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

by Eric Ugland

  Tollendahl was not in the first tier of estates, but he was in the second. His grounds were probably two or so acres. He had high walls around his place, but they were steel bars topped with gold spearpoints. Classy. There was a wide front driveway that looped around so that wagons/carriages entering didn’t need to turn around, merely cruise on through. I counted six floors, but that included what seemed like a small room at the very top and the lighted half-windows at the bottom indicating a basement. But the six floors were spread over a massive building, with two huge wings on either side of a central section. The whole thing was a white stone of some kind, and there are plenty of decorative elements carved into the rock itself. The front of the home was lit up, there were large glowstone lampposts at regular intervals along the drive, plus large lights mounted on the front of his house. It wasn’t quite daylight out front, but there were very few places to hide. I did a quick walk to the back of the house, noting that the east side had an exit to a wide veranda with a large balcony off the second floor. There was a quaint gazebo closer to the fence line as well as a few smaller fountains. The backyard was more substantial than the front, there was a very manicured garden, a large fountain, and a hedge maze, all surrounded by mature fruit trees, most of which seemed like they were in season. I did not take any fruit. I remembered my fairy tales. A huge patio took up a lot of the space by the house, then some garden bits, then a Vegas sized fountain, then the maze. It seemed like climbing the wall would be somewhat possible, then a hop into the trees. Good cover in the trees. I’d be safe there. And I might be able to make the dash between the trees and the maze—

  Then I saw two guards on a balcony jutting out from the third floor of the place. They were standing near each other, talking, but I could make out the bows they had on their backs. If they were stationed there during the party, they’d easily see someone coming out of the trees, no matter where I was. They had a clear view of everything up until the trees.

  “Scouting the place out, kid?” A gruff voice said.

  I was startled and took a step back from the fence.

  There was a face in the darkness. A face with a large nose, a big chin, and more stubble than I was used to seeing on men in the Empire. He wore chainmail and had a tabard over it with a blue stag’s head on the front.

  “Just dreaming,” I said quickly. Which was somewhat the truth. I was daydreaming about the thievery.

  The guard chuckled and tore a peel off a round fruit he had in his hands. A sweet citrus smell drifted over my way.

  “If I had the choice,” he said, continuing to peel, “yeah, I’d be a nobleman. But I worry I’d be bored, you know?”

  “Bored?”

  “Yeah, what with the money he has no reason to do nothing. Has to make up reasons. Often his reasons seem dumb. Why’s he do what he does? Boredom. Gotta have something to live for, you know?”

  “I guess.”

  “Some of ‘em, they trade on power, playing a great game of strategy with us pawns, always thinking they will somehow snake the throne out from under who’s sitting on it.”

  He popped a segment of the fruit into his mouth, then held one out to me, between the bars of the wall. I took it and bit into it. The flesh was almost disconcertingly soft, like a gummy bear left out in a hot car. But the flavor was incredible. A burst of sweetness, then a clobbering tartness, and a gush of juice that was soothing.

  “Good, innit?” he asked, smiling at my face. He had another piece between the bars.

  “Delicious,” I said. “What is it?”

  “Rahmdahl,” he replied, pointing up at the trees above. “Only place in the empire it grows, right here. This estate. Otherwise, you gotta go over the mountains into Mahrduhm. At least, that what the lord says. Might be a fancy tale, but I never had these until I started working here. And even then, I only ever take the ones I’ve seen on the ground for a day. Or two. He gets mad when he sees anyone take his fruits from the tree.”

  “Does he pay well?”

  “You looking for work too, whelp?”

  I didn’t think I looked that young, or that small. I felt like I was shaping up nicely. But I just smiled at him.

  “I have a job,” I said with a smile at him. “One I’m okay at.”

  “Fun?”

  “It has its moments.”

  “What is it you do?” he asked, leaning against the wall now.

  “I work in the Pits.”

  “Nasty work that, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty gross, but, pays the bills.”

