by Neven Iliev
That was why it pained him to say what he was about to say, but this too was part of his duty.
“Decanus, you have an important mission today. You’ll be meeting with Mr. S again.”
Her tired eyes went wide, and she pulled back a little.
“Is he going to give me another weapon of mass slaughter?” she asked warily.
“No, nothing like that.”
Silus wanted to comment an Elder Dryad’s Authority wasn’t technically a weapon in and of itself. However, doing so would only hammer home the fact this girl was largely responsible for all the death that followed its use. The best he could do was reassure her with his words.
“What you’re fetching today is an old heirloom of significant historical and cultural value.”
“And it won’t, like, turn the fort into a crater or anything?”
“I would certainly hope not. Though the item in question is magical in nature, I am told it is quite inert.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure, yes. It is perfectly safe to handle on its own.”
On its own, huh? Boxxy noted. So, that shiny amulet is part of something bigger? No wonder wearing it didn’t seem to give me any special effects.
“Sir, if I may ask, if it’s really harmless, then why would Mr. S even have it?”
Underwood had to fight back the urge to snort with laughter.
“I can understand your confusion. Given what we know of the man’s methods, it would only be natural to assume everything on his person is superbly dangerous. However, the object in question was something he claimed from the Empire’s forces during the battle. It was originally ours, and we want it back. That’s all you need to know.”
The amulet was actually a fragment of the Authority of the Crown, a powerful Phantasmal-grade relic once the property of the royal bloodline of the Elven Dominion. The item was shattered into hundreds of pieces during the Dominion’s fall four centuries ago. The Authority of the Crown possessed the power to influence the elvish people’s minds on a grand scale, which made it incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. The Republic spent the last few centuries collecting amulet shards to prevent such hands from grabbing it. It wasn’t certain whether the item could be pieced back together, but the elven nation wasn’t taking any chances. Hence why the hunt for the so-called ‘Shards of the Crown’ was kept a secret. Even Underwood didn’t know all the details, so he couldn’t tell Keira even if he wanted to.
“Understood, sir!” replied the girl with a bit more vigor in her voice. “I’ll get ready right away!”
“Hold up, Decanus,” the officer stopped her. “You’re not going alone.”
“Well, yeah, the typical escort will be there, right?”
“That’s true, but I mean there’s someone else who… demanded to come along.”
“... Does Mr. S know about this?”
“No, he does not.”
Of course, Keira already knew the answer. Underwood said nothing about a ‘special visitor’ over the Comm-crystal when they last spoke the day before yesterday, so it took this opportunity to probe the man for information.
“And he doesn’t necessarily need to,” the elf added.
“Sir?”
“The person in question wants to meet with the dryad in the tree, not Mr. S. A deal was made, and we have to arrange the meeting to honor our side of it.”
“... And by ‘we’ you mean ‘me,’ right?”
“Yes. I know this is sudden, but its approval came late last night, and I couldn’t contact Mr. S to let him know. I’ll be counting on you to smooth things over with the man.”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Good. Lastly, this outsider’s presence is why we’ll be sending along some extra muscle along with the standard dispatch. They should be able to easily subdue him if he tries something, but be on your guard regardless.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll make sure to do the 3rd Legion proud.”
“Excellent. Gear up and meet with the escort south of the fort in twenty minutes. Dismissed, Decanus.”
“Yes, sir!”
Keira saluted once more and walked out of the room. While she seemed to liven up somewhat during the briefing, Underwood saw it as a mask, a flimsy reassurance to the others she was alright. He let out a brief sigh and stared out the window overlooking the still-bloodstained interior walls of Fort Yimin.
“I should have told her we’re about to send her home…”
He briefly regretted not letting her know she’d most likely see her beloved before the day was out, but he wasn’t completely sure what would happen beneath the tree to the south. It was best not to stoke false hope that might distracting her from her duties. Then again, perhaps a distraction was what she needed most, considering everything that transpired. The same could be said of Silus Underwood himself, but the man was – for better or for worse – already accustomed to dealing with loss.
He kept staring idly out the window, losing track of time as his thoughts wandered. He snapped out of it when he caught sight of Keira crossing the courtyard on her way out of the fort. A small smile spread across his face. That vibrant red hair of hers stood out way too much.
“Well, she’ll get better so long as she keeps active. I’ll leave it to those guys to cheer her up a bit.”
Down on the ground, Keira walked past the remains of the south-facing wall just as Underwood was returning to his duties. A team of adventurers and soldiers were still clearing away the rubble and flattening the upturned soil. The bodies and their equipment had been taken care of by this point, and only ominous stains remained as evidence of the carnage that had taken place. Once Keira was officially out of the fort, she immediately located her escort in the distance. It wasn’t much of a feat since a platoon of fully armed soldiers stood out like sore thumbs on the grassy Clattering Plains.
The idle elven soldiers noticed Keira’s approach and instantly scrambled, lining up into three rows. However, only two-thirds of the original fifty-man unit were present. Those missing had died in the siege and had since been replaced by new, unfamiliar faces. Boxxy made sure to dial up Keira’s gloominess an extra notch as it approached the formation. The officer in charge of this particular platoon – the same elf as before the siege – stepped forward and saluted.
