Elsa spoke the truth – the people are on edge. I’d already noticed a few fairly drunk men hit the ogre with a sullen gaze. Just give them a reason. First they’ll take him out, then figure out how it started. Actually, because he’s an ogre no one would even bother with the facts.
“I am the familiar of a human,” Tusk muttered shortly and clarified: “And that human is quite respected around these parts.”
Based on his slightly agitated but peaceable tone, the ogre had shifted to his back foot.
When I heard he was a familiar, I was slightly taken aback. I remember my father telling me a fable about an old experienced mechanic trying to open a lockbox. He examined it from every angle, tinkered with the walls. In the end, he spent a few hours searching for a secret mechanism, but was never able to figure out a thing. Until by chance, he simply tried throwing back the lid. As it turned out, there was no secret mechanism – the box wasn’t even locked.
Right now, I felt just like that old experienced mechanic, sifting through theories and solutions to a mystery. But the answer was just sitting on the surface.
“Is this human a mage?” I asked.
“Papa Gino?” the ogre snickered. Seemingly his self-control had returned. “If he were a mage, we wouldn’t be freezing our asses off in this backwater. All mages are currently in their warm castles just like their familiars, servants and even slaves.”
The ogre smiled dreamily. But then his gaze fixed back on me.
“Hm... Almost all mages...”
“So are you saying your papa is some kind of bigwig out here?” I asked, ignoring the ogre’s last utterance.
“No,” Tusk shook his head. “I never said that. He isn’t from around here, but he is respected here. He himself is from Ironville.”
“Well, well!” I said in surprise. “The very capital of the kingdom! And he’s way out in this one-horse town?”
Seemingly, I stepped on one of the ogre’s sore points. Just the way he cringed. And immediately reached for his ale. Seemingly, Tusk is not exactly taken with this place’s charms. Who would have thought? A mountain ogre has come to prefer to life in the capital city!
Dumping the last of his bucket mug down his throat and belching loudly, Tusk started to unburden himself.
“Papa Gino is a lanista. He owns a little gladiator school in an outlying area of Ironville. Lately, the old man’s affairs have been going worse than ever. At last year’s games, he lost his two best fighters in one match. And we spent a whole two years doing nothing but earning tablets for them!”
“I can imagine,” I nodded and unwittingly clenched my fists. I remembered Livid’s nasty face. I’d be sure to find that brute and get my revenge for Crum and Happy!
Meanwhile, the ogre was still going, having totally missed my passing state.
“And after all, I told him not to use them in a group battle. They were better as individual fighters. But no-o! In his advanced age, that old fool decided to risk it! Although, six of one, half dozen of the other. It’s all the same.”
“What do you mean?”
The ogre took a heavy sigh and cast a plaintive gaze at his empty mug.
What a rapscallion!
I shook my head and fatefully waved a hand:
“Go ahead...”
A happy tusked smile blossomed on the ogre’s ugly face.
“You said it yourself. Conversations and dry mugs don’t go together.”
“As a matter of fact, my father used to say that,” I said for some reason.
With a wave of his large mitt at Elsa, who ran past in a nearby hallway, the ogre turned to me and said:
“Your daddy is right.”
“He’s dead,” I muttered. “And my mom too...”
Look there, again! For some reason I was just letting it all spill out. And to the first person I met. After all, just one minute ago, I was thinking through what it would be like if we fought. Time to wrap this up. And then it suddenly hit me:
“Listen, am I right in understanding that you’ve activated a skill?” I asked the ogre with suspicion in my voice. “Something like charisma?”
Tusk hiccupped in surprise. Then he mockingly raised his hands and flashed his teeth disarmingly:
“I’m done! It was wrong! I won’t do it anymore!”
Just then, Elsa appeared and placed another “bucket” of ale on the table. She took payment, looked us over with a studious gaze and, obviously satisfied with what she saw, headed into the middle of the room.
Following her with my gaze, I asked the ogre who was sucking at his ale:
“So, why didn’t you use the skill on her when you were begging for an ale on credit?”
Tusk set his mug aside and croaked:
“No point. A real skinflint, that lady! It’s plain to see that after so many years in this dive she has brought her immunity to persuasion up sky high. She saw through your little performance in an instant. She can smell a lie from a mile off! She shouldn’t be working in a flophouse; she belongs in some magistrate in the capital. She’d know no price there.”
A-ha, not nice to hear. But who could’ve known? I’ll be more mindful in the future.
“So then, what was it you said about the gladiators?” I asked, returning our conversation to its prior course. “Something like, it was all for naught.”
“That day, the daughter of Prince Renard was in her box in the tribunes,” Tusk said glumly.
Renard... Renard... That’s somehow familiar... Oh yeah! Prince Renard is the chancer of Fradia No less famed than his royal suzerain. The right hand of the Steel King.
