The Good Guys Chronicles Box Set Page 8

  I was walking to the rear of Dovie and her aunt, mostly because I was tired of getting the stink-eye from Auntie, but I was also darting back and forth, doing what I could to help out. It’s true that escaping an invading army in the middle of the night takes a village. Every time something bad was about to happen, there were people to swarm and assist. Ten people, plus me, gathering on the side to pull a wagon back on track. Me and three other men holding back horses that had gotten too frisky. Switching riders if anyone got too tired. Ferrying blankets between animals to make sure none of the wagon-pullers got too cold or too hot. Hroar even broke out hot cider midway down and made sure everyone had a cup.

  As the sky made its way from black to overcast grey, we got to level ground. Thankfully, it was a short distance from level ground to city wall. A wall that was huge. Tall. Thick. All the things a wall should be, I suppose. Because in a world where airplanes weren’t the primary mode of getting in and out of a city or country, walls were a pretty big deal. Plus, you know, useful for keeping monsters out.

  As soon as Dovie’s back wagon wheels hit the flat road, there was a soft ringing noise. Confused, I looked around, but no one else seemed to hear it. I stopped walking and noticed the small light indicating I had a notification begging for my attention.

  I let it come.

  Congratulations! you’ve completed a QUEST!

  Help the Town I

  The town of Rumib Pass is being threatened, and they must run quickly or be overwhelmed by the impending invading army. You’ve loaded the wagon and insured Dovie and her aunt arrived safely at the base of the mountain.

  Reward: +500 xp. Your standing with the people formerly of Rumib Pass has gone from DISTRUSTED to LIKED. And, [unknown]

  Congratulations, you’ve completed a QUEST!

  Descend from the Peak!

  Get down from the peak of the mountain. Preferably with verve and excitement. And alive.

  Reward for success: 500 XP!

  “Hey, stranger,” Dovie called out.

  I shook the notification away, and noticed the wagon had gone a good distance from me. I took a few running steps to catch up.

  “Yeah,” I said, “what’s up?”

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Totally.”

  “Thank you,” Dovie said. “You made this possible.”

  “Sure,” I replied with a shrug, always a bit uncomfortable being thanked or praised.

  Auntie nudged Dovie, and Dovie sighed.

  “Auntie wanted me to give you this,” Dovie said. She chucked something at me.

  A bag tumbled through the air.

  I grabbed it and looked inside.

  As a reward, you have been given ten (10) ingots of [???}

  “Wait,” I said, “what is this?”

  “Metal,” Dovie called back, snapping the reins and getting the oxen to move a little faster. A pretty clear indicator she was done with me.

  I tied the bag onto my increasingly strained belt, and watched the remaining townsfolk pass by. They all looked absolutely wrecked. Exhaustion seemed to radiate from everyone. I felt pretty okay, despite not having slept since, well, yesterday. Maybe this world wasn’t going to be so bad.

  Hroar came up last, and though his barmaid kept his wagon going, Hroar hopped off and stood in front of me.

  “Thank you, Montana,” he said. “You have done a great service to the village, though Rumib Pass is no more.”

  He pulled a heavy sack from behind his back, and pushed it into my hands.

  “From the village,” he said.

  “Dude, not necessary,” I tried to push it back, but he was pretty forceful that I should take it.

  “It is a small reward, and a shit price for the horses.”

  I chuckled, and shook my head.

  “I appreciate the honesty, Hroar,” I said, clasping his wrist.

  “Safe home,” he replied.

  “Safe home.”

  He released my arm, jogged back to his wagon, and leapt onto the moving cart.

  Interesting guy.

  I wanted to get into the city before the snow started again, so I hurried along, promising myself I’d look in the sack as soon as I had a room to sleep in.

  Chapter 17

  The Arenberg guards, men and women in heavy armor with massive shields and sharp halberds, were no less imposing than the huge gate they protected. They stared up the mountain, seemingly unconcerned with the gaggle of people coming down.

  As the refugees, which is technically what the people of Rumib Pass were, got to the gate, more guards came out of the city, and led everyone over to the side where there was an open patch of ground. Some official-looking people with papers and writing boards surveyed the scene. Bureaucrats exist in every world, I suppose. I thought about joining the refugees, and seeing what I could find out about the world from the people processing them, but I decided it was better to sever ties with Rumib Pass. Not that there was anything bad about them. Just, well, I had the feeling they weren’t likely to move out of Arenberg, and I had zero desire to get sucked into the coming war. Plus, I needed breakfast. Preferably one with a lot of meat.

  Now, you’d think it’d be hard for a man who was a little taller than everyone else, not to mention dressed head to toe in white furs, to slip into the city unnoticed. But luckily for me one of the guards noticed that some of the Rumib horses had the queen’s mark branded on them. There was a great kerfuffle, and I took the opportunity to waltz right through.

  The main street leading into the city was wide, probably big enough for three wagons to travel side by side. Arenberg’s buildings nestled one on top of the other, like the place had been there for quite some time. It had a serious Northern European vibe, which seemed to be in line with the name of the town and its people.

