by Ugland, Eric
“Thanks, Captain,” I said.
“No need, Montgomery. We are deeply in your debt.”
Czubakowski gave me one more clap on the shoulder, and then headed back down the way we came. I went through the double doors and into the bath.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The bath wasn’t nice, but it was big, the water was warm, and there was plenty of soap. It did the job. As I got out of the water and started using towels which could have doubled as sandpaper, a Legion in uniform came in and set down a small pile of clothing. There was no armor in the pile, so, for good measure I grabbed my chainmail from the garbage heap that was my blood soaked-rags, and I gave it a good rinse in the water.
Now that I had a moment to relax, I started to go through all my notifications from the battle.
* * *
GG! You’ve killed a skuggashud (lvl 20 Monster).
You’ve earned 700 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
* * *
Actually, I got quite a few of the skuggashud notices. I killed a lot of those stupid things.
* * *
GG! You’ve killed a eborja (Arcane Abomination).
You’ve earned 14500 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
* * *
Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 26! You receive the ability: Surge of Strength Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.
* * *
Hey-ho, let’s go! You’ve discovered an ability: Surge of Strength. Once per day, really show ‘em the what-for, one action has double your strength.
* * *
Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Swinging. Be it from tree or beast, you can gracefully move along a rope or other device and swing! How fun!
* * *
Finally a new level. It was interesting that I got an ability and not any attribute points. Something to look into later, when I wasn’t drowning in quests. I got dressed, put on my armor, and made sure my money purse was secure on my belt, with my throwing axe on the opposite side. And that was it. All my things.
I stepped out of the bath, and saw Legion soldiers lined the hallway as far as it went.
It was an odd moment, and I realized that they must have been giving me my privacy.
But then someone started clapping.
More people joined in.
And then it was a rousing standing ovation and I’m pretty sure I blushed very hard. A fact the gameworld decided to notice.
* * *
Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Blushing. Look at how red those cheeks can get now!
* * *
Fucking game world.
There was so little sense to it. Why the fuck did I need a skill for blushing?
* * *
Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Asking Stupid Questions. So many questions, so little intelligence!
* * *
I nodded once, and then made my way through the emotional gauntlet. At the end of the long line of soldiers was Captain Czubakowski.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got a side entrance?” I asked.
“We’ve got plenty of ways out,” he said. “But it would be a shame to send you through the sewers after you just went through all that trouble bathing.”
I laughed, because I had actually thought about escaping through the sewer. Instead, he led me through the building, into the cantina and its kitchen, and then back to a small service door.
“Again,” Czubakowski said, “thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I said. “Hopefully the next fight isn’t for a while.”
“I fear it will be sooner than either of us hopes. I look forward to a time when we can actually speak freely with each other, Montgomery Northwoods. You are an intriguing man. And a hero of the Legion.”
I didn’t really know what to say to that, so I just nodded. Then I left.
The service door led out into a small side street, just wide enough for two wagons to pass if you didn’t care about scraping the wood a little. There was no one there at present, except for some poor unfortunate type who was wrapped up in a cloak and asleep against a wall.
I took a few steps, heard the door shut behind me, and sighed. I needed to find my Northwoods people and figure out what I was doing. Figure out if I’d fucked things up by, you know, being a hero. The best place to look for them would be the hotel, because even though I’d gotten some info-dumps from Bear, I had no idea where to find the brownie. Especially if she was still invisible. Which she likely was.
Of course, by the time I got out of the side-street and into the first larger street, someone was walking next to me.
“Impressive work,” the woman said. “If I do say so myself.”
“You did say so,” I replied.
“Still, it’s rare to see a warrior with your skill.”
“Nah, I just got lucky.”
“Skilled and humble. Now that’s quite the combination of traits.”
I stopped and looked over at the woman. She was tall, not quite at eye-level, but close. She had a long face with high cheekbones, and severe purple eyes that were striking against her yellow hair. She wore armor, stuff that was somewhere between functional and aesthetic. All the metallic bits were of a purple hue, and everything else was black. Again, striking.
“What do you want with me?” I asked.
“Not a fan of small talk?”
“Can’t say I’m a fan of much that’s small.”
“Now now—”
“I’ve got a place to be,” I said, and started walking.
The woman kept pace without delay.
“I understand a man like you is probably in high demand, and I’m sure plenty of other offers will either be coming your way soon or are already here—”
“What kind of offers?”
“To join companies. Or armies. Or parties. After that sort of a display, you could surely choose your meal ticket—”
“I’m already booked,” I said.
“Perhaps. But you have yet to hear my proposal.”
“I’m not interested.”
“Even if I doubled your current fee?”
