Date posted: 29th September 2024
Hey, you know how I said last month that I wouldn't post in September? Turns out that was my evil doppelganger, Agent 49, who edited the author's notes to make me, Agent 94, a liar, a fool, a charlatan; to break the sacred bond between you and I, dear reader.
But for real, turns out it's hard to not write when you're waiting for assignments at work and harder to just goof off to watch an eight hour video on Darkwood. So you get another chapter of Merchant Prince this month.
But NO chapter for October. Probably. Maybe. We'll see if Agent 49 makes a return then. Hopefully the holy chains I bought from Amazon will keep him locked in my basement. Without further ado:
Chapter 28: Healer for Hire
"Please state the nature of your medical emergency."
- Starcraft
There was no shortage of ruins in the islands of the Dark Sea.
Back when the world was spread beneath the heavens, the peoples of the islands of the Dark Sea and the Long Coast were able to mostly live off comfortably, what with being far from much of the conflict of the sorcerer-kings. True, there was the odd thalassocracy or six, but it was a mostly peaceful realm where the harshest wars were mostly between argumentative fishermen. This was long before the dwarves marched from their mountain homes to create the mercantile city of Qar Hadast, when the elves stayed hidden and safe in their forests, before Aincradius picked up his spear and woke up to justice.
Yet, it did not mean that the sorcerer-kings had little influence in this corner in the world. Losers from their many destructive conflicts often made their way to the islands to hide from the wrath of their enemies. Many others were sent here in exile to prove the magnanimity of the winners. Yet, even these defeated and dishonoured wizards were horrors in themselves and soon inflicted their wrath upon the islanders.
Chief amongst them was the Derevakh Dynasty. Whom and what they were fighting exactly, the chroniclers did not know for such history was long erased lest they be reminded of their old shame. The patriarch of the Dynasty, Deioces III, soon enough subjugated a great island, whose name was erased and replaced with his own.
It was a piece of land that had been inhabited by many a people; from the Nadyah, to the Free Tribes, and even the kozakis. With sorcerous might, they enslaved the indigenous peoples, and with their new labour force, created a great alabaster palace with stone imported from their ancestral lands. For unknown generations did they rule over the island with an iron fist.
Being so far from their ancestral home, they were one of the last dynasties to fall to the Alliance of Light. When the dwarven army of Qar Hadast came to the island with a company of Aincradius' Silver Shields, those great liberators and abolitionists that history so celebrated, they put the castle under siege.
For a year the Derevakh Dynasty fended off their enemy, its defenders giving even Aincradius' grizzled veterans a challenge. They rained hail and stone and fire upon the Silver Shields, sent forth monsters against Qar Hadast's heavy infantry, and slipped in baleful shadows to assassinate the commanders. They could have likely lasted another ten years had fortune not turned against them.
One day, the castle's slaves launched their uprising and torched the once wondrous palace. In an act of desperation, the last scion of the dynasty, Deioces X, made a deal with a powerful being, bringing forth all manner of horrors and beast from the abyss and driving out Hadasti and Silver Shields alike. So fearsome was this sorcery, it is said that it took the combined might of Saint Olga or Wicasa the Wise or both, depending on who you ask, to push back the horde and seal the evil. Aincradius himself called the campaign a victory and rewarded the besiegers with honour, though its veterans found such things little comfort and many considered it a failure on their part.
What remained of the wealth and treasure had been long sealed away in the castle, the memory of it forgotten by heavy mists and the long voyage of time. Only the brave, the foolish and the greedy seek its shores.
"So goes the tale of Alabaster Palace, the haunted demesne of the Derevakh Dynasty. No sane soul has set place there since," finished the old man, ancient as the tale he had just regaled. A heavy silence fell upon their camp, heavy as the mists that surrounded them.
They were situated aways north from Stingray's Rest, a few days of sailing. A djong of superstitious fishermen had ferried them here to this forbidden isle for a hefty price, bringing with them enough supplies to last a couple of weeks. Cheap it was not, and much haggling was to be had, but convinced the fishermen were to carry the group to the island as will their soon-to-arrive comrades.
Of the group ringing the campfire were three, excluding the hermit. Experienced they were in the ways of war but less so against the supernatural. Perhaps they should have brought along a priest …
The leader nodded. "Much obliged for your harrowing tale, good man. Pray tell, do you know a way to get to the palace?"
"Did I just not tell you of the dangers of the palace?"
"We are warriors and a hundred men strong. The rest of our company will arrive here soon enough," said the captain. He had called forth the rest of his comrades from Fort Arsite on the 20th Floor and they would arrive in a week's time, if the weather permits.
"Indeed, I do but …"
He immediately understood what the old man was getting at. "You will receive one sack of rice and some of our roasted fish."
The hermit tugged his beard, thinking of it, and finally they shook hands.
The warband left for the castle on a mist-covered morning, swapping their broadswords for machetes. The captain had sensibly replaced his sabatons and greaves for a solid pair of boots, swapped his mail for a gambeson, and his armet for a barbute. Behind him was his sergeant, in full hoplite gear, who refused to abandon his heavy panoply.
"I told you that you should have brought lighter gear," said the captain.
"And deprives this group from a good tank? Never," said the sergeant.
"Tanking really isn't a thing in this game, you know," said the archer of the group, as tall and thin as her longbow. "A spearline is not a tank no matter how you cut it."
"You say that, but here I am agroing the biggest ugliest monster so they won't stomp your squishy ass."
"Ah, you know what? Fair."
"Less talking, more cutting. You want first rights or not?" said the knight, hacking off another branch.
First rights, or more accurately known as First Rights to Dungeons, was a charter made up early on in SAO's development. Little know about this, but the first idea of Aincrad began as a tabletop campaign run by Akihiko Kayaba himself, with a revolving door of some fifty or so players beginning from his college days. Running the game like the grognards of yore, he would often have run four to five parties per week, all set in the same world - a great floating castle in the sky.
But sometimes, disagreements would emerge when parties tried to raid a dungeon, which more often than not ended in a few stabbings. So, a charter was made, which could basically be summed up as: first come, first serve.
The first party to claim a dungeon would have the majority rights to it and the treasure within. The percentages of the splitting of loot varied from size, threat level, and number of divers. It was a template document, available for everyone since the beta, and was heavily used by any self respecting guild, even the smallest of warbands.
And that included the Defenders Immaculate, and if there was one thing that Diavel prided himself in, it was being a man of his word.
They emerged from the jungle sometime around noon, and even then the mists still clung to the brush. What greeted them was a sight to behold:
A great palace jutted from the earth, as foreign to the island as the party themselves were. Tall, impressive, not even the passing of time of the growth of vines could completely erase its glory. Then Diavel recalled this was built by slaves and banished such amusement from his mind.
The alabaster walls themselves were seven times the height of a man, made even more treacherous by the moat surrounding it. Its portcullis was opened - nay, shattered - and its drawbridge was lowered, or what was left of it. In the dry moat were the ancient remains of a dwarven battering ram, alongside many skeletons (unanimated ones, thankfully). Even from afar, they could spy the great central dome of what was the main keep, as well as great towers on each corner of the castle.
To bring this amount of precious stone could only mean that its builders were insane, wealthy, or insanely wealthy.