  I noticed an interesting shift to the city: closer to the wall, it was built for battle, but as I walked deeper in, the architecture settled down, becoming a bit homier. Friendly almost. The side streets were narrow, and to really force home the claustrophobia, the second and third floors of most buildings extended farther into the street, until there was only about two feet of sky overhead. In some places, the buildings actually touched over the street.

  All of it was more than I wanted — I knew I had to get to a smaller town. Somewhere a little more relaxed. Also, maybe without so much snow. Arenberg wasn’t as cold as Rumib Pass, not by a long shot, but it was still damn cold. Snow drifts piled in every corner, and just about anywhere there was shade. And I realized I wasn’t exactly sure of the seasons, so it could be winter and this cold, or it could be summer and this cold. So I wanted to get somewhere that was a bit more temperate.

  Being dawn, Arenberg had just started to come alive. A few carts trundled down the streets, people greeted each other, and smoke twirled out of chimneys. Delicious smells came from bakeries. It was very pleasant. You know, if you discounted everyone staring at me as if I was some sort of monster. Which was understandable — let’s just say that that all signs pointed to current Arenberg fashion tending away from blood-covered white fur. Also, beards were definitely out. I saw a few delicate mustaches, but every other male was clean shaven. I was definitely out of my element.

  Rather deep in the city, I saw a heavy wood sign with a flagon of ale tipping over, and a flourish of lettering beneath: The Spilled Mug.

  My sort of place.

  I pushed the tavern door open and peeked inside.

  A burly man shoved a broom around, a bit lackadaisical. Only a few snoring patrons remained.

  I focused for a moment, and sent a little identification spell across the room, and got back little in return.

  Human

  Lvl 11 Barkeep

  Level 11 Barkeep. I wondered how he got the tag Barkeep. Was that a class? Were there classes in this game/world?

  “Serving breakfast?” I asked.

  The man’s head snapped around fast. He grimaced.

  “Just wrenched me neck,” he sai
d, rubbing his neck.

  “Hate that,” I replied, noting that no one else in the place seemed even a bit bothered by the talking going on around them.

  “Yer wantin’ food?”

  “I am.”

  “You got coin?”

  “I do.”

  He gestured at his bar with his chin. “Take a seat while I sees what the missus is cookin’ up.”

  After a few minutes, the man came out with a mug of milk and a steaming bowl of something.

  “Two coppers,” he said.

  I pawed through my collection of coinage and found two coppery looking pieces, then plopped them onto the counter.

  The barkeep picked them up, looked them over, then stared intensely at one.

  “You from Mahrduhm?” the man asked.

  “Not in the slightest.”

  He dropped the coin on the bar, and slid it back to me. “Why you paying in coin of her realm?”

  “No good here?”

  He looked at them a long time, really trying to come to a decision.

  “Does it help that I killed a queen’s party to get those?” Which was mostly true. The coins could very well have come from one of the goblins, but what’s a little white lie between strangers.

  “A bit,” he said, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “You give me four coppers, we call it good.”

  “Exchange rate sucks here,” I grumbled, digging through my coins. Frustrated, I dumped all the coins out on the bar. “You want to give me local coins for these?”

  His eyes went a bit wide at the mess I’d made. He pawed through the coins, separating them all out, then shook his head.

  “Bit o’ coin here,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “How did you come by it?”

  “Killing fools.”

  He blinked a few times. “Criminal?”

  “Not anymore.”

  He nodded, thinking.

  “Guess everyone should get another chance at life. Got a name?”

  “Montana.”

  He reached out his hand, and I grabbed it. “Serge. Serge Albrecht.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, “but, uh, have I paid for the, uh—”

  “Porridge. And yes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You eat. Let me figure these coins out.”

  I didn’t need to be coerced. I dove into the porridge, which was tasty, thick and rich and filling.

  Meanwhile, Serge disappeared under the counter. He fiddled with something for a moment before returning with a pouch. He pushed my assorted coins to one side, and then opened the pouch in front of me.

  “Exchange for you,” he said, pointing to the pouch.

  I opened the bag to examine what he gave me, and it seemed fine.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Not counting it?”

  “Meh,” I said with a shrug, “I have no idea what I’d be looking at, Serge. So I’m just hoping you didn’t fuck me on this.”

  “Fuck you?” he asked and gave me a very confused look.

  “Slang from my homeland.”

  “Where might that be?”

  “Detroit.”

  Same confused look.

  “Other side of the mountains,” I said, chugging the milk down just as I realized Mahrduhm was on the other side of the mountains. “Not like the immediate other side of the mountains. Like, you know, a ways past Mahrduhm, and then, you know, that’s Detroit. Just, I mean, a long way from here.”

  He shrugged, and disappeared the coins from the bar.

  “Mind if I ask a few questions?” I asked.

  “Part and parcel of the barman’s trade.”

  “If I wanted to find a quiet place to live, where might I go?”

  “Depends on what you mean by quiet.”

  “Peaceful. Not a big city.”

