Champion's Prophecy: A LitRPG Adventure

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  Terran was suddenly aware that Della was caressing his palm with her fingertip. His whole body felt like one big quivering nerve. His face was warm.

  “Why, uhm, did you name this bar the Golden Kumquat?” asked Terran.

  Della blinked twice, flashing her long eyelashes, before looking askance. “Before we bought the tavern, my family owned a kumquat farm about fifty miles south. When it was clear that we could no longer stay because of raiders and other creatures that kept attacking our little village, we sold our farm to an oligarch from Dagrath for a good amount of coin.”

  He didn’t know what to say after that. After a long day, sitting in the chair next to Della and holding her hand seemed like the best place in this realm.

  “I’m feeling quite better now,” said Della, the corners of her lips curling suggestively. “That potion did wonders.”

  Terran started to get up. “Oh, I can let you rest. I’m sorry. I’m probably just bothering you.”

  The innkeeper held him fast with her strong grip. “I want you to stay.” She stared at him intently, her lips parted slightly. “The night.”

  Terran nodded towards the door. “But what about?”

  “They won’t bother us.” Della glanced down to her bloody dress, frowning. “This thing is ruined now. I don’t suppose you could help me take it off, and we should probably check to make sure my side is healing.”

  Licking her lips, Della pulled Terran towards her on the bed. There was a brief moment when Chanterelle’s face flashed into his mind, but as soon as the innkeeper’s soft lips were on his, he couldn’t think about anything else for the rest of the evening.

  Chapter Eleven

  Terran woke in the innkeeper’s bed alone, but found a note about a warm bath in the back and that breakfast would be ready after he was finished. Behind her room was a bathing area. Terran had become accustomed to cold baths at the Glen, but the wooden tub held steaming water. He didn’t understand until he examined the runes around the edge of the container. His magical knowledge told him the tub was enchanted to heat the water when filled.

  He climbed into the hot bath, one leg at a time. By the time he sank into the waters, he was groaning with pleasure. A loofah left on a stool facilitated a quick removal of the previous day’s efforts, both good and bad. By the time he was finished, his skin was pink from scrubbing, and he found his clothes, laundered of their road grime and blood, lying on the back of a chair.

  Everyone was in the tavern common area when he was finished. Zara’s table was covered with empty plates and the air smelled like syrup and bacon.

  “Hungry?” asked Della from behind the bar, looking as fresh as sunrise even though she’d barely slept last night. The hungry curl to her lips suggested she was ready to push him into the back room for another round, leaving him blushing.

  “Famished,” said Terran, stretching. “Yesterday was a long day.”

  Zara snorted as she stuffed a sausage link into her mouth. “Srrwl.”

  Della was cleaning a mug with a rag. “I’ll have Isabella rustle you up breakfast. Any requests?”

  Terran gestured towards Zara as he sat down across from the redhead. “Whatever she had, but in smaller portions.”

  The end of the sausage link was set on the plate as Zara leaned back, groaning. “I might have overdone it, but I swear I haven’t eaten this well since we arrived in Kingmakers.”

  “Nor have you eaten this much,” said Terran as Isabella appeared with a plate of meats and eggs, only half of which he could identify the source.

  “Thank you,” said Terran, before diving into the breakfast. “Where’s Luna?”

  “She had some goat’s milk then went for a hunt,” said Della. “Preferred the thrill of chasing down breakfast, I assume, which will help with the rat population around here.”

  A short time later, Luna sauntered through the front door, looking revived compared to the previous night.

  “How was the hunt?” asked Terran as the crisp bacon exploded into tiny delicious shards on his tongue.

  The lynx purred.

  Zara wrinkled her nose at Luna, gesturing towards her face. “Hey, uhm, you got something on your nose, looks like a mouse leg, or something.”

  Luna swiped it off and then promptly snapped it up. “Thanks.”

  “So what we doing today, boss?” asked Zara, leaning back with a hearty belch.

  “You could stay around the inn,” offered Della. “I have plenty of chores I need help with.”

