Skull and Thrones: A LitRPG/GameLit Adventure Read online

Agility: 18

  Dexterity: 13

  Constitution: 18

  Wisdom: 31

  Intelligence: 51

  Charisma: 23

  Luck: 19

  I stopped at his attributes. I was certainly curious how he’d spent his points, but considering his Choice was researcher, I should have known he’d have put most everything into the two intellectual attributes. He was certainly at a higher level than I’d anticipated, and yet, I couldn’t see a real use for him.

  “Do you have things?” I asked. “Clothes and the like?”

  “No, Master Hatchett,” he replied.

  “You know, strike that, sounds too weird. No Master Hatchett nonsense. I’m not, you know, your master, and it sounds wrong.”

  “As you wish.”

  “You, I mean, man, I’m just, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind, and I’m not sure what to do here. Where are your belongings?”

  “We have none. Our personal belongings, insofar as we had them, we sold. Or carried with us. But as you can see, I have nothing beyond the robes on my back.”

  “And I don’t want this to sound the way I know it will, but I’m assuming you don’t have any coin to your name.”

  “No.”

  “So I need to buy your things for you.”

  “Or you may ask us to find a way to finance the things we require. We are not without means.”

  “I’m sure. But I don’t need you guys getting arrested right now. That’s more my thing.”

  He smiled a little smile, like he understood the joke, but he wasn’t about to do something so gauche as engage in my attempts at humor.

  “We are not criminals. Unless, of course—“

  “Right, unless I ask you.”

  “Correct.”

  “Okay, for the moment, you go inside, and talk to Nadya. Nadya is setting up a lab on the fourth floor of the building next door. Get Mornax and Klara to help you and see what you guys can do to get it up and running. And, actually, no, do that, but next you should look at the bakery.”

  “The bakery?”

  I pointed it out for him.

  “That building is mine, and the bakery is sitting empty.”

  “I admit, I know nothing about baking.”

  “Neither do I. But let’s see what it would take to get it up and running. You can research that, right?”

  “Surely. I will pass this on to the others. Help set up a laboratory and start getting the bakery up and running. Correct?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Bingo?”

  “Yeah. Let’s talk slang another day, I’ve got—“

  “What kind of laboratory, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Monsters.”

  “Oh.”

  He had a strange look on his face, and I couldn’t tell if it was apprehension from fear or excitement.

  “Maybe focus on the lab,” I said. “We’ll look into the bakery later.”

  “Of course.”

  I waited outside the Heavy Purse for what seemed like an eternity, but it was probably just two minutes. No one else came out, so I was free to go about my day. Which, sadly, meant another long walk. Although, with weather being slightly nicer than normal, there were plenty of hire-able carriages about, and so I spent more gold than necessary getting up to the Wild World of Bureaucracy.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  A crowd had already formed at the Ministry of the Interior, despite how early it was. All my magic items, save the talisman that hid my character sheet, and weapons, save a few ordinary blades, were still safely stored in my apartment. I got in line for the security screening, but I kept glancing around looking for mancers. And the City Guard. I also kept my ears open for any interesting gossip. People always talk when they’re stuck in slow-moving lines. And on this sunny morning, the security line was going roughly the speed of the TSA in JFK at lunchtime.

  “... but they’re not saying how long,” I heard a woman say. “He was supposed to be home for at least two months, and now, who knows?”

  “Did he say where they’re going?” her companion asked.

  “South. Some fort in the middle of nowhere on the coast, he said,” the first woman replied. “I’m here to look at maps. There must be a map of Legion forts in there somewhere.”

  “At least my husband got to tell me where he’s going. I just don’t know why they had to leave so soon.”

  “Carchedon,” a man interjected. “The wife is a sergeant. She’s marching her squad south today as well. She said that Carchedon thinks we’re weak without the Emperor, and they’re marching on us. So all the Legions in the capital are being redeployed south. Just in case.”

  “All of them?” Woman one asked.

  “All but the Death Gate crew.”

  “Ugh, that means having to deal with the City Guard again.”

  "They're not that bad."

  “Anyone with enough coin can buy them off.”

  "Myth."

  "It's not," woman two piped back in. "I know a guy you can talk to if you'd like to donate to the Guardsman's Retirement Fund and need a problem solved."

  "No way is it that simple," woman one said.

  "They're underpaid and under-appreciated," the guy said. "And they hate the Legion."

  "They hate everything,” Woman two said. "Except gold."

  "Sounds like they’re real winners," I added.

  The three looked over at me, and nodded. Clearly no one considered it eavesdropping. It was just an entrée into the conversation.

  "I'm new to the capital," I said, "but I've heard there's also an army called the Things? Something like that.”

  "Oh gods," the first woman said, "I don't know what you plan to do with them, but don't do it."

  "Thingmen," woman two said. “The Emperor's personal army."

  "Didn't they, I mean," I said, "he's dead, right?"

  The man nodded. "Means the Thingmen don't exist right now. So don't have anything to do with them."

