Scamps & Scoundrels: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Bad Guys Book 1)

by Eric Ugland

  Matthew nodded. Wildingham hopped down from the wagon and pushed the flask into Matthew’s hand. Matthew took a sip, then made a face

  “Who’s this then?” Wildingham asked, smiling at me.

  “New assistant. Hatchett.”

  The gruff man tipped his hat to me, “Tomas Wildingham, at your service.”

  “Clyde Hatchett, at yours.”

  “You thinking of being a pitmaster, Hatchett?” he asked.

  “Exploring my options.”

  “Oh? You have them?” He laughed at his own joke. “The joys of youth, eh, old friend.”

  Matthew just shook his head and took another eye-watering sip from the flask.

  “What swill are you drinking today, Wildingham?” he asked.

  Wildingham laughed, “Tears of Affedda.”

  Matthew eyed the man and passed the flask back quickly. “It’ll be the death of you.”

  “Better’n being trollspawn food.”

  “You know the girl?”

  “Constance’s girl?”

  “Her, yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Might be I have room for another assistant.”

  “I can have a word with her, should you like.”

  “Please.”

  Wildingham nodded, then got his wagons out of the pit area, driving them back up the road. It was weird seeing all the space outside the pit, but it wasn’t quite time for rest. Wagons started showing up, picking up different crates, and driving them off. That kept Matthew pretty busy. Me, I had a more unpleasant job. I got to haul water out of a barrel with a bucket and wash all the remaining blood and guts and stuff back into the pit.

  Finally, though, I got the nod from Matthew. He’d loaded up the last of the crates, I’d washed off the paved area around the pit, the tables, and the instruments of our butchery. Everything was cleaned up and shipshape, minus the ship, of course. At which point, I could go into the cottage with my mentor and get some instruction.

  30

  Matthew had me sit down on the floor, cross-legged. He did the same across from me.

  “I’m assuming you know how magic is learned via spellbooks,” he said.

  “I am,” I said.

  “And you have a few spells?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you know the other ways to learn magic?”

  “No.”

  “Best is books. You can be taught spells by rote. Learning it, memorizing motions and words and the push of mana. It can take time, you might never learn it, but you’ll rarely get hurt. You can discover it yourself, which is next to impossible, and you might blow yourself up in the process.”

  “Why do I think there’s another way?”

  “Someone can give you their spells.”

  “That seems pretty good.”

  “It can be a bit tough, you gotta get all the spells at once, and if your body or mind can’t take it, well, poof.”

  “Poof?”

  “From what I hear, it’s a bit messier than that.”

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t do that.”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I did.

  “Feel the magic as it sits inside you.”

  I’ve never been one for meditating. Not seriously, at least. I tried it a few times, as evidenced by my having the meditation skill, but I’d never really had the wherewithal to keep it up. See my meditation skill still at level one. But it was immediately different. With my eyes closed, I started to explore the inner me, I guess. And as ridiculous as it sounded, there was something there. I could feel the mana in myself. My system. I could feel as it sat in the core of my body like I had a small ball of energy the size of a baseball in the center of my body. It moved around in a chaotic pattern, never sitting still, almost like it was jittery.

  “Got it?” Gallifrey asked.

  “I feel something.”

  “Is it in a shape?”

  “Like a ball, I guess?”

  “Okay. Good. I wasn’t sure if an elf would be different, but it seems like it’s similar enough to work with. If you’ve got some magic, you’ll always have some magic. But it doesn’t really want to be used by you. Well, it does, and it doesn’t. I don’ know that much about it, but I what I know, you got to use magic to use magic. You have to keep the flow of magic going through your body as much as you can, as often as you can. You need to build and maintain pathways for the magic to go through your body from your core out into the world, and you have to control that stuff nigh-on perfectly if you actually want to use magic here in the Empire.”

  “You have a lot of spells?”

  “Focus on yourself, we can talk later. Compress the mana down and down and down until you’ve got it fully under your control. Until it no longer moves about.”

  It was a slippery son of a bitch, magic. The mana ball seemed to eschew any of my attempts to control it, almost like it was a wet bar of soap and I was trying to grip it full strength. Which gave me an idea. I tried to gently corral it, to focus on getting the ball where I wanted and keeping it there not through sheer force of will but, instead, just imagining it there.

  And then it was almost effortless. I got it in place, and I started to compress it down, focusing on making the ball more and more powerful.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “This is probably going to hurt if you’re doing it right,” Matthew started.

  “Great.”

  “Force that ball of energy all around your body, especially up and down your arms and your fingers. Everywhere you want that mana to go in your body, you need to force that ball.”

  I initially started moving the core around my, uh, core, and even though it had been bouncing around in there in the beginning, without me even knowing a damn thing about it, as soon as I started pushing it around in a more directed sense, I felt it. It felt like burning. And aching. Somewhere between burning and aching. Pain. And then, when I started pushing it around my body, going from my core down my arm, well, I’ve experienced some intense pain in my life, but that’s up near the top.

  “You might need to stop,” Matthew said.

