54 - Forced March

He found the dwarf waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. The myrmidon's scowl was deeper than usual. The warrior was glancing around the deck constantly as if looking for signs of trouble. Clearly, he was not happy about Joe’s good reputation with the mass of people aboard the Tide Dancer.

Joe wondered if he could convince Azbekt that he wasn’t going to try and make trouble. He didn’t want this issue with Groven hanging over his head any longer. Maybe he could convince the fiery dwarf to relax.

It shouldn’t be too difficult since he had barely done anything wrong. At worst, he had been a little flippant with some nobleman. That surely was not enough to warrant any truly dire punishment.

Looking at the scorn-filled sneer on the myrmidon’s face, Joe doubted it was going to be that easy.

Azbekt VanderAxe: Dwarf: Crusader / Myrmidon / Champion 34

“Good morning, sir. I have come down to surrender myself,” Joe announced, walking to the steps.

“I find that dubious, Trickster,” the dwarf replied in a hard grinding voice. Azbekt crossed his arms over his wide chest and glared around. Joe did not miss the fact that the Phealtian had stayed on the steps. While it was unlikely the dwarf had any insecurity about his height, the elevation did give him a boost to intimidation. “Here on this deck, my authority is superseded by the captain’s. If you truly wished to yield, then why did you not wait until we reached the dock?”

Perplexed by this odd attack, Joe stammered, “I don’t know. Now seemed like as good a time as any.”

“Bah! The fey lie as easily as good folk breathe. I see through your duplicity,” he spat, sweeping a hand to include those around him on deck. “You seek to shield yourself behind these indebted innocents? You would spend their blood to save your own ill-natured skin.”

“No! I’m trying to do the right thing here!” Joe almost shouted back. He lifted his gaze off the irascible warrior and looked out at everyone else on deck. “I am willingly surrendering myself to the myrmidon Azbekt. It is just a misunderstanding. Please, do not do anything to interfere.” Looking back to his accuser. “There. Satisfied?”

“Nay, Deceiver. I have pitted myself against the courtesans of Feylands too many times to fall to your wiley ways. Nothing you utter is to be trusted.”

“This is ridiculous. What can I do here? You won’t believe anything I say, so there is nothing I can do that won’t just make you more suspicious.”

“You can start by surrendering your weapon.”

Joe could not help but laugh. “If you can find it, I’d be grateful. The last I saw, my staff was taking a dive off the ship.”

“And your other magical paraphernalia? Turn that over then.”

“Will I get a receipt for it?”

“You dare to question my honor, knave?” the myrmidon hissed, thrusting his face forward.

Joe emphatically tossed up both of his hands. “So nothing I say is to be believed, but I have to trust you implicitly? You have to see how one-sided that is?”

“You asked how I could afford you a margin of trust. I have told you. Surrender any empowered items, and I will consider offering you a degree of credence.”

As he watched the dwarf’s eye sweep over him searching, Joe realized that Azbekt was trying to spot his enchanted gear, but he clearly was failing to do so. [No One] was blocking the myrmidon from being able to assess even his gear.

The [Band of Beguilement] was in plain sight. With its pink and violet coloring, it was so at odds with everything else Joe was wearing he knew it must have been spotted. Once the item left his body, the dwarf would be able to [Identify] it. Joe sighed. Beguilement seemed like a very faerie type of magic. He had a feeling that the powers and nature of the band would only make Azbekt loathe him even more.

He considered keeping one item as an ace in the hole since it wouldn’t be detected. The teleportation medallion could be useful if things went sideways.

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that the dwarf would ask if there was anything else, and then Joe would have to lie. Lying seemed like a very bad idea. Sir Groven had sensed something fey about Joe even through [No-One]. Would the myrmidon be able to sense lies?

“Fine,” he replied. He reached into his gambeson and lifted out the [Talisman of the Medic] and then slid off the purple and fuchsia bracelet. He took the keen knife out of its sheath and grabbed the slow stone from his belt pouch. These he dropped into his healer’s kit along with his spinning ring. He then dropped to the deck to pull off his footgear.

“Here, this is everything I have,” Joe exclaimed, holding out the bag, belt, and boots.

“You lie. No one would have just this pitiful assortment of dreck. You must have more.”

“Gee, thanks for rubbing in how badly I’m doing. That’s it, Azbekt. Really.” he stated. “Can we go now? Look, they just ran out the gangplank.”

“I do not believe you, Outlander, but you have one small thing correct. It is time we departed.”

The dwarf swung the confiscated belongings toward a small purse hanging off his belt. All of Joe’s stuff seemed to shrink and vanish into the pouch as the dwarf brought the items close to the bag’s opening.

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While Joe looked longingly at the extra-dimensional bag, the myrmidon stepped forward, and, in one smooth motion, he snapped a single manacle onto Joe’s wrist. It happened so fast that Joe didn’t see it coming.

“Now, you cannot escape me. Come. Your judgment is at hand.”

The moment the cold metal closed around his wrist, a message from Hawking seemed to creep guiltily into the corner of Joe’s line of vision.

You have failed to elude the Order of the Golden Edict. Quest Failure [Elude the Hunt].

‘There goes fifty gold pieces.’

He was not given more than a second to rue his loss. As soon as Azbekt started to stomp away, Joe felt a tug on his wrist. He just barely managed to stay on his feet.

Your skill [Steadfast] has increased to rank 6

Joe had planned to say his goodbyes, but he was yanked away from the stairs by the invisible tether. He would have face-planted onto the deck had [Steadfast] not activated.

Yago’s long arm reached out toward Joe, stopping just short of grabbing hold of him. He could see the concern on the aresian’s face, but Joe just shook his head and gave the big man a thump on the arm.

