one pays too much attention to a drunken fool," Jamie assured him, unstoppering a bottle of cheap wine. The pungent aroma filled the air as he splashed the contents generously over his clothes, the liquid seeping into the fabric and dripping onto the ground. He took a swig and swished it around his mouth before letting it dribble messily down his chin. The effect was immediate¡ªthe sharp scent of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin.
Thomas grimaced. "You certainly smell the part."
"Excellent," Jamie replied with a grin that didn''t reach his eyes. "Stay here and keep watch. If anything goes wrong..." He let the sentence trail off, the unspoken possibilities hanging heavily between them.
"I''ll be ready," Thomas promised, his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword.
Taking a deep breath, Jamie staggered out of the alley, his gait uneven as he exaggerated the sway of someone deep in his cups. He weaved across the open square, legs bending awkwardly as if they could barely support him. A few passersby cast disapproving glances his way, but most ignored him¡ªa drunkard bumbling through the night was hardly a rare sight in these parts.
¡®Nothing is more invisible than someone making a fool of themselves,¡¯ Jamie mused silently, the thought steeling his resolve as he approached the heart of the Cutpurses'' territory.
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The gang''s makeshift festival sprawled across the front courtyard of a decrepit manor that served as their headquarters. The scent of roasted meat mingled with the sharp smell of hot wine, and raucous laughter punctuated the murmur of conversations.
Jamie stumbled forward, nearly colliding with a burly man at the edge of the gathering. "Well, look at this!" he exclaimed loudly, his words slurred. "A grand party, and no one thought to invite me!" He threw an arm around the man''s shoulders, his grip loose but insistent.
The Cutpurse stiffened, turning to glare at Jamie. His eyes swept over the bard''s garish attire and wine-soaked appearance. "Get off me, you drunken bard," he growled, shrugging Jamie''s arm away.
Jamie swayed, feigning obliviousness. "Come now, friend! No need to be rude!" His tongue tripped over the words as he struggled to keep his balance.
Nearby, a few gang members paused to watch the spectacle, smirks spreading across their faces. One of them chuckled. "Looks like we''ve got ourselves some entertainment."
"I''d say he''s had enough entertainment for one night," another remarked.
The first man, clearly unimpressed, delivered a swift punch to Jamie''s stomach. The blow was solid, knocking the air from his lungs and sending a jolt of pain radiating through his torso.
"Get lost," the Cutpurse spat as Jamie doubled over, clutching his abdomen.
The surrounding thieves burst into laughter, amused by the display. Jamie coughed, resisting the urge to retaliate. Instead, he allowed himself to waver unsteadily before shuffling away.
"S-sorry," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
He staggered toward the old stone well at the center of the courtyard, leaning heavily against its weathered edge. His fingers gripped the cold, rough surface as he pretended to steady himself, his head hanging low. The voices behind him faded into the background as he focused on the task at hand.
"Don''t let that fool vomit in the well!" someone shouted, the alarm clear in his tone.
"That''s our drinking water, you idiot!" another barked. "Get him away from there!"
Jamie could hear footsteps approaching, but he couldn''t afford to rush. With a subtle movement, he reached into a hidden pocket and retrieved a handful of crushed nightshade berries. Keeping his actions concealed, he squeezed the berries tightly, feeling the pulp and juices seep between his fingers.
"Hey! You!"
A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. The same thug who had punched him earlier now glowered mere inches from his face. "I thought I told you to leave."
"I-I''m not going to... to vomit," Jamie stammered, his eyes wide and unfocused. He swayed on his feet, the picture of drunken helplessness.
"Get rid of him," another Cutpurse demanded, looking wary.
Before the thug could react, Jamie flicked his wrist, letting the mashed nightshade fall into the well¡¯s bucket still filled with water. ¡®Job done,¡¯ he thought, relief mingling with the adrenaline coursing through him.
"That''s it!" the thug snarled. He drove his knee into Jamie''s stomach with force. Pain exploded through Jamie''s midsection, and this time, he nearly did vomit.
He doubled over, gasping for air as his assailant glared down at him. "We don''t need the likes of you hanging around. Get lost before we make an example out of you."
"Wait," a voice called from the back. "Let him be. He''s not worth the trouble."
The thug hesitated before shoving Jamie aside. "Consider yourself lucky," he muttered.
Jamie stumbled away, clutching his aching stomach. Behind him, the Cutpurses were already losing interest, their attention returning to the feast.
"Finally rid of that nuisance," someone said with a dismissive wave.
"Good riddance," another agreed. "Now, someone get me some water¡ªI need to wash down all this wine."
Jamie''s heart pounded as he made his way back toward the safety of the alley. Each step sent a jolt of pain through his battered midsection, but a grim satisfaction settled over him. The nightshade was in their water; soon enough, the Cutpurses would be out cold.
Thomas emerged from the shadows as Jamie approached, concern etched across his features. "Are you alright?"
Jamie managed a dry chuckle. "I''ve been better." He leaned against the alley wall, wiping a trace of blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Keep watch," Jamie whispered, his gaze fixed on the distant manor shrouded in darkness. "When they start to fall ill, that''s our cue."
"Understood," Thomas replied, his voice steady despite the tension tightening the air between them.
Jamie settled onto the cool cobblestones of the alley, beginning to shed his flamboyant attire. The gaudy, multicolored garments typical of a bard were ill-suited for the covert operation ahead. He replaced them with a set of dark, unobtrusive clothing¡ªsoft leather and muted fabrics that blended seamlessly with the shadows. ¡®I''ve made enough of a spectacle for one night,¡¯ he mused, fastening the cloak around his shoulders.
Once dressed, he returned to Thomas''s side. Together, they observed the Cutpurses'' hideout from afar
Time seemed to stretch as they waited, each passing minute weighed down with anticipation. Nearly half an hour passed before the atmosphere began to shift. The boisterous laughter and clinking of mugs gave way to uneasy murmurs and sharp cries. Confusion rippled through the gathering, escalating into panic.
"It''s starting," Thomas noted, his eyes narrowing.
Jamie nodded. From their vantage point, they could see figures stumbling about, some clutching their heads, others collapsing to the ground. The nightshade was taking effect, and each Cutpurse exhibited different poisoning symptoms. A few convulsed on the grass, eyes wide with hallucinated terrors. Others lashed out in a frenzy, turning on their comrades with wild swings and frenzied shrieks.
"This is our chance," Thomas said, urgency edging his tone.
"Yes, let''s move," Jamie agreed, rising swiftly.
They slipped from the alley, keeping low as they darted across the open spaces. Rather than heading for the front entrance, now a scene of utter chaos, they veered toward the side of the manor. What might once have been an elegant garden was now an overgrown tangle of weeds and briars, providing ample cover.
The guards who should have been patrolling the perimeter were either incapacitated or too consumed by their own afflictions to notice the intruders. Two men wrestled on the ground nearby, oblivious to anything but their imagined foes.
Reaching the manor''s side, Jamie and Thomas spotted a partially open window on the first floor. Thomas carefully tested it, the old hinges creaking softly as he pushed it open wider. He hoisted himself up and slipped inside, extending a hand to help Jamie through.
Inside, they found themselves in a grand hall that spoke of faded opulence. High ceilings loomed above, adorned with intricate molding now dulled by dust. A sweeping double staircase dominated the space, its polished banisters reflecting the dim glow of wall-mounted torches. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors lined the walls, their eyes seeming to follow the newcomers with silent judgment.
"Stay close," Jamie whispered, his footsteps muffled against the threadbare rug. "There are three of them¡ªEzek and his two guards. If we get separated, they''ll pick us off one by one. We need to confront them together."
Thomas nodded. "Upstairs first?"
"Yes," Jamie replied. "They might be holed up in their quarters. If we can catch them unaware, we stand a better chance."
They moved toward the staircase, the weight of the manor''s silence pressing around them. But just as they set foot on the first step, a cold voice sliced through the air.
"I was wondering what all the commotion outside was about," it said, dripping with disdain. "Who would have thought I''d find two rats scurrying around?"
Chapter 28: The Guard
Thomas POV
"I was wondering what all the commotion outside was about," a voice dripped with disdain, echoing through the grand hall. "Who would have thought I''d find two rats scurrying around?"
Thomas lifted his gaze. At the top of the sweeping central staircase stood one of the Cutpurses'' elite guards, his eyes fixed upon them like a predator sizing up its prey.
Despite Thomas''s own considerable height and muscular build, the guard was somehow even more imposing. He exuded raw power, with arms as thick as oak trunks and a stance that radiated authority and unshakable confidence. Clad in rugged leather armor adorned with chains wrapped around his forearms, he cut an intimidating figure. A black fur cloak draped over his shoulders, its edges brushing against the floor like the dark wings of some mythical beast. The flickering light from a few enchanted lamps cast shadows across his face, highlighting sharp, almost feral eyes that gleamed with a predatory thirst.
"Which of you wants to face me first?" the guard challenged, extending a massive hand toward them in a mocking invitation to combat.
A sliver of apprehension wormed its way into Thomas''s gut. It had been a long time since he''d fought another human¡ªa true combatant capable of strategy and cunning. In recent years, his battles had been against goblins and other mindless creatures, foes that didn''t compare to a sentient, skilled opponent. He cast a glance at Jamie, his new friend and, ostensibly, his employer. The bard was nearly a head shorter and of slighter build. Thomas couldn''t imagine how someone so diminutive could assist in a fight like this.
¡®It''s time to prove my worth,¡¯ Thomas thought, steeling himself.
"Jamie, you go on ahead," he said aloud, infusing his voice with confidence he didn''t entirely feel. "I''ll take care of him."
He half-expected Jamie to argue, but the bard merely shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the tension in the air. Without a word, Jamie strode forward, passing the guard as if he were nothing more than a mere obstacle in his path. The guard didn''t move to stop him, his gaze remaining locked on Thomas.
"He''ll meet my brother soon enough," the guard said, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "So let''s focus on just the two of us."
Without warning, he lunged down the stairs with surprising speed for someone of his size. His fist came crashing toward Thomas with the force of a battering ram. Thomas raised his arms in a defensive cross, absorbing the blow but feeling the shockwave reverberate up to his shoulders.
¡®No rules,¡¯ Thomas reminded himself, gritting his teeth. ¡®It''s like the street fights of old. I need to take him down fast.¡¯
The guard pressed his advantage, launching a flurry of powerful strikes. Each movement was precise yet brutal, aiming to overwhelm rather than outmaneuver. Chains clinked ominously with each swing of his arms, the metal glinting in the low light.
The opponent offered Thomas no respite, pressing the assault relentlessly and leaving him no opportunity to counterattack or even draw his short sword. If it wasn''t a barrage of punches and kicks, it was the sheer force of the guard''s massive arm sweeping toward him, each swing powerful enough to shove him backward.
During one such onslaught, Thomas swiftly ducked, causing the guard''s fist to crash into the wall instead of connecting with his skull. Expecting a momentary advantage as his foe recoiled in pain, Thomas was stunned when, instead, the guard''s fist punched clean through the thick wooden wall, splintering it as if it were mere parchment.
¡®By the gods,¡¯ Thomas thought, his heart pounding in his chest. ¡®No wonder my arms are going numb¡ªthis guy is a monster.¡¯
Every attack he dodged resulted in more of the mansion''s interior being destroyed. Walls cracked, staircases splintered, and furniture was reduced to shards under the guard''s unbridled fury. Yet despite the chaos, the guard showed no sign of slowing or reducing his strength.
To make matters worse, chains were wrapped around the guard''s forearms, allowing him to deflect Thomas''s strikes with ease whenever a rare opening presented itself. Each time Thomas thought he might press an advantage, the chains would block his strikes, forcing him back on the defensive.
Even so, Thomas remained resolute. With each passing moment, he started to notice the strain beginning to show on the guard''s face¡ªthe flush of exertion, the sheen of sweat on his brow. The man''s breathing grew heavier, his attacks fractionally slower.
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¡®Sooner or later, he''ll have to catch his breath,¡¯ Thomas reassured himself, patiently awaiting the right moment.
That moment arrived sooner than expected. Four more thunderous blows, and the guard''s punches became sluggish, his movements more exaggerated and easier to anticipate.
¡®Now!¡¯ Thomas seized the opportunity. He lunged forward, extending his right hand in a precise strike that connected squarely with the guard''s chin. The impact was so well-timed and forceful that it sent his opponent crashing to the floor almost instantly.
"Curse you," the guard spat, his voice echoing loudly through the ravaged hall.
Wasting no time, Thomas drew his short sword from his belt and advanced on the fallen enemy. Victory seemed within reach. However, just as he readied his blade to deliver the finishing blow, a guttural roar erupted from the guard, the sound reverberating off the walls and sending a shiver down Thomas''s spine.
[Roar]
A primal fear gripped him. ¡®This is where having a proper class makes all the difference,¡¯ Thomas berated himself. He shouldn''t have given his opponent the chance to use one of his abilities. ¡®All I have is the [Farmer]. How am I supposed to contend with a [Barbarian]?¡¯
While Thomas was still trembling from the effects of the roar, the guard pulled a small warhammer from his back. Its handle was short, but the weapon appeared heavy. "If you''re going to use a weapon, it''s only fair that I use one too." The guard spoke fiercely.
Thomas would have liked to comment that the chains were already a weapon, but the effect had not yet worn off.
The guard lunged forward, his warhammer sweeping in a wide arc. Thomas, finally free from the effect of [Roar], dodged the initial swing, narrowly avoiding the deadly momentum of the massive weapon. Each time he tried to counterattack, the barbarian expertly deflected his short sword with the head of the warhammer, using its weight to push Thomas''s blade aside and close the distance between them.
A change had come over the guard since their bout began. The earlier reckless aggression was replaced with calculated, measured strikes. Thomas recognized the shift immediately. ¡®He''s trying to corner me,¡¯ he realized. Each blow drove him closer to the walls of the grand hall, limiting his room to maneuver.
The mansion bore the scars of their battle¡ªtapestries torn, furniture shattered, and walls marred by heavy impacts. Thomas''s breathing quickened as he found himself with his back nearly against the cold stone. ¡®I could try to run, find another room to regroup,¡¯ he thought, but the guard seemed to anticipate every move, cutting off any possible escape routes.
¡®If only I had a better class,¡¯ Thomas lamented inwardly. ¡®If I weren''t a mere [Farmer], I might stand a chance.¡¯ Frustration bubbled within him, but he pushed it aside. There was no time for self-pity.
The barbarian raised his warhammer high, preparing a crushing vertical strike. With no other option, Thomas braced himself, bringing his short sword up to parry. The impact rattled his entire arm, pain shooting through his wrist as the sheer force nearly tore the weapon from his grasp.
"Blast! I can''t keep this up," Thomas muttered through gritted teeth, watching as the guard prepared for another attack. Desperation clawed at him. He summoned all his strength, raising his sword once more in a shaky defense. ¡®Julie!¡¯ His daughter''s image flashed in his mind, fueling his determination.
But the expected blow never came.
Breathing hard, Thomas glanced up to see the guard''s expression shift from fierce concentration to one of stunned surprise. A trickle of blood escaped the corner of the guard''s mouth, and his grip on the warhammer slackened. Protruding from his abdomen was the tip of a blade.
The guard staggered, and as he collapsed to his knees, Thomas caught sight of Jamie standing behind him. The bard''s dagger gleamed crimson in the dim light, and he wore a slightly exasperated expression, one hand on his hip.
"Finished with your ''go on ahead, I''ll handle him'' routine?" Jamie quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Uh..." Thomas managed, still processing the sudden turn of events.
"Did you really think I''d just leave you to fight him alone? Especially when it''s much easier¡ªand quicker¡ªfor the two of us to take him down together?" Jamie shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"B-but... I thought..." Thomas stammered, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment.
"Come on, don''t dwell on it. Grab his coin pouch, and let''s keep moving," Jamie suggested, wiping his dagger clean before sheathing it.
As reality settled in, Thomas felt a pang of guilt. Part of him felt tainted for having been saved through what some might call a dishonorable move. Yet, he couldn''t deny the flood of relief at still being alive.
His momentary solace was short-lived as he knelt beside the fallen guard to retrieve the pouch. The sight was grim¡ªthree precise wounds marked the guard''s back, evidence of Jamie''s swift handiwork. The strikes had been lethal, aimed at vital points to ensure a quick end.
Thomas hesitated, his hand hovering over the coin pouch. A sense of unease settled over him. ¡®Looting the dead... Is this what I''ve come to?¡¯ he wondered. But then, practicality intervened. ¡®Well... he won''t be needing it anymore,¡¯ he reasoned, securing the pouch at his belt.
Out of the corner of his eye, a faint glow caught his attention. Golden letters appeared.
| You have defeated one of the Cutpurses'' Main Guards.
| The God of [Mischief] is feeling proud.
| 250 Experience Points obtained
A serene smile spread across Thomas''s face. It was the first time he''d obtained that much experience.
Chapter 29: Ezek
Thomas wore a slight smile on his face, but Jamie seemed even more exhilarated. ¡®Two hundred and fifty experience points¡ªfor both of us!¡¯ he celebrated inwardly as the shimmering notifications faded from view.
¡°I''ll have to be careful not to become a mass murderer¡¡± Jamie muttered under his breath, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of how much experience he might gain if he killed the entire gang. Beside him, Jay nodded silently in agreement, his eyes reflecting a shared understanding.
"Let''s move. We still need to explore the second floor," Jamie said, snapping Thomas out of his reverie. Thomas was still catching his breath, the adrenaline from the recent battle coursing through his veins.
They ascended the long, winding staircase, each wooden step creaking softly underfoot. At the top, they were met with a single, dimly lit corridor stretching out before them. Doors lined the hallway¡ªsome stood ajar, while others remained firmly closed.
Jamie surveyed the corridor, his mind racing to devise a safer way to proceed. ¡®Jay, can''t you go from room to room and tell me what''s inside?¡¯ he asked in his mind, hoping his companion could scout ahead.
Jay''s whiskers twitched as he responded, "No. Unfortunately, our bond doesn''t allow us to separate. I need to stay in the same room as you at all times."
¡®Damn it,¡¯ Jamie thought, disappointment flickering across his face at the loss of the possibility of an invulnerable scout.
Both men advanced cautiously down the corridor, every sense attuned to their surroundings. They moved with as much stealth as possible, footsteps barely a whisper against the worn floorboards. Reaching the first open doorway, they paused, attempting to glean without crossing the threshold.
Even from their point of view, they could make out simple bunk beds lined against the walls, rough wooden furniture, and a scattering of discarded clothes strewn across the floor.
"A dormitory?" Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible.
Jamie nodded, stretching his neck slightly to peer deeper into the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary¡ªno signs of life or anything of interest.
"Empty," he murmured. "Let''s keep moving."
They continued down the hall, passing two more doors. Each was locked, the handles refusing to budge even under Jamie''s careful touch. Unwilling to force them and risk alerting anyone nearby, they pressed on toward the last room at the corridor''s end.
The door was slightly ajar, hanging loosely on its hinges. Jamie approached with caution, pressing his ear against the cold wood to listen for any signs of life within. Silence greeted him once more. Gently pushing the door open, he peered inside, his eyes darting around as he took in every detail.
The room was bathed in the soft glow of scattered candles and a lone lantern hanging near a wooden wall. The air was thick with the scent of melted wax and aged timber. On the walls hung dozens of maps¡ªsome meticulously drawn on parchment, others crudely sketched on what appeared to be the hides of animals or perhaps monsters.
At the center stood a sturdy oak table. Atop it lay a small pouch, its contents spilled carelessly across the surface¡ªsilver coins gleaming dully in the subdued light, as if someone had tossed them there in haste. In one corner, several bookshelves bowed under the weight of a few scattered tomes, their spines worn and pages yellowed with age. Beside them rested a small metal chest, its once-polished exterior now marred by patches of rust. An iron padlock secured it tightly at the front.
A soft sound caught Jamie''s attention. He turned to see Jay, his ever-present feline guardian, sniffing the air intently. The cat''s nose twitched in an unusual pattern.
¡®What is it?¡¯ Jamie asked silently, their thoughts entwined through their unique bond.
"My nose... Something tells me there''s gold inside here," Jay responded. The cat stretched himself over the chest, his translucent form unable to penetrate the solid metal, yet his instincts assured him of the hidden treasure.
Jamie arched an eyebrow. ¡®Gold, you say?¡¯ He glanced back at the chest, contemplating the possibilities.
He moved toward the table, eyes scanning the disarray of papers strewn across it. Some documents bore singed edges, evidence of hurried attempts to destroy them. Others were torn or crumpled, discarded in apparent haste. As he sifted through the mess, certain papers caught his attention. They appeared to be incriminating evidence against the Cutpurses'' rivals: detailed accounts of the trade and distribution of Dragon Powder. Another document contained a woman''s testimony about a brothel that had been set up.
Jamie''s gaze shifted to the maps adorning the walls. Most depicted various districts of Hafenstadt, each marked with routes and annotations. One map stood out¡ªa detailed rendering of the underground sewer system beneath the city. ¡®The sewers of Hafenstadt? But why?¡¯ he mused aloud. The realization struck him swiftly. ¡®Could they be using the tunnels to move goods?¡¯
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Folding the underground map carefully, Jamie tucked it securely inside his coat.
"See if you can open the chest," he whispered to Thomas, his voice barely audible over the soft crackle of candlelight.
Thomas gave him a curious look but moved toward the chest. Kneeling down, he examined the heavy padlock, his brow furrowing in concentration. He tugged at it tentatively, the metal clanking dully but refusing to yield.
"What am I supposed to do with this?" Thomas murmured, glancing back at Jamie.
Jamie shrugged lightly, his attention still focused on the documents before him. "Not sure. But there''s likely something important inside if it''s locked up like that."
Thomas sighed, turning back to the chest. "I''m not exactly skilled in lockpicking."
"Perhaps there''s a key around here somewhere," Jamie suggested, rifling through the table drawers. Old quills, dried ink pots, and scraps of parchment met his search, but no key.
"Hey, shouldn''t someone be watching the door?" Jay''s voice echoed urgently in Jamie''s mind.
Unfortunately, only Jamie could hear him. A cold dread washed over him as he turned toward the door¡ªit was already too late.
He felt the chill of steel slicing through the air an instant before it bit into his flesh. The impact was abrupt, a jarring blow followed by a searing pain that radiated through his abdomen like liquid fire. His legs weakened, threatening to give way beneath him, and the sounds of the room around him dulled to a distant murmur.
Through the haze of pain, Jamie''s eyes locked onto the figure before him: a wiry half-elf with a sadistic grin stretching across his angular face. Ezek, the leader of the Cutpurses. His lips moved, forming words that Jamie couldn''t quite grasp over the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. Instead of listening, Jamie gritted his teeth, mustering his waning strength to clamp his hand around Ezek''s wrist, stopping the dagger from plunging deeper.
¡®Damn. I didn¡¯t hear him approaching.¡¯ Jamie had relied on his senses to feel safe. But upon seeing the half-elf, he began to understand. His footsteps weren¡¯t just silent¡ªthey made no sound at all.
Behind Ezek loomed one of his hulking guards, a giant of a man whose head nearly brushed the ceiling. The guard began to move as if preparing to attack, his heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards. But before he could reach Jamie, Thomas sprang into action. With determined ferocity, Thomas wielded his short sword, skillfully keeping the behemoth at bay.
Jamie forced himself to block out the scuffle unfolding beside him, narrowing his focus to the menace directly before him. He tightened his grip on Ezek''s arm, preventing the half-elf from withdrawing the blade¡ªor worse, twisting it. Ezek''s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight as he muttered taunts Jamie couldn''t¡ªor wouldn''t¡ªprocess. With his right hand holding firm, Jamie''s left hand began weaving a subtle pattern, fingers poised to unleash a surprise.
"You should learn not to laugh at your opponents," Jamie rasped, the metallic taste of blood coating his tongue.
Ezek sneered, leaning in closer. "But I don''t consider you an opponent," he hissed. "Just a thieving rat-"
As Ezek continued his mocking tirade, Jamie acted swiftly, casting spell after spell without hesitation.
[Dancing Lights]
[Ghost Sounds]
[Cause Fear]
He didn''t wait to see which enchantments took hold; there was no time for caution. First, he summoned dazzling lights that exploded in front of Ezek''s eyes, brilliant flashes that forced the half-elf to recoil in surprise. Next, he filled the air with haunting, ethereal sounds¡ªthe wails of specters and whispers of the lost¡ªthat echoed at an unnerving volume, seeming to emanate from the very walls. Finally, he channeled his mana into a potent spell that pierced Ezek''s defenses, instilling a deep, irrational fear within him.
Physical strength had never been Jamie''s forte, but the desperate will to survive ignited a fierce energy inside him. Seizing the moment as Ezek staggered under his magic assault, Jamie launched himself forward. With his free hand, he delivered a relentless barrage of punches to Ezek''s face. Blow after blow connected, each fueled by adrenaline and raw will. He didn''t stop to assess the damage or consider the pain in his own bruised knuckles; he simply kept striking. By the third or fourth punch, he felt the satisfying crunch of bone as Ezek''s nose shattered under his fist.
He didn''t relent until he felt the strength drain from Ezek''s body. The half-elf''s arrogant sneer was replaced by a dazed, uncomprehending stare, blood trickling down his face. The only thing keeping him upright was Jamie''s tight grip on his arm. With a final shove, Jamie released him. Ezek''s hand loosened its grip on the dagger that was still embedded in Jamie''s abdomen, and the gang leader crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
Despite having defeated the leader of the Cutpurses, Jamie found no solace in his victory. ¡®If he hadn''t underestimated me and had stopped me from using magic, I would have been killed.¡¯ Jamie felt the bitter taste of having tempted fate.
A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed with every beat of his heart, radiating from the wound and spreading through his body like cracks spiderwebbing across glass. The weight of his own body became unbearable, and his vision blurred at the edges. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, gasping for breath as he struggled to regain his strength.
Moments later, Thomas burst back into the room, his eyes widening in alarm as he took in the scene.
"Jamie! Are you alright?" Thomas exclaimed, rushing to his side. His face was etched with concern, the earlier determination now overshadowed by worry.
"I¡ªI think so," Jamie managed to reply, his voice strained. "It just hurts like hell."
Thomas glanced down at the dagger wound, blood seeping through Jamie''s fingers as he pressed a hand against it. "We need to get you help."
Jamie shook his head weakly. "Not yet. We have to finish what we came here to do."
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked, confusion mingling with his concern.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Jamie began to drag himself across the floor toward where Ezek lay.
With his right hand, he drew the dagger from his pocket and swiftly slashed the half-elf''s throat, turning the ground into a pool of blood.
| You have killed the Cutpurses'' Leader.
[ The God of Thieves smiles at your luck ]
| You got 500 Experience Points
Chapter 30: Finishing the job
| You have killed the Cutpurses'' Leader.
[The God of Thieves has a gift for you.]
| You got 500 Experience Points
Jamie lowered his gaze as the shimmering notification faded from his sight. He extended a hand to Thomas, who stood nearby with a vacant look, still processing the cold decisiveness with which his leader had dispatched the half-elf.
"He would have done the same to us," Jamie said, his voice steady but not unkind. Draping an arm over Thomas''s shoulders. "You''d do the same to a monster; you can''t see them any differently. This won''t be the last time you witness something like this. As we grow, more people will aim to take our places, and simply handing them over to the city guard isn''t an option. Only the grave will keep them from coming after us."
Thomas nodded slowly, but his eyes remained troubled. "Right," he murmured, attempting to muster some confidence.
Jamie gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Can you grab the chest?" he asked.
"Maybe," Thomas replied. He walked over to the iron-bound chest and grasped one of its handles. The chest had seemed heavy to Jamie, but in Thomas''s sturdy grip, it was as light as a chair¡ªsomething he could move with ease from one place to another.
Together, they began to make their way out of the room¡ªJamie leaning on Thomas for support, his steps still unsteady, and Thomas carrying the chest with effortless strength. As they stepped into the corridor, the aftermath of the earlier skirmish was evident. The walls bore battle scars: gaping holes, shattered furniture, and slashes marking every surface. Debris littered the floor, remnants of the fierce struggle between Thomas and the guard.
As they approached a doorway that had previously been sealed, they spotted the guard lying unconscious on the floor, a mace fallen beside him. His massive form was sprawled across the threshold, armor dented and bloodied.
Jamie paused, watching the subtle rise and fall of the guard''s chest¡ªthe only sign of life in the otherwise still form. Reaching into his belt, Jamie drew his dagger and held it out to Thomas.
"Finish the job," he said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "We can''t leave any of the bosses behind."
Thomas''s eyes were wide with despair, a storm of emotions swirling within them. He seemed utterly lost, paralyzed by the weight of what was being asked of him.
"Remember," Jamie said calmly, his voice firm yet gentle. "It''s like killing a monster or an animal. A chicken¡ªyou break its neck. A cow¡ªyou cut its veins. With a human, you cut right here." He pointed to the place where the jugular vein lay beneath the skin.
The blood drained from Thomas''s face, leaving him as pale as parchment. His hands trembled, but he nodded slowly. Kneeling beside the unconscious guard, he gripped the dagger tightly. With a deep, shaky breath, he placed the blade beneath the man''s chin.
Thomas closed his eyes, steeling himself for what was to come. In a swift, determined motion, he drew the dagger across the guard''s throat. The blade met little resistance, slicing cleanly. Warm blood poured onto the floor, a crimson tide that quickly seeped into the cracks between the wood. It splashed onto Thomas''s knees, soaking into his trousers until they were drenched.
| Your Lieutenant killed one of the Cutpurses'' Main Guards.
[The God of War is watching you with interest]
[The God of Mystery is having fun with your adventure]
[Your choice saddens the Goddess of Mercy]
| 250 Experience Points obtained
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Experience: [1620 / 2000]
Though new notifications flickered at the edge of his vision, Jamie''s attention was elsewhere. He could see that something had shifted within Thomas¡ªsomething had broken or perhaps fallen into place. ¡®He must go through this if he wishes to continue on this journey,¡¯ Jamie thought, trying to soothe the pang of guilt gnawing at him.
For several moments, Thomas remained kneeling, his gaze fixed on the lifeless form before him. The gravity of his actions seemed to weigh heavily upon him. Slowly, he brought his palms together before his face, fingers intertwined, and bowed his head in silent prayer. Jamie didn''t know to which deity Thomas offered his supplications, but he respected the sanctity of the moment. Jay approached quietly and sat beside Thomas, his luminous eyes reflecting the ritual.
When Thomas finally rose to his feet, there was a subtle change in him. His shoulders were squared, the earlier turmoil in his eyes replaced with a resolute calm. It was as though a burden had been lifted¡ªor perhaps, a new one had been accepted. ¡®Sometimes I forget how powerful Faith is for some people,¡¯ Jamie thought.
"Are you alright?" Jamie asked softly.
Thomas met his gaze and gave a slight nod. "I will be," he replied, his voice steadier than before.
Jamie offered a faint smile. "Then let''s finish what we started."
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The two companions moved slowly through the dimly lit corridor, making their way down to the ground floor. Jamie leaned heavily on Thomas, each step a test of his waning strength as the pain from the dagger lodged in his abdomen pulsed with relentless intensity.
"Should we destroy the house? Maybe set it on fire?" Thomas whispered urgently. "You know, eliminate any chance of them regrouping?"
Jamie shook his head. "No. Fire would be too dangerous¡ªonly the gods know where it might spread," he replied. "Besides, we''ve done enough. Without a clear line of succession, they''ll turn on each other. They''ll all be scrambling for power, and that''ll make them fall one by one like flies."
They slipped out through one of the cracked windows, the cool night air washing over them. Outside, the remaining members of the Cutpurses lay sprawled across the ground, ensnared in vivid hallucinations from Jamie''s earlier enchantments. Their eyes stared vacantly into the darkness, lips muttering incoherent passages as they grappled with unseen phantasms.
"Plus," Jamie added, casting a glance back at the incapacitated thieves, "we''re taking all the coin they had. That''ll breed even more discord among them. Give it a few days, and they''ll tear themselves apart without any help from us."
Thomas nodded, adjusting his grip on the heavy iron-bound chest he carried. Together, they moved through the deserted streets, guiding each other back toward the Golden Fiddle. At this late hour, the city slumbered, its usual clamor reduced to distant whispers. The tavern loomed ahead, dark and silent¡ªits doors locked, shutters drawn. Even Elize had gone home.
Reaching the tavern''s entrance, Jamie fumbled with a set of keys, his fingers slick with sweat and trembling from fatigue. The lock clicked open, and they slipped inside, the familiar scent of wine and worn wood enveloping them. The silence within felt almost eerie, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere the establishment usually held.
Up the creaking stairs they went, each step a labor. Thomas set down the chest with a heavy thud in the dimly lit master room above. He turned to Jamie; concern etched across his face as his eyes fell upon the dagger still protruding from Jamie''s abdomen.
"What are we going to do about that?" Thomas asked, gesturing toward the wound.
Jamie glanced down, grimacing at the sight. "I need you to find a cleric," he said, his voice strained.
Thomas hesitated. "That''s going to be expensive," he warned.
Jamie managed a weary smile. "No matter. What we''ve gained tonight will cover it, and there''ll be plenty left over. Leave the chest in the cellar¡ªit''s safer there."
"Alright," Thomas agreed, though worry still shadowed his features.
Thomas nodded before slipping out of the tavern and disappearing into the shadowed streets beyond. Jamie knew that the nearest temple housing a good cleric was in the Commercial Quarter. Waking them at this hour¡ªand convincing them to venture out¡ªwould require more than a polite request. Likely, Thomas would need to part with several silver coins, perhaps even a gold piece, to secure their aid.
Of course, they could have gone after a [Witch Doctor], the common level of the Healer classes¡ªit might have cost only a few silver pieces and some bronze ones. However, their services were quite limited, especially without the use of magic.
Left alone, Jamie struggled to keep himself conscious. The room swayed gently, and the edges of his vision threatened to blur into darkness. Jay regarded him with an inscrutable expression.
"What did you think of tonight?" Jamie asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Brutal," Jay replied candidly, his tail flicking. "I would never have the guts."
Jamie managed a faint smile. "That''s why I''m here. I hope it serves as a lesson for you."
Jay began to groom himself thoughtfully. "I''m not sure I want to learn this; sometimes you forget I¡¯m a cleric," he spoke between licks.
Leaning back against the wall near the window, Jamie let out a weary sigh. The cool night air drifted in, carrying with it the distant sounds of the sleeping city. He gazed up at one of the moons, a sliver of silver hanging low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the room.
Minutes stretched on, feeling like hours. The pain in his abdomen was a constant, throbbing ache. He pressed a hand against the wound, feeling the warmth of his own blood seep between his fingers. Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to steady his breathing.
The creak of the tavern door announced Thomas''s return. He entered with a tall figure clad in simple robes¡ªthe cleric. The man''s expression was a mixture of annoyance and concern, his brows furrowed as he took in the sight of Jamie slumped against the wall.
"This is him?" the cleric asked curtly.
Thomas nodded. "He''s in bad shape. Can you help?"
The cleric approached Jamie, kneeling beside him. "Let''s see what we''re dealing with," he muttered. His hands hovered over the wound, a faint glow emanating from his fingertips. "You must have enemies in low places to get into a scrape like this."
"Something like that," Jamie replied tightly.
"Hold still," the cleric instructed. He began to chant under his breath. As he spoke, the glow intensified, bathing the room in soft, golden light.
With a swift, practiced motion, the cleric grasped the dagger''s hilt protruding from Jamie''s abdomen. "This will hurt," he warned.
"Just do it," Jamie gritted out.
The blade slid free, and a fresh wave of pain surged through Jamie''s body. He bit back a cry, muscles tensing. But almost immediately, warmth spread from the wound as the cleric pressed his palms over it. The light pooled around his hands, and Jamie felt the torn flesh knitting back together, the pain ebbing to a dull throb.
After a few moments, the glow faded. The cleric sat back on his heels, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow. "There. The wound is closed, but you''ll need rest to recover your strength."
Jamie touched the spot where the dagger had been. Only smooth skin met his fingers, with just a faint scar as a reminder. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
The cleric stood, extending a hand toward Thomas. "My fee."
Thomas pulled a small pouch from his belt and counted fifty silver coins. "As agreed."
"Pleasure doing business," the cleric said dryly, pocketing the coins. Without another word, he turned and left, the door swinging shut behind him.
As the echoes of the cleric''s departure faded, the tavern settled into silence once more.
Shortly after, it was Thomas''s turn to leave and return home and Jamie''s turn to rest.
---
While recovering, Jamie remained focused on growing the Golden Fiddle, which seemed to become more and more popular every day. Until finally, his prediction came true.
A familiar sensation tingled at the edge of Jamie''s awareness. Golden scripts shimmered into view before his eyes.
| You destroyed the ¡®Cutpurses.¡¯
[The Pantheon bless you with 1,000 Experience Points]
Chapter 31: Level 2
| You destroyed the ¡®Cutpurses.¡¯
[The Pantheon blesses you with 1,000 Experience Points]
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Experience: [2620 / 2000]
[You leveled up!]
Jamie stared in amazement as dozens of notifications cascaded before his eyes. The numbers and words seemed to dance and shift. His heart quickened. "I leveled up? Already?" he whispered to himself, scarcely believing it.
As the initial messages faded, new ones took their place, the letters rearranging themselves in midair.
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Level: 2
| Experience: [620 / 5000]
"Five thousand?" Jamie murmured, his brow furrowing. "It increased quite a bit." He pondered the steep climb to the next level.
Another notification appeared, drawing his attention:
[You obtained a new talent]
A grin spread across his face. "Great! What can I choose?" Rubbing his hands together, Jamie felt a surge of excitement. The prospect of selecting a reward was invigorating¡ªperhaps he could tailor his abilities to better suit his plans.
However, his enthusiasm was cut short when the following message appeared.
