Chapter 12

The guards approached and sat next to me. I figured I may as well use my ‘social drinking skill,’ paid for a round of ales for them and stood.

Oh no. I was drunk. Funny how you don’t catch that til you stand.

I put on my best smile, and sat next to the biggest one.

“Breznik,” I said by way of introduction. “I hear that the Amaryllis guard is the finest militia in the Throne Territories.”

The big guard didn’t give me his name but replied, “out of towner, huh?”

I just smiled wide, and tried to look stupid.

“Throne territories don’t have militia,” he continued. “We’re all the queen’s men. Commissioned all of us.”

“Well,” I responded with my best ‘I’m so impressed voice,’ “I guess that makes you all gods-damned professionals.”

“You’re damn right!” he said with a cheer, taking a swig of ale.

Whoof. I almost beefed that.

Where was Bernadette? Where was Rachel? I think I could keep these guys busy enough that they don’t ask as many questions about who I was, and what I was doing here, but I wasn’t a good liar. I was bound to blow my cover at some point.

Any time they asked me what I was doing in town, I made some noises about traveling through on the way south, looking for work, and turned the question around on to them about the area.

Didn’t learn much, other than these guys worked the late shift — there was a late shift from midnight to six in the morning — and they had all just woken up from a nap. I also learned that everyone was stressed the hell out because of Captain Wen’s closer supervision.

She’d been traveling somewhere on some important mission for the Throne for years, and only just returned to guard work. The consensus was that she needed to chill out, and maybe get laid or something.

This smacked of misogyny to me, but Captain Wen also sounded like a fascist, royalist — whatever — so I wasn’t too worried about defending her honor. And anyway if I expressed any discomfort with the way they talked about women, they may find me less chill. I learned this lesson pretty quick, when I tried to hang out with friends from Baytown once. They said that I was ‘being a fag.’ Which, If I gave a shit about what they thought anymore, then maybe I would’ve been hurt.

Suddenly a slam brought my attention to the entrance.

The door flew open, and in walked the most badass woman I’d ever seen. She was all of 5 foot 6”, but stood like a 12 foot tall giant.

Her outfit looked surprisingly simple, almost modern: soft buckskin ankle boots with ripped black hose, shorts, black cotton shirt torn sleeveless under a forest green vest. I’d probably seen something like this at a ren fair when people wanted to dress for comfort.

The belt though — a huge belt, almost like a weight trainer’s belt, embellished with beautiful gold trim in contrast to the leather, was strapped crossways across her chest. She also wore thick brown gloves that reached her mid forearm, much like something I’d expect a metal worker to wear. These were also embellished with gold stitching.

Oh, and the most important thing was that she was dressed head-to-toe in the blood of her enemies.

She brushed her hair from her face into a greasy mullet and said, “you son of a bitch.”

I stood up, arms out for a hug.

“Rachel!”

“Not yet,” she replied, pointing.

The guards behind me stood too.

“It’s the traitor! Get her!”

I drew my sword, ran it through the neck of the first one, and all hell broke loose.

Rachel dashed as fast as she could toward me. I tore my sword free. Blinding pain filled my vision before I could turn around. I’d been struck on the back of the head. I ran forward to put some distance between me and the guards.

Patrons fled the tavern. Denyla ducked behind the bar.

Rachel ran past me and slid to a halt just in time to punch a man right in his jaw.

The thing that happened to his face was truly a terror. His jaw dislocated so much that it was essentially free floating in a bag of skin, and the bones of his face sunk into his skull. A kick crumpled his chest, and he flew ten feet into a table.

“How did you do that?” I yelled.

“The belt!” she said, right before a barstool shattered against her arm and face.

Right. She must have magic items like us. I got my shield out just in time to deflect a crossbow bolt from a guard in the corner.

Bernadette leapt from the shadows, and stabbed him from behind.

Three more guards rushed in from the street with swords drawn.

Time slowed. They all glowed red. I ran to meet them.

The first guard stood no chance as I plunged the blade through the gap in his armor at his armpit. The blade stuck there and held fast. I yanked on it. It stayed. They glowed pink now. I didn’t have time.

Letting go of my blade, I put my shoulder behind my shield, and rammed into the second guard. He held firm and didn’t budge.

And then the world returned to its normal speed, and my shield was ripped from my grasp.

Goddamn my 11 strength.

I backpedaled as fast as I could, until I bumped into Rachel.

“Stay near me!” she said. “I’ll protect you!”

A crossbow bolt slammed into the shoulder that wasn’t covered by the belt.

“I need you!” I shouted. “I believe in you!”

Rachel used her burst of speed to run around me and smash into the two guards at the door. The ones at the bar were dead.

Four more ran in from a back room.

I cursed. I had no weapon.

Bernadette ran past me, tossing the magic crossbow on her way.

Okay, 9 dexterity, don’t fail me now.

I caught it!

The butt of the crossbow hit my shoulder. I pointed it at the lead of the four guards, and squeezed the trigger. The bolt tore clean through him. He crumpled to the floor mid stride, and the one behind him tripped over his corpse.

