Chapter 5
***Daimon's group***
It wasn't easy for Daimon's group to get out of the Cursed Forests. For the third day, with little or no sleep or even normal rest, they had been trudging through drifts, ravines, and dense undergrowth. Three of the four members of the group were well aware that getting out of the dungeon was only half the battle. Even aside from the dungeons, death lurked in every shadow here, and no one wanted to give it a chance.
Except for Lias.
In less than two weeks of acquaintance, Era had managed to hate him. At first, she didn't understand why she disliked him so much, and she suppressed the feeling. Lias wasn't a bad guy, just a little naïve. He was so excited about adventure, glory, and wealth as if he'd learned his whole idea of the adventurous profession from the songs of bards and the tales of drunkards. He pictured himself as the protector of the common people and aspired to feats and glory.
An idiot.
Era exhaled loudly, keeping the rhythm of the marching. Stems crunched and tangled beneath her feet, thin branches whipped at the remnants of her hood. After Daimon at the head of the group, the trail was quite bearable. With his strength and stamina, he was literally breaking through the thicket. Who knows how slowly they might have moved without him.
Era heard a muffled scolding behind her and turned around. The sight was to be expected. Lias stumbled and fell. Era called out to Daimon, and when he turned around, she raised her hand to say, stop.
"What's up?"
The indomitable leader and his old pal Bryce stopped moving. Both looked tired and pretty beat up. Era sat silently beside Lias and patted him on the shoulder. He tried to curl up into a ball and muttered in a trembling voice.
"I can't. That's it. I can't do it anymore..."
Era, barely able to contain her contemptuous rage, was about to give him a slap, but Daimon approached and intercepted her hand.
"Era, don't need it. Please."
They exchanged glances, and she averted her eyes first. Meanwhile, Bryce, who had approached, frowned at Lias and crouched at his leg.
"Daimon, hold the kid."
Lias only breathed heavily when the leader held him down with his knee and occasionally twitches when Bryce gently palpated his ankle.
"Don't be so nervous, dummy. Daimon, it looks like we have a little fracture here."
"How little?"
"So much so that he will ride. Kid, you know, you're so useless... Hold on tight."
Bryce, grunting, took the healer on his back. Lias, hissing in pain, made himself comfortable. Era, looking at what was happening, began in an unnaturally calm tone.
"Why are we..."
But Daimon interrupted her.
"Era, believe me, I don't like babysitting him myself. But it's our word and our responsibility."
She only raised her hands in annoyance.
"Ok."
"Thank you." Damon patted her on the shoulder. "It's gonna be okay."
They were on their way again. It was getting dark, and they still had a few miles to go before they reached the edge of the thicket.
Era felt a burning shame. It was a good thing she hadn't been allowed to finish her cruel words. Looking at the boy dangling on Bryce's back, she knew she hadn't been entirely fair to him. It was just... He just wasn't adventurer material.
This became clear in the first few days as they searched the path to the ruins, which was familiar. In Lias's mind, adventurers were engaged solely in the noble destruction of villains and monsters. He was totally unprepared for the exhausting marches, the austerity of drinking water, the lack of sleep, the filth, and the other pleasures of adventurer life. Even then, Era's deaf dislike began to transform into anger. She was used to reliable and terse fellows, but Lias... He commented sarcastically on the inconveniences, complaining about the mosquitoes and fatigue. When, on the approach to the ruins, their group was attacked by a pack of magic-altered wolves, real, hungry, and desperate monsters, he huddled in his tent and squealed hysterically while the others dealt with the problem. Then he demanded that they take him back to town immediately.
Then the guys had a quiet and serious talk with him, and he shut up. It didn't get much easier; he still made the situation worse, expressing displeasure and indignation with every gesture. But the dungeon itself broke him completely. The suffocating dust, the stench that took your breath away, the perpetual darkness, the deadly traps, and the extremely dangerous undead. All the things iron-ranked adventurers live and die by. All the things they speak and write so beautifully about.
He wasted all his energy in the first run, and only then did it become clear that, first, he had very little energy, and second, it was recovering much more slowly than they had all hoped. Disappointment and constant fear had turned the slightly spoiled but positive naive kid into a twitchy, jaded fatalist. But they took him with them and held him responsible for his life - these are the unbreakable dogmas of the adventurer. Those who broke the ground rules were quickly stripped of their badge, and at best they changed jobs. At worst, they disappeared without a trace, and their equipment sometimes appeared on the black market.
After Lias was carried on Bryce's backs, their progress quickened considerably. Daimon's group was out of the Cursed Forests even before darkness had set in. The familiar gentle descent down the hill and the small valley by the river were pleasing to the eye. But the luck that had watched over them for three days in the thickets seemed to have run out.
By the river, in the exact spot where they had camped the week before, someone else had already established themselves. In the gathering darkness, they could see several tents and a flickering fire between them. Daimon frowned.
"Bryce, check out these guys."
Bryce nodded, laid Lias down gently, and silently disappeared into the bushes.
"Era, I hope to avoid a fight, but..."
"I understand, Daimon. I'm ready, even without the staff. You know me."
Magic could be used without aids at all, but the image of a powerful wizard has always been associated with staff for a reason. A good, properly made staff made it much easier to control mana and allowed you to cast spells much faster. But the specifics of training, which Era preferred to remember less often, allowed Era to cast spells equally quickly and efficiently with or without a staff. The price for that was a very high expenditure of energy, but enough for a short fight. Era kneaded her fingers with a crunch.
A few minutes later, Bryce appeared out of the bushes.
"Goblins. About a dozen. Looks like hunters, not trappers, and probably not local. A proper watch, but only within their camp."