[Talent Obtained: Healthy Territory]
His smile faded, replaced by a look of surprise. "What?! I can''t select?" he exclaimed, frustration creeping into his voice. He had expected to have a choice in the matter.
From the corner of the room, a soft voice chimed in. "It''s normal," said Jay. The sleek black cat sat perched atop a nearby shelf, his luminous green eyes observing Jamie with amusement. "In the end, it''s in the hands of the gods."
Jamie sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Damn it..." he answered.
A detailed description unfurled before him as he resigned himself.
[Healthy Territory]
| Increases the Constitution of your allies by one point while within your territory.
"Well... that''s not bad," he admitted, feeling a flicker of optimism return.
"Not bad at all," Jay agreed, leaping gracefully to the table beside him.
Jamie nodded. "This could be useful."
Before he could dwell further, another notification appeared.
[You have obtained a new Skill]
This time, an extensive list of options began to scroll in front of him, each word etched in shimmering letters.
- Athletics
- Diplomacy
- Knowledge
- Stealth
- Perception
- Arcane
- Survival
- Intimidation
- Medicine
- Investigation
Dozens more continued to appear, a seemingly endless array of possibilities. Jamie''s eyes roamed over them, curiosity piqued.
"But what in the world is a skill?" he wondered aloud, glancing at Jay, who had now settled comfortably on his shoulder.
"It''s like an alignment or a focus," the cat explained, his tail swaying lazily. "It won''t instantly grant you expertise in these areas, but it will ease your learning and proficiency. Think of it as a door slightly ajar, waiting for you to push it open."
"Ah," Jamie mused. "So it makes it easier to develop these abilities."
"Exactly," Jay confirmed. "A nudge in the right direction."
Jamie scanned the list once more, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Learning had always come naturally to him, but even he had areas where improvement was needed. His gaze settled on one word in particular.
"Then let''s go with Stealth," he decided. "I shouldn¡¯t be in the frontline of a battle. Last time I got a dagger to my guts."
[Skill Acquired: Stealth]
[GangMaker System Updating¡]
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[New trait added to GangMaker.]
[The God of Mystery is deliberating on what you will receive.]
[Thinking¡]
[The God of Mystery believes he knows what you need to make things interesting.]
[ [Quest Giver] obtained]
Jamie leaned forward. "Quest Giver?" he murmured aloud.
| [Quest Giver]
| Invest your experience points into creating Quests.
| Define your allies missions, and the gods will grant bonuses to your allies upon success.
| You will receive experience as a result.
| If your ally fails the mission, you lose the experience invested.
| Each mission will be evaluated by the gods; if deemed a false quest, you will automatically lose the experience.
"Interesting," Jamie mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But how does this appear to others? Do they receive a quest notification, or is it only visible to me?"
Jay tilted his head. "We won''t know unless you test it," he suggested. "It''s the only way to find out."
Before Jamie could answer, more notifications appeared once more.
| You have obtained five additional slots for your team.
| Members Slots: [2/10]
| Your lieutenant has leveled up!
| Thomas Hartfield has reached Level 2.
| Thomas Hartfield''s trust has increased by +10.
| Trust: [60/100]
A satisfied smile spread across Jamie''s face. "Thomas leveled up as well," he noted.
Just then, the door to his bedroom burst open with a clatter, the sound echoing sharply in the stillness. Thomas stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, eyes wide with excitement and apprehension.
"What''s happening?" Thomas demanded, his voice edged with nervous energy.
Jamie raised an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle at his friend''s evident agitation. "What do you mean?"
"I¡ªI leveled up!" Thomas exclaimed, stepping into the room. "I''ve been stuck at Level 1 for over five years. And now, all of a sudden, I advance to Level 2!" His hands trembled slightly, whether from nerves or exhilaration, Jamie couldn''t tell.
Jamie gestured for him to sit. "It seems the Cutpurses have finally been dismantled," he explained. "We received experience from their downfall."
Thomas crossed the room with heavy steps, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "It''s one surprise after another," he muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair.
"What do you think about leveling up?" Jamie asked, genuine curiosity in his tone.
Thomas shrugged, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I''m still a [Farmer] ¡" he admitted, his voice lowering as though embarrassed. "But even so, I can feel a difference¡ªa bit more strength, perhaps. Also, I got a Talent¡ª[Farmer¡¯s Stamina]¡ªIt makes it harder for me to get tired."
"That''s excellent news," Jamie encouraged. "We''ll need you to grow stronger. There are more challenges ahead."
Thomas glanced up, his eyes meeting Jamie''s. "I suppose you''re right. It''s just... unexpected."
"Now, onto another matter," Jamie said, his gaze steady on Thomas. "Did you manage to open the chest?"
"Ah!" Thomas exclaimed, startled as if snapped out of a trance. "Yes, I did¡ªI borrowed some tools from Knall, and it finally opened. It''s in the cellar."
"Then let''s have a look." Jamie braced himself against the wall and pushed up from the wooden chair he''d been sitting on. Though his wounds were healing, a residual ache lingered.
Step by step, they descended from the second floor, the creak of the wooden stairs echoing softly. At this hour, the main hall of the Golden Fiddle was still empty. Elize and the other girls bustled about, arranging chairs and cleaning the floor, preparing the tavern for the day ahead.
Jamie offered them a brief nod as they passed through, slipping behind the bar to the discreet door that led down to the cellar. The air grew cooler as they descended the narrow staircase, the scent of earth and aged wood enveloping them.
Knall had been busy. Though no new equipment had been installed yet, various repair materials¡ªplanks of wood, coils of rope, and tools¡ªwere scattered about in organized chaos.
The chest was in the far corner of the cellar, tucked beside a wall where some of the stones sat loose. The metal padlock securing it hung askew, visibly bent and broken.
"I had to break it," Thomas admitted, holding up the heavy hammer and pliers he''d used. "There was no other way."
Jamie chuckled softly. "No worries." He crouched carefully beside the chest, mindful of any lingering traps. A fleeting thought crossed his mind¡ªperhaps he should have checked for enchantments or mechanical devices before opening. But it was too late now.
He lifted the lid slowly. The hinges protested with a low creak, revealing the contents within. A soft glow met their eyes¡ªa small pile of gold coins gleaming softly, also nestled among the coins were several document.
"Wow!" Thomas breathed, eyes wide with awe. His usually stoic demeanor melted away, replaced by childlike wonder at the sight of the treasure they obtained.
"No doubt about it. Wow," echoed Jay, who had silently padded after them.
Jamie allowed himself a satisfied smile. "Quite the treasure," he agreed. He sifted through the gold coins briefly, estimating their worth. But it was the documents that truly caught his attention.
He unfolded the parchments carefully, scanning the elegant but hastily penned script. "These appear to be property deeds," he noted. "Legal rights to the buildings the Cutpurses were using."
Thomas leaned over his shoulder. "Wait. They legally owned those places? Does that mean ¡?"
"Well, we have to verify if these documents are real," Jamie confirmed, a spark of triumph in his eyes. "But in the meantime, it looks like these properties now belong to us."
"That''s amazing," Thomas said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Jamie folded the documents with care. ''Excellent,'' he thought. ''This could expand our influence significantly.''
Rising to his feet, he turned to Thomas. "I need you to visit Knall. We need a new padlock for this chest¡ªone sturdy enough to keep unwanted eyes and hands away, but that we can open without resorting to brute force."
Thomas scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Right. Sorry about that. I''ll see to it."
He began to head toward the stairs but hesitated halfway up, turning back with a serious expression. "Jamie," he began cautiously, "I think it''s best if you keep quiet about those... buffs you can offer."
Jamie raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Oh? What brings this up?"
Thomas took a deep breath. "I''ve gained more experience in the past few days than I have in years. I know it''s because I''m part of your ''team'' somehow. If word gets out that you can grant such things, others might try to..."
A thoughtful silence settled between them. Jamie stroked his chin, considering his words. "You make a valid point," he admitted. "However, I think it¡¯s exactly the opposite. We should use this to acquire the best talent possible and become strong before such things might become a problem."
"I see." Thomas''s posture relaxed slightly.
Thomas turned to leave but was stopped by the sound of hurried footsteps descending the stairs. Elize appeared, her skirts gathered in one hand as she navigated the steps with uncharacteristic haste.
"Boss," she called, a note of urgency in her voice. "A butler just came by and left this letter for you. Said it was important."
She extended an envelope toward Jamie. The paper was crisp and of fine quality, sealed with a distinctive wax emblem¡ªa crest depicting a ship framed by laurel branches.
Jamie''s eyes narrowed as he recognized the symbol. "Thank you, Elize," he said, accepting the letter. He didn''t need a closer look to confirm¡ªit was the seal of the noble house of Hafenstadt.
Chapter 32: The Letter
Jamie''s eyes narrowed as he recognized the symbol ornamented on the wax seal. "Thank you, Elize," he said, accepting the letter with care. He didn''t need a closer look to confirm it¡ªit was unmistakably the sigil of the noble house of Hafenstadt.
For a moment, he stood contemplating the envelope in his hands. His mind raced with possibilities about its contents¡ªnone of them particularly reassuring. The air was thick with a tense silence, broken only by the distant muffled sounds of the girls cleaning the tavern above.
"Aren''t you going to open it?" Jay inquired, his voice slicing through the quiet. The cat sat perched atop a stack of crates, his eyes fixed intently on Jamie''s face.
It wasn''t just Jay who watched him closely. Elize and Thomas stood nearby, their gazes steady and concerned. They observed their leader''s uncharacteristically solemn demeanor as he stared at the letter. It was rare to see Jamie without his usual easygoing smile; this newfound gravity was a signal that something serious was at hand.
It was perhaps one of the few times they had seen him so somber. It was not the everyday seriousness of managing the tavern or dealing with minor troubles; it was a more profound weight that suggested a new problem had arisen.
"Damn. This isn''t a good sign," Jamie muttered under his breath. With a resigned sigh, he broke the seal and unfolded the fine parchment.
He moved to sit on one of the wooden crates scattered across the cellar, the rough wood creaking slightly beneath him. The flickering light from the lanterns cast shifting shadows on his face as he read, his eyes scanning the elegant script. Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last, as his companions waited in anxious silence.
Upon finishing, Jamie exhaled deeply, frustration and contemplation playing across his features. He extended the letter toward Thomas. "Can you read?" he asked plainly.
"Yes," Thomas replied, not seeming offended by the question. As he took the letter, Jay deftly leaped from across the floor and scaled Thomas''s arm to settle on his shoulder, positioning himself to view the message.
Elize leaned forward slightly, her curiosity palpable as she attempted to catch a glimpse of the writing.
"Elize," Jamie said gently, his gaze meeting hers. "I trust you, but the moment you read this letter, you''ll be stepping into a world full of trouble. Only do so if you''re certain it''s what you want."
She hesitated, her eyes flickering between Jamie and the letter. For a moment, she seemed torn¡ªa conflict between caution and the allure of the unknown playing out across her face. But then, a spark of determination lit in her eyes, whether fueled by curiosity or a deeper desire to be involved.
"I''m sure," Elize declared softly but firmly. "I want to know."
Jamie regarded her thoughtfully before nodding. "Very well."
She stepped closer, and together, they turned their attention back to Thomas, who began to read aloud.
To the esteemed Mr. James Frostwatch,
Receive my most sincere greetings. I have heard remarkable tales of your arrival in our humble city and of the distant towns from which you journeyed. It is truly admirable that, despite the challenges faced, you have managed to establish a tavern in the Lower Quarter.
I am not unaware of the dangers that surround that region, nor the astuteness required to prosper amidst the recent changes in the local commercial landscape. Your success has not gone unnoticed.
In light of your growing influence in Hafenstadt, I hereby extend to you an invitation to our forthcoming autumn masquerade ball. It will be an opportune occasion to meet with other respectable merchants and to discuss, in a more discreet manner, the best measures to ensure the order, security, and flourishing of this city we hold so dear.
I eagerly await your presence and trust that such a gathering will be fruitful for us all.
Sincerely,
Maria von Hafenstadt
Legs crossed, hands folded in his lap, Jamie was lost in thought.
"James Frostwatch?" Elize''s voice sliced gently through the silence, filled with curiosity and a hint of surprise.
"Who''s James?" Thomas asked, his brow furrowed as he looked between Jamie and Elize.
Jamie sighed softly, realizing there was no point in hiding any longer. "It''s my real name," he confessed, feeling a slight unease at the half-truth. "I was expelled from the Frostwatch family, so I changed it to Jamie."
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"Ah!" Thomas exclaimed a note of understanding in his tone.
"The real question is, how did she find out?" Jamie continued, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. "Clearly, she has a very deep and extensive information network."
"No doubt," Elize agreed. "Maria von Hafenstadt is the governor''s niece. She acts as his right hand. There''s nothing above the ground of this city that she doesn''t know."
"Above and below," Jamie added pointedly. "She also controls the underworld of the Noble Quarter."
"The... underworld?" Elize stammered, her eyes widening with a mix of disbelief and concern.
Thomas leaned forward, skepticism etched on his face. "How can you be so sure?"
"''Sure is a strong word," Jamie admitted, leaning back and folding his arms. "The Noble Quarter isn''t exactly an easy place to gather rumors. But I''ve had my doubts. There were others who could have taken up that mantle. But with this letter, she''s confirmed her position."
"How so?" Elize pressed, her gaze locked onto Jamie.
"There aren''t many who know about the moves we made to bring down the Cutpurses," Jamie explained. "For this letter to arrive three days after our attack, she must have an understanding of the underworld¡ªperhaps even be affected by it."
"A... a... attack? What?" Elize stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper as the weight of his words settled in.
Jamie glanced at her, realizing this was all new information for her. "Moreover, she implies that she knows about our position in the Lower Quarter," he continued.
"And this ball? Why invite you?" Thomas asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
"To maintain the status quo," Jamie replied. "One of the worst things for someone carefully orchestrating plans is to have the pieces on their board toppled¡ªespecially by something they didn''t foresee. Whether through diplomacy or intimidation, they''ll want to ensure we''re capable of fulfilling the role the Cutpurses had."
"But what role did they have?" Thomas questioned deep frown lines furrowing his brow.
Jamie could see that both Jay and Elize were engrossed in the exchange, their eyes reflecting a combination of intrigue and concern. Especially Elize, who was absorbing a whole new layer of the world she thought she knew.
"It''s hard to say," Jamie admitted. "But we have a month to prepare before the festivities."
"What have I gotten myself into?" Elize murmured under her breath.
Jamie offered her a sympathetic smile. "I did warn you," he said gently. "I might not know exactly what role the Cutpurses played in her plans, but one thing is clear: we need to gain control over the region. If she''s already received information about their downfall, others will find out, too. It''s only a matter of time before someone becomes interested in claiming a piece of our territory."
"What can we do?" Thomas asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"For now..." Jamie began thoughtfully, gazing into the middle distance as he organized his thoughts. "Go to Knall and procure the padlock. Also, get an update on our project with him. Elize, return to preparing the tavern. I will start formulating our plans." He met their eyes in turn, a steely resolve settling over his features. "Tomorrow, before we open, we''ll discuss our next steps."
With those instructions, the trio dispersed to carry out their tasks, each slipping back into the rhythm of their daily routines. The Golden Fiddle soon came alive. Patrons filled the tables, their laughter and chatter creating a tapestry of sound. Elize flitted between them with practiced ease, her smile bright as she served tankards of wine and plates of steaming food.
Throughout the day, a few wandering bards attempted to serenade the guests, strumming lutes and singing ballads in hopes of earning a few coins. Yet, as talented as some were, none could match the captivating allure of Jamie''s fiddle.
As the last attraction, Jamie ascended the small stage at the far end of the main hall. The room hushed as he lifted his fiddle, drawing the bow across the strings with such force and speed it seemed like Jamie was fighting against the instrument. The feeling of brutality, rebellion, and victory hung in the air with every word Jamie sang, but he held back at the end, not wanting to stir up another revolt in the Lower Quarter.
Jay, the spectral cat, prowled among the guests, occasionally weaving between their legs or hopping onto a vacant chair to observe with keen green eyes.
As the hour grew late, the patrons bid their farewells one by one. Jamie stood by the door alongside Elize, exchanging warm goodnights or pushing the patrons that drunk a bit too much out. Thomas secured the shutters and bolted the heavy doors, ensuring the tavern was safe for the night.
The day had passed swiftly, each of them pouring their energy into the success of the Golden Fiddle. Yet beneath the surface, an undercurrent of unease lingered. It was subtle¡ªa lingering glance here, a pensive silence there¡ªbut it was present. Each harbored their own worries about what lay ahead.
At the first light of dawn, Thomas and Elize found themselves awake, unable to rest due to the weight of anticipation pressing upon them. They made their way to the tavern''s main hall and busied themselves to pass the time.
Elize was tidying the bar, which was already pristine. Thomas sat at a table near the window, gazing at the empty street.
The sound of deliberate footsteps descended the stairs almost as if summoned by their anxiety. Jamie appeared, bearing an armful of papers, scrolls, and several cloth bags that jingled faintly. He radiated a sense of confidence, his eyes sharp and focused.
"Good morning," he greeted them, setting his burden down on one of the round tables at the center of the room. The table was polished to a shine, the rich wood reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns.
"Morning," Thomas and Elize replied in unison, moving to join him.
As they gathered around the table, Jay appeared seemingly from nowhere, leaping gracefully onto the pile of papers. The cat sat primly atop them, curling his tail around his paws and surveying the trio with an air of feline superiority.
"Right," Jamie began, surveying his companions. "I believe we have everything we need to start."
He spread out the papers, revealing rough maps sketches, notes scrawled in a precise hand, and lists of names and places.
"This is our plan," Jamie declared, his voice steady and resolute.
Chapter 33: Three Steps
"This is our plan," Jamie declared, his voice steady and resolute.
Thomas and Elize leaned in, their eyes scanning the scattered parchments and worn maps spread before them.
"The most important and fundamental step," Jamie continued, "is that we secure control over our territory." He pointed to a recently acquired weathered map from the Cutpurses, tracing a path with his finger. "This area here, between the avenue to the Noble Quarter all the way to the end of the Lower Quarter, reaching the market near the Arcane Tower."
He tapped the map thoughtfully. "In total, it''s five city blocks under our claim. They''re bustling with activity and serve as vital links connecting us to every other part of the city."
"We''re based here in this first block? Near the border of the Commercial Quarter?" Elize asked, her finger hovering over the lower section of their marked territory.
"Exactly," Jamie affirmed.
Thomas and Elize exchanged glances, nodding as understanding began to dawn.
"To ensure we maintain control over this area," Jamie said, raising three fingers for emphasis, "we need three things: people, money, and knowledge."
He paused, allowing his words to settle. The crackling of the hearth filled the brief silence, the scent of burning wood mingling with the faint aroma of aged parchment.
"I hope you''ve planned more than just those points?" Thomas interjected, a hint of concern edging into his voice.
Jamie offered a reassuring smile, noticing their worried expressions. "Of course I have."
He straightened, his eyes reflecting the flicker of the flames. "First, we need people¡ªbut not just any people. We require individuals trained in combat, capable of maintaining order within our territory. They must be able to prevent incursions, whether from rival gangs or even monsters. I don''t want the inhabitants of our quarter to fear for their safety during a Monster Rush."
Thomas nodded solemnly. This was part of Jamie''s promise¡ªto change the city and protect its people.
"But where will we find these people, and what will we say they do?" Elize questioned, her brow furrowed in thought. "If we suddenly start increasing security around the tavern, people will start asking questions sooner or later."
"That''s precisely why these individuals won''t be connected to the tavern," Jamie explained, his fingers drumming thoughtfully on the table. "They''ll have objectives entirely separate from the tavern."
Thomas and Elize sat across from Jamie, their expressions a mix of curiosity and contemplation. Elize''s auburn hair shimmered softly, her eyes fixed intently on Jamie. Thomas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a thoughtful furrow creasing his brow.
"Perhaps you''re already aware, Thomas," Jamie continued, "but anyone can found a mercenary group, provided that their team conducts at least one expedition a month to reduce the number of monsters around the city."
Thomas nodded. "Yes, and the city pays bounties based on the number of monsters killed. But it''s not much money. Most groups end up becoming adventuring parties, delving into dungeons for greater rewards."
"Exactly," Jamie agreed. "But in our case, we''re not concerned about the money right now. We aim to assemble a group dedicated to territorial defense and specific missions. We can establish our own mercenary organization¡ªthe Golden Fiddle Company."
Elize raised an eyebrow skeptically. "But would any experienced mercenary want to join a company focused solely on defense? It doesn''t sound particularly appealing."
"Good point," Jamie conceded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But we don''t want experienced mercenaries or big names."
Her confusion deepened. "What do you mean? How are we going to use them if they''re inexperienced?"
"We''ll train them ourselves," Jamie replied confidently, glancing at Thomas. "Both of us."
Elize looked between them, incredulous. "But won''t it take a long time for them to be ready? Thomas, didn''t you attend military school? That was, what, three years of training?"
Thomas nodded slowly. "She''s right. Proper training isn''t something that happens overnight."
Jamie leaned forward, his eyes alight with determination. "They won''t have three years¡ªwe''ll give them three months. But even before that, they''ll be ready to start undertaking tasks."
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Thomas''s interest was clearly piqued. "And how do you propose we make that happen?"
"I will help with the training, but more importantly, Elize probably doesn¡¯t know yet. The people who go on missions with me receive a special effect from my Blessings, which makes them gain more experience," Jamie explained.
Elize''s eyes widened in surprise. "Really? How much more?"
"A huge amount," Thomas interjected, his tone serious. "I can''t say exactly how much, but it''s quite impactful."
She leaned back, processing this revelation. "If that''s the case, wouldn''t that attract experienced mercenaries? We could focus on offering them this blessing to level up faster." Her eyes gleamed with newfound excitement at the prospect.
Jamie shook his head firmly. "Right now, it would be too risky; we''re too weak. If word gets out, we''ll become targets¡ªnot just for gangs, but mercenaries, adventurers, and who knows what else."
Elize''s enthusiasm dimmed, and she frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose that makes sense.¡±
"So how are we going to recruit them?" Thomas asked, his gaze steady upon Jamie.
"Quite simple, really¡ªflyers," Jamie replied, a confident glint in his eye. He reached across the cluttered table and gathered a stack of papers. There were at least two dozen, each meticulously handwritten.
Thomas raised an eyebrow skeptically. "But a good portion of Hafenstadt''s population can''t read," he pointed out.
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. "True enough. But we can also spread the word during my evening performances. For now, these flyers will serve as a visual cue on the streets that we''re seeking mercenaries."
Thomas considered this and then nodded in agreement.
"Now, the second step is funding," Jamie continued. "We''ll need about ten mercenaries¡ªtwo for each block of our territory. We''ll pay them a wage higher than what the army offers."
"Higher?" Thomas exclaimed, surprise evident on his face. "The army pays fifty silver coins per month per soldier. That''s five gold coins for ten men."
"Correct," Jamie affirmed. "In our case, we''ll pay eighty silver coins each. That means we''ll need to yield more than eight gold coins in revenue every month." He paused before adding, "Currently, the Golden Fiddle brings in about two and a half gold coins per month."
"Wait, are you saying we''d need to increase our earnings by more than three times?" Elize interjected, uncertainty lacing her tone. Her eyes searched Jamie''s face, clearly questioning the feasibility of his plan.
"Yes," Jamie admitted, meeting her gaze steadily. "This is the hardest part; it will make or break us."
Thomas leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Is there anything from the Cutpurses we can leverage?" he asked.
Jamie shook his head slowly. "We don''t know yet," he replied. "I refuse to continue their thieving operations. I¡¯ve released the children they exploited. Many of them may continue on their own, but at least it won''t be within our territory." He tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "They must have had other ventures¡ªperhaps ones that caught Maria von Hafenstadt''s attention¡ªbut for now, I''m unaware of them."
"So what can we do?" Thomas pressed.
Jamie smiled faintly. "We need to start selling beer," he declared.
"Are you sure that''s enough?" Elize asked skeptically, tilting her head. "Expanding our patrons is one thing, but increasing revenue by that much solely through beer sales seems... ambitious."
"Yes, I believe so," Jamie affirmed, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Based on what Thomas has reported from Knall''s experiments, brewing our beer costs us, per barrel, a mere third of what wine or mead is currently costing us."
He leaned over the cluttered table, strewn with papers and maps, tapping emphatically on a set of hastily scribbled notes.
"Therefore," he continued, "we can afford to reduce the price¡ªlet''s say by half. Moreover, beer has about one-third the alcohol content of wine. This means patrons can enjoy more of it in larger quantities, which should boost our sales as well."
Elize sat across from him, her arms folded, brow furrowed in skepticism. The flickering light caught the hints of doubt in her eyes.
"But," Jamie added, sensing her hesitation, "the most important aspect is our relationship with the other taverns." He glanced between his companions, ensuring he had their attention. "Once the patrons develop a taste for our beer, they''ll want to order it at other establishments. But only we know how to produce it."
"This could make us overrun with customers," Elize pointed out, concern tinging her voice.
"Precisely," Jamie agreed, a slight smile turning up the corners of his mouth. "But there''s a limit to how many people we can serve here each day. That''s why we''ll start selling barrels to other taverns."
He leaned back, crossing his arms, his gaze steady and confident. Thomas watched Elize expectantly; his eyes seemed to search her face for signs of approval. After a moment''s contemplation, she gave a reluctant nod. Though traces of apprehension lingered, a spark of belief began to kindle within her.
"Lastly, we need knowledge," Jamie declared, his tone shifting to solemn seriousness. He reached beneath the table and unrolled a large parchment, spreading it before them. It was a detailed map of Hafenstadt''s vast sewer system, the intricate network of tunnels and passages rendered meticulously.
"We know very little about our enemies," he continued, his finger tracing along the maze of lines. "Even those we''ve already defeated."
Thomas and Elize leaned in, their earlier doubts giving way to intrigue. The labyrinth beneath the city was a world unto itself, rife with secrets and hidden dangers. Even Jay, who had been lounging indifferently nearby, padded over to peer at the map, his emerald eyes reflecting the dim light.
"This was among the items we recovered from the Cutpurses'' hideout," Jamie explained. "I doubt it''s merely a common map. I suspect it''s connected to their operations within the sewers. This means their activities likely intersected with our territory, and we need to discover exactly what they were up to."
He straightened, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "This," he announced decisively, "will be the first mission of the Golden Fiddle Company."
Chapter 34: Followers
As Jamie concluded outlining the plan, Thomas and Elize appeared more at ease about the next steps. Elize returned her focus to the tavern while Jamie carefully stored the documents in his room.
He soon re-emerged with a stack of flyers in hand. "Thomas, let''s go and post these," he said. The guard, who had been helping tidy the tavern, stood up promptly and followed his leader out the door.
Dividing the stack evenly¡ªten pamphlets each¡ªThomas and Jamie affixed the first one to the notice board outside the Golden Fiddle.
"We''ll focus on the Lower Quarter," Jamie explained. "The Commercial Quarter will only attract ordinary mercenaries."
Thomas nodded in agreement. Together, they began to make their way through each block of the Lower Quarter, seeking out shops and strategic spots to display their pamphlets.
As they moved from place to place, leaving leaflets in their wake, small crowds began to gather around them. Whispered conversations and curious glances followed their progress.
"They''re forming another company?"
"Is it safe? I''ve never heard of the Golden Fiddle Company."
"Isn''t that the tavern''s name near the Commercial Quarter?"
Word spread quickly, even among those who couldn''t read. In the Lower Quarter, news of this sort was significant. Mercenary companies weren''t uncommon, but it was rare for any to venture into the Lower Quarter seeking recruits. Usually, people with even modestly useful classes had the means to live in other parts of the city.
Because of this, even when Jamie and Thomas stopped at small businesses or taverns that might have seen them as competitors, the proprietors didn''t object to the pamphlets being posted. In fact, many welcomed it¡ªit would draw attention to the area and, in a way, help the neighborhood thrive.
At a modest blacksmith''s shop, the owner watched as Jamie affixed a pamphlet to a post nearby. The smith wiped his sooty hands on his apron and approached them. "Looking for recruits, are you?"
"Yes," Jamie replied with a friendly nod. "We''re establishing the Golden Fiddle Company¡ªa mercenary group based in the Lower Quarter."
The smith raised an eyebrow. "Ambitious. This district could use some good news."
"That''s the hope," Thomas said.
The smith glanced at the pamphlet. "Well, I might know a lad or two who''d be interested. Good workers, just need a chance."
"We''d be glad to meet them," Jamie replied.
As they continued, the reactions were similar¡ªcautious curiosity mingled with a flicker of hope.
As the sun began its descent, casting the Lower Quarter in hues of amber and rose, Jamie and Thomas found themselves approaching one of their final destinations: the Temple of Aetheron, the sun god, standing proudly at the heart of the district.
Even from a distance, the temple was a unique sight. Amidst a sea of dilapidated buildings¡ªmany of which seemed to teeter on the brink of collapse¡ªit rose majestically, one of the few structures boasting more than a single story. Its enduring grandeur set it apart, a beacon of hope and opulence in an area too often forgotten.
The Temple of Aetheron dominated the skyline with its resplendent golden architecture. Domed roofs, lavishly gilded, caught the lingering rays of sunlight, reflecting them across the district as if the god himself blessed the streets below. The leading portal, forged from sturdy gray stone and adorned with intricate carvings of solar motifs, stood imposingly at the temple''s entrance. Flanking it were towering spires capped with ornate domes, each encrusted with delicate golden inlays that glimmered in the fading light.
Enormous banners of golden silk draped from the temple''s high walls, each meticulously embroidered with the sacred emblem of Aetheron¡ªa radiant sun encircled by runes. They swayed gently in the evening breeze, whispering soft secrets of divine protection. The air was rich with the mingled scents of incense.
Surrounding the temple, the streets bustled with life despite the district''s poverty. Merchants displayed their modest wares beneath worn canvas awnings¡ªspices, simple trinkets, and humble produce. Clerics stood atop makeshift platforms, reciting verses and offering blessings to passersby. Pilgrims in simple robes moved reverently through the crowd, some bearing offerings of wildflowers, others clutching bits of bread or fruit as tokens of devotion.
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Religion was the lifeblood of that part of the Lower Quarter, a sustaining force that held the community together even as the rest of Hafenstadt turned a blind eye to their struggles. The temple was more than just a place to worship. It symbolized hope, the last chance to change their lives. If they obtained a rare class, they could escape that misery.
Encircling the temple was a broad plaza paved with timeworn stones that had witnessed countless gatherings. It was here that festivals and celebrations were held¡ªthe most significant being The Passage, a sacred rite that Jamie himself had undertaken in Frostwatch.
Today, however, the plaza lay quiet and nearly empty. With no festivities to draw the crowds, only a few elderly citizens moved slowly across the square, their steps measured and contemplative. Pigeons and sparrows fluttered about, pecking hopefully at the ground in search of crumbs.
Jamie paused at the plaza''s edge, his gaze drawn upward to the temple''s shining domes. "It''s impressive to think that all of this is just a facade," he remarked quietly.
Thomas nodded, seeming uncertain of how to respond. Both he and Jamie were well aware that the temple was merely a facade¡ªthe Crimson Veil controlled the brothels of the region under its sanctimonious shadow.
"Still, they''re needed," Thomas replied.
"No doubt," Jamie agreed before they posted the pamphlet.
Only a few flyers remained¡ªtwo with Jamie and one with Thomas. Realizing they had covered most of their intended locations, they began the walk back to the Golden Fiddle, unsure where else to place the remaining papers. Throughout their stroll, Jay floated languidly near Jamie''s shoulder, appearing more like a shadow than a cat.
As they ventured into the narrower alleys and more risky parts of the district, Jay finally broke his silence. "I believe we''re being followed," he purred, his eyes flicking backward.
''A human and a half-elf? Both seem young?'' Jamie thought, his senses keen.
"Those are the ones," Jay confirmed, glancing over his shoulder. "Do you have eyes in the back of your head?" the cat asked a hint of surprise in his voice.
''They''ve been on our tail for a few days now,'' Jamie mused internally.
"Oh!" Jay exclaimed softly. "I only just noticed them."
"We''re being followed," Jamie whispered to Thomas, his voice barely above the rustle.
Thomas''s eyes widened slightly. "Who are they?" he asked under his breath.
"Look like teenagers," Jamie replied. "Though with dwarves and elves, it''s hard to be certain."
As they rounded a corner into an even narrower street, the muffled sounds of the city faded, replaced by the subtle echo of footsteps not their own. Suddenly, raised voices pierced the silence.
"Don''t do it! Please! You''ll throw your life away!" a desperate voice pleaded.
"Life? Life!? This isn''t living!" another voice retorted, seething with frustration. "If you''re too cowardly to take what''s yours, don''t try to stop me!"
The argument ceased as abruptly as it had begun. A tense silence followed, broken only by the rapid approach of footsteps from behind.
Jamie exchanged a swift glance with Thomas. Anticipating what was to come, Jamie sidestepped smoothly just as a figure lunged toward him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the gleam of a short sword wielded by a wiry half-elven youth.
The boy''s grip on the weapon was unsteady, his stance betraying inexperience. He thrust forward with an exaggerated motion, overextending himself. Jamie needed only to lift his foot slightly, allowing the attacker to trip over it. With a startled yelp, the boy tumbled forward, crashing onto the rough cobblestones.
Though Jamie had noticed their attempts to tail him on previous occasions, this was the first time he faced the boy directly. The half-elf had fiery red hair, as bright and unruly as flames, matted and damp with sweat. Freckles dusted his pale cheeks, accentuating his youth¡ªa clue that led Jamie to surmise they were mere teens.
A thin scar sliced across the boy''s face, adding a harsh edge to his otherwise youthful features. His attire¡ªa mishmash of worn leather and fraying cloth¡ªbore the scars of a hard life: scratches, mud stains, and threads threatening to unravel. Everything about his appearance screamed destitution, as if he didn''t have a coin to his name.
¡®Cutpurses?¡¯ Jamie wondered silently, piecing together the possibilities.
"What do you want with us?" Jamie demanded, his gaze fixed on the half-elf sprawled on the cobblestone street before him.
"Go to hell! You know damn well!" the boy spat, pushing himself up from the ground. "You stole what was ours!"
Jamie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what exactly did we steal from you?" he asked calmly.
"Don''t play dumb!" the boy shouted, fury blazing in his eyes. "There was a contract¡ªours! Stop pretending you don''t know!" With that, he charged again, brandishing a short sword. But despite the fiery determination driving him, his stance was unsteady, lacking the discipline of formal training.
Jamie moved with practiced ease. As the boy lunged, Jamie deftly kicked his hand, sending the sword flying. The weapon arced through the air before clattering onto the stone pavement. The half-elf''s eyes followed it, a mix of shock and desperation flashing across his face.
Seizing the moment, Jamie stepped behind him in a swift motion. Drawing his dagger, he pressed the cold blade against the boy''s throat. The youth froze, his breath hitching as he felt the sharp edge against his skin.
Jamie''s voice dropped to a lethal whisper, as cold and unforgiving as winter steel. "Now explain to me," he said, "why I shouldn''t kill you?"
Chapter 35: RE:Spec
Jamie''s voice dropped to a lethal whisper, as cold and unforgiving as steel. "Now explain to me," he said, "why I shouldn''t kill you?"
The boy gave a faint, bitter laugh before answering. "Kill me if you want," he said defiantly, "but I won''t stoop to begging for my life." As he finished speaking, he spat on the ground before him, his eyes blazing with misplaced pride.
Jamie didn''t relish the thought of harming someone whose motives he didn''t fully understand. Yet, if this was the only way to stop the relentless attacks, he wouldn''t hesitate. His gaze hardened, a resolve settling over his features as he pressed the dagger more firmly against the half-elf''s throat.
Thomas watched the scene unfold with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. He had seldom seen someone so ready to take a life without hesitation. But Jamie remained resolute, his grip unwavering as he prepared to cut the boy''s throat.
Just then, before Jamie could plunge the blade, another figure burst onto the scene¡ªthe other youth who had been tailing them.
This newcomer was tall and heavyset, more so than one would expect for someone associated with the Cutpurses. Yet, like his companion, his bulky frame was shrouded in threadbare rags. An oversized coat hung from his shoulders, patched in numerous places, and the shirt beneath strained over his rounded belly.
His face, still bearing the softness of youth, wore an expression of hardened resolve. Dark, disheveled hair framed skin smudged with the dust and grime of the city.
A tumult of courage and fear flickered across his features. Despite the tremble in his legs, he rushed forward and threw himself to the ground before Jamie without hesitation. He pressed his forehead against the unforgiving cobblestones, his voice breaking as he spoke.
"Please! Please, spare his life!" the heavyset boy pleaded earnestly. "As idiotic as he is, he meant no harm. He''s just too foolish and proud for his own good."
"Interesting," Jamie replied, his voice icy as he held the dagger against the half-elf''s throat. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the defiant youth. "And what have you to say for yourself?"
Although Jamie could see the flicker of fear in the half-elf''s eyes, the boy''s jaw tightened with stubborn resolve. He refused to speak, his silence a muted act of rebellion.
With a swift, calculated motion, Jamie withdrew the dagger and delivered a sharp kick to the boy''s backside, sending him sprawling to the ground. "You''re far too proud for someone so weak," Jamie remarked coldly. "Such arrogance is nothing more than foolishness."
Jamie stepped forward as the two youths lay before him, his shadow looming over them like a specter. "Now," he commanded, a hint of impatience in his tone, "explain yourselves. What exactly are you after, and who are you?"
The half-elf looked like he might retort with another burst of anger, but the stout boy quickly placed a large, calloused hand over his friend''s mouth. "Don''t make our situation worse," he cautioned, his eyes pleading.
The half-elf''s fiery gaze flickered, and after a few tense moments and deep breaths, his shoulders sagged ever so slightly¡ªa reluctant surrender. "Fine," he muttered grudgingly. He met Jamie''s gaze with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "My name is Aldwin, and he''s Bertram. We both worked for the Cutpurses."
