The New Guild Master [Chapter 2] - Dirty Work
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The guild registry was a roll of thick parchment. Solei laid it out on the counter, scribbled a few sentences with an inked feather before turning it over to Nonemu.
“I’ll need you to sign here, here and here.” She marked out the ‘rules’, ‘guidelines’ and ‘principles’ sections with her finger before turning to the end of the roll to add his ‘name’ and ‘pledge of allegiance’.
I can’t read a single word, let alone the fine print. And what’s with the length of this contract? Am I selling my soul?!
“A-are you sure this is alright?” Nonemu ventured. “I can’t read this language. What sort of obligations am I signing up for?”
“Um, it’s nothing really. It’s mostly about disavowing you from the Moribus Guild in the unlikely event of any unseemly acts or criminal behavior that might tarnish the guild’s reputation.”
With such a verbose contract, I might run afoul of the Guild’s rules eventually. But what a heartwarming smile! How can I say no to that?
“T-then I’ll be in your care Solei… would you sign it for me? I’d be grateful if you could autograph the name ‘T-r-i-s-t-a-n’ where necessary.”
“‘Tristan’? An alias? Does it have some hidden meaning?” Huck peered over Nonemu’s shoulders.
“Not exactly. It’s the name of a famous ‘Character’ I like. After some struggle, he marries the princess in the end.”
Solei’s face turned a deep crimson.
“I’ve never heard of such a ‘Character’. Perhaps his story only exists in fables told in your world?” Huck mused.
“Probably, I think so anyway.” Nonemu agreed.
How much of this world resembles my own? Other than the ‘medieval fantasy’ setting, there may be many more parallels to fictional worlds found in novels and games. The preternatural knowledge I have might come in handy, sort of like having a set of cheat codes… or it could lead to foolhardy mistakes. So I’ll be careful not to make any careless assumptions.
“All that’s left is the [Blood Seal].” Solei handed him a ring-shaped lancet.
Nonemu set the ring on his left thumb and pressed in the outer ribs until he felt his skin pricked. He dabbed at the roll where Solei had previously indicated. When the blood dried, he noticed the parchment was glowing faintly.
“It’s done. Tristan. You are now a G-ranked adventurer of the Moribus Guild!”
Solei and Huck both had a look of eager impatience.
“What?”
“A-are you going to open [Status] now?” Solei was ecstatic.
“No.”
“W-what? Hey don’t hold out on us Tristan. Solei is like a sister to me. So that makes me your brother-in-law in a way. You can trust me! We’re practically family!” Huck wrapped his arm over Tristan’s shoulder.
“You’re invading my personal space. And the answer is still ‘No’.”
“Ah, how can you be so cold to your own brother?” Huck had a prurient smile.
“I already told you I don’t swing that w-.”
“-T-there’s still a lot to discuss. Tristan… we should have a… um… briefing. Yes, a briefing!”
She’s so persistent. And what’s with that adorable look? I almost fell for you. But I’m not a lolicon. So it can’t happen.
“I’d like some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up here for… say Solei how long have I been here?”
“I-I… um… you see… it was… two weeks.” she said ruefully.
“Ah… don’t worry Solei. If you’re still thinking about the injury from the fall, I forgive you. Besides, you’ve more than made up for it. You patched me up, good as new!” he gave her a winning smile.
Looks like she’ll be burdened with guilt for some time. Maybe I could take advantage of th-… thank goodness I’m such a nice person! Someone less scrupulous would surely have tried to take advantage of her.
“Solei, could you hand over the receipt for the fourteen goblins I slew?”
“Goblins? Let me see… ah, you mean this?” she held up the sack Tristan had placed behind the counter. She inspected the contents by probing the bruised appendages of around a dozen goblins with her bare fingers, like an adolescent girl casually perusing a tabloid magazine.
Solei suddenly pulled out a handkerchief from thin air and wiped her finger tips before having the piece of cloth return to void space. She opened a drawer behind the counter and withdrew a card that had strange symbols engraved on the front. The words appeared to swirl before Tristan’s eyes to form the words: ‘Moribus Guild’. She flipped the card over to the back, where it was blank, and wrote some words that Tristan couldn’t read. She pricked her forefinger with the lancet ring, and left an imprint on the back of the card. The guild receipt glowed brightly for a moment before waning steadily.
