Twilight Templar (The Eternal Journey Book 1)
Page 24
“We are here to see Felix the Prefect,” Patros said. “He said he would receive us this morning.”
“Calvo, go see if the boss is up to receiving visitors,” Marko told his underling. “It is good to see you again, Paladin. What happened to your armor?”
Hawke was still in civilian clothes; the new shirt he was wearing wasn’t as nice as the one the assassins had ruined. He didn’t intend to start any trouble, and he doubted the Prefect would, either. Sending assassins at night meant the perps didn’t want their actions to become public. And if he was wrong, well, there was always Plan B: start chopping off heads.
“My armor is in the shop, getting fixed,” he told the guardsman.
“I heard you were away for a few days. Glad to see you back, except…” Marko looked around him to make sure nobody else was within earshot before continuing in a low voice. “Not everyone is. Including some you have come here to see.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“We seek only to help Orom,” Patros said.
The priest looked a lot better than he had the previous day. Freshly shaven, wearing a clean robe and hat, and without a hint of alcohol in his breath, the man had undergone a transformation. Hawke hoped it lasted. Having the local Priest also be the town drunk was no way to run things. Unfortunately, in his experience people rarely changed for the better.
“The Prefect will see you now,” Calvo said after he came back. He and Marko led the visitors through a couple of corridors until they reached the main office.
The Prefect sat behind a table set on an elevated platform that let him look down on visitors, who had to stand before him in an open area with no chairs. Hawke figured that was to encourage people to conclude their business quickly and then get the hell out. A huge tapestry hung from the wall behind the table: a map of Orom was drawn on it, marking all its buildings, streets, and defensive fortifications. A magical map, Hawke realized when one of the small houses on a corner of the map started blinking and then disappeared. A place getting torn down, maybe? The map was updating in real time!
The Prefect was the fattest man Hawke had seen since he’d come to the Realms, although he would have been just more overweight than average on Earth. He did have a double chin, which he tried to conceal with a neatly trimmed beard, much like his fine robes did their best to hide the extra inches on his waist. He had a pair of spectacles perched on his nose; his small mouth was twisted in a sneering smile. His expression and the dismissive tilt on his head would have made Hawke dislike him at first sight even if he had known nothing about him. His stats were impressive, however:
Felix Pontes (Human)
Level 12 Steward
Health 70(170) Mana 264(364) Endurance 87
What’s with the second set of stats? Hawke asked Saturnyx as Patros made introductions.
Standing by the Prefect’s side was a tall man, easily six three or four, with the shoulders of a linebacker. His suit of plate mail armor was lacquered white with gold trim. A spiked helmet was in his hand, leaving his shaved head uncovered. He had a rough-looking face, with a nose that had been broken at least a few times and not set right. A wide grin revealed wide gaps in his teeth. Hawke didn’t need to read the name tag floating over his head to know who it was:
Brunes (Human)
Level 10 Warrior, Gladiator
Health 711 Mana 126 Endurance 703
Yikes! Hawke tried not to gulp after seeing the big guy’s stats.
“… and this is Hawke Lightseeker, Son of Hector, Paladin of Lumina Gloriana,” Patros was saying. “And you know Kinto Primes, former Adventurer, Your Eminence.”
“I do,” the Prefect said. His voice had a whiny undertone that set Hawke’s teeth on edge. “Although you seem to have gone back to your old trade, Kinto. Attained the Ninth Level on the Path. Impressive.” He turned his bespectacled eyes on Hawke. “And I was informed that you, Your Holiness, were a beginner follower of the Path, and yet here you stand, well advanced along it.”
“Clearing a vampire Lair will do that for you,” Hawke said. “Your Eminence.”
“That is one of the reasons we wanted to speak with you,” Patros broke in before the Prefect could take note of the lack of respect in Hawke’s voice. “The vampires who were plaguing Orom are no more! Hawke and Kinto have told me the Lair that was creating them has been destroyed.”
“That is all well and good,” Felix said. “But such an undertaking should not have been carried out without notifying the proper authorities. Namely, me. I am glad that the young Paladin and old Hunter succeeded, but if they had failed, what would have become of Orom? What horrors would have been visited upon our townspeople?”
“You were lucky,” Brunes rumbled; his voice was gravelly and deep. “Luck always turns bad.”
“The deed is done,” Kinto said. “We can talk about it until the stars burn out, but nothing will change that.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right, Hunter,” Felix said. “Is that all?”
“We also killed Old Urso,” Kinto said. “I have his claws and teeth as proof.”
“No need to show them to me,” the Prefect told him. “Your word is good enough.” He poured coins into a small purse and gave it Brunes, who walked over and handed it to the Hunter. “You will find it’s all there. Now, if there is nothing else…”
Hawke spoke up: “I would like to speak on behalf of Dorrhem, the taverner at the Copper Kettle.”
“Is this about his usual plan? To bring a passel of his relatives to Orom and start trouble in the mountains?”