Daimon sighed.
"Looks like we'll make it. Era, stay here and cover us if something happens."
"Maybe just hit it from here?"
"And you guarantee you'll hit hard enough and accurately enough that no one escapes? Two or three vengeful freaks in the woods could give us a lot of trouble, you know."
Era nodded silently. The goblins are not serious fighters, they fight mostly in numbers and pose no threat in the open countryside. But in the woods, vengeful, perfectly camouflaged partisans with their poison arrows and traps...
All she had to do was wait. Hidden in the bushes, she watched from afar.
The green-skinned men spotted Daimon in tattered armor and Bryce with a full set of throwing knives between his fingers and scurried about. After a hoarse shriek from the sentinel, several small, wiry figures sprang from their tents, waving spears and axes, and lined up in front of the camp. Four, armed with bows, scattered in different directions and crouched in the tall grass. Era noted for herself where exactly.
Daimon stepped forward, gesturing and growling menacingly. One of the goblins, the tougher of the bunch, stepped forward with his spear. Something of dialogue ensued. Era could hear nothing but the sound of hoarse swearing. For a moment the negotiations seemed to have reached an impasse, but then Bryce, in a smooth, beautiful, and swift movement, threw a knife into the grass where one of the bowmen sat, and Daimon lunged with his sword at the parliamentarian's throat and continued shouting. The green-skinned men hesitated and retreated. Within minutes they'd packed up their tents, and, looking around, they were marching in a single file along the river and into the woods. After making sure the competitors were gone, Bryce headed toward Era.
"I wish it were always like this. It's good when the enemy wants to live too."
Bryce picked up the semi-conscious Lias and they headed toward the now vacant camp.
Unfolding the tent, Bryce lamented.
"We should have taken the tent away from them too."
"And then spend all the profit to cure sores and lice, eh?" Era teased him.
"You need to look at the world more positively. What if it had been just lice?"
"At least they didn't finish their stew; there's a pile of it."
"You know, I'm not really hungry. But treat yourself if you're too lazy to cook."
Era was not tempted by the stinking pile of something slimy and set to cooking. Once, at the beginning of their acquaintance, she had flatly refused the job. She wanted to be seen as an adventurer in the first place, not a cook. But there were plenty of interesting things for everyone to do at the campsite. If you didn't want to cook, no problem, you could go get firewood, fetch water, dig a cesspool. And the guys also cooked terribly, and she gave up.
While Era cooked and Bryce tried to do something about Lias's leg, Daimon sat down staring at one point and began unbuckling the straps of his armor. Era couldn't imagine how hard it was for him. He worked for everyone. Took the hits in combat, handled dangerous situations like this, was always there and found the right words to cheer, to calm, to stifle conflicts. And that was not counting the purely physical exertion. She wanted to hug him, but she could not dare. For her, such a hug would only mean moral support, but men usually understood such impulses in a very different way. It wasn't that she didn't like Daimon, but she was fine with the way things were.
"We'll have to pass the information on these goblins to the guild, remind me, okay?"
"Yes, Daimon. I don't think they'll be here much longer, though."
"The guild needs to have an idea of what is going on and where. What you don't think is important may be a valuable part of the overall statistics."
They remained silent as they watched the water boil in the cauldron.
"Era, I think you want to tell me something, but you don't know how to start. Am I right?"
She wiggled a twig in the coals.
"Yes. There is nothing to hide from you. I wanted to... To talk about the future of the group. Not about tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, but about what we should do."
"I suppose you rate the outlook as extremely grim, and that's because Lias has failed, and you're in a lousy mood because you're tired, right?"
"When you talk about it like that, I seem like a cranky fool to myself."
"Oh, of course not. It's just that we all need to get to civilization, relax, wash, and get properly drunk. And then think about such things as our future possibilities."
"That sounds great. But... Oh, okay."
"Just say it already."
"You know, there's something that's been bothering me for a long time..." Era hesitated, choosing her words." We take too heavy quests for the silver rank. Yes, the reward from the guild is good, and the loot is often even greater. But we... We're taking too much risk, you know? I'm not afraid, don't get me wrong. But..."
"I understand. But this is the only way we can become stronger. Stronger, richer, higher in rank. Remember how we worked our way up to the iron ranks, and then to silver. It was hell, and now we are what we are."
"We had a great healer back then. He's gone now."
Then we'll find another excellent healer. Don't interrupt, please." He held up his hand, warning me of objection. "Yes, we haven't had much luck lately. But our careers, all we do, and all we strive for, are not limited to today or tomorrow. Until we manage to find a good member of the team, we'll take simpler tasks. Even if it takes a year or more to find the right healer, we'll find one. It was my fault for dragging Lias straight into hell. We won't do that again, and we'll get used to each other on easier tasks.
They stayed quiet.
It looks like I haven't fully convinced you yet. Then let's try it from the other side. What would you do if you left the group? Any plans? Traveling with us, you've grown steeply as a sorcerer. I'm sure Theocracy would be glad to have you back, and I'm sure you'd rather cut your own throat than go back. What have you got to gain by giving up the group?
"Nothing."
"Exactly. So, stop worrying about nonsense. We'll get to a hot bath and some wine, and then we'll see, okay?"
Era smiled and pushed him on the shoulder.
"You're impossible." And after a pause, she added. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. We're a team."
Bryce came over and interjected himself into the conversation, which immediately drifted away. Lias was fractured, nothing serious, but he wasn't able to heal himself yet, and there was no time to lose for a proper rest. The goblins have gone, acknowledging authority, and are unlikely to be fished out on the forest trails. It is only a day's journey to the village, where they can have a proper rest. According to a preliminary estimate, the hastily picked up in the dungeon goodness will simply fly for a hundred gold at least.
