James A. Hunter
patreon
Vigil's Balance: Seven – Court Courtesy
🕑 Added 2022-11-29 18:00:05 +0000 UTCBefore I could turn the elf into meat paste, something huge sideswiped me from the right, knocking me off course.
Cal, still in Centaur form.
His equine lower half melted away while his body took on more ape-like proportions. He could’ve passed as Gobhoill’s brother. He leapt onto my back, wrapping his long legs around my waist while a huge arm slipped around my throat like a python. The asshole had me in a sleeper hold. He locked in the choke with his other arm and flexed his bicep, immediately applying intense pressure to my carotid artery without crushing my airway. A textbook perfect example of the hold in action.
The world wobbled and swam drunkenly as spots danced across my vision. I was instantly lightheaded and reeling as he neatly cut the flow of blood to my head. I stopped running out of necessity and reached back with huge hands, trying to dislodge Cal. But he was clamped on as tight as a hungry tick. So instead, I tried to jam my sausage fingers into the crook of his arm, hoping to ease the pressure around my throat. That was no use either. Cal had me dead to rights.
“Whoa boy, whoa there,” he cooed into my ear like I was a misbehaving horse. “I don’t want to put you down unless you make me.”
Renholm appeared in front of me, wings pumping to keep him airborne. “I understand your rage, but you cannot attack the emissaries. That is the real trap, you simplistic fool. You ignorant slut!”
My animal brain still wanted to maul and kill and destroy, but the rational, logical part of my brain slowly kicked back into gear. That was the one downside about Totem transformation—my body wasn’t the only thing that changed. It effected my mind and my thoughts as well. Sure, I still retained some portion of my human intelligence, but it was mixed with a truck load of primal, bestial instincts. It shackled me with the drive to hunt and dominate my territory.
To utterly annihilate anything that challenged my supremacy.
“Don’t you see,” the Pookah continued, “you can only respond in violence if directly attacked. This ambush reeks of plausible deniability. Did they lead us into this death trap? Yes, obviously. But is it possible this is all just some terrible turn of fortune? A wandering group of Elementals waylaying us as we traverse the Wylds? Stranger things have certainly happened. If you attack the False Queen’s emissaries, you will be spitting on the Courtesy of the Courts and invite retaliation from every Fae Noble House in return. She likely has scouts, waiting in the wings, ready to descend on us the very moment you touch that smirking buffoon.”
His words washed over me, sanding away the last sharp edge of my rage.
“Do not worry,” his voice was low as he shot the elf navigator a withering glare. “We shall have our vengeance for this provocation, but now is not the time or place. I, of all creatures, am not one to preach restraint—it goes against my very nature—but in this case it is necessary.”
I grunted, nodded, and released the delicious power of the Totem Transformation. Primal energy bled from my skin as my pebbled hide disappeared, my arms retracted, and the fangs filling my mouth reverted. Transforming back into human form wasn’t pleasant either, but the change came quickly and was over before I knew it. I was covered in blue monster ichor and my body ached as though I’d just gone ten rounds against Mike Tyson. But I was alive and I’d avoided creating the Fae equivalent of an international incident.
“Thanks for stopping me,” I said over my shoulder to Cal, who was now back in his regular ol’ human form.
“No worries, bro. Always got your back. Especially when you’re about to do something stupid.” He patted me reassuringly on the shoulder.
“Thanks for helping us out, dicks,” I called, turning on our two Fae escorts.
Elduin offered me a nasty fuck-you grin. “The Queen tasked us with guiding you to her realm. Nothing more, nothing less. It was assumed that you could provide your own protection against the dangers of the Wylds.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “it’s just so crazy that they completely ignored the two of you, even though you were only twenty feet away. I mean they didn’t even fire a single arrow at you. What are the odds of that?”
The elf shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps the stink wafting off you offended their delicate senses and drove them into a fit of rage?” He suggested flatly. “You do reek of humanity, after all, and the corruption of Celestial magics clings to you like flies on dung. In truth, I haven’t been able to get the terrible smell out of my nostrils. It’s enough to drive anyone to murder.”
“Sure you aren’t smelling your upper lip?” I asked. “I’m guessing you just forgot to wipe all the bullshit off your face before swinging by our realm.”
The elf’s smirk turned into a scowl and his hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword. The Sasquatch seemed to know exactly what I was trying to do—provoke the elf into attacking us, thus breaking the laws of hospitality.
“Peace, Elduin,” he said, though the words sounded like equal parts warning and rebuke. “We’ve already wasted enough time. The Queen is waiting and she will not be well pleased should harm befall her guests.”
Then, without waiting for a reply, Gobhoill turned to me. “You have my sincerest apologies, Duke Boyd. And to you as well, King Renholm.” He dipped his head in evident earnestness, which was wild. Even I didn’t take Renholm seriously. “We are so very close to the Queen’s borders now, let us continue and I’ll ensure you receive refreshments and care for any wounds you may have suffered, as is befitting of a courteous host,” he finished, giving the elf the stink eye.
