Reborn as the First Boss, Chapter 71

Chapter 71 – Crossing the Border

Ksa Thalas Keep rose upon a hill, just out of bowshot from the Crystalrill’s western bank, but not so far that the siege weapons I could see upon the castle’s walls would have trouble reaching either the bridge or ford. Looking at it from a defensive standpoint, I had a feeling that the keep would be able to hold off any force so long as they had people to man the walls, and ammunition to keep the siege engines busy. Whoever had designed the fort knew their business well. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be an invader trying to scurry across the river between fusillades, only to meet a barrage of arrows from elven bows!

More than that, the keep’s designers had an eye for form as well as function. The gleaming white stone rose up over the green hill like a beacon. The walls, too, were curved in a slight serpentine pattern, offering no sharp corners to take advantage of, and plenty of overlapping lines of fire to assail any soldiers who hoped to scale the walls. Ladders would be required to get to the ramparts, because the walls gracefully sloped outward, yet the ground below the wall sloped downwards, making it difficult to plant a ladder securely.

As our wagon approached the keep, I noticed that the ‘moat’ was not one filled with water, but with scythevine! The magical plants grew like grass, on the surface, but they were extremely resistant to fire. They were also partly carnivorous. Anyone who tried to pass through the moat would find themselves slashed to ribbons as the vines contracted, sending the blades of ‘grass’ slashing through flesh and bone. Even hardened leather was no defense! Because of that, an unfortunate soul might step into a patch of scythevine, and find their feet and legs maimed, or even cut off altogether. Such people often fell forward, into the vines, which sealed their fate, but even an escape could mean a swift death by bleeding out unless a healer was at hand.

According to my [Fortifications] skill, without magic, the typical way to bypass a scythevine moat was to send condemned prisoners into the moat, and then have the soldiers behind them use the dead and dying as a human bridge, throwing a new prisoner on the pile when the old ones started being cut too thin, and the scythevine proved a danger once more. Not the kind of thing a ‘good’ person would ever consider, of course. But it was effective, especially if you had enemy prisoners to ‘release’. There was no Geneva in this world, and no rules of war, beyond ‘win’.

Thankfully, we were not assailing the keep, or even the walls, but simply passing through. The road was well made, and well designed, with great thought put to it. Lanes drove from both ford and bridge to join before the hill. A small checkpoint was there, at the joining of the road, and past it two emerged again, one passing up into the fort, and the other continuing on, into Bikar.

A similar setup had been on the Darcoran side of the river. Merchants and travelers passing into Bikar were sent to Fort Sella for inspection, especially if they were unknown. Those who had special writs, or were on business of the crown, or otherwise were exempt from the inspection passed on across the river without stopping for the fort’s inspection. And the same was true for those who came from Bikar, heading into Dascora.

Fort Sella also had an inn, where travelers could take their rest, before pressing on, if they wished. We hadn’t stopped, since there was still a few hours of daylight between when we got through the inspection and when we would need to think of sleep. Enough time to cross the river, and go through the process on the other side, at least.

“Hold!” An elf in leather armor, said, holding up one hand as the wagon approached the checkpoint. He spoke in the elvish tongue, but fortunately I knew that language already, even without the [Tongues] ability, and had made sure to teach it to all my pets with [Language Transfer]. The elf, and the one next to him, held spears, but also had a sword at their hip, and a shield slung across their back. Fortunately, the spears were not lowered at us, but held more like walking staves for the moment.

“Well met,” I answered, in Elvish, earning a bit of a surprise from the elves. “We are adventurers traveling on the way to Crystalshield. Unfortunately, we have not come this way before, and do not know local customs.”

“And yet you speak elvish so well?”

I shrugged at the guard’s question. “Languages are simple, especially with magic. Learning all there is about a culture? That’s difficult. I’ve never lived anywhere in this world besides Dascora, and yet I doubt I could tell you everything there is to know about Dascoran customs. Part of the fun of being an adventurer is going out and seeing new things, which is what brings us to this journey.”

“Magic, hmm? These undead yours, then? Or summons?”

“Summons. Picked up an item in Magehallow for it, along with the wagon. Figured less supplies I needed to carry, the better. Any local laws I should be aware of?”

“Well, you’re more respectful than most of your lot that come through, at least,” the elf said, grudgingly. “No laws against undead, or against slaves you already own. But no putting collars on anyone within Bikar unless there’s a court order. If you make a contract with someone and failure to pay makes them a slave, you need to take it to the courts. Ignore that, and you’ll be fitted for a collar, yourself.”

“Good to know,” I nodded.

“Beyond that, keep to the roads and settled areas along the border woods, unless you have a Bikar native along as a guide. Outlanders are not allowed to roam the majority of Bikar without supervision. We’ve already had enough trouble with the werewolf clans.”

“I heard of the werewolves when I was still in Dascora. Is there a job board or the like? Or anywhere that I can get more information on them? At the very least, it would be good to know what areas to avoid.”

The elf considered for a moment, and then said, “Normally, I would tell you to mind your business, at least until you got to a city with an Adventurer’s Guild office. But seeing as you’re all Level 40, there might be some use for you. Head up into the fort, and go to the tavern. There are some Farstriders out of Men Thalor there. They’ve been hunting the wolves’ lair, but the wolves are not so courteous as to lay down and die, and they’ve suffered injuries. Tell the bartender that Rhys sent you up to ask around.”

