Chapter Twenty-Nine: Magic, thievery, and jumping over stuff.
“That’s your takeaway?”
“Not the only one,” Leoleth said, sipping her coffee like she had all the answers. “I’m just saying, if she can sober us up and cure hangovers, why didn’t she offer before?”
We were sitting in the Crying Jester’s tavern. Two of us ate a breakfast of porridge and coffee while Heather, the Cleric of the Church of Purity, sat slumped over with a damp washcloth draped over her eyes like the world’s most hungover lady justice.
“Learning to live with our mistakes is part of finding the path,” Heather muttered.
“You know I’m never going to learn,” Leoleth declared, chomping loudly on her breakfast like she was trying to win a chewing contest. The exaggerated crunches and slurps were aimed squarely at Heather. “So, you might as well just be helpful.”
Heather groaned in response, clearly not enjoying this part of “finding the path.”
We hadn’t ironed out a plan after last night. There was another player in the game. I knew there would be, but why that idiot decided to make himself known to me was anyone’s guess. Ego? Or maybe Magistrate Eumenia wanted him to prod me into action. Either way, my ignorant-is-bliss method of dealing with the problem was pretty much shot.
“So, Heather’s on watch duty?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Fine,” she grumbled, her tone heavy with the weight of martyrdom.
Jinx and the boys were supposed to return to Ironstone today or tomorrow—hopefully. The Jester was their last stop before the group split up, and I wasn’t keen on wasting a day or two hunting them down. That meant staying put, even if it wasn’t my idea of being productive.
“It’s not like you have to stay in the tavern,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “One of the wenches will tell you if they show up.”
“Oh, sure,” Leoleth said with a smirk. “Do you want to be out walking in the heat of summer? With all that delicious meat roasting on skewers and greasy smoke wafting right into your face?”
“You’re the worst,” Heather muttered.
Leoleth pulled a small potion bottle out of storage and set it on the table in front of Heather. Then, without missing a beat, she grabbed her coffee and stood up.
“Love you,” she said sweetly, leaning down to kiss Heather on the cheek. “I’m off to take a bath and make myself pretty for the pirate man.”
Heather stared at the bottle for a moment before recognizing it. She grabbed it and downed the contents in one gulp. The color returned to her face within seconds, and she returned to her usual priestly self.
“Let me guess,” I said, arching an eyebrow.
Heather smiled, setting the empty bottle on the table with deliberate care. “Hangover tonic. An expensive one.”
“Squad rules,” Leoleth called over her shoulder as she disappeared up the stairs.
I dreaded the day as much as I was looking forward to it. I needed to deal with the quest. I needed to deal with Titus. I needed to deal with Elion. I needed to deal with a lot of shit that seemed to just kind of creep into what was a relatively simple life just a few days ago. And by simple, I mean just stealing stuff around town and looking all innocent and shit.
I watched the people in the tavern for a little bit. Dwarves, Elves, Humans, Gnomes, and a few others. Eating breakfast before going off and doing some kind of job. Ordinary lives. These were just people doing their thing, working nine to five and living lives with families and rent to pay and all that stuff.
I sat at my little corner booth and thought about what I was doing, which was anything I could do not to be ordinary. How can they do that? I wondered. How can anyone in this world decide that ordinary is okay? Back home, I was the Queen of ordinary. I couldn’t figure it out.
“You Okay there?” Heather asked.
“How do they do it?” I asked quietly, nodding at the people in front of us.
“Do what?”
“Be normal.”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that?”
“Everyone in this world has the same potential.” I looked at her. “To level. Why are there so few that do.”
“It’s hard.”
“I barely came out of my basement back on earth, but even for me, it was easy to jump in and start adventuring.”
“Easy?” She asked. “You almost died yesterday. You almost got killed in the first three minutes you were on this world and probably a dozen times since. That doesn’t sound easy. That doesn’t even account for what you had to do to stay alive. That’s why people don’t rise in levels.”
“When you put it like that…” I trailed off, not sure what I was going to say.
“Don’t people live lives of adventure in your old world?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because,” I nodded. I felt deflated. “It was hard.”
“You came here with a chance to start over, and the gods gave you the gifts to do what you wanted, and you chose this.” She tapped the table to make her point. “Everyone on Nya is where they are because they chose it, just like in your old world. The price of adventure is bloody, painful, and hurts more than just ourselves.”
