The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel

by Charles Dean

  “You mean that those red drinks you’re making with the herbs will heal you?” the Fire-Walker’s voice had gone from booming and angry to curious and hesitant.

  “Yeah, if I drink enough of them. I’m not good at this mix,” Locke said honestly. “I usually sell other types. No one buys this kind often.”

  “So you really are a merchant?”

  Locke couldn’t make out the expression on the Fire-Walker’s face, but the inflection in his voice conveyed a noticeable amount of surprise. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I wasn’t sent here to kill you--just to talk!” Locke finished another potion and gulped it down. Thank heavens I had enough of the flowers to keep making these. I’d be up the creek without a paddle otherwise. I will never leave home without a full inventory of daisies. He made himself a solemn promise and found himself laughing at the thought. It wasn’t a particularly funny idea or anything, but he was just so relieved to be alive he couldn’t help but laugh a bit. With only 3% of his health left, he had taken just enough damage to not die, but still barely be alive. Any more, and he’d be nothing more than a pile of ashes to be blown across the ground, incinerated by this aggressor.

  “And those things, can you make a lot of them?” the Fire-Walker continued his interrogation.

  “If I have enough material? Sure. They’re real gems, these.” Locke knew that he was bragging with his would-be murderer, but a bit of boasting now wouldn’t make much of a difference. “But the green ones, the poison ones, those sell like hotcakes.”

  “Hot cakes?” the Fire-Walker asked.

  Oh yeah, he’s an NPC. He wouldn’t know modern idioms. “Uhh . . . It’s an expression. It means that they sell out almost instantly when I put them on the market. People want way more of them than I have.”

  The Fire-Walker poked at the poison cloud before quickly withdrawing his hand like a kid who had touched a stove. “I can see why. This is incredibly useful. Now I see why Eliza sent you.”

  “Probably not. She seems to think that they are useless,” Locke chuckled. “She likely sent me because the guards at gates are blocking entry to any Demons.”

  “Curses!” the Fire-Walker boomed. “So that’s why she was late.”

  “How did you not know that?” Locke looked confused. “You live here, and your sources were so thorough that you knew that I had been spotted entering the city after arriving with a Demon. How did you not know that Demons couldn’t enter the city?”

  “Because it was probably decided between the Naga and the White-Wings without our consent. They don’t tell us lowly Fire-Walkers every decision they make in regards to the city anymore . . . not since the Sun God-loving White-Wings started wresting more authority from our people.”

  “Your people? So, what was so important you needed to meet with Eliza? She didn’t give me any details. She just sent me here and told me to look for you,” Locke said, never letting the conversation slow him down as he toiled away to make more and more red potions.

  “You came in here like a lamb to the slaughter without even a single clue? You’re either a very stupid or very desperate boy.”

  “It’d be the latter,” Locke answered with a shrug. I didn’t want to die, and that makes a man pretty desperate, right?

  “Well, I have bad news for her kind. The White-Wings have already reached a decision regarding the Holy Alliance: They intend to join. In exchange for the Holy Alliance having a few key members join the Church of the Sun God following the Demons’ destruction, they will put all the resources of Sine Nomine behind their cause.

  “But this city isn’t just the White-Wings, is it? What about the Naga, the Fire-Walkers and the other races?” Locke was starting to understand why he was here. He said the White-Wings made a decision, not the Fire-Walkers. Not the Naga. So, there is still hope, right?

  “That’s the tricky part,” he continued. “We Fire-Walkers would ally ourselves with the Holy Alliance, too, if it weren’t for the fact that the White-Wings have already made a deal with them. We need to seize power in this city before word finally reaches the shores of our homeland, and they find out what we’ve done in that holy land. There will be a civil war of epic proportions when they discover that the holy city was purged while their army was away, sent out by the White-Wing hierarchy, and all their boats were sunk before word could escape.”

  “Wait . . . you staged a coup in the homeland . . . and they don’t know about it?” Locke was stunned as he started putting the pieces together. “So you’re looking for outside help to solidify your power here . . . before they find out what happened. . . and you think that if the Holy Alliance deal goes through smoothly, everyone will be on their side once the news finally does arrive. Pure desperation. That’s why you’re reaching out to the Demons . . . so that they’ll fix your problems for you.”

  “You aren’t as foolish as I thought, boy,” he said, nodding as he spoke. “Eliza was supposed to bring help and assist us in assassinating the White-Wing leadership. Without their higher ups, their power structure will crumble, and the deal with the Holy Alliance will fall through. The Naga will naturally side with the stronger party, and if everything goes according to plan, that will be us. Naturally, we expect that the White-Horns, Black-Wings and Humans will follow suit like they always do.”

  “And, in exchange, this town will join the Demon Host against the Holy Alliance?” Locke couldn’t help but grin. He was only making potions, building up wealth and trying to regain his power, but with this development, and with Eliza’s help, he finally had a real way to deal a serious blow to Anthony. He had never really thought about it before, but Sine Nomine was key in the war between the Holy Alliance and the Demons. It wasn’t just the city’s positioning or its usefulness as a major port, but it also meant that three entirely different races were about to be drawn into the war.

