YM778.TV Chapter 113: It’s a Party
One was large, broad-shouldered, and built like a section of brick wall. The other was small, scrawny, and next to the first, could almost pass for a child. A very lavishly dressed child.
The bigger man was holding a manhole cover open with one hand, and using the other to reach down into the sewer, while his patron provided vital commands.
“Be careful pulling him up, Bruce! I would be livid if your brutish hands harmed his wrists just because you can’t control yourself.”
The hired muscle groaned with annoyance, but chose to say nothing, as he usually did. His job required few words from him, and so long as it got him paid, he knew it best to keep his thoughts to himself.
A different kind of groan came from inside the sewer hole, as Bruce pulled his hand up and brought a third man out of the dark depths.
He wore not fancy and brightly colored clothing made of silk, but instead a dingy set of burlap rags. No expensive hat with a feather sticking out of it sat upon his head, leaving his greasy, matted down hair on show. There was no cloud of expensive and overwhelming perfume surrounding him either, only the stench of sewer waste and lack of bathing.
Only one recognizable trait of his still remained, despite its more unkempt appearance: a pencil mustache under his stuck up nose, twitching with disgust as he climbed out of Ardville’s waste-filled waterways.
“Mr. Antoine!” the other nobleman cried out in a loud and exaggerated greeting. “I cannot express how great it is to finally see you out of that cell!”“Keep your voice down, you imbecile,” spat the escapee, in a bitter whisper between grinding teeth. “Do you want someone to hear you and find us?”
“No, no, please, my apologies, sir! I didn’t mean it,” the small man said, throwing his head down in an apologetic manner that revealed more fear than respect.
Antoine eyed the bodyguard towering above them.
“Are you sure the guard will not ring the alarm?”
Bruce smirked. “Trust me, I knocked him out good. He won’t be conscious anytime soon.”
“Good. That means we should have at least a couple of hours until they find him during the change of the watch.” He turned to the nobleman again. “You. Did you bring me what I instructed?”
The other man scrambled to untangle a large satchel from under his vestment’s mantles. “Of course, my lord! Here, it was exactly where you said and I brought it right over.”
The former guildmaster took the bag unceremoniously and quickly looked inside, partially pulling out a set of clean clothes and looking under them for something else.
“And you didn’t even look inside it?”
“No! Of course not, sir,” answered the noble. “I would never!”
Antoine shook his head disapprovingly before muttering under his breath. “Gullible fool.”
“Mr. Antoine, if I may…” the sheepish lackey started. “Where do you intend to go now? Not to question your plans, of course, but with the entire town soon to be out looking for you, going back to your old life will not really be an option.”
The disgraced merchant turned with a snap, his face twisted into an expression that matched his foul odor.
“This town can rot in hell for all I care,” he said bitterly, spite shooting out of his eyes like daggers, making the other man shrink down in his expensive lace-up shoes. “After all I’ve done for it, they’ve turned on me for… for that creature? They don’t deserve me!”
Antoine turned to the larger man still towering over them, who was keeping an eye on the alley’s exit for any movement.
“Are the horses saddled and ready?”
Bruce glanced down at the still seething merchant, showing no signs of being too intimidated by the temperature of his temper.
“Yeah, two horses waiting outside the town walls, like you said.”
“T-two horses?” stuttered the cowering nobleman, slowly returning to an upright position. “But s-sir… I have my own business here in town, my entire life. I’m not sure whether I would be of much help if I were to go with you.” His eyes jumped suddenly. “As honored as I would be, of course!”
With a glare that oozed contempt, Antoine eyed the noble up and down before scoffing.
“You’re right, you would be useless to me. What would make you think that I’m taking you with me?”
“B-but… I thought… I did everything you asked of me,” said the confused man. “I got every parcel, went to every hidden stash, arranged everything for your escape. I followed your every instruction to the letter!”
“Yes you did,” said Antoine, a shade falling over his face as he stared at his nervous lackey. “And now you know far too much about me, my plans, and my secrets. I just can’t have that.”
“W-what?”
“Look at you. You’d fold and tell everything you know if a guardsman so much as breathed harder on you.”
“But, sir… No! I would neve—”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“You,” Antoine barked, turning suddenly to Bruce. “Does he still pay you the same as you told me last time?”
The bodyguard looked at the man in rags with a cocked eyebrow.
“Yeah. Why?”
The merchant reached into his satchel and pulled out a fat coin purse from under the change of clothes within.
“That’s triple of what he pays you,” he said, tossing the sack of gold at the larger man, who caught it with one hand. “There’s plenty more where that came from stashed all across the land if you choose to work for me from now on.”
Bruce peeked into the bag, a golden shine reflecting on his face as he smiled.
“Sounds like a good deal to me.”
“Excellent,” said Antoine. “Your first task is to rid me of any loose ends. Make it quick, I need you to take me outside to my horse before the guards sound the alarm.”
The newly hired mercenary pocketed his payment before rolling his shoulders.
“You got it, boss.”
The trembling nobleman looked back and forth between the other two as his back pressed against the grimy alley wall.
