Ser Patrick Pent
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050 The Calm Before the Storm
🕑 Added 2024-03-07 13:41:51 +0000 UTCWe recovered incredible loot from the adventurers, a trait that made fights with rankers more profitable than killing monsters.
Aside from the loot they had stolen from the Primal Rock Lurker, the enemy party carried a load of potions, monster cores, gear, and beddings among themselves.
Paz kept the Greater monster core but abandoned the Rock Heart, which I promptly offered to Nicola. The rest we split among ourselves, especially the potions, which would have cost me an arm and a leg to purchase on my lonesome.
Paz, for his part, didn't speak further with us. We’d need to sit and talk at some point, but for now, I was only grateful that he had chosen to stay.
I couldn’t afford to lose a team member right after forming the team. Byron's smirk upon learning that would kill me from humiliation.
I stripped the Rangers of their armor, disappointed to find that none of it was ranker-grade material. Their boiled leather armor surpassed anything I owned, regardless. Plus, beggars couldn't be choosers.
I combined pieces of armor from both men until I achieved a respectable ensemble. Not the best for a fight with Byron, but good enough to enter the Labyrinth with—once I washed them free of blood.
Nicola lifted a staff that Paz had pulled out of the Warlock’s inventory. “Oh! This is ranker-grade.”
I inspected it from over her shoulder.
Staff of the Novice Mage [Common].
A special item made from deridum wood.
Adds 5 damage to magical attacks.
Requirement: [2].
“Not bad,” I said, after relaying the contents of the infobox.
Nicola beamed. “An extra five damage should come in handy. I only have two damaging abilities. Anything that offers more power is sure to help.”
“Sucks that we can't use any of these though," I said, gesturing at the Common bows. "Unless you guys are hiding secret archery skills. Take them. At the very least, they should fetch you some coin.”
Nicola pursed her lips. “Damien—”
“Did you gain any levels from all of that fighting?” I asked before she could turn down the offer.
Nicola nodded slowly. “I’m level eighteen. Between killing two primals and a bunch of rankers, I can probably expect the [System] to reward me with great technique choices at level twenty. You?”
“Level seventeen. Not quite what I wanted. But, I’ll take whatever we get.”
Paz didn’t join the discussion, but [Identify] revealed that he now stood at a whooping level 15 . . . which ultimately meant nothing, considering the enemies that lay in wait for us.
Nicola held up a coin pouch. “Sixty silver and change. That's all we managed to get. I guess we’ll split this three-way?”
“You can take my share,” I said.
Her new staff landed on my head with a thud. “No, Damien. And, don’t bring that up ever again.”
“But, I don’t need it.”
“You would. Dungeon runs require extensive preparations.” She glanced at Paz who sat nearby, brooding by himself. “We could also use the money to shop as a collective. Potions are first on the list, but food and gear are equally important.” She tossed the pouch into her inventory. “I can't stress enough on the need to stock up on potions. The last thing you’d want to do is run out of them in the Labyrinth.”
“What about armor?” I interjected. “Ranker-grade. That could help boost our survivability.”
“We don’t have nearly enough money. And, we'll find better items in the Labyrinth anyway.”
“Regular armor then. For Paz and you.” I glanced at her. “Casters can wear those, right?”
“Everyone can use anything that doesn't come with requirements, which is typically a feature of the addition of cores." She spun her new staff, testing its girth. "I personally don't care much for protection—"
"Ha ha."
Nicola bonked me again on the head. "Seriously. Dungeon runs are grueling exercises, making stamina a precious resource. Casters already struggle to keep up in that regard with other classes. No point worsening the handicap.'”
I rubbed my head. “Is it fine to leave you in charge of purchases?”
"I'll make a list. Now, come on. We need to leave. If a second party followed the sounds of fighting, things would get ugly quickly."
That spurred us into action. Paz lagged as we began a trek back to our camp, sometimes disappearing out of sight.
Yeah . . . we definitely needed to talk.
I found him the next morning meditating at the spawning grounds of the Rock Lurkers.
The defeat of the primal had put a halt to the continuous presence of its lesser cousins. A fact I appreciated, tired as I was of beating on rocks.
Paz frowned as I approached. “You’re not as stealthy as you think.”
“And, you’re not meditating,” I countered. “Or else, you wouldn’t have noticed me.”
I leaned against a boulder after double-checking to ensure it didn’t hide teeth. [Meditation] sometimes caused old memories to rise to the surface. Was Paz trying to trigger that feature?
“What do you want?” Paz said, keeping his posture stiff.
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
“If this is about yesterday—”
“Screw yesterday. I have bigger questions than that.”
Paz cracked an eyelid.
“Who are you, Paz?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said.”
"And, this is important because?"
“Because I'm curious. Your level says fifteen, yet your confidence says one hundred and fifty. Not to mention, for a homeless bum, you somehow know more about the [System] than a well-read person like Nicola.”
“I had great teachers.”
“You are nobility.”
Paz did more than crack an eyelid this time. He turned around.