"Pleasure to meet you," Jamie replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. "I suspected you were affiliated with them. Now tell me, what do you want with me?"
Aldwin clenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw taut as he struggled to maintain control. "We want the item that bears our names¡ªthe one that was with the leader of the Cutpurses," he said, his voice strained.
"And what item might that be?" Jamie inquired, one eyebrow arching skeptically.
Aldwin seemed on the verge of an outburst, frustration evident in his clenched fists and flushed face. Sensing this, Bertram hurriedly stepped forward. The young man''s robust frame belied a gentle disposition, and he spoke with a sincerity that was hard to ignore. "There was supposed to be some sort of scroll or contract in their possession," Bertram explained earnestly. "It should have our names on it."
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"I can assure you," Jamie declared firmly, his voice echoing in the narrow alleyway, "we opened every safe and turned over everything in their chambers. There was nothing bearing your names."
"That''s impossible! You must be lying!" Aldwin exploded, his face contorted with rage. He surged forward from where he knelt on the ground, intent on confronting Jamie. But Jamie was quicker. With a swift motion, he delivered a sharp kick to Aldwin''s face, sending the half-elf sprawling back onto the grimy cobblestones.
"I owe you two no explanations," Jamie said coldly, standing over Aldwin as he writhed in pain. "But rest assured, there was nothing there except for some purchase and sale contracts and deeds to properties. None of them mentioned either of you."
Aldwin struggled to rise, his hand pressed against his bleeding lip. His fiery red hair fell in disarray over his eyes, still burning with defiance. Nearby, Beltram''s eyes filled with tears, his stout frame shaking.
"They were lying to us, Aldwin," Beltram murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We knew it was a possibility."
"No! It can''t be, Beltram!" Aldwin shouted, his voice strained. "We saw it¡ªthe leader showed it to us!"
Jamie observed the two youths with a mix of curiosity and detachment.
"What exactly did they promise you?" Jamie asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine curiosity.
Beltram drew a shaky breath, hesitating before he spoke. His voice quivered as though he might break into sobs at any moment. "Three years ago, we struck a deal with the Cutpurses," he began. "We were to pay them a gold coin in exchange for a scroll of RE:Spec."
"RE:Spec?" Jamie echoed, tilting his head slightly.
"It''s a legendary spell that its myth resurfaces on the streets from time to time," Thomas interjected. He stood beside Jamie with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"No, it''s not just a myth," Aldwin insisted vehemently, wiping the blood from his lip. "We saw them use it¡ªa scroll, right before our eyes."
Jamie regarded them steadily. "And what does it do?"
Beltram sighed, the weight of the world seeming to rest upon his shoulders. "The nobles have been using RE:Spec to reset their levels," he explained. "But it also grants the chance to choose a new class. Both of us... we have awful classes, ones that make it impossible to become anything meaningful. The Cutpurses promised that after we paid them a gold coin, they''d give us each a scroll."
Understanding dawned in Jamie''s eyes. "So you hoped to change your fate with that. In exchange, they got free labor," he said quietly.
"Rest assured," Jamie said firmly, his gaze steady upon the two youths, "there was no such scroll among the items we found. And I doubt the Cutpurses ever possessed it."
"But¡ª" Aldwin began, desperation creeping into his voice. Jamie raised a hand, silencing him.
"I don''t believe they had it," Jamie continued, his tone unwavering, "because a single gold coin is far too little for such a powerful item. For you, a gold coin might be a fortune, but to a noble, it''s a mere trifle. A scroll of that caliber could easily fetch fifty, perhaps even a hundred gold coins."
Aldwin and Beltram stood before him, their expressions shattered. The weight of Jamie''s words pressed heavily upon them, extinguishing the flicker of hope they''d clung to. Perhaps they''d harbored a desperate dream, but Jamie had been direct and honest, leaving no room for illusions.
Jamie regarded them thoughtfully, sensing a resilience within these boys¡ªa latent strength he couldn''t quite articulate. Something about them stirred his curiosity, a potential waiting to be unlocked.
¡®Courage they have, but could they have more than that?¡¯ Jamie regarded. Two-thirds of his mana would be a lot, but he wished to know.
He focused on Beltram, allowing the [Legends of the Future] to drift into his view. Beside the young man¡¯s face, ethereal words began to shimmer, forming a luminous poem.
Beneath this bulk, so broad and wide,
A noble heart does yet reside.
A Paladin, both true and bright,
With justice burning, shining light!
He turned his attention to Aldwin. The same script materialized next to the half-elf''s stern features.
Beneath the rage, so fierce and bright,
A fighter stands, prepared for a fight.
With steel in hand and steady grace,
He¡¯ll strike with power, none outpace!
Jamie felt surprised at how entwined their destinies appeared. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped toward them. Retrieving two of the flyers he had been distributing earlier, he licked the backs and affixed them to their foreheads.
Startled, the boys quickly peeled the papers away, their eyes scanning the printed words in confusion.
"I may not have the RE:Spec," Jamie said, his voice carrying a hint of mischief and promise, "but I can offer you this and much more."
Chapter 36: First Step
Over the next few days, whispers of the new company''s creation swept through the Lower Quarter like wildfire. The audacity of its founders¡ªnot even considering to post a single notice in the Commercial Quarter¡ªwas seen by some as bold, even courageous. But to the mercenaries dwelling in the Commercial Quarter, it felt like a bitter jest, as if someone had spat in their faces. Many swore they would have nothing to do with this upstart company, while others grew curious about the sort of ragtag individuals who might appear at such trial.
Jamie had anticipated this very reaction; in fact, he relied on it to shape the trial he envisioned. In recent days, besides aiding Knall in assembling the brewing equipment and performing songs in the evenings, Jamie and Thomas dedicated every day to rigorous training.
Beyond the city''s edge, near where Thomas lived with his daughter, the two men engaged in constant exercise to prepare for the upcoming trail and the following battles it would have. Each drill and routine was part of a comprehensive training regimen they had meticulously crafted together.
Thomas shared with Jamie the training he had within the Hafenstadt Military Academy. While Jamie attempted to use his blessing [Memories of the Past] on himself for the first time.
To his astonishment, he discovered he could not only access Jay''s memories but also explore his own. One memory stood out vividly¡ªwhen he was merely ten years old, immersed in studying the ancient Roman Empire. It was one of his few passions during childhood, marked by his father''s absence and his mother''s indifference.
From the pages of those old books, he read about the rigorous training regimens of Roman legionaries. Using this knowledge, he began intertwining techniques from both worlds, forging a basic training program to be implemented over the next three months.
¡®It could be better, but I¡¯ve never studied about modern military¡ who would imagine it would be useful?¡¯ Jamie thought bitterly.
Today was one of those rare days when neither Thomas nor Jamie trained. They needed to be at the peak of their strength for the event that awaited them.
Beyond the colossal walls and gates of Hafenstadt sprawled a small village clinging to the hillside. Dozens of timeworn wooden houses with patched roofs stood defiantly, as if locked in an endless battle against the ravages of time and the relentless Monster Rushes. The crooked and uneven structures clustered along a dusty dirt path, where weeds sprouted freely between loose stones. Faded strips of cloth fluttered gently in the breeze, hung on lines stretched from one sagging house to another.
Among the more distant dwellings was one with a vast open space before it¡ªthe only one where a little girl played, her laughter ringing out as she ran across the dry, cracked earth.
In this expanse of hardened ground¡ªthe closest thing the village had to a square¡ªThomas and Jamie hammered the last nails into the platform they had constructed. As soon as the final nail was driven, the first onlookers began to gather around them. At first, it was merely one or two curious souls, then a handful more, until finally, hundreds stood waiting around the wooden platform.
The crowd was a tumultuous sea of faces and intentions. From his vantage atop the platform, Jamie surveyed them. He could clearly distinguish the seasoned mercenaries¡ªhardened warriors whose stern and unfriendly expressions were worn as medals. Their hands rested instinctively on the hilts of their weapons, eyes sharp and wary.
Scattered among them were the residents of the Lower Quarter, identifiable by their threadbare clothes and hopeful eyes. Men and women who sought a chance at steady employment, a glimmer of opportunity to lift them from their daily lives.
And woven through the mass were thieves, pickpockets, and various other miscreants. Some lurked at the edges, eyes darting, fingers itching to relieve someone of a coin or two. Others stood boldly among the crowd, perhaps sent by organizations with interests of their own, or merely seeking to infiltrate the new company for purposes unknown.
The air was thick with anticipation and the murmur of whispered conversations. A gust of wind stirred the dust at their feet and set the faded cloths fluttering overhead.
Jamie exchanged a glance with Thomas, who gave a barely perceptible nod. This was the moment they had prepared for¡ªthe culmination of weeks of planning and toil.
"Welcome," he called out, his voice strong and clear against the backdrop of the quiet village. "To all who have gathered here seeking a new path, a new purpose¡ªI thank you for coming."
As Jamie stepped forward on the makeshift platform, the crowd''s murmur hushed into an expectant silence. Every eye turned toward him, the anticipation palpable beneath the gray morning sky.
"We are about to start the trial for the first members of the Golden Fiddle Company," he announced, his voice clear and steady. "There will be three stages: a basic physical trial, a combat trial, and finally, an interview. For those who are selected, there will be a fixed payment of eighty silver coins per month."
A ripple of astonishment swept through the gathered throng. Even the hardened mercenaries exchanged incredulous glances. The sum was substantial¡ªfar more generous than the earnings offered by established companies, let alone a fledgling one.
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"Impossible," someone muttered from the back. "Where''s he going to get that kind of money?"
"Even the army pays less than that," another scoffed.
"He must not know how much a campaign actually brings in," a veteran whispered to his companion, shaking his head.
Whispers and doubtful murmurs spread through the crowd, skepticism etched on many faces. The noise grew rowdy as conversations overlapped and concerns were voiced openly.
Jamie remained unfazed. "For those who wish to withdraw or feel that this is not the path for you," he continued, projecting his voice above the din, "you are free to leave at any time. There will be no formal process to quit."
With that, he descended from the platform, the wooden structure creaking under his boots. The crowd parted before him as he began to walk through the village, heading toward the towering walls of Hafenstadt. Thomas fell into step beside him.
Curiosity tugged at the assembly, drawing them along like a tide. Feet shuffled, and the murmurs subsided into a quiet pursuit.
"Every day," Jamie called back over his shoulder, "we run three laps following the southern walls."
The statement hung in the air, heavy with implication. Eyes widened, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Three laps?" a young man blurted out. "That''s nearly twenty kilometers!"
"He''s mad," an older mercenary grumbled.
"Even seasoned soldiers don''t run that far daily," someone else chimed in, disbelief coloring his tone.
Jamie stopped and turned to face them. His gaze was firm, unwavering. "In a fight for life or death," he said, "Maintaining your strength from the first strike to the last in a battle is critical. If you aim to stand alongside us, we expect nothing less than the stamina to keep up."
A few in the crowd looked away, daunted by the challenge. Others squared their shoulders, determination flickering in their eyes.
"So, to pass this first phase," Jamie continued, "it''s quite simple: complete three laps around Hafenstadt."
"Impossible," a voice called out.
"They''re looking for fools willing to kill themselves," another sneered.
Jamie took a breath, the crisp air filling his lungs. "Begin!" he shouted.
Without another word, he launched into motion, his stride strong and measured. His light attire billowed slightly with each movement.
At first, the crowd of over a hundred stood uncertainly, watching as Jamie and Thomas took off at a steady pace down the dusty path. A hush fell over them, and the only sounds were the soft rustle of the sea breeze and the distant cry of gulls. Then, as if breaking free from an invisible tether, a handful of men and women broke into a jog, pursuing the two figures ahead. This movement sparked others into action, and soon dozens more joined, the assembly transforming into a determined group as they began to run in earnest.
Thomas ran just a stride behind Jamie. Behind them, the foremost group struggled to keep pace, already falling dozens of meters behind. Neither Jamie nor Thomas seemed concerned about the others; for them, this was nothing more than their daily regimen.
The landscape encircling Hafenstadt was barren yet serene¡ªa flat expanse stretching toward the horizon, punctuated only by the glittering expanse of the sea to their left. The air was crisp, tinged with the salty tang of the ocean. As they reached the point where the path curved along the coastline, the rhythmic crashing of waves provided a steady cadence to their strides. Upon reaching this juncture, they began their return, tracing the route back toward the towering silhouette of the city walls.
High atop those formidable ramparts, soldiers on duty paused to observe the spectacle unfolding below. The sight of two men leading a vast cohort of runners was an unusual one, stirring whispers among the guards. Some leaned on their spears, shading their eyes against the sun to get a better look.
"By the gods, look at ''em go," one soldier remarked.
One of his companions replied. "I heard they''re starting some new company."
"A company, eh? Looks like they''re whipping those folks into shape."
As the runners passed beneath the walls, the soldiers shouted down words of encouragement, while others wagered on who would endure.
Completing the first lap, Jamie glanced over his shoulder subtly, his eyes assessing. To his mild surprise, about sixty people still kept up the pace¡ªa far greater number than he had anticipated at this stage. Sweat glistened on their brows, and their breaths came heavier, but determination was etched on their faces.
"More than we expected," Thomas grunted, matching his gaze.
Jamie nodded. "They''ve got spirit; I''ll give them that."
But as the second lap wore on, the weariness began to show. The relentless pace and distance started to take its toll. Runners began to drop off, some slowing to a walk before stopping entirely, leaning on their knees or collapsing beside the path. The once-unified group fragmented steadily, the gaps between runners widening like cracks in a drying riverbed.
By the time they embarked on the third and final lap, only a hardy few remained in sight of Jamie and Thomas. The sun climbed higher, the heat pressing down upon the land like a heavy cloak. The scent of the sea intensified, mingling with the dust kicked up by their feet.
Two hours after they had set off, Jamie and Thomas crossed the makeshift finish line back at the village square. The wooden platform awaited them, and they climbed atop it, their footsteps echoing on the planks. Settling down, they drank deeply from their water skins, their gazes fixed on the horizon where the path stretched back toward the city walls.
They waited.
Time stretched on, the quiet broken only by the rustling of the wind and distant calls from within the village. It was a full half-hour before the first runners came into view¡ªa lone figure, staggering yet resolute. As he neared, his steps faltered, and upon reaching the platform, he collapsed onto his back, chest heaving as he gulped in air.
Ten minutes later, another runner appeared, then another. Each arrival was met with quiet acknowledgment. Some fell to the ground in exhaustion, while others remained standing, their gazes distant as they wrestled with their fatigue.
Gradually, the trickle of returning runners ceased. Only twenty had completed the grueling trial out of the original hundred. They gathered near the platform, some sitting, others sprawled out on the dry earth, all united by their shared ordeal.
As Jamie''s keen eyes scanned the weary faces, he noted two young figures among them, the boys from the Cutpurses.
Chapter 37: Combat Trial
As Jamie''s keen gaze swept over the weary faces before him, he noted two familiar figures among the crowd, the boys from the Cutpurses. ¡®They came. Who would have thought?¡¯ Jamie mused, momentarily surprised.
Seeing that no one else would be joining them, Jamie stepped up onto the wooden platform. "Nice work to all who have made it this far," he announced, his voice carrying across the silent gathering. "You have passed the first stage, but unfortunately, you won''t have much time to rest."
He brushed the dirt from his boots and legs, the remnants of their earlier exertions, as Thomas stood up to join him. The two stood side by side. Jamie''s lithe frame and sharp eyes hinted at agility and intellect, while Thomas''s solid build and stoic demeanor exuded strength and steadfastness.
"The second stage will be a combat test," Jamie continued. "It''s quite simple: you may choose one of us to fight against. Each bout will last a maximum of three minutes." He paused, his gaze steady as it moved over each face. "Losing doesn''t mean you''ve failed, and winning doesn''t guarantee you''ve passed. We will be assessing your qualities above all else."
Before him stood about twenty individuals; the majority were seasoned mercenaries, their weathered faces and battle-worn gear speaking to years of hard experience. Scattered among them were the two young Cutpurse boys and a handful of others from the Lower Quarter¡ªhopefuls who had defied the odds to make it this far.
"To start, it''s straightforward," Jamie said. "Step onto the platform and indicate whom you wish to face."
No sooner had he finished speaking than the first challenger stepped forward. He moved with the swagger of someone accustomed to being formidable, a confident smirk playing on his lips. Ascending the steps onto the platform, he stood tall¡ªtowering over Jamie by at least a head. His body was a testament to sheer strength, muscles bulging beneath a sleeveless tunic that revealed arms crisscrossed with faded scars. His bald head gleamed in the sunlight, and a thick, dark beard framed a grin that lacked any warmth.
Even without an exchange of words, Jamie could tell that this man was a mercenary¡ªand likely a ruthless one at that. Everything about him, from his imposing stature to the gleam in his eye, spoke of a life lived by the sword.
The challenger reached to his waist and drew a short, brutal-looking axe. He pointed it directly at Jamie. "I can''t guarantee you''ll come out of this alive," he said, his voice a gravelly rumble laced with amusement.
As the mercenary mounted the platform, a chorus of voices rose from the gathered crowd. Some shouted the mercenary''s name, laughing and reveling in the anticipation of seeing Jamie repaid for the grueling first trial he had set. They believed this would be their moment of vindication, a chance to witness the bard humbled.
Jamie cast a subtle glance at Thomas, who understood immediately. Without a word, Thomas descended the platform to retrieve the hourglass that would mark the duration of the duel. The mercenary approached confidently, each step up the wooden stairs deliberate, his heavy boots thudding against the planks until he stood mere paces from Jamie.
"Are there any rules?" the mercenary asked, his voice a low growl that carried across the expectant silence.
"Try not to kill your opponent," Jamie replied evenly. "Aside from that, consider this a real combat."
A predatory grin spread across the mercenary''s face¡ªa smile devoid of warmth, brimming with bloodlust. The crowd murmured appreciatively, sensing the imminent clash.
Thomas returned, placing the hourglass on a small stand at the platform''s edge. As he turned it over, the fine sand within began its measured descent. "Begin!" he declared.
The mercenary wasted no time. With a burst of speed belying his massive frame, he charged forward, covering the distance between them in seconds. His short axe gleamed menacingly as he swung it overhead, fully intending to end the bout with a single, decisive blow. Perhaps, he thought, this would also erase the humiliation he felt during the earlier trial.
But Jamie was already several steps ahead¡ªboth literally and figuratively. He had read the mercenary''s intentions as easily as one reads an open book. Every tell, every movement telegraphed the impending attack.
While Jamie possessed no offensive magic to hurl at his foes, he didn''t desire it. He preferred the subtle utility of a bard''s spells, tools that suited a mind keen on outsmarting and humbling adversaries. And so, a confident smile played on his lips, mirroring the mercenary''s own.
Instead of bracing for impact or attempting to dodge outright, Jamie raised his hand and pointed directly at the oncoming fighter. As the mercenary closed in¡ªso near that Jamie could see the fierce determination blazing in his eyes¡ªthe bard uttered a swift incantation.
In an instant, Jamie activated [Dancing Lights].
Concentrating his mana into a single, focused point, he conjured a brilliant flash of light between them. The burst was dazzling¡ªa sudden flare that consumed the mercenary''s vision, rendering him momentarily blind. Unaccustomed to such magic used in combat, the mercenary faltered.
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The axe came down, its trajectory skewed. It sliced through the air mere inches from Jamie''s shoulder, missing its mark entirely. The crowd gasped, some shielding their eyes from the residual brightness, others leaning forward in shock.
Jamie didn''t waste the opportunity. With practiced agility, he sidestepped, moving smoothly behind his disoriented opponent.
He could have drawn his dagger and ended the confrontation swiftly, but he had no desire to kill his opponent. Not only would it be unnecessary, but it might also deter the potential talents gathered for the selection.
Instead, Jamie opted for a different approach. Channeling all his strength, he delivered a precise kick to the mercenary''s knee. Though raw power wasn''t typically a bard''s foremost attribute, a well-placed strike at the right angle and moment¡ªespecially against an unarmored target¡ªcould be devastating.
A sharp crack echoed through the air as the mercenary''s leg buckled. The sound of bone breaking was unmistakable, and it elicited a collective gasp from the onlookers. The mercenary let out a guttural scream, a raw cry that sent shivers down the spines of those watching.
Desperation etched across his face, the mercenary began swinging his axe wildly in all directions, hoping to ward off Jamie and create distance. Propped up on one arm, he struggled to drag himself away from the platform, his movements fueled by adrenaline and fear. But in his panic, he lost sight of Jamie once more.
Seizing the opportunity, Jamie moved with calculated precision. A swift kick to the mercenary''s arm caused the axe to fly from his grasp. Another strike met his torso, knocking the wind from his lungs. A final kick connected with his head, and the mercenary collapsed, unconscious, at the edge of the platform. Each action was deliberate¡ªthought out, planned, and executed with unwavering focus. Jamie''s intent wasn''t merely to defeat but to humble, to demonstrate skill over brute strength.
The hourglass still had sand slipping through its neck when Jamie glanced over to Thomas. "Hmm, I think I could use some help removing him from the platform," he said casually.
Thomas nodded, and together they lifted the mercenary''s inert form. They carried him down from the platform and propped him gently against the wall of a nearby house. The crowd watched in hushed silence, a mix of awe and apprehension stirring among them.
Returning to the platform, Jamie surveyed the group. Of the twenty who had begun, only a little over ten remained. One mercenary eliminated and nine others who had quietly left during the fight, reconsidering their decision to continue.
"Next!" Jamie called out from atop the platform, his voice resonating through the tense atmosphere.
The remaining candidates exchanged uneasy glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. The display they had just witnessed weighed heavily on them, and hesitation hung thick in the air.
Finally, breaking the stalemate, a figure stepped forward¡ªa half-elf with an air of quiet confidence. His name was Aldwin. With a determined expression, he made his way toward the platform.
"I will," he declared, his voice steady as he ascended the steps.
Despite his prior display of courage¡ªor perhaps desperation¡ªa few days earlier, Jamie could now clearly see the nervousness etched upon the young half-elf''s face. Aldwin''s hands trembled, and his steps lacked confidence as he ascended the wooden platform.
"Whom do you wish to face?" Jamie asked calmly, his gaze steady on the boy.
"H-him," Aldwin stammered, pointing directly at Thomas.
Jamie raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It wasn''t surprising that some would opt to challenge Thomas. After witnessing the bard''s abilities¡ªespecially his use of magic, hinting at a rare class¡ªthey might see the guard as a less unpredictable opponent.
Thomas stepped onto the platform, rolling his shoulders and loosening his arms as he prepared for the bout. His movements were measured, but there was an unmistakable intensity in his eyes.
Descending from the platform, Jamie moved to where the hourglass rested. "Begin!" he called out, flipping the hourglass as the sands of time began to trickle down.
Aldwin drew two slender daggers from his belt. With a swift intake of breath, he lunged forward, aiming to close the distance between himself and Thomas as quickly as possible. But his haste was his downfall. Thomas sidestepped effortlessly, and Aldwin''s attack met only empty air before he stumbled onto the wooden planks.
Without a moment''s hesitation, Thomas delivered a solid punch to the side of Aldwin''s face. The impact was decisive, sending the half-elf sprawling across the platform. The crowd gasped collectively, a ripple of shock coursing through those gathered.
¡®Well, who would have thought¡ªhe isn''t pulling any punches,¡¯ Jamie mused silently, watching as Aldwin hit the ground with a single blow.
Jamie considered intervening to halt the fight, but before he could make a move, Aldwin began to stir. "I-I''m not done yet," he said hoarsely, pushing himself up on unsteady legs.
A murmur spread among the onlookers. Even Jamie found himself impressed by the boy''s resilience. He hadn''t expected such determination from someone who appeared so nervous moments before.
Thomas faced Aldwin once more as the young half-elf steadied himself. This time, Aldwin didn''t charge in recklessly. Instead, he began circling Thomas cautiously, eyes focused and searching¡ªlooking for any sign of a weakness.
However, the platform was small, limiting his options. It didn''t take long for Thomas to anticipate Aldwin''s movements. With strategic steps, he cornered the boy, leaving him with nowhere to retreat.
Seizing the moment, Thomas struck swiftly. A series of well-placed blows landed against Aldwin''s midsection, each punch driving the air from his lungs. The half-elf doubled over, the color draining from his face. Overwhelmed, he collapsed to his knees, retching onto the wooden boards of the platform.
A hush fell over the crowd. The brutal efficiency of Thomas''s attack left many in stunned silence. This display was a stark reminder of the gap in experience and skill.
This time, it was Thomas who turned to address the onlookers. "Next!"
Chapter 38: Ending the Combat Trial
Thomas stepped forward this time, turning to address the gathered crowd with a confident gaze. "Next!" he called out, his voice clear and commanding atop the makeshift stage.
Watching from the sidelines, Jamie allowed himself a slight smile. Seeing Thomas brimming with confidence was a sight to behold. That simple summons was all it took for more of the hopefuls to reconsider their ambitions. One by one, they began to slip away from the line.
"I need to get back to work; I don''t know why I''m wasting my time here," one muttered.
"If I get injured, I won''t be able to put food on the table," another sighed.
"Those two are clearly trained fighters; there''s no way I can take them on," admitted a third.
Whispers and murmurs spread through the crowd as more candidates departed, each attempting to reclaim a shred of dignity without looking back.
Undeterred, a seasoned mercenary stepped forward to face Thomas. He clearly wanted to prolong the duel as much as possible, aiming to wear him down in hopes of finding a weakness or opening to exploit.
Jamie kept his expression neutral, but internally, he recognized the flaw in his strategy. His tactic wasn''t misguided in theory¡ªjust misapplied. Thomas possessed perhaps one of the least glamorous Classes one could attain: [Farmer]. Yet, that very Class granted him an almost inexhaustible stamina. It was no wonder that [Farmers] could labor from dawn till dusk without respite.
Had he employed the same approach against Jamie¡ªwho had already expended energy casting a spell, run three laps around the southern part of the city, and lightly injured his leg delivering a powerful kick¡ªhe might have succeeded in wearing him down.
However, his initial bout had been so swift and brutal that the mercenary seemed eager not to challenge him.
¡®Thomas doesn''t realize yet the strategy he¡¯s fighting against,¡¯ Jamie mused, watching as the mercenary employed hit-and-run tactics. The fighter would dart in to attack and quickly retreat, giving Thomas little opportunity to defend or recover.
Thomas raised his arms desperately, trying to shield himself from the relentless assault. The mercenary before him wielded a short blade with lethal precision, each swipe carving thin lines across Thomas''s forearms. Blood trickled down his skin, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to yield.
The duel pressed on, tension thick in the air. Two grueling minutes passed¡ªa seemingly brief span, yet an eternity in the heat of battle. Realizing he could not remain on the defensive forever, Thomas made his move. With a swift motion, he drew his own short sword. Seizing a fleeting opening, he delivered a precise strike to the mercenary''s thigh. The man let out a sharp cry, collapsing to one knee as his weapon clattered to the ground.
From the edge of the arena, Jamie sprang into action. He rushed to the fallen opponent, quickly wrapping a bandage around the wounded leg. His hands moved deftly, applying basic first aid to stem the bleeding. "Easy now," he muttered, offering the mercenary a reassuring nod.
Hardly had the dust settled when another challenger stepped forward. This mercenary''s eyes gleamed with a mix of determination and desperation. Thomas was visibly weary¡ªhis labored breaths and sweat-drenched brow betrayed his fatigue. Jamie understood their thinking; they sought to exploit any weakness.
"Hey," Jamie called out to his companion, his voice firm. "Don''t give them space. If you do, you''ll tire yourself out even faster."
Thomas looked back at him and gave a curt nod, too winded to respond verbally. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself as the next opponent ascended into the arena.
As the newcomer took his position, Jamie announced the start of the bout. This time, Thomas altered his strategy. Rather than waiting for the attack, he lunged forward with surprising speed, closing the gap between himself and the mercenary in an instant.
Caught off guard by the sudden offensive, the mercenary stumbled, attempting to brace himself by stepping back. But it was too late. Thomas''s powerful arm swung in a wide arc, and before the mercenary could react, a solid fist connected squarely with his face.
The impact was brutal. Even Jamie winced as he watched the mercenary soar backward, landing hard against the wooden barrier of the arena. A hush fell over the onlookers. The man''s nose was unmistakably broken, blood gushing freely and staining the dirt beneath him.
"Bloody hell!" the mercenary shouted, clutching his face in agony.
Jamie hurried over, helping Thomas lift the injured man to his feet. "Hold still," he instructed, pressing a cloth to the mercenary''s nose to staunch the bleeding. "You''ll be all right."
He glanced at Thomas, offering a subtle smile. "Well, that was quick."
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Before they could catch their breath, a voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd¡ªa voice that carried both confidence and challenge.
"My turn."
Jamie turned to see a woman stepping forward, her eyes sharp and unwavering. She moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter, and there was an air of quiet strength about her.
"But I don''t want to fight him," she continued, her gaze locking onto Jamie. "I want to fight you."
Jamie turned to observe her more closely. She was clad in light garments that hugged her form, effortlessly showcasing her curves. To an untrained eye, she might have appeared to be wearing an expensive dress. However, upon closer inspection, it was evident that the fabric was of low quality, crafted to mimic something far more luxurious.
Her face and hair were meticulously cared for. Long, silky black hair cascaded over her shoulder, lending her an air of elegance. Yet, a long and deep scar marred her features, stretching from the top of her forehead, across her left eye, down to her chin. Her eyes were a crystalline blue, but where the scar traced its path, her left eye lacked focus. She appeared completely blind in that eye.
Her hands bore no rings or jewelry, and even her ears held only a simple, inexpensive earring. The most striking feature, however, was the shape of those ears¡ªlong and pointed. She was unmistakably an elf.
This was the final clue Jamie needed to recognize her.
¡®She''ll be a problem,¡¯ he thought, ascending into the arena while scratching his head. Not necessarily because she might be formidable in combat¡ªthough that was a possibility¡ªbut because dealing with her affiliations could prove complicated.
¡®She is or was a prostitute,¡¯ Jamie surmised, considering that she might be attempting to flee from the Crimson Veil. He doubted she had been sent by them; she would have to be utterly desperate to subject herself to these trials.
Given the elves'' reputation and the conflicts that had unfolded over the past decades, Jamie thought this explanation seemed the most plausible.
Drawing from Jay''s memories, he recalled that the war with the Holy Elven Empire had ended only ten years prior. It was likely there were still elves who had been captured during the war.
Jamie positioned himself carefully within the arena. Uncertain of what kind of fighter she would be, he kept his senses sharp, his eyes tracking her every movement.
¡®Elves are skilled in both magic and archery,¡¯ he reminded himself, expecting that she might attempt something from a distance.
"Begin!" Thomas shouted.
Jamie waited a few moments, watching the elf for any sign of movement. Yet she remained still, her eyes fixed intently on him, a silent challenge lingering in the air between them.
¡®If you won''t make the first move, then I will,¡¯ Jamie decided. He drew a dagger from his belt, the blade gleaming sharply in the light. Without hesitation, he surged forward, closing the distance between them in swift strides.
As he approached within mere inches, a sly smile curved upon the elf''s lips. In a flash, she reached beneath her flowing dress and produced two small crossbows, one in each hand.
"Dammit!" Jamie cursed under his breath, realizing too late the trap laid before him. She fired both bolts with startling speed. He twisted desperately, managing to evade the first projectile as it grazed his shoulder, slicing through fabric and flesh. The second bolt, however, was unavoidable. Instead of futilely attempting to dodge, Jamie braced himself.
The bolt pierced his leg, biting deep into the muscle. Pain flared, but he refused to let it hinder him. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, lunging toward the elf with ferocious determination. His dagger became an extension of his will, slicing through the space between them.
Surprised by his tenacity, the elf attempted to retreat, clearly having believed her shots would incapacitate him. Her movements were swift, but Jamie''s resolve was unyielding.
In a heartbeat, his blade came to rest against the pale skin of her throat. Both combatants stood frozen, the world narrowing to the thin steel edge between them. The elf''s confident smile faded, replaced by a glint of respect¡ªor perhaps fear¡ªin her eyes.
"I believe we''re done here," Jamie stated coolly, his voice steady despite the throbbing pain in his leg.
Without another word, he lowered his dagger and stepped back. The tension dissipated as he turned and descended from the arena, leaving the elf standing amidst the whispers of the onlookers.
At the platform''s base, Thomas approached with concern etched upon his face. His gaze fell to the bolt embedded in Jamie''s thigh. "What should we do about that?" he asked, nodding toward the injury.
"Leave it for now," Jamie replied, wiping a trickle of blood from his shoulder. "At least it''s stopping the bleeding. We have only one more contender."
The final challenger stepped forward¡ªBertram, Aldwin''s stout friend. The boy appeared as anxious as ever, his eyes shifting nervously. This time, he had strapped a plank of wood to his arm, a makeshift shield that resembled a toilet lid hastily tied on. In his other hand, he clutched a small wooden mace, its surface marred with dents.
"Um... I... I want to fight you," Bertram stammered, pointing shakily at Thomas.
Thomas offered a faint, reassuring smile. "Very well."
They took their positions as the remaining spectators formed a loose circle around the arena. The atmosphere was markedly different¡ªless charged, almost somber.
The bout concluded almost as swiftly as it began. Thomas moved with practiced efficiency, closing the gap between them in an instant. Bertram raised his improvised shield, covering his face in a defensive reflex. But Thomas''s strike was powerful; his fist shattered through the flimsy barrier, connecting squarely with Bertram''s nose.
The boy''s eyes widened in shock before he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. A hushed silence fell over the crowd.
Jamie sighed softly, his expression unreadable. "That''s that, then," he murmured.
With the last match concluded, Jamie stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the sparse audience¡ªa handful of mercenaries and curious residents from the Lower Quarter. The sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the worn ground.
"This marks the end of the Combat Trial," he announced, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the crowd. "I will now call forward those who will proceed to the final phase."
Chapter 39: Black Widow
"This marks the end of the Combat Trial," he announced, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the crowd. "I will now call forward those who will proceed to the final phase."
Jamie stood before the diminished crowd, his gaze sweeping over the remaining contenders. Some choices were clear to him; others required deeper contemplation. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the arena, and a hush fell as everyone awaited his decision.
He had no intention of selecting any of the more seasoned mercenaries. While their performances in the trials had been competent, he knew they could advance without his guidance. They wouldn''t find much value in his organization, and their allegiance would be tenuous at best. Moreover, many of them were too cunning, a trait that could undermine his efforts to solidify control over his territory.
"You two did not make it," Jamie declared, pointing to a pair of mercenaries who exchanged incredulous glances. He moved deliberately among the ranks of the experienced fighters, dismissing them one by one. "Thank you for your participation," he said with a curt nod to each.
As they began to depart, the murmurs of discontent were unmistakable.
"What does he want? We were the best fighters here!" one grumbled.
"He must be looking for cheap recruits. No way he''s paying eighty coins to anyone," another sneered.
"Pity those who stay behind," a third muttered, shaking his head.
Jamie paid their complaints no mind, his focus remaining on the task at hand. He considered the few who remained from the Lower Quarter but concluded that selecting those who hadn''t shown promise would do him little good. With a firm yet polite tone, he dismissed them as well.
In the end, only three individuals stood before him.
¡®Aldwin and Bertram,¡¯ Jamie thought, eyeing the two youths. Both were young and held Classes that were seemingly unremarkable. Yet, that very fact made them ideal. "They''re raw and adaptable. We can help them grow," he reasoned. Aldwin had shown courage, and despite Bertram''s timidity, there was potential waiting to be unlocked.
The last was the elf who had planted a bolt in his leg. Jamie glanced down at the projectile still protruding from his thigh, a stark reminder of her audacity and skill. Her green eyes met his without flinching, a hint of a challenge sparking within them.
¡®Could she be a problem?¡¯ he mused silently. Her abilities were formidable, and there was a fierceness in her that could either be an asset or a liability. Trust would need to be built carefully. Weighing the risks, Jamie assessed the potential benefits she could bring.
¡®I think she''s worth it,¡¯ he concluded.
As Jamie concluded his picks, he finally noticed the cat hovering near his shoulder. Until that moment, it had remained entirely silent.
"Well, this is undoubtedly one of the strangest parties I''ve ever seen in my life," Jay remarked casually.
With that, the cat floated away, drifting leisurely around the village as if he owned the place.
Jamie shook his head in mild bewilderment, still puzzled by the cat''s sudden appearance and equally sudden departure. He had no idea where Jay had come from or where he was headed.
"Alright, you three," Jamie called out, turning his attention back to the remaining trio. "Congratulations. You''ve advanced to the final stage."
Though it was a moment that warranted celebration, only Bertram managed to crack a tentative smile; the other two remained stoic.
¡®Ah, elves,¡¯ Jamie mused to himself, beginning to understand their enigmatic demeanor, though it didn''t make their aloofness any less disconcerting.
"Now then, I''ll just need a few minutes with each of you. The final stage will be a quick conversation," he explained. "Shall we start with you?"
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He gestured toward the elf, who responded with a subtle nod. As she stepped forward to follow him, Thomas limped alongside them, the bolt still jutting from his leg. Jamie paused briefly next to him.
"Could you fetch a cleric?" Jamie asked, indicating the projectile embedded in his thigh.
"Of course," Thomas replied, concern etched on his face. He hastened off toward the town, leaving Jamie and the elf to proceed.
Suppressing a grimace of pain, Jamie led the way to Thomas''s modest cottage. The interior was simple but welcoming, a small wooden table occupying the center of the main room. He lowered himself into a chair with a weary sigh.
The elf stood across from him, her posture straight and composed. Her emerald eyes surveyed him calmly, revealing little of her thoughts.
"Pleasure to meet you. I''m Jamie," he began, offering his hand with a friendly smile. "May I ask your name?"
"Camille," she replied softly, taking his hand in a gentle grip. Her skin was smooth and well-cared-for, yet he noticed the faint calluses on her fingertips.
