Battle Admin System 5

5 - The Key To Cold Tooth

Lillea Moonstrider was the key to Cold Tooth, and Alden of House Springsmith knew it. He would never forget the day he was pulled out of the mud, his backstraps held by the giant’s teeth. He’d been like a kitten held by the scruff while she stabbed a huge mud monster with one arm and a knife.

The shame of that event had followed Alden to this day. It burned him up now that he was on a commission with her, a work of fate. And some under-the-table help to track Lady Moonstrider’s movements without notifying her gang of goblins.

Alden hadn’t been at the square when Lady Moonstrider chose this commission with a guild receptionist. But he had been in the city. He had hired eyes and ears to keep him informed. He’d signed his team up right away.

His compatriots weren’t in agreement. But they couldn’t say no. They’d been indebted to him for months, an investment he held like the reins of strong horses.

The elf had been the hardest to catch. But she had an eye for enchanted bows and quivers. The dwarf only had weapons on the mind and was a loner compared to his kin. The spellcaster had needed books with more advanced spells.

Alden had provided.

Now they knew to obey.

It’s worked out well so far! We’ve helped in a successful expedition in the north! Nevermind they’d barely made it back alive. All that mattered was the glory and the levels. And the connections.

And that House Springsmith was about to collapse unless their fortune turned around greatly. Alden’s people needed large lump sums of money. Lillea Moonstrider was the key to Cold Tooth’s riches.

The caravan commission should take two weeks to the nearest city and two weeks back to Cold Tooth with a different caravan. Between them were cold and dark forests, swamps, and bogs.

Giant black and green trees towered over them like titans. They even dwarfed Lillea. Bog fog hovered close as slow moving clouds, thickening the air with water and rotten smells. Whoops. Hollers. Screeches. Mad creatures made themselves heard, drowning out the rattling wagon wheels and the beating hooves of horses.

But they failed to drown out Lillea’s steps. She marched with the confidence of a noble. She searched the dark woods with the eyes of a veteran. Her steps were quieter than expected but still had the telltale rumble of the mighty. She matched the speed of horses in the Level 150s, which were faster than the usual giant.

The lizard folks were around that same level, mostly commoners with a few adventurers. They brought spice, herb, desert silk, and rare-to-find materials from the western deserts to Cold Tooth. They took metals and gems down to their homeland. A long journey, but a profitable one. If they could survive the trip.

He paid them little mind. His compatriots would keep watch over the fourteen wagons. Alden stayed focused on the prize.

Lillea.

He ran by her side, matching her casual stride with the passive perk of his movement skill. Reaching his level had done him wonders. He had once been scared while inside the giant’s shadow. That was no longer the case.

I’m faster than her. She has barely leveled up since I’ve last seen her. The arm is new, but it’s certainly underleveled.

She acted tough. She was certainly skilled. But he was higher up the food chain now. His armor was more than shiny gear. It had noble enchantments, an investment by his house to help him find more fortune in the north.

That fortune was Lillea herself. She spent lavishly even though she didn’t work as hard as most adventurers. She didn’t have to.

She had knowledge of the north. She knew where the treasures were. Or where the rare metals and gems were buried. She had business with a renown dwarven clan. They had shut out everyone else to serve her alone. She was probably making most of her coins by selling information.

She’s intelligent! That’s her secret, and I’m the one to figure it out! Alden knew he had to impress her with his battle prowess and sweep her off her big feet. Then he could sweet talk the giant into giving up her secrets so–

“Archer. Scan to your right. Confirm.” The orders resonated through Alden’s body. Lillea’s words. Quick. Deep. But not overly loud. She didn’t need to be loud.

The elf responded instantly. “Confirming Log Pickers, Level 200 and common. Leader, Level 250 and adventure. High potential encounter. Estimate time, thirty seconds. Warn or damage?”

Alden opened his mouth to speak.

Lillea’s authority drowned him out.

“Shield warrior, move to the right of cart three. Spellcaster, to the rear. Spearmen, to the right of the middle carts. Archer, stay on your cart, go for damage.”

Lillea spoke and moved with a purpose. The ground trembled harder. She directed the head lizard to speed up with her.

Alden found himself where he was commanded to be. Wait, why am I moving to her orders? This was his team! He gawked at the dwarf skipping forward merrily ahead of him. He heard the crackle of fire, the spellcaster charging up his magic. Then his eyes landed on Lillea’s backside.

It was worth a painting while her cloak fluttered in the wake of her strides. But Alden was feeling too disturbed to enjoy the view.

The elf fired an arrow. A screech returned in response. The monstrous beavers came rushing out. They stood twenty-five feet tall while armed with hardened logs made from black iron trees.

Alden snorted in contempt. He disliked how his team was commanded for basic riff raff. But he fell into the rhythm of battle, anyway.

He empowered his spear with his strongest skill. A Log Picker raised a black iron log for a slam.