“You don’t know what my current rate is.”
“I know what I can charge with the Hero of Osterstadt joining my company, and that will make your rate worth it.”
“I’m no hero.”
“It would seem you are wrong on that count, hero. Now, would you like to join my company now or think it over?”
“No offense,” I said, “but I don’t need to think about it. Like I told you — I’m already booked.”
“For now,” she said, and finally stopped walking.
I darted across a street, then ran up a set of stairs as I climbed toward the posh district. Thankfully, it seemed like the purple-eyed woman was the only one who thought to watch the service entrance, because no one else seemed to place me as the Hero of Osterstadt. Which, I mean, why such a general term? Would it be possible there’d only ever be a single hero of this stupid city?
Getting to The Crossed Arms took a little longer than I anticipated, mainly because there was a surprising amount of traffic on the streets. Lots of wagons being loaded and leaving. Which struck me as odd. Why would people leave? Once again, what was going on in this city? What did they know we didn’t?
The hotel staff weren’t exactly cordial to me, but they greeted me as befitted a fellow servant. I went up to our suite of rooms, taking the stairs two at a time. I needed to talk to someone who knew something.
I burst into the room, and a bunch of faces looked over at me. Everyone was home. And sitting at a bit of a planning session.
“Hi there,” I said to the four women.
“Ah,” Eliza said, leaning back in her chair. “The Hero of Osterstadt deigns to join us.”
“Yeah, about that—”
“Real good job keeping your head down,” Emeline said.
“What did you want me to do?”
“You did the right th
ing,” Eliza said to me, but while looking right at Emeline. “That monster would have done quite a bit of damage to the city if you weren’t there.”
“He—” Emeline started.
Priscilla barely moved, but I heard the unmistakable sound of a foot being stomped on.
Emeline’s lips went thin and white and she glared at Priscilla, who ignored the look, instead focusing on a piece of parchment with what I guessed were names on it.
“However, it does make things a bit more challenging for us,” Eliza said. “Emeline, the map please.”
Emeline nodded, then stood up and pulled one of the paintings down from the wall, revealing a map of Osterstadt.
I leaned closer, trying to gauge things, thinking of the bathhouse where Donner tried to have me killed.
“The fire,” I started, “the one that happened right after the dungeon. Where did that start?”
Emeline pointed to me.
“On the map,” I said, annoyed.
She gave me a little smile and a flip of her hair, but then pointed to the northeastern corner.
“Hereabouts,” she said.
The city of Osterstadt has an odd bit of geography, since it’s nestled in between two sets of mountains — one to the north and one to the south — and then there’s the Emerald Sea on the west. The posh part of town was on the south, and the industrial area was on the north. An avenue cut across the middle of the city from the gates to the wall, and under that, a canal ran holding the river. The prison was more to the west, the Imperial House was smack dab in the middle, and there seemed to be a general lack of greenspace. Not many parks.
The fire’s start was in the industrial area, near the massive sawmills and lumber processing plants. Likely one reason the response to the fire had been so swift. Looking at things, though, I was a little confused. It didn’t make sense to me that the giant logs left the city from the southernmost gate.
“What’s under the city?” I asked.
Emeline looked at me, raised an eyebrow, shook her head, and then looked over at Eliza.
“We brought the wrong guy,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You and I met under the city.”
“We met in the jail.”
“Which is under the city.”
“Which is under part of the city. There’s more under there. Sewers for one, plus however they get the wood from the north side to the south side.”
Eliza stood up and swooshed over to the map, the layers of tulle in her gown making her every movement loud in both sight and sound. She looked over the map a time or two, tracing roads with her finger, and doing, what I thought at least, was a little spatial reckoning.
“The dungeon has a name, yes?” she asked.
“Dungeon of the Ancients,” I said.
“And the city is built on the ruins of another city,” Emeline said, as if repeating it for the hundredth time. “Ancient culture carved the passage between the mountains, and it is the only access to the Emerald Sea without going over the mountains. But I don’t think there’s an actual city underneath the city.”
“Could there be?” Eliza asked.
“Of course,” Emeline said, sitting back down at the table, clearly annoyed at the direction the conversation had taken. “But don’t you think people would have found out about that?”
“The dungeon was a mystery,” I said. “No one knew about it--“
“People knew about it,” Emeline countered, “just not many.”
“And you’re saying no one knows about any sort of ruins or buildings under there?”
“I haven’t heard of any.”
“And you’re the—”
“This is getting us nowhere,” Eliza said sharply. “We are a team here, up against something incredibly dangerous. At least, that is, according to Emeline.”
“What does that mean?” Emeline snapped.
