[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapter 121 – Hittin’ the Gritty

Remal sighed and leaned back in his chair. He ran a hand through his recently styled hair, tousling it for an extra dazzling effect.

Even while bedridden, he had to look his best. Mostly for himself, though also for Sel. Not that he was going to tell the beautiful elf that.

Despite what they had gone through together, Remal wasn’t accustomed to tying himself down to any particular person. A lasting romantic relationship resided in the big unknown to the Steel Ranked Bard. With the extended lifespan that Steel offered, staying with just one person sounded boring to Remal.

And yet he looked forward to every visit from the new Guild Leader. Sel came to check on him more than was strictly called for, but he would never be caught dead saying something as foolish as that aloud.

Jerric knocked and entered the room without waiting long. He knew if Remal didn’t want him to come in, he would lock the door. Not that such a thing would stop the Steel Ranked Paladin, but it would be a symbolic gesture.

“Still pining after her, huh?” Jerric asked, tossing down a heavy pouch on the table.

Ignoring that jab, Remal looked at the pouch. “So, you finally found some Grit?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“I’ll say. In this town? I’m surprised you could find it here at all. It’s incredibly rare even in the Outer Ring.”

“With that, you think you’ll be back on your feet?” Jerric asked. “We need to get going. Shrubley’s already got several days on us. I would like to be in Sormwynn when he gets there.”

“How are you so sure that’s where he’s going?” Remal couldn’t understand the Paladin’s confidence in the matter. While Shrubley was an adventurer, he was a monster, too.

Remal had it on good authority that the little guy had last been spotted in Talvar with that dark, tall, brooding noble who also just happened to be a vampyr. And though the pair couldn’t be any more different from one another, they still shared one thing in common.

They were monsters.

And monsters tended to gather somewhere else that certainly wasn’t Sormwynn. Besides, if his informant was right, they were headed in the wrong direction for the capital.

Jerric pulled up a chair and sat on the opposite side of the window where the Bard was peering down into the street. Clearly Remal was waiting for Sel, though why he didn’t just come out with it and start dating her was anybody’s guess.

Henry thought maybe he was sick, because this definitely wasn’t the Remal they had trained with at the Academy. He never pined after anyone. It was typically the other way around.

“Why wouldn’t he?” Jerric said. “It’s where all adventurers are drawn to, eventually. It’s the capital for a reason.”

Remal shook his head. For as much as Jerric was insightful, he often missed the mark when it came to the simpler things. Or the glaringly obvious. Or the mundane.

In fact, scratch all that about Jerric being insightful.

“Even if we were to leave in a month, we’d still get there before him,” Remal pointed out. “And the Guild hasn’t told us we can leave. In the meantime, we can score some brownie points, help rebuild, and help out the branch Guild here. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get back into the good graces of the Guild so you can earn your stars back and return with your head held high?”

Jerric snorted. “We all want that. We’re not going to get Silver here, no matter what we do. We could rebuild the entire border area and we still wouldn’t move the needle. Besides, we’d be depriving the fledgling adventurers here of appropriate battles. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Then what, you’re just interested in going back to fighting and leveling up again?” At the thought of leaving, Remal began to grow uneasy for a reason he didn’t entirely understand. It wasn’t just the Guild Leader. He pushed back against the intrusive images of the battle against the sea of serpentii.

Jerric picked up the pouch and tossed it in his hand. “You’re not going to use this, are you?”

“Probably not,” Remal admitted. “I appreciate the effort, but you know how I feel about that stuff. After what sent us here, I’d think you would be a little more cautious about using the stuff.”

Jerric scowled and slipped the pouch into his cloak. He hated it when Remal was the voice of reason, much less the voice of morality.

“It feels like the sky and ground have switched places,” Jerric admitted.

“Your heart was in the right place,” Remal said. “And, truthfully, I’m tempted. As much as I appreciate what Shrubley did for me, there is only so much a Copper can do to heal the wounds of a Steel. Nobody else in town is even close to Shrubley’s strength in healing, so I’m left to my own devices. That Grit would definitely help speed up my recovery. There’s no doubt about it. But…”

“But you don’t want to get addicted,” Jerric said for him. “I would watch you, you know.”

“I already have issues with self-control. I’m not sure I could trust myself to even try, to be honest,” Remal said. He tried to ignore the temptation. It would be blessedly nice to mend his injuries and skip the daily reminder of that battle to the death.

“Fair enough,” Jerric said. “I’ll not bring it up again.”

Remal eyed him. “But you’re not going to get rid of it, are you?”

Jerric wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’ll… think about it.”

“If it’s a money thing–”

“It’s not that.” Jerric sagged in his seat, his armor squealing against the ladder-back chair. “You know partly why it’s banned, right?”

“Aside from the potential to kill you and the people you love most?”

“Don’t be an ass, Remal. It’s banned because the Nobles don’t want anybody else joining them. You think the Great Houses don’t use Grit to advance past Steel? They give their kids this stuff to push them out of the Alloy Stage as fast as possible. You ever wonder why they are so vehemently against Grit?”