“After the Princess herself, the old fox’s daughter is the most desired bride in the kingdom,” Tusk went on. “Well and as is fitting, she’s always absolutely beset with admirers. On that day, one of them, a rich count, suddenly came under the impression the young Princess was bored. May the abyss take him!”
I noticed recently that I’d started to think faster, and my memory had improved appreciably. By the way, from what Mee said, the same had happened to him. While the ogre spoke, my improved Mind was greedily absorbing all the information I considered useless before. Like a scrupulous archivist, it was sorting everything onto the proper shelf so I could analyze it later under calmer circumstances.
“Obviously the rascal had a surprise in store,” Tusk continued angrily. “He’d paid off the organizer of the games and released a Dartan cave bear into the arena. In the end, all the was left of the twenty lightly-armed fighters were bloody scraps of flesh.”
I shuddered unwittingly. Darta. A country in the north of our continent. The land of eternal frost and fierce warriors. They say the blood of ice titans runs in the veins of the Dartan people. I can only imagine the kinds of beasts that roam there.
“What of the other dead warriors?” I asked. “Also from small provincial schools?”
“Yes,” Tusk nodded and said angrily: “Even a fool could see it was a setup. The organizer brought together all the lanistae of the whole region. Well, those who lacked powerful benefactors. Those who could not strike back. And yes, Papa Gino is also to blame. He got greedy. He took the bait. He could have refused. Although how was he to know that instead of the promised group battle, his fighters would be torn limb from limb by a great northern beast? He probably wouldn’t have done the same to fighters belonging to Luekt or that Bardan.”
When I heard the familiar name, I perked up my ears.
“So do those lanistae have powerful benefactors?” I tried to give my voice the most dispassionate tone I could muster.
“Well, they are themselves notable figures. Champions are molded in their gladiator schools. They’re the elite. The upper league. They need not scour the countryside in search of new fighters. Lanistae such as them have scouts for that.”
Tusk finished his last sentence with a sad sigh.
I finally realized what had brought Papa Gino to Tradepost. And I also hatched a plan for what to do next.
“Oh you kn
ow...” the ogre muttered thoughtfully. “This year has obviously not been a happy one for us... Even though I’d started thinking luck had smiled upon us. But it looks like the old man has drawn the ire of the goddess Fortuna.”
“I always thought Fortuna kept her distance from places such as this,” I gave the ogre a slight nudge.
“Don’t say that!” he immediately came to life. “She’s everywhere! You never know where she’ll decide to bless you with her beautiful smile!”
After taking a few hurried sips from his mug, Tusk continued:
“The old man’s calculation was right. The borderlands of the Wastes have always been troubled. Especially this year. Everyone knows that slaves are traded in Tradepost. Sometimes you can buy orcs here and, if you’re lucky, maybe even a troll.”
When I heard about the slave market, I winced.
Not noticing my fleeting state, the ogre continued:
“We got lucky! We bought three captive orcs from some forest rangers. Two of them were middling material. Simple drivers. But as for the third, he was an orcish rider! Without their wargs they make for middling fighters, but he was good enough for matches in outlying regions.”
“So you did get lucky after all?”
“At first yes, but then... After the rangers left Tradepost, it was quiet for two days. But on the third day it was like the people had gone mad. At first, we didn’t understand what the matter was. Then the Hornet came to Papa with his gang and demanded he surrender the orcs. At first Gino objected. Saying they’d been paid for; the orcs were his property. But the Hornet gave a clear indication that he was the law in Tradepost. And that if we didn’t give him the orcs right away, it would be too late. The people are on edge. The raid has made them flee their homes. And if the people are clamoring for blood, let it be orc blood.”
“So the orcs on the poles...” I began, but the ogre interrupted.
“Yes,” he nodded gloomily. “Gino had to surrender the orcs to the Hornet. They were executed in the center of the village. At first their tusks and tongues were pulled out. Then their noses and ears were cut off. And after that they were quartered.”
For a moment, I listened to my heart. Did I feel pity for the condemned orcs? Hm... They got what they deserved. The people spat out all their enmity for the orcish race onto those three. And the ogre is just groaning because his master lost out on income. As far as I could tell, the Hornet almost certainly did not compensate the lanista for his losses. He let him live, and for that he was to be grateful.
“Now we have to return emptyhanded,” the ogre came to his unhappy conclusion. “And there’s also the ailment...”
“Ailment?”
“Sickly old Gino has been having a flare-up.” Based on his tone the ogre was sincerely upset. “The old man is extremely irritable right now. If not for Midori’s infusions, I don’t know what we’d have done...”
Tusk, distracted from the heavy thoughts, glanced at me and asked:
“Well, how’s that? Have I satisfied your curiosity, mage? Or have you got more questions?”
“How can I meet your master?”
