Four: The Loot: A LitRPG/Gamelit Novel (The Good Guys Book 4)

by Eric Ugland

  I spun around, hands up in a defensive posture. I took a step back when I saw who had spoken to me.

  “Donner,” I said.

  He looked good. You know, for having had his arm torn off the night before and, I thought, being beaten to death. He smiled at me, and it was disgusting because there were definitely strings of flesh still caught in his teeth. Teeth that were a little too sharp.

  “Ah, ’tis I,” he said, with a slight bow of his head.

  I reached for the dagger at my waist, but his hand snapped out and grabbed onto my wrist. There was a lot of strength there. Not so much that I’d be stopped if I really wanted to fight him, but enough to surprise me.

  “Now now, we are in public,” he said. “And here, so close to those demonic mages, the guards get a little touchy.”

  “You think I’m afraid of guards?”

  “I think you want to leave the city today.”

  “That might be true—”

  “It is. We have been watching you all day, awaiting my master’s orders.”

  “Who is this master of yours?”

  “Oh, that is something I cannot spoil for you. You will meet the master eventually, just not yet. You see, the master misjudged you. You possess far more power than we anticipated, and thus, we must prepare a bit more before he meets with you. But no matter — we have time. Perhaps more time than even you. I know you will not heed this gift, but my master is willing to extend an invitation to you to join our little society.”

  “Yeah, no thanks.”

  “It is as I told my master — you do not know what path is best for you.”

  “You’re really creepy.”

  He released my hand, and took a step back.

  “No need to attack my person,” he said with mock offense, “it might hurt my feelings.”

  “What are you?” I asked. “You aren’t human.”

  “And neither are you. Yet, here we are, playing make-believe amongst so many chattel.”

  His use of the word chattel got my brain whirring. He viewed all the citizenry about us as belonging to someone. Or something. And it wasn’t exactly a common word, but it was one I’d used earlier that day. Were they listening in to my conversation with Nutresh? Was Bottes somehow involved? Was Bottes this master?

  Donner was staring at me, smiling in his creepy way, as if he was reading my thoughts. He knew I was thinking things through, and I needed to throw him off the track I was taking.

  “Are you a vampire?” I asked.

  He raised his eyebrows. “An intriguing assumption. But I will give you one small answer since you were kind enough to save me from that pit. No.”

  “Why were you down there?”

  “Oh, the powers that be started to notice the master’s movements, and we needed a sacrifice to throw the trail asunder. I was that sacrifice.”

  “You went back to the group after they threw you to the wolves?”

  “You misunderstand — I volunteered. It was a great honor to do something so significant for the master. And he rewarded me greatly. It is because of his reward I am who I am today. Much stronger than when I first walked these streets.”

  “So your master gives you power?”

  “No, my master provides the path to power. He showed me the way, and then guided me along. For that, I have sworn myself to him. Much as Ragnar and Skeld have to you.”

  “You’re in his hirð?”

  “Nothing so base. Our society is much grander than your piddling group. But fear not, I enjoyed my time with you and yours, and I plan to beseech the master to offer invitations to some of those who are currently adrift in your wake.”

  “They’ll say no.”

  “You cannot say for certain what they will answer when they see the awesome power available to them if they but join us.”

  I chanced a glance around the square. Now that I was looking for it, I could see guards most everywhere. It was subtle, but there were men with crossbows on roofs and balconies. There were men with swords and shields tucked in alleyways and by doorways. And, most pointedly, there was both a city guard station and a Legion station at opposite sides of the square. Small, with limited markings, but definitely there.

  No viable options for taking Donner down.

  “For the moment,” Donner said, again, way too close to me, “I will bid you adieu. I fear our next meeting will again be a surprise for you. But until then—”

  “Eat shit, dickbag,” I sneered at Donner.

  He raised his eyebrows, but then gave me a slight smile. “Yes, eloquent as always Lord Coggeshall. Good day.”

  Then he walked off as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  I really hated him. Mostly because of the way he’d totally fooled me. He had me fully believing his story the whole time. And seeing how he acted now that he wasn’t in the prison or the dungeon — he was a completely different person. Which, to be fair, in a way, I guess he was. I sighed. A problem for another day.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The huge double doors of the Magic Circle opened up onto a smaller lobby than I was expecting. Basically, once the doors opened all the way, there was about ten feet of space before a small desk with a man behind it. The desk was covered in notebooks, all currently closed. The man was short, maybe five feet tall. He had blonde hair going back in a poofy sort of coif, and looked more than a little bored as he leaned back in his chair and read a book.

  There were banners hanging down from up high, showing stylized variants of creatures in bold, clear colors. Maybe some sort of house system, or something to denote the schools of magic practiced within the guild.

  “I assume you have come to file a complaint,” the man at the desk said. He held out a clipboard with a piece of parchment in my direction, but had not taken his eyes of his book. “And before you say anything, no there is no danger of demons coming to get you because you saw magic performed.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “not why I’ve come.”