  “Dangerous, yeah?”

  “I guess. Depends on the pit. I’ve really only done one, so, might be dangerous.”

  “Aye, danger rests in the unknown. Maybe I should be the one asking you about jobs, eh?”

  “I can talk to my boss if you’d like.”

  “What’s the pay then?”

  “Gold a week plus bonuses for what we find.”

  “Ain’t half bad there. I might be tempted to leave this for that, boss nice? Fair?”

  “So far. Takes the lead in dangerous spots. Does the disgusting work with you. He’s friendly. I enjoy the people I work with. I don’t know man, it’s my first real job here.”

  “But you like it?”

  “I do.”

  “Yeah, why not. Could do with a change, get out of here ‘fore the big man gets bored again, does something else crazy.”

  “What’d he do last time?”

  “Tell you what, you get me that job, I’ll tell you all the stories you want about Tollendahl. Turn your elf hair white, it will.”

  “Really?”

  “You will be calling me a liar and buying my drinks for a week, I tell you all what stories I know.”

  I stuck my hand through the bars, “Clyde Hatchett.”

  “Peregrine Gilkes.”

  We shook hands.

  “You on tomorrow night?”

  “Here? Thank the gods, no. Only night off.”

  “Come down to this tavern, the Heavy Purse, it’s in Old Town.”

  “You live in Old Town?”

  “I do. You?”

  “Here,” he said, pointing to the house. “Room and board is part of the deal.”

  “So you’ll need a place to live?”

  “Aye, but at a gold a week, I can have my pick of places in Old Town. Right?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I kind of lucked into a living situation.”

  “Maybe I will too.”

  “Fingers crossed. I’ll talk to the boss, see what he says.”

  “Appreciate it,” he said. “And keep dreaming. Might be you get to be bored someday too.”

  52

  I left the area after that. No sense getting anyone suspicious of me because I was hanging around the estate. I already saw there were plenty of problems to overcome, and, as of yet, I had no firm ideas. The only possibility I had was that Tollendahl’s staff wasn’t fond of him, and that was based on the mutterings of a random guard. Not the strongest evidence. Still, it was better than nothing, and, to me at least, a good start.

  Walking back to Old Town, I got tired. I didn’t want to do this walking crap anymore. I wanted subways, or busses, or taxis. And because it was night, all the nice carriages were gone. It was now random wagons at very rare intervals, and the occasional creepy carriage I had to imagine was carrying some sort of vile monster prowling for victims.

  Once I got to Old Town, I took a short break. I wasn’t planning on sleeping that night, having had my ounce of sleep the night before, but there was a small place with lights on and good smells. It was just a hole in the wall sort of a place where it was little more than a counter and a window. But there were lights on inside and people milling about outside, 95% of them guards.

  I walked over, and some of the people moved out of the way enough for me to get to the window. There was a wizened old man sitting on a stool, watching everything happening outside of the window.

  “Help you?” he asked me. />
  “Yeah,” I said, “what is this place?”

  He laughed, revealing a remarkable mix of teeth, including a few that seemed a very wrong color.

  “The Cookie Hole,” he replied.

  “Cookies and coffee?” I asked.

  He nodded. “The best coffee and cookies, open all night every night.”

  “I’ll take some,” I said.

  He pulled two cookies out of a small oven and poured me a cup of coffee.

  I paid him his silvers, and I sipped the coffee and ate my cookies. They were good. Simple but tasty. It made me a bit homesick, thinking about the cookies I’d had at home. About chocolate chip cookies. I’d never had homemade ones, at least not at home. But in middle school, I often slept over at this kid’s house, Michael Hunt. And yes, that was his actual name, his parents thought it was hilarious, Mike was continually embarrassed by it, and never once went by Mike. His mom always made us cookies for sleepovers. And she’d always take them out at 10:30 at night, bringing them upstairs on a plate with a big mug of milk for each of us. We’d be making all sorts of plans to stay up all night, planning our world domination in Civilization or just bullshitting until dawn. Every damn time, we’d eat the cookies and drink the milk and inevitably we would fall deep asleep. It wasn’t until that moment, standing there by this all night cookie shop, surrounded by the city guard, that I wondered if Mike’s mom had been spiking our milk with sleeping pills. Or cough syrup. I shook my head. A mom that’d name her kid Mike Hunt, yeah, she had to have been.