¡®From handling a bow or perhaps playing an instrument,¡¯ Jamie surmised inwardly.
"Camille, what line of work are you currently in, and why do you wish to join the Golden Fiddle Company?" he asked, striving to keep his tone casual and inviting, careful not to make it feel like a formal interrogation.
"I work in entertainment," Camille replied evasively, her gaze flickering away as if to avoid further probing. "I''m looking for a better way to earn more money."
Jamie noticed that her answers were deliberately vague, perhaps concealing whom she worked for. The bard studied the elf''s face, pondering how best to proceed. She maintained an impassive facade, her delicate features betraying no hint of emotion.
¡®With just these answers, I can''t accept her into the company,¡¯ Jamie mused. ¡®I could just reject her... or I could lay my cards on the table. Let''s see where that leads.¡¯
"By entertainment, do you mean for the Crimson Veil?" Jamie asked directly, his eyes locking onto hers. The question hung heavily in the air, signaling that he knew of her connection to the infamous establishment, though not which particular branch or group.
For the first time since their duel, a flicker of surprise crossed Camille''s face. The elf parted her lips, then closed them again, seemingly at a loss for words.
"I don''t much care about where you work or have worked," Jamie continued, his tone firm yet not unkind. "But I can''t accept someone who isn''t transparent about their situation or what they desire for the future."
Camille fell silent, her sapphire eyes searching his face. Uncertainty shadowed her features. After a moment, she asked quietly, "What I say here... will it remain between us?"
"Without a doubt," Jamie assured her.
She hesitated before speaking again. "Would you be willing to make a [Silence Vow]?"
"Silence Vow?" Jamie repeated, unfamiliar with the term.
Camille arched an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her gaze. Just then, Jay, who had been observing atop a nearby shelf, decided to interject.
"A Silence Vow is a spell performed by wizards and witches," Jay explained, his tail swishing lazily. "It ensures that anything discussed between two people remains confidential. Should either party break the vow, the consequences are... fatal."
Jamie absorbed this information, recognizing the gravity of the commitment. He met Camille''s eyes, seeing a mixture of caution and hope. "I understand," he said solemnly. "I accept."
Once Camille accepted, she lowered her head briefly. When she looked up again, her eyes, which had been a shade of green, were now completely blue. Delicate threads began to flow from her hands, gracefully winding around both her and Jamie''s hands, binding them together.
"As long as this connection remains between us, everything spoken will be under the vow," Camille explained.
Jamie was momentarily surprised by the simplicity of the magic. He made a mental note. Quite useful. I need to learn how to use it.¡¯
"Alright," he said. "Now, tell me about yourself."
Camille took a deep breath, a shadow of pain crossing her face. "I am an elf who was captured during the last war between the kingdoms," she began. "I was not included in the negotiations of the peace treaty and remained a captive of one of the barons of Hafenstadt. When he decided I was... broken, he handed me over to the Crimson Veil."
Jamie listened intently. "And what is it that you seek from the Golden Fiddle Company?"
"Freedom from the Crimson Veil," Camille replied, her voice steady. "And... a chance to obtain vengeance."
He gazed at her thoughtfully, pondering how to proceed. Before giving her a definitive answer, he wanted to understand more about who she was.
Jamie sighed. He had already used some spells but still had enough mana to use [Legends of the Future]. ''I don''t need to see the boys'' either; no need to be afraid of running out of it.''
As usual, the song''s lyrics began to float in front of him.
A Black Widow, vengeance sworn,
Her old magic rips and torn.
Cross her path, beware the blast,
For her wrath is deep and vast!
"Vengeance, huh?" Jamie mused aloud. A faint smile touched his lips. "I can work with that." He extended his hand toward her.
Chapter 40: The Brothers
"Vengeance, huh?" Jamie mused aloud, his gaze steady upon her. A faint smile played on his lips, bridging the distance between skepticism and intrigue. "I can work with that." He extended his hand toward her, his fingers open and inviting.
Camille hesitated, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Wait... you''re not even going to ask me about my Class?" she queried. Jamie could perceive a swirl of emotions crossing her delicate features. Surprise, doubt, perhaps even mistrust. It was clear she was unaccustomed to such swift acceptance, especially without thorough scrutiny.
Jamie leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed yet attentive.
"I don''t get hung up on that," he replied calmly. "Besides, we have other ways to help someone grow beyond just their Class." He seized the opportunity to explain, knowing they were still bound by the Silence Vow''s effects. The faint remnants of the spell''s energy shimmered subtly around them.
Her brows knit together in contemplation.
"Alright," Camille finally conceded, a note of resignation mingling with cautious optimism in her voice. She extended her slender hand, her fingers cool to the touch as they clasped his.
The moment their hands met, Jamie felt a faint surge of warmth. Suddenly, a golden interface materialized before his eyes.
| Member Slot consumed
| 3# Member: Camille Fleursang
| Trust: [5/100]
| Class: Witch [Rare]
| Race: Elf
| Level: 2
| Experience: [52/3000]
¡®Another rare Class. Interesting,¡¯ Jamie thought, his mind already considering the possibilities. Her presence could greatly enhance the company''s capabilities.
"Welcome aboard, Camille," he said aloud, his tone warm and genuine. "For now, that''s all for today. Thomas will contact you soon regarding our training sessions and upcoming missions."
A delicate smile ghosted across her lips, the first genuine expression he''d seen from her. It softened the hard lines that guarded her features, hinting at the person beneath the exterior. "Thank you," she murmured.
Camille rose gracefully from her seat. As she turned to leave, the door creaked open, and Thomas entered, accompanied by a cleric dressed in simple robes adorned with a silver pendant.
The elf slipped past them with an elegant nod, not lingering to observe the proceedings. Jamie watched her depart, the soft click of the closing door leaving a muted silence in her wake.
Thomas approached, concern etched upon his face as his gaze fell to the bolt protruding from Jamie''s leg. "I brought the cleric, as you asked," he said.
The cleric stepped forward, his eyes assessing the wound with practiced efficiency. "Let''s have a look," he offered, setting down a worn leather satchel from which he retrieved a small vial and delicate instruments.
Adjusting his position, Oliver braced himself as the cleric knelt beside him. The healer''s hands were steady and sure, the touch gentle as he examined the injury.
"This might sting," the cleric warned softly. With a swift, precise motion, he extracted the bolt. A sharp jolt of pain lanced through Jamie''s leg, but he clenched his jaw, exhaling slowly through his nose.
As soon as the cleric finished pulling out the bolt, he quickly placed his hands over the wound. A white light shone from his hands briefly. When he removed them, the wound had almost completely closed.
"You''re fortunate," the cleric remarked, applying a cool, herbal salve to the wound. The mixture emanated a soothing scent of lavender and something earthy Jamie couldn''t quite place. "No serious damage."
"Thank you," Jamie said sincerely, watching as the cleric wrapped a clean bandage securely around his thigh.
The cleric stood, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "No trouble at all. This time, we''ll give you a fifty percent discount. It wasn''t too hard, and clearly, you are going to be recurrint clien¡ª" he noticed his mistake "I mean, fervent believers of our temple."
Jamie chuckled softly at the cleric''s sly correction. "We''ll certainly keep your temple in mind for our spiritual needs," he replied with a wink.
Thomas handed over a few silver coins, which the cleric accepted with a nod of gratitude. "May the Light guide your path," the healer intoned before taking his leave, the door closing quietly behind him.
Jamie stretched his neck, peering out the doorway of the modest cottage. In the dirt yard outside, Julie played happily, drawing patterns in the earth with a stick.
Seated near the worn wooden platform were Bertram and Aldwin. Bertram swung his legs idly, his feet dangling as he sat on a low wall, clutching the battered remnants of his makeshift shield¡ªa cracked piece of plank that bore the marks of earlier trials. His round face was smudged with dirt, and a hint of nervousness made his knees bounce. Aldwin sat beside him, his gaze fixed intently on the ground, lost in thought. His dark hair fell over his eyes, shadowing his expression.
"Alright, you two, let''s get this over with," Jamie called out, his voice carrying across the quiet evening air.
"Who''s going in first?" Bertram asked, glancing up with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension.
"Both of you," Jamie replied with a faint sigh. "No point in dragging this out. Come on."
Jamie was weary. The day''s events had drained him more than he''d anticipated. Expending a significant portion of his mana to delve into Camille''s legend had left him almost exhausted. All he wanted now was to wrap up these final interviews and rest. Fortunately, he already knew quite a bit about these boys.
Jamie returned to the small table inside Thomas''s cottage, easing himself onto the creaking chair. The room was modest but cozy. Bertram and Aldwin shuffled in after him, taking seats opposite. Bertram fiddled with the edge of his torn tunic, while Aldwin folded his arms tightly across his chest, his posture guarded. Thomas leaned casually against the windowsill nearby, gazing out at the village but keeping a keen ear on the conversation.
"Alright," Jamie began, his tone attempting warmth despite his fatigue. "This part is simple. I just want to get to know you both a little better."
Bertram nodded eagerly, a tuft of sandy hair falling into his eyes. Aldwin remained silent, his sharp features impassive as he regarded Jamie.
"So," Jamie continued, "who are you? Where do you come from? And what do you want with the Golden Fiddle Company?"
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Aldwin spoke up first, his voice steady but lacking enthusiasm. "I''m Aldwin, and he''s Bertram. We''re from here¡ªwe''ve lived our whole lives in Hafenstadt."
He offered nothing more, his answers clipped and devoid of detail. As he spoke, he tightened his crossed arms, a subtle barrier erected between them.
Jamie observed the two boys thoughtfully. He could sense Aldwin''s reluctance. A hard shell crafted to keep others at bay. If he was going to trust them, he''d need to break through that facade.
He leaned forward slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what are you to each other?" he asked casually. "Friends? Sweethearts? Lovers?"
As each word left his lips, he watched their reactions closely. Bertram''s cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, his eyes widening in surprise. Aldwin''s face contorted with a mix of embarrassment and indignation, a flicker of anger igniting in his eyes.
"You... you¡ª" Aldwin stammered, his voice raised. Unable to find the words, he abruptly lunged forward, his chair scraping against the floor. He moved as if to vault over the table, fists clenched.
But Jamie was prepared. With practiced reflexes, he extended his arm swiftly, his open palm connecting with Aldwin''s face in a firm push.
"Easy there," Jamie said calmly, his gaze steady.
Aldwin recoiled, one hand pressed against his nose where Jamie had stopped him.
Bertram looked between them anxiously, his hands gripping the edge of his chair. The room was thick with tension; the only sounds the distant chatter from the village and the rustling of leaves outside.
Jamie turned his attention to Bertram, his expression softening. "Well?" he prompted gently. "Care to answer?"
"We''re brothers," Bertram declared, his voice resolute yet tinged with a hint of defensiveness.
"Brothers?" Jamie repeated, his brows lifting in surprise. He glanced between the two youths seated before him. They bore little resemblance to each other. Bertram, with his stocky build and round face framed by tousled sandy hair, and Aldwin, leaner with sharper features, his dark hair partially concealing eyes and ears that held a glint of elven heritage.
"Yes, brothers! At least as far as we know," Aldwin retorted sharply, a flicker of irritation igniting in his gaze.
Bertram offered a conciliatory nod. "We were raised together by the same father but have different mothers," he explained softly, casting a sidelong glance at Aldwin as if to temper his brother''s bristling demeanor.
"Ah," Jamie murmured, the pieces falling into place. He leaned back in his chair, the worn wood creaking softly beneath him.
"So, what is it that you seek from the Golden Fiddle Company?" Jamie inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.
"I want to not have to live on the streets," Aldwin stated bluntly, his eyes meeting Jamie''s with a hard, unwavering stare.
Jamie tilted his head thoughtfully. "But didn''t you have a father and mother¡ªor rather, two mothers?" he asked, genuinely curious.
Bertram''s shoulders slumped slightly. "They passed away some time ago," he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Without decent classes, we haven''t been able to find good jobs. Leaving the city would be even more dangerous, with so many monsters along the roads."
A somber silence settled over the room, broken only by the distant clatter of a cart on the cobblestone street outside. Jamie nodded slowly. "I see," he said softly. "Is that why you joined the Cutpurses?"
Bertram hesitated but then nodded. "Yes," he confessed quietly. "We didn''t have many options."
"Well then," Jamie replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It''ll be a pleasure working with you both. Especially setting you straight," he added, reaching out to give Aldwin a playful ruffle of his hair.
Aldwin scowled, batting Jamie''s hand away, but there was a subtle softening in his eyes, a hint of begrudging acceptance.
Jamie stood and extended his hand toward them. "Welcome to the Golden Fiddle Company," he announced.
Bertram rose swiftly, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. He grasped Jamie''s hand firmly, his grip strong and enthusiastic. The boy''s hands were calloused, evidence of hard work despite his youth.
As their hands clasped, Jamie felt a subtle warmth. A familiar sensation that accompanied the activation of his abilities. A golden notification flickered at the edge of his vision.
| Member Slot consumed
| 4# Member: Bertram Loom
| Trust: [35/100]
| Class: Butcher [Common]
| Race: Human
| Level: 1
| Experience: [220/1000]
"Wait a moment," Aldwin interjected, his expression a mix of confusion and skepticism. "Don''t you even want to know our Classes?"
Jamie turned to face him, his hand still extended. "Why?" he asked with a casual shrug. "I can already guess they''re not particularly high-impact. Besides, I believe that with the right training, I can help you both become much better."
Aldwin eyed him warily, crossing his arms over his chest. "That''s... presumptuous," he muttered. "You don''t even know us."
"Perhaps," Jamie acknowledged, his gaze steady. "But I see potential. And I''m willing to invest in it. The question is¡ªare you?"
For a moment, Aldwin hesitated, his eyes flickering between Jamie''s earnest expression and the floor. Finally, he exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "Fine," he relented, reaching out to accept Jamie''s handshake.
As their hands met, the familiar warmth surged once more. Another notification appeared.
| Member Slot consumed
| 5# Member: Aldwin Loom
| Trust: [20/100]
| Class: Herbalist [Common]
| Race: Half-Elf
| Level: 1
| Experience: [180/1000]
Jamie glanced at the translucent display, swiftly dismissing it from his vision. He gave Aldwin''s hand a firm shake, offering a reassuring smile. "I''m glad to have you both on board," he said sincerely.
Aldwin withdrew his hand, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "We''ll see," he murmured.
"Excellent!" Jamie proclaimed, clapping his hands together. "You''re both free to go for today. Thomas will reach out to you soon about training sessions and upcoming missions."
Aldwin nodded curtly, turning on his heel and heading toward the door. Bertram lingered a moment longer, his gaze earnest. "Thank you," he said softly. "We won''t let you down."
"I believe you," Jamie replied, giving him an encouraging nod.
As the door closed behind them, Jamie let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his tousled hair. The weight of the day''s events settled upon him.
Thomas stepped forward from his place near the window, his arms folded across his chest. The fading sunlight cast a warm glow over his rugged features. "We only managed to recruit three," he remarked thoughtfully. "We needed ten. Wouldn''t it have been better to hire at least the two most experienced mercenaries?"
"I thought about that too. However, I need someone who is with us for more than just a pouch of coins," Jamie explained.
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked.
"Traditional mercenaries are only in this business to receive their next payment. There''s nothing wrong with that, but when we get involved with the underworld, many will try to lure our soldiers into betraying us or leaking information," Jamie said. "The Elf seeks revenge, money is unlikely to corrupt her. The brothers, before money, want to change their lives, they want hope. It makes it harder for them to be seduced."
"Even so, we have fewer than we had planned," Thomas remarked, though he did not disagree.
Jamie shrugged lightly, moving to lean against the edge of the table. "It''s not a big problem," he assured. "For now, we''ll focus on making them strong. Once they start proving themselves, others will take notice. We''ll begin attracting more candidates."
Thomas arched an eyebrow. "So, our focus is on training them for now?"
"Precisely," Jamie confirmed. "But we have other endeavors to attend to as well. We need to ensure our beer takes off. Get it into every tavern and inn in the region. Once we start seeing some gold flowing in, we''ll have more resources to expand."
"Right," Thomas agreed, pulling out a chair and settling into it with a weary sigh. "It''s been a long day."
Just as Thomas began to relax, Jamie pushed off from the table, a glint of excitement sparking in his eyes. "What are you doing?" he asked, a playful lilt in his tone.
Thomas blinked up at him. "Sitting?" he replied, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Are we not done for the day?"
"Hardly," Jamie quipped, a grin spreading across his face. "You still need to sample our first batch of beer. Come on!"
Chapter 41: Beer
"Hardly," Jamie quipped, a grin spreading across his face. "You still need to taste our first batch of beer. Come on!"
With the sun already dipping low in the sky, Jamie and Thomas began their leisurely stroll back toward the tavern.
Julie, Thomas''s bright-eyed daughter, walked between them, her small hand nestled securely in her father''s. Above them, Jay¡ªthe dumb cat¡ªhovered playfully. He weaved through the air with effortless grace, occasionally darting ahead only to circle back.
The southern entrance of Hafenstadt was alive with activity, even as the day waned. Traders and merchants bustled about, their carts laden with goods both exotic and mundane. The well-kept houses lining the main avenue stood proudly, their facades freshly painted in cheerful colors after the last Monster Rush. The avenue itself split ahead, one path leading toward the lively marina where ships bobbed gently against the docks, the other winding toward the majestic Arcane Tower, its spire piercing the sky like a sentinel watching over the city.
Yet, unlike the crowds of townsfolk drawn to the bustling heart of Hafenstadt, Jamie and Thomas chose a less-trodden path. They turned onto narrower side streets, where cobblestones were worn smooth by years of footsteps. In the labyrinth of alleyways leading to the Lower Quarter, the city revealed a different face, grittier, poorer, and less amicable.
As they crossed into the Lower Quarter, the architecture shifted subtly. Instead of well-maintained buildings, there were cramped houses and roofs that looked like they could collapse at any moment. The sounds of the now-distant market gave way to the hushed conversations in the narrow streets.
Nestled on the street dividing the two neighborhoods stood the Golden Fiddle, an establishment that at least tried to emulate warmth and welcome. The heavy wooden doors were propped open, golden light spilling onto the street alongside the murmur of conversation and clatter of preparations. A handful of tavern girls moved about inside, arranging chairs and wiping down tables in anticipation of the night''s patrons.
"How are things shaping up, Eliza?" Jamie called out as he stepped inside. The interior was inviting. A space filled with polished wooden tables, a long bar gleaming under the soft glow of magic lanterns, and the comforting aroma of spiced food and wine.
Eliza looked up from behind the bar, her hair pulled back in a practical braid. Her eyes met Jamie''s. "Everything''s ready," she reported with a confident smile. "We''ve set aside the barrels we''ll be tapping tonight."
"Excellent," Jamie replied, satisfaction evident in his tone.
Without missing a beat, he ducked behind the bar to retrieve two sturdy wooden tankards. With a nod to Thomas, he led the way toward the cellar door.
They descended the narrow staircase into the tavern''s cellar. The cool subterranean air greeted them, carrying the rich scents of fermenting grains and aging wood. Though it was not yet perfect, the cellar bore the marks of diligent care. Where once the walls had crumbled and the beams threatened to collapse, now stood reinforced columns and freshly plastered surfaces.
Twelve large barrels stood prominently; two were dedicated to experimental recipes, while the remaining housed batches ready for consumption. Jamie approached one of the barrels with beer ready for consumption, his fingers tracing the sigil they had chosen to represent their brew, a golden fiddle etched into the oak. "Here it is," he announced, a note of pride in his voice.
He positioned a mug beneath the tap, pulling the handle with practiced ease. A stream of golden liquid poured forth, the rich ale cascading into the tankard and forming a creamy head of foam at the top. The air filled with the aroma of toasted barley and a hint of apple.
Filling the second mug, Jamie handed it to Thomas. "Give it a try," he urged.
Jay hovered a few feet above them, his ethereal form gliding effortlessly through the air as he eyed the mugs intently. "What a pity... in this form, I can''t taste anything," he grumbled.
Meanwhile, Julie watched her father with wide-eyed curiosity as he lifted the heavy mug to his lips. Her small hands clutched the table''s edge.
Thomas took a deep draught, the amber liquid cascading over his tongue. He wiped his mouth with the worn sleeve of his coat.
For a moment, his face twisted into a grimace as the bitterness of the brew settled on his palate. "It''s... strange," he commented, his brow furrowing in contemplation. Yet, he didn''t stop there. He raised the mug once more, taking a second gulp, then a third and fourth, each sip more assured than the last until the vessel was drained.
"How confusing," Thomas mused aloud, peering into the empty mug as if it might offer some explanation.
"What is it?" Jamie inquired, leaning casually against a stout oak barrel.
"I''m certain that at first, I didn''t like it much," Thomas began, his voice thoughtful. "The taste is quite different from wine or mead. But the more I drank, the better it became. And I don''t feel as inebriated as with other drinks."
Jamie nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "That''s exactly what we''re aiming for. The nobles won''t care for it; they expect their drinks to be strong and overpowering. But with this, you need to give it time and let the flavors grow on you. That''s why we''ll start with a special promotion tonight; It will be free to those who come."
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"Free?!" Thomas echoed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "But won''t that be expensive?"
"Not so much," Jamie reassured him. He ran a hand over the curved side of a barrel, the wood smooth beneath his fingers. "A beer barrel costs far less than any other drink, especially since we''re brewing it ourselves. It cuts down the costs significantly."
Perched on Jamie''s shoulder, Jay flicked his tail, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Interesting," he purred.
"But... what if they don''t like it?" Thomas asked, concern etching lines across his forehead.
"You didn''t loved it at first, did you?" Jamie countered gently. "Others will have the same experience. The first sip might not win them over, but as they continue, they''ll start to appreciate it more."
Thomas considered this, his gaze drifting to his daughter, who was still watching intently. "I suppose you''re right," he conceded. "It grows on you."
"Exactly," Jamie affirmed. "Trust me on this."
"Alright, then." Thomas nodded decisively. "I''ll take Julie home and be back shortly. If we''re offering free drinks, we''ll need to double our security."
"Good point," Jamie agreed.
Thomas left his tankard upstairs and swiftly departed the tavern, disappearing into the evening. Left alone, Jamie stood behind the polished oak counter, his fingers tapping rhythmically as he waited for the first patrons to arrive.
Today would be special. Because of that, as the first bards arrived, he pulled them aside and explained that he would need some time to make a few announcements. It wouldn¡¯t take up their time; if anything, it might even improve the coins they would earn today.
As twilight deepened, the tavern doors swung open, admitting the first trickle of customers. Laughter and murmured conversations filled the air. Jamie took a deep breath, smoothed his clothes, and made his way to the front of the small stage nestled against the far wall.
"Good evening, everyone!" he called out, his voice carrying over the growing hum of the crowd. Faces turned toward him¡ªsome familiar, others new¡ªeyes reflecting curiosity and anticipation. "Thank you all for helping us support and improve the Golden Fiddle!"
A ripple of excitement coursed through the room. Some patrons cheered heartily, raising their mugs in salute; others whistled or drummed their fists against the sturdy wooden tables, the sound like distant thunder rolling through the cozy space.
Jamie responded with a genuine and charismatic smile, something only a bard could pull off. "I won''t trouble you with dull details. Instead, to celebrate this occasion, I''d like to offer you all a drink!"
An audible gasp echoed, followed by delighted exclamations. "Finally, some good news!" a man near the hearth laughed, his cheeks flushed.
"Must be some kind of trick," another patron muttered skeptically, peering into his empty mug.
"The last owner would''ve never done such a thing," an old man remarked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion yet twinkling with intrigue.
Jamie raised a placating hand. "This is no trick," he assured them. "Tonight, we''ll be serving a new beverage called beer." He let the unfamiliar word linger in the air. "Simply ask any of the ladies, and they''ll serve it to you, free of charge. We have four barrels brimming with it, so drink your fill while it lasts!"
With that, he lifted his own tankard, filled to the brim with a golden, frothy liquid. He took a long, appreciative swig, savoring the rich taste before lowering the mug. "To your health!" he toasted.
The room erupted into applause and cheers. As Jamie stepped down from the stage, a surge of patrons made their way to the bar and the serving girls circulating the room. One by one, wooden mugs were filled with the brew. Curious eyes examined the unfamiliar drink before tentative sips were taken.
At first, many winced at the bitter edge or raised their eyebrows at the flavor of barley with hints of apple. But as the evening progressed, and the bards struck up lively tunes that set toes tapping and hearts lightening, the beer seemed to evolve on their tongues. Each subsequent mug tasted better than the last, the initial bitterness giving way to a satisfying richness that paired perfectly with the jubilant atmosphere.
What began as an ordinary night swiftly transformed into a loud celebration. Word of the free beer spread beyond the tavern walls. Those who stepped outside for a breath of fresh air or to share a smoke whispered to the passersby about the unprecedented generosity within. Soon, a crowd gathered at the entrance, eager faces peering in, noses catching the scent of ale and roasted meats.
It wasn''t long before the tavern reached capacity. The air inside grew warm, filled with laughter, song, and mugs clinking. Outside, a line formed, a rarity for the Golden Fiddle, with people waiting patiently, and some not so patiently, for a chance to join the revelry.
Thomas found himself patrolling both inside and outside the tavern. Tall and imposing, he guided in newcomers and gently escorted out those who''d had one too many and could no longer stand upright. More than once, he intercepted a wayward drunk attempting to relieve himself against the tavern''s stone walls. With a firm hand, he steered them toward more appropriate facilities.
Finally, as the moon reached its zenith, the crowd began to thin. But the impact of that evening lingered long after the last patron had stumbled home.
Little did they know, that night was merely the beginning of an avalanche. The following evening, even without the lure of free drinks, the Golden Fiddle was again crowded. Word had spread like wildfire through the town. People came from everywhere, drawn by tales of a new, delightful beverage that was both delicious and affordable.
They approached the bar with cautious optimism, coins clutched in hand. Many expected the beer to be priced on par with wine or perhaps the cherished mead. When they discovered it cost merely half the price of wine, their eyes widened with surprise and delight.
"Are you certain that''s the price?" a farmer asked, his rough fingers sliding the coins across the counter.
"Indeed it is," Jamie replied. "Enjoy."
The Golden Fiddle became the heartbeat of the Lower Quarter¡¯s nightlife. Each evening stretched longer than the last, filled with music, dance, and the clamor of satisfied patrons.
Throughout the week, the fame of the Golden Fiddle spread quickly, not only in the Lower Quarter but also in the Commercial Quarter, to the point of becoming a problem for other tavern keepers.
Just as Jamie had expected, one fine morning, they finally received the long-awaited question.
"Excuse me, but I must ask; where might one purchase a barrel of this beverage?"
Chapter 42: Training
"Excuse me, but I must ask. Where might one purchase a barrel of this beverage?"
Jamie looked up from his conversation with Thomas. They had been huddled over a corner table, discussing the next steps for their new recruits.
At the entrance stood a woman, her figure framed by the sturdy doorway of the tavern. She wore a dress adorned with delicate floral patterns, the fabric swaying gently as she moved further inside. There was an elegance to her, poise in the way she held herself, and a certain sharpness in her gaze. Jamie estimated she was in her late thirties, perhaps nearing forty, her eyes reflecting both the wisdom of experience and the spark of ambition.
A smile spread across Jamie''s face, genuine and welcoming. Sensing an opportunity, he rose from his seat. "Of course," he replied smoothly, stepping around the counter to approach her. "Please, have a seat for a moment."
He gestured towards a nearby table by the window. The woman inclined her head in gratitude, her hands lightly gathering her skirts as she took the offered chair.
"Was it difficult to find our establishment?" Jamie asked as he settled into the chair opposite her. His tone was conversational, but there was a keen interest in his eyes, a desire to understand this potential new customer.
"A bit," she admitted, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I''m not very familiar with the Lower Quarter." She glanced around subtly, taking in the ¡®rustic¡¯ charm of the tavern.
Jamie nodded sympathetically. "The winding streets can be a maze to those not accustomed to them," he acknowledged. "If you prefer, next time, we could arrange to deliver the barrels directly to your establishment." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering just enough to convey sincerity. "Save you the trouble of navigating these parts."
She considered him for a moment, her eyes assessing. "That would be much appreciated," she replied graciously, a hint of relief in her voice.
"Excellent," Jamie said, clasping his hands together. "Now then, you''re interested in purchasing our beer?"
"Yes," she confirmed, her expression turning all business. "Am I correct in assuming you handle the sales?"
"Indeed," Jamie affirmed with a nod. "How many barrels are you interested in?"
"That depends on your price," she replied evenly, meeting his gaze without hesitation.
Jamie appreciated her directness. "Understandable," he said. "Our market price is one gold coin per barrel. Each barrel yields about a hundred tankards. If you sell each for between one and a half to two silver coins, you stand to earn up to two gold coins per barrel. A fair margin, don''t you think?"
The woman leaned back slightly, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against the table''s edge. Her eyes drifted momentarily as she performed the calculations in her mind. The soft hum of the tavern seemed to fade into the background as she weighed the proposition. After a few moments, she returned her gaze to Jamie. "Those numbers are agreeable," she conceded. "However, I will only make payment upon delivery."
Jamie couldn''t help but grin at her shrewdness. "A tough negotiator," he remarked lightly. "But I admire that. Very well, payment upon delivery it is." He extended his hand across the table.
She reached out and clasped his hand firmly. Her grip was firm, not the delicate touch one might expect, but the handshake of someone accustomed to making deals. "We have an agreement," she said.
[The God of Wealth is proud]
[The God of Festivities is happy that beer is being spread]
[You were awarded 200 Exp]
[Eliza & Thomas also received 200 Exp]
The woman pointed out the location of her tavern, and Jamie nodded in recognition. He had visited the establishment during his first days in Hafenstadt. As soon as they confirmed the delivery details, she gracefully rose from her chair. Her floral dress swayed gently with her movements, and without further ado, she took her leave, the soft tap of her heels fading as she exited the tavern.
"One gold coin," Thomas murmured slowly, watching her departure with raised eyebrows. "In a negotiation that lasted just minutes."
Jamie could see the astonishment etched across his friend''s face. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his own lips. "That''s precisely why sharing is more advantageous than hoarding a monopoly on the beer," he explained. "With the reputation we''ve built over the past week, it''s only natural others will attempt to replicate our formula. It''s just a matter of time before rivals emerge. If we don''t make others feel there''s something in it for them, we''ll only be making enemies."
Thomas nodded thoughtfully, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Better to have them as allies than adversaries."
"Exactly," Jamie agreed. He then clapped a hand on Thomas''s shoulder. "I''ll need your help carrying the barrel."
Thomas chuckled, pushing himself up from his seat. "Lead the way."
---
After delivering the barrel to the buyer''s tavern, Jamie and Thomas set out toward the southern gate of Hafenstadt. The city was alive with the waning energy of the day.
As they walked along the winding streets, Thomas glanced sideways at Jamie. "How much time do we have before the ball?"
Jamie tilted his head in thought. "I believe we have about a month. The ball celebrates the end of autumn, so it''s set to occur around then."
"Will they be ready by that time?" Thomas asked, nodding ahead toward the figures they were approaching.
Jamie followed his gaze to where the three recruits awaited them near the city gates. "No chance," he admitted with a wry smile. "But we must prepare them as much as possible."
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The towering stone walls of Hafenstadt loomed above them, the southern gate arching overhead like a sentinel watching over those who passed beneath. Beyond the gate, the landscape opened into a patchwork of fields and forests painted in the deep oranges and reds of late autumn.
They continued along a dirt path leading to a small village on the outskirts, a cluster of humble cottages with thatched roofs and gardens overgrown with the last wildflowers of the season.
Waiting patiently by the roadside were Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin, their three recruits. Camille stood tall and resolute, her dark hair pulled back tightly, eyes sharp with ambition. Bertram leaned casually against a fence post, his broad shoulders and steady demeanor giving an air of quiet strength. Aldwin, the youngest, shifted his weight from foot to foot, his red hair falling into eyes filled with eagerness and a hint of nervousness.
Upon seeing Jamie and Thomas approach, the trio straightened, expressions turning attentive. Jamie raised a hand in greeting and motioned for them to join. Without hesitation, they fell into step behind the two men.
The group made their way toward a clearing near the edge of the closest forest.
At last, Jamie halted in the middle of a clearing. He turned to face the recruits, his expression earnest.
"Each of you comes from a different corner of Hafenstadt," Jamie began, his voice carrying across the open meadow.
"But you all share something in common," he continued, his keen eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "You know what it''s like to be at rock bottom."
"There is no one in this city offering you a rope to climb out," Jamie went on, his tone tinged with both empathy and resolve. "And if you come from the wrong class, it''s even worse."
He paced slowly before them, the grass crunching softly beneath his well-worn boots. "It''s for this reason that I created the Golden Fiddle, to change reality itself." A hint of a smile played on his lips. "But don''t mistake this for the work of a pure and selfless heart."
Jamie paused, letting his words settle in the cool evening air. "I know that this change will bring me power, prestige, and wealth. But I ask you¡ What''s wrong with that? What''s wrong with gaining riches and power while we change the world?"
Thomas stood a short distance away, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
"This is who I am, and this is what the Golden Fiddle will be," Jamie declared, his voice firm. "I want you to understand the banner under which you will march. We''ll tread beneath the sun and the moon alike. Not all of our actions will be as straightforward as slaying monsters in a dungeon; sometimes, our enemies won''t be monsters at all."
He stopped pacing and faced them directly. "They might be lurking in any of Hafenstadt''s winding streets. They could be soldiers, thieves, or nobles. One day, we may find ourselves on one side of the law and the next day on the other. The only thing I can promise is that, at day''s end, Hafenstadt will be better off because of us."
Jamie scanned their faces, reading their reactions. Camille''s expression remained impassive, her green eyes steady and unreadable. Aldwin''s youthful face showed no sign of dissent, his resolve seemingly solidified by Jamie''s words. Bertram, however, furrowed his brow, confusion flickering across his features, but he remained silent, his stance unwavering.
"Because of this," Jamie continued, his tone sharpening with purpose, "I will need to train you as if there''s no tomorrow. You must become capable of controlling the city''s streets, whether facing the Cutpurses," he said, his gaze shifting to Aldwin and Bertram, "or the Crimson Veil," he added pointedly, his eyes locking with Camille''s.
At the mention of the Crimson Veil, Camille''s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but she gave a curt nod, her eyes never leaving Jamie''s.
Thomas moved away silently, returning moments later bearing several pieces of armor. The metal gleamed dully, yet it was functional and sturdy, unmarked by ornate decoration.
"You will train with us six days a week," Jamie explained, "and have one full day of rest. After certain missions, you will have two days to recover before we resume training."
"So," Jamie said, a hint of challenge in his voice, "let''s begin our training. The three of you, follow me."
They began their training much as they had during the initial test, setting off on a rigorous run around the south wall of Hafenstadt.
The group moved as one, breaths synchronized in rhythmic harmony. Jamie led the way, his stride confident and unyielding. Behind him, Aldwin and Camille kept close, their eyes focused and determination etched across their faces. Bertram lagged slightly but pushed himself to keep up, his heavier frame making the endeavor all the more taxing.
They completed the customary three laps, circling back to the open clearing on the city''s outskirts.
As they came to a halt, Jamie turned to face them, his breath steady. "The beginning of every training session will always be this run," he declared, his gaze sweeping over each of them. "To increase your stamina and marching speed."
Bertram, cheeks flushed and sweat pouring down his ruddy face, collapsed onto the cool grass. He gasped for air, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. Aldwin and Camille stood nearby, drenched in sweat but resolute. They fought to mask their exhaustion, pride refusing to let them show weakness.
Jamie observed them closely. "The next phase is strength and endurance training," he announced. He gestured to an array of objects scattered across the clearing, weights fashioned from metal scraps, stones of various sizes, and sacks filled with sand. They formed a crude but effective circuit.
"You will replicate the exercises I demonstrate," Jamie continued. "Thomas will keep time with the hourglass. Whenever he claps his hands, I''ll move to the next exercise, and the next person will take my place, and so on down the line."
Without further warning, Thomas clapped his hands.
Jamie sprang into action, darting to the first station. He hefted a heavy sack of sand onto his shoulders, muscles flexing as he began a series of squats.
The recruits watched, and when Thomas clapped again, they moved. Aldwin rushed to the sandbag, nearly stumbling under its weight. The half-elf''s slender frame trembled as he fought for balance, beads of sweat forming anew on his brow. Gritting his teeth, he mirrored Jamie''s motions.
Jamie shifted to the next station, dropping down to perform push-ups on the rough ground.
Once more, Thomas clapped his hands
Camille took her cue and hurried to the sandbag as Aldwin moved to the push-ups. She grabbed the sack with determination, her lean muscles straining as she lifted it into position.
They cycled through the exercises, the claps of Thomas''s hands marking the relentless pace. Minutes blurred into an hour, the routine both punishing and relentless. The sun climbed higher, casting a golden sheen over the clearing. Birds perched in the nearby trees, their songs a stark contrast to the labored breaths and occasional groans of the trainees.
Finally, Jamie signaled for a pause. The recruits sagged where they stood, muscles aching and lungs burning. Even Jamie bore signs of fatigue, a sheen of sweat on his brow, a subtle heaviness to his breath, but his eyes remained sharp.
"There''s one final part to today''s training," he announced. "Sparring."
At this, a flicker of anticipation crossed their faces. Despite their exhaustion, the prospect of combat ignited a spark within them.
"Two people will be chosen at random to fight in the center of the clearing," Jamie explained. "You''ll spar for the duration of this hourglass." He held up a smaller timepiece. "No serious injuries. Control your strength. After the time is up, new pairs will take the field."
Bertram wiped a forearm across his damp forehead. "Can the same person be chosen more than once?" he asked between heavy breaths.
