by Lars M.
I gave a half-bow. Clever girl. That would be my penance.
The next two hours resulted in extensive discussions while we slowly drafted the new version of the agreement. It was very different from the original – less complicated, for one, and with much fewer outlined responsibilities. Instead, it focused more on the interchange between the two parties, specifically regarding trade, culture, and knowledge. Finally, Wisdom Pallarson leaned back, groaning, and blew on the paper in front of him.
"There. If that doesn't do it, I might have to start eating my boots. My stomach's been growling for an hour."
"Oh, shush. A period of fasting would do you good. Your belt has been straining lately. I would like to thank all of you for sacrificing the time to usher us into a new period in the history of High Hold in the best manner possible." Her benevolent smile encompassed us all.
Morvane waved her off. "Yeah, yeah. What the city needs, the city gets. You never did tell us what the issue with the first proposal was. Apart from being a bit complex, it all seemed fine to me."
Her gaze lingered on me. "We need not dwell on it. What is important is this: we have found ourselves a worthy ally, and we look forward to sharing with Grant's Crossing, heart and mind." Her tone changed, gaining a layer of pomp and officiousness. "Please rise, Arcangelo, friend of High Hold, and receive our gratitude for assisting our city to develop in a worthy manner."
Quest updated:
Winning Hearts and Minds, Part II
With the worst local threats eliminated, the Council of Grant's Crossing looks to expand their hold on the nearby area. You have secured a pact with Nerit, ensuring stability in the east. In order to aid Grant’s Crossing, establish a non-agression pact with the local harpy nest to the west.
Updated: You have completed the pact. Present it to the Council of Grant’s Crossing to complete the quest.
Reward:
Unknown - dependent upon the degree of success.
+500 Universal Reputation
Chapter 32 – Showdown
The gods were with me today. Not only did the Wisdom not kick me from the premises, but they also had a back door. An unobtrusive alcove set in the side of the Ruling Chamber opened to reveal a path out, without having to go through the ordeal of the rope bridge again. I carefully packed my freshly minted copy of the new agreement away into my inventory before embarking upon my descent alongside Arack and Tirane.
When I finally reached the ground again, twilight had overtaken High Hold. I fondly patted the ground and turned toward Arack. "Let's go. This calls for a round – no, several rounds!"
The following days, we arranged for one of us to always be at the tavern, while the rest of us did whatever we felt like. Arack stayed true to her words and started to really produce potions en masse at the Burrows. Soon, both Lyle and I had potions covering the most important stats for our classes – basic +1 ones, but still. According to her teachers, she should break into better results any time now.
I hadn't really shared my thoughts with Lyle and Arack, but I was starting to doubt my theories. What if I was wrong? What if Benjamin really was the culprit, or if Aron didn't even need to leave the city with the map? When were we going to give it up for good and go home? The next caravan was likely to arrive in Grant's Crossing in three weeks’ time. Would I really want to wait here until it had passed? I started going back to class and definitely enjoyed Tyler's knowledge, but my skill increases in class were already starting to slow. Soon, it would be a fight for any increases whatsoever.
I also allowed myself one extravagance – shopping for souvenirs. Seeing as how I was still doing pretty well with the gambling, I decided to spend what I had. I got a handful of assorted delicacies for Gillem to feed his sweet tooth and two expensive bottles of white wine for Greck. Chertog would receive a leatherbound notebook and out of the blue, I remembered that Naevys needed a new set of tuning pegs for her violin. Then I spent too damn long figuring out what to buy Darya. She didn’t seem to care about clothes, jewelry or… any of the usual romantic gifts. In the end I went for broke and assembled what could best be described as a gift bag – chocolate, dark beer and a bouquet of boar jerky. That last part got me one confused store attendant.
Two days after meeting with the Wisdom, I finally managed to grind out the final details that I needed for my Chronicler quest. To my dismay, I was forced to omit the pages I had written about multicasting – I simply didn’t have enough experience or knowledge on the skill to elaborate on it. With the help of the other bard apprentices, however, I managed to come up with an astonishing degree of details, conclusions, and possibilities for each spell.
