by P A Wikoff
“My well is solely for refilling a potion bottle or vial. This isn’t your mother’s teat where you can just take a drink whenever you’re thirsty.”
I opened my hands, putting back what remained in my grasp.
“Don’t put it back. Now it’s double tainted with all your baby drool. You better pay me extra too. Mum’s the word, and all that.”
Rolling my eyes, I held up one more copper piece.
“That puny donation will stop me from alerting the authorities, but it won’t stop me from telling my friends and family, thus utterly ruining your reputation.”
Little did he know, my reputation was already tarnished. Even still, I didn’t want to risk it getting any worse. I can’t believe I’m getting blackmailed for something so simple.
Reaching back, I pulled out two more coins, and when he held out his hand, I tossed all three of them over his head.
His eyes were fixated on the coins as they took flight.
This was my opportunity. When he fell to his knees and scrambled to collect them, I took one more handful of mana water out of the well, without him noticing.
Before I could swallow, he stood up, brushing his long, straggly hair out of his face.
“This will buy my silence and discretion only while I’m sober.” He raised his eyebrows in an encouraging way.
Holding the liquid in my mouth, not daring to speak, I forked over my final coin.
“I will never speak of it except weekends and holidays.” He rubbed his fingers together, encouraging more.
Only I was tapped out. I stuck out my bottom lip and shook my head.
“Well, pleasure doing business with you. Let’s hope this tale won’t haunt you later on in life. On a totally different, unrelated matter…speaking of holidays, my birthday is coming up.”
I turned around and swallowed before spitting out the mana water that was stored in my cheeks.
“Your birthday isn’t a proper holiday,” I protested, while looking at my arm. My mana wasn’t full, but I now had enough to cast my portal spell.
“Maybe if I wasn’t so broke, I could…” the well man started to say.
I was going to debate the semantics and fine details of the discretion I had bought from him, but instead I reached across the table and grabbed him by the tunic with both hands. “Look, if I ever catch wind of you mentioning my name, drunk or otherwise, even if a mind reader heard you thinking about me in passing, I am going to come straight back here and get a full refund on our deal with my fists. And if that’s not enough, I’m going to fill up my own well with your blood and sell it to vampires for a reasonable profit. You get me?”
His body was shaking, and the terror in his eyes told me he believed my every word.
“Yes, Yes. Mum’s all words until the end of time,” the well man stammered.
I noticed that there were more than a few eyes upon me now. Maybe causing a scene wasn’t the best way to keep a low profile.
“I am going to go now, and you’re going to forget this ever happened.”
The well man nodded profusely as I released him.
I noticed a couple people tracking me, by their rubbernecking. Quickly, but also trying not to seem rushed, I made my way towards the closest exit—a hallway located in the back of the room. Glancing over my shoulder, three people from the maker’s market were now tailing me.
Three turned into four, then into five. This was not good. I had to lose them somehow.
The hallway opened into a food court, or open dining area. This place was almost as packed as the first room.
I thought about making a portal, but there wasn’t enough time. I crouched down low, trying to make myself as small as possible, then I bore through the crowd—pushing and shoving my way around.
My plan was to draw them into traffic, but instead, I took a sharp right turn and dove behind the statue of a man holding a turkey by its neck in one hand and a cleaver in the other. Hopefully my little move threw them off.
I decided to use my mana to summon a potion instead of a portal, but before I cast the spell, I noticed a familiar face next to me also hiding from something.
“Hello, Asber.” My words sounded more like a long sigh than a greeting.
“Could it be…another satisfied customer?”
“What? No, I’m Seph…you were in my room when I…”
“Oh, no. It’s you again. Lucky me,” Asber said, with a sigh of his own.
At least I knew the feeling was mutual.
“And to be clear, I was being sarcastic. I am, most assuredly, not lucky for meeting you…not in the slightest,” Asber said while pointing.
The infinite pocket merchant started to get up to find a new hiding place when I extended a calming hand on his shoulder. “Hold on.”
“Unhand me, heathen, or I will scream like a virgin banshee. Don’t you think I won’t.”
“Hey, I just wanted to apologize. I know now that you weren’t stealing from me. I was acting like a real twet, and it was all just a misunderstanding.”
“Okay. So, let’s hear it.”
“No, that was it,” I said.
“That was no apology. You have to say the words to mean it. And really mean those words to feel it. And feel the intensity in the words to show it. And show the words to make…me…siiiing.”
I suddenly didn’t want to apologize anymore. “Never mind.”
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Say the words.”
“Still no.”
“Mean the words.”
“A thousand times no.”
“Then I will siiing the…”
“I am sorry, but I’m not going to apologize.”
“I heard it, and it counts.” Asber took a squat down next to me.
“You’re not making it easy for people to be nice to you.”
“I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me. Especially that good for nothing Randal who, for some reason, doesn’t like my return policy of ‘no.’ I’m really doing great on my own.”
“Are you, now? Because you’re hiding behind a statue from…Randal, is it?” I said, pointing out the obvious.
“Aren’t you hiding from something as well?”
Asber had a point, I was no better than him in this situation.