  "You want to be part of something, or deal with men of honor, you deal with the Legion," woman one said with authority. "Everyone else around here with a sword is suspect. Out for their own gains."

  "Or someone else's," woman two added. "Someone else who has money."

  "Valamir has his own army in the city," the guy said. "Scuzzbucket has his own brother killed and now has his own army here to protect him while he makes his play for the throne."

  I swallowed what I was thinking about saying, and instead, continued to do my best to play dumb about the whole thing.

  “Is there another option?” I asked. “I mean, besides Valamir Glaton?”

  “Lots,” the guy said.

  “My friend at the City Guard,” woman two said, “he says Katja Baeder is making a play for it.”

  “Is she the one from—”

  And then we went through the door to the building into the lobby, and everyone just went quiet at once, as if there was an unspoken rule that gossip had to stay outside. We stepped quietly to the security checkpoint where, one-by-one, we were examined by the bored mancer, and waved through. On the other side, all traces of familiarity disappeared, and we went our separate ways. Except the two women — they were together from the start, it seemed — and they marched down the hallway, already clear on exactly where they were going.

  To be fair, I knew where I was going too. I just wasn’t heading there with quite as much verve. Instead, I moseyed over to the stairs, and then up. And up. And up. I said goodbye to the rest of the public at the second and third floors, and ascended to the final floor on my own.

  I knocked on the first door to the right.

  The office of one Dunt Pomeroy.

  “Uh, enter?” Pomeroy said.

  I entered, pushing the door open and giving my best smile.

  Pomeroy, however, didn’t look like he was expecting visitors. He looked frazzled. And a bit like shit.

  “Professor Pomeroy,” I said.

  He looked ove
r at me, and there was a brief flash of recollection in his eyes. He snapped his fingers a few times while he looked me over, then put a finger up. “Kobolds.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  He gestured to the seat in front of his desk, then took a moment to make himself a bit more presentable. Which mostly involved trying to get his hair back down from his current I-stuck-my-finger-in-an-electrical-socket look to something more professorial. Or at least something that wasn’t quite as insane. It didn’t work.

  “How might I help you today?” Pomeroy asked.

  I noticed that his hands were shaking ever so much. Just a little bit of a tremble.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Pardon?”

  “Never mind,” I said. “Just, you know, you seem a little distracted.”

  “Woefully unprofessional of me, I do apologize. Have you got another kobold-based question? I find that I was quite intrigued by our last discussion, and I did a little digging into some other races. Did you know — I am sorry, you had a question.”

  “Yeah. A small one. Maybe. Your academy, how does one gain admittance?”

  “Thinking of joining us in the Ivory Tower, are you? I can’t blame you, it is quite the life — if you’ve got the chops. But getting in is an interesting conundrum, because quite a few people would like to attend, and it’s a real challenge deciding who would make a quality pupil. There is, of course, an enrollment period wherein we solicit individuals to apply. But that requires there to be vacancies within the school itself, and that is rather rare—”

  “What age range do you guys take?” I asked, trying to keep the older man from disappearing into a rambling rant.

  “Oh, quite young to, well, however old you can still learn. Though it is rare for an older student to come on board without a unique skill set we wish to see explored. Or grown. Are you thinking of applying? I can put you on a wait list of sorts—”

  He opened a drawer and was rummaging inside.

  “Not me. I’m asking for a friend of mine, for his son actually. But, the thing is, I’m guessing there are be other ways to get into the Academy. Right?”

  “Other ways? Certainly. You can be part of the Imperial Family. They are given preferential treatment — for obvious reasons.” Then he leaned forward as if about to share a secret, “Certain noble families have been known to make donations in order to secure their brats a place.”

  “What kind of donation are we talking?”

  “Usually enough to fund a building. Or a new professorship. Fund a tenure track. Or, perhaps, donating a rare artifact. Something worth studying. That sort of a thing. Are you, I mean, I don’t mean to judge based on your appearance, it’s just that you clothing choices are a bit—”

  “Basic?”

  “I was going to use a different less appealing word, but you do lack a certain style. Or, well, any style at all.”

  “I’ve got some laundry to do.”

  “I should say you do.”

  “Okay, so, artifact. Tons of coin. Get selected in one of the rare open enrollment phases. Is there anything else?”

  He leaned back in his chair and tapped at the desk. Then he looked out the window. Something outside caught his attention and Pomeroy stood up very quickly, gluing himself to the window.

  “Professor, are you—” I started.

  He turned around and seemed surprised I was there.

  “Ah, yes, I was saying,” he started, “or, rather, you were asking, something. Admittance. Yes. A professor can, at their discretion, admit a student as their own pupil, up to five concurrent pupils. But—”

  He looked out the window again.

  “Gods,” he said softly.

  “It’s pretty clear something is wrong,” I said. I got up to join him at the window. “What’s going on?”

  “No, it’s nothing.”

  I could see the courtyard down below. The building was huge, but the middle of it was an open courtyard with some gardens and other open space. Judging from the other windows I could see, it was actually on top of the first floor of the building, which was definitely a modern way to maximize office space and offer a little green space that I wasn’t expecting here.

