Chapter 35: A Chilling Thought

AARIC

Aaric didn’t understand how laundry, something so necessary, was still so laborious. Someone, at some point, must have developed a skill or spell that would do the task more expediently. The basic inefficiency of washing and drying clothes, just for them to get dirty again in a cycle perpetuated infinitely, felt utterly ridiculous. He had better things to do with that hour and a half each week!

He'd never had to think about it before. But ever since Jacques... ever since Sharing Cross, Aaric had needed to do his own laundry.

He looked over his shoulder through the door to where the scout stood watching. Now that he thought about it, Aaric had never seen the man enter the washroom, which bothered him. It felt like something that should change.

“Scout, I think it’s time you came in here and did some of this.”

The scout stared at him and gave him several slow blinks. His eyebrows lifted slightly in what looked to be amusement. Otherwise he remained motionless.

Aaric opened his mouth to ask again.

“You don’t want to do that,” the scout cut him off. “For now, I can assume I didn’t hear you correctly, and as long as I don’t hear you actually ask me, I can pretend you’re smart enough to know better.”

Aaric’s mouth snapped shut in disbelief. The man had the gall to insult him to his face? No, Aaric had had enough of the constant doubts and pushback from the man who was supposed to be serving his needs. The man was hired help, after all! Enough was enough.

“Well don’t just stand there and be useless,” he said. “What are you even here for if you aren't going to help me?”

A bitter smile crept across the scout’s face. “I provide intelligence, young master Longbloom. Something you desperately need.”

Aaric’s temper flared. “A second insult in record time. Who do you even think you are? I’m Aaric Longbloom, {Ice Prodigy}! You’ve been hired to help me, and as far as I can tell, you’ve been failing in--!”

Faster than Aaric could see, the scout appeared in front of him and slapped him across the face.

Aaric’s head jerked to the side. His entire face stung, and his bones suddenly ached. But he had to recognize that the man, several tiers above him, had used but a small fraction of his full power--as was clearly evidenced by his jaw not being broken.

“You might want to reconsider which of us has been failing lately, sir.”

Aaric rubbed his jaw and spat to the side. “You hit me!”

“That’s true enough,” the scout said with a voice so even it was devoid of emotion. “I wish I’d done it sooner, honestly.”

Aaric stood up straight again, putting himself eye-to-eye with the scout. “Sooner?! I should have fired you weeks ago, after you didn’t lift a finger to help with the oozes.”

The scout chuckled. “You’re not my employer, kid, so you can’t fire me. But it’s funny you mention that little incident; that’s where I should have slapped you. If I had, you might have learned a valuable lesson without getting one of your most loyal supporters needlessly killed.”

The ice mage felt his fingers growing colder, but he managed to control himself. There was nothing gained in trying to attack the scout. The man was so much higher in level that Aaric’s spells would barely feel like a cool breeze. “Jacques didn’t die needlessly. He saved my life, which is more than you’ve ever done!”

The scout rolled his eyes. “Again, you misunderstand both my role and my impact. I scout and provide information. I offer insight into the things you’re going to face--to you, yes, but also to your father. I have saved your life multiple times this year alone. Why do you suppose your father has me constantly at your side? Your arrogance has already been shown to kill one person, and he's not willing to risk your life too.”

“What happened at Sharing Cross wasn't my fault!”

“It was, and I'm tired of you not taking responsibility. You fucked up, Aaric, and your father is unwilling to let it happen again. I'm the insurance policy. I’d be more, if you opened your gods-damned ears and listened to some sound advice. But you routinely ignore me even though I’m the closest thing to clairvoyance you could possibly have.”

The scout strode purposefully out of the washroom and resumed leaning against the doorframe. "You're a blessed horse being led to water but dying of thirst anyway. Your stubbornness leads only to your continued detriment.”

“I wouldn’t be thirsty at all if you'd just bring me the water as I asked,” Aaric continued the metaphor while also defending himself.

The scout shook his head again. “Your orders aren't at the top of my queue, and thank the gods for that. You act like you're the next to ascend, just because you got a fancy title and your father's wealth. But what have you done on your own? Who even are you without your family's money? Being a prodigy doesn't mean you're always right,” he said, voice firm as each word settled into place. “For you, it means you're really good at the one thing you're good at.”

Aaric was shaking with anger.

“And clearly that doesn’t include laundry,” the scout added.

“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” Aaric shouted, finally having had enough.

“And look at that, a command so simple I can fit it in my queue,” the scout said with a smile.

- - - - -

It had been over a week since Aaric had seen the scout. The man had apparently taken Aaric's command literally, and honestly Aaric hadn't minded at first. He didn't miss the man's judging looks and cutting words. But things had changed.

Though it had been months since Aaric had moved to Rockmoor, he hadn't really been alone before. Not that he really was now, either, as everywhere he went he was surrounded by people and the pressures of the big city threatening to crush him.

