Path of the Slayer B3 3. Half-Gobs & Secrets

Stepping outside with everyone, Grimmy had never felt so safe before. Not until she’d gotten to know more of Sir Arden the Nomad – or Arden for short.

Yeah, he’d shot her in the back. He’d had her thrown on a giant rock into a cannibal fortress filled with zombies. He’d nearly gotten them killed by a crazy elf Veteran lady, took them into a deadly trap of man-eating roses, and made her join a suicidal Royal Quest that might get her defiled. And every time she touched him, she screamed because of Doomie’s power!

But Grimmy still felt safer following Arden than she’d ever felt following anyone.

He was strong, awesome, badass, and … surprisingly nice to her! He hadn’t beaten her really badly until all her bones broke like her former master would. Arden had even made sure she was fed super tasty food!

So, she really needed to try hard to keep his secrets!

“What did they talk about with you, Grimmy, love?” Syleth dipped her head close to the half-gob while keeping her body and colorful belly dancer clothes up away from the gravel. “Come on, Grimmy. You can tell me. Your secrets will be safe.”

“Nuuuuh. Not safe! Grimmy no say!” When around the other juniors, half-gob speech felt more comfortable. Arden, Merlin, and Thumper were elders, so it was bad to speak half-gobbish with them.

“Come on, murder pal! Knifey friend! Bloodletting sister. Won’t you tell me, nyah?” Noodles pounced Grimmy’s other side, pinning her between a naughty Charmer and a naughty Tormentor.

“Grimmy good! No say!” She shook her head.

“That’s right. You’re a good, good girl.” Velira shooed the other two away and moved like she was an elven boss in her softly colored lady suit. “I won’t force you to tell me anything. You should hold your silence on the subject. But if you do want someone to listen, I’d gladly lend an ear.”

“Nuuuuuh!” Grimmy puffed her cheeks and blew a raspberry at the Ranger.

They looked shocked at her, as if she was meant to be so easily broken. She couldn’t let herself be that way. Sir Arden the Nomad was counting on her.

“Enough interrogation. Look alive. The first part of the show has come to us.”

The voice of Sir Arden the Nomad was direct and powerful, making everyone jolt a little even when they try to hide it. Something about him made it necessary to listen, but not as servants.

When Grimmy listened, she felt like a sword, like she was going to make someone or something bleed in Arden’s name. The other juniors had gossipped about feeling something similar.

Grimmy’s ring-laden fingers twitched, but there was no weapon in hand. The elders were holding everything sharp and dangerous in storage devices, leaving the squad all bare, seemingly vulnerable.

Yet Arden held his ground when over thirty nobles stopped them on the main trail leading up to the Auction House at the peak. Other nobles watched from gardens, gazebos, restaurants, stores, and lots of nice spots along the decorated mountain, just one place among many on the challenge floor.

Everything was amazing under all the sparkly lights and moonlight beams between giant walls covered in golden roses, yet the nobles didn’t care. The ones blocking the way looked largely upset at them. Some nobles looked past the elders and glared at the juniors – Grimmy, especially!

There were no half-gobs among them, after all.

Grimmy felt itchy from knowing she didn’t belong. Was she hurting the image of Sir Arden the Nomad? Was she holding him back? Was it because the tutu was a bad idea?

Ugh! All that tension got to her. She bolted ahead and released the tension. She yelled at the nobles.

“Get out of the way of Sir Arden the Nomad! He’s better than all of you ugly idiots!”

Once it was out, Grimmy regretted her rash decision. She’d spoken for her elders!

Looking up nervously, she thought Arden would be mad at her. Maybe he would finally beat her and starve her like her former master until she broke.

Instead, the dark-skinned nomad, styled in gold while wearing an overcoat like a big, big boss, let out a laugh. Booming. Rich. Filled with confidence.

On either side of Arden, Prince Thumper stood tall and dark while a waterfall of raven hair covered his face. The wizard Merlin stood closer to Grimmy’s height, but he had a fiery air about him, with green eyes that sharpened with deadly intelligence.

Grimmy smiled as the other juniors urged her back. She rejoined them, feeling good even when up against nobles.

Sir Arden the Nomad and his friends were so powerful, the nobles couldn’t do anything about a half-gob saying whatever or keeping the big secrets!

***

I’d given Grimmy too much confidence.

Every chance of deescalating and getting past the rabble of upset and self-important nobodies with too much money had disappeared after the half-gob said what she said.

Still, it was kind of funny.

