We move off in single file, van Turk in the lead, and Lugg immediately behind the mercenary. I am next, looking around at the fisherfolk who stand nearby as I walk, and Coruff brings up the rear. I can tell that our mercenary friend is nervous, but we are not challenged or accosted as we proceed, and I see his bulky shoulders relax a little.
His vigilance is appreciated, though it feels a little excessive to me, for there are no signs of knights or Imperial presence of any kind. Most of the people around are local workers or children, with the occasional beggar sitting by the side of the road. It’s a very basic-looking sort of settlement on the whole, as I was expecting, though I notice that every so often there is a small stone pillar, entirely round, with what can only be a magically generated sphere of light at the top. Perhaps magic users are more widely tolerated here than they are back in Dubasa.
I glance back. For her part, Coruff seems to be keeping her head down, and she leans on her staff as she goes. I keep my new bow over my shoulder and my morning star and jeweled knife are at my belt. All of my other gear is stowed in my backpack, including my dagger.
As we move uphill, the surroundings get quieter as well as brighter, and slightly less foul-smelling. We pass newly built houses; the ones on this major street are large, detached wooden buildings, with the side alleys having more of a jumble of slum-like dwellings. Nearly everything looks like it is constructed from newly-sawn pine.
So here we are. The mainland at last. It feels so strange to be here without Garner, though. We’ve been through so much together. The one thing that brings me hope on that score is the knowledge that he traveled with several of the other coven members. Coruff will work to bring her group back together soon, I feel sure, and in doing so, I should soon reunite with Garner again as well.
Besides, we all made a promise to our comrade P’oytox. Once they are established in a new safe house, I feel sure that Maleki and the coven will help to see that promise through, and that means making their way to the Great Swamp, a place that is also located in this province.
Soon we reach a crossroads. To our left and right runs a wider street, some kind of market area, I suppose, as along both sides there are merchants with small stalls of all kinds. A great variety of food and other wares are on display. Looking from one side to another, it strikes me that this cross marks more or less the centre of the small town.
Van Turk pauses and gestures ahead, where a tall wooden building with a steeply pitched roof marks the edge of the town – a gateway in the wooden wall that encompasses Nimroth.
“That’s the way out. We should move quickly.”
“Yes,” says Coruff. “There is nothing here. This place is…” she looks around, trailing off as if searching for a sufficiently scathing expression.
“Just villagers who put a wall around themselves,” growls van Turk.
“He is right,” says Lugg.
I spread my hands. “Well, I agree, but we’ll need more things for the journey,” I say, pointing towards the market stalls off to the side. “Why don’t Lugg and I go to pick up some trail rations and other supplies. Coruff, you and van Turk can go to the town wall and see if there is a stable where we might be able to hire a wagon.”
Increase in skill level: Leadership level 14 (Spirit +2)
Coruff nods sharply. “Let’s get going, then,” she says. “We’ll see you at the inn closest to the town gate. It goes by the name of the Red Mirror.”
I clasp her elbow. “We’ll be as quick as we can.”
With that, the two of us move away.
* * *
With Lugg at my side, I make my way along the wide market street which runs perpendicular to the one between the port and the town gate. As we go, I listen to the surrounding voices. A simplification in Shadow Kingdoms is that everyone speaks English, though some species have their own languages as well. There are, however, many accents, and here most of the NPCs sound eastern European, at least to me.
I also remember that the Imperial West has vaguely Slavic-sounding names, with a smattering of Germanic in the case of the eastern settlements. The place names still show some of this flavour: Nitra, Kamarok, Luda Krankor, Cholnok, and the like. When I first played, the newer towns took the form of Imperial strongholds, reflecting a shift in power as the Empire strove to establish footholds from which to control the local human tribes.
Outside the weather has cooled, even though we are now approaching the middle of the day. I have been carrying all of my equipment, and I do a quick inventory check to remind myself of what is in my pack, before deciding what I might like to buy:
Backpack: belt, dagger, daily trail rations (4), empty glass vials (2), fine-quality rope, letters (4), light blankets (2), quiver with arrows (13), set of high-quality crafting tools, set of spare light clothes, signet ring, waterskins (2). Other items: belt (enchanted), cloak, fine morning star, jeweled knife, money pouch, poor-quality bow.
Hmm… that signet ring, taken from the fallen lieutenant of the Knights of Dawn himself, could really be worth something! Especially as I recall Josa suggesting that it had magical properties.
On the other hand, I certainly don’t want to attract attention to myself by hawking something that belonged to a slain high-ranking henchman of the Emperor. Not here, anyway. To offload it, I’ll need to find a roguish character who won’t ask too many questions. Villages on route during our journey to the Great Swamp could be just the thing; here I am too exposed. Besides, I still have enough coin, at least for just now.
I pause at a group of stalls selling what looks like adventuring gear – ropes and the like. I notice a pile of waterskins of the type that could hold a couple of pints, and I think it might be worth buying another; I don’t imagine that clean drinking water is the easiest thing to come by in the wilds of Kamarok, especially when we will need to travel through the swamps at some point.
