Skull and Thrones: A LitRPG/GameLit Adventure

by Eric Ugland

  “I get it,” I interrupted to say. “Friends and family moving in.”

  “For the most part. Leaving one open right now for Godfrey’s brother, provided Picus smiles on you.”

  “Who?”

  “The god of luck?”

  “Right.”

  He shook his head slightly, but he didn’t press me further or make fun of me for not knowing the pantheon.

  “And one more for whoever we can find to be security,” he said. “Like Lothar.”

  “What about the Minotaur?”

  “I asked him that, but he said it’d be too far from you.” That came with quite the smirk.

  “I have a feeling I’m going to need to rethink the third floor here,” I said, trying not to be sullen about losing my training floor.

  “We all make sacrifices, maybe you can tone it down to a single apartment.”

  “And maybe we can store Nadya’s mimic in your place.”

  “There’s a mimic upstairs?” He asked, his face draining of color.

  “Yup. But I’m sure we can find a different place for it to live.”

  “You do realize that’s a man-eating monster, right?”

  “Sure, but it’s a man-eating monster who can’t work doors.”

  “Yet.”

  I tried to shrug that off. I didn’t want to think about the possibility the mimic might actually smarten up to the point where it could get out of the apartment on its own.

  “Speaking of Minotaurs who love me,” I said, “where is ol’ Mornax?”

  “Last I checked, the roof. Helping put Nadya's vague plan of “monster lab” into something closer to reality."

  "Why the roof though?"

  "They're knocking a hole in the wall to make a door. That way she can have secret nighttime visits with you." He waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, and I just frowned.

  '"Reminds me," I asked, “do you know any good tailors?"

  He smiled, and told me a few people to check out. I probably should’ve gone straight to one of them, but I was dying to see how my tjene was faring as a construction crew. So I went back up to my apartment, and then continued up the final staircase until I came out on the roof. The garden had been disturbed a little, and was clearly in need of some work. It was still gorgeous, but with a wild streak that wasn't exactly in line with the chill atmosphere I liked it to have.

  Construction had begun, mostly in the form of a ragged hole in the side of the building.

  "First time y'all done this?” I shouted to Mornax, Klara, and Nox. They were all just staring at the hole.

  Six eyes looked back at me with a mixture of concern and humor.

  "Yes," Nox said. "I did visit the Imperial Library, and there was a pamphlet on civil codes for construction. I thought that might be adequate to parse out how we might make a door here."

  "But?"

  "It was not."

  I walked through the rooftop garden and stepped into the empty apartment. There had also been quite a bit of demo work inside — it was down to the metaphorical studs. As in, the lathe and plaster had been torn off, and I could see the beams and masonry behind the walls. Even the floors were gone. It offered a good look at all the plumbing for the place, which hadn't yet been touched. It looked nearly modern. It wasn't lead piping, that much I could tell. It looked like a lighter grey metal, but nothing I could outright identify.

  "Who did the interior work?" I asked.

  "Mornax and some of the local kobolds," Nox replied. "They say they are yours."

  "I mean, not exactly the term I'd use, but yeah, they live here too."

  "What would you have us do, Mast- uh, Clyde Hatchett?"

  "Just Clyde. Or Hatchett. Whatever. One of you needs to go downstairs, talk to Titus and get one of his carpenter friends over here to hang a door."

  "Hang a door?"

  "Trust me, say that. And fix the wall."

  "The other of us?"

  "One of you gets to stand guard at building three, which is that one," I pointed to the new building, "and one of you gets to come with me and go shopping."

  "Stand guard," Mornax said quickly, and was already stomping down the stairs before anyone could say anything about it.

  "I have some shopping needs," Nox started to say.

  "You got us in this mess," Klara said firmly. "You get to deal with the carpenter. I'll go carry his bags."

  I shook my head. The dynamic between these three was unique, and I wasn't quite sure how it worked. Yet.

  "I, uh," Nox said.

  "Hey man," I interrupted him to say, "she makes a good point. You started this, better finish it."

  While there may have been a bit of hesitation when she asked him to do something, my word was final. Nox nodded ever so slightly, and then delicately walked down the stairs.

  "Shopping," Klara said. "Are we getting weapons?"

  "We're getting a bunch of stuff," I said, "starting with a fancy outfit for tonight."

  She frowned. "Wish I'd been fast enough to say guard."

  Chapter Fifty

  Klara brightened up ever so slightly when she found out she wasn’t the one getting a fancy outfit. She was almost happy when she realized she got to watch me try things on and have tailors yell at me for the short turnaround time. Basically, I could get something mostly off the rack with some slight alterations.

  The guy we wound up going with, Garneesh Ruberchon, was the least cruel about my timeline, and he had some astonishing abilities that made him a most exquisite tailor. He could flick thread into the air and have it slip through the eye of the needle. Super neat trick. He could stitch at near lightening speed. Definitely someone who was very high-level. Or highly skilled. I wasn't sure which.