  He set the clipboard down and looked up at me over his book. That’s when I noticed the book was balancing on the desk without his hands touching it, remaining on the page he’d been reading.

  “Neat trick,” I said.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “I’m here to pick up some wizards.”

  He frowned. “We have no wizards here.”

  “Magicians? Mages? Tricksters?”

  “We have a wide variety of Mancers.”

  “Mancers. Okay, cool. I’m here to pick up some mancers.”

  The man sighed, then his book floated up off the desk and out of the way. He then started opening and closing all the various books on the desk, what he was looking for, I have no idea.

  I took a second to peek at the book he’d been reading. ‘Tusk Love’. Nice.

  “You are Duke Coggeshall?” he asked.

  “That’s me.”

  “I fear I must ask for confirmation.”

  “You need to see the indicium?” I asked.

  He gave the sort of smile where he realized how big a pain in the ass he was being. “I do.”

  “Okay. Sure. No problem.”

  There’s a very good reason knights have squires, and it mostly involves putting on and taking off armor. The better your armor protects you, at least as far as I’ve been able to tell, the more difficult it is to put on and take off. I was wearing full plate at that time. I started with the gauntlets, which were simple. Just a little pulling and shaking util they clanged to the floor. Then I had my hands free.

  Ten minutes later, I managed to get my upper body clear of armor. I had made quite a mess of the lobby.

  The secretary, at least that’s what I considered him, was not looking quite as smug any longer.

  I flexed that weird internal muscle to project my indicium, and he got up and looked over my body.

  “You are an interesting specimen,” he said. “And you have spoken honestly.”

  “I told you.”

 
“We must be careful in these trying times,” he said, walking back behind the desk and sitting down again. “I have your orders here. You have somehow purchased the debts and contracts of four Mancers. I did not expect much from such a new noble.”

  “I’ve got deep pockets,” I said, picking up my armor and putting it into my bag of holding, making sure the secretary saw that I had a cool magical item.

  “Is that,” the man said, leaning across the desk, “a magical bag? A bag of holding?”

  “It is. I mean, technically it’s called the unfillable knapsack. Which reminds me: is there some sort of command to empty out a bag of holding?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Can you tell it to me?”

  “May I cast full identification upon your bag?”

  “Sure.”

  He did a little thing with his hands, and then I saw his eyes unfocus a little as he read over something.

  “My gods, that is quite the item you have. If you do not mind me asking, where did you get it?”

  “It was, uh, a gift from someone for freeing them from an Agachnern.”

  An eyebrow rose.

  “You continue to surprise me, my lord. A normal bag of holding will react to a simple empty command, though I hope you do not do that here,” he said with a bit of a genuine smile.

  “I’ll hold off,” I replied.

  “Thank you,” he said. “As you are not a member of the Circle, I apologize that you are not allowed past this room. But I will have your Mancers come out to you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I spent a moment pulling another too-tight shirt out of the bag and getting it on. I still looked ridiculous because I had the plate armor on my legs. I just didn’t want to go through the trouble to change.

  The secretary seemed to finally decide something, and he looked up at me. “These Mancers you chose, is there a reason behind them?” he asked.

  “Pure availability.”

  He took another breath, and looked back at the wall behind him.

  “You seem like a good man,” he said, “at least as far as magic is concerned. You did not come in here with fear, you have a magic item, and you have not asked for any sorts of quick spells to be taught to you.”

  “I try.”

  “I urge you to reconsider taking some of these.”

  “Like whom?”

  “The enchanter is the worst one amongst the bunch. He is after gold more than anything and has the morals of a—”

  A bit of the brick wall to the left of the desk shivered a little, making noise. The secretary shut up immediately and shot me a knowing look.

  The the bricks opened, moving out of the way in such a manner that it had to be magic. A young woman walked through, meek, and stood in front of the desk. She snuck a glance over at me, and then bent over the desk and whispered something to the secretary.

  He whispered something back to her, and pointed at me.

  She looked at me. Confused, concerned.

  “Are you Lord Coggeshall?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “That’s me,” I said.

  “I am Mercy Caughlin, hydromancer.”

  “Nice to meet you. I—”

  Another set of bricks flew apart, and a slim man in gaudy robes strolled through, arms akimbo.

  “Who has called for me?” he basically yelled out.

  I looked over to the secretary, and he gave me a slight nod.

  “You’re the enchanter,” I said.

  “I am the enchanter!”

  “Let’s tone it down a little.”

  “You dare to speak to me like that?”

  “I’m daring.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Duke Montana Coggeshall.”

  The enchanter looked over to the secretary, then at me. Quick movements of his head so that his long hair streamed out behind him each time.

  “I have not heard of you.”

  “Nor I of you.”

  He frowned at me. “I am the paragon of enchanting in Osterstadt, and likely the Empire as a whole. You will know my name.”

  “Yeah, I mean, as soon as you deign to tell me.”