I watched a dwarf in a pair of overalls slide a couple of coppers on the table and get up, winking and smiling at the wench as she scooped up his payment and tip. He walked out with a spring in his step and disappeared in the pedestrian traffic outside.
I sighed. “I liked living in my basement.”
She smiled all priestess-like at me. “You may have led a different life in your old world, but you have the same soul. And you are more suited to this life than almost anyone I have ever met. I don’t care what they say about how the rifts work; the gods brought you here to us for a reason.”
“No pressure then.”
“None at all.”
When she came down from the suite, Leoleth was all dolled up in a dress and fancy slippers. I was substantially less glammed in my usual tunic and pants. A quick hug with Heather and we were off to the Entertainment District.
I kept an eye out for Elion. But, of course, it made things slow going. We ended up doubling back almost as much as moving forward. We made a lot of detours through shops and ducked out of more than one back door.
I even ended up getting a second breakfast for the frost elf because she started bitching about too much walking. I hit fuck it after that and just ordered a cab. Who was I kidding? The creep could be anywhere.
Titus was at the booth in the lounge, and it was the same as when I first met him. Maltz was at his side, and Ramin was reading at the bar. He didn’t have crap all over the table this time, just the ledger that he had opened the other day and a couple of different things. He was in his signature white silk shirt and black vest, sleeveless, like last night.
“Morning,” he said. He slid out of the booth and got to his feet. He wore black tights and boots this morning, and a generous-looking codpiece was strapped around his waist.
“Oof,” Leoleth whispered.
I ignored her, practically running to him. The funny thing was that I had just met Titus and already had some creepy-ass infatuation with him. But everything in this world is fast-forward, and I wasn’t really sure if there were any brakes on this thing. I hadn’t taken a day off since I came here, not one dull day where nothing happened. Even my downtime was spent grinding skills and lining my pockets with ill-gotten gold. I needed to talk to somebody about this.
“Ramin,” he said. After a hug and kiss. “Can you grab us some Risers?” He smelled good with just the right amount of fragrance. And he felt good, too.
“Sure thing, Boss.”
“Good to see you.” He said to Leoleth. “Where’s your
Cleric?”
“She’s doing stuff.”
He guided us to the booth. He stood before it, slapping the ledger closed and dropping it onto the bench. Ramin brought out a tray of five fizzing beverages.
Titus grabbed one of the glasses and took a sip. “Not really a toasting drink. It’s a tonic, helps you get moving.”
There was a flash of magic around the lounge as each surface glowed with a magical sigil. I turned and saw Ramin slip a control rod back into his pocket. “Maltz and Ramin are solid with me.” Titus continued. “If you can trust me, you can trust them. We’ve been together a long time.”
“Okay then.” I grabbed a Riser, and Leoleth grabbed one right after me. It tasted like licorice and had some bitter roots but was bubbly and uplifting. It was the closest thing to Diet Coke I had since getting here.
I set my drink down. “Before we start, I have a question.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“You know a guy named Elion?”
Titus sighed when he heard the name. “Elion Orixalim.
Human? Shaved head? Full of himself?” “Sounds like him.” Maltz let out a hiss.
“He’s not good people to know,” Ramin said.
“If you encounter him, you best be ready to kill him.” Titus looked at me.
“I encountered him last night in our suite.”
“And what, he just talked?”
“It’s hard to shut him up,” Leoleth said. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke.
Titus put his drink down and shook his head. “Elion Orixalim is a non-guild mercenary.”
“Shit,” I said. “Well, he’s working for the fucking Magistrate.”
Titus shook his head and looked at Ramin. “This is why we need to start drinking earlier in the day.”
Ramin shrugged and headed to the bar.
“He’s got the same quest as me. If he completes it, I fail.”
“He’s not leveled as high as me,” Titus said. “But he’s up there.”
A quiet settled around the booth as we stood processing the new information. The only sound was Ramin as he dug through the bottles at the bar. There was a quick, satisfied-sounding “Hah!” And he returned.
Titus shook his head. “Look, I know you’ve got secrets and plenty of them, me too. Everyone in this room does. I don’t need to know everything, but you must tell me your quest. I need as much information as you can share with me.”
Ramin spiked our tonics with a clear liquor that made the whole thing glow and fizz even harder. I pulled out the dossier that Chainbeard gave me and flopped it onto the table. “Verrona Faedan.”
