Chapter 86

Orion

Day 76 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 71

At the edge of our village, three riders approached, leading a caravan behind them. Scars from the battle still marked the fields they passed—broken bolts and arrows scattered where they hadn’t been scavenged. A dirt path was forming along the riverbank leading to the northern gates.

I rode on Rudolph to meet the visitors, hoping Sophie had delivered on one of my requests. Part of the price she paid for the horse I’d gained from the Eldrins was supposed to be in that caravan. I wanted to dig through it before anyone else got the chance.

To my surprise, the visitors turned out to be Nax and Fleetpaw, my Catkin kitchen helpers from Kronfeldt. They rode a small pony alongside Bronzeclaw and another White Fang mercenary, two of the mercenaries spared from construction work in Thornhill.

“Well, if it isn’t you two. Aren’t you supposed to be making burgers?” I grinned.

“Lord Clark!” Nax shouted when he recognized my voice. Without my mask, he looked stunned. “You’re a Chattel?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Orion's my real name."

I suppose since they are working for Sophie now, I wouldn't have to worry about them keeping this place a secret.

"How are you two?”

“We’re good. Lady Lois got us jobs with her company,” Nax replied quickly, answering for both of them. Fleetpaw nodded in acknowledgment, his calm demeanor suggesting he wasn’t as surprised to see me unmasked.

“Have they been a handful, Captain Bronzeclaw?” I asked, turning to the White Fang captain.

“They’re fine lads,” Bronzeclaw said, “but a mercenary captain should be doing more than escorting trade caravans. Speaking of which, when do you plan on finishing with my men?”

That was the other price of Sophie’s horse. Ten White Fang mercenaries were helping me build a tavern and extra living space, with the other ten helping Bianca construct her new hostel. Over the past few days, Crag dug out a cellar and the rest of the mercenaries had just started laying the floorboards for the tavern’s second floor.

I called in favors with Marek, who designed and oversaw the plans for the tavern, and with Bianca. I also handed Hadrelian's sword to Alex in exchange for his help lifting beams and wheelbarrows of bricks. Together, we all worked on the tavern over the past several days. Strangely, even some of the Emancipated came to help, thanking me for reasons I couldn’t fully understand.

“Oh, just a few more days, Captain. Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll escort you to the village. The villagers might be a bit… unsettled about Beastkin visitors coming through.”

The White Fang Legion mercenaries—Beastkin men working on my tavern—had a rough time. They camped on the outskirts of town using tents belonging to the fallen Red Scythe and rode in each morning to begin their work, but every time they appeared, they frightened the villagers. People muttered cruel things, calling them “animals” and “beasts,” their words fueled with memories of the raiders who had stormed the village walls. Over time, the villagers grew used to them, but it was clear the Beastkin weren’t welcome. Despite Bianca and me trying to make them feel at home, they kept camping outside.

Before anyone in the village could see, I inspected the caravan’s contents and dug out one of my prizes: a glass jar nestled inside a melting block of ice, water trickling to the back of the wagon where it nestled. I cracked it open and sniffed the white liquid inside—still fresh and creamy. Perfect. I tucked it into my satchel along with the other treasures Sophie had bought for me: some umber rock sugar and a vial of castoreum.

“Lord Orion, it’s not nice to pilfer the village’s supplies,” Nax said, hands on his hips as I stuffed the ingredients into my bag.

“Entry tax,” I replied with a smile.

We entered the town and unloaded the supplies Sophie had sent: clothing, parchment, clothing, and more storage bags for grain. Special packages, marked for Anika and Samar, were rewarded for their work on the tea blends.

The villagers were much friendlier to Nax and Fleetpaw than to the mercenaries, finding the younger cats adorable. I had to remind them not to pet the "kitties".

Outside the tavern, work carried on as usual. Emancipated mercenaries laid bricks and sanded wood for chairs, while Slate set up wooden beams for the second floor—where the rooms would go for me and Cass and two guest rooms. Crag, Bianca’s quarry golem, was busy digging a drainpipe to connect the eventual outhouse to the sewage system.

In the back a pair of Emancipated who were assigned to do farming with Samar was helping in their spare time, working on a garden with tomatoes and herbs. Again, I tried to get them to leave but they insisted, still believing that I was the Magebane.

I guess if it keeps them from worshipping the real Magebane… I’ll try to make the best out of it.

It felt downright devious that I’d managed to get so many people to work on a project that was mostly for me and Cass. But like all selfish things, I only felt a tiny bit guilty due to Bianca's influence. I pulled out the first Deed card Bianca had created and studied the area she’d assigned me. It was a generous plot with room for gardens in the back and space for future expansion. The tavern itself sat in a prime spot, east of the village center, between the Second Tenement and the dungeon, and close to the well and northern moat that would supply it with water.

Outside, a charcoal grill glowed softly, flames licking at the copper wok resting above. Pouring in the cream, I made a crème anglaise, using ingredients from the Caravan along with Astridian eggs from the animal keepers. The custard, smooth and fragrant, was carefully poured into a pickle-sized glass jar, wrapped securely, and tucked into a bag.

