Thankfully, the shards of glass were ineffective in piercing the shield he had woven over himself to deter pickpockets, but he still took a step away from the impact site. Which was fortunate, as the first bottle was almost instantly followed by another one, sailing through the air right where his head was moments ago.
The previously ‘peaceful’ atmosphere was shattered within a blink of an eye as one bottle became a dozen and Sam watched with fascination as the entire building broke out in a fight. People were hitting each other with fists, bottles, broken furniture as debris flew everywhere with a liberal amount of alcohol following it, making sure everything was soaked in it.
Then a person was sent flying through the pristine replacement window, breaking the glass in thousands of pieces and leaving the people that were carrying it to look on with resigned faces. Sam had the privilege to watch as the two men shared a look then as one broke the frame of the broken window and threw themselves after the guy that threw the first one through the window.
Sam chuckled and began moving toward the counter where the bartender was standing behind it and leisurely cleaning a glass that didn’t need to be cleaned and looking supremely unconcerned about the bar fight happening in his tavern.
“Hey!” Sam greeted the man with a downward motion of his head. The bartender returned the nod with a grunt. “Looking for Garen’s son,” Sam stated while showing the totem he received.
Another grunt and the bartender nodded in the direction of one of the clusters of the fight. Sam looked over and saw a guy looking like old Garen, though obviously younger, fighting three other guys with the dented remains of a tin plate. He seemed to be winning…
“Thanks!” Sam said while flipping a gold coin at the bartender, which instantly vanished into the ether as the man continued to clean the already clean glass.
Sam snorted and began walking toward his target. Occasionally he would hop over a few stray limbs or unconscious people or slap away improvised weaponry aimed at his head. He also used some wind magic to move people out of the way until he reached his target, who was currently on the ground, breathing heavily, surrounded by equally heavily breathing malcontents.
He reached down, grabbed the man at the cuff of his shirt, lifted him up – cheating with mana a little to not to make it uncomfortable or ruin the shirt – shook him a little and turned around, heading for the stairs leading to the second floor where he could speak with the man.
A few people tried to get in his way, but they all somehow tripped after taking one step or hit the air with whatever was in their hands.
Though he kind of wanted to see what the guy brandishing lamb chops was planning…
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Garen’s son sat opposite of him, nursing a glass of water that Sam poured him, making sure to butter him up, while examining the small carving he was given. The second floor was much quieter than the ground floor as people and groups sat around tables and quietly conversed and drank their choice of liver poison.
“So, my father sent you?” the younger man asked, eyes searching Sam’s face suspiciously.
Sam nodded. “Yes. I just want to get a quick overview of the situation in Sunspot. I heard about the expedition and the blood mages…”
The moment Sam mentioned the second one, Garen’s son, Glade grimaced. “Those animals…”
“That bad, huh?”
“They’re tearing through the small villages. The locals try to stop them, but they have no idea how to fight against blood mages…”
“And you do?”
Glade shrugged. “Me, personally? Nah… But it was made pretty clear that the Sun Warriors can fight off those monsters…” He explained. “The Heralds also announced that they’re working on things so that the small people could protect themselves from it…”
Sam nodded in understanding. He remembered hearing about it. The Sun Heralds, or leaders of Sunspot and associated territories, decided – in their infinite wisdom – to fight fire with fire. They began distributing blood magic, enhanced by the power of the sun.
Boy, did it not work out for them. They weren’t toppled but the fights seriously crippled their forces and if it weren’t for the absurd strength of the Sun Warriors, then Sunspot would have been destroyed.
“Maybe they think if they also use blood magic, they can fight against them?” he offered.
Glade’s eyes widened with excitement. “Do you think so? From what I’ve heard, blood magic is incredibly powerful, but nobody really has any knowledge about it around here. Or if they do, they’re not telling…”
Sam thought about mentioning that if the enemy was much more knowledgeable about it, then it was a pretty big gamble to try to use it against them. Alas, the people of Sunspot and the desert were rather stubborn and proud. If they thought they could bend the magic to their will, the only way to convince them is to defeat them and he had no time for that, nor did he particularly feel the need to do that. Let the insane culture here exhaust the blood mage army while he prepared for their arrival in the Emerald Kingdom.
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“What about the expedition?”
Glade looked up from his glass. “Down to the Deep?”
“Yeah, I heard there is going to be a big one.”
“Mhm. Rumor has it that there are too many mercenary companies in the city and the Heralds decided to trim the fat a little.”
Smart way to deal with the countless number of player-made mercenary groups calling the city their home.
“Whoever comes back can stay?” Sam asked with a smile but Glade shook his head.
“No. Whoever brings back the most valuable thing can stay. If you come back empty-handed, you’re automatically out!” Glade told him with a grin that showed Sam how the man felt about it. “Already a bunch of mercenary guilds merged, reducing the numbers. I heard everybody is hiring!” He finished his explanation with excitement.
Sam sat for a while, occasionally refilling their glasses with fresh water from his waterskin, and thought about the information he received.
