With a straight face, Eric said, “By way of telepathy I was informed that Kasile was being held in the sewer. My source never gave me a name, so I don't know who it could be.”
Plas grinned. “Only you, Princess, could get so many men into a river of waste.” Kasile blushed and her boyfriends scowled at Plas, who laughed.
The palace gate guards were ecstatic. They ushered Kasile and Siron within the curtain wall with only one remaining to debrief Plas. The guard thanked him and vanished into the castle. The outlaws dispersed and Eric was left standing outside the closed palace gates, with Culmus.
“Think we'll get a reward?” he asked his fellow mercenary.
“I already got mine.” Culmus replied.
“Yeah, I guess I did too.”
On their way back to the Red Town of Sword and Staff, Eric asked Dengel what he thought of his new student's first ever rescue mission.
Anti-climatic.
Were you expecting a giant dungeon monster?
Yes. As a matter of fact, I was.
Even without a giant dungeon monster, Eric was exhausted. He dropped his loot, shed his slimy clothes, and crashed into bed.
Chapter 16 A True Mercenary
BANG! BANG! BANG! It sounded like someone was trying to break his door down. Regretfully, Eric pushed away his blanket and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He nearly tripped on his way to the dresser. BANG! BANG! BANG! He ignored them until he was wearing clean clothes.
“What's up?”
Tiza knocked on his head. “Not you! Where were you yesterday!?”
“I would like to know as well.” Nolien almost sounded angry. “We were hired as farmhands yesterday and monsters attacked the hen union.”
So they do have unions . . . “Did one of them poop on you?”
“No, that was a cow.”
“And you didn't see it! BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T THERE!”
Basilard bonked her. “Tiza, don't deafen your teammates. Well, Eric, where were you?”
Eric yawned. “I was in the sewer . . . Rescuing Princess Kasile.”
“Dimwit, if you're gonna lie, make it convincing.”
“Nah, I'm telling the truth. Ask Culmus. Or Kasile. Or . . .yaaahh . . .Plas Bladi.”
Basilard scowled. “So . . . my brother was in town. Did he tell you anything?”
Eric shuddered under the power of his gaze. It hovered just beneath those blood red eyes; a prodding knife. He shook his head.
“Good.” Just like that, the power was gone and Basilard was smiling. “I'll ask Culmus about it later. In the meantime, we have a job to do.”
You mean the novices have a job to do. All you do is read your dirty book.
You resent your mentor?
No, he's a great teacher . . . It's just . . .it irritates me.
What did I tell you earlier? Mercenary. For the record, I am a better teacher.
The mission was clipping an orc's toenails. Some orcs were so heavily muscled they couldn't reach their feet and so their toenails grew unchecked. Some asked friends and others went to saloons for pedicures, but a small number were too ashamed for either, so they hired mercenaries. It was a sought after job because they gave gratuitous tips.
It wasn't, by any means, easy money. First of all, orcs have big toes and big toenails. A human could spend half an hour sawing away on just one. Second, orc toenails are as tough as human bone; nothing less than a broad sword would cut them. Finally, the factor that made this mission a D-class instead of a harmless E class: orcs are often ticklish.
This particular orc lived in the Yellow Town of Trade and Creativity. Few people lived here and those that did slept one floor above or below their workplace, whatever it was. To the left was an electronic retail store and to the right was a grocery store. At the corner was a convenience store boasting a sale on frozen pizza. Eric felt dead on his feet so he stopped at a cafe for coffee and scones.
Before he finished either, Basilard stopped at the base of an apartment. Their client was on the top floor and they were taking the stairs. Basilard told them it would be great exercise, which inspired Tiza to take them three at a time. He then asked Nolien to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Eric shrugged and followed him.
Tiza ran up the final flight backwards. Nolien's huffs and puffs were too amusing to miss. “Maybe I should call you 'Tent' instead of 'Tenderfoot'!”
Nolien stopped to catch his breath. “You could . . . just use . . .my name . . .”
“What fun would that be?”
