CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Building Foundations

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“Look out below!” someone yelled.

A moment later, a thick wooden beam crashed into the earth, sending dirt and dust flying. It had fallen from the top of a four-story building in construction at the edge of town, on a stretch of land near the path heading up the lonely mountain of Sundermount.

“Anybody hurt?” called a workman hanging from the side of the building.

“No!” Bram replied. In an undertone, he added, “But you spooked the harts well enough.”

Many of the beasts in the nearby round pens were neighing in complaint, with several so startled by the loud noise of the crash that they scurried off to the far side of the enclosure. All but one remained by the prince’s side, a majestic-looking black hart that seemed unperturbed by the ruckus.

“You’re not scared of a little noise, are you, boy?”

Bram lovingly caressed Renfri’s neck, and the hart neighed as if in agreement with his words.

“It’s a brave one, for sure, just like its master,” said a familiar voice.

Bram glanced over his shoulder.

“Took you long enough to get here,” he said in his practiced commoner’s drawl.

“Fast enough for the likes of us who don’t like going into towns if we can help it,” said the bear-like man who grinned at Bram.

His face was a little more weathered than when they last met, and there was a new scar on his cheek, but his beard was better trimmed, and his smile was still full and toothy.

“We were surprised to get your message, and in such a fancy way too…for a bloke who’d pretended to be a bard when we met,” Lil’ Joss said.

“But I am a bard,” Bram whispered.

He was back to his bard’s disguise. He dyed his hair purple again and even put on a new purple coat for their reunion, but the ruse didn’t seem to work on Lil’ Joss this time.

In hindsight, Bram probably shouldn’t have asked Rowan to cast a ‘Clarion Call’ spell that sent his message straight into the bandits’ minds, but the prince had no way to reach them. He didn’t know where the Mighty Greenwood Gang’s hideout was, and sending soldiers to look for them might have caused a misunderstanding Bram didn’t want to have. Not with these bandits he’d shared drinks and tales with…and other fun memories too.

“Sorry about that, Lil’ Joss.” Bram stuck to his commoner’s drawl anyway. “I was in a hurry and didn’t know how else to find you.”

Lil’ Joss shrugged. “Least you asked. Most nobles’ would’ve done it differently.”

“With sword and threats,” said the wiry-haired, comely-faced woman standing beside her brother.

Josslyn jumped the fence and landed on the other side like a practiced gymnast. Seeing her cat-like grace as she walked toward him, Bram couldn’t help recalling the night he’d shared with her and the beauty hiding underneath all that fur gear she now wore.

She stepped over to the other side of his hart. To her credit, Renfri didn’t pull away or attack her when she drew close enough to touch him.

“Hey there, Luv, it’s been a minute.” Josslyn patted Renfri on the neck in a way that made Bram recall her soft touch brushing against his chest. “Looks like the pretty noble’s been treating you good at least.”

Renfri leaned toward Josslyn as if he enjoyed her caresses more than Bram’s.

The prince didn’t mind since he’d been under the spell of those caresses once before. More importantly, Josslyn clearly possessed strong ‘Animal Handling’ skills, which meant that she at least could easily fulfill the task Bram needed the Mighty Greenwood Gang for. More than likely, the rest of her gang were the same. Lil’ Joss certainly looked like he could handle a red grizzly on his own.

“I knew you were the right people to call,” Bram said.

“Are we now?” One of Josslyn’s thick eyebrows hitched up. “You gonna try and use us like the other nobles do?”

There was a bite to her words he didn’t expect, but it wasn’t enough to deter him.

“Do I seem so different from who I was when we met?” Bram asked, his voice reverting to the speech of a noble.

“Don’t know… Didn’t really know you, did we?”

“Then perhaps I can change that.”

Bram offered Josslyn his most charming smile.

“Guess you’re still pretty,” she conceded after gazing into his face, her tone softening slightly. “But pretty nobles are the hardest to deal with… They’re the type to hide their ugliness behind a pretty smile.”

She wasn’t wrong.

There had been many times when Bram had witnessed depravity of the worst kind by nobles who offered charming smiles up front while looking at commoners as if they were lambs being led to slaughter.

“Then allow me to show you what I’m about,” Bram insisted.

Josslyn eyed Bram skeptically.

“Come on, Lyn.” Lil’ Joss leaned against the railing. “We came all this way to hear him out. So, stop pretending like you don’t want to.”

Josslyn closed her eyes in annoyance. “This is why I do the negotiating.”

Bram couldn’t help grinning.

After one final pat on Renfri’s neck, the prince led the two thieves away from the pens and toward a large pavilion under construction on the opposite side of the road from the first four-story building.

