I tossed my coins down on the table and said, “Kan’on to win, taking not a single hit.”
The guard-cum-bookie looked skeptical but took note of the bet. A few of those nearby who heard me looked like they wanted to second guess their bets, but it was too late.
Orleander stepped up behind me but didn’t look inclined to put a stop to the festivities. I sidled my way up to him and took a swig from my flask.
“So, what do you think?” I asked, trying not to sound as smug as I felt.
“The outcome is obvious. Don’t try to act like it isn’t. You may have underestimated my ‘Ms. Black’, though. It should be obvious that I wouldn’t keep someone unqualified at my side.”
Ms. Black’s expression was still hidden behind the hood and scarf, so I couldn’t even begin to guess what had precipitated this duel. Kan’on looked as placid as a mountain lake, as usual.
One of the guardsmen stood between them saying something I couldn’t quite make out, presumably outlining the rules. Probably standard tournament rules. Both combatants had live edged swords in hand, so no doubt the fight would end when the first person managed three strikes or a killing blow.
Ms. Black held a long and narrow edged blade meant more for stabbing than slashing but functioned either way. Kan’on held his usual plain, thin longsword, one of the most widely used and versatile weapons. Many people would think a master of the sword would carry around something unique or fancy, but he didn’t need any such thing.
“Is she familiar with Skyreach Pinnacle? It seems like an ill-advised matchup if she does know.”
“I’ve no idea. They are famous, but really only to those with a reason to know. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t make the connection. She can also be hotheaded when she feels her pride has been slighted.”
“Something to work on then, I guess.”
The referee stepped out of the way and the room went quiet. He held his hand up, looked at the participants, and swiped his hand down.
Ms. Black exploded forward, leading with the tip of her almost-rapier. Fast. Too fast. Kan’on only had time to edge his sword into position to deflect her strike to the side before she was on him, steel sliding against steel.
She disengaged as Kan’on maneuvered his sword into a favorable position. That was a mistake. She should have kept the pressure up. Now he had time to mentally adjust for her speed.
She lunged forward into an extended thrust, angling for Kan’on’s throat, a killing blow in tournament rules. Kan’on sidestepped and threw a vicious kick to her brigandine chest armor. Breath rushed out of her in an audible ‘oof’, and she retreated once again holding her torso as she struggled for air. Despite being winded, her retreat was too fast to be natural.
I examined the Flow around her, looking for clues to her incredible speed. Her movements imitated what I did with current manipulation in the Flow, boosting her speed and agility, but it was a pale imitation. I didn’t spot anything abnormal, but my suspicions had already been piqued.
She attacked again, but Kan’on already had her measure and cleanly parried her rapid series of thrusts and strikes, his agile blade flashing in the brightly lit tent.
I spotted a curious burst of power in the Flow from her feet and hands. Ah! Clever, a glyph user. Tournament rules stated that you could use whatever you entered the fighting ring with. Usually that meant you couldn’t use any unprepared magic, but prepared magic was a bit of a loophole because of how rare it was to find someone who practiced it, due to the cost. She must have had glyphs in her boots and gloves. Probably her chest armor too, based on her unnatural directional shifts.
Ms. Black once again went on the offensive, but it was too late for her, the fight as good as over. Kan’on deflected a series of slashes, then in a movement as smooth as the silk of his battle robes, he flashed forward inside Ms Black’s guard, his sword disappearing and reappearing at the end of a vicious slash at her throat. That movement, more than anything demonstrated the power of cultivation, pure and overwhelming physical power.
“Stop! Killing blow! The victor!” The referee stepped forward and grabbed Kan’on’s arm and raised it over his head, parading him around as if it were an actual tournament win. A cacophony of cheers and boos accompanied the results, and surprisingly it sounded like Ms. Black had been favored.
“As expected, I hope you enjoyed fleecing my guards.”
“What can I say, I’m an opportunist,” I replied, already rubbing my hands together at the sight of the pile of money.
The nearby betting pool losers gave me dirty looks as I scooped up the pile of silver. Knowledge is power, gentlemen.
I found my previous seat and took a sip from the alcoholic juice concoction. Just as good as I remembered. Kan’on joined me shortly as Ms. Black stormed out of the pavilion, and the excitement in the pavilion started winding down.
“How did it feel to fight someone using glyphs? I haven’t seen someone using them in ages.”
“Glyphs? So that’s it. Her speed caught me by surprise. She almost had me at the start. She is only a mediocre swordsman though.” Kan’on took a sip of his own juice. “If glyphs are so effective, why aren’t they more common?”
