“So are you going to share your findings,” Lucas asked about ten minutes after they left the city gates behind them, “or are we just helping you get some exercise for your pack mules?”
“Why not both?” The older felblood said with a laugh, his eyes narrowing even as he kept his smile firmly in place. “We can discuss it over lunch, boyo. Trust me just a wee bit longer, eh?”
When they stopped for ‘lunch’ around twenty minutes later, the merchant made sure to set the blankets he’d brought to sit atop along the bank of what might be the noisiest river any of them had ever heard. In fact, it almost looked as if large stones had been deliberately thrown in the river to make it as frothy and noisy as possible.
As a static-garbled song began to play from the battered speakers of the old radio he’d insisted on dragging along, he smiled. “Ah, the fine sounds o’ nature,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Nothing quite like a nice, calm lunch with friends in the great outdoors, don’t ye know. An’ coincidentally, it just so happens that this sorta mixing sounds makes it near impossible to eavesdrop!” He seemed quite pleased with himself, but Damaia’s nerves were reaching their limits once more.
“What did you find?” She half whispered anxiously.
The smirking felblood began handing each of them a sandwich before turning to pull a thermos out of his bag of holding. “First, would ye like some tea while we plan? Personally, I’ve always found lemon an’ earl to go best with breakin’ an’ enterin’.” When nobody responded, he sighed.
“Fine, fine, I understand. Ye want to get straight to business. Let’s start with the basics. Have ye ever heard of a man by the name o’ Zentus Ironwood?”
Jubel blinked. “The Duke?”
Damaia turned anxiously towards the suddenly pale half-elf. “Jubel?”
“The Ironwoods are a militant noble house, and a thorn in my uncle's side,” he said, nervously polishing the plain hilt of Rend on his tunic. “They fund half the damn army here in Milassi, providing everything from training to gear, and are personally responsible for at least half of the technological advancements we’ve had in the last 3000 years - at least, to hear them tell it. They aren’t well loved by the other nobles, to put it lightly. Come to think of it, this might be the first time I ever heard someone say their name in anything other than a vengeful shriek.”
The tiefling merchant seemed unphased, nodding cheerfully at the description. “Good! Ye know him! That’ll save some time. He’s the scoundrel behind all this, near as me ol’ friends and I could tell. I took the time to check on him an’ his a wee bit, an’ I tell ye, they’re about as subtle as a brick to the face! There’s about as much chance o’ those sorry bastards keeping your old man anywhere the Duke can’t see ‘im as there is o’ me becoming the God o’ Merchants, and I’m not quite sold on the whole ‘worshipers’ thing, don’t ye know. That’s the good news - he’s right certain to be in some closet o’ the man himself. The real trick wasn’t just finding him, but finding how to get in, and I don’t do half measures. In two days time, girl, I’ll have us at a warehouse that old Rustrooots just so happens to own. A warehouse a few friends o’ mine might o’ noticed a fair few people going into that never came back out.”
He leaned in as the others began to eat. “An’ the best part? We saw the Duke himself leavin’ without enterin’ just last week! So either our missing genius is kept there -”
“Or there’s some way to access his prison from the warehouse,” Lucas finished with a huge, toothy grin.
Damaia felt the tightness in her chest fade, replaced by a simmering fury. “Then we have our target,” she hissed. “Two days?”
The merchant nodded. “We’d need proper horses to go any faster, and that sort o’ sudden purchase looks might suspicious. Even then, we’d save a few more hours at best. Now, the real question is how to get in - which is why you might o’ noticed the large metal crates I brought with me.” His grin turned from proud to deviously sinister.
“Ye happen to be looking at Gregory Falstin, the latest contractor fer Ironwood Industries, on his way to deliver a shipment o’ very important tools. An’ wouldn’t ye know, I’ve hired me a few extra hands to help with the heavy lifting.”
Vivi cleared her throat. “What about Damaia? The rest of us are pretty nondescript - at least until the fighting starts - but a Felblood in magitech armor…”
The felbloods shared a smile.
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” the engineer said with a cocky grin. “Belycus has a lot of interesting items in stock, as it turns out.”
The merchant’s grin, by contrast, was downright smug. “Aye, we’ve got that covered. They’ll never see ‘er comin’!”
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Vivi was well aware that she was probably the weakest member of her team. That wasn’t to say she felt useless, of course - her magic had proved useful on more than one occasion, especially when it came to healing spells - but if it came to a test of pure power, she knew, deep down, that she’d rank dead last. After all, who wouldn’t feel weak compared to a werewolf or a girl that could clear a room with one well placed explosive? And that was without even mentioning the absurd things Jubel’s magic had managed thus far!
Surrounded by giants, she didn’t need to feel tall; she just had to do her part.
As she and Jubel slowly moved the surprisingly heavy crate of supplies past half a dozen armed guards, though, she began to feel quite small indeed.
