by Han Yang
The minotaur guard opened a large door that Nick hurried into. “I take it you’re in a rush. I got this. I’ll be back at the inn by fighting time.”
Nick exited, muttering a thanks as he trotted off.
“In ya go mancer. Try not to have too much fun,” the old minotaur said with a wink.
Tarla and I eyed the old veteran like he was crazy.
“What exactly is inside this door?” I asked.
He snorted a reply in a way that only a minotaur could. “You’ll just have to go inside to find out.”
Tarla tugged me forward, and we stepped into the gloomy unknown.
CHAPTER 71
Xastriban
“Next,” I said from my minotaur-sized chair. A female korb approached with purple hair, orange eyes, and a worn face that lacked the luster that came from Zorta reducing your age. I signaled for her to sit across from me. “Name, magic, skills, and are you willing to serve at a decent wage, while in danger, until your cost is paid off?”
“Tomira, water mage, I manage water for laundry, toilets, and filling showers. When my mana is depleted, I can do most chores. I know where yer going, it's all the girls are talkin’ about,” she said.
“You want the job?” I asked.
“Is the pay the same as the others?” Tomira asked. “I’m only a water mage.”
“Everyone works, everyone gets paid, and those who go into combat get more,” I said. “We’re not a functioning economy and spending your pay may be an issue. But eventually, I intend to open portals for raiding and trading.”
“Can I think about it? I hate life here, but it ain’t killing me,” she said, and I nodded, giving her a flippant dismissal.
“Next,” I said loudly, turning to Tarla. “This sucks.”
“What did you expect?” Tarla asked. “You're giving them only a sliver of a chance at freedom after months of war. They know the Necro Lord will go against multiple foes while allying with what most consider inferior species. Or they can stay here and keep working without Z. None of them are starving, and there are others who may free them. Torro, for example, may need korb for his new city.”
“I don’t even pay the goblins,” I said with a groan. A female troll came into the room for an interview. I held up a hand, stopping her. “Get me the head mistress or master.”
The troll nodded with a respectful bow and left.
“We’ve been at this for hours. I’m being too kind because Earth had societal stipulations. This shouldn’t be a discussion. This should be an order that leads to freedom. They’re getting paid for their efforts,” I said with a huff.
A female minotaur strode into the room with a toga outfit and a confident smile.
“I’m Mistress Horo. How may I help you?”
“The King promised me three hundred slaves, and I was told this is the best place to acquire them,” I said.
“We only relocate servants, not trained warriors,” the Mistress said.
“Fine, I get it. Does each… servant have an assigned value?” I asked. She nodded. “I’ll take the three hundred most valuable to aid my war efforts. Have them at the gate at dawn.”
“As the Necro Lord wishes,” she said politely. However, her angry scowl and echoing stomps told a different story when she left the room.
“Damn,” Tarla said with a sigh. “You’re changing.”
I shook my head, sliding my chair back until it ground against the wooden floor. “Maybe. Maybe this is who I was always meant to be. Either way, this was bullshit. It’s only soured my mood more. I’m trying to give slaves freedom, and they want to be babied. I need support if we’re going to conquer the south, not problems.”
“They have it good here. Sure, they age, but they’re surrounded by safe walls with two meals a day and have love and children. The minotaurs seem like astute rulers,” Tarla countered.
I headed to the exit with a shrug, the door creaking on the way out. The guard jostled at the sudden movement from his side. He pointed at my ogre who blocked the entrance.
“Hey! Hour till ya fight,” the guard called out.
I ignored him.
The ogre, Tarla, and I turned to delve deeper into the market’s offerings.
I shifted around a wagon clogging the main vendor road. The scent of unwashed mammoths ruined my smell. The cool breeze sent goosebumps over my body. Tarla rubbed her arm to stave off the cold.
We parted the growing crowds, finding a bedding maker who displayed nice pillows, beds, and sleeping sacks. Clearly, there would be no box springs or contoured memory foam here, but after touching some samples, I fell in love.
I still had gold from Zozo Hold, plus the orbs from Oskatriver, giving me enough spending power to buy everything I wanted without much of a dent. The books had paid out very nicely, and the vendors weren’t in on the ploys, so I received fair exchanges.
We cycled into and out of a few vendors until the midday sun warmed the chilly morning away. Tarla and I shared small talk while purchasing trinkets. The only other big purchase we procured was mammoth fur hides. The vendor sent a runner for approval since I bought his entire stock. I figured the hides were a great weapon against the cold.
After those purchases, we meandered back to the animal section. I had Lumpy, a dozen bobcats, Zhogath the baby dragon, a griffin, some massive sloths, and all sorts of horses. I still lacked flying beasts and big cats.
When I saw a griffin, a note had the prices at 4,555 Zorta. I sighed, wondering why it was so cheap. I continued to read and saw that it was a female that attacked handlers and refused males.
Ah a bad breeder…
I had never considered being an animal breeder. The concept certainly had merit – after my life stabilized. I could understand how the cities survived. Sure, there was constant conflict with death coming from the blade and only so much space, but a properly run farming operation could literally allow the best of both worlds.