I had gone through the dossier a few times. Faedan was a local whose parents were shop owners in the Grand Bazaar. She served in the Imperial Legion for several years and returned to Ironstone with distinction. She was awarded the prized and trusted position of guarding the imperial treasure in the city. She was pretty, at least according to her sketch, with strong features, sharp eyes, and short-cropped hair.
“Gods,” Titus muttered. “I hope you’re good at doing the impossible.”
Titus was right. Objectively, I was utterly fucked. A woman who wanted me to fail gave me an impossible task. She may have given me the quest for kicks or to get that asshole Orixalim moving.
Either way, there wasn’t much hope in the way things were going. If I actually managed to find Faedan and catch her, and I actually managed to secure the Ruby Necklace, I could still get it all taken away by Orixalim right up to the very second I needed to enter that office.
“What are the assets?” Titus asked. Maltz and Ramin were pouring over the notes from the dossier. We had a city map and were plotting positions for people to begin sweeps.
“Jinx and the boys will return in the next day or two,” I said. “Jinx is a level ten wizard, Eric is a swashbuckler of some kind, and Kev is an orc with a big ass hammer.” “What about your archer?”
I shrugged; it was a little hurtful, but I hadn’t heard from her. “No contact.”
He looked up at Leoleth, who was mesmerized by Maltz. He snapped his fingers annoyingly at her. “Hey, Frosty.”
“What?” She glared at him, but not before she made a quick flirty wink at the cat-kin.
“What is it that you do?”
“Magic, thievery, and jumping over stuff.”
“By jumping, what do you mean?”
She sighed, “You know, climbing, parkour, basic gymnastics. Regan and I have been jumping over rooftops together.” “That’ll do. We need to put together two squads,” he said. “An intercept squad of fast movers to catch Faedan and a secondary squad to hold onto her when Orixalim makes his move.”
“I need to be on that intercept squad.”
Titus gave me a melty swashbuckler grin. “It was never a question,” he continued. “I’m no slouch myself.”
“I can keep up,” Leoleth said, arching her back dramatically.
Titus looked at me. “She can.” I nodded at her. “We are at the same level, skills-wise.”
“Hopefully, we three can catch her.” He looked over a Maltz. “That means the rest of you will be coming in behind us, keeping an eye out for our friend.”
Maltz nodded, putting his arm around Ramin. “Jussst Like old Timesss.”
We were leaving a few members out. “Jinx and the boys will be our third string contingency?”
“Right now,” Titus said. “We plan with what we have. A crew size of five is already pretty large.”
“Six,” I said. “We still have Heather.”
“Plus, a Cleric of Purity.”
Leoleth glared at him. “Don’t knock bestie number two. She has an energy sword and can smite people.”
Titus shrugged. “We can put her on the backup squad. When, or if, your other friends show up, then we can fold them into the plan where they fit best. Right now, assuming Orixalim is not working with a big crew, then I feel confident we can pull this off.”
“He has a fast-movement spell,” I said. “I think I can match it. What about you three?”
“We don’t have anything like that. Maltz is a monk, a brawler, and Ramin is a Combat Alchemist.”
“Combat Alchemist is the coolest thing I ever heard of,” I said, smiling at the bartender.
“Thanks,” He returned the smile. “It does take much preparation, though.”
We had a basic plan, but that was the second phase. Phase one was having a network of informants in place that could let us know if they got a hit on the charmed coins so we could track our target.
“There’s another thing that helps,” I said. I can share my internal map with party members and lock onto a target. Once I have eyes on her, we can track her as a group.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Titus nodded. “It’s Target Lock, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It works great, but when you use it, she’ll know.”
“Yeah, that’s the part that sucks.”
Things were winding down. I had dumped the coins on the table at some point. Pulling back five out of the thirty that were charmed. Ramin scooped the rest up. Titus planned on paying random dudes to walk around the city in designated areas until they got a hit.
“These are com crystals,” Ramin said, holding up a red crystal the size and shape of a casino die. “Just squeeze it, and its twin will glow. The help doesn’t need to know anything. Just push the cube when the coin vibrates.”
“It sounds kind of sexual,” Leoleth said, fully immersed in Maltz at that point. The meeting exceeded her attention span about two hours earlier.
Ramin had laid out a map on the table, with paired crystals set on twenty-five different locations on the map. “The crystal
glows, and we book it to that spot and start looking.”
