thicccc chapter. really should have been 2, but somehow stuff moves so slow smh.
Armour: Platinum
Weapon: Platinum Bow(Fire Arrows), Arkhalis
Acc(11): Band of Regeneration, Radar, Hermes Boots, Round Shield, Aglet
Health: 395/400
The Guide was good at lying.
He knew he was good, because despite his years of telling fibs, he retained an honest reputation amongst the townspeople. Nobody ever discovered his little misrepresentations - although, at times, his family did come close. Still, he wasn't a compulsive liar, of course. Spreading too much useless disinformation was a good way to trip oneself. He only lied when it mattered, specifically when the benefit to himself outweighed the risk of having his words proven false.
"Your companion… what is it?"
And ever since the village had been destroyed, The Guide found himself doing a lot of lying. He was alone - without a friend in the world - and his only weapon to survive was the skill of verbal manipulation. Down in the caverns, he had staved off The Terrarian with a quick witted lie - resulting in a tentative… acquaintanceship? (Really, The Guide didn't have a very clear idea of their relationship, but at least it wasn't currently hostile). It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep The Terrarian safely within his circle of influence. With enough prodding, The Guide was confident he could twist Terrarian to fulfill his purposes. The Travelling Merchant though… he was a much tougher crowd. Much harder to lie to.
"Oh?"
The Guide answered the inquiry absentmindedly, hiding his turbulent emotions behind a flat, bland smile. The Terrarian had clearly made a strong impression on their visitor. An impression The Guide needed to do away with before The Travelling Merchant left tomorrow morning. If he couldn't, he would have to dispose of the man himself.
"What do you mean 'It'? He is human through and through. A rather odd duck, I'd say. Scared us all silly on the playground, but you get used to him."
The Travelling Merchant was incredulous. He raised his eyebrows so high, they jostled his feathered hat. He was right to disbelieve. It was abundantly clear that The Terrarian wasn't a normal person, and the more time one spent around him, the more obvious this fact became.
"Human, eh?"
A long moment of silence between them. The Guide stood behind his bold-faced lie. The last thing he needed was this man scurrying back to the Capital and telling everyone 'A Terrarian' had appeared in the land. Even rumors of such a thing would bring a flood of curious tourists here, and some hairbrained resistance group would eventually crop up and attempt to recruit The Terrarian to his death. This was a series of events The Guide needed to avoid at all costs. The Terrarian's power was his. He wouldn't let anyone take it away from him.
"Of course he's human."
The Guide put on the visage of false nostalgia and pretended to recall bits of a childhood he'd never experienced.
"I grew up alongside him. He's one of my good friend's younger nephews, somebody we take turns looking after. He was…" The Guide tapped himself in the temple. "-born a bit touched in the head, y'see. He's also quite sensitive about it. We try not to discuss it around him - you understand, don't you?"
"..."
The grizzled gentleman studied him for a moment before visibly suspending his belief and nodding sympathetically. There was still the hint of suspicion in his expression, but he deliberately refrained from pursuing it any further. This came as a surprise to The Guide, who suppressed a sigh of relief as their conversation shifted to merrier topics.
"Is that so? How Altruistic of you. I suppose there are still some good folk among the nobles…"
The Guide blinked and fought to keep a neutral expression. Nobles? Did he just call me a noble?
The Travelling Merchant (thankfully) didn't notice his surprise. When he spoke again, his voice had taken a different tone.
"Say, young sir, I've traveled far and wide. North to South. East to West. Just last month I was in the snowy mountains, eating with the members of the resistance. The month before, I was selling wares in the Jungle King's courtyard..."
The Travelling Merchant continued in what was rapidly becoming a sales pitch.
"Clearly you and your… very normal friend have all the comforts that you need." He motioned vaguely around the room. "I, however, can provide you with a great deal of information. Any story you fancy. Perhaps even secret things that have piqued your curiosity. My organization and I can discover it all… for a price, of course."
A moment's pause before the realization struck.
Oh. He thinks I'm rich...