“It will be ok. Thank you. All of you,” he managed to get out as the force on his arm pulled him from Yago’s side. Joe was ready for it this time. Jogging, he closed the gap with the marching dwarf.

Azbekt hit the dock and made a sharp turn, bulling his way through the crowds. If Joe had not been right on his heels, the squat grouch would have tugged him off the gangplank.

Joe quickly found it was easier to follow tightly in the dwarf’s wake. The few times Joe lagged to look at something, he had to struggle to catch back up. The myrmidon's force of presence and unrelenting march caused people to instinctively move out of his way.

Lacking that domineering aura, once the crowd closed back behind the dwarf, Joe had to try and slip through the mass of people to stay near his captor. He would not put it past Azbekt to drag him through the streets should he trip and fall.

Thankfully, the more the myrmidon yanked him around, the more surefooted he became as the zealot power-leveled [Steadfast] for Joe. Unfortunately, without his boots, Joe found himself stubbing his toes on the cobblestones and stepping into things he would rather not think about.

They left the wharves and seaside shops behind and marched along a lane with a variety of businesses. Joe was pulled past tailors, a bookbinder, a tea shop, a very wealthy-looking trading house, and several more establishments.

The street opened into a market square, where Joe saw dozens of stalls. He would have loved to look around, but Azbekt’s pace never let up. Joe sighed, reminding himself again this ridiculous misunderstanding would soon be over. They crossed straight through the market and onto another road, this one angling upward.

After another city block, the buildings on each side of the road changed from small two-story shops to a pair of massive ornate structures. On Joe’s right, the edifice was adorned with glittering obsidian pillars. On his left, the structure was made of tiled mosaics, patterned to look like the sea and waves.

As they entered the plaza beyond the two temples, Joe knew this had to be the Telemont Square Hah’roo had mentioned. All around the open area were dozens of churches. They came in all sizes, from the huge temple of the sea god right next to him, to small shrines, and even a few lone altars around a massive central fountain.

Joe could not help but gawk until the magical tether yanked on his arm. It was almost impossible not to stare at the stunning edifices. They ranged from beautiful to ominous. Even the most sedate of them elicited some emotional response. Joe felt drawn to a sandstone temple whose mural showed hundreds of people holding and supporting each other. He recoiled from a dark church made of sharp metal angles that spoke of pain and violence. He smiled at one that had pillars carved to resemble stacked ale barrels and a roof that seemed to be made of beer foam.

Azbekt finally deviated from his straight-line march. He had turned to angle towards a gray marble temple trimmed in both silver and gold. The building was made in perfect symmetry, each column precisely placed, every stair and corner perfectly straight. This building had the neoclassical look of an official city hall. It practically cried out ‘Order’.

As the myrmidon dragged him towards what had to be the temple of Phealti, Joe remembered Hah’roo’s warning.

“Azbekt, wait! I demand to be judged by the Fourfold Court,” he announced to the broad back he had been following.

The warrior spun on his heel and stomped right up to Joe, practically knocking him over. “Who told you about the Fourfold Court?” the ruddy-faced dwarf barked, spitting with fury. “You have no say in this, you wretched piece of fey filth. Recant that demand before I make you do so.”

“I can’t imagine you’re allowed to beat an innocent ...” Joe did not have a chance to finish before a fist slammed into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath.

“You know nothing at all, you aberrant freak,” the myrmidon of order hissed, standing over Joe’s hunched form. “My god allows me to do whatever is necessary to keep this world clean. Withdraw your claim, or I will thrash you to within an inch of your life here and now for defying the Lord of Order in sight of HIS holy hall?”

“What the hell, Azbekt?” Joe wheezed as he straightened back up. A backhanded slap snapped his head to the side and brought stars flashing across his vision. The blows were delivered to inflict pain, not kill. Even though Joe could easily heal the damage he had taken so far, the sting of them was brutal.

“Myrmidon,” a stately voice intruded. Joe, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, looked to find a gray-furred man dressed in sand-colored robes standing beside them. “This is unseemly here in the Court of the Gods.”

“Mind your own business, Murrceeian. I will have this varlet off the street in a moment.”

“No, you won’t,” Joe retorted. “I claim a Fourfold …”

This time, the red fist hit him straight in the face. Joe could hear the bone in his nose snapping. A gasp rippled through the crowd growing around them. Even through his bleary, watering eyes, Joe could see dozens of robed and armored forms gathering closer, glowering at his tormentor.

Yet, they did not directly intervene. For the first time, Joe had a real doubt. ‘Does Phealti really give this asshole free reign?’

Yet the mutterings and indignation continued to grow against Azbekt. Emboldened by the support and more than a little pissed off, Joe reached up and tugged his crumpled snout somewhat back into place. With tears now streaming out of his eyes from the sharp pain, he cast a warding heal, shouting, “I can do this all day, you dick! FOURFOLD …”

A kick swept his legs out from under him. When he hit the ground, a second boot cracked into his ribs, but [Healer’s Ward] turned it into a tap, instead of a blow.

“CHAMPION! STOP!” a massive voice thundered across the square. “THIS IS ABOMINABLE!”

Joe turned to see the towering form of a minotaur in bright red armor bearing down on them. The fury in the horned man’s eyes would have utterly terrified Joe if it had been aimed at him.

But it wasn’t; it was locked onto Azbekt.

For the first time in Joe's presence, the dwarf’s superior sneer of disdain fell away. It was hard to tell, given the dark red color of the Phealtian's skin, but Joe could have sworn the myrmidon’s face paled by several shades.

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