I duck into the room and say, “I won’t be going out on patrol with the others. I’ve come for my pay.”
His disappointment is plain to see, “I see. Well, let me handle your dues right away.”
He counts out my share, more than the previous patrol run even accounting for the additional days, and hands it to me.
I put it in my money pouch without counting.
“I prefer each squad to have two magic users while on patrol, for safety. Anything I can do to address your particular circumstances?” asks Level.
“What did the others say, exactly?” I ask. I get the feeling that my understanding of the situation and Level’s understanding are different.
“They said that you needed to take a week off. Something about needing your privacy,” he says.
That’s not exactly right. Interesting that that is what they took from it.
“You will need to find them another wizard,” I explain.
“Right, right,” he nods. “I was able to pull a favor with a fellow who has been petitioning the Corps to send patrols to his grounds well outside of town. Sees himself as the caretaker there. He’s had countless Horde sightings and is concerned about the damage they are causing in the valley. He’s more druid than wizard, but he agreed to help if we’d send more patrols to protect the sanctity of the area where he resides.”
“Then I will need new placement,” I say in agreement.
“What?” says Level, looking quite perplexed. “I thought you needed the week off.”
“I can’t trust that group.”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know what to say.”
A scream sounds from somewhere nearby.
“My talents are being wasted,” I add, but I am partially spoken-over by the training sergeant who has run up to the door shouting about an accident in the training yard.
Level shoots up out of his chair and runs out the door, but still manages to excuse himself by saying, “Sorry, I’ll be back in a moment.”
Rather than wait in the office, I go to see what the commotion is about. A circle of frightened-looking trainees are holding their mouths or have their jaws dropped wide open. Their eyes are transfixed on something around the corner. Some are wailing.
Being tall has its advantages, and I am awarded with a clear view of the scene in the yard over the crowd that is gathering. A young man huddles, shaking, against the far wall of the yard. His face is contorted in horror and he seems frozen in place. In one hand, he holds a short sword coated in blood. His terrified gaze is locked onto the head of another young man resting between his feet. The body it was meant to be attached to is crumpled nearby. Blood has pooled on the dusty ground of the yard—once a paddock—and soaks into the clothes of the two young men.
A training exercise gone wrong, it seems. I mouth a prayer to Ner Ngal for the departed. With any luck, his soul will go straight to the Void and not spend countless eons in some Rishan horrorscape.
Since the headless boy is decisively dead, all attention is given to his accidental killer. Level and the other trainers work to coax the blade out of the shocked boy’s hand and pull him away from the scene. One of the onlookers is told to fetch the Watch and tears out of the building with such urgency I wonder if he even intends to come back.
There is really nothing to be done aside from clean up the mess, and I don’t find the idea of talking to the Watch all that appealing, so I leave. I’ll come back and talk to Level again after he’s been able to see to the matter at hand. I have my pay, at least, so I can cover my expenses once again.
I skipped breakfast in order to make good time and, when I step out onto the street, the pleasant aroma of lunchtime meals being prepared acts as an invitation to sit down to a hearty dish. I follow my nose to an open pit grill run by the Hunter’s Guild. All manner of game and sausages hang over the fire, with juicy beads of fat dripping down fire-crisped skin and sizzling on the charcoal below. I order a cut of boar belly and a whole quail, then find an open bench to sit on to enjoy it.
I can just make out the entrance of the Adventurer’s Corps from where I sit, and watch the events unfold with a certain air of detachment, which reminds me of when Val Maxis showed me the Orcish and Elysian armies in his scrying disc. Members of the Watch run in. A couple run back out a minute later. One returns with a medic of some sort, and some cleaning women, all hustling to arrive as though their alacrity will have an impact. Less than a minute later, one of the cleaning women rushes out, covering her face. The other runner returns at a much more moderate pace, walking alongside a mortician. After ten minutes or so, the mortician leaves, followed by a pair of Watch men carrying the deceased boy’s body on a stretcher, covered in a dark sheet. A little after that, most of the trainees can be seen stumbling out of the building and either looking around the street in a daze or hurrying off, probably to home. Just as I am finishing up, I see Corporal Level and one of the trainers exit, guiding the obviously still-shaken boy off to somewhere or another.
Satisfied by my meal, I get up and stroll around the district. Perhaps I can come up with some additional ways to make the money I need to move on.
Though much of the district still has a similar layout, the destruction caused by the Orc Horde invasion led to new buildings being built and new shops showing up. Even though Nodkis has expanded quite significantly over the last ten years, and the buildings weren’t all that old to begin with, many buildings have been rebuilt with additional floors boasting affordable apartments. Many more shops have glass windows than before, as well.
Of particular interest, I locate a new magic shop. It isn’t even that far from the other one; it is merely down a street I haven’t traversed since returning from Val Maxis’s tower. The sign on the outside has big, fancy script that says The Notable Sage, and smaller print which adds: Fine Goodes from Kzartosha.
Imports from the Hegemony? Perhaps I can find something about Nikoriko traditions so I can manipulate Vong more easily, if I don’t decide to just cease his frustratingly inane existence.
The Wordbearer Chronicles is a dark fantasy web series with new passages on Tuesdays.
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