AbyssalRoadTrip
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🕑 Added 2022-09-12 16:38:36 +0000 UTCWhen we get to the Guild Master’s office Phile lets the door gently shut behind us and, if we were in any other room, I might have surroundings to appreciate. Instead, it's just white stone, no matter the swirling patterns in the marble. It makes the place so bland except for the desk and three chairs crafted of polished cherry wood. Imhotep’s office no longer has the sweet smell of burnt wood, but the odour of heated steel lingers. My sniff earns a glare from the Guild Master, who sits down still scowling at me.
“Should I mention I can tell he’s faking it, or should I let him believe I believe he’s not faking it?”
My mock whisper to Phile earns a genuine glare from him, and I can’t stop the giggles this time.
“Sit down.”
Claiming the chair near the window, I give in to the temptation to tease him. “Yesterday it was ‘get out’, and now it’s ‘sit down’. You can be bossy.”
“Well, he is the local boss, and since you just joined, he could kick you out,” advises Phile.
The Guild Master smiles as if he’s got me where he wants me, so I opt to take the wind out of his sails. “I’ll pass on expulsion. If that happened, I’d have to deal with the Moon Elf kingdom since they’re closest to the peninsula. They might saddle me with hundreds of troops to help with the search. Boring!”
Phile sputters, but Imhotep’s face goes blank with concern. Far more concerned than I thought the statement warranted—until I remembered the royal guards.
“Can’t you be nice to me? I promise I’ll keep being nice in return and try not to make the same mistake twice.”
“Are you trying to be difficult?” asks Imhotep placidly, tapping his fingers together in a picture of impatience.
“No, I’m being nice and letting you know that faking doesn’t work, so let's cut to the chase. I didn’t lie about my knowledge of the wall, so please don’t give people the impression that you’re grumpy at me. They might see it as an excuse to make my life harder or be wary of joining our team-”
“Your team,” interjects Phile.
It's my turn to be confused, and I turn on the chair towards Phile. “My team? Aren’t you doing the recruiting?”
“I’ll help you with the recruiting. But since you have a goal, you need to be in charge. Otherwise, someone else will set a goal that might not work for you,” explains Phile patiently.
The implications I see match her music, but I’ve assumed a few things incorrectly so far. “You’re serious about doing that mentoring, aren’t you?”
“As serious as a grave,” declares Phile.
Memories of Cemna spend a shiver up my spine, and I waggle a finger reprovingly. “Let's not go there. Our mothers wouldn’t be happy.”
Imhotep cuts us both off and grabs my attention. “Wall.”
“Wall!” I exclaim and continue when his expression hardens, genuinely this time. “You’re a man of so few words, Imhotep. Right, the wall, yes; last night after my reverie was over, I was awake listening to Phile pretend not to snore and examined the wall.”
“I don’t snore,” protests Phile indignantly.
“Then I didn’t hear those cute snuffling snores in your room,” I quip, not taking my attention from the Guild Master, despite her adorable splutter. “Anyway, I discovered some logs were rotting from their base, and the moisture was wicking upwards through their core. I had a way to stop it, so I did. Transformation magic is fun, isn’t it?”
“While you’re a decent level Wizard, some enemies might dispel it,” Imhotep mutters gruffly.
“They’ll have to reverse each log individually, so even if someone changes one back, you’re still going to have a stone wall with a log amidst it. I soaked the stone through the wood the way sap would have flowed when the trees were alive until it had taken their structure over. I also wove steel through the bindings so they’d stay upright with the extra weight.”
The explanation shocks Imhotep, yet he easily keeps up his stern expression.
“There are laws about tampering with communal property without permission,” cautions Imhotep.
“Do I have your permission to improve the village wall and facilities? Subject, of course, to your satisfaction with the demonstration I conducted last night.”
“You’ve already changed the wall,” stated Imhotep.
“You're mistaken if you believe that’s the only improvement I can make to it. It only took me half a working day to manage what I’ve done, and there are far more ways I can improve it.”