“How much?”
The merchant, a tall skinny man with a red-beard, comes over. “Two crowns,” he says.
He looks suspiciously at the gold coins that I give him, turning one of them over in his stubby fingers.
“Is it all right?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says, with a terse nod, “in fact some folks around here might even prefer Dubasan coins. We just don’t see them much.”
“Just Imperial?”
He grunts. “Nothing wrong with the local coins, either, but for some reason the Varian scum won’t accept them. It all needed to be melted down.”
As I walk away, I reflect on this. I had assumed that Imperial currency would now be used here more or less universally, with other coins of the same size being interchangeable. From what he said, however, it sounds like the suppression of local coinage has taken on a political element. We are certainly in frontier lands here.
It’s strange, though. Coins are supposed to add flavor to the game world, not increase its complexity. Or perhaps this is yet another feature which has diverged significantly from the way the game was designed.
Moving on, I pick up a proper bedroll that will keep me warm and dry. I buy an iron pot for cooking in the outdoors, a medical kit, a lantern and a flask of oil, and finally a length of copper wire. In the latter case, I don’t yet know what I might need it for, but as a skilled crafter, it’s always good to have supplies. I slip it into my backpack after parting with another gold coin. My money situation now looks as follows:
Copper: 11 Silver: 2384 Gold: 226
Lugg has moved on ahead to a stall that is selling cakes of various kinds, and I hurry to catch up. Most of the cakes appear to contain seeds and dried fruit. They look like something that will last well on a journey, and I exchange two silvers each for half a dozen of them, giving three of them to Lugg.
“A bit more trail food, and perhaps we are done,” I say.
Lugg nods, and appears to be about to speak when I see his mouth fall open in shock. At the same moment I hear a disturbance behind me – a crashing noise, followed by a scream, and the
sound of horses. I freeze, turning and looking up the road past the multiple stalls and milling locals.
And I see a red-armored knight.
He is still fifty yards away from where we stand, but moving rapidly forward on horseback. As I watch on he dismounts and he points his sword at one of the merchants by the edge of the street; the man – or dwarf? A very short individual with a full beard in any case – leans back against his own wares, clearly terrified. “I don’t know anything!” he cries.
“This way,” says Lugg firmly, tugging at my sleeve.
He doesn’t need to say it twice. Together, we rush into an alleyway that runs off to one side, and are closely followed by a few locals who have clearly decided to get off the street and out of harm’s way as well. It’s good that they do so, as they are providing us with cover.
There are a pair of barrels up ahead, near the entrance to the alley, and I move down to crouch behind them. I am keen to find out more about what the knight wants, what sort of information he is seeking. It could be about me, or the coven, or something unrelated entirely. And unlike the locals, I have a good reason to find out which.
Lugg crouches beside me, likewise keeping his hood up and his head very low. We can see the street pretty clearly from here, and soon enough the knight comes into sight. He isn’t moving fast, but he is being systematic, going from stall to stall and speaking to the local merchants. Some of them appear to be speaking rapidly and pointing, clearly desperate to avoid the warrior’s disfavor.
I would imagine that they will say anything if it gets him to leave them alone.
Pretty much all the other people in the street have melted away into the shadows and a couple of merchants further down have left too, but most are staying with their wares, perhaps torn between immediate self-preservation and the vital importance of their livelihoods.
As I watch on, one of the merchants – a human woman of middle years – has apparently dissatisfied the knight. The powerful warrior pulls out his sword and raises it to her throat.
“I know nothing about witches!” the woman cries out.
Without any further warning the knight thrusts the blade into the merchant’s chest. If she says anything more, I don’t hear it. I just see her sink to the ground. The knight puts his sword back in its scabbard without even wiping it.
I crouch down even lower, but continue to stare at the warrior from my vantage point. It is certainly one of the Knights of Dawn – the red cloak and ornate armor are unmistakable. And he could be one of the five knights that I saw on Dubasa – though it occurs to me that I’ve never actually established whether there are any more members of the order besides that group. Their lieutenant is dead, that much is certain, and this isn’t the captain of their small band, either; the iron circlet that the leader has welded to his helmet is fixed in my mind, and this warrior doesn’t wear any such marker.
What were the names mentioned in the letter in Tan Darville’s cabin? Valizor and Barzolk, that was it. The knights are active in this province, and involved in hunting down witches, too. And from what that merchant just said, it sounds very much like this one is much closer on Coruff’s trail than I could possibly have expected.
Chapter 18: The Back Streets
“Forget buying more food,” I say to Lugg, “we need to get out of here now, and warn Coruff.”
As soon as it seems safe to move, the pair of us re-enter the market street, and then rush along it in the opposite way from where the knight went. Lugg is slightly ahead of me, and I follow him into the next street to the left, and then a right turn into a narrow lane. I whisper to him urgently to ask if he knows which way to go.
“Lugg is confident, yes. We can find a way to the town gate.”
