by Eric Ugland
“I don’t suppose Valamir is known for being merciful and kind.”
“More like power-mad and petty. And anything concerning his brother will likely be of particular interest to Valamir. I would guess his Thingmen are either scattering to the winds or being slaughtered by Valamir’s forces.”
“Wait a minute—”
“I urge you to focus. You only have hours to break in and out of the prison before it is too late, if it is not already.”
“Nikolai should be able to hold his own.”
“The prisons of Osterstadt are notorious. Long have horror stories of the Osterstadt Prison leaked out. You must remember this city has long been by itself against the world, and houses some of the wealthiest families in the Empire. There is no shortage of skilled men and women at the city’s disposal. And no shortage of coin to spend.”
“Okay, noted. No time to prepare going up against high-leveled bad asses. Sounds like failure is likely.”
“I am afraid that is the case. Would you consider leaving your friend to the fates?”
“No.”
“But you agree to shield me? To be my ally and assist me?”
“I do.”
“My agent will meet you outside the Imperial House, at the back. She will lead you and your companions to a hotel where I am an investor. The hotel will give you my suite, and you will be safe there. Or, rather, your men will be safe while you throw your life away with your foolish errand. That is, if you are still planning on going.”
“I have to, Léon. Just as I would go to bat for you now that we’re friends and all.”
He gave me a bit of a smile. “Then I will tell you what I know.”
“Hit me with it.”
“I must be quick,” Léon said, giving a furtive look around before leaning in close. “The prison is very secure. There is but a single entrance, heavily guarded. It may seem like there are cells above the ground, as the building is quite tall. It is, however, a ruse. The building is primarily a barracks for the city guard.”
“No allies there?”
“Absolutely not. There is quite the animosity between the Legion and the City Guard. I would advise you to refrain from mentioning any connection you have to the Legion. It will only complicate things—”
Light spilled through the windows as someone walked into Léon’s drawing room.
“Bah,” Léon said, looking over his shoulder at the guard coming towards the greenhouse. “We are out of time. Go to The Murdered Bishop. It is a tavern in the worst parts of town. There is a man there who owes me a favor.”
Léon pressed something hard and metallic into my hand. Round, like a coin.
“Ask for Philomon,” he continued. “He is your only chance to get into the prison.”
I looked down. It was a coin.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“A favor. You give this to Philomon, he will be forced to provide you assistance, and I believe he can get you into the prison.”
“What about getting out?”
“That will be on you.”
The door opened, and a guard stepped into the greenhouse.
“Ah,” Léon said to the guard, “Jasper, is it?”
“Yes, Viceroy,” Jasper replied.
“Do me a courtesy, Jasper, and please escort Duke Coggeshall through the back way out of the house.”
“Yes Viceroy,” Jasper said, saluting.
“Thank you for bringing me the news about your father,” Léon said.
“Of course, Viceroy,” I replied.
Léon gave me a clap on the shoulder, and then ushered me towards the guard.
Jasper led me through lots of hallways and past bedrooms and barracks until he pointed to a nondescript door in a nondescript wall.
“The exit, my lord,” Jasper said.
“Thank you,” I replied, and stepped out into the streets of Osterstadt.
Chapter 102
A figure in full plate armor stood across the narrow alleyway, looming without being overly big. The armor was intense. The knight wore a heavy cloak with a hood hanging back, but it was artfully arranged so the arms and armor were fully on view. The head turned, and the figure lifted up the mask on the full helm. I was a little taken aback seeing a very cute female face looking back at me. A wisp of blonde hair peaked out.
“You waitin’ for me?” I asked.
“Are you Montana Coggeshall?” she replied.
“I am.”
“Then I wait for you.”
“You’re the, what, envoy from—”
“I know not what he told you, but Léon is my brother. He has tasked me with serving you, my lord.” She bowed her head to me.
I smiled and shot my identification spell her way.
Human
Level 14 Knight
“Knight,” I said. “Impressive.”
She stood up straight and narrowed her eyes. “You use magic?”
“I do.”
She sneered, and I thought she was about to spit. Her gauntleted hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword, but she’d yet to draw it. “I hate magic.”
“Noted. I’ll refrain from using it around you if I can. You got a name?”
“Nathalie Glaton.”
“Montana Coggeshall.”
“I know.”
“Right.”
“I was told to take you to an inn.”
“We’re actually stopping at a tavern first—”
She frowned, shook her head, but finally nodded. “Which one?”
“Uh, there’s one across the street from the Legion House—”
“The Rabid Dragon? Really?”
“Not my choice—”
She started walking. I followed. This was going really well.
I noticed she put her hood up as we walked. It made me wish I had one too. Anything to decrease my visibility in the city. Or the world at large. I knew it wasn’t necessarily the case, but I just had the feeling there was a target on my back.