Kibaou whistled. "Damn, can you imagine the loot in there?"
"And the danger," said Sakuya. "Don't think I have enough arrows for what's coming."
Diavel slapped her on the shoulder. "Come now, sis. I think you can make down with the quivers you've brought. Besides, the rest of the Defenders will come soon enough. Now, where's our banner?"
Retrieving the banner of the Defenders Immaculate from Kibaou's backpack, it was unfurled to show a grey heater shield criss-crossed with two white arming swords on a field of light blue. Simple, for sure, but Diavel needed a good enough banner after they defeated the 1st Floor Boss, «Ilffang the Kobold Lord», and had to make do with a hastily drawn one on a napkin.
As decided by the official Clearer Guild Dungeon Agreement Charter, a charter made sometime during the 7th Floor by the biggest guilds at that time, anyone who wants to be a 'real' guild had to sign on for it. There was a teeny tiny fee everyone had to give, mostly to care for the children and pre-teens that were also stuck in the game which was far too many for Diavel to be comfortable around. Some guilds hired child soldiers, but his was not one of them, thank you very much.
Diavel tied the banner to a tall branch and held it aloft for all to see (all four of them). "I declare that the Right to Plunder the Alabaster Palace belongs to the Defenders Immaculate!"
His two guildmates and the old man clapped and cheered politely.
"Hold on, boss. We need another witness to claim Right to Plunder," said Kibaou.
"We have the old man here, don't we?" said Sakuya. "He can vouch for us."
"Nah, you know what the Charter says. Only PCs count and you need three of em'."
Diavel palmed his forehead. "Of course! Damn, I knew I forgot something. Should have brought the others along."
"Well, what are we gonna do? Haul ass back to Stingray's Rest and get another player?" asked Kibaou.
"We could just wait for the other guys to come by," said Sakuya. "Then again, others may come before the rest of the men come here."
Diavel kicked a nearby rock in frustration, the piece of stone flying into the moat filled with the dead. "Ah, damn it! Those Roman cosplaying assholes are gonna come here and claim this place if we don't stop em'!"
The Sons of Mars, being the first to buddy-buddy up with the nobles of Qar Hadast meant they had the most ships of any guild, with the ALF right behind them commissioning and hiring ships as well.
Now, the Sons of Mars were an okay bunch (for the most part). Guilds as small as his were also okay with them (for the most part). Good fighters all around (for the most part). But he had heard of some rumours they had somewhat … loosened their standards ever since they bagged that giant bird in the lands of the Free Tribes.
There was, in fact, nothing stopping a bunch of Legionaries marching up to the castle and claiming the Alabster Palace as theirs. That scared Diavel immensely. Even finding this place took a lot of time and money.
See, this is why the Defenders wasn't a big name guild; ever since those early Floor victories, Diavel had yet to reach the same levels of recognition and glory. It was, as his sister puts it, a YouTuber who made a video with a million views once and their subsequent videos could barely crack a couple thousand views. It stung, but the truth often did.
Sakuya took him to the side. "Baby brother, listen -"
"I'm older than you -!"
She cupped his mouth with a hand. "We cannot just go back to Stingray. We just have to hope the men come here before anyone else."
"Mbut," came Diavel's muffled voice.
"No buts or ifs. And if some stranger walks up that path then we just have to … y'know …"
Diavel narrowed his eyes on his sister. "Sakuya-chan, you can't mean …"
"You want the treasure or not?" she asked.
"See, this is what happens when you pursue a business management degree." He sighed. "Fine, we'll tie em' up and bribe em'. As long as we can get into the palace, that's fine by me."
"A thousand pardons, sers," said the hermit. "Why not just have one of those fellows over there sign your contract for you?"
All three Defenders turned around to see a shack with a great sign upon its roof.
A long-haired brunette manned the counter, fingers intertwined with a big smile on his pretty face. Besides him was a little purple haired girl, whose face shone and was not yet broken by the experience of going through customer service. In the back of the shack, they could see, hear and smell someone frying up something in a wok, a great gout of flame erupting from a makeshift stone stove and damn near burning the brows of the oddly beautiful cook.
But that was not all! There was another shack nearby, manned by a woman with dark blue hair, a nervous smile on her face. She wore a doctor's apron with a nurse cap with a little red heart on it; the widely recognised symbol of healers in SAO. Behind her was a row of potions, poultices and herbs of all kinds.
Upon the counter was a sign that said 'CLOSED', only for the man to turn it around to display it as 'OPEN'.
"Hold on a sec," said Kibaou. "It's that -"
"It's him …" said Diavel.
Kirito flashed the knight a big wide smile. "Welcome to the Kirito Corporation General Store and Diner, what can I do for you today?"
One week ago, Sachi Koremune woke up to find herself in a room that she did not recognise.
She woke up groggy, with a sore throat and feeling somewhat nauseous. On the end table beside her cot was a cup of water, which she chugged with gusto. She then poured the remains of it onto the palm of her hand and washed her face. Now, fully awake, she examined her room.
It was a simple one-person bedroom, spartan and bare save for her bed, her end table, alongside a small desk and a couple chairs, all made from rattan. The walls themselves seemed to be made of mud bricks, and there were no windows unless you counted the iron bars holding the ceiling upwards .
The door was solid wood and locked. When she slammed her shoulder against it, Sachi could hear the rattling of chains. Panic shot through her system before she mastered herself.
"Keep your shit together, Koremune. You've survived a month at sea with pirates, you can handle a little imprisonment." Sachi looked around for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Before she could scrounge up the hidden zweihander from under her bed, she heard the chains rattling. Inwardly cursing, she picked up the only thing she could.
Summoning her years of experience of playing hide-and-seek with her older siblings, she hid herself somewhere no one would ever look.
"Gooood afternoon, rise and shine!" came the sing-song voice of pure evil.
Her captor stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the room. "Hey, where is -"
Bursting forth from her super secret hiding place (behind the door of the room), Sachi leapt forth and performed «Lion Claw», a move that had her jump into the air, somersaulting, and slamming her colossal weapon upon the enemy.
Or at least that's what she tried to do: what really happened is she took a couple steps forward and bonked the woman on the back of the head with the chair.
It didn't even break on impact, nor did the woman budge aside from her head being pushed down ever so slightly. Sachi lost the balance of her chair as it dropped to the floor.
Her captor turned around, frowning. "Hey, chairs aren't cheap, ya'know. I almost dropped your food too."
Sachi blinked. "H-how …"
"Ah, that? It's called «Steel Brow»," said her captor, knocking on her own head. It occurred to Sachi that she was only five feet tall. "It's a perk in the «Heavy Armor» sub-branch, but it gives buffs to you unarmoured too."
The strange woman set the tray of food on the table and picked the chair back up. "Now c'mon, have lunch. You must be starving."
Lunch consisted of white rice, soy sauce and a fried egg with a cup of green tea. Not exactly the peak of meals, but after weeks of eating roasted fish, hardtack and drinking grog, it may as well be a meal from a three Michellin Star restaurant.
"Wow, you're pretty hungry, aren't cha'?" said the stranger, content to watch Sachi eat. She had painted whiskers on her cheeks. On her belt was a pair of shining golden dusters and her thick arms was likely the thing that knocked her out in the first place. "Usually people would only be knocked out for a couple hours at most, but you slept for almost an entire day."
