After a brief chat with Boss Lady and Blake, we settled that I would take care of ten men, myself included. They were the better-prepared part of the group, or the least unprepared. The second option sounds more feasible than the first one, but you know, we gotta keep the moral of the group up. We ain't doing it by calling our men a bunch of unprepared folks. And we should make incursions on the vicinities to gain combat experience as we try to garner more people to participate. The ones left out would remain with Boss and receive her nightmarish training of sweat and pain or, for the fortunate souls, help with the administration of Canute alongside Blake.
It was decided that we won't need to make deals with the chiefs to gather people. Just go to the village and attract those interested in a better life, one with purpose and a dignified mean. We're sure that we'll be able to gather a lot of volunteers, the living situation of the settlements near the northern border, manly, is a misery. Thus the refugees should be easily convinced out of this suffering. Especially now that we can count on Canute as a sanctuary.
Which from henceforth would be our headquarters, after some protest from Boss, who allegedly claimed Aretureios would be a better pick. Of course it was promptly rejected. But, what can she do? Canute has a way more developed infrastructure and almost ten times the amount of citizens. What her feelings for the village are worth when compared to the way better candidate for headquarters Canute represents. Furthermore, it's a crossroad for two big cities: Steelstar and Mistshore. Wich will be a great boom for the coming times.
The former, one of the greatest manufacturers of steel utensil or anything related to it. The privilege of being located on top of a mineral extrusion, coveted by all. The ease to obtain mineral resources in the almost superficial mines a treasure on itself. Attracting various master blacksmiths who are after the cheap and easy to find raw material to do their craft, creating the finest handwork in the Oplon nation, implying in one of the richest city in Oplon.
Last year we tried to reach out for support with one of their chief adviser. It would be a great boom to our, for lack of better words, needy equipment if they did join us. But they didn't even welcome us to a meeting. Claiming our forewarnings are absurd as they can repel any kind of outside threat. They are heavily prepared to counter outside threats in view of the covetous neighbors. And, to top it off, they had the audacity to send a common city guard to mock us "what a handful of ragged man can help?" he said.
Pure arrogance. When the orcs come here, they will come by the millions. Then I'll have the pleasure to see their googled eyes jumping out of their mind-fucked head as the horde swims through the plains destroying everything on its path.
That sounded a little sadistic, but I'm only human when it comes to mockery. However, it's only a figment of my imagination, as that fabulous picture will hardly happen since we'll stop this bloody shit before it comes to fruition.
And the latter is a port city, the hub of commerce for hundreds of cities. It's from there that mainly comes the spice we use in our dishes. Oh! mighty salt, what would I do without you. Also, a good chunk of foreign culture spreads to the country from there. As it is frequently attended by foreigners merchants, who end up sharing its costumes as they learn to adapt to ours and make what little business they could. Some even chose to live in the city in hopes of succeeding in life, further strengthening the cultural exchange in the harbor town and the nation by extension. One should ever wonder, though, how bad of a situation they were in their former country to considering this lawless nation as a good place to live.
Our attempt to create a partnership with Mistshore went way more civilized than Steelstar. Their diplomatic team... miles ahead when dealing with outsiders. Steelstar has a thing or two to learn with them.
They agreed to help us, though only with halved taxes in relation to port activities. It doesn't appear much now as we don't have means to make national commerce, much less international. But when we build up more momentum and our commercial activities get more relevant, we can use it as a way to get increased profit over the competition.
Old fools, don't know what they've done underestimating our determination to make this project achieve its purpose.
Blake would be responsible for the task of money and infrastructure management. Boss would be the combat teacher. And little young me the one in charge of commanding the troops. As for the last call when making decisions, this would be reserved to Boss, only if it's doable, though. Despite the amount of love held for our village, it can't compare with Canute for what we're planning to do.
"Six! motherfucker!" Tiberius, a slender, long blond hair, tall and with the most vivid green eyes I have ever met, exclaimed. He was playing Truco, a common card game across the taverns of the city, against Tritus. Sentos and Silanos were at the table watching the game unfold, a wide grin stamped on their faces.
The three had above average stature and dark-hair, matching their dark clothes. Except for Silanos, as he had a golden crest attached to a golden chain around his neck on top of it. The necklace draws a lot of attention, the yellow from it shining dimly. The contrast with the dark cloth draws a lot of attention. It should be something important for him to use it despite the kind of job they do, it's kinda counterproductive when you need discretion. Sagila says it's a token to remember a promise made by the tree way back then.