I smiled at him. “You’re a fucking genius.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Titus clapped his hands together. The planning session lasted about four hours or so, with lunch and drinks only a brief interruption.
“All right!” he declared. “The detection crew will be out tomorrow by midday.” A and B squads will be in place here, ready to move when we have a hit.
It was a stopping point. Leoleth was sitting on Maltz’s lap, and Ramin was busy fine-tuning his little magical gadgets and muttering to himself. And Titus had his dark, sinister eyes trained on yours truly.
“You and I have some things we need to be doing.” He said. His signature smile was stretched across his face now, the scar on his cheek creased like the San Andreas fault.
“Uh,” I murmured, “Bestie?”
Leoleth pulled her gaze away from Maltz and looked at me. “What?” she walked up to me, an annoyed look on her face.
I hated saying it; it felt stupid even as it came from my lips. However, I wanted to be alone with my man right now. “Maybe you could head back to The Jester and check in with Heather?” She blew me a kiss, hopped off the cat-kin’s lap, and marched to the door before freezing in one of her signature poses.
“Maltz!” she shrieked. He walked up, his smile slash sneer all over his face. She dramatically exited the lounge, Maltz at her side, his tail twitching mischievously.
Titus grinned. “Didn’t have to ask her twice.”
I made a mental note to chat with her later about her experience and see if it was anything like my time with Gem: the tail thing and all.
“What exactly did you have in mind?”
Titus smiled at me. “Thought you might want to feel the weight of my sword.” He grinned and stood. “Come on.” He took me by the hand, and we went back through the door by the bar and over to his private office. It was very much the same as it was last night. A linen sheet was spread out over the desk at the far end, and a half dozen swords were arrayed across it. “Not a metaphor,” I said.
“Pick up the rapier.” He said grabbing one himself. “We’ll start with that first.”
Would you like to make the Rapier your primary Sword Dance weapon? Yes/No
“Just say no,” Titus said. “It will keep asking you until you choose a primary weapon type.” I had gripped the rapier in my hand. It was light, barely over two pounds, and responded to my slightest gesture. Titus stood across from me with one of his own. “The Rapier is the weapon of refinement.” He said, giving it a few swings. It swished through the air with a very satisfying sound. “It’s my personal favorite, but it may not be what you want.”
I said No in my head, and the notice went away.
“En Garde!” He slashed at me, flicking only his wrist, and I almost fell over while parrying his casual attack. “It’s primarily a stab and thrust weapon.” He casually swung his blade around mine, pushing it out of the way and stabbing it under my arm. He tapped me playfully in the armpit with the side of his blade.
Then, when I felt relaxed, he spun it around, severing the top knot on my tunic. “Feel the weight.”
I swung the blade. I bounced it and tilted my wrist. “It’s right at the handle.”
“Correct.” He smiled. “This is not a weapon of strength. It’s a weapon of precision.” He swished it around and began to move with unearthly grace as he danced around the room, swinging the sword in beautiful martial movements. “In the hands of a sword dancer, it is a thing of absolute beauty.”
“Stand against the wall.” He ordered, and I did, my back against the wood-paneled wall as he walked toward me. “En Garde!” He swung the blade at me and let me parry his strikes. But when he was just a pace away from me, he stopped. “Hit me.” I clumsily swung the blade at him. He didn’t even bother to parry. I just slapped him on the arm with it.
“What’s the problem?” he asked with a smug look.
“You’re too close.”
He brushed my blade away and stepped back. “It’s absolutely no good in close quarters.” He lowered his weapon. “The amount of pressure per square inch on a rapier is between thirty-five thousand and fifty thousand pounds for a person with regular strength. With a strength of over twenty, you can pierce a person’s heart through plate armor. But up close…” He kissed me on the forehead. “…it is next to useless.”
“Okay then.”
He took my rapier, switched it off the desk with a cutlass, and handed it to me. “Another old friend.” He said this almost reverently. And switched blades himself. “Swing it, get a feel for it.”
Would you like to make the Cutlass your primary Sword Dance weapon? Yes/No
No
I did the same thing I did with the rapier. I had to lock my wrist, however. The weight of the sword was at the end, not the handle. There was resistance as I swung it, but it cut through the air with more power.
“How does it feel?”
“It’s heavier.”
“Yes, about two pounds heavier.” He swung his own sword. I watched; there was no refined movement. His swings were broader but close in.
