[Shrubley, the Monster Adventurer] Chapter 95 – Beeting a Dead Horse

“You can just let us go,” one of the bandits tried for the tenth time that night. “We’ve learned our ways, honest!”

Shrubley shook his bushy head and continued to haul his cargo. After another careful search for hidden weapons and the like, they struck out again through the Ranmount Pass.

It wasn’t an easy journey by any stretch, and the bandits tried everything they could to get the little shrub to let them go. Nobody else would speak to them, and those that did often would tell them to talk to Shrubley instead.

Shrubley didn’t mind. He felt sorry for the bandits. They must have felt desperate indeed to attack people for sustenance instead of hunting and camping.

There was much about the core races–humans, elves, dwarves, and the like–that Shrubley did not understand. This banditry was chief among them.

Many towns had people who were struggling, but those people never turned to harming their fellows.

Why did some turn out like this?

It was a problem Shrubley did not know if he could ever find an answer to, and it bothered him greatly to see so much suffering.

Becoming the strongest fighter, the best chef, the most renowned crafter, these were laudable goals, but they were not the core of what it meant to live. Not to Shrubley.

A life well lived. That was what was important. Reducing the suffering of those immediately around yourself, that was the meaning of life. It was very simple.

The only way to reduce your own suffering and live a pleasant life was to reduce the suffering of those around you. To leave the world better off than when you left it.

To see people who not only did not believe that, but actively made the world worse while increasing their own suffering, was the very definition of insanity to Shrubley.

“We know of a Dungeon,” one of the bandits said.

“Shut up!” another snapped at him.

“If you let me go, I’ll tell you where the Dungeon is,” the bandit said, struggling to be heard over the detractors. “That big iron key your friend found? That’ll get you inside. It’s dangerous though, I ain’t lying to you, honest eyes. Ain’t nobody, not even our leader, Julius, knows about the Dungeon. Let me go, and I’ll take you. All the riches you could want!”

Julius had been the man that gave the orders to run and then the other to shoot. He was, in Shrubley’s opinion, craftier than the others. Unfortunately, he was a sore loser.

Once beaten, he refused to say anything.

The promise of a Dungeon drew Miranda’s attention, but she stayed silent. This was up to Shrubley to decide. In Miranda’s opinion, the cold, harsh reality was that he needed to learn how to navigate the human world if he was going to survive among them.

Shrubley stopped, his wooden hands going slack on the rope lead that bound the bandits in a line behind him. As the one who had captured most of them and decided to keep them, he took it upon himself to guard them and make sure they kept pace with the rest of the party.

By holding onto the living rope, Shrubley could ensure nobody broke out of their bonds.

“A Dungeon?” Shrubley asked, his interest obviously piqued. “Nearby?”

“On the other side of the pass,” the bandit said, shimmying forward despite the glares of his fellows.

The Druid had taught him well. Shrubley was exceptionally good with knots and there was little hope of the bandits being able to slip their bonds. A few still tried, but had given up by the time the sun began to set.

“Just let me go, and I’ll bring you to it.” He tried to raise his hands in surrender, but the knot Shrubley used to bind his forearms to his biceps made it nearly impossible. “I know how strong you are. There ain’t no way I can beat you even without your friends.”

Shrubley nodded. He turned to his friends. “A Dungeon would be very useful for us.”

“There are good odds of a Dungeon having an essence,” Miranda offered. “They only appear where there are sufficient wellsprings of mana. If this man is telling the truth.” She shot a venomous glance his way, satisfied with the way he cowered. “Then I say we take him up on the offer. A reward, if there is any for them, would be a paltry sum compared to the riches we might extract from a Dungeon.”

Shrubley was silent for a while as they wound their way through the pass. Tumbling rocks and pebbles created a constant danger of slipping and falling, but the path was well-worn enough and the first of the snows were still some time off that they didn’t struggle too greatly.

“Why have you not gone in yourself?” Shrubley asked the man as they began their descent.

“I am not even a Copper,” the bandit admitted. “Scan me with your powers or whatever it is you have. I haven’t even a single essence. I was hoping to find some people willing to take me so I could stea–get an essence at the end.”

“You would steal from those that were helping you?” Shrubley asked, appalled.

“No! No, you don’t understand. Ain’t nobody know the way of the world more’n me and I tell ya, if you dangle some treasure in front o’ two people, they’ll struggle to stab each other so’s they don’t share!”

“Is this what you are doing now?” Shrubley asked calmly. Despite his efforts, he still sounded disappointed in the man.

“No! I just want to be gone from Talvar. I’ve got a warrant and the law there ain’t exactly kind to folks what lost their way, if you get my meaning.”

“I do not,” Shrubley answered truthfully.

“I’ll make it easy, friend,” the bandit said with an oily tone. “You let me go. I’ll slink off into the night. Won’t ever bother you or yours again. I’ll turn over a new leaf, be a good boy, and not only will ya be rehab… re… fixing me, but you’ll get some loot too!”