This time around, I wrote it out myself instead of paying The Gilded Pen. I decided that if Mr. Jorantyr might just rip it up, I wasn’t going to waste the cash. Besides, I’d seen Aron’s handwriting. If he had managed to write something to impress the cantankerous gnome, the gnome didn’t care about the style of things, only the content.
When I finally knocked on Mr. Jorantyr’s door, papers in hand, I found my hands clammy. I tried to tell myself it was ridiculous. It was a game, and the gnome didn’t really hold any authority over me. Regardless, I could feel my heart beating faster as I entered.
He didn’t look up at me, so I simply placed my report neatly on his desk and stepped back.
The gnome glanced at the title and went back to his own book. ”Way too fast for a good result. I will inform you when I reject it, and why.”
I stood there for a second, quietly fuming, before I turned on my heel and left. Nothing good was going to come from blowing up at him. Damn infuriating NPC! That day, I didn’t get any work done, merely drank myself to oblivion and played silly songs.
My Spot The Liar quest had just updated from a ‘mediocre’ to a ’bad’ result, when it happened. Three days after cementing the alliance with High Hold, Arack stuck her head inside the door of the magic class, waving like a loon. I was outside before Tyler had even started complaining at the interruption.
I furrowed my brow at her. ”Has something happened?"
She gulped air down in large mouthfuls, but nodded.
"Where are we going?"
She managed to force out the words. "The Cunning Style. That clothes place."
I nodded. "Alright. Let's get going. So the guards did as promised and alerted us. Did they find you immediately?"
"Yes. The guard says he ran straight for the tavern, no breaks or anything.” She was grinning eagerly.
Nodding, I rubbed my hands together. "Good. We should have a head start, then. You go get Lyle, I'll get Atlas, and we’ll meet up behind the store."
It was a calculated risk. Somebody might spot Atlas on our way, but we needed confirmation. The fact that Aron visited the store, if he even did so, wouldn't be enough. We needed to catch them in the act. Moving through the city was a daunting task, but we kept to the back streets, zig-zagging and having Atlas traverse across walls and roofs to keep as far away from everybody as possible. Some people might have spotted a glimpse of him, but we moved fast enough that nobody raised an outcry.
Forty-five minutes later, Atlas and I were standing in the alley behind the clothier. "You know what to do, my friend." I said, sending him an image of him climbing up the side to place himself next to the upper-story window. Previous nightly excursions had taught us that this would be a near-perfect place for listening in and maybe catching a glimpse of what was going on. Downstairs held the storefront where patrons tried ready-made clothes and talked shop. Upstairs was reserved for the important clients and business negotiations. A glimpse through Atlas' eyes told me that everything was in place. The immaculately dressed harpy clothier was busy sketching something, showing no signs that he was about to move.
The following hours were a fight against boredom. Lyle and Arack appeared soon afterward, and we settled in, talking only in hushed voices, out of sight of the window or passersby from the street. Darkness fell, and I had just gained a ‘Hungry’ debuf
f when Atlas sent a wave of excitement at me.
I shushed the others and joined Atlas inside his mind just in time for the tinny sound of their voices to appear. "You weren't seen entering, were you?" Even disregarding the added weirdness of Atlas' hearing, the clothier's voice was annoying – a thin, wheedling thing, not entirely unlike the harpy himself.
The other one was unmistakably Aron's, as his booming laughter introduced him. "You think I'm an assassin, slinking along in the shadows? Nobody cares. I'm just another customer, right?"
I disentangled myself from Atlas and whispered at Lyle. "There's definitely something shady going on. You need to get the guards right now, and tell them what’s going on." Lyle took off running without a word. Good kid.
Back in the shop, Aron was laughing at something. "No. You knew the drill, right from the start. Now spit it out. What's the deal?"
"I have something for you. From our... mutual acquaintances."
Damn. I was right! I prodded Atlas to move a bit forward and he extended his head to peer inside the window from above. The view was disorienting, but I soon saw the pair seated at the desk, a glass before either person, and Aron handling... was that a letter? It was.
Even upside down, the look on his face as he read the letter was easy to decipher. First nothing, then confusion, and finally fear. Stark naked fear. He took his time, re-reading the letter before asking, voice cracking. "Was that all?"