The Rabid Dragon looked empty from the front, but as soon as I opened the door, I was presented with a beatific scene. Unlike most of the taverns I’d visited in Glaton, this place was open and bright, delightful and comfy. Homey even. A large fireplace took up almost a whole wall. The crackling fire was a soothing background to the gentle chatter. A bar lined the opposite wall, where people were drinking almost all in twos. Couples. This was a date bar. I looked over at Nathalie. She grimaced back at me.
I scanned along the bar until I saw the odd group out: Lee and the two Lutra. They were tucked at the far edge, and given the way the bartender kept shooting them the stink-eye, it didn’t exactly seem like they were having a grand time. Walking over, I got the attention of the bartender. He smiled at me until he realized where I was going.
“You should know beasts are not welcome here,” he said to me with a sneer.
I stopped and slowly turned to face the man. Several scenarios ran through my head. I took a breath and counted to three before I even let them come to the fore, because most of them involved beating the shit out of the racist fuck. Problem was, though that’d get me to my destination (jail), I needed a way out before getting in.
Instead, I just smiled at him.
“Noted,” I said. “If your wife shows up, I’ll make sure to escort her outside immediately.”
Someone snorted.
The bartender did not. He clenched his jaw and his knuckles went white.
I gestured to my comrades. They got up and left while I stood in front of the bartender. When they were gone, I pulled a coin from my pouch and set it on the bar. Then I winked and walked out.
Nathalie was already introducing herself to Lee and the hirð.
“Now we can go to that hotel,” I said.
She nodded, still all business, and took the lead.
It wasn’t a long walk to the inn, The Davenwood. We weren’t in the nicest part of the city, but I’d argue this was close. Swanky. Plush. Not quite as fa
ncy as the area around the Explorer’s Club, it also lacked some of the stuck up-edness of that area. The trees were just as manicured as the lawns. The streets were clean and wide, and I saw zero evidence of people dumping their chamberpots on the street, neither sight nor smell. That was something that’d been conspicuously left out of all the fantasies I’d read. The smells I experienced on Vuldranni were often intense and rarely pleasant.
“Why’s it called the Davenwood?” I asked.
“The inn?” Nathalie replied, as if I was a bit of an idiot. “You have not heard of Davenwood?”
“Nope.”
“It is named after a great forest outside of the capital, planted there by my great-great-grandfather to replace the trees he took to build the first great fleet.”
“Cool.”
She just frowned at me before pushing through the door.
Inside, there was a desk with an attendant perched in front of a whole bunch of keys and mailboxes. Or message boxes I supposed. A small bell sat next to a guest book. The attendant smiled at Nathalie, his eyes creepy, exuding lechery.
“These men are guests of my brother,” Nathalie said.
“But of course,” he said with a bow. He snatched a key off a hook behind him without even looking, spun it around his finger, and then held it out. Nathalie took it and tromped up the stairs, her armor clanking. It probably had out on the streets as well, but now that we were indoors it was easier to hear it.
The pervy dude watched as she walked up the stairs, and then indicated we should follow. Which, you know, weird enough, but then when I looked up to try and see what he might have been watching, or hoped to watch, all I saw a was a bunch of metal. It’s not like plate armor does any favors for the butt.
The suite was on the top floor. Hell, it practically was the top floor. And it was great. As soon as the door opened, I saw a sitting area, a separate lounging couch in front of a crackling fireplace, and lots of wide open space. Balconies overlooked the city below. There were doors on either side of the room, open to bedrooms. Nathalie was mucking about in one, and Lee hotfooted it to the other, ostensibly thinking he needed to claim the bed.
But I knew I wasn’t done for the night, so I dropped the bulk of my gear on the floor behind the couch. I kept the bag of holding with me though.
“What are you doing?” Ragnar asked, already stretched out across the couch, luxuriating in the warmth of the fire.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You still have the bag on.”
“Yeah.”
“So you are going back out.”
“I am, yeah.”
“Okay,” Ragnar said, closing his eyes, “well, you let me know when you are leaving, and I will be ready.”
“Wait,” Lee said, stepping out of the bedroom, “we’re going somewhere tonight?”
“I am,” I said. “You guys don’t need to come with me.”
“I must,” Nathalie said, and I jumped slightly. I’d totally forgotten she was even there. She’d already taken off a few pieces of her armor. Her gauntlets were on the bed, and she had her arm guards in her hands.
“I don’t know how good of an idea that would be. We’re, I mean, I’m going to get Nikolai.”
“You mean the Nikolai who’s in prison?” Lee asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Osterstadt Prison?” Nathalie asked.
“Yup,” I said.
“As a prisoner?”
“Well, they took him for murder. So I’m guessing he’s a prisoner.”
“He is gone then. You had best forget he existed, for there is no way to get him out.”
“Well, I am either getting him out or dying trying. Hence why you guys aren’t going with me. None of you.”
“We are honor-bound to accompany you,” Skeld said, standing at attention in front of me.
“Pretty sure he just ordered us not to,” Ragnar said, basically a bump on the couch at that point.
“He cannot order us to abandon him, especially not at the start of a dangerous quest.”