“To explore and perhaps reopen the mines that once brought wealth to the town,” Patros answered before Hawke could, and in a more imposing tone than anything he’d heard from the Priest. “I have prayed for guidance and am convinced doing so will be in Orom’s best interests.”
“Is that so? I’m glad to hear you are spending your spare time praying, for a change.” Patros looked abashed at that. “But your words have moved me, Your Holiness. Who am I to deny such a reasonable request, especially one that has been endorsed by such prominent personages? I hereby grant my permission to Dorrham to make arrangements to bring a group of Dwarven miners to Orom.”
“I think you should reconsider, Your Emi…” Patros began to say until he realized Felix had agreed to the request. “I mean, thank you, Your Eminence!”
“You are all quite welcome. And unless you have yet another pressing matter, I do have other business to attend.”
Brunes leaned forward, conveying his willingness to clear out the office if people didn’t move quickly enough. Hawke copied the bows Patros and Kintos gave the Prefect and followed them out. Marko left with them, a relieved expression on his face.
“I thought I was about to get in trouble again,” he whispered to Hawke as they reached the exit.
“Again?”
“Yes. Felix was most displeased that I gave you permission to bear weapons without a peace-bond. Almost demoted me on the spot.”
“Well, I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”
“I would thank you for it.”
Marko waved goodbye to them as they left the Keep and walked down the small hill.
“That went a lot better than I expected,” Hawke said.
“That it did,” Kinto agreed. “I don’t like it.”
“What would Felix stand to gain by accepting our request?” Patros asked. “Other than bringing help to the town, I mean?”
Hawke thought about it. “Dorrham will probably ask me to go to Akila to recruit his cousins, or to escort him there.”
“Which removes you from Orom for at least two weeks, more likel
y three,” Kinto said. “Leaving him free to do as he pleases, him and his attack dog, Brunes.”
“Maybe you should come with me,” Hawke told Kinto. “All of you. They might try to get to you while I’m out of town.”
“I don’t like running from the likes of Felix,” the Hunter grumbled. “But perhaps you are right. Although this better not be an excuse to bring my daughter along,” he added with a small grin. “Traveling courtships have a way of going awry.”
“I will stay, of course,” Patros said. “I am not fit to travel, and someone needs to look after the town.”
“All right, but don’t antagonize the Prefect,” Hawke said.
He hadn’t told the Priest about the assassination attempt; he didn’t want to spread the news around, especially since there were four unburied bodies in a ravine not far from town. He almost did so now, but stopped when Kinto gave a curt shake of his head. The Hunter was probably right. The more people knew about that, the greater the chances the killings would become common knowledge.
“I will do as my conscience dictates,” Patros said. “You battled the Undead when I was too afraid to do so. The least I can do is watch over my people while you are away.”
“Just be careful,” Hawke told him.
“I will start making preparations for the trip,” Kinto said. “When do you want to leave?”
“Tomorrow would be great. But I was having my armor repaired and the smith said it would be a couple of days. Let me see if I can speed that up. I’ll go talk to him and then will give Dorrham the good news.”
Forty-One
Katros frowned. “You want me to drop everything and have two days’ work done in one afternoon? If you weren’t the hero of the day, I would be telling you to take your business elsewhere, Paladin.”
“I could help, if I become an Arcane Smith,” Hawke said. “And I’m willing to pay extra.”
“Hmm,” the smith said, considering things. “You lack the skill to perform anything other than the simplest tasks. But you have a large Mana pool, and Arcane Blacksmithing depends more on the application of magical energies than on skill, heat, and brawn. Very well, I will induct you in the Craft. You will then assist me in repairing the armor.”
“Sounds great!”
“I wasn’t finished, Paladin. In addition to the fees we previously agreed upon, I will need another five silver to bring you into the Craft, and five more for the rush job.”
“Another gold?”
Hawke had left the vampires’ Lair convinced he was a rich man, with over thirty gold coins – three thousand coppers, enough to pay a laborer’s wages for years. Getting his armor fixed and learning an Arcane Craft were going to drain him of a good chunk of that money. Education wasn’t cheap in the Realms. Or on Earth, for that matter; he had seen his sister leave college with a useless degree and almost two hundred grand in debt. That had been one of the reasons he’d decided to go into vocational school instead, and ended up with no debt and making three times what her sister did in her last job at a pot dispensary in Seattle.
Katros didn’t say anything, but his relaxed posture had ‘take it or leave it’ written all over it. Behind the blacksmith, Huloh was grinning as he pretended to do his chores instead of listening to his father squeezing a rich outsider for all he was worth.
Hawke sighed and produced a gold coin. “Deal.”
“Excellent,” Katros said. “Let’s get started. Normally, to induct someone into the Craft is a matter of some pomp and ceremony, but you say time is of the essence, so we’ll get right down to it. Raise your right hand.”
