by Tim Johnson
Sark’s bodyguards pulled open the door and they went forward into Sark’s solarium. It was a vast circular room, with great windows spanning one side, giving a magnificent view of Valeria. Sunrays burst from the crisp morning fog that hugged the horizon. There was a door on the far right which led out to a ledge which jutted out, a massive stone landing strip – perhaps for these dragons he had heard about.
But also, a short-cut to the center.
A library framed the far side, with a huge map of the island of Valeria stretched out across the wall.
Sark was sat at a great desk with a cup of hot steaming drink at his side. He looked over steepled fingers at them both.
It was the first time Christian had seen him without armor. Sark wore a jet-black jerkin, trimmed with black fur, which matched his short beard.
His eyes flicked up, taking in Christian and Sulfur’s dirty appearance. He leant back for a moment and then spoke.
“What is it Sulfur? Why have you brought the wanderer to my sanctum?”
In reply, Sulfur grabbed Christian and hurled him forward. Christian barely managed to stay on his feet.
“The wanderer is plotting against us,” Sulfur spat.
Sark slowly took a sip of his drink, the steam curling over his face. “Explain.”
“He lured me and the girl into a trap. We were frozen by an Ice Demon, Tarquen. Something happened, he’s made some kind of deal with it. I’m certain.” Sulfur rounded on Christian. “We need to end this, Sark. We can’t trust this one. The girl, perhaps, but I tell you we don’t need either of them, we can—”
“Enough!” Sark snapped.
My moment is here. Sulfur has overplayed his hand.
Sark slowly stood. “That Ice Demon was marked as slain by the Fire Knight years ago. So, she survived. What do you mean you were frozen?”
“Some kind of dark ice magic; I mean frozen,” Sulfur said. “Turned into ice, and Christian was somehow behind it. I think he has the Astral Diamond too; I saw his hands all over it in the Goblins’ dungeon. The whole thing was a trap. I’m certain they’re plotting something—”
With a wave of his palm, Sark silenced Sulfur. “Christian, speak. Are you plotting to overthrow my kingdom?”
Christian explained everything. Well, almost everything. He fudged details of the Ice Trials challenge and he also left out the gold ingot, which was in his inventory and critical to his escape. He also expressly lied about having the Astral Diamond. But he told Sark about the deal he had made with Tarquen, in exchange for Sulfur and Alexia’s life. He told them about Tarquen’s forge and masked his lies with a major truth.
Now for my play.
He withdrew Ashana from his inventory. “And that’s when Tarquen let me pick a blade of my own. So, I chose this sword. It’s named Ashana. She said it could be her most powerful, but there is a chain-quest to complete it. The sword requires three hearts.”
He knelt in front of Sark.
And now it’s time to sell it through.
“You took Alexia and I in, when you could have killed us. You have made us strong, when you could have kept us weak. You’ve unlocked the ice-power in me, which I would have never found myself. I have nothing back in my world. Valeria is my home, and I believe you are the best one to rule it.
“I wanted to give this sword to you, Knight Lord Sark, as a gift of our allegiance.”
“Lies. Filthy wanderer lies,” Sulfur said from behind.
But Christian saw Sark’s eyes sparkle at the blade. He could see how valuable it was.
“A fine blade,” Sark said. “A nice speech. You’d do well to learn some of this eloquence, Sulfur. You’re becoming irritable in your old age.” Sark closed the distance between him and Christian and picked the blade up. “I have never seen an ice-blade like this.” He held it and it caught the sun’s morning rays. It reflected Sark’s face in its shining surface.
Sark gave it a long look then placed it back in Christian’s hands. “Keep it. Bring it to me again when it’s finished.”
My bluff has paid off.
“He swore featly to an Ice Demon, we can’t just let that go—”
“To save your life,” Christian said with force.