The men guarding the warehouse were no rookie adventurers, but hardened soldiers with the most advanced weaponry she’d ever seen before. In fact, more than once she thought she saw lightning crackling at the tips of their weirdly symmetrical clubs! Either these men were elites, or Duke Ironwood could afford the sort of weapons strong enough to produce lightning for his ordinary guards, and in either case -
No. There was no time for fear or second thoughts. Her friend needed her help, and the first step to providing that help was getting the lay of the area. She focused on the task at hand as Belycus bickered and bartered with a guard in full plate - the leader, to judge from his authoritative tone and superior gear.
“And as I told you already, Mr Falstin, your payment is provided by your original contact. I haven’t the authority to-”
“Then find who does!” Belycus half screamed, “because I spent the last of my gold on the supplies you requested, and I’m not going back to Bellus without my money! I’ll sit right here until a godsdamned Duke shows up if I have to!” His acting skills were incredible, she had to admit. His accent was nowhere to be found as he berated the guard, insisting over and over that his contact had told him he’d be paid upon delivery, and even showing him the forged documents that stated as much.
So far, so good. The exasperated head guard called for their quartermaster, who emerged from a small door at the back of the warehouse, hastily closing it behind them.
A door that opened on its own a few seconds later.
Damaia slipped quietly into the quartermaster’s office, her heart pounding. She had to work fast. Looking around the cramped space, she saw several filing cabinets - all locked - a messy desk, a tall series of drawers, and… a lockbox? Well, it was as good a place to start as any, she supposed.
She glanced at the man’s desk as she reached for her locksmith’s tools, curiosity guiding her gaze, and froze.
There was no way she was that lucky, right? Her eyes widened as she began to read.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Personal Log - 5th week of autumn
Day 1 - Important shipment coming our way. Prisoner transfer through the shipment system. Didn’t know our circles could move living people. Must be more expensive, otherwise they’d have us haul the shipments on both ends. We’re getting a few extra guards to make sure things go smoothly, but if this gets found covered in blood or in a burnt down building, assume it didn’t.
Day 2 - Well, that’s just great! The Duke’s going to come here to escort the prisoner himself… and guess who gets to whip these idiots into shape and have them clean the warehouse so we don’t all lose our jobs?
Me. It’s me.
Day 3 - Ok, I’ll admit it; I was expecting more. Both from the prisoner, and from the Duke. The prisoner was covered in so many chains they had to literally carry him, but he was just some old guy! Probably a crazy one, given how he spent the whole trip criticizing the way our goods were organized, but still! And the Duke was… well, normal. A little pale, sure, but I thought he’d be some sort of regal, authoritative fellow, or a muscular military man, and he was just… a guy. Just goes to show - nobles aren’t as different from the rest of us as they’d like us to think. Anyway, they took him through private shipping and didn’t come back, so I guess that’s the end of that.
The quartermaster screamed as he saw the floating papers in the middle of his office. The invisible felblood cursed under her breath as she spun around, her heart racing. She’d been so caught up in reading, desperate to find some sort of explanation or answer that she didn’t even notice the door opening behind her until it was too late. Still, she had what she needed; proof that her father had come through this place. She readied herself for a brawl, only for the quartermaster to dive past her, going over a filing cabinet in a mad scramble to reach his desk. By the time she realized what he was doing, he’d already reached beneath it to hit a small, red button.
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A sound like the wail of a dying beast split the air as red lights began to flash. The adventurers had no idea what it meant, but the guards clearly did, and in an instant, they’d drawn their weapons. “Don’t move!” the heavily armored one shouted, pointing his blade at Belycus. The merchant sighed. “Shoulda’ known,” he said, his accent returning. “Ah well - the messy way it is, then!” He lashed out with one foot, kicking the guard’s sword into the air as he spoke. Before the blade could even hit the ground, he was behind the man who’d been threatening him only moments ago, dagger in hand.
The first guard to realize what was happening tried to strike Vivi as she drew her blade from her bag, but was seized by Lucas before she even realized she’d been targeted, his claws ripping the man’s chainmail to shreds.
A second guard nearly caught her unaware, but she spun to face him just in time, ducking under his brutal swing and darting backwards. She aimed a thrust for the space between two of the guard’s ribs, but her opponent used the peculiar club in his hand to slap her attack aside with effortless grace. She took a step back as he lashed out at her, but too slow! A jolt of pain raced up her leg where the club touched it, and for a moment, she could’ve sworn she saw the weapon spark. She stumbled as her leg locked up.
She felt a chill run up her spine. She was out of her depth.
The battle had begun in earnest now, and one of the guards lay dead on the floor already, unnaturally clean cuts marking the places where their head had once been as Jubel finished them off as quickly as he could manage. Another tried to ambush him from behind, but stumbled, a dagger protruding from his neck as Belycus joined the fray. With astonishing speed and grace, the aging felblood surged forwards, yanking the blade free only to hurl it at another guard as they rounded the corner to see what all the commotion was about. With a swipe of his other hand, the guard that he’d stabbed in the throat dropped dead, a slim, razor sharp blade buried in one eye. He hadn’t been quite so lucky with his second throw, though, only grazing the new guard who was now screaming for assistance.
