13 – Exposed bard

  “You have something I need,” Gaspard repeated and added, “And I can give you something in return.”

  A silence hung in the air for a moment. Elanil stared at him, trying to discern whether he was a threat. What could they possibly have that he wanted from them? And if he wanted this something from them so much, why had he waited until now, following them to the forge, intervening in their trade talks with the blacksmith, and helping them earn a profit for their loot? Why couldn’t he have simply mugged them on the way between the inn and Beechvile, or simply killed them? Or perhaps he thought he wouldn’t be able to handle them in a fight. This whole stream of questions raced through Elanil’s mind in a matter of moments.

  “What are you—” she barely began her timid question but Nura’s actions were both swift and decisive.

  “Show me your chest,” she took a step toward Gaspard, causing him to instinctively back away.

  “Right here? Not behind the barn at least?” He chuckled nervously. “I actually prefer a more romantic setting and a slower pace...”

  “Nura, what are you—” Elanil started, but Nura interrupted her again. Ignoring her and the bard’s attempts at humor, she unceremoniously grabbed his shirt and pulled it open, a couple of buttons rolling into the roadside grass. Nura stared at Gaspard’s bare pecs, puzzled.

  “You don’t have anything here,” she said, raising her eyes to meet his.

  “What’s wrong with you? What do you think I should have here?” he grumbled, trying to pull his shirt’s sides together, but it wasn’t easy without buttons. “I’ve heard of course about the orcs’ rudeness, but to do it like that, in front of witnesses... oh-oh-oh,” he shook his head theatrically—his goofy mood returned after a moment of confusion caused by Nura’s unexpected assault. “Thank you of course for admiring my beauty, but next time at least warn me.”

  Elanil realized that Nura was looking for another amulet. However, it was naive to think that all the bearers of these five artifacts had suddenly gathered in one place. Although... it seemed to be well in Nura’s nature to test the most basic guesses.

  “So, what are you looking for? Why to undress me?” Gaspard smirked.

  “Never mind,” Nura muttered. “What I was looking for isn’t here. You better tell me what you want from us.”

  “Try to guess.” Gaspard wrinkled his nose.

  “I have no desire to play charades with you.”

  “What game do you want to play with—”

  “You need runes?” Elanil hastened to intervene before the two got stuck in a loop of endless banter. She wasn’t sure her guess was right, but considering that those two runes, intended for someone other than them, were the most valuable things they had so far...

  “Correct,” he nodded solemnly.

  “How do you know about runes?” Nura interjected again.

  “Let’s suppose I have a keen eye,” Gaspard replied evasively.

  Elanil realized—he was a rogue, and no rookie, since he could peek into other people’s inventories without their knowledge. His class probably explained his skill at haggling with the merchants, and the fact that he’d followed them from the tavern to the forge unnoticed—not counting Elanil’s vague premonition. The latter, though, might have nothing to do with Gaspard’s surveillance at all, but something far more sinister...

  Elanil shook off her dark thoughts and the memories of her last night vision, and returned to the reality where Nura and Gaspard started the second round of their squabble.

  “Let’s say these are your runes, not someone else’s,” Nura crossed her arms on her chest. “What can you offer us in return?” Was her rudeness a deliberate tactic to show who was in charge, or did Nura simply dislike Gaspard at first sight? Or perhaps his charisma had a strange effect on her—inverted, so to speak.

  “What can I offer?” He lifted his chin proudly. “My level.”

  “Why would we need it for?” Nura snorted.

  “Hmm, I don’t even know. Maybe, to leave this pastoral shithole as quickly as possible? Without having to waste time earning experience.” Like Nura, he also folded his arms on his chest, mocking her posture. “Need I remind you that whether going west or east, you’ll need to pass through garrisons where you’ll need to prove either a sufficient hero level or sufficient reputation?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Elanil nodded understandingly—she remembered the game’s map zoning based on level requirements. That was due to aligning the quest difficulty and creature levels with that of players. Otherwise, a newbie wandering into such locations would be instantly killed.

  “Wha-a-at?” This seemed to be news for Nura.

  “What, what?” Gaspard mimicked her confusion. “To roam freely from one of the Empire’s province to another, you must convince the Imperial guards that you’re strong enough to take care of yourself. So, they won’t have to bother with you and bail you out of trouble if, or rather when, you run into one. Or if your reputation suggests that you’re a valuable and recognizable enough in these lands and that your ass is worth bailing out of trouble, then there won’t be any problems with traveling between intra-Empire borders either.”

  “Why create such a stupid system of restrictions?” Nura frowned even more. “Does the Empire really care who goes where within its borders, and what traps they stick their heads in? As long as they pay their taxes. No?”

  “Of course it doesn’t,” Gaspard laughed. “Our wonderful Sublime Empire simply likes to control its subjects. Including free movement between its provinces. Plus, it’s a very convenient way to localize a rebellion to the province where it breaks out and prevent it from spreading to other regions.”

