novelraw Chapter 166: Step Three - Profit
Chapter 166: Step Three - Profit
The Straggler’s Last Chance Tavern and Casino - Telaseer - Kingdom of Transgracia - Nexus. Local Time: 1540
Apprentice Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second
A tavern.
A bar.
A casino.
A wretched hive of scum and villainy—
—of debauchery and sin.
…
Though sin was perhaps a bit debatable depending on the circles.
But I digress.
This tavern. This bar. This casino where lives were made and lost, all with a roll of the dice and the spin of a turntable…
It was in such places — these wretched undersocieties — where I might find respite in this seemingly endless search.
Respite how, one may ask?
In what fashion could such an uncouth establishment provide any solace that the polite and civil world could not?
“Ahem.” I coughed once, hiding beneath a cloak of questionable make and even more questionable grime, all in order to blend in with these lowlife fools.
“Ahem.” I coughed again, trying but failing to garner the barkeep’s attention.
“A-HEM.” I did it again, this time finally making myself heard.
Ah, yes. The three coughs. A common ‘entry’ token into these parts. These people only speak in hushed riddles… the scum they are.
“Yeah? Whatcha want?”
“A shot of wake-up elixir, if you wouldn’t mind.” I spoke in a hushed yet gruff accent, my time on the road and the streets over what felt like years now having since shaped me into someone more wizened to the ways of the peasantry. “And make it a double.”
The elven barkeep eyed me up and down, sizing me for my worthiness of a drink, which was my primary goal for the afternoon.
These were made stronger than any I’d experienced on the road to date, second only to the Academy’s everlasting elixirs…
“Ye can’t put two shots in a single glass, ya dumbass.” The barkeep finally responded, laughing and causing that potbelly of his to jolt up and down, completely desecrating the elven form in the process.
“I meant double the order, you, you… rapscallion!” I managed out with indignant vitriol, only to garner a confused, then eventually dismissive, glare from the man.
“Then it’d be double. Not a double, idiot. A double means ya wanna double the shit in a glass. Haven’t ye ever been t’a bar before?”
The few patrons beside us began turning their eyes in my direction but just as quickly shrugged in tired chuckles and giggles.
“Just… do as I say… I’ve had a long week and I’d rather not—”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it a million times, chum. Two wake-ups comin’ right up.”
I sighed and nodded in silent acceptance… a motion I’d learned now over the course of the week.
There was a… certain importance to keeping a ‘low profile,' as many adventurers I’d met along my journey had called it.
It was perhaps the reason why both that infernal rule-breaking bridge-crosser and her stupid mutt had managed to evade me so effortlessly.
They were operating by commoner’s tactics by ensuring they performed everything unannounced, exiting and entering the stage without the pomp and circumstance otherwise expected of the noble and the highborn.
It was so fitting too, considering their heritages.
But I digress.
It was now my turn to adopt such a performance.
And indeed, I had to reiterate to myself and to all who may ask that this is simply just that — a performance.
For such a role, such a… facade was oh so beneath me.
But this would be the only way I could ever hope to catch up with the pair. As they would be expecting someone else, perhaps. But not anymore.
I would practice the very subtleties they’d mastered, the lives lived in the dark as they seem to both thrive in.
For only in invisibility will I be able to find those who had oh so effortlessly managed to make entrance and departure without ever raising a single—
SLAM!
The front doors swung open, hitting the half-broken doorstoppers to their respective sides and causing all eyes below to stare up at the street-level entrance.
A stream of light shone through, illuminating the otherwise perpetually darkened state of this dreary establishment, setting the stage for an almost ethereal entrance of two blurry figures.
Figures… which soon became clear after a mere moment of adjusting my gaze.
As there, at the foot of the doorway, stood two larger-than-life elvenform silhouettes.
A confident, stoic, and dare I say dashing half-armored lupinor with a masterfully tailored traveler’s cloak barely hiding the shiny armor and rich tunics beneath its voluminous heft… and an imposing fully kitted knight wrapped in sashes, cloaks, and all the braces required to keep said fabrics held tight.
