Guilds at War: The LitRPG Saga Continues

by C. J. Carella

 

  “Gregory Ballantine did not do this on his own,” she told him. “He was serving the Court of Thorns.”

  The name sounded familiar, but Hawke couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “What’s that? Another Fae court, like the Seelie and Unseelie?”

  “In a way. Their leaders are outcasts from both Courts and the Wild Fae. They consort with forbidden forces and make their dwellings inside Proving Grounds, where they hide amidst monsters while they plot against the Realms.”

  “They sound nice. Kind of like the Ebon Empire Troggs. Why haven’t they been exterminated?”

  “The Courts of Faerie have tried. So have many others. We feared they were the true creators of the Revenants, and that Gregory had been little more than an assistant to the process. The creature I saw confirmed that fear.”

  I remember now. Gregory mentioned the Court when he captured Leara.

  Hawke had watched that while he was going through the Necromancer’s memories. He wasn’t about to mention that to her, of course. From the sounds of it, Greg had been a flunky, creating the super-Undead using the Court of Thorns’ blueprints or recipe. Hawke still didn’t understand why the miserable bastard had been a paltry level fifteen. He’d had over a hundred Soul Shards, which he could have used to level himself up to the twenties or beyond. Something didn’t add up.

  Saturnyx suggested.

  “You have to destroy them all,” Leara said. “They are too dangerous to exist.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Hawke accessed the Stronghold’s Vault. It had twelve sixty-four slot Inventories, filled for the most part with useful and valuable stuff, including tons of crafting components, magical items and devices, and potions. Four of the vaults had been filled with wrapped-up bodies like the one that nearly killed a high-level Fae. Two hundred and fifty-one were still there.

  I can release them one by one, then blast them without removing their bindings. Feels like shooting fish in a barrel, and I really don’t like the idea of doing that over and over.

 

  But they aren’t living beings, are they?

  “The Revenants are stored inside one of my Vaults,” he told Leara. A simple mental command created a visual view of the storage areas in question.

  “So many,” she said. “I knew he had been working on this project for some time, but to have built an army of those things…”

  “I’m going to try deleting them from the Vault. That should destroy them, shouldn’t it?”

  “Nonliving items dismissed in such a way are indeed irretrievably gone,” Leara said. “But I do not know what the fate of an Undead would be.”

  “Nobody ever tried it before? Just to see what would happen?”

  “One rarely has the opportunity to store away an Undead being. If someone has performed the experiment, the results have not been shared.”

  “Well, here goes nothing,” Hawke said. He mentally highlighted one of the slots, one occupied by a level eleven Dryad-Revenant. Another mental command opened a small menu of options:

  Recall Item

  Remove Item (Warning: Items removed this way will be permanently destroyed)

  Do Nothing

  “Well, looks like it’s letting me do it,” he told Leara, and chose Remove Item. The swaddled figure shimmered briefly before disappearing from the inventory slot. “Poof. It’s gone.”

  “So I see.”

  Hawke was able to do a group-select for each Vault, so he had to repeat the process four more times before all Undead Fae had been cleared out. Good riddance. While he’d gotten three hundred XP for killing the Revenant that had attacked Leara, he got nothing for the rest. It made sense, since he hadn’t been in any danger. The whole thing left him feeling stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

  “Well, I guess this concludes our deal,” he told the Fae. “I will walk you out.”

  “Of course. Before I leave, however, there is one more thing.”

  A metal card, made of mithril with embossed golden writing, appeared in her hand. She offered it to him.

  “What is that?”

  “An invitation to the Winter Solstice Festival in Mommur, the Forest City. There is someone there who wishes to speak with you. You may know him as Abuxiel.”

  “That’s in Alfheim,” Hawke said.

  “Indeed. I will not ask you how you know Abuxiel, but one of his emissaries asked me to convey this to you.”

  Now that’s a blast from the past.

  A good while back – as in a couple months – he had saved Abuxiel from a magically-induced coma at a Fae Lair. He still had a quest to go to Mommur and claim his reward. He’d all but forgotten it.

  “This card will take you, and up to four companions, directly to Mommur. You will be rather weak compared to the Fae nobility you will encounter, however. You may wish to grow in power before the Solstice comes.”

  That would be in six months, give or take. “I hear you,” he told her, carefully not thanking her.

  “Good,” she replied with a smile. “My Master wishes you to remain alive awhile longer.”

  Forty-One

  Riding Blaze, Hawke stood by Orom’s main gate, watching the wagons, riders and travelers on foot enter the town.

  The caravan was much bigger than the one that had left the town a month before. It comprised five hundred and seventy-six people, to be exact, including twenty-one Eternals. Most of the immigrants were crafters, farmers, and other specialists, both Arcane and the regular kind, along with their families. There were traders looking for opportunities in the growing Domain. And the new arrivals included a sizable contingent of Sterns and other Dwarves, headed out to bolster the settlement in the Sunset Mountains. Among that group was Grumpy Oakenshield, who was considering joining the Defenders’ Guild. There were even a handful of Druids, attracted by the news of a great Grove, and a scattering of Adventurers seeking fame and fortune, and maybe a spot in the guild as well.

