by R. A. Mejia
Once the sounds of the collapsing building fade away, we hear voices calling out to us. Keans and the rest of the caravan have been searching for us.
Mary flies up to me and promptly smacks me on the top of my head. “Hey, jerkface! What’s the big idea making a fairy gal worry about you like that?” Her voice is a mixture of concern and annoyance, and she flies around me, looking at all the dust that covers me. “Well, you seem to be okay. No missing body parts.” Then she flies up to my neck and gives me a hug. “I’m glad you are fine. What happened? Where did you three go off to, and why is that temple a pile of rubble now?”
“I would like to hear this tale as well.” I turn towards the sound of Keans’ voice. He’s with the rest of the watching caravan members.
Vrax has to push his way through the crowd of people. He looks me over and just shakes his head. “I leave you for a couple hours, and look at all the trouble you get into.” He then hisses at his own joke and hugs my legs.
“Hours? We’ve been gone for days,” Sonya says as she slaps her clothes, trying to get the dust off them.
“Uh, nope,” Mary replies, waving away the dust that’s being kicked up by Sonya. “You three went off only a few hours ago. You didn’t check in, and Keans was just starting to organize a search party. Then we heard the temple start to collapse, and we all ran over here to find you guys running away from it.”
Race, Sonya, and I look at each other confusedly. Hours? We’ve only been gone for hours? Maybe there was some kind of time magic going on in the dungeon. After all, Ranut didn’t really look thousands of years old. “I don’t know what to tell you, Mary. It felt like days to us. But the important thing is that everyone is safe. We’ll tell you all about it as soon as we get out of this underground city.”
I start to walk away towards the tunnels that lead back to the desert, and Sonya and Race eagerly follow me.
“Wait? What about the loot?” Mary asks, pointing to the piles of furniture, art, and boxes that are piled in the main streets of the city.
I stop and look at the piles of treasure. “Well, maybe we can take it with us.” I smile up at Mary. “You know, that way the trip isn’t a total loss.”
Mary and Vrax laugh, and everyone starts to pack away what they can.
Within a few hours, we’re above ground in the desert, resting in the ruins of what we now realize is an extension of the city below. That night, over an open fire, I recount our journey into the temple and through the trials of the soul. Many of the caravan crew who grew up in the local tribes make gestures with their fingers to ward off bad spirits as I tell the story. Those guys practically jump out of their skin when I get to the part about Ranut. I guess it’s like hearing that the boogeyman is real and that someone you know met him. I intentionally skip the details of what Ranut saw when he looked through our memories. That part is too personal and painful. Instead, I wrap up the story with the account of the final battle. I also skip over the loot the dungeon master dropped after he died. Those are the spoils of battle, after all, not something that’s to be shared with this many people.
Privately, I show Mary the dungeon core that Ranut dropped, and she confirms that it’s not something I should be showing to anyone. “Keep that hidden, you idiot. With the right magic and the right location, you could use that to make your own dungeon. There are groups that would kill you if they knew you had that.”
I assure her that I’ll keep it safe and private. After all, I already have plans for it.
We brought back a lot of treasure to sort through, and the caravan spends the next few days categorizing everything. Anything with a known value is put in a pool, and those items are distributed equally among everyone as their base cut of the treasure. Items that multiple people want, things like weapons or jewels, go into a contest, and the people that want them compete for the prize. This process alone entertains everyone for days. Anything else, art and the like, stuff that we don’t have a value for or things that might do better if sold off, is kept separate and under guard. Those items will be sold at auction or through private channels with each member of the caravan being sent their portion of the proceeds. At least, that’s the plan Keans comes up with, and everyone agrees to it.
I take a necklace with three purple amethyst gems as part of my cut of the treasure. While I’ve been working with crystals up until now, I’m hoping to do more powerful crystal programing with refined gems. After all, that ruby mana bomb helped kill a dungeon master.
I scan the amethyst gems into the design mode and start to play around with what I can do. I find that the gems have a much higher mana capacity that the simple crystals I’ve been using. They also have better structural integrity and are more durable. Essentially, gems make for better and stronger grenades. I take the programing for a fire grenade and apply it to the amethyst and assume a full mana capacity. The results are interesting.
Amethyst Fire Grenade
Damage: 7-9 (Fire)
Secondary Effect: 30% chance to catch fire
Area of effect: 6 ft^2
Durability: 6/6
Mana Cost to create: 25
XP Cost to create: 20
While the damage effect is only a few points higher, the area of effect and durability is doubled. Assuming I’m recharging it with mana after each use, that means I can use this same grenade six times before it breaks down. An additional benefit to using the more refined gem is that it can take more instruction, letting me code more complex effects. After some experimentation, I come up with an interesting line of code that lets me send mana stored in the gem to several spellwriting symbols. The effects can even be focused in a certain direction instead of in a general blast radius. The most interesting experiment is one that combines ‘remove’ ‘earth’ and ‘water.’ There is, of course, more coding about managing the flow of mana so that the effects last for a while, but the results are pretty cool.