  I closed my eyes tighter, not liking when people told me to stop. I’d tell myself when to stop. I pushed harder. Forcing it down my arm and down each finger. The pain was overwhelming, my body was shaking, but I wasn’t done. I forced the manaball down my other arm and each finger. I took a deep breath, then went down each leg and out to each toe. Finally, I brought it up my neck and into my head. Pain was everything. Everywhere. I had no other feelings, nothing but pain, and the knowledge that I needed to finish this. Through to my eyes, across my face, I took the painball all around my head, and then I brought it back to my center, and slowly, ever so slowly released it.

  My body was on fire. Which, you know, since I’d had that experience, I knew how close of a match it was in terms of a feeling.

  Slowly, very slowly, it subsided, and then I got the notification:

  Congratulations. You have burned mana pathways through 100% of your body. You have gained the ability Mana Efficiency. All spells cost less mana to cast. You regain mana at an increased rate.

  I opened my eyes.

  No one was there.

  “You’re back,” Matthew said.

  I turned around to see him stretched out in a chair.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Been out some time,” he said, coming to standing and stretching.

  “I was passed out?”

  “No, you were in it.”

  “In what?”

  “It. The magic of your insides. Blazing pathways, I imagine.”

  “Yeah,” I said, putting my hand to my head, “and it hurt.”

  “Tends too. Go everywhere?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hands and feet?”

  “And head.”

  “Head? You are a fool.”

  “Is that dangerous?”

  “That’s usually a good way to implode your brain.
”

  “Where were you my trainer on that?”

  “I was the one standing outside of you telling you to stop before you blew your brain out from your ears.”

  “Yeah, I seem to remember a little of that.”

  “You need to do that at least once a day.”

  “Once a day?”

  “It is barely the beginning of the price of magic. If you follow the path deeper, you will see more and more of the problems that come with practicing the arcane arts.”

  “Do you—”

  “I know a few spells and do the minimum needed to keep them in my repertoire. And nothing I do I do in public. Neither should you. The hint of magic about your person and the Imperium will come down on you like a warhammer.”

  “Can someone tell when you’re, what, moving the mana around your body?”

  He nodded. “Though only theoretically. It would have to be someone remarkably talented and observant, and I doubt there is anyone so skilled out and about in the world. Best, though, to do such work in the privacy of your own home. When you can at least. Time for the spell.”

  “What’s the spell?”

  “Heal Self. It is the best way to ensure that you are never injured for long. But I warn you, if you are ill, if you are poisoned, any sort of healing magic will make things immeasurably worse. You will only amplify the disease. You must first cure the disease, and then you may heal the wound. And do not heal yourself in this manner unless you are free of things inside you. If an arrowhead remains, you must remove it before healing.”

  “Will it mend broken bones?”

  “Good question, kid. Yes. But the bones must be set properly. Usually, your best bet is to go to a healer, have them set the bones like you don’t know magic, give it a little while to heal naturally, and then magic yourself back to full.”

  “Okay, I’m ready then.”

  “Sit,” he said, and we resumed our spots. He walked me through the process of the spell, which involved intricate hand movements and low chanting. It wasn’t a quick sort of healing process, but it did the job. It was almost a one for one trade of mana to health, which meant I wouldn’t be able to fully heal myself if I was drained too far, but it was definitely better than relying on whatever medical science they had in Glaton.

  Look at that, you’ve learned the spell: Minor Heal Self.

  Minor Heal Self allows you to heal yourself. The caster may continuously cast the spell until out of mana.

  He finally let me stand once I was able to heal a cut on my arm, and it was closing in on mid-afternoon. “Return here at midnight,” he said. “The next phase of pit work begins. And bring something you have stolen.”

  And with that, he shoved me out of the cottage.

  31

  I was definitely exhausted. It had been a very long series of days working with Matthew and his pit. But I was also elated. I had done magic. Magic. The very thought of it was so incredible.

  Magic.

  I wanted to do more. I wanted to cast spells all over the place, but then, every time I got past the giddiness of being a spell caster, even a minor one as I was, the paranoia swept over me in a grand wave. I was a true outcast. If anyone found out about my abilities, they could turn me in. Or even kill me. They could strike me down in the street and get away with it, as long as they had evidence of my magical abilities. I had to keep it secret. And yet, I could do magic. I just needed to keep practicing, and they could all go screw themselves. Magic was the great equalizer. The means to great power.

  But I knew it wasn't great power I wanted. I just wanted enough power to do what I wanted. Which wasn’t the whole truth, and when I finally bit that honesty bullet, ultimately I wanted to screw over the rich people, make them hurt. I wanted to help the poor, the weak. I wanted to be Robin Hood. And Robin Hood didn’t mess around with magic, he did it all himself. In a book and legend, sure, but without magic. But maybe I could use a little magic, just even the playing field in my favor a little more. Besides, magic was cool. Really damn cool.

  Walking through the city during the day with no real urgency was nice. It gave me a few minutes to really look at the world around me. And to breathe in the air of the city. Because the air in the city was often disgusting, and at that time I was very disgusting, I didn’t linger in the less than pleasant areas. I wouldn’t say I jogged, but I definitely hurried to get to the affluent district, the Golden Square. Which was more of a quadrangle really. I wanted to take a peek at the temples.

