Novels2Search
Gilgamesh [Grimdark LitRPG]
Book 1: Practice Makes Perfect [Part 1]

Book 1: Practice Makes Perfect [Part 1]

Research into the necromantic arts, sped up by the twins Need and Necessity, had opened dark channels into another plane of existence. Here, the sibilant denizens of the void promised a quick end to the war with something that was translated by the magical researchers as the ‘Seed of Oblivion.’ Grasping at a chance of total victory, the leader of the Republic accepted the dark bargain and brought the Seed fully into the world.

- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC.

I opened the shutters, drinking in the sights of the city before me. A steady flow of people traveled along the streets, a mix of travelers, merchants, and the occasional military patrol. These patrols were heavily armored and mounted on half-barded and intimidating horses. I gritted my teeth as I saw a chained line of miserable-looking slaves, their eyes hollow and their postures stooped in suffering. I was glad that Kidu was asleep, as I was unsure of how he would react upon seeing such a sight. I would need to have words with the large man to hopefully prevent him from potentially causing a scene in the future.

Losing myself in thought, I watched the people of the city go by, and my mind went back to the old world. Years of constant study into the depths of the night had made caffeinated drinks my constant companions. I realized that I could probably kill for a simple cup of caramel soy latte, both figuratively and literally.

After judging that about an hour had passed, more by instinct than calculation, I shook my companions awake. We changed back into our clothes, leaving the borrowed robes outside the room door. Kidu and I collected our meals on a tray from the innkeeper, paying him the required coins, which he took brusquely.

The inn’s repast was a red stew, which had a rich inviting smell, served in a simple earthenware bowl. Globs of unknown meat and the occasional shape of what must be some sort of vegetable was in it. On the left of the bowl was a simple side of what looked to be some sort of brown rye bread. The stew had a tangy taste, sharp and piquant, with an edge of hot spice. This was, without doubt, one of the better meals I had sampled in this world.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The meal was filling, and my companions and I ate it with such great gusto that we almost had to stop ourselves from licking the bowls clean. Politeness was so ingrained into my very being, that I offered to return the trays. Descending the stairs, I went to the counter where Athinad was still busy cleaning some mugs and I left the empty trays there. He gave me a small nod in thanks. Turning back to return to my room I noticed that the denizens of the inn were all very deep in their cups.

A flashing glint of steel caught my eye, as it flew like an arrow before it embedded itself in a target on the far wall. The blade quivered from the force of the throw causing a few whoops of joy and cries of disappointment from a small crowd. It seemed that the locals were engaged in a knife-throwing competition. My curiosity was piqued, and my earlier promise to treat this town as enemy territory was quickly forgotten as I made my way toward the crowd applauding the throw.

“Hey, hold up there, mate,” slurred a rat-faced man, blocking my path. “Can’t you see this is our little corner of the Boar?”

“No problems, Devon,” Athinad called out from the bar at the other end of the room.

“Jus’ being welcoming, Atty boy,” Devon shot back, annoyance lacing his words like an annoyed fishwife, before glancing nervously at the shortsword at my hip.

“Not looking for trouble, Master Devon. Just interested in the game that you’re playing. Looks rather fun. Perhaps I could have a try,” I said with feigned nonchalance.

The man I was addressing, Devon, had a mop of unkempt dull brown hair that framed a face that perhaps only a mother could love. Narrow slanted eyes and pronounced front teeth added to his impression of an avaricious rodent.

“Fun, eh? You hear that, boys? Looks fun it is. And a ‘Master Devon’ to boot! This lad’s got a good eye for persons of quality, he does! Feels like I’m at court, I do! So, you fancy trying your hand against the best in Ansan, eh? Hope you got the coin and stones to back that up!” Devon guffawed along with his crew.

“Well, I never said anything of the sort,” I chuckled and held my hands up in agreement. “Also, that would be difficult as I have never thrown a blade in my life before. You could at least make it a fair game if you taught me the rules and the basics of how to throw a blade,” I declared, playing the role of the easy mark. Seeing the potentially easy target, the men lurking behind Devon grinned like sharks before a feast of chum and laughed along with me.