“Our Enemy is devious and mighty!” I continued. “But regardless, this is the first time in many years that we have been able to strike back. And we did it together!”
A collective fox growl boomed over Foreston’s central square.
“Our Enemy will remember this day for the rest of their lives!” I proclaimed and headed for a giant sequoia growing fifty steps away from the Kid. This tree seemed uninhabited and old. Almost its entire trunk was overgrown with swamp-colored moss.
The foxfolk respectfully made way, letting me through. When I stopped a step away from the ancient sequoia, I covered a familiar symbol with my hand, and found myself again surrounded on all sides. A suffocating silence hung in the air above us.
Despite the fact that Pinebogey told me about the secret room in the trunk of this old lady sequoia yesterday, I was quite worried.
For a little while, nothing happened, which sent a platoon of ants marching down my spine. It would be a real hoot to drop the ball after that speech. While my fingers tried feverishly to grope for the slot between the barbs of the fishhooks, I was having a hard time keeping calm. I could sense a growing tension behind me. It would only take one skeptical outburst or joke and my moment of triumph would be ruined.
Right when I started to think it was going nowhere, and my face slowly started to turn beet red, something sharp pricked the pad of my pointer finger.
— Attention! Blood analysis: Positive.
― Access to Foreston armory granted!
Struggling to hold back a sigh of relief, I turned around.
“Like I said. Our Enemy will remember this day for the rest of their lives. Today begins the rebirth of the Order of Monster Hunters!”
As I spoke, all of them stopped paying attention to me. Instead, they were completely wrapped up in what was happening behind me. The bulging mossy side of the old sequoia tree gave a few shudders. Pieces of moss started to rain down. I heard the crack of splitting wood. An instant later, a thick layer of bark slid aside to reveal a wide set of carved doors.
“Welcome to the armory of the order of monster hunters,” I invited the patriarchs in with a smile, and crossed the threshold.
As soon as I got inside, the sequoia continued its transformation. A few minutes later, the darkness in the hall was cut through by dozens of beams of sunlight, streaming down through a just-revealed window.
Surprisingly, there was no dust inside, nor any exotic smells. Which I quietly informed Pinebogey walking next to me.
He just gave a vague shrug as if to say, “well, what were you expecting from a magic tree?”
Once inside, the house elders froze with their mouths agape. All around, wherever they looked were shelves, tables and stands laden with weaponry and armor. My face melted into a sad smile. Yet another of the hunters’ tricks. I would not fall for this one a second time.
Walking up to a shelf of swords, I confidently reached out. I wanted to make a speech about the illusions placed by the mages who were once in charge of safeguarding the armory so no passersby would start drooling over the order’s treasure. But then something happened I was not expecting. When my fingers clenched on the silver handle of one of the swords, I had a hard time maintaining my composure.
It suddenly hit me. This sword, along with all the other weaponry and armor, was no illusion.
The Great System immediately informed me that the sword I had chosen at random would cost me five hundred tokens. I took a loud gulp with my instantly parched throat and forced myself to let go of the silvery handle, then turned around.
To say the patriarchs were stunned by all the magnificence, which by the way had been right under their noses all these years, would be a severe understatement. The first to try and get farther inside was Wintry but he ran into an invisible barrier and froze, reading a system message. The same thing happened to the other patriarchs.
As soon as they stopped reading, they all turned their disappointed gazes on me. I knew I had to do something. The right thing. I also knew explanations alone would not cut it. The solution came to me all on its own.
I ran my eyes over the patriarchs’ levels and weaponry and ducked between the shelves. Then, three minutes later, I was standing opposite the house leaders, handing them three swords and a poleax. The latter was intended for Grip Graymane. The burly fellow was the only of the four patriarchs to use that weapon.
All told, the gifts cost me nearly three thousand tokens. But the expenses were worth it. To say the foxfolk liked their new weapons would be an understatement. Even the constant mask of coldness on the Redpaw leader showed a crack. How his eyes started to burn.
“Master Eric,” he addressed me. “Dare I suggest that, now that you’ve shown us all this, you are willing to share your order’s treasures with us?”
“Indeed I am,” I nodded. “And I would like to add that I am the only one in this world who could do so. The worthiest will be inducted and receive the corresponding access to everything you see. As a matter of fact, my order built a great deal of armories like this one and they are all over the world. I hope I don’t have to explain how much stronger this will make Clan Sharpear.”
The foxmen’s faces lit up. The elated cries were cut off by Wintry waving a hand. He tilted his head slightly and said:
“If I’ve come to know anything in this life, everything has a price. So, what is your price, Master Eric?”
I had already opened my mouth to answer, but Pinebogey stepped to my side, his arms crossed on his chest and said:
“You must help Master Eric become a magister of the order of monster hunters.”