The clothier sounded annoyed. "Why would I keep something back?"
"Just answer the damn question!" Spittle stood from Aron’s mouth as he snapped at the clothier, who shrank back in terror.
"Of course it's everything. I wouldn't... I've always served you admirably, have I not?" The wheedling was back in force.
Aron's voice was hoarse as he smashed his fist down onto the table. "Damnit. Damn. It. Damn you! Go get me my crate."
"What? Your... of course. I'm sorry. I'll be back in a split second." The harpy practically fled his own room, and I asked Atlas to pop his head back up so Aron wouldn't spot him by accident.
Turning toward Arack, I muttered, "The clothier's finding something for Aron. We don't know what. He's the one. No doubt. We need to get that letter he's received."
A minute later, a loud thump indicated the door slamming shut. Atlas stuck his head down to see the harpy covered in sweat, plopping a crate down on the table. "Does that mean-"
Aron growled, "It's no business of yours what this means. Just shut your trap and follow orders. You're lucky I don't remove you."
The clothier's high-pitched, nervous squeaks faded to the background as Atlas focused on the crate. Aron was extracting objects and stuffing them into his pockets. First came a handful of rings. Then a well-worn duffel bag filled with clunking items. Next a nasty-looking studded mace to make the darkest of dark paladins hot with avarice – and finally, a clinking sound dominated the room as he counted stacks and stacks of coins, emptying them into the bag. He then rose and rumbled a threat at the clothier.
I gazed frantically around the alley, blinking as my sight reoriented. "We've run out of time. He's leaving. I don't know where he's going. You need to stay here and tell Lyle and the rest to get to the clothier. Oh - he looks like the nervous sort. Should be easy to get him to talk, as long as you claim that we know everything!"
Arack gritted her teeth. "But... how about you?"
"Don't know. Atlas and I will try to catch Aron." Mentally, I asked Atlas to get on top of the roof to keep an eye on the tattooed crook, and I soon lurked behind the building, watching from above to see where to follow.
As soon as we spotted him, I was off, and a 3-dimensional game of cat and mouse began. Atlas and I would each go our ways, trying to judge the best path to keep Aron in our sight while staying as far away as possible ourselves. We must have been anything but inconspicuous, and I know I attracted my share of confused cries and angry curses when I sprinted through the streets, trying to catch up. That dwarf was fast. After a few minutes, however, I was struck by suspicion and sent Atlas forward to a certain building to confirm my theory. When Aron marched by a moment later with a grim look on his face, I knew I had been correct. He was on his way toward our tavern.
From then on out, it was easier for Atlas and myself to follow him – I hung back to avoid being spotted while sending Atlas forward to confirm that he stayed on course. There was little doubt, however. His step was unwavering and his face grim as he strode down the direct path to Meline's Perch. Suddenly, the thought of that mace sparked grim ideas about his task.
When Aron arrived at the front door, he paused for a moment. Atlas was circling around him on the neighboring rooftop, and I gazed through his eyes at the scarred dwarf's countenance. For a moment, he looked entirely lost, shoulders sinking, until he visibly steeled himself. He pressed his lips firmly together, took a deep breath, and carefully opened the door.
I had to act quickly. "Atlas, climb upstairs, look through the windows to my room. I'll follow him inside." I accompanied my mental message with a vision of what he should do and ducked my head, entering the tavern. Inside, the mood was as expected on a late weekday evening. Viola and Piter were playing something slow and melodic, relaxing a bit between the lively numbers. I waved at them, walking straight toward the stairs. My room was placed at the far end of the second story, meaning if he had come there to talk to me, he would be standing on the landing. Atlas was still racing across the rooftop, trying to get into position. I tiptoed up the stairs, letting the tip of my head stick up to catch a glimpse of Aron.
At first, I didn't notice anything. The far end of the hall wasn't illuminated, and there was no obvious movement. However, as my eyes focused, I noticed the dark shape kneeling near my door, holding a hand near the lock. Oh, of course. He's a bard, too. Filthy burglar. The next part was pretty confusing to me, as the dwarf straightened up, opened the door slightly, and promptly shut it again. The only sound was a tiny 'clunk.' Bewildered, I watched through Atlas' eyes, where I could see a small canister rolling across the floor, releasing wave upon wave of billowing, murky clouds into my room.