  Laughing, I chugged the coffee and scalded my throat a bit. Coffee in Glaton was definitely in the early stages of development. There was no milk offered nor added, no sugar, definitely no steamed milk or foam. But it fulfilled, to an extent, the things I wanted from coffee. Warmth in a cold night, a slight boost from caffeine, and a flavor that reminded me of better food.

  I put my mug back on the counter, and the man gave me a wink.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said.

  “Sure thing,” I replied.

  I took a more circuitous route back to my place, thinking there was the off chance I was being followed. I did the whole make four right turns technique to see if anyone was following me. Spoilers: no. No one was following me. I stopped to eat my second cookie, so I grabbed a seat on a stoop. Looking out across the street, I was struck by how similar this part of the city was to old New York. Especially the pictures of the old tenements. Of Five Points, back when that was still part of the city. And I thought about something my buddy Sean Wilson always told me, that no one in New York ever looks up. He used to say that you could get away with murder as long as you did the deed on a fire escape. So I looked up.

  Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe just bad luck, but when I looked up, I saw open windows on the top floor of the building across the street, and I saw a grey form pulling at a window. It looked like someone was sneaking in to rob a place. But I had a bad feeling about the guy. Something was off. Because I was pretty sure I’d seen the wrinkles indicating clothing, but it wasn’t clothing that made sense, so there was definitely a discrepancy somewhere. And then I wondered if it was a kids room. And if the guy was just going in to rob the house.

  “Shit,” I said, and I set the cookie on the staircase, fully intending to return to it as soon as I could.

  I stretched as I stood up, and even though it was late at night and I was living in a city where cars weren’t even considered a crazy dream yet, I looked both ways before I crossed the street.

  It wasn’t going to be fun, there wasn’t a fire escape on the building. I had the feeling that structural wrought ironwork hadn’t caught on quite yet. I was going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Climb the face of the building like my other name is Peter Parker.

  Immediately, I started cycling mana, then pumping my stamina up. I knew climbing up five stories as fast as possible would drain me. I got that lovely fresh feeling, that sense I’d just woken up, and took one more look. The guy looked like he’d gotten his fingers under the window, and was now getting the glass up. Time to climb.

  A pull up. That’s really all it was to start. Grabbing onto the ledge sticking out the window, getting my feet in place, then another pull up, and I was on the second story. I could practically watch my stamina bar drop every time I climbed to the next level, but this wasn’t an insane skyscraper, so it was a short time I got to the top floor, and mister grey pants started hauling himself inside.

  I didn’t really know what else to do, so I followed suit, pulling myself into a darkened bedroom after a complete stranger. This was a strange life I was living.

  53

  It was a bedroom, and there were four small beds. Children. Great. Plush carpet on the floor, small dressers, small desks. One of the kids was snoring, and there were wooden toys spread about the place. The girl who’s bed was closest to the window had a really cute round face, and hugged a teddy bear tightly.

  The grey shape was standing next to her bed, leaning over her.

  “Buddy,” I said, “not cool.”