Have to be careful not to break this thing.

After finishing that, my buff timers flashed a reminder—the dungeon run was starting.

At the mess hall, I met up with the dungeon crew. Alex and Sasha rode Comet, Astrid was on Dancer since Olive was pregnant, and Bart and Cade were on Dasher. I, of course, rode Rudolph. We headed toward the dungeon, cutting our travel time significantly with the mounts.

Aja—now the size of a Timberwolf—ran alongside Astrid. She had transformed alongside Astrid’s new levels, becoming a fearsome beast. Like her partner, Aja was missing her right eye, with a scar running across it. Beneath the scar, a red, angry light glowed ominously. Her once easygoing demeanor had hardened into a permanent sneer, and she no longer allowed anyone to touch or pet her.

I hadn’t spoken much to Astrid after our confrontation. Many of the dungeon crew had given her space, welcoming her into the lineup. I figured I’d done enough damage to her already, but at least I pointed her in the right direction. It would take some time before her scars truly healed.

Slowly, she was coming out of her shell and was running out of coins, so she decided to finally come with us on a dungeon run after much prodding.

I had considered inviting Cameron, despite my lingering wariness of him. In our last encounter, I’d seen firsthand that he was a high-level archer and our party needed more ranged members. However, Cameron was preoccupied. He was busy helping the Emancipated acclimate to their new homes and, no doubt, working tirelessly to save enough coin for the eventual purchase of a mount.

When we reached the dungeon, we hitched our elk to a resting spot inside the cave. We’d set up a fenced-off area to keep them safe from predators. Astrid didn’t treat the elk with the same affection she used to. Seeing that somehow made me feel a bit of regret. She dismounted and hitched Dancer with robotic movements, then took her place in our formation, hands resting on the pommel of her whip.

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The six of us all activated the Waystone and were transported to floor four of the dungeon once we went past the iron doors.

On floor four, we faced rocky canyons with harpies perched on cliffs above, waiting for us. The maze-like paths always led to a narrow entryway that opened into a clearing surrounded by cliffs on all sides, where the harpies waited. Bart, Alex, and I worked to clear the entryway, my Strike of Iron proving useful.

Once the path was clear enough for the two of us to pass at a time, we moved forward as a group, not surprised when the first flock of harpies descended. Aja leaped over us, mauling a harpy whose talons were aimed at our group. Cade and Alex, our tanks, sprang forward and began fighting.

Before the purple harpies could cast their tornado spells, they were hit with bolts, Acid Spit, and throwing knives. Astrid, teeth bared, charged far left, taking on several harpies by herself. Her whip spiraled and cracked, sending feathers flying like it was a pillow fight.

“Get back in formation, Astrid!” I yelled, but she shot me a glare.

I wasn’t sure how to deal with her. I probably shouldn’t take anyone to the dungeon with that kind of death wish.

Reluctantly, Astrid left a pile of dead harpies behind and returned to the formation, guarding the left flank.

The harpy massacre was so quick that we didn’t trigger the Cyclops boss. After checking our coins and ammunition, we decided to wander around and search for loot.

The first chest we opened contained a bronze spiked collar, which we gave to Astrid. She placed it around her dog’s neck, and the menacing familiar looked even more intimidating.

“Damn, Astrid! Remind me to stay out of your way,” Sasha said, grinning.

“Forget Astrid the Animal Keeper,” Alex said, nudging her. “You’re Astrid the Beast Master now.”

“You cool if I smith you a skull helmet?” Bart said, nudging Astrid with his elbow. “Gotta have you two matching.”

For a moment, Astrid's frown disappeared and was replaced with a slight nudge on the corner of her lips.

“There it is!” Alex said, pointing. “We almost had a smile! Blink twice if it was an accident.”

Astrid shook her head, lips twitching upward again, barely.

Cade leaned closer. “We’re your pack, Astrid. Whatever’s weighing you down, we’ve got your back.”

“Leave her alone guys. If she doesn't want to smile, don't force her to,” Sasha laughed. “She’s too good at death glares to quit now.”

We continued on with the rest of the crew, making light conversation and trying to include Astrid in their discussion about a playlist of songs they could persuade Gabriel to sing once the tavern was finished. I glanced at Astrid, walking ahead of me on the left. For just a moment—like the melting of the first snowflake signaling spring—a tiny smile flickered across her face before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

After clearing each dead end and exploring all the nooks of the floor, we looted one more chest and took down another swarm of harpies. Once we were ready, we moved toward the Cyclops.

At the end of the maze, we found the Cyclops guarding the bridge that led to the iron doors to the next floor. As we approached, the Cyclops wasted no time scattering our formation with a powerful Cyclopean Beam which was blocked by Cade’s shield abilities, forceful waves of red energy clashing against the light blue barrier.

Alex was the first to charge forward. He must have leveled up since he practically blinked at the giant, closing the distance in an instant. With a cry, he unleashed a Holy Strike against the Cyclops’s leg, his new weapon—Hadrelian’s black Nodachi I’d gifted him—carving deep into the flesh and nearly severing it at the knee.

