Grand Game 130: Another Task Down (Patreon)

Day Five. Afternoon.

With ebonheart in one hand and the heavy leather satchel in the other, I hurried through the Tartan barracks, speaking to no one and ignoring the inquisitive stares directed at the black blade.

Once on the empty village streets again, I removed my secondary shortsword from its sheath and replaced it with ebonheart.

The captain’s gift, no matter what he said, was priceless and left me feeling uncomfortable. I hadn’t betrayed Talon’s trust, not precisely—I didn’t owe him any loyalty—but there was no doubt that I had twisted his ends to serve mine, accomplishing the letter of the task he set me while defeating the purpose behind it.

Because of me, the Howlers would ally with his god-emperor. But also because of me, the Dark would not claim the sector, at least not immediately.

I shrugged, setting aside my unease. What was done was done, and now it was time to look to the future. Looking upwards, I saw that the sun had moved past its zenith.

I had one last bit of business to attend to in the safe zone before I could leave. Or perhaps two, I thought, considering the heavy satchel. First, though, I had to visit Gelar.

Reaching the alchemist’s shop, I entered without knocking and found the gnome still busy. “Almost done,” he called over his shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable on the couches, and I will be with you soon.”

I sat down as instructed and, while I waited, thought about what the next two days would bring. Objectively, I was unlikely to survive—not without dying a couple of times.

I can’t lug around all this gold, I decided. I would only lose it. Better I spend it and perhaps buy myself some insurance in the process.

“Do you have a pen and paper I could use?” I asked, a tentative idea taking root in my mind.

“Third shelf on your right, under that pile of books,” Gelar replied without looking up from his brewing.

I dug around on the indicated shelf and, sure enough, found blank sheets of parchment and ink with which to write. Sitting down on the couch again, I began to compose a letter.

~~~

“What do you have there?”

I blinked and shook my head, pulled out of my musing by Gelar’s question. I had completed the letter some time ago and, for the last few minutes, had been staring off into space, wondering if sending it off was the right thing to do.

“Nothing,” I replied and stowed the note in my pocket. I rose to my feet. “Have you finished?”

The alchemist nodded and held up a stone flask for me to see. “Here you go, one rank five antitoxin.”

“Excellent,” I murmured, taking the brew from his hand.

You have acquired a rank 5 antitoxin. This potion has been created from the essence extracted from a wyvern’s venom and will cure nearly all known poisons.

“Now, best you be gone,” Gelar said, shooing me towards the door, “before Ishita’s dogs hear you’ve been here.”

“Just a minute,” I said. “I want those full healing potions.”

The gnome shook his head. “You can’t have them. I shouldn’t have told you about them at all. I don’t know what I was thinking. And now, I hear the goddess is going to increase the bounty on your head.” He scowled at me. “Dealing with you is becoming too dangerous. You’re lucky I was honor-bound to complete our previous transaction. But I can’t risk further—”

Extracting three bars of gold from the satchel, I handed them to Gelar. “I want them,” I said firmly, “and any other useful concoctions that you may have.”

The gnome’s eyes grew round at the sight of the money before his lips widened in what was the first smile of true pleasure I’d witnessed on him.

“Of course,” he murmured. “Come this way.”

~~~

You have acquired 3 full healing potions.

You have acquired 5 fire bombs. Each bomb is highly combustible and will burst on impact, causing a small fire to spread outwards.

You have acquired 5 smoke bombs. Each bomb contains a dense magical fog that will expand rapidly outwards when released from containment.

You have acquired a rank 5 poison: refined wyvern venom.

I left the alchemist’s shop a little later, three gold bars lighter. As expensive as my purchases proved to be, I was satisfied with them. It turned out that Gelar not only made regular potions but that he crafted incendiary devices too.

Instead of spending the money I budgeted on regular potions, I bought the gnome’s little ‘infernos of destruction’ as he fondly referred to the pellets. Each was no larger than my fist and weighed about as much as a small stone. The alchemist had assured me they would burst on impact after being thrown.

The last item I’d acquired was what little remained of the wyvern venom after Gelar had finished crafting my antitoxin. The alchemist had no use for such a small quantity and had been only too happy to sell it to me. As for why I purchased the poison, I wasn’t too sure… it was a whim, no more.

Now to see to my final piece of business.

Hurrying across the deserted village, I returned to the tavern. Thankfully, despite it being empty of patrons, Benadean remained behind the bar.

“Oh good,” I said. “You’re still here.”

The barkeeper gave me a morose look. “Where else would I go?”

I smiled. “It’s about just that that I came to speak to you.”

He looked at me in bafflement.

“You haven’t changed your mind about selling the tavern, have you?” I asked obliquely.

He shook his head. “No, but the chances of selling it are looking more remote every day.”

“How much?”

“How much, what?” Benadean asked, looking confused again.

“How much do you want for this place,” I clarified.

Benadean leaned across the bar, looking suddenly eager. “Don’t tell me you know a prospective buyer?”

I grinned. “Something like that.”

The barkeeper pursed his lips. “Well, it cost me nine hundred gold to purchase, but considering the state of things at the moment, I’ll settle for five hundred.”

I laid my remaining seven gold bars on the bar counter. “How about seven hundred?”

