Duke Ingris Hellion Venecio despised his lot in life, as the only son in the Venecio line he should be in the capital rubbing shoulders with the princes and other high nobles. But no, here he was relegated to a nothing city on the edge of oblivion, to make matters worse the damned city hardly used a whiff of magic.
Oh, sure the peasants had the odd splash of color here and there but what good was that when they weren’t worth more effort than his morning shit. The capital boasted magic to the point it became mundane with street lights on every corner and hot running water for even the peasants. Here, these people lived like animals and so he would gladly act as the butcher.
His musings were interrupted when a knock came on his study door, the imported wood enchanted to echo at the perfect volume to alert but not disturb.
“Sir Ingris, a message has arrived for you.”
A servant in a crisp black suit bowed before passing the sealed envelope on a sterling dish, quickly leaving the money his task complete.
The emblem on the wax seal was that of his fathers, a dagger wrapped in thorns dripping in poison, an audible crack revealed the letter's contents, and with each passing word Ingris’ frown could only deepen. Agents of the family had been dispatched to Falden well over a week ago, while he was distraught that he was just now learning this the more pressing matter was that not one of the agents was responding.
Meaning either death or capture and at the level of training even the lowest of members received their foe would be on par with a black Shield. Given the location of the city and the nature of Venecio magic, this made matters far far worse as only someone equal to a high protectorate could fight and not die soon after.
Even in death Venecio’s would win, eventually.
The letter continued and a glimmer of hope came to Ignis, with how easily traditional agents had failed the only course of action was to procure help on-site. Things still needed to be quiet and out of the public’s eye but in this city so far from civilization one could gain the world for a pocket of Steel’s.
And oh how he had the coins to spare.
—{}{}{}{}{}—
Xavier.
Fuck. Nope not happening, not this time you oversized lump of shit!
My gut ached as I moved but I ignored it, for now at least, moving was a priority checking my stitches could come later when my current designation wasn’t ‘afternoon snack’.
A swipe misses me by an inch tearing through those creepy ass trees like a hot knife through butter, the layers and layers of wood sending a cloud of shrapnel in the opposite direction. Ah, you may be wondering what wishes me death this hour and I’m happy to report that the creature can only be described as a mix between my nightmares and an entomologist's wet dream.
Three asymmetrical wings on a five-foot-tall bipedal tower of chitin and muscle each of the thing’s dozen limbs ending in grotesque quad-pointed pincers like a claw game from hell.
Fortunately, I do know what this thing is, Scale finger by the way, why it’s here, what it’s weak to all, that wonderful adventuring knowledge that’s likely to save the average person's life. Unfortunately, I can use almost none of it as I am nowhere near fast enough to take advantage of its quote ‘unusually slow quarter second delays’ when its internal organs rearrange to avoid liquidating from the sheer force this thing outputs.
With no means of attack and my arm at risk of being ripped out of its socket, I’m left with few options. I can however wear it down and stab its twitching exhausted body if I live that long.
Another tree gets ripped a new owl's nest and I learn why having a blacksmith as a companion is so useful as my new chain mail blocks almost everything, a few scratches on my arms but that’s nothing.
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I roll under a swing just avoiding a pincer aimed at my throat and give a hearty shove to the things back, screwing with its balance helps me dodge the retaliation but again it is just barely a miss. My short sword still sits in its scabbard at my waist as I don’t for a second trust my grip around this thing. Using it wouldn’t help much anyway as only the plates on its back are weak enough for me to scratch and even that’s going to be a struggle.
Sweat flows like wine for six damned minutes but they feel like six hours as the walking bug exhausts everything it has in one final swing. At last, I can see what the guide said as it hesitates briefly before swinging, not that it’s useful now.
The bug collapses its limit reached with no room to spare leaving me with the grueling task of finally killing this thing. I don’t even bother trying to be clean about it I just hack away at the softer plates and limbs until at last everything is still.
I clip the wings and stuff them in a bag as the only valuable thing it possesses and move on to my real objective, the flowers. A mirror image of a rose if it weren’t for a lack of thorns and being bright blue, I’d found the flower a while ago but the bug ambushed me before I could collect it.
The flowers can supposedly kill when touched as they drain the mana from a living being so fast it renders their organs inert they also drain from a distance but in a much lower quantity. Would you believe me if I said their primary use is medicine?
Not as some anti-mage thing or the world's best poison, though it is a good poison, no it’s used to weaken the flesh of strong fighters so doctors can perform surgery without themselves needing to be strong. It can also reduce the effects of lingering magical attacks making it the second-best treatment for getting fireballed or cursed.
The gate guards give me glares as I near them that only deepen when they realize my cargo they would’ve gone for their weapons had one of them not spotted the faintly glowing symbol on my shoulder. It actually freaked them out a little as I passed and I could almost hear how tense they were in their armor.
While attitudes shift easily the city itself rarely changes and so my journey back is uneventful and boring. Save of course for the blood stains coating some streets and the beggars who won’t even look in my direction. Oh and recently I learned about a law here in the great city of Falden!
Murder is legal.
Just straight-up killing is legal so long as the victim is not above a certain standard of living. Based on the district you’re in, this could be the difference between watching that you don’t enter a noble's property and not stepping out in the light of day. The law is meant to combat the large homeless problem which by itself is all shades of fucked up as far as reasoning goes. The real reason is that people here really don’t like the weak and I don’t mean the city, I asked Oliver, it’s almost all cities that do this.
Where normally seeing starving diseased people makes you want to help out, these people can’t help but see some imagined threat to their lives. Well, I say imagined but given the threats out there it’s not entirely wrong objectively, morally, I want to burn down the fucking city.
“Welcome back sir, how can I help you?”
Mary greets me but every word has her grip tightening and her fake smile shaking. I try to give a pleasant smile but in my sweat dirt and blood-stained clothes it’s not helping. I don’t want her any angrier so I quickly slap the bags at my side onto the table, one for the wings and another for the flowers.
“I finished the job and I’m here for payment, I also got some monster parts if you don’t mind.”
Instantly she loses the fake smile as a pair of thick leather gloves come from behind the desk, she’s not happy but seeing the flowers makes her not angry for once.
“Twelve Mana bane’s and three Scale finger wings.
I’m surprised, most people would’ve died fighting one without magic to help restrain the bastard.
Your total coin comes to thirty-six Steel and twelve Iron.”
I gather my payment under way more gazes than what’s comfortable and quickly leave with the most sincere ‘Have a nice day’ Mary can manage following behind me.
—{}{}{}{}{}—
“Sir, are we ready to move?”
“Yes initiate, but remain cautious the city is known for its degeneracy.”
“Understood.”
Five shining suits of armor turned as one, braced, and an instant later there was a crater where they stood the air itself still hazy from the heat of the smoldering dirt.