image [https://i.imgur.com/GgoAgPY.jpg]
With Fabulosa’s cape finished, Rory turned his blacksmith task list toward the barbican’s needs—metal studding and chains for the structure’s twin portcullises and drawbridges. He’d only begun working on them before a new priority jumped the queue—metal tips for Maggie’s quarry crew. The tips sped up the quarrying process and reinforced the levers, hefting the enormous blocks from Hawkhurst Rock. But even the quarry’s needs became supplanted when Archie complained the colliers couldn’t make charcoal because of broken rakes and missing axes.
When I queried the master blacksmith about making a sword out of coldiron, Rory lowered his head. “Sorry, Guv. There’s nay enough for a solid sword. I might have hammered a thin short sword, but metal loses a wee bit of mass with every forging. We didn’t have much coldiron from the jump. I could make a right proper dagger if it suits your purpose.”
The steel wool cape made me want something special for my celestial weapon, but I held off without an exotic material at my disposal. Besides, the timing wasn’t right.
After a fortnight of cutting and lifting stone blocks, the construction crew rose the barbican to its full height of three stories. I didn’t want to delay its construction over requests for a new weapon.
I timed my trip north with the barbican’s completion. If I had goblins following hot on my tail, I wanted a place where Hawkhurst could protect itself. Despite my plans, we cut things close. If delays stopped them from finishing the tower before I returned, it might mean trouble.
Yet, I delayed my departure for the Bluepeaks long enough. The crucial goal involved retrieving the relic before the goblins.
The wooden supports for levering quarry blocks to their desired height obscured the structure’s defensive features. The project looked like a giant stack of timber.
Even with two blacksmiths, we never had time to forge proper armor. After they finished the metalwork for the tower, Greenie had two ballistas that needed blacksmithing components.
The goblin assured me the barbican wouldn’t have to serve every need. It wasn’t designed for long sieges, as goblins only fought at night. The ground level sheltered the animals. The two middle floors had enough room for noncombatants, and the rooftop optimized space for defense.
Days after Fabulosa’s player-versus-player experience, I swept the camp again and discovered new Improved Eyes. I Scorched the few I found but couldn’t find the source of the spying magic.
During the last officers’ meeting before my and Fabulosa’s departure, she asked Greenie about the chances of sabotage.
The goblin shook his head. “Pledges of loyalty are bonded promises. Anyone working with spies would become undone.”
Fabulosa leaned forward. “What does that mean, exactly?”
Our chamberlain shrugged. “An undone entity disappears, leaving behind only a cracked core. Our population remains steady at 143, so no one has betrayed us.”
“You and Rezan have a bonded promise, correct?”
Greenie gave a curt nod.
“If he fetches the relic before Patch, could you trick him into hurting you? Seems like a simple way to defeat him.”
“I’ve considered this. Rezan is the king and will go to great lengths to avoid such a situation. I can’t imagine how to kindle enough anger for him to forget himself.”
Fabulosa shrugged. “It was just an idea.”
I nodded. “A good one, but one I hope we won’t need. If the worst happens—if the goblins find the relic, I’ll send you a note at daybreak. Just make sure you’re wearing a glove.”
Item
Switching Gloves
Rarity
Masterwork (green)
Description
Level 25 hand slot
Item use—Wearer may switch objects held in hands by saying the command word “switch.”
Greenie and I tested an early warning system with one of the magic items I’d picked up from the minotaur maze. Switching items between hands during combat proved as confusing as the Phantom Blade, except I never remembered to use them. Greenie discovered the gloves worked across people, so if either person uttered the magic word, they could pass objects at great distances. Though it worked like teleportation, the exploit presented dangers to anyone adventuring. If I hung from a cliff and an item appeared in my hand, the result wouldn’t be ideal.
The switching gloves worked like a portable mailbox that could exchange physical objects. I could alert Hawkhurst from the field if I needed to report anything dire, such as King Rezan carrying the artifact. Greenie and Ida would take turns wearing the glove in the mornings if I needed to forewarn them of something, giving the settlement days of advance notice.
I planned to pop in on Sune Njal, a resident expert on fighting goblins, on my way to the Bluepeaks. I wouldn’t reject advice or presents if he had any pearls of wisdom to aid my quest.
Iremont’s squat, brown, flat-top profile bordered the Orga River along Bluepeak’s southern border. As the lowest summit in the region, it stood more prominent than a foothill. Reaching it wouldn’t take a long detour.
Fabulosa broke my train of thought. “If y’all think the goblins are likely to attack, it makes sense to divvy up our loot. You can have the Switching Gloves. They’re perfect for keeping in touch with Hawkhurst. Since I’m fighting undead, I won’t need Mummy Wraps. You can have them. I would like to take the Permanent Hole, and since I’m fighting the undead, The Perfume of Night. And it makes sense to take the basilisk egg far away from here unless you want people in the vicinity turning to salt. ”
Since she planned to fight undead, I couldn’t begrudge her the perfume that rendered her undetectable to them. I could channel Dig, so losing the hole seemed no big deal, but the egg contained power and had wide application against many creatures. But the egg and Mummy Wraps seemed fair, so I agreed.