Benadean stared at me for a moment before picking one up. “These are stamped with Tartar’s mark,” he whispered, turning it over in his hands. “Where did you get them?”

“Don’t worry, they’re not stolen. Well?”

The barkeeper blinked, seemingly still struggling to process my request. “You want to buy the tavern for seven hundred gold?”

I nodded. “More precisely, I want to buy the tavern and a favor.”

Benadean’s eyes narrowed. “What favor?”

I placed my scribbled note in front of him. “When you leave the sector, I need you to deliver this letter for me.”

“To whom?”

I told him, and the barkeeper frowned.

“Can you do it? Will Ishita’s sworn let you pass through the portal unmolested?” I asked.

Benadean licked his lips nervously but nodded. “I think so.”

“Good, then will you do it?”

The barkeeper still looked hesitant. “Will it get me in trouble with the Dark?”

“Not if you don’t read the letter.” I paused. “Or tell anyone about it.”

“Alright,” Benadean said after a moment.

“Alright?”

“I’ll do it.”

I shoved the stack of gold bars towards him. “Then this is yours.”

Mutely, Benadean retrieved the gold before reaching into his pocket and handing me an official-looking piece of paper.

You have acquired a bill of ownership for ‘The Sleepy Inn,’ in the safe zone of sector 12,560.

All safe zone building bills of ownership are Game-created items that grant you full control over the building and cannot be stolen or lost, even upon death. Note, if the building is unoccupied or unused for an extended period of time, ownership will revert to the Game.

This item must be freely gifted or traded to pass on to another. On final death, it will drop and be freely lootable.

“Thank you,” I replied, storing away the item.

“When do I have to leave?” Benadean asked, still looking shocked at his rapid change of fortunes.

“Immediately.” Rising off my barstool, I nodded at the letter. “I will appreciate it too if you get that to its intended recipient as soon as you can.”

“I will,” Benadean affirmed.

I shook his hand. “Well, this goodbye then, I guess. Lock the door behind you, and good luck in your next venture.”

“Wait,” he called, stopping me on my way to the door.

I swung around to look at him.

“Why trust me with this?” he asked, waving my letter in his hands.

“Because there is no one else,” I said, turning back to the door. And sometimes, you just have to take a gamble.

~~~

I left the safe zone immediately after that.

Just as Talon had said, the fort was abandoned. The entrances to the barracks and other buildings had been left wide open. Only the keep itself had been sealed shut.

It felt strange walking past the eerily silent buildings. Hyek had kept his word and hadn’t left even a token force behind. To all appearances, it looked like the Howlers did not plan on returning.

I wonder what the Awakened Dead are thinking now.

I chuckled in amusement at the thought. Whatever plans the faction had for the sector, it all seemed to be falling apart.

The outer gates had been left gaping open too, and I strolled through without pause. Then, increasing my pace to a steady jog, I headed northeast.

I had only a vague idea of where to find the dire wolves. According to the information Aira and Oursk had provided, the pack had taken shelter in a network of caves beneath the eastern mountain slopes. Getting there, though, would take me the rest of the day.

I jogged through the forest the entire afternoon without once being threatened by any of its creatures. I’d grown appreciably since my time in the valley, and now threats that had initially worried me—like packs of serlines and roving rhomodillos—did not even give me pause.

I also didn’t see any signs of goblins. From what I could tell, the Howlers had marched due north after leaving the fort, and our paths had diverged long ago.

I reached the Long Fang encampment just as the last rays of the sun disappeared beyond the western horizon. The camp was located at the base of the eastern mountain itself, and I figured it would be a good place to start combing through the slopes.

The encampment was gutted.

I wrinkled my nose, struggling to breathe through the awful stench of death and rotting as I drew closer. The deep trench that had guarded the southern entrance of the Long Fang base was gone, filled in with corpses. Standing at the edge of the channel, I looked down.

The bodies were all Long Fangs.

The corpses bore testament to the violence that had been done upon them—wide, unseeing eyes, spilled guts and intestines, exposed bones, and mutilated faces.

My stomach heaved. I had dealt my own fair share of death since coming to the Forever Kingdom, but this was a massacre on a scale I hadn’t witnessed before. Yet, it was more than that. The Long Fangs’ death could all be attributed to me. I was the one responsible.

It will be worse when the Howlers and the Red Rats clash.

I shivered uneasily at the thought. But despite all the deaths left in my wake, I couldn’t find it within me to regret my actions. They’d been necessary and the only way I could save the wolves. Still, I could never forget that what I did had consequences, nor dismiss the cost in lives.

Breathing in deeply to fortify myself against whatever else I might see, I skipped over the trench and entered the ruined camp. Corpses were strewn everywhere. Tents had been torn asunder, belongings were scattered about, and the little furniture the camp had housed lay broken and burned. Nothing of value remained.

The Red Rats had been most thorough in their destruction.

Padding through the area, I reached the base of the cliff at its far end, then stilled as I sensed a presence above. My head whipped upwards.

A dire wolf sat there.

It was Duggar.

The dire wolf alpha stared down at me with an inscrutable gaze. “Well met, human.” He swung his head from me to the dead camp and raised his snout to sniff at the air. “And well done.”