“Should… should we stop them?” Maggy asked as she watched the two small giants pound each other into the ground. They had all thought the spar would have ended after Bert had so thoroughly crushed Boarslayer. Yet, much to their surprise, after some rest, the two had gotten right back at it.
Eventually, most of the camp had turned their attention to other things and let the sound of battle fade into the background. Even so, Maggy had glanced over at the pair from time to time, just to make sure someone — likely Boarslayer — hadn’t died.
“Na, let them have their fun. Bert’s not gotten a chance to teach someone in a while. And it looks like lass is having fun too,” Garrelt responded as he leaned against a nearby tree, whittling an arrow.
Maggy looked back at the snarl the goblin woman had worn for nearly the entire spar and raised a brow. “That’s her having fun?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes…” came the flat response. Not from Garrelt, but rather the goblin standing next to Maggy, Antchaser. Maggy turned her gaze in his direction to see him also staring at the pair, a frown on his lips and an odd, glassy look in his eyes. After a moment, Antchaser shook his head and turned back to the map on the small table in front of him.
The young goblin had been rather helpful with their planning the last few days, and more than just a guide, he had easily fitted himself into an advisory position for the expedition leadership. It really had a stroke of good fortune on their part to have made it in time to rescue the young man. Maggy had half a mind to invite him to her teacher’s tower as an assistant, but she could only make that call after consulting her teacher first.
Across the table, Robert chuckled and shook his head. “It’s fine. Bert has never been a fan of this planning stuff, anyway. Let him blow off some steam for a while. If either of them gets seriously hurt, I’m sure the good doctor can patch them right up.”
Maggy nodded. “Still… what’s got him so worked up all of a sudden? I’ve not known the man for as long as the rest of you, but he’s always struck me as the calm and collected type.”
“Like I said, he’s not gotten the chance to teach anyone in a while,” Garrelt answered. “He probably got the itch again after hearing about Bosco.”
Maggy turned to Garrelt and raised a brow. “What’s the Bandit got to do with it?”
Garrelt blew on the tip of his arrow. “What doesn’t he have to do with it? After all, Bosco used to be one of his students.”
That got everyone’s attention, and all three present, Robert included, turned to Garrelt and gave him an incredulous look.
“What do you mean Bosco was Bert’s student?!” Maggy asked, thrusting a finger at the man. “Why wouldn’t you tell us something like that?!”
Garrelt frowned at the woman. “Why would I?” he asked in return. “That’s his business to reveal, not mine. Besides, I doubt they’ve even seen each other for close to a decade now. Not since that idiot Bosco got himself banned from the West Guild branch for purposefully crippling someone during a spar.”
“And how exactly do you know that, Garrelt?” Robert asked, his soft voice carrying the hint of something strange and dangerous in a way she’d never heard from him before.
Garrelt narrowed his eyes and met Robert’s gaze, unblinking. “Because I’m from the same generation as Bosco. We joined the Guild only a few months apart, I think.”
The two glared at each other in silence for a few seconds before Robert broke away, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I wish you would have mentioned this earlier…” he sighed.
Garrelt only shrugged. “I thought you knew. The whole thing was a huge scandal at the time, what with the crippled bloke being some big merchant family heir or some other nonsense like that.”
Robert turned and looked toward Bert, frowning. “No… I had… other matters I was dealing with around that time. I paid little attention to Guild gossip.”
Garrelt nodded. “Fair enough. Anyway, Ya. From what I hear, Bert and Bosco ended up in a big fight after the incident — both physically and metaphorically. After that, no one really saw neither hide-nor-hair of Bosco for a while until he just one day showed up in Icefinger’s gang. I don’t know much more than that. It wasn’t like we were friends, so I didn’t really pay him any mind beyond the rumors.” Garrelt finished his story, sticking his completed arrow into the quiver at his side. Even an arrow carved from deepwood could be just as hard as steel, if properly shaped.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Maggy stared at Garrelt wide-eyed, barely believing the story she’d just heard. After a moment, she just shook her head sadly. “How strange fate can be, sometimes. A decade apart, and now the Master has to clean up the Disciple’s screwup. Funny how that works, sometimes.”
Robert turned and looked in Bert’s direction once more. “Ya… strange…”
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<< Alpha Log -
6952 SFY-Third Era, 6 standard months since Planetfall. >>
Strange… but not unwelcomed. I’ve saved the recordings from the [Wasp] and tagged them for later review. I should show the general later!