Fabulosa drew Blood Drinker. “Here, I’ll swap ya for the battle standard.”
It seemed an uneven trade in my favor. “But only other players can use the battle standard. It’s useless.”
“I’ll figure out something. And since I learned how to use the Phantom Blade, I don’t need another sword, and Blood Drinker is perfect for fighting goblins.”
She wasn’t wrong about Blood Drinker. I surrendered the battle standard, along with the egg and magic perfume. Fabulosa relinquished claims to cores, magic shop purchases, and unclaimed monster loot, asserting the cores held more use for Hawkhurst and that she wouldn’t have time for blacksmithing on the road.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“On that note, I suppose the only thing remaining is the transfer of governorship.”
I opened my settlement interface, demoted Fabulosa to a regular citizen, and promoted Ida to lieutenant governor. My last official act made Greenie the governor, downgrading me to a citizen.
While we dubbed it an officers’ meeting, we brought another citizen into the fold for the occasion, one who might help us understand the relic’s influence on an NPC—Quartermaster Thaxter. While he resisted his emeritus title, everyone still called him commander, and he soon stopped correcting people after it became clear no other moniker applied.
Thaxter spoke up for the first time in the session. He looked at the goblin. “How do you feel, Governor?”
We knew the relics reached out to settlement leaders, but the goblin furrowed his forehead. “I hear faint whispering, but it’s alien and unclear. It sounds more like the wind than speech.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Do you feel you might lose control?”
The goblin governor shook his head. “Perhaps knowing about it beforehand diminishes its influence.”
Eyes turned to the retired commander, who nodded. “I imagine that might be so. Is it saying anything coherent yet?”
Greenie shook his head.
“That’s good. You probably have a while before it gets a hold of you, maybe a few weeks. I’ll come by every day to check on you. You’ll tell me if you dream of anything specific. At first, you’ll see visions of the sea—do you see anything of that nature?”
Again, the goblin shook his head.
Thaxter turned to me. “Knowing about it is an advantage. He can carry the load for a few weeks before it interferes with his thoughts.”
I pointed to Ida and Greenie. “I plan to be back by then. If I’m out longer, rotate governorship between you two.”
The room breathed a collective sigh of relief. That allayed one concern about leaving.
Perhaps it’s good we left. With Greenie and Ida walking around with gubernatorial titles, Darkstep might lose interest and spy elsewhere. We couldn’t know what the person behind Improved Eyes wanted. Maybe he waited for us to leave so he could take advantage of the battle college.
Fabulosa slapped the table. “I reckon I’ve worn out my welcome. This meeting is for officers.” After hugging everyone goodbye, she and I walked to the canoe. I would see her off. She would paddle to our eastern docks while I headed north.
We exchanged promises to care for ourselves and renewed vows to help one another into the final two. Neither of us felt comfortable saying goodbye and blinked away tears.
After one last embrace, Fabulosa jumped onto the canoe and pushed into the water.
I released her back into the wild. With her back towards me, Fabulosa wiped her face as she disappeared into the mist. Before becoming a silhouette, she raised her arm for a goodbye wave. She didn’t look back, but she knew I watched her depart. And that was Fabulosa all over.
Wiping my eyes, I turned north to Iremont and mentally checked loose ends. I didn’t like how slow I’d been to react to LabRat31’s attack on someone in the settlement. Beaker beat me to the action. Familiar’s spell description allowed for another critter in my stable. I decided to invite my horse, Jasper, into my summoning roster. His vulnerability in the wilderness prevented me from riding him in many places, but it also meant I could stash him away if I ever needed to enter a dungeon. I could summon and dismiss him without risking his well-being.
In the barn, Jasper contentedly grazed, enjoying what had to be the cushiest job for horses in Miros—serving an adventurer who only ventured into places unfit for horses. I tacked him for a ride and cast Animal Communion and Familiar. “Hey, Jasper. Would you like to earn your keep? I’m going to take you on more excursions.”
The animal’s ears picked up, and a new telepathic voice in my head answered. “Out for a ride! You bet! I want to explore. Let’s go!”
If anything attacked my horse now, he’d disappear in a puff of green smoke—it would be a big puff of smoke, but he’d be fine. I patted him as a second pet name filled my interface pet roster. “I can’t take you too far, but at least we can go to the forest.”
The trick with pets involved mutual exclusivity. I could summon Beaker only with Jasper gone. This wouldn’t be a problem, except I wanted Beaker to grow as fast as possible, so keeping him out facilitated this goal. Jasper seemed bored in town anyway. Since he wanted adventure, I could take him on the road or across open terrain.
We headed north.
