041 Escalation

The genial, old clerk brought two boys to meet us, both dark-haired and dark-skinned, ages ten and twelve respectively judging by their appearance.

Nicola brightened up the moment they entered and rushed out of her seat to hug them. They returned the hug, making jokes about how she had visited just last week.

However, my eyes caught their muted elation. It was in the way they exchanged glances with each other and smiled at their sister’s doting. Neither of them possessed the exuberance I had come to associate with kids. But, they were Nicola’s siblings, alright. Their eyes burned with the same golden fire that hers did.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” the clerk said. “That should be more than enough.”

A wild thought raced past my mind. We could steal the kids and escape before the clerk could so much as blink. But then, I remembered Nicola’s warnings about the enchantments. And, the shirt slipped down around one brother’s neck, revealing a set of runes painted like a collar.

“Damien,” Nicola said, waving me over. “Come say hello.”

The two boys backed away from me with wide eyes.

“Sis . . .” the older kid said, “those ears . . . I don’t think he’s human.”

Nicola chuckled. “Of course, he’s not, you dummy. Damien’s an elf.”

The two boys exchanged glances.

“I’ve never seen an elf,” the younger kid said, pushing his locs out of his face. “He’s not evil, is he?”

“Oh, come on,” I said, throwing my arms. “Why does everyone have something bad to say about me?”

“It’s the eyes,” Nicola said, and she laughed even harder. “You don’t know how scary you look.”

“That’s a problem of genetics. It has nothing to do with my character!”

The older kid scratched his chin. “Yeah, he looks a little dangerous. Imposing, too.”

“I don’t like him,” the younger said from safety behind Nicola. “I prefer Ben.”

Hey, now! That kinda hurt.

“What’s your relationship with our sister?” the older said, balling his fists. “If you are just another sleazebag—”

Nicola thwacked him over the head.

“What did I teach you about making assumptions? Damien is from Dreadwood, but he’s still nicer than anyone in the city.” She turned to me. “Damien, meet Theo and Bart. The bestest brothers in the entire world.” She made an uwu face and hugged them again. “They don’t know much about the outside world except from the stories they hear, so don’t take any of what they say to heart.”

“Oh, I wasn’t offended,” I said, extending a hand to Theo, the older of the two. “If they are this interested in the company you keep, then they must be good lads.”

Theo scrutinized my offered hand, wrinkling his nose at the compliment.

“Theo,” Nicola warned.

“Oh, alright.” He shook my hand with a grip, far weaker than a boy his age should exude. “Nice to meet you, Damien. Just look out for her, okay? Sometimes, she gets into stuff way over her head.”

“I promise,” I replied, much to Nicola’s indignation.

Bart looked between his brother and me, and then he shuffled forward for a handshake of his own.

“You’re from the forest?” he asked with furrowed brows. “How do you even live there? I heard it’s full of monsters.”

“Lots of monsters,” I agreed. “But, they’re no match for me. I’m pretty strong too.”

Bart beamed. “I’ll save up money once I get out of here. I’m going to be a ranker too!”

Nicola bit her lip.

“Hey, shut it,” Theo said. “What did I tell you about talking about the outside?”

“But, you said we’d be able to leave soon—”

“I didn’t—”

“You will, okay?” Nicola interjected, kneeling to ruffle Bart’s hair. “It might take a little more time, but I promise to get you out of here.”

“Soon, right?” Bart said.

“Yes, baby. Soon.”

Bart stuck his tongue out at Theo. “See? I told you so.”

But, Theo kept quiet, keeping his sullen eyes on his sister.

He knew she was lying. He knew.

I returned to my bench after that, giving the siblings some space. They made use of their limited time to talk, bond, and eat. They also posed questions to me, which I ensured to answer with gusto.

I didn’t have the power to change the world, but Paz had been right about my accompanying lack of desire.

The Ainsworths laughed despite their circumstances.

But, me? My blood boiled.

“So, where is your father anyway?” I asked Nicola, as we made our way through Skeelie with the backdrop of a setting sun.

We had spent the rest of the day traveling around the city, visiting landmarks that Nicola considered important. She had tried to pull me into the temple, a towering building built for those seeking to experience the cult’s special brand of hospitality, but I had made good use of [Stealth].

We wandered around now, discussing her mother who had died at Bart’s birth, and her missing dad.

“Who knows where that fucker is?” she said, crossing her arms behind her hat. “He fled Skeelie to escape the bank’s mercenaries. Probably fled all of Bargheria too. My best guess is that he died in a ditch somewhere.” She beamed at that part. “Not that he has anything to return to. Everything he owned was seized by the bank. Well, almost everything.”

“Almost everything?”

“I reclaimed the house,” Nicola said with a triumphant smile. “The noble who won it at the auction promised to return it if I escorted him for a week. A small matter for a sister of the cult.

“Damn fool tried his best to break me, but he only ended up powering my reserves. I gained the house and a few pieces of silver. In exchange, he died of a heart attack a few days later. Figures that a debased mind can’t make up for a frail body . . . or a short stick.” She averted her gaze after that. “Sorry for being crass.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said. “I’ve had bosses who could swear bad enough to kill priests.”

“Bosses? Like the chiefs in your elf village?”