Without a doubt, the Koor farms would always be in the back of my mind. I could maybe afford this griffin, but the exchange rate of gold was wonky, and it would leave us broke. The hogs three pens over made more sense to buy.
I didn’t think I could be a farmer while moving an army. Herd farming across the great plains maybe, but I was shifting through all sorts of terrain with little resting time.
And then there was the logistics of what to do when we encountered an army. I already had to secure a lot of excessive wagon supplies while we fought.
The two sets of ducks I almost always forgot about were simply were stuck in a wagon during fighting. The flock from the ogre army and the flock we purchased from the dwarves. I glanced around, and actually saw a section of ducks for sale.
I considered buying more because they seemed to be keeping up with the army with minimal issues.
A roar caught my attention as I shifted away from the griffin. The market had hit a busy point, slowing our progress. Two humans with a skeletal ogre caused a scene, but most gave us space.
Minotaurs were certainly not shy. I caught sight of a few flicking or grabbing my ogre, testing his strength. I ignored them, heading to the continuous sounds of roaring.
A pair of wyverns were yelling at each other from across the street, the reason for their argument beyond me. The red behemoth yelled at a white and pinkish variation.
The dragon section was minimal. If I had to guess, the wyverns were from Torro. I went to see the pricing and quickly abandoned any desire for such wonderful creatures. Apparently, wyverns were worth a hundred thousand Z or more, Such a shame.
I walked the line of animals until I saw more jenix cats.
I glanced at the little cats beside a larger jungle cat variation that reminded me of a tiger from back home.
“Whatcha thinking?” Tarla asked, bumping her hip into mine. I pinched her butt with a smirk. “Ouch, you’ll pay for that.”
“In all the right ways, I hope so. As to my thoughts… Where’s the cows? I'd love some milk. Then I glance
at these big cats and wonder. Do we need them? We have a full team of fantastic hunters on the smaller size. I really think the small ones can avoid fights and hunt critters better than these big monsters. Plus, I’ll currently have lidka helping the skeleton cats to hunt.
“The issue, at least to me, becomes what happens when the excess food gets eaten and we stop finding game. We’re low on constant producers, meaning we need some sort of farm animals. I don’t know shit about farming, though. So, I’ll decide once I know more,” I said with a sigh.
Serina found us, a warm smile on her face. The female korb seemed to be in a constant state of cheerfulness.
“The fight is ready for you,” Serina said, and I followed behind her. “How has shopping gone?”
“Fruitful, minus the fruit. I do need a good farm animal that can travel quickly, eats meat as well as vegetation, and produces more than it consumes,” I said.
“We use crabs in our lakes, but I hear you already know that. Outside of crabs, the Tarkaworms are nice, but they can’t keep up with a moving army. The swine variations are good for an army on the move, but I doubt we’ll be selling many. Sheep… I can ask about them,” Serina said, leading us out of the market.
“I didn’t see any back there,” Tarla noted.
“They’re not that common and will be limited. We trade rams and sheep from the dwarves. I know your army already has the rams,” Serina said, and I hung my head in shame at not thinking of breeding them. “I’ll add them to the list. Now, we need to navigate this crowd to the main entrance. You’re fashionably late, but that is to be expected.”
The street around the arena was packed. The main gate to the upper city was opened wide, allowing the minotaurs to stream down toward the towering structure. A skeletal ogre parted the sea of strivians, and we only dealt with gawkers at that stage.
The din of the arena and the chatter of the crowd roared through this section of the city. Instead of diving down and into the arena, we entered behind spectators.
I was ushered beyond every checkpoint and entered the stands.
We went up a whole lot of tall stairs with smaller stairs cut-out for human-sized folks. The throng of viewers was immense, and we became congested in the loud crowd a few times. Still, my betrayer ogre managed to keep us moving somewhat.
I wanted to ask what was happening but figured it out fairly quickly.
On the far end of the arena, an elevated platform held an orc mage. The green trim around his white robes told me he was likely a healer. Colorful flowers engraved in the robes… well, they confused me, because they were… flamboyant.
He held an ornate staff with a tree carved into the end of it. His height was just shy of Parnic, telling me he was likely a magus. He sat on a stump, dejectedly watching the stands fill with spectators.
“I feel so tiny,” Tarla grumbled.
After climbing up a whole bunch of stairs, we headed down toward the arena floor.
“Yeah, it sure does make you wonder why humans are so small in comparison. Was it a creator design? How come we don’t grow? All those questions that lead down the rabbit hole,” I said, carefully walking down the subset of smaller stairs.
As we reached another platform, Serina said, “Have your minion hop down and then wait for the shielding mages to seal the arena. After that, the announcer will babble on about the competition betting, we’ll all stand for his majesty, and then you’ll fight. Nick said you’re welcome, by the way.”
She handed me a book, gently guiding Tarla as she left my side.
“Thanks,” I said, watching them enter a special viewing booth. I slapped the knee of my minion ogre and commanded, “Hop into the pit.”
The minion leaped then landed with a thud. I stepped out of the stands and onto the platform. I sat on a stump just like the orc and tried to get comfortable.
