Eat, Slay, Love: A LitRPG/GameLit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 10)

by Eric Ugland

  I strode out into the hall, and then stood there a moment, surrounded by prinkies.

  “Shit,” I said to no one in particular. “Where the hell is Ragnar?”

  I went to the ballroom, where the party was ongoing, though at a much slower pace. Slow dances were the name of the game, at least at that hour, and more people were sitting at the tables around the dance floor than actually dancing.

  Eliza waved at me, and I clomped over, pretending not to notice everyone staring at me in my gear.

  “Are you well, your grace?” she asked, patting the seat next to her.

  “Sure,” I said. “Minor incursion of fiends. A few people injured, but—”

  “There were really those who sought to make a deal with the fiends?”

  I nodded. “But I have it on good authority they weren’t actually members of Coggeshall so much as people who wanted to harm Coggeshall. Which reminds me: I need to speak to Harmut.”

  “I would imagine he is working on the group project downstairs.”

  “What floor?”

  “Third, I believe. More housing. Are you speaking to him about our, um, acquaintance no longer in Osterstadt?”

  “Fuck, no. I forgot all about that. Which is weird — why would I have forgotten about that? I need to do that as well. Have you seen Ragnar?”

  “He told me to tell you that he was falling asleep while waiting with the Legion, and that he was arranging for someone else to accompany you around Coggeshall.”

  “That doesn’t really sound like Ragnar.”

  “Ragnar did frame things a bit more, uh, colorfully.”

  “Ah. Well, I’d believe that. Do you know who?”

  “No.”

  “If you see someone looking for me,” I said, “I guess I’m going to be with Harmut for the time being.”

  “Of course, your grace.”

  “You doing okay?”

  “Tired, but fine. I’m thinking it would be good to call the ball for the evening, and resume in the morning.”

  “It starts up again in the morning?”

  “Usually closer to noon, but that’s still morning to some.”

  “And then goes all day and all night again?”

  “Yes, your grace. Though it is not all just dancing. There are several very amusing games to play, a few contests, and—”

  I held up my hand. “Maybe next year. This year I’ve got more shit to figure out than I have time to do it in.”

  “I know,” she said with a slight nod. “It is not exactly how I expected to spend my first Fiends’ Night here either.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I expected it would have been later in my life when I was no longer spending my Fiends’ Nights with my family in my family home. Or, I suppose, with my family at the imperial palace or some such locale. Not, um, well, normally, a girl of my station does not spend a Fiends’ Night with anyone but her family. So—”

  She stopped speaking, and her cheeks turned very red.

  I frowned, feeling like I’d missed something.

  “Well,” I said, “thank you for handling so much of this.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “I think I will arrange this to be the last dance, and, um, luck be with you on your quest tonight. If you need me—”

  “I know where you’ll be.”

  “Yes, your grace.”

  She hurried away to the raised stage at the far end. I watched her go for a moment before hoisting myself up and heading down to the ‘group project.’

  70

  For the record, dwarves are loud. Nearly always, doing almost anything, dwarves will find a way to do whatever they are doing at an amplified volume.

  Which made it fairly easy to find the dwarves and their ‘group project.’ It was basically the only thing happening on the third floor, a raucous flurry of activity and work. People were everywhere, and not just dwarves. Plenty of humans, kobolds, and dwarves, and nearly all the battenti. They were all working together, mostly well, moving an enormous amount of stone down the hall to be deposited in another large room. Hallways had been shaped, and were being finished up nicely. Apartments were being formed out of the rock. It was really cool. Weird to see so many hallways and tunnels being formed at once, but cool all the same. I was excited to see what the finished product was like.

  I spotted Harmut, clan chief of the Coggeshall Valley Dwarves, stomping around with a piece of blue chalk clamped firmly between stained-blue lips. He’d mark the stone with a room layout, adding doorways in places, and scribbling notes everywhere.

  “What’s all that?” I asked.

  Harmut spun around. A wide smile spread under his magnificent beard.

  “Pleasure to see you, your grace,” he said. “Good Fiends’ Night so far?”

  “Oh, it’s been fun,” I replied.

  “Fantastic, your grace. You been missing a good bit of fun here, too. Are you ready to work?”

  “Willing to work, but we need to have a chat first.”

  “Oh?” his face contorted into concern, and he took the chalk from his mouth. “A private sort of a thing?”

  “You got a private sort of a place?”

  “Aye, that we do. Waltram! Come, take over for a moment.”

  Harmut tossed the piece of chalk up in the air. Another dwarf with a jet-black beard ran over and bobbled the chalk before getting a good grip, and immediately started swearing at some dwarves leaning against the wall.

  Harmut led me through a few tunnels to a doorway into what looked like a small office. There was even a carved stone desk and a door. He shut the door behind me and then walked around and stood on the far side of the desk.

  “What can I help you with, your grace?” he asked.

  “Is this an office?” I asked, looking at the room. It was about three yards by three yards, and a good nine feet tall. I didn’t feel cramped, and I also didn’t understand how the dwarves had managed to carve out a ceiling that high.

