Chapter 32 — Indiscretion
“You all headed to clear a claim?” a man sitting with a group of similarly hunting-outfitted fellows asked as Toren and his group settled around a table inside the tavern.
“Yep! Levish’s old orchard,” Korta volunteered, to cheers and raised mugs around the room, and much to Toren’s internal consternation.
The man across from the first had been in the process of drinking and coughed before managing a “Seriously?”
“Korta, you should already know better; that place is a zoot haven,” a third added, head motioning toward Warnel’s daughters and wife who were attracting attention even with their hair and faces mostly hidden by their hoods. “And you’re taking such pretty faces along?”
“Nah, me and my hounds will keep ‘em safe. You’ll see, Borthos,” Korta boasted, proudly adding. “Zoots won’t even have a chance to get near.”
A fourth sighed and continued as if Korta hadn’t spoken. “I feel bad for ‘em.”
The fifth pretended the same, nodding agreement. “Yeah, gonna get sliced up something terrible.”
Borthos looked down into his mug like it would give wisdom. “It’s a waste, ya know?”
“Yeah, a waste.” The man who had spoken second, shook his head in resignation, sounding depressed, and downed half his mug.
The older guy who had started the conversation smiled knowingly at his tablemates’ joking.
“Wha-? Don’t pretend like I’m not here!” Korta complained but, seeing the unmoved responses and hooded eyes directed his way, grudgingly admitted, “It’s not like I’m helping by myself. Harthol’s here with his hunting pack too.”
“Oh?” Borthos’ brows raised. “Your father know what you two are up to with his hounds?”
“I can make my own choices-”
A teen girl wearing an apron pressed a sloshy mug into Korta’s chest for him to take, shutting him up so she could teasingly interject, “Getting to show off, huh Korta?”
“Ugh, Marlie… it’s not showing off. It’s a job!” Korta defensively objected, and motioned toward Toren once he was sure he had hold of the mug. “Steader Toren hired us.”
“I was impressed by the boys’ skill,” Toren helpfully offered.
He wasn’t the only one that noticed the casual interplay between the two teens. Unlike her uninterested sister, Falma was looking back and forth between the pair with narrowing eyes but still spoke up in Korta’s defense, “Toren got permission from Steader Marton before asking.”
Marlie’s gaze shifted to Warnel’s younger daughter, catching a glimpse of golden locks that had slipped free of the hood, and seemed to quickly figure out what was going on. The girl quickly replaced the hint of smug realization with a welcoming smile. “Don’t recognize you all, welcome to the Blue Raptor and welcome to the frontier. Today’s special is spiced saberbeak stew served in jungle bread. I recommend twitchfruit for drinks. It’ll improve your alertness.”
Falma looked to Korta for his opinion and the boy shrugged.
Other than recognizing the name of those jungle birds, Toren hadn’t the slightest clue. If Korta wasn’t warning them away from the suggestion, it was probably fine “Let’s do that, then. Something for Korta’s brother to eat later while walking, too.”
“I know just the thing.” Marlie gave them another bright smile and with a “I’ll get those for you all” was on her way to the kitchen.
“Any advice you folks can give us?” Warnel asked toward the group of [Hunters].
“I too am worried; with so many dangers, how do people here keep their children safe?” Emina added.
The older [Hunter] seemed happy enough to take the question. “Long as you’ve got your claim stakes planted at the corners of your claim and keep ‘em charged up with mana, you shouldn’t have to worry about anything weaker than tier-2 getting onto your property, and tier-2 attacks are what the signal beacons are for. The Blue Raptor Tavern's [Barkeep], Althim, sells ‘em if you didn’t already buy one.”
“Helps to have the walls and windows enchanted, too, just in case,” Borthos added. “A persistent enough swarm of critters can wear down the claim barrier, particularly during the high-tide flooding. But if you all can clear that property, you’ll probably be fine. Besides, I’m sure Korta here will come running as fast as he can if you use a beacon.”
“You can count on me!” Korta declared with foam on his lips from whatever was in the mug and winked at the girls while striking a snort-inducing heroic pose, drawing laughter and further ribbing from the [Hunters].