Two could play the game of Cyclopean Beam. Summoning my own, I aimed the crimson energy at the wound Alex had opened, drawing a line across the cut. The beam burned through the mangled joint, severing what remained and leaving the Cyclops one-legged, its roar of pain shaking the ground.

As it sank to one knee, Bart launched a spinning war hammer into the Cyclops’s eye, while Astrid lashed at its grip on the giant tree trunk it used as a club. It roared as they continued to strike, and I finished it off with an Acid Spit that left a crater in its bald pate.

Together, all six converged on the fallen Cyclops, slashing, striking, and lashing on all sides until it no longer moved. What took several minutes, now took a minute.

After looting the corpse and the final treasure chest—a new set of bronze greaves, which we gave to Bart—we prepared to advance to Floor 5. Before descending, several of us foraged for dried wood to bring to the next level.

As of now, we had no plan for how to proceed on Floor 5. The floor was a cave trapped in a blizzard, where we could barely take a step without the biting cold slowing us down. The fur cloaks and extra tunics we brought for insulation would be our first test to see if we could endure the conditions or if we’d need to return better prepared. To be honest, I had little desire to push further for a while. Exploring just one floor at a time would keep us battle-ready, but all of us had our own priorities back in town. I, for one, had a tavern to finish.

The moment we descended, the frigid air hit us like a truck. I knew this level would push us beyond just the dungeon itself. We had six months until the presumed winter would hit, and I hoped this world would behave differently, giving us a mild winter. It was late spring currently, and the weather so far had felt like a New York summer.

Our party gathered the wood to build a campfire. Clattering teeth and hot steam rose from our bodies as I lit the fire with my Ring of Ignition and some tinder. We quickly regretted it, though, as black smoke filled our small cave, causing our eyes to water.

“Yeah… this isn’t for me. I’m out,” Cade rasped, hacking violently as he shivered uncontrollably.

“Orion, we seriously need some parkas.” Sasha broke into fits of coughing before adding, “How the hell are we going to get past this?”

“We’ll have to prepare for winter sooner or later. I’ll figure something out. You guys go back up. I’ve got some stuff I want to do,” I said, placing my gloved hands between my armpits for warmth. As the group left for the surface, they left their fur cloaks with me.

When they left, I wrapped myself in all the furs and set my glass jar of chilled crème anglaise out in the snow. Then, I packed more snow over the cave entrance to block out the biting wind. Using Firewielder, I dimmed the flame of the campfire we’d built inside the cave, reducing the smoke that filled the air.

A few minutes later, I checked on the glass jar and began churning the cream by hand. I repeated the process over and over, my hands and feet growing numb from the cold, until I finally finished.

Vanilla-Flavored Frozen Custard - C

Frost and chill resistance up by 20% - 6 hours

The flavor was nearly perfect—rich, creamy, and smooth. The artificial vanilla was a bit off from real vanilla, but to anyone tasting it blindly, it would be indistinguishable. Reaching into my bag, I grabbed a cured elk stomach, unfurled it, and placed the finished ice cream inside, covering it with snow. My numb fingers slowly regained some sensation thanks to the new buff.

With that done, I headed back up and urged Rudolph toward my nearly finished tavern.

The workers were either resting or eating dinner. The first floor of the tavern was nearly complete, albeit bare, with only a few final touches left. Half the floor had been tiled, thanks to granite cut by Crag. Slate was currently working on the roof, laying down brown clay tiles. The chimney and the stone oven in the center of the tavern were still unfinished, and many of the furniture pieces were still missing. However, the bar—made of a long counter of red oak—was complete.

In the corner of the building’s foundation outside my tavern, a dirt stairway—still unstoned—led down to my cellar. Inside, casks of wine lined the stone walls, which I had lent to Father Gallagher in exchange for a split of the tavern's alcohol sales. A chunk of leftover ice from the caravan sat in a corner, now slightly melted, with water pooling around its base. I set the jar of ice cream into the hole I’d dug in the large ice cube, carefully packing the remaining ice around it to keep it chilled.

Hopefully, the ice cream would last another day.

With all my chores done, I finally had time to read Sophie’s letter. After unsealing it and reading it over, I rubbed my temple and let out a deep sigh.

Great. Another thing to worry about.

When everyone retired to the Mess Hall to eat or unwind, I went outside to fetch a piece of plank and decided to call it a day as well.

My room was finished upstairs on the second floor. On the bottom floor, I let several of the Emancipated sleep. When I entered the tavern, I was startled to see three of them unknowingly praying to a Messiah they believed was in the sky, who happened to be standing nearby. That Messiah, Cass, was watching a match between two other Emancipated and teaching them how to play checkers.

It seems he knows how to speak Lokan now.

Sighing, I went upstairs to be left alone. In my room, I ignited a candle next to my furs and worked on carving a sign out of the plank until I was ready to sleep. Tomorrow I will paint it, but the raised lettering already showed plainly the title of my tavern: The Cup and Dagger.