George and Donald were taken to a hut to rest while Lestra spent one last night in whatever royal quarters she called her own. Their hut wasn’t a mere afterthought though. The nief wanted to make a good impression on the humans, so the hut’s interior was dressed in green cloth and a full banquet sat atop a round table. Donald avoided the leafy plates like the plague, but George was willing to give it a try. It wasn’t bad- a cabbagey taste with a citrusy quality. Sour, certainly- his lips curled in on more than one occasion- but not inedible. Nothing a quick sip of water couldn’t handle.
Their departure the next morning was unceremonious. Lestra left the great hall by herself, and not even her father came out to console her sullen face. When she saw George and Donald waiting for her, she bit hard and pulled her eyes up. The defiant mask carried through the caverns.
With the power of a rejuvenating ointment the elves had given them, they managed to make it back to the chamber where they had previously rested, and set up camp there once more. They took the same order of watch that night.
The first few hours George spent trying to sleep must have been cruel payback for his own unreliability. Lestra provided nowhere near the alert guard she had previously; she hardly even looked outside. With one eye creaked open, George caught a constant inward gaze from her. Worse yet was his own exhaustion when it was time for him to take watch. His eyelids, which had seemed so difficult to keep shut lying down, tugged at his will. He endured the sleepy siren’s song until at last it came time for Donald to take his place.
In the morning, Lestra sat on her mat, holding her knees.
“Come on,” Donald said. “It won’t be much further.” His words only made her tighten.
Lestra brought her knees to her chest. “W-when we get there…” She exhaled to suffocate her bitter elven pride. “I’m going to need you two to help show me around.”
“Alright,” Donald said. “Now let’s get going.”
George nodded to give his agreement as well.
“Thank you.” She stood up.
As they reapproached the silk-covered caverns, George feared having another encounter. Maybe they hadn’t really killed the colossal moth-like creature. Maybe it had a partner pining for revenge. Maybe those larval worms had grown up in the days since, and a hoard of juvenile- but still giant- insects would come after them. And if any of that were to occur, he knew he wouldn’t be able to rely on Lestra.
George’s concerns settled when they entered the main chamber, and all that met him was the hollowed out exoskeleton of the beast. Their surroundings matched Lestra’s sulking mood. The threads of silk drooped, and the worms- the ones that were left- floated lethargically in their pods.
At the very least, George knew that it wouldn’t be much longer until they made it back to the supertunnel, and then back to Meriford. Then what? He wasn’t really sure. He still needed a place to live.
Once they returned to Meriford, they headed straight to the guild to collect the rest of their stipends. George weighed the new bag of coins in his hand, lighter than the first. Donald glared at the attendant.
“New members always receive their first earnings front-loaded,” the attendant said. “Helps them prepare. I’d make sure you’re proper ready before taking on missions in the future.” She looked to Lestra. “Now if our records are correct, it seems you’re to be provided a lodge with the guild.”
Lestra clenched her fists and nodded.
As Lestra had requested, George and Donald accompanied her as she was brought to her new lodge. For a single person, the lodge was incredibly excessive. George grew a bit envious. Instead of taking the time to look for a cheap place to stay, he was helping to escort the princess to her mansion. There were two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen- two bedrooms? He had an idea, and that idea terrified him.
“I am so sorry to ask you this, but…” George gulped. He had already introduced the question. No turning back now. “I don’t have a place to live. Could I stay in the lodge with you?” he said it as fast as possible.
“Huh?” Lestra raised an eyebrow and sighed. “You know what? Fine.”
“R-really?” George stammered. She had to have been pulling his leg and what a cruel joke. But she must have been thinking he deserved it. He bit his lip to ease the pain of going through all the ulterior motives she might have thought of. Did humans and elves even have relationships?
“Sure,” she said to George’s relief. “Why not? I can’t imagine my father wanted me to be holed up by myself for however long this experiment lasts. At least this way I can say I got to know people without having to actually go out to often.
“I promise I won’t bother you.”
George set his things aside on a stone bench. A faint bluish light shimmered beside it, and beneath that light, a pale vine huddled over the ground. Silvery dirt spread around him. While learning his way around the city with Donald, he had found the empty lot and decided that it would make a good training spot. After a few push-ups, sit-ups, squats- exercises he recalled from gym class- he picked up his sword and began to swing. It no longer felt so heavy in his hands, and he no longer had to put his entire body into each swish. He was still far from perfect. The foes he practiced against were all imaginary, only able to move as fast as he could think, and he still struggled to stop the momentum of an errant strike, but he felt like he wouldn’t be a complete hinderance to his team if he needed to fight.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Tired and covered in sweat, George sat on the bench and took out a book. Aside from training, there wasn’t much else to do. No television, internet, none of the things that used to take chunks out of his day. So he spent a decent amount of time reading. One of the first things Donald had showed him was a library, and he immediately picked it apart for anything that could help him learn about his new world.