“En Garde!” I barely reacted before he swung his blade down at me. I blocked it with a loud clang. He swung again and again, with short swings, backed with strength. He purposely missed me, of course, but the aggressiveness of the attacks was unsettling. Within a couple of minutes, I was panting.
“It’s a brutal weapon.” He said with a smile. “Ideal for close combat and tight spaces. Does this feel like a thrusting weapon to you?”
“No,” I panted. I felt winded after just a couple of minutes of practicing with him.
“The cutlass cuts.” He shrugged. “That’s its primary function, slashing and cutting in close quarters.”
“Which is fine,” I said with a grin. Catching on. “Unless your opponent has heavy armor.”
He stepped back, lowering the sword. “It’s a give or take. If your opponent sees you with a rapier, they will charge in, closing the space to make your attacks less effective. If you have a cutlass, they’ll stay back. Letting you wear yourself down swinging the heavier blade.”
“So what’s the best option?”
“Sword dance is a balance. You will be able to strike an opponent three times before they even get a look at those beautiful green eyes of yours.” He smiled, stepping in. I could see the lion inside him. His chest puffed up. “It is all about precision, about multiple strikes on multiple enemies. The cutlass will tear through unarmored enemies like paper, but a rapier will impale even the most armored ones.”
“So, Advice then?”
A devilish grin came across his face. “You’re a rogue.” He reached down and switched to a rapier. “Fucking cheat.”
“En Garde!” He came at me, his rapier slashing at me aggressively. His eyes were wide with furious-looking intent as I used the cutlass to parry as best I could, but he pushed his attack until he had me against the wall. He was too close to swing his rapier, and I felt I could finally land a hit on him. But suddenly, almost comically, he booped my nose with his left hand. It was such a goofy thing that I nearly dropped the stupid sword.
“Don’t forget…” He said with a smile. He kissed me on the forehead. “You have two hands.”
He dropped his weapon and stepped back. “What’s your dagger skill?”
“Huh?” I panted. “Level five?”
“There you go.” He almost growled. “They get in close; you gut them.”
“Oh,” I said. “Shit.”
He picked up the sword off the floor and took mine. “There’s a reason you have the offhand weapon skill.” I was still panting. He was ferocious and so beautiful. But he could turn it off in an instant. I still needed to do a downshift before coming to a complete stop.
I was trying to slow my heartbeat by steadying my breathing. “There’s a bonus…” I took another breath. “for using a nonlethal weapon.” I said. “I was thinking about using a whip to increase my reach.”
He placed the swords with the others on the desk. “Trying to remember.” He took a pause. “You get a bonus on what? One
hundred, fifty percent in that off-hand a weapon?”
“Sounds right.”
He sighed. “That kind of bonus would work if you didn’t already have a weapon you were intimately familiar with. Your dagger skill is already level five. That’s higher than the bonus you would get with a whip or club.” He walked over and took me by the hand. “Plus, Knowing you. That dagger skill is just gonna keep going up and up.”
“What did you pick when you first started?”
He pulled me along, opening the door with a flourish. “I used
a buckler. But I was not nearly as far along as you when I started, so I really thought I needed that bonus, but a dagger is just as effective for defense, anyway. You just need to practice with it.” He moved us briskly as we cleared the hallway and entered the lounge. “But we have a place to be right about now.”
“Where are you leading me?”
“Out and next door.”
“The Brothel?”
He stopped and turned at me, a coy look on his face. “I was going to take you to the pub, actually. The cook killed a fresh hen for us this morning, and it should be ready in about thirty minutes.” He tilted his head. “But we can hold dinner off for a little bit if you would rather…”
“Fine,” I said, taking the lead. “Fresh chicken sounds great.”
Sword Dance
Utilizing strength, agility and charisma, the skill, when activated allows the fighter to fight either single or multiple enemies with a series of continuous motions. The technique favors a rapier or other lightweight blade. The fighter can land multiple blows on a single enemy, bypassing defenses by utilizing rapid movement. Defensively, the fighter becomes difficult to hit, due to the same rapid movement boost.
While activated, the fighter’s dexterity and strength are used to land hits and deal damage, but their charisma helps guide feints and dodges.
The Percentage to land a critical hit on a single opponent is 10% per level of skill per successful attack. Up to a total of 70%
Conversely, while activated, the skill will reduce the likelihood of a critical success from an enemy attack by the same percentage per level.