  One platinum later, and I had a contemporary suit to wear to a ball. It was dark, with a tight jacket and slim cut pants. I was going to need to find a new sheath and belt to hold my daggers because there simply wasn't enough room around my waist. Klara carried the suit, glaring at anyone who got too close to either me or it. It made walking through the crowded streets around the Grand Bazaar much easier. I almost thought about going into the Bazaar itself to see if she'd be able to cut a swath through that horde.

  I considered going to a blacksmith to look at weapons and other sundry items of that nature, but it just seemed faster to go to Gideon's because he carried such a wide range of stuff. I could probably get everything I needed in a single stop. I'd probably wind up with stranger things than had I gone to a blacksmith. But I could deal with strange — I couldn't deal with late. And we were already on the verge of being late, if we didn't get this next stop done quickly.

  So that meant going to Gideon's.

  "We're going to a slightly strange shop next," I warned as we walked.

  “Strange how?"

  "Uh, it's, I mean, I find it weird. Maybe you won't. Also, I think you need to wait outside until I make sure you're okay with him."

  "Okay, that is weird."

  "And that's really all I can say about the place."

  "Also weird."

  "He's got most anything though, so we can basically knock out everything else on our list."

  "Where is this list of 'ours?’”

  I pointed to my head and smiled.

  She just frowned. "Be easier if you write it out next time."

  "Maybe I will."

  Klara didn't say anything, but I had the feeling she wanted to. She seemed like the type to want to have the last word in every conversation. Which I could understood, since it was something I liked as well. It was a dominance thing.

  "I get why Mornax is the body," I said, "and obviously Nox as the mind. But, no offense, how do you fit in?"

  She looked over at me, and shrugged. "No clue. That was drivel Troels spouted off. Pretty sure you have to make your own meaning out for it. Just glad you picked me."

  "What do you mean picked you?"

  “There were others waiting in case you didn't think the three of us were worth the d
ebt."

  "You mean I could have had more of you guys?"

  "I guess, yeah. Or switch us out."

  "And you're happy about the situation?"

  "Much better than going back to Carchedon."

  "Is this a suitable conversation to have out of doors?"

  She looked around the pedestrians surrounding us, the sparse horse and wagon traffic trundling down the road.

  "Look around you Hatchett," she said, "no one cares about you here. Or me. We can talk about whatever we'd like—“

  "I know it might seem like that, but I can assure that it is not the case. I know for a fact that we are being followed right now. I live my life under surveillance."

  "And why is that?" Klara asked. "Why would you be surveilled?"

  "There's some, well, asshats who've got it out for me, and we're becoming something of rivals. And by rivals, I think they'd prefer they stopped me from existing."

  "And you think they are watching you?"

  “No, I know they are. They're out there waiting for the right time to pounce."

  "Ah," she said, and she looked around, scanning the crowds. "To me, that means you need to have one of us around you at all times."

  "I'm not sure that's the case.”

  "With no disrespect meant, I disagree."

  "You can disagree, that's fine. Useful, in fact. I want to hear what you guys think because there's really no chance I know more than the three of you about this world we're living in."

  "That is an odd way of phrasing whatever it is you are trying to say."

  "Something which needs to probably happen later and not now."

  "What the hells are you talking about?"

  "Just can it for now."

  "Can what?"

  "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

  "I'd rather not."

  "Uh, okay."

  "What is it you want to know?"

  "What's your Choice?"

  "Valkyrie."

  "Warrior."

  "That I am."

  "What got you, uh, here?"

  "I chose poorly."

  "You thought it'd be the chalice of kings, eh?"

  "What?"

  "Never mind. What was your poor choice?"

  "I believed a man who said we could make it through the Great Erg."

  "And?"

  "We did not."

  “But you're still alive.”

  "Forty-eight of us went out, three returned. Note that I say returned and not succeeded. The death payments to those who did not survive bankrupted us. And this was the manner in which I chose to repay those debts."

  "You get paid for this?"

  "I got paid. Now, whether or not I draw another paycheck depends on you."

  "That seems messed up."

  "It is but the way."

  I shook my head. Debt slavery. Of a sort. I guess it'd be more accurate to say that she traded all of her potential paychecks for one up-front paycheck, so maybe it wasn't exactly slavery. She was, however, stuck with me. And the other two. And there was no guarantee we'd get along at all. It could be bad. I mean, already she seemed a bit on the gruff and rough side. But, to be fair, I really hadn't spent much time with her.

  "Level?" I asked.

  "Thirty-one," she replied. "You could look at my sheet if you like."

  "I know, I just haven't had the time—“

  "I see."

  "It's not that."

  "I said nothing."

  "Yeah. You didn't need to."

  She arched an eyebrow at me.

  Gideon's place wasn't busy. It was never busy. But I did have to wait for someone else to vacate the store, and so that was interesting. I guess, in that regard it was busy. Klara waited outside while I went to chat with Gideon.

  I double-checked the interior to make sure I was the only customer, and then I approached the counter and set my account coin down. Gideon checked the coin, then we did the hold hands things. Warm tingling feelings, and I took the coin back.

  "Evergreen," Gideon said. "We welcome you."

  "And a hello to you," I replied. “And, uh, yours, I guess."

  I got a slight nod.

  "How are we to help you on this day?"

