The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  Small things. Kenjiro stumbled back into camp too tired to walk properly and reeking of filth. As his head hit the ground he heard a voice in his head. It had a surprise for him.

  [Warrior Level 4!]

  [Negotiator Class Obtained!]

  [Negotiator Level 2!]

  [Skill – Amateur Linguist obtained!]

  [Skill – Polite Demeanor obtained!]

  —-

  On the sixth day, Ken watched the fighting. He couldn’t help it. Sometimes he could ignore it, when he was talking with people, watching the different species interact, but other times it was too raw, too visible to ignore.

  Each day, the Razorshard Armor company and the Roving Arrow company lined up their forces and sent them into the valley to fight. It wasn’t just like two masses of soldiers charging at each other, though. Both sides kept forces hidden in the trees, or moving around the outsides, clashing, trying to strike the enemy from behind.

  Flights of arrows flew from the galloping Centaurs, and they charged into the armored Dullahans with lances and spears that pierced through the heavy armor. The Dullahans brought forth a group of [Mages] that blasted groups of warriors apart until a Centaur charge forced them to fall back as the furious Centaur warriors hacked apart a group of Lizardfolk assigned to guard the [Mages].

  It was terrible to watch. Terrible, and yet some part of the fighting called to Ken. Not the blood. Not the limbs and hacked open flesh, but the moments of heroism. They still shook his heart. He saw a [Soldier] hold off three Centaurs with a Skill that made his blade dance and create a whirlwind of metal that held the warriors off until his comrades could join him. He saw a [Mage] raise an emerald shield up and calmly walk through a hail of arrows.

  That was the glorious, magical part of the battle. But it was savage and merciless too.

  A group of Centaurs had roped a Dullahan commander and were dragging him across the battlefield, howling war cries as the soldiers tried to free their leader. They kept dragging the Dullahan across the broken ground long after he’d stopped moving. When they cut him loose, the Dullahan’s corpse lay there. Ken saw the red streak it had left and turned away.

  “Bloody horrific, ain’t it?”

  Someone joined Ken as he watched the Centaurs regrouping for another charge. He saw Daly and another Australian girl standing at the edge of the neutral zone and staring down at the carnage. Daly nodded to the young woman.

  “This is Paige. Paige, this here is Ken.”

  “Pleased.”

  Paige offered her hand and Ken shook it lightly. She stared down at the battlefield, face grim. She didn’t flinch away, though. Everyone from Aiko to Luan had gotten used to far worse, roaming the battlefield at night.

  “They line up on the battlefield like gentlemen, and then start tearing each other to bits each night. What kind of place is this?”

  “Better than if they fought at night, too.”

  Daly shrugged, but Paige frowned.

  “I heard someone got killed over by where the Untimely Demise lot were working. Not from an undead—they got shot.”

  “By who?”

  Both Ken and Daly looked at her in alarm. Paige didn’t know.

  “I heard the Captain was asking about it. But I didn’t hear if he got an answer.”

  Ken stared down at the valley, where Dullahans were marching towards the Centaurs, driving them back. It was incredible that after each day there were enough soldiers to keep fighting, but apparently both companies were sending their forces into the valley, rather than keep fighting and destroy the landscape around them. They were trying to wear each other down, rather than risk mutual destruction.

  “So they’re just gonna keep tearing each other apart until one side starts winning? Sounds like the dumbest war in the world.”

  “Sounds like every war.”

  Daly and Paige were arguing as Ken excused himself. He’d seen enough bloodshed, and he had to think. Think about his new classes, for one thing.

  [Negotiator]. Ken had told Luan and Aiko about it immediately of course, but no one else. He hadn’t known it was a class you could get, but it made sense. And the Skills he’d gotten! [Polite Demeanor] and [Amateur Linguist].

  He could understand [Polite Demeanor]—apparently it made him look and smell less like someone who lifted corpses each day. According to Luan and Aiko, it made them want to talk to him more than anyone else, if only to escape the foul odor everyone else in the company had.