“It could also be because it’s one of the few items in the entire world that lacks Shardscript. I would say that’s pretty suspicious, wouldn’t you? It’s as if the Shard doesn’t even recognize the stuff.”

“I get it,” Jerric told him. “Here. You decide what to do with it, okay? You want to break through Steel the hard way? Then get off your backside, Remal.”

Remal stared at the pouch on the table. With just a thimble of the stuff, he could be back as good as new. Grit had remarkable properties that nobody had ever fully discovered.

It was outlawed in every civilized country in the world, which meant that you could get it at an incredibly shady apothecary or underground marketplace. While rare, it wasn’t impossible to get your hands on.

Grit dealers were cautious and secretive, but they were not the boogeymen the Imperials made them out to be. Who in their right mind would give Grit to a kid? Kids didn’t have money, and they talked way too much besides.

Having an ounce of the stuff carried a hefty fine. The pound–judging by the heft–of what Jerric had procured was enough to ruin all their lives. Jerric would be stripped of his titles and land, for one. They would have their entire accounts seized, booted from the Adventurers Guild in disgrace, and if that wasn’t enough, they would likely be thrown into prison.

The safer option was to get rid of it. And yet… the potential was massive. Not only would Remal be back on his feet, but if he cycled with the stuff in his veins, he might be able to break through Mid Steel.

“So you’re putting all the risk on me,” Remal said, unable to look away from the pouch that offered so much to him.

If I had been stronger, would I have nearly died to those serpentii? Remal couldn’t help but wonder.

Jerric shook his head sadly. “I may be the group’s leader, but I don’t want to make everybody’s choices for them. This is one of those choices that if we’re not all in on it, none of us are. I… obviously want us to get stronger, but now I’m not sure the cost is worth it.”

Remal slid the pouch back and forth across the table. “What about the others?”

“Fio is in, though she’s admittedly skittish about it,” Jerric told him. “And you know Henry will do anything for his baby sister. He doesn’t like it, but then again, he doesn’t like much, does he?”

“When isn’t she skittish? I bet you just flashed those pretty eyes of yours and she was all for it.” Remal pumped his eyebrows meaningfully at Jerric.

“Knock it off.”

Remal raised hands in surrender. “I just call it like I see it, friend.” He dropped his hands back to the bag, unable to fully let it go and unable to use it at the same time.

Remal grinned at his friend. “You know, giving the Bard a moral quandary is a helluva thing. A recipe either for disaster or greatness.”

“The irony has not been lost on me. But I think you, more than anybody, deserve to make the call here.” Jerric’s eyes glittered.

“You’ve got that look. You know I don’t like it when you get that look!”

“I think it’s called a ‘Plan’, Rem.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not sure I like it.” Remal’s eyes widened as he caught up to the possibilities before him. “Oh, you’re a very bad man, Jerric. How the seven hells did you become a Paladin?”

Jerric shrugged. “It was on offer, and it fit.”

“This is a dangerous game you’re willing to play. Either way, we might get burned, and I’m not sure who I’m more afraid of, the Empire or the Consortium.”

“Better than fading away into mediocrity and being forgotten. Just… think about it, okay? That’s all I ask.” Jerric got up, laid a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, and then left the room.

Drumming his fingers on the tabletop, one hand on the pouch of Grit, Remal thought about the options before him.

Jerric had grown up in a lower House, they had to play the Game far more than anybody else just to stay on top of their little slice of nobility.

He always seemed so strait-laced, but the reality was that Jerric was likely craftier than even Remal, who had grown up on the soiled streets and seen every trick in the conman’s book. Even made a few new ones himself along the way.

So how was it that Jerric was the one willing to go all in on not one, but two incredibly deadly and dangerous paths to fame and fortune, while Remal was busy mooning over a pretty girl like he was back at the Bard’s College?

Being battle weary didn’t explain it away.

On the one hand, if they all took the Grit, they might be able to break through to Silver. That alone would get them the attention of the other Nobles–meaning those of Noble Stage, Silver, Electrum, and Gold–and the Guild itself.

Was Silver truly worth that lifelong stain to get to the top? Even with hundreds more years added to his lifespan, could he ever do enough good deeds to wipe away the filth from his soul?

On the other hand, they had enough Grit here to ruin their lives, but also the lives of those people who sold it.

Grit dealers, and the mysterious Consortium that backed them, were reviled the world over. They were also far more protective of themselves, but if Jerric had an in with one of them, that was enough of a lead that they could turn this evidence over to the Imperial Courts and get a dispensation for hunting and rooting the peddlers out.

Both paths were fraught with danger and pitfalls. And yet both lead to glory beyond imagining.

Like most adventurers, Remal still harbored fanciful dreams of being some kind of stalwart hero. But life wasn’t that simple, nor that easy. For all he knew, Grit could actually be the secret to reaching Silver.

“What’s life without a little risk?” Remal said to himself, a smirk slowly forming on his lips.