Flipping the book onto its side, I ran a thumb down the spine, a habit I loved.
“The farming practices of Zorta,” I read with a snort.
I shook my head, unable to hold in my chuckle.
I opened the book, letting the pages roll off my thumb. The thick paper carried a lovely scent of an aged book. The interior contained images, graphs, and charts throughout. I went to the table of contents.
A hundred farming cycles and options lined the details. I found the one I wanted on page 125 - Farming Cycles on the Go.
The author was a vegetation mage, but he dumbed down the jargon enough so that a city-boy like myself could understand.
Imagine my surprise when they recommended bovine for milk, sheep for wool, and fowl in wagons for eggs as well as feathers. The passage talked of letting the animals roam to eat while the army slept. Scouts and guards would be up anyway, and an attack would trigger the animals. The book went into detail about longer encampments and shorter ones. Basically, you lived off the land and used the animals to supplement.
A loud trumpet forced me to my feet. The King arrived off to my left through a private entrance. He strode across the arena, talking with the orc in a jovial manner. The stadium was packed, and not a single seat remained open.
I waited patiently, the book in my lap. I glanced around the arena, not spotting anyone I knew besides the Princess and Oskatriver in the royalty booth. I did notice that orcs, troll chieftains, and fancy looking korb were in attendance.
The King laughed heartily at something the orc healer said, and a portcullis raised near that end of the arena. A single ogre just as tall as the skeleton walked out. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the fight dynamics. Life versus death. Healer versus necromancer. The King finished his conversation then walked over to the announcer.
The loud boisterous minotaur signaled a betting time. Proclaiming me as a necromancer from Ostriva Prime, escaped from Tarb, and not as a champion. The orc, yup, a magus level forty-two. Damn…
The King arrived and asked, “Need to know the rules?”
“I fight and win without stealing the other ogre as a minion?” I asked.
“This is a one-on-one fight with two healers of different magic types. Your necromancy to his healing, are you understanding?” he asked, and I nodded. “No reaper, got it?” Another nod. “Your recompense for my error will be at the gate in the morning. Your payment, should you win or lose, will be distributed after the match. Ensure you spend it here and good luck.”
“Thank you, your Grace,” I said, standing with a bow.
I was still in his home and playing nice made sense, especially in front of all the other minotaurs. The king went to his seating section, and I dove into the book trying to find a guide on crab farming. I found a mollusk farming guide and immediately concentrated on learning more.
The concept was simple; protect an area, let it grow, and harvest occasionally. I figured a nice boat and a team traveling to islands would make great farming. Reap then return five years later. I went into reading about worms stirring soil for vegetables that are enriched by fish in a container cycle when a gong sounded.
I stood, closed the book, and set it on my stool. A portcullis at the far end of the arena rose slowly. An ogre just as big and menacing as my skeletal version stomped out to stand below the healing magus.
The announcer boomed, “The fate of Malou was trusted in the hands of Pargro the Betrayer. Our hope of our own necromancer gaining glory was robbed by greed. Now we get to revel in the fact that Pargro is undead. He will fight against his brother, the one who figured out the true nature of Malou’s tragic end. This is the conclusion of two brothers, one entwined in death and the other respected with life.”
I rolled my eyes so hard my head went with them.
I muttered, “Why am I the bad guy in a scenario fight? I literally have…” I paused to check.
23,328/350 Mana
I shrugged and stood there, knowing about half the arena likely had heard my complaint. The reaper still stored the power from the King’s strike earlier, and it was only fading a few points every hour or two.
I cracked my back, popped my knuckles, and raised my knees up to get the blood flowing.
A triple gong ring started the battle. The orc magus returned to his seat.
I also sat back on my stump, crossing my legs this time. I chanted my obedience spell that was second nature, only doing so for this occasion because it was my first time occupying a high-level skeleton.
I shot out of my body and into the ogre.
After a brief transition period finished, I became the ogre. I turned to the platform my true body rested on. The wall contained hanging weapons of all sorts. I saw maces, swords, axes, scythes, and more. The best part was the dozen shields to pick from.
I selected a shield and noted that my foe was allowing me to prepare. The big opponent walked slowly for the center of the arena.
I equipped a shield over my chest, using the strap to slide over a rib. I grabbed another blocky shield option and stuck it over my back, not actually able to get the shield to stay. I sighed, using that shield in my left hand and grabbing another with my right.
At that point, I thought a few of the spectators cued into my strategy. I mean, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that you didn’t kill many opponents with three shields.
I strutted forward, even doing a bit of a dance when I neared my opponent.
I had infinite energy. He did not. Who cared how powerful his healer was, the magus only played a role when the opponent was hurt?
And, as expected, the brother, filled with hate, burst forward with fire in his eyes.
Oh, that was literal fire.
A fire mage, interesting.
Right, I’d -
Boom!
A fireball scorched the wooden shield in my left arm. I chuckled, using my right to deflect a mighty axe swing.
I backpedaled, letting the brother continue to smash my shield. I knew he -
A smooth roll and a blur of motion caused me to lose half a foot from a belt hatchet.