They never told anyone what this promise is about, though. Maybe it's a reminder of the last thing he has of his mother? Now I'm intrigued by this mystery! Hope someday they'll talk about it with someone. If this someone is me, by any chance, It would make me... fulfilled.
They consider themselves brothers. Although they don't have the same parents, they do share a history of difficulty in the slums of Canute. After Blake ascended in position, he brought them together, as they're fairly acquainted with weapons and the layout of the town. Blake could put to good use half a dozen trusty hands in the management of the town or on its protection.
One other thing they are fairly good at, and Tiberius is just experiencing it on his own skin, is the ability to cheat despite the condition. It became evident when the trio's eyes sparkled with excitement the moment they heard what Tiberius had just shouted.
Clashing the jar in the table, spilling ale all over it, he exclaimed " Twelve!! Ya fucking dimwit." He stood up with a popped vein in his head. I can't make it clear from where I am, but everyone in the table got wet either by his spit or the ,more likely, beverage he didn't finish to drink when he shouted in excitement and by the look on the face of Tiberius it wasn't pleasant. Looking at the opponent daringly, his eyes fixed on the victim with a savage grim on his plump lips. His eyebrows close to each other, forming a line right above the upper eyelid portraying a ferocious countenance in an attempt to intimidate the opponent into backing down.
Tiberius showed his card fearlessly, taking up the challenge. Securely dismissing the show put up by the opponent. It was obvious for him that Tritus was trying to win the round by shouting, nothing but a cheap bluff. A four of hearts in hands, " Fuc-" he was right to curse Tritus while holding the second best card in the game, it was a winner's hand. He had barely showcased his hand and was almost finishing his triumphant curse over Tritus, his face wet from the spat ale, just to take a full handed slap to his head, splashing the disgusting liquid over his forehead in a cloud. When Tritus' hand returned, the only card that could beat Tiberius', a four of clubs, remained stuck on the bruised spot.
Laughter spread through the Tavern as the three still on the table were looking at, the now prostrate on the ground, Tiberius with mirth on their faces. "Good luck for the next time," Tritus said with a smirk "And thanks for the money." grabbed the money over the table and walked up to the bar. Silanos and Sentos followed suit. After ordering something to the bartender they looked over to us and waved his hand with a happy smile. When the three small glasses for shots over the bar were filled to the brim, they toasted, spilling a little on the floor, and downed the drinks in one go. Shit here sure is getting hot, I should pump my alcohol intake too. Also, make a toast to the scoundrels, I thought while filling my own mug with a flask that was sitting on the table since Vincent found out that the bartender had a bottle of his favorite drink in the back store.
As for Tiberius, he's a foreign coming from the southern lands, beyond the wide sea. I have heard it's more than a year worth of travel to get back to his land, a good chunk of the trip being on deep waters. Other than that, no one knows what's his deal. Except, he's an excellent hunter and scout. He's always with a silly smile on his lips when journeying into the woods. They say it's the ambient he's most familiar with, as the land he comes from is filled with wild dense vegetation.
"Young fella has a long way to go if he wants to bust the brothers cheating." Vincent said. The problem with his favorite drink is that it smelled so bad that I could feel the putrid odor from across the table and he didn't even need to open his mouth to grace the ambient with the foul odor, what's the name of it again? Something with milk on it. He was a short haired typical ginger, with freckles and shit. Not so sure, but I would not be far off in my assumption if he was acting as ears for Blake. A meaningless tactic as we won't have anything to lie about. But, as the saying goes, better safe than sorry.
Walls, as I had noticed he's usually called, was in his forties, with a stubble beard. "Ta tree little shits are responsible for the end of the drugs cartels in the slums. There's no one craftier. Ya know?" We were talking about the implementation of basic sanitization in the slumps, saying Blake was accomplishing good results reducing the disparity of earnings in the city and improving the safety of its citizens. Fuck, that shit he's drinking stenches! Anyway, of course, it included the demise of the savagery happening in the slums, and by the looks of it, the laughing trio there has a big part in the endeavor. "If it was only Tritus on the table, I think he would've seen him cheating. But with the three of them working together..." Sagila said by my side on her chair. "Only without their help, he'd have a chance." she finished after a momentary pause to give a little drama in her speech.
Sagila was an athletic girl, around my age. All I could make out of her, probably, hyperbolical comments is that she's an excellent bow woman. And that's after downgrading a lot of what she had said, you know? no one aims at both wings from a fly two hundred feets from you and makes a clean hit. Not even the legendary elves and their enhanced eyes.