“Y-you work for me, Bruce!” he pleaded, his voice cracking with a high-pitch. “I hired you! You can’t do this!”
Bruce smirked with malicious intent, cracking his huge knuckles as he approached his former patron.
“Shoulda paid me more.”
Antoine stepped out of the alley and onto the deserted street just as the first rays of sunlight breached through the maze of rooftops above.
As a muffled whimper and the dry sound of a quick snap came from the alley behind him, the once great guildmaster of Ardville looked upon the town’s streets with scorn as he muttered between grinding teeth.
“You will all pay in time. Especially you, crab.”
“Dang it, why are my antennae feeling so warm again?” Balthazar asked himself as he skittered down the road through the plains, his focus split between the path ahead and the system text in his sight. “Bah, must be nothing.”
After having added Druma and Blue to his party as the system suggested, the crab had found himself able to access his two friends’ stat screens like he could see his own.
Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here…
[Name: Druma]
[Race: Goblin]
[Level: 3]
[Class: None]
[Health: 60/60]
[Stamina: 90/90]
[Mana: 0/0]
[Attributes:]
[Strength: 2]
[Endurance: 3]
[Agility: 4]
[Perception: 3]
[Intellect: 2+2]
[Charisma: 1]
[Traits]
[Eager Learner]
[Skills:]
[None]
The merchant read through his assistant’s sheet carefully as he continued navigating through the road, effortlessly swerving and avoiding every stone and hole in his path with the expertise of someone already used to doing things while reading strange glowing texts burned into his retinas.
Big yikes on that Charisma, buddy, but otherwise, this all seems about right. Even the +2 Intellect bonus from that old hat. I wonder what this trait is, though.
[Eager Learner]
[Trait]
[Goblins don’t usually like learning things, but this one is different. Whether because he hit his head, or precisely because he didn’t, this creature has a knack for picking up new skills if taught. Able to gain up to one compatible skill if given an active Scroll of Potential or trained by a tutor.]
Huh… Isn’t that something?
Convinced that was certainly an interesting trait to consider later, but one he had no real use for yet, given how he had not found any of those scrolls or tutors for himself yet, Balthazar moved on to the screen of his other companion.
[name: Blue]
[Race: Drake]
[Level: 16]
[Class: None]
[Health: 350/350]
[Stamina: 120/120]
[Mana: 80/80]
[Attributes:]
[Strength: 12]
[Endurance: 12]
[Agility: 22]
[Perception: 20]
[Intellect: 12]
[Charisma: 20]
[Traits]
[Mind Scales]
[Skills:]
[Firebreath]
The crab’s eyestalks frowned as he read through the attributes once more.
Those seem way higher than I would expect. And how does such a petulant creature have so much Charisma?
Oblivious to the irony of his own question, Balthazar shrugged.
Teenagers. Whatever.
Curious, he pressed the only skill listed, already having a pretty decent idea of what it was given the name, but still wondering what it would look like.
[Firebreath]
[Skill]
[Cost: 30 Mana]
[As a draconic creature, drakes have the natural ability to unleash a torrent of fire through their mouths. The flames deal an average amount of magical fire damage to everything that fails to resist it. Not suitable for meal cooking.]
Alright then. At least I learned she uses mana to shoot those blue flames. Not sure how I’d get her to ever drink a mana potion if needed, though.
Pulling back to the previous screen, the crustacean selected her only trait, [Mind Scales], which, unlike the skill, he felt much more clueless as to what it could be.
[Mind Scales]
[Trait]
[Owners of strong personalities, sturdy wills, and well-balanced minds, draconic creatures show great resistance to all manner of illusion or mind-altering magic. Has the ability to resist most psychic effects.]
Balthazar cocked an eyestalk at the text.
Oh, I get it. Well-balanced… Scales… This system is all clever now.
Despite his quips, the crab recognized that such a trait could be quite handy, and deep down, he wished he could have it too if he ever encountered a certain black-clad witch again.
With a sigh, Balthazar dismissed the system screen and focused solely on the road again.
“Well, I guess it’s a party.”
A few paces away, his goblin assistant perked up. “Boss say something?”
“No, no, don’t mind me, Druma,” replied the crab. “Just talking to myself and reminiscing.”
With a little less pep to his step, the merchant remembered the old days when his party had not two, but three companions.
Reaching back into his Backpack of Holding, Balthazar touched the rough surface of the broken orb he brought from home with the tip of his pincer.
He knew it was there, he had no fear that it would have accidentally fallen out at some point during his journey, he simply liked to touch it now and then for comfort, to remember his friend, and to remind himself of one of the reasons why he was out there on the road.
“Soon, Bouldy. I’ll find a way to bring you back, I promise,” the crab whispered.
After what felt like the longest trip of his life—because it likely was thus far—Balthazar found himself stepping out into a clearing, past some overgrown bushes and a few hanging vines, where he found his destination.
[You have discovered Tudor’s Hall]
The crab grimaced as he looked past the system text and saw what was behind it.
“What is wrong with this place?”