The pair’s respective over-capes fluttered magnificently in the winds of the street behind them before they finally came to a stop with another resonant SLAM of both doors and a clearing of one of their throats.
“Ahem. So… this here’s a casino, right?” The knight spoke, her voice echoing throughout the cavernous cellar-turned-hostelry with a familiarity. It was Booker.
“Yeah?” The barkeep plodded towards her, climbing up the stairs with his goons. “What’s it to ya?” He spoke with that ridiculous Transgracian drawl.
“Oh, cool! We’ve been looking for one since we just cleared house…” She paused before the mercenary prince opened a bag for the less-than-virtuous proprietor's eyes.
Eyes… which swelled up several sizes the moment he gazed inside of it.
“What’s the house gratuity here?” The mercenary prince questioned.
“Same as everywhere’s. One per hundred.” The elf responded, reaching for a magnifying glass inside one of his apron pouches.
The pair turned to one another, the prince smiling a mercenary’s grin.
“How much to open a private room?” He asked promptly.
“Nah’room’s here, am afraid. Just a private table, o’er thereabouts.” The elven barkeep pointed to the middle of the room, where a crowd was quickly gathering.
“Private?” The prince reiterated.
“Aye, closed game.” The elf nodded deeply.
“Cost?” He hammered once more.
“Nah’price. Just make it an entertaining one, and maybe tip the dealer sum, if ya feeling it. Though we keep it fair hereabouts, a copper’a gold for the tips at minimum.”
The unruly pair — these gods amidst ruffians — turned to one another and nodded before turning back to the elf in question.
“You’ve got yourself a deal. Get the dealer up here, and we’ll talk shop.”
“Aye.” The elf nodded, clearing his throat loudly for all to hear whilst turning back to the gambling hall. “OY RASSIE, GET UP ‘ERE. WE GOT SOME HIGH ROLLERS!” He hollered at the top of his lungs, garnering the attention of not just all his employees but the patrons too.
A small kobold quickly scrambled up, scampering on all fours before reaching the top of the stairs with a dealer’s hat barely hanging on to one of his horns.
“What can I do ya for, honored sirs and madams?” He practically squeaked out.
“Heaven and Hell.” The mercenary prince responded promptly. “Can ya do half a minute a play?”
The kobold narrowed his eyes before letting out a knowing grin. “Heh… hehheheheheheheheheh… ahhh yes, yes, yes, yes. Yes, Rassie can do… Rassie can do faster if honored sirs and madams wishes to expespesidse.”
It’sexpedite,you uncultured swine! I grumbled to myself internally, my face twitching not just at the wretchedly broken grammar but adversely reacting to the maligned, money-merry miscreants.
“Let’s just keep it at half’a’minute, Rassie. We’re not in any rush.” The prince smiled toothily.
“Yes, yes. Rassie can do. Rassie… will have fun today!” The kobold cackled wildly, more reminiscent of a gremlin than his actual heritage.
What followed next was another scamper as he made his way up what appeared to be the tattered riggings of a ship — I’d at first assumed was there just for decoration — before reaching the rafters of this underground den.
“LADIES AND GENTS, CREATURES OF ALL TYPES AND FORMS, LEND ME YER EARHOLES!” He screamed. “IT’S TIME TO GO…” He paused for dramatic effect as both the prince and the cadet stepped forward, leaning against the small outcropping’s railings.
“GAAAAMMMBLLIIIINNGGGGGGG!!” They all yelled at once.
What followed next was my poor headache reaching its peak, as hoots, hollers, yells, and drunken cries all went out, as the ‘show’ was now well underway.
…
So much for subtlety Ral Altaria Del Narya Sey Antisonzia the Second…
3 Days Prior
The Forests of Ruvina - Kingdom of Transgracia - Nexus. Local Time: 1430
Vicini Lorsi
I was here to vie for power.