The next day seemed as if it was ashamed of its strenuous predecessors and pleased with quiet, moderately warm weather and good trails. Daimon's group reached the village even earlier than they had planned. Bryce, visibly tired from dragging an incapacitated body, cheered up when he looked at the sturdy paling.
"Oh, that's nice, the map didn't lie. It looks like we missed it by a few miles, though."
"What makes you think that?" Daimon asked.
"Look how the path goes, from north to west. According to the map, it's... I'm not even going to try to remember what kind of a shithole place it is. But in general, this direction of the road and the village is noticeably north of where we were supposed to go."
"Oh, who cares. If they give you something to eat and wash, it was worth the mistake. Let's go to the gate."
They approached the gate. The thick, sturdy, pointed logs of the stockade rose to a height and a half of a man. The wooden gate, reinforced with iron bands and braces, was closed. The group had evidently long been spotted, and the watchful looks from unshaven faces could be seen over the prongs of the stakes.
Daimon knocked on the gate.
"Hey, dear villagers, let us in, please. We need lodging and food, and we have something to pay for it."
A hoarse, grunting voice was heard from above.
"Who are you?"
"We are adventurers. We were doing a job nearby and got a little lost. We're not a threat."
Daimon pulled out his badge on a chain, putting it on display. Bryce and Era followed suit.
Some negotiations were heard behind the gate, after which the bolt rattled and one of the flaps moved aside. A stout man with a beard and worn clothes looked out from behind it. He looked at the strangers and muttered grudgingly.
"You're welcome." And he stepped aside, letting the guests pass.
***master Akuro***
Akuro had been feeling restless for the past couple of days. There was no explanation, but he felt as if someone was watching their caravan. He kept this strange uneasiness to himself, but the way he sometimes looked around and listened did not escape the eyes of his soldiers.
"Hey, Scar, how long till we get to the village? The cargo needs a rest."
"We'll be there by evening, commander. I remember these places well."
Akuro looked again at his caravan.
Four sturdy wagons, one after the other, pulled by four horses. The first and the last carried his boys, twenty hardy thugs, ready to jump into the fire at his command without a second thought. Most of them had been with him back in the days when Akuro was an unknown bandit. Reliable guys, equally adept with sabers and crossbows.
In the middle of the column were carts equipped with wide, low cages covered with sailcloth. The goods were carried in them. At the edges of the column were five riders, the best of the best, the most trusted people.
Akuro was proud of the idea that helped him make a name for himself. Yes, he wasn't the only one who caught and sold slaves, but there was a significant difference. He and his boys didn't ravage settlements in neutral lands. Once upon a time, when he'd first managed to sell two prisoners to a Theocracy fence, he'd had a bright idea. Why not? He got more gold for the two heads than he did for two weeks of risky plundering. Then he gave a rousing speech and led his boys into the deep neutral lands, looking for more slaves to sell.
At first, things were not so good. He had to fight his rivals pretty well, and when he stormed the first elven village, he lost half his men. They took a dozen long-eared girls with them, of whom only five survived the journey to Theocracy. But the money they got for them from the reseller eclipsed all their losses. And that's not counting the goods they took from the ravaged houses. And so it went.
But after a couple of years of raids, he realized that ravaging villages was unprofitable. A massacred village brought money only once, and the next time he had to go farther and farther away, the resistance was more and more desperate, and each time he lost more and more men. And then a bright thought occurred to Akuro. The elves weren't the only ones in the world. Sure, they didn't keep human slaves in Theocracy, but first, Theocracy wasn't his only market, and second, he didn't capture women specifically for slave labor. Young men and women are universal commodities, bought equally willingly by the nobles of Baharuth and Re-Estize. And definitely not for fieldwork. The longevity of youth, like that of the elves, did not matter. Such living toys live a couple of years at most anyway.
Now, he 'patronized' a few villages beyond the formal boundaries of the Theocracy. Neither country's feudal lords had power there, and Akuro had slaughtered the local bosses as soon as he'd entered the land. And now every six months he passed through these villages, collecting tribute - one man per village. It was a mutually beneficial business. They gave him the goods voluntarily, and in return he didn't cause a massacre, everyone benefited. Yes, the one-time profit from a raid into elven lands was much higher, but there was no risk, and there was a regular flow of profit.
His business prowess and reliability as a partner were recognized first by merchants and then by noble theocrats. And Akuro finally became a respected and very wealthy man with good connections. Just as he had always dreamed.
A week ago he refreshed the memory of the daring villagers. One village refused to give him a local beauty, and now that settlement would serve as a fine example to others. He took from there not one, as agreed, but more than a dozen captives. He would have taken more, many begged for mercy, but there were certain requirements, and not all would have met them. The space in the cages was not endless.
And this nagging uneasiness, coming from who knows where was spoiling the mood. It had escalated in the camp yesterday, and he'd sent men to search the area around the camp, but they'd found no one. The uneasiness receded, but it did not disappear for good.
As we pondered, time passed without notice, and there was a palisade.
***Daimon's group***
The team of adventurers set up in a nice, cozy cabin on the outskirts of the village. When the locals realized that the adventurers were not from Theocracy, their first cold greeting turned into a warm welcome. They were allocated an empty house, left over, as the headman said, from a logger who died in a fight with a bear, and given food, brew, and firewood. Moreover, Daimon even had to insist that they take the money. The locals looked away at first as if embarrassed to take it.
