It had been a week since their fight. Grognor hadn’t mentioned a word of what had happened between Titania and him to anyone. Meanwhile, Jessai grew more and more fierce and angry at the realization that an Arch Angel was hiding just beyond his reach. As Grognor finished the next helmet for his commission, he cleaned sweat from his brow. The other dwarves and men working in the forge with him glanced at Grognor with concern on their faces.
“Boss, take a break, huh?”
“And trust you boys with the work? Not on your life.”
“You haven’t been yourself lately, boss…not since Jessai…” None dared say what Jessai had done in their last meeting with him. Jessai had been true to his threat. Grognor’s sister had already been put to work in the mines below the Citadel to mine our iron ore for weapons and armor that Grognor could use. As for his mother…the less he knew about her fate right now, the better. He was furious with Titania right now…livid with Jessai…and every part of Grognor’s being wanted to hit someone or something. If only the Cataclysm hadn’t made him a 40 year old dwarf, he could…no, better not to dwell on that.
“I guess I could use some fresh air. I’ll be back.” Grognor climbed out of the forge below his workshop and walked out the front door, pipe in hand. The cool air hit him like a splash of water, relief from his fatigue striking all at once. He shook his head and tugged on his beard nervously, walking out into the bustling street.
How the world had changed since the Cataclysm. This town that was simply named the Citadel, used to be the town square of a local county. But so many buildings had been devastated and fallen to ruin. A few had been rebuilt into make shift homes or shops, while some had been left as rubble. Some supplies from these wrecks had been used to fortify the wall around the Citadel and to renovate the museum, which now acted as Jessai’s palace. Orcs wandered around like aimless zombies, occasionally grunting and cursing at each other furiously. A few humans and halflings hobbled about too, doing menial tasks. Shops and storefronts were busy now…it was vital for gaining food. Farms and agriculture could only be found outside the citadel, which meant that farmers had to come in to sell their products.
Currency in Orcshire was built on trade. What you had you traded for what you could. Three loaves of bread and two pounds of corn might’ve been worth maybe two killed rabbits and a chicken egg. It often depended on the seller for the bargain…which is why even being a shop owner could be dangerous. If an Orc didn’t like the bargain made, he’d gladly make you a new offer you couldn’t refuse.
Grognor had little reason to complain though…he was incredibly well off, all things considered. There were other blacksmiths in Orcshire, but none like him and his Craftsman’s lodge. He could charge a reasonable selling rate and keep his family fed. Since his father worked directly under Jessai, he rarely would come home (not like he much wanted to come home in the first place), so it was a lot easier to see that they were fed.
But every now and then a traveler or caravan would pass by. They were more than willing to trade, but often had strange coins or currency with them as well…sometimes very rare and expensive artifacts. It was rather easy to spot a foreigner…for they often were smiling broadly and excitedly, not realizing that they only continued to breathe because Jessai knew expelling all foreign commerce would be disastrous.
A young man could now be seen working by a stall not far from Grognor’s shop. He wore black robes and a pair of glasses on his face, though there was a crack on the right lense. He had dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes that were not so different from a dogs. He had a smile on his face, but it felt forced…like he was trying to hide a different inclination. His hands were bandaged at the knuckles and he had a single sword strapped to his waist. The stall the young man was working was filled with vials, jars, pastes, and minerals. A small fire was burning under a beaker where smoke was trickling out. The classic signs of an alchemist.
After the Cataclysm, many old minerals became imbued with properties of arcane origin. Alchemy was a class that many former scientists and doctors gravitated towards as they worked to better understand the new nature of the world and its properties. Grognor looked to see that the young man was holding a red vial of something and speaking to a very familiar elf.
“Aynor?” Grognor called, walking over, but grunting once again. He had moved too quickly and upset his broken rib. Aynor looked to Grognor and then scowled.
“You stubborn fool, what’re you doing here!? I told you to stay in bed.” He snapped.
“I’m fine.” Grognor grumbled. “I’m hoping if I finish this commission, Jessai will feel merciful to my family. Who’s your friend?” He asked. The young man held out his hand politely for Grognor to shake.
“Philip Arcon. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Alchemist, I take it?”
“I was actually going to graduate from Yale before the Cataclysm with a degree in biochemistry and pharmacy.” He laughed. Grognor blinked, disbelieving.