I was sent for reasons seen universally and twice over.
I’d made my calculations and wagered within reason.
But in the words of the ancients, there were no half-rights in wagers.
Lord Ping was my brazen gamble, and indeed, through him I was proven half-right.
His presence was strong.
His power was palpable.
But it was in these two strengths that my weaknesses showed.
I was a born-and-bred diplomat, and he a zealot.
And zealots?
Well…
Zealots rarely spoke in the same language, let alone dialect.
This meant that my strengths were worthless, and my aims for influence… as untenable as Ping’s hopes for seeing reason.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
But all of that was behind me now.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
All of that… as recent as it was and as palpable as it was — because of course it was — simply didn’t matter here.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Pulse.
Here… in this space… was a symphony playing at a different tempo. A beat measured not in weeks, months, or years, but millennia; a rhythm taking untold eons to play out.
My life, my aims, my ambitions, and my strife — all of it faded into the distance, joining the ranks of the bristling winds that rose and fell as rhythmically as a flickering flame.
It was strange, jarring even. If it wasn’t so… obvious in communion.
Because from the instant I’d touched her roots, joined her chorus, and placed myself amidst one of an innumerable branches, did I truly question myself on something so obvious, so self-evident, so… plain and inescapable: why?
Why was I doing this?
Why, in my mortal coil measured in centuries, was I even here?
My seconds weren’t counted in years, my thoughts did not stretch into eternity, my mind was constrained, and my window into the world: fixed.
Why then, was I spending it all, each precious second, every valuable moment… in willful suffering?
Why…
Why did magic even have to—
I felt a tug.
Then a gentle weave, like a thread piercing my very heart.
A sharp pain pierced through my soul.
And then… I saw it.
The whole forest pulsed in rhythmic beauty. Leylines of random elegance organized now into… clear and dissectable patterns.
What had previously been a tangled mess now more resembled the thoughtful designs of a spiderweb. Every line and every connection was done with purpose; no effort was expended without reason or gain.
Throughout it I could feel the pulses, the tiny and seemingly distant movements of millions of creatures inhabiting it without acknowledging the presence of this titan that provided shade and shelter.
And within it, deep within its core, I could see…
Me.
A wisp of a silhouette knelt down, neck bowed, prostrating itself to a god in all but name.
This… this is how men like us pray, Vicini.
I heard my uncle’s voice echoing in the distance of my own memories this time.
You’ll understand once you’ve made pilgrimage, once you set foot on the soil of trulyoldgrowth.
I could feel it now.
I could see it.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
I could, for the very first time, understand.
And because of that — indeed because of all of this — did I finally feel something I hadn’t felt since stepping through that portal into the Academy.
Fulfillment.
Fulfillment alongside honor, pride, and just about every other ego-tickling descriptor under the sun.
But beyond that, distilled and condensed and rising above these petty and fleeting aspirations… I was struck with humility.
I felt, as any druid would in my shoes, blessed.
Blessed that I’d arrived in a place far older than any other.
Blessed that I’d not only arrived here but was granted entry into a space where the growths of old still stood strong.
And without a doubt… I felt blessed for being able, for being allowed not by any worldly authorities, but by the ultimate authority of all… to commune in her presence.
I breathed in.
And in that single breath, I felt the lungs of a great and all-encompassing beast inhale along with me.
“The trees were a realm’s lungs!” My uncle would say.
And I could see now what he meant.
I… lingered for a moment more.
Then another.
I floated listlessly, aimlessly, in the grand internal tapestry that was the forest.
And it was there, that I finally found peac—
“LORSI!”
THUMP!
I felt myself reeling, as if grappled and ripped down from the heights of an aethraship.
My gut twisted.
And then I felt my whole body tumbling to the grassy forest floor.
Leypull returned, and so did weight, and awareness, and the all-present sensation of my limbs, my torso, my head, and all of this that bound me to a body that I loath—
THWUMP!
