“How many?”
“200?”
[Contract established]
“Done.” Cassandra took his hand, shook it, and had already started leaving with Amus by the time Silas came back to his senses. Once the conversation processed in his mind, he resisted the urge to curse.
He assumed 200 was a lot, being roughly the amount his Nightweaver Legacy sold for. With it, he could buy three more high quality catalysts and have enough to open up to the sixth gate. It was his entire reward from that mission, other than the Nightmare Seed itself. And it was practically given to him without any negotiation whatsoever.
How much could he have gotten? 300? 400? 600? He was kicking himself the entire time as he got ready for bed and eventually fell asleep.
In the morning, Cassandra had returned bearing a list in hand, briefly explaining that, per the Lotus’ oversight, he would receive the points as soon as he returned to the compound with every item on the list. Silas noticed several types of salves, as well as the names of some pills and poultices.
On the other side of the list was a number of addresses for Apothecaries in the market district and, of course, the Hospital. It wasn’t unlikely that a few small groups of survivors had looted these places, so he fully expected to have to go to several. All across the Market District.
Before leaving, Silas picked up his rations for the day and returned to his room to stock up on supplies and make a plan. When it came to his abilities, he had his Aura Sensing Art and Anchored Spirit Art, the latter being his method of forcing fear energy out of his eyes. He found naming such things helped his mind categorise them for later.
Those would allow him to be significantly more well informed outside, decreasing his odds of getting ambushed. He remained confident in running or hiding, meaning it was frontal confrontations that he had to worry about. Silas decided to finally take advantage of certain Wayfinder perks in the compound.
On their trips out, many Wayfinders or guardsmen have found weapons lying around from the deceased. If able, they usually bring back what they find to better arm the people- Wayfinders were allowed to enter the makeshift armoury and take whatever they want.
Silas stepped into the armoury, really just a large tent filled to the brim with weapons and saw Hector sitting in a chair, staring at the sky above him. His path made him extremely sensitive to sound and as such, Amus tossed him here as a guard. Even so, Silas never heard him complain about that. Hector was perfectly happy to not risk his life.
Which is why Silas had to lightly slap him around to wake him up every time he came by. Usually a slap or two to each cheek woke him up, but today Silas hit him with a whole eight slaps.
“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Hector waved his hands around to start blocking the slaps. Silas grinned when Hector finally jolted awake and started rubbing his cheeks, watching the Chimekeeper grumble like a kicked puppy. “Every day with you.”
“Not my fault you’re sleeping on the job.”
“What job?” Hector laughed and patted his hands off, long having grown used to the bronze like energy coating his skin. “They just put me here because I’m too loud for anything else. They find anything for you yet?”
“Medicine run.”
“Damn. Here to pick something up then?”
Silas casually counted the bullets he still had in his pouches, having not used any of the high content stuff. Ammo was good. He still had a knife, but he wanted something with more reach than that incase he had to fight more Voiceless.
“Anything one handed and heavy.”
“Do you have any idea how much that narrows it down?” Hector chuckled and stood up, heading into the tent. Silas could hear him grunt and groan as the Chimekeeper struggled to lift whatever it was inside.
Shortly after, Hector walked out with a pile in his arms and dumped several objects onto the floor with a clang. Five weapons hit the ground and Silas stepped back a little, avoiding a broken toe. He couldn’t help but laugh watching the exhausted Hector take deep breaths. “I could have helped you know.”
“Trying to take my job now huh? Never!” Hector fell into his seat with a sound reminiscent of a plop. Silas rolled his eyes and glanced down at the pile on the floor. Several sleek black weapons lay at his feet. He ignored Hector’s exaggerated look as he easily picked up each weapon with one hand.
A longsword, two spears, a shield, and a saber. The longsword was too long and rather unwieldy while the spears were meant for either two handed use, or to use with the shield. The saber offered more reach, more balanced, and was the heaviest of them all. They all looked rather uniformly made of the same material.
“Black Iron. Exclusively used by guardsmen ranked Sergeants and up. Likely their weapons. Used for its weight.” Hector explained, not bothering to hide the absolute dread in his eyes for having to carry all this stuff back in.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Silas grabbed the saber, lifting it rather easily and moving it around a little to get used to the weight. “No sheath if it was scavenged, I imagine?”
“No sir, just the blade. We can provide a cloth to tie it to your belt, though?”
“I’m sure I can find a rag around, Hector.”
“While you’re at it, can you bring these weapons back in? I’m exhausted.”
“Sorry, can’t steal your job!” Silas turned around and walked off with a wave, pretending not to hear the man’s over the top cries for help.
Twirling the saber around in his hand; it was easily a dozen pounds if not a little heavier, a matte black colour with a sharp edge and a slight curve in the blade. If he wanted to pierce, the Noble Eye would do. This thing was for lopping off heads.