Considering all the fun ahead has me smiling in a fashion that draws a thundercloud of a frown.
“What else did you have in mind?” asks Imhotep, and like that, we’re past the permission issue.
“Just a few things I noticed from my examination of the village. The shallowness of the ditch before the wall, the spikes in it, overcrowding of the inn, the village’s freshwater-”
“Stick to the wall for now,” interrupts Imhotep. “Is there anything more you’d do to improve it?”
“You want me to list all the areas for improvement off the top of my head?”
“Enough that I can point out to the militia captain and the village elders that this is just the start of some improvements,” replied Imhotep.
Reviewing the picture its song had painted in my mind, I nod and smile brightly enough to make him groan before starting. “The flimsy walkway across the top, the shallowness of the ditch, improving the hazards in it, the toughness of the two gates, and the lack of alarm mechanisms across the wall’s face. I know a few critters that could climb it in the dark—even with it being stone—that you don’t want inside the village.”
“I can think of a few myself,” acknowledges Imhotep. “You’ll discuss each with me before the work begins, including how you’ll do them.”
“What I’ll do, yes. The ‘how’ as in explaining the magic itself isn’t something I’ll do.”
“Why not?”
Taking the time to brush my clothing down unnecessarily doesn’t even increase his heart rate. Finally fluttering my eyelashes, I lean my cheek against my clasped hands and fix him with a glum look as I start. “It’s big secret Elf magic, so I’m being mean and not telling because I’m a spoiled Elf noble. I could make it up to you by helping in other ways.”
“What other ways did you have in mind?”
“For a very reasonable price, I’ll help people I like to gain an Affinity and give some casting and arcane theory lessons.”
The offer gets a wary look, and his tapping fingers pause. “What do you count as reasonable?”
“Maps; in particular, all the maps the Guild has of the peninsula’s eastern regions,” I say. “Of course, the more accurate the better, and I might even add more lessons and affinities to the deal.”
The proposal has his wary look turning into a frown, and the tapping of his fingers resumes at a quickened pace. “Maps aren’t inexpensive, especially accurate ones of remote areas.”
“I didn’t say that each person would have to provide them. My offer is a bulk deal through the Adventurers’ Guild, limited to current members working out of this village. I might, if I’m feeling generous, extend it to some future members who are locals.”
“What if you don’t like anyone? That becomes a potentially costly arrangement after paying a cartographer,” Imhotep says warily.
“Two things: I like lots of people. I’m only grumpy with Petrus—he at least needs to apologise to Phile’s mother. Second, I don’t need to keep the maps. I just need access to them.”
A scrying Spell’s music dances northwards when Imhotep releases it without a noticeable change in his focus on me. After a long silence, he gives a satisfied nod but continues to tap his fingers. He’s the picture of impatience, despite the images he continues to gain through the Spell. Dozens of plans race quickly through his mind, but practice with my mother makes him easy to follow. Under seven hundred villagers, but he still needs to play to the factions. Blah.
“I will pretend to be grumpy at you because what you did sets a dangerous precedent that others might follow. I’ll need to survey the wall but it appears to be sturdy stone, and I witnessed a guard dull a knife testing it,” states Imhotep and raises a warning finger before I can interrupt.
“You will ensure you remember to discuss changes in the village before making them. I will tell those I need to that you merely conducted the work before I expected any changes to occur. I’ll also tell them you’ll be forfeiting the fee you would have received for it.”
His words have me snorting in surprise. “I didn’t do it for a fee.”
“That is beside the point; we’re establishing the story for public consumption,” declares Imhotep. “They don’t need to know that we had no prior agreement. Tell them it would have been a few hundred large golds if anyone asks. This way, it will seem that you’ve received a clear punishment that will mollify those inclined to be petty. Can you act all huffy about it?”
“Why would I do that?”
“If a rift between us draws out petty behaviour towards you, I’d like to know about it. It might only confirm my opinion of some people, but it might bring new individuals to light,” answers Imhotep. “Phile can tell you the guild isn’t the unified organisation we’d like—we’ve simply had to grow too fast. We’re still finding all the rotten apples that are little better than bandits.”