Cost: 37 AP/Second
Would you like to make the Rapier your primary Sword Dance weapon? Yes/No
Yes
Duel Wield
Two is better than one. Use a secondary weapon when wielding a one-handed weapon with equal proficiency. Swashbucklers are always beating the odds, and using an offhand weapon adds to the style points that are required to look good doing it. Bonus: selecting a non-lethal weapon from the following list will give the fighter a 150% proficiency.
Non-Lethal Weapons:
1. Buckler
2. Sap
3. Cloak
4. Metal Fan
5. Parrying Baton
6. Hook
7. Net
8. Tonfa
9. Whip
10. Boomerang
Would you like to select a non-lethal weapon from the list?
Yes/No
No
You may select any one-handed weapon in your skill set:
Lethal Weapons:
1. Dagger Level 5
2. Mace Level 1
3. Short Sword Level 1 I clicked Dagger in my head.
I’m sure it was a breach of etiquette to mess with my menus at the table, like the Nya version of texting. Titus didn’t seem to mind. He poured our wine and waited patiently while I wrapped it all up.
“Other than using the mace as a giant hammer in the fighting pit, I have only used a dagger.”
“Time to broaden your skills.” He smiled. “You would have cut Daisy to pieces in seconds with a rapier and dagger in that pit.”
“What about the magic suppression?”
“That doesn’t affect martial skills. Magic suppression only effects magic essence. You can still utilize any skill that doesn’t pull from it.”
I remembered using Powerful Strike in the arena and hadn’t thought of it at the time. “Any skill or spell?” I said, looking at him. “Right?”
“I don’t think there is a spell in existence that doesn’t utilize essence, but if there is one out there, then yeah. I suppose you could.”
With a flush of embarrassment, I realized that he was still sitting across from me, holding two glasses of wine. “Oh, my fucking gods,” I took the glass from him. “Regan’s all up in her head today.”
“You’re processing a lot of information right now.” He grinned at me, holding up a glass. “To the roads you’ve traveled and the places you’ve yet to see. May you live a life with few regrets.”
We clinked glasses. It was a bittersweet toast, but I could see in his face that it was as much a reflection for him as it was a wish for me. “That seems a bit loaded.”
We sipped. “I have a whole bunch of those. Like I said, I see in you something very much like me, but you have one crucial element missing that I had.”
“What’s that?”
He sighed, setting down his glass. “I grew up in one of the largest cities in the world, across the sea, on the east coast of the
Northern continent, a place called Saarmik.”
“What was it like?” I asked. “I mean, where was it?”
“It’s situated on a series of islands around the mouth of a river. It is the largest shipbuilding city in the world, but…” He paused. “It is a place where the rich live above the poor. And you don’t get much poorer than an abandoned four-year-old boy.”
“Oh.”
“I am what I am because for the first thirteen years of my life, I was traded, I was abused, I was practically torn to pieces for the amusement of those that were stronger than me.”
He paused, taking a sip. He didn’t seem to be bothered by his story. Not as much as I was. I wanted to comfort him, but that didn’t seem to be what he needed.
“The condensed version is this. In the end, I had two choices: submit or die. I saw no light in the world, no joy, only pain. And I wanted out. I chose to die. So, I picked a fight with one of my tormentors, a man three times my size, believing he would end me. But the gods, it seemed, had a different fate in mind.”
It was my turn to take a sip of wine. I needed it to steady my nerves. “That was your first?”
He took a sip of his and eased in his chair a bit. “That first one, I was angry, and I would have taken a stab at one of the gods themselves if I was close enough.” He pointed his glass at me. “But you? You’re not angry.”
“I was that first time.”
“I have no doubt you were plenty. But it wasn’t the anger that made you swing your little dagger.”
“What was it then?”
“Love.” He smiled the devilish highwayman grin that just made me want to melt inside. “Think about when you first struck the fatal blow on another person.”
I almost immediately thought about the orc, but even Kev said that, strictly speaking, they weren’t enlightened people, just monsters. But then, the recollection of what happened at the slave camp came back to me, and I just spilled it out for him.
“I remember sitting in the cage across from Heather and how she told me what they would do to us, and her specifically. She was so scared.”
“You had a choice. Not much of one, but you still had the power to choose your fate, but you needed to think about what happened to her, too.”