Huck received the card with a grunt. He met Tristan’s eyes. “So, shall we be on our way?”
“I-I need to change Huck. Can’t you see I’m still in bathrobes? Solei do you think you could spare some clothing?”
Does she have anything gender-neutral? Will I be known as the ‘Bold Cross-dresser’? Well, I could pass for a woman if I tried. Haha.
“I might have something.” She guessed his size at a glance, and drew out a leather vestment and slim-fitting breeches from her ‘Storage’.
“Thanks. Could you… um… turn around Solei?”
“Y-yes!”
He loosened the robe. Huck had a strange look in his eyes, as he earnestly scanned his body.
Note to self. Never let yourself be in a room alone with Huck. Ever.
It took only a few moments for him to change. He held up the bathrobe.
“Here.”
Solei shook her head. “It’s yours. So put it in [Storage].”
“A-and how would I go about doing that?”
“Remember, you have access to all of my skills. Just imagine an empty box-like shape in front of you. You might feel a little light-headed, as mana is drawn out of your body to cast the spell.”
“Okay…” he pictured a large, lidless cardboard box floating in mid-air. He kept it at arm’s length. Once the image was solid, he changed its texture, so that the frame was now made of a transparent material.
“… yeah, I can do this.”
Huck raised an eyebrow.
“Now deposit the robe. Take your time.”
What would happen if I accidentally left my hand inside that strange dimensional space thing?
Tristan gulped nervously.
He gripped the robe tightly in one hand, and inched slowly upwards. A minute passed with his arm gradually climbing upwards. A portion of the robe was now sucked into empty space.
“Can you hurry up dammit!?”
“Huck!?” Solei fumed at him.
“What? Why are you angry at me? It’s just [Storage]. And he’s acting like he’s never even seen magic before! Fucking drama queen.”
“That’s not fair Huck. New adventurers are often bewildered by magic. Besides. ‘You’ can’t even cast a single spell!”
“Sure I can. If I wanted to. And not everyone is born with an affinity to magic like ‘You’. It’s not like you ever bothered to teach me anything.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault you don’t know any spells?”
“I have ‘Martial Skills’ anyway, so I don’t need to cast spells that drain my stamina.”
“Magic is vital to your surv-”
“-Guys, I did it.”
Tristan was rubbing his hand, thankful that it was still a part of him.
“Awesome!” Solei clapped. “Now we can move on to the-”
“-Let’s go.” Huck pulled Tristan towards the door. “I ain’t got all day.”
“W-what? Why? Where are we going anyway? Where are you taking me!?”
“To collect the bounty. And what’s with that tone?”
They left Solei, with her arms crossed, still fuming.
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“Show me your [Status].”
They had walked ahead of the Guild - a two-storied hut in Tristan’s eyes - for about ten minutes when Huck suddenly asked Tristan to show him his [Status].
“Why?”
“Because Solei’s life is at stake. And I need to know that you can handle yourself in a fight.”
Huck’s desperation was almost audible.
“F-fine… it’s just… the thing is… I don’t know how.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how to open ‘Status’. Wait, lemme try calling it out. [Status]. Nothing huh? Well it was worth trying anyway.”
Huck smacked his own face in frustration.
“This isn’t a game Tristan. Open your damn [Status] right now!”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you ‘Can’t’?”
“Don’t you speak English? I just said I can’t.”
“What’s ‘English’?”
Now he’s fucking with me.
“Seriously, what language are you speaking right now?”
“The ‘Common Tongue’. All Freemen speak the ‘Common Tongue’.”
H-he’s… serious!?
“W-well, it sounds a lot like ‘English’ to me.”
“You’re mistaken. I ‘only’ speak the Common Tongue. N-nothing else.” Huck seemed genuinely embarrassed at that.
Oho! What a rare moment. Where did all that confidence disappear to ‘Mister’ Huck?
“Everyone can summon their [Status]. It’s an ability we are all born with. Even babies can do it.” Huck looked at him expectantly.