  But [Amateur Linguist]? That was more intriguing. Ken had tried to use it, but apparently it was a passive Skill rather than one he could use. It seemed to help with his ability to speak English, and perhaps other languages, if he knew them.

  The Skill didn’t make his speech that much markedly better, but suddenly Kenjiro could understand words in English without first having to translate them into Japanese. In short, he began to think in English, which made his ability to reply and comprehend what people were saying far easier. Aiko was purely jealous.

  “So unfair! I want that Skill!”

  Ken was very grateful for it, but he had no idea whether having the [Negotiator] class was a good thing, or whether it was useless. Luan was of the opinion any class was good news, but Kenjiro had heard a girl from the Netherlands saying that one class was best because of…something to do with maximum levels in a video game? Her opinion was being hotly debated among those who played video games.

  He didn’t know what he was looking for in camp, aside from a distraction, but Ken found it in an instant when he saw Captain Quallet arguing with a group of Centaurs, one of whom was wearing important-looking armor. Well, arguing was a bit of an understatement. Quallet was bellowing at them.

  “We can’t do our jobs if you lot won’t give us access! I don’t—no, I don’t care where your patrols are! The corpses are there, and if you want us to get rid of them, you’ll give us access!”

  He was yelling at the Centaur officer, who was getting more offended by the minute. Ken hurried over, not knowing what he was doing, but knowing in his heart that Quallet was doing exactly the wrong thing if he wanted to convince the Centaurs of anything.

  Unlike Dullahans and Lizardfolk, the third predominant species of Baleros, Centaurs, were neither taciturn nor talkative. They probably fit between both Lizardfolk and Dullahan temperaments when it came to how social they could be, but, and this was a big but, they had a temper. Collectively. As a species.

  If there was a ranking for bad-tempered species, Centaurs would probably be at the top of that list, competing for first place with Drakes and Minotaurs, although Ken had never met representatives of those species.

  Centaurs were touchy, prideful, and reminded Ken a bit of his grandmother. They didn’t accept bad manners at all, and the slightest offense was instantly corrected, regardless if it caused trouble for all parties involved. Right now Quallet was digging himself a hole by shouting at an officer.

  The angry [Mercenary Captain] had a hand on his axe and the Centaur officer looked ready to pull out his bow and shoot him. Kenjiro heard the Centaur speaking curtly to Quallet.

  “Our territory is being patrolled to keep the damned Dullahans away from our camps. Twice now they have tried to attack us with [Rogues] and [Assassins]. My [Commander] demands to know how we know your forces will be trusted.”

  Quallet growled.

  “I told you, you empty-headed donkey—”

  Ken saw the Centaur officer’s eyes narrow and jumped into the conversation. Literally. He nearly knocked Quallet aside. The [Captain] stumbled, eyes widening with fury. He rounded on Ken, but Ken was busy speaking to the Centaur officer. He spread his arms wide, smiling as best he could.

  “Honored friends, we would humbly like to request permission to cross into your territory. We intend no disrespect, but we…must painfully intrude because of our duties. We mean no offense. And we will identify ourselves as best we can.”

  The officer eyed Ken as Quallet opened a furious mouth, and then clo
sed it as he saw what Ken was doing.

  “Hmf. So you say. But how will we identify your people?”

  “Banners. We have one—”

  Again, Ken interrupted Quallet. This time the [Captain] let him speak.

  “If it is agreeable, we will raise our company banner. It is illuminated, and the rest of our company will carry lanterns to identify ourselves. We will respond to any challenges, and, we would like to cooperate more sincerely, we will stick to an agreed-upon area of your choosing.”

  It was what Quallet was going to say—what the Gravetender’s Fist company did every time, but the wording of it was key. Ken deferentially let the officer think for a moment, and then the Centaur spoke grudgingly.

  “That is adequate. We will specify the location before nightfall. Do not stray.”

  Ken bowed his head and thanked the Centaur as he and his soldiers trotted off. Then he turned and saw Quallet staring hard at him. Part of Ken’s elated heart went up his throat. But Quallet didn’t berate him. Instead, he nodded at Ken.

  “Good job. You have some kind of [Diplomat] class?”