  He raised both bushy eyebrows, and a big smile spread across his gruff face. “Nowhere,” he said. “Not in the Empire. Damnation, nowhere I know of outside the Empire, neither. Mahrduhm has the mad queen. Heard nothin’ but horror from men coming that way lately. South, you got a great big pile of sand and more monsters’n’you can shake a stick at. East, you got mountains and snow and trees, and if you go far enough, swamp. Northwest, you got the Amber Wastes. Mayhaps you got horse legs tucked up under your fur there — only way you can walk the wastes is being a Centaur. Southeast is the Imperial Ocean, some islands, and a nation of the undead. West, you got the Emerald Sea. I cannot tell you what lies on the other side of that wonder. Now, in the Empire, you got mostly mountains, monsters, and man setting up cities in between. Not much in the way of peace anywhere but a city, and unless you have a lot of coin and noble lineage, you will be fighting your way through any of those cities.”

  “How big is this Empire?”

  “Bigger’n I can figure. You know nothing of this land?”

  “Little,” I started. I thought of what Hroar said, about not letting anyone find out I wasn’t from this world. Time to lie. “I’m traveling because I know nothing. I want to know the world, see the wonders. I’ve heard of Glaton because it is truly awesome, but—”

  He swelled with pride at that, “Damn right. Glaton is the best nation in all of Vuldranni. No more civilized or perfect place to be.”

  “But there are still monsters?”

  “’Tis the nature of the world. You tell me there are no monsters in Detroit?”

  “I mean, well, I guess we have our fair share. I just thought Glaton was, uh, better.”

  “We try. The Legion does much, but the Gods have their games and their reasons for what happens.”

  I didn’t want to wind up talking about the military with the man, I didn’t want him to think any more about me being a foreigner than he already was.

  “You think I could pass for Glatonese?”

  “The Empire holds a multitude of cultures within. I am sure there is some pocket where your look might be, well, normal.”

  “Furs aren’t in fashion, I take it.”

  “Neither the ones you wear nor the ones you grow, Montana.”

  “Kinda partial to the ones I’m growin’, Serge.”

  He rubbed his clean shaven face. “No reason to follow a trend if you can start one, eh?”

  “Okay, next question: where am I?”

  He shook his head, the smile wide and contagious, then pulled a few empty mugs off the shelf. He arranged them in a roughly diamond shape.

  “We are here,” he said, pointing along the northeastern edge. “Mahrduhm is to the east and northeast of us. I’m guessing you came from here?” he pointed to a spot in the north, and it seemed like a good enough guess for me.

  “Pretty much,” I said.

  “Further south, bordering us here,” he pointed to the southeast mug, “is the start of a wide wood. Big tall trees, more lakes and rivers than you can count, and, on the other side, to the east, is swamps. What lies beyond that? No idea. Southwest is the Imperial Ocean, and along it, one of the largest cities of the realm: Reiden. Might think about trying that for peace and no monsters.”

  “Is that the capital?”

  “No, the capital is Glaton. Named after our founder. It is more to the center of the Empire. It is said, at the beginning of our nation, Elissa Glaton raised an army and conquered everything between her and the sea. And thus it has become the Imperial Way, to conquer and grow and spread the best civilization on Vuldranni.”

  “Doesn’t that mean you’re constantly at war?”

  “Historically, yes. ’Tis but the will of the Emperor to decide our fate in that regard, and most of the Glaton dynasty seem hellbent on claiming as much of Vuldranni as they can. We recently took this,” he pointed to an area between where we were and the far west, “and this,” a point to the southeast where the rivers and lakes started, “so I would imagine the Legions are but resting before His Imperial Majesty discovers his next target. But I am just a barman, what do I know of politics?”

  “Well, bit of a tip:
I’m pretty sure that the mad queen is about to hit your city, so—”

  “Is this for certain?”

  “I just helped a bunch of people escape her from the top of the pass.”

  “Rumib Pass was abandoned?”

  “Yeah. Apparently a large army was coming? Some ranger said he saw the army. It was massive. But I’m just trying to get out to somewhere peaceful.”

  The bartender pulled a pint for himself, and took a long drink, shaking his head.

  “This is dire news. If you wish to miss the fighting, you must head deeper into the Empire. But you will not find a place like you are looking for. I know of none like that. But, were I free to travel, I know there is one place I would visit before I die: the city of Osterstadt, the portal to the Emerald Sea.”

  “It’s nice there?”

  “I have only heard the legends of the city, that it is like no where else on Vuldranni.”

  “I like the sound of the Emerald Sea. Seems, you know, tranquil. Maybe they have good fishing there. How might I get there?”

  He laughed. “I like you. A simple man. Best bet for one like you would be to head to the Caravaners’ Guild House. Find a trade caravan in search of a guard. There are plenty that run from here to the Capital, and from the Capital you will find one heading up to Osterstadt. Likely, you might make it there by winter. Though, you also might see the Capital and decide you love it, and never leave. Happened to my brother.”

  “If I get to the Capital, you want me to tell him something?”

  “Ask him where’s my gold?”

  I laughed, and tossed a gold onto the counter. “There’s one, at the least.”

  He snatched the coin off the bounce, and it disappeared on his person faster than I could follow.

  “A pleasure, Montana.”

  “Last question,” I said.

  “For you, I will answer all the questions you might have.”

  “I maybe have some, uh, goods to sell—”