“Something like that.”

A rich aroma, the smell of freshly baked pie danced on the wind. Everyone here loved to eat. I could respect that.

“I take it that the house is important to you?” I asked.

“Not by much, no,” she said. “Sure, we all grew up in it. But, I can’t cross the hallway without recalling the night the enforcers forced down the doors or bound us in runes.” Her fingers flitted to her neck.

“Why keep it then?”

“Because I didn’t want strangers trampling over one more thing I owned.” She wiped her eyes. “It also helped save on the rent; you have no idea how much things cost in Skeelie. I’d once entertained dreams of living again with my siblings in those halls. But, that was a long time ago.

“I’ve since filed for a change in the deed of ownership. Once the city approves it, I can sell the house for a fair sum. At least six gold pieces. It should help relieve the weight on my back.”

I kicked a pebble clear across the street. “So, that was your plan to repay your debt.”

“Part of it, yeah. I’ve saved up a fair bit of money too. I just need to work harder over the next two years to see it through to the end. Theo, first. Then, Bart.” Her eyes burned. “It’s not impossible.”

I glanced at the spire towering over the city. Every vein in my body told me that the [System] intended for me to come here and earn a new quest. “The Labyrinth’s still an option . . .”

“Stop, Damien. Just stop. Ben tried to convince me to participate. But, between his departure and the problem with Byron, I will never be up for it. I’ll sell the house and work myself to the bone to make up the balance.”

Yes, but I could also enter on her behalf. “What do I need to do to participate?”

Nicola furrowed her brows. “You’d need to pay the guild fee and register a party. Four is the standard number, I believe, though three is also approved. The Labyrinth places a cap on the number of participants at two hundred. The window for registrations opens tomorrow, though it’s on a first-come first-serve basis and closes once the quota has been reached.”

I cast my eyes in the direction of the Adventurer’s Guild. Dungeon crawling sounded exciting, especially for a noble cause. But, all this was irrelevant. Unless I found more spirit orbs, I would consume the last of them tomorrow, leaving me just two more days to live.

Nicola grabbed my arm. “Damien, you’re not thinking of going in there, are you?”

I patted her hand. “I don’t have much time left, Nicola. And, it’s not like I’ve found success building a party.”

“This again? Why do you care so much about it?”

“Because it is a matter of grave consequence.”

Nicola frowned. “How about this? My home’s not too far from here. If you have nothing else to do, maybe you could stop by. We could share a meal, and I’ll listen to your story over some ale.”

“That sounds pretty cozy.”

Nicola smiled—really smiled, for the first time since I’d known her. She added a hop to her step and led me toward the nicer parts of town, which lay to the south, close to the areas reserved for the lords and ladies.

Her wide, honest grin proved infectious, and I soon found myself laughing along. We turned the corner into Nicola’s street.

Our laughter died in our throats.

A building burned, completely engulfed by fire from a pit of hell.

Large tongues of flame that grew larger with each passing second, roared up into the sky. The conflagration cast a red glare over a group of bystanders who stood around the street, gaping at the chaos.

The vivid illumination of the streetlamps dampened the glare, but they did nothing for the expression of sheer horror that unfurled across Nicola’s face.

The next moment, she raced for the building, shoes flying off behind her.

I chased after Nicola but didn’t restrain her. Not when I understood what had occurred.

The Ainsworth Manor had become a furnace. The small, two-story building quailed within an inferno that reeked of magic. The flames consumed everything from the fence to the pillars, and the roof buckled even as I watched.

At that moment, I grabbed Nicola to keep her from wading through the front door. Her legs gave way beneath her and she wept.

My god, she wept.

A Mage in the city’s employ arrived some precious minutes after we did, but her water-creation magic did little to combat the fire. By the time she was done, a ruined husk stood in the manor’s wake.

And, Nicola . . .

Dear, Nicola. She flattened herself on the ground, bawling onto the cobblestones.

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

I could only recall cradling a soot-ridden Nicola in my room at the inn as she created a wet patch on my chest.

Each sob struck like a knife, driven into my heart.

I sat in the Adventurer’s Guild the next morning.

Rankers from all over the region flooded in to register for the festival. Each party placed their name on a board, and then they hung around to mingle with fellow rankers.

Sometimes, the crowd cheered when a popular ranker stepped up to the board. Other times, they fell silent when an unknown party appeared.

The guild had designed things this way to milk the excitement. I could see why. All of the gathered rankers eyed each other like wolves, despite wide smiles and hearty laughter. This was a chance for participants to gauge the competition, make deals, and strike alliances. If anyone here wanted the Labyrinth’s treasures, these were the people they needed to beat.

The number of participating parties eventually rose to forty. Not a record high. But, a peak nonetheless.

Byron arrived around noon—one hour before the deadline—complete with his crew. A hush fell over the crowd as he surveyed the room with disinterest. He was dressed in heavy armor now, complete with a goat-horned helmet which he carried under his arm.

Hey, it seems you are afraid.

+1 has been added to all stats.

Byron walked up to the counter and requested a guild card. He scribbled his party’s name on it and walked to the board at the other end of the hall.

I reached him just as he finished pinning the card and slugged him square on the face.