  “Chores...is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Zara flinched when Terran kicked her under the table. “Braggart.”

  “As pleasant as it sounds to spend a day around here, I can’t save your place if we stay.” He pulled out a shadow shard. “I thought I might check around town and see if anyone knows what to do with these, and I want to talk to the other inns, find out when the Tavern Killer hit them. Maybe there’s a pattern.”

  After breakfast and gathering his gear, Della caught him in a side room, pushing him against the wall. She smelled intoxicating and her fingers digging at his clothes erased every thought in his head.

  “Forget the Tavern Killer and stay here with me. I would give all this up and return to the Glen with you,” said Della as she kissed his neck.

  He was warm all over. His hands, despite knowing that he didn’t have time for distractions, found her generous hips and pulled her against his. “Look, uhm, if it were as simple as your tavern, I would strongly consider your offer, but there are...larger problems. I came to Dagrath to get something from Go...Estabario. It’s important. Bigger than the Glen or Dagrath.”

  Della pouted, running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. She leaned forward, breath tickling his ear. “I’ll be waiting for you when you return.”

  Tearing himself away from her took herculean effort. He met Zara and Luna in the street.

  “Good for you,” said Zara, winking. “You need a break from pining away for that Rock Leaf Elf girlfriend who’s probably never coming back.”

  “I feel guilty,” said Terran as they strolled into the city. “I gave the Nightblade to Chanterelle, and she sacrificed herself to save us at the fortress. She’d be in the Glen if it wasn’t for me.”

  “The Glen wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for her choice. Let her have that decision,” said Zara, playfully punching him in the arm. “But you should move on. Enjoy yourself with Della. Maybe even take her up on her offer. She could run a great inn at the Glen.”

  “You just want those breakfasts,” said Terran.

  “Why can’t we all win?” asked Zara, laughing.

  “What if I told you I thought that Chanterelle might be in the city,” said Terran, rubbing the back of his head.

  “Oh, Terran,” said Zara, shaking her head. “You need to let her go.”

  “I’m serious,” said Terran. “She joined the Shadowbane, who has a temple in town. I’m half afraid that Chant is the Tavern Killer. You saw the way they bounced up the walls to escape us and no one can see their face. What if we’re tracking down my girlfriend?”

  “Old girlfriend,” said Zara. “And I assume you’ll do the right thing.”

  “I will,” said Terran, even though he wasn’t so sure.

  A short while later they reached the Crag Troll blacksmith that he’d seen the day before. The enormous humanoid wore a leather jerkin and was dumping coal into the back of his furnace, pumping the bellows. In all his previous interactions, Terran had been trying to kill Crag Trolls, so it felt a little strange to stroll up to the lumpy humanoid and make a business inquiry.

  Terran cleared his throat, catching a glance over his shoulder from the blacksmith. “Excuse me, Master Blacksmith. Do you have a moment?”

  The hulking Crag Troll approached Terran, who stood right outside the open-air pavilion. The way the blacksmith squinted, glancing between Terran and Luna, concerned him that he’d been recognized.

  The blacksmith’s lips curled. “Y
es, I know you. You killed many Crag Trolls, forced me to leave my foundry in the mountains.”

  Zara’s hand started to rise towards her axe, but Terran waved her off. “I had nothing against you, or your Crag Troll friends, but I was defending myself, my people.”

  The Crag Troll leaned over Terran, forcing him to lean his head back to keep eye contact. Standing so close, he noted how thick and powerful the creature’s arms were, probably from years of his trade. The standoff lasted until the blacksmith smacked Terran on the arm.

  “Ha! You were worried for a moment. You should not be. I am Granite Mountaineater, blacksmith, and you are Terran of the Rock Leaf Elves. You fight well, even if you don’t use steel. Tough human to best Crag Trolls and Barghasts, especially Crimson Brigade,” said the Crag Troll.

  “I’m sorry I ruined your mountain foundry, Granite,” said Terran.

