----------------------------------------
World: MSS - Loading...
----------------------------------------
Clover entered the rooftop of the orc’s temple and was brought back to a time in her life before the there was a manacle around her neck.
The rooftop had been decorated to look like a garden in the distinct style of the desert. Instead of trees and flowers, she saw large cacti bearing fruits and flowers. Small shrubs and illusions made in the look of desert butterflies invited admiring 'oohs' and 'ahhs'. In each four corner was a mini-oases with palm trees, a small pond and tables with benches. But these oases weren’t for everyone, they were reserved for the most politically powerful at tonight’s event.
The orcs wearing standard bone-armor were gone, she saw orcs in doublets and suits making small talk with elves, humans and even beastmen. It was a shock to her who had only seen the grunt-soldiers, these were the leader of this city. They mingled with nobles and influential individuals like...
"Like regular people." Clover thought.
Maybe it was because they were her captors, but she had begun to demonize them in her head. Well, they still technically were but better dressed. She could tell whether a guest was a noble or influential adventurer by their attire: a decorated armor or robe made of the rarest of silk. Her merchant eye caught the signs of dresses that were no doubt custom orders, enchanted with magic so that the dress caused sparkles of light with every movement.
Everything was bathed in moonlight and there were magical constructs hovering every few feet above the rooftop. Round spherical orbs made of metal that illuminated everyone’s footsteps and seemed to follow a certain path made sure there was no hint of darkness. It looked like they were walking among the stars, enriching the experience so that it felt like they were in another world all together. Two months ago she would have given anything to make connections with the nobles here, for the betterment of her family business.
Now it sickened her just being here.
No hint of the poverty that ran rampant in Samak City was present here. Only splendor and riches. No sign of slaves or the near-death experienes that Clover remembered. Just people smiling and laughing, exchanging coins and looks of suggestion. More than once, a man touched her elbow to gain her attention trying to speak to her.
“Whoa.” Arione touched the tip of her elbow, not as harshly as the other men had. “You’re leaking anger… mages like me can pick up on fluctuations in your mana that are caused by emotions. We don’t want to give anyone reason to look at us funny.”
Clover took a deep breath and calmed herself.
“Atta’girl.” He spoke quietly.
Clover was dressed in a tight fitting black dress with a matching shawl decorated with strips of pink. Arione had procured it from a nearby merchant. In other words, he went to the merchant’s lodging and stole it. The mage seemed to favor tight fitting clothes over loose ones and gave her a wink once she had gotten dressed. When she asked him why he picked these in particular, he answered in a way that she didn't understand.
“I just grabbed what I thought girls would wear to a club. We’re in an orc city after all, maybe it’s not as stuffy as a formal ball?”
What exactly was a club? Wasn't it a weapon?
His mannerisms were those befitting of a mage trained in high society, though erring on the roguish side. He was tall, slim and deceptively muscular underneath his robes as Clover had found out when he carried her in his arms while flying to and fro. Despite the teasing, she had to admit that he was a gentleman. He never pushed and waited for her to answer, just like when he asked if she’d be ok if they infiltrated this little event. While she was changing, he had actually left the room instead of just turning around.
Arione had taken out a robe from his dimension ring, stowing his dirty grey robes in favor of a cleaner one. It was made of black velvety material and with his pale skin and light blue hair, the elven mage cut quite a dashing figure. More than one head turned when they entered the ball and Clover fought down a surge of excitement that came from being the center of attention. They weren’t here to enjoy themselves, they were here to spy on people.
She had to find L'teya and Lock.
“There.” Arione pointed. “That's danger numero uno.”
They had chosen a little corner, leaning on the parapets. Arione bent low to whisper in her ear, their height difference making the movement more intimate than it should have been.
“The one with the dark green armor? Those are men who belong to the Akka Xalud House.” In one corner oasis, there was a group of humans standing guard around a bench occupied by two people. “See how their armor doesn’t have the centipede? That means they’re just low ranking distant family members. Branch Houses.”
“And the ones with the centipedes?” She asked.
“Main Family. Scions.” He spat the word like it was a curse. “Don’t worry though, I’ll be sticking next to you like glue.”
Glue. Another word she was unfamiliar with.
“The guy's name is Jason. Jason Carid Akka Xalud. Grade-5 adventurer. About 4th in power in the family heirarchy.”
Clover eyed the man, a tall stocky man with the strangest hair she had ever seen. Plus his eyes shined an eerie orange even at this distance.
“That’s his half-sister, Maria Biva.” Arione described the girl sitting on the bench nexto to Jason. “Grade 7… but a nasty piece of work. Heard some pretty disgusting stories about her.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He then described the other three parties that had set up camp at each corner of the rooftop.