Silas shook his head and purged that imagery from his mind. He picked up a random rag to tie the Black Iron Blade to his belt. While a mass produced product, it still held a considerable amount of craftsmanship that he could appreciate. The grip especially, being the biggest overlap between firearms and blades.
For a brief moment, the idea of a merger between his pistols and blades such as this occupied his mind before he snuffed it out. The issue of balance, vibrations, material.. It was out of his depths at the moment. He could feel the itch to make something again, but he had the breadth of mind to realise now wasn’t the time.
It was instead the time to risk his life. If he accomplished this mission, he could come back to the compound, buy catalysts and then just hide away until he was strong enough. Then, he could head back to the Lower City. See who's still alive. Do his best to get everyone out and then find his way to Sebastian in the Capital.
He mingled with the other guardsmen for some time, one of which gave him a set of sleek, small throwing knives. Silas appreciated the gift, only taking it because the man said he saved his life. If he did, Silas was unaware.
Finally settling his mind and making sure his energies were topped off. Once he believed his condition was optimal, he waved one of the Sergeants down to open the gate, ignoring how the man’s gaze fell on his new blade.
The locations all appeared in his mind, plotting out a horseshoe shaped route that would take him all the way to the airship ports on the other side of the Market District. The Hospital would be on the second half of the horseshoe, meaning he could potentially skip it overall if he was lucky.
Half an hour later he quietly approached the door to the first apothecary and sighed under his breath. As the fog made way beneath his sight, it revealed a scene of destruction and ruin. The door had been smashed in, clay bottles and their contents smashed all over the floor. Most of the ingredients ruined by the lack of storage.
Silas stepped through the wreckage of the storefront and into the storage room. Relatively intact, he saw labelled shelves of boxes, bottles, jars and sacks. Some of the sacks had been torn open with their contents strewn about the floor. A few of the boxes towards the end of the room looked particularly sturdy, fist sized and reinforced with metal. They had been knocked off the shelf, if not straight up tossed at the ground in an effort to break them open.
He took a quick look around and then took out the grocery list, quickly looking for what was still there. He would stuff the required amount into a rucksack, then note on the paper that this location had it. It was less than a quarter of the list, but it wasn’t nothing.
Looking at the label for the spot Silas assumed the reinforced boxes fell from, his brows knit together. Blood Cleansing Pill?
[That is the name of an alchemic elixir]
A what?
[An alchemic elixir is a product formed through the precise manipulation of materials through the spirit and a myriad of purification methods, commonly being fire]
What does it do? Silas asked as he picked up the box and shook it lightly. He couldn’t tell exactly what or how many, just a bunch of rattling inside. He hadn’t seen a body or key anywhere to unlock it.
[Blood Cleansing Pills provide blood energy and increase the efficiency of refining an Empyrean’s veins to shorten the time between Gates]
He looked at the half a dozen lockboxes on the floor and decided to put the one he was holding in the sack with the rest of the medicine, making a mental note to return here later, alone. Silas even stashed them beneath the rubble and trash to keep them hidden.
If he brought this box back and someone in the compound could open it, he’d return for the rest. If not, then he didn’t waste any real effort, the box being too light to matter. Did Sebastian have access to stuff like this in the capital? How successful must he be by now?
Silas dropped to the floor softly and held his breath, hearing the slow shambling footsteps walking down the road outside. They didn’t stop outside the building, simply moving along without a problem.
It wasn’t the first patrol he had hidden from and he doubted it’d be the last. They roamed the streets constantly and in higher amounts the closer you got to the outside portion of the Market District.
He suspected it was because those in its depths were basically trapped, and patrolling the outside portion meant the Lower City couldn’t ascend while the Upper City couldn’t descend. It effectively isolated all three likely survivor camps from each other. Stronger patrols should be closer to the edges of the Market District.
After waiting a few more minutes, Silas finally stood up and walked back outside, travelling along the edge of the road. Moving at full speed could attract attention so he maintained a steady pace without being too loud. If he was ever caught by surprise by a patrol or one turned the corner unexpectedly, he did anything from climbing up a wall to diving inside the closest building. He even hung off a few rooftops to avoid detection.
Slower now, another hour passed by before he reached the second Apothecary, now standing beneath sunlight rather than the cavernous sky of the city’s depths. Silas took a few minutes at first just feeling the warmth of the Sun and reminiscing on its old companion stars. When your world ends, you don’t really think about why eight whole stars suddenly went out. Now though, he had the time to think about it. The security.
Descending from the rooftop after hiding from another patrol, Silas made his way towards the front of another Apothecary and silently peered inside through the open window, his eyes flashing with blood red light as he prompted Aura Sensing.
Immediately, his vision was blinded by a bright white flame in the dark storefront that burned around a crimson black core. When he disabled the Art, the storefront returned to a still, peaceful darkness. He recognized the black in its core, but not whatever it was in there. Only Amus matched its strength.