“Decanus Morgana, ma’am. Permission to speak freely.”
It was strange that the elf who technically held a higher rank was speaking so formally to Keira, but the catgirl decided to roll with it.
“Go ahead, Optio.”
The officer went down on one knee and bowed forward, putting both of his fists on the ground. Much to Keira’s surprise, all of the other soldiers followed suit.
“Thank you.”
“Uhh… What?”
“If it wasn’t for you, we’d all be dead.”
Oh, come on, really? Boxxy groaned inwardly. Just let me do my job and go home!
“But- But!” the girl stuttered. “Your c-comrades- And I-”
“We were all prepared to throw away our lives, ma’am.”
That nosy meat-stick Underwood probably put them up to this crap, didn’t he?
“It was your intervention that made the others’ sacrifices meaningful,” the officer continued.
And how come they pulled that off so flawlessly?
“It also gave us, who were left behind, the chance to see another dawn.”
Did they rehearse bowing in unison or something?
“The chance to meet our loved ones once again.”
And this long-ass speech, really?! Come on, I have shinies to acquire!
“And for that, we are more grateful than you could ever know.”
Argh! What a pain in the lid! Now I have to act all moved and stuff!
Boxxy repressed its true feelings and put on an admirable show for the soldiers.
“I… um… *Sniff* You’re very wel- *hic* welcome.”
The catgirl’s quivering lips curled into th
e first seemingly genuine smile she’d mustered since the siege. She wiped away a few tears and sniffled several times, holding back her fake feelings of imagined gratitude. Seemingly satisfied with the reaction, the entire platoon stood back up on their feet and readied themselves for departure with their heads held high.
“The *hic* um. *Cough cough* Is our visitor here yet?” the redhead collected herself.
“Visitor, ma’am?”
“Yes. Mister- Primus Underwood said we would be escorting a person of interest to the meeting today, along with some additional security.”
“First I hear of it, ma’am. Our briefing certainly didn’t say anything about it.”
“Apparently it was decided late last night. Very short notice.”
“Understood. In that case, it must be them coming up behind you.”
Keira turned around and spotted three figures moving towards her. On the right was the one-woman army known simply as Hilda. Her armor still bore battle scars, but they were rather minor considering how much of a pounding the suit had taken. On the left was Lady Imiryl, the once-haughty high elf Wizard. A single look at her pale, grimacing face gave the impression she really didn’t want to be there. Understandable considering she was ordered to revisit the residence of the sadistic dryad that had humiliated her so.
While it was surprising to see those two big names, the person they were escorting was a greater cause for alarm. He stood at a height of well over two meters, though not nearly as tall as the average fiend. His dark brown skin was covered in ritualistic bright yellow tattoos, clearly visible across his large, bare, chiseled chest. He seemed like the sort of person who wouldn’t hesitate to go completely nude, but thankfully his lower half was clothed in a pair of tattered, stained hemp trousers. His clean-shaven head dimly shone in the morning sun, while his bare feet made dull sounds as they flattened the grass underneath.
Last but not least, his ankles, wrists, and neck were bound by a set of insanely thick rune-inscribed shackles and chains that made it clear he was a prisoner.
“Yo!” the dwarf waved at Keira. “How’s it hangin’ miss Merry Popper?”
“Miss Hilda!” the redhead shouted indignantly. “Please stop using that embarrassing nickname!”
“Huh? But it fits ye so well! Especially after what ye did at the siege!”
Keira was instantly glum once more.
“Yeah… that’s right isn’t it… I’m nothing but a monster…”
“Hilda, you blockhead!” Imiryl spoke up.
*DONNN*
The Wizard struck the dwarf’s helmet with her staff, eliciting a clear gong-like ring.
“Oy! What’s the big deal, ye stuck up cunt!?”
“That’s my line! Please avoid upsetting miss Morgana any more than you already have!”
“Since when do ye care about her anyway?”
“I really don’t want to risk provoking that… thing because the messenger wasn’t feeling well.”
“Excuse me.”
The towering prisoner spoke with a deep voice like melted butter, instantly drawing attention to himself.
“I would appreciate it if you refrained from speaking of the honorable lady dryad in such a disrespectful manner.”
“Honorable?! There’s nothing honorable about that monster!”
“Calm yer tits, beanbag,” Hilda said with a sigh. “Just keep yer trap shut and ye’ll be fine. Probably.”
Imiryl grumbled out an agreement and went back to quietly seething. Her behavior made the foot soldiers question whether she was the best person for this mission. She wasn’t, although the local forces didn’t have a choice. Standard security procedure demanded that prisoners of a significant Level had to be escorted by at least twice as many people of similar strength. Some considered this overkill, but overwhelming force was necessary to non-fatally subdue potential escapees. It was hard to avoid casualties when dealing with a character of Hilda’s caliber, especially when the other side was shackled, unarmed, and drained of their MP.
“Uhm… who exactly is this?” Keira pointed at the big brown guy.
