“Are you feeling better? I’m glad you took yesterday off as well; it looked like you lost a lot of blood.” Iris fussed over Exill, leaning forward over the counter to check the wound on his thigh. Exill involuntarily caught a good glimpse of her cleavage and could feel a familiar blush rising up his neck, so he quickly changed the topic.
“I’ve got my address this time, and you said something about a partner for the Labyrinth?”
Iris finished writing down the obscure inn’s address, seeming to recognise it, before raising a hand to motion a clean-shaven bald man with an eyepatch to come forward. His disinterested blue eyes connected with Exill, measuring him, before stepping forward to the counter.
“This is Grundle, I know he looks irritable but he’s one of the kindest men I know, he is really strong! He promised to look after you today.” Exill glanced at Grundle and saw the faint hint of a blush threatening the man’s stern face. Her excited praise must have triggered him.
‘Ah, I bet Iris asked him for a favour and he couldn’t turn her down. I mean, would I be able to?’
This was fine with Exill. He doubted Grundle would leave his cold corpse in the Labyrinth and risk disappointing Iris. He could trust this man to guard his back, to some extent.
He thanked Iris and stepped out of the guild, following the tall, well-built man. They didn’t exchange a single word as they queued outside the Labyrinth. They shook hands to form the party, with Grundle as its lead, a quiet focus seeped through over their emotional connection.
They crossed the hushed ground of the Inner Tower passing massive pillars that were as wide as his outstretched arms. Not awaiting on ceremony, Grundle wordlessly slipped through the inky black portal, swiftly followed by Exill.
***
“Four Goblins” Grundle held up four fingers to confirm their number and motioned Exill to an empty spot to his left. They were in a passageway, wide enough for two men to stand abreast.
Grundle sheathed his scimitar and unclipped a spear from his back, holding it at the ready. He looked at Exill to confirm he was prepared, glancing at the tattered blacksmith apron the lad wore like a cape. The seasoned Merc found it strange… but he had witnessed much stranger things.
“Harrrrumph!” Grundle cleared his throat with a shout to lure the goblins to them.
Soon, four green skinned monsters the size of children entered the tunnel and charged down the passageway. They were equipped with daggers, and one held what appeared to be a short spear.
Exill held his spear steady and braced against their charge. The lead goblin dodged Grundle’s readied spear and slipped forward, yet Grundle swiftly drew back his spear with a half-step to and impaled the goblin with a clean lunge.
Exill held his ground and kept the spear pointed centre mass, not giving an opportunity for his crafty opponent to slip forward. Exill stabbed forward and managed to gash the goblin’s side, pushing it off balance. Yet Exill stepped back, refusing to overcommit. He had learnt this lesson the hard way. The wounded goblin snarled and leapt forward, impaling itself on his spear. It died with a surprised expression on its face.
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There were now only two left, and Grundle’s opponent was the one with the short spear. The goblin was having a difficult time as his opponent had a significantly longer reach. The two sides were stuck in a stalemate until Exill successfully dispatched his opponent with a well-timed lunge.
The two mercenaries coordinated together to corner the last remaining goblin and dispatched it, with Grundle dealing the fatal blow.
Exill stood back as his partner collected the goblins weapons. He had studied the Field Guide during his rest and knew no parts of the goblin could be harvested, only their weapons were worth any money. Aside from that, there was a slight twinge in his thigh, but it didn’t overly hinder movement.
They moved forward to a split in the tunnels, Grundle tossed a coin, checking the results before moving down the left passageway. He eventually crept forward to the widened opening and peeked into the next cavern.
“Three harpies.” Grundle held up three fingers to confirm their number and moved aside for Exill to take a look as well. He looked up to see they were at the bottom of a large chasm; a crimson sky framed the silhouette of three feathered figures perched on a ledge. The harpies were roughly a meter tall and their sharp talons glinted wickedly from the shadows.
“Can’t lure them into passageway. Hold here.” The seasoned Merc advised. Grundle confirmed Exill was ready before notifying the harpies of their presence with his signature shout, “Harrrrumph!”
The harpies were startled awake and started circling them, diving down to harass the pair who held their ground at the entryway. The tense standoff continued for fifteen minutes before Grundle whispered to Exill, “advance with me. Need to bait.”
“Huh?” the rookie replied. Exill wasn’t sure what ‘bait’ meant, but stuck close to Grundle as he started inching forward, exposing more of themselves to the harpies. He gave further instructions as they approached the chasms centre, “I’ll cover top and rear, you cover front and sides.”
Exill was sweating nervously. He didn’t feel comfortable trusting his back to someone he met an hour ago. Furthermore, the harpies were swooping on them with increasing agility, and he was having difficulty covering the 180-degree field of view.
“Got one!” a sudden shriek pierced out above Exill as his partner impaled the diving harpy. “Back-to-back! Mark your target!”
Exill obeyed and marked one of the two remaining harpies, following its trajectory with the tip of his spear. They were circled for the next few minutes, neither side fully committing to an attack.
Exill was growing frustrated and decided to take a calculated risk. Deliberately stumbling forward, he lowered the spear as if he lost balance. The two harpies responded immediately to his fake-out and attacked, successfully impaling themselves on the two spears that were raised against them.
“That was risky, you need to communicate better.” Grundle chided him, a slight annoyance seeping through their emotional connection.
‘Talk about a hypocrite!’ Exill bit his tongue. He just nodded in understanding before approaching to field dress the downed prey. Larger flight feathers could be used as quills and the soft downier ones as stuffing. The field guide recommended cutting off the wings for simpler processing.
Grundle glanced over his shoulders at the rookie, from whom a torrent of disgust cascaded over the mental connection as they hacked and cleaved at the harpy’s shoulder joints. He clicked his tongue softly, trying to remember the first time he had butchered a prey.
After the wings had been removed, Exill moved on to the talons. They were typically ground into a fine dust and combined with healing items, such as his smelly red paste, to soothe inflammation more effectively. It was commonly used by the elderly as a joint pain remedy.
He wasn’t entirely convinced of some of the claims made in the Field Guide. For instance the extract of the rock mole’s gall bladder could be used to create a tonic for indigestion. ‘How do people even figure this out?’ he wondered silently.
For the second time that day, he wished [Appraise] could identify more of the item’s properties, instead of just their names and enchantments. Maybe it was just a matter of raising his [Peddler] level.
“Enough for today. Return” Grundle spoke, as his charge finished collecting the ingredients. Exill nodded, and eyed the seasoned Merc warily as they exited the Labyrinth, a dark shadow flitting across his emerald eyes.
‘I wonder how he is going to divide up the loot…’