“But I can’t-”
“Yes. You. Can.” Huck sighed deeply, and decided to change his approach. “Try envisioning a ledger in front of you. Each entry is a quantification of each of your abilities. Starting with your name, imagine an invisible hand writing a summary of who and what you are.”
“That’s it!” Tristan sang. “You’re actually good at teaching when you try! I feel like I can really do it now. Thanks to Huck’s encouragement. You should try being nicer to me more often you know. I promise better results that way.”
Tristan gave him a coy smile.
“Fine. Thanks. Whatever. Just do it.”
He had no trouble imagining [Status] having seen Solei’s status a little while ago. And unlike when he used [Storage] he didn’t feel a sense of tiredness, when his status simply appeared, floating before him.
Huck drew closer to analyse the display.
STATUS
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Name Tristan Race Summoned Human Age 15 Years Old Title None Job None Class None Level 1 Rank G -> ( Moribus Guild ) XP 0 / 20 HP 10 / 10 MP 5 / 10 SP 8 / 8 Intelligence 25 Strength 2 Dexterity 4 Speed 5
STATUS EFFECTS
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BINDING [PRINCESS BRIDE LVL. MAX]
-> The user was summoned by the bride to be her “knight in shining armor”. If the user perishes, the bride will experience immediate death. If the bride fornicates with an individual other than the user, before consummation with the user, the bride will experience immediate death. While the bride is alive, the user will obtain any of her ‘Active Skills’, including ‘Job Skills’, ‘Race Skills’ and ‘Unique Skills’. Should the bride perish, the user will still retain obtained skills.
PASSIVE SKILLS
---
AUTO-TRANSLATE LVL. 2
-> The user can understand (all) spoken words and (a few) written words of human languages. The user can also understand (some) spoken words and (no) written words of non-human languages. Words encrypted by cipher or by magic may also be understood by the user depending on their derived language and level of difficulty.
ACTIVE SKILLS
---
HEAL LVL. 2
-> [Obtained] Heals serious wounds, including internal injury. Cannot regrow or reattach limbs. (MP COST: 20).
STORAGE LVL. 2 (120 KG)
-> [Obtained] Allows the user to store and retrieve items from a pocket universe. The amount of items that can be stored is determined by weight. Gases and liquids must be stored in an airtight container. Base value (12 KG). For each additional level attained, base value is multiplied by (10x). (MP COST: 5).
APPRAISAL LVL. 2
-> [Obtained] Allows the user to view the status of an object (animate or inanimate). If the user attempts to appraise an object of a higher level than oneself, appraisal is then more likely to fail in proportion to the difference in levels between the user and the appraised object. (MP COST: 50).
EYE OF SAURON LVL. MAX
-> [Obtained] Allows the user to scry any member of their party. ‘Eye of Sauron’ was inherited as a result of the user’s royal bloodline. (MP COST: 40).
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This is definitely not right. Other than my intelligence, all my base stats are lower than Solei’s! Ah, but the scaling is probably off. There’s no way a little girl with a strength value of ‘4’ could be twice as strong as me, with a value of ‘2’. But she is an elf though, so she could be tough but compact… maybe there’s a six pack under that corset? And… I’m fifteen years old huh? Seems about right. Does that make me a child in this world?
Stolen novel; please report.
“T-this i-isn’t right. I t-think I r-read it wrong.” Huck stammered.
Huck reread Tristan’s stats over and over again. Ten more minutes had passed before he finally managed to peal his eyes away from the floating display, only to gape at Tristan with his mouth hung open.
“W-what? You’re freaking me out Huck. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“Y-you’re weak…”
I could gather that much on my own.
“Y-you’re weaker than a child.”
“Huck. I have news for you. I ‘am’ a child.”
He shook his head lightly. “No…” his voice slowly returned. “This just doesn’t make any sense. You’re weaker than an eight year old… what happened to you?” Huck slumped his shoulders, his face darkening.
Tristan felt a pang of fear.
This doesn’t look good!
“W-well, you s-see I was injured” Tristan began hastily. “When Solei summoned me, I fell from a portal. Plunging from quite a height…”
_That sounds plausible right? But she did heal me!"