  The shape turned to me, and immediately, I thought about jumping back out the window. The thing wasn’t human. Or nice. It had a mouth a bit like a lamprey, a brilliant red hole in the middle of its face surrounded completely by circle after circle of fang-like teeth, disappearing deep into its gullet. Anything going into that thing’s throat was not coming out again. Ever. And no lips. It was like the teeth just sprouted out of the thing’s face and then continued on Sarlacc-like into the depths of the throat. The skin on the thing was a sickly grey, and a bit translucent. Huge grey eyes bulged out on either side of its head, looking a bit horse-like in their placement, and like it suffered from horrible cataracts. Strands of saliva, or something that looked like saliva, were strung between its teeth, and there was definitely plenty of signs of the creature drooling. It had long arms and oversized hands with four fingers. But the fingers were very thick, coming to sharp points. There was no demarcation between claw and finger, it was like they were just one bizarre piece. It had a thin torso with thick wrinkles of skin around its midsection, and huge thighs on top of long legs that were reverse jointed, a bit like a grasshopper.

  “You are one ugly dude,” I said.

  He hissed at me.

  Flecks of his salvia shot out across the room, and his teeth seemed to move with his gums. It was pretty high on the creep factor and the disgust factor.

  I took the quickest of moments to look around the room and try to see what my options were. There was not much in the way of room in the, uh, room. It was pretty full of furniture, with a small strip of open space down the middle. There was a singular door, ostensibly leading to the rest of the house, and two windows looking out over the street. I had my longsword and my daggers. All four of my daggers. Though the KrakenTooth was tucked inside a pouch, and I didn’t really think the stone stiletto of silence would be quite as useful in this particular situation. The little girl in the bed had her eyes open, wide, but made no sounds. I smiled at her, hoping to keep her from screaming.

  The creature looked at me, saw that smile, then shot his gaze down at the girl, as if surprised she was awake.

  I fumbled with the long sword, trying to get it out of the stupid sheath. But the sheath was a soft leather, and it got all snarled up, so I had no other option, but to rip the thing off my belt, sheath and sword still together as somewhat one thing.

  The creature swiped at the kid, and I had no choice, I cast shadow step.

  As I moved into the shadow realm, I could feel things watching me. I darted around the bed, and got the sword in position, then stopped, ripped off the sheath and tossed it over my shoulder, then pushed myself back into the real world before the time was up. I hadn’t been sure it would work, but it seemed likely. Nothing in the spell said I had to spend the whole time in the shadow realm.

  Time came back to normal, the creature’s big hand going full speed right into the point of the sword.

  His flesh
sizzled as it came into contact with the argentinium blade, and thanks to his strength and speed, his really impaled his hand onto the sword, going a solid eight to ten inches down.

  I’m not sure the creature had the ability to make noise, not in the typical sense, because he opened his mouth wide, but no sound came out.

  I shoved the blade up to the ceiling, misjudged both the length of the blade and the height of the ceiling, and wound up stabbing the wooden beam with surprising force, getting the sword well stuck.

  The creature looked at me, and I looked at the creature, and then I took a step back.

  None of the children were making noises, and I wondered if that was a thing drilled into kids here. Don’t make noise at night. Making noise only attracts bad attention.

  The monster creature thing struggled to free it’s hand from the sword, moving this way and that way. Blood poured out of the wound every time the creature moved, sizzling and steaming on the sword.

  Struck by stupid inspiration from a childhood filled with bad kung fu movies, I jumped up, grabbed the sword, and kicked out with both feet.

  The creature took the hit on his chest, and flew back, is hand ripping apart as the sword cut through it. The sword, clearly weakened from the creature’s attempts to get free, fell out of the wooden beam, and I slammed my back on the floor in a deep and resounding thud.

  Wind knocked right the heck out of me.

  I laid there on the floor, struggling to breathe, gasping like a fish.

  The creature wailed it’s silent scream and swung his hand around in pain, spreading his foul grey blood everywhere.

  Not knowing what else to do, I started the cycle, running mana through my body to heal myself. And then also kicked on the stamina cycle. Two spells at once drained my mana like crazy, far more than it should have, based on the limited math I’d done. But it helped. I found my lungs open up, and my vision cleared, and I was ready to attack again.

  The creature seemed to have decided it would be better to make an exit.

  I, however, was not keen on that outcome. As the creature angled towards the window, I ran up behind and gave it my best middle school shove.