“Ah, that’s right, ye wouldn’t know,” Hilda turned to her. “This here is one of the Empire’s VIPs. His name is Rocky and-”
“Ruk’lunda,” the man interjected.
“If I say yer name is Rocky, then yer fucken’ name is Rocky!”
*CRUNCH*
The Berserker punched Ruk’lunda’s knee with enough force to make him to fall down and buckle over. The unpleasant sound combined with the weird way his leg was bent made it quite obvious his kneecap was shattered. It looked like it hurt immensely, yet all the victim did was inhale sharply and groan under his breath as he struggled back to his feet.
“Can’t get too soft on this guy. Needs to know his place an’ all that,” Hilda grumbled while giving him the stink-eye. “Anyway, Rocky here, AKA the Black Tower, willingly surrendered after those five ladies were done with their performance. He fed the higher-ups some sob story about being deceived and losing his reason to fight us, then struck some kind of deal with ‘em. And now we have to make sure he meets with the Sandman’s cunt-flower.”
“Do not refer to-”
*SMACK*
A vicious punch to his other knee cut Rocky’s protest short and forced him to the ground once more.
“That enough fer ye, Rocky? Or should I start workin’ on yer ribs next? You know I’m in the clear so long as I don’t kill ye, right?”
“Hnnng. Point. Taken,” he growled through gritted teeth.
“See? Who says ye can’t teach an old troll new tricks? Anyway, that’s the long and short of what we’re doing out here.”
“I… see…”
Keira put on an expression of ‘not my problem’ as she turned to face the squad she was responsible for.
“You three,” she pointed to two Priests and a Druid, “quickly heal the prisoner’s injuries so he doesn’t slow us down.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they answered as one and got busy.
“What? But how will he learn his lesson if ye do that?” Hilda protested.
“Then I suppose you want to carry him the whole way?” the redhead shot back.
The dwarf looked over the towering pile of man and very rapidly arrived at an answer.
“Fine,” she relented. “Have it yer way, then.”
Her armor and weapons already weighed plenty, so she was not confident she had enough strength leftover to carry that guy as well. That wasn’t even considering the unwieldy size of him. In any event, ‘Rocky’ was healed within less than a minute and stood up as soon as he was able to. Imiryl then somewhat reluctantly opened a Transfer Gate. Even Boxxy could tell her gates were of a different quality and size than the ones her apprentices made. However, there was one slight problem.
The hylt tree in question was technically visible on the other side of the portal, but it was so far away it would take an hour to reach on foot.
“Miss Imiryl,” Keira sighed, sounding tired. “As the one in command of this mission, I order you to place us closer to our destination.”
“... Yes, ma’am.”
The high elf begrudgingly closed the portal and opened another one. This one was two hundred meters from the trunk, exactly where she was supposed to open it in the first place. The platoon, the prisoner, and his two escorts all walked through it. Well, Imiryl had to literally be dragged through it by Hilda, but that wasn’t worth mentioning in the report.
How come the prisoner is more cooperative than his guards? Boxxy wondered. Is she right in the head? No, she definitely has a few hinges loose. Must be all that lightning.
After reaffirming its intent to stay as far away from the twitchy Wizard as possible, Boxxy took the heavy coffer from the designated coin-carrier. Putting on an unconvincing smile, it went off towards the tall trunk by itself. What played out once it reached the base of the tree was the familiar sight of the tall, hooded figure dropping down from above, accepting the chest, handing s
omething over to Keira, and disappearing back into the canopy. This was exactly what transpired in previous visits, barring two major details.
The first was the nature of the payoff. The metal chest wasn’t filled with coins, but with gems, jewels, rings, sculptures, and other luxurious trinkets that held great value despite their practical uselessness. Their combined worth was 12,000 GP, but Boxxy had no intention of selling them off. Simply put, it already had plenty of coin to spend, and while piles of gold coins glittered in their own special way, it wanted to hoard a wide variety of shinies.
The second discrepancy occurred before the Sandman disappeared. He placed his oversized, gloved hand on Keira’s head and roughly tousled her hair. She protested at first, fidgeting and flailing her arms about, but gradually calmed down and obediently let the Sandman stroke her head while she looked at her feet. The platoon’s spotters had gone on edge at the physical contact, but relaxed once it was clear it wasn’t an act of hostility. After a minute of this, he took his hand off her, gave her a thumbs up, and then ascended the trunk via the living vine waiting for him.
The second-in-command received a surprisingly upbeat long-distance message via the catgirl’s Whisper Wind Skill.
“Optio, Mr. S says it’s okay to meet with the dryad. Bring the prisoner forward.”
The VIP trio began walking towards the base of the tree as soon as the instructions were relayed, though some were more reluctant than others.
“Come on, Beanbag! Move those sticks ye call legs!” Hilda demanded.
“Ugh… why do I have to be here,” Imiryl groaned quietly. “I knew I shouldn’t have signed that contract.”
“If I am allowed to speak,” Ruk’lunda raised his voice, “you must confront whatever it is you are afraid of, lest it haunt you for the rest of your days.”
“That and if ye don’t stop wastin’ my time I’m gonna slap ye so hard ye’d fall over like a knot of dry twigs.”