Jamie met his gaze. "Yes. Just like in real combat, you must be prepared to face multiple opponents, sometimes without rest. Battles aren''t always fair or evenly matched."
Bertram nodded slowly.
Jamie glanced at Thomas, who stepped forward to make the selections. "Let''s begin the first match," Jamie declared.
Thomas''s voice rang out with authority. "Bertram and Camille!"
Chapter 43: First Mission
At his command, Bertram and Camille stepped forward into the heart of the clearing. The area was a natural arena, surrounded by towering oak and ash trees whose branches intertwined overhead. The scent of earth and leaves filled the air.
Jamie, Thomas, and Aldwin settled themselves on the soft grass at the edge of the clearing, their gazes fixed intently on the pair. A quiet hush fell over the group as the combatants prepared themselves.
Bertram adjusted his grip on a sturdy wooden shield, lifting it close to his face so that only his determined eyes peered over the rim. In his other hand, he brandished a mace, a rough-hewn piece of wood capped with iron. His broad shoulders rose and fell with measured breaths, trying to quell the anxiety that buzzed within him.
Across from him, Camille stood poised and unflinching. In each hand, she held a small crossbow. Her raven hair was pulled back into a tight braid, accentuating the sharp angles of her face and the piercing focus of her emerald eyes. Earlier, Jamie had meticulously inspected the bolts she intended to use. Their tips were blunt, safe enough to prevent lethal harm, though still capable of delivering a stinging blow that would bruise both flesh and ego.
"Begin!" Thomas''s voice resonated, signaling the start of the duel.
Bertram hesitated briefly before stepping forward, his shield held firmly before him. His movements were cautious, each step deliberate as he attempted to close the distance without exposing himself.
In stark contrast, Camille moved with feline agility. She darted to the left, her footsteps light and barely disturbing the grass beneath her. Circling Bertram, she sought an angle of attack, her eyes never leaving her opponent. There was a predatory grace in her movements.
Bertram turned to keep her in his sights, but his heavier frame and slower reflexes betrayed him. Beads of sweat formed along his brow as he tried to anticipate her next move.
Without warning, Camille raised both crossbows, the mechanisms clicking softly as she took aim. Bertram saw the motion and instinctively raised his shield higher, bracing himself. The first bolt struck with a resonant thud, embedding itself harmlessly in the wooden barrier. A flicker of relief crossed his face, a small smile hinting at newfound confidence.
But Camille was not deterred. To the observers, it was clear her initial shot was a calculated move, a feint to draw his attention and keep his defense high.
In a fluid motion, she sidestepped and fired the second bolt. It sailed beneath the edge of Bertram''s shield, striking his thigh with a muted impact. A sharp sting radiated from the point of contact, and Bertram let out a grunt of surprise and pain. His grip faltered, the mace slipping from his fingers to thud against the ground. Instinctively, he clutched at his leg, and his guard momentarily dropped.
Seizing the opportunity, Camille sprang forward with relentless speed. The world seemed to slow as she closed the distance, her focus narrowed on her target. Bertram''s gaze was lowered, his attention consumed by the throbbing in his thigh. He never saw the strike coming.
Camille drove her knee upward with precision, connecting squarely with Bertram''s chin. The force snapped his head back, and his eyes rolled upwards as consciousness slipped away. His large frame teetered for a heartbeat before collapsing onto the grass with a dull thump.
"That''s enough," Jamie called out, rising to his feet. His tone was firm but not unkind. Thomas joined him, and together, they approached the fallen Bertram. Gently, they lifted him under the arms, careful not to aggravate any bruises, and carried him to the shade beneath a sprawling oak.
Aldwin watched with wide eyes, equal parts awe and apprehension.
Jamie glanced back at Camille. She stood calmly, already reloading her crossbows with practiced ease. There was no trace of triumph or malice on her face, only a calm professionalism that belied her youthful look.
''Interesting,'' Jamie mused silently. ''I know her class is [Witch], so she must possess spells, yet she doesn''t fight like a typical caster.''
Throughout the waning hours of the afternoon, the sun cast a golden glow over the training ground. Jamie stood at the edge of the clearing, his keen eyes following every movement of his recruits as they sparred and drilled. A leather-bound notebook rested in his hands, its pages fluttering gently in the breeze as he jotted down observations with a quill.
The air was filled with the sounds of exertion, the clash of practice swords, the heavy footfalls of combatants maneuvering across the grass, and the occasional grunt of effort or muffled thud as someone hit the ground. Jamie''s gaze was sharp, missing nothing, the slight hesitations, the sparks of ingenuity, the telltale signs of fatigue setting in.
He turned his attention to Aldwin, who faced off against Thomas in a bout that crackled with intensity. The young half-elf moved with a mixture of confidence and raw energy, his strikes bold but sometimes reckless.
''Aldwin is confident and determined,'' Jamie noted, his quill scratching across the parchment. ''However, he is hot-headed. When he''s winning, he maintains pressure effectively. But when he starts to lose, his decision-making falters. He becomes impulsive, making poor choices that could cost him dearly in a real fight.''
Shifting his focus, Jamie observed Bertram dueling with Camille. The burly youth wielded his sword and shield with steady precision, his movements deliberate and measured.
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''Bertram exhibits consistent performance,'' Jamie wrote thoughtfully. ''He makes decisions coolly, avoiding unnecessary risks. Yet, his fear of overextending or exposing himself leads to missed opportunities. He hesitates to seize the moment, which could be the difference between victory and defeat. Camille has a blind eye; he never exploited that. Is it pity or fear?''
Camille darted around Bertram with feline grace. There was a seasoned air about her, an ease born of experience beyond her apparent years.
''Camille is experienced; she has clearly fought a lot,¡¯ Jamie penned, glancing up intermittently. ''She capitalizes on openings and isn''t afraid to make difficult decisions. However, none of her opponents have tried to exploit her blind spots, and interestingly, she hasn''t utilized any magic during combat. Must consider why a Witch would refrain from spellcasting in battle.''
As the shadows lengthened and the sun dipped toward the horizon, Jamie called an end to the day''s training. The recruits collapsed onto the soft grass, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. Damp strands of hair clung to their foreheads, and their limbs felt like lead after hours of relentless drills.
The tranquil moment was abruptly shattered.
A shimmering ripple passed through the air above them, and an ethereal voice resonated in their minds:
[The God of War finds this training interesting.]
[The God of War liked your notes.]
[You have received 100 Experience Points.]
[Thomas, Aldwin, Bertram and Camille have received 100 Experience Points.]
A stunned silence followed, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a nightbird.
"What the hell!" Aldwin exclaimed, bolting upright. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared at an invisible point before him.
Bertram and Camille sprang to their feet as well, their fatigue momentarily forgotten. Jamie observed them curiously, noticing the way their gazes fixed on something invisible, their expressions a mix of shock and bewilderment.
"Did you all see that?" Aldwin demanded, turning to the others. "I''ve never gained so much experience at once!"
Bertram ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "Neither have I," he admitted, awe creeping into his voice. "What just happened?"
Jamie offered a knowing smile, closing his notebook with a soft thump. "Ah, one of the perks of being in my company," he explained casually. "As members of my group, you receive a copy of any experience I gain. In return, I receive a portion of the experience you earn."
Bertram''s eyes widened. "Wait. You received 100 Experience Points?" he asked incredulously.
"That''s right," Jamie confirmed, his gaze steady.
Aldwin shook his head in disbelief. "But that''s insane! A hundred points is... I''ve never heard of anyone getting that much at once. Maybe [Heroes] or high-ranking classes?"
Thomas stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He watched the recruits with an air of amusement, recalling his own reactions upon first experiencing Jamie''s unique blessing.
Jamie chuckled softly. "As a Bard, my specialization allows me to enhance and ''buff'' my companions," he elaborated, choosing his words carefully. "Think of it as a symbiotic relationship, we grow stronger together."
Camille''s composed demeanor faltered slightly, her brows knitting in surprise. "I''ve only ever received one or two points from defeating a goblin," she confessed, her voice tinged with a rare hint of uncertainty.
"What can I say?" Jamie replied with a shrug. "Fortune seems to favor us."
[Bertram has gained +5 Trust.]
[Camille has gained +5 Trust.]
[Aldwin has gained +5 Trust.]
Aldwin blinked in surprise, his eyes widening at the unexpected message. He exchanged glances with Bertram and Camille, unable to suppress the smiles that tugged at the corners of their mouths. The shared recognition of earned trust warmed them, forging a deeper bond that transcended mere camaraderie.
With the first day concluded, the trio began to understand what life in a mercenary company truly entailed. Their days settled into a rigorous routine: mornings and early afternoons were devoted to intense training under Jamie''s watchful eye, while he spent his evenings tending to The Golden Fiddle. The initial thrill of rapid progress gave way to the steady grind of disciplined practice, each day honing their skills with unwavering focus.
Two weeks flowed by like a swift-moving river. The grand ball drew ever nearer.
Recognizing the need to take the next step, Jamie called the group together after a grueling session beneath the waning afternoon sun.
Gathered beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak, Jamie addressed them with solemn intent. "As it stands, we''re a company only on parchment," he began, his gaze steady. "We lack the rights and recognition granted to official mercenary companies."
Aldwin furrowed his brow, brushing a lock of sandy hair from his forehead. "What do we need to become a ''real'' company?" he asked, curiosity and determination evident in his eyes.
Jamie produced a rolled parchment from his satchel, its edges creased and sealed with a wax emblem. "We must undertake an expedition to eliminate monsters threatening the city''s outskirts." He unrolled the document, revealing the details of their first assignment. "This is our initial contract. A band of goblins has been spotted in the southern woods, and it''s our task to clear them out."
Thomas, standing beside Jamie with arms crossed, offered a confident nod. "Shouldn''t pose much of a challenge. It''s a small forest; unlikely we''ll encounter anything more formidable than goblins."
Bertram shifted uneasily. "But won''t the reward be minimal for such a simple task?" he questioned, concern flickering across his face.
Jamie met his gaze reassuringly. "Don''t worry about the pay. Our true objectives lie within the city walls, where our efforts will have a greater impact. Think of this mission as a training exercise." He paused, his eyes lingering on Bertram. "Especially for you."
"Me?" Bertram echoed, surprise evident in his tone.
Jamie nodded. "It will be your first time facing a real adversary. You''ll need to overcome any hesitation about engaging a living foe."
Aldwin placed a supportive hand on Bertram''s shoulder.
Bertram absently rubbed his chin, contemplation etched in his features. "I understand," he said quietly.
Camille, who had been listening intently, spoke with her usual calm demeanor. "When do we depart?"
"At dawn tomorrow," Jamie replied. "We''ll meet here and head out."
With the plan set, the group dispersed to make their preparations.
Chapter 44: A New Player
Maria von Hafenstadt PoV
Within the imposing walls of Hafenstadt lay a district reserved exclusively for the nobility, a secluded neighborhood of grandeur and opulence where the city''s elite resided in their mansions. Each noble family possessed their own castles or fortresses scattered across the empire, symbols of their power and influence. Yet, they often returned to the bustling metropolis when affairs of state called or when they sought to engage in the intricate dance of politics and negotiation with their peers.
Maria von Hafenstadt was no exception to this tradition. As a member of the city''s founding family, she owned expansive lands to the north, verdant estates that stretched as far as the eye could see. However, it had been years since she last set foot upon her ancestral grounds. The city''s allure held her captive, for it was within these walls that the actual game of power unfolded.
Perched atop the highest hill within Hafenstadt were two magnificent mansions, standing as silent sentinels over the city below. One belonged to the Governor, a testament to official authority and governance. The other was Maria''s abode, a mirror image of grandeur and elegance. Both residences boasted three splendid stories, their facades gleaming in pristine white marble that caught the first light of dawn and the last glow of dusk. Intricate sculptures adorned their exteriors, marble figures of heroes and mythical creatures entwined with stone vines. Lush gardens surrounded them, a tapestry of fragrant blossoms and manicured hedges.
Yet, the beauty of her mansion was not the reason Maria chose to remain within the city. The actual reason, more straightforward than one might expect, was her uncle, Lucas von Hafenstadt, the current Governor.
Lucas had ascended to the governorship solely by virtue of his gender. Maria''s father, the rightful heir and a man of wisdom and valor, had perished in the war, leaving the seat vacant. The laws of succession in Hafenstadt were unyielding: leadership could not pass to a woman, regardless of merit or capability. It was an edict Maria considered both unjust and foolish, yet it was the unassailable reality of her world.
From a young age, Maria watched as the city she loved began to crumble under her uncle''s negligent rule. Lucas was a man of excesses, a reveler who basked in his own charm and handsome features. The grand halls of the Governor''s mansion were perpetually filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets as he indulged in endless festivities. He surrounded himself with admirers and sycophants, reveling in the attention and the trappings of his position, while the proper responsibilities of leadership were all but forgotten.
However, Maria wasn¡¯t innocent. She understood that direct confrontation would yield little in a society that dismissed her solely based on her gender. Instead of openly opposing her uncle, she chose a path of subtlety and cunning. Lucas, despite his age, was remarkably easy to influence. By gently steering his interests, whispering suggestions here, arranging advantageous encounters there, she found that she could guide his decisions without him ever realizing he was being led.
Thus, Maria began to weave her web of influence throughout Hafenstadt. She moved through the echelons of power with calculated grace, forging alliances with merchants, diplomats, and even members of the city''s clandestine circles. Her intelligence and insight earned her a quiet respect among those who recognized the true architect behind many of the city''s recent successes.
Day by day, night after night, Maria worked tirelessly to extend her reach. Yet, despite her undeniable impact, Maria remained a shadow behind the throne, a governor in all but name.
Lucas relished the grand events and public appearances, thriving in the warmth of admiration and the comfort of the spotlight. He basked in the adoration of the masses, a role that suited his vanity and thirst for praise. Meanwhile, Maria toiled behind the scenes, orchestrating the workings of governance, duties both lawful and otherwise.
In the highest chamber of the smaller mansion, Maria sat at the head of an imposing oak table, occupying the seat that should have belonged to Lucas. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating intricate tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting the history of Hafenstadt. Yet, as was often the case, Lucas was conspicuously absent, leaving the burdens of leadership squarely upon her shoulders.
"Where is he?" The commerce minister demanded, his brows knitted in frustration.
"We observed him visiting one of the baronesses," a guard replied, standing stiffly at attention near the doorway.
"Maria, we must act," the minister implored, turning his weary eyes toward her. "If he continues his flirtations with the Baroness of Frosthell... only the gods know what might transpire."
Maria sighed softly, her fingers tracing the ornate patterns carved into the armrest of her chair. "I will do what I can," she assured him. "But perhaps it''s best to inform someone from House Frosthell, persuading them to recall her from the city. Though he may profess undying love, the moment she departs, he won¡¯t follow."
The minister nodded thoughtfully, stroking his long, white beard. "I shall attempt to handle it. The challenge lies in doing so without causing greater strife. The northern territories are already discontent with us. Should this affair escalate, the Emperor might intervene to mediate."
"Rest assured, it won''t come to that," Maria replied firmly, attempting to ease his concerns.
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The minister sank back into his seat, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
"How are our sales progressing?" Maria inquired, her eyes shifting to the figure seated opposite the minister.
The Manager sat there, a man whose attire was deliberately unremarkable. Unlike the others, he bore no insignia of Hafenstadt, no emblem that might tie him to the noble house. It was imperative that he remain anonymous; any association with him could tarnish their reputations.
"My lady," he began cautiously, his voice low but clear, "since the downfall of the Cutpurses, we''ve been unable to move our merchandise. The goods are stranded at the docks. We cannot proceed without paying off certain parties, but given the rarity of the items, the City Guard Leadership are now involved."
Maria''s expression tightened. "They would never allow contraband through, not even for a bribe," she mused, tapping her fingertips lightly against the table. Frustration edged into her voice. "Damn it! That bard had to disrupt our operation. We need those funds. Lucas continues to squander our budget, and without this income, the city''s finances won''t balance."
The Minister, who seemed out of place in the new topic, still raised his hand. ¡°Couldn''t we hire the bard to move the merchandise?¡±
Maria let out an exasperated sigh. Her cool gaze settled on the minister. "He can''t even control his own territory," she retorted. "Imagine entrusting him with moving our merchandise."
The minister persisted gently. "I''ve heard that he''s formed a mercenary company. Perhaps he''s capable of handling such tasks."
Her interest piqued slightly, Maria arched a finely shaped brow. "How many members does he have?"
"Five individuals have been officially registered," the minister replied.
Maria took a measured sip from her crystal goblet, the deep red wine reflecting the light like liquid rubies. She considered this for a moment before shaking her head. "Absolutely not. He doesn''t have nearly enough people."
"That may be," the minister conceded, "but his renown is growing by the day. It could be advantageous to bring him to our side."
"Why?" Maria''s tone was edged with skepticism. "He''s just another petty thief from the Lower Quarter."
"Perhaps," the minister agreed, "but he''s instigating changes. Initially, his fame was solely due to his skill with the fiddle."
Across the table, the manager sat with a look of indifference. He appeared thoroughly uninterested in the exchange.
Maria cast a dismissive glance at the manager before returning her attention to the minister. "If it''s merely his fiddle playing, let Lucas concern himself with that," she said dryly.
"Yes, but there''s more," the minister pressed on. "He''s expanded a tavern in the Lower Quarter, introduced a new beverage, and now established a mercenary company. Even the nobles haven''t launched so many ventures in such a short span. He''s ambitious and resourceful."
She frowned slightly, the lines of concern briefly marring her otherwise serene expression. Maria had countless issues demanding her attention; the last thing she needed was another variable to manage. "We''ll see," she conceded at last. "He''s already been invited to the Autumn Ball."
The minister nodded, recognizing that the discussion was drawing to a close. "Very well," he said softly.
Maria straightened in her chair, her gaze sweeping over the assembled figures. "If there are no other matters to discuss, I suggest we adjourn."
With no further topics raised, the minister and the manager rose from their seats. As they prepared to leave the chamber, Maria''s voice cut through the silence one final time. "Wait."
Both men paused, turning back to face her. "Yes, my lady?" the minister inquired.
"What is the name of this new beverage he''s introduced?"
The minister blinked in surprise. "Pardon?"
"The bard," Maria clarified, her eyes keen. "What does he call this drink of his?"
"They''re calling it ''beer,''" the minister replied thoughtfully. "I''ve never encountered anything like it before."
The heavy doors closed behind the departing figures with a resonant thud. "Beer," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are the chances?"
A soft rustling echoed from the shadows. "Chances of what?" came a sibilant voice.
From the dim corners of the room, a translucent serpent emerged. It slithered gracefully across the polished marble floor. With a fluid motion, the snake ascended the leg of the ornate table, coiling itself atop the rich mahogany surface where maps and documents lay scattered.
Maria gazed thoughtfully at her enigmatic companion. "The chances that he is a player," she replied, her eyes narrowing shrewdly.
The serpent tilted its head. "All because of the name of his beverage?" it inquired, tongue flickering.
"Beer would have been invented eventually," Maria mused, drumming her slender fingers rhythmically against the table''s edge. "It''s merely the fermentation of wheat and barley. But to use the same name... it''s far too conspicuous."
"Too conspicuous?" the snake echoed, the faint hint of a hiss underlying its words. "Could it be a trap?"
"Perhaps," Maria conceded, her gaze distant as she pondered the implications. "Or maybe he is confident that even if someone uncovers his secret, they won''t dare to confront him, or he''ll be capable of defending himself."
"Or perhaps he underestimates the resourcefulness of others," the serpent suggested, its body undulating slowly as it settled more comfortably.
A sly smile curved Maria''s lips, a glint of mischief shining in her emerald eyes. "Regardless of his intentions... we need to test him."
With deliberate grace, she reached for one of the delicate silver bells arranged neatly on her desk. The bell chimed softly as she rang it, but the sound carried an otherworldly resonance. Within moments, the heavy door swung open, and one of her guards entered the room. Clad in armor adorned with the insignia of House Hafenstadt, he bowed respectfully.
"At your service, my lady," he said formally.
Maria didn''t waste a moment. Rising from her chair, she passed him a sealed letter bearing her personal crest. "Deliver this to the Mercenaries'' Guild," she commanded, her tone crisp and authoritative. "Inform them that it comes directly from me. I desire their latest company to undergo a special test. Send them into the southern forest."
Chapter 45: At The First Dawn
As the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, the five companions gathered once more in the familiar clearing near the southern village of Hafenstadt. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew-kissed grass and the distant murmur of the sea.
Jamie and Thomas stood side by side, clad in their usual attire: worn boots, sturdy trousers, tunics, and a simple leather armor. Today''s only difference was the larger backpacks slung over their shoulders, packed with provisions and essentials for the journey ahead. The quest was to last no more than two days, so they carried only what was necessary.
Aldwin and Bertram adjusted the fit of their newly acquired leather armor. The day before, Thomas had given them several silver coins to purchase the protective gear. The leather was supple yet firm, perfectly balancing defense and mobility.
Camille was similarly outfitted in leather armor, the dark material hugging her form and allowing for seamless movement. Numerous pockets and straps adorned her attire, each holding bolts for her crossbows or other necessary tools. She moved with feline grace, testing the range of motion her armor afforded.
The only outlier in the group was one whom only Jamie could see. Jay hovered a few feet above the ground, clad from head to toe in heavy plate armor that gleamed ethereally. The armor appeared weightless, and his entire form was translucent, shimmering like a mirage.
"Got to be prepared," Jay quipped playfully.
Jamie shook his head with a wry smile, trying to ignore his spectral companion''s antics. "Always the dramatic one," he muttered under his breath.
"Everyone ready?" Jamie asked aloud, turning his attention back to the tangible members of his team.
"Yes," came the unanimous reply.
Leaving the clearing behind, they set off down a narrow, winding path leading southward. The passage was scarcely more than a deer trail. The remnants of autumn blanketed the ground; dry leaves in hues of amber and crimson crunched beneath their boots, and the occasional twig snapped.
The sea accompanied them to the west. Waves rolled gently against the rocky shoreline. Gulls cried out overhead, circling before diving toward the water in search of breakfast.
Despite the uneven terrain, the group maintained a brisk pace, their endurance honed by weeks of rigorous training. They moved in a loose formation. Jamie and Thomas took the lead, eyes scanning ahead for any signs of danger; Camille and Aldwin flanked the sides, ever vigilant; Bertram brought up the rear, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure.
As they progressed, the landscape began to change. The familiar trees of oak and maple gave way to towering evergreens, their needles forming a soft carpet underfoot. Sunlight became scarce as the canopy thickened, casting the forest floor into a patchwork of light and shadow.
Eventually, they reached the threshold of a dark and ancient wood, the last barrier before the peninsula''s end. The forest loomed before them, an imposing wall of intertwined branches and dense underbrush. The trees here were old, so old that their gnarled roots rose from the ground like the limbs of slumbering giants.
Jamie observed the forest before them, noting how distinctly it differed from the surrounding landscape. This part of the continent remained untouched by development, and as a result, the trees here stood tall and ancient, their towering trunks stretching skyward before weaving together in a dense canopy overhead.
"This is the place," Thomas whispered, pointing toward a narrow opening between the first colossal trees.
"Alright," Jamie replied softly. He turned to face the group, his expression resolute. "From this point onward, weapons at the ready and silence. Our objective is simple: locate the goblins'' cave, eliminate them, and return. If we avoid drawing attention, it should be straightforward."
"Understood," came the unified, hushed response from the four companions.
Jamie continued to lead as they ventured into the forest''s embrace, with Thomas close behind. Bertram followed, gripping his shield tightly, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. Aldwin and Camille brought up the rear, both moving with practiced stealth, their senses attuned to the forest''s sounds.
Jamie meticulously chose their route, seeking the easiest passages and avoiding areas thick with brambles or dry twigs that might snap underfoot. Still, the dense environment conspired against them, amplifying even the slightest sound in the silence.
Suddenly, a faint but unmistakable noise reached Jamie''s ears, a series of guttural grunts and the patter of hurried footsteps. He halted abruptly, raising a hand to signal the others to stop. The companions froze, their breaths held as they strained to listen.
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Emerging from between the thick trunks ahead were four goblins, their small, wiry frames darting frantically through the underbrush. Their skin was a sickly hue of green and grey, and their beady eyes were wide with panic. Clad in ragged leathers and clutching crude weapons, they appeared disheveled and frightened.
Luckily, the goblins hadn''t noticed Jamie and his companions. Their attention was wholly consumed by whatever they were fleeing from deeper within the forest. The goblins'' hurried passage was easily heard by the branches snapped, leaves crunched, and their anxious chittering echoed eerily among the trees.
Jamie gestured silently for his companions to move off the path. With practiced ease, they slipped a few paces to the side, melding into the shadows cast by one of the towering trees.
The goblins approached, oblivious to the hidden watchers.
As the goblins passed the tree where Jamie and his group hid, he gave a swift hand signal. In an instant, Thomas and Bertram sprang from their cover, blocking the goblins'' path. Thomas moved like a force of nature, his strong arms shoving the nearest goblin backward with such force that it tumbled head over heels. Bertram followed suit, his shield held firmly as he crashed it into another goblin, the impact echoing like a dull drumbeat in the quiet forest.
The remaining goblins barely had time to register the sudden ambush. Confusion flickered across their grotesque faces as they scrambled to grasp the situation. Seizing the moment, Camille emerged from the shadows. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she raised her twin crossbows. With lethal precision, she loosed two bolts. The projectiles cut through the air, embedding themselves into the stomachs of two goblins. They doubled over, shrieks of pain mingling with the rustling leaves.
Aldwin didn''t hesitate. Spotting another goblin; which stood momentarily alone, its comrades either incapacitated or engaged. The young half-elf darted behind the creature, his steps silent on the soft ground. With a swift thrust, he drove his short sword into the goblin''s back. The creature gasped, a look of surprise and fear flashing across its face before it collapsed to the forest floor.
In mere moments, the four goblins were reduced to one. The final goblin lay sprawled on its back, having been knocked down by Bertram''s initial assault. It groaned, disoriented but alive. Bertram loomed over it, his mace poised. Yet, as Jamie observed from a short distance away, he noticed the hesitation in Bertram''s eyes. The young man''s hand trembled slightly, knuckles white from gripping the weapon too tightly. Beads of sweat dotted his brow, not from exertion, but from the internal struggle waging within.
"Bertram," Jamie called out softly, his voice a steady anchor. "Finish it."
The goblin snarled, its yellowed teeth bared as it began to rise. Sensing weakness, it lunged at Bertram with its dagger aimed for his midsection. Instinct overtook doubt. With a guttural shout, Bertram swung his mace. The weight of the weapon connected squarely with the creature''s skull, resulting in a sickening crunch. The goblin''s head shattered under the force, fragments scattering like macabre confetti.
A heavy silence settled over the forest. The only sounds were the ragged breaths of the companions and the distant cawing of crows. Jamie stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Bertram''s shoulder. "You did well," he said, his eyes conveying understanding.
Bertram swallowed hard, nodding as he tried to steady himself. "First real fight," he admitted quietly.
[The God of War hates goblins]
[You obtained 50 Exp]
[Thomas, Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin obtained 50 Exp]
An intangible warmth spread through him.
Jamie allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Not only had they successfully dealt with the goblins, but his companions were growing stronger, more confident.
He glanced around at the others. Camille was already retrieving her spent bolts, her movements efficient and composed. Aldwin cleaned his blade on a scrap of cloth, a determined set to his jaw despite the flush in his cheeks. Thomas remained vigilant, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees for any additional threats.
"Strange," Thomas remarked, sheathing his sword. "They didn''t even seem to notice us before we attacked. It''s like they weren''t concerned about anything but getting away."
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps they''re fleeing from something. A dispute among the goblins, maybe? Could be internal strife."
"Possible," Thomas agreed, brow furrowed. "But if they''ve lost their leader or are fighting amongst themselves, they might soon appoint a new goblin chief. That could complicate matters."
"Only one way to find out," Jamie said, his gaze turning toward the deeper shadows of the forest. "They came from that direction."
"Stay alert," Jamie advised, his tone firm but encouraging. "We don''t know what''s ahead."
They set off, Jamie leading the way with confident strides.
After some time, they emerged into a clearing. At its center yawned the entrance to a cave, the mouth framed by jagged rocks and overgrown with draping moss and ivy.
But something was amiss. There were no goblins guarding the entrance, no flickering torchlight from within, no sounds of activity echoing from its depths. Instead, the area was eerily silent.
Scattered around the cave''s entrance were bones; countless bones. Skulls, rib cages, limb bones; all bleached white and haphazardly strewn about as if tossed aside without care. Some were clearly goblin remains, while others belonged to creatures larger and more imposing.
"What could have caused something like this?" Jamie wondered aloud, unease creeping into his voice. He stepped cautiously toward the nearest pile, prodding a skull with the tip of his boot.
Thomas knelt beside him, examining a broken femur. "These fractures; whatever did this had immense strength," he observed grimly. "And some of these bones are fresh."
A sudden, thunderous crash resonated through the forest, followed by the sound of splintering wood. The ground beneath them trembled. Jamie''s heart leapt into his throat as he spun around to locate the source.
From the dense foliage, an entire tree hurtled toward them, uprooted and flung as if it were nothing more than a twig. "Take cover!" Jamie shouted, diving to the side.
Chapter 46: Firebreath
From the dense foliage, an entire tree hurtled toward them, uprooted and flung as if it were nothing more than a twig.
"Take cover!" Jamie shouted, diving to the side.
The massive trunk crashed down amidst the five companions, exploding upon impact and sending shards of wood and showers of leaves in every direction. Jamie threw himself to the ground, rolling to avoid the splintering branches that whipped past him, narrowly escaping being crushed or impaled. The ground trembled beneath the force of the impact, and the deafening sound echoed through the forest like a clap of thunder.
As the thundering sound subsided, Jamie lifted his head, eyes scanning the direction from which the tree had been hurled. Atop a small hillock, partially shrouded by mist, stood an enormous creature, clutching yet another freshly uprooted tree in its gnarled hands.
The beast was colossal, its dark, shaggy form towering nearly four meters tall. Its body was covered in thick, matted fur, tangled and woven with vines and coated in patches of moss that gave it a grotesque, greenish hue. Its long arms hung down nearly to its knees, ending in massive hands with fingers like knotted branches. Though ungainly in appearance, there was an undeniable power in the creature''s frame.
Its legs were as sturdy as the trunks of the ancient oaks surrounding them, supporting its bulk with ease. But most terrifying was its face: a twisted mask of primal fury. Deep-set black eyes glared from beneath a heavy brow, devoid of light yet burning with malice and hunger. Crooked, jagged teeth jutted from its wide mouth, and an enormous tongue lolled between cracked lips, dripping with saliva. The creature''s breath steamed in the cool air, a rancid fog that curled around its face.
"A troll!" Aldwin screamed, scrambling backward in terror as he tried to distance himself from the monstrous figure.
Jamie stared in shock. He had read tales and played games featuring trolls, but he had never imagined encountering one in the flesh or that it would be so ugly. The creature''s presence seemed to warp the very atmosphere around it, pressing down like a tangible weight.
With a guttural roar, the troll hefted the tree in its hands and hurled it once more, this time with a deliberate aim toward Bertram, who stood frozen nearby. The tree spun end over end, a deadly projectile hurtling through the air.
"Move!" Jamie commanded, his voice slicing through the paralysis of fear that gripped his companions.
Jamie strained to recall any knowledge about trolls'' weaknesses. ¡®What are a troll''s weaknesses?¡¯ he urgently asked Jay in his mind, hoping for a swift answer. Time was slipping away, and the monstrous creature bore down upon them.
Jay, the ethereal cat adorned from head to tail in gleaming plate armor, placed a paw thoughtfully under his chin. "What was it again? Let me remember..." he mused aloud, his tone maddeningly casual given the circumstances.
¡®Are you kidding me?¡¯ Jamie seethed internally, frustration boiling over as he watched Jay ponder. There was no time for leisurely contemplation.
A thunderous crash shook the forest as another tree was ripped from the earth and hurled towards them. The massive trunk tore through branches, leaves exploding outward like a flock of startled birds. "Look out!" Jamie shouted, throwing himself to the ground as the tree smashed into the earth mere feet away, the impact sending tremors through the ground.
Bertram narrowly escaped the catastrophic collision, diving aside as splinters and debris showered around him. The thunderous noise echoed, then gradually faded, leaving an eerie silence punctuated only by the groaning of strained wood.
Aldwin, who had initially retreated in fear of the monstrous troll, turned back at the sight of his brother in peril. Determination hardened his features. Without a second thought, he sprinted towards the beast, his short sword gleaming as he drew it. With swift, precise movements, Aldwin unleashed a flurry of slashes at the troll''s elongated arms. Each strike cut deeper than the last, greenish blood spurting forth and spattering the forest floor with each blow.
The troll bellowed in pain, a guttural sound reverberating through the trees. It swung its massive limbs wildly, trying to swat Aldwin away, but its movements were sluggish, lacking both speed and dexterity.
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Breathless, Aldwin leapt back, putting distance between himself and the thrashing troll. A faint, proud smile flickered across his face as he observed the damage he had inflicted. But his satisfaction was short-lived. To his horror, the gaping wounds began to close before his eyes. The torn flesh knitted together rapidly, and within moments, there was no trace of the injuries he had so fiercely dealt.
"Damn it!" Aldwin spat, a mix of frustration and disbelief coloring his voice.
The troll fixed its dark, sunken eyes on Aldwin, a cruel sneer twisting its grotesque features. Sensing the boy''s momentary despair, it gained confidence. With a thunderous roar, the beast lunged forward, each of its heavy steps causing the earth to quake. The ground beneath seemed to buckle under its immense weight, roots and stones trembling. Trees shuddered as it brushed past, some snapping under the force.
"Aldwin, get back!" Jamie shouted, urgency sharpening his words.
Thomas, witnessing the imminent danger, sprinted toward Bertram, who was struggling to rise after his narrow escape. Grabbing Bertram''s arm, Thomas hauled him to his feet. "Come on, we need to move!" he urged, pulling his companion away from the troll''s path.
Jamie observed the battle from a distance, carefully deciding when, or if, to intervene. On one hand, attacking the troll wouldn''t achieve much; the creature would simply regenerate its wounds. On the other hand, this confrontation was an invaluable training experience for his companions. As long as none of them were in mortal peril, it was beneficial for them to face such a formidable foe.
¡®They need to learn to think on their feet,¡¯ Jamie mused. ¡®In a forest like this, there won''t be other enemies lurking around to ambush them. But back in the city, any dark alley could pose a far greater threat.¡¯
"Ah! I remember now!" Jay exclaimed excitedly.
"Trolls are weak against running water!"
¡®Running water? For trolls?¡¯ Jamie thought, puzzled.
"No, wait. That''s for vampires," Jay corrected himself, sounding deflated. "Hold on... trolls... trolls... it must be here somewhere."
Jamie spared a quick glance at the spectral cat. Jay was now seated on the forest floor, two ancient books spread open before him. He flipped through the pages with his paw, appearing deep in concentration. The bard shook his head, striving to maintain focus on the battle and, more importantly, to pretend he couldn''t see Jay''s antics.
Turning his attention back to the fight, Jamie noticed Camille moving stealthily away from the main skirmish. She was circling wide, positioning herself behind the hulking troll and carefully avoiding its line of sight. Each step was deliberate, her form barely disturbing the underbrush as she advanced.
Meanwhile, Bertram and Thomas engaged the troll head-on. They attacked and defended in turns, dodging massive swings and retaliating when opportunities presented themselves. Their efforts did little to harm the beast, but they succeeded in holding its attention, providing a crucial distraction.
The troll''s patience was waning. It let out an ear-splitting roar, its rage intensifying as it swung its enormous limbs with renewed ferocity. The ground trembled under its onslaught. This seemed to be the moment Camille had been waiting for. Breaking into a swift run, she closed the remaining distance between herself and the monster.
Her footsteps were silent, barely whispers against the forest floor. Within striking range, Camille raised her twin crossbows. She took aim at the creature''s broad back and squeezed the triggers. The bolts flew true, sinking deep into the troll''s torso.
The troll recoiled, arching its back in pain as it felt the sudden sting of the bolts. But Camille was far from finished. With a burst of agility, she sprinted forward and leaped, grasping one of the embedded bolts to pull herself onto the troll''s back.
The beast thrashed violently, trying to dislodge the unexpected burden. It twisted and turned, but Camille was quick and surefooted. She climbed higher, her movements precise, until she was perched just behind the troll''s head. Her eyes narrowed with determination.
With her face close to the creature''s ear, Jamie could faintly hear the incantation she uttered.
[Fire Breath]
In an instant, Camille opened her mouth, and a torrent of flames erupted forth. Like a dragon unleashed, she engulfed the troll''s head in searing fire.
The stench of burning, decayed flesh filled the air. The acrid smoke curled upward, mingling with the canopy above. The other companions grimaced, their stomachs churning at the smell, but Camille remained unwavering. She continued to channel the flames, her focus unbroken, ensuring that every inch of the troll''s head was consumed.
The troll''s agonized bellows echoed through the forest, each cry weaker than the last. Its movements grew sluggish as the relentless fire did its work. Finally, with its head reduced to charred remnants, the colossal creature swayed unsteadily before crashing down to the ground with a resounding thud that shook the very earth.
A moment of stunned silence followed.
Suddenly, another notification appeared, floating in front of Jamie.
[The God of War is impressive a bunch of level 1¡¯s and 2¡¯s killed a Troll]
[The God of Monsters is fuming]
[You obtained 100 Experience Points]
[Thomas, Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin obtained 100 Experience Points]
"I found it!" Jay exclaimed triumphantly. "Fire and acid are a troll''s weaknesses. But you can also kill them by severing their head!"
Chapter 47: Monster Crystal
"I''ve found it!" Jay exclaimed triumphantly. "Fire and acid are a troll''s weaknesses. But you can also kill them by severing their head!"
