Bloody Steve

Thrask was one hell of a city. I couldn’t remember how long I told Helmet I’d be. Six days? Seven? In the end, it took me twelve. Some of the whorehouses were so damn good I had to double back.

I had spent every bit of coin I earned on my escort mission and from the carapax pheromones, but it was money-well-spent.

The horned bastard wasn’t responding to my comm messages, but that was alright. Probably just meant he was still in the dungeon.

I ignored the boatmaster, who tried to talk me out of going to Beastden, which was damn strange. I rowed us downstream, hopped off the boat, and frowned when I saw there wasn’t a damn person in sight on the shore. Where were the damned merchants and the guild ink-fingers?

I shrugged. Best way to get answers was to go inside.

I strutted my way down the long tunnel and found an entrance chamber with only three people inside, and they looked like they were packing up.

“Ey!” I shouted, catching the attention of some statue-looking, woman-melting, iron-jawed bastard with a blue cloak.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. He straightened, gesturing for the two girls he was with to continue packing up a bag of supplies. “I’m Vitus,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it, just so I could give that shit a good squeeze. The man didn’t even flinch, though. Probably an Iron. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Wears a helmet with big horns. Blue and all magicky looking? Shadows leak out of the eye-holes? He is usually with a pretty red-head? Nice, round bum on her—not the kind you’d miss.”

The man tilted his head at me, as if he was about to say he’d seen them, then shook it. “Whoever you’re looking for is probably gone. The dungeon is dead.”

“Eh? What do you mean? It only opened up what, two or three weeks ago. How is it dead? Some bored Silver come through and clear it out?”

“We’re still not sure,” he said. “There were stories of a mysterious Iron Rank man that circulated, but nothing concrete. People said the dungeon heart room looked like a force of nature went through it. Somebody killed the dungeon guardian, and an Eclipsed. Whoever it was didn’t even take credit or tell anyone the dungeon was dead.”

“So… there’s nothing to kill?” I asked.

“No… The dungeon is cleared. It has been for days. Haven’t you heard anything about this in the city?”

“I was very busy. Important work and all that.”

“You could help us finish packing up,” he suggested.

“Nah,” I said, turning and strolling back out of the dungeon. Who was the mysterious bastard or bastardess who had done something like clear a dungeon and not tell a soul about it?

And where was Helmet and his round-bummed friend? I missed them both. Her a little more, I’d admit.

#

Rock

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Hungry, as always, eh?” the man said. “For a little tomte, you eat enough for two.”

I stared at him. If he understood humor, I might have let him have a good joke about that. But he wouldn’t get it. These people never did.

I paid for the food without a word and headed for my personal space.

I turned the key, opened the door, and stepped inside. My personal space was small, but I liked it that way.

“Did you get meatballs?” the girl asked. She looked about fourteen years old, but had platinum blonde hair verging on white now. I couldn’t say if it looked more white now than before she had died. Maybe. There was a good joke about that I might tell her some time. Not today.

“I did,” I said, setting the plate down in front of her.

She smiled. “Thank you, Rock. For everything.”

I waved off her thanks. “Here,” I said, producing the potion I had bought from Crackletooth.

The girl looked up at it, face pulled into a grimace. Though she wasn’t actually fourteen, her mind occasionally struggled within the younger bodies. I had to admit I didn’t mind her as an infant. She hardly cried and was rather cute, like a tomte. As a toddler, she was a terror. That had been a rough few days.

Once she was about six or seven, she began to remember who she was and talk of things no child should know about.

Now, she was more herself than ever. She still hated the potions, though, and always complained of their taste.

“Drink. Don’t drink,” I said, sitting down and pulling off my boots. “If you wish to be a foolish girl, you won’t drink. If you wish to help him, you will drink.”

She pulled a face and repeated my words in a mockingly deep voice. “Drink. Don’t drink. Foolish girl.”

I sighed, waiting as she finally rolled her eyes, unstoppered the drink, and drained it with a wince.

Purple light glowed beneath her skin and her body stretched in uneven bursts. Her hair grew longer. Her nails lengthened. She coughed, shivered, and stood, looking down at herself.

“Bigger,” I said.

She looked at me with a strange expression. “How many more times do you think?”

“How old were you before?”

Some of the silly youth seemed to have left her eyes now. I found it hard to put an age on humans, but I would’ve said she was eighteen or twenty. Maybe a little older.

“That’s a rude question to ask a woman.”

“A question can’t be rude. It’s a question.”

She stared at me. “Is that one of your terrible jokes?”

“It is a funny joke.”

“A joke can’t be funny. It’s a joke.” She said the words with a sour twist of her lips and the sarcasm of a teen girl.

I burst out laughing. “A joke can’t… Ah. Gods. That is a good one, Circa. I will write this down and tell my tribe when I return home.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked, eyes suddenly wide. “I’m not ready yet. I’m still Wood, Rock.”

“No,” I said, “I’m not leaving yet.”

She let out soft breath and sat back down. Circa reached up and idly began braiding her long, not-quite-blonde hair. Yes. It was more white than blonde, I decided. Maybe it was a side effect of the item that had saved her life.

I still remembered what I had found when I went back to search for her body. The carnage of intense magic had nearly torn the room apart where Circa had battled the lich. The smell was thick in the air, and I almost gave up hope that I would find anything of her to bury.

All I found was a pile of her clothes and a bright red egg. Naturally, I took the egg, hid it, and stashed it in my personal space. I told no one.

The next day, I found an infant crying beside the broken egg. When I saw the baby, I knew it was Circa. Finding the cursed tomte capable of making the potion had taken some work, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

I had hoped her rank and power would come back with age, but so far, it hadn’t. She was still Wood, and a weak one, at that.

But the things inside her head were valuable, and I was glad she was alive. So that was that.

Circa took several hungry bites of her food, swallowed, and then turned back to face me. “I want to go to Thrask tomorrow.”

“Thrask?” I asked.

“Yes. I think it’s where he’ll be. And I need to find him. I just hope he’s still alive… I can’t imagine the trials he has faced since I last saw him.”

“He was a resilient type,” I said. “Or he’s dead.” I held back my laughter. That was a very good joke, and I was waiting for her to laugh before I joined.

She frowned at me. “Don’t say that. I’m sure he’s alright.”

Damn humans.

Circa took several more aggressive mouthfuls of food, barely chewing before she swallowed. When she turned around to face me, there was sauce on one cheek. “Rock?” she asked. “Before we go, do you think you could go get me two more plates of this? And maybe ask them for extra meatballs this time?”

I sighed and began putting my boots back on.