PART II - NEVER GO ALONE
THEY CALL HIM THE TOWER
The next morning, he set out on a final errand. Mara and Troy had said they would be in town for some time and, if he wanted to join them, they would be challenging the Warren Dungeon for another couple of months as they sharpened their skills and built up their treasuries.
Conrad wanted to join them, and later he was sure he would, but first he had debts to pay. At a brisk jog he left the city of Edge and traveled along the road just far enough to pass beyond the protection of Order’s node that surrounded the growing city.
And there, returned to his parents’ shop. The fortified building looked as it always did, but strangely, the door was open. Conrad took out his steel mace and entered, taking a cautious look around.
It wasn’t so much that there was damage, though there was some. But the thing that shocked him most was the dearth of weapons and items. It was as if the shop had been cleaned out.
His mother was at the counter, head in her hands with his father just behind her and whispering words of comfort. Door open and no bell rung to announce his entry, they both missed him crossing the threshold until he called out.
“What happened here?”
They both looked up and his mom burst out, “Conrad!”
Immediately she was up and running, his father not far behind, and in a moment all three of them held each other in the sort of hug that only a family has.
Conrad pulled away, “Were you guys going to fill me in? If somebody bought all this I’d expect to see a lot more celebration.”
“Nasty business, we don’t want to drag you in,” his father said.
“Some bandit!” His mom said, “His men call him ‘The Tower.’ Damn near cleaned us out entirely.”
“Bandits? So close to the city?” Conrad said.
“Surprised us too,” his father said, gesturing to the empty shelves, “Obviously. Out here doing business in the Order forsaken Chaos lands of all places, and the first major problem we have is with bandits.”
“Figures,” Conrad said, and then he held out his hand.
“What are you doing?” his mother asked.
In his palm a large sack of gold manifested. So large and heavy Conrad almost dropped it, and were it not for all of the improvements he had made to his strength he likely would have. He set it down, then produced another. And another. He put what he figured was around 90% of his fortune - Karina’s fortune, really - down on the counter.
“What in Order’s…” his mother began.
Then Conrad started in with the items. Bone weapons, sets of chitin armor, all the equipment he had taken off of the Seekers that he wasn’t using himself, and last of all, the chain mail and the steel falchion he had stolen to start this whole botched adventure.
“I left a note, did you guys find it?” he asked.
“Course we did,” his father said, “But this is much more than you took, besides, even with the interest it wouldn’t come out to all this.”
His father and mother would never accept this as charity, as something they desperately needed from the person they still saw themselves as responsible for taking care of, so he decided to make a deal.
“I’m offering this gold and equipment as a loan to a reputable shop and as an investment. I’d like 30% of all the profit from the equipment sales, and expect a 10% annual return on the gold as a five year bond,” he said.
His parents looked at him, and back at the treasure, then back at him. Then they looked at each other and, his father gripped his mother’s hands hard and they both nodded at each other before turning to him with a grateful grin.
“Didn’t expect to get robbed twice in a day,” his father said.
His mother added, “Trying to rob us worse’n what we’ve already been through! 10% interest on a bond?”
“And he wants 30% of the profit!” his father laughed, “Take your jokes back to Edge, this is a business, not a comedy club!”
Conrad laughed and gave them both a firm hug before settling in for some serious haggling.
Fifteen minutes later they came to an agreement at 17.5% of the profit off the items (cataloged meticulously by his mother) and a 6.8% bond for two years. In addition, his parents had right of first purchase for the next thousand gold worth of loot he brought in from the area as he had impressed upon them his choice to continue on the adventuring path.
Business concluded, Conrad got back to what had happened, “Is there anything you can tell me about this ‘Tower’ and his gang?”
“Conrad,” his mother said, “We don’t want you going after him. Leave it for the guards or the adventurer’s guild. Your father was planning to put a quest up once we had a little extra for a reward, anyway.”
His father nodded, “Truth be told, we figure we’re never going to see those items again. Big score for a sorry lot like that.”
“What do you mean?” Conrad asked, “Why do you call them sorry?”
“Well they tried to appear kitted out for war,” his father said, “Even fooled us at first, but once we got a proper look at the, ehem, ‘equipment’ they were wearing it was clear they were mostly for show.”
“Old leather armor, blacksmith’s aprons and gloves with some plates stitched on poorly, weapons showing rust and one of them, I swear on Order, had actually painted a wooden sword silver. Can you believe it?” His mother said.
“Robbed by people poorer than they left us,” his father said, “So even if I do put up a quest, and I may, I’m going to ask that they try not to harm them.”
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
“What about The Tower, though, how’d you get that name?” Conrad asked.
His father scoffed, “It’s what the others called him. Obvious why. They all had their faces hidden in cloths or bandanas, but this one was a huge man. The type that has to turn sideways to walk through the door and no fat on him.”
“Huge tower shield,” his mother added, “Good quality, likely an heirloom, but big enough to cover even a man that size.”
Conrad had never seen anybody in Edge that fit that description. There were big men aplenty among the adventurers, but none with a shield that fit that kind of description. And he got the sense that if you saw it, it would be exactly the kind of thing you would remember.
“How about skills?” Conrad asked. Knowing the man carried a shield was distinctive but it didn’t really tell him anything about what kind of danger he was dealing with.
“Lay off it, Con,” his father said, “You’re wearing that armor and marching around like some big hero and you’ve been powling around in the dungeon for, what, a week?”
“A lot can happen in a week,” Conrad said, though he felt a small bit of shame. Maybe he was getting too big of a head. He did still need to use that skill book.
