“Yeah, I’m beginning to see that,” replied Matias. “Maybe I should have paid more attention in druid class.”
Jaggen narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you should change professions. You would make a good court jester.”
Matias snorted. “I should be offended, but I got to agree with you. I wish I could be anything else than a druid.”
“A druid does not choose their vocation. They are called to serve by one of the Five Forest Powers: Lady Alder, Prince Elm, Duke Birch, Baron Oak or Count Rowan. You would have been spoken to in dreams and visions and selected to follow the way of one of the Powers. You are the chosen representative of Lady Alder in the mundane realms that much is clear, yet you’re insane enough to be a Rowan Druid.”
Matias shrugged his shoulders, not really following the conversation. “Like I say, I didn’t take much notice of the rules. I never do. I got lumbered with being an Alder Druid that’s true enough, but it weren’t through no vision. It’s actually a real weird story.”
Jaggen raised his hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Folks that come to Ironthorne all have stories, and secrets. As long as they work hard and keep out of trouble, they are welcome to food and shelter and a chance to make a new life for themselves, no matter what they’ve done in the past. You start with a clean slate and, if it stays clean, you can have something close to a good life. If you’re not too picky.”
“What makes you think I’m wanna stay?” Matias said. “I only let your son bring me here on the promise of a meal and a bed for the night. After that, I’m out of here. I don’t follow rules and, so far, this place don’t really float my boat. It lacks those little personal touches, you know, like personal deodorants and wi-fi access. No offence intended.”
“None taken,” Jaggen replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. The dark liquid looked extremely tempting as it slipped into his mouth, and Matias’ throat was parched. “Tell me . . . Matias is it? Tell me, Matias, how long do you expect to survive out in Feysecret Forest or for that matter the world beyond? I’m curious because, as my excitable son tells it, if he hadn’t crossed your path this morning, you’d be just bones in the bottom of a smother mud pool. And then, later today, your little brawl with my men nearly left you a drooling cripple. Seems to me you have a lot to learn before you strike out on your own.”
Matias stared hard at him, angered at having his shortcomings paraded in front of him. “I’m a stranger to these parts,” he said, coldly. “Everything’s pretty new, but I’m a quick learner and I’m a survivor. Don’t worry about me, old man.”
“I’m not worried,” Jaggen said. “You’re a man I can’t trust and would sooner see dead than on my side, but I could do with men like you, especially at this time. You’re not obliged to stay indefinitely. You can leave whenever you like, no one will stop you. But if you are willing to remain and play by my rules, you will get the learning you need to survive beyond this place. I’ll offer you the food and the bed that my son promised, and then you can decide from there. What have you got to lose?”
Matias thought about it. Though he didn’t want to stay, he knew it would be in his best interest. This reality was more hostile and stranger than he could ever imagine, and he was going to get no more help from Calladyce or Amy. He was a smart guy but a stupid druid. Until he learnt more about the game and how to cheat, he was better off going along with this Jaggen guy and then screw him over later on down the line.
“Okay, I’ll stay for the night,” Matias said. “I’m making no promises, but I guess I can stick around after that, if it’s worth my while.”
Jaggen nodded his approval. “I thought you’d see it my way. We’ll be eating shortly. After that, go back to the medicine lodge. If you do choose to stay longer than the night, you’ll help out Sour Root. He’s getting on in years now and could do with an assistant to help him prepare potions and look after the sick and wounded. A druid would be real useful to have around, even a stupid one.”
* * *
Leaving Jaggen’s office, Matias found that the hall was now a hive of activity. Men and women in drab overalls were putting out trestle tables and long plank stools in the centre of the chamber, and delicious cooking smells were wafting from an open doorway that obviously led to the kitchen. Another table containing piles of wooden bowls was set out near the entrance and people were starting to file in, picking up a bowl as they went.
“Darn it! Get out from underfoot, Jhondey!” a deep blubbery voice that might have belonged to a woman erupted from the direction of the kitchen. “That bread’s for the meal! Leave it alone you greedy little moss mubb!”
