CHAPTER 15
The next day Vladimir, Azrael and Glint sat for a joint breakfast under the stairway, around Glint’s exclusive table. With them seated, Vladimir commented, “I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced properly yet. My name is Vladimir Tchaikovsky, humble musician, born and raised in the region of Mekh in Krava. Pleased to meet the both of you.” He shook hands with the two.
“The pleasure is all ours, great bard,” Azrael answered him in what sounded to Glint like a formal manner. He wondered if this was what constituted a cultural gesture where the man came from. When they shook hands they grasped each other’s forearms near the elbow, unlike the handshake Glint knew. He filed these little things in the back of his mind for later. “This young but reliable man is Glint Stryger, and my name is Michael-“ Glint, unseen by the bard, flashed Azrael a largely ignored look , “- and, well, I have cast away my family name, sadly. Due to complicated issues that are of no importance, Glint here has not been to his hometown in a long time.”
“That I did not know, Mister Michael. If you and your companion are unable to, then you do not need to accompany me, for we have yet to sign a formal agreement.” The man looked unsure as he said this, looking from necromancer to warrior. Still, his eyes seemed more compassionate than anything else, and Glint knew that he understood the complexities of personal situations.
The youth shook his head with a laugh in response, feigning neutrality. “It’s fine, master bard,” he said to the man, burrowing Azrael’s words. “It is about time for me to head back there anyway, I think I have grown from what I was back then.”
“Ah, that is good then,” The man replied, eyes twinkling in a sign that he was somewhat appeased by the warrior’s answer. “To tell you the truth, I felt relieved when the two of you said you wanted to join me on my journey. It is a difficult one and, even though I was part of a caravan for most of it, still dangerous to undertake without proper guard. I trust the two of you are experienced fighters? I would hate for us to find ourselves in danger unprepared, although I hope it does not come to that.” This last was said with a bit of caution, and Glint saw that the man was trying not to offend. He wondered what the bard would say if- or more realistically, when- he found out that he was travelling with two Ability users.
Instead of finding out, Glint instead decided to give out as little information as he could while still telling the truth. “Well, the locals here would attest to my strength, since we actually came here for a mission that I finished almost singlehandedly. Gared as well as a few others also saw me fight against some troublemakers. As for...” he paused for a second, wondering at Azrael’s reasons for hiding his name, then went on, “Michael here, he’s the stronger of the two of us.” He wondered if that would be enough to convince the man, and Azrael added, “Of course, master bard, we would be willing to submit to tradition and practicality. For that reason, if you wish to task us with a test, we will accomplish it without objection.”
The man seemed to consider it for a few seconds, then stated, “That would take extra time and hinder us from departing.”
“It would,” Azrael answered, “But is it not better to make sure of your safety? One needs to know what one is paying for, after all.” In his eyes, Glint could see the necromancer found the irony amusing: no matter what, Vladimir wouldn’t know what he was “paying for” until much later. They weren’t going to expose their abilities in front of the villagers, at any rate.
Again Vladimir thought about it, and Glint wondered if the man was going to send them on another obscure mission, but then he sighed. “I will not lie, Mister Michael-“
“Michael will do, master bard.” Azrael interrupted with a raised hand. Glint had realized the man hated being addressed formally a while back, although the reasoning behind that dislike escaped him.
“Very well then, Michael and Glint.” The shift seemed to make the man uncomfortable, and Glint saw him struggle with it. Still the bard by trade pressed on. “I will not lie, it worries me not to know exactly on what level you stand as guards, as in that way I would be unable to ascertain how much I am to reward you based on your, of course, considerable strength.” Glint almost chuckled at how hard it was for the bard to explain his worries without offending the two of them. A year back he wouldn’t have noticed, but Azrael’s education had not been for naught. “However,” the man added in thought, and for the first time Glint was able to hear the distress in his voice, “I am most anxious to return to my Katarina. I have been away from her far too long, perhaps nine months. She would be so big now, children grow fast at that age.”
Azrael smiled tenderly at that and Glint winced. He felt bad that he had found the bard’s situation remotely amusing, even for a second. This was a man who had been struck by his liege, had his livelihood stolen from him, and was forced to leave his family for the sake of his craft and passion. While he was occupied mentally chewing himself out, Azrael offered, “Why do we not agree upon a hypothetical minimum wage for the two of us, and then go up from there?”