The book George took out, which was also the one he mainly focused on, was a field guide: ‘Creatures of Meriford.’ If guild work was what he would be doing to make his living, he figured that learning what dangers he might encounter would be the best thing to do. For instance, he had found out that the giant moth-like thing they had slain on their way to Vaaliya, was called a Lephodan. And sure enough, its main weakness was its less protected back. Had he known earlier, it would have helped spare him the embarrassment of employing his bold strategy of keeping himself in front of it.
Another book poked out from George’s bag. It was on history. He hadn’t gotten too far with the subject, but it wasn’t for lack of effort. More like they made it as hard as possible to find out what had gone on more than a single generation ago. The book was dreadfully dense, stuffed with campaigns for local council members, the construction process of buildings not even 15 years old, and minor accidents. Nothing he read within it seemed important in the slightest. He appreciated the detailed approach but wished it had been stuff he was actually interested in knowing about- the origin of the prowlers, and the wars of the past- but skipping to the end, he found that it hadn’t even gone back as far as the guild’s formation.
“Burrow worm!” A man hollered out, interrupting George’s reading. “A burrow worm has entered the city! All members of the guild please report to your nearest station. All civilians get inside for safety!”
George had seen it in his field guide but didn’t pay much attention. One of the things the guide showed was the range for each creature, and it seemed to indicate that it would be unusual for a burrow worm to be anywhere near Meriford. Though that it was in the guide for Meriford creatures at all probably meant he should have at least glanced over some of the info. Apparently, it was important enough to give a warning.
Following the man’s instructions, George rushed toward the guild station. Lestra and Donald were already there.
“The ballistas are being set now along with the bait at street 5 in the Mestle district. Go there now and help out.” A man in heavy armor accompanied the attendant at the desk. He shouted off the instructions like a drill instructor.
Donald led George and Lestra on as the only person in their group who actually knew where Mestle district was. A large monument stood at the end of the street, similar to the hooded decorations of the bridge but of a far grander scale- a colossus standing more than half the distance from floor to ceiling, with the slopes of its cloth reaching to either wall. Wooden fortifications marred the lower half of the statue. Barricades had been erected throughout the street to shield three giant ballistas.
Another heavily armored man was giving instructions to a much larger group of people than at the station. “Grab a bucket and pour it out wherever the line looks too thin.”
The liquid in the bucket George picked up had the consistency of mucous, and the smell of cold lard. But despite the scent, the base of the bucket felt lukewarm. George tiptoed along the trail of bait already laid out and held the bucket steady, afraid to get any of the foul liquid on himself. Much of the trail was thick, with a pronounced lumpiness. But eventually, he came to a spot that looked just like a darker shade on the pavement- could have been water, or it could have been acid. He poured his stock there and lamented as the splash soaked his ankles. He wondered why the morning keepers weren’t out there doing the dirty work. They were supposed to be the first line of defense, weren’t they?
“Get into position!”
At the command, the crowd of guild workers fanned out behind the ballistas. George followed Donald and Lestra to the ballista furthest back.
The ground rumbled and screeched. A behemoth mouth spun outward with a corona of teeth. A spiral shaped jaw furled upward, boasting teeth which jutted outward and formed a drill with their tightly packed positioning. As it pushed itself up into the open space, the inner spirals sank back, inverting to a funnel. A flat ribbon creeped out- its tongue. The body smacked to the ground, and its tongue drooled to the side. It slithered through the street and licked the trail of bait.
A creak echoed through the street. Someone had stepped on a loose plank from their platform. The worm’s tongue slinked back into its mouth and re-emerged with a pale ball of goop. It flung the glob out and hit one of the barricades. The wood melted, with the edges of the hole marred in a crisp singe. A thin green smoke emerged. The guild members manning the closest ballista held their cloth to their faces and together angled the bolt.
The worm stuck its tongue back in its mouth for another volley. They fired the ballista. The bolt struck its lower body, causing the worm to writhe as it threw its next glob of acid. The glob landed far off target and fizzled out on the stone wall. Though the bolt remained lodged in its side, the worm carried on.
Having encountered a nasty reaction from its attempt at the offensive, the worm stuck to its bottom-feeding, its tongue drooping over the bait. That didn’t deter the next group from readying their ballista. They fired. The bolt struck the outermost ring of its jaw. It broke through a large tooth and dug into the fleshy rim of its mouth. The worm flailed its head about, smashing into the ground repeatedly. The force it slammed itself with amassed bruises over its head, and an amber ooze flowed out- the same that lined the wounds caused by the bolts.
Bloody, the worm continued forth in a staggered crawl. It neared the end of the line of bait. It came time for the last ballista, the one George, Donald and Lestra had come behind. Donald helped aim, while George and Lestra helped lift another bolt- a backup in case their shot missed or didn’t do the trick. With a deep breath from everyone behind the barricades, they fired. The bolt struck the base of the worm’s head. The worm rolled violently over the street, but the thrashing only served to dig the three bolts deeper. Then, it stopped. The body lay still.