“And who do we have here?” Asber reached for Moogi who snapped at his finger. “You better muzzle that thing before I report you to the hunter’s guild.”
Asber was even more clueless than I was.
“I want to make things right with you…for karma, or goodwill, or whatever. So, do you need anything? A portal to the Proving Grounds, maybe?”
“Brother, I am far beyond advancing levels. I only care about one thing—cold hard coins. You got ‘em, then give ‘em.”
“I’m fresh out of coins…but how about an endless treasure hoard?”
“Oh, please. Don’t make me laugh. Here I thought you were serious.”
“I want to bury the hatchet. In all seriousness, would a big pile of gear be sufficient to mend our relationship?”
“Wait, do you actually have a hatchet? I could use one of those.”
“Look, Asber, some stuff is going down. I’m here to put together a party in order to raid Ambrose The Wooden Knight.”
Moogi made two fists in excitement.
“Yeah, okay. But what about this hatchet?”
“You have to think bigger than that. Listen to me. I danced with him a bit, and I think I know his pattern.”
“No, no, no, no. No can do, partner. I’m not going to die with you. I’ve got too much of a good thing going on here, as you can see.” Asber opened his large blue coat to show off a bunch of belts hanging on the inside of it.
I couldn’t help but let out a fair amount of laughter. “No, not you, real fighting types.”
“Don’t be rude.”
“What I need is you, and your pocket, to help me pick up all the player gear that is littered all over that r
oom if we win.”
I caught a glare from Moogi.
“When we win!” I amped up my attitude.
“Hmm, that is something more aligned with my skillset, yes. What’s in it for you, Buster Brown?”
“Half.”
“Half the loot?”
“No. You can take whatever you can carry. I want you to pay me half the experience points, once you sell it.”
“You don’t want to be paid in coins?”
“Nope. In fact, as a bonus, you can keep all the coins you happen to find.”
“What if you don’t kill this thing, and I never get paid? What, then?” Asber chewed on his lip, still pondering my quest.
Did he not get this was a leap-of-faith sort of deal—all or nothing, that kind of thing? I guess he wants some sort of contingency plan to justify us ending whatever beef we have going on.
“I’ll give you…a hatchet?”
“I need one of those. How did you know?” Asber said quite excitedly.
I wasn’t sure if he was being serious or seriously that forgetful. Either way, it was an alliance of mutual convenience. I glanced over to Moogi, and we shared a look that told me the quest parameters were set.
I extended my arm.
Asber grabbed my hand happily.
“Moogi. (Asber has accepted your friend request.)”
“No, Moogi…the quest. I thought you had set up the quest.” Moogi looked like it had seen a ghost. There was definitely a miscommunication in our glance.
“Moogi, undo. How do we undo this?” I asked in moogi speak so that Asber wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum, or worse.
“Moogi? (Kill him?)”
“Moogi, I would love to, but I can’t do that. Murder is not an acceptable solution at this time.”
Moogi was pacing back and forth, trying to come up with something fast.
“Moogi? (Frame him for murder?)”
“Okay, Moogi, how about we just take murder of any kind off the table…for now.”
“What are you doing with your mouth there? Are those even words?” Asber asked, still gripping on to my hand tightly.
“Hey, Moogi, just set up the quest, and we can deal with this travesty later.”
“Moogi. (Asber has accepted your quest: Stash it for a hatchet.)
“Stop being such a tuna head,” Asber said, pulling me in close for a hug.
Oh no, now we’re hugging? I really didn’t want Asber, of all people, to be able to mind-link with me. What’s done is done, unfortunately.
“That’s enough. There, there. We’re good,” I said, trying to break away from the embrace.
“Okay! That felt good, didn’t it? Like you were one of those teeny tiny hotdogs, and I was a big, strong crescent roll,” Asber said, giving me my space back.
It was nothing like that, but I didn’t have it in me anymore to argue with the man.
“I will let you know when it’s time,” I said, peeking out of our hiding place.
Not wanting to get noticed, I slipped on the demonic owl mask Olivie made me. Instantly I felt different.
“Oh brother, that’s not a good look for anyone,” Asber pointed out.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, darting away from the statue.
“When do I get my hatchet, though?” Asber’s cry trailed off behind me.
I whizzed through the food area, down the hall, and back into the crafter’s market.
With the mask on, the vendors were no longer trying to draw me over to their tables, which I liked. The downside was that I also got bad scowls and mock-puking faces from people as they noticed me. Checking my stats, I had two Charm dots crossed out on my arm tattoo. This mask was something else, all right.
Once I reached the main hall, I followed the outer wall, weaving in and out of the slower people like an old pro.
There didn’t seem to be anyone following me anymore. It seemed that the mask did more than just mess up my stats; it changed my name tag to Daemon. Unbeknownst to me, I had bought a disguise. Suddenly the cost for the piece started to feel underrated for the benefit I was receiving. I wanted to link with Olivie and thank her again for her craft, but I didn’t want to bug her. Plus, I had something more important to attend to—slaying a forest boss.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rock Band
I n the eastern wing on the ground floor of the mansion, I discovered an adventurer’s hall. There were only a dozen or so people lounging around when I entered the area, none of which looked like they had any adventurous spirit left in them. I saw slouched shoulders, bored expressions, and one guy was spitting in the air and catching it back in his mouth. It felt more like a detention center.