He was once again at a crossroads. Join the fun and maybe gain something worthwhile or go and follow his own plans…
Ultimately, his choice was obvious. He had enough problems keeping this in hand back in the Emerald Kingdom. Joining the chaos of another ‘country’ would be just counterproductive and drain on his resources.
“I only have one last question,” he spoke up and handed over the address Fitzgerald had given to him to deliver the box to. “Do you know this place?”
Glade glanced at it and grimaced, causing Sam’s heart to sink.
“That’s the address to one of the Heralds…”
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After giving the man one of his smaller spare waterskins for the information, Sam departed from the Blind Meerkat, heading for his target, leaving Glade to return to the bar fight with renewed enthusiasm.
Navigating the city was very interesting now that he knew what exactly was going on. For example, the forum posts he had read never mentioned that the city leadership didn’t like the number of mercenary guilds.
‘Typical gamers… They only see things they are interested in and ignore the fluff…’ he grumbled under his breath as he avoided another damn pickpocket. Sadly, the fluff was more important than any of the details of the expedition.
If the city leadership was reacting that meant that the system was reacting. Which in turn meant that there would certainly be an event or something that reduced the number of mercenary guilds. And that in turn would mean railroading…
It was fascinating to see how the city changed as he went from the common areas to where the leaders lived. Regular patrols by the Sun Warriors became common and the regular citizens and miscreants scurried along toward their destination while avoiding eye contact with the rather impressive and scary guards, dressed in red and gold armor that represented their organization.
Sam ignored all this and with the box he had to deliver safely in his inventory, headed straight for the address he was given, on the route Garen’s son had provided. The patrolling Sun Warriors gave a few cursory glances as they assessed him, but as Sam had no weapon out and walked like he had a purpose being there, they let him be.
Even the buildings changed from utilitarian looks to one of decadence and sheer wealth in the style of the desert. White and flashy colors were everywhere, with even more colorful cloths hanging over gardens protected by high walls to prevent sand from getting into the compounds.
Double-checking his directions, he walked toward one of the compounds that reminded him of the Silvercrest mansion, though a little more intimidating.
During his walk, he spotted at least three different groups of guards patrolling around the compound, with no doubt more inside and four of them standing at the door. Two of them simply walked around or sat around in plain clothes on the opposite side of the street and two of them in uniform standing ramrod straight at the door, holding halberds made of pure metal with silver and red coloring. Wood was much more valuable around here just to simply use it for weapons.
The ones in plain clothes gave themselves away by instantly staring at Sam, and not hiding their mana. Their mana core blazed with an unrestrained strength that dwarfed his. This was either done for intimidation purposes or they simply couldn’t hide it from him.
Either way, he was not here to cause trouble, so he simply pretended not to see them and approached the smaller door near the gate. He wasn’t important enough to open the gates for, so he didn’t even try going for it.
The guards eyed him but said nothing.
He raised a hand and greeted them.
“Greetings! Here to deliver a package to Herald Miesme,” he stated, trying to pronounce the name properly. Thankfully, he had All Speak, so he didn’t have to bother with learning the local language.
Naturally, it wasn’t that easy.
The guard looked over him, taking his measure and Sam even felt a rather invasive wave of mana sweep over him, which he carefully avoided with pinpoint precise application of his own mana.
As a result, the guard sneered and spat at his boots.
“The Herald doesn’t see some nobody woodhumper no matter how pretty they dress up!” he exclaimed.
Sam just sighed, ignored the stupid insult, and continued. “I’m here to deliver a letter to Herald Miesme from Master Fitzgerald. Nothing more or less.” Seeing the derision on the guard’s face it was quite hard to stay polite and calm. Though the knowledge that one punch from the guard would turn him into chunky salsa helped.
Another spit. “Go away! The Herald refuses to see someone so… weak…” he stated, rather loudly, causing the plain cloth guards to stand up and begin ambling in their direction.
“This is important. Allow me to deliver it and you shall not hear my voice on the wind ever again,” Sam replied in an even tone, even though he knew it was useless.
“Hah! As if the word of a mercenary is worth for the Herald to listen to!” came the very much expected reply. Apparently, the local players had pissed off the leadership of Sunspot something fierce. The sneer, if possible, deepened on the guard’s rugged face. “Leave now, before I remove you!”
The other guard’s grip on their weapon tightened and Sam felt the mana of every guard flare as they readied themselves for a fight. Sam had to give that to them. Even though they thought he was weak, they still prepared for a full-on fight. That was dedication and training. He was quite impressed.
“Any way I could convince you to let me in?” he asked, already knowing the answer. He expected some railroading, but this felt a little too much.
The guard grinned. It was a rather ugly grin.
“Come back, when you have proved yourself before the sun, little woodhumper. Maybe then Herald Meisme shall hear you out!”
Sam sighed, nodded, then turned around and began walking away as the guard began to jeer at him.
It seemed that the behavior of the players had painted everyone by association the same color in the eyes of the city leadership.
And those words… Prove yourself before the sun…
Which probably meant that he had to prove himself in a way that the city administration acknowledged.
Sam couldn’t help but sigh.
‘In the mines I go…’ he mused dejectedly, definitely not yearning for it.