“Oh?” The bard seemed intrigued by this idea. “And what do you propose, then, my friend?”
There Azrael seemed to think for a bit, and Glint said, “Well, the normal wage for a sellsword around here is about two coppers per day. You can ask around, everyone will tell you the same,” he added defensively, remembering all the people who seemed sceptical when it came to barter and wanted to haggle. Vladimir shook his head, which didn’t seem to move even a whisker of his mustasche, and Glint continued. He was starting to smell a delicious fragrance of roasted meat coming from the kitchen behind them. Lunch, maybe? “How about we go with a copper and a half per day for the both of us, and if we really impress you or do special tasks you can pay us extra? That comes out to about...” he looked to Azrael, who seemed impressed with the idea, but laughed at Glint not being able to figure out the final product. “Come on, just say it, Michael!” he spat out, emphasizing the last word and how he might spill out his companion’s real name by accident, if he continued being a pain.
Azrael seemed to get the hint, for he lifted both his palms outwards in a gesture of surrender. “One and a half silvers every three months, so about five silvers perhaps by the end. It really depends on the route. Master Vladimir?” the necromancer turned to the man, who nodded.
“That seems less than I would pay for two capable guards, so I am more than happy to have you two with me,” the man said, “Of course I will also pay for room and board, as well as supplies as long as we are still together.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Azrael said, even though Glint thought it would be obvious. One and a half coppers wouldn’t be a fair price if room and board weren’t free. After all, a meal costs about half a copper, and a room per night would be maybe a copper all on its own. However, Glint thought that Azrael cared less about the money and more about Vladimir’s safety. The necromancer seemed to love helping people for his own selfish reasons, and it was as if those reasons were based completely on fickle and fancy.
The words the two had exchanged just a day before still weighed on Glint’s mind. For the first time in his life, the young warrior had a purpose to him beyond just conforming to someone else’s wishes, and this gave him a surprising sense of confidence. “I want to be a hero.” He had said it, pure and simple. He wanted to help others.
Idiot, why would you even say that? Just remembering it made him cringe. At least not many had heard. He hoped the man never tells anyone. Other than that, however, Glint had other concerns. He had to learn what being a hero really meant. What exactly was he meant to protect?
Am I supposed to just protect people? The weak? Isn’t their weakness their own fault, somehow? Then what? Just do it like Azrael and only help people I want to help? I can’t be that thoughtless even if I wanted to. Yesterday it was all so clear, and today I’m back to square one. I guess I’ll just start with what’s in front of me. This man needs help getting to his daughter.
Glint returned to the conver
sation the two were having, mainly about supplies and travel routes. “To get here, where we are now,” Vladimir said, poking a point on a map he had unfurled and spread upon the table, held in place by a couple of plates, “we travelled straight south across the border.” A finger cut straight down, crossing a diagonal line which Glint assumed was the border between Krava and Shien. “At the holy city Szent we turned westward and travelled until perhaps a few leagues from here, where the caravan dropped me off and headed southwest towards the ocean’s ports.” He traced his path as he spoke, and Glint craned his neck so he could better see.
Noticing something strange, he pointed at the unrolled parchment. “That’s an L shaped route, and through mountains sometimes as well,” he commented, feeling confused, “Why would you go that way?” he could understand that some roads were better travelled than others, and that sometimes you would take a longer road to pass through more towns if you were a merchant.
Vladimir had seemed to want the fastest way possible, however. The man had sounded intent on finishing his task and then heading straight back to his family and former life. For this reason, Glint didn’t understand why the bard had chosen this particular path.
By the time Vladimir started to answer in his deep kind tone, Azrael had entered into his usual teacher mode. “It is because of the merchant guilds, young master.” Glint noticed immediately how the man’s tone had changed, how he had called him young master as he always did when teaching something.
Glint persisted for close to ten seconds before his curiosity got the bitter than him and he asked, “And what exactly are the merchant guilds, Michael?” in an exasperated tone. He was starting to get used to the necromancer’s new name. He had almost forgotten that he hated this side of the necromancer, and how he was fuelling this behaviour by giving in to him.
