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Stepping Wild, Draft 2, CH 88
🕑 Added 2025-08-04 13:00:39 +0000 UTCOver the following weeks, Karliak and Simtor played with what their creatures looked like. From changing what they were made of and dealing
Over the following weeks, Karliak and Simtor played with what their creatures looked like. From changing what they were made of and dealing with how that affected how they moved.
It was a few tried before their wood or stone hoppers could do more than be statues. They adjusted size, and then realized they could change what they looked like. Eventually making a hopper that reminded Tibs of Sto’s Bunnylings, other than being no taller than a hopper.
Eventually Karliak added a lynx when the Runner wasn’t able to evade the dungeon’s latest creature.
Karliak had been surprised, then saddened. For as annoyed as he sounded each time the lynx escaped with the chunk of meat, he’d grown to respect his opponent.
He’d be the boss floor, the dungeon announced, so that any further Runner would know who they had to measure themselves against.
Tibs had little to contribute to the dungeon’s work, and when he informed them it was time for him to leave, it wasn’t as melancholic as he expected. Simtor made him promise to return so he could see the dungeon they became, and Tibs only said he’d do his best. He planned on returning, but too many of those had to be scrapped due to other events getting in the way for him to be hopeful.
He then returned to the village to say his goodbyes.
Darna insisted on having a meal with him, her friends, and many of the tavern regulars. Lian tried to convince Tibs to stay, pleading he didn’t want to return to an all-meat diet.
Half the women in the tavern promised to give him something other than sausages to eat.
Then he gathered the few of his possessions, returned to the road and walked.
A month of no more eventful travels than his previous ones saw him arrive at the city of Chasitian, in Sutgon, the kingdom over from Brokentia.
It had no library or university, so he figured the exploits of the Laughing Thief wouldn’t catch the attention of his copper haired hunter; if she heard about him. He spent a couple of months rebuilding the funds he’d need for his destination. Sutgon’s king’s city, and the University of Jisteisteon.
Most of the money he amassed, he converted in promises. Then joined a caravan as a merchant’s son, set on building his own success away from his family, instead of his usual persona of caravan guard. He played the jovial, always happy to risk coppers and silver on a quick game of chance, young man who lost more often than gained and couldn’t seem to learn his lesson. He made friends among the other merchants, talking trade and spending far more than he should on candies, as well as among the guards, who were, by the time they reach Jisteisteon, more interested in pitting themselves against his cleverness, than taking his coins.
On arriving in the king’s city, he set about finding and paying forgers to create Tilan’s identity. A researcher from the university of Feslen, in the kingdom of Hertomatio. After a few days, everything was in order, but he waited until the caravan left to establish himself as the scholar and visit the university.
Without a need to accumulate funds, he devoted himself to his research. Not that much came of it over the following weeks. The kingdom had a dungeon in the city of Kermitar, but no history of dangers that hinted at where there might be an unknown wild one.
When not busy researching, Tilan was nothing more than another citizen, enjoying the markets, the taverns, and the occasional game of chance.
*
The entry clerk barely reacted to Tilan’s arrival anymore, so used to him they had become. He greeted the scholars he walked by on his way to the shelves to pick up the next tome on his list, then sat down to read, to search for clues as to where he might find a wild dungeon.
*
The sense of an adventurer at the edge of his sense pulled his attention away from his reading. They were common enough in large cities, especially king’s cities, that he didn’t usually let them distract him. He had to remain aware of them, so he could prepare if too many headed in his direction, but the rest of the time, he ignored them.
This one he couldn’t.
Gamma, possibly Beta. He didn’t come across those often outside of dungeon cities or where the guild had a presence. It meant he lacked the experience to be certain of how strong they were. Anyone Delta and above were more guesses on his part when he came to evaluating how much of a threat they represented.
The fact that the structure the guild had to determine adventurer’s rank fell apart with those that strong didn’t help.
Back in Kragle Rock, the guard leader who had taken over, when Harry left, had had denser essence than the guild leader. But she’d been Beta while he was Gamma. His teacher had often commented on how, ultimately, rank was more about what an adventurer could do with the essence they had than the outright strength they could put into what they did.