"In my defense, I was so sick of eating the same thing everyday, I'd rather not eat at all." Damn this game and its insistence of accurate metabolic simulation!
Sachi downed her cup of tea instantly and the stranger helpfully poured another. She assumed poison, but if the stranger wanted to kill her she could probably just have done that with her bare hands.
"I'll be honest, I thought you'd book it out of here. Not like the door's lock."
And find herself in a hostile environment? No way. "You're a player," she stated.
"Yarrr, that I am! I am Pirate Queen Argo, the Dread Menace of the Dark Sea! And you, my friend, are my new prisoner!"
"Argo, please don't give our guest PTSD," said another voice. Sachi turned around so fast she would have dislocated a spinal disc.
The new stranger had brought a stool with them and sat down at the table. He - and they were definitely a he now he was up close - was very pretty. The kind of dandy that put a fair amount of work into their appearance, something she had dearly wished more guys did.
His long silky black hair was tied up in a neat ponytail, and his ears glinted with a pair of tasteful gold earrings. Even his clothes were silk. Not a bad looker this one. She was immediately suspicious.
"Don't mind me, finish your meal. We can chat later," he said, sitting at the table.
"No, I'm done," said Sachi, pushing the plate away. In truth, she could eat another couple more plates, but it would be rude to be gluttonous. Even to kidnappers.
The pretty man introduced himself as Kirito, CEO of the Kirito Corporation. He spun a yarn about his accomplishments, his company's accomplishments, and something about helping the lord of Stingray's Rest about a certain business.
He went on for about a good five minutes before Sachi raised a hand. "Yeah, listen, man. I don't care."
The merchant snapped his fingers. "You know what, fair! But this comes with another conundrum. Argo, if you'd please."
The blonde girl pulled a tablet from under her cloak. "Let's see here, from what I gleam from the documents on the Kuda Rempah's and from my contacts, your name is Sachi. Formerly of the Moonlit Black Cats -"
"Currently of the Moonlit Black Cats." She was still mad at Keita and the rest for not finding her, but she can't entirely put the blame on him she supposed. Her eyes widened. "Wait, do you know where they are?"
"I'm getting to that. See, we actually do know where they are. They've been asking questions around numerous guilds about you."
Her heart leapt at that, only to come crashing down when she said, "I'm afraid you'll need to be incognito for the time being."
"W-w-what?! Why?!"
"Your contract with the Dust Syndicate. See, when your buddy signed it for you, there was something he missed with the finer details. Let's see here, ah yes: Any and all peoples to work for our honourable and completely legitimate guild will be a permanent member unto death. Anyone who breaks this oath is a traitor, to be hunted down and killed, preferably via the honoured execution method of our guild.
Sachi blinked. "Huh?"
"Don't be too mad on your friend there, Sa-chan. Those contracts are thick and hiring a lawyer is expensive. Hiring a good lawyer is even more expensive," the small girl said sympathetically.
"Now, as much as I would like to return you to your friends," said Kirito, "The Dust Syndicate know who your friends are. If they see you and them back together, you're on the chopping block. Not even killing your pirate buddies would have saved you from this predicament."
"S-s-so, what do we do now?"
Kirito clasped his hands. "There are three ways to go about it."
He raised one finger. "Firstly, we need to find your contract and burn it, plus any and all copies. Pirates they may be, but they're obsessed with paperwork."
He raised another finger. "Second, we convince the Dust Syndicate themselves to let you go. Unfortunately, this has never happened. At least from Argo can tell."
One more. "Lastly, we completely and utterly destroy the Syndicate themselves."
"So we're going for number three, right?" asked Sachi hopefully, laughing without humour. Her new captor gave her sad smiles. "Yeah, I guess not."
"Don't worry, Sa-chan. I've got my best men working on finding your contract. It may take a while …"
"How long?"
"Uhhh …" She checked her tablet again. "A few months maybeeee?"
Months?! She can't wait for months! "Can I just -"
Kirito shook his head. "No, you can't contact your friends. I'm sorry, but that's far too dangerous. From what we can tell, they've got people spying on your buddies right now. Frankly, they're better off not knowing. If not for yourself, then think of your friends."
Sachi rubbed her temples. Phantom headaches they were called, the body suffering so much stress it hallucinates them. They weren't real, an impossibility with how the game worked and its lack of pain receptors, but Sachi was surely feeling it. "Ugghhhh …"
Argo and Kirito patiently waited for her to get her bearings. She sat up straight and looked the merchant straight in the eyes. "So, what now?"
"You roll with us. You will serve my corporation, and be paid accordingly. You probably don't even need to change your name, I know like six other Sachis. As we've technically kidnapped you, I feel that it's kinda our responsibility to take care of you. So uh, sorry?"
Ah, great. Work for a weirdo merchant for a few more months and not see her friends. Then again, would being forced to work on another pirate ship for another month be any better? "What's the second option?"
"You stay here for a couple of months, go mad with isolation, escape, the Dust Syndicate finds and kills you." Kirito said in a low voice, "You know what keelhauling is, right?"
"Afraid so."
"Your choice, Sachi. I won't force you either way."
"Kirito says that, but then he'll give you his puppy eyes. I assure you, it's more powerful than any spell," said Argo.
Well if the choice was to throw yourself into the frying pan and another into a volcano, was it really a choice? "Just give me the damn contract. Also, I want a lawyer."
"Helloooo. Earth to Sachi-chan! Hey! You listening?"
"Huh?"
"You spilled your medicine."
The healer looked down to see that she had indeed tipped her potion on the table, a good sized bottle too. "Ah, crap. Sorry."
"Nah, it happens. Sometimes I too feel like I'm going through an expository flashback or something."
"Yuuki, what are you talking about?"
"That's Yuuki-senpai to you, sister! Absolute Cutlass is also acceptable," said the teenager as she swaggered off to whatever work Asuna had her doing.
It had been only another few days since Kirito had dragged the corporation to this hell island and a couple more days since they met Captain Diavel of the Defenders Immaculate. Credit where credit was due, the merchant was a decent handyman what with pumping his points into «Crafting» skills like «Carpentry», «Tailoring» and «Underwater Basket Weaving» (which the merchant insisted was a real skill, thank you very much).
With their two mules, they hauled all the materials up the hill, through the blasted jungle, and set up surprisingly comfy little couple shacks for themselves. And just one day before the Defenders Immaculate arrive. He must have had a very impressive info network.
Half of the Defenders had arrived quicker than they had expected, good winds and good sailors to be thanked for that. It meant that Asuna and Yuuki worked overtime on the cooking, so much so that even Sachi had to lend a hand. Kirito told her she didn't need to, that cooking was not part of her contract, but she insisted. It was only fair since Asuna cooked for all of them.
"Fine then. I'll add it to your pay," he had said with a smile. Then again, Sachi had yet to be paid, so she wasn't sure if he was true to his word.
The food was simple but filling affairs of roasted fish courtesy of Kirito's fishing when he wasn't woodworking, rice mixed with coconut cream, all neatly wrapped in banana leaves. For the higher paying customers were soft boiled eggs and even fried chicken.
