Skull and Thrones: A LitRPG/GameLit Adventure Page 14

  "Not if it's too hot."

  Elmer chuckled. "Good chance it will cool if you give it a moment," he said, and he pulled another saucer and cup out and set it in front of me.

  I took a sip, and I winced. It was really hot. But it tasted good. Earthy. I was never much of a tea drinker — I'd always gravitated towards coffee and energy drinks — but this seemed like a happy medium between tea and coffee.

  "Is this poisoned?" I asked.

  "Sort of thing I would have expected you to ask prior to drinking it," Elmer replied with a smile.

  "Not the smartest elf on the shelf," I replied.

  Elmer chuckled.

  "I suppose it would be prudent to chat a bit about what it is I'm doing here, prior to, you know, the others making their ruling on things and ruining all my fun."

  I just looked at him, trying to parse out what it was he was saying, because it was really all coming out a bit gobbledygook to me.

  "You survived the Ring of Fire," Elmer said, opening his notebook at the same time as he dipped a quill into his ink pot. "How?"

  "Trade secret, I'm afraid," I answered.

  "Fair answer. Any chance I could persuade you to let me in on it?"

  "Nope.”

  "What spells do you have and where did you learn them?"

  "Okay, so you're the good cop. Got it."

  "Good cop? I'm afraid that's not a term I'm familiar with."

  "Don't worry about it."

  He scratched at the page, and I could see he’d written down good cop?

  "Your spells. Who taught you?"

  “I’m mostly self-taught."

  He shook his head a little, like a double take. "Self-taught? Really?"

  "Mostly."

  Sure, that wasn't exactly true, but what's a little lie in the midst of an interrogation?

  "I say, that's quite impressive. Especially given the breadth of your spells." He was about to write something down, and then he stopped and smiled at me. "You mean through spell books, eh?"

  "That's certainly one way."

  "The way, right? For you? You found some spell books in the attic of some house you ransacked, eh? Read them, lucked out and you found your way to magic without sending your brains out through your ears?”

  “A little of that.”

  “And some other means? A magic item capable of teaching spells? A deal made with a generous higher power? Have you traded your soul for infernal powers?”

  “Tempting, but no. If I had a soul, I still have one.”

  “Perplexing indeed.”

  Elmer made a few notes, and then tapped his nose with a finger as he thought. He left a black smudge of ink.

  “Would you prefer if we just cut the theatrics?” He asked.

  I tried to get a peek at his notes, but I couldn’t actually make anything out.

  “For sure,” I said.

  “There is little chance you will get out of this room,” Elmer said. “That is, you won’t get out in the same fashion as you entered.”

  “Arrested?”

  “No,” he replied with a little chuckle. “You are an illegal magic user. Your life is rather forfeit. It is purely because you have a few interesting spells and real skill that your life has been spared so far. In essence, your sole choice is whether you wish to join us, or die."

  "I think I preferred the theatrics," I said.

  "I daresay we all do. If you would consider joining the Ministry, I believe I could sway your position to be one that is more, say, elevated than the traditional entrée into the organization."

  "What would be the traditional entrée?"

  "You join and are given several tests to determine your capabilities and faculties. Then you start your education. Usually two years of basic magic and mysticism. History of the Empire. Reading, writing, mathematics. All the basics."

  "And then what?"

  "When?"

  "After I finish learning things. What then?"

  "We never truly finish learning. There are limitless spells to learn and master. Magics we can discover. But when you've finished basic schooling, you are given another examination to determine your aptitude. And that is where you will specialize. When you will earn the title Mancer. And likely when you will get the chance to make your Choice to be a Mancer of some variety."

  "What kind of Mancer are you?"

  "I am an ArchMancer at this point, dear elfboy. But my speciality in my youth was a focus on water. A HydroMancer.”

  "Oh, hey, perfect. I have this water tower on the top of my building, and it seems to provide, like, endless water to the place. How does it do that?"

  "The water tower? Is the water crisp and pure?"

  "I mean, I think so."

  "I would have to see to make a true judgement on things, but I would hazard a guess your building has a portal to the Plane of Water. A bit expensive, but truly the finest source of water one can have."

  "You can do that?"

  He smiled. "I have done that in the past yes."

  "If I came on board, could I do that?"

  "We serve the Emperor and the Empire in many ways. WarMancers go out with the Legion. HydroMancers insure clean water supplies exist. Or dry out lumber or pottery. GeoMancers work on civic projects. The list goes on, but ours are lives of service."

  "I don't want to sound crass about this whole thing, but I've never really been keen on service. I've already spent a lifetime working to let someone else have a life. I think it's time for me, you know?"

  "You would rather choose death?"

  “Well, about that. I did some thinking while you were talking. And I don't mean to be rude about that either, but I just wasn't that interested in joining the Ministry. I feel like I already have a handle on what you do and who you guys are. You know?"

  "Not really, no."

  "You can stop me if I'm wrong anywhere here, but you guys are in charge of keeping illegal magic users, like myself, from using magic, right? And one of the big things you've got, maybe the biggest tool in your arsenal, is that Ring of Fire thing you do. Right?"

