“Smart guy,” I replied from my high perch. “Let’s go.”
“Are you... well... is she coming with us?” He gestured vaguely at Karalti, who chirped curiously and tilted her head to the side.
“What?” I chuckled. “Of course she’s coming with us.”
“Well, no offense intended, rytier, but the morgue is a grim place, and she is a child of her species, is she not?” Kirov cleared his throat awkwardly.
I blinked a couple of times. “She’s a dragon.”
“Yes, but, she is a sacred…”
“She rolls on and in dead things,” I replied. “And poop. Dog poop, cat poop, she doesn’t care. She rolls all over it.”
Karalti harrumphed. “I do, too! Cat poop is WAY better than dog poop.”
“Ah. Of course. I guess even a child of the gods is still a beast.” Looking a little green, Kirov joined Matthias in the carriage. “Well, Hector, please follow us through the city. We are going to the University District. The morgue is there.”
I nodded, and Matthias gave an order to the driver. The driver lifted a crystal wand, and energy arced between his spell glove and the wand as the carriage lurched to life and rumbled off down the road, clearing people in a wave ahead of it. It moved about as fast as Cutthroat’s canter, so I followed behind.
Taltos wasn’t that far from Ilia, but it couldn’t be more different. The earth and stone here were dark, and nearly all the Parisian-style buildings were built of the same gray-black limestone. The low, cloudy English skies had been replaced by clear and cloudless blue, like the kind in Arizona or Nevada, and the weather was warm and breezy. I’d been expecting the same cool-weather foliage here – oaks, pines, roses and grass – but the gardens here were dry and sandy, filled with desert flowers, succulents, jasmine, and agave.
The city was a maze of narrow cobblestone streets. It was dingy at first, but brightened up as we climbed the hill toward the city center. There, the cramped medieval streets opened up into bustling tree-lined boulevards with shops and cafes serving dinner, open-air bars and restaurants, flower carts and food stands. At the heart of the city was the Main “Square” - actually a round plaza with a grand statue-topped fountain and an enormous sun mosaic that started in the center and radiated out to touch the entryways of the main commercial buildings that surrounded the public space. A church with soaring amber steeples and no fewer than three working forges out front stood on one side. Across from it was a huge Art Nouveau-style market hall.
I’d always been a city boy, and found myself relaxing in the hustle and bustle of the people around us. Hookwings - lighter in coloring and smaller in build than their Ilian cousins - carried fashionable townsmen dressed in silk. Merchants wrangled the triceratopses that pulled their carts, while smaller, bird-like dinosaurs scurried around at knee-height. I spotted terrier-sized compsognathus with brightly colored feathers. The little dinos crooned in the laps of ladies playing cards at lattice metal tables, while less showy breeds of small insectivores ran alongside children playing soccer.
I listened to the Archemipedia entry on the city, which had unlocked now that we’d arrived:
Taltos
The capital city of Vlachia, the biggest country in Eastern Artana, Taltos was originally a dragon settlement built into the dormant caldera of Mount Racosul. It was settled by humans nearly a thousand years ago.
Taltos was formerly its own city-state in the midst of the Sathbari Empire. It was able to hold its own due to its intensely strategic position on the Racosul Plateau, its enduring construction, and the division of the city into eleven fortified Districts which restricted the movement of mounted Sathbari raiders. When the Sathbari Empire collapsed, Taltos remained, and it now serves as the political, economic, and spiritual heart of the East.
The ruling king of Vlachia is currently [NUMBERFETCH 12-091g-2-TypeNPC-Vl-Nbl]
The audio cut off at ‘currently’, and my heart thumped nervously on seeing the error code at the bottom of what looked to me like an unfinished entry. Archemi, despite its depth of world-building, had been a rush-job. Now and then, I was reminded of just how tenuous this new world of mine really was.
The districts the article mentioned were very clearly delineated by walls, checkpoints and portcullis gates that could come crashing down to seal occupants inside. Our destination, the University District, took up about ten blocks of hilly, narrow, paved streets near the center of the city, and it was crawling with security. It was easy to see why. A good number of clerics lived and worked here in the District’s churches, classrooms, and the seminary. The students and clergy who dared to come outside watched us anxiously as we passed.