“The cost is too high, both in terms of energy and money. Most great fighters eventually learn some combination of battle aura, magic, or cultivation anyway, making glyphs pointless except as contingencies. If I had to guess, I’d say she either can’t learn magic for some reason or was a very late bloomer. But whatever the reason, she has developed an effective strategy if she can catch you out like that.”
Kan’on went quiet, probably thinking about the applications of glyphs in his own style. I turned my attention to the various snacks available at the table. The Count soon returned and sat, followed by the Baron. Clyde had disappeared, probably chasing down Ms. Black.
Soon enough, those three started a conversation that held no interest for me, so I took the opportunity to escape to go carouse with my fellow winners, passing around drinks and otherwise making a nuisance of myself at the Count’s expense.
###
I plopped down into my seat, sloshing some of my latest drink liberally over the table and groaned. Kan’on and the Count had been mid-conversation but went silent at my uncoordinated entrance, both giving me slightly disgusted looks. I sniffed at them, then polished off the rest of whatever was in my cup.
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“Orleander, we’ve got a problem. And by ‘we’ I mean you,” I slurred. Grimacing, I reluctantly drew a rune in the air, empowered it, then pushed my face through. I waited a few seconds to let the tingling make its way through me, washing away the drunkenness, but leaving behind a hangover. Unfortunately, it didn’t wash away the scent of smoke, spilled booze, and sweat.
“Mud Town has a Carver problem,” I said.
“Where is Mud Town?”
“Here, this is Mud Town.”
“Excuse me, this town is called Dellun Hollow, not Mud Town,” the Baron chimed in.
I jumped, having completely forgotten he was there, and said, “Whatever, Mud Hollow is crawling with Carvers.”
Eyebrows knit into knots, Baron Palambre lurched forward in his seat. “Look here, this town has a proud-”
“Are you sure?” the Count asked while waving off the Baron. “Do you have evidence to support this?”
“Sure. You yourself said there were some kind of attacks going on and I assume that the Baron here is the one who told you that. I made a circuit of the whole place and came across a livestock massacre on my way back. I’d have to be blind not to recognize a Carver attack.”
“How do you know?” asked Palambre, having cooled down a little. “It could be anything, and Carvers kill people. We haven’t had any reports of attacks on townspeople.”
“You’ve obviously never had Carvers here. It’s not just me though, our driver Jass also saw signs in the woods nearby. Which leads to a different, maybe bigger problem; where before you didn’t have an entrance to the Labyrinth within spitting distance, you do now, because Carvers only come from the Labyrinth.”
The Baron’s mouth worked soundlessly for a few seconds while he processed that tidbit. “That’s ultimately a good thing, right? It will give us access to rare resources, right?”
“Leave it to a noble to ignore the-” I started to say before the Count cut me off as well. I raised an eyebrow, but let it pass.
“It will be costly for Dellun Hollow, both in hard currency as well as manpower. You will need to solicit the assistance of mercenaries and adventurers to clear out this section of the Labyrinth to make it safer. The town will need to fortify itself against all forms of threats from the Labyrinth, not just Carvers.”
“Most of that is down the road though, but the immediate problem is the Carvers, but it gets worse because they’re acting weird, restrained. Which probably means something worse is down there,” I said.
“You think it’s a Dominator?” Kan’on asked.
“I doubt it, I’ve never heard of one above the third layer. If there actually is something controlling them, it’s more likely to be a Siren.”
We sat in silence for a while, letting that sink in, before I turned to the Count and said, “You’ll need to relocate the caravan though. This is a terrible spot to fight off carvers if it comes down to it.”
I watched the realization sink in on Orleander’s face, then resignation as he nodded. He turned to the Baron and asked, “Do you have space for me somewhere off the road, and preferably defensible?”
“I’m sure we can figure out a way to safeguard your goods,” the Baron replied.
Of course, he was only concerned about the caravan’s goods and not the caravan’s people. Orleander called one of his guardsmen over and whispered directions into his hear. The man saluted smartly and ran out of the tent.
“Our first step should be to find the entrance to the Labyrinth,” Palambre said. “If we know where these creatures will come from, perhaps we can contain them.”
“I tracked them for a ways. Their trail leads to the north of town.”
“The north? That way cuts through the forest and hits the road that the Count needs to pass through, the one that is currently washed out.”
“Was it washed out by the river or by a landslide?”
“Landslide, the whole mountainside detached… ah. I see. Perhaps tomorrow I will send my men-at-arms to investigate.”
I nodded. I looked at the empty cup in my hands, getting a little fidgety. My task in informing the Count of the Carvers complete, and the planned entertainment happened earlier than I expected, I looked for an excuse to make an escape back to the comfortable fire and Jass’ more agreeable company.