“Are you serious!? You barely look 20 years old, and Yale fell to pieces 10 years ago! How could y-”
“I was one of the few who aged backwards with the Cataclysm.” Philip shrugged. “Instead of aging up 10 years, I backed up 10. I’m technically 31 years old…but I look much younger.” He explained. “Still, I can’t complain too much can I? I’m still getting to do what I love.”
“Philip comes here every year or so to trade medicines and herbs with me.” Aynor explained further. “I always run out too quickly.”
“I’ve told you to either buy in bulk, or use sparingly. My stuff works miracles.” Philip teased. As they laughed, Grognor’s mind suddenly started racing. A crazy thought just entered his head.
“He’s the key to killing Jessai.”
“…Blemish…” Grognor whispered.
“What’s that?”
“Aynor…Philip…if I take you to a specific patient, do you think you could…work a miracle?” Grognor asked. Aynor and Philip exchanged glances and Aynor shrugged.
“I suppose I could take a look. Bring them by my office at-”
“I can’t bring them here…in fact, I’m pretty sure I’m not welcome where he’s at right now, but if you go to Titania’s cabin in the-” Aynor’s face turned to a sneer and he shook his head.
“I’d rather not visit the demon…and I don’t know why you’d want to either! Considering the damage she did to you in your last visit.”
“I…to be honest, I kind of brought this on myself deliberately. But that’s not the point! I think-”
“Is there something going on, I don’t know about?” Philip asked, curiously. Grognor felt their eyes glaring daggers at him and he sighed, realizing he couldn’t put the cork back on this bottle.
“Come inside for a drink…I’ll tell you everything that I can.” After helping Philip park his stall and lock it down, he led the two into his workshop where he could tell them the whole story. Sitting them down in his back room, setting down mugs of warm mead, he sat back, and lit his pipe before beginning the story…the story of an assassin, a demon, and two escaped slaves.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Unbelievable.” Philip whispered. “An Arch Angel, here in Orcshire!?”
“It can only mean trouble…” Aynor growled. “Where one Inquisition agent shows up, others likely will appear also.” Philip nodded at that and Grognor leaned forward.
“Listen, I’m not fond of Titania right now…she and I aren’t on speaking terms, but one thing I do agree with her about is that as long as Jessai is alive, we’re all his slaves…none of us are really free. Blemish is a trained killer…he might be the ticket to ending Jessai and everything that he stands for.” Grognor explained. “But with his injuries…he’s a dead weight.”
“And you think we can miraculously cure him?” Aynor asked.
“I’m sure I have a few herbs or potions that could…speed up the healing process.” Philip muttered.
“Anything that can help!” Grognor urged.
“…But first we need to settle on a price.” He snapped. “These things aren’t cheap, and if you want my help, you need to be ready to offer up something.” Aynor looked disapprovingly at Philip.
“What do you want?” Grognor asked.
“Under normal circumstances? I wouldn’t even be willing to bargain. I have no love for the Inquisition, especially not for their assassins. They kill who they please in the name of God and…I can’t think of anything more twisted. Reminds me of those rag heads from-”
“Watch it.”
“Oh shut up, Aynor. You were in the marines back then. Didn’t you do two tours through Iraq during-”
“We’re off topic!” Grognor snapped. “What’s the price for your services?” Philip inhaled deeply and then crossed his fingers.
“So no, I’m normally not interested in helping any assassins from that heretical cult.” Philip continued. “But…I hate orcs way more than I hate the Inquisition.”
“Any particular reason?” Aynor asked curiously.
“…That’s a personal matter. I’d rather not go into it right now. Long story short, I’ll do it…but in return, I want in on the operation.”
“The operation?”
“C’mon…like those old heist movies back in the day. Planning some big break in or murder? I want in on it. I wanna help take down Jessai.” Philip growled. “It would be cathartic for me. You promise me a chance to get in on this action, and I’ll give you whatever you need to patch up the zealot.” He snapped.
“What can you provide?” Grognor asked.
“Hold up a second!” Aynor interrupted, raising his hand between the two. “You both realize what you’re suggesting here is treason right? It would cost all of us, and more, our very lives.”
“…Yeah, more or less.” Grognor nodded.
