by Neven Iliev
“S-shut up!” Xera blurted, slightly flustered. “Keep those disturbing thoughts to yourself, you fucking asshole!”
“Thanks for the compliment, sugar-tits! Hahahaha!”
“We’re leaving now,” said Boxxy, putting an end to their little exchange. “There are things I need to get.”
Even if they had leftover troll blood, that one ritual was all the Mimic was really equipped to do. They’d have to find components – and sacrifices – to enact some of the other ones. Of particular interest was a ceremony that was meant to call forth ‘Unholy Wealth,’ whatever that was. The knowledge about this shiny-sounding thing had flowed into Boxxy’s mind when its Demonology rose in Levels, so it was still parsing the relevant information. The Mimic would need quite a few things to pull that one off, not to mention it lacked knowledge about the Warlock Job in general.
The time for playing around in the wilderness was over. The need to take up residence inside a city was now top priority.
Chapter Three
Gainful Employment
Part One
The city of Erosa, which was part of the Lodrak Empire, stood on the banks of a river known as the Whispering Canal. Named after its calm waters and predictable currents, this body of water flowed in from the Sawblade Mountains to the north and kept going in a relatively straight line until it flowed out into the ocean. Its sprawling delta, some five kilometres south of the city, had formed the massive Whispering Marshes that spanned an area of roughly five hundred square kilometres.
To the West of Erosa lay the Troll Woods, named for the dominant species of monster that lived in those parts. The depths of this sprawling forest were wild and largely untamed, but it was still a valuable source of high-quality timber and magical ingredients. The numerous small villages that dotted its outskirts dedicated their time to lumbering, gathering, farming, and tending to the fertile soil. However, they had to constantly be on guard against monster attacks and bandit raids, which is why most of them had small, localized militias.
The city itself was in the southwestern corner of the Empire. Going beyond the Whispering Marshes or through the Troll Woods to the west would lead one to the shores of the Shimmering Ocean, at the edge of the continent. The relatively nearby Sawblade Mountains ran northwest by southeast through the middle of the Empire’s territory, all the way to the western edge of the mainland.
With the mountains to the north and northeast and the Shimmering ocean to the south and west, this province was known as Cradle Valley. The only easily accessible land route in and out of this territory was to the east of the city of Erosa along the Imperial highway. This wide cobblestone road continued north out of the city and ran between the Whispering Canal to the east and Troll Woods to the west. Following this road north for about a week would lead travellers to the city of Monotal.
This Cradle Valley was one of the weakest and poorest areas of the Empire. Being mostly isolated from the heartland meant that traders, merchants, and travellers barely went through these parts. Although the city of Erosa was actually flourishing, this was mostly due to its geographical position near the entrance to the Valley. This was a far cry from the rest of the province, which was sparsely populated with only two cities, six towns and thirty-odd villages. The total population of the region was a mere 55,000, just barely more than the Imperial capital of Oshinas.
Or at least that was what it should have been about two weeks ago. The Calamity of Monotal that killed over eight thousand of the empire’s citizens was one thing, but the aftershocks of the event were still underway. Rumours spread of a foul green mist that spread outwards from the former city – a thick miasma that poisoned the very ground and air. The subsequent investigation by the emperor’s Spymaster had revealed the depth and breadth of this Calamity to the crown and the young emperor had passed a decree that the government would spearhead an effort to contain and repair the damage to the land.
The Empire’s response to this catastrophe would have been far slower if it wasn’t for Bernard Samson, the Hero of the Hammer and Teresa’s Chosen. Having lost his life in the Calamity, he revived at the Temple of Teresa in the capital the very same day, allowing him to relay the dire news of this disaster before the proverbial dust had settled. The investigation in question was also expedited thanks to the half-lion, half-eagle creatures known as griffins. Riding the house-sized winged beasts allowed the Spymaster’s team to pass over the inhospitable and treacherous Sawblade Mountains. Not having to go around them or risk scaling them the hard way allowed the dispatched officials to arrive at their destination in a manner of days rather than weeks.
Unfortunately, the actual relief effort would have to take the long way around. Although mighty, swift, and of noble bearing, griffins were high-maintenance and relatively few in number. Using them to properly address the situation was not economically feasible due to the sheer amount of manpower and materials that needed to be transported. Just organizing the relief effort and compiling the necessary resources would take weeks, possibly even months. There was no guarantee the Empire would be able to salvage the area, nor was there any way to tell how long it would take, even if they could.
In other words, the crown was unable to properly reassure the populace, causing unrest and fear to spread like wildfire throughout Cradle Valley.
“What if the wind spread that poisonous miasma around!” said some.
“What if some strange new illness appeared because of this?” questioned others.
“That place is cursed! The undead will rise in great numbers and spread throughout the land!” was a popular, but misinformed opinion.
As a result, over five thousand people had already migrated out of the province. The region’s total population of 55,000 had already fallen to just under 42,000 and was expected to get much lower. It was already at a stage where the lords and nobles had serious doubts the region would ever truly recover.