  “Divide and conquer,” Nura nodded understandingly. “Then why all this nonsense with levels and reputation? Why not just ban people from crossing provincial borders and be done with it?”

  “Well, because if you just ban them, there’ll be no communication, no trade. And without normal trade, there’ll be no good revenue for the treasury. They’re not fools up there either, chocking off the air flow completely. And to be frank, sometimes I might even agree with minimum hero levels for some of the wildest corners of our beloved and adored Sublime Empire. Sometimes you encounter such monsters that... Anyway, let’s drop this topic, or I’ll soon become the Empire’s apologist—perish the thought!”

  “But what makes you think we want to leave this valley as quickly as possible?” Nura persisted.

  “Oh, right, of course, how could I have thought that!” Gaspard rolled his eyes. “It’s perfectly normal for an Orc rogue and a Wood Elf archer-mage but to emerge from the Sylvan Reserve, where they hunted three constructs and a Bombardier beetle. That’s where all the locals go for a stroll, right? And after selling their loot, they surely plan to buy a farm here and raise sheep. Right?” he laughed and added quietly. “And their amulets—they’re just two trinkets you can buy from any junk dealer.”

  Nura’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know about the amulets?” she whispered, astonished.

  “Ahh, orc, were you even listening to me?” he grumbled. “I told you just a few moments ago that I have a keen eye. I also have a keen ear, but even a deaf man could hear the orc talking about creating a guild of amulet-bearers. Besides,” he turned to Elanil, “you didn’t apply your silver rune, did you? Even if I didn’t have the ability to see others’ level of danger, this would mean you’re below the tenth level.”

  Elanil wasn’t particularly surprised that Gaspard could see not only what was in her inventory but even such details as the quality of runes not intended for him. She also wasn’t surprised that since he was following them all the way from the inn, then he heard everything they talked about. Including her stats and their plans to join the guild.

  “What’s your level?” was all she asked.

  “Fourteenth,” he said. Nura whistled.

  “And you know exactly what our level is,” she peered at him—he nodded cheerfully. “Why do you even bother baby-sitting us? We’re like mosquitoes to you—you could squash us without even noticing. You could easily kill us on the way from the tavern and take your runes.”

  “Elanil,” Nura hissed. “Don’t prompt to him!”

  Gaspard laughed loudly. “I like your sense of humor, orc.” Turning to Elanil, he added, “why would I want to kill my future companions?”

  “You’re speaking in riddles again,” Elanil reproached him for confusing the issue even further. “Why should we be companions simply because we have two of your runes? What’s your reason behind us being your companions?”

  “Don’t you remember what happened last night in the tavern hall?” Gaspard tilted his head slyly.

  “You mean your lousy performance that no one but Elanil gave you a coin for?” Nura quipped.

  “My lousy performance, as you put it, was intended to be that way,” an overwhelmingly charming smile played across his face. “Until Elanil ruined it all with her coin. Well, that’s what I thought at first, but then I realized what it was.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elanil frowned.

  “Yesterday in the tavern, I was testing the limits of one of my ability’s duration and area of effect. [Unrecognized Maestro], when everyone should watch elsewhere but in my direction.”

  “But the ability doesn’t affect your party members,” Elanil realized.

  “Exactly. Since I’ve been working alone all this time, I didn’t pay any attention to this nuance until last night.”

  “So, it was your ability that decided we were members of your team?” Nura asked incredulously.

  “Its Majesty Chance decided so,” Gaspard replied.

  Nura nodded understandingly—for her, that was a sufficient explanation. But for Elanil, it wasn’t. “What Chance? What are you talking about?”

  “The same Chance that brought you and me, two amulet bearers, to the Sylvan Reserve at the same time. Fate, in other words.” Nura explained.

  “Aaah, so you came here from different places!” Gaspard exclaimed.

  “Not your business,” Nura said curtly.

  “You’re mistaken, my dear, now it’s my business too. You said it yourself, Fate.”

  “What fatalists you both are,” Elanil grumbled.

  “What’s wrong with that?” Gaspard almost chanted. “The world is ruled by chance, whether fortunate or unfortunate—it’s a matter of luck. But certainly not by anyone’s intent, be it good or evil. For those endowed with power and authority have brains that are next to naught.”

  Here Elanil couldn’t help but agree with him.

  “Fine, companion,” she grinned.

  [Party Update: Gaspard joined the party]

  “Excuse me, could you help me?” a female voice called out. They all turned—in their lively conversation they didn’t notice how they had already gone deeper into the village. A worried-looking woman was walking toward them from the nearest house. “My cow hasn’t returned from the pasture. Could you please find her? I’m afraid she ran off to the Sylvan Reserve in fear.”

  Elanil smiled to herself. Of course, a cattle escort. How could they do without such a classic?