It looked much like Phoebus’ temple in Reise’s town square, though it was being constructed entirely of wood with pillars resembling giant trees supporting its domed roof. Wide sweeping wooden steps climbed up the front side of the pavilion to reach a second-floor landing that led to an entrance still in the middle of construction.

Unsurprisingly, Bram saw a familiar face walking up those steps.

“Hurry it up, Recruit!” yelled a middle-aged man in the white shirt and brown breeches that made him appear like an ordinary carpenter, though his voice suggested otherwise.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” yelled a tall brown-haired man in his thick southern drawl.

Chris climbed up the steps while carrying a stack of lumber on his back. He wore the same uniform as the crew working on the pavilion’s entrance. None of them looked like regular carpenters either because they all possessed the well-trained physiques of people who were used to training differently from simple manual labor.

“You’re using soldiers for the construction?” Josslyn asked.

“Only the ones with experience in that kind of work,” Bram answered.

This wasn’t exactly a lie.

Soldiers trained by Ser Anthony were taught the basics of construction work so that they might all be useful in building defenses during siege warfare. Chris was the only exception, though this task was something the Texan didn’t shy away from since it was part of a chain quest that would lead to his first job promotion.

Nearly four weeks have passed since the events of the Red Forest were wrapped in a messy little bow. The party defeated a creature of myth and legend while securing resources, treasure, allies, and a brand new skyship currently docked for a new coat of paint at the Flametail Tribe’s village of Walc in the westernmost region of the Red Forest.

During this time, all three otherworlders diligently pursued individual quests that would allow them to reach new heights as the system’s users. For Chris, that meant choosing a path to become a much sturdier vanguard for his party’s sake.

Seeing him working hard now, Bram recalled that moment two weeks ago when Rowan had asked Chris about his plans.

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“Bridget has gone off to complete her chain quest in Walc.” Rowan picked up her teacup from the small table between her and the fireplace. “What about you, Chris…have you reconsidered Ser Anthony’s offer?”

As had become their habit in recent weeks, she, Bram, and Chris were enjoying tea inside the prince’s study.

“I don’t think I’d be much good as a knight.” The Texan’s face turned contemplative. “After our fight with Loveless, I noticed it’s become my role to stand at the frontline…to become the tip of our spear, so to speak.”

Chris eyed Bram whose nose was buried in unfurled scrolls. Feeling the Texan’s eyes on him, the prince absentmindedly passed him one of the scrolls.

“A new expert’s arrived at the Master’s Pavilion,” he explained.

One of Chris’ eyebrows rose. “Thought we hadn’t finished building that yet…?”

“We haven’t,” Bram answered. “For now, we’re giving the experts who’ve arrived room and board at the Journey’s Respite. The innkeeper and his wife were only too happy to oblige my request.”

“Because you’re paying them more than they’ve asked for,” Rowan guessed knowingly.

“Yes, that too…” Bram took another scroll from the burgeoning pile on his desk and unfurled it so he could inspect its contents. “They won’t be there long. Construction on the pavilion is going ahead of schedule thanks to the soldiers Ser Anthony sent to work on the site.”

“Won’t your soldiers draw attention to our…” Rowan’s face turned contemplative as she recalled the words Hajime had used for their construction site. “…player’s campus…?”

This time, Bram couldn’t help but look up.

“A master of disguise would know to hide wolves in sheep’s clothing,” he boasted, adding, “Besides, it’s a giant tent in Reise’s outskirts. Why would the nobles care?”

“Like one from a carnival,” Rowan giggled. Turning to Chris, she added, “Is this expert our prince found the one you’ve been waiting for?”

“You make it sound like I’m looking for a date,” Chris chuckled. Then he read aloud, “Asger of Begnan, former Warden of the Western Vinland Pass…”

The Texan’s brow creased.

“I’m guessing he’s impressive?” he assumed.

“Asger of Begnan is a retired ‘Guardian’ whose shield once survived five blows from Ser Anthony’s sword,” Bram explained offhandedly.

“Now that sounds like high praise .” Chris scratched at the tip of his nose. “A guardian, huh… That’s a tier-three job promotion, ain’t it?”

“One you can take after thoroughly experiencing the life of a soldier,” Rowan answered, with Bram adding, “You’ll want to take the exam at the city barracks to enlist as one of my household’s soldiers.”

“Just like that?” Chris asked, sounding skeptical. “No other hoops to jump?”

“Bastille is always in need of good soldiers…” Bram frowned at his own words for he suddenly remembered those traitors who’d recently attempted to kidnap him. His frown quickly turned upside down once he recalled how good Chris was with his shield. “They won’t say no to a strapping-looking man like you.”