Someone this strong didn’t mean they were here for him. Almost certainly mean they weren’t. Even when the guild sent adventurers to actively hunt him, he hadn’t rated anyone above Epsilon. In the last decade, the only time he had been hunted was when he forgot himself and let something slip with an adventurer within earshot.
He still needed to be wary of this adventurer. With that strength had to come skill, and that meant an increased awareness of the essence around them. Tibs had no hope to match one of them, with all the training required to achieve that kind of strength.
He put them out of his mind and returned to his reading. They weren’t here for him. So long as he kept his distance, everything would be fine. He had more important things to do than worry about some adventurer, probably in the city to consult with the king or their advisors.
He had a wild dungeon to find.
So much essence was difficult to ignore.
Then he realized they were approaching.
They couldn’t be headed to the university.
There had to be something else around it that would draw such a powerful Water adventurer. Was the castle nearby? He had no interest in kings, so hadn’t bothered inquiring.
And the adventurer kept approaching, then reached the university’s entrance.
They couldn’t be here for him. Not with all that strength.
And when was the last time anyone from the guild had noticed him? Years ago, that dungeon he’d tried to join as a runner. And they hadn’t noticed him, Tibs Light Fingers, just someone with a brand. He had been passing himself off as an Omega.
But why else would an adventurer be at his university, if not him?
Maybe they were a sorcerer here for a book.
What book could a sorcerer not find wherever they did their own research? They were the ones keeping book to themselves, not universities and libraries.
But he shouldn’t risk it.
He returned the tome to its shelf and set to leave by a different route than the adventurer.
Which was why he had to fight not to show his confusion when he found himself in a corridor with the adventurer at the other end, walking in his direction. How could he have lost track of him like this?
The man was tall, dressed in impeccable leathers. He was clean shaven, and his long hair was held back by a blue ribbon. The man’s unnaturally blue eyes passed over Tibs without showing interest.
Of course, the man wouldn’t notice him. Tilan was nothing more than one of many researchers here. He didn’t even have an element, at the moment, for the adventurer to have a chance of sensing.
He’d let fear control his actions, and that was dangerous. He didn’t have to leave. He could return to his research.
He looked over his shoulder.
Something about the man entering the chamber nagged at him.
It didn’t matter; he reminded himself. The adventurer wasn’t important. His research was.
He cursed his curiosity as he followed at a distance, instead of heading in a different direction. The man entered another room, a large one containing displays of items. Some of which had old, nearly entirely unraveled weaves.
This was the end of his trailing. He’d never been in that room before and one of the many occupants there would draw attention to him. He reached the door and made his decision to leave.
“Ah,” a woman called loudly, without care for the agreed upon rule of quiet within the university’s collections. “What a wonderful surprise.”
Tibs looked around the door frame and into the room.
“You requested a representative,” the man replied, and Tibs ignored the other occupant’s annoyed glares in that direction. Something about his voice….
The woman who joined him was as tall, with short blond hair. Short hair was something Tibs had noticed among the scholars who did experiments. Her clothing was utilitarian. The thick fabric he’s seen many within wearing. She lacked adornment, but there was still an air to her Tibs could only call regal.
She clearly had power here.
“And who did they send?” she asked, smiling.
The man’s annoyed sigh rang with familiarity. “My name,” he said in clipped tones, “is Alistair. Now. What is so important you couldn’t tell one of the adventurers already in the city?”
Tibs stared as she took his arm in hers.
Alistair?
With a name, the other elements fell into places. The hair, the ribbon, the leathers. The man hadn’t changed at all. Which shouldn’t surprise Tibs. With so much essence, he would remain the way he was for centuries, possibly.
Tibs should have recognized him immediately, but he realized that his mental image for his old teacher had aged with him, and everyone around him. Not as fast as them, or even him, but he’d added wrinkles, had taken away some of that sharpness in his gaze.
He followed as she led Alistair deeper among the tables and displays. Some of the scholars glanced in his direction, then returned to their work.
The items he passed by, under their glass or crystal cases, were old, and had cards with writing. Some were pieces of objects, placed to imply the shape of the complete one. A few were complete and their essence so dense he wished he’d noticed them before, had studied them. They didn’t feel like weaves, but also not natural. As if essence had been pushed into them, the way he’d pushed Wood essence into trees, but it hadn’t dissipated over the many years since.