  The blacksmith moved back to his work, picking up a long pole with one hand and poking the fire while he spoke over his shoulder. “Dagrath better for business. City folk have peculiar tastes, they want special work, crafted just for them. Pay higher prices.”

  “Boutique blacksmith,” said Zara.

  “Ha! Yes, boutique, I do not know this word, but I like it,” said Granite.

  “Well then, it looks like I’ve come to the right place,” said Terran, pulling out a shadow shard. “Is there anything you can do with this?”

  Granite collected the shard of night. It was barely a sliver in his enormous hand. He poked it with a meaty finger, grunting and tilting his head.

  “Maybe,” said the blacksmith. “Yes, I can use it to make weapon or armor, but not easy. Expensive, and require other materials I do not have.”

  “What...what could it do?” asked Terran.

  Granite poked the shard again. “Hmm...maybe it hit shadow creatures better since it made from them.”

  “Perfect,” said Terran. “Do you think you could make an axe like that one?”

  Zara slipped the weapon from her back and handed it to the enormous blacksmith. Granite balanced the axe in his hand, turning it over.

  “Good weapon,” said Granite, lip curled. “Show me how use.”

  He tossed it to Zara, who snatched it out of the air, immediately swirling around like a dervish. The redheaded berserker went through the paces of an imaginary fight, while onlookers stopped to watch, giving her space. Terran noted how she no longer fought against the demon arm, but leveraged its wild strength, leaning into its swings and using the momentum to create a whirling barrier of deadly steel.

  When Zara finished, the small crowd applauded. She gave a bow before returning to the smithy, where Granite had his finger on his chin like an old woman considering which shawl to wear.

  “I know how to make weapon. You have enough shards?” Terran handed them over. “This should be enough.”

  “What else do you need?” asked Zara.

  Granite stared at the shards in his hand. “If I mix iron with shards, it will be good weapon, but not best. Steel is best, but need special bars. I not have.”

  “Who does?” asked Terran.

  “Graffel Lumperdunken,” said Granite. “He is master blacksmith. Lives in north side of town. Need four bars of best steel. But he does not like Granite Mountaineater, so you must not let him know for this.”

  You have been offered a quest: Acquire four bars of steel from Graffel Lumperdunken.

  This should be simple, right?

  “What about your payment?” asked Terran, hoping it wasn’t too much. Getting the money for Della’s debt was going to be hard enough, and the Glen had been stretching its funds to pay for upgrades. He couldn’t afford a generous payout.

  “Axe only need five shadow shards. I keep other two for making other items to sell. This will bring high price with Dagrath elite. Make me more boutique,” said Granite, chest heaving with laughter at the use of the word.

  “I can live with that,” said Terran.

  “What should we do now?” asked Zara when they were finished at the blacksmith’s.

  “Lot of taverns and inns in this town,” said Luna. “Going to take days to talk to them all.”

  “I think we should split up. We’ll cover more ground that way,” said Terran.

  Zara raised an eyebrow. “Is that wise?”

  “Probably not, but the presence of a temple to Shadowbane and the Exalt of Shadow in Dagrath makes me worry that we’re running against a clock. We can meet at Graffel’s shop near dark—that should give us each a good chance to cover a third of the city,” said Terran.

  Neither of his companions had reasons not to split up, since it was daytime and the Tavern Killer only hit at night, but covering more ground wasn’t the only reason for his decision. He hoped that if Chanterelle was in the city, she might find him if he were alone. Which had its dangers, since she was a member of the Shadowbane now, and for all he knew, she could be tasked to kill him. But he didn’t think that was probable, or hoped, anyway.

  But there was no sign of Chanterelle as he made his way through his third of the city, talking to the various taverns and inns along the way. Not that all of them were willing to give him information. Some thought he was a member of Estabario’s gang collecting protection money, while others didn’t trust him because he was clearly not from Dagrath. He did manage to find a half dozen places that had been hit by the Tavern Killer, none as nice as the Golden Kumquat, which only made him wonder why he was protecting Della’s place. It wouldn’t be hard to get the money out of her, but he hated the idea of letting the criminals win.