“That’s Madame Damur, she’s the biggest and probably only merchant for this city. Primarily deals in the slave trade and heard she made a fortune selling gladiators to the Jayu State. The oasis opposite of her are the Colosseum Representatives from Jayu. No doubt here to try and buy up all the slaves. Their biggest competition are the Akka Xaluds.”
On the Jayu State side, were a trio of dwarves sitting an laughing surrounded by their guards. Unlike Madame Damure or the Akka Xaluds whose guards were entirely human or entirely orc, the Jayu contingent was a mixture of all races. Orc, Dwarf, Elf and even Human. The only race not present at their side were the beastman.
“And I’m sure I don’t need to introduce the last corner to you.” Arione finished. “Or maybe it's racist of me to assume that.”
He was right, Clover didn’t need a description of the entourage at the last oasis: they were beastman from the Zimmskar Kingom.
Beastman of all shapes and sizes stood guard, protecting the head of their party: a deer beastman. Like all beastman his features were entirely human except for the antlers that sprouted form his head. From his toga and golden sash, Clover knew that he was a politician from the western region of Zimmskar. The easterners, like herself and her family, preferred the more modern approach to clothing, like militaristic suits and doublets that were in fashion in the Empire. It was ingrained in the culture of the westerners, the traditionalists to adhere to decorum of old.
“You remember our cover story?”
Clover nodded. “I’m a small-time merchant who wants to get in on the slave trade and you’re my hired guard.”
“Well, where do you want to start?” Arione rubbed his hands together. “I’m excited!”
Their goal was simple: find out where the slaves were being kept. Arione kept his face hidden underneath the shadow of his shroud and cast a spell that blurred his face. He had told Clover that if anyone found out who he was, they might have a massacre on their hands. So she would have to do the talking.
Arione left it up to her to choose whom they would talk to first.
Clover’s old training kicked in. She straightened her posture and patted her dress down to accentuate her curves. It wasn’t needed, Arione had found something that fit perfectly. Then she locked eyes with one of the dwarves from the Jayu oasis, catching him staring at her. She smiled at him and began to walk towards him, a slight sway to her hips.
The dwarf blushed and looked away.
Arione whistled while walking next to her. “Ok, now I believe you were a merchant who mingled with high society.”
Clover made her move.
----------------------------------------
I had been going down the stairs for almost an hour now by my estimation. I could have been wrong, my sense of time had been messed up. To be fair, I'd been trapped in a dungeon without access to sunlight for a day, fighting for my life. Then I was unconscious for five days in a coma. As soon as I woke up, I was given all of few hours to recover before being dragged into an underground lair. There had been no time to get my bearings and really recover, both physically and mentally.
More than the physical exertion, my mental fatigue was starting to pile up. Going down the stairs was a chore and I made sure to check every floor, no matter how tedious. Each floor was same as the one above, a large cavern with no light. There weren't any cages containing slaves but I had found the armory. Most of the orcs' armors had been too large for me. But I was rewarded with a well-balanced kite shield as well as leather pads for my elbows and knees. I also got rid of my sandals and took a pair of leather boots, that flexed with every step. My feet were already bruised and scraped plenty but it was better late than never.
"Man will I ever get to buy proper equipment and dungeon delve just to level and farm some cores? Without having someone's life at stake?"
I finally reached the lowest level, which revealed a cave opening that dwarfed all the previous ones. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like icicles, threatening to impale whoever chose to disturb the peace within this darkness. Like the others, it had rough rocky patches and massive stalagmites which made it difficult for me to see more than a few feet at a time. If I hadn't taken the boots, I would've stepped on more than one sharp rock and cut myself open.
Continuing on my way I finally found signs of life. Footsteps and muffled voices, combined with indirect light from torches.
"Let's see what we got here."
I stowed my sword and shield, so that they were directly over my back using the leather strap I had looted from one of the rooms. Bending low to the ground, I advanced on my elbows and knees.
“-you. Now move it!” I was close enough now that I could hear them.
I peered over a small outcropping, keeping myself hidden behind a particularly large stalagmite.
Torches illuminated the space beneath me, and the light stung my eyes. When I woke up in the barracks, I thought it was the sun that was too bright. This might be because I had enhanced eyesight from the Beckoning Cat's core. It looked like anytime I was exposed to bright light from the cover of darkness, I'd be at risk of being momentarily blinded. An unexpected weakness, something that hadn't been present in the game. I'd have to be careful in the future.
Man, this reality patch really sucked.