I felt a massive blow to my side, the air being pushed out and the abrupt and sudden force
that resonated through my entire abdomen.“I’ve been WAITING for HALF AN HOUR NOW! You said this would take no longer than a minute, ‘scarcely a second,' in your own words! So where is it?! Where’s the everblooming blossom, Lord Lorsi? Or were you also trying to use your silver tongue to overexaggerate this aspect of your being?”
I felt a burning, a fire growing within me, a hatred for a moment lost that could potentially never be recovered.
My whole body shook as I stood back up with a vigor I didn’t know existed within me.
“You interrupted me, Lord Ping.” I spoke plainly, simply, without any emotive resonance beyond the genuine spite flowing through my veins.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry. I interrupted you now, did I?” Ping responded facetiously, deriding my presence with each and every syllable spoken. “Interrupted what exactly? Your precious nap? Your oh-so-warranted rest for those spindly little legs of yours?” He paused if only to jab at both of my legs with his hiking cane. “I brought you here for a reason. You’re supposed to be my druid, and my guide into this Majesty-forsaken forest. And what have you shown for that? Hmm? What exactly?” He paused once again, gesturing to his overcomplicated timepiece. “Time. Energy. And more time. Time that we cannot reclaim. Time that we cannot recoup. Time, Lord Lorsi, time that you’ve spent faffing about trying to speak with twigs and brambles!"
The bullish Ping kicked, writhed, and screamed. His presence — indeed, his growing impatience — superseded the anger welling within me.
There was no one else in the forest.
And there was no telling where an irate zealot could go with that line of thinking.
So I relented.
Anger became quiet resentment, and disdain became an afterthought as I moved to my diplomat self, shedding the druid, if only for a moment. If only to secure my own continuity in the presence of a beast.
“If you will give me just another moment, Lord Ping, this is my first time actually communing with a forest of this age and majesty. I assure you, this will take no longer than ten more min—”
“I have had it with your empty promises, Lorsi.” Ping interceded. “If you can’t do it, then so be it. But tell me right now, to my face, that you are no druid.” He spat out with a derisive and purposeful drawl.
Those words… penetrated deep, far deeper than I thought, cracking the shell outside that attempted to keep reason aloft.
“What did you say to me?” I uttered softly.
“What? Were you too busy ‘communing’ just now to not hear my ‘mortal’ words, oh wise and clever druid of mine? ” He continued in that signature condescending vigor. “I said you’re no druid. And I wish for you to acknowledge it. You’re just like any of us, perhaps a bit more specialized in the druidic arts, but that’s where it ends. You’re no true druid. You’re just a silver-tongued, lackluster noble with a penchant for overpromising—”
“OVERPROMISING?!” I finally let my emotions flow. The bottled frustration, anger, turmoil, and the storm all kept restlessly within, exploding outwards in a single, uncompromising word.
This took Ping by surprise as he took a step back at that abrupt shift in both my voice and posture.
“That’s CHARMING! QUAINT, even! Coming from you of all people, Lord Ping!!!” I exclaimed, facetiously, derisively, practically miming the bullish man’s own cadence and spitting it right back at him. “The audacity, the sheer and utter hubris of you to—”
“Lord Lorsi.” Ping returned. This time, lacking in his usual fury. The restraint, however, was enough to send me back into my shell, as this foreign outward persona brought with it something that his fiery persona had lacked — dread. “I advise you to choose your next words with care.” He continued as he took careful and slow methodical steps forward, one fist raised with a palm wide open.
And in that moment… I felt the telltale signs of a spell rapidly forming, of manastreams expertly redirected and siphoned, for a spell of unknown proportions.
“For depending on how it is you choose to address me, you will be determining which of the fates I have prepared for you.” He concluded, those eyes bulging with distilled ire, but those features… carrying with it nothing but cold and calculated cunning.
