The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set 2

by Eric Ugland

  “Do you know what you are doing?”

  “Some accuse me thusly.”

  “You mind if I ask you your level and class? I mean, choice?”

  “Class? That is an interesting manner of thinking on it. Class. Hrm… Provided you share your choice and level with me, I have no problem sharing mine with you.”

  “You show me yours, I show you mine, eh? I’m a level 24 Burgmann.”

  “I have not heard of that particular choice before. Very interesting. I am currently a level 52 LifeWeaver.”

  “Level 52? Holy shit. And LifeWeaver? You got me there. Mine is based around protecting people. I get bonuses for keeping others safe.”

  “Already saw what I was going to ask. You learn already, your grace. A LifeWeaver is an advanced form of druidry. One who spends time and energy bending nature and living things in particular ways.”

  “Like forcing crops to grow?”

  “That is one way. I do have some skills in speeding growth along, both in plant and animal forms.”

  “Any form of life?”

  “All I have come across, yes. But it is not limited to that. That is, well, limited in scope. I tend to focus more on bridging gaps.”

  “Like breeding?”

  “Yes. Trying to understand nature, bend it to my will. Or, as the case may be, to the will of the Empire.”

  “That seems dangerous.”

  “There are dangers inherent within such a path, yes.”

  “Why be a farmer then?”

  “It provides me with a means to continue my research, and a method to hide who I am.”

  “Why hide?”

  “Because there are plenty who find what I do disdainful. Or dangerous. Unnatural even.”

  “I mean, it’s a bit unnatural. Have you ever made rabbits with big fuck-off teeth that can kill people? “

  “I must admit, such a thought had never occurred to me. But, in a rather brusque way, perhaps that does best explain a generalized view of what I endeavor towards.”

  “So, back to the matter at hand — are you willing to be a farmer here?”

  “I have been honest with you because I would prefer to limit my farming and focus on my other pursuits.”

  “Tired of hiding?”

  “I am. There are certain experiments I have pushed as far as I am able given my current constraints, and I long to be somewhere my skills are valued. Where I will not be seen as—”

  “A mad scientist?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t necessarily give you that. People will think of you as they think of you. But I can tell you, if you help me keep everyone fed, they’ll love you even if they think you’re a bit touched in the head.”

  “I would require a lab.”

  “And I would require you do some farming and probably more teaching to farm. And maybe teaching me. At least to start.”

  “If the Imperial shackles of magic restriction are relaxed somewhat, feeding everyone here for the winter will not be a burden. And I am happy to teach methods to those willing to learn. But I wish to be free of the burden of farming in the foreseeable future.”

  “Totally doable. Once we get through the next winter — so, you know, the spring after this one — I won’t ask you to farm. Just oversee some farms.”

  “I will require going back to my farm on the other side of the mountain at some point, to retrieve some of my belongings.”

  “Is there a missus mad scientist over there?”

  “There is a mister mad scientist, and, should I choose to stay, he will be coming along as well.”

  “I hope you decide to stay.”

  “At the minimum, Duke Coggeshall, I will assist where I am able until this foolish siege business is completed.”

  “Thank you, Timurlan.”

  He nodded at me and walked away, almost lazily. I watched as he stopped several times once he got to ground level to inspect the ground. Though snow fell, it wasn’t finding much purchase yet, and Timurlan was keen to look at the grass as well. Picking it up, smelling it, tasting it. Sometimes he liked what he found, other times he spat with disgust. Weird dude.

  Welcome to the family, I thought.

  Chapter 123

  A guard ran across the grounds, skidding to a halt in front of me and saluting so hard I thought he was going to knock himself out. This was one of the former Legionnaires, clearly.

  “My lord,” he spat out, out of breath from running. “There is a call for you at the gate.”

  “A call?” I asked, wondering if the telephone had been invented while I’d been having breakfast.