  Keeping so many people safe and fed had been a lot of work. Hawke had left much of that to other people, but had made it a point to fly Blaze and meet with the caravan once a day, both to make sure everyone was okay, and to deliver some homemade food from Orom’s kitchens. Some of the immigrants had taken to calling him Bountiful Lord Hawke; he hoped it wouldn’t stick.

  Neither Woodlings nor bandits had bothered the wagon train, but two people had died along the way. A man had fallen off his horse when something spooked it, and broken his neck. And an older woman had keeled over from what had most likely been a heart attack. Hawke had taken the bodies to Orom, where they were interred in the town’s cemetery.

  According to Helena Setes, another five hundred immigrants would arrive before the end of the summer. A thousand more by year’s end. By then, three fortified outposts would be fully established along the Legion’s Highway, providing protection and services to travelers. Villages would eventually rise around them. Orom’s population was set to double, perhaps triple. The small Arachnoid settlement he had encountered during his first adventure was becoming a large village as well, one with a mixture of all the species in the Domain.

  All the local traders who had gone on the trip would turn a profit, and the enterprising guy who’d brought along Arachnoid goods had made out like a bandit. As it turned out, Arachnoid chitin goods were highly coveted, but the only source for it came from deserts far to the west, where Sun Arachnoid tribes engaged in trade (and occasional raiding) with their human neighbors. Between the number of middlemen the materials had to go through before reaching Akila, and the high price the tribes themselves charged, the cost was prohibitive except as a luxury item. The trader had gleefully undercut the far-off imports and sold off the entire wag
onload for six times what he had paid for it, including the expenses of the journey. Hawke reminded himself to have Antana Setes have a word with the guy about spreading some of the wealth with the Arachnoids. The spider-people’s plastic-like products were about to become major trade goods, which would benefit everyone. Except maybe the Sun Arachnoids, Hawke supposed.

  During his back and forth trips between the Domain and the caravan, he’d spoken with Nadia a couple of times. The Elven Sorceress-Paladin was friendly but distant, concerned mainly with her job as the nominal – and potentially real – ruler of the Murk Arachnoids. She spent most of her time in Big Web, and had learned a spell that let her remain in her Arachnoid form for days at a time. Maybe letting her claim those artifacts from the Spider Empire had been a mistake, but she seemed to be more at peace among her new chosen people than around Earthlings. Hawke wasn’t sure what to do about it, so he had let her alone, concentrating mostly on the business of running the Domain.

  There was a lot of work to do. Luckily, he didn’t have to do it alone. Lots of people were helping: Marko was now the Domain Legion’s commander, in charge of keeping the peace on the roads linking the Domain’s settlements together and defending Serenity. Olaf Good and the Town Council made sure the new arrivals to Orom had places to live and work. Grognard and Tava were busy integrating the new Eternals, too. Kinto kept the peace at Orom. There was plenty of work for everyone.

  The Earth and Realms Defenders Guild had gained three more levels, and he had used one of them to set up a Guild Headquarters. He had surprised everyone by placing it not in Orom, but out in the middle of nowhere, right on top of the Nature Node where a Fae Lair had once stood. He wanted the guild to be its own thing, not in the middle of the town, where members could get embroiled in local politics and drama. Besides, the woods in the area were getting crowded with dangerous monsters, due to the growing Mana density in the valley. Keeping the beasts from threatening the valley was a valuable service and a source of experience and loot. To make things easier, he placed a ley line portal there so people could travel more easily.

  Hawke had finally built a portal network between every Node connected by a ley line. The portals’ limits meant that most people would still have to use the roads, but messages and small troop contingents would be able to move instantly if the need presented itself. Civilian use was limited and expensive, but eventually he would replace them all with Greater versions, which would increase the ‘bandwidth’ of the portals until they became as easy to use as a subway line.

  He had enjoyed a peaceful ten days or so since the defeat of the Nerf Herders, but he didn’t think that would last. He still had to go back to Akila and iron out some business there, including having an in-depth conversation with Jake Duchamp, as well as the Emporium’s master. He especially needed to learn more about the Prime Mover, and why the wizard thought the head Maker was the one helping – or more likely, using – Hawke. All in good time, though.

  Tava and Luna came close and watched the newcomers enter the town. Most everyone gave them nods or bows, or simply waved, grins on their faces. They looked tired, but also happy that the trip was over.

  Tava smiled at him. “We can spend the night at the hunting lodge, away from all of this.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  His manor house in Orom was nice, but he expected people would be dropping by all the time. Kinto’s old house was outside the town’s walls and required a steep walk up a hill, plus its location wasn’t known to everybody. That should let him have some peace and quiet. Orom’s officials could reach him through the Core in case of emergency. He could use a night off. Maybe two.

 

  Of course.

 

  Thank you for keeping me on my toes.

  There was a lot of work to be done, but he felt good about it. A few more days or weeks spent building things instead of destroying them would be wonderful.

  He didn’t know how long the good times would last, but he would make the most of them.

  Epilogue

  Desmond the Destroyer had been meditating quietly when the stranger entered Leara’s tent.