She jumped over the final stair and proclaimed herself the fastest member of Team Four. Then she saw Basilard leaning against the wall with his book out. Without looking up, he told her that Chameleon Flash, a technique for high-speed movement, was another advantage of being a senior. Tiza burned red and proclaimed herself the fastest novice of Team Four.
Since his team was otherwise occupied—Nolien panting, Basilard reading, and Tiza begging for super speed lessons—Eric knocked.
“Eric!” Annala blushed crimson and hid behind the door. “What are you doing here!? . . . This is so embarrassing . . .!”
“Uh . . . Um . . .er . . .”
His elfin friend wore a short blue dress with a ruffled hem, and beneath were thigh high stockings and black buckle shoes. On her arms were shoulder-length gloves and on her neck was a ruffled black collar. All of them were decorated with pink lace designs. In short, it was a stylized maid outfit.
“Eric has a crush! Eric has a crush!” Tiza said in a singsong voice.
The mercenary and maid blushed deeper.
“Tiza, don't tease them,” Basilard said. Tiza stopped singing and started humming. Basilard paused, then looked at Eric. “Is she?”
“NO!” Eric shouted. His face was becoming uncomfortably hot.
“Then why are you blushing?” Nolien asked. He was so smug! Eric wanted to punch him.
Annala stared at the floor and tugged one ear. “I just finished cleaning the kitchen . . .”
“I just ran up all those stairs . . . .”
Basilard stepped forward. “In any case, we have a job to do.”
“Oh . . .so you're the ones who answered his bill . . .” Annala stepped out from behind the door, clasped her hands, and tried to smile. “Welcome to the house of Tahart Ligo. Please come in.” She pulled the door open. Eric tugged at the collar of his tunic.
The living room was spacious and well furnished: premium leather couches with gold inlays, a flat-screen CV on a silver stand, statues of lean and muscular orcs in the corners. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and handmade carpets lined the floor.
This . . .orc . . . lives fairly well. That is to be expected if he can hire mercenaries to clip his toenails. Dengel's bitterness was lost on Eric. His attention was distracted elsewhere.
“So . . ..” He finally managed to say to the floor. “This a job?”
“Yeah . . .” Annala found the floor equally fascinating. “For the summer.”
“Ms. Enaz,” a low voice asked from the next room. “Have the mercenaries arrived?”
“Oh! Yes, master, they have.” She has to call him 'master'!? “This way to Mr. Ligo's office.” She pulled the door open and stepped aside.
Tahart was indeed . . . heavily muscled. He was twice Eric's size in every direction; his clothes were big enough to be small tents. He reclined in a lounge chair and typed on a crystal board attached to a metal arm sprouting from his desk. Other crystals lay nearby; a PDA, a camera, laptop, and others.
“Master Tahart . . .” Eric loved the sound of her voice, but those words were painful to hear. “These four have arrived to solve your problem.”
Tahart pushed his keyboard away and swiveled to face them. “Ah yes, thank you. I'll speak with them now. You're dismissed.” Annala curtsied and left. “First, let me thank you for coming.”
Basilard inclined his head. “And let us thank you, Mr. Ligo, for hiring us.”
The orc shifted in his seat. “Are you familiar with
. . . my request?”
“I explained the procedure on the way.”
“Good, good, and have they signed the waivers?”
“All but one.”
“Because that one slept in!” Tiza said pointedly.
“Not to worry.” Tahart reached into one of the drawers of his desk and brought out a slip of paper and a pen. “Not to worry.” He handed both to Eric.
“I, the undersigned, understand that Tahart Ligo is not responsible for any injuries, physical damage, or harm of any nature as a result of my business relationship with the above.”
Such a general statement! Dengel said in disgust. Anything one does could be covered by it.
Yeah, and he has extras on hand. “Is this necessary?”
“I don't want to get sued because you tickled me and I kicked you on accident.”
“I meant the generality; this could cover anything and everything.”
“It's convenient to have one form, and I save paper, which saves me money.”