Golden light lunged out at the end of a spear thrust. The magic attack ran through the torso and left a bloody hole in its wake.

Alden barely stopped to address the slain monster. He moved on to the next. Another magic thrust. Another dead Log Picker. He had time to check on his compatriots between his kills.

The dwarf smashed aside log swings with his shield. He extended a magic projection from his sword and hewed deep into their legs. He kept moving like Alden, sometimes bashing into the monsters’ legs and flipping them over.

The elf fired arrow after arrow with precision. Each one had a touch of magic that increased damage. Her quiver was a noble item, too. It used her mana to create more arrows so she wouldn’t run out. She hobbled a few Log Pickers for her team or killed the fallen ones the dwarf knocked down.

The spellcaster left a blazing trail to ward away Log Pickers following from behind. Explosive fireballs turned the more determined Log Pickers into smoldering pieces. He used noisy solutions. But they were powerful.

None of his team struggled. Level 300 adventurers were beings of greatness. Especially compared to most adventurers outside of Cold Tooth.

This is pathetic. Why did she take over my team for this showing? Alden killed another Log Picker before focusing on Lillea. For a moment, he was stunned. It can’t be. No, I refuse to believe it. She’s… she’s… struggling!

Yes, indeed. She was struggling. The Log Picker’s were half her height. They held their logs above their heads. That would seem like an advantage to a human. But to a giant, it turned out more awkward.

Every swing of her simple club came from her left side, the metal side. She twisted awkwardly and smacked on the logs instead of the Log Pickers themselves. The club struck with some force to it but gave away no magic. It stopped the monsters from charging into the caravan from the front. But that was it.

By the time she stopped one, she had to whack another Log Picker to keep them from the caravan and herself. Then the Chief Log Picker appeared. It was thirty feet tall and fast on its feet. It wielded two thin black iron logs like a dual-wielding warrior.

It swung rapid strikes at Lillea. She barely fended them off with her club. The air trembled from the clamoring impacts.

Alden’s heart pounded harder than when this encounter started. This was an opportunity!

Clearly, her strongest skill was her intelligence. She was a weak giant, which made sense. She acted too civilized compared to real giants. And her underleveled arm made everything harder for her.

I’ll be your strong protector, and you can shower me with riches!

Alden dashed forward with his movement skill. He left a golden streak behind and invoked an enchantment from his armor. It emitted a bright flash, scaring those of lesser intelligence. The Log Pickers were thin in numbers now, so the light startled them easily.

The archer and spellcaster shouted in alarm, but they would recover their sight in time. Alden shoved past the dwarf and imbalanced him a little. The warrior corrected his imbalance and blocked an overhead smash that nearly flattened his head.

The Chief Log Picker kept attacking and pressing Lillea. Logs against a club, the raining strikes growing louder.

The giant kept blocking. She stayed in front of the still-moving caravan. Her body stayed twisted to the right to use her left arm. Was she afraid of losing her right arm?

No worries, Alden was here!

He bounded into the air with his powerful legs. He soared high enough to aim his spear at the chief’s chest. His armor dimmed. He became easier to view on his heroic entrance to aid a lady.

His body jerked to a stop, legs and arms flopping forward. He nearly lost his spear when his body reversed directions.

He gawked at Lillea’s right hand. His mind reeled until he realized what had happened. She caught me by my armor straps and tossed me back. He couldn’t comprehend how she managed that. He was moving back quickly somehow.

He crashed into a Log Picker and couldn’t escape from its crushing grip. The dwarf and archer had to save him. By the time he was up and able, Lillea forced the Chief Log Picker to run away with a few of its kind remaining.

“She threw you away like an elven hammer, aye?” A smile appeared in the bushy mess covering the dwarf’s lower face.

“More like a dwarven bow!” commented the elf.

The spellcaster chuckled to himself and returned to studying his books.

Alden ignored his indebted compatriots and stared at the cloaked back of the giant. She rested her club on her shoulder and lumbered at the head of the caravan with a relaxed gait. Alden felt ashamed again, but he couldn’t shake off the sight of Lillea’s weakness and strengths.

She’s not just intelligent. She’s highly intelligent.

Alden nodded to himself.

She knows where the riches are. She directs others like a commander directs troops. Maybe that’s why she has so many goblins following her. A pack of goblins can be worth an adventurer. An army of them can rain down trouble and give her an easy time adventuring. But her intelligence and leadership qualities are making her lazy.

But Alden felt something was wrong with his assumptions. Like he was missing the other half of the mystery. But he couldn’t spot anything else.

Adventurers were either smart or strong. Bold or cowardly. Honorable or scoundrels. They fitted into their roles with some unique flavors, but they were mainly predictable.

If he was right about Lillea’s intelligence, she had to be slothful. She enjoyed the pleasures of civilization. She found the easiest ways to contribute and reap benefits. And she had riches stored around the land to afford her lifestyle.