"Ha! Tib can hear a tiger before he starts to encroach on him, but he'll neva find out about tha second deck under table kept by tha other two bastards." Vincent said with an arm over the chair's backrest, Taking a peek with his inebriated eyes at the table beside the last three members of our squad, one of them was the Troglodyte from yesterday fight. The other two bearing similar body build: ridiculously tall and packed with muscles. They were a little shorter than yesterday challenger, though.
There were four fair females sitting there. "and Y'all know why?" he said sweeping a look at us "Cause he neva saw the depths a human being can fall from civility when cornered. The dark side of humanity" he said ominously, taking a cigaret from a satchel by his hip and stood up, Vincent lightly resumed "Excuse Moi. There're ladies to be courted.". Not too late, though, it was getting tougher to tolerate his breath by the sip he took from that damn mug.
He went up to the trio stumbling and futilely trying to light the cigar as the matches he was using were burning out one after the other. When he arrived at the table's side and stabilized his footing, he again attempted to light a matchstick.
After a few attempts, one finally started to burn, probably the last one by the way his eyebrows jumped in surprise soon followed by exhilaration.
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And the tossed box at the floor. To which the bartender gave a sharp gaze that sends a shiver to the bone. Cursing something inaudible at the burning stick, he brought it in front of his face and started to hover it unsuccessfully near the cigaret 'till he eventually hit it with the stick's flame, not before singing a little the bottom side of his mustache. Puffing the smoke just swallowed from the cigar, he small talked with the sat fellas and, believe it or not, headed to the girls' table shortly after, as he had previously implied despite his evident lack of... airs.
Following nature's course. When he spoke, they felt the odor from the mix of that disgusting thing he drinks plus the two puffs of smoke and voila. The one closer to him promptly stood up and ran away reeling from the table. Looking at her hands holding her packed mouth, she should be holding a shit ton of ale from her stomach on it. "Get the fuck off, shit bag." the furthest, and probably least affected by the odor said in disgust. The one by her side too overwhelmed to call him names, splashed her mug, throwing all her ale at Vincent.
This time, even the almost knocked out Tiberius was rolling on the floor laughing. "Tha fuck you are to spill that disgusting ale on me?" Vincent roared not the least pleased by the unrequested shower, much less with the ridicule coming from the guests enjoying the show. His eyes bloodshot, a jackknife materialized out of nowhere in his hand and, after brandishing it high up his head, he stuck it down over the table.
The sound produced by the knife penetrating the tabletop silenced all the laughter as the atmosphere in the air got tense. I was standing up to stop the scene before it could unfold further. You know? Who the fuck will end up held responsible for the broken furniture? Financing the ale isn't enough, the mother fucker has to break the tavern down? I ain't paying for his shit!
The lady that threw the ale, now, tossed the empty mug at Vincent. He, like a good fighter, sidestepped closer to the table and, like a good drunkard, lifted his hands by reflex in a failed attempt to block the flying mug that wasn't even in his direction anymore. Taking advantage from the closed position and open guard of Vincent, the third lady sitting on the table kicked him right in the money. Rending his already distilled mind to the painless oblivion. And this, folks, is how the brawl came to an anticlimactic end.
Well, better he loses his money than me, mine.
"Fucking ginger! Get your stinking mouth outa here." The kicker girl roared not the least bit cowed at the knocked out Walls. The three guys from the table beside them started to exchange money between chuckles. The scoundrels even made a bet on what would turn out of this encounter featuring: Eunuch Vincent vs. the FFF. This evidently isn't the first time he goes through this kind of situation as the trio foresaw the upcoming confusion way ahead of it starting. There's simply no way they placed the bet within the time it took Vincent to go from their's table to the ladies' one.
At this point in time, he should've learned that the stinking buzz he drinks provokes this kind of reaction to the nearby random person. And this realization won't come from us, apparently. It would be a pity to spoil this source of fun and money making. Guess I'll have to join in the fun when the next opportunity presents.
One that I'm not in charge of the dumb shit they do.
As for the drink, I'll ask around to learn the name of it, just in case. Never know when you'll make the unfortunate mistake of ordering it unknowingly.
"Walls, always a source of amusement" Sagila said amidst giggles. So she has a cute side down that stoic face. And that bears out my assumption about Vincent. "When the bartender said he had the abomination I was expecting this kind of reaction from you." She revealed, lifting her eyebrows over the girl's direction. "Was impressed with your impassiveness when he opened the lid and all that came out from you was a small frown."