  “You—”

  “Okay,” I said, holding my hand up, “maybe just shut up until the rest get here.”

  “The rest?” he turned. “What is all of this about, Reginald?”

  “Someone has finally purchased your contract, Burrell.”

  “This hooligan?”

  “Hooligan?” I asked.

  “He owns your contract, yes,” Reginald the secretary said. “So I would be a little more—”

  “I refuse to work for a man like this.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re supposed to be doing,” I said, already feeling like it might be better to let the dude go.

  “Tell me what it is,” Burrell said, “and I shall prepare myself to be amazed.”

  “Building a city—”

  “No. Absolutely not. I will not leave Osterstadt. I certainly cannot expose myself to the dangers outside the walls. It is simply inconceivable. Should I be injured or worse, the loss to magic as a whole is incalculable. No. I will not do it. You can find some other fool to risk their life in pursuit of your inane vanity.”

  He waved his hand and the bricks in the wall danced open. Burrell flounced away. The bricks returned to the wall with little fanfare.

  “I get what you mean,” I said to Reginald.

  “He is a handful. And, I do apologize, but I fear I cannot offer you a replacement. Despite his boasts he is one of the better enchanters, and there are not many around.”

  “Refund? Store credit?”

  “You would accept credit?”

  “Sure.”

  “Excellent. I will make a note of that for you, my lord.”

  Three people came through the next opening, two women and one man. The man was in chains and had a leather half-mask covering his lower face, making it impossible for him to speak.

  The women handed me the chain, and then disappeared back inside.

  “He is to come with us?” a small voice asked. I looked behind me to see the hydromancer peeking at the chained man.

  “Uh, I think?” I replied. “He’s the warmage?”

  Reginald nodded, then looked a little concerned. “I take it you have not met a warmage before.”

  “No.”

  “Ah. This is a little complicated then. I must ask if you have been briefed on the dangers of the warmage.”

  The warmage in question rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I got this.”

  The warmage snapped his gaze at me.

  “You will be responsible for any of his actions while under your care.”

  “I got him,” I said.

  Reginald nodded, and made a few marks on his papers. “Uh, you seem to be missing a Mancer.”

  “Yeah, a geomancer.”

  “Essie?” Mercy the hydromancer squeaked out.

  Reginald nodded. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

  He stood up before I could say or do anything, and slipped through the stone wall without disturbing it at all. Which, to me at least, was far more impressive than anything else that had happened.

  I stood there with the two Mancers.

  “So, you two know each other?” I asked.

  The warmage shook his head.

  “No,” Mercy said. “Few tend to, uh, there is not much socialization with, uh, him.”

  “That seems rather cruel,” I said, smiling that warmage.

  He just looked at me.

  I was about to ask Mercy about all the chains, but that’s when Reginald returned with the last Mancer. Essie the geomancer.

  She wore very little clothing, which meant nothing was left to the imagination. She also seemed to be leaning a little heavily onto Reginald. She had a bouffant of red hair, shockingly so. She was pretty, but in more of a cute way, and she seemed to be working very hard to eschew cuteness in fa
vor of sexy.

  “This is Essie,” Reginald said.

  Essie gave me a wide smile, and then she threw up all over me.

  “Reggie, my good man, you think that store credit might be used for a quick and surreptitious way out of Osterstadt?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Reggie wasn’t exactly keen on his nickname, but he did manage to get a carriage to us, which carried us to the front gate. There, I saw the woman and her family waiting, looking rather hopeful at all sorts of wagons and whatnot passing. As I had surmised, her husband was the last man to leave, the legendary carpenter and average bigot. It took a little pounding on the ceiling, but the driver stopped, and I got her family aboard. There were definitely a few looks at the warmage and his chains, but whatever the family was on the run from scared them more than the warmage. It was a tight fit, but we just got very close to each other, and had a quick ride out of the gate and over the bridge where the driver kicked us all out and promptly turned around to head back into the city.

  Essie, for her part, had passed out, which meant I had to carry her and hold the chains to the warmage. Who also had leg shackles on, so his stride was rather short. It was one of the more annoying walks I’d taken in recent memory. There was definitely a long trail of saliva and vomit running down my back.

  A large campfire was roaring while a meal was being prepared. No longer were we a small group hiding behind the tree. Now we looked like one of the weirder caravans you might come across.

  Naturally, it wouldn’t be a meeting between me and Nikolai without him stalking towards me like I’d done something horribly wrong. So I gave him a smile, and pushed right by him.

  “Need a minute,” I said, indicating the body I was carrying.

  Nikolai snatched the chains leading to the WarMage and held them up as if they were naked pictures of his wife.

  “This is the more pressing issue,” he said, seething.

  “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “How about talking to me about things before you do them?””

  “It was in the moment, and I didn’t have a way to talk to you.”

  “So you—”

  “Stop,” I said. “Give me a minute to get the rest of these fine people settled, and then you and I will wander off with mister chains, and we’ll have a real talk about how I fucked up this time.”