When Sachi was told she would find herself in 'great danger', playing doctor while the others ran a restaurant was not something she had in mind. When she wasn't working as a healer, she also helped man the general store or help feed the chickens. Soap, towels, bowls, plates, cutlery, cloth, leather, oil, candles, lanterns, rope were all highly sought after items in these sort of campaigns far from civilisation.
Everyday, the Defenders would send two or three squads into the dungeon, and they would always come back before dark, filthy and tired. Sachi would heal them, Asuna would feed them and Kirito would sell them necessities. He would also lend out large copper bathtubs for some to bathe in, mostly the officers of the Defenders. The lieutenant of the guild, Sakuya, was always found in one at the end of the day.
When the merchant wasn't busy with his carpentry, making stools and tables and the like for the Defenders, he hung out with Captain Diavel and his officers. Apparently, it was the Diavel who had defeated the 1st Floor boss more than a year ago and the merchant was on good terms with him.
"He should be," said Asuna during one breakfast. "We had to really rush to get to the dungeon in time before they starved to death. This was when they were just the two of us."
"Oh, so you're his longest serving employee?"
"Something like that," she said, and the stern swordswoman had a glint in her eye.
There were other employees in the corporation, a smith - the other person that Sachi had pointed her crossbow at - named Lisbeth, the one known as Argo who was an info broker of sorts; and Sinon, who Sachi had not yet meet. Those three girls were elsewhere on 'other business' and would not be joining them on this expedition.
One night, Diavel had invited Sachi and Kirito for dinner. The captain had erected a fancy wartent in the middle of the clearing next to the Alabaster Palace. It was a proper military camp, with each squad having their own tent and fire. There were always five guards always manning the barricades leading to the entrance of the dungeon and another five guarding the path to the beach, complete with a palisade wall that kept out the worst of the wildlife of the island.
It was a roomy command tent, the kind where you could fit a small guild and all their horses. The Defenders had their own cook, and as good as the meal was, they were nowhere as good as Asuna's cooking. Diavel seemed to notice this.
"Apologies for the lousy cooking, I'm afraid we don't have a good chef as Asuna-san," the knight apologised.
"Diavel-san, you're the cook," Kirito pointed out.
"That I am!" said the captain, who looked a bit silly wearing a sword with an apron. It looked just as ludicrous on Asuna too, but she was pretty and pulled it off. "Ever since that embarrassing dungeon dive back on the 1st Floor, I swore to myself won't ever go hungry again!" he said resolutely. "Unfortunately, my men would rather spend money on other people's food."
"To be fair, boss, that's some really good fried chicken she's made," said Sergeant Kibaou.
"My food is free!"
"I would rather pay for good food than get free food," said Lieutenant Sakuya, her own bowl of rice barely touched. Diavel had a look in his eyes that said something along the lines of, Et tu, sister?
"Well, I think your food is good, Diavel-san," the merchant said diplomatically. Besides him, Asuna allowed herself a proud smirk.
Finishing their dinner with dessert, a bowl of fruits including papaya, rambutan and bananas, and a jug of spiced wine. Sachi, ever the responsible one, made sure to keep her drinking to a minimum.
"You are a most excellent healer, Sachi-san. Everyone who goes to you says so, even if I haven't the pleasure to pay you a visit," said Sakuya.
"You know, it's actually really hard to find players investing in their «Medicine» skill," said Sergeant Kibaou, slurring ever so slightly. "Like, we've got a hundred dudes, right? And of the hundred, like maybe three of us know how to properly stitch a wound. Hey lieutenant, remind me how much money we spend on potions?
The archer looked away, as if the question physically hurt her. "Way too much."
Ah, finally, her area of expertise. "Well, actually, I do have an answer to that. So basically, a few things:
"As you know, potions are for quick heals. You can chug a potion and heal yourself relatively quickly, a heal over time effect. But SAO has a system where the more wounds you suffer, the lower your max HP is. That's what poultices are for. No point in chugging a potion when you're bleeding from a dozen different wounds, after all. For simplicity's sake, we're going to take poultices out of this example.
"Potions are cheap. I mean, relatively cheap. The cheapest healing potion you can get is about 20 Col, and they heal about 20 HP. Considering that SAO's player's health rarely if ever hit triple digits, you can more or less heal yourself with five potions. Diavel-san, do you mind telling me how many potions your men carry?"
The knight entertained her. "Three potions for our ranged players, five for frontline infantrymen like Kibaou here, four for everyone else. A handful of poultices too."
The spikey-head sergeant snorted. "I only use one or two per engagement, I'll have you know. Sides', my HP reaches the 200s!"
Asuna whistled. "My HP only reached 100 a week ago."
Sachi raised a finger. "Ah, but how many potions do your men drink in a big engagement?"
At that, the sergeant frowned. "Uhh, an average of four or five per warband?"
"Alright. You sent about twenty men into the «Royal Hall» in the dungeon today, right? How many potions do they carry?"
Kibaou turned to look at Divael. "Don't worry, sarge. I don't think this is what you call highly classified intel."
Spikey-head continued, "Today? About twenty, maybe closer to thirty, but -"
It was Kirito who interrupted him. "Assuming twenty men, each carrying five potions, that's 100 potions. Assuming the lowest priced potions at 20 Col, which I can guess they're not since we're on the 23rd Floor, that's 2000 Col per engagement. The average monthly wage for a Frontliner last I checked was about 100 Col per player level. I know that Defenders pay more than most, but even then, I'm gonna guess you spend a pretty good chunk of your money on potions."
Captain Diavel defended himself, "Hey, it's not like they used all their potions, you know!"
"That may be true," said Sachi, "But you have to admit that's a fair amount of money spent on chugging potions. And remember, ingredients and potion bottles don't have a fixed price."
It was Sakuya who spoke up this time, "Ah, but the men have good armour. We have experienced smiths to fix their gear too."
The healer shook her head. "Even so, that's not accounting for using poultices to patch up their wounds, or slings for broken limbs, stretchers to carry out the seriously wounded, and antivenom for being poisoned."
Diavel gazed into his cup of wine before continuing. "Alright then, little miss healer. What does this have to do with investing into the «Medicine» skill?"
"Well, as you know, Alchemists can brew strong potions using less ingredients. But Healers like myself not only dabble in «Alchemy», but our «Medicine» skill makes healing more effective."
"Bah, I've checked the perk tree for «Medicine». It's not that impressive," said the archer.
Sachi turned to her and smiled. "People say that, but a lot of people don't read too deeply into the descriptions. If you don't mind me asking, have you ever broken your limb, Sakuya-san?"
"Well, I did break a few ribs a month ago throwing myself off a cliff - don't ask - why's that?"
"And how long did it take for your ribs to heal?"
"Well, about a couple of weeks or so."
"And what was the «Medicine» skill or your healer?"
Sakuya swiped a finger up, checking her character sheet window that was only visible to her. "I have 40 «Medicine». I had to patch myself up, again, don't ask."
"Mine is at 450 «Medicine»," said Sachi. All skills in SAO had a max limit of 1,000. "Had I treated you, your broken ribs would have taken a few days at most."
"Impressive," said Diavel. "Could have used you when I broke my leg a few months ago."
"Oh, so that's why Sinon healed from a broken arm so quickly," said Asuna. "Her physician must have had super high «Medicine»."