The morgue was attached to a small blocky building that looked newer than the rest of the stately, castlelike campus of Loroda University. Eight guards with torches stood around the entry. Six of them were normal city guards dressed in iron chainmail, like ancient Turkish warriors. The other two wore the same fancy black and red lamellar armor as Kirov. They also had lines of runic tattoos down their cheeks, distinguishing them as members of his chivalric order: The Knights of the Red Star.
“Ur Kirov!” The man who stepped forward might have been Kirov’s brother. Same haircut, same mustache, but where Kirov was big and bull-like, this man was thin and gangly, the kind of man you expected to find in a Thieves’ Guildhall. He had stringy hair, slightly bulging eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a long, thin-bridged nose. The pair of men clasped arms and then embraced like brothers. “Welcome home, brother. And you, honored sage.”
“Thank you, Ur Pavel,” Matthias replied heavily. “I wish it was for a better reason than this.”
“If you’re here, does that mean His Majesty is visiting this place of death?” Kirov asked, aghast.
“He is. And far too excited about it, I might add.” Pavel made a sound of disgust at the back of his throat. “The King should not be mucking around in blood and guts, but he was determined to accompany that Dakhari he hired to help us. Pah. Who is your guest? And... by the gods, is that-?!”
“Yes, that’s a dragon. Her name is Karalti, and she’s not a goddess, no matter what she tries to tell you.” I rested a hand on Karalti’s head and smiled wryly. The dragon trilled, and Pavel’s eyes bulged harder. “I’m Hector. Dragozin Hector.”
“Khors heard our prayers, and has sent us a Starborn and a true dragon to help us,” Matthias added piously.
The presence of a dragon seemed to lift five years of fatigue from Pavel’s face. “Well, you can’t do worse than the Dakhari. Three men murdered and not a single clue as to how or why.”
“There is only so much one person can do.” Kirov waved his concern away, then clapped his hands together. “Come, Hector. We shall get you masks with sweet herbs, and then we shall go and view this horror.”
We all got cloth masks, except for Karalti, and trooped our way down into the bowels of the place, descending into a series of cold cellars. Talismans and prayers written on ribbons hung inside the doors to ward away the spirits of the dead, who lay out on slabs under sheets. The staff here wore long plague-doctor style masks and heavy leather robes with thick stitching.
“Smells weird,” Karalti remarked, pausing to sniff at some condensation on the floor. “I wanna roll in it.”
“Come on. We’re about to meet a King,” I chided. “We can’t have you smelling like roadkill.”
The room where the Volod had taken up residence was fairly obvious: it was the one with the two huge knights guarding it. They were clad in forbidding black platemail and helmets decorated with backswept dragon wings. My HUD identified them as [Royal Guards: Order of the Dragon]. They stood with their sword points resting on the ground, hands wrapped around the hilts, only moving as we approached. There was an argument going on beyond the doorway - a man’s voice with a sharp, biting sarcastic note, and a woman’s terse replies.
“Ur Kirov and His Grace, Father Petko Matthias have bought His Majesty a most esteemed pair of guests,” Pavel flourished
with his hands back toward us. “The Solonkratsu Queen, Karalti, and her protector, Dragozin Hector. I vouch for them.”
“I vouch for them,” Matthias echoed, stepping forward.
“As you say, Your Grace. Adventurer, you must leave your weapons with us.” The Royal Guard held out his gauntleted hand in expectation.
I didn’t argue – I just handed them over. My spear, dagger, a ratty crossbow, and a shortsword I’d picked up as an emergency weapon all vanished into the Royal Guard’s Inventory. He seemed to sense when I had no more weapons, because he nodded and waved us through.
“Let me lead the way,” Matthias said to us softly. “His Majesty has a cutting intellect, but he has reservations about strangers.”
Resigned, I nodded, and let him take point.