There were, however, those who profited immensely from this – namely adventurers in the 40 to 60 Level range. The city of Erosa that normally held about ten thousand residents at any given time had suddenly found itself bloated with hundreds upon hundreds of adventurers who came to profit off the event. After all, it wasn’t just the people that were looking to abandon this valley. All manner of monsters and wild animals had also begun pushing south and east, away from the Calamity’s epicentre. Bandits were also becoming an increasingly bigger problem, as hapless villagers who were either unable or unwilling to hire protection made for easy targets.
Under such circumstances, it was really no surprise that adventurers found themselves privy to an unnaturally large volume of Quests involving monster subjugation or working as armed escorts. And of course, overseeing all of this were all the various guilds that each individual belonged to. These privately owned organizations had the task of making sure all of their client’s requests were met in a timely manner and at competitive prices, while also keeping their members supplied with both equipment and information. They all stood to make solid profits with so much work going around, but the one that made the most money off other people’s suffering was, as usual, the Mercenary Guild.
Their office was a wooden two-story building on a busy road near the northern gate of Erosa. This organization had the rather unorthodox policy of running a bar and restaurant at all of its offices and often doubled as an inn. While other guilds also offered goods and services to their members, they focused on seemingly less frivolous things, like selling potions, crafting materials, weapons, armour, and reference materials.
However, this guild knew its members well. The stereotypical mercenary was a drifter, someone constantly on the road and with no roots of their own. Having a safe place where they could enjoy a warm meal, a cold drink, and a clean, soft bed was more than enough. And while they could get those things elsewhere, it was often accompanied by distrusting looks or busybodies poking their noses where they didn’t belong. Such things didn’t happen at the Mercenary Guild. The
rooms they offered all had state-of-the-art locks and anti-eavesdropping wards, but most important of all, nobody asked any personal questions unless absolutely necessary.
This ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ attitude was also why the restaurant on the ground floor was so quiet right now, despite there being over thirty people in it. While some of them were exchanging information and a few others were recruiting temporary teammates, the vast majority of them ate their breakfast and minded their own goddamned business. The most that could be heard was a soft murmur and the clanking of spoons and forks.
*Creak*
The wooden front door swung open slowly and an enormous figure, well over two metres tall, walked into the building. He wore a heavy black cloak that obscured most of his body and his face and hair were wrapped up in a dark blue cloth to make a makeshift mask that left only the area around his eyes exposed. What little could be seen of the skin on his face was pale and his irises were a piercing yellow colour that seemed to notice every little detail around him. The feet that poked out under the hem of his cloak wore a pair of sturdy-looking brown leather boots that were a size or two larger than your typical adventurer, much like the rest of him.
Just looking at his tall figure and wide shoulders made it obvious his body was well built. It was a physique well-suited to close combat Jobs that relied on muscle power and stamina, such as a Warrior, Berserker or Paladin. Well, his presence in this guild made it clear that last one wasn’t the case. Paladins were way too self-righteous to be caught dead in a place like this, and they knew nothing about subtlety – a far cry from this stranger.
He moved along the wooden floorboards without making any of the heavy footsteps one would expect from a man of his stature. He also carried himself with a sort of grace that made it clear he wasn’t just some brawler. Indeed, his odd demeanour had allowed the more observant mercenaries gathered here to deduce he was of an agility-based Job, like a Ranger or Rogue, perhaps even one of His Majesty’s Spies. The fact he was doing it seemingly unconsciously was a telltale sign that his Job Level was beyond 25, meaning he wasn’t a rookie, either. It was also possible he had broken past Level 50, which would put him on equal footing with the other veteran mercenaries around.
The people in the guild all stared at the newcomer as he walked across the restaurant towards the bar at the far end of the hall.
“What, it’s just him again?” said one of them dismissively under his breath.
The elf that had spoken up stopped gawking and resumed minding his own goddamned business. His breakfast, which consisted of a cup of tea, two grilled sausages, and a bowl of suspiciously chunky gruel, was far more important than some foreboding dark figure. Most of the others had much the same reaction and went about their morning routine. People like this stranger were surprisingly common among mercenaries, after all. Granted, the guy’s size made him stand out more than usual, but this was hardly his first visit to this place. A few of the more observant regulars noticed he always seemed to come in during breakfast or dinner, yet never actually ordered any food. They could hardly blame him though, as the cheap meals on offer could hardly be called tasty.
The wrinkled old dwarf attending the bar wore a long-sleeved off-white tunic and slightly baggy dark grey pants, ending in a pair of town shoes that were beige in colour. He had a thick brown beard with streaks of silver in it and his head was almost completely bald. The barman/receptionist put away the glass he was pretending to clean and turned his attention to the newcomer.
“Ah, welcome back, Mister Morningwood,” he said in a strictly professional manner. Several people who overheard him giggled or snorted as they failed to suppress their laughter, but he ignored them. “I take it your Quest is complete?”
The tall figure opposite him nodded once as it sat down on one of the bar stools, though he still loomed over the standing dwarf. The bartender ducked under the counter momentarily and came back up holding an aquamarine-coloured crystal ball, about the size of a child’s head. It was set into a circular wooden base like a plaque or pedestal, though its function was to keep the thing from rolling around the place rather than show it off. He placed it on the counter, right in front of the other, much taller gentleman.