The lane we are in curves gradually to the right for twenty yards or so and then comes out onto a narrow but relatively straight residential street that appears to lead down to the docks. It’s therefore parallel to the town’s main road. I look to the right, wondering if it likewise heads towards the town gate – if so, I can’t see it from here, but the hills behind the town are visible. This seems like our best bet for now, and we turn and hurry in that direction.
Again, Lugg leads the way as we continue uphill. The afternoon light is fading, and I feel rather more comfortable to know that darkness is approaching. If nothing else, it should make us harder to find.
After around five minutes, Lugg points and begins to lead the way down a much darker side street. “Not far now, Miss Daria,” he says. “A twist and a turn, yes.”
But I hear something behind us as we go. Did someone follow us into the lane, perhaps? I stop walking, drawing back against the building behind me. Lugg sees my move, and without a word he mirrors me on the opposite side, until all I can see across from me are his faintly glowing eyes within his hood.
Silence all around. Far in the distance I can hear the hooves of a horse, and there are shouts from a distant street, but there is nothing nearby. At least, I don’t think so. But something spooked me; an intuitive or instinctive sense of danger. And then I see:
Increase in skill level: Stealth level 14 (Agility +3)
Hmm… another increase. And why would I have gained a level of stealth if there wasn’t anyone around? I look both ways again and then stare back at Lugg. I can’t see his eyes, so I can only suppose that he is looking to the side as well, causing his face to be hidden behind his black hood.
My morning-star would be noisy as well as cumbersome in this narrow lane, and so I move my hand silently to the hilt of the jeweled knife. But I don’t hear anything else, and after a couple of minutes, I move out from the side again.
“Time to go,” he whispers, indicating.
But I shake my head.
“I want to see if there was anyone there,” I reply. “If there’s someone following us, I need to know why.”
Without waiting for a response, I begin to move slowly back down the ten yards or so of lane that leads towards the main street. But I don’t see anyone, and I pause just before the junction. Lugg comes to my side.
“Good to be looking out, Miss,” he says, “but don’t take too long.”
I glance sideways at him. “I’d like it if you just called me ‘Daria’, Lugg,” I say. “Not ‘Miss’, and not ‘Miss Daria’ either. I know you started as my guide, but I think of you as a friend, now. A close friend.”
“Very good.” Lugg smiles, and I can tell that he is genuinely pleased.
He then points ahead of us towards the far side of the street and I see that there is a sign saying ‘Lawkeeper’, and a picture of a crossbow. Below it is an entrance, and I can make out a human woman sitting at a desk.
“This is the authority in town, Lugg believes,” he says softly. “Might be able to help us… Daria.”
“Okay.” My heart is still beating fast, and I glance behind me, but still there is no sign of anyone approaching us. “All the same,” I continue, “I don’t know what they could do to help us against that shadow knight. Especially as the Knights of Dawn work for the Emperor.”
“Perhaps we can talk, though,” my friend replies, gesturing, “and stay off the street until the shadow knight has gone.”
I hesitate. On the one hand, it would certainly be good to get off the streets for a while, on any pretext. We know that one of the knights is close by, and mercenaries or other members of his order could be round any corner. On the other, I want to press on and reunite with our companions, so that I can warn Coruff and get out of town quickly.
“I think we’d better continue the way we were going,” I say, beginning to turn away.
“Wise choice,” says a voice behind me.
I snap around to look and find myself staring into the face of the pretty dark-skinned elf who boarded our ship in Sefindarg City.
“You!” I say, frowning and taking a step back and pulling out my knife. She likewise pulls her twin daggers.
“Run,” I hiss to Lugg.
But when I try to
move, I find myself bound, immobile. And then I see another figure with a staff emerge from the shadows at the elf’s shoulder, and he is chanting softly. It is the half-orc sorcerer from the ship – and he has frozen me with some kind of spell.
Lugg appears not to be frozen. But neither is he fighting back. He steps forward, zombie like, and hands his weapons over to the staff-holder. “We surrender,” he says dully.
Soon, despite my curses, I find myself held at knifepoint, hands bound. Lugg is still lost in a fog of acquiescence and willingly submits to also having his hands bound. For now, it seems, there is nothing for it but to do as my captors tell me.
* * *
The half-orc sorcerer, on closer inspection, is not the one from the ship – though he does look very like him. This one is bulkier of build, and has a slightly wider face, but they are otherwise very alike. The same clan, perhaps? All the same, they could be in league. For now, we have no choice but to follow.
Before long we have arrived at our captors’ destination: a large wooden building with a single door on the lower level and an external staircase above it. Its exterior is painted in colorful patterns and murals, forming what appears to be religious iconography.
The sorcerer begins to ascend the external stairs, and we are also ushered up the stair by the elf who follows behind, still keeping her knives at the ready.
At the top the sorcerer knocks, and the door opens a fraction. I can see a chain at the entranceway. We don’t hear a password and he didn’t seem to use a special knock, but he just stands there for a moment. Perhaps those inside are doing something to check his credentials; it’s hard for me to see from a few steps down.
The Call of the Coven: A LitRPG novel (Shadow Kingdoms Book 2) Page 12