“L-Lord Ping, I just… please, allow me to continue my work. I will ensure that I will—”
“Oh. No, no, no.” He shook his head with a dry laugh. “You answer me not with pleas or apologies, but instead with requests? No. That is not what I wanted. You, once again, refuse to comply with my expectations. Is it so hard? Truly, is it so hard to simply act your part?”
“Lord—”
“No, no. You’ve had your chance. A simple ‘apologies’ in that opening statement would have defused this.” He clenched his fist, and with it a flame erupted with a threatening glow. “But you couldn’t even do that. You have no one but yourself to blame, Lord Lorsi. Know that I act not out of unreasonable malice, but an earned ire. One born entirely of your own making.”
I stepped back slowly, hooves nearly tripping on themselves before finally, I slammed back first into a tree.
The beast continued his slow march, his grin growing with a twisted satisfaction. “It won’t scar. I assure you. I’m sure your druidic powers can heal a bit of mangled fur and skin, correct?” He chuckled darkly, reaching that flame-ridden hand so close that I could smell the sickening acrid stench of singed fur before it’d even made contact with my skin.
I felt the heat…
…
But nothing more.
My eyes had been closed in gut-wrenching anticipation.
But nothing came for seconds afterwards.
I opened my eyes, expecting to see another sickening ploy, a ‘tease’ of abuse that, by its own nature, had done the job of any physical harm.
Such a ploy was common with Ping anyways.
But this wasn’t that.
No.
Ping’s hand remained floating just a sliver away from my face… but not by his own twisted will.
Instead, something else entirely had come to my rescue.
CRUMPLE!
The bullish bully’s wrist had been wrapped by a thick and twisting vine.
The same went for his ankles, waist, and even his neck.
It made short work of the magical enchantments in his vambraces, greaves, gauntlets, and so on and so forth, crushing them effortlessly and without much care.
We locked eyes, and in that moment I saw the greatest reversal of fortune I’d ever experienced.
Because for the very first time… I saw something other than confidence, power, pride, and superiority behind those eyes.
I saw fear.
Though anger came not too far behind.
We both stood there, locked in time for a full minute — confusion over precisely what had happened completely overwhelming the both of us — before I finally found the courage to step away.
And with that, came the half-garbled huffs of an asphyxiating pronarthiarealmer.
Though as unintelligible as they may be, I could understand most of the choice words he had for me.
His indignant rage being the primary thing struggling to be conveyed here.
Satisfaction welled within me.
Glee came to fill my cowardly little heart not long after.
“Thank you…” I spoke under a hushed and barely audible breath, prostrating myself once more at the grass beneath my hooves.
But before I could celebrate, and before I could lord my victory over Ping, my conscious thoughts came rushing to take their place.
This couldn’t continue.
I couldn’t risk a first death manifesting on someone like Lord Ping at that.
And so I pleaded my case.
“Your protection honors me, Great Forest… but I ask that you release him.” I spoke with reverence.
…
But received no response, causing the already panicking Ping to grow increasingly restless.
“Great Forest, I… I am no longer in any harm. I ask that you—”
RUSTLE!
RUSTLE!
SCHWOOOOMP!
The ground beneath us opened up.
Or more specifically, it opened up beneath Ping’s feet.
The bullish noble began giving it his all at this point. Twisting, writhing, tugging, and pulling, all in vain as the ground beneath him swallowed him up inch by inch.
“Great Forest, I assure you he has done no wrong! He meant no real harm. I was in no real danger. Please, I am pleading with you to let him go!”
My pleas… were finally met with a gradual halt of the all-consuming dirt, the world around me growing still, as Ping was just about two-thirds deep into the dirt by this point, his eyes glaring up at me with an indignant rage.
"Oh, thank His Maj—”
RUSTLE!
The momentary lapse was replaced by an even more aggressive ingress of dirt, as Ping was pulled deeper and deeper still, until only his head remained just barely above the ground.