“Ardashir, are you willing to assist the Baron against the Carvers, if such a need arises,” Orleander asked.
“Nah. Carvers are nasty pieces of work, but nothing a disciplined group of armsmen can’t handle, and now that you’re aware it shouldn’t be too hard to deal with them. That’s not to say I won’t kill any if I see them, but I’d be more worried about that open entrance. Now that that cat is out of the bag, there is no going back, it can’t be closed. Whatever is lurking around down in the dark, whether Siren or otherwise, is going to sense it and come out to play.”
Count Orleander only gave a cursory nod. It wasn’t really his problem, assuming he could get out of town without trouble, but he needed to keep up appearances. The Baron, on the other hand, looked like a spirit caressed his future grave. I figured he wasn’t yet used to the idea of his sleepy little town turning into a locus of Labyrinth activity, both things coming out and adventurers going in.
It would be chaotic to begin with, but ultimately the town would grow and make a lot of money from the whole thing, assuming it wasn’t wiped out before then.
“Well, my friends, it has been a pleasure, but I’m missing my cozy fire, so I’ll be heading out. Thank you for your hospitality… and the entertainment.”
Short and sweet. If Orleander had it his way he’d turn my leaving into some kind of elaborate ritual, so I got up before he had the chance. I winced as the itching in the back of my mind intensified, transforming from a slight presence to an active nuisance. Not a good sign. I might be forced get out of town without the caravan, which would lead to cold nights alone on the side of the road, defeating the whole purpose of joining the caravan in the first place.
Kan’on made his own excuses and thanks, then together we left the pavilion. I still hadn’t seen so much as a stitch of Clyde’s ridiculously gaudy outfit since the little sparring match, but the camp seemed more alert, tense. Guards paced at the edge of the light outside the camp, keeping watch on the edge of the forest. I grunted in approval. Seems Clyde wasn’t such a useless clod.
The walk back was uneventful and made me wish I hadn’t sobered myself up. Kan’on, ever the composed and proper sect disciple, probably hadn’t had a single sip of anything with alcohol, so I suffered by myself.
“So, how did you get Ms. Black all riled up and ready to fight anyway?”
“She made some comment about me being your glorified bodyguard, and I responded that she shouldn’t let her envy of my greatness affect her judgment, which then escalated quickly.”
I wheezed out a laugh. Kan’on sure knew how to poke people.
“I think, perhaps, that she has some vendetta against you. While she was angry at me, my impression was that she had a very low opinion of you. Do you know her, perhaps from your previous life?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t seen her face or heard her speak, so I have no way to know, but she seems young so it’s unlikely.”
We pressed on through the darkness, occasionally passing other camps of drivers and guards, but the word had spread quickly. While everyone seemed relaxed, a tense atmosphere had risen, and nobody was without a weapon close at hand.
We arrived at our camp, and I slumped to the ground next to the fire, trying to make my aching brain process the events of the evening. We sat in comfortable silence around the fire. Comfortable except for the looming threat of homicidal flesh-ripper-meat-juice-suckers. Jass had placed his spear within easy reach and Kan’on’s sword had never left his side. I hadn’t even bothered bringing mine to visit the count in his extravagant waste of a camp, but I pulled it out of the pile of gear and placed it at my side.
I took out a flask and chugged. As I laid there letting the alcohol drown out the ever-growing itch in the back of my mind, something in the Flow caught my attention, a writhing tickling feeling washed over me. I sat up and followed the feeling with my eyes, eventually landing on the nearby forest.
“Shit.” It was times like these I wished I was more eloquent, but the booze made thinking clever things difficult. “We’re about to have company.”
The others glanced at me, then followed my gaze. Kan’on, predictably unconcerned, just nodded and gripped his sword a little tighter. Jass surprised me though, he looked into the trees and grabbed his spear without hesitation.
“Hold on fellas. I didn’t say we should be the ones to get up and fight. I’m just saying that they’re coming. I’m comfortable where I am. Good fire. Good company. No reason to get up if you ask me. Let the paid fighters handle all the action, we’re paying passengers after all. Except you Jass, you know what I mean.”
They both gave me identical looks, the look you give to your disappointing father when he said something embarrassing out in public. I grunted. Fine, but every time I got a good buzz going the world conspired against me. Was it too much to ask to be able to get blackout drunk and then pass out, dead to the world and the presence in the back of my mind for a while? On cue, the itching progressed to a buzz. I sighed and drew up a healing rune and plunged my head into it, wishing it was a bucket of water.
I guess I was hunting Carvers after all.