  "Before we get to that," I said, "there is someone with me. And it's not really a normal, uh, situation because they are part of my group--"

  "A party?"

  "No, I think like that, but--"

  "Guild?"

  "Not that either. Except yes, but no. More--"

  "A hirð, then."

  "You know, I can just tell you."

  "Not a hirð?"

  “The Carchedonian version."

  "Tjene.”

  "So you know of it."

  "We have seen them before, yes."

  "Can she come in with me?"

  "Yes," Gideon said. "Members of your Tjene will be considered as extensions of you."

  "Good, I guess?"

  He smiled at me.

  I stepped to the window and motioned for Klara to come inside. She came in, did the introductions with Gideon, totally perfunctory, and then stood back against the wall.

  "You have things to sell?" Gideon asked.

  "Not much," I replied. "More things to buy."

  "Ah, finally using your credit?"

  "Some of it. I need to outfit her," I pointed over my shoulder at Klara, "and a minotaur and another human. Gotta get things for them to have an apartment."

  Gideon nodded his head, thinking. Figures scurried out from behind him, running through the goods of the shop, gathering things up and setting them out on the counter. While they did that, in the open space between Gideon and me, I set out the weird, big books I'd taken from Pomeroy's place, as well as the dagger I'd snatched off Insidious.

  "I need that identified, please," I said.

  Gideon nodded, and spread his hands out.

  The hooded figures had a wide variety of things spread out across the counter. There were bags and pouches, swords and axes, armor of varying thickness and piles of clothes, blankets and pillows.

  I pointed. "Pick what you want, and then make educated guesses about the other two."

  "What's the budget?" she asked.

  "He'll tell you when you've spent too much," I replied, nodding at Gideon with my head.

  His brow was furrowed, and I could feel the flow of magic from his hands over the dagger and the books. It was surprising — I hadn't felt anything like this before.

  After a moment or two, he shook his head.

  "We are unable to identify this dagger," he said, pointing at the offending item like it was something nasty he'd just scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

  "So you haven't seen something like it before?" I asked.

  A wry smile. "A possibility. We will not be purchasing it as this time. If you are able to identify it, we will likely be interested in purchasing it."

  I shrugged, and put the dagger back in my bag, idly wondering what kind of weapon would be unidentifiable to someone like Gideon. I took a peek at the books.

  "What about the books?" I asked.

  "They are grimoires," Gideon replied. "Rather rare, indeed."

  "Enlighten an ignoramus," I said. “What's a grimoire?"

  He cocked his head to the side, I think an expression of surprise, and then reached his inhuman fingers out to glide them across the creepy leather covers.

  "A grimoire is a book of magic. It is a collection of spells written by a wizard, or mancer as they are called here. But unlike a spell book, it holds multiple spells and provides the instructions on how to cast and optimize certain magics. This one, on the top, is the grimoire of Ultius the Blind."

  "Do you know what spells it contains?"

  "I know rumors of what spells it may contain. You may open and read it if you wish — it is your book, and there is no inherent danger of unleashing or mistakenly learning magic. Unlike with a spell book."

  I flipped the cover open, and riffed through the pages.
Yellowed pages covered in a difficult to read chicken scrawl.

  "Is this an original?" I asked.

  "No," Gideon replied with just enough of a smile to let me know I was daft for even considering such a thing. "A replication." He turned to the very first page, and pointed down at the bottom where there was a name and a date.

  "Oh," I said. "How much will you give me for these?"

  "Fifty gold," he said instantly.

  A good amount of coin. But this was a way to get my study of magic on, and there was also a lot of value in that. I didn't exactly have time to read, let alone practice magic, but that wasn't necessarily going to be the case forever. It might be nice to have a book I could read every once in a while. My bathroom was devoid of reading material, and I hated to admit that that was one place I truly missed having an iPhone at my disposal. Especially considering how much meat I was eating.

  “I’m keeping them for now," I said.

  Gideon nodded, then turned his attention to Klara.

  I grabbed the grimoires and put one of them in my bag. The other, I thought I'd go through. Just give a quick read while Klara picked out linens or some such. But there was one problem I hadn't anticipated, the book wasn't in a language I could read. And clearly my handy-dandy language skill didn't proc when presented with reading. I needed someone to speak it. I wondered if I could just read the words out lout without understanding, and then somehow I’d magically start understanding. But how would I know if I was pronouncing them right? Did someone need to pronounce the words correctly for the boon to activate? Up until now I’d been annoyed at having these creepy books, but now I was feeling good. This would prove interesting.

  "We are done," Klara said.

  I looked up from the book to see the shop had returned to normal, and there was actually a customer inside. It looked like some moderately lost civilian, out on a shopping expedition checking out the weirder shops in the Grand Bazaar.

  Klara had a large sack slung over her shoulder, and smaller ones in each hand. I thought about offering her room in my Bag of Stasis, but she didn’t look like she was struggling. The bags were heavy enough they made the muscles in her arms bulge, and I felt scrawny in comparison. Not that I needed to compare her to myself, it just sort of happened, and off we walked, because this is just going bad places. All I'm saying is that she had huge arms and she gained a certain form of beauty when she was using her muscles.