  As it turns out, no. It was, rather, Caticorix. He was surrounded by knights on horseback, some of whom I recognized from the morning’s Meikeljan hunt. This time, though, they were quite full of bluster.

  “Caticorix,” I called down from the top of the wall. “Always a pleasure.”

  “Coggeshall,” he basically spat back. “I demand you come speak to me at once.”

  “I mean, I’d really rather not.”

  “I demand—” he was shouting, and it was still early, so I jumped the wall and thudded to my feet in front of the man and his stupid horse. Which looked very real. I wasn’t going to reach out and smack the horse or anything, but I really wanted to.

  “Here I am, lord Caticorix,” I said with my best smile on. “What’s up?”

  He sneered at me.

  “One, unless you have forgotten, we had a meeting scheduled for this morning wherein you were to bring me the nine fugitives I have been tasked to return to the Empire, as well as presenting yourself for—”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening,” I said.

  He sputtered for a second, then launched into his next tirade. “Two, I demand you release my man at once, and then pay restitution for the damages you have caused. In addition, I demand access to Coggeshall so I might arrest the traitors to the Empire.”

  “Buddy,” I said, leaning back against the wall, “we need to revisit everything you’re demanding here.”

  “The only thing that needs revisiting is you. You need to understand the situation you are in: you have already lost, Coggeshall. You lost when you took the wrong side in—”

  “One, game’s not over. You can’t lose while the game is still going on. Two, I don’t like losing. It tends to make me rather pissy. Probably why Coach Twinnings kicked me off the team in middle school. He couldn’t coach and I couldn’t keep my temper in check. Thing is—”

  “I grow weary of your prattle—”

  “I’m weary of your ugly face and tweedy voice, but you don’t see me interrupting you, do you? Fold your jowls over your sad excuses for lips and pipe down for a minute.”

  His eyes went wide and his face went a little red. “How dare—”

  “Caticorix, your men are on my land. They are harassing my guests. One of them attacked me last night. Me. A duke. On my own lands. Attacked. Now, we can sit here and pretend this was a mistake. You can run back to your master and tell him that I’m his friend. We can be buddies if you really want to make me happy. But you’re going to leave without any of the nine people you want, and I’m probably going to keep the asshole who tried to kill me. I might hang his entrails from the walls just to give it a little flair. You think that’d look good? Entrails on the left, head on a pike on the right? Maybe some flowers in front of the wall. Too much—”

  “You are a fool! You know not—”

  “I really wasn’t looking forward to this. I wanted to be nice. I really thought about coming out here this morning and actually trying out this whole game of politics. Court. Whatever. The thing is, you guys are being dicks. So I’m going to go back inside this gate here, and then I’m going to give you 30 seconds to leave. When I come back out, I’m attacking. You can try and fight me, but I’ve got a pretty good track record of being violent. And over-the-top. Most of my followers think I bathe in blood and kill by the dozen. They’re definitely half right, and maybe today’s the da
y I make them all right. I’d hate to disappoint my followers.”

  “You want this to turn violent, Montana of Coggeshall? I can arrange that for you.”

  “I just said I didn’t want this to turn violent. You assholes made it violent when you fucking attacked me last night, you rotting festering bag of dicks.”

  Caticorix scowled. “Multiple honorable sources tell a different story. Of you attacking an innocent young knight merely trying to escort a visitor to Coggeshall.”

  “These lying sacks of shit?” I asked, pointing to the knights I recognized. “They—”

  “You dare impugn the honor of these Imperial Knights?” Caticorix asked loudly, laced with poorly-feigned outrage. “They will surely demand satisfaction.”

  “Given how they look, that’s good. Because they’re certainly not going to be giving satisfaction to anyone.” Not the best comeback, since it really just made everyone look confused. Which, you know, made all of us. “Are we going to duel now?”

  One of the knights urged his horse forward.

  “I challenge you to a duel of honor!” He shouted. His buddies all clapped for him.

  “You don’t want to do this, bub,” I replied.