  “Um. No sir. I have just received the [Negotiator] class.”

  “Same thing.”

  Quallet grunted. He paused, and looked at the Centaur’s backs. Then he spat. Ken winced, but none of the Centaurs noticed.

  “In that case, you’ll be dealing with both sides from now on. I hate bowing and scraping to the Centaurs, but they’re touchy. As for the Dullahans—if it comes to it, just bow to the one in the most polished armor. You know that?”

  Ken nodded. Quallet eyed him and then clapped him on the shoulder. Ken staggered.

  “Keep it up. If you can talk us out of more trouble, I’ll give you a bonus.”

  He walked off. Ken massaged his shoulder, wishing people weren’t so intimate. But he smiled. And later that day, dozing, he leveled up again. Then he woke up. His smile faded. Ken went back to the battlefield and began hauling bodies. There was no happiness in that.

  —-

  This night Gravetender’s Fist was working in a wooded area, part of the Centaur’s marked territory. They’d heard a stern injunction from Quallet and the other officers not to stray far from the banner, and each group had filled their lantern’s oil so it shone brightly in the night.

  Now Ken and the others walked past trees, some marked by combat, felled by blasts of magic or powerful Skills. They had to be especially alert for zombies hidden in the shadow of trees, but they were used to the routine enough to talk in low voices.

  “They are talking about leaving?”

  Aiko whispered to Luan as Ken helped both of them drag a heavy Lizardman in broken armor to the pile. Luan nodded, looking angry.

  “The Americans want to go. They’re saying this job is shit—which it is—and they want to abandon the company. They’re saying we can desert and head back to one of the cities, sell our swords and armor maybe.”

  “That is a bad idea. Isn’t it?”

  Ken stared at Luan, heart pounding at the thought. Leave the company? If they did, they’d have to leave the neutral zone. At night or by day made no difference. If they were caught—

  Luan nodded, looking angry.

  “I told them—the others told them—it’s a terrible idea! But the Americans are fed up with hauling these bodies. I can’t blame them for that, but a handful of maggots here is better than dying. They think we can do it though, and they’re going to bring it up tomorrow.”

  “We must talk to the others.”

  Aiko’s face was pale. Luan nodded, and shifted his hold on the Dullahan.

  “Shit. I can’t see. Where are the others?”

  “Back there.”

  Today Ken, Aiko, and Luan had paired with Quexa and three other Lizardfolk. It was Quexa who had the lantern. Ken lowered the Dullahan’s body while Luan adjusted his grip. They waited for the Lizardfolk to catch up—they were struggling to carry an obese Centaur.

  “Never thought I’d see a fat Centaur. He looks round. I wonder if that’s how they got him. Too big of a target? Or was he too slow to run away? If a Centaur is too fat, does it just waddle around?”

  Luan commented as he watched the Lizardfolk swearing loudly, trying to move the Centaur.

  “At least it was not a zombie. That would be very hard to kill.”

  Ken grinned, imagining an undead Centaur waddling towards him in the darkness. Aiko giggled, putting her hand up to her mouth and then snatching it down. Her hands, like every other part of her body, were filthy.

  Luan laughed. He turned towards Ken, about to say something, and then there was a whistling sound. He blinked, and Ken heard a thunk.

  Something sprouted from Luan’s chest. He gasped, and then Aiko screamed. The Lizardfolk dropped the Centaur and Quexa shouted.

  “Attack!”

  Shouts rang out as shadows in the forest suddenly turned into galloping shapes. Ken reached for Luan as his friend sagged to the ground.

  “Luan? Luan?”

  There was an arrow in his side. Ken reached for it automatically, but someone caught his hand. A Lizardman shook his head as Quexa ran over, waving her lantern and shouting desperately as the Centaurs galloping around them.

  “We’re not enemies! Gravetender’s Fist! We’re—”

  There was chaos. Ken heard pounding feet and voices, and then officer Raeh was there.

  “Back off!”

  He shouted at Ken and the others and fumbled at his belt.

  “Healing potion. Here! Snap the arrow off and pour it in—the arrow should come out. I’ve got to stop us from being killed!”