As Jay continued his excited revelation, Bertram and Aldwin collapsed onto the forest floor, gasping for breath. Their chests heaved as they tried to steady their racing hearts, the adrenaline of battle slowly ebbing away.
Thomas stood nearby, his stance vigilant and eyes sharp as he scanned the surrounding woods for any additional threats.
Jamie hurried over and reached Camille just in time as she descended from the massive corpse of the fallen troll. The creature''s hulking form lay motionless, its thick hide marred by wounds and scorch marks. Camille''s steps were unsteady, her usually nimble movements slowed by exhaustion.
"Are you alright?" Jamie asked gently, concern evident in his eyes as he steadied her.
"Yes... just tired," Camille replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Beads of sweat clung to her brow, and she leaned against Jamie for support, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. He guided her to a nearby fallen log covered in emerald moss, where she could sit and recover.
From where he lay sprawled on the ground, Aldwin looked over, a mixture of awe and excitement gleaming in his eyes. "We have a witch on our team? Who would''ve thought!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with newfound admiration. "Or is it a sorceress?"
Camille glanced away, her expression guarded as she struggled to find the words. "I..."
"Let her rest," Jamie interjected firmly, casting a meaningful look at Aldwin. "I already knew," he added with a faint smile, attempting to ease the sudden attention on her.
"That''s amazing," Aldwin continued, unable to contain his enthusiasm. His usual stoicism gave way to genuine wonder, his gaze fixed on Camille as if seeing her for the first time. Bertram propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes wide with surprise. Even Thomas allowed a brief look of astonishment to cross his usually composed features.
The group fell into contemplative silence, the weight of Camille''s revelation settling among them.
After several minutes, as their breathing steadied and strength returned, Thomas broke the quiet. "We should get moving," he advised, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "We''ve made a lot of noise."
Jamie nodded in agreement. "We also need to find out what happened to the goblins," he said thoughtfully, his gaze drifting back toward the path they''d been following. "Though it''s likely connected to the troll."
Aldwin pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his leather armor. "We could follow the troll''s trail," he suggested, pointing to the deep, sunken footprints leading into the forest. "It was so heavy that its tracks are easy to find."
"Let''s proceed slowly. We don''t know if we''ll encounter more trolls," Jamie cautioned, his voice low as he cast a wary glance into the depths of the forest.
Thomas took the lead, moving with deliberate care, his eyes scanning every rustle in the underbrush, every sway of the leaves. Jamie lingered at the back of the group, falling into step beside Camille, who was trailing slightly behind.
"Are you alright?" Jamie asked gently, his eyes searching her face.
"Yes, yes," she replied quickly, mustering a small smile. She straightened her posture as if to emphasize her words, but the faint tremor in her voice betrayed her exhaustion.
Jamie studied her for a moment. "Do you have any more charges of that spell or anything else that can produce fire?" he inquired, his tone suggesting concern rather than expectation. He needed to know what resources they had left should they face another threat like the troll.
Camille hesitated briefly before answering. "I have a few basic fire spells left, but nothing as powerful," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the forest floor. "Nothing that would stop a creature like that again."
"That''s good to know," Jamie replied reassuringly. "Every bit helps." He offered her an encouraging nod. As they continued walking, he noticed Aldwin, up ahead, casting furtive glances back toward them. The young half-elf''s eyes lingered on Camille, a mix of awe and curiosity evident in his expression.
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"Why was he so excited to see you using magic?" Jamie asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Is it something significant among elves?"
Camille took a slow breath, her eyes focused on the path ahead. "Magic is very important to the elven people," she began thoughtfully. "Even a half-elf like Aldwin understands its significance. [Sorcerers] and [Wizards] are considered sacred among our kind. They''re seen as the keepers of ancient traditions and the protectors of our heritage."
Jamie nodded, recalling fragments from Jay''s scattered memories about the reverence elves held for magic users. But those memories were hazy, like images viewed through mist. "I see," he said softly. "That explains his enthusiasm."
They walked in companionable silence for a few moments, the only sounds the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the distant call of forest birds.
Curiosity gnawed at Jamie''s mind. He glanced sideways at Camille. "But then, why would they leave a [Witch] like you in another empire after the war?" he asked gently. As the question hung in the air, he noticed a shadow pass over Camille''s face. Her features tightened, and her eyes reflected a deep, lingering sorrow.
She sighed softly, her breath visible in the cool air. "I am seen by many as cursed," she confessed, her voice tinged with resignation. "Although I can use magic, my mana is so little that I can only perform a second-rank spell once a day. And even then, not without side effects. You saw how exhausted I became after facing the troll."
Jamie nodded in agreement, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation when he suddenly walked straight into Bertram''s back, who had stopped abruptly. Rubbing his forehead from the unexpected collision, Jamie blinked and tried to peer over Bertram''s shoulder to see what had caused the sudden halt.
At the front of the group, Thomas stood with one hand raised, a silent command for everyone to freeze in their tracks. His posture was tense, every muscle poised like a coiled spring. Slowly, he crouched down, pressing himself close to the forest floor, and gestured for the others to do the same. The dense underbrush rustled softly as the team mimicked his movements, hearts pounding in the eerie silence.
Without uttering a word, Thomas beckoned Jamie forward with a quick motion of his hand. Jamie, still rubbing the sting out of his face, carefully crawled through the dry leaves and roots.
As he reached the front, Jamie''s eyes followed Thomas''s fixed gaze, and his breath caught in his throat. The blood drained from his face as the gravity of their situation became chillingly clear.
¡®By the gods¡¡¯ Jamie thought, a surge of dread flooding his veins.
"Bloody hell. There must be over twenty trolls out there," Jay''s voice whispered urgently in his mind, mirroring Jamie''s own disbelief.
Ahead of them, less than five hundred meters away, lay a wide clearing bathed in the muted light of dusk. At its center stood a semicircle of three cave entrances carved into a rocky hillside, like gaping mouths hungry for the night. Looming before these caverns were trolls, massive, grotesque figures that moved with a brutish lethargy. Their mottled gray-green skin was stretched taut over bulging muscles, warty and rough like the bark of ancient trees.
The trolls milled about restlessly, some brandishing crude clubs made from uprooted trees, others gnawing on unidentifiable hunks of meat. Their guttural grunts and occasional roars echoed across the clearing.
¡®One was already a nightmare to kill,¡¯ Jamie thought, his jaw tightening as he clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. ¡®But twenty¡¡¯
He signaled urgently to the group, motioning for them to retreat quietly. His heart hammered in his chest as he calculated their odds; slim to none if they were discovered. Just as they began to inch backward, Thomas placed a firm hand on Jamie''s shoulder, his grip like iron.
"Wait," Thomas whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant clamor of the trolls.
Jamie turned, a question in his eyes. Thomas raised his arm slowly, pointing toward the center of the clearing. Jamie squinted, following the line of sight. There, hovering a few meters above the ground, was a large crystal, glowing with an ominous crimson light. It was perfectly shaped like a diamond, its facets sharp and clear despite the eerie aura it emitted. Thin tendrils of almost imperceptible smoke or mist curled from its surface, dissipating into the cool evening air.
"What is that?" Jamie breathed, his voice a mere ghost of a sound.
"A Monster Crystal," Thomas replied, his eyes never leaving the shimmering artifact. "It''s what''s spawning and enraging the trolls."
"Are you sure?" Jamie asked, a knot forming in his stomach.
Thomas nodded solemnly. "Yes."
As if in response to their whispers, a sharp cracking sound pierced the air. Jamie watched in alarm as a web of fractures began to spread across the lower tip of the crystal. The pristine surface splintered slowly, ominously, as if under immense pressure from within.
"What happens if it breaks?" Jamie asked, though dread coiled in his gut, the answer already lurking in the back of his mind.
"Monster Rush," Thomas murmured, his face grim. "An uncontrolled surge of creatures pouring forth."
Jamie felt a cold sweat trickle down his temple. "What are the chances the city guards can hold off twenty to thirty trolls?" he asked, his voice tight.
Thomas met his gaze, the severity in his eyes speaking volumes. "Zero," he stated bluntly.
Chapter 48: Bold & Reckless
Thomas met Jamie''s gaze, the gravity in his eyes leaving no room for doubt. "Zero," he stated bluntly.
Jamie stood silent for a moment, the weight of the scenario settling heavily upon his shoulders. The forest around them was unnaturally still.
"Let''s fall back," Jamie decided, his voice firm yet hushed. Without hesitation, they retreated several hundred meters, moving swiftly but cautiously through the dense underbrush until they reached a secluded spot where they could speak freely.
"The situation is this," Jamie began, facing his companions.
Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin looked at him inquisitively, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. They had not yet grasped the full extent of the peril that loomed over them and potentially over the entire city of Hafenstadt.
"A short distance ahead," Jamie continued, "we came across a clearing with a group of caves. Inside the clearing, we counted twenty to thirty Trolls."
"Bloody hell," Bertram muttered under his breath, his face paling.
"We need to retreat," Camille urged, her eyes wide with apprehension.
"However," Jamie said, his tone steady but resolute, "we can''t retreat."
"What do you mean we can''t?" Aldwin asked incredulously, his voice edged with anxiety.
"There is a massive Monster Crystal there," Jamie explained. "It''s on the verge of breaking."
"By the gods," Camille whispered, shock evident in her features.
"If that crystal shatters, Hafenstadt will face an imminent attack," Thomas interjected solemnly. "We can''t allow hundreds, if not thousands, to die."
''And certainly, who would be left to buy our beer if the city is razed?'' Jamie thought wryly, another angle to the catastrophe flickering through his mind.
"But how are we supposed to stop this?!" Aldwin exclaimed, his eyes darting between his companions. "Can''t we at least warn them about the crystal?"
"It would take us half a day just to get back to the city," Thomas explained patiently. "And another two to three days for the army to mobilize and arrive. The crystal will undoubtedly break before then."
Despair clouded the faces of Aldwin and Bertram, while Camille stood silently, her gaze cast downward.
They all turned their eyes to Jamie, trying to find some kind of hope amidst the gloom. He could feel their unspoken plea, the trust they placed in him. The bard drew a deep breath, his mind racing to piece together a solution.
"What must we do to prevent the Rush?" Jamie asked, turning to Thomas with urgency etched in his voice.
"The crystal needs to be destroyed before its natural breaking point," Thomas explained, his gaze steady and serious.
"And what happens if we break it ourselves?" Jamie pressed further.
"The monsters become stunned and weakened," Thomas replied. "Even if we flee, they won''t be able to pursue us effectively."
Jamie began to pace back and forth, his boots crunching softly against the forest floor as he considered their options. The leaf-strewn ground was dry, and as he walked, he noticed how the canopy was letting some dead leaves and twigs fall to the floor.
"Perhaps..." Jamie murmured to himself, a spark of an idea igniting in his mind. He paused and looked up. Then he turned back to Thomas. "How much force is needed to break the crystal? One strike? Several?"
"It depends," Thomas said thoughtfully. "It''s like a solid piece of glass. It depends on the weapon and the strength behind it."
"Excellent," Jamie mused, a plan coalescing. "I think I''ve got an idea. It might be bold, perhaps even reckless, but then again, my plans often are." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he walked over to a nearby tree and snapped off a twig.
Returning to the group, he knelt down and began to sketch on the soft earth, using the stick as a makeshift stylus. He drew a large circle and then added three smaller circles near its center. Lines and markings soon followed, creating a rudimentary map.
"Imagine this is the clearing," Jamie explained, pointing to the large circle. "And these three circles here are the entrances to the caves."
The group, Camille, Bertram, Aldwin, and Thomas, gathered around, their faces lit with a mix of curiosity and concern as they studied the improvised map.
"What would happen if only one side of the forest started to catch fire?" Jamie asked, glancing up at them. He hoped someone might shed light on how the trolls would react.
"Trolls aren''t intelligent," Camille responded promptly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But they have a strong survival instinct. If the fire is far from their nest, they''ll likely ignore it or move away. If it''s close, they''ll attempt to extinguish it to protect their home."
Thomas nodded in agreement, his arms crossed as he considered her words.
"Excellent," Jamie declared, his eyes glinting with determination. "Because it''s autumn, the leaves are dry and will easily spread the flames. But the soil is still damp enough not to burn the whole forest down."
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"Aldwin and I will position ourselves on the western side of the clearing," Jamie continued, pointing to a spot on the makeshift map. "We''ll gather leaves, twigs, and some stones to contain the fire. Then we''ll ignite it with flint."
"Why me?" Aldwin asked, perplexed. His brows knit together beneath his tousled sandy hair, and a hint of unease flickered in his eyes.
Jamie turned to him with a reassuring smile. "You and I are the fastest, well, perhaps except for Camille," he conceded with a nod toward the quiet elf who stood a few steps back, her emerald eyes attentive. "Besides," he added, "you''re an herbalist. You can help me find leaves that might produce smoke or scents that attract the trolls."
Aldwin''s eyes widened in surprise. "How do you know I''m an herbalist?" he stammered, a faint blush creeping up his neck.
Jamie waved off the question, his focus unswayed. "We''ll discuss that later," he said briskly before continuing with the plan. "On the eastern side, Bertram, Thomas, and Camille will wait. As soon as you see the trolls moving away from their lair, you''ll enter the clearing and head straight for the crystal. Bertram, Thomas, you both have the physical strength to destroy it, and if needed, you can defend Camille. Camille, you''re capable of using magic should the situation call for it."
"It makes sense," Camille remarked softly, her voice barely above a whisper yet carrying a steadiness that belied her slight frame.
"Seems rational to me," Bertram agreed.
Thomas, however, raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And where''s the reckless and bold part?" he inquired, a hint of wry amusement in his tone. He had known Jamie long enough to recognize that his plans often held an edge of daring.
Jamie met his gaze evenly. "Aldwin and I will draw the trolls'' attention if they reach the fire too soon," he revealed. "Moreover, after breaking the crystal, none of us will flee. We''ll use the flames to kill the trolls. Not a single one will remain."
Aldwin''s face paled, and he swallowed hard. "Wa-wait," he stuttered, his voice trembling slightly. "There are too many for just the five of us to defeat."
Jamie placed a firm yet gentle hand on Aldwin''s shoulder. "If we don''t eliminate them now, it''s only a matter of time before another crystal draws them under control," he explained. "And there''s something else. If we don''t have proof that we''ve destroyed a monster¡¯s nest, they might deny our permission to operate as a mercenary company."
"Fucking hell," Thomas muttered under his breath, a rare curse slipping from the stoic guard. "You''re right. They might not grant us the license if we return without some proof."
Jamie surveyed each member of his team, his gaze steady and earnest. Thomas and Camille appeared contemplative but resolute. Bertram and Aldwin, on the other hand, showed traces of fear. Bertram''s jaw was set tight, and Aldwin avoided direct eye contact, though he tried valiantly to mask his apprehension.
"If there are no further questions," Jamie said, his tone inviting yet decisive, "let''s put our plan into action."
The group advanced silently through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves that blanketed the ground.
As they neared the trolls'' encampment, Jamie raised a hand, signaling the others to halt. He caught their eyes and made a subtle gesture, indicating that he would split off.
Before splitting, Jamie remembered one of the blessings he received upon reaching level two.
[Questmaker]
As he thought about the blessing, a few letters quickly appeared before him.
[What will be the objective of the Quest?]
Jamie took a moment to think. "Kill the Trolls," He thought.
[How much EXP do you wish to invest in the Quest?]
Jamie quickly checked how much experience he had.
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Experience: [1070 / 5000]
¡®500?¡¯ Jamie guessed.
| Who will take part?
¡®Thomas, Camille, Bertram, and Aldwin,¡¯ Jamie thought.
[New quest created]
[Quest sent ¡]
| New Quest: Kill The Trolls
| Objective: Kill The Trolls
| Any new EXP will be held off until the quest is completed.
| Reward: The gods will decide upon quest completion.
The first to speak was Aldwin, who was startled. "What the hell is this? A quest?" he whispered, looking at Jamie.
¡°Just another incentive for all of us," Jamie whispered before turning away.
With a firm but quiet motion, he beckoned Aldwin to join him. The two slipped away from the main group, moving with practiced stealth as they began to circle the perimeter of the clearing.
Staying close to the shadows cast by the trees, Jamie and Aldwin crept along the edge of the clearing. Each step was deliberate, their senses heightened to detect any sign of danger.
After what felt like an arduous journey, Jamie and Aldwin reached the far side of the clearing. From this vantage point, they could see Bertram, Thomas, and Camille concealed on the opposite edge, barely visible amidst the foliage. Jamie gave a slight nod, acknowledging their positions.
"Let''s begin," Jamie whispered, his voice barely audible.
Without wasting time, they set to work, gathering as many dry branches and leaves as they could find. The forest floor was abundant with autumn''s offerings¡ªtwigs snapped easily in their hands, and leaves crumbled at the slightest touch.
"It''s better to focus on these leaves," Aldwin advised quietly, pointing to a cluster of leaves speckled with white spots.
Jamie examined them closely. "What''s special about them?" he asked.
"They''re from the ghostwood tree," Aldwin explained. "They have a strong, pungent odor that will catch the trolls'' attention and mask any trace of our scent. Plus, they produce thick smoke when burned."
Jamie nodded appreciatively. "Good thinking," he remarked, adding the leaves to their growing pile.
They worked swiftly but carefully, mindful of every sound. The minutes stretched on as they built three large mounds of kindling, each strategically placed to maximize the effect of the smoke and flames. Sweat beaded on their foreheads despite the coolness of the day.
"Ready?" Jamie asked, straightening up and wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek.
"Ready," Aldwin confirmed, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and nervous energy.
Jamie retrieved his flint and steel from a pouch at his belt. Crouching beside the first pile, he struck the flint sharply, sending a cascade of sparks onto the dry tinder. A small flame flickered to life, greedily consuming the brittle leaves and twigs. Jamie shielded it with his hand, gently blowing to encourage the fire to grow.
Soon, flames leapt upward, crackling as they spread through the pile.
Chapter 49: Burn!
Thomas PoV
Thomas crouched low, his knee pressed firmly against the earth. His gaze was fixed intently on the clearing ahead, where shadows danced among the towering silhouettes of trolls. The creatures lumbered about, unaware of the impending peril.
With Jamie and Aldwin having slipped around to the far side to ignite the fire, Thomas had lost sight of them, the thick underbrush and undulating terrain obscuring his view. Minutes stretched like hours as he and his companions waited in silence. Then, at last, a thin line of dark smoke began to coil upward from the distant trees.
As the moments ticked by, that wisp of smoke grew into a plume. The inky blackness spread like a shroud, creeping across the clearing and weaving between the trunks of oaks. The acrid scent of burning leaves and wood filled the air, a harbinger of the chaos to come. Visibility waned as the smoke thickened, cloaking everything in a murky haze.
Thomas raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the stinging fumes carried by the shifting winds. The smoke stung his throat, and he could hear the muffled, guttural roars of the trolls growing distant and frenzied. Their deep bellows echoed through the trees, tinged with confusion and rising desperation.
"They must be trying to deal with the fire," Thomas murmured, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Bertram and Camille, who crouched behind a fallen log nearby. Bertram met his gaze, his knuckles white as he griped his mace and shield firmly, while Camille gave a resolute nod.
"Let''s destroy the crystal," Thomas declared softly.
Bertram hoisted his shield, bringing it close to his face. He began to advance, knees bent slightly, each step measured and silent. Thomas fell in behind him, weapon at the ready, his senses alert to every sound. Camille brought up the rear.
"Stay focused, Bertram," Thomas instructed in a low tone. "If anything attacks, you''re our line of defense."
Bertram nodded, though the slight tremor in the arm bearing his shield betrayed a hint of trepidation. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him, but he steeled himself, muscles tense beneath his armor.
The trio moved further into the swirling smoke. Thomas''s heart thrummed in his chest, but his mind remained sharp. With every cautious step, he scanned their surroundings, keen eyes piercing through the gloom as best they could.
Visibility was scarce; the smoke wrapped around them like a living entity, muffling sound, and warping perception. The distant crackle of the fire mingled with the earthy scent of the forest. Every rustle seemed amplified in the heavy air.
Then, through the haze, they spotted it. A pulsating, reddish glow emanating from the center of the clearing. The Monster Crystal hovered several feet above the ground, suspended by some arcane force. It was larger than Thomas had anticipated, its facets sharp and gleaming, casting an eerie light that danced upon the surrounding smoke.
"There it is," Thomas whispered, a mix of awe and urgency threading his voice.
No trolls appeared to guard it; their attention was consumed by the encroaching fire. As they drew nearer, Bertram hesitated for the briefest of moments, his footfall pausing mid-step.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the stillness. A visceral sound that seemed to shake the ground beneath them. The bellow emanated from the cavern to their left.
"Defend!" Thomas shouted instinctively.
Bertram barely had time to react before a massive, gnarled arm swung out from the shadows. The troll''s limb was as thick as a tree trunk; its mottled skin stretched taut over bulging muscles. Bertram raised his shield just as the troll''s arm crashed against it with bone-jarring force.
Thomas instinctively leaped several steps backward, his boots skidding slightly on the forest floor as he regained his footing.
Bertram, however, bore the brunt of the creature''s wrath. Having raised his shield just in time, he absorbed the impact of the Troll''s massive fist. The force sent him hurtling through the air, his form crashing into the underbrush and sliding several meters before coming to a painful halt. Leaves and dirt clung to his armor as he gasped for breath, momentarily stunned.
"Camille, focus on the crystal! Bertram and I will hold off the Troll!" Thomas commanded, his voice sharp and resolute. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Bertram, weaving through the scattered debris of the forest floor.
The Troll lumbered forward, a monstrous figure looming against the backdrop of smoke and shadow. It resembled the one they''d faced earlier; towering height, mottled gray-green skin, and eyes filled with primal rage. Yet, this one bore distinct characteristics that set it apart. Its arms were even more disproportionately long, nearly scraping the ground with each ponderous step. A long white beard cascaded down its chest, tangled and matted, giving it an ancient and almost regal appearance.
¡®An elder Troll?¡¯ The thought flashed through Thomas''s mind as he closed the distance to Bertram. Such creatures were rare. They were less agile but more cunning and dangerous than their younger counterparts.
Reaching Bertram, Thomas knelt beside him. "Are you alright? Can you stand?" he asked urgently, gripping Bertram''s uninjured arm to help him rise.
Bertram winced, his face pale and contorted with pain. "I¡ªI think so," he managed, his voice strained. "My arm... I think it''s broken." He cradled his left arm against his chest, fingers trembling as he tried to steady himself.
The Troll advanced slowly, its heavy footsteps causing the ground beneath them to tremble slightly. Despite its intimidating presence, it moved with a sluggishness that suggested age or perhaps a lingering wound. This provided a sliver of opportunity.
"We''ll tend to your arm when we''re safe," Thomas assured, his gaze flickering between Bertram and the approaching menace. "For now, we need to keep it occupied and pray that roar didn''t call any more of its kin."
Bertram nodded grimly, determination overshadowing his pain. "Understood."
Drawing his short sword, Thomas tightened his grip around the hilt. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready as I''ll ever be," Bertram replied, adjusting his stance despite the throbbing in his arm.
They moved in unison, each circling to flank the Troll from opposite sides. The scent of burnt wood and earth hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky odor emanating from the Troll.
The creature swung its enormous arms wildly, swatting at shadows and stirring whirlwinds of leaves and dust. Thomas darted in, aiming a swift slash at the Troll''s leg. His blade connected, but the thick hide turned what should have been a deep cut into a superficial scratch. Dark, sluggish blood oozed from the wound.
Bertram attacked from the other side, thrusting his sword toward the Troll''s ribs. The Troll roared with pain, before lashing out. Bertram barely managed to raise his shield in time, the impact sending a jolt through his already injured arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
"Keep moving! Don''t let it pin you down!" Thomas shouted, side-stepping another swipe.
The elder Troll''s rage intensified. Its milky eyes burned with a malevolent glow as it continued to regenerate the minor wounds almost as quickly as they were inflicted. Though its healing seemed slower than that of a younger Troll it was still faster than the damage they could deal.
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Doubt gnawed at Thomas. ''What are we doing wrong? How can we stop this thing?'' His mind raced, seeking a solution. ''What would Jamie do?''
While Thomas was thinking, he took a quick look at how Camille was progressing with the crystal.
Another troll loomed before Camille, barring her path to the crystal. This one was smaller than the others but no less formidable. Hunched and wiry, she clutched several tiny trolls close to her. A clutch of offspring with wide, curious eyes peering from behind tangled tufts of hair. Protective and fierce, the mother troll stood her ground.
''A female,'' Thomas realized, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. ''Stayed behind to care for the young.'' Yet despite this recognition, there was no room for pity in his heart. The fate of many rested on their success.
Camille hesitated, tense as she weighed her options. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. The mother troll snarled, swinging a massive arm with surprising speed. Instinct overtook hesitation; Camille deftly sidestepped the sweeping limb, feeling the rush of air as it passed mere inches from her. Seizing the moment, she dashed forward, darting beneath the troll''s reach. Her boots barely touched the ground as she sprinted toward the pulsating crystal that hovered at the center of the clearing.
Skidding to a halt within striking distance, Camille raised her twin crossbows. Her breath steadied, vision tunneling as she honed in on her target. Fingers squeezed the triggers; two bolts zipped through the air, their flights whispering before they struck the crystal-dead center. A brief flash of hope flared within her.
But the crystal did not shatter. Instead, the bolts lodged into its gleaming surface, quivering with the absorbed impact. The orb remained intact, its eerie glow mocking her efforts.
"Keep attacking!" Thomas shouted from afar, his voice strained as he grappled with his own enemy. "You have to break it!"
Camille nodded sharply, determination hardening her features. She stepped forward, only to have the trolless whirl upon her with a guttural roar. The creature''s long arms lashed out wildly, creating a flurry of motion that forced Camille back. Each swing was a whirlwind, unpredictable and dangerous.
"Quickly!"
"Attack!"
The shouts erupted from the edge of the forest. Out of the smoky haze emerged Jamie and Aldwin, sprinting toward the clearing with all the speed they could muster. Behind them, the ground shook as a pack of trolls thundered in pursuit. The beasts'' heavy footfalls pounded like distant drums.
Jamie and Aldwin clutched flaming branches. They waved the makeshift torches defensively, fending off the trolls and attempting to slow their advance. But the gap was closing rapidly; time was slipping through their fingers like sand.
Thomas''s heart clenched. He and Bertram were barely managing to contend with one elder troll; the arrival of reinforcements could be their doom. His mind raced, searching for a solution even as dread tightened its grip.
A sudden, ethereal glow drew his gaze back to Camille. She had retreated several paces, positioning herself between the trolless and the crystal. Planting her feet firmly, she began to chant soft words. Her left hand lifted gracefully, fingers splayed as a shimmering, azure circle materialized around it. Intricate runes etched themselves into the air, orbiting her wrist like celestial bodies.
The circle pulsed with energy, bathing her face in light. The runes brightened, then dissolved into streams of luminescence that coalesced at her fingertips, forming a single, radiant point.
With a swift, precise motion, Camille released the spell. "Magic Missile," she whispered.
The luminous dart streaked forth, slicing through the air with unerring accuracy. It struck the crystal exactly where one of her bolts remained embedded. The impact drove the bolt deeper, a resonant crack echoing as the crystal finally endured more than it could withstand.
Fine fissures snaked outward from the point of contact, branching like veins across the crystal''s multifaceted surface. The malevolent glow within flickered erratically, shadows warring with light.
Camille took a cautious step back, eyes fixed on the crystal as the cracks expanded. The hum escalated into a sharp, crystalline ringing. Then, with a sound reminiscent of shattering ice, the crystal exploded. Shards sprayed outward, disintegrating into motes of light before they touched the ground.
The trolls who had moments before fought with savage ferocity now stood frozen in place; their monstrous faces contorted with pain and despair. Agonized screams tore from their throats as they clutched at their ears and covered their eyes, the shattering of the Monster Crystal rendering them vulnerable and disoriented. The eerie screams echoed through the clearing, mingling with the fading glow of the fires.
"Don''t waste time," Jamie commanded, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. His eyes were steely with resolve as he drew the attention of his companions.
Thomas turned toward their leader just in time to see Jamie holding a dagger over the flames of the torch he carried. The blade gleamed wickedly as it heated, the metal turning a sinister shade of orange. Without hesitation, Jamie strode directly toward the nearest troll, a hulking brute kneeling in pain. With a swift, unflinching motion, he plunged the fiery dagger into the creature''s eye. The troll let out a guttural howl before collapsing heavily to the ground, the light in its remaining eye fading to darkness.
Jamie¡¯s decisive action woke the rest of the group. One by one, they followed his lead, moving methodically among the paralyzed trolls. Some wielded torches, setting the creatures alight, while others used blades to deliver quick, lethal fiery blows. They left none behind, ensuring that every troll was dispatched. The air grew thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the somber silence of death.
Thomas was struck by how effortlessly the task unfolded. The trolls, once formidable adversaries, were now rendered helpless by the destruction of the crystal. They offered no resistance, unable to comprehend or react to the grim fate befalling them. It starkly contrasted to the fierce battle they had waged moments before.
As the last troll fell, Thomas noticed Bertram standing before one of the cavern entrances. The young man''s face was ashen, his eyes wide and unseeing, as if he had gazed upon something too horrible to fathom. Concerned, Thomas sheathed his sword and made his way toward him, the soft crunch of his footsteps muted against the backdrop of dying flames.
"Bertram?" Thomas called gently as he approached. The flickering light cast shadows across Bertram''s pale features, highlighting the fear etched there.
Drawing nearer, Thomas peered into the cavern. The light revealed a heartbreaking sight: scattered across the earthen floor were piles of animal pelts, upon which rested troll children and babies. They were no larger than human toddlers yet bore all the hallmarks of their species: long, gangly arms, coarse greenish fur, and protruding, sharp teeth. The tiny creatures cooed and gurgled innocently, oblivious to the grim fate that had befallen their kin.
"T-they don''t need to be burned, right?" Bertram whispered, his voice barely audible and tinged with desperation. He looked to Thomas for any hint of reprieve, a silent plea hanging in the air.
Thomas felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. The stark reality loomed between them; they both knew the harsh truths of their world. Leaving the young trolls alive could spell disaster in the future. Yet, the thought of extinguishing such innocent lives was a burden neither wished to bear.
As Thomas grappled with his conflicted thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Jamie emerged from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. His gaze settled on the troll infants for a brief moment before shifting to Bertram.
"Don''t look," Jamie ordered quietly, his tone firm. "Throw the torch."
Bertram''s grip on the torch faltered. "B-but they''re just children," he protested weakly, his voice strained. The torchlight trembled in his hand.
Jamie stepped forward, kneeling to sift through a heap near the cave entrance. He rose, holding a handful of bones and a skull. Tiny, fragile, unmistakably human. "Children who consume humans," he said gravely, his eyes locking with Bertram''s. "Trolls will show no mercy to our young. If you let them grow and one day they attack Hafenstadt, the blood of those innocent lives will be on your hands."
He placed the bones gently back onto the pile, the weight of his words lingering heavily in the air. Without another glance, Jamie turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the quiet that enveloped the forest.
Bertram stood rooted to the spot, his face a portrait of inner turmoil. Thomas reached out a hand, but hesitated, unsure of how to offer comfort in the face of such a grim choice. Before he could speak, Bertram set his jaw, biting down hard on his lip until a bead of blood appeared. With a resolute, albeit pained expression, he hurled the torch into the depths of the cavern.
The dry pelts caught fire swiftly, flames spreading hungrily across the makeshift nests. The infant trolls stirred, their soft murmurs rising into shrill cries as the heat intensified. Bertram turned away abruptly, his shoulders shaking as he fought to suppress the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms.
Thomas watched him, a profound sadness settling over him. He wanted to offer solace, to find words that might ease the young man''s burden, but none came. The crackling of the fire grew louder, consuming the sounds from within the cave.
The guard sighed softly. He placed a tentative hand on Bertram''s shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. Bertram did not turn, but the tension in his posture lessened slightly. Together, they stood facing away from the cavern, allowing the flames to carry away the harrowing images and echoes of what had been done.
Farther ahead, the rest of the group waited for them.
"Come," Thomas said gently to Bertram. "Let''s join the others."
Chapter 50: The Message
"Thomas," Jamie called out, turning his gaze toward him. "Do you know how to extract the crystal?"
Thomas shook his head, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I don''t. I''ve never actually been out in the field for that," he admitted.
"I do," Camille interjected softly, raising her hand. "During the war, there were times we had to eliminate Monster Crystals."
A flicker of relief crossed Jamie''s face. "Excellent. Camille, you''ll handle the crystal." He turned to the others, his voice steady as he issued his directives. "Bertram, I need you to skin the trolls and gather anything useful from them. Let''s finish before the sunset. I¡¯d rather not spend the night this deep in the forest."
Bertram''s eyes widened momentarily, but he swallowed hard and nodded. "Understood," he murmured.
As Camille and Bertram set about their tasks, the clearing transformed into a scene of grim industry. Camille moved with practiced precision toward the fractured remnants of the crystal. Her fingers deftly manipulated small tools and pouches of fine powder, her movements methodical and sure. Bertram, meanwhile, approached the fallen trolls with palpable hesitation. Taking a steadying breath, he unsheathed a knife and began the arduous work of harvesting.
Thomas watched them for a moment before walking over to Jamie, who stood at the edge of the clearing, his eyes scanning the forest''s encroaching shadows.
"Do you think Bertram knows how to dress a kill?" Thomas asked quietly, concern etched in the lines of his face. "Shouldn''t we have a [Porter] or a [Forager] for this sort of thing?"
Jamie glanced sideways at Thomas, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps," he acknowledged. "But he''s a [Butcher]. He should know enough about handling carcasses."
Thomas raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A [Butcher]? How do you know that?"
Jamie chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the darkening treeline. "I have my ways," he replied enigmatically. In truth, it was an effect of his [Gangmaker] abilities, but he saw little need to elaborate.
The two men lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they kept watch. The sun was dipping lower, casting the sky in hues of amber and violet.
Jamie noticed the furrow in Thomas''s brow, the way his friend''s eyes lingered on Bertram''s hunched form. "What''s troubling you?" Jamie asked, his voice low.
Thomas hesitated before speaking. "Do you think you were too hard on him?" he asked, nodding subtly toward Bertram. "There''s a chance he might leave the company because of it."
Jamie sighed, considering the question. "Perhaps," he admitted thoughtfully. "But if that''s the case, it means we made a mistake in choosing him." He turned to face Thomas fully, his gaze steady and resolute. "What we''re facing here is just the beginning. It won''t compare to the responsibilities and the hardships we''ll encounter when dealing with rival gangs or more dangerous foes. I can''t afford to have someone who hesitates, someone who''s unsure whether they should be here or whether they''ll stand with us when it matters most."
Thomas looked concerned, furrowing his brow. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he gave a subtle nod, accepting the weight of the words just spoken.
"We will have to do things more vile and cruel than we''d like," Jamie said quietly, his voice steady. "But they''re necessary. Someone must make the hard decisions, and when they are made, I need to be certain that my team can follow them through to the end."
Thomas ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. "I understand," he replied, his gaze drifting to the forest''s edge where the silhouettes of trees clawed at the twilight sky. "I just worry."
"That''s precisely why I need him to face these tests as soon as possible," Jamie continued. "Not only Bertram but all of them. We need to know where everyone stands."
Before Thomas could respond, the soft crunch of leaves announced Camille''s approach. Her elven features were serene yet focused, and her emerald eyes held a glint of accomplishment.
"We''ve finished," she informed them, her voice a gentle whisper against the backdrop of the rustling forest.
"Already?" Jamie asked, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"Yes," Camille nodded. "The crystal was straightforward to dismantle. Bertram managed to salvage some of the troll hides, but most were too badly burned to yield anything of quality."
"Makes sense," Jamie conceded, glancing toward the dusky woodland. He straightened, a sense of urgency returning to his demeanor. "Let''s move out of the forest. Keep a steady pace; we''re not aiming to reach Hafenstadt tonight. We''ll make camp along the road."
With their leader''s directive, the group swiftly gathered their belongings. The air was thick with the scents of earth and lingering smoke, a reminder of the battles fought earlier. They moved swiftly, the weight of fatigue evident but tempered by determination.
The journey toward the forest''s edge was unhurried yet vigilant. Without goblins lurking in the underbrush or the threat of trolls looming, the tension eased slightly. The sounds of night creatures emerged, a chorus of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl, filling the silence that had settled among them.
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Upon reaching the boundary where dense trees gave way to open terrain, the group collectively released a breath they hadn''t realized they''d been holding. The road stretched ahead, a ribbon of packed earth illuminated by moonlight.
"Stand down, but stay alert," Jamie advised, his gaze scanning the horizon.
They continued along the dirt path at a more relaxed pace. The cool air was refreshing, carrying with it the salty hint of the sea. Muscles that had been coiled tight with exertion and stress began to unwind.
After some time, with Hafenstadt still a distant silhouette against the starlit backdrop, Jamie called for a halt. "We''ll rest here for the night," he announced.
Nestled beside the road was a gently sloping field where the grass was low and soft. The area was sheltered on one side by a stand of ancient oaks, their gnarled branches intertwining overhead, offering some protection from the elements.
The companions set to work setting up camp. Bertram and Aldwin unfurled small canvas tents. The brothers exchanged few words, each lost in his own thoughts. Camille selected a spot beneath a sprawling oak, her delicate fingers deftly assembling her shelter with practiced ease.
Meanwhile, Jamie and Thomas ventured a short distance to gather firewood. The forest''s edge provided ample fallen branches and kindling. They worked in companionable silence, the quiet broken occasionally by the snap of a twig or the distant cry of a bird.
Jay, the enigmatic cat visible only to Jamie, lounged on a patch of soft grass nearby. He rolled onto his back, rubbing against the ground with a purr of contentment.