“… a-and despite Solei’s attentiveness, it seems I haven’t fully recovered.”
“I see.” Huck whispered. “That might be the case. I’ve heard that severe injuries may cause a permanent decline in one’s vitality and strength…”
He’s so studious when it comes to being an adventurer! I don’t think I can fool him with just that.
“A-ah… w-well perhaps the summoning… c-could-”
“Yes. The summoning itself could be the cause. Solei is only [Level 3]. There’s no way she could properly cast a 7th tier spell.”
Yes! He bought it!
“Is seventh tier high?” Tristan had already fully recovered.
“The highest.” he extolled. “God-like even.”
“God-like?” Tristan couldn’t hide his skepticism.
“Inherited magic tends to be powerful, there’s no doubt her Elven lineage goes back centuries… but the effects of innate magic may be dulled by a weak wielder… could it be… that you were much more powerful in your world?”
“P-probably.”
Definitely not!
“Then it’s practically a certainty. The summoning had stripped you of most, if not all of your powers.”
“S-sure. That makes a lot of sense I guess…”
Bullshit!
“… I-I do have something else that’s unexpected. What do you think of [Auto-Translate]?”
It’s definitely a cheat skill. Thank the Gods!
“Among merchants, it’s fairly common. However, you’re unlikely to run into someone with that skill in Bordna. As all Freemen speak the Common Tongue.”
Screw the Gods!
“Right.” the tense atmosphere around Huck had dissipated. His demeanor was now business-like. “I want to know what sorts of skills you possessed before you came into this world.”
Is ‘Puberty’ a skill?
“I don’t remember. The concussion I developed from the fall had probably caused my amnesia.”
“But [Amnesia] isn’t listed as a status effect?” Huck pondered. “If you could remember the skills and techniques you had learned in your previous life, you would indeed be a force to be reckoned with in this one. Perhaps your memory was stripped along with your abilities in order to prevent your overwhelming power from returning...”
Oi Huck, don’t go believing in your own lies! I’m not a fallen hero!
“... so, what do you remember?”
Nothing! Absolutely nothing!
“U-um… stuff… you know… general knowledge.”
“Of this world?” Huck inquired.
“No… I only have knowledge of Earth. The previous- I mean other world.”
It says ‘Summoned Human’ on my status. Not ‘Human from Earth’. There’s no evidence I actually lived there! But my age is ‘15 years old’. But then again that could just be my physical age, not time spent in a another world… and where the fuck is my shining armor?!
“At least you have some of your intelligence. At your current level you could probably…”
My intelligence ‘25’ is quite high compared to my other stats… I must be super smart!
“… be a cobbler or maybe even a farmer.”
This game world is totally broken!
“S-so what should I do Huck?”
“Hmm? Well, fighting is certainly out of the question. As you are now, you’d lose to a goblin infant.”
“Y-you don’t have to be so mean.”
“I’m being frank. This world is cruel, and the life of a Freemen isn’t easy. But I’ll do what I can to help you survive. For Solei’s sake you must strive to live on. Don’t you think you owe her that much?”
“Of course! I’ll work hard to pay back the debt I owe her.”
Even though she’s the ‘Reason’ I’m in this predicament.
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They had walked at a brisk pace for well over two hours. Tristan could feel his thighs burning as he jogged forward, to make up for Huck’s long strides that occasionally left him dawdling behind.
“Are we there yet?” he puffed.
“Almost there… what’s wrong with you? You seem winded.” Huck gave him a pitying look. “That fall must have really done a number on you.”
Any normal person would feel tired after such a long trek. Why couldn’t I be born into a world with flying cars?!
The afternoon sun greeted them with a steamy glare as they approached a small cottage that lay at the tip of a large valley of cultivated land. A third of the farm was covered in tall stalks of wheat. Another third had a diverse mix of lentils in various stages of growth, while the remaining portion was left fallow.
“We’re here.” Huck announced.
“Great. I was just about to collapse. So, let’s go-”
“-Hold on. We’re about to meet with Sylvanus. He’s an old farmer that’s well-known in these parts. I’ve heard he’s suffered some misfortune of late, and has been asking around for a new hire. A farmhand. Do you think you’re up to?”