  At the end of a long day of walking and talking, he met his companions near the master blacksmith’s shop, and they compared notes on what they’d learned.

  “It doesn’t seem like there’s a pattern,” said Terran. “At least not as far as I can tell.”

  “The killer doesn’t hit the same place too frequently,” said Luna.

  “That would make sense,” said Zara. “Once it’s been hit, then they’re paying attention, but as time goes on, they get more lax.”

  “Anyone else get accused of working for Estabario?” asked Terran.

  Luna looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. “He doesn’t seem like the type to employ lynxes for debt collection, so no.”

  “A few,” said Zara. “He really has a stranglehold on this town. Everyone was quite relieved when I explained I didn’t work for him.”

  “So basically, we don’t know much more about the killer,” said Luna.

  “Not at all,” said Terran. “We know the killer doesn’t hit the same place too frequently, so we can try to ambush them at inns and taverns that haven’t been hit in a while. Come on, let’s get this steel so Granite can get to work on your shiny new weapon.”

  Unlike Granite’s open-air shop, which felt like a traditional smithy, Graffel’s looked like a cottage house that more likely sold flowers or hand-carved wooden animals. The Crag Troll’s place had been made from thick timbers, while the master blacksmith’s was covered in pastel colors.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” asked Zara. “Doesn’t look like much of a smithy.”

  When Terran pushed inside, a little bell rang. The interior was filled with display cases, each one holding a single exquisite item. Luna pushed her nose against one.

  “This looks expensive,” said the lynx.

  The case contained an ornate dagger covered in gilt and rubies. He wasn’t sure how sharp the blade was but it was fit for a king.

  “Wildly expensive,” agreed Terran.

  “Then you probably shouldn’t be in here if you can’t afford it,” said a snooty voice from the front of the shop. Sitting behind a counter on a stool was a halfling wearing a purple brocade jacket with frilly white sleeves. He held a lace handkerchief to his nose. “What is that atrocious smell? Did someone drag a wet dog in here?”

  Under her breath, Luna muttered, “If he’s referring to me, the claws are coming out.”

  Terran cleared
his throat. “Sorry, maybe that’s me. It’s been a warm day.” Then to Luna, “Behave.”

  The halfling had his leg crossed over, hands resting on his knee. He regarded their approach as if they were refuse piles come alive.

  “Was I not clear or do you not speak Common? This is not the shop for the likes of you three.” Graffel waved his lacy handkerchief at Zara dismissively. “Especially this one, tall, red, and angry. Does he wind you up every day, or do you wake up this mad?”

  To Terran’s surprise, Zara stared back passively, as if she hadn’t heard him at all.

  “Hmm...not all there, is she?” asked Graffel.

  Terran cleared his throat. “I’ve heard you’re a master blacksmith, and judging by the quality in these cases, it seems I’ve come to the right place.”

  Graffel stared back with half-lidded eyes. “You do realize there are other colors than gray, green, and brown. At least the big one has the audacity to have brightly colored hair. The only redeeming thing about her.”

  Next to Terran and out of sight of Graffel, Luna held up a furry paw, bristling with claws. She made a practice swipe.

  I could give him some bright color on that neck of his, said Luna through their mental link.

  “I come from Gneiss Glen. I’m inquiring about high quality steel. A few bars to test our smiths at the settlement, maybe even a trade deal if you’re interested,” said Terran.

  Graffel scoffed. “I am not a trader of communities. I do not ‘make deals,’” he said, using air quotes. “I am an artist, a provocateur, a bright flash of color in this world of drab.”

  Terran bit his lower lip. This was going to be harder than he’d thought. “There’s nothing we could do to persuade you to part with a few bars? What if we bought one of your other items, like this gorgeous gilded dagger?” He gestured towards the case.

  Graffel sighed. “At least you recognize quality. I could be persuaded, yes. The price on the Majestic Fire is one thousand four hundred gold. If you purchase it, I could throw in a few bars of high-quality steel.”