We entered into the cold room beyond in a single file. It was brightly lit, with five or six lamps illuminating the mutilated body of a muscular, light-haired man on the slab. Another Royal Guard stood watch in the corner of the room, keeping an eye on the animated conversation between the man I assumed was His Majesty Andrik Corvinus the Third and ‘the Dakhari’. Whatever I might have noticed about Andrik vanished into a film of white noise as my world focused on the woman.
She was tall and athletic, with dark, coppery skin that gleamed gold under the torchlight. She was stripped down to bloodied gloves, buckskin leggings that hugged every curve, and a faded rose halter top that was snug enough to be practical, but low-cut enough to be intensely distracting. Her short, flyaway hair burned with all the colors of fire. She knew I was looking at her, because she stared back at me with defiant golden eyes, as fierce and beautiful as an eagle’s. She radiated confidence, competence, and power… power that made her seem more royal than the man who strode toward us from the other side of the slab. Not only that, but she was Starborn. She had a blue player halo like mine.
“Aha! If it isn’t the Devil of Yorca, and he has brought me Petko Matthias! And just in time, too!” The Volod’s sharp voice cut through my trance. I swallowed and tore my gaze away, fixing a polite grimace to my face and turning to face him.
“Your Highness, we have brought you a most worthy candidate to assist in the hunt for the Slayer of Taltos,” Kirov said, bowing and gesturing across to me. “May I introduce you to Dragozin Hector of Tungaant: Starborn warrior of the Nine, chosen emissary of Matir, and the holy guardian of the Queen Dragon Karalti, first of her clan.”
Andrik Corvinus was younger than expected: a sharp-eyed, roguish, handsome man with elegantly styled, short black hair that gleamed with health and eerie white-gray eyes. The King was dressed entirely in black and red. He wore a black Byzantine tunic with crimson trim, a pectoral collar of glistening rubies, and rings that flashed with dark jewels. He pulled a scarf down from over his nose as Kirov talked, revealing a sly, thin-lipped mouth. When Kirov said the d-word, the King’s eyes widened. Then he looked down and behind me, and his eyes widened more.
“Magnificent,” he whispered, stepping away from the body. “How marvelous. A dragon, here, in my capital!”
Karalti, nearly invisible in the dark and half-hidden by my leg, bobbed her head and trilled a small, friendly chirp.
Andrik looked me up and down, hands on hips, then nodded. “Who would have thought that Khors would answer our prayers so directly. And where are you from? The Western Continent, if I’m not mistaken?”
“You’re not, Your Majesty,” I replied. “I’m from Tungaant.”
Andrik smiled a wry, challenging little smile. “That goes without saying. It seems the Nine like to choose their champions from among your people. Well, honored guardian, I wish the circumstances were better. Were it not for these infernal murders, the nation of Vlachia would be offering you and your dragon a far more gracious welcome.”
“No worries, Your Majesty.” I shifted from foot to foot. All the olde-world formality was getting uncomfortable.
“And you, Father. You’re looking well,” Andrik opened his hands to Father Matthias as the priest bowed. “I am heartbroken to be here, and to be witness to the loss of Brother Orban and all the others.”
“As am I. It is good to see you again, Your Majesty,” Matthias said carefully. He bent a knee and leaned in toward Andrik’s hand, but the Volod pulled it away before he could get his face near it.
“Please, do not follow the usual routine of kissing my ring today. We’ve been poking around down here in this cadaver for half an hour already, and I have unknown vileness under my nails,” Andrik grinned, a little awkwardly.
Matthias bowed from the neck, getting back to his feet.
“We thought that Dragozin Hector would be of great benefit to the investigation, Your Majesty,” Kirov said, laying a friendly hand on my shoulder. “I have offered him provisional sanctuary, dependent on your approval, of course…”
“Sanctuary?” The Volod regarded us curiously. “What for?”
I steeled myself, drawing in a deep breath, and held my hand out for Karalti to approach. I heard her claws clicking on the damp stone, and she brushed her head up from under my palm. “The dragons of Ilia are laboring under slavery. My dragon’s mother entrusted me with her egg, and asked me to flee with her and see her somewhere where she could be free. The Mata Argis of Ilia have been pursuing us ever since, and thus, we share this moment.”