The adventurers thanked them warmly for their care, and now the fire in the stove was crackling merrily, the clothes hung dry, washed. The only thing that marred the evening was that Daimon had expressly forbidden them to drink the brew. Era regretted it a little, but she knew that the leader's demand was justified. Bryce, too, grumbled for the sake of appearances, and then stopped talking as he tidied up his gear. No one asked Lias at all, and he was snoozing quietly now, wrapped in a blanket on the wide bench.
When the adventurers were about to go to bed, Bryce became alert. He listened to something, then silently patted the hilt of his dagger. He was understood without words.
Ere, cursing to herself, took the hated potion out of her backpack. The little vial, the penultimate one. A sunshine potion. Pleasant to the taste, it chased away fatigue, numbed the pain, and calmed worn-out nerves. But the main thing was that it restored magic powers very quickly. Not immediately and not completely, but about a third of Era's strength. The positive qualities could not be overestimated, but the cost of useful benefits was something that Era remembered very well, too.
There was a quiet, hurried knock at the back door of the house. Daimon, who had already pulled on his tattered armor, gave the sign, and Bryce silently walked to the door with his dagger. The knock was repeated. Bryce threw back the locking wrench and opened the door a little with his foot. After examining the guest and looking behind him cautiously, he let the fidgeting figure into the house.
It turned out to be an elderly woman, in her usual casual clothes. She was clearly nervous. Her slumped shoulders trembled, her fingers became anxious.
Daimon put his hand on her shoulder and looking trustingly into her eyes asked.
"What's wrong, good woman? Is there anything we can do for you?"
"You... I can't..." She began, breaking down into sobs. "Run. Please run away from here, now, please..."
"We appreciate your concern." Daimon's voice reeked of calm. "Who should we be running from, and where?"
"The people from the Theocracy will be here soon. We can't let them see you. Please leave this place, for your own good!" The guest managed to steady her voice, though she was still nervous.
Era grew darker. She had a good idea of the ways of her abandoned homeland.
"Daimon, she's right. Let's get out of here, fast."
"Do you think they would dare do anything to us?"
"Daimon, don't be a child, please. Thank you, kind woman, we'll leave now."
While the Daimon thanked and comforted the poor woman, Bryce rushed to the window overlooking the township wall, carefully pryed the frame with his dagger and pulled it into the house. He looked out, looked around, and gave the sign - clear.
Era glanced sadly at the laundry that had been hung out. If they had to leave quickly, they'd have to leave them all behind; they wouldn't have time to pack them.
Daimon hugged the woman.
"How can we thank you for your kindness?"
" I... I have a daughter. Take her with you, I beg you. She... She doesn't deserve it, I beg you, I beg you, I will give you everything I have, just take her with you, please!"
"Shh, calm down. We'll take her with us. Where is she?"
"She hid there, behind the door. Do you promise? Promise me you'll take her!"
"Yes, we promise."
Era's heart was heavy. They already had ballast, and now Daimon had promised to take another, which was a bad idea. If a raid from the Theocracy came here, every minute is worth its weight in gold. But...
This woman took a great risk in coming here to warn them. These are neutral lands, and there is no law except personal power and personal morality. Accustomed to impunity, raiders will not limit themselves to anything, regardless of their goals.
The human race is the highest form of life, and other races should honor the right to serve it. A basic tenet of Theocracy. Outside the borders of Theocracy, the Raiders understood it somewhat differently. From their point of view, the state of Theocracy Slaine stood over the world, and ALL other peoples should serve it. Of course, the Theocrats had respect for strong states like Baharuth. For the time being. But where is the strong state here? To the theocrats, even the Guild had no significant authority. What did they want here in the first place?
Era began to push the still not yet awake Lias.
"Get up, we're leaving."
"Where? Why?" Lias opened his red eyes grudgingly, trying to brush her off.
"There's no time to explain. Get up, we have to get out of here."
"I'm not going anywhere!" Lias huddled against the wall beside his bunk. "We're finally out of this hell, and you're telling me we have to go out again? Like hell we do, I'm sick of you guys! My leg is broken, I haven't slept for over a week, I've been eating shit and listening to your lectures, I've had enough! Leave me alone!"
"You useless jerk." Era began, in a tone of icy fury, tugging at his scruff. "You're a ballast and a waste of space. A disgrace of the Guild. I'll be glad to get rid of you and forget your whining like a bad dream when we get back to the Guild. But now, you'll get up, get on Bryce's neck, and we'll go on our way, whether you like it or not."
Lias, instead of giving up, grabbed her hands and suddenly shouted loudly.
"Somebody help! Help!"
Era, taken aback, let him go. Daimon barked briefly.
"Leave him, let him stay."
Then there was another knock on the door. Bryce spat angrily.
"That's it."
There was a desperate child's squeak from outside, but it was immediately interrupted. The woman in Daimon's arms went white, tried to break free, and screamed. Daimon pressed his lips together and struck her, and she collapsed. He and Bryce looked at each other.
"We're not leaving quietly, Daimon." Bryce said calmly.
Lias continued to yell until Era punched him in the solar plexus. There was another knock on the door, more demanding. Daimon went to the door and asked loudly.
"Who's there?"
"Good people who are concerned about whether their neighbors are doing well. - A strong, bossy voice was heard from behind the door."
"Everything is fine, no need to worry."
"It's not very polite to talk through the door, is it? Open up."
"Disturbing people in the middle of the night is also bad etiquette."
After a brief pause, a blow came from outside the door, so violent that it snapped off its hinges with a pitiful screech. A tall, athletically built, gray-eyed blond man in chain mail appeared in the opening. His thick leather boots and gauntlets were covered with engraved plates of an unusual metal, and a very expensive-looking thin straight sword hung on his belt. There was a cold, polite smile on his straight face with a deep scar on his chin.