Sachi continued, "The reason why people don't invest in «Medicine» is many players think they can just get away with chugging potions. And that is true, a health potion will heal you at a fixed amount, regardless of your «Medicine» skill. It's your Alchemy skill that dictates how good your potion is.
"However, other potions do take your Medicine skill into account. Potions for the flu, malaria, plague, stuff like that, require «Medicine» plus «Alchemy». Even applying poultices to wounds and cuts get healed faster with high «Medicine». And that's not taking account of quests regarding murder investigations, dissecting cadavers, and helping cattle give birth."
"There's quests where you play a midwife?!" said Diavel, both surprised and somewhat disgusted at the idea.
"Well, as far as I'm aware, none for NPCs, But I've helped deliver a dozen calves, yes. They give a ton of XP."
"How … uh, graphic is it?" asked Kibaou, a man who was completely okay holding a spearline against a horde of kobolds but the idea of birth seemed completely terrifying to him.
"Akihiko Kayaba has a minor degree in Veterinary Medicine, you can probably guess," said Kirito, frowning. "Don't ask me how I know that."
With the knowledge imparted upon the Defenders, Sachi could feel what respect the Defenders had for her skill, which was quite a bit already, seem to double.
Sure, she was a few levels behind most of them at this point of the game, but a good chunk of leveling was almost entirely combat related. Now she looked back on it, maybe serving in the Moonlit Black Cats that her friends didn't know how good they had it. Keita had told her that her «Medicine» skill not only saved their lives a bunch but probably a lot of money, and if there was one thing the MBC was always short on, it was cash.
It was near midnight when Sachi excused herself to her tent which she shared with Yuuki. The squire had yet to come back, closing their little eatery and shooing away the customers. As she was just about to lay down in bed, she heard Kirito's voice asking for entrance.
The merchant had brought an oil lamp which he placed on her end table. "So, you've made quite the impression on Diavel-san."
That Sachi was delighted to hear. "It feels nice to be respected. So, what brings you here so late, boss?"
The merchant sat on Yuuki's cot and reached for something on her belt, the healer barely catching what he threw. "What's this?"
"Payday, of course. You're technically a contractor, so you get paid every two weeks instead of every month."
It had already been two weeks? She lost track of time. Untying the leather pouch, her jaw nearly dropped. "Kirito-san, this is -"
"Normal pay is about 500 Col 100 Col per level for an average grunt. However, as you're a healer, and healers get paid more than the average grunt, you get a base pay of 1,200. Plus, all the money you get from picking herbs, plus all the work you've put in healing the Defenders' foot soldiers. As you're Level 17, that's 1,700 Col plus 1,200 plus all that other stuff. That's about -"
"4,700 Col," said Sachi. She had never held this much money in her entire time in SAO. For sure, she spent probably ten times that amount in her time in the game but money flowed out as easily as it flowed in. The gold coins seemed to glitter in the darkness.
"Well, technically it's only 700 Col. You see that paper there? That's a letter of credit. 5,000 Col is like, five kilos of gold. If I threw that at you, I'd knock you out." He laughed. "Don't worry, once we return to Stingray's Rest, you'll get the rest in cash if you want. It's not smart to carry too much cash on you."
"Don't you carry a huge chest filled with expensive clothes?"
"Shush."
Ah, that made more sense. But still, only Keita handled that much money, and he kept the guilds fund in an iron-bound chest. The chest itself was enchanted with a powerful lock and was very expensive. At no point had they filled it to even half; it was like buying an expensive purse and then not even having enough to fill it.
Sachi snapped out of her gold lust. "T-thank you."
"For what? You did your job and that's that. Speaking of which, wanna make more money?"
With more money, she could pay Asuna-san for a lesson or two in fencing. With more money, she could equip herself and her guildmates with good gear. With more money, they could stop eating venison all the damn time. Maybe get tents that didn't tear itself apart at a gust of wind too.
Sachi smiled. "I would never say no for more business opportunities."
Sachi should have said no to more business opportunities.
She felt something wrapping around her throat for the fifth time in a row. Instantly, she reached one hand upward while the other reached for her dagger. With a swift cut of an experienced gardener, the healer cut the offending «Crawling Vines» before she could be choked and hanged from the ceilings.
She threw the offending plant to the side. "Hey, Yuuki-chan -"
"It's Absolute Cutlass-senpai on the battlefield, medic!" said the squire, her shield held up to her face while her cutlass hung loosely on her side.
Not a dozen feet away, the heavy infantry of the Defenders Immaculate were fighting what seems to be a sentient and giant Rafflesia flower given limbs and hatred towards humanity. One of the soldiers was grabbed by a python-thick vine and forced into its cadaver-smelling gaping hole, her comrades valiantly trying to save her.
"You're supposed to be protecting me!" Sachi yelled, pointing to the vines on the cracked and dusty floor. In fact, Yuuki had spent a good chunk of the time watching the Defenders clearing the dungeon rather than actually doing her job.
"You need to learn how to rely on yourself instead of others, if not, how can you grow as a person?" she said sagely, like repeating what Asuna had taught her.
Sachi sighed, if some damn undead skeletal servant came at her again with a rusty cleaver, she was gonna lose it …
The Defenders had been picking, hacking, slaughtering at the Alabaster Palace for a good week and chances are they were gonna be at it for another week. Supplies were running low, necessitating Diavel sending some of his men going into the mist-covered jungles for game and forage, and to the beach for fish.
It was clear that the Defenders were already getting sick and tired of the dungeon, with its maze-like ruined halls and chambers, fell beasts, carnivorous plants, agitated spirits and spooky skeletons. Sachi was in here for a grand total of ten hours and already wished she was back at camp.
Yuuki, however, was clearly enjoying herself. More than once did she charge into the fray, like that one time she thought she thought she could take on a «Mad Tiger» before Sergeant Kibaou had to throw her back and spear it to the death. More than once did she get an earful from the Defenders who absolutely did not want the duty of babysitting a fourteen year old girl who had more gusto than sense. If anything, it was Sachi who was babysitting her!
Maybe I could get some extra cash for this job, Sachi thought to herself.
Her mental calculations were disturbed as one of the Defenders' privates called her over for help. "Yuuki-chan, let's go. Cover me."
"Do you think we can get some loot for the boss fight?" she asked.
They were hirelings, any loot would be from the kindness of the Defenders, so none at all probably. "Just keep an eye out, okay?"
"You betcha, kouhai!"
The duty of healing players had become rote at this point: clean a wound, apply poultice, sew wound, and so on. The Defenders were an able bunch for their comparatively low numbers. For all Diavel-san worried about the medical cost, he was no miser. Even his archers had mail shirts over gambesons, good quality helmets, and higher quality boots.
The worst damage done to the Defennders was an archer who had been beset upon a «Loyal Sparabara», his head nearly crushed by the repeated slams of an iron rimmed tower shield. Said player's head was bandaged so much you could have mistaken him for a mummy. He had to be sent back to HQ on a stretcher.
Otherwise, the Defenders were doing good work, smelliness from the evil flower and the odd injury aside. Their armour was battered, their weapons were blunted, their ammo was running out. Sachi could only imagine the cost of repairing them back to their full «Durablity». There's only so much time a company could last on the Frontlines.
And that's the real kicker, this wasn't even the Frontlines. This was a massive side dungeon.