Amethyst Quicksand Grenade
Damage: 0 (Earth)
Secondary Effect: Quicksand
Area of effect: 6 ft^2
Durability: 6/6
Mana Cost to create: 25
XP Cost to create: 20
The idea of changing the very landscape of a battle is fascinating. With preparation and the sacrifice of XP, [Crystal Programming] takes what I can do with spellwriting to a new level.
Unfortunately, the XP expense is still an issue. After reviewing my notifications during the battle with Ranut, I saw that it cost me 90 XP to make that large mana bomb. So, even through I earned 100 XP for killing him, I only really earned 10 experience points from the fight. When the realization hits me that I fought a level 10 dungeon master and only got 10 experience points, I start to laugh. All the risk to life, limb, and the destruction of a valuable and possibly unique gem. All for 10 XP. Ha!
Still, I won’t let that stop me from crafting. It’s just too fun. I use one of the amethyst gems to make the quicksand grenade, and after testing it, I am very satisfied with the results. I’m not as happy about the 20 XP it costs to make it, but at least I’ll get to reuse the grenade five more times. I now need 375 XP to reach level 6.
It’s a full week later that the caravan master returns with new camels, food, water, and supplies. He’s overjoyed to see the amount of treasure we’ve collected and estimates that the loss of profit from the delay will be made up for when he sells the treasure.
Once our gear is all packed, we’re back on the trail. While we have a few minor issues along the way, the rest of our journey through the desert is thankfully unremarkable, and we arrive at our destination in two weeks.
Chapter 23
Our journey across the sands draws to a close, and we arrive at a small building at the edge of the desert. Nestled between dunes, it’s made of sun-baked brick and has a single red door. The caravan master has us wait while he dismounts and knocks. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I suppose it’s some kind of secret codeword or something. When he returns, it’s with twelve
other men who take the camels. Two of the men go to the side of the building and use shovels to uncover a large wooden door set into the ground, which, when opened, reveals a kind of lift that takes one camel at a time down into the ground. If this place is set up anything like the hidden den of Pauline the Potentate, there should be an underground warehouse full of goods that are going to be distributed throughout the Empire.
You've completed the quest 'Desert Guard Duty.' You receive 50 XP.
Woot! Sweet, sweet XP.
Our mission for Pauline complete, our group takes our supplies and heads for the nearest town which, according to the caravan master, is a three-day walk southeast. He promises to send Keans our share of the auctioned-off treasure from the underground city. An unexpected addition to our party is Race, who has heard that we plan to head to Attilius.
A few days trekking over more dunes brings us to a small village that is happy to trade some of our gold for supplies, a horse and cart. The villagers give us general directions to Attilius, saying it’s much farther to the south.
The journey into the heart of the Imperare Empire is one of surprising contrasts. The farther we get from the edges of the empire’s territories, the more refined and cultured the people become. Homes go from sun-baked brick with thatch roofs to thinner, red fire-baked brick covered in stucco, to homes made out of some kind of concrete with roofs of clay tiles. The roads go from being made of compact dirt to gravel to paved stone with smoothed concrete. Also, as we get closer to the main highway, a twenty-foot-wide road that bisects much of the Empire, roadside towns appear with increasing frequency.
Keans knows the customs of the Empire best, and he secures rooms for us. However, Vrax and Mary, posing as slaves, have to sleep in the wagon. These rest stops are usually only an inn with rooms for sleeping, a bar for drinking, and a stable to take care of the animals and store our wagon. Wagons and horses are forbidden in proper towns and cities, and they have to be stored a mile outside of them. Keans explains that the Imperare do this to keep their cities free of the manure and traffic caused by horses. Instead, roads are pedestrian-only inside towns and cities, and they are very well kept and organized. There’s always two main roads that cross in the center of town, and other streets branch off these at right angles, and each street has a name with regular signposts that give directions.
The roads are lined with trees that provide shade between each town, and there is a small concrete post every mile or so beside the road to mark distance. At any rest stop, there is a map on a wall near the door that shows a traveler what lies nearby and any local roads that branch off the main one. No one map includes every single road, but there’s enough information there about the local area to help a traveler find his or her way.
It is interesting to see that, in the larger cities, aqueducts bring water from the local rivers into town for everyone to use. There are even public bath houses that everyone has access to, and I find that these cities are the least smelly of any that I’ve visited.
As we travel, Keans plays teacher and translator. Near the desert, most people speak a trader dialect, but as we get closer to the interior of the Empire, more and more people speak Imperial, the official language of the Empire. Keans and Race both speak it, but Keans seems more fluent. Mary knows the tongue as well, something she retained from when she was a fairy guide. Vrax, Sonya, and I have to learn what we can along the way. Keans also teaches us how to read in Imperial, and by the time we approach Attilius, I think I have a pretty good grasp of the language.