Chapter 25
WINTRY GAVE a half turn and significant glance at the other patriarchs. The ruler of House Yelloweye, a withered short old fox, gave a slight squint and nodded just barely. After what happened earlier, he was now the second most prominent foxman in the city. Just yesterday when Goody introduced us, I saw convincingly that Courage Yelloweye had not forgotten Mind when spending his tablets.
As for Grip Graymane though, the big fellow had clearly neglected that characteristic. A lover of a good fight, and good drink, he was first to lend his unconditional support to Goody. They say he is but a nominal house leader. And in fact, his wife calls the shots at home. Goody told me later that, if Grip’s wife were opposed to our plan, he never would have been brave enough to join the fight. And now, when an important issue was in fact being discussed, he looked like a child, completely absorbed in contemplating his new poleax. The idea was that he was thus giving all the initiative to his more Mind-ful counterparts.
Sly, standing slightly aside, took no part in the elders’ trading of looks. The elders clearly had yet to recognize the fact that he was now their equal. Either that or they were deliberately leaving him out. Which I also would have believed readily. But the look in his eyes told me the young Redtail leader would support me in any case. I assumed Wintry and Courage also understood that which was why they were so flagrantly ignoring the young fox.
Once finished playing the staring game with his fellow elder, Wintry turned back to Pinebogey and me and asked:
“Unless I am mistaken, this is all an issue of insufficient reputation?”
“And you are not,” I responded.
“And are you aware of how it can be raised quickly?” Based on the look in Wintry’s eyes, he was aware himself. However, for some reason that was not clear, the old man wanted to hear it from me. Could he perhaps need more proof?
Alright then, I won’t let him down.
“I need ghostly crystals, which I then use to ‘feed’ a dark portal.”
Wintry crossed his arms and rocked back on his high heels.
“Let’s say we can provide you these crystals. But a portal… Weren’t you saying there’s a portal on the other side of Narrow Lake?”
“Do you know of another dark portal?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“Alas,” the old fox shrugged his shoulders.
�
�So we’re talking about the same place.”
Wintry frowned.
“Young man, you clearly do not fully appreciate what you’re asking.”
“Then fill me in.”
The old man stared searchingly into my eyes for a short while. I then withstood his prickly gaze without so much as blinking.
“Okay, if you insist… As you mentioned in your fiery speech, Clan Sharpear has kept these lands safe from darkness for many centuries. Foxfolk blood has flowed like a river. We paid for every inch of this land with the lives of our family members. In the past year, my youngest son fell in battle with the blackbloods. And now I don’t even know if it was treachery from marked foxmen, or just a random border clash… But that doesn’t change what happened. My son is dead! And no one can bring him back now!”
The old man fell silent for a little while, gathering his thoughts. I saw sorrow in his eyes. He still seems unable to make peace with the loss…
“Much has changed in the last year,” Wintry continued hoarsely. “The border has shifted again. The blackbloods are pressing in on us, taking our hunting lands. And they multiply like cockroaches. I no longer remember the last time our scouts made it to the close side of Narrow Lake. But not all that long ago, it was lined with fishing villages. The mothers and their cursed offspring are conquering our lands at breakneck speed. They are now so self-assured that they send their warriors to interfere in our internal squabbles!”
I just listened quietly, but I already had an approximate idea of where the old man was going with this.
“Our army’s former glory is long gone!” Wintry continued bitterly. “Gods willing, in case of a threat, we would be lucky to be able to call up five hundred fighters. But at one time, each house could field a thousand swordsmen no problem!”
Based on the sorrowful expressions on the patriarchs’ faces, Wintry was speaking the truth.
“Few are aware,” the Redpaw leader continued, slightly lowering his voice. “But we had been planning to leave Foreston all year for the future of our children and clan.”
Sly’s stunned look told me the Redtails did not know that. At the very least, the eldest Redtail heir was never told. Courage and Grip though showed no surprise. They were in the loop. And after all, the late Goody must have known about the exodus plan. Nimble was probably also aware. But neither of them had told me.
“You do know what humans call this continent right?” Pinebogey asked. “Where did you imagine you’d be running off to? I can tell you with total confidence that you will not find a better protected location on the entire landmass than this city!”
“You must not have seen what the shore of Narrow Lake has become then,” parried Wintry. “It is a place teeming with blackbloods. And what does that mean for the lands beyond the lake…? Because that was where you were planning to go. And on top of that, you also want our warriors to join you.”
The other patriarchs supported their senior fellow with a dull murmur. Sensing the support of his clan, Wintry continued:
“If you have taken a notion to end your life by suicide ― that’s up to you. But why bring our people into it?”
Pinebogey and I traded glances. Then I looked at Sly. He gave a curt nod as if to say, “tell them.” Unlike the other patriarchs, the young Redtail was already aware of our plan.
“Gentlemen,” I said with a smile. “It seems we’re having a slight misunderstanding.”
The house leaders frowned all together.