Kibaou called for a break, resting in what was clearly a small chapel of some kind. What these proud and vain sorcerer-kings worship aside from themselves, she knew not, but if she had to guess probably some dark outer snake god from space or whatever; the iconography and relics had long been stripped bare.
After a quick lunch of Asuna's delicious food (she had saved the last fried chicken for her and Yuuki, God bless), Sergeant Kibaou's warband of some thirty infantry came upon their latest obstacle.
It was a large circular room, big enough to fit all of the Defenders with space to spare. In the middle was a great round circle, clearly an elevator of sorts, with a long chute skywards. And in the middle of that was a dais, with a great glowing stone embedded in it. From outside the palace, Sachi guessed the tower itself was probably ten storeys tall. There were no chains to haul the platform upward.
"Alright, a hundred Col says it's gonna be a wizard," said Kibaou, as casually as if making a bet on the weather.
"That ain't fair, sarge. Everyone knows wizards live in towers," one of the privates complained.
"Lots of monsters live in towers. Like … uh, Private Yuta. Mind giving an example?"
"Shit, I don't know, sarge. A lich?"
"Lichs live in tombs, this ain't a tomb," said another Defender.
"Dungeons are tombs, dumbass," Yuta argued.
"A palace ain't a tomb! Clearly, there's a dragon up there."
"You always say there's a dragon!"
Immediately, the group erupted. Pointless and stupid. You'd be surprised how these sorta things erupted like this.
Sachi saw Kibaou giving her a wink and immediately understood. Arguing makes them less scared and nervous. Looking back on it, the healer wondered if Keita did just so when the MBC launched into their pointless arguments in a dungeon dive.
Before anybody could suggest a wizard-lich-dragon abomination of a boss, Kibaou told everyone to shut the hell up and get on the platform. He placed his hand on the glowing stone and the heavy platform lifted itself into the air.
The squire was uncharacteristically quiet. "What's wrong?" Sachi asked.
"This tower used to be a library, and a library has a librarian."
It only occurred to Sachi then that the circular wall of the chamber was in fact lined with bookshelves, curiously missing books. The great tall ladders were long rotted and there seemed to be the remains of drawbridges extending towards said shelves. "So we're gonna fight a librarian? That doesn't sound too bad."
"Not unless it can rip your head off with its powerful primate strength."
"Yuuki, what on earth are you talking about?"
"You'll see," she said mysteriously.
It didn't take long for everyone to ascend the tower. The ley-lines embedded in the platform glowed as it rose magically into the air, hauling all thirty something players in full gear with them. Modern elevators tremble in fear.
The first casualty was one Private Yuta, as something knocked him in the head so hard and so fast it left a massive dent in his helmet and knocked him over. Everyone raised shields, spears out, crossbows pointed as Sachi went to help.
She didn't even look up at the attacker, the health bar that appeared at the bottom of her HUD told her enough:
«ESFANDIAR, THE CURSED LIBRARIAN»
The healer had faith in her allies and barely looked at the enemy, but from the grunts and yelps, it was clear that it was, of all things, an orangutan. Not a group of them, nor was it a magically enhanced one with forbidden spells. No, it was apparently one orangutan, scrambling from shelf to shelf with hand and foot, throwing tomes the size and weight of bricks upon the Defenders. Bolts were thrown off-course, shields were being battered, and the sound of breaking bones echoed in the tower-chamber.
After patching up Yuta and two other privates, Sachi foolishly stood up and would have eaten a book to the face had Yuuki not swiped it away with her shield, and pushing her back down to the stone floor. "Careful!"
Oh, now you do your job, Sachi thought, immediately dismissed such petty and childish feelings, and went on to help an archer who had a broken arm courtesy of Esfandiar.
The battle raged on as the Defenders were pinned in place. Kibaou had ordered the heaviest armoured of his men, ones clad in scale, to climb upon the stone shelves but the orangutan merely latched itself upon their shoulders with his feet and threw them off. A handful of them lay on the ground concussed, as the beast smartly waited long enough for them to climb up halfway up the shelves before throwing them off.
The arrows and bolts of the Defenders either embedded useless into the many tomes, which the orangutan at times used as a shield before using it as a brick, or broke upon the walls and shelves of the chamber. More than once someone had called upon Sergeant Kibaou to retreat, for even if no one had yet died, it was clear that they were taking a fair number of serious injuries.
Sachi, for her sake, decided to speak up. "Sergeant, we need to go! Drag your unconscious men on the platform and send the elevator back down!"
"And go back to camp being outsmarted by a damn monkey? Hell no!" The librarian must have taken umbrage at being called the wrong primate as it threw another tome at the sergeant, breaking the horsehair crest of his helmet. "If you got any ideas on how to deal with this, I'm all ears!"
"Well …" Sachi looked around the library, with its fully stocked shelves. The books seem to be endless and the orangutan was a blur within its domain. "Make it fall off!"
"The hell do you think we've been doing?" An archer loosed an arrow at the librarian and called out that she was out of ammo.
Think, Sachi, think. Then it came to her, like a flashing lightbulb. "Sergeant, Yuuki–chan. Cover me!"
Sachi produced an empty glass bottle from her satchel, and kneeling upon the floor began to brew her concoction as the two raised their shields above her. Her older sister, who herself was an EMS and one she looked up to, always advised her to stay calm under pressure.
"What are you making?" asked Yuuki, more curious than panicked in this situation. For a young girl, she was weirdly okay being in battle. Better than Sachi herself probably. "Is that -"
"Olive oil," said Sachi as she poured a fair amount in her mortar and began mashing at it with her pestle. "Oh, and some numerous berries from around the island."
The sergeant caught on quickly. "The beast swings from one specific spot on the shelves. It never fails to grab it."
"How good is your throwing arm, sergeant?"
Kibaou grinned. "Best arm in the damn company, doc."
Being a not so aerodynamic shape, Sachi wrapped a long length of bandage around the lip of the bottle and handed it to the sergeant. The Defenders, knowing full well their sergeant's playstyle, covered his figure with their kite shields, book pierced spears raised at the annoying mob.
Sachi's bottle soared through the air and shattered on the northwest point of the tower chamber. The librarian's long arm stretched out to grasp onto the edge of the shelf only for the slippery substance to hinder to prove its literal downfall. It found itself plummeting to the floor, a dumb look on its face.
The librarian landed on the floor with the grace of a falling piano, which was none at all. The Defenders broke rank, all semblance of discipline gone, and exact their vengeance upon it.
Now, Sachi was not the world's biggest fan of the monke, but even she and Yuuki had to wince at the animal cruelty that unfurled before them. The details are best left to the imagination, so let's just say it took a grand total of 27 seconds of nonstop stabbing for the Librarian's healthbar to go from 100% to 0%.
The sergeant shook his spear, spilling blood on the ancient stone. He looked at his men and said, "We encountered no resistance upon entering the tower. You got it?"
"Sir, yes sir," echoed the infantry, and Sachi found herself repeating it.
As usual, the Defenders immediately began climbing and stripping the tower of its precious tomes and putting them on a pile in the middle of the platform while another helpfully threw the corpse off the tower via a broken window. Sachi did her expected duty of healing the wounded, and she would rather try to mend the broken bones of a hundred players before having to fight another Librarian.