"Oh, it's not that bad" I replied. The drink stinks, sure, but not to such an extent. Reaching drubs was out of my mind. I had pictured a classic dump, not this show.
"Now that the spectacle is over, what about the last three members, Sagila?". sitting once again in the table, I inquired about the rest of the crew. Vincent can handle himself, for now at least. Turning her head away from the knocked out ginger and looking at me, she pointed at the trio's table and asked "They?" earning a Careful nod from me with a hint of doubt, am I talking loud and clear here, she was chatting about every one till now, that's when Vincent didn't cut her mid-speech with the duct network being installed at the town. We'll have a real problem if Blake gets 'till his hips in the water, good old Vincent here would drown while clinging to his balls, maybe this well earned kick will beat him out of this sick affection of ball licking.
Who else could it possibly be? She gave a little "Oh!" of satisfaction as if it was a great discovery, not the most reasonable conclusion. "They are known as Du, Duds and Dudley." that's what I'm talking about, girl "What else?" you have from them. Amuse me. I tried to reach out for more information from the well of knowledge Sagila has proven to be. "That's all" she finished.
Alright, is she sick? What happened to all that loquacity from before? The two hundred feet shoot, the sharp senses from Tiberius, the cunning from the brothers or the... what she had said about Vincent, something about the red alert or perverted. "hmm" I returned a hopeless sight.
The most notable characteristic of a leader is the power to deal with the shit of other people on top of yours. Thus a big dosage of tolerance is needed to get this job done. Hopefully, Boss had the foresight to get me in a position I'm suitable for. Doubt if I didn't have it inside me she would designate me to a leading role, guess enduring her training had a great influence on her evaluation. Wise choice from her, otherwise, killing would be happening at this exact moment.
Not that I'm getting stressed by their antics. "I'll give Walls a hand then." Warning Sagila, I got in position to help him up. The bartender noticed my struggles and came to help me in annoyance.
"Bloody drunken friends, Pal. That's why I don't usually sell that beverage. Always a source of trouble." He said while I was slipping Vincent arms around my shoulders to make it easier to pull him up. "Thought he would be left here for his troubles." he said looking at me, then swop his eyes around the tavern as if taking it into account and completed "My troubles..." with a stern face. Calm down, big fella.
Know that face you do when the favorite flower pot of your mother is smashed by a stray arrow, and the only thing that will make you confess is the tears flowing out of her eyes. Well, hopefully, the large man isn't my mother, Vincent here ain't no flower pot and my poker face was enough to hide the guilty face. "you don't say it." I said with the best face of incredulity I could muster, given the situation. Sorry Vincent, but you'll have to deal with the big guy when you wake up.
Come on! Don't judge me, it was "The first time I go to a tavern and this shit happens. To boot, I'm babysitting the troublemaker. Now I have to deal with this lump of muscles and anger." I said.
I what? There goes my feign-innocence plan.
"Yeah, little man. The shit coming out from you ain't appeasing the lump of muscles and anger, though." he said holding his dishcloth with both hands. The tension on it almost tearing the fabric. "Calm down. The dishcloth did no harm to anyone." I said, again, without thinking.
"Fuck" I said weakly, with a dry throat. Why does my head hurt so much?
Remember to never pump up the drink intake again. Drunk so much yesterday night that I can't recall what happened and what's this wet felling? Nice! For a first timer, ending up with pissed pants isn't that bad if you look from a certain point of view. From another, I didn't even throw up.
I'm not even mad. That's disappointing.
The minimum should be a smooth vomit flowing out of my mouth in a bucket by the bed. Shitting is a little too much, though. The mind blank and pissed pants should be enough for a first-timer. Now that I'm experienced, and well versed in the arts of... Fuck.
Blargh... Look, I said after the outflux of vomit stopped, an intact piece of pea amidst it. Hope my inhuman speed when eating ain't a bad habit if I could take out anything from this occurrence. Now, I have another feat of bravery and honor attached to my first time. Mental Hooray!
Let's rest a little longer, though. It's still dark outside and this hungover is killing me.
It took two zephyrs blowing against my tent's door and I was already rushing up to my feet. The wetness in my pants increasing until my pants were soaked again.
"What the fuck?" Exclaiming with incredulity all over my face while looking at the dripping wet trousers. Then a sudden feeling of disappointment hit my consciousness. "Oh!" blurting after finally understanding the problem. I have totally forgotten about the promise to bring Liz to her's birthplace lake. "Sorry, Liz." I said in a meek tone. The euphoria of drinking for the first time in a tavern with companions made me totally forget about my promise to her.