“Just sign it, Dimwit! I want to get this over with.”
As Eric signed, he wondered if Annala already did. Anything could happen to her and he wouldn't have to give a shit! He returned the signed slip to Tahart, who pointed to a chest of drawers. Inside were saws the size of a human forearm. The novices grabbed one each.
For being unable to reach his toes, they were well cared for; not at all like stereotypical orcs in the literature of his homeworld. Then again, there weren't too many stock trader orcs in the literature of his homeworld. Is polishing his nails Annala's job!? The associated image made his fists clench.
Tahart's big toe was as long as a human head and the smallest their closed fist. Ten toes for three novices meant three toes per novice with one left. When they arrived at that one, Tiza called it. Which made Nolien insist on doing it himself, which made Tiza go on another “I'm not a lady” rant, which convinced Eric to clip it himself. It was the only way the argument would end.
You know . . . I thought my life would change after rescuing Kasile. That's a big accomplishment, you know? Yet here I am, just where I left off . . . menial work.
You have read too many elfin tales. Real life never works out that way. Success involves hard work. I worked hard when I was your age and I became the Founder of Magecraft.
So you always say.
Dengel was one of the greatest mages in Tariatlan history and he never let Eric forget it. In the MMR, Dengel would monologue about the research he did to perfect the given spell. On the street, he pointed out random objects and lectured on how his research contributed to its development. Even when Eric relieved himself, Dengel bragged about his influence on indoor plumbing. Eric tuned out the lecture on automated saws by reflecting on his past adventures. I've had more near-death experiences than anyone in my neighborhood . . . I still don't have enough money for armor . . .
Tahart laughed. “You want to use my toe nails as armor? . . .You're the Otherworlder I've been hearing about, aren't you?”
Eric nodded. So I'm still news . . .
Yes. People will be gossiping about you for some time . . .
“What a coincidence that you happened to be one of the mercenaries I hired. You know, I've been curious about your species ever since I was little. They say Threan humans are even more fragile than their Tariatlan counterparts.” Tahart chuckled, as if human fragility was a punchline in orc society. “I wrote a paper in college theorizing what your species could be like judging by your world's low mana level.” Tahart reached for the keyboard. “It should be here somewhere.”
Eric glowered. He was about to tell the orc exactly where he could shove that paper when Nolien clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Tip.”
If Eric made Tahart angry, all he would accomplish was a smaller tip and losing this job to another team the next time Tahart needed a trim. He waited in silence.
“Ahh, here it is! You don't mind if I ask a few questions, do you?” Eric knew a request when it was asked and a statement when it was spoken. “Well then, is it true that your bones and skin are so delicate that they break with the slightest touch?”
“There are humans like that . . . sir . . .but they are a minority.” Then, because he felt a surge of patriotism he added, “We have many full-contact sports.”
“Like what?”
“Rugby. I've heard it called 'recreational pain.'”
“And your blood; we believe it doesn't clot effectively.”
“There are humans like that, but again, they are a minority.”
On and on it went until he asked absurd questions such as whether they were still using stone tools or if they had discovered fire yet. It made Eric's blood boil and Dengel didn't like it either.
Who does this orc think he is?! As if orcs could ever be more advanced than humans, regardless of the world! In my day, those savages . . . He trailed off and sulked in the back of Eric's mind.
“That will be all; I don't need to ask this last one,” Tahart said. Eric really shouldn't have asked. He should have just let it go . . . but . . .curiosity was his best trait.
“Well there were these experiments done in the past about mana in relation to intelligence. Unethical . . . terribly unethical, but still groundbreaking. The researchers locked sapients in a biosphere devoid of mana and noticed a gradual decrease in skill and an increase in brutish behaviors. This was ultimately revealed as a mind-altering case of Mana Withdrawal but the question remained: In a world that received little mana since its start, would the sapients be any different from monsters?”
You're the monster! He blacked out.
“Thank you for your help, Otherworlder.” Tahart said.
What happened just now? It was just like when he was with Culmus in the Dragon's Lair; seconds gone from his memory.