“Enough! Enough, both of you,” Sark snapped. He walked closer and placed a palm on each of their shoulders. “Don’t fuss yourself about Tarquen. We know who she is and where she is. You’ve gathered plenty of intelligence on her usefulness. If we need her, I will go with Christian to parlay. If not, we leave her there, satiating her appetite on bandits and explorers. Perhaps she will kill some of those annoying mountain elves. We have far bigger concerns to deal with. Christian, you’ve grown greatly in strength and experience, but we need you stronger. I have more plans for you and Alexia.”
Yes, I know. You want us to be level 15 so we can tear open a gate to our world, Christian thought.
“But first, I want you both to go to Beaverton. We must finish the fortress. Sulfur, it’s market day and people from far and wide will be in attendance. Tell them I am recruiting all skilled tradesmen and warriors from across the land. Sign them all up. Also, try and convince that master blacksmith to move here. Let him know my patience is running thin.”
He gave them both a slap on the shoulder.
“And go buy something to cheer yourselves up. Have an ale at the Hobgoblin Inn and settle this. You look like two children whose toys I’ve taken away. Do you think you can manage that without destroying the tavern?”
“Yes, Knight Lord Sark,” Christian said.
Sulfur remained silent.
Sark dropped his hand from Christian’s shoulder and faced Sulfur.
“Sulfur,” he repeated, “I said can you manage it?” The solid blue armor beneath Sark’s fingers buckled.
Sulfur let out a pained grunt, “Yes. Yes, Knight Lord. I can manage it.”
Sark released his grip and clapped his hands together. “I’m glad we’ve cleared all this up. We have located a new Demon and you will spread the word of my needs. It’s a productive day. Now both of you, get out. Sulfur, never bring a wanderer in here again.”
They made it back into the corridor. Sulfur was even angrier than when he arrived. He grabbed Christian by the armor and shoved him against the wall.
“I know you’re up to something,” Sulfur hissed. “All this has done is bought you some time, but when Sark realizes what you’re up to, he will make your life a living hell. Then we will take the largest Demon army the universe has seen and burn your world to ash. So, don’t think you’ve won. You’ve won nothing but my attention and that’s not something you want, believe me.”
Christian gripped Sulfur’s wrists and tried to pull Sulfur’s massive hands off him, but the man was too strong.
“Believe what you want,” Christian snapped.
Sulfur dropped his hands from Christian and wiped them on his armor. “Wanderer scum,” he said.
They walked back to the main keep in silence. Sulfur handed Christian off to some other guards. “Take him to his cell to clean up. The wanderers are joining us for a little day trip to Beaverton market.” Sulfur turned and gave Christian an evil smile. “Look your best, Christian, for I might have a little surprise for you at the market.”
27
Christian asked to be taken to Alexia’s quarters to let her know they were departing. The guards escorted him there.
Christian let Alexia know the new mission that Sark had given them.
“Seriously?” she said.
Christian couldn’t elaborate as he was surrounded by Sulfur’s guards. “Yes, Sark even suggested we have an ale in the Hobgoblin Inn.”
Alexia nodded; he could almost hear her mind whirring as she was making the same calculations as he did.
We have everything we need to make the Golden Shears but the damn shears themselves.
“Well then, Christian, let’s get ready for our next quest,” she said. “After getting me frozen by an Ice Demon, I think you owe me a drink a
nd an explanation of what you had to do with her to get me unfrozen.” With that she shut the door.
Christian found himself smiling as he went back to his quarters and took the time to clean himself up and scrub the dirt out of his neck.
Later, the guards banged on his door and it was time to go. They brought out Alexia too, who had also washed – her black leather armor polished, her hair tied back, and her bow on her back.
They traversed through the kingdom, and before long they were back on their horses clopping along the path to Beaverton.
The day was beautiful, cold and crisp with the sun already as high as it would get.
The only cloud on their horizon was Sulfur, his black anger staining everything, along with two of his level 15 guards, who watched their every move.
Ahead and behind, Sark’s men were making the journey to Beaverton. It was market day after all.