"Well, since no one here observes the rules of etiquette, I will enter uninvited. My name is Akuro, and I am the patron and benefactor of this village."
Behind the man, several figures in the same outfit, but with helmets, could be seen. Daimon assumed a protective stance, shielding his companions. The man literally reeked of danger. Era felt like a mouse in front of a cat, no matter that his sword was not in his hand but on his belt.
" I am Daimon, adventurer, iron rank, and this is my group. We are not pleased by your visit and wish to rid you of our presence." Daimon said smoothly, raising his shield. "I would like, if possible, to disperse without a quarrel."
"Oh," The guest smiled broadly, looking carefully at the decor of the house. "I agree with you, there's no need to quarrel. But there's something I'd like to know before we part ways."
"I would be happy to inform you."
The blond man smiled at some thought of his own.
"Adventurers, then. Why are you here?"
"We were on a mission in the Cursed Forests, and when we got back, we lost our way and came here".
"You mean you weren't hired by the local trash?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"No, we were not hired by the locals. We didn't come here deliberately."
Here came Lias's faltering voice.
"Sir, these people want to take me away from here by force. Protect me, please."
Akuro raised an eyebrow ironically.
"There are really no words. The adventurers, the hope and support of mankind in the fight against the monsters, hold the poor young man by force, no way."
Akuro strode up to Liase, who was clutching at his body, with an unhurried, deliberately relaxed stride. Daimon stepped back to let him pass. Era was surprised; this was the first time in her memory that a leader had ever acted this way. The unpleasant surprise, along with the sense of danger exuded by the blond man, made all her senses throb with alarm.
Akuro leaned over Lias.
"And you must be useful to be held by force, right? Who are you?"
"I am Lias, sir. Lias Mai, healer."
"How interesting, Lias Mai." Akuro was beaming with pleasure. "Would you like to come with me? Our knight's troop could use a good healer."
"I... I'd love to, sir! Thank you!"
"Lias," Daimon spoke calmly to him. "You're making a big mistake."
"Well, well, dear adventurer," Akuro said to Daimon with the same smile. "It's not proper to speak against one's choices like that. Go on, boy, we'll take care of you."
Lias limped out of the house. Era glanced at him, feeling relieved and, at the same time, feeling that what they were doing was wrong. Out of the corner of her mind, she noted that Bryce had disappeared from view during the conversation. It gave her some hope of getting out of the situation if things got really lousy. Attacking from the shadows, Bryce was deadly. Though this blond monster didn't inspire a sense of defenseless victimhood even in a surprise attack.
"Well, gentlemen adventurers, it looks like we've settled all our affairs, right?"
"It looks like it." Without changing his tone, Daimon replied.
"Well, then, if you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave."
He headed for the exit, but stopped, raised his hand as if he had forgotten something, and turned around.
"Ah yes, where are my manners. Leaving without returning the favor. Dear Lady," He turned to Era. "You're so charming, I can't help but invite you to brighten up the evening with our lovely company."
Era's heart felt cold.
"Thanks for the offer, but I will decline."
"Oh, I insist. Come on, you'll have fun." Akuro tilted his head slightly, continuing to cut her with his gaze.
"My companion has expressed her opinion, Mr. Akuro." The tension in Daimon's voice broke through after all.
"I'm not talking to you, trash!" Akuro barked contemptuously.
Daimon, started with aces.
[iron body]
[small reflex enhancement]
[strength]
[small dash]
[powerful shield strike]
Combining combat skills is one of the rarest talents that fate has bestowed upon Daimon. He was one of the strongest adventurers of his rank, and it was thanks to this talent that they were many times able to get out of seemingly losing situations.
Rushing through the air as thick as jelly for a moment, Daimon struck upward, knocking his adversary over. Bryce emerged instantly from the shadows on his back, stretching out in a long lunge with two daggers at once.
But the blows missed. Akuro was no longer there. Era, about to unleash her lightning bolt in the only direction the blond could retreat to, was surprised and horrified to find him beside her. The next moment, her eyes darkened with pain. Akuro delivered a brutal blow to her gut. Curled up in pain, she could no longer see Akuro pierce Bryce's stomach with two stabs, without looking, dodging Daimon's attacks with playful abandon. She could hear Daimon's furious roar, Akuro's mocking laughter, and the clang of metal. The brief fight ended with the sound of a heavy body falling and a wheeze.
Akuro walked up to her and roughly lifted her by the hair, peering into her face.
"Adventurers, ha. Yeah, after all the praise, I expected more from the likes of you."
"You underestimate the Guild, you bastard."
Akuro slapped her across the face, holding her hair back.
"I didn't let you talk, whore. Amazing." He continued, dragging her by the hair toward the exit. "Who lets chicks run around with swords in the company of assholes, huh? I never understood that. A woman's supposed to serve a man, no more, no less. You know how much it pisses me off when I see smug bitches like you who don't know their place, who think they're somehow equal to men? It really, really pisses me off. That's okay, we're going to dispel your little delusion."
Once outside, he threw her at the feet of his soldiers, who stood outside waiting.
"Hey guys, this whore doesn't understand the woman's role in the world order."
Jokes and laughter erupted, and Era, feeling her clothes being torn off, tried to kick and elbow her way out. But it was no use - her arms were skillfully bent and she was pinned to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the villagers standing off to the side and tried to call for help, but in vain. The people averted their eyes.
Era didn't think it would be so painful.
