Chapter 27 — Not Toren's Problem
“Does feeding yourself really require being captive to another? Being told what to do? Being provided for?” rebuked Reaver Yorne. “I’ve already explained, Eshem`Zel reviles those forcing anyone to do things against their will. Those who wish to leave with me, may. Those who wish to stay, stay. If you truly feel I have wronged you, pray and donate at the shrine, and maybe I will be brought the same fate as your captors.”
Thankfully, Yorne was there to deal with the woman complaining about having been rescued. His words silenced the loudest of the troublemakers, but grumbling about ‘stupid and naive religious talk’ continued.
From the way the arguments were going, it seemed half the women wanted to stay behind, understandably not eager to be homeless or to put their fate in the hands of a dark god’s charity—particularly one that valued individual initiative. Some didn’t want to waste the Conclave protection they had already paid for through coin and effort or risk the Conclave’s ire falling upon themselves or their families.
Depending on the reach and local power of these Conclave goons, the ones wanting to stay might not be wrong. History was replete with common folk suffering bad ends for daring to stand up, whether facing bandits or nobles.
The lazy woe-embracing attitude still irritated him. He risked his life, and they were spitting on his effort and sacrifice. Do something for yourselves for once!
“The Conclave!” a woman gasped and pointed.
Toren’s reluctant arrival to the now crowded common room caused a minor panic until Laiya called out that he was with Reaver Yorne, but that made the packs he was carrying all the more suspicious.
“You don’t think we were doing this for free, do you?” Toren stated flatly to preempt any accusations, setting the packs down by Falma and her dad who had been joined by Laiya and a woman who was clearly their mother. He pulled out the ledgers and two sacks, handing the sack he’d prepared with 200$ worth to Emina, who gave him a strange look that he didn’t have time to puzzle out, and the ledgers to Yorne. “Reaver Yorne, I’ve claimed my group’s share of the loot. Here’s the Conclave’s ledgers in case you want to figure out who else is owed anything. The murder fees?”
“500 rods,” Reaver Yorne reported. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I’d like to avoid any further entanglement with the guards and the Conclave, if I can,” Toren freely admitted while handing over the heavier second sack with the expected amount then motioned toward the floor. “I investigated the basement. There’s a grate down there connecting to the undertunnels. The mana-lock securing it looks like something Conclave-related, if I had to guess. The ledger’s numbering suggests that the number of people needing rescuing may be in the hundreds.”
“Troublesome.” The [Reaver] discreetly surveyed the unhappy two dozen or so women pressed into the common area trying to avoid the blood and dead body and his face took on a contemplative expression.
The group gathered by Yorne spread into the kitchen to make more room, and the rapidly developing factions were now bickering over taking food from the pantries and cold storage. Now that he had a chance to look more closely, Toren noticed not all of those gathered from the rooms were women. None of the three teen boys he noted looked like paying customers, though, and whether simple hostages or not, Toren didn’t care to find out their situations.
Likewise, now that the [Haberdasher]’s family had been retrieved, he had no interest in venturing into the under-tunnels to rescue possible additional victims in other locations or root out other Conclave members involved. That was Yorne’s problem, not his.
“The warning about the trap was yours?” Reaver Yorne eventually asked while tying the sack with the murder fee to his belt.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Toren nodded. “The lockbox contains a substantial number of mana-coins, silver, and what might be the deed to the property. Unfortunately, I don’t have any Abilities or tools for getting past the enchantment.”
“Hmmm. That might be a workable solution.” The [Reaver]’s gaze went to the front windows, still empty of interest or commotion. “I’ll take care of it. Can you take care of having some guards sent here, so the disputes can be resolved and I can return to the shrine?”
As long as the request didn’t involve talking to the guards himself, Toren thought that workable, and maybe even ideal. “Alright, we’ll take care of that. [Haberdasher], let’s drag the [Alleyshank] inside and get going.”
“Wha-?” was the response from the man at having suddenly been mentioned, but Toren didn’t wait and was already unlocking the entry door.
Falma, still tightly gripping the metal club, exchanged a glance with him, and volunteered, “Two men passed by but didn’t react.”
Their luck probably wouldn’t hold for much longer.
Warnel was right behind him as he ventured out and had worked his question into something more intelligible, “We’re going separate from the others? Isn’t that more dangerous?”
“How do we know there aren’t Conclave controlled people in the guard? Do you want to stick around to be seen as someone who murdered their guys?” Toren countered, getting a wide-eyed head shake in return.
He and Warnel pulled the [Alleyshank] into the common room, and bunching the hood around the blade, Toren was able to extract his knife without making too much mess. The man’s cloak was thoroughly ruined though, which was unfortunate as he would have preferred to make Laiya or her mother less conspicuous.
At this point, he didn’t want to delay any longer, and they set out. Laiya’s friend Fila, thankfully, opted to stay behind with Reaver Yorne and wait for the guards. Toren paid the first reliable-looking boy they came across to go fetch the guards about the hostel situation, hopefully ending his involvement in the matter.
To further that goal, he led his group back to the pre-made and second-hand clothing shop, where they sold off the clothing they wouldn’t need in exchange for more practical attire for Laiya and Emina.
[Danger Sensing] staying quiet had him cautiously optimistic that they had escaped as cleanly as could be hoped. Even so, Toren couldn’t help a feeling borne of experience that the sooner they could make it out of the town, the better.
~~~
『Name: Toren of Theravos
Race: Human
Age: 20
Profession 1: Level 2 Burningblood Berserker (1700/4000)
Status: Injured (Weakened collarbone: mending, Mild Soulstrain)
Mana: 4/29
Strength: 16
Constitution: 12
Dexterity: 14
Agility: 12
Wisdom: 12
Intellect: 8
Will Power: 17
Perception 14
Appearance: 8
Charisma: 8
Luck: 10
Attribute Upgrade Points: 1
Traits:
Sacrificial Guardian
Abilities:
Burning Blood (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Slow Bleeding (Rank 1) Proficiency: Low
Ability Upgrade Points: 1
Profession Skills:
Pain Tolerance 4
Severe Wound Recovery 3
Berserker Knife Arts 1
Spear 9
Club 8
Focus Rage 1
Combat Awareness 3
Intimidate 2
Skills:
Theravos Language (Speaking) 15
Theravos Language (Reading/Writing) 10
Religion 10
Meditation 5
Bone Strengthening 3
Hunting 20
Butchering 13
Archery 19
Stealth 17
Arithmetic 4
Foraging 16
Tree Felling 6
Running 12
Mana Sensing 14
Danger Sensing 1
Wound Binding 8』