Miranda did not have it in her to dissuade Shrubley from believing the criminal. She could see in the way his lamplight eyes brightened that the soul shrub was beginning to harbor hope that the bandit might change.

“With an essence gem, another one of us would be able to get a class and reach Copper,” Cal said thoughtfully. “I don’t trust him, though. He reeks of somebody who would sooner sell his grandmother’s jewelry than do an honest day’s work.”

“Fair enough, fair enough, friend,” the bandit said, trying to bow, but the knots wouldn’t let him. “I was a bad apple, no lyin’ there. But I’m reformed now!”

Julius, the lead bandit, rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut as he had ever since Shrubley captured him.

Shrubley looked at the leader. “What do you think?”

The bandit leader raised a brow curiously and couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Clearly strength does not equate to brains because you would have to be a stone cold fool to believe this man. Even if he did know the way to the Dungeon, you could just beat it out of him. He has no leverage except your own naïve kindness.”

The wheedling bandit glared at his former boss but appeared undaunted by the admission. “He’s just mad you bested him. He thought himself a real man o’ the people. Down from the Republic. Thinks his way is better than the Empire’s! Freemen, they call themselves. Bunch o’ gora spit if you ask me. If they was so free, why’d he come to the Empire? Eh? Ask ‘im that!”

Julius’ face went a deep shade of purple, but he refused to say another word for the rest of the night.

“Very well,” Shrubley said. “You wish to be let go.”

“Yes!” the bandit cried. “You won’t regret it.”

Shrubley thought about that. “No, I do not think I will. You very clearly wish to do better, do you not?”

“Yes!”

“And you will promise to do better when you are released?”

“Turn my life right around,” the bandit said. He could nearly taste freedom. All he had to do was sell it a little more and the stupid monster would let him go into the night. Why the others followed him, he would never know, but it wasn’t important.

“Then I shall release you,” Shrubley said. “In turn, you will tell me where the Dungeon is.”

“Easy! Done deal, you won’t regret it. You’ll see, I’m a new man, me.”

Miranda did her best not to roll her eyes. As the sun dipped below the horizon in front of them, long shadows stretched out to greet them from the valley ahead.

With the last of the fading light, they could just make out a silvery stream bisecting the small valley and a quaint town. Larger than Taamra rebuilt size by about half, and well-defended judging by the glowing watch towers and high walls of stone.

“Look, Shrubley!” Smudge cried, bouncing atop his bushy head with excitement. In many ways, the slime was just as new to the world as Shrubley, if not more so. “It’s a people place!”

“Yes, it is another town. And look, you can see the Adventurers Guild from here!” Shrubley said. He studied the town with a sense of wonder and awe.

“Pyuu!”

Shrubley was immediately curious what sort of shops there were, what kinds of goods were crafted, and what the people were like. Would they be friendly like Taamra village had turned out to be? Were their foods spicy, rather than sweet?

Shrubley dearly wanted to know. But first, they had a Dungeon to find.

The bandits looked amongst themselves. “Aye, that’s Talvar,” said the wheedling bandit. “We got ourselves a deal, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Shrubley told him, not taking his eyes off the beauty of civilization. Humans always did know how to stand out. The buildings were made of a mixture of stone and wood, though far more stone than Taamra for some reason.

“How do we know he will tell us the truth?” Slyrox asked suspiciously. She poked him in the thigh. “He is bad man!”

“Hah, very clever… miss?” Slyrox nodded, and the bandit continued, “As she says, I would be an idiot to try to trick you, right? Best to tell you the truth, then you won’t be after my sorry hide. I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, but I’m street smarts, see? I know if I lie to you, I’ll just catch a hiding later.”

“We would be most dissatisfied,” Shrubley agreed.

“So then you just need to follow my directions! Got a piece of parchment or something I can draw on?”

The bandit scribbled a serviceable map on the piece of paper and pointed out the landmarks down in the valley. “Just over there, you can’t miss it.”

Shrubley folded the piece of paper and tucked it away into his inventory, which to anybody else looked as if he stuffed it inside his bushy body. “Thank you. I am sure this will go a long way toward rehabilitating you.”

“Oh, yes! Yes, indeed! Now for your end of the bargain?” He tried to lift his hands so Shrubley could cut them, but it didn’t work.

“I will release you,” Shrubley said, tugging on the braided rope that bound all the bandits together and setting off down toward the valley below. “But it would be dangerous and, above all, wrong of me to do so in such a hazardous place. I would be a very poor adventurer indeed if I released you to get eaten by wild monsters and animals.”

The bandit took a moment to think this over, then nodded emphatically. “Smart lad, smart! I knew you were a good one.”

“What is gora spit?” Slyrox asked Cal later in furtive tones.

He looked up at the blue and white stars in thought, then shrugged. “Some kind of exotic drink? Sounds salty, perhaps.”

“Doesn’t sound muchly good,” she said with a shake of her head.