As clean and advanced as the Empire seems, it’s contrasted by the barbarity of the slave trade. Slaves make up the bulk of the workforce in the Imperare Empire. They till and plant the fields as well as take care of the domestic work in homes; and, according to Keans, there are even highly-educated slaves that do taxes and accounting in some businesses. Yes, there are still regular humans that do this same work, but the more menial, labor-intensive jobs are largely relegated to slaves. After all, why pay someone a wage when you can have a lifetime of work for the price of one purchase?
What I find especially troubling is the casual abuse of slaves by everyone. Most aren’t allowed into businesses and have to wait outside. There, even the poorest human could hit, spit, or even strike any slave he saw.
Once, while Keans and I were out alone shopping, I was waiting outside a store for Keans to finish negotiating for supplies, and a farmer came with his orc slave to sell his produce. The orc was massive, standing at least seven feet tall and bristling with muscles. I thought that, any minute, this orc was going to just break the chains and collar on him and run away free. Instead, as the orc got closer, I saw that he just stared ahead with the dead-eyed look of someone whose will has been broken. He did not speak. He did not look at anyone. He just did what his master told him to do and even winced when the farmer raised his voice once.
When the farmer went into one of the shops, he simply put the chain attached to the slave’s collar onto a peg outside the shop and left him there. Again, I expected the orc to pull the chain off the peg and run, but instead, he just stood there placidly. A short, dirty, and obviously drunk man staggered down the street. He leered at the passing women and talked to himself. However, when he came upon the orc, he stopped. He looked up through blearly eyes at the green, hulking being, and yelled, “Stupid orc!” then spit on him. Seeing that the orc did not respond, the drunk became emboldened and slapped him. The orc only turned away from the drunk, which seemed to infuriate him for some reason. He growled, “Don’t turn away from your betters, you stinking orc” then proceeded to punch and kick the slave. Not that the drunk’s attacks were particularly effective. It was like watching a spoiled child kick and punch a grown adult. That is, until the drunk picked up a fist-sized stone from the ground. Then he started to bash the orc with it. You could tell that the orc was being hurt now. He grunted with each blow and started to bleed from the attacks. The orc, unwilling or unable to defend himself, knelt down and covered his head with his thick arms but continued to take the beating.
I looked around, completely stunned at the reaction of the people around me. They all saw this drunk hurting the orc but just didn’t seem to care. Men and women casually glanced at the scene but just kept walking by, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see. The muscles in my arms and legs twitched, aching to run across the street and stop the senseless violence. But, just as I made my first step towards the two, a hand grabbed my shoulder roughly and spun me around.
“Do not interfere,” Keans whispered while holding onto my robe. “I know it bothers you, but you can’t protect the orc, and your actions will only draw unneeded attention to us.”
I tried to pull my clothes from his hands and whispered back, “How can you just stand there and not do anything? How can any of them?”
Keans shook his head. “I can stand here because I realize that I can’t change anything. To the others, it’s just not wrong in the first place. But you need to decide if saving this orc is worth abandoning your quest to save the kobolds, which just might happen if you bring the law down on you.”
He let me go, and I watched the drunk continue to beat the now-bruised and bleeding orc. I considered Keans’ words but before I made a decision, the farmer finally came out of the store he was in and saw what was being done to his slave. He shouted for the guards who quickly came and arrested the drunk, not on charges of assault, but on damage of private property.
The farmer followed the guards with the wincing, bleeding orc in tow, yelling about how much his slave cost him and how much time it was going to take for it to heal.
The incident instills in me just how the Imperare Empire views their slaves, and by extension all non-humans, in a way that none of the stories I’d been told did. It makes me worry every single night that Vrax or Mary will be hurt or abused sleeping in the stables while I rest in the inn. The thoughts make me seriously reconsider our entire mission and how I’d feel if either of my frien
ds were hurt like the orc. Then I remember that the kobolds have been slaves for months now and will continue to be unless we rescued them. Vrax and Mary assured me that they were more than able to defend themselves from anyone that tried to hurt them, and for the sake of our mission, they would be willing to maintain the facade that they were my slaves.
So, we continue our journey through the Empire. Within a week, we’ve all adopted the local clothing styles. While traveling in the hot sandy desert, fitting in meant donning full robes that would protect us from the sun. But, as we travel, the weather and land changes too. The weather goes from hot and arid to hot and humid, and the land shifts from desert to grassland and then to fields and well-cultivated orchards. The Empire is well known for their use of irrigation and aqueducts to bring water to their fields. Given the more verdant and steamy climate, we change from our robes into simple tunics, putting away our armor and weapons, since most people in the Empire do not openly carry arms or armor, and violent crime is punished severely. For the men, our tunics are simple squares of cloth that have no sleeves and go down to our knees. The feel of the breeze on my bare legs is weird, but Sonya says she likes seeing my shapely calves. Beyond the tunic, a belt is worn around the waist, and an eating knife is kept there. Sonya and Mary also have to adapt and wear long-sleeved tunics that go all the way down to their ankles. Sonya also wears a belt, but for the sake of our cover, she doesn’t wear a knife or any of the other myriad weapons she owns. Nevertheless, she was not slow to show one handsy man in a bar just how quickly she could grab her sword from her inventory.