Farming? Hmm… sounds better than hunting Goblins. But how am I supposed to get stronger that way?
“I-I guess so-”
“Great! This way you’ll pay me back in no time.”
Ah, so that’s what was on his mind. He really is a short-term thinker.
Upon closer inspection, the cottage seemed to be in poor condition. The walls were for the most part, plastered with dry earth. A few wooden beams, some leaning outwards at odd angles, provided additional support.
Huck savagely rapped the doors with his knuckles.
That’s so rude!
A sound could be heard behind the door: a beam of wood being slid away from it’s bolted position. The door opened inwards to reveal a scraggly beard and crooked teeth that belonged to a wiry, old man. He seemed to be in a jovial mood.
“Huck ma’ boy! It’s been too long! What yer waiting fer’? Come on in. Oh, who’s this young lady?” A low whistle escaped his pursed lips.
“This is Tristan. A new adventurer that just moved into town. ‘He’ is looking for work. And I want my bounty.” With the flick of his wrist, the guild card appeared in hand.
Bounty? What!? Y-you weren’t thinking about me at all Huck!
Sylvanus accepted the card with a grunt, his eyes still fixed on Tristan.
“You a noble’s son or something? What’ya doing ‘round these parts eh? Got tired of kissing yer’ old man’s boot?”
“W-well, I-I want…”
What the hell do I want anyway?
“… t-to start a new life. On my terms. I’m not looking for adventure, or fame. I don’t want any trouble. A peaceful and ‘safe’ life is all I look forward to.”
Sylvanus furrowed his brow, deep in thought.
“The life of a noble seems like a sweet one to me. But I guess there’s there, and here’s here.” He shrugged. “Let’s talk more inside.”
The farmer’s cottage could only be described as minimal in its interior. A single room, with a ‘kitchen’, which was an old, black stove wrought of iron in one corner, a straw mat that made up the entirety of the ‘bedroom’, and a ‘lounge’ consisting of two gnarled sofa chairs and a rocking chair huddled around a misshapen slab of dark wood.
Sylvanus ushered them in happily, taking his place on the rocking chair. Huck sank lazily into a sofa chair, slipped off his boots, and dropped his feet on the low table. Tristan stood awkwardly.
“Don’t you mind nothing here. We ain’t got none of that fancy etiquette.”
Tristan decided on the remaining sofa chair, which absorbed his weight like a sponge. He was overcome by a flood of relief. The heat in his thighs slowly dissipated.
Sylvanus took out a hook-shaped pipe, fed some dark power to it from a small pouch, which he dutifully tied around his waist. He whispered a few words that Tristan couldn’t make out. A tiny flame swallowed his finger tip, which he used to light the contents of his pipe.
“Hmm… haven’t seen magic like this eh? Well you’ll be seeing lots more round these parts. There be a great need for it ya’ see. Goblins everywhere. Those greedy fuckers love the taste of meat. They gone an’ ate all ma' livestock. Now don’t be judging me. I can handle a whole pack of them on ma' own…” he paused to let out a few whiffs of his pipe. “But there was this one odd goblin. A fat one.”
“A fat one?” Huck’s eyes lit up.
“He started stalking ‘round the edges of ma' field a month back. I had a horse, a pair of prissy cows and a young calf cooped up in the barn. Wouldn’t call that a business. And I’d never let them roam by themselves on account of that strange goblin. But ma’ main work is in the field, the rest was just fer’ a glass o’ milk er’ry morning…” he sighed for a moment, before grinding his jaws in agitation.
“That fat fuckin’ monstrosity ate dem’ all! By himself. He figured out how to unlock the doors!”
Huck was flabbergasted. Tristan was perplexed.
What’s the big deal?
Sylvanus caught Tristan’s eye and nodded sagely. “Goblins are as stupid as they come. A locked door with it’s key hanging loose is a great mystery to them.” he drew in a sharp breath. “Aye… but this one was different. I woke up one morning to find nothing but bones licked clean. I damn nearly fainted, thinking a dragon had run loose. I found a single pair o’ tracks leading out the barn and outta the field…” he paused for dramatic effect. “… he also took a pair of ol’ shoes and pants I’d left in there 'coz they was torn up.”