Miles later, I reached the tree line of Hawkhurst meadow, switched my horse for my griffon, and left Hawkhurst’s city limits. Fabulosa made me promise to keep Beaker unsummoned until she left. Saying she couldn’t bear saying goodbye to Chickers, and I couldn’t blame her.
After appearing in a puff of green smoke, my griffon looked at his surroundings and took wing, joyful at the opportunity to explore treetops. In the mild winter, many branches bore no leaves, making it easier for us to monitor each other.
The settlement’s most prominent buildings called attention to themselves. The battle college looked like a green blotch on the land, and the motte and bailey stood nearly as tall as the orrery.
Fabulosa had relinquished ownership of Hawkhurst. Though I wasn’t its governor, I would be its champion. As Yula would say, I would crush anyone opposing our bid for existence.
Iremont stood only 25 miles north, but the hilly terrain lay crisscrossed with fallen trees. My map interface named the zone Jackstraw Foothills, probably because the deadwood resembled straw lying on the ground. The fallen trees rested too low and tangled with branches to go under, yet balancing across them incurred risks of creating a deadwood avalanche. With so many logs lying on top of one another, the highest level rose ten feet off the ground.
The jackstraw wasn’t like pickup sticks—it lay like pickup sticks on a slope. Jumping onto and moving across the treacherous deadwood destabilized the weight, and one moving log set its fallen comrades in motion. Slipstream carried me to safety whenever a log rolled out from under me and down the hill. My progress slowed to a quarter mile an hour, and by the end of the day, I appreciated how relaxed the route to Basilborough had been—arc weaver mazes notwithstanding. Wilderness like this trivialized horses. Jasper would be helpless out here.
Beaker’s impatience with my crawling pace became the mainstay of our companionship. “Can’t you grow enough to carry me?”
The griffon squawked at the sound of my voice but sent no telepathic message in reply.
Turkey-sized velociraptors rustled through the dead leaves of the underbrush. I ignored them because their low levels would give me no experience. The creatures acted jittery but showed curiosity, but when more appeared, they grew bold and hopped onto nearby logs. Before they coordinated an attack, Beaker scooped one up, scattering them.
Beaker finally attacked!
I sent telepathic commendations. “Good griffon! You show them who’s boss!” Praising the self-satisfied griffon seemed redundant, but positive reinforcement never hurt.
After a day’s travel, I’d gained enough altitude on the foothill to see my progress. Turning, I saw distinct buildings. I gained only a thousand feet in elevation ten miles from Hawkhurst.
Gaining elevation also previewed what lay ahead—more jackstraw trees plaguing the surrounding hillside. To the east, the Orga River carved into the valley like a streak of blue paint lined with white edges.
Nimble goblins would have no problem climbing over or under the logs. The deadfall wasn’t a barrier between Hawkhurst and the Bluepeaks.
After a quick meal at sundown, I dismissed Beaker, tossed up the Dark Room rope, and climbed into the extra-dimensional space for bedtime.
The jackstraw lasted until I reached the foothill’s summit at noon the next day. With fewer logs in my way, my speed improved. The hills afterward had many fallen trees, but the going wasn’t as bad. By the end of my second day of travel, I’d reached the base of Iremont, whose trees grew spindly.
A flat top gave Iremont a shorter stature than its brethren, but its mountainside sharply inclined. Trees daring to grow too large toppled over, giving it a somewhat barren, conical shape. Its exposed soil also distinguished it from other mountains. At a distance, Iremont appeared light brown, but closer up, reddish dirt colored its face.
The ravine at Iremont’s base presented two obstacles. A stream filled with boulders stretched before me, but it looked easy to cross. A 15-foot-tall centaur kneeled at it, drinking.
Name
Talax Centaur
Level
21
Difficulty
Challenging (yellow)
Health
940/940
Instead of an equine chassis, the creature’s legs resembled the shaggy rams we’d fought over a year ago in our foray into the continent. Its upper torso looked shorter than a human, almost dwarven, given its beardlike layers of hair. Like the talax rams, twisted curls of heavy horns encased its head, almost looking like a football helmet.
Its rough horns and hooves shone as if made from metal, and the upper torso uncovered with hair bore a marbled stone appearance. I wondered what I would see if cast Mineral Communion on this giant.
Metal orbs in its eye sockets gave it a sightless, almost lifeless appearance. It moved as if it could see, but without pupils, I could not know if it saw me.
The pronounced horns forced the monster to tilt its head sideways to drink from the stream. It hadn’t seen us until my fine feathered friend issued a screeching call at the thing. Whether Beaker meant it to be a warning to me or a challenge to the centaur, I couldn’t say, but it gave away our position.
The creature picked up a water-rounded boulder, tossed it at us, and charged.
“Thanks for that, pal. I can always count on your help.”
An incoming stone the size of a prize-winning pumpkin landed left of our position. Beaker pumped his wings, trumpeting as he climbed. I would have dismissed him if I had not known he could survive battles. What more harm could he do?