Tribe Master 3: A Fantasy Harem Adventure

by Noah Layton

  ‘It needs disarming.’

  ‘Wait...’

  My imp went silent for a moment, then- ‘I can see something else... I’m not sure...’

  He trailed off.

  ‘Alorion?’ I called up. ‘... You there?’

  Silence.

  ‘What the hell happened to him?’

  I half-expected another joke from my wives, but their faces had fallen. They all knew Alorion at least a little, and he was always forthcoming and clear.

  ‘Alorion?’ I hurried to the tree and looked up among the branches. ‘Where are you, man?’

  CREEAAAKKK.

  The front door of the treehouse crept open. I jolted back and reached for my sword, not knowing whether to expect an explosion or an enemy.

  Instead, Alorion appeared.

  ‘What the fuck are you playing a-’

  Before I had a chance to finish my sentence he did something for the very first time; he gave me an order.

  Clasping one of his small green fingers to his lips, he hissed out a ‘sshhh!’ his eyes were wide with emphasis.

  He ushered me forward with a hand, nodding to the inside of the treehouse, then pointed to my feet.

  I frowned and he pointed more aggressively at my feet, then his.

  What the fuck are you saying? I mouthed.

  Alorion rolled his eyes and scampered down the steps towards me.

  ‘Take off your shoes and come with me. I have disarmed the bomb, but there is something moving beneath the floorboards of the treehouse.’

  I looked to the door, then over at the flag in the centre of the land.

  Whoever was down there was moving, but they hadn’t mustered the balls to come out here yet.

  They didn’t want to be found.

  Lara and Ariadne were my most formidable fighters - I brought them with me while Elera and Santana kept watch.

  Lara ditched her boots outside while Ariadne’s pawed feet remained bare as ever.

  Alorion led us up the steps and into Werger’s hideaway.

  The familiar smell of smoke and liquor drifted in the large room like a cloud of toxic dust. It was only broken by the thick scent of flowers and perfumes that had done a pretty bad job of making the place seem fancy.

  But that was the theme of the place - faux-high society trying to look fancy but coming across as nothing but tacky.

  Even though it possessed the same layout and size as my own home, it couldn’t have felt more different. In stark contrast to the simple contents of my own treehouse - the bed, the bathtub, the footlocker, and the shelf with the souvenirs of my conquests, Werger’s was an all-out demonstration of how rich can I possibly look?

  Two large chests flanked a bed pushed against the wall opposite the door. It was covered in meticulously patterned, gold-flecked threads that looked as if they had taken years to compose. I could only imagine the spoils inside, but they were just the tip of the iceberg; there was a chest of drawers, a large closet, and other objects and decorations scattered around them on the ground and on shelves; ornaments, statues, jewellery, and the occasional weapon.

  Most, if not all, of the profits that Werger had acquired from the work of the slaves had gone to himself. A true dictator in the making; invest in your people and let them grow or give them nothing and live a life of luxury.

  ‘Holy shit...’

  Alorion spun around and shushed me again. He pointed at his large eyes, then to a spot in the corner.

  There were various rugs covering the wooden panels on the ground, all bearing the same complex patterns that were upon the bedsheets.

  There was one that stood out of place, though; a thicker, more battered rug with edges that were frayed and peeled, the threads separating and splitting from overuse.

  When is a rug ever overused?

  When it’s lifted and replaced.

  I nodded to my wives. With scimitars and bow at the ready, Alorion took a step back while I made silently to the trapdoor.

  I mentally begged each of my footsteps not to make a sound against the floorboards beneath the rugs.

  Reaching the rug in question, I grabbed the edges and peeled it back, then set it aside.

  Alorion was right.

  The trapdoor wasn’t locked by anything, only to be opened by a single metal ring.

  I listened for a few long moments. There was nothing until-

  Bump.

  That was a footstep. There was no other explanation for it.

  I nodded to the girls again. They raised their weapons.

  I placed one hand on the ring and the other on the handle of my blade.

  Clunk.

  I wrenched the handle up.

  A second after it struck the wooden panels behind it, a huge arrow flew from the depths of the cellar and slammed into the wall, followed by two words uttered by a lone voice.

  ‘FUCK. OFF.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘I’m warning you! Get the fuck out of here!’

  The voice from within was gruff but high-pitched. I almost laughed at how ridiculous it sounded, and I might have if another arrow didn’t come flying out ten seconds after the first one.

  It slammed hard into the treehouse wall, its end shuddering and vibrating.

  ‘Time’s up,’ I called down. ‘I don’t know who you are, but I’m claiming this land. This would be better for everyone if you just gave yourself up quietly.’

  ‘Quietly? HA! You think I was born yesterday? The second I show my head you’ll cleave it off. I have enough bolts down here to last me until the end of time.’

  So this was a weapons store. God knew what else was down there - all I knew was that I wanted rid of this guy as fast as possible. I didn’t know whether that meant killing him or not, though I was starting to lean towards the former.

  But how the hell was I supposed to do that without getting an arrow between the eyes?

  ‘You’re right. Werger is dead, his men are dead, his wives have run off. You’re the only one left. Now get out here.’