Not good.
Lucas was nowhere to be seen, now, but the distant snarls that Vivi could hear over the clash of steel on steel told her that he was, at least, still breathing. She ducked another abrupt strike, barely managing to avoid a blow to the head. The smell of burning hair as another spark grazed her was all the reminder she needed that she had to stay focused. There would be time to worry about the others after she’d handled her own opponent.
Gritting her teeth, she thrust one palm out towards the man and began to mutter under her breath. Surely, anyone this skilled would play it safe when confronted with unknown magic, right?
Wrong.
Rather than moving to avoid her spell, the guard darted towards her, jabbed the sparking end of his club directly into her palm. She screamed in pain as the sparks tore through her arm, but before she could do anything else, a second wave of pain tore through her. She fell to the ground, spasming violently as her muscles twisted and tensed against her will. Anger burned through her fear as she saw the source of the pain; a second guard had snuck up behind her! How could she be so careless?!
Searing pain tore through her as the duo struck in unison, lightning coursing through her body and scorching her flesh. She tried to roll to her feet, but they swept her legs out from under her. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears and the crackling sparks as lightning swept over her body again and again, the searing pain drowning out everything else.
The first guard raised his club once again, a savage grin on his face, but before he could strike the helpless elf, another hand grabbed it.
By the still sparking tip.
Jubel stared at the first guard, his trembling left hand crackling with power as an inky void washed over the whites of his eyes.
“Having a good time?” He asked flatly, his smirk falling off his face as he saw the shape Vivi was in.
The second guard lashed out at him, only to have his arm go flying off as Rend cut cleanly through it. The guard’s eyes went wide, but he reacted quickly, lunging towards his assailant and grabbing him by the wrist. Rend skittered across the floor, and for a moment, the guard smirked in triumph.
Then he staggered, blood streaming down his face as Damaia abruptly appeared behind him, wrench in hand. He turned to defend himself, but too late - the engineer casually opened a vial of shimmering green liquid and splashed it across his face. There wasn’t even a hint of pity in her gaze as the man screamed, acid eating through flesh and bone alike in mere seconds.
“That’s what I thought,” Jubel said coldly, leveling a devastating glare at the remaining guard as he called the magical weapon back to his hand with a thought.
The guard pulled as hard as he could, trying desperately to free his weapon from the ostensibly weak grip of the slim half elf, but much to his chagrin, his gear worked against him, the lightning forcibly tightening the swordmage’s grip as it coursed through his arm.
“Since you’ve been so kind to Vivi,” he said evenly, seemingly unbothered by what should've been debilitating pain, “it’s only fair that I return the favor.”
A cracking sound tore through the air as the weapon shattered in his hands, wood and metal crumpling like paper in his grip - but the lightning remained, coursing in and around his palm as it orbited a pitch black sphere smaller than a copper coin. The guard only had time to let out a single brief, startled cry before Jubel slammed the sphere into his abdomen. His whole body spasmed, his face twisted in pain and locked in a silent, open mouthed scream as he trembled, his eyes rolling back in his head.
For five full seconds, he stood there, shaking. Then, he fell to the floor, his body smoking.
Vivi sighed in relief as Jubel muttered a quick healing spell, the searing pain in her legs fading almost instantly. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“For what?” he asked in confusion. “We won, you’re alive - as far as I’m concerned, the only problem left is finding our missing tinker!”
“But…” She struggled to finish the sentence, unable to calm her racing thoughts.
Understanding dawned in his eyes as he pulled her to her feet. “They were tougher than expected. Lucas took a few solid hits there, and I’ll be paying for that stunt for the next couple days, but we won. We beat ten of Ironwood's guards with only four of us. Sure, we got the drop on them, but still, that’s worth celebrating, yeah? So don’t worry so much.”
She looked at his left hand. He kept the palm itself hidden, but the angry red lines that had spread across his fingers spoke volumes about the state it must be in. She gently took his wrist, and he hissed in pain, but she kept her attention on the task at hand. She closed her eyes, focusing on the faint pulse of power just beneath her skin.
This, at least, she could do.
“Let flesh be made whole and pain forgotten, little more than the passing memory of a dream,” she intoned, light pouring from both trembling hands as she spoke.
“You didn’t need to do that,” he muttered weakly. “I would’ve been fine.”
“I know - but I wouldn’t have.” She shook her head, as if the motion could somehow clear her mind of the doubts that suddenly filled it. “Come on, let’s find our secret tunnel and get the hell out of here!”
A sudden crashing sound drew their attention. Sprinting towards the sound, they found -
Damaia, standing next to a massive trapdoor that had opened in the middle of the room, revealing a somewhat steep - but well lit - ramp leading downwards.
Jubel began to laugh as he lowered his sword, and Vivi simply sighed.
“20 gold on another death maze,” she called aloud.
Lucas replied before he even saw the tunnel.
“30!”