Jamie stood a short distance away, lost in his thoughts as he surveyed the flickering campfire. The orange flames danced and crackled, reflecting off his eyes which were deep with contemplation. Without concern for who might overhear, he turned to Thomas, who was stoking the fire with a steady hand.
"Thomas," Jamie began, his voice low but clear in the quiet of the night. "What are the chances that if we had decided to return and report, the city wouldn''t have been devastated?"
Thomas paused, the piece of kindling in his hand momentarily forgotten. He gazed thoughtfully into the flames. "Slim," he finally replied. "Very slim. The crystal would likely have shattered by tomorrow, and the army would take days to mobilize. At the very least, the commercial quarter would have been decimated. Perhaps the Arcane Tower could have mounted a defense, some of the wizards might have held back the full force." His tone was grave, each word weighted with the implications.
At the mention of the city¡¯s peril, Bertram, Aldwin, and Camille glanced over, their hands slowing in their tasks of arranging gear and setting up tents. Though they continued their work, their ears were attuned to the conversation, the unspoken tension settling among them like a heavy mist.
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. "And what are the chances that other mercenaries would have decided to stay and fight?"
"None," Thomas stated with certainty. "They''d need a good amount of Rank C mercenaries or some Rank B to face that many trolls head-on. Even I can hardly believe we managed to eliminate so many ourselves."
Jamie arched an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. "And they wouldn''t send a Rank C or B company to handle goblins, correct?"
Thomas shook his head. "No. Goblin infestations are typically classified as Rank D threats, Rank C at most, but not many."
Silence settled between them as Jamie mulled over this information. The firelight played across his face, highlighting the lines of concern etched upon his brow. After a moment, he asked, "How do they even know when a Monster Crystal is present somewhere?"
Thomas shrugged slightly. "It''s not something they explain in detail. But they say the wizards have magical ways to detect them."
Jamie glanced at Thomas before turning toward Camille, who was carefully securing the lines of her tent.
"Camille," Jamie called softly. "Do you know anything about how they detect Monster Crystals?"
She paused, considering. "I don''t know the specifics," she admitted. "Detection spells of that caliber are usually reserved for high-ranking mages. But they have enchanted devices, arcane instruments that can sense the presence and strength of such crystals."
Jamie absorbed this, his fingers idly tapping against his thigh. "Then they should have known that this was a crystal requiring at least a Rank B company to handle," he mused aloud.
"Why all the questions?" Thomas inquired, his gaze steady on Jamie.
Jamie sighed, folding his arms. "It''s strange that we were sent to this forest specifically. When I researched typical assignments, I found that most companies are dispatched to the northern territories. It feels... out of the ordinary."
Thomas nodded slowly but offered no further comment.
Jamie pressed on. "Who would have the authority to assign a company to a particular location?"
Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The Guild Master of the Mercenaries'' Guild, certainly. The Governor, perhaps. And possibly the Head of the Council of Ministers."
"Ah," Jamie murmured, a note of realization in his voice. He fell silent, his gaze shifting to the dark silhouettes of the trees that loomed beyond the circle of light cast by their campfire.
The remainder of the evening unfolded with a semblance of normalcy. The group shared stories to lighten the mood, their voices mingling with the crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of nocturnal creatures stirring in the forest. Bertram recounted a humorous anecdote from his days apprenticing in the city, drawing chuckles from Aldwin. Camille listened quietly, a faint smile touching her lips as she sipped from a steaming cup of herbal tea.
Later, Jamie retrieved his fiddle from its case, the polished wood gleaming softly in the firelight. He drew the bow across the strings, coaxing a gentle melody that wove through the night air like a whispered lullaby. The haunting notes carried over the rustling leaves, soothing the weariness of travel and battle alike.
One by one, his companions retired to their tents, the day''s fatigue finally settling upon them. Jamie continued to play softly until the last of them had drifted off. Then he set the fiddle aside, rising to his feet and stretching.
The sky above was a tapestry of stars, the twin moons casting a silvery glow over the landscape. Jamie walked a short distance from the camp, his footsteps silent on the soft grass. He gazed upward, his thoughts turning inward as questions churned in his mind.
Jay appeared beside him, the spectral cat moving with fluid grace. He settled next to Jamie, wrapping his tail around his paws. "What has been occupying your mind?" Jay asked in his gentle tone.
Jamie glanced at him, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "The Head of the Council of Ministers¡ªMaria von Hafenstadt," he replied. "I can''t help but wonder why she would have sent us to this place. Was it just a test? Could it have been a trap? Perhaps it was none of those things. Maybe it was... a message."
Jay tilted his head thoughtfully. "A message?" he echoed.
"Yes," Jamie sighed. "Perhaps her way of saying, ''I know who you are.''?"
Chapter 51: The Bonus
¡®Yes,¡¯ Jamie sighed, gazing into the crackling embers of the dying fire. ¡®Perhaps it''s her way of saying, ¡°I know who you are.¡±¡¯
The ethereal cat perched beside him, tilted his head inquisitively, his luminous eyes reflecting the flicker of the flames. "What do you mean, she knows who you are?" he asked.
¡®¡®Beer¡¯ is the original name of the drink,¡¯ Jamie explained quietly, his thoughts turning over the implications. ¡®Anyone from my world would recognize it. Using that name openly might signal to others that the creator is possibly an otherworlder like me.¡¯
Jay''s ears perked up, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. "So, if someone reacts to it, they''re indicating they''re from your world as well?"
¡®Exactly,¡¯ Jamie nodded, his brow furrowing. ¡®Which means she... may be one of us. I need to treat her as such, though it could be a false positive. There might be information I''m missing.¡¯
Jay stretched languidly, then placed his paws over his head in mock exasperation. "All this thinking is giving me a headache," he groaned playfully. "I think I''d rather sleep."
Jamie allowed himself a faint smile at his companion''s theatrics. ¡®Perhaps you''re right,¡¯ he conceded.
He retreated to his tent. Lying back on the rough bedding, he stared up at the fabric ceiling, the shadows dancing with the sway of the trees outside. Thoughts swirled in his mind; of Maria, of potential allies or adversaries, of the intricate web he was weaving in this new world. Gradually, the embrace of sleep overtook him, his musings slipping into the realm of dreams.
---
At the break of dawn, the camp stirred with the sounds of the waking wilderness. Birds greeted the sun with a chorus of melodies, and the rustling of small creatures signaled the start of a new day.
Jamie blinked awake, momentarily disoriented before the familiar scents of earth and wood smoke grounded him. Outside, Thomas was already up, his silhouette outlined against the morning glow as he stoked the remnants of their fire.
"Rise and shine!" Jamie called out to the others, stepping out into the crisp air. His breath formed faint wisps that dissipated quickly. "We still have a fair journey to Hafenstadt."
One by one, his companions emerged from their tents. Aldwin stretched his lean frame, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head to work out the stiffness. "Morning already?" he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
Camille moved with graceful efficiency, her elven features serene despite the early hour. She nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze briefly meeting Jamie''s before she began packing her belongings.
Bertram yawned widely, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Smells like hardtack and jerky for breakfast again," he remarked with a wry grin.
"It''s better than nothing," Thomas replied, distributing portions to each of them. "Eat up. We have a long walk ahead."
They ate quickly, the simple fare fueling them for the trek. The taste was mundane, but hunger made any meal satisfying enough. As they set off, the sun climbed steadily, casting a warm glow that promised a fair day.
Hours passed in amiable conversation and comfortable silence. The camaraderie forged through shared trials eased their interactions. Laughter would occasionally ripple among them as stories were exchanged.
As they approached the outskirts of Hafenstadt, the imposing walls of the city rose in the distance, their stone battlements catching the light. The bustle of activity could be sensed even from afar.
Passing through a quaint village nestled along the road, Thomas slowed his pace. Modest cottages lined the lanes, smoke curling gently from their chimneys.
"Jamie," Thomas began, turning to his friend. "I''m going to stop by my home to inform Julie that we''ve returned."
Jamie nodded, understanding reflecting in his eyes. "Of course. We''ll need you at the Mercenary Guild, but after that, we can all take the next two days to rest."
Aldwin''s face brightened visibly at the mention of respite. "Finally, some time to recover," he exclaimed, raising his arms above his head in a languid stretch. "I could sleep for a week."
Bertram chuckled softly. "A few days without training sounds like a blessing," he agreed. "My feet feel like lead weights."
Camille offered a gentle smile.
Thomas gave a parting wave as he headed down a side path leading deeper into the village.
Although they had only been away for a day and a half, Jamie couldn''t shake the worry gnawing at the back of his mind. Without any guards to watch over the place, he feared what might have befallen their tavern in their absence. The streets of Hafenstadt bustled around them, merchants hawking their wares and townsfolk going about their daily routines. But Jamie''s focus remained ahead as he and his companions made their way through the winding alleys of the Lower Quarter.
As they turned the final corner, the familiar sight of the good old tavern came into view. The Golden Fiddle stood steadfast. Sunlight glinted off the windows, and a sense of relief washed over Jamie, easing the tightness in his shoulders. He let out a sigh he hadn''t realized he''d been holding.
"Everything''s just as we left it," he murmured to himself.
Pushing open the heavy oak door, Jamie stepped inside. It was still early, and the usual evening crowd had yet to gather. The interior was awash with the warm glow of morning light filtering through the windows, illuminating dust motes that danced lazily in the air. The scent of polished wood and faint remnants of last night''s beer lingered pleasantly.
The tavern was quiet save for the soft clinking of dishes and the gentle hum of a tune being hummed nearby. Eliza moved gracefully between tables, collecting empty tankards and wiping down surfaces. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a neat braid, and her simple dress was accented with a clean apron tied around her waist.
"We''re back!" Jamie announced, his voice carrying through the open space.
Eliza looked up, her eyes lighting up with delight. A radiant smile spread across her face, a smile brighter than any Jamie had seen from her before.
"Welcome back!" she exclaimed, setting down her tray and hurrying over to them. There was a buoyancy in her step, an unmistakable joy that seemed to radiate from her.
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Jamie raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised by her exuberance. While Eliza was always warm and welcoming, this level of happiness was uncommon. "Uh... is everything alright?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
She playfully furrowed her brow and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "I''m happy. Can''t I be?" she retorted with a grin.
"Of course... you can," Jamie replied, chuckling softly. Before he could say more, Eliza grabbed his arm and gently drew him aside, away from the others.
"These past few days, while we''ve been selling the beer, I earned two hundred experience points!" she whispered eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Do you have any idea how rare it is for a [Cook] to gain that much experience?"
Jamie blinked, momentarily taken aback. "Two hundred? That''s incredible!" he responded earnestly. He knew that for non-combat classes, earning experience could be a slow and arduous process.
Eliza beamed, her cheeks flushed with pride. "I''ve never leveled up so quickly before. People can''t get enough of the new beer, and it''s been flying out the door!"
"Congratulations, Eliza. You deserve it," Jamie said, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Your hard work is paying off."
She gave his arm a grateful squeeze before releasing him. "Well, I''d better get back to it. The midday crowd will be here soon," she said, glancing back toward the kitchen.
"Right. We''ll catch up later," Jamie affirmed.
As Eliza returned to her duties, Jamie watched her for a moment, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. The tavern was thriving, and the team was growing stronger in more ways than one.
Turning back to his companions, Aldwin, Bertram, and Camille, Jamie addressed them. "Before you all head off for some well-earned rest, I need a few things sorted."
"Sure thing," Aldwin replied, adjusting the strap of his pack.
"First, please store the troll hides in the cellar," Jamie instructed. "I''ll hold onto the crystal for safekeeping. Also, I''d like you all to join me upstairs on the second floor afterward."
"Understood," Bertram said with a nod. Camille was already moving to carry out his requests, her movements efficient and precise.
Together, they ascended the wooden staircase that creaked softly underfoot. The second floor had undergone some changes in their absence. Gone were the modest rooms that once catered to passing travelers. Jamie had repurposed the space, transforming it to suit the needs of their company.
One room had been converted into comfortable quarters for the team, a shared space where they could rest and regroup. The walls were adorned with simple tapestries, and sturdy bunks lined one side, each with fresh linens and a small trunk at the foot.
Another room now served as an office. Though sparsely furnished with just a large wooden desk and a sturdy cabinet, it had everything Jamie needed. A few maps were pinned to the walls, and ledgers lay neatly stacked, awaiting entries.
Jamie settled into the high-backed chair behind the desk. He watched as his companions filed in. Camille approached the desk and carefully set down a small glass vessel. Inside, cushioned by soft cloth, rested a scarlet crystal that shimmered faintly even in the subdued light.
"All set," Camille affirmed, meeting his gaze with her calm, steady eyes.
"Excellent," Jamie declared, his voice resonating through the modest office.
"I''ve called you here not only to congratulate you on our recent mission," Jamie continued, a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "but also to present you with your bonuses."
"Bonuses?" Bertram echoed, his eyebrows arching in surprise. His tall frame shifted slightly, the floor creaking under his weight.
"That''s right," Jamie affirmed. "With each successful mission, we earn not just from the contracts but also from the items and materials we acquire along the way. Since our general operations are already well-funded, I''ve decided to allocate these additional earnings as bonuses for missions completed successfully."
Aldwin''s mouth fell open; his usually stoic half-elf features betraying a rare glimpse of astonishment.
From beneath the desk, Jamie retrieved a small, well-worn leather pouch. The clink of coins jingled faintly as he loosened the drawstring. With deliberate care, he poured a modest pile of gold coins onto the desk, the metal gleaming with a rich luster in the afternoon light.
"Thank you for your services," he said earnestly, sliding a coin toward each of them.
Aldwin''s face turned a deeper shade of red as he gazed at the gold piece before him. Gold coins were a rarity for most, especially for those of humble means. Bertram''s jaw hung slightly agape, his eyes wide with disbelief as if he might start drooling over the generous reward. Camille''s emerald eyes widened, her lips parting in silent surprise as she looked between the coin and Jamie.
"Thank you so much!" Aldwin nearly shouted, his voice breaking the quiet. He scooped up the coin with both hands, cradling it as though it might vanish if he let go. For someone who seldom displayed his emotions, his reaction spoke volumes about the impact of Jamie''s gesture.
Bertram and Camille exchanged glances before bowing respectfully. "Thank you," they echoed in unison, their voices filled with genuine gratitude.
Jamie nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. "Take these next two days to rest and recover," he instructed. "You''ve all earned it after your hard work."
"Will do," Bertram replied enthusiastically, his earlier fatigue seeming to lift at the prospect of respite.
"Enjoy your well-deserved break," Jamie added as they began to make their way toward the door. "Oh, Camille. Could you stay for a moment longer?"
"Of course," she replied, stepping aside to allow Bertram and Aldwin to exit the room. "See you later," the two called out, their footsteps echoing down the staircase as they headed toward the tavern''s main hall.
Once the door closed softly behind them, silence settled over the office, broken only by the distant murmur of patrons below and the faint creaking of the building as it settled. Camille stood patiently, her hands clasped lightly before her.
"Yes, sir?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
Jamie reached into the pouch once more, extracting a three more gold coins. He placed them gently on the desk between them, the coins catching the light and casting a warm reflection.
"This isn''t a loan; it''s an advance," he began, his gaze meeting hers steadily. "I need you to settle your debts with the Red Veil. I can''t have someone so integral to our operations tied down by such connections."
Camille''s eyes flickered with surprise, and for a moment, vulnerability softened her usually composed features. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly. That''s a significant amount. Wouldn''t it be costly for you?"
"It will," Jamie acknowledged, his tone firm yet understanding. "But it''s necessary for our continued safety and success. Consider it an investment in you, and in the trust we place in one another."
Her gaze dropped briefly to the coins before returning to his face, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you," she said quietly, sincerity lacing her words. "I''ll make sure this matter is resolved."
He offered a reassuring smile. "I know you will."
Camille picked up the coin with delicate fingers, slipping it securely into a pouch at her side. She gave a slight bow of respect. "If there''s nothing else, I''ll take my leave."
"That''s all. Rest well," Jamie replied.
As she turned and left the office, the door closing softly behind her, Jamie exhaled gently, leaning back in his chair.
Suddenly, a familiar presence made itself known. Jay leapt gracefully onto the desk. His translucent form shimmered faintly, ethereal fur rippling as though stirred by an unseen breeze.
"Giving out a gold coin to each... Wasn''t that a bit excessive?" Jay queried.
Jamie met the cat''s gaze, a hint of amusement in his expression. "No. They''re risking their lives out there," he replied inwardly. "I need them to be fully committed, ready to put everything on the line. To ensure that, I must understand their desires and help them achieve them."
Before Jay could answer, a firm knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," Jamie called out.
The door opened to reveal Thomas.
"What do we need to do next?" Thomas asked, his hands clasped behind his back in a gesture of disciplined readiness.
Jamie stood, straightening his tunic. "It''s straightforward," he replied. "We need to finish our mission. That means submitting our report and evidence to the Mercenaries'' Guild."
Chapter 52: Mercenary Guild
With their companions released to rest after the expedition, only this final task remained.
As Jamie and Thomas stepped out of the Golden Fiddle, the midday sun hung high in the sky, casting brilliant light across the bustling streets of Hafenstadt. Despite the early hour, fatigue tugged at their limbs.
As they approached the Commercial Quarter, they were welcomed by the sounds and scents of the city. Vendors called out, hawking wares. The aroma of fresh bread mingled with the salty tang of the nearby sea, while seagulls circled overhead, their cries adding to the urban symphony.
Though both men were familiar with the labyrinthine streets, Thomas took the lead.
"It shouldn''t take us long," Thomas remarked, his gaze scanning the crowds with practiced ease.
They wound their way toward the heart of the commercial district. Tall buildings lined the avenues, each adorned with ornate signs and banners emblazoned with emblems: crossed swords, mystical runes, gilded hammers. The guild houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their architecture a blend of old stone and polished wood, inviting and imposing in equal measure.
As they walked, Jamie ensured the crystal they had retrieved was securely tucked away in his satchel. The gem pulsed faintly with an inner light. Beside him, Thomas hefted a bundle wrapped in coarse cloth: the troll hides they had collected as additional proof of their deeds.
Thomas pointed toward a grand entrance flanked by statues of armored warriors. "That entrance is for adventurers," he explained, his tone informative. "Usually, they require you to have prior experience with a mercenary company before they''ll even consider you."
"Aside from it being more difficult to become an adventurer, is there any other difference?" Jamie asked, his curiosity piqued.
Thomas glanced at him. "I can''t speak for other cities, but here in Hafenstadt, mercenaries are tasked solely with extermination missions, getting rid of threats like monsters or bandits. Adventurers, on the other hand, handle a bit of everything. Search and apprehension, escorting valuable items, exploring uncharted territories. Anything high-risk that you can imagine, an adventurer will take on."
Jamie nodded thoughtfully. "I see." He pondered the distinction, considering how it might affect their future plans. While the adventurers'' diverse roles were intriguing, he wasn''t sure how they could leverage them at the moment.
At last, they arrived at a formidable stone building bearing the emblem of the Mercenaries'' Guild: a silver sword crossed over a shield emblazoned with a roaring lion. Massive double doors stood open, the dark wood etched with intricate designs and reinforced with iron bands.
Jamie and Thomas exchanged a glance before stepping inside.
The interior of the guild hall was immense. A great hall filled with the din of conversations, clinking armor, and the occasional burst of laughter. Long wooden tables stretched across the floor, where mercenaries of all shapes and sizes gathered. Some sharpened their blades, others swapped stories over tankards of ale, and a few haggled loudly over the prices of rare monster parts.
The air was thick with the scent of smoke, metal, and sweat. Banners hung from the rafters high above, each representing different mercenary companies. Some long-established, others new and aspiring. Trophy cases lined the walls, displaying preserved claws, fangs, and other grisly mementos of past victories.
The hall was teeming with people; it seemed every mercenary in Hafenstadt had convened here. To the right, a modest bar nestled in the corner, where a few solitary figures nursed drinks, lost in their own thoughts or quietly observing the bustling scene.
However, the vast majority of the crowd was gettering on the queues, each one leading to a set of counters manned by guild attendants. The air hummed with a blend of anticipation and impatience.
Each rank level within the Mercenaries'' Guild had two distinct lines: one for registering new missions and another for submitting spoils and claiming rewards. The ranks ranged from D up to the elusive Triple-S, but only the queues from D to A were occupied.
The D-rank lines were especially congested, teeming with fresh-faced recruits eager to prove themselves, as well as seasoned mercenaries taking on simpler tasks to fill their purses. The sheer number of individuals in the D-rank queues created a sense of organized chaos, with figures jostling for position yet bound by an unspoken code of conduct.
Jamie surveyed the scene, taking in the sea of armor-clad bodies and the labyrinth of lines. "Looks like we''re in for a wait," he remarked, adjusting the strap of his satchel where the Monster Crystal was safely tucked away.
Thomas nodded. "Seems so," he agreed, hefting the bundle of troll hides slung over his shoulder. The weight didn''t appear to bother him, but the prospect of standing in line for hours was less appealing.
Resigned to the inevitable, they joined the end of the D-rank submission queue. The line crept forward at a snail''s pace, each slight shuffle bringing them a fraction closer to their goal. To pass the time, Jamie observed those around him. A dwarf with a braided beard and a massive axe chatted animatedly with a stern-looking woman clad in light armor, a bow slung across her back. In front of them, a pair of young adventurers, barely out of their teens, whispered excitedly, their eyes alight with dreams of glory.
Minutes stretched into hours as the line inched forward. The sun reached its zenith, sending shafts of light through the high windows to paint patterns on the floor. The ambient noise became a backdrop to Jamie''s thoughts, his mind drifting as he stared absently at a nearby tapestry depicting a dragon soaring over a battlefield.
At long last, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the front of the queue. The hall was no less crowded than when they had first entered; if anything, it seemed even more bustling with the arrival of mercenaries returning from morning assignments and others seeking new opportunities in the afternoon.
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Behind the polished oak counter stood a young woman with vibrant red hair cascading in loose waves over her shoulders. Her eyes were a striking emerald green, and her smile was warm and genuine. Jamie recognized her as the attendant who had assisted him during the registration of his company, though in the flurry of activity, he hadn''t caught her name.
"Hello! Good to see you again," she greeted them cheerfully, her gaze flicking between Jamie and Thomas.
"Good to be back," Jamie replied with a polite nod. "We''re here to submit the mission we received. It was part of our approval process."
He reached into his satchel and retrieved the official documentation, a neatly folded parchment bearing the guild''s seal. Placing it on the counter, he watched as the attendant unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the contents with practiced efficiency.
"Let''s see," she murmured, her finger tracing the lines of text. "Ah, the goblin elimination assignment in the southern woods. Congratulations on completing your first mission." She looked up with a bright smile. "I''ll just need proof of the goblins'' defeat. If you have any materials¡ªears, talismans¡ªwe can process those and arrange payment accordingly."
"That''s exactly our problem," Jamie said, his voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "We didn''t find the goblins alive, their nests were destroyed. In their place, we found trolls and a Monster Crystal."
The cheerful expression on the guild attendant''s face vanished, her rosy cheeks paling as if the blood had drained away. She was a young woman with bright eyes and a quick smile, but now her gaze was fixed on Jamie with a mixture of shock and concern. Around them, nearby mercenaries paused in their conversations, the low hum of the hall quieting as ears tuned into the unfolding exchange.
"Are you certain it''s a Monster Crystal?" the attendant asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Absolutely," Thomas interjected, stepping forward. "I''ve seen others in the past."
The attendant swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the counter''s edge. "I... I need to report this immediately," she stammered. "We must evacuate the area and summon the army."
"Wait!" Jamie raised a calming hand. "We''ve already handled the situation. That''s why we''re here. To check if there''s a problem. Is there an issue with that?"
Confusion flickered across the attendant''s face. Before she could formulate a response, Jamie felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder, a grip both presumptuous and unwelcome.
"Hey, buddy," a gruff voice drawled from behind him. "It''s not cool to be spouting lies like that. We''ve all been standing in this line for hours, and now some no-name waltzes in spouting nonsense?"
Scattered laughter erupted from the surrounding mercenaries, a mocking chorus that grated against Jamie''s nerves. He tilted his head just enough to glimpse the speaker from the corner of his eye. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, muscles straining against worn leather armor. A wild, unkempt beard framed a sneer that oozed disdain.
Without warning, Jamie moved with the swiftness of a striking serpent. His right hand darted to his belt, drawing a slender dagger with a polished blade. In a fluid motion, he brought the dagger upward, its keen point coming to rest just beneath the man''s stubbled chin.
"I''m not your friend," Jamie said coldly, his eyes locking onto the man''s with an icy glare. "And I didn''t give you permission to touch me. Remove your hand, or I''ll draw this blade from one side of your face to the other."
A tense silence fell over the hall. The mercenary''s smug expression faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he realized his position. The weight of the dagger''s point against his skin was a sharp reminder of his miscalculation. Around them, other mercenaries watched with bated breath, the previous mirth snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
Slowly, the man raised his hands in a placating gesture, stepping back to release his grip on Jamie''s shoulder. Satisfied, Jamie lowered the dagger, the steel gleaming briefly before he sheathed it at his side.
Turning back to the counter, Jamie reached into his satchel with his left hand and retrieved a small glass vial. Inside, the Monster Crystal pulsed faintly with a mesmerizing inner light. He placed it gently on the counter before the attendant.
"I''ve brought the crystal for evaluation and to receive the appropriate reward," he stated calmly. "And my partner has some troll hides to submit as well."
Thomas stepped forward, unshouldering a hefty pack and dropping it onto the counter with a solid thunk. Jamie continued. "In total, we got rid of twenty trolls, though we can only provide proof for ten. We had burned the remaining too badly."
A collective gasp rippled through those within earshot. The attendant''s eyes widened, her composure wavering. "T-twenty trolls?" she echoed, disbelief lacing her words. "That''s equivalent to a Rank B mission, perhaps even Rank A. I... I''m not authorized to process something of this magnitude. I''ll need to summon the Guild Leader."
Without waiting for a response, she turned and hurried away, her footsteps echoing across the wooden floor as she disappeared through a doorway behind the counter.
Jamie and Thomas stood in the gathering silence, the weight of numerous eyes upon them. Some mercenaries exchanged hushed whispers, while others regarded them with newfound respect or perhaps suspicion. The atmosphere had shifted, the casual camaraderie replaced by a charged tension.
Moments later, the attendant returned, accompanied by an imposing figure. A tall woman strode confidently beside her, commanding attention with each measured step. Her long, silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with the dark leathers and armor she wore. Most strikingly, a sleek, feline tail swayed subtly behind her, its movements accentuating her predatory grace.
"You two," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "Follow me."
The attendant lifted a section of the counter, allowing Jamie and Thomas to pass through. They complied, feeling the myriad gazes of the guild members following their every move.
She led them toward a grand staircase that spiraled upward, each step creaking softly underfoot. As they ascended, the clamor of the main hall diminished, replaced by the quiet hush of the guild''s upper levels. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting epic battles and legendary heroes of ages past.
Reaching the second floor, they proceeded down a long corridor illuminated by the soft glow of enchanted lanterns. The air here was cooler, tinged with the scent of parchment and aged wood. At the end of the hall stood a pair of double doors, each carved with intricate patterns of mythical beasts entwined with vines.
The woman pushed the doors open, revealing a spacious office bathed in warm light. A rich carpet stretched across the floor, muffling their footsteps as they entered. To either side, plush sofas upholstered in deep burgundy fabric invited visitors to sit. In the center of the room, several high-backed chairs surrounded a low table crafted from polished mahogany. At the far end, a large desk commanded the space, its surface meticulously organized with scrolls, ledgers, and quills arranged alongside a brass inkpot.
The lioness-woman moved behind the desk and settled into a carved wooden chair adorned with velvet cushions. She gestured gracefully toward the chairs before her. "Please, have a seat," she said, her gaze sharp and assessing. "Let''s discuss exactly what happened."
Chapter 53: Guild Leader
For the next hour, Jamie meticulously recounted every detail of their harrowing expedition.
The Guild Leader sat regally behind her ornate desk carved from dark oak, her piercing eyes fixed unblinkingly on Jamie. She was an imposing figure, a tall woman with a commanding presence. Her hair was a cascade of silvery strands that framed her sharp features. Most striking was her leonine tail, which swayed gently behind her chair, the tufted end flicking subtly as she listened. Her expression remained unreadable, a mask of stern attentiveness, as though she were weighing every word for truth and deception.
Thomas stood steadfast beside Jamie, his posture at ease yet alert. His eyes occasionally darted around the room, taking in the rich furnishings and the array of strange artifacts displayed on shelves. Though he said nothing, his steady presence lent Jamie confidence as he wove the tale of their unexpected encounter.
As Jamie spoke, he couldn''t help but be distracted intermittently by Jay, his spectral feline companion. Invisible to all but Jamie, Jay was thoroughly captivated by the Guild Leader''s tail. The ghostly cat leaped and swatted playfully at the tufted end, his ethereal form passing harmlessly through it. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, Jamie suppressed a grin at Jay''s antics, grateful that the cat''s incorporeal nature prevented any real mischief.
"¡ªand that''s when we got the Monster Crystal," Jamie concluded, his voice steady. He took a moment to assess the Guild Leader''s reaction, but her expression remained inscrutable.
She leaned back in her chair, fingers steepled beneath her chin. "I see," she said finally, her tone measured. "This situation is... unique."
Rising gracefully from her seat, she moved to stand before the large window, gazing out over the bustling streets of Hafenstadt. The sun cast a warm glow over the city, the distant sounds of merchants and townsfolk drifting through the glass panes. "We will dispatch an alert to the Empire immediately as a precaution," she continued her back to them. "It''s imperative we ensure the safety of our cities."
Turning to face them once more, her eyes bore into Jamie''s. "I will also send a team of mages to evaluate the site you described. They will verify your findings and assess any lingering threats."
She paused, her gaze softening just slightly. "Given the magnitude of what you''ve encountered, your actions are commendable. Handling twenty trolls and securing a Monster Crystal is no small feat. Such accomplishments are worthy of a B-Rank company."
Jamie felt a surge of pride but tempered it. He knew their success was aided by circumstances that might not be replicated.
"However," the Guild Leader continued, "I do not have the authority to grant such a significant promotion unilaterally. What I can do is advance the Golden Fiddle Company to D-Rank, with an expedited evaluation process for your promotion already underway."
Jamie nodded in acknowledgment. "We appreciate your consideration," he replied earnestly. "Our goal is to serve to the best of our abilities."
She offered a faint smile. "Your modesty is noted." Moving back to her desk, she retrieved a ledger and began making notes with a quill pen. "Regarding your rewards," she said without looking up, "a Monster Crystal of B-Rank is valued at ten gold pieces. The finest troll hides can be sold for one gold piece each. Altogether, I will authorize a payment of eighteen gold pieces. However, the transaction will remain pending until our mages confirm your report."
The Guild Leader set down her pen and fixed them with a steady gaze. "Once the confirmation is received, you may collect your payment here. I look forward to working with you again in the future."
"The pleasure is ours, Guild Leader," Jamie said, extending his hand with a diplomatic smile.
The woman accepted his handshake, her grip firm and confident. "You may call me Nyvara." she introduced herself.
--
After departing the guild, Jamie and Thomas made their way back to the Golden Fiddle. The city''s daily bustle was beginning to quiet as merchants packed up their stalls, and lamps were lit along the cobblestone roads.
Upon entering the tavern''s familiar warmth, Jamie felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Later, in the solitude of his modest room on the second floor, he lay on his bed, staring at the wooden beams above.
¡®Didn''t we complete the mission?¡¯ Jamie mused aloud; his brow furrowed in contemplation. ¡®Shouldn''t the [Quest Giver] have acknowledged it by now?¡¯
| James Frostwatch (Soul: James Murtagh)
| Experience: [1070 / 5000]
|
| Attributes
| Strength - 11
| Dexterity - 15
| Constitution - 11
| Intelligence - 16
| Wisdom - 14
| Charisma - 18
| Magics
| Dancing Lights [1/1]
| Detect Magic [1/1]
| Ghost Sound [1/1]
| Alarm [1/1]
| Cause Fear [1/1]
| Blessings
|
| Memories of the Past
| Legends of the Future
| Gangmaker
| Quest Giver
As he scanned the familiar entries, a new line of glowing text, pulsing softly, appeared at the bottom of the page.
[500 Experience Points are invested in Quest Giver]
[The Pantheon is deliberating on your rewards]
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
"Seriously?" Jamie muttered, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do you need that much bureaucracy?"
--
Three days passed with a mix of anticipation and unease. Jamie busied himself with tasks around the tavern, aiding Eliza with the influx of patrons now drawn by their new beer. His companions took the time to rest and attend to personal matters, the aftermath of their expedition still fresh.
On the morning of the third day, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tavern windows, there was a knock at the door. Jamie looked up from the ledger he was reviewing as Eliza went to answer. Moments later, she beckoned him over.
"An official from the guild is here to see you," she said, her eyes curious.
Jamie felt a flutter of anticipation. He called out to Thomas, Camille, Aldwin, and Bertram, who were scattered about the tavern. Together, they gathered in the main hall, the air thick with unspoken excitement.
The guild official stood near the entrance. He was dressed in practical attire similar to that of many mercenaries but marked by a distinctive pendant hanging from his lapel. It bore the insignia of the Mercenaries'' Guild.
"Good morning," the official began, his tone formal yet cordial. "I have come to deliver your reward and confirm some details."
He reached into a satchel and withdrew a small, weighty pouch. "Here are eighteen gold coins," he said, handing it to Jamie. "Regrettably, some of the troll hides were too damaged for full compensation, but this reflects the adjusted amount."
"Thank you," Jamie replied, accepting the pouch with a nod.
The official then produced a parchment scroll, affixed with a crimson wax seal emblazoned with the guild''s crest. "And this," he announced, "is your official documentation. As of today, the Golden Fiddle Company is a registered mercenary company with the Mercenaries'' Guild.".
[Quest Completed]
[The Pantheon has finished evaluating your result]
[They have slain Trolls]
[Prevented the city from being attacked]
[Obtained a B-Rank Monster Crystal]
[Formed a Mercenary Company]
[Result calculated]
[Quest Giver has returned your 500 Experience Points]
[You have received 2500 Experience Points]
[Thomas, Camille, Aldwin, and Bertram have each received 2500 Experience Points]
As the cascade of notifications flashed before Jamie''s eyes, he noticed a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Bertram and Aldwin''s faces breaking into expressions of sheer elation. Their eyes widened, mouths dropping open as the realization of what had just occurred settled in.
"What the hell is thi¡ª?!" Aldwin blurted out, his voice ringing through the tavern with unabashed amazement.
Before he could reveal more than was prudent, Jamie moved with swift precision. He stepped forward and clapped a firm hand over the young half-elf''s mouth, muffling any further exclamations. Simultaneously, Thomas lunged toward Bertram, silencing him with a gentle but insistent grip before any words could escape.
"He just got a bit excited about the payment. You know how youngsters are," Jamie said smoothly, turning a disarming smile toward the guild official who stood nearby. The man appeared startled by the sudden outburst, his eyes darting nervously between the companions.
"Ah, yes, of course," the official replied hastily, adjusting his collar as a bead of sweat formed at his temple. "Perfectly understandable."
Eager to escape the awkward situation, the official made a hurried exit, his boots clicking briskly against the wooden floorboards. The heavy oak door swung shut behind him with a solid thud.
As soon as he was out of sight, Jamie locked the door, the key turning with a decisive click. He let out a sigh of relief before facing his companions. Bertram and Aldwin were practically vibrating with excitement, their earlier restraint dissolving now that they were alone.
A subtle glow seemed to emanate in the air between them, and faint whispers brushed against Jamie''s senses.
[Thomas & Bertram''s trust has increased by 10 points]
[Camille & Aldwin''s trust has increased by 20 points]
"I leveled up!" Aldwin shouted, unable to contain himself. He began to bounce on the balls of his feet, his youthful energy bubbling over. His red hair swayed with each movement, the light catching the strands and making them shimmer.
"Me too!" exclaimed Bertram, his features lit up with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He ran a hand through his dark hair, eyes wide with disbelief. "I can''t believe it!"
Camille stood near the hearth, her emerald eyes reflecting the dancing flames. A serene smile played on her lips. "Incredible," she mused. "Gaining 2,500 experience points at once is almost unheard of. Not even during the war did I hear of such thing."
"Level three," Thomas murmured, glancing down at a display only he could see. His eyes flickered with a mixture of pride and wonder. "I don''t think I''ve ever known a [Farmer] to reach level three."
"Level three?" Aldwin repeated, turning toward Thomas with newfound respect. "That''s fucking amazing."
Jamie stepped forward, his gaze keen with curiosity. "What changes have you noticed? Did anything new manifest?" His question hung in the air, the possibilities sparking a collective thrill.
Bertram was the first to respond. "I received a talent called [Hard Worker]," he said, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I can feel strength coursing through me. It''s like I can take on the world."
Aldwin nodded enthusiastically. "Same here! I gained [Flora Knowledge]. It''s... It''s like I can sense the properties of plants now. Understand them on an instinctual level. It''s a bit strange but incredibly fascinating."
Thomas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I also acquired a talent [Scythe Expertise]. Perhaps my proficiency with a scythe has improved. I''ll need to practice to be sure." His eyes gleamed as he added, "And I gained a new skill: [Reap]. I''m curious to see its effects in action."
"Great!" Jamie replied, scratching his chin.
The group continued celebrating for a while, but it was almost time to start patrolling the streets of their territory. One by one, they quickly left the tavern and began their rounds.
Over the next few days, not much changed. Despite the still spartan training, no new experiences were gained.
Until finally, the day of the autumn ball arrived.