Matias peered through the doorway and was nearly knocked off his feet by Jhondey as the boy came running into the hall, clutching a chunk of thick white bread. “Oh, hallo Matias,” the boy said, taking a huge bite out of the bread. “You had the talk with pa?”
“Yeah, he said I could stick around for something to eat and to get a bed for the night,” replied Matias, his stomach now moaning with hunger.
“You’ll stay longer than that!” Jhondey said. “You just got to!”
“I’m just gonna take it one day at a time for now,” Matias said in a neutral tone. He eyed up the bread and gave Jhondey a pointed look. “I could sure do with some food inside me, before I can think straight.”
“Yeah, I need to eat a good meal before I can make a proper decision,” Jhondey agreed, shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth. “Aughh Semmshy is broooggnph te stoph,” he mumbled as he chewed on noisily.
Matias glared at him. “What?”
“Grub up!” the female voice called out. “Get in line! Get in line!”
Matias watched as the people with the wooden bowls formed a queue at the nearby table. A few moments later, a huge figure in a marquee-like burgundy dress and food-stained apron tied around her wide waist, bustled down the doorway, carrying a large steaming cooking pot in her meaty hands. “Get in line! Get in line! Yonti, stop scratching yourself down there! Come on! Come on! Everyone get in line! No pushing! No spitting!”
“Aunt Semmy,” Jhondey said, swallowing down the last of the bread. “This is my friend, Matias. Pa’s not going to hang him like you said he would.”
Aunt Semmy’s blood red eyes widened and a huge grin slowly spread across her warty face. She made a small cooing sound and, as she set down the cooking pot on the table, Matias got an ample view of the colossal three breasts quivering in her low-cut dress.
“Oooh Matias,” she said, coming over to him and looking him up and down. A mixture of her stale breath and overpowering perfume hit him full in the face, and he backed away. It only made her lean in closer, until the green fangs of her under bite were just a few inches from his face. “Well, ain’t you a fine handsome fellow,” she said. “It makes a lovely change from the usual riff-raff we get here.”
“Thanks,” Matias said, uncertain.
“You look very thin though,” Aunt Semmy observed, lifting up one of his arms and squeezing it hard. “You need a bit o’ meat on your bones. Good thing Jhondey brought you to me when he did.”
Meanwhile at the table, the man at the front of the queue had picked up the wooden ladle that was lying next to the cooking pot and was just about to pour out some stew into his bowl. Without looking round, Aunt Semmy seemed to sense what he was planning to do. She spun round and surged toward him.
“No serving yourself!” she roared, and she cuffed the man across the side of his head. The blow had enough force behind it to send the man sprawling across the ground. “Get to the back of the queue, Tanno. You should know better than that.”
Ragged laughter went up from the villagers as Tanno got to his feet and slunk to the back of the queue, nursing his head as he went on his way.
Aunt Semmy turned to Matias and gave him a wide smile of green fangs. “Matias, you come here. You get to be served first.”
Several angry complaints came up from the others, and Aunt Semmy shot them
a black glare. “Shaddup!” she yelled, silencing the protesting voices in an instant. “Matias is new here, he gets to eat first. Anyone got a problem with that, they get put in tomorrow’s stew!” She turned and made doe eyes at Matias. That made her even more frightening than when she was being threatening. “Come along, my little fawn, get it while it’s hot and steaming, and help yourself to the stew as well.” She winked at him and giggled.
Unfriendly stares from a lot of hungry villagers fixed on Matias as he moved to the food table. Jhondey strutted beside him and made sure he was second in line before anyone could stop him. Smiling coquettishly at Matias, Aunt Semmy doled out a large amount of stew into a bowl and handed it to him.
“Thanks,” Matias said, grateful to finally get something to eat at last. “Um, you got a spoon?”
Aunt Semmy scowled and lumbered over to the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Mora!” she shouted, so loud it made the window panes shake in their frames. “Move yourself girl! Bring the bread! Folks are waiting!”