Here's a point to improve upon and make reference in the future: don't forget what you promised to Liz, she too has sentiments.
One other thing is that Liz can do a lot more than she has already revealed to me. I should learn to properly communicate with her to comprehend what she can do and make good use of her powers.
Coming out of the tent, the moon was high up in the sky, not an hour away from its zenith. "Look how pretty the moon is today, Liz." I said in an attempt to reconcile with her while looking up in the sky, the moon was shining brightly up there with a tint of red over the usual dirty white she usually radiates. The breeze was mild, giving me a small shiver.
Let me change my pants first, Liz. I transmitted my thought midway back to the tent.
But my track was stopped when a sudden feeling of confidence struck me. Liz was imparting something to me by conveying her intentions. Quickly I understood she was trying to make me stop my way back for she could take care of the wet pants and, soon afterward, the water in my trouser began to dry.
Nice, she can absorb her water now. Hence, I'll tread the way there as she works with the drying. I thought while setting out to walk through the empty streets of the town. Vincent was right, the ground has a long strip of stirred sand. They should've just implanted the ducts. A pity no one cares about the things they don't see. The credit he'll earn by doing this improvement to the city, despite the importance to the growth of the city it represents, is nonexistent.
Otherwise, it would turn out just like Recuest. Once was a city, now there ain't a single soul alive there. The population, eradicated by some kind of disease a couple of decades ago. Some say it was caused by a dark magician that ravaged the region by the time, pursuing power beyond measure. That magician indeed existed, but his trail of destruction is different from the one presented over Recuest. His modus operandi is the harvesting of the life of the people. As for Recuest, it was slowly being eradicated, people dying after days bedridden. Others say it was caused by the inhospitable ambient, claiming the folk from the town threw their excrement by the window. Tainting every corner of the town.
It ain't sure what is the right cause for the disaster, but since then, every town started to worry, somehow, with its sanitary problems. Of course, not all went as far as building a pipe network, but with a solid foundation, we'll be able to tread way further on this uncertain path. Therefore the luck of having Blake. His management and foreshadowing skills at our disposal is a blessing to our plans.
Well, Blake will be stationed here and he has his things to worry about. Now, I need to decide if we'll start our journey by getting fight experience or pump our numbers up. What you think, Liz? Can see you have finished with the water down there and for this, I'm very glad, as I was going to drop on the ground dead stiff with this cold breeze hitting against me before I could get out of the city.
No reaction, guess Liz isn't paying attention. We'll do both then. We'll head north, where we can find more people willing to move, and we'll train along the way.
Leaving the city behind, the torches over the walls slowly dimming and, finally, vanished from sight. Ten minutes of walk from that point and I arrived at the forest edge. Right in front of me, a narrow path filled to the brim with branches could be seen. The same one used when I first came here. But with a slight difference. The vegetation was much denser now, making the journey way harder to complete.
It took me twice the amount of time to traverse the short passage. Nearly getting lost on the way more than once. the right track too difficult to distinguish among the leaves, flowers, bushes and tree branches all over the way. The moon, redder than before, was the only light making me stay on track along this blind walk. To top it off, Liz conveying ominous sentiments wasn't helping me at all. Come on little bud, help me here. I'm not the bravest of men out there. If you're trying to avenge me by making me shit myself you could just make me drink more at the tavern, under the safety of the walls.
What kind of monster could make someone stay on the edge under such circumstances?
"Come on, Liz. Stop with that or else I'll go back to sleep." I said out loud, just to make sure she'll get the message. Stopping to look at the lake in front of me and give a little drama to my speech, make sure I'm convincing enough. The first one being the most relevant at the moment, as the lake wasn't just a lake anymore. It was a fucking river flowing out of it into the sky's direction.
Okay, boys. Time to wake up, this shit is too fucked up to be real. It's a freaking flying river, and I won't even deem necessary to point out how fucked up is the river flowing in reverse.
Pow! That's the sound of me crashing into some weird invisible motherfucker thing. I swear that I wasn't running away... too fast.
"What is this thing?" I said out loud, talking to myself while groping the air that wasn't air. It was some kind of invisible barrier preventing me from going further away from this dammed place. The barrier wasn't solid hard, it had some bending properties and it gave a really unusual yet familiar smooth feeling of freshness to the touch.
After rummaging, with the sole purpose of finding my way out of here, with my hand through the air and thinking about the familiar feel for five good minutes I heard a loud chuckle from behind me.
"I see you have grown, boy" Said a voice from somewhere I couldn't pinpoint after the laughter ceased.