  ‘Leave or I will blow this place to bits.’

  ‘Using what, exactly?’

  ‘All of the explosives that I have down here.’

  ‘And kill yourself in the process? I don’t think you’ve got the balls for it, whoever the fuck you are.’

  ‘I definitely do!’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this. Here are your options: come out quietly with your hands completely void of weapons, or set off one of these imaginary bombs of yours and blow yourself to pieces. Or you can take option number three: come out firing those arrows of yours and I’ll take your head off with one clean swipe, but I’d prefer not to have to clean your blood off the floorboards from this piece of property that I’ve recently acquired. So, what’s it gonna be?’

  Alorion pulled an impressed frown that said two words; not bad. I didn’t aim to please anybody, but I couldn’t help smiling. He always approved of me laying down the law as tribe master.

  But it still wasn’t going to cut it.

  ‘Then do it. I’d rather blow the wealth of this tribe to pieces than let it fall into the hands of an outsider who thinks he can pillage this place and take it over.’

  ‘I think you’d get along with this guy,’ I frowned at Alorion.

  ‘Doubtful,’ Alorion muttered dryly. ‘Wealth and power I condone, but not slaves.’

  I sighed and looked back at the girls.

  ‘We can take him,’ Ariadne whispered. ‘As long as we rush him, he won’t have time to blow himself up.’

  ‘But if he does he takes us all with him,’ I said. ‘It’s too much of a risk. Get back outside, just in case.’

  They girls did as I said, leaving me in the treehouse with Alorion.

  I scanned the room, searching for a solution. Lara wouldn’t be able to line up a clear shot without running the risk of being directly in his line of fire. We had been in worse situations, but this was like turning her into target practice.

  She was a fighter
, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  I couldn’t fire an Arcane Blast down there either - presuming he wasn’t bluffing about the bombs in his possession, a single spark from th purple flames it emanated could turn all of us and the land into a smouldering ruin. Telekinetic Blast could do the same thing if it struck something too hard, which, in a confined space, it most definitely would.

  CLUNK.

  Another arrow slammed into the wall. I kept a distance, glancing at the opening and then up to the wall where the arrows were striking.

  There had to be a way to get down there without getting caught by an arrow. I could wait until he ran out of arrows, but that could be the end of time for all I knew.

  Who knew that a lone wolf could be so much of a pain in the ass?

  I scoured the room, searching for something that I could use.

  Little did I realize that the answer resided in the arrows that had been fired at us.

  They had been appearing regularly, even during our talks.

  Every ten seconds.

  I looked closer at the arrows, wondering where this strange pattern had emerged from.

  But that was when I realized - these weren’t arrows.

  They were bolts.

  The guy down there had said it himself.

  He was firing at us with a crossbow, not a bow, which meant he had to spend time reloading, and if he was doing that he wasn’t prepping a bomb to go off.

  He was right at the bottom of the stairs; that was the only explanation seeing as he was firing these things at such an angle

  ‘What are you doing?’ Alorion said. ‘Please tell me you’re not backtracking, Jack.’

  I rushed to the door of the treehouse where my wives were grouped.

  ‘Keep your weapons at the ready,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ Lara asked slowly.

  ‘Because you might need to kill him yourselves if I don’t take him down.’

  ‘... what are you going to do?’

  ‘Rush him.’

  ‘He’ll kill you!’

  ‘No, he won’t. He needs to reload his crossbow. If I can get down there in ten seconds and find him, then I can take him out.’

  I didn’t want to start swinging, though. If I could keep this guy alive he could be valuable - he would fill me in on anything I didn’t know about the land, assuming his loyalty to his dead tribe master was just an act.

  I positioned myself to the left of the entrance to the cellar. Another bolt slammed into the wall to my right, and I began counting down from ten. The seconds dragged until the last three raced by.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  Twang.

  Right on time.

  With my sword in hand I leaped into the darkness.

  I landed halfway down the steps, slamming onto a wooden panel.

  Immediately I sprinted down into the basement.

  My sword drove forward for a fraction of a second the way Ariadne had taught me, but no sooner had I started did I find myself grinding to a halt.

  At the foot of the steps was a goblin. He stood no more than four feet tall, and the moment he looked up from reloading his squat, chunky crossbow his eyes went wide with terror.

  ‘Eerrrhhhh!’

  His scream was almost hilarious, but my heart was racing too fast to laugh.

  He attempted to raise the crossbow. It didn’t even have a bolt loaded, but for good measure I swept it out of his hands with my sword, dragged my blade swiftly to my side with one hand, and used my free hand to strike him straight in the chest.

  The goblin flailed back and landed on his ass, knocking the wind out of him.

  The cellar was large and shrouded in darkness. Outlines of chests and glimmering objects were sat back in the shadows, and as much as I wanted to delve into the contents, I was too busy grabbing the goblin by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back upstairs.

  I clambered into the treehouse with the goblin in tow, pulled him through the front door and onto the land, and finally threw my assailant down on the dirt ground.

  In seconds my wives were helping me to tie him up. An interrogation was a team effort after all.

  His ankles and wrists bound, I sat him up against the base of the tree and stood, examining him.