Bert’s description of these ‘Titankin’ was interesting, to say the least. The story was obviously a fable of sorts, But I’ve found that the old saying ‘every myth holds a grain of truth’ is often correct.
Even in the Federation, individuals of unusual size and strength aren’t unheard of, though they had no official name. As Bert mentioned, they tended to appear in every race or species, with no real rhyme or reason.
Like this world seems to have, many races have their own origin myths for such individuals as well.
The humans of Old Earth called them giants or Nephilim — men of great renown and the ‘heroes’ of old.
To the cat-like Fli’ke, they are called Nighthunters — guardians who, when their species was young, protected their kin from their home planet’s vastly more powerful nocturnal predators.
While the Vidaasi call them ‘Warborn,’ General Haldorðr being one such example. They are natural-born soldiers who were raised as such from birth due to their vast talent in all things related to combat.
Nowadays, it’s generally accepted as just a quirk of genetics, though.
I’ll admit that Bert’s connection to Bosco came as more of a surprise. The young ‘Mage’ named Magnolia’s connection to Dr. Maira was surprising enough. Though that connection is reasonably understandable, given what little of her own history Dr. Maira has willingly divulged — that hag seems to have her hand in more than a few pots back in Halirosa.
But to have another expeditionary leader with a connection to the bandits? That feels a little too convenient. My first suspect would be Icefinger. It’s already fairly certain that the man has detailed knowledge of the Guild’s movement. It isn’t outside the realm of possibility that Dr. Maria was accepted into Bosco’s expedition — either by Icefinger or this Seeker fellow — specifically for her connection to young Maggy.
To what ends is hard to say without all the information, but it’s something to keep in mind. I’ve already instructed several of the goblins to see if they can tease out any other connections between the expeditionary party and the bandits.
What was the old saying? ‘Once is happenstance, twice is a coincidence, and three times is enemy action.’
If anything comes of it, time will tell. With any luck, we can nip any more surprises in the bud.
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Unlike the rowdy slum tavern behind the thick, ensorcelled door, the dimly lit backroom was dead silent. Of the dozen shadowed figures crowding the small room, not one made a sound as they waited for the short, gruff man at the far end of the room to speak.
They had been waiting for several hours now, and several were growing restless, even if none dared to voice their complaint.
Then, when the click of a pocket watch closing, Magnus Ironheart — Chief Enforcer of Icefinger’s gang and the Boss’s Right Hand — stood.
“Well, now, looks like that’s everyone. Mr. Richard, make a note of who hasn’t shown up and get someone to investigate. I wanna know whose arse I’ve gotta pull outta whatever hole they fell into and whose I’ve got to kick,” the rough-looking dwarf said as he hopped off the crate he had been sitting on.
Another man sitting in the corner nodded and wrote something down on a notepad.
Magnus turned to the crowd and folded his hands behind his back.
“I shouldn’t have to explain this to you lot like you’re some group of newbloods. When I call, you come,” he said, and though his words were soft and calm, they pressed down on the crowd with a physical weight. Even the old wood furniture scattered around the room seemed to creak and groan.
“If you don’t, you bloody well have a damn good reason not. Or there will be… consequences.” The next instant, the crates behind Magnus collapsed, crushed to the ground as if stepped on by a giant.
“Am I understood?” he asked. No one spoke. Most couldn’t. Instead, a wave of strained nods swept through those gathered.
Then, as soon as it had appeared, the weight vanished. The room’s silence was broken as several people gasped for air, as if breaking the surface of some deep pond.
Magnus’ deep frown was replaced with a grin, and he clapped his hands together.
“I’m glad to hear! You lot are the best I could gather in such a short time frame. It would be… a pain to explain to the Boss what happened to such good seeds,” he said as he walked toward the large table in the middle of the room.
He stretched his hand out over the table, and a large map suddenly appeared on top of it. If Alpha or any of the goblins had seen the map, they would have instantly recognized it as a simple map of their cavern and the tunnels leading to it.
The details were rudimentary, and most were incomplete, but several key points of interest, including the goblin’s village, were clearly marked.
Magnus leaned against the table and glanced at each person in the room in turn. “Now, as for why I’ve gathered you all here today…”