  There were huge banks along the main roads, the Principalis and the Praetorious. Big and ostentatious, they had massive sets of stairs and lots of guards in shiny armor. Big mean looking men and women who scowled at someone like me walking near them.

  But one block over, the banks were smaller, seemingly wedged between larger more ornate buildings. The temples. Again, though, these places seemed more focused on looking good than going good. The men and women out front didn’t look much like guards, but there was still a menacing air about them. And they had weapons, which made them a step above the ordinary citizen. If I had to make a guess, which I did because I didn’t feel like I was in the right frame of mind to actually go up and talk to them, these folk would likely best be classified as Paladins. It made me wonder if Paladin was a Choice in this class-less world. And curiosity got the better of me because I walked up to a human man in the brightest full plate armor I had ever seen covered by a brilliant white tabard with a silver fist rising up.

  “Pardon me,” I started, thinking politeness was an excellent way to go with a man such as this, but he snapped his head in my direction, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

  “Almsday has passed, beggar,” he sneered in my general direction. “Begone.”

  “I was just looking for an answer to a question.”

  “You will find no answers here, scum.”

  “You have some rage issues.”

  He reached for the sword at his belt and eyed me. The threat was clear, if I said anything else, he’d draw and fight me.

  Temptation.

  I knew he had to be a higher level than me, what with me being a relative supernoob in this world, but I also knew I’d pop back to life in an alley not that far from the Golden Circle. But popping back into that alley could put me right in the crosshairs of the Iron Silents, or, rather, could put me deeper into their crosshairs. I doubted they knew my traveler nature with certainty yet, but that’d give them all the evidence they’d need to start spawn camping me.

  “Apologies,” I said, bowing low. “I only meant to inquire as to your patron. I am but a humble traveler to this land.”

  “You know not of the God of Justice?” he asked, flabbergasted I might not know.

  “I must plead ignorance,” I said.

  The big man shook his head, “I pity the land you hail from if the God of Justice is not known on those shores. Is it a lawless land? Does chaos reign supreme?”

  “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

  “Then it is good you have come to the Empire.”

  “I agree.”

  I waited for him to say something else to me, but the look of disdain meant that our conversation seemed to have been concluded.

  “A good day to you then,” I said.

  He grunted in return and resumed his position standing in front of a massive white marble pillar.

  Walking away quickly, doing my best to portray fear I didn’t feel, I wondered about the God of Justice. If it was possible he, or she, was only active in a portion of the world. The pantheon of Vuldranni was something I hadn’t dabbled in at all, and, frankly, I thought it was probably going to be a massive pain in the ass. See, the Golden Square had long streets, and there was no shortage of temples. That meant there were a lot of gods. And goddesses. And those with temples in this city were likely the most revered, the most popular. That meant there were even more who existed who weren’t represented in Glaton’s capital city.

  I stopped, fast enough that someo
ne bumped into me from behind, cursed at me, then kept going. I’d assumed gods were real in this world. I hadn’t exactly seen any evidence of that as of yet. It made sense, though, that they would be. Magic was real, why would gods be any different? Everything in the world pointed to being close to the games of my past, and in those games, gods were always players on the great board of chess. Naturally, they’d be the same here. But, you know what they say about assumptions. I wasn’t exactly sure how to find out if gods were real, but I knew it would be easier after a little sleep. Especially if I needed to make my way through the night back to the pit for more fun in the slum.

  32

  The tavern was busy when I got back, even though it wasn’t really even dinner time. I didn’t even need to go inside to see the customers, I could hear them from outside. And I didn’t want to go into the tavern looking as I did, covered in pitfilth. I went upstairs, and I got into the shower, coveralls and all. I rinsed off my oilskin suit, then peeled it off, and went about scrubbing my body down with some rough soap I’d bought from a general store I found around the corner from my place. I probably could have gotten something similar from Gideon, but that guy made me feel uncomfortable, and I had the distinct feeling he was ripping me off. I mean, I knew he was, and he could because he was also my fence. So, instead, I’d made a choice to get my necessary products from anywhere else. Illegal stuff, for that, I’d go to Gideon.

  The shower was an absolute pleasure, and I totally stayed in there way longer than was prudent. I turned mostly prune before I got out, so you could say I was prude-ish. While in hot water, I tried cycling my mana through the pathways I’d made. It didn’t feel great, there was definitely a burning and unpleasant tingling as I did, but it was nowhere the pain I’d experienced before, and running it around my head and face didn’t make me pass out or anything, so that was a win. I dried off and dressed, doing my best to keep the cycle going. I wanted it to become second nature, I didn’t want to have to shut my body and mind down, to meditate in seclusion. That seemed like too much of an invitation for bad things to happen. I’d be powerless if someone decided that was the opportune time to come for a violent visit. And in my line of work, or at least in the line of work I was expecting to undertake, violent visits were going to become something I needed to prepare for.