I panicked
and, in that moment, scrambled to tug the bullish lord up with both hands, wrestling against the Great Forest itself by locking the bull’s head between the crook of my elbow and feeling as if I were practically about to behead the man by the sheer disparate forces involved.Then, in an act entirely unexpected, I found myself being pushed back by a vine, forcing me to lose my footing and losing Ping to the forest itself.
The noises stopped.
And the vines retreated.
The open dirt where Ping once stood was rapidly covered with lichen, moss, and grass before erupting in a small patch of flowers.
In the wake of all of this, I was left alone with the only evidence of my partner being his discarded hiking stick.
The chirps of the birds, the buzzing of the bees, and the calming ambiance of the forest around me stood at odds with the panic welling within my chest.
“No… nonononononono!!!” I screamed, reaching for the ground and attempting to dig the topsoil with my magic, only to remember what had just transpired.
That… would be a transgression.
The forest was friendly to my presence, yes. But it wasn’t above being frustrated by infractions against its person.
…
That was it!
It was still friendly with me.
Ping was most likely taken… to become part of its labyrinthine dungeons.
It… didn’t help that his kind bore a striking resemblance to minotaurs in all but size.
Which did not bode well for the man’s resistance to… whatever the labyrinths had in store for him.
“Alright… deep breaths, calm.” I breathed in deeply, now crawling over to where I’d prostrated earlier. “Alright, Lord Ping… let’s see a real druid save you from your own mess.”
I closed my eyes.
And with great trepidation… I attempted communion.
3 Days Later
The Forests of Ruvina - Kingdom of Transgracia - Nexus. Local Time: 1520
Auris Ping
PUNCH!
I pushed my hand through the dirt, and with it…
Crumble!
… came sunlight.
My eyes watered at the sight as I quickly crawled my way up, completely ignoring the… apparition of Lorsi that seemed to remain behind within the labyrinths below.
It felt… like months had passed.
My body ached with each and every haggard step, as my equipment and traveling armors barely resembled the ensemble I was dressed in days prior to this moment.
Encrusted slime and days-old bile clung stubbornly on to my matted fur, leaving me no better than the dregs, and undermining the image which I’d so carefully cultivated.
But still.
It was better than what Lorsi had seemed to possess on his pathetic attempts to aid me out of a mess of his own making.
I turned back to stare at the mess of vines, stone, and dirt that acted as my ‘guide’ out of the abyss.
This facsimile merely pointed me onwards, gesturing for me to continue until I crawled my way towards where all of this started.
There, next to my hiking stick, was a desiccated Lorsi.
His clothes were covered in filth, and his fur bristling with dead leaves, making it seem as if he hadn’t budged a single inch since that fateful afternoon.
I stood over him, towering over this pathetic heap of flesh. But before I instinctively went to push him over with a hoof, I flinched, hesitating, as every fiber of my being told me not to do so.
I didn’t even dare shake his shoulders if only to awaken him, instead choosing to sit idly by in front of him, calling out with a tired breath.
“Lorsi.” I managed out.
“Wake up, Lord Lorsi.” I urged again. This time, garnering what looked to be a slow rise to wakefulness from the man.
At which point, I could feel the weakness in his body radiating through the uneven projection of his aura.
“Ah. Lord Ping. I… I see I managed to get you out of… there…” He struggled to speak, his throat scratchy and more than likely parched.
“Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting out here for all this time?” I asked dismissively.
“Y-yes.” He responded, causing my eyes to widen. "Y-yes, I did. I w-was there with you the entire way, remember? I… I couldn’t have done that if I were outside the forest.” He uttered pathetically before attempting to stand up, only to trip on his first step.
I rushed over without hesitation, his pathetic form dropping into my arms with little effort.
“T-thank you, Lord Ping. I assure you, a simple restorative potion should be able to—”
“It was all in my pack. A pack which y-.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “A pack, which was lost sometime during my internment.”