“Don’t sweat it, Gobby,” I said, waving away his concern. “It’s not like either of you could’ve known a bunch of monsters with the perfect skillset to undercut me would be waiting here, directly on the route you picked out. Just a big, happy coincidence, I’m sure. And don’t worry about leaving the fighting to us, Elduin,” I said sweetly. “Unlike you, I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty because I’m not a whiny, scared little bitch. If anything, I should thank you for being such a spineless, incompetent shit weasel. These things were loaded down with Essence and I’m gonna turn these corpses into some amazing armor.”
Elduin wasn’t smiling now. Just the opposite.
Good. Fuck him.
“Cal, Renholm, help me loot these guys,” I barked, moving over to the one of the shattered bodies.
“But the Queen is waiting,” Gobhoill said before licking his lips uncertainty. “We really should be on our way.”
“You guys didn’t think getting there in a timely fashion was worth helping us kill these Mortka, so it must not be that big of a deal,” I replied.
“Well said, my Champion,” Renholm pipped in. “Besides, unlike your False Queen, in the True Oblivion we don’t turn out noses up at the Hunt. Every kill makes our Kingdom that much stronger. A lesson she would do well to learn.”
Gobhoill looked thoroughly unamused with our shit talking while Elduin was on the verge of going into apoplexy. I couldn’t have been any happier. They’d set us up to die and not only had they failed, now they looked both dumb and cowardly. The Fae seemed like a bunch of gossipy assholes, so I had no doubt word of this would spread to the other participants of the Hunt. The game hadn’t even started yet, and we were already winning. Just the way I liked it.
***
As expected, the ten Lesser Crystalline Elementals were a treasure trove of quality loot. I ended up with four Transformation Tokens of varying rarities—which I decided to keep on hand, for obvious reasons—and twelve Elemental Quartz Affinity Scales, ranging from Disciple-Grade all the way up to Master-Grade.
<<<>>>
Elemental Quartz Affinity Scale
Type: Refined Quartz Conduit Affinity
Class: Adept
Ability: Consume
Primary Effects:
· When consumed directly, Quartz Conduit Affinity significantly enhances the user’s resistance to all elemental based magics, redirecting a portion of the elemental damage into the ground. Additional status effects of elemental based attacks, such as shock paralysis or burn trauma, have a 50% chance of being nullified.
· Channel Quartz Conduit Affinity into a metaphysical focal point, imbuing the item with unique benefits for a limited duration.
· Note: The strength and duration of the effect is directly proportional to the quality of the Scale consumed.
<<<>>
Those would be invaluable when squaring off against other magic slingers or some of the nasty creatures that we were sure to encounter on the hunt. Even better, when channeled into my M4, they produced rounds that had the exact opposite effect against enemies. Every hit created a stacking debuff that made the afflicted suffer additional damage from elemental magic and significantly increased the chances of receiving a long-term status effect. Paired with a couple of Wrath Spells and an ability like Mantle of Scales, the Elemental Quartz Affinity could wreck someone’s day.
On top of that, I retrieved one of their intact crystal spears and a bucketful of fabrication components: [3 x Mortka Steel Ore, Fabrication Ingredient], [1 x Mortka Horn (Adept), Fabrication Ingredient], [20 x Elemental Quartz, Fabrication Ingredient], [2 x Ichor of Earth, Fabrication Ingredient]. I wasn’t sure what Ichor of Earth was, but I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the Elemental Quartz. My Stone Spider Plate mail continued to serve me well, but the Quartz was even more resilient against slashing and piercing damage, and I suspected it would offer some additional resistance against elemental attacks.
The second I got a little time to putter around in my Soul Forge, I fully intended to craft a new suit of heavy plate from the corpses of my enemies. Might turn one of their heads into a wicked shoulder pauldron. That or a codpiece, just to be a dick.
The rest of the trip passed with little fanfare.
After riding for a few more minutes in silence, the ghostly trees thinned out and we found ourselves outside a thick wall, thirty-feet high and built from bricks of glossy black obsidian. More of the purple skinned elves patrolled the ramparts, carrying delicate halberds with blades that looked to be chiseled from pale green glass.
But the elves weren’t the only guards present.
Perched on top of archer turrets were bird women, clothed only in colorful plumage which ran over lithe, well-muscled bodies. Huge wings protruded from their backs. Some had tawny, plain plumage while others were as brightly colored as macaws. The bird women had wicked talons on their feet and the bows and spears they carried were all business. I would’ve called them beautiful, but they were beautiful in the way the same way a poisonous viper is.