  Most of the people in the area were relaxing in the decent weather, but there was one stern-looking group of men and women in robes being escorted by some armored folk. City Guard, it looked like. But given the robes the people wore, I didn’t think they were mancers. They looked more like, well, judges. Or professors.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “Those are members of the Enderun Ethics Committee and the head of security for the school. They are heading over to my living quarters, and, well, the rest is a long story, and I’m afraid I will only have time to tell it later today after I have been thrown out of the Enderun.”

  “What? Why?”

  “As I said, it is a long story, kobold-elf-boy. And I simply lack the time to really get into the intricacies of academic tomfoolery and backstabbing.”

  “Someone messing with you?”

  “Allegedly.”

  “Do you need help?”

  “I’m unsure what you are capable of, but I doubt there is anything you can do.”

  “You’d be surprised. I’m a rogue, remember?”

  “Someone, and I’m not exactly sure who, has been putting illegal materials into my living quarters. And it seems that someone has now informed the provost of said materials.”

  “Seems like a lot of work to get you thrown out of here.”

  “Being thrown out after getting tenure is a lot of work. But there are certain fields of study that are off limits to us, and if caught, we get thrown out.”

  “Why not report someone for breaking in and leaving the stuff in your apartment?”

  “Who would believe me? I have been destroying what I could find, but I doubt I will have found everything, and now, my life is over.”

  “Where’s your place?” I asked.

  He pointed across the courtyard at a window one floor up on the opposite side.

  “Right there,” he said.

  “Nice commute,” I mused. “If I can get over there, into your place, and get rid of whatever’s been planted, will you do a favor for me?”

  “If you can actually do that, then yes, I will. What favor?”

  “I want you to take my friend’s son on as one of your pupils.”

  “Deal.”

  You have been offered a quest:

  Rebuild the Guild IX - Lothar Kuthbrook II

  Lothar requires you gain admittance for his son to the Enderun Academy, but in order to gain that admittance, you must keep the ethics investigation from finding any of the illegal materials placed within Professor Pomeroy’s living quarters.

  Reward for success: Professor Pomeroy will retain Sven Kuthbrook as his pupil, Lothar will join the guild

  Penalty for failure (or refusal): potentially the death of the guild

  Yes/No

  I accepted the quest.

  “Quickly,” I said, pushing him a little out of the way so I could get to the window, “where would these, uh, illegal materials be?”

  “They have been around my desk,” he said. “But I’ve found all those.”

  “What have they been?”

  “Spellbooks, grimoires, and bestiaries.”

  “Those are illegal?” I asked as I opened the window up. “Bestiaries, I mean?”

  “Certain ones, yes. Ones that denote specific species of demon or fiend, giving summoning instructions and the like.”

  “Who exactly did you piss off?”

  “I have my suspicions,” he said. “Chief among them Stellan Lambeau.”

  There was a nice breeze coming through the window, and as I stepped onto the sill and threaded my torso outside, I really hoped I wasn’t about to squash down on the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Pomeroy asked. “You’ll fall.”

  “Nah,” I said, “I do this all the
time.”

  Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  I hung there, off of Pomeroy’s office ledge, wondering if I should crawl around the interior of the courtyard. That was the most direct route. But it was also difficult work where I could easily be spotted. Going up top was better. Lots of stuff to grab onto, plenty of handholds, and then only the real issue of having to deal with the ridiculously steep copper roof on the top.

  I couldn’t help but stop to take in the view at the top. It was absolutely gorgeous. To the north were massive mountains, with some in the further distance that were sparkling white. Glorious peaks pierced the sky. To the west a forest extended out to the horizon. And I couldn’t really see that much to the east beyond the city, because Glaton just spread out and out in that direction. I could make out farmlands becoming grasslands far in the distance.

  It was just really fascinating to have a view of things from up on high. I think that I’d gotten somewhat inured to it back on the old planet. It was so easy to hop on Google Earth or a Maps app and see a top-down view of everything as far away as you wanted. Here, though, it’d only been ground-level everything until now. And it was a testament to the size of the building that I could see as far as I did.

  But I had things to do. Or, you know, a specific thing to do.

  I ran along the top of the roof-line, my feet landing perfectly as I moved.

  It took mere seconds to sprint around the building. Once I saw the pale and beleaguered face of Pomeroy looking out his window, I knew I was in the right spot. I slid down the copper roof, using my boots to keep from going too fast, but misjudged a little bit and maybe had to catch myself. I found my grip just before falling the six floors to a quick stop on the flagstones of the courtyard below. It’d be really awkward for me to have to come back after Pomeroy saw me die in a red moosh.

  Climbing down was, well, interesting. I got a good look into a few apartments, glimpses into people’s lives really. Nobody was home, thankfully, so there were no awkward moments where I came face to face with some dude looking out his window. I did come face to face with a cat, who was noticeably upset at me for blocking his sunbeam.