Not quite a day of freedom, Christian realized. This won’t be easy. The town will be crawling with Sark’s soldiers.
They passed through the gates to Beaverton to see the cobbled center square alive with market tents. On each table were vendors calling out and selling their wares.
They stabled their horses and walked towards the market. Christian fell in step with Alexia. Their guards were a few feet behind.
“So, the Ice Demon,” she whispered. “How the hell did you escape it?”
“I made a deal with her,”
“How? This doesn’t make sense. We were surrounded with thousands of those horrible ice statues and then it did that spell, I felt my body freeze and then the next thing I remember was falling and you catching me.”
“I completed a quest and she gave me the ingot we need. We will need to manage Tarquen’s expectations another time, but for now she’s on our side. We just need to stay focused on the final item for our quest.”
“Another deal you’ve done with another dangerous female,” Alexia said. “I’m seeing a pattern.”
Christian ignored her jibe. “Just keep your eyes peeled for—”
“The shears, obviously. We just need to somehow make it obvious we are not looking for a very specific gardening tool.”
“Then we need to get it to the blacksmith, alone,” Christian said.
“We can worry about that later,” Alexia said. “If we can just get the shears today, that’s a win.”
They browsed the wares of each stall, some carrying potions, herbs and poisons that Alexia seemed very interested in. They had Mana Potions or varying strength and prices, Health Potions, along with a few poisons.
I’ve got to find some the shears.
A bright stall with flowers caught Christian’s eye. He strode away from Alexia and his guard called out for him to slow down. Sark’s guard trailed behind him.
The flower seller was a small chubby man, with small pig-like eyes and a belly that stuck out between the braces that barely kept his trousers up.
“Hello, hello,” the man said as Christian scoured the stall.
At the back of the stall, resting against a wooden bucket was an old pair of gardening shears.
Christian’s pretended to browse the flowers as he thought of a plan.
“What can I do ye for?” the flower seller said. “These are good flowers for buying, fresh from me garden, finest in all of Valeria. You tell me who they’re for and I’ll pick the perfect bunch. For your wife? Your boyfriend?”
Christian was caught off-guard.
“For a big, powerful-looking fella you’re mighty shy, eh? Is he your boyfriend?” the flower-seller said to the guard.
The guard gave him a stone-cold stare before turning away with his arms crossed.
“They’re for the girl back there,” Christian said, a plan taking root in his mind.
“Ah, that beauty? The huntress all in black leather? Gosh, an athletic looking figure that. You two will make some fine children,” the flower seller said with a wink.
Before Christian could say another word, the flower seller started rapidly picking bunches of flowers by the twos and threes, his hands near a blur. Every inch the showman as he listed off the names of each one in a well-rehearsed speech.
“Blue devils, dragon’s kiss poseys, cat scratch roses…” A small crowd of older townswomen had formed around Christian who cooed at the selection.
“… and finally, three maiden roses of the purest white, one for spirit, one for valor and one for the secrets you’ve kept from her, ha!” He deftly wrapped the massive bunch of flowers in a red bow. “The finest silk bow, that could double as a blindfold for later on.”
An old toothless woman next to Christian giggled and gave him a friendly elbow in the ribs.
This has attracted more attention than I meant it to.
The flower seller passed the massive bouquet to Christian with a flourish. They were heavy. “And that will be just five gold pieces.”
“Five?” That’s absolute daylight robbery.
All eyes of the townspeople were on Christian.
Christian managed to smile. I should have negotiated the price upfront with this tricky merchant, he thought, but instead he said, “It is a fair price for such a fine bouquet.”
The flower seller licked his lips and held out his palm.
“I just need one more thing,” Christian said, as quietly as he could.
“Anything,” the flower seller said conspiratorially, leaning close, ready to fleece Christian once again.
“Those old shears by that bucket.”
“My shears?” the man said, acting aghast and placing his hand on his heart. “They’re a proper family heirloom those are, passed down from my grandmother, to my mother dearest, I couldn’t possibly give them up.”