The sun was beginning to set which was high time for everyone to evacuate the palace; the Defenders were a good company but they simply lacked the silver weapons to handle ghosts. As they began to leave, the elevator taking them back down, Yuuki handed her something.
"What's this?"
"It's a book, duh."
"I can see that, but what book?" If anything, it would be best if Sachi did not see one for a few days.
This book was much smaller than the bricks that were raining on them. Unlike the many books in stores, this one had no title, a simple leaf-colored cover. It looked to be about seventy pages, small enough for Sachi to tuck in her satchel bag.
She skimmed it and found it to be a medicine book of some kind. Numerous recipes and ailments were written, in some sort of archaic fictional language that would need a scholar to translate. But it appeared to also have drawn figures of the human body, as well as other demi-humans: elves, dwarves, and even orcs.
"Ooh, this can be very useful. Wait, did you -"
"Eh, it's alright. You're allowed to have one," said Kibaou, fatigue evident in his voice. "A lot of these books aren't that useful. No manual of arms or the like. But shit like this? Very useful for certain folks."
"And don't worry, there's no cursed tomes anywhere either! I check!" said Yuuki, as if she had some experience with cursed tomes. Then again, the Kirito Corporation certainly had a history with that sorta thing.
"Thank you, sergeant, Yuuki. I'll be sure to put it to use." Maybe if she asked Kirito nicely, he can cover the bill for translating it.
To everyone's surprise, the Defenders included, they defeated the dungeon boss three days after the complete non-en at the Library Tower.
As for the boss itself, Sachi didn't know what the details were; some guilds were pretty crazy with op-sec, which to her always felt silly. Shouldn't people share the knowledge they have with each other in order to beat the game? Regardless, she was not going to debate that with the Defenders anytime soon.
It was Asuna, of all people, who probably knew the most of the corporation. "The final boss seems to be the Last Scion of the Derevakh Dynasty, Deioces X. Evil wizard, as you can guess. A summoner type enemy, bringing forth all kinds of mobs and horrors from great wounds in reality. Took the entirety of the Defenders to bring him down."
There were, miraculously, no deaths, even if it came at the cost of half the guild being seriously wounded. Sachi and what little healers the Defenders have worked overtime to bring them back to, if not full health, then at least wrench them from death's door. She worked for twenty hours straight, stitching up wounds, cleaning bandages, and even had to sew someone's hand back to their stumps. Even Kirito and Asuna worked hard to make stew for the wounded. It was easily the hardest day of her entire time in SAO.
When the worst passed, she kept on working, but Kirito ordered Yuuki to drag Sachi to her tent which she futilely protested. When she laid her head on her pillow, she slept for what felt like an eternity.
It was the combination of the heat and humidity that woke Sachi up. She groggily rubbed her eyes and checked the time, only to realise she had been sleeping for thirteen hours straight. Surprised, she immediately exited her tent to find Kirito's shack already dismantled.
"Morning, doctor. It's past noon," said Kirito, handing her a cup of coffee. They were sitting around their campfire, and it felt like the surrounding area had changed dramatically.
Diavel's fancy tent was gone, as were half the tents of the Defenders Immaculate. Equipment, supplies, and most importantly the loot of gold, weapons and armour were all being loaded onto a small army of mules, making their way back to the beach. Most surprising of all, the mists surrounding the island seem to have lifted, and Sachi could spot three ships in the distance, one of them being the Seahorse that she took passage on the way here.
She took her usual seat at the campfire, a nice folding chair that had been hers since Floor 1 of the game. It was one of her few belongings that still bore the MBC's logo. A plate of warm rice and fish was set nearby.
Kirito gave her the rundown: "The dungeon is cleared and the Defenders are done with their work and they're going to celebrate before going for their next contract. As for us, we're heading back to Stingray's Rest. We've made a tidy pile of gold for ourselves. Lastly, there's news about your guild."
Of the three, the last one made her the most curious. "Does that mean -"
Kirito's sad smile said it all. It was Asuna who spoke up, "Sorry Sachi-chan, it's not good news at all."
It was a lot to take in, despite Asuna's best attempts to summarise: The Darhaka had now butted heads with the Dust Syndicate, the premier criminal organisation in the Dark Sea. The stone pirates had now begun making their own off brand fairy dust, cheaper to make but far more volatile and was worse in quality. While the pirates controlled the sea, the Syndicate controlled the port towns around it. It is said that Agra Nagara, the capital of the Nadyah Kingdom, had begun cracking down on such criminal elements in their city, and offering rewards on par with Qar Hadast to hunt down the stone reavers.
"Okay, okay, what does this mean?!"
"It means you still need to stay incognito. News from Argo says that Syndicate are recruiting even more men to their cause. There's no way they can take on the Darhaka Armada, but if they can harass them with their own ships, maybe even help fund local governments, they would be more entrenched. It's a messy situation all around," said Kirito.
The healer slumped in her chair, closed her eyes, and took a breath. Finally, she took a sip of her coffee. It was really good, the only good thing about waking up right now. "Well, is there any good news?"
Kirito spoke up but she shut him down. "Aside from your profits!"
"Well, the Defenders were so impressed at your work, they gave you a sack of money. How does 8,000 col sound to you?"
Sachi gaped like a fish and shut her mouth. "It is … adequate." In truth, it was more money she had ever held since starting this hell game.
"And not only that," said Yuuki, "They even gave you a sword!"
The squire thrusted a sheathed blade at the healer, almost dropping her cup. Carefully taking it, the healer unsheathed her new weapon:
It was a parang, not the kind used by farmers and explorers to cut down brush and branch, but war parang. It was light and nimble, with a heavy tip that would deal serious damage. The handle was simple wood, and the blade, though dirty, held a fine keen edge. She read the description:
Name: Blade of the Liberator (guillemet)
Weight: 0.75 kg
Length: 75 cm (65 cm for the blade)
Value: 4,700 Col
Description:
A young slave-smith forged a simple but powerful blade in secret and slew the overseer that kept his family in chains. It was this blade that inspired the rebellion within the Alabaster Palace. The slave-smith died trying to slay the Last Scion, but with it, brought an end to the horrors of the Derevakh Dynasty.
Effect: Does 15% extra damage to following groups: Bandits, Pirates, Slavers
"It's … gorgeous."
"That sword's not really my style, but I can give you a few pointers," offered the swordswoman.
Kirito patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Sachi-chan. We'll be doing our best to get you back to your guild."
The healer turned to look at the ocean, once covered and blocked by unnatural mists, reflecting the afternoon's shine on her. The Dark Sea was not so dark, and neither was her predicament. If Keita and her friends were doing their best to bring her back, the least she could do was be more patient.
"Thanks, everyone. I appreciate it."
The four of them would have bask in the feel good vibes had the squire not spoke up.
"Soooo," said Yuuki, "Can I borrow your sword when you're not using it?"
Asuna slapped her squire on the back of the head, eliciting laughter from the healer and the merchant.
During a hot dark night, a man sat at the counter of a bar cradling his drink.