“Harpies,” Cal whispered, following my gaze to the turrets above. “Don’t let their smoking bodies or awesome boobs distract you. They ain’t human, bro. That’s all a distraction to keep suckers like you from killing them before it’s too late. They’re basically like the strippers outside of Pendleton. Fun to look at, and best viewed from across a room. Trust me, they will eviscerate you and literally eat your intestines if you give ’em half a chance. They are a thousand times worse than the worst dependapotamus. Just pretend they are covered in red flags instead of feathers and you should be fine.”
A huge set of glimmering, opalescent gates stood wide open, though positioned on either side of the entryway were a pair of centaurs—though these weren’t the run of the mill, garden variety horsemen. These things had the lower bodies of big cats, one a tiger the other a panther, and the upper body of a man, though they were covered in a fine layer of fur and had cat-like faces.
The sentries all stared at us with sullen glowers as we passed through the gate, but none of them made any move to stop us.
“Behold, Mythis Syve,” Gobhoill said over one shoulder, “the Great and Wonderous Void City of the Chaos Court. Be welcome, honored guests, and assured that no harm shall come to you, so long as you abide by the ancient laws of courtesy struck so long ago between our peoples.”
“Ditto,” I grunted, while actively looking for threats.
I believed we were safe in the same way I believed that ambush back on the road was an accident.
Inside the walls of the fortress city were homes and shops, but all of ’em had been built into the trunks of sprawling trees, enormous mushrooms, and earthen huts, gouged into the occasional hillside. The roads, such as they were, weaved through the tangle of trees and otherworldly vegetation as though the city had been built around the forest. Most of the residents were purple skinned elves, like Elduin, though there were also a fair number of the cat-like centaurs, and other, even stranger denizens.
They all cast secretive glances at us as we passed. Some looked angry or outright hostile, while others appeared to be curious or even playful. Renholm hammed up every second of the attention. He flew directly above me, hands raised, as he let off a constant stream of illusionary starbursts. The light display wasn’t enough, he also had to announce at the top of his lungs that we had come to liberate the people of Mythis Syve from their false rulers and usher in a new golden age for the Chaos Court.
Everyone made sure to give us a wide berth incase we were struck down by lightning from above for our blasphemy.
We rode through a crowded bizarre filled with a mish-mashed assortment of tables, stalls, and narrow alleys, all covered by brightly colored silk awnings. If the Queen had wanted to take a hit out on me or Renholm there would’ve been no better place. The crowds were thick as summer mosquitos and there were a million places for an assassin to lie in wait. It was impossible to assess every possible threat, so I was banking on Combat Sense alerting me to any potential danger.
The market thrummed with the scuffle of feet, the clink of coins, and the sounds of voices as merchants haggled and hawkers pitched their wares to passerbys. But a bubble of pensive, uneasy quite seemed to follow us. Business ceased at our reproached. No one talked. Everyone watched. Then, once we were sufficiently far enough away, the sound would slowly pick up as everyday market life resumed its ebb and flow. The wares for sale were as varied and strange as the city and its residents.
I spotted the standard items that seemed to be in every marketplace—steaming food, buckets of candles, wicker baskets, clay pottery. The stuff people used in everyday life no matter who they were, where they came from, or where they called home.
But there were thousands of more exotic things, readily on display.
Crystal jars filled with strange glowing liquids. Bundles of herbs and bouquets of dried flowers. Elaborate armor and clothing that appeared to be woven from spider silk. At least I was guessing it was spider silk since the merchants were humanoid spiders with dull black arachnoid eyes, weird face tentacles, and hairy legs protruding from their backs. They looked like monsters, but they shied away from me as though I were the dangerous one.
In part, they were right. I was dangerous. I’d killed plenty of creatures from the Wylds since arriving in this world. It reminded me of the way the Iraqis would look at me as we rolled through in our Humvees or padded by on foot patrol. Their eyes would linger on our weapons, and it was easy to see fear and distrust carved into the lines of their bodies. Having people look at you like you were a dangerous animal always stung, but I figured a healthy dose of fear might keep me breathing, so it was a small price to pay.
I spotted another vendor with bird cages filled with tiny sprites and miniature winged pixies. They looked exactly the way Renholm had when I’d first rescued him. There were wooden signs, propped up beside each cage, listing prices or services. Buy a Pixie to clean your house. Or test alchemical mixtures on. Or as a quick, Essence-filled snack. I could buy five sprites for the cost of a hot meal back in Wildespell, which was genuinely horrific. Even worse, no one even batted a goddamned eye at the fact that they were selling sentient creatures for the cost of a Big Mac.
Not even Renholm cared.
That callous indifference revealed the truth in Gobhoill’s words. Life was cheap here and the only thing the Fae cared about was power. Pixies were at the very bottom of the totem pole. They had no power, which meant they also had little to no value. I had a gut feeling that the Queen probably viewed me like one of those caged pixies—a minor, powerless nuisance that would make a quick, Essence-filled snack.
It was time to go teach her that this pixie had a bad attitude and could bite back.