Ragnar jumped up and stood on the couch. “Trying to keep us from adventure and excitement?” Ragnar accused, leveling a finger at me. “That is the entire reason we came with you!”
“And honor,” Skeld added.
“Yes, well, and that. But mostly the other things.”
“Guys—” I started.
“I must go with you as well,” Nathalie said.
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “One, and I mean no offense, but I don’t know you at all. Two, you’re a knight, which means very little to me, but I have to assume you’re very much into law and order and being heavily armored. So, not sneaky, right?”
“I admit, I have not invested my time or points into stealth, but—”
“But nothing. You stay here and keep Lee safe.”
“Lee?”
Lee raised his hand. “Me. Am I doing something?”
“Gathering supplies,” I said.
“What supplies do we need?”
“Everything you think we might need to build a city.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“Are you up to it?”
“I think I can handle buying things. Provided you’ve got some gold to spread around.”
I nodded. “Oh, I got that covered.”
I reached into the bag of holding and thought of the trunk of gold we got from the Explorer’s Club, and soon felt it in my hand. I hauled it out, letting it settle on the floor in front of the couch with an extremely loud thump. I opened the chest with a flourish.
There were some oohs and ahhs, mainly from Ragnar.
“Where did that come from?” Lee asked.
“The job Cleeve and I did.”
Lee just shook his head.
“Then let’s put a shopping list together.”
Chapter 103
I left Lee and Nathalie with the gold and the start of a city-building shopping list. The Lutra and I headed across town, following Nathalie’s vague directions to The Murdered Bishop. Or at least, to where she thought the Murdered Bishop might be.
After dark, the city streets were pretty empty. No one was sleeping though, because there was still plenty of light coming from the buildings. As we worked our way north through the city, the economic levels of the neighborhoods clearly plummeted. The exquisite carvings on the wooden buildings slowly wore down until all that was left was purely functional. Streets became narrower and narrower, smells grew increasingly foul, and Osterstadt lost whatever sheen it had left.
Having walked for what seemed like ever, we finally turned a corner, and came to a small city square. It housed a meager park where most of the trees were dead, but some of the grass struggled on, unkempt and overgrown. The benches were filled with sleeping figures. Some human, some definitely not.
At the far side of the square was the tavern, The Murdered Bishop, in all its lack of glory. The sign hung tenuously by a single point, making it challenging to read, as it was basically diagonal. Right below, a man vomited with surprising force all about the entrance.
“Enticing,” Ragnar said.
“Kind of like the sort of place where you’d get help breaking into prison?” I asked.
“Yes. Definitely. Just…” Ragnar trailed off.
“What?”
“As far as I have heard, getting into prison is the easy part. Should we not find someone who can get us out?”
I just shrugged. “Yeah, well, half of getting out safely is how you get in. I think. Whatever, this is the best I’ve got at the moment.”
“Should we wait outside?” Skeld asked.
“No,” I said. “Never again.”
Skeld shrugged, but I noticed a smile flit across Ragnar’s face. Then the little dude led the way across the square, stepping over the vomit-strewn entryway and throwing open the door to the tavern with flair.
No one cared.
Partially because there was no one really inside, and partially beca
use any patrons The Murdered Bishop did have were beyond drunk. It was definitely the sort of place where you drank to forget. Drank to get obliterated and have no actual concept of life, really. I smiled — it was the kind of place I frequented on Earth. I felt at home.
The tables and chairs, made of rough-hewn wood, looked like they’d been repaired more than once. Sawdust and grime lay thick across the floor. Something odd: the floor was wood, but it wasn’t made of thick planks. Or wide planks. Rather, it was a singular plank. One piece of wood covered the entire floor. I stared down at it, my mouth just agape, looking around at the floor, trying to find joinery of any kind. But it was a single piece of wood. The size of a tavern floor. It was just a small difference from what I was used to really, but somehow it was more disturbing than the wyrm, or the agachnern. Or magic. Or any of the other things I’d seen. It was something theoretically possible to have have seen on Earth, and yet something practically impossible at the same time. That, more than almost anything, really forced me to come to terms with being in an entirely different world.
The barkeep leaned on the bar like it was absolutely essential for support. She was a haggard-looking woman, seeming like the type to rarely bother being sober. And there was the hint she might vomit at any time. She squinted at us through one eye and held the bar with both hands.
“What are you doing here?” she slurred at us. Or in our general direction.
I shook my head to hide the bit of a laugh, and strode over to the bar, sliding to a stop on a stool.
“I am looking for two things,” I started.
“Better get yer hopes down,” she snapped, “unless what yer lookin’ for is disappointment.”
“Already found that; it’s in abundance here.” I replied. “I’m interested in an ale—”
“No ale.”
“Lager?”
“No lager.”
“IPA?”
“What in the fuck is that yer yammerin’ on about?”
“Okay, so, maybe you just give me a mug of something.”
A twinkle formed in her eyes. She reared back and hocked the biggest, meanest, juiciest loogie into a dirty mug that had definitely been used at least once that evening. Then she slammed it on the counter between us.
