by Ugland, Eric
But first, Loot.
I turned the bag over, and I uttered that mystical word: “Empty.”
The bag emptied.
I had a problem.
I’d taken so much random shit, it was starting to feel like I was a kleptomaniac. And now I had to sort it all out. There were heaps of gold and silver coins from the Mountain Kings home. Not to mention candle sticks, serving dishes, and other precious metal versions of basic cutlery. The Mountain Kings pile was really cool on the one hand, and, on the other, just more metal we’d be melting down to make imperial coinage.
I sighed.
Then, I went on to the four chests from the glaumdrang pool. Three little ones, and one big one. I decided to go little to big. The first chest was golden, with small red details. I tried to see if they made a picture of some kind, but it appeared to be just random shapes and swirls. Pretty, but without meaning. There were no hinges, and I couldn’t find a spot for a key. Feeling around the edge, though, I found a very small button.
I pushed it, and the top of the chest popped up. The interior of the little chest was lined in red velvet, and I suppose it was a testament to the craftsmanship that there wasn’t any water inside. It was totally dry. An aspect made clear by the folded paper inside that was still perfectly intact.
I took the paper out, revealing a small golden locket. That was the extent of the treasure. I hoped the paper was a map. Upon unfolding it, however, it became clear I had a letter. Not a map. And reading the letter, which was in Mahrduhmese, just made me really really sad.
* * *
Dearest.
I have arranged travel with these merchants across the wilds. You will be safe, and we will be married as soon as you arrive on my lands. I eagerly await your arrival, and cannot imagine the stories you’ll have to tell about your adventure. But once here, know that my lands are safe. The estate is walled, yet beautiful. You will want for nothing. As soon as you arrive, we will never be farther apart than our portraits in this locket.
Briog
I opened the locket, and sure enough, there were two pictures of nice looking people inside. I suppose there was the chance that the locket was on the way to be delivered, and I clung to that, idea, thinking that’d be better than dying on the way to connect with your loved one. I thought very briefly about trying to find Briog and his dearest, return the locket or just make sure everyone knew what had happened, but that seemed like a lot of effort to go for someone who was, in a technical sense at the least, my enemy.
I put the locket back in the chest and closed it. I’d give it to Zoey to melt down and make into coins. Or whatever we were doing with gold at this point.
The next chest was more traditional, with a little keyhole and a basic lid. I decided I’d break it, because I didn’t feel like trying to find a lock pick. Or someone who knew how to pick locks. It was a simple process of smashing the chest against the smooth stone floor of my throne room until the thing shattered.
Loose jewels splashed out, bouncing over the hard floor in every direction conceivable. They hid quite well among the splinters of wood from the broken chest. So I had some jewels. Which looked sparkly. And I bet they’d be valuable when they’d been gathered and weighed and measured, but at the present time, they looked like the most painful thing to step on this side of LEGO.
With hope in my heart for something really cool, I moved onto the third chest, following a similar protocol to chest number two. I bashed it on the ground, but I summoned a bunch of prinkies to start cleaning up the mess I was making. They were quite useful trinkets. I wondered what a group of prinkies might be called. My initial impulse was rather dark: call them a glitter. A glitter of prinkies. But naming the pluralization of prinkies after the bloody mess they burst into was gruesome, even for me. I mulled over a few more options: a fur of prinkies, a glimmer of prinkies, a puff, a sparkle, a sprinkle, a fabulous. There were plenty of options available, but they all paled in comparison to a glitter. Gruesome won out.
The third chest was payroll for a caravan. I know this because there was a small notebook in the chest labeled “Payroll.” So, a decent chunk of gold and silver, all of it Mahrduhmese, which was a bit annoying and meant we’d be melting it down or doing something else with the coinage. But gold was still gold. And I had a feeling we’d still have to spend a lot of coin to feed the holding during the winter.
While my prinkies, my glitter of prinkies, sorted coins, jewels, and splinters of wood, I turned my attention to the last chest. It was the largest and heaviest. The one the glaumdrang had chewed on, yet hadn’t been able to open. It was about three and a half feet long, two feet tall and two feet wide. Wooden, with iron banding. There was a heavy lock hanging off the front, but that made it the easiest to open. I grabbed a hammer from the pile of stuff I’d dumped out of my bag, and slammed said hammer on said lock.
There was a bang and a snap, and the twisted metal fell off.
“Balls,” I said.
Sometimes, the loot gods favor you. Other times? Well, they don’t.
This time, they did not. It was nothing but clothes and dried meats. Which was an odd combination for sure, but that’s all it was. Maybe the chest had belonged to the driver or the caravan master, one of the two. And judging by the size of the shirts, waistcoats, and pants, the man had been fond of snacks. Hence all the bonus treats packed in with his clothes.
I felt a little foolish having taken all that time hauling it back.
Made me wonder if I wouldn’t have been better served going into the dead city.