While the banter was going on, Toren had discreetly made use of his [Danger Sensing] and eyes to search for unwanted attention resulting from Korta’s indiscretions about where they were steading and their names.
None of the patrons reacted with outwardly suspicious behavior. No discreetly scoping them out. No running off or slinking away to report. No whispered conferences or trying to look uninterested.
And no tingle of danger even after [Mana Sensing] the whole room. Either his level in [Danger Sensing] was too low or maybe they had lucked out.
For now, he’d leave the Hatterwicks to handle the socializing. They were doing well enough, and he had other things to find out. Toren excused himself and approached the barkeep to find out about the raptor rentals.
----------------------------------------
His group fed, rested, and with renewed spirits, Toren was only too glad to be under Horevi’s embrace again and away from the tavern. The locals were friendly enough, but that was half the problem. Unexpectedly, no one out this way had the sense to keep their mouths shut.
Toren closed his eyes and focused his senses, listening to the sounds of the jungle as best he could through his helmet. As before, most creatures fled the approach of the dogs or safely watched from the trees.
No signs of anyone following them.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Yet.
[Danger Sensing] still wasn’t catching hint of anything. [Mana Sensing], neither.
But… with the neighbors now knowing he and the Hatterswicks were moving into the Levish place, someone’d be sure to drop by and ‘be friendly’. Even if just to get gossip.
Toren’s new problem would be determining who was just being neighborly, who was scoping them for easy picking, and who might be sent by the Conclave.
Yes, he knew that the best way to not raise suspicion was to act normally. The Conclave might not know he was involved in the attack, but the Hatterwicks’ names were in the ledger—the ledger that he gave to Reaver Yorne.
He opened his eyes and sighed, continuing to put one foot lightly in front of the other, keeping pace with the others who were spread out ahead and behind: Horthal and Pouncer’s pack leading, Warnel with his wife, Falma still chatting with Korta by the sleds, he and Laiya watching the flanks.
Maybe it really was fine for them to act normal and try to blend in as ordinary steaders.
Even so… Weren’t more than half the colonists criminals? Shouldn’t these people understand that others have pasts following them?
“Toren, something up?” Warnel’s eldest daughter asked him, having drawn closer. She was doing better than he expected, taking the tasks he assigned her seriously—maybe too seriously.
“No, just worried that we attracted too much attention,” Toren admitted.
Laiya’s helmet bobbed a nod. “You and Reaver Yorne did kill Conclave people when rescuing us.”
As apathetic as she pretended to be, the girl was sharp.
He considered asking Laiya how she was holding up but asked something else instead, “The Eshem`Zel stuff, you going to be fine with that?”
The girl looked into the distance for a few steps before answering. “Yeah. Maybe there’s a reason things happened the way they did.”
Yeah, your father being a self-serving moron and selling your fate to a fae for a temporary boost to his fortune.
Of course, Toren didn’t tell her that.
There was no sense bringing up Warnel’s part in the Hatterwicks rise and fall. They were here now, and the balance had—with luck—been paid. No sense in kicking that stinkshroom when they would all be crammed into a small farmhouse together soon enough.
“Do you know what Skills and achievements you need to unlock the [Reaver] Profession?”
“A weapon Skill past 'proficient'. An armor Skill. Dedication to Eshem`zel. The [Religion] Skill. The [Stealth] Skill. And one murder or monster kill,” the girl confidently reported, helmet turning his way. “I’m already a dedicant and we’re headed to kill zoots. Figure I’ll get the [Religion] Skill from the catechism Reaver Uvros gave me. And if you continue to train me in the weapon and armor skills like you promised my dad… then that would just leave [Stealth]...”
Laiya’s voice had trailed off toward the end, maybe worried she was asking too much. Or fearing rejection?
“I don’t mind teaching it to you, but [Stealth] is a bronze Skill, so you might have to remove some iron Skills to make room in your core.”
Laiya nodded and looked away. “...thanks.”
Toren blinked. Her body language was mostly obscured by her cloak and her face was hidden behind her helmet, but was the girl suddenly acting… bashful?
~~~
『Name: Toren of Theravos
Race: Human
Age: 20
Profession 1: Level 2 Burningblood Berserker (1700/3000)
Mana: 28/29
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』