At this, Huck shook his head in disbelief.
“I swear it. On ma' mother’s grave. He took ma’ clothes with him!”
“I-is that unusual?” Tristan asked attentively.
“Sure is.” Huck replied. “Can you imagine a dog breaking into your house and stealing your clothes? Well, Goblins are no smarter than them. His story is unbelievable.”
“Believe what you will.” Sylvanus spat. “I put out the bounty three weeks back. He disappeared a week thereafter. No doubt the adventurers roaming about scared him off. A wily one that Fat Goblin is.” he rambled on for a few moments, spitting and cursing at the name of the Fat Goblin.
“So.” Huck interrupted. “About the bounty.”
“Oh, I got it right here. Lemme get it for ya’.” Sylvanus rose, and walked over to the old stove. It looked heavy, but he grabbed both handles at his waist, and swung it gently aside.
Huck turned in his seat to curiously watch the old man unlock a hidden compartment, drawing out a large sack and a small leather pouch. Sylvanus unwound the pouch, and handed Huck a single, shiny silver coin, and forty stained copper coins. He tied the purse to his waist, and dragged the sack towards Tristan.
“W-wait. I-it’s really not necessary.”
I don’t think I want to find out what’s in that bag!
“Huh? Whad’ya mean? Open it.”
Tristan hesistated.
I’ve had enough surprises for one day.
He nervously loosed the thick knots on the sack and tentatively examined it’s contents.
“Potatoes?”
“Is this some kinda joke old man?” Huck seemed annoyed.
“Can’t ya’ see? Those ain’t no ordinary potatoes. They’re red potatoes.”
What’s with this old geezer? Red potatoes are just as ordinary as regular potatoes. Is he off his rocker?
“They taste pretty much the same.” He continued. “Bet ya’ wondering how I got them?”
“Not really.” Huck said flatly. He got up, as if to leave. “You know, I’m busy.”
“Sit yer’ arse back down. I’ll make it quick. I planted some potatoes awhile back on a small patch of fallow ground, on a whim ya’ see. To see if the land was ripe for it. When a pair o’ goblins decided to jump me. But I made short work of them. I knew the smell of there dearly departed cousins was more than likely to attract the lot of them. So, with ma' shovel already in hand, I decided to bury them right there and then- with the seedlings of that patch of potatoes yer’ got in ya’ hands.”
Huck’s visage had turned deathly pale. Sylvanus went on, unperturbed.
“I visited the patch a week later, expecting sprouts. But lo’ and behold, they was fully grown! I couldn’t believe ma' luck-”
“P-poison! Those potatoes are poisonous! You need to get rid of them. Now-”
“-I thought as much at first. But I’ve been eating them now and again going on two weeks. And they is still fresh and wholesome. And I’m not sick. As far as I can tell.”
Huck sat in stunned silence.
“I’m thinking of making this ma’ new business.”
“Potatoes?” Tristan inquired.
“Manure.” Sylvanus announced. “I got an ol’ gristmill at the other end of the field. Next to ma’ barn. If ya’ harvest and dry the wheat still in the field, it could make fer’ some good mulch. Ya’ll need to cut up the goblins into smaller pieces before feeding them into the mill. Once the bones are ground to a paste, throw in the mulch and then ya’ll get some [Uncommon Fertilizer]. Hmm, might be a higher grade then that. I’ll get Solei to appraise it later. So whad’ya say lad? Ya’ up for it?”
“This is madness-” Huck began.
“-I’ll do it.”
“Y-you… can’t be serious?” Huck was at a loss for words.
“It’s dirty work ya’ know?”
“I’ll do it.” Tristan repeated, more firmly this time. “B-but I’m not good at hunting goblins. I-I don’t have the physique… as you can see.”
I’ve never killed anything in my life! Well… I’ve only been alive for two weeks, so my true potential might be hidden.
“You needn’t worry about that. Adventurers, like Huck will do the killing. Your work will be to cut, grind and dry out the manure.”
“What about the color of the potatoes?” Huck interjected. “What if everyone’s crops get a red tint?”
“What of it? So long as it tastes the same it won’t matter. I’ll just say the manure is of an [Uncommon] quality.”