  “We use ladders, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he said, reading my mind. “And it will be an office, yes. For the ward runner of this area.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Looks nice.”

  “It’s not bad for a few hours.”

  “I had a bit of a run-in with some dwarves tonight—”

  “A run-in? Ya smashed someone into paste?”

  “It wasn’t quite like that,” I said. “And no one from your clan. Or our clan. Am I part of the clan?”

  “Ya are to me and mine. What clan are they from?”

  “Were from. Your old clan.”

  “My brother attemptin’ to weasel his way inside?”

  “Seems like he did pretty well,” I said. “At least as far as I could tell. There might be more here, though.”

  He gritted his teeth, and I saw his fists clench.

  “Who were these traitors?” he asked, all cheer and charm gone from his voice.

  “You know Narfin?”

  “Aye. She—?”

  “Her mother was here. With a guy who had a striped beard.”

  “That slimy fuck Umibog.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Aye. Always a lickspittle to my fuck of a brother. See he’s still at his ways.”

  “Well, was at his ways.”

  “You disposed of ‘em, then?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “What manner?”

  “After he and Narfin’s mother kidnapped Narfin to sell her to the fiends, I maybe let the fiends have them.”

  Harmut’s left eyebrow arched, and a smile slowly spread.

  “You did what now?” he asked.

  “I let some fiends take them. Instead of Narfin.”

  “Oh oh oh, you dirty duke. I find I have to say how much I enjoy being a part of this clan.” He slapped the table and shook his head. “Wish I could’a seen them faces as they realized the eternity of torment they face. Good on you. That witch of a woman was nothing but a demon in disguise. All ‘
er life, she’s been desperate for power and willing to run roughshod over any poor bastard who gets in ‘er way. Killed a group of kids, she did. Said it was an accident, but there was no denying the leap in her magical abilities after that ‘accident.’ And my brother defended her. Said we needed her power to keep us safe. Now, look at her — nothing. She is nothing. Might’n’be a good idea to go after me brother for this—”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not what we do here. We’re not invaders, even if they deserve it.”

  The madness seemed to drop from Harmut’s glare. “Yes, your grace. That’s, well, that’s who we aim to be, eh? The good ones in this world o’shit.”

  “That’s the general idea, yeah. I’ve been one of the bad ones for too long. We’ll see how well this all works, but I’m trying.”

  “And Narfin is well?”

  I nodded. “She’s with the healers now. We’ll see if she’s got lingering damage.”

  “You trustin’ her?”

  “I am.”

  “She betrayed ye?”

  “No—”

  “Ain’t needin’ to toy with me, lad. I know the girl. I know why she came, and what she did. I saw her change. But I also know the power a mother might have over a daughter. She choose us, then?”

  I nodded.

  “Good for her,” he said. “I’ll keep it to me chest. But I’ll also be watchin’ her.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I replied. “Also, she said some dwarves are unhappy here?”

  “Oh, dwarves find a way to be unhappy anywhere. It’s why none of us were allowed in the heavens. Tend to get morose, and work. Ruin all those aesthetics with such horrible things like function and pragmatism. Some dwarves are unhappy, aye.”

  “But unhappy about the kobolds?”

  “Aye. That’s a tough thorn to swallow.”

  “Why would you swallow a thorn?”

  “Likely because a lordling asks ya to.”

  “So it’s a thorn I’m forcing down your collective throat?”

  “A bit, yeah. Though only to some of us. Others enjoy the challenge of living with so many different kinds. I love it. Truly, I do. Never thought I’d be one to befriend a kobold, to call him my ally and know in my dwarven heart that I would defend him and his to my death and beyond. But that be my feelings on the matter.”

  “How many feel, um, thorny?”

  “Erm, two-thirds, perhaps?”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “Aye, but we win more over by the day. It’s a battle o’inches, your grace. And we are an ancient people full of traditions that make little sense, even to us. Some cling to those ways, even when it hurts them. But if’n you be worried, I imagine I might have thoughts to come up with on the matter. See if’n I might make some plans to alleviate—”

  “For now,” I said, “I’m thinking it just might be important to get housing for everyone. A warm bed and a hot meal go a long way to make most people happy. Especially in winter.”

  “Aye,” Harmut said with a nod. “Agreed.”

  “We can face that shit in the spring,” I said. “You know, if we make it that long.”

  “Oh, I have no doubts about you seeing the spring.”

  “I like that confidence. Are you guys going to be working all night?”

  “Until the sun peeks out and sends all those damn devils back to the infernal hells they call home, aye. No sleepin’ for us this night.”

  “How do you stay awake?”

  “Eh, some of us just have iron will,” he said. Then he winked and pulled out a small clump of leaves tied together into a bundle the size of a hickory nut. “Others chew tilbabow leaves. Gives you a little kick in the pants when you need it. Want one?”