To my surprise, Tusk didn’t get shifty or start clamoring for more drink. He said he first had to inform his master I’d like to meet. He said something like that’s the way things are done in society. The old man would have to prepare to meet a mage. Make himself look presentable. Due to his ailment, he’s in bed almost all the time. Gino would be outraged if Tusk brought an important guest by without warning him first. In the end, we agreed that the ogre would wait for me at sundown near the middle gates.
Other than that, my hint that I would prefer not to say too much about myself to the locals was taken with understanding by the ogre. And to my relief, he swore an oath of secrecy without any coercion. With his master as an exception.
I should note that Tusk turned out to be very understanding and obliging. To be frank, I wasn’t expecting that from an ogre. That must be why they say appearances can be deceiving. If I understood correctly, Tusk was a servant and bodyguard for the old lanista.
Matter of fact, I was getting the impression that the ogre was actually delighted when I expressed a desire to meet his master. Curious. I wonder why.
When I finished up with the ogre, I left the tavern and, in a quick pace, headed for the gates. I needed to get to our little campsite before sundown to explain my plan to Mee. One head is good, but two is better.
The settlement was bustling with folk. I could tell many had just arrived by their faces. They spent some time staring at the hanged men, looking over the dead bodies, frozen in the cold.
Hm, eerie stuff. I’d basically only spent a few hours here but compared to these gapers I felt like an old fixture on some level.
Despite the incipient pile-up, I slipped past the gates no problem. I overheard that they weren’t going to close them for the night. Seemingly, the Hornet’s men didn’t want to freeze all night at their post on the last day before the caravan departed. A-hem. If the orcs came around tonight, the steppe army would gain a significant number of new slaves. I could feel in my skin that time was of the absolute essence. We had to keep moving west right away. All that remained was to solve the Papa Gino issue.
Once past the wall, walking along the big tents, I was looking more under my feet than side to side. I was most afraid to step in a fresh cow patty. But just then I noticed movement to the right from the farthest tent, which looked more like a squalid canopy of old rags. And then I heard a very familiar voice:
“Master Eric! Thank the gods – you’re alive!”
Chapter 7
“WHEN YOU JUMPED off the horse to save us, we believed you would return to the very last. But then the children came and told us of your demise.”
Mee and I exchanged glances.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked in gremlin tongue.
“You mean the devious captain decided not to dissuade the people of what their own eyes saw?”
“You, by the way, did the same with the children.”
“Well, who’s arguing?”
The woman, paying our dialogue no mind, continued feverishly wolfing down the food placed before her.
When she called me over back in the camp it took some effort to recognize Maya in the skeletal half-living creature she’d become. One of the women we rescued from slavery.
Sharp cheekbones, sunken eyes shimmering with the gleam of hunger. Lips shivering in the icy air. Hands pocked with frostbite sores. The woman was very nearly too far gone. All wrapped in loose rags, she looked like an old scarecrow, long forgotten by its makers.
Tears streamed down Maya’s sunken cheeks. It’s hard to fake a look like that. I saw and could feel that the dying unfortunate woman really was happy to see me “resurrected.”
After feeding her some potion of satiety, I led Maya into the forest. To our little camp where my friends were waiting impatiently.
While Maya ate, we tried not to pester her with questions. Despite the dose of enhanced potion, she was greedily shoveling everything within reach into her mouth. Seemingly, the poor lady has been starving a long time now.
Beyond that, after Mee’s Wave of Healing, her body needed raw material to use for Regeneration. Then a few minutes later, I looked on in satisfaction as the shapeless sores on her hands slowly but surely healed over. And then a slight rosy glow appeared on her gaunt face.
“Why are you alone? Where are all the others? Where are the children?” Those were the first questions that rained down on Maya when she stopped eating.
Taking a swallow from a flagon of water and wrapping herself tighter in a fur, she stared into the fire with an absent gaze.
“They’re gone now,” she finally answered quietly. “They all died. It happened ten days after we split up. We set up camp for the night. Then around morning the orcs of the Clan of the Black Fox attacked.”
Mee and I exchanged glances again.
“I remember their tribal symb
ols well. A month ago, the son of their chief took the daughter of a shaman from the clan I lived with as his bride.”
“And what of the rangers?” I asked.
“They gave battle and were victorious,” Maya answered. “They even took three orcs captive. But while they fought, their riderless wargs...”
Maya covered her face with her hands and didn’t finish. I grimly watched the woman’s feverishly heaving shoulders and recalled the faces of the people we freed from the orcs and somehow managed to lead through the Stone Forest.
Finally, Maya raised her head.
“I saw the wargs tearing them to shreds but couldn’t do anything... Just the captain and five rangers remained among the living. And me...”
The Dark Continent (Underdog Book #3): LitRPG Series Page 6