Daimon didn't know how long he'd been like this. Keeping his body in the iron grip of his will, he never let his mind slacken for an instant. Control of his body, conscious control of his heartbeat, the rugged muscles of his arms and legs, demanded the utmost concentration. Floating in a fog of pain, he felt his powerlessness, and could only wait for the blood to bake and the edges of the wounds to grip. He couldn't affect the situation in any other way than to keep the blood in his body, keeping it from dying.
This Akuro was a true expert swordsman. Daimon knew this as soon as he saw his first move. They didn't stand a chance, and, hoping to avoid a fight, Daimon went against his principles and let him take Lias. The naive boy must have really thought he was choosing the best fate...
About a year ago, Daimon tried his luck at a tournament in the Re-Estiz Kingdom. He learned a lot back then, but the highlight was sparring with Gazef Stronoff. Gazef didn't just beat the crap out of him, Gazef showed him the difference between an amateur and a true expert swordsman. Now Daimon saw that difference again. Just at the tournament after the fight, Gazef patted him on the shoulder and complimented him with a smile, expressing hope for a bright future as a promising fighter. And that bastard Akuro left him, paralyzed, to die of pain and wounds.
Daimon saw Era being dragged outside. He heard her scream and cry and then fall silent. He heard the bastards laughing at her screams and tears.
Oh gods, how he hated them. Them, and himself, for his powerlessness, to do anything about it. In the beautiful stories Lias loved so much, the hero always found the strength to stand up and defeat the villains. Daimon was no hero, and he couldn't. He could only hope that Era and Bryce would live to see Daimon get to his bag.
Hatred gave him the strength to resist. It became the light that guided him in the darkness between life and death. It filled every space in his soul, displacing the self-control and decency Daimon had taught himself over the years. The desire for survival and revenge fought against the hope that his friends would live to see him rise. It fought for a place as the top priority in life.
Daimon didn't keep track of time. Just for a moment, he felt a touch on his neck and the familiar voice of an older woman.
"You are alive... Thank the gods..."
He remembered stunting her and tossing her aside in the pantry, away from the showdown. She was fussing over him, he didn't know what she was doing, but he could feel her touching his wounds. It hurt like hell, but his body wouldn't listen, and there was nothing he could do about it. Lying in a puddle of scruffy blood, he saw her go outside, and after a while, several men brought the body wrapped in a sheet into the house and laid it on the bench on which Lias had slept earlier. Nearby, on the floor, they laid Bryce, having removed his pierced armor.
Only no one touched him. A sad, bearded old man tried to turn him over, but a familiar woman prevented him from doing so.
"Touch him and he'll bleed to death. Can't you see he's saving his energy?"
"But, Greta, we can't leave him as he is, he'll get cold in the end! What will we tell his friends afterward?"
"If you accidentally kill him, we won't tell them anything good. Neither will they tell us."
After brief bickering, the old man and Greta got to the bags and began going through the contents.
Daimon, who had barely begun to gain faith in people, collapsed into an abyss of despair. Looting. So predictable...
Still, it turned out they weren't being robbed. In Bryce's bag was an emergency supply, two health potions. Good, very expensive Lizzie Burrell potions. Intended for the most extreme of cases.
The woman walked over to him, knelt beside him, soiled her skirt in blood, unsealed the bottle, and dripped it on his lips. The droplet flowed almost completely into his mouth, dissolving into it. The processes in his body, which had almost stopped, came shuddering back into motion. Another drop, another, and another-accurately, precisely, so that not one precious drop was wasted.
After getting almost half of the vial, Dimon tried to sigh, and he succeeded.
When they heard the hoarse sighing and moving, the rest of the house darted away, huddled against the walls and staring fearfully at the bloodied Daimon.
He sighed again and tried to move his arm. It obeyed, though through the woozy pain. He reached for the vial, and when Greta hastily handed it to him, he drank it in small sips. The pain was rapidly receding, and in a minute he was able to sit up, looking around himself. It was pathetic.
He stood up in silence and walked toward his companions, taking the second vial from Greta. He hissed.
"Everybody out."
And when, after a few moments, the house was empty, he checked Bryce's pulse. The wounds in his stomach were doing their job, but Bryce wasn't yet cold. Daimon closed his eyes, resting his hands on his comrade's body.
[self-sacrifice]
A blinding, sharp, all-consuming pain pierced his stomach. Daimon almost swiped the vial open beforehand past his mouth. He checked his friend's stomach, the wounds were gone, and he was breathing evenly, just staying unconscious.
Daimon, barely able to contain his fear and despair, removed the sheet from the second body. Era.
He tried not to look below the waist. It was enough of what was on top. The beaten face, the abrasions, the bruises, the teeth marks on her chest, the crumpled ribs, the dislocated shoulder, the nail marks on her neck. Daimon checked her pulse. She was alive. That's all that matters.
[self-sacrifice]
He was ready for it. But still, he almost cursed his gift. Every feeling, every emotion, every pain, all spilled over to him, crippling his body and soul. Every face, every signature, every smell was forever etched into his memory. He knew that Era would not forget what had happened that would be impossible. But she would have only a faint memory, without much detail. She would get over it.
They're alive, and that's all that matters.
***Talik***
Two days had passed since that memorable 'meeting,' but Talik still could not say that he was used to what was going on. No matter who he spoke to, every word was perceived as a kind of revelation from above, and sometimes he could hardly keep from checking how obedient they all were, to what extremes could he bring them? But realizing that he would not forgive himself for that, he chased those thoughts away.
Yesterday, Wilhelm had given him a tour of the military units. Actually, at first, Talik was more interested in going to the 'Roman bath', but he had to keep his face, he'd asked for it. And he was deeply impressed.