  “That was the deal we were supposed to strike today, but if the Demons can’t get into the city, if I can’t get assurances from the Demon emissary, Eliza, herself, we may have to go a different route.”

  “No,” Locke protested immediately. “No, you don’t have to do that. You help me find a way to the White-Wing leadership, and I’ll do everything that I can to make sure that we both reach our goals.”

  The Fire-Walker didn’t respond at all to this though. He just stared at Locke for a while, his beady eyes redder than Eliza’s as fire seemed to seep from the sockets. The gas had been slowly dissipating over the course of the conversation, but it wasn’t completely gone yet. Finally, just when Locke was beginning to question whether or not he was going to have to jump up and defend himself again, the Fire-Walker took a step back and threw a fireball at the walls on each side of Locke. The flames ignited the remaining vapor, but the explosion only created a small pop accompanied by a strong gust of wind this time instead of its earlier, more powerful, kickback.

  Once the hallway was clear, the Fire-Walker took several strides toward Locke, causing Locke to sweat as he scrambled to his feet. Locke was about to run for it, still worried the man meant to murder him for possibly knowing too much, when the Fire-Walker extended a hand. “I’m Red Dragon.”

  Red Dragon. Go figure. You did try to butcher me. “I’m Shy. It’s nice to meet you.” Locke took his hand with trepidation, still a little concerned after what happened the last time that the man might light him on fire again. The burn on his arm was mostly healed, but not all the way, and it was a throbbing reminder of what had happened. “Is . . . Is that name given to you because of the . . .?” He had to ask, pointing at the tattoo-like red lines that etched across him.

  “You could say that, but you could also say the markings were given to me because of the name. Either is correct.” Red Dragon reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a series of papers. “These are maps of the city. They have all the hidden entrances that we use marked clearly for you. If anyone discovers you have these, I don’t know you. If you get caught using our tunnels by any suspicious people, I do
n’t know you.”

  “So” --Locke stored the maps in his inventory-- “you want me to meet back up with you after the job is done or after I get Eliza into the town?”

  “I think it's safe to assume that both of those things will happen at the same time. When I saw Eliza fight, I knew that she would have been sufficient to get the job done; but even then, the fight would probably be about fifty-fifty. And you are definitely no Eliza,” he said, belittling Locke’s combat ability.

  If Eliza wouldn’t be able to do it easily, we won’t have any hope of accomplishing the mission even with the Blue Phoenix Brigade, Locke grumbled. We need to get out of town and find Eliza.

  “If we get this done, who is to say you won’t still betray us and join the Holy Alliance on your own terms?” Locke asked, realizing that he had already been betrayed once today. What was to stop it from happening again?

  “I swear, by the fires of the Sun God, that I will not go back on my word. Kill their leaders, and you’ll have earned yourself an ally in the war,” he promised.

  “And the Naga won’t get upset at the coup?”

  “The Naga only use this city to keep a port open with us land dwellers. They wouldn’t care if the Jotunn’s came in and butchered both of our factions so long as the city remained and trade still flowed,” Red Dragon assured Locke. “I’ve dealt with them a long time, and I can say with confidence that they will always ally themselves with whomever the strongest faction is at the time. Get moving, Shy. Time is not the friend of either of us, for it’s only a matter of time until that deal is sealed.”

  “Got it.” Locke took a deep breath and headed up the stairs. He quickly noticed that the Fire-Walker wasn’t following along behind him, which caused some issue as the stairwell was not lit on its own. He almost tripped twice as he climbed the stairs, only to discover the wall had closed back up, and he didn’t know how to open it. After finally feeling around blindly in the dark after what felt like at least five minutes of searching, he found a stone that easily slid in and opened the wall back up when he touched it.

  Thank you, big man upstairs. He felt a surge of relief as he stepped back into the tavern. He could have been stuck in the dark tunnels much, much longer and was grateful that he had been able to find his way out at all.

  He returned to the main room to find that Reginald and the two Succubi were back, having returned while Locke was fighting for his life in the tunnels below. How long was I down there? Seeing that none of them had a drink yet, he made his way over to the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everyone before returning to the table, getting a tray so he could carry them over.

  “Wow, Shy, way to carry those drinks. It’s almost like you’re a . . . master . . . at it,” Tubal said and snickered at Sampson while Locke set the tray full of beers down on the table in the empty spot where the meat buns had been.

  “Shy, did you slay the beast, or was it a losing battle?” Sparky asked him. “There is no honor lost in a fight well fought.”

  Her male avatar was still confusing him, and he was trying his best to picture her as a girl since both Sampson and Reginald had told him that she was, but the serious, armored, masculine face looked like it belonged to the hero of a war movie and not any girl he had ever known.

  Wait, how does she know about the fight? Locke looked down and noticed that his clothes were still in tatters from the skirmish with Red Dragon. “Huh? What?”

  “We saw you head into the bathroom almost twenty minutes ago, and you emerge looking like that,” Tubal clarified. “We can only assume that whatever you ate would put a hundred-pepper-stuffed bowl of chili to shame. Sparky here is just wondering, after such an epic struggle, whether you won or loss.”