But then again, he really was curious.
“Great question, young master Glint!” the necromancer began to clap with a devilish expression on his face. Vladimir, who was sitting next to him and oblivious to the nuances of their relationship, joined in enthusiastically. The bard had seemed like an intelligent, calculating, and practical man to Glint, but he was still clapping like an idiot with a grin on his face and a head that looked like a pink upturned soup bowl.
The warrior was already starting to regret the prank he had pulled on Azrael just a day before. “So what are they?” he asked.
Turning momentarily serious, and leaving poor Vladimir clapping alone for a second before he abruptly stopped in turn, looking confused and slightly embarrassed, Azrael said, “Well, we have already covered the territorial function of guilds, their political ruling systems, and their politics with Normals as well as with other guilds, right?”
“Yeah,” Glint said. It was safe to say that a majority of local guilds in the world were in some sort of strife for political dominance at all times, overseen by the continental councils, which kept a larger peace. Of course, inner politics were based on strength and ideology as well, unless nobility got involved. “Want me to explain?” he asked.
Azrael adjusted the plate in front of him so it wouldn’t come off the map it held in place. “Oh no, I’ll take your word for it. The thing is, there are some guilds that like to lean into financial affairs. They create items, sometimes with what you would call “magical functions”. They then sell them, hire Normal merchants to transport their goods, or even just take payment to keep some trading routes open through minor guild squabbles. It is these guilds that the Normals like best. In some ways, you could say they defy our current feudal system for managing guilds, which is based solely on warfare. Of course, most items are not sold to Normals simply because they are priced too high for them to afford.”
Glint processed the information slowly. “Trading routes...” he murmured, and Azrael gave him a solid look of approval.
“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “You’ve gotten better at analysing things. So now you tell me why our resident bard took this route.”
Looking at the map, realization dawned on the warrior. “Oh, I get it. You can’t cross the border from the west because of the guild skirmishes, so they had to go south, and there I guess there was a trading route protected by a merchant guild,” he concluded.
“That is exactly right. It is the safest way, and the one we shall take to return as well,” Vladimir said in his deep voice.
The bard was looking at the table, and so completely missed the look that the other two shared at that. There was no way they were going to take the long way around.
“So, which way do we take from here to Hindshelm?” asked Azrael, and Glint realized the question was aimed at him. Pulling the map towards him, he pointed and the others leaned in to take a look. “We’re here, right?” he asked Vladimir and the man answered with an affirmative. “Well in that case, I think the best way would be to walk to a small nearby town. It’s a few leagues to our southwest.”
Vladimir frowned. “I do not see this town you speak of on the map, Glint.” The bard was sceptical, Glint knew. “And why would we walk there anyway?” the man’s bushy eyebrow was raised quite high, and Glint saw his electric eyes clearly.
Glint rubbed his thumb and forefinger against one another. “Money,” he answered, “Is the reason. Horses in that area are cheaper, and it wouldn’t slow us down to walk there. You can think of it as us getting supplies and then starting our journey from there.”
Leaving the man thinking about it, Glint asked, “Michael, could you help me bring some tea? Three mugs are too much for me to carry.” The man nodded, and they went to get them. “So... this is it. We’re committed, I guess. What was with the fake name anyway?” He sighed, for he didn’t think he was going to get a straight answer.
“Don’t back down now, Glint. You can do it. And the fake name is because I have been to Mekh before. I’m not too popular there to be honest, so having my real name known might startle the man.” Azrael looked quite confidant as usual. The actual reason the two wished to walk to the other town was because they wanted to show the bard their abilities. Glint had physical abilities far above the ordinary person, so much so that he didn’t really need a horse, and going on foot would aid his training. Thus the two had spoken about it earlier and had decided to convince the man to take the journey in this way, so they would have time alone in the woods to share their secret with him. In fact, they had heard of the town from Arin, who was proving to be a reasonable, discreet man.
Glint still had his doubts about the whole thing, but Azrael was right: the time for second guessing was past. He was going to see his father again, and he didn’t know how he truly felt about that.
The Final Life Page 38