  The young knight pulled out his sword, and gave it a swing through the air. “I challenge you to a formal duel under Imperial Rules and the Eyes of the Gods.”

  You have been challenged to a DUEL by Sinclair Hardy (lvl 18 Knight). As you have been challenged, you are permitted to set the terms. What are the terms?

  I sighed, looking over at the young man. He looked to be an age where he needn’t be shaving. Baby-faced, with bright eyes. But rage burned behind those eyes. He was definitely ready to kill me, even if I had reservations. It made me wonder what Caticorix had told his soldiers. I knew that losing the duel wasn’t an option. I could refuse, though there would be some honor issues at stake. But I had a feeling there was something more there. There were always ramifications behind refusing, well, anything in this game-world. It might be that a noble always had to accept a duel. Which meant I had to win the duel or, as Nikolai once advised me, make the terms so onerous he will not accept. Of course, that hadn’t exactly gone swimmingly the time before. It was kind of the main reason Cleeve had died.

  Taking a peek over the terms, I saw that some of the fields had been pre-filled.

  “To the death?” I asked, rather incredulous. “You want me to put my dukedom and all my belongings on the line, and you’re putting up what, Pata. What is this ‘Pata’ thing that’s listed?”

  Sinclair, the knight, was affronted. He whipped a very strange-looking, yet very cool sword from his scabbard.

  “The blade of my family, magic greater than—”

  “Dude,” I said, interrupting the kid, “I’m overflowing with magical weapons. Unless it’s something, you know, wicked cool, I’m not interested.”

  “It is unlike anything you can possibly know.”

  “Does it glow when goblins are around?”

  The knights looked at each other, some nodding, realizing such a weapon would probably be pretty useful.

  “It does not. Pata glows when I will it. It also allows the wielder to breathe underwater, and the teeth are from a mystical shark who—”

  “I got water covered. Thing is, I don’t want to fight here. And my dukedom for your magical weapon, that’s not going to make me fight you.”

  “Then fight for honor, you scoundrel.”

  “Scoundrel? Bringing out the big words. Man, I haven’t done anything to be dishonored. I accused you of lying. Doesn’t make me look bad if I don’t fight. You look bad because you’re a lying fuck wit.”

  “You will fight me!” Sinclair shouted, his face reaching a new level of crimson.

  “I mean, it certainly seems inevitable, doesn’t it? Thing is, if duels have to be accepted, why don’t I just duel Caticorix now? Right? Isn’t he a man of honor? Doesn’t he want to fight mano-a-mano to settle this mess he’s made?”

  “You question my honor, you dog?” Caticorix sniped.

  “I do. I mean, everybody does. I bet these guys do any time you aren’t around.”

  Caticorix’s head snapped around to glare at the knights around him, but they all kept straight faces, eyes on me.

  “None would be as foolish as that,” Caticorix said. “And I have no wish to fight you. My honor is intact.”

  “What if I said you slept with your sister? Would your honor be intact then?”

  “I have no sister.”

  “Did you kill her?”

  “There was never a sister in—”

  “Did you sleep with your mother? Father? Grandfather? A clam, maybe?”

  Though it was clear the rage built inside the little man, he managed to keep bottling it back down.

  “Outrageous lies told merely to elicit shock. You are ridiculous and base. I have no need to—”

  “Man, fuck you and the nag you rode in on. Don’t come here manufacturing lies and outrage in some attempt to get me to fight somebody. You want me to kill pretty boy here, so you have an excuse to go to war against me? I mean, I can do that, but why not just go to war? Why sacrifice him to—”

  “Because I will win,” Sinclair interrupted. “I am a better fighter than you could ever imagine. I have fought in tournaments all over—”

  “Easy there, ankle biter. I’m sure you’re the baddest of all the asses in the world, but you’re still in diapers and you’ve got way too much confidence. Especially if you knew half the things I’ve done. Or what I could do.”