  “What the hell?” he shouted, summoning his Spell-Cleaver sword and activating three combat Engravings that increased his strength, speed and damage resistance to unearthly levels.

  “Stand down, dearie,” Leara said from the partition where she went when she wanted to be alone. “He is one of us. Our superior, actually.”

  The newcomer didn’t look like much, although that didn’t mean anything when it came to the Sidhe. He seemed to be human, with long curly hair, and a tall and lanky build. He was wearing a simple traveler’s leather jerkin and woolen trousers, with a pair of Legion-issue laced hobnailed sandals over knit socks. A small dagger hung from his belt and he didn’t seem to be wearing any special gear, armor, or any other weapons. The floating stat box over his head made him look even more harmless than his appearance.

  Saul Valentino (Human)

  Health 14 Mana 12 Endurance 13

  There was no way a human without even an Adventuring Class could have even seen Leara’s circus tent, let alone enter it. The tent was supposed to be near impossible to detect or locate, and proof against any mortal intruders. Desmond activated the circular tattoo that surrounded his left eye; its enchantment let him see through magical illusions and even some Fae Glamours. For a second, he glimpsed something impossibly big and terrifying behind the human figure. The next second, he went blind on that eye.

  “Shit!”

  “It’s not polite to stare,” Saul said in English.

  “Desmond likes to learn things the hard way,” Leara replied in the same language. “I hope you’ll forgive him.”

  “Anything for my sweetheart.”

  Desmond could see out of his left eye again, kind of. There were still floating afterimages, as if he’d started directly at the sun.

  “Your report caused quite the stir,” Saul went on as he sat on one of the beanbag seats Leara liked to have scattered around the floor of her massive tent. “It was decided that I needed to get involved.”

  “Are we finally allowed to hunt Huntsman Laryn, then?”

  “Not yet. We will leave for Crystal City in the morning. The Court of Thorns is stirring trouble there.”

  “They rarely act openly. Are we sure this isn’t a false flag?”

  “They are growing bolder. Laryn’s attempt to transform that Infernal Labyrinth was merely an opening gambit. We expect similar troubles throughout the Realms.”

  Desmond barely paid attention to the conversation. He’d gone back to sitting on the ground and concentrating on his Mana Channels. Leara had told him he needed to learn how to ‘cultivate’ his Mana if he ever hoped to beat Hawke. He still wasn’t sure what cultivating meant, but if Hawke could do it, he had to figure it out. That bastard needed to go down.

  Desmond had saved the fake paladin’s life, saved the entire city, but Hawke had gotten all the glory and power. Desmond had ended up as a sidekick to a Sidhe whacko while Hawke expanded his rule from a town to an entire Domain, screwed every woman who crossed his path, and managed to be a necromancer and a paladin at the same time! That was beyond unfair.

  I’m going to make you pay.

  “Your pet is very angry,” Saul noted, gesturing towards the Engraved Warrior.

  “Oh, it’s all about Hawke Lightseeker. Desmond feels that Hawke is getting far more than his due.”

  “And he is right. But his enemies are our enemies, so we will leave him alone. For now.”

  Those words gave Desmond hope. Sooner or later, Hawke would stop being useful to his bosses, and then he would be fair game. And when he was, Desmond would be ready.

  * * *

  The fir
st thing Arbiter Sexaginta-Novem did when she arrived at Crystal City was take a deep breath, relishing even the stench that permeated the neighborhood. The mere act of breathing was a novelty; she normally only inhaled when she needed to speak out loud, something she very rarely did. Arbiters communicated telepathically. They didn’t even occupy flesh-and-bone bodies for the most part, except for the rare occasion when they descended into one of the Realms.

  Sexaginta-Novem had been without a physical body for so long that even the act of walking out of the blind alley where she had materialized felt exotic. Almost sinful, which was funny, since she was in the middle of committing the worst sin imaginable: betraying the Makers themselves. The small group of humans – forty-two originally, now down to thirteen – who had gained cosmic powers could not be defied openly. Even the idea of defying them could be construed as evidence of mental illness. Sexaginta-Novem knew that, and accepted her madness without much concern. She had lost her mind a long time ago; she was just very good at hiding that fact from her fellow Arbiters.

  Even a hugely wealthy place like Crystal City had slums, and she was in the worst of them, a district commonly known as Refuse, where the city’s wastes were funneled into vast furnaces to be incinerated. Powerful magicks kept the odor down, but it was rank enough that only the poorest or more criminally-minded citizens made their abode there. By the same token, the local police didn’t look very closely into the locals’ affairs. That meant one errant Arbiter could sneak in, conduct her business, and leave without being noticed.

  A couple of figures moved to intercept her when she left the alley, and she briefly wondered if she’d been wrong.

  “Hey, lady, got any gold?” the taller figure asked. An Ogre, and from the canker sores on his face, a Red Lotus addict. His companion was a male Elf, also in the throes of the euphoric powder. Both of them were twentieth-level Rogues, fallen on hard times in the big city. Tragic, if you gave a damn. Which she didn’t. The pair might run off if she told them to, or they might try a more forceful way of extracting money from her. She decided that killing them was the most expedient way to deal with the situation.