  He stood up and waved his hands at the Centaurs, shouting. Ken bent over Luan. The man’s face was pale and beaded with sweat. Ken reached for the arrow, hesitated.

  “I’ll hold him. Do it.”

  Quexa and the Lizardman seized Luan. Ken looked at Aiko. She grabbed the arrow and he used his hands and tried to snap it.

  It was hard. The arrow’s shaft was thick and as he moved the arrow Luan woke up and began screaming. Ken heard Quexa shout and he tried to break the shaft. He felt it splinter, and then it snapped.

  “Healing potion!”

  Aiko pulled the bottle out frantically and removed the stopper. She splashed the liquid into Luan’s wound and Ken watched the skin seal over. The broken wood shaft of the arrow popped out of the wound, but the arrowhead did not. Had it passed through his body? In any event, Luan stopped thrashing.

  “Luan?”

  Ken held his breath. Then Luan opened his eyes. He blinked, and then spoke.

  “I thought I was a goner.”

  Luan grinned at them, face covered in sweat, still very pale. Ken and Aiko smiled in relief. Luan laughed shakily. He sat up to say something, and then his face went white. He cried out in agony.

  “What’s wrong? Luan?”

  Aiko reached for him, but Luan knocked her hand away. He pressed his hands towards his side, and to Ken’s horror, he saw the wound was opening back up. Luan fell back, screaming again as the wound tore open a second time.

  Horrified, Aiko reached for the potion to use it again, but Quexa stopped her. She called out.

  “It’s not working! Sergeant Raeh!”

  The Centaurs were gone, at least for now. Raeh came running back over, demanding to know why they hadn’t used the potion. When he heard what had happened he swore.

  “It was some kind of enchanted shaft. Damn those four-legged bastards!”

  He knelt by Luan’s side as the younger man cried out in pain. Raeh didn’t touch the wound, but he looked grimly at the head of the shaft.

  “Whatever’s in there is still cutting him up from the inside. You—boy. Did the entire arrow come out?”

  “No—no, only the—the shaft.”

  “Damn it. It was an enchanted arrow after all!”

  Raeh looked grimly at the wound. He beckoned for Quexa to bring the lantern over, and peered at the oozing wound. He pulled a knife out grimly, and then he
sitated.

  “I can’t…tell where it is. I need to cut it out before the healing potion can work, but—”

  “Cut it out?”

  Aiko was horrified. Raeh helplessly looked around Luan’s side as he thrashed.

  “It could be anywhere in there. The enchanted arrowheads are nasty—some of them move. If I don’t get it right off, your friend will die. We can’t use healing potions until I get it—I—”

  His hands were trembling. He didn’t know where to cut, and he thought he’d miss. Raeh hesitated, and Ken saw his hand tighten on the grip of the dagger. He raised it, and Ken caught his arm.

  “No!”

  “It has to be done! Move over boy—I’ve got only one chance to help your friend. It’s that or slit his throat, because he’ll die in agony—”

  “No! There has to be a—a hospital, yes? A doctor? Someone who can perform surgery?”

  There had to be. But Raeh just stared at Ken and shook his head.

  “There’s no one like that.”

  He raised the dagger, and Ken felt true despair in his heart as he saw Raeh’s haunted gaze. That was when Quallet found them. The [Captain] ran towards them, axe drawn, [Sergeant] Xor following.

  “Raeh! What the hell’s going on here?”

  Raeh explained in short sentences and both Quallet and Xor knelt by Luan. Their appraisal of the situation was the same.

  “It’s got to come out, but damn me if I don’t know where. ”

  “He’s losing blood. A bad cut and he’ll be dead in minutes. We can’t fish around in his guts, Captain Marshhand. It might be kinder to—”

  Xor was speaking, but it all seemed far away. Ken stood in an oasis of shock and horror, watching the moment play out as if it were on a screen or far away. There was static in his ears. Aiko was gripping Luan’s hand, he was screaming—Raeh had the knife.

  Then Quallet looked up. He had the same empty look in his eyes, as of someone expecting to see only death. But he saw Ken, and something flickered in his gaze.