Chapter 184

It turned out Zea was an incredibly bad judge of clothing sizes. Luke’s fit, more or less. Spectacle, on the other hand, got pants that were too short by about six inches and a shirt that strained across his shoulders and chest. He put it on, twisted once, and the fabric split at the seam.

“Oops,” he said.

“How important is it that you cover up your gimp suit?” Luke asked him.

“My what? You mean the assassin’s garb? Well, it would be a bad idea to walk around town wearing it,” Spectacle told him. “I’m not really an assassin, of course. It’s just a costume for the performance, but my actual clothes are buried under tons and tons of rubble.”

“Let me rephrase the question. Is it going to be a problem?”

Spectacle sighed and shook his head. “I think it will be fine. My family’s home is on the edge of the city anyway. As long as I remove the mask and gloves, I suspect we’ll reach it without issue.”

“Why would we be going to your family’s home?” Zea asked.

Luke took a minute to get Zea caught up to speed on the conversation they’d had while she was in the city, mostly focusing on finding out about his father and using whatever hunting ground they had to buff his level so he could finally start buying the bloodline skills he needed to combat XP Madness.

“Well, there is one issue,” Zea said. “Our stuff is still back at that inn, including your weapon.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Uh… Head there first?”

Spectacle, who was in the middle of peeling off the skin-tight gloves that Luke had assumed were all one piece with the suit, paused and said, “The other way around would be better. If necessary, we can send a servant to fetch your belongings.”

Spectacle pulled the mask off the top of his head, revealing a short shock of pale silvery-white hair and another mask underneath it. This one was a thin piece of white ceramic that covered his eyes and nose, like one of those fancy masquerade masks rich people wore in the movies when they went to parties with live orchestras playing the music. The biggest difference Luke could see was that it didn’t have eye holes to see through.

It seemed like an unnecessary handicap to Luke, but Spectacle had been wearing it plus a layer of black cloth over it the entire time, so he obviously knew what he was doing. He tucked the mask and gloves inside his pockets and said, “Let’s be off if you’re ready?”

Luke glanced at Zea, who nodded. “Whoever you send should probably have at least 10 or 12 in strength. That mace is fucking heavy.”

“A mace?” Disappointment filled Spectacle’s voice. “I suppose it explains your lack of proficiency with a blade.”

“Man, what is it with everyone in the city shitting on my choice of weapon?” Luke asked. “Honestly, this whole country. Everyone wants to use a sword and nothing else. What’s so great about a sword?”

“It is the noblest of weapons,” Spectacle said. “Learning its use is akin to learning the tools of an artist’s trade. A swordsman’s work is poetry in motion.”

“Oh. Uh, okay. I guess.” Luke didn’t get it, but he wasn’t going to argue about it. “I’m just going to keep using what I’ve got now and people can think I’m an uncultured barbarian or whatever.”

Spectacle didn’t quite sniff in disdain, but Luke got the impression he wanted to. It was an active effort for Luke not to roll his eyes, but somehow, he managed. “Come on, let’s get going.”

* * *

Hakiro didn’t know what to make of the strangers. For the son of a legendary figure, Luke seemed like a normal person. There were eccentricities, sure, but they were mostly little culture shocks that any foreigner would go through, nothing Hakiro hadn’t seen before.

It was disappointing, in a way. William Bennet was the sole reason his family existed, his ancestors having been rescued from the Dragon of the Setting Sun when the Alliance of Flames had collapsed, and Hakiro meant that literally. His many-times-removed great grandfather had been part of that battle, and his personal accounts described the Dragon Emperor as a terrifying creature, supposedly level 40, which was practically unheard of for the long-lived monsters.

A level 5 drake was more than a match for a level 20 warrior. Make it a dragon, and it would fight a level 40 warrior to a standstill. The Dragon of the Setting Sun had supposedly been even more powerful than the Dragon of the Rising Dawn according to Hakiro’s ancestor, despite many historical accounts claiming they were on par with each other. When the forces of humanity had rebelled and moved to kill the Third Dragon Emperor, they’d brought forces equal to what had taken the field against the First Emperor, only to find themselves sorely outmatched.

William Bennet had turned that fight around single-handedly. He’d been a force of nature, one capable of pinning even an elder wyrm to the ground and sealing its jaws shut. In a very real sense, every living human on the eastern continent owed their freedom to William Bennet. Without his intervention, the rebellion would have failed, Hakiro’s family line would have been extinguished, and the Third Emperor would have swiftly moved to consolidate the territories left behind by his counterparts.

The dragons had been driven back, their elders murdered in their golden palaces, and the wyrmlings left to fend for themselves in he wilderness. Man ruled the land, and William Wyrmsbane became a legend, a figure so mythical there was serious debate amongst scholars as to whether he had ever even existed.

And here was his son, supposedly, just an ordinary man, and barely one at that. He couldn’t be more than twenty or twenty-one. Luke was strong enough, physically stronger than Hakiro even, but he was remarkably inexperienced and a touch naïve. Then again, the man could see other people’s statuses. It had to be pretty easy to be trusting when he knew someone else’s stats and skills. Luke would know who he could handle in the event of betrayal and who to keep a wary eye on.