Matias watched as a skinny girl about Jhondey’s age, wearing a grey threadbare dress with apron and a grubby linen cap covering her head, came into the hall. She carried a basket of freshly made bread in her arms and a miserable expression on her acne-scarred face. If Mora was anymore downtrodden, she’d be moving around on her hands and knees with a chain around her neck. With slow, sullen movements, she dumped the bread on the table and trudged away without speaking or making eye-contact with anyone else. Matias noticed the lovesick love Jhondey gave the girl as she returned to the kitchen.
Taking a piece of bread from the basket, Matias flashed Aunt Semmy an awkward smile and went to find a place at one of the trestle tables. Getting his own portion of food, Jhondey followed like a shadow and sat down next to him.
“Aunt Semmy,” Matias said, as he tucked into the delicious tasting stew and fresh bread, “she your real aunt?”
Jhondey snickered. “No silly. We just call her that. Everyone does.”
Matias glanced over to the food table and Aunt Semmy waggled her claws at him. He looked down at his food quickly. “What, um, what is she?”
“A half-ogress,” Jhondey replied, mopping up his stew with the bread. “Or was it a half-troll? I don’t truly remember now. No one’s really sure anyhow, and no one dare ask. She come down from the Ghoul Lands in the north years ago, ‘fore I was born, when pa first founded the village.”
“She that friendly with all newcomers?” Matias asked as he popped a chunk of stewed meat into his mouth. It melted on his tongue. Over at the food table, one of the villagers was complaining that his portion of stew wasn’t large enough. Aunt Semmy punched him square in the face and he crumpled to the ground, provoking gales of laughter from the onlookers.
“Not really,” Jhondey said, not batting an eyelid at the scene. “She usually shouts at everyone, or hits them if she’s in a good mood.”
The hall was beginning to fill up now, and a babble of voices filled the air as people ate, chatted and laughed together. His stomach full, Matias began to take more notice of them. They were a hard looking people, used to toil and struggle. Many of them had scars or some kind of mutilation that would make them stand out in other, more respectable company. Some had strange looking tattoos or brands on their arms like the ones they put on cattle. A few others had vacant expressions on their faces, and were hollow eyed and grotesquely thin, picking at their food and muttering to themselves. Matias noted that these wretched looking folks were ignored by the rest of the villagers. He’d been around enough criminals, junkies and lowlifes to recognise he was in amongst his own kind. His heart sank. Even in another world of complete fantasy, he still couldn’t escape the squalor of his own past.
As he scanned the villagers, he was suddenly pinned down by three sets of hostile eyes. Mardon, Opron and Trub, all looking pretty worse for wear after their fight, were sat across the way glaring at him. He gave them a sneering grin and carried on eating.
“There’re three goons who definitely don’t want to be friendly,” Matias said between mouthfuls. “They’ll be itching to get their own back and if I black out again I would wind up dead. It might be best that I move on tomorrow.”
“No, don’t go,” Jhondey said. “Don’t worry about those three, they won’t dare touch you. You had the talk with pa. That means you’re welcome to stay. If anyone tries to harm you without you trying to attack them first, they get punished by the law. Pa’s very strict and don’t mess about. It’s the only way to keep this place going. Mardon and those other two have got it too good here to mess things up by trying to get their own back. You gotta stay. We’re gonna have so much fun together.”
Jhondey beamed at him with bits of meat stuck in his teeth, and when Matias looked away from him, he caught Aunt Semmy watching again with a hungry look on her face. She winked again and licked her lips suggestively with her forked black tongue.
All of a sudden, being beaten to death by three disgruntled thugs didn’t sound so bad.
Chapter X: Cavern of the Gargoyle
Matias stayed the night and the day following, and then the day after that and the one after that. Before long, a week had gone by.
Despite his assertion to Jaggen that Ironthorne held little interest for him, Matias found that hanging around here had turned out to be very useful. First off, he learnt a new skill on his second day in the village thanks, surprisingly, to Jhondey.
“Keep your feet apart, same width of your shoulders,” the boy instructed. “Yup, that’s it. Now, nock the arrow the same way I am doing, use three fingers to hold it in place, real lightly like. Raise it up and draw the bow, that’s it. Aim it at the target and let the arrow go, then move your hand back to your shoulder.”