“That may be the case, I mean, look at our shop?” his father said, gesturing, “And this only happened yesterday. Regardless, no, we didn’t see any skills. We’re Merchants, Con, this shop is built to withstand probing monster attacks, not determined thieves. If somebody comes in here trying to take what we have? Well, we give it to them.”
“It was a risk that felt worth taking, not hiring a guard I mean,” his mother added, “We’ve gone years without needing one but, I guess it only takes one time to make you regret it. Your grandfather is probably rolling over in his grave - he wouldn’t have allowed anybody to steal anything.”
“Maybe I’ve got a little of him in me then,” Conrad said, standing, “I’ll put the word in with the guards. And I’ve got some other things to take care of back in Edge. You two going to be OK for without me for awhile?”
His parents both leaned back in mock indignation, giving each other looks, “See how he’s grown so quickly?” his father said.
Agreeing, his mother added, “Coming in here like we’ve never lived alone before. The stones on him”
The power once again just fizzling right out of him, Conrad gave them both firm hugs and headed for the door, “I’ll be back when I’ve got some equipment for you.”
“Try to bring something other than chitin!” his father called.
“This isn’t a specialty shop!” his mother said, “Love you, Con! Be safe!”
You could kill a hundred monsters, become a slave, save the lives of an entire band, grow wealthy beyond your dreams, and take the hardest type of revenge on the men and women who wronged you and still, despite all that, come home to your parents and still be a child in their eyes.
Conrad shook his head and waved as he took off running for Edge. His improved endurance and agility made the run a breeze, and he was barely even winded when he walked through the gate.
The guards, two men in brigandine leathers with steel helms and carrying wooden clubs for crowd dispersal and long pikes for… intimidation, Conrad supposed. He couldn’t help but feel a little anger. His parents’ shop was almost visible from here. Almost, and they might have even seen The Tower heading out to rob them and done nothing!
No, that wasn’t fair. He walked onward. What would separate the law abiding, Chaos fighting adventurers from those who used their strength to prey on common men and women just running a shop? Karina had just been a patron at the Border Zone - a woman Conrad had at one point felt was attractive enough to actually bring him into the city looking for her - and yet she had put him into veritable slavery and nearly gotten him killed to boot.
She paid for her room at the inn, she bought the goods from his parents, and yet she was capable of that. Conrad would have to cut the guards some slack. Just because he knew what to look for when it came to The Tower and his gang didn’t mean they had the same information.
But that was the nature of the world. You didn’t have perfect information, or circumstances to ensure that people were really showing you their true colors.
Could the same rot that infected Karina and Buck infect somebody who seemed genuinely good? Somebody like Troy?
Or Mara?
Were all adventurers really just sociopaths and criminals, simply targeting monsters and the dungeons because it was easier than dealing with the consequences of going after humans for experience and loot? Troy had said himself that the profession tended to attract some of the worst among humanity
But adventurers were lauded throughout the country of Nexus, and no doubt the wider world. And it wasn’t just fighting that made them special - the truly powerful among them had achieved immortality in stories, songs, and legend. And the bands they came from! The Oldguard, Catalyst, Brushfire… could it be that even the men and women who had achieved such renown could also be just like Karina, or Buck?
And if even the best among them could never truly be trusted…could he trust anybody but himself?
The thought troubled Conrad as he made his way toward the Adventuring Guild branch in Edge. Like most of the buildings in Edge it was made of red brick, squat, rather than tall, but with plenty of space on the flat roof. Often visiting bands, usually the poorer and less successful but not always, would camp on the roof of the guild and so canvas of many colors gave the building an ironic sense of ordered chaos.
He entered with some trepidation - what if they knew, somehow, that he had killed the Seekers? He put the thought aside and approached the clerk ahead of him.
Inside the entrance hall there was a stairwell off to Conrad’s right that no doubt led up to the roof, and to the left a doorway into the hall itself which would include training areas, a mess hall/tavern, and some accommodation and shops for guild members in good standing.
The clerk looked up at his approach and greeted him warmly, “Welcome! How may I… I do believe you’re one of the Dren’s! Out of the Border Zone shop. How may I help you today, Mr. Dren?”
Conrad smiled, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“I’d like to update my standing with the guild.”
“Very well,” the man said, “Are you currently part of a band or will you be creating a new one? And as a Merchant no less! And… an Officer? Well! Forgive me, sir, you have clearly diverged paths from your parents. Are they well?”
“Funny you should ask, but I’ll get there - I’m part of a band. The Seekers,” Conrad said.
“Seekers…” the man said, eyes lighting up with a skill as he moved his hands, manipulating something only he could see, “Yes, I have them here. It appears you were listed as a probational member.”
“That’s true,” Conrad said, “But I wanted to report…wanted to inform the guild that the other three members were lost in the Warren Dungeon. Yesterday.”
“Oh,” the man said, looking sorrowful, “It is always a blow when good men and women are taken by Chaos. Order preserve their souls and keep you from their same fate.”
“Hear hear to that last part,” Conrad said dryly.
“Beg your pardon?” the clerk asked, but when Conrad failed to elaborate he began again, “In the case of all members of a registered band losing their lives, leadership naturally passes to you as the sole survivor and… let me see…” his eyes went vacant and glowy as he consulted records in his interface, “It appears the Seekers have accrued a fair few Guild Points that will become yours, but they are, I’m sorry to inform you, not in good standing currently and so those points are locked to you until their debts are paid.”
“Buck had a thing for debts,” Conrad said, “How much do they owe?”
“Guild dues are monthly and at their tier, bronze level… come out to 15 gold, 38 silver, 96 copper.”
Conrad eyed his inventory. He could pay, but would it be worth it?
“I haven’t had a chance to hold a leadership role before,” Conrad said, “What exactly are guild points for?”