“Sorry, I meant I can’t do huffy; it’s not in me.”
Phile's amused smirk matches the laughter in her music. “Be an energetic ditz; channel your breakfast craziness.”
Her suggestion causes smug satisfaction in Imhotep, happy that he’d judged her correctly.
I know what she means, but I play it up, fixing her with a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Oh! Did I lose coins? Oh, that, yes, silly me.”
Reaching out to clasp her hand, I put on a vacant expression and switch to a breathless voice. “Honestly, the discussion with Imhotep completely slipped my mind. You know how it is when the moment’s right. I was there; the wall was there. It was all so hard for me I couldn’t restrain myself. I just had to have my way with it.”
My dramatic gestures and fluttering eyelashes initially have Phile eye-rolling, but the last part sets her coughing. My fingers along her wrist feel her pulse kick up, and I pay more attention to her song.
“Maybe less ditz. You’ll have people thinking I’m the team coordinator because you don’t have a brain between your ears,” grumbles Phile and slides her hand away so slowly that her fingertips caress across my palm.
Coughing back my blush, I keep the empty-headed smile in place. “That’s fine; I’ll pretend to be a pure Bard. Plus, I might get to sing for my supper that way. Phile, can I sing for my supper? Imhotep said no when I asked.”
“It will lure out those seeking to take advantage of a guild member. If your skill at reading people is as good as you say it is, then you’ll be safe from that sort,” interjects Imhotep, and I finally get the hint of a smile from him.
“As long as you sing as beautifully as you did yesterday, I’m sure people won’t toss you out the gate. For that, at least,” teases Phile dryly, despite warmed notes leaping about within her.
Her words remind me of Nanoĸ’s offer, and it's an opportunity to spin the conversation away. “The guild’s weapon instructor Nanoĸ is of the view I should leave, but I think he’s the kind to be upfront about his issues with you.”
“When did you meet Nanoĸ?” asks Imhotep.
Waving toward the money changer’s shop, I picture soaking in cold water to kill the last of my flush. “Outside Esdras’ shop yesterday afternoon, he was guarding the door for a friend.”
“He hadn’t mentioned meeting you last night,” murmurs Imhotep; a flicking image bubbles up from him, and I catch hints of problems.
“Maybe he prefers to forget about me,” I frown as I catch more hints of all the current issues. “I’ve said what I’d like to do, but are there problems that are a priority for the village that adventurers can’t solve?”
“Do you know a Spell to dredge the harbour? Or top up the river’s water level so the irrigation ditches can do their job?”
“Dredging would be easy, but you don’t want it randomly pushed out to sea, I gather?”
“The elders would prefer not to ruin the local fishing spots and oyster beds,” agrees Imhotep. “While I’ve got a variety of spells for combat and protection, shifting masses of silt and sand in a controlled fashion isn’t what I do.”
“Let them know I’ll take care of it as an extra-”
The slightest wrinkling of Phile’s nose cut me off. “Are you trying to insult them? You’ll have their backs up giving too much for nothing. Among those happy for your help will be those that will expect you to do more. It won’t be everyone, but it will be enough to start problems. Trust me on this: eventually, you’ll have to draw a line—then those types will get insulted.”
“What?”
“I’ve heard elves are very community-oriented, but to them, you’re not part of their community. Do it too often without some cost, and the greedy ones will expect you to keep doing so on demand,” warns Phile, and Imhotep nods in agreement. “Charging them, even a token, sets the relationship tone and gives you a basis to increase the cost if they get unreasonable.”
The frequency of the home-spun clothing I’ve seen in the village instead of the linen Zosime can weave doesn’t show they’ve got a lot to spare. “How about charging them for the help in goods or services? Then it's something minor and ongoing, instead of taking a bag of coins off them.”
“It depends on what you had in mind and how long you think you’ll be staying,” says Phile.