“When my friend Master Pinebogey said I would need your help, he was not talking about your warriors dying senseless deaths out on the other side of Narrow Lake.”
The patriarchs were intrigued and started exchanging nervous glances.
“But that does not mean I have no need for your swordsmen and archers.”
“What did you have in mind?” Wintry asked me straight.
“I want to make the blackbloods come to us. And the more of them the better. Ideally ― the Mothers should all be on this side of the lake.”
An oppressive silence took hold in the hall. Wintry’s eyes transformed into two narrow slits. The scrawny Courage was clearly nervous, but it must have struck a chord with big old Grip. Just how he clenched the handle of his poleax.
“Are you suggesting we try to lure them into besieging our own city?” Wintry asked faintly.
“Correct,” I nodded. “But first we have to prepare carefully. So you can fight them back along with my friend Pinebogey.”
“You said ‘we?’“ Wintry asked.
“Yes,” I answered with a heavy sigh. “While you distract the beasts, I will go down to Narrow Lake by boat and close the portal.”
After I said that, Wintry wanted to ask something else but he stopped himself. He turned around and, taking a couple steps, stopped opposite a window that looked out over Foreston central square. Outside, the agitated crowd wasn’t even thinking of dispersing. Based on the mild outbursts, they were discussing what just happened. Everyone was patiently waiting for the patriarchs to emerge. Wintry considered it briefly and turned around. The old man’s yellow animal eyes twinkled, then he said:
“Master Eric, the plan you are suggesting is very risky. But I must admit ― given the situation we find ourselves in, it is not entirely without merit. But alas, we cannot give you a final answer right now. The future of the clan must be decided by the council of houses. And now you’ll have to forgive us. We have one more issue to decide on today.”
After saying that, Wintry and the other foxfolk after him headed for the exit. Sly went last. I had to hold him back by the elbow.
“What is he talking about?” I asked. “What issue?”
“The people are expecting the turncoats to be executed,”
When the young house leader left the arsenal, I wanted to start carefully examining all my newly acquired riches, but Pinebogey gave a quiet cough to attract my attention.
The woodsman saw the unasked question in my eyes, and responded:
“I know too much foxfolk blood has been spilled this day… But…”
“Just don’t tell me we’ll have to watch the execution,” I winced.
My friend shrugged his shoulders.
“It would be proper. It would show our respect to the clan. We would be seeing this day through along with them.”
I breathed a fated sigh. After that, glancing sorrowfully at the armory’s shelves and racks, I muttered out:
“Let’s go…”
The execution was held on a barren wasteland beyond the city walls. As far as I could tell, unlike humans, foxfolk did away with their criminals outside of city limits. It was considered improper to defile a city with the blood of traitors.
Pinebogey was right again. Our presence in the crowd did not go unnoticed. Furthermore, the very best seats were reserved for us at the foot of a wide mound topped with a looming scaffold. And just past that there stood a broad-shouldered foxman holding a big huge poleax. Foreston’s executioner.
And naturally, there was no judge to speak of. The criminals were brought out one at a time. Their sentence was read out and, to an approving roar from the crowd below, the executioner would lop off their head as the audience gasped loudly.
The traitors held themselves in different ways. Some kept silent, having made peace with their fate, and set their head on the chopping block calmly. Others, blubbering with tears and snot, begged for mercy. The audience laughed at them most of all. There were also some that spewed curse words before putting their neck to the axe. One of them especially stuck in my memory.
It was a short foxman. Thin and scrawny. But at that the two beefy guardsmen had a hard time holding him. A whisper ran through the crowd that he was one of Nimble’s closest confidants.
I winced. If this foxman was who they thought, it would be only right to stay his execution. I’d bet my right hand that he knows a lot about his lord’s affairs. Although, what am I talking about? There’s probably a whole chain of cascading oaths thi
s fox has to stick to. Wintry is no fool either. He’d never give such a valuable captive to the executioner. If he was there, the interrogation must have proved fruitless.
The fox, held down by two guardsmen, came closer to the chopping block, suddenly gave a sharp jerk and shouted out loudly:
“Foolish worms! Your days are numbered! You dared defy the will of our overlord!” Throwing his head back, he guffawed maliciously: “Filthy worms! He will come to exact revenge for his servants! Fear, tremble! He is already nigh! None can escape his gaze!” The foxman slowly looked over the crowd and exclaimed with anguish: “All of you are good as dead! You think you’ve won?! Foolish worms! You will all die! The day of reckoning is at hand!”
The fox was clearly relishing that. He wanted to say more, but the guardsmen, initially taken aback by his vigor, finally got themselves in hand and dragged the loudmouth over to the executioner. A few moments of struggle, a long swing of the axe, and the traitor’s head fell down into a wide basket placed before the chopping block.
Labyrinth of Fright (Underdog Book #5): LitRPG Series Page 27