“The truth will find it’s way to them eventually. So, please don’t do this.” Huck implored.
“By then it won’t matter. Ma' special manure will be in circulation, and the produce already in the market. If no one gets sick, they’ll settle down right away.”
“That’s ‘if’ no one gets sick. We still don’t understand the effects of Goblin blood.”
“I’ve heard many tales of adventurers trying at Goblin meat. It’s taste is horrid by all accounts, but quite nourishing. And here I am. Living proof. Having eaten Golbin infused potatoes.” he flexed a wrinkled arm and grinned. “I’m fit as a horse!”
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Huck led the way, past the the edge of the farmlands of Bordna, onto yellowed grass plains. Tristan could just make out the outline of the North Agva forest.
Sylvanus had supplied them tools to excavate the fourteen buried goblins that Huck had killed. But he was in a bitter mood, the shovel bobbing uneasily, on one shoulder.
“I don’t like this.” He said, breaking the silence.
Tristan did not reply immediately, as all his focus was drawn towards their steady march forward. He had seven burlap sacks on his back, strung together with thick rope. They weren’t heavy, but his legs were stiff, like a pair of anchors that he had to drag on land.
“H-how long until we get there?” He groaned.
The edge of the forest began to loom over them. A cold wind ruffled through the trees, carrying with it faint whispers that left Tristan with an unsettling feeling. As if someone were watching.
"W-what’s that sound? he shivered.
“I don’t know Tristan. It could be anything. The wind or wild animals.” his voice was lined with venom.
Huck suddenly dropped his shovel. Tristan jumped in surprise.
“Right there.” He pointed to a soft mound of dirt that stood out amidst the discolored grass. “Get to work. I’ll hull the load back.” Huck walked a few meters away, lied down and closed his eyes.
Why is he so pissed?! Hasn’t he ever heard the saying: nothing ventured, nothing gained?The old man is right to take risks, if he means to start a new business.
Tristan began to dig out the corpses. It was not long before the tip of the shovel encountered resistance. He starting digging out the edges in a wide, circular path. He stopped for a moment, as a gnarled, pale hand jutting out of the ground made his heart skip a beat.
He kept on digging until the bodies were unveiled, covered by only a thin layer of dirt.
“What’s that smell?” He turned to look at Huck, who had alreadt fallen asleep.
What a carefree bastard!
He dragged out one of the bodies. The stink of fecal matter wafted up his nose.
R-right. When someone dies, their bodily fluids are released… so, I just need to bleed them out and then dismember them.
He took out a hunting knife from one of the sacks and slit the dead Goblin’s throat. Repeating this pattern, he lined up the corpses in a row, watching the blood pool into a small lake.
T-there’s so much blood! This is ridiculous.
Tristan held the knife inches from a deceased goblins chest and mentally prepared to butcher him. His arms wouldn’t stop shaking, so he paused, took a few breathes and stabbed it in the gut. A viscous fluid came out. Along with blood and fecal matter. He turned away and retched. With his throat sore and his stomach clenched, he returned to the task at hand, gutting the rest, one at a time.
His most gruesome work was beheading them. A goblins neck was thick and taut. Halfway through each incision, blood would spray, forcing him to pause and wipe his face. Their arms and legs were well-muscled, albeit child-sized and thin at the joints. He had tried to cut their limbs off with a single, strong-armed swing, but the bone proved too hard, so he had ended up slowly sawing them into pieces instead.
Hours passed, as he filled each sack with two portions of dismembered goblin. The sweat that was dripping off his brow had began to dry. He looked up to find the sun was close to setting.
“Huck. I’m done. We need to get going.”
“Hmm? Yeah. Ugh… how long have I slept?” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Alright, I’ll grab those. We’ll part ways at Sylvanus’.”
“Why don’t I just put them in storage?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. What’s your mana count?”
“[5/10]. I can still use [Storage] one more time.”
“If you put the sacks in [Storage] you won’t be able to retrieve them until tomorrow. And Sylvanus might want to inspect the catch when we return. You should know that mana recovers only when you rest, and even then, it still takes awhile to build up.”