  The only goblin I had had a real conversation with during my time in Agraria was Cobb, the flogger of junk and wears at the northern trading post who had been eaten by the mother wolf, the first beast in this land that I had slain. Before he had been eaten, Cobb was a toughened boss with a huge scar running through one of his eyes, running his business with the help of cut-throat guards

  This guy, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more different. He was weak and his eyes were filled with a mix of fear and almost regret.

  He was wearing black pants, leather shoes, an overshirt and a waistcoat, as well as a pair of half-moon eyeglasses perched on his long, pointed nose. All were tattered and riddled with dust and dirt.

  ‘Well, that was fun,’ I panted, crossing my arms and looking down at him. ‘Start talking.’

  The goblin took a long pause, then-

  ‘What about?’

  ‘How about your name for a start?’

  ‘Morok.’

  ‘Morok wh-’

  ‘Morok Smandleboard.’

  ‘Right, uhh…’ I said, not expecting him to give up his name so fast considering the fight that he had put up. ‘Who are you? What the hell were you doing down there?’

  ‘Hiding. What else would I have been doing?’

  ‘I don’t know, robbing the place? There are a few items of value on this land.’

  ‘Ha! Dare to be a thief in this place? My master was not the forgiving kind.’

  ‘You can say that again…’

  I frowned in confusion. A second ago this goblin had been ready to go down with the ship, and now he was spilling the beans like there was no tomorrow.

  ‘If there really are traps down there to kill intruders then you must have had prior knowledge about them. And that means you’re a member of this tribe.’

  Morok gulped and coughed, glaring up at me with resentful but fearful eyes.

  ‘Yes, I am. And there are no traps down there. I was lying.’

  ‘Why would you be hiding in a basement beneath your master’s treehouse?’

  ‘I was hiding when you arrived upon this land and killed my master and his guards. Hiding is what I have been doing ever since. But before all of that, I would not call it hiding in the strictest sense. That basement is my home.’

  This was getting weirder and weirder.

  Finally I conceded to the bizarreness of the situation and lowered my sword, pushing the end into the ground and leaning against the handle.

  ‘Why in God’s name would you live underneath your master’s home?’

  ‘It was not my choice. He assigned the home to me.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll rephrase; why would Werger choose to have you live down there? He lies with his wives upstairs and he’s just totally comfortable with the idea that you’re down there listening to him… Go about his business?’

  ‘It was rather uncomfortable, I will admit, but the thought of his wealth gave him a lot more, err… Satisfaction, simply knowing that it was safe. I am his… Well, was his bookkeeper.’

  ‘Oh, gods…’ Ariadne said. ‘You mean to tell me that he was attracted to the thought of his wealth while fucking his wives? Now I see why you killed him, Jack…’

  ‘Is anybody else imagining a naked man lying facedown on a pile of gold, just… Jerking his hips every now and again?’ Lara said unashamedly.

  ‘I was thinking more of a tiny phallus and a ring,’ Elera said, forming a circle with her thumb and index finger and jamming her other index finger through the gap. Everyone looked over at her. ‘I’m sorry, have I said something?’

  ‘Probably the most accurate thing anyone could have said,’ Lara said wryly.

  ‘I’ve got an idea,’ Sa
ntana said. We pulled away from him for a moment and regrouped. ‘Let’s toy with him.’

  ‘Toy with him?’ I replied. ‘Like good-cop bad-cop?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘One of us pretends to be good, one pretends to be bad, and we bring him around to say anything he still might not be saying.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Santana had already proved her abilities as a negotiator when I had first made the deal with Cass to raid the house in Grayholde in exchange for a home at the tribe. She had grown up making deals at posts alongside Jeremiah’s side.

  Not that I exactly needed any help right now considering how easily Morok was willing to tell me everything, but it was useful having somebody by my side during an interrogation.

  I just didn’t realize that I would be playing the good-cop.

  ‘So what’s down there?’ I continued. ‘It has to be important to keep it that hidden?’

  Morok took a long, deep breath and looked between me and Santana. For the first time he was hesitating.

  Problem was, he had already shown himself to be terrified of us, and we had all picked up on it.

  ‘You know,’ Santana started, reaching over her shoulder and retrieving her weapon. ‘I’ve got a crossbow, too. I’ve been practicing since I was young. And…’ She raised the crossbow, loaded one of her iron bolts into it, and raised it in the goblin’s direction. ‘I am quite a good shot with it.’

  Her finger wrapped around the trigger. Morok squealed like a pig, and a second later the bolt released.

  It slammed into the base of the tree, just half a foot from Morok’s head.

  I didn’t know whether to be turned-on or terrified.

  ‘All right!’ The goblin screeched. ‘All right… Master Werger kept his mined ores stored down there…’

  Excitement grew within me at the prospect of recovering it all. Werger was a hoarder of resources, that much I knew, and the kinds of ores hidden in the basement could mean rapid expansion for my tribe.

  But there was one problem on my mind.

  I shot Santana and look and nodded.

  ‘There’s something else,’ I continued. ‘When I was here, when I killed your master and all of his guards, he mentioned that he was making a deal that would make his tribe even wealthier. What was that about? Who was he dealing with?’