There was a line of slaves, their wrists and necks chained together being transported by hulking orc guards. I didn’t recognize these guards, they were different than the Samak Horde. The first tipoff was that their armor was made of metal. The Samak Grunts preferred to go with light bone armor or no armor at all. The second was their weaponry, it shined and gleamed menacingly in the soft glow of torches. It was obvious that the failing Samak City wouldn’t be able to afford this. These guys were either mercenaries or guards under Damure’s command.
But my senses didn't particularly see them as dangerous. Quite the opposite in fact, I was fairly confident I could take them.
The slaves were a mixture of familiar faces and new, but one thing as for sure. They weren’t being transported above, rather it looked like they were being led deeper into the caves.
“Six guards. About a dozen slaves.” I counted.
I looked to the slaves looking to see if there was anyone notable. To my pleasant surprise, the 7-foot tall lizard beastman was towering among them; Skaris.
His face was entirely human, except for the red scales that adorned parts of his face and the scaled tail that lashed behind him. Suppressing a shudder, I observed the snake-human hybrid man. He usually wore his hair tied in a ponytail but right now, it was unkempt and disheveled. Unlike the others, his manacle was chained to his neck, wrist and his tail as well.
I continued to watch, trying to think plan. It wouldn’t go well if I went in guns blazing, that'd be suicide. I had no idea whether these guys had one core or two cores. Waiting paid off dividends because I spotted Yulrien standing near a stalagmite, leaning against it.
I didn’t catch him the first time because the soft glow from the torches didn’t quite reach him and he was dressed in all black. The glasses-wearing elf gave orders to the orc guards and I caught bits and pieces of it.
“ – waiting. These guys – check on – Madame – monster. – wait here.” Then he walked off.
Naturally, I followed him.
Yulrien moved like the wind, weaving through the stalagmites and rock outcroppings without pause. He definitely had [Darkvision] because he saw things that even I had trouble seeing. I kept about 50 paces behind him, trying to step softly. He most likely had Cores geared towards stealth because I lost sight of him multiple times. Thankfully though, I had advanced sight and hearing; I never lost him more than a few minutes at a time.
Yet the distance between us kept growing.
He was much faster and more agile, not to mention probably used to traveling through this. Also he wasn’t trying to stay undetected. I was slower, less experienced and frankly just less skilled overall. This raised a small flag in my brain that perhaps fighting Yulrien might be less than a good idea.
“But I’ll never get a better chance than now.”
From what I deduced, Yulrien was close to the orc inner circle. I’d seen him answer directly to Damur, Skurl and even Warchief Thokthur. He’d also been close to the slaves. Maybe he was a double agent, working for one-side or playing the other. It happened often enough in the game when following questlines.
Yulrien held valuable knowledge… and even if he didn’t, he was too close to the powerful orcs. Whatever I did here, he would surely learn of it and report to his higher ups Plus my whole struggle with tailing him when he wasn’t even trying to lose me was humbling. If he really decided to run away, I’d never catch him.
I lost Yulrien a while back but I continued. Unless Yulrien knew I was following him, he’d have taken a straight path. My sense of direction was pretty much crippled, the rocks all looked the same and there was no sun. I relied on my instincts, following the general direction that Yulrien took.
His steps led me all the way to the walls of the cave. But I didn’t see him anywhere. I continued to sneak around, checking for any trace of him. Maybe there was a trap door somewhere?
“It could be a hidden door.”
It was worth a try.
I went around each section of the wall, punching and kicking the stony surface. If it turned out that there was no such thing as a hidden wall in this world… well, at least no one saw me acting like a crazy person. This wasn’t new to me either; I spent hours in MSS breaking boxes, walking around dungeons while hitting random walls. That was how I found most of my Hidden Pieces.
Just as I was about to give up, my fist went through an unassuming section of the wall with no resistance.
“Found it.”
It was an illusion, made to look like the wall. When I traced my hand over the surface, it was shaped just like a doorway. albeit a large one. I actually couldn't even touch the top part, I would have to jump to see where it was and I didn't want to risk the noise. I stuck my head in and found another set of stairs, descending into the darkness. No torches glowing the path. No magical stones illuminating each step.
Yulrien definitely possessed [Darkvision].
There was no sound, no light and no sign of life down there.
Perhaps it was because I absorbed the Ujo and Lucky Beckoning Cat Core, both beasts creatures. My instinct told me that I was in danger; I fought the urge to turn around and leave. It was like there was a certain scent to this place… of rot and decay.
Death.
Still, I didn’t have a choice. If Arrosh’s future sight was to be believed, going down was the only way for me to get us all out of this.
I descended the steps.
----------------------------------------