“Hello, is this where I recruit a raid party…for raiding? What I’m trying to say is, I am looking to start a group,” I said, my voice muffled behind my disguise.
“It is, but just to warn you, there are not a lot of people interested in going out for adventure these days,” a fighter-looking type said. “Me included.”
“I wasn’t asking you to join me,” I protested. Why do people keep assuming I’m recruiting them?
“It doesn’t matter if you were or weren’t. It will never happen.” The fighter sized me up and down real fast.
I looked at Moogi who briefly turned on name tags, showing me that the fighter’s name was Po.
“Some of us are here strictly for the refreshments,” someone said with a mouth full of–I’m guessing—refreshments.
“Just sign the thingy and be quiet about it,” said one obviously hungover spellcaster type who was squinting and covering her ears.
I didn’t even know people could be under the influence of drugs or alcohol in this world. Then again, it is supposed to be a realistic experience. I guess that anything you can do in the real world can probably be done here—and then some.
After studying her more closely, maybe she was currently drunk, not just hung over. A bit of both was also a likely option.
I casually strolled over to the three scrolls hanging against the far wall. One scroll was reserved for quests, another for bounties, and the last was the “looking for groups” (LFG) scroll.
It was difficult for me to not go straight for the bounty scroll and see what Bagmy put up for my head. Instead, I tried to play it off, cool like. First, I looked at the quest scroll while nodding my head. “Ah, these are quests. Not at all what I am looking for. But good to know, good to know.”
After giving an overly exaggerated shrug, I took a couple of steps closer to the bounty scroll. “I wonder what this could be.”
I knew I looked like an idiot because all the scrolls were clearly marked by embroidered tapestries. Being the only source of entertainment in this place, there were more than a few eyes set on me.
“I wonder if I know any of these criminals,” I said to the room void of shits to give. “I guess there is only one way to find out.” I let out a fake laugh that made me want to punch myself in the gut.
Then, undermining all my nonchalantness leading up to this point, I grabbed ahold of the bounty scroll with both hands and ravenously scrambled to find my name.
Where is it? Where is it? Where…
There were bounties for all kinds of things: thieving, debauchery, adultery, giving rude gestures, murder, and of course, what I had done…
“Assault with a deadly weapon,” I blurted out, forgetting my tact. That pincher axe was anything but deadly.
Reading my bounty, Bagmy really played himself up to be the victim. He claimed that he wore the bagmy costume as a means of working on his painting craft without getting attacked. What a bunch of lies.
“Hey, Moogi, did you see any painting supplies when you looted Bagmy?”
Moogi gave me a confused scowl.
“Like a brush, easel, perhaps a canvas?” I said, nearly in a whisper.
“Moogi. (He had a lot of toes.)”
“Like, a deformity?”
“Moogi. (No. Severed toes, like souvenirs.)
Could those be from his victims? Of course they were. What a liar. I continued his list of claims until I reached the reward. “5,000 experience,” I said, a blast of shock behind my words.
Some annoying person in the room made the “shhh” sound.
I had to calm down. No wonder Krimson was after me. 5,000 EXP was a lot of player kills…or toes. I wondered how Bagmy could come up with that kind of reward. Fack, I’d kill myself for 5,000 EXP. For a solid minute, I tried to think of ways to do just that. My best plan involved Havok doing the deed and us splitting the reward. It might actually work, and he might also get a kick out of it.
Reading over the bounty once more, I noticed a little line about returning the Blood Dagger as a non-negotiable clause in the document. That was what this whole thing was really about, and if it was worth 5,000 EXP, then I wasn’t about to give it back.
Trying to save any face I might have had left, I sauntered over to the last scroll—the LFG. “Ah, this is what I was really looking for.”
“Shut up. No one cares,” someone snapped.
Dropping the act, I began the prowl for the perfect party. I needed someone on the offensive to dish out some serious damage, a brute to take all the hits while controlling the pace of the fight, some sort of support character to buff all of our stats and skills, and of course a healer to keep us all from dying. I would play the role of leader, orchestrating them all like a skilled conductor.
The scrolls were made with some thick paper material. It had digital boxes, which could be filled in by thinking of what you wanted to write and pressing your finger to it. I found this out by accident when I touched the spot that said “sex” and accidentally entered in, “You can do that here, too?”
Some of the required boxes, I didn’t understand. So, I looked at what other groups had put down on theirs.
The last request on the scroll was someone seeking a party to hunt oversized bats in the graveyard at night. I copied their format, putting down my disguise name, group time, area desired, and meeting spot. Under objective, I was a little vague and simply put down “boss fight.” I didn’t want to alert GDF of my intentions. If what Bagmy and Kaah were discussing was true, something about the Blood Dagger was paramount in beating Ambrose. Hopefully, I could beat them to the punch, so to speak.