Ser Patrick Pent
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038 Ezin
🕑 Added 2024-01-31 21:28:20 +0000 UTCThe quest system didn’t fire all through that night or the next morning either.
I lay awake in bed, frowning at the Spirit orbs in my Inventory. The icon bore a bold x2, numerical proof of the onus hanging over my head.
I hated this—hated having my well-being tied to quest completion. However, 999 homunculi had died for a chance to be in my shoes. Whining like this did them a disservice.
A knock resounded on the door. “Breakfast, sir, if you choose.”
My stomach rumbled in answer. “In a minute.”
I got out of bed and headed down to the ground floor of the inn, which held the dining area slash lobby. The innkeeper bore a passing resemblance to his sister the trader, but he talked much less and only grunted in response to my greetings.
His cooking skills more than made up for his attitude, however, and it was with a gusto that I dug into the hot meal of potatoes and fish. A full tummy cleared my head and helped me to reevaluate my options.
Paz and Nicola might have turned me down, but I still had an entire guild’s worth of people to poach. I also hadn’t given up on finding someone with knowledge of spirit orbs or how to create them. The [System] wouldn’t make that easy, that’s for sure. But, I needed reliable sources of my own to escape the terrible grip of quests.
I speared a piece of fish and popped it into my mouth.
The entrance door slammed open. Three young soldiers walked in, all clad in standard Bargherian plate armor, complete with the sigils of a dog and a tree painted on the tabard.
“Greetings,” the lad in the lead said, stopping by the counter. “Is this the residence of one Mr. Damien?”
I dropped my fork quietly. [Stealth]—
“Stop!” a soldier said, moving to cut me off. “Please. We are here on official business, pertaining to the guilds.”
That did nothing to calm my nerves. My most recent business with the guild involved my altercation with Byron, but how had he learned my name?
“Damien Dark Elf,” the lead soldier said, “we have been tasked with enforcing your summons on the behest of the guild masters. Please, come with us.”
That was definitely not problematic. Nicola had given a warning that the guild master would like to meet, but I didn’t expect to be summoned in this manner. Growing up in a place like Nigeria instilled a deep distrust of uniforms within me. But, I didn't see any benefit to violent resistance either.
“I’ll come along,” I said, “but no cuffs, and I intend to walk behind.”
One of the soldiers bristled. “Is that lip I am hearing from you, sword-ears?”
Oh, hell. There it was. That insult again. I shot him a bored look, unable to feign offense.
He didn’t like my silence, because he reached for his sword. His colleague stopped him, about three-quarters into the draw.
“Peacefully,” the one I’d identified as the leader said in chastisement to his wayward colleague. “We’d put only one man behind you, Mr. Damien, but you need to understand why we can’t completely let you out of our sight. This isn’t an arrest, but the guild master isn’t the type we can afford to disappoint.”
The matter was probably related to Isaac, considering his politeness. Besides, I’d already used [Identify]. None of these guys could threaten me.
“Very well, then. Let’s go.”
The soldiers escorted me out of the inn and into the busy street. We traversed roads that looked more familiar than they did yesterday, though I still had to pay attention to avoid getting lost. The people of Skeelie were out in full force again. Why was this city always so busy?
We fought through the foot traffic until we arrived at the Adventurers’ Guild: the two-storied, stone, building just opposite The Naked Bard. The soldiers didn’t waste a beat and surged toward the large double doors. An expansive entrance hall greeted us, arrayed like a bank.
Clerks sat behind counters, stamping documents and going through large piles of files. Others attended to an assortment of adventurers, who queued in front of the counters for some reason or the other.
A few of the adventurers carried sacks of strange items: monster parts like claws and teeth. One held the head of a creature that resembled a gorgon in her grip. They submitted these to the clerks and received coins in exchange.
Other adventurers visited a large mission board that hung on one section of the wall. A party of five argued in front of it: kids who didn’t look much older than sixteen.
The last group of adventurers reclined in a recreational area that took up half the hall. I thought I recognized the woman in the monk robes from yesterday, but the soldiers urged me forward before I could get a good look.
Ezin’s office stood on the top floor of the guild building, at the end of a hallway adorned with marble statuettes. The soldiers rapped on the carved wooden doors and waited until a voice beckoned them to enter.
The first thought that leaped into my mind as I entered Ezin’s office was that he had to be a vain buffoon.
The entirety of the room featured lush, red velvet, looking more like a cabaret than any public office. Golden ornaments adorned the walls, gleaming with light that streamed from a large window adjacent to the entrance. A single desk and a pair of double shelves constituted the only bits of wood in the room. Everything else was cushioned leather or gold.
I almost felt bad for tracking my feet across the rug, which looked immaculate so immaculate that I could easily believe that it was maintained by a maid with eldritch cleaning techniques or a Roomba with an affinity.
A dark-haired man sat behind the desk, and he spread his hands at our entry. “Ah, Mister Damien. Please, take a seat.”
The soldiers bowed behind me and exited as quietly as their armor would allow.
A series of cushions faced the guild master’s desk, an area meant for visitors. Three other people sat in the chairs.
Nicola offered a small smile, dressed for once in sane clothes that covered her from neck to ankles. She still wore her oversized witch’s hat but sat like a cornered hare, reluctant to properly incline her head.