"You absolute son of a bitch," I thought. Squirming to rise and sneak closer, my abysmal agility failed me, and I bruised my knee on the top of the step with a loud noise. Aron's head twisted to spot me. His face went through a series of rapid expressions. Shock. Confusion. Disappointment. He ended up plastering a fake smile on as he strolled closer.
"Arcangelo. Fancy seeing you-"
"Trying to poison me?" My voice was cold as ice.
His shaky laughter was unconvincing. "Stun, really. I wanted to make sure the two of us had a chance to sit down and talk, undisturbed-like. We have so much we need to discuss. You see-"
I knew this part. This was where the crook continued his speech right up until he was in range to pull off some nasty trick. I wasn't falling for it, though, and mid-sentence, I fired off a Stun Blast. The dark wave of sonic energy sprinted towards him, filling the hallway. Now, I could truss him up, get Meline and the others to help keep a guard over him, and... mid-thought, my jaw fell as a wave of energy shot out from the dwarf and the Stun Blast fell apart.
No wave reached the area immediately surrounding Aron, and he waggled a finger at me, baring his teeth. "That was uncalled for. Let me just ensure... there we go." A tiny, scratchy noise made me look over my shoulder and my jaw dropped at the sight of a field of energy covering the corridor behind me, blocking off the hall. "That should give us some privacy. Now, I merely-"
Forget that. This time, I fired off my Charm spell. The dark projectile streaked toward him in a flat trajectory. His eyebrows furrowed as he made a tossing gesture with both hands - and the projectile was redirected straight into the wall. I followed up with a Sonic Wave, which went the way of my first Stun Blast, dissolving into nothing.
His mocking laughter filled the corridor and he walked even closer. "You have nothing that can touch me. A village bard? I've survived worse than you a thousand times over. Sub
mit and-"
He was really starting to tick me off. Equipping my violin, I fired up the one spell he shouldn't be able to block. The Stream of Songs, tightly focused, sprang into being in the hallway, launching wave after wave of damaging chords straight at his ugly face. I bared my teeth at him in a rictus of a smile - but then, inexplicably, a force caused the floor to disappear from under me and the spell burned off into nothing as I lost my concentration. A Sonic Push? Damnit. "Atlas. Break the window. Come in." I sent the mental message, but then Aron slid into my view, standing over my prone form. He did not look happy.
"That - hurt." The words came through gritted teeth. "You know, I didn't want to do this, but now I think I'm going to enjoy it. It's not going to feel right unless I get to have a little fun, though. So, let me tell you how this goes, you sorry excuse for a street fiddler. I'll give you ten seconds to try to hit me. Do your worst. I will enjoy watching you panic, as you realize the futility of it. And then? Then… I will end you." His smile deepened while the embers in his eyes erupted into a blazing fire.
I tried. Everything I had, I fired at him. Activated my High Tide skill. Fired a Sonic Missile to the knee. Tried to hit him with Audible Horror. Focused a Stun Blast into a tiny beam so he would miss it. Tried a Sleep spell. He shrugged them off, dispelled them, smashed my concentration. The filthy dwarf even managed to disrupt a Sonic Push I aimed at his back, somehow sensing its formation. All to no avail.
The tattoed delinquent knelt before me, cradling my head in his hand, his touch disturbingly sensual. "Any last words?"
I leaned away to avoid his hand and spat the words. "Yeah. I hate playing against blue." Watching the confusion on his face, I sent a frantic message to Atlas. "Now. Stun!"
I couldn't see anything and dared not remove my attention - but Aron's confusion turned into something different as his eyes rolled up into his head and his body fell forward over mine. His flabby stomach blotted out all sight and I grunted, pushing his ungainly body off of me. "God, you're heavy." Struggling to my feet, I looked at Atlas, grinning at me from the other end of the hallway. "Well done. I had better finish this, though." I picked up my violin and gathered my concentration, playing the slow, relaxing notes of Das Wiegenlied, watching as the Sleep spell settled over his stunned form. Seconds ticked by as I anxiously stared down at the recumbent dwarf, until I felt reassured that he was down for the count.