Bernadette leapt off the bartop and stuck to the wall on all fours, scrambling up with spiderwalk. The sword. She snatched the mithril sword off the wall. I tossed the crossbow on the bar, and reached up.

I fumbled the sword, but was able to catch it harmlessly against my chest.

Bernie leapt onto the bar and kicked the crossbow into the air, catching it in her hands, and slamming a bolt into the breach.

I held the sword. It was like a scimitar, or long cavalry saber. The crossguard simple and curved upwards. The thing was gorgeous.

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It felt like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it. It felt like holding something natural, and beautiful, and pure. I slashed through the cainmail of the guard that approached me, and kicked him to the ground.

“That’s mine!” came Denyla’s voice. She clamped her hand over her mouth, regretting the attention, and ducked back behind the bar.

Bernie fired her crossbow. I swung the sword wildly, carving through flesh and armor, easily.

In seconds, the rest were dead on the ground.

“Well, shit,” I said. “We did it.”

Rachel beamed, grabbed my shoulder, then sat at the lone bar stool still standing.

“I need a drink,” she said.

I grabbed a stool, and put it next to her. Denyla stood. I put the sword on the bar in front of her and she took it, cleaning the blood from it with a bar rag.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll grab an ale. But then you should clear out before more come.”

“You’re staying here?” Rachel asked. “They’ll want to bring you in for questioning. Who knows what they’ll do after.”

Denyla looked at Rachel. I couldn’t tell what the face meant exactly, but she wasn’t happy.

“I guess I can go stay with my sister. Here’s the ale.”

She slid the drink down the bar, then walked into the back room, presumably to pack.

Bernadette threw her arms around Rachel’s neck from behind, and kissed her on a bloody cheek. Rachel smiled at her.

“Good to see you too,” she said. “I know you’ve only been here for a couple weeks, but you look different.”

“You too,” Bernie said.

She did look different. Rachel had always carried her weight in her hips, stomach, and chest, and she’d lost none of it in the last five years. It seemed she had just added about twenty more pounds of muscle to go with it. I could see it in her forearms.

And her legs looked like they could pull a truck out of the mud all by themselves.

She pulled the gloves off her hands, set them on the bar, and took a long gulp of the ale. Bernie sat on the bar in front of her. The way she looked at her, it was like— Well I didn’t understand the way she looked at her.

I touched Rachel’s arm, and used a Cure Light Wounds spell.

“Hey. Thanks,” she said. “When did you learn magic?”

“Had to take a level in bard,” I cut my eyes over to Bernie who gave me a solemn frown. “We needed the healing more than the damage.”

“That spell you cast, in the fight, you’d said ‘I need you.’ Which was nice I guess. Is that your healing phrase?”

“Yeah.”

“You couldn’t have just said ‘be healed?’ The other one sounds clingy.”

“I mean, it made sense at the time.”

Rachel looked between me and Bernie, and saw something on our faces that seemed to answer a question she didn’t feel the need to ask.

Denyla came back, and slid me and Bernie drinks too. I tossed her most of the gold we had left. She thanked us, and busied with her pack.

I looked around at the carnage we had left on the floor of the bar, the broken furniture, the blood. It was a truly horrendous sight. But man, it was good to have my friend back. I popped my monocle in my eye. Bernie leaned over and whispered something to her that made her laugh.

‘Oriana— lvl 8 Barbarian, HP 62/80.’ I focused on her for more information. Starbound, CON 18, CHA 9, rage ability. Jeez, that was high constitution. I guessed her strength was high with the belt — probably a belt of giant strength — but maybe the monocle didn’t account for boosted stats. I’ll have to keep that in mind.

“So what’s next?” I asked.

“Well,” Rachel said, “we finish our drinks. Then we fight our way out of the city.”

“Okay,” I continued. “What if we sneak?”

“You can’t sneak in chainmail,” she said. “And Captain Wen is too good at her job. She’d find us before we got a block.”

“You think she’s headed our way?” Bernie asked.

“I think we got five minutes til she gets here.”

“Then I’ll let you folk clean up,” Denyla said with not too much sarcasm. “Man, my sister is gonna be so smug. Hope it was worth it.”

“Thanks for the drinks,” Rachel said with a smile like sunshine.

Denyla reddened with anger. She left through a back door, taking that beautiful sword with her.

“So,” I said. “What’s the game plan?”

“Well,” Rachel started, “you need to stop trying to use swords. You suck at them. That crossbow seems real good. Use that.”

“I have 9 dexterity,” I offered.

“Yeah, well, I’d start training your dexterity then. You’re what, level 4?”

“Yeah,” I said, checking my slate for posterity. Oh shit. I’d leveled up. “Oh, 5 now, actually.”

“Nice. You may have earned effort stats, but since you’re a multiclass you won’t hit your Ability Score Improvement yet.”

“That’s what the DM said.”

“You talked to him?” Bernie asked.

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“That's probably fine…” Rachel said, looking between the two of us. “As long as you didn’t give him too much information.”

“I didn’t,” I assured her.

I took a gulp of my ale, and pulled out my slate. Looking at my options for level up, it seemed like I should stick with bard.