A man with a full beard sat beside her, and he regarded me with hawkish eyes while drinking from a goblet. Mathideus—the blond leader of Glamring—rounded out the number, though he barely shot me a glance.
I sat on the other side of Nicola. She was the only familiar face and looked like she needed the support. I frowned at the man behind the desk—the reason for my summons.
Ezin looked nothing like his opulent office suggested. He wore his dark hair long and ill-maintained, which made him come across as a hobo than anyone of repute, especially when combined with his full, scraggly beard. Nary a piece of jewelry gleamed on his person, though a modicum of vainness still managed to bleed through his attire.
His white coat hung heavy on his person, split down the middle to reveal sculpted abs and muscles. He would certainly draw erotic looks while walking down the street, from men and women. But, goddammit, man, just wear a shirt. Why did buff people enjoy showing off their torsos?
Use [Identify]? I didn’t want another Red Wyrm episode, but I needed to know where Ezin stood in the power ranks. If I didn’t do it, the missed opportunity would haunt me for weeks. Besides, I could easily pacify any grievances in this enclosure if it came down to it.
[Identify], please.
Guild master LVL 42.
Ooh.
I turned to the other man in the room.
Guild master LVL 33.
What the heck? Two guild masters? But, he didn’t look like a combatant, which meant he was from another guild not for rankers. And, judging by the subject matter, that had to mean the merchants.
Ezin turned to Nicola. “This is the elf you spoke about, yes?”
Nicola nodded.
“Very well,” Ezin said. “It is my pleasure to meet you, Damien. I apologize for the impromptu summons, but your presence is needed in this discussion.”
“Who killed Isaac?” the merchant boss said, cutting straight to the point.
I wrinkled my nose. “The Primal Dread Monkey. Surely, Nicola must have told you about this?”
The man’s face reddened. “I have never heard of the existence of such a creature! Dread Monkeys never grow beyond low Iron.”
“I don’t know what answer you’re fishing for, dude. I can only reveal what happened.”
Ezin observed me with cool eyes. “How is it that you are familiar with the name of the species? Nicola simply described it as a large monkey.”
Oh, crap. I’d known its name thanks to the identification skill, but it was probably best not to share that detail. “I mean, I’ve heard of it in passing. But, it was my first time encountering the beast.”
“A monster that high-leveled,” the merchant said, shaking his head. “In Dreadwood of all places.”
“We’ve known about this for a while,” Ezin said. “It’s no secret that the ecology in Dreadwood is changing. Perhaps, more rapidly than we thought. I’m just surprised that the monkeys came looking for the fight. Usually, the strongest creatures lie in ambush for those seeking to challenge them.”
“The ecology is changing”—and at this, the merchant snorted—“That’s a fancy way of saying that the wild god is becoming a bigger pain than he should.”
Ezin smirked.
“I cannot accept this, Ezin. We merchants pay your guild good money for our protection. If you can’t even do that much, what then is the point of your arrangement?”
Ezin’s hooded brows contracted. “It took nine iron rankers to defeat this monster, with plenty of casualties. We call such incidents freak accidents. If Dreadwood is changing, we need to halt our activities in it till further notice.”
“And lose out on all those precious gems?” the merchant contested. “Get serious for once. Trade with the Wood King helps the city’s economy. Unless you propose we go into the woods and mine rare gems ourselves. I don’t need to remind you how that ended.”
The two men stared at each other.
The merchant relented. “You there, Dark Elf. Where do you hail from?”
I was getting sick of that name. Dark Elf this. Dark Elf that. I’m Damien, goddammit.
The merchant rambled on. “What’s a bush elf like you doing in the city anyway? I’m still not convinced you had nothing to do with the monkey attack. Are you some spy sent by the Wood King?”
Mathideus stirred, the first time since I’d entered. “That’s an obnoxious insult to level at a visitor, don’t you agree?”
“Bah.” The merchant said. “Tell me the last time you have seen a Dark Elf this far from the sands.”
“There is a Dark Elf tribe in Dreadwood.”
“Scions. Of no real consequence.” The merchant glared at me. “Tell your version of the story, elf. Try to lie to us, I dare you.”
“That will be unnecessary,” Ezin said. “Ben’s and Nicola’s admissions are weighty enough. Damien has other questions to answer, and you have your appointment with the governor”—he glanced at a dial on the wall—“slated in thirty minutes.”
The merchant purpled at the casual dismissal. “This isn’t the end of our discussion, Ezin. I still want those reports and a review of our terms. My representative would arrive within the day.”
He left after that, slamming the door.
“Sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” Nicola said, huddling into herself. “I can return the advance fee. I don’t want to trouble the guild.”
“Nonsense,” Ezin said. “I wrote those contracts myself. Our rankers are protected in cases like these. That said, you won’t be getting your outstanding balance. You failed the mission, after all.”
“Yes, sir.” Nicola kept her head down, expression hidden beneath a curtain of braids.
She had mentioned something about needing to care for her siblings. The money loss probably smarted more than she was willing to admit.
Ezin leaned into his chair. “Can I trouble you with a question, Damien?”
I cleared my throat. “It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”
“You don’t,” Ezin said. “Tell me: how many of the wild god’s pets did you kill?”
Comments
Ser Patrick Pent
Thank you!
NinjaZebra
Thanks for the chapter! “immaculate so immaculate” typo I think