“Please go ahead,” said the dwarf.
Mister Morningwood nodded again and stretched out a hand from under his cloak. It was fittingly large and bandaged in such a way as to cover his palm and the back of his hand, leaving his thick pale fingers free to move about as they pleased. He placed his palm on top of the crystal like he was trying to grip it.
“Confirm Quest,” he chanted with a deep, clear voice and the ball flashed a few times in response.
[Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Slay 10 Murk Dwellers.]
Both men at the bar saw the same notification in their heads.
“Confirm Quest,” repeated the man without taking his hand off the crystal.
[Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Slay 5 Ogres.]
“Confirm Quest.”
[Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Deliver the Steel Ingots.]
“Confirm Quest.”
[Boxxy T. Morningwood has completed a Quest: Night Watch.]
“Very good, Mister Morningwood, I believe that’s everything,” said the aged dwarf behind the bar. “I will prepare your compensation immediately,” he added, then disappeared into a back room.
The receptionist would probably be a little while, so Boxxy decided to make use of its time and walked over to the Quest Board. It was a large wooden notice board that took up most of the wall to the right of the bar and had a large number of parchments stuck to it. Boxxy gave it a once-over, looking for any suitable work an enterprising young mimic could do in a day or two.
One would think this act would be an impossible thing for an illiterate monster like itself, but that wasn’t really the case. It wasn’t all that uncommon to find adventurers who could not read, especially among the type of ruffians and thugs that frequented the Mercenary Guild. Which was why the notices posted on its Quest Board were made with such individuals in mind.
Quest postings always bore a small stamp that denoted the type of objective. Monster subjugations and hunts were marked by a pair of red crossed swords, escorts were a blue shield, collection and gathering tasks had a green basket, and so on and so forth. The difficulty of each Quest was marked with an equally easy to understand star rating, and every mercenary worth their salt knew at least how to read numbers and do basic arithmetic. Otherwise they ran the risk of being scammed whenever money changed hands around them.
Unfortunately for Boxxy, it failed to spot anything tasty-looking. Killing other monsters, standing guard at the city gate or ferrying goods were the types of Quests it preferred since they were simple, straightforward, and required minimal conversation. However, none of those types of commissions were available. Most of the notices left on the board were related to escorting people, collecting ingredients, or other odd jobs.
Being an escort was out of the question. Boxxy had a tough enough time acting human without having to also babysit a number of them over a period of several days. It was more than that though. The thought of escorting people and protecting them was, simply put, ridiculous. That was literally like asking a starving wolf to shepherd a group of lambs.
Odd jobs were also out. Those also appeared to involve a level of personal interaction that the Mimic was not willing to undertake. Moreover, the ratio of time taken to gold earned was bad. In the end, the monster-cum-mercenary reached out and grabbed a parchment detailing a collection Quest. Boxxy peeled the notice off the board with little resistance and placed it on the bar counter.
The receptionist returned a minute later with eight small pouches in his hands.
“Here are your deposits,” he said, setting four of them side-by-side, “and these four are your rewards. Would you like to confirm the amount?”
Boxxy nodded and reached out to feel the weight on each of them. The unm
istakable clack of gold they made when shaken was like music to its fake ears. The monster-in-disguise used its magical perception to peek inside the pouches and make extra sure that the agreed upon amount was all there. The Mimic nodded its dummy head at the old dwarf and put away seven of the pouches under its heavy cloak. The last one, however, it placed on top of the parchment it took from the Quest Board earlier.
“Ah, another one?” exclaimed the bartender. He picked up the pouch and looked over the notice, then nodded. “As you wish, Mister Morningwood.”
He set the parchment back down on the bar and placed the crystal ball from before on top like it was a glorified paperweight. This was a magic tool known as a Quest Logger, which could be used to relay the contents of the parchments directly into the customer’s mind, regardless of their ability to read letters or words. The whole process of picking out and undertaking a new Quest was so streamlined and simplistic that even literate mercenaries sometimes skipped reading long-winded requests for themselves and brought them straight to the counter.
Boxxy wasn’t among their number though, so it honestly had no idea what this gathering request was actually about. Eager to find out, it placed a hand on top of the Quest Logger once again. The crystal ball glowed slightly and fed a stream of information into the Mimic’s mind.
Collect 120 KG of Bouncewood Bark
Description: Deliver 120 kilograms of Bouncewood Bark to the Mercenary Guild in the city of Erosa. Bouncewood trees may be found in the Troll Woods west of Erosa and are easily recognizable due to their smooth and black surface.
Difficulty: ★★
Time Limit: 4 days
Deposit: 100GP
Reward: 100GP
Progress: 0/120
Well, it certainly seemed simple enough. The pay wasn’t all that great and there was no killing involved, but at least it didn’t involve any human interaction. The four-day time limit was extremely generous, and the task itself would be quite easy if the difficulty rating was any indication. Two stars meant that an individual’s primary Job had to be Level 25 to safely complete a Quest. Three stars would raise that bar to Level 50, and four to Level 75. One star, on the other hand, would mean any civilian could perform the task and was only used for mundane chores like cleaning or cooking.