Still, when you look at toy soldiers in VR, everything is perceived differently. The huge, sterile viewing platforms, where perfectly trained soldiers in beautiful armor and cloaks practiced their combat techniques, were stunning. Even more striking was that as he and Wilhelm stepped onto the platform, like a podium, hundreds of people saluted him on their knees.
Guys, please ignore me. Oh, yeah, guys and gals.
It was expected, but still strange. There were men and women in his newly formed army as equals. Talik sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to order all these people to go to war. He couldn't imagine doing something like that.
Talik remembered the draconians in armor. Oh, it was an indescribable sight. The two-meter-long black half-men with horns, the mother-of-pearl white patterned armor on top of their own scales, the heavy moving tails that made them look like the perfect killing machine. It remains to be seen, though, whether they are actually worth anything in battle. In Yggdrasil, they were level 40 rank-and-file units, except with better protection, and the racial differences for these kinds of NPCs were purely aesthetic gimmicks. The human, elf, and draconid of this scale had nearly identical stats, with a random variation of up to 5%.
And yes, there were thousands of these warriors, too. Many thousands. He didn't look at the rest of the training grounds and barracks, rightly assuming they were no different.
But Wilhelm, 'riding the wave', dragged him to show the palace guards. These were already warriors from levels 60 to 75, with combined classes, not just purely attacking or defensive archetypes. Some time ago he had thought about naming them and writing out their stories, too, but he'd given up, leaving a generic description for all of them. However, the equipment was no longer standard, from the system, but from the loot, which was a pity to sell. Not great, but much better than the standard. At 75 levels even the legendaries were on, so...
Talik hummed. Yeah, it wasn't exactly like a standardized army. It was hard to find more than one or two of the same things on the 'palace guard'. Although you have to hand it to Yggdrassil's designers, no one looked like a clown. Everything was stylish and handsome.
He did not linger there long. In the waiting hall, where Wilhelm had gathered his 'elite,' he stood with raised hand, causing a storm of excitement, and quickly took off.
He also noticed that all the soldiers were moving deliberately slow while practicing their techniques and sparring. It wasn't that they were slowing down, but the movements were perceived as leisurely and smooth. The 60 levels were a little faster, but still, the general idea of the capabilities of 'his' army was slightly disturbing. After all, this is another world with sentient beings. And what would happen if they had firearms? Not to mention rocket and energy weapons.
With such a difference in the level of development it will be very sad. Brave guys, beautiful (really beautiful), but slow fencers, against missiles and bullets... And the clash will be inevitable, if there is an advanced civilization. No one will look blankly at the aliens. Someone is bound to decide to get their hands on them.
He wanted to know more about the world around him, but it wasn't up to him alone.
He had high hopes for magic in the first place. It could be a significant trump card, even against an advanced civilization.
Now Talik decided to inspect the guild's treasury. In fact, after his tour of the barracks in the city, he'd been literally dragged in different directions by Illadria, Warboss, and Marius to 'pay attention' to their fiefdoms as well. Illadria was weary, she seemed to think it was a grave mistake not to have dragged him through her groves for half a day on his last visit. Talik wanted to walk in nature himself, but there was too much to experience. Going to the treasury was a pretty good excuse to get away from everyone at once for a while.
Talik looked around. Drega, as she had been all along since her appointment as 'Adjutant', was behind her right shoulder. She was wearing the 'Full Dark Invasion Commander's Armor', a reward for winning a unique event. Ebonite-black accentuated her strong, trim figure. A divine class, almost a top. Katsuba had used them for a while before he'd gotten a more advanced set. He complained, though, that he was desperately short of cheater vampirism.
Talik sighed, closed his eyes, and activated the passageway to the lower part of the temple. He still didn't like using teleporters, though he knew he should start getting used to it.
The construction of the treasury was extremely simple. The guild saw no point in pouring resources to complicate the place. First of all, there was no one to boast about the design idea and decorations anyway - 'no strangers walk here'. Secondly, if the enemies have already got here, it's the kind of guys who have broken through the defense of the entire guild. Nothing will help.
A circular vaulted hall with nine aisles in different directions, each ending in a smaller hall. A discreet gray marble with pearl streaks, twisted columns, and graceful statues in niches in the passageways. Above each aisle was a burgundy velvet flag with an inscription pointing it out. "gold", "crystals" "unique" "legendary" "divine" "art" "for sale" "reserve sets" "special".
In the main hall stood a semicircle of carved racks for things that had no room in the specialized departments. Potions, duplicates of high-level spells and recipes, crystal ingredients, and rare books of Yggdrasil. Each shelf had a tall extension ladder to reach the top shelves. Later, when it became clear that there was not enough space on the shelves even in such conditions, they were improved so that they could go up and down, like an elevator. But they kept the stairs, it looked too entourage-like.
Talik grinned. There was a time when he was studying for exams while in the game. Then he downloaded a huge pile of study materials into the game, crammed them into books, and put them here. The idea didn't work - he quite expectedly failed to study while playing. But he left the books here, he didn't move them to the library.
Draga looked around after the transfer, wide-eyed and breathless with delight.
"Do you like it?" Talik asked softly.
"It's just unbelievable. I could never have imagined such a thing!"
"Come on, there's not much of value here. Do you want me to show you the most valuable object?"
Of course, Prophet!
Come on.
He headed in the direction of the 'special' section. A little nasty goodbye to the invader obviously greed would lead them there in the first place. Right into an isolated room, planted with traps that would likely send even a good tank to respawn. And it was in that compartment that the last fruit of Talik's irrepressible gigantomania was located.
Walking into the spacious hallway, Talik instructed Draga.