I did my best to restrain a smirk and effected a shrug. “Hey, don’t look at me that way. It’s evident in your outlook on life.”
“I didn’t say you were right.”
“Well, yeah. You talk a big game for someone who tries his utmost to come across as a lout. You speak about topics like purpose, destiny, and respect with a hint of personal experience. You hide a degree of sophistication beneath a thin veneer of social indecency.” I gave his naked torso a pointed look.
“What I don’t understand,” I said, “is why a large disparity exists between your character and personal power.”
“And, what about you?” Paz rebutted, letting go of his pose. “Why does one of the dulië have less knowledge about the [System] than dumb human children?”
Oi.
“You speak about forming a party,” Paz continued, “for a reason best known to you. You sometimes use strange terms that I have trouble understanding. No one else in recent memory can boast of a fraction of your gifts. How do I reconcile those facts with the image you present of a young, unassuming elf?”
“I promise you: the ‘young, unassuming’ part is not a ruse.”
Paz regarded me with hungry eyes. “I haven’t earned the right to be privy to your secrets. And, neither have you earned the right to mine. Let’s not pretend that we are more transparent with each other than we are.”
“So, the fight that occurred yesterday . . .”
“I thought we agreed not to speak on that.”
“We never did,” I said with a winning smile. “I can respect the fact that you feel strongly about some issues—no matter how inane I consider them to be. What I cannot tolerate is your near assault on Nicola. That slip-up cannot go unaddressed.”
Paz waved his hand in disinterest. “I won’t apologize for who I am, Damien. The only way to prevent a recurrence is to issue my death.”
“And, I would, should this ever reoccur.”
“You think you can kill me?” Paz snapped.
“You have a free resurrect to fuck around. And, find out.”
We held each other’s gazes.
“You actually mean it,” Paz said with more awe than I expected. “You wouldn't succeed, of course, but more's the same for trying. You care about her that much.”
“Same way I hold you in high regard. And, you would reciprocate that should this party be expected to stand.” I jutted my chin at him. “I don’t know what happened in your former life. But, you don’t get to hold any of that against us. My secrets are yours the instant you earn my trust.”
That got Paz to waver.
“Spar?” I asked because I knew he would rather lose his fingers than concede my point.
Paz nodded slowly.
We spent the rest of the day hitting each other a little harder than necessary. Paz started smiling again, mostly because I took the larger share of hits.
He had a rather simple outlook on life: a belief that differences could be settled with the exchange of fists. A nagging thought plagued me, regardless.
If I struggled this hard with two clashing personalities. How the heck was I supposed to manage a party of ten?!
We returned to Skeelie on the morning of the seventh day. Our levels weren’t anywhere close to the numbers we desired, but it would need to suffice.
The Skeelien Labyrinth opened five hours before midnight, and we needed to be fully rested and ready for the dive.
Skeelie had morphed in the time we’d been gone. Ribbons and people in fine livery brightened the streets, matching the pavilions set up in honor of the event. The number of street traders had doubled in the interim. Everyone with a goose or pot to sell filled each corner of the streets.
A three-day carnival had roared in our absence, with canopies extending beyond the city walls. Armored guards patrolled within and around the city—an exercise in futility, considering the high volume of traffic.
I glanced at the huge spire in the distance and then at my teammates who followed at a sedate pace. We looked downright haggard in comparison to the merry-goers and managed to draw a few disgusted looks—though most of that was because of me. I wasn’t about to retire yet despite smelling like a swamp. We each had a chore to finish.
“Meet up near twilight at The Naked Bard?” I said.
Nicola nodded. We’d agreed that she would handle the purchase of potions which she had pegged at fifty pieces of silver. Paz had volunteered to secure food items with the remnant, leaving me to sell off the rest of our loot or trade them for armor.
“You better not waste our money on alcohol,” Nicola grumbled under her breath.
“How much can you eat in a week?” Paz rebutted. "Chill out, why don't you? I'll stick to your list."
That was another thing I’d learned. The Labyrinth portal opened for one hour at twilight and wouldn't open again until three hours had passed.
It meant that the final event of the Skeelien Festival lasted a total of five hours with one small problem: Time flowed differently within the Labyrinth. From the moment of the closing of the portal to its re-opening, the dungeon divers would have been trapped inside for an entire week.
Neither Paz nor Nicola understood the exact mechanics. But, a week in the dungeon equaled three hours in real-time.
Just accept it as is, Paz had said with a small chuckle.
But, wasn't this some kind of [System] exploit? Granted, it all boiled down to the quest timer's perception of time. But, if I could grind for one week and lose three hours on the clock, dungeon runs would become even more appealing . . .
We separated soon after.
I strode down the winding streets and alleys of Skeelie until I located the general goods store—the same one that had welcomed me on my first day in the city.
Liliana grinned at me from behind the counter, dressed again in a sleeveless shirt that showed off her arms. “You! How is it that you always appear looking as filthy and tattered as possible? I’m not into dirty people, or elves for that matter.”
I rolled my eyes at the redhead. “I’m here to peruse your wares. And, maybe sell some stuff if you are interested?”