--
| 2# Member: Thomas Hartfield
| Trust: [60/100]
| Class: Farmer [Common]
| Level: 3
| Experience: [1638/6000]
| Talents
[Scythe Expertise]
[Farmer¡¯s Stamina]
| Skill
[Reap]
--
| 4# Member: Bertram Loom
| Trust: [50/100]
| Class: Butcher [Common]
| Race: Human | Level: 2
| Experience: [970/2000]
| Talents
[Hard Worker]
---
| 5# Member: Aldwin Loom
| Trust: [40/100]
| Class: Herbalist [Common]
| Race: Half-Elf | Level: 2
| Experience: [930/2000]
| Talents
[Flora Knowledge]
Chapter 54: The Carriage
At last, the day of the autumn ball arrived.
Since returning from their inaugural mission, Jamie and his companions had settled into the rhythms of their new lives. Training sessions filled their mornings, the clashing of weapons and disciplined shouts echoing in the small village outside Hafenstadt. In the afternoons and nights, Jamie would tend to the tavern while some patrolled their territory.
The routines gave a semblance of normalcy, a steady cadence in a world that was anything but ordinary.
Yet, ever since the downfall of the Cutpurses, their new territory had been rife with unforeseen challenges. Trouble seemed to sprout like weeds in untended soil.
At first, it was the hungry children. Ragged and hollow-eyed, they roamed the streets in search of coin or crumbs. Jamie had anticipated an influx of children seeking new means to survive, knowing that the vacuum left by the Cutpurses would leave many adrift. But the reality was harsher than expected. It wasn''t just desperation driving them; it appeared that rival gangs were deliberately sending every street child into their domain, flooding the area with a swarm of small, nimble pickpockets.
These children were cunning beyond their years, survival hardening them into resourceful adversaries. They moved like shadows through the alleys, eyes ever watchful, ears keen to whispered secrets. Often, they were willing to steal, deceive, and even inflict harm to obtain what they desired.
It was difficult for Camille, Aldwin, and Bertram to simply rough up the children. Being mere kids made the situation complicated. Fortunately, Aldwin and Bertram had both once been part of the Cutpurses. They knew every trick in the book, every sleight of hand, every shadowed nook where small hands might pilfer an unattended purse.
With their efforts, they had managed to reduce the frequency of thefts through their patrols. However, it was far from a permanent solution..
Meanwhile, the tavern continued to grow. The sale of their beer propelled their fame to new heights. The more they sold, the more people clamored to buy. When other taverns or pubs ran dry, patrons would come straight to the source, filling the Golden Fiddle to bursting every night.
This surge forced their competitors to constantly buy more and more, some even attempting to stockpile reserves. The problem was that Jamie and his team simply couldn''t produce enough beer to maintain an inventory. With demand skyrocketing exponentially, they pondered how to establish another location to expand the business, especially now that they had just received inquiries from merchants eager to export their brew to the Holy Elven Empire.
Jamie knew that such fame would soon become a problem. But for now, he had a more immediate concern to deal with.
In his hands, he held a card crafted from thick, high-quality parchment, embossed with fine golden script. It was his official invitation to the Autumn Ball. Gazing up at the twilight sky outside his window, he fastened the last buttons on his robe.
"Looking at you like this, one might think you''re a nobleman," Jay remarked from his perch on the windowsill.
Jamie glanced at his spectral feline companion, Jay. Jay''s translucent form shimmered softly in the fading light, and his emerald eyes gleamed with admiration.
Jamie was dressed in delicate fabric garments. Over it, he wore a robe of black and midnight blue, the edges embroidered with intricate patterns in silver thread. The robe was fastened with ornate golden buttons that gleamed against the dark fabric. His trousers were perfectly tailored, tucked neatly into supple dark leather boots polished to a shine. His hair, freshly washed, was combed back smoothly, the rich copper strands framing his sharp features. A hint of a subtle, woody fragrance clung to him, completing the ensemble.
Anyone passing him on the street might easily mistake him for nobility. Jamie allowed himself a small, wry smile at the thought. ¡®They wouldn''t be entirely wrong,¡¯ he mused to himself. ¡®After all, I did come from a noble family.¡¯
"But you lack the wealth of one," Jay remarked, his spectral form hovering lazily beside Jamie.
"For now," Jamie responded confidently, fastening the last golden button on his robe. He stood before a tall, worn mirror in his dimly lit room above the Golden Fiddle tavern, adjusting the collar of his finely tailored garment.
The way the tavern and his mercenary company were flourishing, it was only a matter of time before he amassed a fortune befitting a nobleman. Each day brought new patrons and new contracts, and the coffers steadily grew heavier.
"Perhaps I could even purchase a title," Jamie mused aloud, smoothing a crease on his sleeve. "It might grant me entry into the higher circles, a good way to gather more information. Who knows, perhaps there I can find something useful about Nytheris."
Jay settled onto the windowsill, his tail swaying gently. "That makes sense. However, the Empire doesn''t sell titles of nobility when they''re not at war."
"True," Jamie conceded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Who would have thought. You studying imperial policies."
"Hey!" Jay protested, his whiskers twitching indignantly. "I remember that during the troll incident, I couldn''t help much. So it doesn''t hurt to try recalling my memories. Besides, knowledge is power, isn''t it?"
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Jamie chuckled softly. "Fair point."
As Jay continued to expound on the nuances of imperial customs, a firm knock resonated from the door. Jamie turned as it creaked open. Thomas stepped inside, his broad silhouette filling the doorway. He had exchanged his usual attire for something more fitting the occasion. Clad in nearly gleaming black leather armor that molded seamlessly to his muscular frame. At his side hung a broadsword, a significant upgrade from his customary short sword, resting comfortably in an ornate scabbard.
"The carriage has arrived," Thomas announced, his voice steady and measured.
"Let''s go," Jamie replied, giving a final glance in the mirror.
Descending the narrow staircase from the second floor, the murmur of the tavern below grew louder. Patrons chatted over mugs of ale, the atmosphere warm and inviting. As Jamie and Thomas emerged into the common room, conversations hushed momentarily. Eyes stole curious glances at Jamie''s refined attire and Thomas''s imposing presence. It wasn''t every day that the owner dressed like a nobleman, nor that his right-hand man donned armor fit for a king''s guard.
Camille, who was sitting near the counter, gave a nod before the two left. She would stay that night as the tavern''s guard. Some might think she was weaker than Thomas, but they would quickly find that what she lacked in strength, she makes up for with agility and brutality.
Stepping out into the crisp evening air, they made their way toward one of the broader streets of the Lower Quarter.
A sleek carriage, a rarity in this part of town, awaited them. Its lacquered black exterior gleamed, and silver filigree embellished the edges with delicate craftsmanship. The sight of such an elegant vehicle drew the attention of passersby.
Similar to Thomas, Bertram and Aldwin stood by the carriage, dressed in attire that marked them as guards. They wore fitted leather armor bearing a subtle gloss, the dark material accented by polished steel bracers and boots. Each bore the emblem of the Golden Fiddle, prominently displayed on their left breastplates.
Bertram shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the growing crowd. His dark hair was neatly combed for once, and he tugged at his gloves nervously, his gaze darting around. The flush on his cheeks was unmistakable, highlighting his unease with the attention.
In stark contrast, Aldwin stood tall and proud, a jaunty grin plastered across his face. The half-elf adjusted his cloak with a flourish, his blue eyes shimmering with excitement. He moved with a confident swagger, as if striding down a regal promenade rather than the humble streets of the Lower Quarter. It was clear he relished every moment, basking in the gazes upon them.
Jamie opened the carriage door, the polished mahogany gleaming softly under the lantern light. As he and Thomas settled onto the plush velvet seats inside, Jamie reached up and rapped twice on the carriage roof. "We''re ready, you can depart," he called out.
Just as they had planned and rehearsed, Aldwin and Bertram, positioned atop the driver''s bench, responded with swift efficiency. The horses whinnied softly, their breath misting in the cool evening air as they began to pull the carriage forward. Wheels creaked gently against the cobblestone streets, and soon they were weaving through the bustling avenues of the Lower Quarter.
The city was alive with the transition from day to night. Merchants closed up their stalls, while the magical lamps were starting to automatically light up.
Joining the flow of traffic, they made their way toward the main boulevard that led to the Noble Quarter. Around them, other carriages, some ornate and gilded, others modest but elegant, converged, all heading in the same direction.
Ahead, perched atop a gentle rise, stood the grand mansions of the Noble Quarter, their spires and turrets reaching toward the dusky sky. The silhouette of one of the largest mansion, the venue for the Autumn Ball, dominated the horizon, its windows aglow like a hundred stars.
As they approached the imposing gate that separated the Noble Quarter from the rest of Hafenstadt, their carriage came to an abrupt halt. Four guards clad in gleaming armor stepped forward, their expressions stern beneath the visors of their helms. They surrounded the carriage, scrutinizing every inch with a meticulous eye.
Jamie peered out the window, his eyes narrowing as he noticed that their carriage was the only one being subjected to such scrutiny. Other carriages passed through unimpeded, their occupants spared the indignity of inspection.
''If they''re looking to cause trouble, they''ll need more men than that,'' Jamie thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. The unfairness of the situation ignited a flicker of anger within him, but he fought to keep his composure.
One of the soldiers rapped on the carriage door. "State your destination," he demanded curtly, his voice devoid of warmth.
Jamie pushed the door open and met the soldier''s gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. "We''re attending the Autumn Ball," he replied, enunciating each word with measured precision. He reached inside his robe and produced the gilded invitation, handing it over without breaking eye contact. His eyes were as cold and sharp as a winter''s chill.
The soldier examined the invitation, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. "Hmm," he grunted noncommittally. After a tense moment, he thrust the invitation back toward Jamie. "You may pass," he said tersely.
As the carriage began to roll forward, the soldier stepped back but couldn''t resist a final act of spite; he spat deliberately onto one of the carriage wheels.
Jamie took a slow, deep breath, feeling the weight of his frustration pressing against his restraint. ''One day, I''ll make sure they regret this,'' he vowed silently. But aloud, he simply said, "Let''s continue," his voice calm and controlled. ''For now, we''ll keep smiling,'' he reminded himself. There were bigger goals ahead.
Moments later, they ascended the winding road leading to the mansion''s grand entrance. The scene that unfolded before them was nothing short of breathtaking. The estate was ablaze with light; hundreds of lanterns hung from delicately arched trellises, and torches lined the pathways, their flames dancing in the evening breeze. Acrobats and jugglers entertained clusters of elegantly dressed guests who mingled on the sprawling lawn. Bursts of fireworks periodically painted the sky with vibrant hues, eliciting murmurs of awe from the crowd.
Thomas stepped down from the carriage first, his eyes wide as he took in the opulence surrounding them.
Behind him, Aldwin and Bertram disembarked, their usual bravado tempered by the sheer extravagance of the spectacle. Aldwin''s eyes darted from one marvel to the next, a mix of excitement and trepidation. Bertram shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the collar of his uniform.
"I''ve never been to a place so wealthy," Thomas admitted quietly, his voice barely audible. There was a touch of apprehension in his tone, as if he were stepping into a world where he didn''t quite belong.
Jamie joined them, his demeanor confident as he surveyed the surroundings. He offered Thomas a reassuring smile. "Better get used to it," he said lightly, clapping a hand on his friend''s shoulder. "This will be the first of many times."
Chapter 55: The Entrance
Jamie offered Thomas a reassuring smile. "Better get used to it," he said lightly, clapping a hand on his friend''s shoulder. "This will be the first of many times."
Thomas returned the smile, a flicker of confidence in his eyes, though words seemed to escape him. He nodded, accepting Jamie''s encouragement but still appearing slightly overwhelmed by the grandeur unfolding before them.
They continued toward the mansion''s grand entrance. A path of smooth, white stones led the way, winding through the expansive, meticulously kept gardens. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron posts, their warm light illuminating beds of flowers that bloomed defiantly despite the season. The estate''s grounds were a marvel; ornate fountains danced with sparkling water, and statues of marble and bronze stood sentinel among the hedges. Even in the heart of autumn, not a single leaf showed a hint of fading; the foliage remained lush and verdant as if untouched by time.
At the convergence of the path, a circular drive allowed carriages to deposit their passengers before moving on to the stables. Jamie chose to walk alongside their carriage, using the moment to speak privately with Bertram and Aldwin, who were managing the horses with practiced ease. Both young men were dressed in attire befitting their roles, uniforms bearing the emblem of the Golden Fiddle Company.
"Do not rise to any provocations," Jamie advised, his tone firm yet understanding. "Keep your composure at all times. After you stable the carriage, remain near the entrance. When we are ready to leave, you''ll see us and bring the carriage around. If you''re unsure of anything, observe how the others are conducting themselves."
Bertram and Aldwin nodded earnestly, their expressions a mix of determination and nerves. "Understood," they replied in unison.
With a final nod, Jamie and Thomas parted ways with the young men, turning toward the opulent main entrance of the party. The sound of the carriage wheels faded behind them as they ascended the path.
As they walked, Jamie took in the spectacle around him. Attendees clad in extravagant gowns and tailored suits moved gracefully toward the mansion, their conversations a gentle hum of laughter and cultured accents. The glow of torches and lanterns cast a golden sheen upon the scene, creating an atmosphere that bordered on the ethereal.
Despite his usual focus on the city''s underground, Jamie was well-versed in recognizing the influential figures of Hafenstadt. Magnates, nobles, and dignitaries dotted the crowd, their status evident in their bearing and the subtle intricacies of their attire. However, the recognition was not reciprocated. As Jamie passed by, he offered polite nods to those who met his gaze, but his gestures were met with indifference. Eyes slid over him like he were invisible, and conversations continued uninterrupted.
¡®So, it''ll be like this, then?¡¯ Jamie mused silently, amusement curling his lips into a sly smile. A spark of determination ignited within him, and his challenging grin only widened. ¡®Very well. By the time the next Autumn Ball, each and every one of you will know my name. Mark my words.¡¯
"Words heeded," Jay responded, floating a few feet above Jamie''s shoulder. The spectral cat was adorned in attire mirroring Jamie''s own. The sight was, at the very least, peculiar, and at most, undeniably comical. Jay''s miniature cloak billowed ever so slightly as he hovered.
Together, they strode forward with purpose, bypassing the opulent gardens and the grandiose entrance where guests lingered to admire the lavish floral displays and ornate fountains. Jamie had no interest in such distractions tonight. Instead, they made their way directly into the heart of the festivities, the grand ballroom of the Hafenstadt manor.
The ballroom was a marvel to behold. Hundreds of elegantly adorned tables were arranged in a sprawling oval, encircling a polished marble dance floor that gleamed beneath the light of countless chandeliers. At the far end of the hall, a majestic double staircase curved upward, reserved for the hosts to make their grand entrance. The air was alive with the murmur of refined conversation, the clinking of fine glassware, and the soft strains of a string quartet playing.
¡®I could do better.¡¯ Jamie thought while hearing the quartet.
Jamie scanned the room, his keen eyes searching for a familiar face. ''No sign of Maria,'' he noted inwardly.
Beside him, Thomas moved with silent efficiency, ever the vigilant companion. Catching Jamie''s gaze, he gave a subtle nod toward the opposite side of the ballroom. Following the indication, Jamie''s gaze landed upon two figures of particular interest.
Near one of the servants bearing trays of ruby-red wine stood Thorgrimm Ironbrew and High Priestess Lysara. Thorgrimm, the leader of the Dusters, was a dwarven man of broad stature, his braided beard shot through with strands of silver. He exuded an aura of rugged strength, his piercing eyes ever watchful beneath bushy brows. Beside him, Lysara was the embodiment of ethereal grace. Clad in flowing robes of crimson adorned with intricate gold embroidery, the High Priestess of the Crimson Veil commanded attention with her mere presence. Her raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face marked by sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed to hold ancient wisdom.
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The two conversed amiably, their laughter intermingling as they sipped from delicate crystal goblets. It was a curious sight, his next two adversaries enjoying a cordial exchange.
"It''s time we made their acquaintance," Jamie remarked softly to Thomas, a sly smile playing upon his lips.
With measured strides, Jamie approached the pair, exuding an air of confidence befitting the finest of nobility. Thomas followed closely, his presence solid and reassuring.
As Jamie drew near, he observed the subtle transformation on their faces. Conversations dwindled around them as Thorgrimm and Lysara took notice of his approach. Their expressions shifted fleetingly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, smiles tightening, as if they''d bitten into a lemon unexpectedly. The moment passed quickly, but not before Jamie had taken note.
High Priestess Lysara was the first to recover, her features smoothing into a practiced mask of serenity. Only the slightest arch of her finely sculpted brow hinted at any disturbance. Thorgrimm, however, made no effort to disguise his reaction. His lips curled into a faint grimace, and his grip on the goblet tightened visibly.
"Well, look who it is," Thorgrimm drawled, his voice carrying the rough edge of the mountain clans. "The great bard himself graces us with his presence." The words were laced with sarcasm, his gaze unwavering as it met Jamie''s.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Thorgrimm," Jamie replied smoothly, offering a respectful nod. "It''s good to see you in good health." His smile was polite, composed. A mask honed through years of navigating delicate social terrains.
"What is an amateur like you doing in a place like this?" Thorgrimm demanded, his gruff voice laden with irritation.
Jamie met his gaze steadily, a cold smile playing at the edges of his lips. "An amateur? Is that truly the best way to describe me?" he replied smoothly. "If I''m an amateur, then what does that make you? A man who couldn''t eliminate a faction as weak as the Cutpurses?"
[The God of Mischief is laughing at this.]
[The Goddess of Dwarves was angered by your retort.]
Thorgrimm''s jaw tightened, the muscles in his face clenching visibly. Jamie continued, his tone deceptively light. "Or worse yet, you failed in your attempt to poison someone. Next time, you might want to steer clear of blueberries."
As he spoke, Jamie casually plucked a glass of wine from the silver tray of a passing servant. He swirled the crimson liquid thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving Thorgrimm''s. The dwarf''s knuckles whitened as he balled his fists, a storm flickering behind his eyes. In another setting, a shadowed alley or an empty tavern, Thorgrimm might have let his fists speak for him. But here, under the watchful eyes of the city''s elite, decorum held him in check.
With a dismissive huff, Thorgrimm raised his own glass and downed the contents in a single gulp. His voice was edged with the slight slur of intoxication as he retorted, "I find I have no further interest in this gathering. Be careful, boy. That territory was mine by right. You don''t want to stand in my way."
"I didn''t see your name or any documents saying it was yours. I conquered it. It''s mine." Jamie replied.
"We''ll see," Thorgrimm retorted.
Thorgrimm set the empty glass down with a sharp clink and turned abruptly, his heavy boots thudding against the marble as he departed. Jamie watched him go.
Nearby, High Priestess Lysara observed the exchange with a composed demeanor. Though her expression remained serene, Jamie sensed a subtle amusement beneath the surface, as if she were entertained by the verbal sparring.
With Thorgrimm''s exit, she stepped forward, her gaze meeting Jamie''s with a measured intensity. "It appears I''ve lost one of my finest to you," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "I trust you know how to make the most of her talents."
Jamie arched an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "One of your finest?" he echoed.
"Indeed," Lysara affirmed. "Her company commanded a hefty sum, several silver coins for a single night. Perhaps I should have increased her debt. But, alas, it''s in the past now."
A sly smile curved Jamie''s lips. "Ah, you''re referring to one of your treasured companions. I wouldn''t have paid gold for just a prostitute." He chuckled lightly. "No, what I wanted was one of the most gifted witches. A shame you never took the time to discover her true potential."
For a fleeting moment, a flicker of genuine surprise crossed Lysara''s face, quickly masked by her composed facade. "A witch?" she inquired, a hint of curiosity threading through her tone.
"You never uncovered her class?" Jamie mused. "Understandable, perhaps. The elves are known to conceal much. But in the end, fortune smiles upon those who are attentive."
Lysara''s smile remained, but it had lost some of its warmth. Her eyes reflected a shadow of displeasure as if she had tasted something bitter. "Good work," she said coolly. ¡°She will undoubtedly serve you well. Now, if you''ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to with more engaging company."
She inclined her head ever so slightly before gliding away, her robes whispering softly against the floor. Jamie watched her departure with a sense of triumph, his remarks having achieved the intended effect.
"Well played," came a familiar voice. Glancing upward, Jamie spotted Jay perched atop a nearby ornate pillar.
¡®Enjoying yourself?¡¯ Jamie thought, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"Immensely," Jay purred. "It''s always entertaining to see pompous facades crack."
Just as Jamie prepared to rejoin the flow of the soir¨¦e, a subtle shift rippled through the crowd. Conversations hushed, and all eyes turned toward the grand staircase that descended into the ballroom.
Maria von Hafestadt was entering the ball.
Chapter 56: Imperial Academy
Maria von Hafestadt was entering the ball.
With measured, deliberate steps, Maria descended the grand staircase, each step echoing softly in the hushed anticipation of the room. Her long, ebony hair was elegantly styled, pulled back to cascade over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, shimmering under the glow of the chandeliers. Her skin was as fair as snow, smooth and radiant.
Yet it was her eyes that truly captivated them. Sharp and piercing like those of a predator, they left no room for anyone to underestimate her due to her beauty alone. There was a fierceness in her gaze, a silent declaration of her strength and authority.
She wore an exquisite black gown embellished with intricate golden details, each thread woven with meticulous craftsmanship. The dress flowed gracefully around her, accentuating her poise and stature, a garment befitting the heir of Hafenstadt and its secretive governor.
Jamie watched from his place near the edge of the ballroom, raising his wine glass to his lips as he observed the scene unfold. The murmurs of conversation around him faded into the background. Beside him, Thomas attempted to conceal his surprise and admiration at Maria''s striking presence, but the awe in his eyes was hard to mask.
As Maria moved gracefully through the gathering, she greeted her guests with a polite nod here, a graceful smile there. Her path through the grand hall seemed almost intentional, each step bringing her closer to where Jamie stood. On occasion, her eyes would meet his across the room; brief, curious glances.
When she finally approached, a subtle hush fell over the surrounding guests. A circle of onlookers formed around them, not overtly impeding but close enough to observe the interaction. Some were merely curious about the connection between the enigmatic bard and the illustrious heiress. Others held more calculated interests, eager to witness how Maria would engage with the newcomer who had begun to stir the waters of Hafenstadt''s underworld.
Jamie recognized several faces in the crowd. Though they donned the attire of nobility and wealth, he knew them for what they were, figures whose dealings thrived in shadows. The manager of the clandestine fighting pits stood to one side, his shrewd eyes assessing. Nearby was a merchant notorious for trading in rare and forbidden monster parts, his fingers adorned with rings that caught the light with each subtle movement. Scattered among them were those who dealt in the darkest trade of all, the buying and selling of slaves.
Out of all these, it was the slavers whom Jamie despised the most. Their very existence clashed with every principle he held. Slaves had no choice but to participate in the "game" that played out within the city''s shadows. More abhorrent was the fact that the most valuable among their stock were often the children.
However, this was not the time to show his disgust for this "race."
On the contrary, his face held nothing but smiles, especially directed at the heiress of the Hafenstadt.
¡®Did she send us to our deaths? Or was it someone else?¡¯ Jamie was calculating as he evaluated her.
"Well, well," Maria purred as she drew near, her tone laced with a subtle challenge. "It seems the newest magnate of Hafenstadt graces my humble ball."
Her words seemed designed to belittle, but her expression remained inscrutable, a porcelain mask betraying no emotion.
Jamie inclined his head politely. "Magnate? You flatter me, noble heiress," he replied, allowing a hint of humility to color his tone. "I am but a simple bard."
Though his words appeared self-deprecating, the deliberate emphasis on "heiress" was a subtle barb, a reminder that she had yet to ascend fully to power. The nuance was not lost on Maria, whose eyes flickered momentarily, a spark of acknowledgment passing between them.
"If not a magnate," she continued, her lips curving into a faint smile, "then perhaps the newest crime lord of Hafenstadt. What is it they''re calling your gang?" She paused delicately. "Ah, the Musicians."
"Musicians," Jamie echoed thoughtfully. "A name far more agreeable than ''magnate.''"
He sipped casually from his wine, masking his satisfaction at being recognized as a leader within the city''s underworld. "However," he added smoothly, "while my enterprises may skirt the edges of legality, it''s worth noting that we are not criminals."
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He emphasized the distinction carefully, aware of the need to maintain a veneer of respectability despite the dubious dealings of those around them.
"Like all of us," Maria responded, her gaze drifting over the assembled guests. "Like all of us."
She turned her attention to the bustling ballroom, watching as elegantly dressed couples danced across the polished floor. Around them, whispers fluttered among the nobility, a mix of curiosity and speculation directed at the short exchange.
Thomas stood a few paces behind Jamie, his posture relaxed yet alert. His eyes scanned the crowd, ever vigilant, though his expression remained stoic.
"Congratulations on establishing your company," Maria remarked after a moment, her tone lighter. "I hear you''ve managed to eliminate some trolls."
Jamie met her gaze, a modest smile playing on his lips. "It was nothing," he said dismissively. "Merely a worthwhile exercise that served to increase our reputation."
"Is that why you''re already spreading word that you''ll be recruiting more soldiers? Are you planning some kind of expansion?" Maria inquired, her tone casual yet edged with curiosity.
Jamie met her gaze steadily, a polite smile on his lips. "Those are merely rumors," he replied smoothly. "We haven''t officially opened recruitment yet, but we do intend to expand our team." He confirmed this without offering any specifics about timing or objectives.
"In that case," Maria mused, a hint of challenge in her eyes, "we should converse after your expansion. Certain services could make use of your abilities. Perhaps you can catch some crumbs that fall from the table."
"Forgive me, my lady," Jamie responded confidently, his voice steady. "But for the Golden Fiddle, crumbs aren''t sufficient to satisfy us."
"Bold," Maria remarked, her lips curving into a faint smile that didn''t quite reach her eyes. "Perhaps too bold, but sometimes necessary. The vast majority of nobles could learn from your behavior." Though her words seemed complimentary, there was an undercurrent suggesting she was redirecting the rejection he had given her.
"Very true," Jamie acknowledged, maintaining his composure.
"In that case," Maria continued, her gaze sharpening, "before we sit down to discuss further, I will request some of your time to teach a class at our Imperial Academy of Hafenstadt." A subtle gleam flickered in her eyes. "You should receive the letter in the next few days."
Jamie fought to mask his surprise, his mind racing. Initially, he felt a pang of disappointment. Such an invitation would be difficult to decline, and he had already been bold in refusing her minor business proposition. Yet, a spark of excitement ignited within him. He needed to recruit new talent, and perhaps the Academy was the perfect place. ¡®Thomas was from there,¡¯ he recalled.
"It would be my pleasure," he said, bowing gracefully to accept the task.
As Jamie straightened, a servant approached Maria, leaning in to whisper softly in her ear. "Excuse me," she said, her attention shifting. "I have no more time to waste. Our main guest has just arrived." With that, Maria turned and began ascending the grand staircase.
Reaching the top, she tapped her crystal glass lightly with a silver spoon, the clear chime ringing through the hall and capturing everyone''s attention. The murmur of conversations faded as guests turned their gazes toward her.
"Tonight will not be an ordinary ball focused solely on promoting internal commerce," Maria announced, her voice carrying effortlessly across the room. "But also an opportunity to strengthen the ties between our two great Empires."
A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd, guests exchanging curious glances and hushed speculations about what was to come.
"Today, we take another step in bringing the Arkan Imperium closer to the Holy Elven Empire," she continued. "We have invited esteemed diplomats from our neighboring empire to join us in dialogue and celebration."
At her words, the enormous main doors of the ballroom swung open with deliberate grandeur. A procession of elegantly dressed individuals entered, their bearing dignified and their attire a harmonious blend of silken fabrics and intricate embroidery. Leading the group was a figure who commanded immediate attention.
"Please join me in extending a warm welcome to Vivi Hellreich, High Diplomat of the Holy Elven Empire." Maria''s clear voice resonated throughout the grand ballroom, silencing the murmurs. All eyes shifted toward the towering double doors as they swung open with ceremonial grace.
At the utterance of that name, Jamie''s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing as he strained to see through the sea of dignitaries and nobility.
Emerging at the forefront of the elven delegation was a young woman who appeared to be of an age with Jamie, though her elven lineage bestowed upon her an ageless elegance. She moved with a grace that seemed almost ethereal, each step light and purposeful as if she floated rather than walked.
"Well, well," Jay mused, his voice threading into Jamie''s thoughts with amusement and surprise. The spectral cat floated lazily beside him. "Who would have imagined?"
Jamie''s breath caught in his throat by the surprise.
Beside him, Thomas noticed the change. He had been standing silently, a steadfast sentinel amid the swirling elegance of the evening. His observant eyes missed little, and he saw how Jamie''s usual composure wavered, if only for a moment.
"Someone you know?" Thomas asked quietly, concern threading through his voice. His gaze followed Jamie''s, landing upon the elven diplomat who now moved with her entourage into the heart of the gathering.
Jamie exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain control. "Yes," he acknowledged, his voice just audible over the renewed swell of conversations and music. "My ex-fianc¨¦e."
Chapter 57: The High Diplomat
Jamie exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain control. "Yes," he acknowledged, his voice just audible over the renewed swell of conversations and music. "My ex-fianc¨¦e."
"Your what?" Thomas repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Before I left my family," Jamie elaborated. "We were promised to each other."
Thomas''s eyes widened slightly. "I see. And after you became a bard?"
"After I renounced my family''s path and was cast out," Jamie continued with a resigned shrug, "of course, the engagement fell apart."
"I''m sorry," Thomas offered softly, a note of empathy threading through his words.
Jamie waved a hand dismissively, a faint smile touching his lips. "Don''t worry about it. It was a match of convenience." Truthfully, he harbored no bitterness over the matter. What surprised him was encountering her here, so far from Frostwatch.
At that moment, Maria descended the grand staircase with a regal grace. Her raven-black hair was elegantly styled, and despite the crowd, she moved with the assuredness of someone who commanded every eye in the room. Approaching Vivi, the elven diplomat and Jamie''s former betrothed, Maria exchanged pleasantries and warm smiles. The two women began to walk side by side, making their way through clusters of guests. Some were celebrities of renown, while others were nobles of significant influence and power.
As they navigated the opulent hall, Jamie was not the focus of their attention. Nonetheless, he took the opportunity to observe those around him discreetly. The glittering assemblage of high society was a treasure trove of information, and one never knew when such observations might prove valuable.
¡®An alliance with the Holy Elven Empire,¡¯ Jamie mused, his thoughts turning inward. ¡®It''s been quite some time since the war ended, but not so long that memories have faded or scars have healed.¡¯
His eyes flicked to Maria. ¡®She''s not one to make moves without purpose. She must have a vested interest in this alliance.¡¯
Lost in contemplation, Jamie''s gaze drifted across the room, until it locked unexpectedly with Vivi''s. Time seemed to slow as they regarded each other from a distance. Vivi''s eyes widened ever so slightly, a flicker of recognition passing over her delicate features. Without breaking eye contact, she began to make her way toward him. Maria continued alongside her, though a subtle crease formed between her brows, hinting at her curiosity over the diplomat''s sudden change of direction.
As Vivi approached, the surrounding guests gave way, their conversations hushed as they watched the exchange with polite interest. Vivi halted a respectful distance from Jamie and offered a graceful, courteous bow. "It''s a pleasure to see you again, young master," she said, her voice as melodious as he remembered.
Jamie returned the gesture, bowing with the practiced elegance ingrained from his upbringing. "There is no need to call me ''young master,'' noble diplomat," he replied softly. "I am no longer part of House Frostwatch."
"I understand," Vivi replied, her amethyst eyes widening ever so slightly. "Forgive me, perhaps it was due to my actions¡ª"
"There is no need to apologize," Jamie interjected gently, his tone composed yet firm, cutting her off before she could reveal more than necessary. "It wasn''t related to you."
Around them, a ripple of murmurs began to spread among the elegantly dressed guests. Faces turned with growing curiosity; eyebrows arched at the unexpected familiarity between the esteemed elven diplomat and the humble bard. Maria stood nearby, her gaze sharp as she observed the exchange. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast a warm light over the trio, highlighting the tension that subtly simmered beneath their polite facades.
''She must know that I was once of House Frostwatch,'' Jamie pondered inwardly, his mind racing. ''But surely she isn''t aware of the betrothal that was arranged. After it was dissolved, our families likely buried the matter to avoid any scandal.''
"What a surprise," Maria interjected smoothly, a hint of intrigue lacing her words. "Vivi, you know Jamie?" Her eyes flickered between them, attempting to glean more from their interaction.
"I do," Vivi replied, a gentle smile playing upon her lips. "But not as Jamie." The delicate gold chains adorning her elegantly pointed ears glinted as she tilted her head.
Jamie offered a gracious bow, his movements fluid and practiced. "Then allow me to reintroduce myself," he said with a touch of wry humor. "My name is Jamie, one of the humble bards who entertain this fair city." His voice carried a veneer of humility, though an astute listener might detect the subtle edge beneath.
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Vivi''s smile widened at his words. Beside her, Maria''s expression soured slightly, the corners of her mouth tightening as she perceived the feigned modesty in Jamie''s tone.
"I can''t imagine you as a noble heir," Maria remarked, her voice smooth yet edged with a subtle challenge. "You seem so comfortable in your role as a bard."
"Without a doubt," Jamie replied evenly, meeting her gaze. "I prefer not being an heir. As a bard, I have the freedom to build and conquer what is truly mine, without having anything handed to me on a silver platter." He spoke as if merely sharing his personal philosophy, but the underlying retort was unmistakable.
Around them, the surrounding guests exchanged puzzled glances. Some began to sense the unspoken tension, the veiled barbs woven into polite conversation. Whispered speculations flitted through the air like moths drawn to flame. Were they witnessing a clash of wills between rivals? Or perhaps a reunion with a deeper history than appearances suggested?
"Fortunately, we don''t have many bards who think that way," Maria countered, her smile tight. "Otherwise, Hafenstadt might have already fallen into chaos."
Jamie chuckled softly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I am one of a kind," he remarked, the words carrying a hint of self-deprecation mingled with pride.
Before the exchange could escalate further, Vivi stepped forward, her demeanor warm as she extended her slender hand toward Jamie. "I''m glad to see you again," she said sincerely, "even if it''s as a bard."
"Thank you kindly," Jamie said, inclining his head with a gracious smile.
"Not just a bard anymore," Maria interjected smoothly, her gaze keen as she watched for his reaction. "He''s also going to be a professor at the Imperial Academy of Hafenstadt." She laid her metaphorical card on the table once more, probing to see if he would falter.
Before Jamie could reply, Vivi''s eyes lit up with genuine delight. "That''s wonderful! The Imperial Academy is a tremendous honor," she exclaimed. Her enthusiasm was palpable, and it caught Jamie slightly off guard. Her reaction revealed the cultural chasm between their two empires.
In the Arkan Imperium, only those associated with the Arcane Tower, the most revered institution of magical learning, were deemed worthy of respect as educators. Professors outside that esteemed circle were often looked upon with indifference or even disdain. But in the Holy Elven Empire, from which Vivi hailed, teaching and the pursuit of knowledge were sacred callings. To be a professor was a mark of great esteem, a role even nobles aspired to with pride.
"Very honored," Jamie replied, bowing gracefully. His eyes flickered briefly toward Maria, who seemed momentarily taken aback. A flicker of frustration crossed her features, so subtle that most would have missed it, but Jamie caught it. She hadn''t anticipated Vivi''s positive reception, and it was clear that her attempt to unsettle him had misfired.
Maria cleared her throat delicately, regaining her composure. She placed a slender hand on Vivi''s arm, her rings gleaming in the chandelier''s light. "Vivi, I still need to introduce you to the rest of our distinguished guests," she said, her tone smooth yet insistent. "And we have that discussion we mustn''t delay." Though she spoke softly, Jamie''s keen hearing caught every word.
He bowed once more, a gesture of polite dismissal. "I won''t keep you any longer. Farewell," he said, his voice courteous.
"Farewell," Vivi replied, her smile warm and sincere. There was a hint of lingering affection in her eyes as she looked at him, a glimmer that did not escape his notice.
As Maria guided Vivi away, disappearing into the crowd of elegantly clad guests, Jamie and Thomas stepped back from the vibrant heart of the celebration. They navigated through clusters of attendees, sidestepping swirling gowns and dodging gesticulating arms, until they found a quieter corner near a grand marble pillar adorned with gilded ivy.
"She seemed happy to see you," Thomas observed, his gaze steady on Jamie.
"Yes," Jamie replied, his brow furrowing slightly. "But why?" He raised a hand to his face, his fingers absently tracing the line of his jaw as he pondered.
Thomas regarded him curiously. "What do you mean?"
Jamie sighed softly, his eyes distant. "She was the one who ended our engagement. At the time, she didn''t seem pleased with me at all."
"Perhaps she''s had a change of heart?" Thomas suggested. The soft glow of candlelight cast shadows across his features, highlighting the earnestness in his expression.
"Maybe," Jamie conceded, though uncertainty lingered in his voice.
He shook his head lightly as if to dispel the thoughts. "More importantly," he continued, his tone shifting to contemplation, "what are they doing here? What does Hafenstadt stand to gain from an alliance with the Holy Elven Empire? And could we use it to our benefit?"
Thomas nodded thoughtfully but remained silent. The question hung between them. The mingling of these two powerful realms could signify many possibilities, trade agreements, military pacts, or something more clandestine.
Jamie glanced around, ensuring they were still out of earshot. The opulent hall teemed with nobility, laughter, and music.
"That''s enough for tonight," Jamie decided, his voice resolute. "It doesn''t seem like we will have the favor of meeting the Governor or his Ministers. Furthermore, although she was challenging me all the time, Maria only seemed to want to keep us on a short leash rather than destroy us."
Thomas watched him attentively before the leader gave a final command. ¡°Let''s get the hell out of here.¡±
They began making their way toward the entrance, where they waited for the boys to bring the carriage.
Minutes ticked by, and a subtle impatience crept over them. Jamie tapped his foot lightly against the floor, his gaze darting toward the street where carriages awaited to ferry guests home.
"Where are they?" Jamie muttered.