  “Considering how many of those meat buns Sparky ate too, I’m just wondering how long it will be before she explodes,” Sampson said.

  “Can food actually do damage to you inside a game? You may want to take a few health potions with you just in case,” Bianca suggested.

  While the rest of the group was just having fun teasing Locke, Reginald was the only one who actually found it laugh-out-loud funny, almost dying of a laughing fit and killing the joke in the process.

  “Easy there, buddy.” Katherine glared at Reginald and shook her head at his behavior.

  “Well, everyone is here. Wanna finish the beers and get moving or drink them while we’re walking?” Tubal asked the group.

  So, it is a bit of a democracy, Locke noted. He was happy to see that, while Tubal clearly called the shots when they were out in the field, they seemed to be a group that operated under the need for majority consent and waited for everyone before doing anything. This is actually a pretty good group of guys . . . Now, if only they didn’t hire themselves out to the enemy.

  “I’m good walking and drinking,” Katherine said, “but do we know where we’re even going?”

  “Hmm . . . We could go back to the swamp. Hoping, of course, that the crazy homicidal maniac isn’t still there,” Bianca suggested.

  “Or . . .” Locke looked at them, immediately seeing a way for him to help them while helping himself. “We could do a dungeon? You know, the one that gives you the eye-color changing reward?”

  “Do you not like your green eyes? I think they’re pretty cool.” Katherine, who was sitting right next to him, leaned in until she was uncomfortably close to his face. “They make you look so much more handsome.”

  “Katherine, stop teasing the noob,” Tubal admonished. “Is it a tradable reward?”

  Locke looked at the gold in his inventory. “Ummm . . .” He wanted to say yes, that he already had a client and that she had already paid them for the job. As much as he loved his money, he could afford losing his haul from one day’s worth of work and pay them gold straight out of his pocket if it meant giving Eliza a way into town to kill the White-Wing leaders. But he wasn’t sure whether or not it would work. He didn’t even know how they would react once they saw Eliza again, and he could be risking a hefty sum of gold on what might end up being a terrible gamble. The swamp was really foggy, and the fight was incredibly short for them. Would they even recognize her? Will she freak out and kill them again?

  “‘Umm?’ Do you not know? We can just check the forums if you want,” Sampson offered.

  “Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Someone has to know. Can even dig up some notes on the best places to find it exactly.”

  Persephone knows, he thought, but he couldn’t think of a way to contact her without tipping her off to his continued existence and earning the wrath of an angry GM and a vindictive guild leader. Unless she’s still in the market, and we can ‘accidentally’ bump into her, pretend like we just noticed it and were interested? No, that would never work. She’d still recognize my face like Sol and Sal seemed to. Stupid Ash. How the heck am I supposed to . . . “You know what? Yeah. Go check the best locations and find out if it’s tradable.”

  “You got it.” Sampson’s avatar vanished.

  “She’s really mastered that,” Sparky said quietly to Tubal, but still loud enough for the rest of the table to hear.

  “You mean at using the forums?” Reginald remained oblivious to the inside joke. “That doesn’t seem hard at all.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘he’?” Bianca asked.

  “Nah, Sampson told us that our dear friend, little Reggie-reg, already let loose the secret of our real-life identities, gender included, to our newest member.”

  I still haven’t joined! Locke wanted to protest, but given the spiteful glares Bianca, Katherine, Tubal and Sparky were giving Reginald, he didn’t get the impression that this was the best time to correct them on anything.

  “It was an accident,” Reginald lied. He had clearly told him on purpose. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just that after seeing you all in real life, it’s hard to separate you all from the avatars.” His ability to make an excuse so quickly was somewhat noteworthy, but Locke saw holes in it almost immediately.

  “
Is that the case?” Bianca stared even harder at Reginald. “Then I suppose that, right now, you are imagining what my real-life-fist might do to you if I find out you’ve doxed us in any way again.”

  “Doxed? No way. I just let slip the genders. I didn’t say anything else! Promise!” Reginald was trying to stem the flow of anger working its way towards him but was failing miserably.

  “That’s exactly what doxing is! It’s when you give away real life information about a person over the Internet. I mean, we know you didn’t give away our phone numbers, did you? Did you give away our mothers’ maiden names and street addresses as well?” Tubal countered and went on the offensive all at once. Locke was pretty sure from the fact that only his lips were frowning and his eyes were smiling that he was actually enjoying this quite a bit.

  “He has no honor. We should purge him from our ranks. I say we exterminate him with a vengeance and rip the weed out of the garden before it has time to grow.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Reginald stayed backed in the verbal corner, his goatish Satyr face growing even paler by the minute. “I promise it was an accident.”

  “She’s dead serious. You should have seen what she did to our neighbor growing up.” Tubal’s ability to hold a straight face deserved a video game achievement as he delivered the threat. “To say he didn’t walk for a week, well, that wouldn’t be fair. After all, can you really call the way he moved when he was finally able to stand on two feet again walking?”