Matias followed the instructions and the arrow shot from the bow at the same time Jhondey launched his arrow. The projectiles sailed across the air and hit each one of the two straw archery targets respectively, set out several feet away on the patch of grass behind the medicine lodge.
To Matias’ irritation, Jhondey’s arrow hit the yellow painted bullseye dead on, while his own arrow thudded into the outer blue ring. Jhondey let out a victory whoop. “Not bad for a first try, but I’m better,” he declared.
“We’ll go again,” Matias growled, taking another arrow from the quiver lying on the nearby tree stump. As he nocked the arrow, a message came up in gold lettering in front of his eyes.
New Ability Learnt: Archery
Though he hated the fact he wasn’t as good as a runty teenager like Jhondey, he recognised the value of being able to use a bow and arrows in the medieval themed Alchemy Worlds. He’d be able to hunt for food and take down enemies, provided it met with the approval of the high and mighty Lady Alder. At the very least, archery would give him something to focus on. As he prepared to fire again though, Sour Root hobbled round the side of the medicine lodge.
“Matias! Come in! I need your help!” the Ancient Sasquatch yelled.
The sound of the old creature’s voice interrupted Matias’ concentration and his arrow went wide, landing in the nearby bushes next to the targets. Jhondey howled with laughter.
“I win that round!” he said shrilly.
Matias threw down the bow. “That didn’t count!” he snapped. “This old coot spoiled my concentration!”
“This old coot will get you flogged if you don’t get into the lodge now! We have much work to do!” Sour Root said. “You get to the kitchen as well Jhondey. You have chores to do. Be quick about it or Aunt Semmy will skin your hide!”
Grumbling to himself, Jhondey sloped away. Feeling like a little kid being told to come in from playing, Matias scowled at Sour Root. “You might be able to order the kid around, but don’t even try it with me. I’ll break your neck.”
Sour Root gave him a long toothed grin. “You forget yourself, druid. Have you forgotten what happens when you violate the Druid Code?”
“Fu—,” Matias bit his t
ongue before he finished his retort. “I haven’t forgotten. How can I? But believe me, I’ll find a way around all that living with nature crud then you better watch your step, old coot.”
“Yes, I daresay you will,” Sour Root said, giving him an appraising look. “But until that day of reckoning, get inside and help me mix some potions.”
It was with Sour Root that Matias learnt a second important skill. At a work bench set up at the back of the dingy medicine lodge, Sour Root set him to work grinding herbs and flowers with a mortar and pestle.
“You and that sludge brained halfwit Jhondey might think knowing how to use weapons is all you need in this world, but it’s what you learn here that will determine how long you survive,” the Sasquatch advised him. “It is the secret properties of the plants, the insects and the animals of the Worlds that will make all the difference. It is the calling of the druid to learn the old knowledge, to have the wit to brew healing potions and know the formulas for making elixirs to restore and bolster magic, or make a concoction to give a warrior the boost of strength they need to beat their opponent, or the means to pass unseen through hostile territory. These abilities and a thousand more are yours to possess and profit from.”
Matias’ eyes lit up at the word ‘profit’. “I can make dough from learning all this garbage?”
Sour Root frowned. “You don’t need alchemy to learn how to make bread. Just go and ask Aunt Semmy, though from what I heard you might have to give her a little kiss and cuddle in return.”
Matias shuddered at the thought. “Dough is slang for money where I come from,” he clarified. “You said I could profit from learning how to brew potions.”
Sour Root nodded. “That is how alchemists like me make their living, but a druid offers the potions he makes willingly to those in need. They sometimes set themselves up as healers, like the old druid who once lived at Healer’s Hovel, or travel with adventurers in search of excitement and treasure, supporting the warriors and magic users in a company with their healing knowledge. Others still, enlist with an army and serve a kingdom or warlord, helping the wounded and supporting the physics during battle.”
The Alchemy Worlds: Enter T(he)rap(y): A LitRPG Adventure Page 7