Hawke did, and the smith went on: “Repeat after me: I, Hawke Lightseeker, Son of Hector, pledge my power to the Art and Science of Blacksmithing. I so do swear. May the gods punish me should I betray my Siblings in the Craft. I so do swear. May the Arbiters turn their backs on me should I refuse to aid a Sibling in need. I so do swear.”
The third time Hawke made his oath, he felt a cold current run through his body. Images and information flooded his mind, making him sway on his feet for a moment. When he recovered, a message from the Arbiters was waiting for him:
Congratulations! You have become an Arcane Blacksmith!
You have learned: Analyze Item
You have learned: Restore Item
You have learned: Refine Ore
You can now learn Arcane Blacksmithing Recipes. Number of known recipes: 0
Current XP/Next Level: 0/100
“It hits you like a slug of the hard stuff, doesn’t it?” Katros said. “Welcome, Brother in the Craft. I was a regular Journeyman and nearly thirty when I was inducted. Best day of my life.”
“Thank you,” Hawke said.
“No need to thank me, Brother. You paid handsomely for the honor. Now, if you will assist me in fixing your armor, we will get it done before nightfall. You provide the Mana, I’ll provide the skill.”
* * *
Congratulations! Your Blacksmith Skill has been raised to 2!
By the time Hawke made it to the Copper Kettle, he was tired but happy. As it turned out, repairing magical items was very little like actual blacksmithing. Katros had laid his hands on the holes and dents in the suit of plate armor, visualized its proper shape, and used Mana to push the metal back into that shape. It required skill as well as a lot of power, ten Mana per Durability point restored. Having become an Arcane Blacksmith, Hawke was able to contribute his Mana to the process, speeding things up.
If he tried to do it by himself, however, his low skill incurred a high risk of failure. At best, the Mana and time spent would be lost; at worst, the item would lose Durability instead of regaining it. He was going to need to practice a lot. According to Katros, a skill level below five was considered too low to do any sort of detailed work.
Still, he had a Craft. One day, he might make his own set of weapons and armor, designed to best augment his abilities. And he would make Saturnyx a blade worthy of her soul.
We’ll talk about it, later, Hawke told the sword. He might not be legally cheating on Tava, but in his mind, he was.
When he entered the tavern, the crowd cheered him like he’d scored the winning touchdown at a championship game. People who a few nights before had regarded him with suspicion, or at best indifference, now offered to buy him a drink or three. Many asked him to tell them the story of his deeds. He politely declined and tried to order some pizza and beer over the clamoring of the crowd.
“Leave him alone, ye dolts!” Dorrham shouted. “My apologies, Paladin. Word of yer deeds has gotten out, as it were. Here, ye can have yer dinner in the back, behind the kitchen, where only my workers will bother ye, and they won’t bother ye much, not if they wish to keep their jobs!”
Hawke ended up eating at a table set for the tavern’s staff. Alba brought him his food and drink and told him it was on the house. She was as pleasant as always, but didn’t add the cheerful flirting she’d displayed before. He found himself a little disappointed.
Stop it, you.
Out in the common room, someone called a toast to ‘Ohio Hawke.’ A cheer followed. Nice to be the local hero for a change.
This is getting creepy. I mean… Okay, I don’t regret what happened last night. But it’s messed up my head, and you trying to bring Alba into it is making things worse.
The sword was silent for several moments.
You never nearly destroyed yourself for any of them, either, did you? Hawke told her, suddenly realizing the depth of the sword’s feelings.
Okay.
Last night won’t be the last time, okay? But it will have to wait until I speak to Tava. And no, I’m not bringing Alba into it, either.
Saturnyx fell silent after that. Dorrham joined Hawke for dinner, and he let the Dwarf know about the Prefect’s decision.
Quest Completed: Secure the Old Mines
Experience Earned: 120 (Base 100, +20% Triune Tenets Bonus)
You Have Gained +190 Reputation (Base 100, +90% Charisma Bonus) with Dorrham Stern
Current Reputation: +302 (Trusted)
Congratulations! You have reached Level Nine! You have gained 6 Attribute points to distribute (18 unspent points total).
New Darkness, Life, Light and Twilight Spells Available.
Current XP/Next Level: 6,574/10,000
And there I go, Hawke said. Next stop: Level Ten! Although that’s going to take a while.
“I wish I’d be going with ye to see my family in Akila, but I’d only slow ye down,” Dorrhem said. “I have written letters to my cousin Torrim, over at Dwarven Hills in the city. If ye or Kinto bring them to him, he will arrange for a party of Sterns to return with ye. Four to six strong Warriors, Mages and Clerics, perhaps a Paladin or two as well.”
Joining forces with a balanced group of Adventurers sounded like a dream come true. With the proper mix of damage, support and defense, they would tear through the Necromancer’s defenses. At least, he hoped so. Hawke had to admit he didn’t know much about the Necromancer; he had only been in the cavern complex beneath the mountain Stronghold.
Is a Stronghold as tough as a Lair?