  "It is among the worst punishments we can muster, yes."

  "But it didn't work on me. Which I bet is not common knowledge. Because if people find out there's a way around the Ring of Fire, you just lost one of the main deterrents to illegal magic users. So, you could kill me here. Or, you know, try. But then you have to wonder if I'll slip out of that as well. Which means you probably don't want to try and kill me here. Or even soon. You need to know you'll get the kill for sure, to make sure I die. So I'm going to have to go for option C in my list of choices, which is me leaving. And you guys leave me alone. Because if you do leave me alone, I'll keep it secret that I slipped your ring the first time. If you come after me... well, you should know I’ve left a letter with my guild that details exactly how to avoid your ring."

  I stood up.

  Elmer didn't move. He just watched me.

  I took a step back to the window, and I flipped the latch.

  "I urge you to reconsider your path," Elmer said. "If you join my faction, we will shield you from those who wish to abuse your abilities."

  "Faction?" I asked. "What faction?"

  "Ah, well, to anyone on the outside, I understand the Ministry appears to be a focused unit. But as with any organization with more than one person, there are fractures. Different beliefs for how things should be run and how the powers we wield should be used. I represent a group who seeks to turn magic back into something more free. Where we are servants of the crown, but in time, we might be servants to ourselves. Which sounds much like what you are espousing."

  “Yeah but your timeline sucks, though."

  "There are challenges. But with a new Emperor to be selected, it is the time for us to make moves."

  “Still not interested. I can fare better on my own, I think."

  The door opened, and an old woman in a maroon robe stepped inside.

  "You have had your chance, Kisiner," she said. "Leave
."

  Elmer looked at me one more time. ”Think on it, boy. Before it's too late."

  "Already too late," I said. "But I appreciate your routine. Ink on the nose was a nice touch."

  He smiled, and gave the briefest of nods. Then he scooped up his notebook and walked out of the room, leaving the rest of his things on the table.

  The woman scowled as she shut the door.

  "You are annoying," she said.

  “Hello pot, meet kettle."

  "Sit," she said.

  "I'd rather not," I replied.

  "Sit," she said, but there was something more that came with her voice. I was sitting before I even realized I'd moved.

  “Cool trick," I said.

  "You have but one chance remaining, insolent cur," she said. "If you join us right now, we will consider your transgressions and punish you lightly. Otherwise, we will be forced to consider you an enemy of the empire, and you will be killed."

  "No thanks."

  "Then prepare to die."

  "Do you think I could take this off first?" I asked, starting to pull at my leather armor. "I just got it today, and it'd really be a shame to ruin it so quickly."

  "I almost admire how glib you are in the face of your own mortality."

  "Faced it enough times that we're old friends now. And anyway, you're not going to be able to do anything to me."

  "You are arrogant, but perhaps," she snapped her fingers, "you see that we have you controlled now."

  I felt cold. No, not cold. Empty.

  My mana bar blinked a few times, and then disappeared.

  “You have no means to avoid death, Mr. Hatchett. We extend a final invitation to you. Join us. Share your secrets. Or perish with them.”

  I felt a jolt of fear flash over me. All of my magic had been taken away from me. But then I remembered, vividly, the feeling of having my throat cut, and what it felt like to have my blood flow out of me until my heart had nothing left to pump. This wasn’t anywhere near that bad.

  It seemed like I was getting an awful lot of chances. Like, more than seemed rational. My skillset couldn’t be that unique or valuable. I mean, sure, maybe I was unique in my ability to skip out on their Ring of Fire, at least by their accounting. Obviously I knew the truth, that it wasn’t that rare of an ability at all. And it had nothing to do with magic. Nor was it something I could teach. But those were my secrets to keep. Their continued offers to join didn’t make me think they wanted me — it felt more like the one way they knew to control me.

  I looked at the woman. Immediately I hated her stupid smug smile. And her.

  “I don’t think I will,” I said. “As much as I am interested in magic, you guys suck.”

  “Then you will—“

  “There is something else,” I said. “And maybe you should consider this as me teaching you a little secret of mine. You seem to think there’s nothing more to what I do than magic. But the truth is, magic is really, at least so far, more a hobby of mine than anything else. There’s a whole lot more than magic.”

  She looked confused for a second.

  I threw my teacup in her face. She recoiled, her arms up to block the hot water.

  Then I flicked the saucer at her, and snatched Elmer’s pouch. The woman shouted something at me — some spell probably — but I flipped the table over and rammed her against the wall with it.

  She made a grunt as the air got knocked out of her lungs.

  I didn’t wait to see what she’d come up with next. Instead, I took one step to get to the window, kicked it open with the next, and dropped out with a third.

  Self-defenestration.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I didn’t exactly throw myself out the window. I just made a quick exit, grabbed the ledge and then dropped down, floor-by-floor, until I made it to the ground.

  The Mancers enjoying their courtyard strolls stopped and looked at me. I saw that each of them had conjured up a different style of rain protection. An invisible force field thingy for one guy, a disc of water for a woman, and something I could only place as a floating cat for the third mancer. The cat didn’t look overly pleased at being used to sop up water. However, no one did anything besides look at me.