“Fifteen gold for the shears.” Christian growled.
The flower seller’s piggy eyes gleamed and his pink tongue peeked out between his lips. He jabbed his fat hand back out. “Fifty.”
Christian flexed his jaw. That’s fifty-five gold pieces, nearly all my coin.
The guard’s back was still turned. I don’t have time to barter.
“Fine. Done.” Christian took 55 gold from his Inventory and placed his palm over the man’s hand. The coins shot out, over-loaded the man’s hand and spilled everywhere. The crowd went wild, rooting for them in the mud.
Using the distraction and the cover of the crowd Christian calmly reached down, touched the tip of the shears and placed them in his Inventory.
He strode away from the bedlam and towards Alexia with an outrageously huge bunch of flowers in his hand.
“For you.”
“Wow, you gentleman,” Alexia said, blushing slightly. She peered over his shoulder; Christian followed her gaze. Two old women were wrestling over the coins. “You know how to cause a scene.”
“A distraction,” Christian said. Sulfur’s guard ambled towards them, shaking his head at the commotion behind.
Christian whispered to Alexia, “I just bought some shears for fifty gold pieces.”
“Damn,” Alexia said.
“A bargain,” Christian said loudly as the guard approached.
“A bargain? You got right ripped off,” the guard said, “You’ve wasted all your coin, fool.”
“It’s an investment,” Christian said.
Alexia burst out into laughter.
Sulfur approached them, his eyes flicking over Alexia to the flowers. “Very cute, Christian, and a criminal waste of coin. I do not believe those were on Sark’s list.”
“No, they weren’t,” Christian said.
“It’s market day,” the guard said to Sulfur. “If the wanderers want to waste their coin, let it be on ale. Let us go to the Hobgoblin Inn and spread the word about Sark’s needs. The peasants can do the running around for us. Why don’t you join us, Sulfur? We have all day here, there ain’t no rush.”
“No,” Sulfur said. “There is something I want to see about. Do what you want with the wanderers but don’t let them out of your sight.” He gav
e Christian a dirty look and stormed off.
“Three more ales,” Alexia said as she slammed their third round of beer down onto the table. The foam spilled over the sides of tankard.
The guard continued to ramble on with his endless tales of bravery. He took another deep swig of his beer and let out a little burp. “Oopsie,” he said. He continued with his heroic story of hunting forest Goblins in-between gulps of the ale.
They had sat there for hours as the guards had sent peasants running their errands. One guard has disappeared upstairs with two local women while Christian and Alexia’s guard had continued to regale them with stories.
Then, suddenly he screwed up his face and held his guts. “Excuse me, I need to uh, oh boy.” The guard let out a rumbling fart and pushed himself away from the table, rushing away to the latrines.
Christian looked over at Alexa, she smiled sweetly back at him and shook a little glass vial at him. “You weren’t the only one who went shopping. My molecular chemistry background coming in very handy. That guard’s going to be in there for a while and will lose a few HP.”
Christian looked around. The bar was filled with Sark’s soldiers.
Alexia stood, swaying a little, “Wow, I’m drunk,” she said.
Christian stood. He could certainly feel the effects of the ales, but he was six-two, not five-seven like Alexia. “It’s okay,” he said. “Take my hand, I’ve got you.”
Hand in hand, they walked out the tavern, looking just like a normal – albeit slightly lethal – adventuring couple. Alexia attracted a few looks as always, but more the admiring glance versus suspicious.
“We finally got to have a drink,” Alexia said once they were out of the inn.
Alexia’s hand stayed in his; they were acting the couple so as not to be noticed, but it did feel good. You can’t think like that, Christian caught himself. We have a job to do.
They walked towards the blacksmith’s shop. With the short winter days, dark was already drawing in, and a few burning torches lit the cobbled streets. The town was still very much alive with people everywhere, drinking and making merry. Christian saw more of Sark’s soldiers, ambling towards them, and whisked Alexia out of the light into the shadows across the street.