What did so much essence do to an object?
“This was excavated where the city of Carsitar if believed to have stood.” She motioned to a case. The item Tibs sensed was long and narrow, mostly wood with a metal tip. A spear. It was one of those with far more essence in it, but unlike the others in the room, this one was fraying at the edges.
Alistair glanced at it, unimpressed. “This required someone from the guild?”
Tibs remembered that hint of anger in the tone. Alistair, about to run out of patience. In his case, when Tibs didn’t pay as much attention as his teacher thought he should.
“This is the Corbin Spear.”
He heard her capitalize the words.
Alistair’s expression turned to surprise, and he leaned in. “Are you certain? Our records say it was lost in the Battle of Thuross. Unless I’m mistaken, that is nowhere near here.”
She chuckled. “Carsitar was in the Kingdom of Joleis.”
“I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Quite far from here,” she said casually. “Our expedition comprised researchers from a variety of universities, as well as wealthy supporters.”
“And they let you take it out of their kingdom?” The dismay made Tibs think that wasn’t common.
“As part of the agreement, each university was allowed to bring back some items after the representative deemed them unimportant to their history.”
“And they thought this was not important to them?”
She smiled coyly. “They might not have understood what they were examining.”
“You didn’t tell them,” he said in a disapproving tone.
“They never asked,” she countered, and he smiled as well. “I believe the guild is always looking for artifacts connected to your founder, so I thought you should have it.”
“You want to give it to us?” Alistair asked, suspicious.
“Of course,” she replied, sounding almost offended. “We’d never think of charging the adventurer’s guild for something that is theirs. Especially not when you have been generous with providing protections for the expeditions heading in dangerous areas.”
“Of course,” he said, tone and nod filled with understanding. He studied the item in its case. “While I’m certain the guild will want to add this to its collection, this isn’t the kind of generosity I can simply accept. The guild leaders are the ones who will make that decision.”
“I understand.” She placed a hand on his arm. “But please be the one who brings the answer. I would love to see you again.”
Alistair stared at her, and Tibs shared his confusion. Her expression and where her hand was placed indicated she was interested in him, but everything else about their interaction had been academic in tone.
Tibs knew people could be interested in others for the power they had, or represented, but he was confident Alistair had said he held little power in the guild. Maybe this was another thing Tibs didn’t understand about what people looked for in their special someone.
He moved to remain out of sight as Alistair left, then had to decide between following him, or getting his things and hurrying out of the city. He glanced at the case they’d looked at and the woman smiled and nodded at him. He hurried back out of her sight, wondering how he’d been so careless as to forget she’d been there.
Had she realized he’d been spying on them?
He peeked around the display, and the woman was walking away.
Confused at her lack of interest in him, just rushing to hide like an omega rogue should have told her he hadn’t been up to anything good. He returned to the shelves and took the next tome, but instead of seeing the words, he kept wondering what Alistair being in the city meant for him. Would he be accompanied by adventurers when he returned? By one of those leaders?
The excitement at having one of them within reach didn’t last. Even if he killed them, it would change nothing. He needed to regain his strength, exceed it, because when he struck, he’d have to take down the entire guild at once.
But his current question was if he should leave the city to ensure he wasn’t discovered.
What had Alistair been up to?
He’d looked well, but that meant little. It didn’t have to reflect how they felt.
Tibs had been harsh the last time they’d talked. He’d been angry. Had seen his old teacher’s lack of actions as a betrayal of the things he claimed to want.
But after over two decades of life outside Kragle Rock, Tibs understood it was possible to want something, to believe completely in how important it was, while not being able to accomplish much of it.
Tibs had been ignorant of so much, back then, that it had made him arrogant.
Accepting he wouldn’t be able to continue his research, Tibs left the university with those questions bouncing in his head. The distracted state, as he headed toward the house he rented a room in, caused him to bump into more people than he usually allowed himself to, and come away with a copper each time, occasionally, a silver.
His fingers were leaving the latest pocking, already glancing at the silver between them, when the hand closed around his wrists and pulled him around.
“I don’t think so,” the man said angrily, fist in the air.
Tibs was still getting over the surprise of being caught as the muscular man’s expression went from anger to surprise.
“Thibaud?”