“It means we are here on your behalf! Perhaps you should be a little more forthcoming with us and little less demeaning.”
“Demeaning is playing at being your fucking maid and—”
I slammed my fist on the table.
It maybe broke.
But it also stopped the argument.
“Let us remember how thin the walls are here, milady,” I said with a deferential bow to Eliza while keeping my glare on Emeline. “We are committed to our cause, and we had better remember to work together. Correct?”
Eliza nodded immediately. It took a moment longer for Emeline to nod.
“I think we can all understand the strain these new jobs put upon us. But it is paramount we do not come apart at the seams. Now, is there any reason to ignore the underground?”
Emeline shook her head.
“Lovely,” I said. “Then we have one place to start looking.”
“I’ll have a better idea of where we might look after tonight,” Emeline said. “I’ll be meeting with a contact who has something to show me.”
“Is this a safe meeting?” I asked.
“As safe as these sorts of things get. And before you ask, no you cannot come with me.”
“Can I come?” Bear asked.
Emeline considered it for a moment, then nodded. “I think that should be fine. Just, well, there will be magic sniffers around, so—”
“I can handle that,” Bear said with a nod of her tiny head.
“And I can go for a look at things underground,” I said.
“And I?” Eliza asked.
“You will rest here,” Priscilla answered, making a note on her piece of paper. “There is no reason for you to be out of these doors in the darkness.”
Which meant it was a perfect moment for someone to knock on the door.
With a barely audible pop, Bear was gone.
Eliza looked at me, and nodded toward my room.
“You need to be scarce for the moment,” Eliza said.
“But—”
“There are plenty of blades here to protect me,” she said.
Priscilla had her hand on the doorknob, but was staring at me, waiting until I was hidden before opening the door.
I sighed, and went into my bedroom.
The front door opened, and I knelt at my keyhole, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening in the main room.
A man took a single step into the room. He was dressed nicely, posh, with oiled hair and light colored gloves.
“My lady,” he said, nodding to Eliza, “I have been sent to ask if you might be available for joining my mistress for dinner?”
Priscilla looked at the man, raising an eyebrow. “Who is your mistress, sir?” she asked.
He passed a small envelope over to Priscilla, and she took it over to Eliza. It seemed rather silly to me.
Eliza opened the envelope and read over the small piece of paper.
“Your mistress honors me,” she said. “I would be happy to attend.”
“She opens her invitation to your folk,” the man continued with a strained smile, “hoping they might feel inclined to attend as well.”
“Her generosity is boundless,” Eliza said, “and I will bring my man, whom I assume your mistress references.”
The man smiled again. “It would seem to be quite the curious incident today, but you confirm it is your man who was at the wall?”
“Well, I suppose that shall be a topic we will discuss at dinner.”
“Yes milady. I will await you in the carriage.”
“Thank you,” Eliza said.
The man bowed, and withdrew.
As soon as the front door opened, Emeline opened my door, sending the doorknob right into my eye and knocking me on my ass.
“Splendid,” Priscilla said. “He’ll have a black eye for dinner.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
In fact, he did not have a black eye for dinner. He healed up fine before we even left, and Priscilla was left eating her words. Or she would have, had she still cared. It was an astonishingly quick transi
tion from planning a hunt to prepping to go out into the soup of high society. And most of that prep time was saved for me. Eliza was dressed in minutes. But the three women had done a bit of shopping for me, and they fretted over several outfit choices, making me change into and out of several iterations. These pants with that doublet. The tabard with shiny ineffectual chain. The tabard with no chain. The doublet with chain under. The doublet by itself. A poofy shirt, which didn’t make me look like a pirate so much as a cheap Fabio impersonator hired for an over-40 bachelorette party. High boots, low boots, boots with pointy toes, boots with twirly toes. It was ridiculous and I felt that way. But any time I tried to say something along those lines, I was told to be quiet and that I had no idea what I was doing, that if I had any sense of style I wouldn’t be in this situation.
Which may have been true. But it still hurt.
“You know,” I said, “that man is waiting for us in a carriage.”
“It is not for me to be on time,” Eliza said. “They must be made to wait. Otherwise they will foolishly think they are more important than me. The most important person in the room is the one who isn’t waiting.”
“That seems a bit petty.”
“As are most of the games of the rich and powerful. And the sooner you accept that, instead of fighting against it, the easier you will find your path through the court.”
My initial impulse was to point out that I had no desire to go through the court. That in reality, I wanted to go through a stream to a nice fishing hole. That I wanted to be done with all of this bullshit. But I knew my protests would fall on deaf ears. No one cared about fishing, nor about my desires to play courtly games.