Nikolai poked his head out of the office, looked at the mess, then looked at me.
“Have a prinky get Lady Northwoods,” he said.
“I can get her,” I replied, getting to my feet.
“Looking as you do at this time of night, I’d prefer you didn’t.”
Chapter Four
Eliza was dressed and looking beautiful when she waltzed past me to knock on Nikolai’s door.
I was still sorting out loot. Spears in this pile, swords in that pile, prinkies in the next. Which was very difficult, because prinkies don’t like staying in a pile.
Nikolai opened his door, bowed his head slightly at Eliza, and then ushered her inside. He looked over at me.
“Might I ask His Grace what, perchance, he is doing?” he asked.
“Sorting loot?”
“Do you think you might let the prinkies handle that and join us in here?”
“Oh? His Grace is allowed in meetings again?”
“You were the one interrupting everyone,” Nikolai said. “But now is the time to join us. Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” I said, hopping to my feet.
Emeline was sitting demurely behind Nikolai’s desk.
“I fear I am in unfamiliar territory,” Eliza said. “I believed Miss Emeline Rogers was, uh, deceased—”
I was about to answer her question, but instead, I just smiled and leaned against the wall. I pulled a dagger out of my belt, and began tending to my nails.
Emeline gave me the slightest of nods, and then proceeded to explain the current situation to Eliza. It went much faster than either of the first two explanations. Eliza nodded along, and seemed to accept the situation without comment.
“I presume you would like me to assist you in some capacity here?” Eliza said, her eyes settling on me.
I shook my head. “This is their plan. I’ll let them handle it.”
Nikolai chuckled. “You would be a diversion,” he said. “We need you to go to Osterstadt and take a room. Make some purchases for Coggeshall but also, and mostly, for yourself.”
“I cannot say I would mind a return to civilization,” Eliza said, taking a seat opposite Emeline, “but do not not see why I should do this.”
“Our esteemed duke is not currently welcome in Osterstadt,” Nikolai said. “And Emeline, supposedly, does not exist. Yet in order to deal with the threat of the Master, both Montana and Emeline need to be in
Osterstadt.”
“Wait,” I started, but Nikolai held up a hand.
“I can already guess your protest, my lord,” he said. “You need to be in Osterstadt, and yet also be ready to attend issues within Coggeshall when they arise.”
“Exactly. How is that going to work?”
“Fritz.”
“It’s not like he can pick me up in the city,” I said.
“No, but it’s not like you can’t hike out a bit to a suitable location either.”
“I can, but—”
“The paired journal will alert you if there is an issue, and we will send Fritz to pick you up.”
“Given the past, it’s likely Fritz will stay near me.”
“Then I trust you can convince him of the need to the group for him to remain here.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I have the utmost confidence in you. Now, if his grace might allow me to continue?”
“Uh, please.”
“Thank you.” He gave a slight bow of his head to me, and then turned his attention back to Lady Northwoods. “Emeline will attend you as a lady-in-waiting, and Montana will be your chaperone and bodyguard. There are plenty of balls to attend, and it would make sense for you to be among the attendees.”
“It would,” Eliza mused. “Though I fear the duke’s appearance is rather unique—”
“He will shave before he goes.”
“I will what?” I asked.
Nikolai shot me a look.
“Right. I guess I’m shaving.”
“And,” Nikolai said, “it would be good if you might teach our duke some lessons of the court while you’re there.”
For the first time that night, Eliza smiled. She looked over at me and her grin widened. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
You have been offered a quest by Eliza Northwoods:
Look the Part Two: If It Looks Like a Duke
Learn the etiquette of the Imperial Court as determined by Lady Eliza Northwoods
Reward for success: XP, holding bonuses
Penalty for failure (or refusal): unknown
Yes/No
* * *
“Shit,” I said. But I accepted it.
Chapter Five
I went to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, feeling pretty good about getting to rest in a real bed. I didn’t mind the whole roughing it thing, since I’d slept in some rather horrific places over my two lifetimes. At least this was clean. Which made me wonder who was cleaning it. A mystery to find out—
* * *
You have been offered a quest by the holding of Coggeshall:
Who Cleans Coggeshall
Discover who cleans the halls and rooms of the city.
Reward for success: unknown
Penalty for failure (or refusal): unknown
Yes/No
This world.
I accepted the quest, because why not? Clearly I needed to get more XP, since I hadn’t leveled up in a while. I made another mental note to look into that, and I paused, waiting for a quest notification to pop up.
Nothing.
Just when I thought I had it figured out.
Then, sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to another woman standing over me. And it wasn’t like I woke up naturally, feeling soothed by sleeping in.
No.
She used a spear to poke me.
I frowned, squinted, and groaned, trying to wake up.
“Eliza,” I said, “why—”
“Good morning your grace,” she said. “You will address me as Lady Northwoods. Even in private — for now.”
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“You have a meeting with an important person this morning.”
“You?”