“I would have done the same thing.”
“Yeah, but it could have been different if it were just you in that cage.”
“I remember how it freaked me out. How easy it was.”
“It’s easy for me too. But I never struggled with it.”
“So, we aren’t the same, at least like that.”
He took a big sip of his wine and paused. “I believe that when you poked your cute little head in my door, it was by the hands of the gods. You were brought to me for a reason.”
“You think the gods delivered me to you?”
“No, the opposite.”
“And what’s the reason for this divine intervention then?”
He chuckled bitterly. “I wouldn’t be so bold as to suggest any redemption on my part. That ship has sailed. But I think that I will have the honor of being a footnote in the epic tale of Regan
Moon.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Epic tale?”
“I spent my entire life punishing the world.” He nodded and smiled at me. “You’re going to spend yours, saving it.” He swallowed the rest of his glass. “Starting right here in Ironstone. We know the Magistrate has some terrible plan for that fucking necklace. You’re going to find it, you’re going to learn its secrets, and you’re going to stop her.”
“That’s the plan,” I said. “Not exactly an epic tale by any means.”
He poured another glass for himself. “The gods aren’t going to stop there.” He just shook his head and chuckled while he spoke. “Oh, no, they fucking won’t. You have a whole bunch of living before they’re done with you.”
Looking at his face, Things seemed clear. I cannot deny what it is that I am. Like him, I wasn’t given a choice. I could be nice. I could do the noble thing. But the tools I had to work with were lethal. I was being given strength in this world so quickly that I wasn’t even sure what I could do. I hadn’t come close to testing the limits of my abilities. In my short time here, I killed almost half as many as he did in his entire lifetime. It was not going to stop. I was a killer, and I could do unspeakable harm with my gifts. This world chose this for me. It was like, if the gods were acting in good faith, they were being fucking reckless.
“Maybe.” I sipped my wine, finished it off, and held the glass to him. He filled it up. “But I’m through talking about epic and terrible things for the night.”
“Okay then,” he smiled, filling up my glass.
We received a plate of cheese and bread from the swain. Titus told me about the sea. The Eastern Ocean, as they called it. He described the massive ships he sailed on as he journeyed, first south, through what I knew to be the Caribbean islands, and then his passage to the Equatorial Continent, where he took to the road. He always traveled, never staying anywhere for long and never venturing or looking back. He journeyed through jungles, rode on airships over the desert, crossed to the Great Continent, and found the empire after decades of wandering before retiring. He didn’t talk about what he did, leaving those for another time, adhering to my request to avoid anything epic or terrible.
It was my turn when our chicken came. It was roasted with wonderfully crispy skin and served with a berry sauce on top of a bed of rice and mushrooms. I explained my world as best as I could. Telephones and computers, airplanes and commuter buses. I told him about my family and my sister, and without even missing a beat, the story pivoted to me telling him about Leoleth, Heather, and Gem and the time I spent on the road from the orc village to Ironstone. I shared the tail of rescuing Eric and killing the ice arachne. I even told him I was too weak to kill the chagkraaw brood mother with a short sword.
“It sounds like a thousand years.” He said. A round pudding was placed between us. It was drizzled with a hot caramel sauce.
“It’s difficult.” I reached out with my fork and took a bite. “I had a whole different life before this one. Twenty-six years of it.
But it feels more and more distant.”
“It’s always going to get more distant.”
“But it barely feels real. How long before I don’t even remember it?”
“Memories fade for a reason. I mean, they hold the story of who we are. Every victory and every regret will always be part of us. But even the good ones, if we don’t let them fade or grow smaller in the distance, will never let us move forward. Trust a guy that has a lot more behind him than you do. Don’t let the past be your anchor. Make it your wind.”
“You do have a lot of those, don’t you?”
We ate our dessert, both wary that we were getting a little too close to epic and terrible again.
Titus led me out of the pub. It was turning into a cool evening, and a light rain was starting to fall. We dashed, holding hands, past Sybo Arena’s entrance and under the brothel’s awning.
He flung the door open. “Don’t get any funny ideas.”
“They’re not funny.”
The vestibule had a door leading into a lounge with a bar for patrons on the left and a long, stretching staircase straight ahead. He led me up all four stories up to the top floor. There was a single door at the very top of the stairs.
Titus opened it with his key. A series of locks cycled, and it popped open.
“Home.”