  “Might as well keep one handy,” I said, taking the tilbabow leaf bundle, and putting it into a pouch.

  “You got more we need to talk about? If’n I leave those idiots under Waltram too long, we’ll be liable to find ourselves with another damn amphitheater. Damn dwarf is always trying to get another place to watch his damn plays.”

  “He’s a playwright?”

  “Let’s not get the lad thinking too highly of the artistic talent he’s not got, eh?” Harmut patted my shoulder, and gently nudged me out of the way of the door.

  “I am available if’n you need, your grace,” he said.

  “Thank you, Harmut,” I said. “I really appreciate you.”

  “It is myself who ought to be thankin’ you. Which means now I got to be thinkin’ on how I might be thankin’ you.”

  “Nonsense—” I started, but Harmut shot back a glare that made me pause.

  “That’s right, your grace. You will be thanked.”

  I rolled my eyes, but he was already stomping back and hollering after Waltram.

  71

  Yuri met me by the stairs, with Arno right behind him.

  “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite vampire hunters,” I said, “back together again.”

  “I was told we were hunting again,” Yuri said.

  “Same for me,” Arno. “Your little lutra friend recruited me.”

  “Ah,” I said, “Yes. We, uh, have a bit of an issue in that regard.”

  I guided the two of them to the most distant table in the main cantina, and grabbed a drink. Arno cast some sort of privacy invocation over us, and I got to explain The Master situation.

  Neither the lion nor the mancer looked happy.

  “The man is here?” Arno asked. “The one we thought we had killed in Osterstadt?”

  I nodded. “Thing is, we did kill a Master. It just wasn’t the right Master. Also, might not be a man. I don’t know what he is, but he’s probably not a vampire.”

  “Pity,” Yuri said. “I was on the cusp of getting a new vampire hunting ability. Killing a few more might have netted that.”

  “Well, next time.”

  “We know he is here, how?” Arno asked.

  “Emeline had a spell with a bowl. Colored water tells us how far away he is.”

  “Sounds like Idalf’s Bowl of Finding.”

  “Can it be tricked?”

  “Anything can be tricked. It’s all a matter of how it is used and how it is said it is being used. Do you trust Emeline?”

  “I do. And we locked down Coggeshall after that. So no one has left.”

  “That you know of,” Yuri added.

  “Right,” I said, pointing at Yuri with my mug.

  “And what clues have we?” Arno asked, pushing a bite of cake around his plate. “Do you know anything about this ‘The Master?’”

  “Not much,” I said. “I know he has a group who works with him. Or for him. They seem to worship him and have a thing with getting more power through The Master. Emeline did some research, and she thought they might be Croakers.”

  “Fuck,” Yuri said. “I really hope it is not croakers.”

  “Are they bad?”

  “They are immensely difficult to deal with,” he said. “Especially in enclosed areas. That is where they excel.”

  “Like a holding carved into a mountain?”

  “Rather perfect placement. Hunted croakers thrice. Once in a dwarven mountain home, smaller than this, of course, but with an intricate mining complex. Never again. Until, you know, now, if, well—”

  “If we’re dealing with croakers.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you don’t have any ideas?” Arno asked. “No guesses?”

  “Look, guys. I’m not well-versed in this sort of shit. I’m more of a beat the shit out of things that get in the way without caring too much about the specifics. I’m trying to change, but it’s a slow process.”

  “We work backwards then,” Yuri said, tapping his claw on the table. “If there are croakers as a part of this, The Master would not be a croaker.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Croakers are, um, an unfortunate side-effect that no one believes will happen to them.”

  “More you need to be t
ricked to become a croaker,” Arno said.

  “Right, along those lines. And once a croaker croaks, it’s usually a quick spiral into croaking for the rest. If The Master has recruited people to him, and he is turning them into croakers, what is his reasoning?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “And why would he come here?” Arno mused.

  “I think he’s Imperial. He left Osterstadt, and got caught here.”

  “Mere coincidence he did not continue moving forth? Possible. You two have a relationship of sorts, yes?”

  “Of sorts. A bit adversarial, and a bit — I don’t know. Weird. Supposedly, most of the people who went missing from Coggeshall have been the result of The Master and his group.”

  “Recruitment?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Consumption or sales?” Yuri asked.

  “I would lean towards consumption,” Arno said. “Especially if this Master fellow is Imperial. We tend to have rather harsh views on slavery.”

  “I didn’t get that sense about things,” I said. “But I think you’re right that it’s probably consumption. Which is why the whole vampire thing made sense to me. What else eats people?”

  “The list is long and infamous,” Yuri said.

  “That it is,” Arno agreed. “Were?”

  “Where what?” I asked.

  “Wolf, bear, bat?”

  “I don’t know, the woods?”

  “Would what?”

  “What the fuck are we talking about?”

  “Werewolves,” Yuri said. “I believe.”

  “Oh! My mistake,” I said.

  “I was wondering if it might be a were of some kind.”

  “Usually they aren’t much into taking people,” Arno replied, “just eating them.”