“I’m not a pawn shop. Neither do I serve as a fence for the Thieves Guild any longer. I only display legitimate goods.”
“Wait, what? What guild?”
Liliana simply winked.
I did not have time for this. “Can you give a rough estimate of the worth of these items?” I dropped the bows onto the counter.
Liliana studied them, then peered at my face. “These are ranker-grade.”
“Both Common tier, yes.”
“You kill any of our people for these?”
“No.” Thankfully, I had washed off the blood.
Liliana didn’t seem to buy my denial. “Right. Ranker-grade items are always in demand, though I don’t care enough to dabble in their purchase. I can introduce you to a cousin who deals in armaments—”
“Where is he located?”
“And, you best prepare your fine behind to spend the whole day haggling, because people with the Merchant class never pass up the chance to finagle a profit.”
I didn’t have a choice. “I’ll take my chances.”
Liliana paused to regard me. She crossed her buff arms and leaned over the counter. “You’re challenging the Labyrinth, aren’t you? That’s the reason you visited Skeelie?”
“No . . . well, yes. I intend to participate.”
“You know that half of the adventurers who go in there don’t make it back alive?”
“You might have mentioned that the last time we spoke, yes.”
“So, why do it?”
Because of the numbers. Because of a friend. Because the apocalypse was but one year away, and I was going to put that bastard Byron in his place if it was the last thing I did.
Liliana’s eyes widened. “It’s you, isn’t it? You are the elf that got the adventurers in a tizzy. The one who smacked that idiot, Byron.”
Eh?
“Word travels fast in the city, especially among us merchants.” She clapped her hands. “Tell you what, Mr. Dark Elf—”
“Damien.”
“Very well, Damien. I’m going to make a gamble on you. Enter the Labyrinth. And, if you make it back alive, I’d buy everything you find.”
“I thought you claimed you were no longer a fence.”
“Hey, nothing wrong with doing business. And, good business is business that brings all the right profits." She tapped the counter. "I’d be charging a small commission on the sales and placing real money on the dark horse everyone else overlooks. If you manage to knock down one of those ranker snobs in the process, I’d consider it a win.”
I mused over her words. Complex relationships were not my forte, thanks to my former life as a loner, yet even I could tell that she hid her true desire. What was it about the city’s adventurers that bothered her so?
Well, whatever. The other shopkeepers in the city simply slammed doors in my face. “Deal. But, I still need to sell these bows. Or turn them in for fair pieces of armor.”
“My dear Damien,” Liliana said and puffed strands of red hair out of her face. “If there’s anything this shopkeeper is known for, it’s that her business is almost always fair. Tell me what you’re looking for. And, I will try to arrange a trade, no problem.”
I sighed and plucked Nicola’s list out of my inventory.
I returned to the inn for a shower and a nap. This time they had no free rooms, considering the volume of guests. However, the innkeeper was kind enough to rent me a bath stall and a small mattress in the cellar for a few hours.
I awoke after midday and changed into my makeshift leather armor. Then, striking out into the city, I made for The Naked Bard tavern.
The large traffic from earlier emptied out of the streets, flowing toward the spire down south for the night’s main event. It left The Naked Bard devoid of patrons, save for my party and a single drunk snoring in the corner.
The Adventurer’s Guild was also barred at this hour, though if that was a result of the time or the day’s festivities, I couldn’t tell. It had been open when I stopped by earlier to visit.
Paz and Nicola looked up as I entered. They’d both cleaned up and changed their clothes, though, in Paz’s case, a wardrobe change meant a new pair of pants and rundown wooden sandals. No shirt, whatsoever. He tended to discard them anyway.
Nicola sat in her most risqué outfit yet: a see-through robe that revealed the suction cups she’d placed over her unmentionables.
She noticed my bulging eyes and turned away. “Sorry. I’m going to need all the Eros I can get.”
“It’s alright,” I said and waved at a barmaid. “I procured a cuirass and gauntlets for you with the sizes you ordered. Simple medium armor too for Paz.” I glanced at his footwear. "And, boots."
“It’s all useless,” Paz bemoaned. “We’re better off showing up naked. We’ll find better gear in the Labyrinth.”
“Well, until then, we shouldn’t risk our lives. I also bought a polearm for your sorry ass too. You can thank me later.”
Paz eyed the poleaxe I presented him with disdain. “Regular iron? This will shatter after the first few strikes on ranker-grade armor.”
“Still more expensive than anything you could afford.”
The barmaid rushed over with three tankards of beer.
“So, one week in hell,” I said, grabbing a drink. “We have three goals: Emerge alive, secure the dungeon egg, and ensure Byron never bothers us again . . . or anyone for that matter.”
“I propose a fourth goal,” Paz said, reaching for a tankard. “We do all that while ensuring to have as much fun as possible.”
“To a week in hell,” Nicola said in an almost whisper.
“To a week in hell,” we repeated, making a toast.
I downed the bittersweet drink and wiped the froth from my lips.
Then, exchanging grim nods, Damien’s Protection Party marched out of the tavern.