The drinks were cheap but well brewed. A bar that served bad beer was a bar that had no customers. It was not a particularly special bar by any means nor was it a cockroach nest like many he had visited. It had an air homeyness to it, with its hardwood floors, walls painted blue and pretty white curtains. Most notable was the horse skull hanging above the bar itself, no doubt the bartender's old faithful in his younger days. The tavern was the pride of the sleepy island village of some two dozen families.
Had it not been a front for the reaving Seawolves, it would have been a decent drinking place for his comrades. It was a shame it would be gone by the end of the night.
"You don't like the drink, stranger?" asked the bartender. He was an older kozak man, whose bald head, grey mustache and large gut did not dissuade the fact he was, a lifetime ago, one of the most feared hetman that terrorised the Long Coast. "I assure you, it's quality stuff."
The rest of the bar's regulars were of similar criminal backgrounds. A fat dwarven flesh trader in the corner counting his pile of coins, his Nadyah bodyguards playing dice on another table. A dishonored Granum knight was playing cards against a Rumine woman, the former guilty of kinslaying and the other desecrating the dead and stealing burial goods. Last was a robed man in another corner of the bar, reading a book on his lap, as if he was feared to be discovered reading it, for it was a cursed tome of necromancy.
The stranger knew the crimes of these creatures by heart and had long stalked his prey. His drink lay untouched. "I made a solemn vow I would not imbibe until I see my daughter again."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Where is your daughter, if I may ask?" The old bandit's voice was sympathetic; a mask for his many violations.
"Starting school. I missed her first day in school last week. I fear I will miss the rest of her childhood the longer I stay in this world."
"I see. So, if I may ask again, why did you buy a drink?"
"It is not for me, but for you, sir." The stranger raised the glass into the air. "A toast."
The bartender amused him by pouring his own cup and raising it. "But whatever for?"
They clinked glasses.
"Your death, Hetman Ostap."
The knight was the first to die, a bolt flew through the open window and nailed him right in his temple. He toppled to the ground holding his cards still. The Rumine woman, finding her card partner dead, stood up only to sprout feathers in her ear as an arrow found its mark. May they continue their game with the devil.
"What the -" Ostap said and yelled in pain. In one smooth motion, the stranger splashed his drink in the kozak's face, slammed his hand to the counter and pinned it with a dagger from his sleeve. "Argh!"
The next to die was the dwarf. The wall behind him cracked open as a spear was plunged through the rattan walls and into his chest. He looked almost surprised, finding the offending spearhead in his chest and bloodying his pile of gold. The spear wretched itself back, and the flesh trader fell face first into his now worthless money.
The Nadyah bodyguards stood up and reached for their weapons. A giant in silver scale armour and black cape erupted from the nearby storeroom and buried his macehead into the back in one of their skulls. The other Nadyah reached for his dagger but the armoured man kicked his compatriot's corpse to him, sending him sprawling to the floor. He took two long strides and crushed the bodyguard's neck with his armoured foot.
Of the tavern goers, only the necromancer seemed to be most prepared. He cast a spell on the armoured man, halting him in his steps. The stranger was on him in an instant, flicking his sheathed blade at the wizard and launching the scabbard right in his face. The wizard clutched his broken nose, only to find it the least of his worries as a gap opened in his throat, courtesy of the stranger's long sword. He fell to the ground, drenching his tome with his own blood.
This whole event occurred entirely under twenty seconds, the stranger noted. Sloppy, he and his comrades would need to train further.
The armoured man found himself free from the spell that bound him. "Argh! Accursed wizard! My faith is found wanting!"
The stranger patted the armoured man's broad shoulder. "Peace, Brother George. I told you, your faith in the Almighty has nothing to do with that. There is such a thing as «Spell Resistance », you know."
Brother George harrumphed. "I must pray more to my namesake."
The two men turned to see the bartender had already wrenched the dagger and made his way to the door. He found himself back on the floor as someone kicked him in the gut, and he found himself staring at the tip of a spear.
"Not so fast," said the spearwoman. The spearhead was gorgeously inlaid with gold and swirling patterns of flowers, matching the similarly gold clad breastplate of its wielder. Her face only showed her lower face as a winged golden helm covered the rest of her head. Red hair cascaded onto her shoulders. "We've got questions for you."
"Brother George, Sister Brynhildr, drag the hetman outside please," said the stranger.
"Yes, Iudex," they answered and obeyed.
It was not particularly honourable, dragging a poor wounded old man out into the darkness but justice cared little for age. The moon shone on them that night. Outside, two cloaked figures awaited them, one with a crossbow and the other a longbow.
Brother George pushed the man to the ground as the group surrounded them. "W-who … who are you to come to my tavern and kill my customers?!" the kozak demanded.
"Customers?" said Brynhildr. "Those people were criminals, recruits for the Seawolves."
Ostap spat on his boots. "So are those who kill tavern goers."
The bowman kicked the old man in the face, the Iudex stopped him.
"There's little mercy to be given to slavers, desecrators, kinslayers and necromancers. We are not here to argue, we are here for information."
The Iudex crouched next to him and grabbed Ostap's wounded hand. The former hetman cringed away but the Iudex poured a poultice on his hand and began wrapping his wound with a bandage from his pouch.
"Listen here, listen well, Hetman Ostap, Butcher of Odeska. Your days of pillage and plunder are long over, but it does not mean your crimes are to be forgiven. I seek information, and we know you have it. You once ran with the Seawolves, yes?"
"Aye, that I did, but -"
"And you once helped build that accursed cave of scum with your ill gotten gains, and for that, you must know how to sneak into it. You will give us the information, a secret entrance of some kind, a way in. It concerns the matter of a kidnapped young woman. You will do so and, by my honour, I will let you live out the rest of your pathetic days."
Ostap looked at Istavan, then at the group surrounding him. Gone was that terror of the Long Shore, the Butcher of Odeska. He knew he had no choice. "They will kill me."
"We will do far worse," said the Iudex, gripping the hilt of his sword.
With regret and reluctance, the hetman told them the secret. The crossbowman wrote down the instructions.
With an invisible order, the rest of the band, began to depart to the beach where their ride awaited them, save for the archer.
Istavan patted Ostap on the shoulder. "There, there, hetman. At least you have your life still."
"Well, if you are quite done, I must return to my tavern and clean up the mess." For all the talk of dishonour, it was clear the bartender thought little of them.
"You needn't worry about that." He turned to look at the archer. "If you'd please?"
The archer winked, a devilish smile on his face. He raised his bow skyward to and in the darkness, the arrowhead glowed. The hetman's eyes widened.
The arrows flew through the air and landed on the roof of the tavern. In an instant, the dry leaves of the roof exploded into flame, lighting up the night. The fire could be seen for miles upon miles and the great heat of the flame even reached him at this distance.
The group departed, leaving only the old man to stare at his establishment in disbelief.
"Goodbye, hetman. May the Blue Sentinels never meet you again," said Istavan
Iudex Istavan pressed something into his wounded palm and left him alone, outside his burning tavern. Ostap finally tore his gaze off his tavern and looked what the stranger had left:
It was a medallion, a blue shield and two-criss crossed blades made of lapis lazuli.
Last chapter, I said I wasn't very happy with the quality of it. This one, I feel, is more to my taste and standards. Sachi is a delight to write, even if it's taken a turn away from canon. Then again, if you've read the story this far, I don't think you care much for that at all.
Welp, see you guys in November, hopefully!