“Will do,” I nodded, before turning my wagon to the fort.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Astruth said from the back of the wagon. “Just a simple question and answer, and then sending us up to the fort?”

“Dascora and Bikar may not be firm allies, but they are at least united in distrust and dislike of the Theocracy, which borders both countries,” Linette said. “And adventurers passing from country to country are not that uncommon. Usually, it takes the form of guarding merchant caravans, but there are plenty of reasons an adventurer would take to the road, especially once they’re of a higher level.”

We passed over the drawbridge, and across the moat of scythevine. The elegant stone archway of the gate concealed numerous defensive measures, both mundane and magical, hidden from a casual glance, but readily apparent to me with [Fortifications] and a WIS of 253. The soldiers here were armed and armored like the ones we saw below, but, as we moved into the castle ward, I could see archers upon the walls, their bowstrings glistening with magic, even when no arrow touched them.

In the gateway, the guards paused to inspect the wagon, its contents, and the people in it. Perplexingly, they also insisted upon pressing both a piece of silver and some purple flowers against each person’s skin. However, when it did not appear to cause any immediate reaction, they moved on.

Inside the walls, there was a small village worth of people. Support staff for the fort, and families, for the most part. A lone merchant’s shop, selling sundries for travelers to resupply. A stable for horses, and a simple two-story inn. Nothing special, but for those without a [Spiritual Retreat] to put a roof over their head, it was a blessing. Even for those who had a [Replenishing Skin] for each party member and an [Endless Camp Ration Box] to fill their bellies, the opportunity to stop and get fresh food and drink was not something to look down on.

I did notice that several guards were paying close attention to us. Not in an entirely hostile way, but far from friendly. The undead oxen were part of it, since I noticed the tension ratcheted down a bit once I returned them to the talisman, and placed the [Collapsible Wagon] back in my inventory. However, that just turned more attention to Rastran, my Hellhound familiar. Thankfully, I knew that the demon hounds were often used as familiars by spellcasters across the continent, so this did not seem entirely out of place.

Together, we entered the tavern. It was just before the evening meal, so the place was as full as it was likely to get. Two tables had merchants sitting at them, with adventurers to serve as guards. A good mix of races, though the merchants all looked to be elves, suggesting that the group was on a return trip from Dascora, rather than heading out of Bikar. Especially since I recognized some of the gear the adventurers were wearing from drops in the (now defunct) Necropolis of Akkras dungeon.

Most of the room, however, was taken up with a group of twenty elves, man and woman alike, dressed in a rough approximation of uniforms. There were unified colors and themes, mostly with them being shades of green, and including cloaks that would help them blend in amongst the trees, but each elf customized their weapons and armor to suit their style. They were unlike the soldiers of the fort in that way, but they still had a military bearing. They must be the Farstriders that the guard at the checkpoint was talking about.

One amongst them stood out to me, thanks to my [Perceive Soul] skill, that I’d gained from the angel, Xaphan, when I’d performed the [Soul-Gilding Ritual] with him. A younger elf, but strong. His soul gleamed in a way I immediately recognized. He had the Hero title!

Still, I turned my attention from the Hero and his companions, and approached the bar, where an elf wearing a simple apron was cleaning a wooden tankard. I noticed that his apron carried old stains, the kind one expected when you worked in a kitchen, but the bar was spotless, and the rag he used on the tankard was clean. They had their priorities in order, obviously.

“What can I get you, travelers?” The bartender spoke in Tradespeak, though his accent was clearly that of Bikar. The pidgin tongue was useful when passing across borders, since it was the most likely tongue to be used. The ‘Common’ language was only common for humans. It was the root language that Dascoran and other regional tongues sprouted from, but other races all had their own tongues as well. Tradespeak was the true ‘common’ language, if only because merchants went everywhere and talked to everyone, so long as they had coin.

Still, I spoke in Elvish, to give him an easier time of it, and perhaps get better treatment for me and mine. “Food and drink for seven, including the hound, if you would, and a room for the night.”

The bartender looked at our group, and frowned slightly, “Just the one room?”

“We have an item that allows us to sleep in a pocket realm, so one is all we need, but it would be rude to take up space without at least paying something for it.”

“Ah, one of those [Spiritual Retreat]s that adventurers from Dascora like to keep, then? That’s fine. And we have stew with bread as the evening meal, with ale to drink. And water for the hound. That, plus the room, will be four gold, but there’ll be breakfast in the morning, as well.”

That was a fair price, and we weren’t short on funds, with all the loot we’d gathered, so I handed over the coins, and he passed me a key. He quickly and professionally drew the six of us with thumbs tankards of ale from the cask behind him, which we took with a nod and a smile. As he turned to the kitchen, though, I said, “Before you go, Rhys at the checkpoint told us to come to you and ask around about the werewolves, maybe see if there was anything we could do to help out?”

The bartender looked us over, nodded once, and then turned to the group of elves, who were all cautiously watching us, and called out, “Captain Valric! These adventurers want to know if they can help with the wolves.”

A woman, who must have been their leader, nodded once, and said, “Well, they look competent enough. Send them over, and we’ll talk.”