Fighter would get me my subclass, but now that we had Rachel — and I’d seen how powerful she was — I had less of a reason to get better at fighting. Nobody had spells but me. Not until we got Caleb or Mark back.

Sofia also had spells.

What the hell was happening with her?

Not only would I get a new spell at level three bard, but I’d get the bard subclass too. I clicked the plus, and mashed bard. I scrolled to the end of the subclass list and chose the one that seemed like it had the most to do with fighting.

Looking at the second level spells available to me had some good options. I could take shatter, finally getting a damage spell, or I could take spells to paralyze, blind, cure illnesses — lots of good options. I chose invisibility. I had to. If one of us was in trouble, that would be the best way to get them safe.

All together I could cast four first level spells per day, and two second level spells like invisibility. I typed the word ‘ocultarse’ into the spell phrase section for invisible. Interestingly, I had a notification that said that I’d gained some effort stats. My sheet looked like this:

Beznik of the Red Hand the level 2 Fighter and level 3 War Bard

Hit Points 34, Armor Class 18 (chainmail, shield)

STR 12 (+1) DEX 10 (+0) CON 13 (+1)

INT 13 (+1) WIS 10 (+0) CHA 14 (+2)

Items: Adventurers’ Kit (used), Chainmail, Longsword, Shield

Abilities from Fighter: Adrenaline Rush (170% time dilation, double movement speed) and Second Chance (Twice per day heal +25% HP)

Abilities from Bard: ‘Inspiring Words (+60% movement speed, 10% instant healing, and +30% extra damage modifier to a party member of your choice).’ Student of War (extra weapon damage equal to CHA bonus) Spellcasting.

Skills: History, Performance, Persuasion, Social Drinking

“Alright,” Rachel continued. “When Captain Wen gets here, we need to rush her as quickly as we can.”

“Think we can kill her?” Bernie asked.

“Gods no,” Rachel said with a laugh. “She’s got us smoked. We just need to put her on the defensive long enough that one of us can secure an exit.”

“She’s that good?” I asked.

“Oh, she killed my entire crew. And she did it without breaking a sweat. Would have killed me too if we hadn’t — well if they didn’t want me alive for a big show trial.”

“Why do they hate you? What did you do?.”

“Well, you see, the Queen has it out for all of us. Apparently we’re prophesied to overthrow her. And even though I couldn’t give a shit about overthrowing her, nobody can argue with prophesy.”

Rachel raised her tankard, and gulped the last of her drink.

“I thought killing her was our ticket home,” I countered.

“I ain’t going home,” she said matter of factly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean, I wanted to. First couple years, I really wanted to. You know my family. They need me.”

Rachel took a deep breath, and looked at both of us with eyes that held some amount of pain.

“But,” she said. “Here I’m me. Not only am I good at this, but I get to be the woman I want to be. I go back there, and I’m just a daughter, just an employee. Here I can love who I want, kill who I want, and have zero regrets about it.”

“‘Love who you want,’” I muttered to myself. “Wait. You’re gay too?” I asked.

Rachel looked to Bernadette. Then she looked back to me.

“Too? You didn’t know Bernadette was bi?”

“I just thought she was quirky,” I said defensively.

Bernadette laughed.

“I’ve known you since middle school,” I said. “How did I miss this?”

“Yeah, and you never learned to listen to me,” she replied with a shrug, putting first her right glove, then her left glove back on with a wince.

“So, you don’t want to go back, because you’re worried what your parents may say?”

“Nah, man, I came out to them years ago. Way before I left. They didn’t like it, but it wasn’t a surprise.”

“So, why didn’t you—”

“Because I knew you would be weird about it. That you’d make it all about you. And maybe I just wanted to play some fucking games, man, not deal with your bullshit.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said.

Bernadette piped up, “well this is awkward. Zach?”

“Yeah?”

“Help me get these crossbows loaded.”

I helped Bernie find crossbows from the dead, and load them with bolts. Soon, we’d assembled a line of six crossbows, starting with our magic one, on the far end of the bar.

“She’ll come in the front door?” Bernie asked.

“Yeah,” Rachel answered. “Despite being such a damn good liar, she likes to fight honorably. Or well, as honorably as a Knight of the Word can be, given their immense strength.”

“So,” Bernie continued, “you’ll charge her as soon as she gets here. Don’t give her a chance to gloat or talk, just charge. I’ll maneuver for a killing blow. While I’m doing that, Zach will take shots only when you’re clear.”

“Try not to shoot me,” Rachel said with a shit-eating-grin.

She was still my friend. I could tell that. But maybe I didn’t know her as well as I should. Maybe I hadn’t put in the effort to.

“I can’t make any promises, I said. 10 DEX.”

She laughed.

Good. If I was gonna make this right, I had to make sure I didn’t make any of this weird for her. We just had to be friends, like we always were. And maybe I should talk to her more. Be more interested.

Unless that’s not what she wanted?

Shit. I’d missed so much. Not only the five years I’d lost, but the years I spent being a shitty friend.

And that was when Captain Wen walked in.