Firstly, he hadn't realized how rough a neighborhood he'd been living in. He'd never paid it any attention while the scout was at his side, as he’d rarely needed to. The locals had practically avoided him, never speaking to him and hardly even looking his way. They’d all been tier 2s, after all, and there was nothing they could do to him if someone as strong as the scout had chosen to protect him.

Things had clearly changed. No matter where Aaric went now, he felt like he was being watched. As if there were eyes among the tall canopied trees in addition to all the magical lights.

Walking back home after picking up some new technical skill manuals from a prestigious vendor in the training quarter, Aaric felt someone bump into him, with more force than usual. Though they offered a carefree apology, the short, fairly dirty-looking girl (or possibly boy with long hair) was trying to slide away much too quickly, and the crowd seemed all too eager to swallow her up. Aaric touched his side where he’d been bumped and realized nearly too late that one of his decoy coin pouches was gone!

His hand was already frosted over as he reached toward the cutpurse--but the kid was too quick. Clearly discovered and no longer needing to hide the theft, the kid dropped all pretenses and sprinted through the crowd with alarming ease.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

This would make the fifth coin pouch Aaric had lost, and for some reason that number finally felt like too many. So this time, he chose to give chase. He felt that it no longer mattered that the lost pouches were all decoys. He was running low on those, too, and replacing them would be even more of a waste of his time. After his father had warned him that thieves would target him simply for being well-dressed, he had listened, and bought lots of decoy pouches specifically to be stolen. He’d worn one constantly since leaving Woodsedge, but he hadn’t expected to lose so many so quickly.

Perhaps that was why he’d filled today’s decoy with poisoned copper pieces. He wanted to teach someone a lesson. Yes, it was wasteful--in both the coins and the poison--but Aaric didn’t care. He didn’t like being seen as food when the people around him were starving.

Aaric Longbloom was nobody’s prey.

He followed the cutpurse’s bobbing head as best he could, but the kid was short and quick enough that it was truly difficult to keep her in sight for any length of time. And when Aaric turned the corner the cutpurse was nowhere in sight.

Aaric sighed, beyond frustrated, and took in his surroundings only to realize he didn’t really recognize where he was. He’d wandered well off his normal path home. This street was less crowded than the main thoroughfares, but it was also darker. The buildings lining it rose a little taller but also felt tighter together. They almost reminded him of giants crowding around and inspecting those walking below. Even the glow of the canopy overhead felt dimmer here, obscured perhaps, or neglected.

No one else seemed to care or even give much thought to Aaric or his evident frustration. That he had been robbed--or even that he’d been running--seemed to garner no particular attention at all.

He supposed they were just like he himself had been: absorbed in their own lives and problems. He used [Identify] on several of the nearest people and was relieved that all of them were still in tier 1 or 2. Better still, none were peak tier 2 either. Maybe this was a weaker neighborhood.

Rockmoor, for all its reputation as being a great place to level up, seemed to still have the same issues as everywhere else, and many of its inhabitants lacked either the drive, the wealth, or the ability to level quickly.

Aaric himself had already gained two levels since arriving in Rockmoor, and that had only been a couple months ago. Granted, he’d gotten a lot of experience on his travels, which led him to leveling almost immediately upon arriving, but he had leveled up twice in Rockmoor. There was no denying that. He’d been working hard, training and studying for hours every single day. He knew that tier 2 was supposed to be a much slower grind than tier 1--everyone had told him so. He just refused to let that slowdown affect him too. Slowdown was for everyone else, not for a cryomancer.

One of the reasons that Aaric still wore his {Ice Prodigy} title was to push himself: if other people saw it, they’d know he had already achieved something great, so that would raise their expectations of him. Aaric wanted to make sure that he continued to hold himself to that higher standard. He was more than “just one thing!”

Of course, he was quickly realizing that he wasn’t good at navigating this city, and he’d need to stop and think through how to get himself home. He didn’t know Rockmoor very well yet, and these new streets all looked somewhat the same.

He consulted a small pocket map the scout had given him. It could unfold quite a lot, if Aaric wanted it to, but that would definitely attract too much attention. He only unfolded it once and tried to find his location despite flipping several times. The map was enchanted so that the streets would always be correct, but it still took him a bit of searching to find his location. From there, he quickly decided that backtracking would be much slower than cutting through a few side streets. He was his father’s son, after all, and efficiency was just another reason Longblooms rose to the top. Every minute saved here could be better spent studying his new training manuals at home.

He rounded the corner to head down the first side street, and it turned out to be a lot narrower than he’d thought it would be. In truth, it was little more than an alley. Darker, and crowded by boxes and crates, there was even a point about halfway down that barely looked wide enough for two people to pass side by side.

Aaric didn’t allow his misgivings to give him pause. He needed to get home. So rather than turn back, he mentally went through a few of his escape spell combinations and imagined how he might use them should the need arise.

Wouldn’t you know it, just before he got to the alley’s middle, a shadowy form stepped out from the crates, blocking his way.