The Guide had been too distracted by his current mental state to recognize how they must appear in the eyes of The Travelling Merchant. They were two young men - seemingly camping in the woods - in a very strange, and very well furnished dwelling. The most likely explanation for such luxury would be that they were members of some royal family. The truth, however, was that The Terrarian had suddenly been struck with an obsession with building, and spent all last night tearing the place apart and putting it back together. The result was a rather large but cozy homestead, fitted with the comforts and amenities only the nobility could afford to enjoy. Running water? Sinks, toilets and Tubs? No wonder The Travelling Merchant thought of them the way he did.
Incredible… he deliberately believed my lie because he thinks he can make money off me… wow being rich sure is useful.
If The Guide had the spare attention this afternoon, he might have come to the same conclusion. Yet ever since he returned from the hellish crimson, he was so filled with abject despair he could do nothing but wallow in angry tears - much less admire his new accommodations. He had stormed into the newly created building this afternoon, climbed the newly built stairs, slammed the door of his newly claimed bedroom and hurled himself into his newly manufactured bed, staining the pristine silken sheets with stinking scarlet gore. He had lain there, seething in equal parts anger and despair, only leaving to soak (furiously) in the bath when The Terrarian ousted him to clean the bedspread.
That guy has no sense of privacy…
Much to The Guide's chagrin, The Terrarian wasn't the only source of interruption. The Travelling Merchant had let himself into the main hall perhaps half an hour ago, after bargaining a night's stay with The Terrarian. His sudden presence had startled The Guide - who wasn't in the best mindset to entertain company, but figured some conversation would help stave off his rapidly oncoming depression.
Alright. Phew… focus.
The fire crackled. The clock above the mantle ticked methodically, pulling The Guide back to reality. He raised his eyes and carefully studied their visitor. He was an older man who, despite his rough appearance, gave off an air of suaveness. Draped over his shoulders was the trademark blue silken coat of the Merchant's guild, but it was clear from his stance and build that he was no mere salesman. He was also a fighter, likely an explorer, and an experienced traveller as well. Certainly formidable in all respects, and he certainly would have been a formidable opponent if he wasn't blinded by the glitz and glamour of potential profit.
"Surely there is something you'd be curious about. Perhaps the Legend of King Yharim? The stories of The Great Witch? Even the tale of High Knight Braelor, the leader of the resistance..."
The Merchant flashed a grin. He looked hungry to strike a deal. The Guide leaned back against the couch and pursed his lips. Was he interested? Desperately so. He was a scholar at heart and loved knowledge more than anything… Well. Not anything… he was still nursing that murderous rage against the Vulture-headed mage. He needed to kill the mage, but in order to kill him - The Guide needed to know who he was. Could he purchase this information?
But… I don't actually have any money… hmm…
If the Travelling Merchant thought he was some spoilt rich kid, then he'd play the part. The only issue was, Guide had no gold on hand. He didn't have a single copper to his name… but he did have about four pounds of thumb sized diamonds rattling around in the top drawer of his bedroom dresser. He silently blessed The Terrarian before putting on the most snooty expression he could muster.
"Alright. Sure, sure. Ah - but we're camping right now… we didn't bring coin. We're trying to escape the corruption of civilization, you understand?"
The Travelling Merchant began to deflate. The Guide continued. He motioned toward the front door, outside which The Terrarian was… probably fighting the zombie horde.
"But his Mom wouldn't let us go without something. She's the really doting type. As a result, we've got a chest of diamonds upstairs that we're trying to get rid of. Entertain me and I'll give you a handful. Will that suffice?"
The gentleman's expression was one of naked greed. He chuckled and removed his hat.
"That payment is…certainly sufficient. Now, young sir, ask to your heart's content."
The Travelling Merchant's evening was turning out much more pleasant than he had anticipated. Not only had he found shelter from the zombie horde, but the shelter provided him some lovely vegetarian stew, a warm fireplace, silken couches, decent conversation and business.
"The Resistance in the far North have been whispering about something big. A hero - apparently someone notable, is joining the cause. Nobody knows who they are as of yet, but everyone's ears are a-tingling."