“Job promotion into a soldier…” Chris mused aloud. “Yeah, I served with the Marines when I was younger. It might be a better fit for me than the stuffy knight order Ser Anthony wants me to join. No offense.”

“None taken.” Bram looked up from his work. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah.” Chris suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Spoke to Ravi like you asked. They’ve tried scrying for the old Damascan but haven’t found him. With how he’s avoided detection from even Rowan, I don’t think we’ll find any answers with this route either.”

Besides their job promotion quests, the party also earned what Hajime had called a main story quest.

SPECIAL QUEST: The Hunt for the Old Damascan!

Kazem Bashar, one of the last elders of the Coven of Stargazers as well as their chief diviner, disappeared on the day the party liberated the Red Forest from the mad nymph’s influence. They’d sent trackers to find him, but the weargs returned in failure.

They’d reported to Scarfang and Bram that they’d followed Kazem’s trail to the rusty sword that was the last waypoint the Stargazers had made before reaching the Red Ruin’s clearing, but they couldn’t follow him through it thanks to their dual nature as man and beast.

Without knowing where the old Damascan had gone, Bram was forced to question his new allies in the Stargazers, but neither Master Mina nor Ravi knew where Kazem had fled. Indeed, they’d been shocked by the suspicions Bram had shared with them because the old Damascan had been a member of the Stargazers even before Master Mina joined the coven. Fortunately, neither the Stargazers’ master nor its vice master had doubted the prince. They’d even vowed to help in any investigation Bram pursued, and if necessary, to bring their former comrade to justice themselves should Kazem prove to be the culprit behind the Stargazers enslavement to the mad nymph.

“It is an unforgivable thing to betray one’s coven,” Master Mina had said, the frustration clear in her expression. “If what you say is true, then Kazem Bashar will answer for his crimes against us.”

When they’d spoken to Kazem’s granddaughter Alkaid, the silver-haired girl had no clue about her grandfather’s whereabouts. Indeed, she’d become crestfallen when she’d learned of his disappearance. So, Bram and the others had decided not to share their suspicions with Alkaid, not because they thought her complicit in his deceit, but because the poor girl had gone through enough already.

“How’s it going with the nobles’ connection?” Chris asked.

Bram’s frown deepened. “That’s a failure as well…”

The last thread the prince could pull vanished before he could grasp it tightly because Vicomte Henry Kleist had fled Bastille before Bram’s party returned to his city almost as if he’d known beforehand that Baron Archibald had already been defeated.

“According to reports from Ser Anthony’s informants in the north, the Vicomte’s returned to his abode in the Resolute Fortress,” Bram explained.

Chris glanced at the large map of Lotharin hanging on the wall behind Bram’s desk. Directly north of the Red Forest’s Red Way was a drawing of a walled city. Even on the map, it seemed heavily fortified.

“I reckon we can’t just go there and knock on his door?” the Texan guessed.

The prince shook his head. “The Resolute Fortress is the gateway to northern Lotharin. With tensions between us and Rhyneland growing after Baron Archibald’s death, I doubt they’d be so accommodating as to let us in…”

Because of these setbacks, the search for the old Damascan was stalled, and Bram now had many other concerns to deal with. In particular, preparing for what the dev team had dubbed the ‘Feast of Travelers,’ the day when the game’s alpha testing phase would finally begin.

“For now, we’ll leave the search of Kazem Bashar to Ser Anthony.” Bram passed Chris a small item. “You should focus on your job promotion quest.”

It was a shield small enough to fit in the Texan’s palm. On its surface was a teal yew tree on a field of white, its branches spreading out nearly to the shield’s edges.

“‘Tis the token of Lotharin,” Rowan answered for Bram.

The prince nodded. “Show it to the barracks and they’ll let you join without taking the exam.”

Bram’s gaze once again drifted to the unfurled scroll on his desk.

“We’ve seen your talents already. You don’t need—”

Bram noticed Chris’ hand slide the token across the desk, forcing him to look up again and see the Texan grinning back at him.

“Appreciate the consideration, Boss,” Chris got up from his seat, “but I’m not the kind of guy who cuts corners.”

The Texan put on the wide-brimmed hat he’d had custom-made from one of Hightown’s best hat-making shops and then tipped it toward the two Aarders in what Bram assumed was the famous cowboy’s salute.

“I’ll do it right and true,” he promised, “because there ain’t no such thing as honest work that ain’t rewarded rightly.”

As Chris walked toward the study’s door, Bram watched the Texan’s broad back with a smile growing on his face. The cogs in his brain were turning with the possibilities of what was to come, and he couldn’t help saying aloud, “I’m looking forward to the Feast of Travelers…”