  I gave my best roguish grin, and sprinted for the exit to the street.

  After a quick glance up and down the road, I saw my ticket out. A big wagon full of hay was bouncing down the road, drawn by two giant stallions. A grumpy-looking man hunched over the driving position. Whatever protection he had from the rain had failed and he was soaked. Just the absolute picture of misery.

  "Gold for a ride," I shouted, running towards the street.

  "You can get on," he replied, "but I ain't stoppin'."

  "Works for me."

  I tossed a coin his way, but had to sprint to catch the wagon. I got a hand on the back, and flipped myself up and over, falling in the back in a spray of hay.

  "You got another gold to keep my mouth shut," the man said, "or should I tell those robed fools—“

  "I got your gold, buddy."

  "Not your buddy, pal."

  I was tempted to respond, because that was such an Earth-like phrase. Was it possible I'd stumbled into the wagon of another, what, traveler? Was there a name for the people like me? But as curious as I was about the guy, I didn't want him to be even a little bit curious about me. Better if he just forgot I was ever there.

  I scooted deeper into the hay, hiding myself as best I could. I could see out of the slats in the wagon through the hay, a bit like looking through long hair. And sure enough, there were plenty of robed people wandering around the street, looking for me. I could feel the tingles of magic as they cast spells, but they didn't find me. At least, not as I could tell.

  I took a moment to rest in the wagon, not really caring where I was heading. After we'd gone a few blocks, I sat up and pulled out the pouch Elmer had left behind. I knew the guy wasn't the old semi-senile sort who'd do something like forget his magic pouch. He knew I'd take it, which meant, at least to me, that he wanted me to have it. There had to be something in it to either track me or do something to do me. Which meant I really needed to get rid of it, but I was also curious to a fault at times, so I set it in my lap and touched it.

  "Empty," I commanded.

  "You say something?" the driver called over his shoulder.

  "Not me," I lied.

  He grunted.

  The pouch started emptying. Some cookies, another filled teacup and saucer, a full teapot, and a golden coin with a square hole cut through the middle. I let everything fall into the hay around me. It could have been piles of platinum, but I wasn’t going to keep a single bit of it. It had all the markers of stuff to track me by. Not worth keeping, not if it was going to give the Mancers a way to pinpoint exactly where I was. And perhaps I was being paranoid about the whole thing and it was just magical items I’d stolen free and clear, wasn’t worth the risk. Instead I just rolled to the opposite side, and stood up.

  "Making my exit," I called out.

  "Not stopping," he replied.

  I tossed another coin his way, and then vaulted out of the back of the wagon.

  I thought I was being all suave and cool, but then I collided straight into one of the glowstone lampposts. It rang out with a glorious bong, and I heard more than a little laughter coming from the gathered pedestrians. If it wasn't me, and it wasn't for the excruciating pain of it all, I probably would have been laughing too.

  As it was, I picked myself up off the street and checked my mana pool. It was filling back up.

  I had such a big mana reservoir at this point that it was actually going to take sometime before I was at full. I took a few wobbly steps into an alley, and there, I leaned against the brick wall and I took the time to cast heal self.

  Then, back into the rain, and back to walking.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I got back to the Heavy Purse around mid-afternoon. The rain hadn't let up. Puddles were transitioning in
to lakes. It wasn't a full-on flood, per se, but a few spots had clogged drains that were causing roads to turn to rivers. It made me wonder what the sewers were like, if the kobold homes would have survived. Hell, if the kobolds themselves would have survived.

  The tavern wasn't quite full, but it was on its way there. All the tables were taken, but there were a few empty seats at the bar. I took one at the far end, closest to the door to the storage room, and the secret entrance to my apartment. I wasn't planning on taking that route home, but lately I always needed to have a private chat with someone at some point or another. A plate of food appeared in front of me without me saying or doing anything, followed by a mug of milk.

  Penelope was standing there, her hands crossed under her chest as she looked at me.

  "Afternoon," I said.

  "Oh it is, isn't it," she replied.

  I just looked at her, unsure how I was supposed to take that. I mean, I was right — it was the afternoon.

  “Is something the matter?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure how I feel about you at the moment."

  "That's how I feel about myself most days."

  "You don't strike me as the type to engage in much self-reflection, Mister Hatchett."

  "I have my moments."

  "And this happens to be one of those moments?"

  "Maybe."

  "So who do you think you are today then?"

  "I'm still trying to figure that out."

  "Might want to figure that out before you pull all of us into your little plans."

  "What exactly did your husband tell you?"

  "Everything. Titus and I don't keep secrets from each other."

  "I didn't think he kept secrets. It’s just that sometimes we have differing opinions on the reality we've experienced, and maybe something got lost in that translation."

  "He said we're expanding to next door. Getting a bigger kitchen, a real kitchen, say, and more of a dining room. That the Heavy Purse'll be a real restaurant. Is that the same thing you remember promising him?"

  “It is.”

  "But that comes with a cost."

  "You'd call it a cost?"

  “I’d hardly call it free," Penelope quipped. “You’re pulling him back into the game."