The Young Noble was sitting across the table, holding his chin in his hand. True to his word, he had spilled a handful of cut diamonds on the table - and appeared to be listening closely to everything The Travelling Merchant said. He was interested in current events - and The Travelling Merchant was happy to indulge him. They were animatedly discussing the rumors about the Resistance when the noble's visage grew dark and he became quite serious.
"A Hero? What manner of hero? A mage?"
He flared his nostrils as he uttered the word. Evidently he had no love for magic users. It wasn't odd for citizens to hate sorcery. King Yharim was an avid user of the arcane arts, as was his most fearsome soldier - The Witch, Calamitas. Together they killed hundreds upon thousands of innocents in their quest to conquer the land. Perhaps the young noble had lost a loved one to the slaughter. The Travelling Merchant shook his head sympathetically and attempted to swivel topics.
"Perhaps a mage. Perhaps a knight. Who knows. The resistance has been extremely hush-hush about it, but then again, they're hush-hush about everything. The rumors only started a couple of weeks ago. It may come to nothing, perhaps it's even disinformation… but if it's the real deal - then we might see The King march to war again."
"... I see."
The young noble's brow was knotted in concern. He seemed fixated on the topic of 'mages', despite the obvious emotional strain it put upon him.
"Mages… are you familiar with any? Surely there are some who are famous for their… summoning abilities. Perhaps one that presents with a vulture's mask, or some beak like protrusion?"
"...Oh?"
The Travelling Merchant raised his eyebrows. What was this? He smelled money in the air. The twin scents of excess wealth, and desperation. The young noble… he had a grudge, and the glint in his eyes told the gentlemen the grudge was no petty matter. The noble looked ready to die for a cause. He'd certainly pay handsomely for information.
"Hmm… Vulture headed sorcerer, huh?"
The Travelling merchant tapped his chin and raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if to pretend to think carefully. He watched the noble from the corner of his eye, gauging his reactions. As expected, the young man looked tremendously excited at the prospect of gleaning even the smallest bit of knowledge about this mage. He would pay… He'd pay whatever was asked of him.
"I vaguely recall that a certain cult leader is fond of that sort of attire, however-"
The Merchant paused and gave the young noble a knowing look. The man's eyes were as wide as saucers and he was gripping the armrests of the couch as he nearly bounced at the edge of his seat.
"However, I'd need to go do some digging with the Merchant's Guild to provide you any meaningful information. If you need this information within the month, then I'd have to put my current trade route on hold. I'd have to charter a cart to rush back to the capital. Then, I'd need to pay the appropriate fees to meet the people I need to. Pay the bribes I need to pay. Pay th-"
"Okay, okay."
The young noble shut his eyes and raised a hand, indicating he understood. Evidently, he was unhappy - but understood he couldn't do anything about it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pursed his lips before opening his mouth to finalize the deal.
"The soonest you can deliver this information?"
"Two weeks, I'd have to make the trip both ways."
"I want a clear identity, where to find the individual and his organization. Anything less, and I won't pay a dime. I have… to visit him. Urgently."
The Merchant nodded gravely.
"Of course, my young sir. The Merchant's Guild doesn't swindle their clients. I will provide you whatever information you need to deal with this individual. I swear it upon my honor."
The noble nodded, and The Travelling Merchant suppressed a victorious smirk. The truth was that he was already familiar with this 'vulture-headed mage', and digging up a full report would be trivial for somebody of his status in the Guild. However, he wanted to squeeze this noble for as much cash as he could, and thereby made the task seem much harder than it really was.
It didn't matter either way for these rich kids. They had an infinite supply of funds. They didn't know the value of money, and would throw it away at a moment's notice.
"Your fee, Merchant?"
"The chest of diamonds. The rest of it."
As expected, the noble didn't even hesitate.
"Very good. Start back to the capital immediately tomorrow morning. I expect to hear from you soon."
The Guide is suddenly a rich kid, and the LITERALLY has infinite money if the Terrarian prints it for him.
Terrarian is the Fed lmao. T-printer goes brrr
Guide getting scammed, but he doesn't care so much.
Boss soon I promise