Its voice was surprisingly young: “You’ve gotta be an idiot to follow someone you just poisoned.”

Despite not turning around, Aaric had heard that someone else had stepped into the alleyway behind him too, though that figure currently seemed content to keep its distance. For now.

Aaric tapped his chin in feigned confusion. “And you’ve got to be an idiot for stealing from someone with my title.”

In front of Aaric, the shadowy figure moved its hand slightly. “You think you’re so clever, but out here all it does is make the target on you that much bigger. Just like that title.”

Aaric turned his head slightly as he heard more shuffling sounds behind him. Two more shadows blocked the way back through the alley, and the one in front had taken a step nearer. Aaric tried to keep them all in sight while focusing on the original cutpurse, whom he was now able to [Identify].

[?, Human, level 19]

The kid’s level was concerning--and Aaric quickly realized that if they were that level, they were also much more likely to be wearing an illusion than being an actual kid. Since all the reinforcements were standing behind Aaric, that gave the ice mage a fairly clear route of escape... Assuming he could get past a level 19.

“Seems I’m more than just a ‘big target’ if you felt the need to call in so many friends despite the level difference,” Aaric said, rolling his neck. “Are you sure you brought enough help?”

The cutpurse took a step nearer, still shaking slightly, though now Aaric thought he could hear that she was wheezing too. A studded bat appeared in her hand. “Oh, I’m more than capable of beating a little mage senseless, but it’s more fun with friends.”

Aaric clenched his hand instead of letting it wander toward his hidden potion belt. He had already considered which boosting potion he could use for maximum effect, and it was currently a tie between [Potion of Invisibility] and [Potion of Haste]. The first would be safer, but the second would feel better; he wanted to teach the cutpurse a lesson in respect.

“You're assuming an awful lot,” Aaric returned as he cast [Ice Armor], his newest spell, which he’d learned--totally without the scout’s help, it should be noted--by mirroring an ice-based spellsword amongst a group of mercenaries for an entire day. Still, for that one spell, he considered it time well spent. His body was encased in a thin layer of magical, absorptive ice.

Except for some reason, his knees started wobbling and he began feeling really woozy. Worse, his fingers were numb, which made withdrawing either potion far harder--and uncorking it would be impossible.

The cutpurse swaggered closer, her face finally finding a beam of light, which showed her growing sneer. “Nah, I'm not assuming anything. Don't need to, since you didn't even notice the first [Numb Spirit] I used a while back. And now I can see the second curse starting to take hold. You’ll feel the numbing in your toes first. Then fingers, then nose. By the time it hits your knees, well, you’ll see.”

Aaric’s legs collapsed beneath him, and he fell to the street. He hadn't felt them weakening at all! Now he was stuck in a situation he’d never considered, so he had nothing prepared. What could he do?

“See? There ya go, down to your proper position.” The cutpurse was only a few steps away now. She spun the club in her grip, tapping it on the ground lightly as she crouched down in front of him. “If you beg now, I might leave you with a few hit points.”

Aaric felt his jaw lock in defiance. No matter how he thought about it, this situation was his fault, but he wouldn’t make it worse than it needed to be. Instead, he scolded himself in a barely-audible whisper, “The scout was right. I should have listened.”

“What was that?” the cutpurse snarled. “I didn’t quite hear you. You’ve got a thing or two to learn about begging.”

But then, out of nowhere, the familiar voice of the scout answered her, “While I’d love to see you try to teach this kid, if you lay a single finger on him, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

The cutpurse and her thugs didn't back down. “Whoever the fuck you are, this isn't your concern. This boy poisoned me, and I--"

“Picked his pocket first. I saw. So leave now and call it a win. You got him twice, counting the humbling, and you're still alive. I’d call that a good deal.”

Then the scout materialized standing directly between Aaric and the crouching cutpurse, who fell back, startled.

“Fuck, he's higher tier!” someone behind Aaric said.

“Still only one guy,” the cutpurse said, standing back up and thudding the club against her hand. “And he's on our turf.”

“You came back,” Aaric whispered, honestly shocked and a bit unsure what this development meant for the future.

The scout turned to him and smiled. “Only because you learned something. Though you’re still not planning ahead, I see.”

Then he cracked his knuckles, flexing his empty hands, and turned back to the thugs as the cutpurse leapt to attack. “I warned you.”

Then he went to work.

Not that Aaric could even call it that. It was a storm of motion--in barely a moment--before the club the cutpurse held fell to the ground, along with both her arms.

Aaric couldn’t believe how fast the scout actually was, and how ruthless. He’d never truly seen the man in battle before, but whatever his Path was, seeing him in action was simply incredible. Aaric found himself wondering how he would ever match up against someone like that. How would he defeat someone like that? He’d definitely need better tools to slow or freeze them. He had so much work to do and so many levels to grind.

I hope I never have to fight him. The thought bubbled up before he even realized it. But some day... Someday I’m going to have to beat a monster like that.

A chilling thought.