Alden doubled-down for the next week. He went after Lillea with all the passion men of House Springsmith were known for.

Yes, she was of a savage race, but Alden believed her intelligence meant she was more human than giant. He could expose that with effort. He could make her feel like he saw the real her. He was sure if he tried hard enough, he would succeed.

A week rolled by.

All conversations with her died like trying to turn a stone wall into kindling. Monster attacks became fewer and fewer. Opportunities to impress her with his battle prowess dwindled.

The Level 200 Man Snatching Owls put up a decent fight until half of their numbers fell and they fled. The Level 175 Angry Giant Badgers attacked with a ferocious rabidness. They disregarded their health and low level, letting themselves be slaughtered to the last.

A poor bunch of Level 150 bandits stayed behind their cover near the road. But Lillea sniffed them out and engaged them alone. Alden had mixed feelings listening to the screams of humans amid thumping blows and crunches. One man barely made it out alive.

“Take me prisoner! Oh, please, take me! I swear I’ll be indebted to you forever!”

Alden reached out to the man. Two giant boots crashed down behind the bandit. A shadow engulfed them both, and Alden hesitated.

The bandit barely had time to scream before a bloody club hammered him into the ground. A second strike followed after the first with a wet and crunchy squelch. Alden had dealt bandits with more dignified deaths than this. It felt like watching the extermination of a defenseless animal.

“Do you enjoy picking on the weak?” Alden asked before he stopped himself.

A dark face loomed over him. A smile lit her features like a crescent moon in the night. “I like to be thorough. It’s a good policy for dealing with pesky prey, Lord Springsmith.”

She strode away with a rumble in her steps and a sway to her hips. That was the first time she’d referred to him by name. But I don’t remember mentioning my house. The impression left him more disturbed than elated.

They stopped for the night with the lizard folks sifting through the nearby bandit camp. The wagons waited in a circle formation around a fire. Lillea sat outside the circle, still towering over them. This was their last night with the giant before she departed for another venture.

“Stop trying,” the spellcaster said to Alden.

“What?” Alden turned to him while they lay on their cots.

“Just stop. She’s powerful and above us. There’s nothing you have to get her indebted on.”

Alden shot him a withering look. The spellcaster smiled at him crookedly.

The morning came. Lillea gave her farewells.

The lizard folk hadn’t liked her at first. They cheered and cried for her now. She’d won their hearts. Even though Alden’s team had done more of the heavy lifting. After half an hour of her departure, Alden turned to the rest of his team.

“I need to follow her.”

He tapped his armor and invoked its cloaking enchantment. Gold was not a good color for adventuring, but it made others focus on the armor for the wrong reasons. Now he merged with the dark forest scenery. Alden felt certain of his next actions.

“The only giant of Cold Tooth. Queen of the goblins. Most if not all of the major players bend to her. Even the Cold Tooth Lord seems ready to move at her beck and call. This is worth investigating.”

“Are we free from your debt if you die?” the spellcaster asked.

Alden grimaced at them. “Copies are with my house. Don’t think you can scamper off.” He shot them a smile. “Besides, I’m more capable than her now. You’ve seen her weaknesses.”

“I’ve seen a giant train her new metal arm and get better with it,” the dwarf said.

“I’ve seen a lady who knows what she’s doing and shouldn’t be followed,” the elf said.

“Won’t say I’ll miss you. Thanks for the books.” The spellcaster waved.

Alden shook his head at them and ran into the woods. Even if that was the last he’d see of them, they were just like any hired help. You could find more.

He focused on his mission. Lillea. If I can’t woo the beast, I’ll find her lair and treasures.

Alden gripped his spear hard. I know I’m strong enough. She has no impressive abilities. Only her size and cleverness. But that can only take you so far. My greatest skills and enchantments are better.

Lillea was the key to Cold Tooth’s riches. He would make her open the way to a great fortune by guile or threat.

***

Lillea took the trails curving east-northeast, submerged in darkness and dank mists. Her long legs landed on giant roots or spots of gravel, leaving little for others to track.

She knew the area well. She knew how to move across these lands safely or dangerously. She knew its monstrous denizens enough to predict them. Some were unknown to the humans and in the Level 400s.

There was a spot of trouble in a dense part of the swampy forest if she took a straight angle to her objective. Going around would slow most adventurers.

She could move plenty fast even while taking a curved route. She should hit the main road between Cold Tooth and Port Precipice in six days.

That depends on when my stalker strikes.

A rare gust of wind blew through an opening in the canopy. It hit Lillea’s back and carried different smells. A peculiar scent held her attention. The stalker was closer now.

Please, come out and face me. I’m done pretending.

The urge to face the stalker was strong. But Lillea kept her discipline. A Moonstrider was always in control until the time was right to cut loose. And besides, restraining herself was good for her levels.