It was the heat. You dozed off for a second because of it.
Tahart rang a bell and Annala appeared in the doorway. “You called, Master Tahart?” She curtsied again. At his beck and call with a bell?! The memory lapse faded from his memory as more hatred piled in his heart.
“Have you finished my lunch?”
“Yes, Master Tahart.”
“Good. Mr. Mercenary, I'll get your pay.” He grabbed a crystal from his desk and pressed a button. His chair rose off the ground and hovered to a room attached to his office. He returned with a large bag for Basilard and three smaller ones for the novices. “Remember, not a word.”
Tiza nodded rapidly and pocked her bag. Nolien thanked him graciously and put his away. Eric, for some reason or another, wasn't feeling as polite.
Annala stopped him on his way out. “Eric, please don't tell Revas and Oito about this. The outfit and everything . . . it's embarrassing. I'd never hear the end of it.”
“Then why'd you take it in the first place?”
“It's easy and the pay is good.” She clasped her hands and pouted. “Please, Eric?”
All the way down there was no end to the teasing: Tiza impersonated Annala's pout while Nolien gestured wrapping string on his finger. Basilard gave him girl advice. It was all lost on him. Making her dress like that . . . and calling him 'master,' and the curtseying . . .AHH!
You would not mind if she were doing those things for you. The image filled Eric's mind and he blushed to his toes. In my day, this behavior would be called 'jealousy.'
I'm NOT jealous!
In that case, you are a hypocrite.
Eric tried to come up with a retort, failed, and went back to brooding in silence. He was steadily beginning to dislike orcs. The first tried to kill me and mine. Laharg was never going to hurt them, he apologized, and it was only a test. The second also tried to kill me. There's something strange about a creature that disappears after it's defeated. And the third's a jerk with a maid fetish.
Before he knew it, his feet took him to the guild's entrance and the peculiar sight awaiting him there: The same pair that had eating contests in the mess hall and drinking contests in the tavern
was now having a chin-up contest on the door's balcony.
“What is it this time?” Basilard asked, faintly amused.
“Meg said she can do more chin ups than I can!”
“Well I can,” Meg said smugly. “Alf's a sore loser.” She increased her speed.
“No, you can't,” Alf said venomously and increased his speed beyond hers. Eric and Tiza chuckled. Nolien covered his mouth.
“Could one of you fall already? We need to get in.”
The boy and girl paused. As one and without a signal they did a chin-up, held their position, and raised their feet to their rears.
“Thanks.” Basilard walked under them. Eric and Tiza chuckled louder and Nolien shook his head with his hand tight over his mouth. Just before the door shut, the boy said one more thing.
“I bet I can hold this position longer than you can.”
Mia didn't have any more missions so Basilard led them to the training hall. They arrived in time to see Raki's latest defeated by Squad One Lieutenant Aegis. The dual wielder spewed so many foul oaths Tiza took out a notepad.
“There seem to be a lot of rivalries in the guild,” Eric though aloud.
“Absolutely!” Basilard said. “Leader Ridley encourages us to find strong rivals. They inspire us to push our limits. That's why she put Alf and Meg on the same team.”
“Do you have a rival?”
“Sure do!” Basilard said proudly. “Laharg is fun to spar with but I'll never catch up to him, being human and all. My real rival is Retina Corison.”
“Daylra's Dear?” Tiza asked him.
“Daylra's Dear?” Eric and Nolien asked her.
“Retina's married to Sathel, my apprentice mentor, so I call him 'Daylra's Dear'.”
“Yes, that's him.” Basilard said, nostalgic. “We were on the same team and we dueled every week.” He shook his head. “We haven't since he went on that mission with Sathel . . . Speaking of which, Eric, I've been meaning to teach you a certain spell.”
In the Training Hall, he told Eric it was a spell that no self-respecting Squad Three Regular would be without. This grabbed Eric's full attention: regulars got better missions, better pay, and learned higher magic. He could hardly contain his excitement.
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 32