“Unsurprising. Backwards country… it only recently went through a bloody revolution that replaced the king with some soldier rabble and their pet merchants.” The Volod nodded sharply, then looked back down to the body. “Yes… I think a man of your ability would benefit this investigation. But I will make the same offer to you that I have to this lovely woman: I am offering a reward of ten thousand olbia and a royal favor to whomever brings me the Slayer’s head. However, before I am willing to sign the bounty contract, I must have compelling evidence of the Slayer’s purpose. In the interim, I will compensate by extending full hospitality to the hunters seeking to bring this madman to bay… and hospitality includes provisional sanctuary for you and your dragon.”
The red-haired woman was looking less impressed by the minute.
I nodded at the Volod’s words, and my HUD flashed a quest update alert:
Quest Update: The Slayer of Taltos
Priests of Khors, the draconic god of Fire and Craftsmanship, are being murdered in the Vlachian capital of Taltos. After accepting the invitation of Sir Kirov and Father Petko Matthias, you have met the Volod (King) of Vlachia, Andrik Corvinus, who has offered you provisional sanctuary on the understanding that you will investigate the Slayer and return to him with a report on the Slayer’s motives.
Reward: 10,000 gold Olbia, Royal favor, EXP (Progressive), +500 Fame in Vlachia, Faction relations go from Neutral to Good.
Special: While you are undertaking this quest, you have Hospitality in the nation of Vlachia. The capacity of foreign actors to pursue and attack you is greatly reduced. You are able to undertake quests and side quests in Vlachia without attracting attention.
Special: Failure Conditions – Fail to bring evidence to Volod Andrik Corvinus at the Vulkan Keep within 3 days.
There was an option to accept the conditions of the quest. I confirmed it with an affirmative thought, and the title blinked green before vanishing.
“Excellent. I shall give you my mark, so that the guards of the city know you are in my employ.” The Volod stared at me for a moment, and then the mark added to my HUD as a new status – it looked like a stylized raven wearing a crown with five points. Karalti got the same mark.
Once that was done, Andrik inclined his head to us with a stiff little smile, then turned his piercing gaze to Father Matthias. “Now, Father, if you would come to examine the body-”
“There’s no point in examining the body more than we already have,” the woman interjected. Her voice was exactly what I’d imagined it: a smooth contralto, dark as burned honey. She had a thick accent that I couldn’t immediately place. “Which is what I was getting to, when we were distu
rbed. Any evidence there might have been was obliterated when the city guard trampled all over the scene of the murder.”
Her blunt words effectively shut down the niceties, to my relief. Andrik scowled, turning back to her. “What were we supposed to do then, Suri? Leave him there in the commons for all and sundry to gawk at?”
Suri. I repeated the name inside my head as her player name tag appeared. I had mixed feelings when I saw it. On the one hand, I’d been hungering for contact with people who could give me insight into what was happening in the outside world. On the other, the worst experiences I’d had in this game had been with other players.
“Have the Captain of the Guard put up curtains around the body and call your investigator.” Scowling, Suri motioned to Orban’s corpse. “When your guardsmen picked him up and carried him out, they destroyed all the forensic evidence that might have helped us nail the murderer. Fingerprints, bootprints, all of it. So with all due respect, Your Majesty, next time this happens, you need to order them to preserve the scene, then call me in before anyone touches it. You wanted to know why we weren’t getting anywhere? That’s why.”
Forensics? I blinked. Jeez. She sounds like a cop.
The Volod scowled back at her. “How are fingerprints supposed to help with anything?”
“Every person’s fingerprints are unique.” I dared to step up beside her at the slab, Karalti trailing behind, and looked over the corpse. “And if the murderer forgot to wear gloves, you can find their prints and match them to suspects.”
Suri’s head snapped around as I approached, flashing me the kind of look I was used to getting from Cutthroat. “Exactly.”
Faced by two Starborn saying the same thing, the Volod’s hostility turned to visible curiosity. He rubbed his thumb across his jaw.
“It still can’t hurt for me to examine him,” Matthias said gently. “And in any case, I must give him his funeral rites before he is burned.”
Trial by Fire: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (Archemi Online Chronicles Book 2) Page 6