And she wasn’t exactly wrong.

We were the best dressed, from what I could see. That and everything else I had going on must’ve drawn the rabble as if I was personally taking their egos out into the treeline and beating them with a big and heavy stick.

“See, this is the problem! You … you new money types don’t understand how things work here. To let such a creature as that green thing speak out of turn and in an untoward way to your betters is in disgrace of your rising position. And it’s going to upset those in power who’ve been around much longer than you, Arden the Nomad,” growled a teenaged human boy, an Epic in the low Level 60s.

“The Dragon Princess isn’t here. Royal Quest or not, you need to learn the proper rules that have been set long before your arrival. You think she’ll care if you and your posse here suffer an … unfortunate accident … when you’re just muscle for her? Harrumph! My family has seen your types before. Nothing but thugs. But if you want to be better than that, you better pay respects,” said a middle-aged half-dragon woman, an Epic in the low Level 70s.

“You can’t just bully your way through! My family has been long established here at the Final Rose!” shouted a young-looking elf male, an Epic in the mid-Level 60s.

“You’ve even brought a trashy Ranker in with you! This is a place for Pathwalkers! Do you not understand how poor and boorish you look!” claimed a young half-giant, Epic, low Level 60s. Not the target – Thumper had made no motions toward him.

I was letting the nobles spout off to see if Thumper would subtly point anyone out. The deluge of complaints, criticisms, and outright insults flowed over me like water off a duck’s backside.

The juniors watched me: Marnarka with amazement clear in her big eyes as she held herself back from being my Bulwark, Weaver with some frustration checked by patience based on my composure, and Kroker with a faithful peace that seemed to trust his God-Dragoness Faith to see us through.

If it wasn’t already obvious by this point, the truth was I enjoyed leading people. I’d once thought I would lead an entire guild of adventurers one day. That old dream of mine was crawling out of the grave with how things were going.

Thumper gave a subtle shake of his head.

None of the noble rabble was part of our deadly interest yet.

I could move forth as I pleased.

Hellion whispered cursedly into my ear: “It’s always nice when the pigs offer themselves to the butcher.”

Hooker rattled subtly around my waist.

“I guess I’m gonna have to do this earlier than expected.” I turned to the others. “Slight distance.”

“Oh, here it goes! You just can’t help it, huh? Fine. Go be the icon of the old manly era.” Merlin waved me off.

“Soon, it’ll be my turn. But not yet.” Thumper nodded.

I nodded back. “I know. I owe you.”

Cleared to engage, I went ahead while Merlin and Thumper waited back some distance with the juniors. The nobles screeched like animals when they noticed my forward movement and the way I rolled my shirt sleeves up my forearms, the right gleaming crimson.

“Don’t you dare attack us with that horrid phantom of yours! This time, the guards will respond regardless of the Dragon Princess Crest! You can’t just thug your way through outside of dueling circles!” roared a fat dwarf woman, an Epic in the low Level 80s.

I rolled my neck and my shoulders while keeping my big overcoat hanging on. Path Energy made everything feel smooth and interconnected on me.

“I’m going to slap you if you don’t get out of my squad’s way. You’re all free to slap me in return. Knock me out of step one time, and I’ll stop and listen to all you have to say.”

That was the game.

The nobles changed tunes really fast.

There were nearly three dozen of them, and only one of me. And all it would take was a hard-enough slap on me to gain some sort of influence on an outsider directly connected to the Dragon Princess.

That was not a game they could afford to avoid, and better yet, the System got involved.

Veteran Zez popped up with a flash and a raise of his cane.

The little ratkin had gotten dressed up by tailors who were more suited for Veterans. He wore a glaringly bright yellow suit, top hat, and polished shoes. With a flick of his tail and a wave of his cane, he spoke with an announcer’s charm.

“Ladies, gentlemen, we have ourselves an event! And through my Domain, the System wants it to be official. Slap Box Arden the Nomad!”

A public notification appeared over our heads.

[Veteran Event initiated: Slap Box Sir Arden The Nomad! Knock him out of step, and he’ll have to listen to you all! Get slapped off your feet by him, and you’re out of the event. Then you’ll need to scurry away and know your place.]

“Get ready!” Zez cheered.

[Get set!] added the System.

Then together: “BEGIN!”

The last one to speak, the Epic Level 80 dwarf woman, rushed me first with a blast of Path Magic. She was like a cannonball while winding her meaty arm back and swinging with all of her power at my face.

“KNOW YOUR PLACE!” she roared.