“I’m out. I won’t be part of this.” Aynor shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for more death…not directly or indirectly. I gave up all that, and I won’t be dragged back into it. Not even for you.”
“Aynor, this isn’t like the Cataclysm…it’s not Holly.” Grognor tried to reason.
“Don’t. Say her….don’t say her name.” He hissed. “Don’t…she’s not the only reason anyway. You’re asking me to work with Titania…and an assassin. You’re asking me to treat him.”
“For a cause.”
“Who are you to talk, Grognor? You had gone to Titania specifically to turn the kid in to Jessai, and now you want to save him!? You wanna pick a side and stick with it?” Aynor asked.
“It’s not that simple, Aynor.”
“To me it is.”
“Well I’m not you, am I?” Grognor retorted. Philip sighed, interrupting the argument. He swigged mead from his mug and leaned across the table, speaking in little more than a murmer.
“You know, maybe it’s not my place to say so, but I think the sides are pretty clear here. Grognor, Aynor has every right to be hesitant about his. Like I said…neither of us are that interested in helping a bigoted killer…one that even YOU wanted dead a week ago.”
“…I understand that.”
“But Grognor is right too, friend.” Philip turned to Aynor darkly, “there’s a difference between swearing an oath of non-violence and turning a blind eye to evil.”
“I killed at least a dozen men in the Middle East…I killed men and women and children during the Cataclysm. I even killed…I…no, I won’t be part of it again. I’m a doctor now, not a soldier.”
“No one is asking you to pick up a goddamn weapon here, Aynor. Just help us heal a wounded kid!”
“A kid who’s going to kill MORE people when he’s better.” Aynor argued. “Sorry, but knowing what you intend to do with him when I’m done helping him…I can’t willingly help with that.”
“…You’re a coward, Aynor.” Philip growled.
“Say what you want about me, but it’s my-”
“You’re a coward and a hypocrite. You won’t help that kid because you’re scared of who he might kill, while you turn you back on the people Jessai is already killing.” Philip snarled. Aynor and Grognor both stayed silent for a long moment. He then tossed his mug aside and grit his teeth angrily. “But who am I to talk? Any of us? You, me, Grognor…what are we? Damn it all, but let’s face it…we’re all cowards and hypocrites. I mean look at us.”
“We’re not fighters, Philip.”
“No, but do we have to be to make a difference? We’re sitting around just debating about whether or not to do the right thing! Since when did we have to debate to do what was right!? We’re just good men doing nothing…” Grognor hopped down and picked up the mug, cleaning it off with his shirt as Aynor sat silently staring at the table. “This isn’t about Jessai…or about the Inquisition…or Orcshire. It’s about doing the right thing when we know what it obviously is.”
“Life is never that black and white.” Aynor remarked.
“In this case? It is.” Philip answered. Grognor sat silently for a long moment, taking in what they’d said…remembering what Titania had said the other night. He was still mad, and yet, he could feel the truth in her warnings…her pleas. Had she seen things this way too?
“My family is in danger,” Grognor explained, “we all have something to lose here.”
“Not you.” Aynor glanced at Philip.
“If we can’t take down Jessai, I’ll be implicated too. I doubt he’ll show me much mercy either.” Philip laughed.
“My point is that…I think Philip is right. I think it’s time to make a move.”
“Except where to do we even start?” Aynor asked. “How do we go about this coup?”
“It starts with Blemish.” Grognor grumbled in defeat. “As much as I hate to admit it…if anyone knows how to plan an assassination, it’d be him.”
“Which means if we want a shot…”
“We have to treat the kid.” Aynor finally groaned. “Fine…damn it all fine…I’ll take a look at his injuries.”
“We’ll meet at Aynor’s tunnel tonight. Philip, bring whatever you think will be useful.”
“What about you?” Philip asked.
“Me? …Hell I’m not sure I should go with you. After the way Titania and I left things, I might not be very welcome there.” Grognor sighed.
“Decide later.” Aynor muttered darkly. “We’ll move at midnight. If you’re not there…”
“Then go on ahead.” Grognor explained. “And guys…thank you…”
“Don’t thank us yet. We haven’t agreed to anything other than to take a look at the kid and that Jessai does need to go down.” Aynor warned.
“But I think we can all agree,” Philip stepped in, “that whatever happens…we’re in this together.”