Great Uncle Fujoka would handle negotiations with Luke Bennet, as was his right as the patriarch of the main branch of the family. Given his attitude towards the family’s historical collection, Hakiro doubted the patriarch would be inclined to go easy on the off-worlder. Maybe if Hakiro introduced him to Aunt Valera first, she might sway the negotiations a bit.

Hakiro didn’t honestly care, as long as they reached an agreement that included curing his brother’s XP Madness. Naghan had sacrificed everything for the family and was on track to die at the age of thirty-one. Now, Hakiro had a chance to bring him back from the brink, and he wasn’t going to let it go. He’d pay whatever price Luke asked himself, if that was what it took.

He was probably worrying over nothing. Great Uncle would see the value of pushing back XP Madness if for no other reason that getting a few more years of use out of the family’s post powerful warriors, especially considering the demons were starting to show up in numbers in the Beilon Province now.

Since the demons didn’t grant XP upon dying, a group of mentally stable warriors leveled up into the 40s and 50s was the perfect defense force. If they could field enough of the family, they might even make a fortune hiring out their services. If there was anything that motivated Hakiro’s patriarch, is was the thought of profits.

They just needed to get Luke to the estate and convince Hakiro’s great uncle of all this.

* * *

Though the east gate was closer to the barn they’d come out of, Hakiro decided to lead them around the city to the north gate instead. It was closer to his family’s home, and they could move far faster out in the farmlands surrounding the city than they could through streets crowded with refugees, even at a vastly reduced speed that allowed Zea to keep up with them.

The gate guards gave Hakiro wary glances, perhaps recognizing the tight black underclothes visible thanks to the torn shirt he was wearing, but they let the group through without incident. After that, Hakiro led them a quarter mile into the city itself and ended their journey at a pair of red painted gates surrounded by stone walls fifteen feet high and topped with ornate metal spikes.

A solitary guard stood in front of the gate, level 28 according to [Analyze], and he recognized Hakiro immediately. The guy practically tripped over his own feet scrambling to get the gate open when he noticed the group approaching. “Sir!” he said. “I’m glad to see that you’re safe.”

“Why wouldn’t I be safe?” Hakiro asked.

“The… uh, the incident, sir?”

Luke exchanged glances with Zea, but kept quiet and let Hakiro do the talking. He’d advised them to allow him to make the introductions and get them to the right people who could make decisions since both had confessed they weren’t familiar at all with the local customs and were likely to inadvertently step on some toes, which was mostly just a nice way to say that they were uncultured rubes not fit to mingle with high society.

Hakiro let his lips curl down into just a hint of a frown. “What incident is this now?”

“With the giant sinkhole, sir? I’ve heard it encompassed something like twenty blocks in the southeast corner of the city.”

“Why would I be in those slums?” Hakiro demanded.

“Oh, of course not, sir. How foolish of me,” the gate guard stammered.

Without another word, Hakiro brushed past them. He gestured for Luke and Zea to follow, and the poor guard jumped to get out of their way. Once they were inside and the gates were closed, the tension dropped out of Hakiro’s shoulders.

“It’s so tiring playing this game,” he told Luke. “Sometimes, I wish I could just walk away from it all. Go where I want. Do what I want. Act how I want. You understand?”

“Not really,” Luke said.

Hakiro snorted. “You do all of that already, don’t you?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Why should I care what some snotty rich family thinks of me?”

“You’d best care what this one thinks,” Hakiro advised him. “At least until you get what you want. Come on, I want to introduce you to Aunt Valera before my great uncle finds out you’re here. Things will go better if she’s advocating on your behalf, and she’s obsessed with history. Meeting the living descendent of William Wyrmsbane will be the highlight of her year.”

Hakiro led them through a manicured courtyard, filled with far too many flowers and sculpted trees. A stone footpath wound through it all, and even had a little bridge to take them over a creek no more than two feet wide. Even a child could have easily hopped over it, but Luke supposed that wouldn’t be proper decorum.

“It’s just over here,” Hakiro said, pointing towards something that reminded Luke of a picturesque cottage, despite looking nothing like one. It was probably the location, what with the whole garden-style courtyard that looked like it needed a dozen full-time landscapers to tend to it.

They’d barely set foot on the trail when a person wearing what had to be a uniform of black and gold appeared as if out of nowhere. It was a loose pair of pants cinched at the ankles with a gold stripe running down the front of the left leg and a white shirt with way too much material in the sleeves. They were wearing a mask similar to Hakiro’s, except it covered their entire face, leaving nothing but medium length hair showing. They showed up so fast Luke barely had a second to notice them coming before they dropped down from the sky to land in front of Hakiro.

“Master Hakiro,” the person said. Luke couldn’t tell their gender through their loose clothing, and their voice resonated strangely in the air. “Welcome home, sir. The patriarch wishes for your presence immediately.”

Hakiro’s face went blank, completely expressionless. “Very well, I’ll attend to him right now.” He turned to Luke and Zea. “Just follow the trail and knock on the door. My aunt is the one with the golden hair pins holding up what has to be five pounds of hair.”

“Your pardon, Master Hakiro. The patriarch wishes for all your presences.”