There are a few basic rules for being here. Violating them will lead to a quick and extremely painful death. First, no active magic, no active skills. As soon as you use anything like that, the treasury will recognize you as an enemy. It won't look good, trust me. Secondly, you can look at anything, but it is highly undesirable to touch anything with your hands without permission. There are a lot of surprise exhibits here. It used to be just a scrap of damage with debuffs, now I can't tell you what the hazards are. It can rip your arms off or kill you altogether. And thirdly, taking anything... With my permission, it turns out... Make sure you leave a note of it in the logbook on the way out. Name, date, and the full name of the item taken. If you violate this point, I will punish you personally.
Drega nodded very seriously in response.
They walked into the hall, and Drega, seeing that was standing on a pedestal in the center, stepped forward and covered Talik with herself.
"Prophet, WHAT is it? It is dangerous!" Her voice rang with genuine alarm.
"Аh..." Talik wrinkled his nose, surprised by the maneuver. "Meet the most expensive item in the treasury. A Titan. If you use a skill or spell now, it will become your enemy."
"I hear you. Forgive my behavior."
"It's no big deal, just keep it in check, okay? Take a look at him if you're interested."
Draga hesitated for a few moments, then with emphasized dignity went to the Titan and stood in front of him.
Titan's idea was a collective one, everyone liked the idea of using the automaton to guard the treasure trove. The design, the behavior patterns, the combat algorithms - it was all the fruit of collective work.
The two-and-a-half-meter tall, reverse-knee-humanoid robot was deceptively frail. The white plastic armor, the full mask, the bundled 'dreadlocks,' it was categorically out of place in Yggdrassil's lore, but it was damn good-looking. And efficient - the stats and armament were done by Talik. In his first and only battle, he received dozens of tickets from the attackers. The GMs spent two weeks trying to figure out if there were cheats or abuses of the game mechanics.
There was an 'energy' cannon embedded in the right hand. The shots looked like clots of blinding blue plasma blasting from the fist. On a direct hit within a temple location, these shots inflicted astronomical numbers of damage. Only a bloated, overbuffed tank wouldn't crumble from a single hit. Any other class archetype was gone with one hit, not even [Radiant Beryl's body] helped.
In the left side was a forcefield 'generator', which held back comparable damage and was an insurmountable obstacle. Until you take down this shield, not only can you not deal damage to the automaton, but you can't even get close to it. The nice thing about this shield was that it completely neutralized any blow that came at it - even at one unit of strength, it completely absorbed any last attack before dispersing. Of course, outside of his 'zone,' his attack power and shield strength dropped by about a factor of two and a half, but in any case, the Titan was the most powerful unit in the Dawn Mist in terms of damage numbers. Even counting the players - for example, Katsuba's [astral dissection] critical hit did eighty percent of the machine's regular damage.
The picture was completed by the high dexterity and the 'stealth' mechanic, which was never needed.
Still, the Titan had one fatal, critical flaw. It was expensive. Really expensive. The whole guild donated to him, and Talik secretly added almost all of his reserves for a rainy day. In the event of his death, Titan could be dismantled into elements, making resurrection impossible. But the problem wasn't just the price of the Titan itself.
The main problem was ammunition. Three cassettes of seven charges, one charge for each shot or use of the shield. Two repair kits. A spare power battery for acceleration mode.
The cost of spent consumables was equal to 70% of the treasury capacity, which the guild had never reached in its entire existence. It was barely scraped together in six months of grinding, leaving not even a speck of dust in the coffers. During that time, the guild had not received any development. And the developers had one answer to all complaints - 'we are always ready to meet the players who bring donations to our mutual project'. Estimating the scale of donations, they even wanted to disassemble and sell the Titan, it would be enough to build another Dawn City, but in the end, we decided to leave it as 'Ultima ratio regum'. After word of Yggdrassil's imminent closure, Talik tried to sell it, but there were no more buyers.
Since then, Titan has never been turned on again, and all of Talik's projects have been peer-reviewed for acceptable idiocy.
Draga stared spellbound at the automaton.
"Prophet, I... I never thought I could imagine the limits of the Lords' power, but this... Is this Titan one of us? Does he serve the guild?"
"He should. But as long as there's no threat to the existence of the guild, I don't want to check it. Let's go. We're here on business."
Drega nodded briefly and followed Talik, never fully turning her back on the Titan.
He examined the gold and crystal sections with a pained heart. The state of the monetary part of the treasury was frankly pathetic. A room equipped to hold a maximum of twenty-five billion gold coins held less than a million. By Yggdrassil's standards, it was like going out for bread.
Things were even worse with crystals, the second major currency. Less than a thousand universal data crystals. Not even enough to put properties into an empty legend. Barely enough even for a couple of good long fights with consumables.
Talik was clutching his head as he looked at the devastation. And he'd taken everything he had into the real world himself. Draga, on the other hand, didn't care. She rejoiced like a child at all these 'wealth' and praised the wisdom of some mythical Prophet and the wealth of some mythical treasury.
His musings were interrupted by [message]
"Prophet, this is Illadria, I have news about the explored area beyond Dawn..."
"To the point." Talik was in no mood. Even Illadria's beautiful chirping was annoying now.
"I got it." From the sound of her voice, she pulled herself up and took on a sternly responsible look. "The map of the area is ready, and I have information for which [message] is not well suited. You would probably want to know it urgently and in a proper setting."
"I see." Talik was surprised. It was the first time a former NPCs had ever insisted on anything. "Well, how soon can you come into my office?"
"I humbly wait at its entrance, Prophet."
"I'll be there in a moment."
Talik interrupted [message]
"Draga, let's go, urgent business came up."