“Unless I get really lucky, I could be here for years. Exploring the swamplands isn’t something I’ll manage in one trip,” I admit, catching Phile’s curiosity. “I’ve told you both I’m looking for a lost key. The key is on a wreck, but the coastline has changed since then. Like your harbour is changing, but of the two, the peninsula is easier to explore.”
“And if someone has already made off with the key?” Phile asks quickly. “There are dangers out there that stay well away from the village for reasons we don’t know. Are you sure it's not just a fool’s errand?.”
Given the years, it’s a valid concern, but I’ve already headed that one off. Aunt S confirmed it’s still with the remains of the ship it went down with but that the wreck occurred a half million years ago. She couldn’t learn if it was lying under the peninsular or still off the coast.
“A powerful being confirmed it's on whatever remains of the ship that sank transporting it.”
“How long ago?” asks Imhotep, and he frowns when I shake my head.
Raising a hand halts the objections that are already forming. “Nope, that’s all you get from me.”
Outwardly he’s calm, but the ringing steel sound that chimes through him only earns him a knowing smile from me that hits like cold water. With his spike of frustration gone, I have to keep from laughing. Mother’s music races similarly whenever plans have her attention, but his song is slow enough for me to follow.
“Told you I can read you like a book if I want,” I state. “Since I might need the achievement from recovering the key, I’m not telling you enough to steal the prize. The Adventurers’ Guild should do a better job spreading the word about how to get either a Tier 6 or Tier 7 Prestige Class.”
“I only know about five people that claim to have achieved them, and three are from Amdirlain’s Cadre. Since the imprint plate provides nothing but their Class name, it's hardly proof,” objects Imhotep.
I catch concerned, protective tones rather than jealousy from him. Knowing it's pointless to argue with that type of logic, I move for the door.
“Have a good day, Guild Master. Phile was going to show me the jobs board, and I believe you need to speak to the militia captain. I’ll tell you what I want for the dredging job in a day or two. Please convey my apologies to those I upset with fixing the wall ahead of expectation.”
Another spike of frustration within Imhotep dies away before I’m even out the door.
Petrus isn’t behind the counter when we descend, but Phile carefully keeps her voice low. “Do you often just walk away from a conversation like that?”
“We talked about what we needed to, and I neither wanted to argue the point nor had anything more to discuss,” I say, focusing on my footing as I head down the stairs “Do they polish these for a purpose or to see someone land on their arse?”
“Changing the topic is still walking away from a conversation,” Phile grumbles.
“We’re still talking, but Imhotep wouldn’t have changed his mind, and it's too nice a day to argue. Maybe I’d go for the grumpy smack-down approach if there were rain clouds.”
Before I can say more, the stairs beneath me wiggle in my vision, and with phantom pain lancing down my neck, I teleport to the lobby floor. My heartbeat pounding in my ears almost drowns out Phile’s spike of anger. Despite the haste of her descent, it's all I can do to focus on my breathing.
Phile races down the stairs and comes to a halt in front of me, the echoes of her boots slapping stone twisting into squelching flesh inside my brain. “I’ll grant that you didn’t take a step. Do you plan to say that wasn’t you walking away from the conversation?”
“That was me getting off those dangerous stairs. Someone might fall and break their neck. I’d prefer it not be me.”
With the effort required to speak, my words should have been a scream. Instead, I barely manage a whisper.
My heart still wants to leap out of my chest, it's racing so fast, and I have to orient myself before I can figure out which way it is to the job board. As I take a wobbling step, Phile slips a hand under my elbow, and her body’s warmth next to mine burns through my clothing, clinging to my clammy skin.
“Are you alright?” whispers Phile. “Your eyes look like someone’s punched you in the head.”
“Right now, I want to be in the sun for a little while. How about we walk to the harbour?”
“We’ll take it slow,” agrees Phile, and her fingers brushing my forehead call my attention to the sweat beading there. “You were fine just a moment ago. Did you overdo it last night with the wall?”
