Lev tumbled backwards through the temporary portal, hitting the floor hard as his arms remained too bound to reach them out and break his fall. It wasn’t the soft dirt that he landed on, either, but the stones that acted as Auricia’s pavings.
The orc was aware of the people around him staring, but he ignored it, with the exception of a growl in their direction, which he allowed himself. The cut in the vines was enough for him, eventually, to wriggle free, and he instinctively reached for the battleaxe that typically was strapped to his back.
But it wasn’t there. He’d taken it off for his date, which meant it was… half a continent away.
‘Hades's wrath,’ Lev spat. That axe had served him well, had split many skulls open in just one blow.
The orc looked around; at this distance, the portal had only been able to get him close to his destination, not perfectly on it. Such was the way of worldbending magicks—they were never perfect—especially when they’d been crammed into such a small gemstone. He knew where he was, at least, and he began his trek across one of the largest cities in all of Alterra.
* * *
Lev was pretty sure that the manor Jacob had taken over had once been a brothel. There were too many cushions around for any normal household, and there was a mysterious mark on the wall of the bedroom he’d claimed as his own. The boss didn’t seem to mind, though, and Lev hadn’t wanted to be the person to suggest this to him; Jacob had a temper when he heard something that didn’t suit him.
It was bustling with household staff when Lev arrived at the front gate. More household staff than the size of the building really warranted, if Lev was to make a guess—though it wasn’t like he came from this sort of background. Cooks, maids, servants of all shapes and sizes hurried to see to Jacob and party’s every need, having been sent here by the queen. Whatever the arrangement was that Jacob had with the monarch seemed to have her greatly indebted to him. Lev would have asked but, again, he feared the pyroknight’s temper.
Lev crossed the garden at the same pace at which he’d ploughed through the city, never slowing. He stormed in the front door, slamming it aside, and causing a nervous young dwarven maid to drop a silver platter in shock. She looked up fearfully at him, with large brown eyes, and hurried about clearing up her mess. These servants knew fear.
As Lev crossed the atrium, a satyr chef with noticeably strong facial features approached him. This was about the only member of Jacob’s new household staff that didn’t fear the party—at least, not Lev or the tiefling. He held a cherry pie up in front of Lev’s face.
‘Lev!’ he said. ‘You’re here! And just in time to try out this new pie recipe I made.’ He pushed the tray in the orc’s face as Lev tried to brush him aside. ‘Come on, Lev. I know how much you like ‘em… Go on. Give it a go.’
Stolen story; please report.
The satyr’s incessant sales pitch finally became too much. If Lev hadn’t had news for Jacob, he might have stopped to try some, but with this urgent task… He turned to the satyr. ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘No time for delicious things now!’
The satyr cowered away, discouraged, and Lev continued up the staircase towards Jacob’s bedroom. When he finally reached the door, all logic escaped him, and he slammed this door wide open, too.
Two young women gasped as the door opened, pulling the bedsheets to cover their bare chests. Like Lev would be interested in something like that. Between them, Jacob—Lev’s employer—scowled at him. The Player didn’t seem to realise that any woman he’d “talked” into bed with him was an agent of the queen, here for purposes of espionage. But, again, Lev wasn’t about to be the one to tell Jacob that—he’d seen what that pyrokinesis brand of sorcery could do.
‘Didn’t think I needed to tell you to knock, too,’ Jacob said. ‘I fired the last servant who did that, but—’
‘I have news,’ Lev interrupted; it couldn’t wait, and he trusted Jacob had the sense to understand that, rather than berating him for the interruption.
Jacob sighed. ‘Spit it out, then.’
‘Best we alone,’ Lev said, nodding to each of the two women, who were supposedly fearful of him, yet notably had made no attempt to leave.
Again, the Player sighed, and this time he rolled his eyes, for good measure. Lev had never expected such human emotions from a demigod such as this. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Ladies? Clear out. I’ll finish with you later.’
The two women paused, sharing a glance with one another, before eventually leaving. Lev waited for the door to be firmly shut behind them before speaking.
‘The Artifact came to find me,’ Lev said. ‘Along with its owner.’
Jacob narrowed his eyes. ‘But it was expired? The last charge had been used.’
‘Yes. Used on the man who hold it when we find it. The man we kill.’
This revelation made the Player stand. He strode over to the window, caring not for his lack of clothing. Lev did his best to avert his eyes, but it wasn’t every day you got to see a Player’s—
‘But that’s not possible,’ Jacob said. ‘He doesn’t have the bloodline.’
‘Respect, boss, but do we know this? Do we know he not…’
The Player shook his head. ‘He’s not in the Council. If he was one of us…’ Jacob trailed off thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on some spot outside, but not really looking at it. ‘No matter. What’s done is done. He—’
‘He come for revenge, boss.’
‘Who?’
‘The man we kill. The man with Legacy of Sisyphus.’
Jacob laughed out loud. He tended to do this; make something seem like some great joke. ‘The thief? He must be, what, level 10?’
‘Five, boss.’ Lev paused as the Player laughed harder. ‘But you know what this effect does. He level 5 now, yes. But he won’t be for long.’
At this, the Player stopped laughing, his mouth warping from a smile to a snarl. ‘You make a fair point.’ He sighed. ‘I suppose it has been a few days since I got to kill anyone, and Council work has been taking its toll… Maybe a quick execution will do me some good. Where was this man?’
‘Carn, boss.’
Jacob nodded. ‘Sharpen your axe. We set sail in the morning.’