“You flatter me, your grace, but no. I am not your important meeting. I am the one trying to make sure you do not embarrass Coggeshall in this meeting.”
“Oh, fuck, Valamir’s goon.”
“I would prefer if you would use better language—”
“Fuck your—”
She poked me with the spear, using the sharp bit on one of my sensitive bits.
I glared at her and snatched at the spear.
She pulled it out of my reach. Then she smiled as she leaned against it.
“I spoke to your trainer, Carpophorus. He mentioned you responded poorly to any method other than corporal punishment. If necessary, I can resort to that, but I would prefer you understand that we are in this together, and you would be well served learning how to act as a duke.”
Lady Northwoods made a good point. I needed to get over the hurdle I’d built for myself. Even if I didn’t necessarily agree with how things were done in Glaton, blazing my own path through things was just going to make life harder for everyone involved. Besides, I had a quest.
“I think I can do without the beatings,” I said.
“Excellent your grace,” she said, still smiling. “To the shower for you, while I look over your wardrobe.”
I threw the covers off and stumbled out of bed in a stretch.
Eliza looked away immediately, her cheeks erupting into a blush.
“Oh,” I said, covering my naked body as best I could. “Sorry about that.”
“It was unexpected,” Eliza said, focusing very intently on pulling my clothes out of the wardrobe and looking over them. “But—”
“Shower, got it.”
I did the thing, used lots of the vanilla-scented soap that seemed to be the only stuff we made, and got myself all cleaned up. I walked out of the shower, this time with a towel wrapped around my waist.
Eliza was standing next to my bed, arms crossed and frowning.
“You have no clothes,” she said.
“I have some,” I countered, pointing to the pair of pants and few shirts.
“Two gold they don’t fit you.”
“You’re on.”
I got Eona’s leather pants on, and they fit. It helped they were magical and also supposed to fit with ‘80s-glam-rock tightness. The shirts were more of a struggle, but I did get one of them over my head, and my arms through, and then, I mean, crop tops were a thing... right?
“Fits,” I said.
“You owe me two gold,” she said, and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“We’re going to see Zoey,” she said. “Let’s hope she’s working.”
Chapter Six
She was.
The smithy was in full swing. Fires roared in the big forges, hammers pounded down with sharp clangs and deep thuds. It was quite the operation. There were a number of power hammers installed, huge machines lifting and dropping heavy weights, all powered by a water wheel in the wall. Men and women were moving with purpose as Zoey acted as something like a circus ringmaster, standing in the middle near a large anvil, shouting over the din.
When she saw me, she shook her head, and looked over at Eliza.
“I assume you’ve got a problem you need solved with metal?” Zoey asked.
“He needs to look, well,” Eliza paused, “not like that.”
“Hey—” I started.
Zoey stepped around the anvil, grabbed my shirt, and pulled hard, ripping it. She tossed it over her shoulder, and it fluttered into one of the open forges where it burned in seconds.
“Not the improvement I was looking for,” Eliza said.
“I don’t know,” Zoey said, smiling at me, “I like it.”
“He needs to meet with a representative from the crown prince of the Empire.”
“Ah, that changes things.” Zoey’s demeanor changed immediately, all business.
She grabbed a leather strap and put it against my chest, then along my arms. I noticed there were markings along it. A measuring tape of sorts. She didn’t make any notes, instead seeming to just memorize everything.
Then she pushed past me.
“Follow,” she said.
She led us out of the cacophony of
the smithy and down the hallway outside until we got to another large door. A heavy key from her belt unlocked the door. The room was filled with armor stands and weapon racks. They weren’t filled yet, but there was a reasonably decent selection of things.
Zoey didn’t bother to gawk like either one of us. She went immediately to a cabinet along the far wall, pulled the doors open, and stood in front of stacks of armor. One tall stack was leather, the other chain.
She pulled a few sets out, looked over them and tossed them into piles, working very quickly.
“What kind of a look are you going for?” she asked.
“Do you actually have options?” Eliza replied.
“I have a few bits of leather that should fit, and plenty of chain.”
“Let’s go with chain. I think we can probably get a tabard quick enough.”
Zoey grabbed a hauberk and threw it my way. It was heavy, thick-gauge steel rings. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to put on over bare skin, but one look from Eliza and I knew we were too short on time to complain.
“Thank you,” Eliza said.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
“Yes,” Eliza corrected.
“What she said,” I said.
Zoey rolled her eyes, and headed back to her shop.
“Follow,” Eliza said.
Our next stop was at a tailor shop, a place I didn’t even know existed. Like everything else in the mountain, it was down a hallway and behind a heavy door. There was a rather large room filled with tables and even a window to the outside world. It overlooked the river canyon, so there wasn’t much of a view beyond the cliff, but it did let in quite a bit of natural light. Which made sense, considering the minutiae of tailoring. I counted three men and four women in the room, each of at their own station and engaged in, well, putting cloth together in some fashion or another.