“Nothing like that; it’s idiotic. Can we just walk, please? The smell outside won’t improve with the day, but the morning’s sunlight will be welcome.”
“After talking with people last night, there are a few possibilities for team members we can try to catch up with, " says Phile. “But are you sure you don’t want to look at the job’s board?”
“I’m not sure I’d remember whatever you tell me about it right now.”
Stepping out into the sunlight eases my tension, one beautiful note at a time; my muscles unknot, and my heart rate slows.
“You’re getting colour back in your skin,” offers Phile. “You might think it's stupid, but whatever affects you this way isn’t stupid. Is it something I can help you avoid?”
It's so tempting to decline, but with her hand still steadying me, it seems fitting to admit at least part of the truth. I would have refused if anyone had been close, but the early morning crowd has vanished.
“Have you ever had a dream where you’re falling?”
“Hasn’t everyone?”
“My dreams of falling involve stairs of shiny stone, but my fear of them doesn’t disappear upon awakening. When I’m on stairs like those, please don’t expect me to talk or be sensible regarding a difference of opinion,” I explain and catch the musical surge from Phile. “No need to be surprised I’ve got flaws.”
“I didn’t say a thing,” protests Phile.
“I’m sorry, it's not just Imhotep that I can read,” I murmur, and her skin burns red hot. “It was unfair for me to play around that way. I only realised how flirtatious I was being when you reacted.”
Phile turns away with a groan. “You like men, don’t you?”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant. We’ve only just met, and my Charisma makes everything unfair socially when I don’t control myself,” I start but catch the disappointed theme within her, and hurry to clarify. “I’m sorry. I’m doing this all wrong. Male or female, I don’t care; I’ve always felt it’s more about the person. However, I’m currently not looking for a relationship. I’ve never even had a proper friend.”
“What do you mean?” asks Phile, looking back at me as confusion overrides her embarrassment.
“Everyone I’ve ever known beyond a casual conversation serves, or is friends with, my parents. I didn’t have anyone my age around growing up. I’ve honestly never had a friend that hasn’t been, at least partly, someone looking after me. Yes, I felt those closest were friends, but not just friends,” I explain. “What I did back there was wrong. Two of my classes reinforce my natural elven Charisma, so I shouldn’t have flirted—especially jokingly—the way I did. It was wrong of me.”
“You made it hard to breathe.”
The words are a murmur, but cheerful notes chime strongly through her song.
“Why does it seem that wasn’t a bad thing to you?” I ask shyly.
“Because it wasn’t,” Phile huffs.
“We barely know each other. Would you be unhappy if I say I want to make sure we can be friends first?” I ask carefully, uncertain about what I’m doing.
The disappointment I’d half expected doesn’t manifest. Rather, Phile gains a mix of relief and delight—her emotional scars muffling the desire for a new relationship.
“A Greek adventurer friends with an elven noble. Are you sure the world won’t end?” teases Phile.
“I should warn you-” I almost fumble my words but cutting myself off has Phile jumping in.
“Warn me about what?”
“That you’ve not even asked my classes yet.”
Phile nods, but her expression says she isn’t buying it. “Right. I’ll need to know your Class capabilities to recruit the right people to cover the gaps.”
“Glinnel, Aranya, Solar Emissary, and Wizard are my four classes,” I offer and admit part of the truth. “The middle two aren’t base classes—they are not only evolved but rare. Regarding my classes’ capabilities, let's just say I’ve magic and more magic, plus some self-defence.”
“And two with fancy elven names at that,” Phile teases. “I notice you didn’t deny being noble, especially with Solar Emissary sounding like a fancy diplomat's Class.”
“I’m not a noble. Nobles possess titles given by their ruler, whereas I’ve sworn no oaths of service, so I can't be one. Shall we go?” I ask, motioning towards the money changer’s shop, only for Phile to point the other way.
“The closest adventurer I might want to recruit lives that way,” Phile states. “Though that’s if they’re open to even listening.”
“After you then.”