“Alright… I understand.” Tristan nodded, absorbing this new information with intense interest.
“Well then. let’s get going.”
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When they returned, Sylvanus did not greet them with much fanfare.
“It’s about time!” he drew his face close to Tristan’s. “Boy. Am only gonna tell ya’ this once. The forest is dangerous. Don’t go wandering off at night. You wouldn’t believe the kinda things that come crawling out when the sun sets.”
“A-ah… okay. Sure.”
“And you!” He wagged a crooked finger at Huck. “You know better than to take such risks.”
“It couldn’t be helped. I have an escort mission tomorrow. A bunch of traders, passing through the northern trail.” He punched Tristan in the shoulder, lightly. “I’ll be leaving this fool in your care. I’ll be away a week at most.”
“Bah. Good riddance.” Even as he said this, Sylvanus smiled broadly and opened the door for Huck, waving him off.
Tristan was shaking. He could feel the lactic acid beginning to congeal inside his muscles. He knew he would wake up the next day sore all over.
“So let’s see what ya’ got for me.” His fingers greedily unwound the rope that bound the sacks together. He untied one of them and peered at the contents. His head flung back in dismay.
“Ooowwweee!” Sylvanus howled. “Now that’s fresh!” He broke into a unexpectedly contagious fit of riotous laughter. Unable to resist, Tristan joined in.
Having had a good laugh, they had soon settled into the sofa chairs. Tristan, finding the atmosphere homely, had his feet up on the low table. Sylvanus had been lost in contemplation for some time before he suddenly broke the silence.
“Two to one.” he chortled. “That’s ma' margin. I’ll renew the ten copper bounty per goblin head, with a new requirement: that the whole body be provided to me. In one piece or several. It don’t matter… each bag will be composed of five goblins - fifty coppers’ worth of manure. And I’ll be selling it for a pretty silver!” he licked his lips.
“A-and what about my wages?” Tristan ventured.
“Oh, right. Your wages will be twenty copper a day. Twice the usual, ‘coz I’m feeling generous. I’ll also be providing ya’ with food and shelter and what not.”
“Will I be staying here?” Tristan looked around. There was a straw bed in the far corner of the cottage, opposite the kitchenette area. It did not look like it could fit two people.
“'Course not. Ain’t got no room in here for anyone but ma' lonesome self.” he snickered.
“You don’t have a wife? Or kids?”
Sylvanus gave him a dark look.
“That was a long time ago… too long.” he said quietly.
“O-okay… then where will I stay?”
"The barn. It’s as good as any place. You can make something outta the hay for yer’ self.
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Tristan was lying in a bed of straw that he had made for himself in the low-roofed barn. Soft moonlight shone from a glass window in the rafters. The hay itself was soft but itchy. He felt that in time, his body would grow accustomed to it. And the wooden structure of the barn insulated his ‘bedroom’ fairly well, so he couldn’t feel the stinging cold outside. Still, he tossed and turned for awhile before his exhaustion finally settled in, causing him to fall into a deep sleep.
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“Ka. Ka. Ka. Kakaka.”
“Uhm…”
“Kakaka. Kakaka. Kakaka.”
“W-what.” Tristan bolted awake.
“Kakaka.”
His heart froze.
“Kakaka.”
Something was furiously scratching on the barn door.
“Kakaka. Kakaka. Kakaka.”
He tiptoed forward, and checked to see that the wooden beam was still bolted in place. Satisfied, he stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Kakaka.”
Is it some sort of wild animal?
“Kakakakaka.”
The scratching sounds had grown more profuse.
There’s more than one! Maybe there’s a whole bunch of critters scraping the door!?
“Kakakakaka. Kakakakaka. Kakakakaka. Kakakakaka. Kakakakaka.”
I have to do something. They’re not stopping. Is this where my adventure ends?
“Kakakakaka… … …”
Maybe they went away?
“Gyoh. Geeh. Gaeh. Gyoh.”
At first Tristan thought the words were muddled because of the door’s thickness, but as he realized what those sounds truly meant, he briefly lost himself in panic.
“Goblins! Help! Someone pleeease heeelp me! Goooblins! They’re trying to eaaat meeee!”
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