  “I am not afraid of you or your exaggerated stories. You are nothing more than a teller of tales, getting innocents drunk on your lies.”

  “Sinclair, who have you been talking to about me? Because I don’t even, I mean, I’m not sure the last time I bought drinks for anyone. I guess, you know, you could make an argument that I’m kind of cheap. I definitely should do a better job doling out gear to my followers, so, uh,” I looked up at the guards leaning over to watch the proceedings below. “Can you make a note of that, guys? Someone tell Nikolai and Lee we should have a meeting about—”

  “The duel, weakling,” Sinclair said. “Do you accept, or will you wallow in cowardice behind your walls?”

  “Sweeten the deal and maybe I’ll relent. But I mean, can you for a minute take a look at how you’re being used here? It’s not good for you—”

  “I will offer up my titles as well,” a knight from the back of the group said.

  “And mine.”

  And just like that, all sorts of cries of support rose up. Everyone offered up their titles so I’d fight Sinclair.

  Everyone, that is, but Caticorix, who remained silent. Smiling like an asshole, but silent.

  I shook my head. Disbelief. I stood to gain 42 titles, including one principality, six counties, 11 trade routes, 22 baronies, one Chevalier, and one Fürst, whatever that was.

  “Guys,” I said, “really? All this for—”

  “Silence, you blaggard,” Caticorix said. “Either accept the duel or deny it and accept your fate.”

  “What’s my fate if I deny it?”

  “Ridicule and loss of honor.”

  “I’m fine with ridicule—”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, my lord,” came a call from above. One of the guards was leaning out and waving at me. “Loss of honor will have some real detrimental effects on getting new followers and certainly on follower morale.”

  “How do you know this?” I asked.

  “We was tasked to oversee plenty of duels against the Emperor. Champions and the like. Something we got to know. That much being offered to you means a big hit to honor if you refuse.”

  “Well shit,” I said.

  “If you like, you can ask a champion to stand in for you.”

  “No. If someone is going to be killed for Coggeshall, it’s going to be him,” I said, pointing at Sinclair.

  I closed my eyes and went through the terms of the duel one more time. I w
anted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, that there wasn’t some bizarre line that let Sinclair back out or his buddies jump in. Then I opened my eyes and nodded.

  “I agree.”

  Sinclair’s eyes went a bit blank as he read over what I’d sent back.

  He pulled the visor down on his full helm, then nodded.

  The Duel has been accepted. It begins… now.

  Chapter 124

  You’d think I’d have learned more from the first duel I was thrown in, but once again I was totally unprepared when the duel began. My opponent, on the other hand, he started moving as soon as the words rang out in my head.

  Sinclair whipped his hand across his saddle, and a dagger flew across the space between us. Instinctually, I moved my arm to cover my torso, and the dagger hit perfectly, popping the links in my chainmail and sticking into my arm.

  A burning sensation swarmed across me. I got a poisoned debuff badge in the corner of my vision.

  “Motherfucker,” I said quietly as my vision blurred a bit.

  All the knights behind Sinclair had crossbows out. Some shot at the guards on top of the wall, the rest shot at me. A hail of bolts came down, and all I could really do was cover my head to make sure I wasn’t going to be the Vuldranni version of Pinhead.

  Make no mistake: getting hit by a crossbow bolt hurts a ton, and I was definitely having real trouble keeping myself upright. The poison wasn’t helping either.

  I got my arm out of my face, but immediately got hit by the chest of a horse. It knocked me off my feet, and sent me flying until I slammed into the wall, and slid down to the stone ground.

  I rolled over, which only drove the bolts deeper into me. But I managed to get my feet under me in time for Sinclair’s horse to come up on me again. But this time I was ready for the charge. I got both hands out in front, catching the neck of the horse almost like I was catching a football. I changed my grip and pulled down, and I fucking suplexed the goddamn horse. It slammed onto the ground, and stopped moving. Its rider, Sinclair, seemed trapped underneath his mount.