“Ah.” Came Lorsi’s reply. “Y-you can put me down then, Lord Ping. I will simply slow you down. I… I have found the flowers’ location. You can drop me and come back for me when you’re—”
I lifted the man up, propping him to rest behind my shoulders, forcing his arms around my neck as he weakly perched himself in the crook of my bare back.
“Come.” I urged, my tone dry, but whether from mirth or from thirst, I didn’t care to know. “I will not leave you—” I paused, taking another deep breath. “—for that will be a waste of time.” Lorsi nodded at this, holding his grip around my neck tighter, and in doing so, sending me back days to that fateful afternoon. I shook my head, trying to keep those thoughts from manifesting. “We must make haste.” I continued as I picked up my cane and began moving forwards towards Lorsi’s directions. “Who knows how much progress Lord Qiv has made in our absence…”
The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Time 1730 Hours.
Qiv
“AWWWWW! He’s so cute!”
“What’s his name?”
“Abarthi, you don’t even know what it is. You know bapycaras all look alike! Male, female, what have you, they’re all identical—”
“Oh, shush it with your SEMANTICS, Rori! Just… just LOOK at it!”
The gathered crowd had been, and still clearly was, enamored by what I’d dubbed as the group’s mascot.
This… was an age-old tactic.
One that had been a secondary objective, but one that seemed to have come too naturally to the likes of Uven Kroven.
The gentle giant was a magnet for these things, these… rodents of unusual size. Docile creatures apparently native to the Nileseypools, and ones that were well known for existing side by side with the locals of said hot springs, floating amidst the spa-goers with little regard for their own safety and unbothered by the presence of creatures several times their size.
Indeed, we brought much of that imagery with us, purchasing merchandise, souvenirs, and an outright kit to — quite literally — rebuild a small piece of the creature’s Nileseypoolian habitat right in the heart of the Victor’s Square at the Academy.
So now, in our wait for the rest of the Blossom Hunters, we, along with the rest of the Academy, could enjoy the ridiculous sights of this oversized rodent simply sitting there in the hot and steamy baths reminiscent of its hot springs habitat. The citrusy smells of fresh oranges wafted throughout the space as well, as fresh fruits were cycled by the hour and many more were swapped from the poor thing’s head. Due to its unusual… placidity, it seemed more than happy to accept anything and everything being plopped on its head during its eternal spa.
But behind this seemingly innocuous display of public theatrics, I kept note of all that regarded both this exhibit and my own presence.
We’d arrived first. Three days ago now, in fact. And so with little to do and no obligation for classes… I took it upon myself to use the available time to schmooze with the rest of the years.
This bapycara was the perfect conversation starter and a ridiculous but effective jumping point into the ever-evolving race for Class Sovereign.
“Lord Qiv! May we have a word?”
I smiled in response, giving a big flourish of a bow towards the upper yearsmen’s direction. “I am at your beck and call, my lords and ladies.”
Ah… to be first. There is nothing quite like it.
The Straggler’s Last Chance Tavern and Casino - Telaseer - Kingdom of Transgracia - Nexus. Local Time: 1745
Emma
“AAAAANNNNDDDD FIRST AGAIN! OHOHOHOHO, FIRST GOES TO THE LADY IN BLUE ARMOR!” Rassie the kobold screamed next to me, having climbed and clamored and rattled his way around the both of us.
Thalmin seemed somewhat annoyed by it.
But me? Well… this was just part of the fun, part of the theatrics, and part of the ‘show’ that our dear apprentice seemed oh so fond of.
“Care for annnooootheeeer round, lass?” The gremlin of a creature spoke wildly, going so far as to go snoot-to-faceplate, his eyes taking up most of my FOV at this point.
“I think we’re gonna stop while we’re ahead, I’m afraid.” I laughed, garnering a series of disappointed ‘awws’ from the crowd.
“But hey, it’s not like we’re gonna leave without a bang…” I paused, turning to Thalmin who nodded with a knowing smile.
“A FREE ROUND OF DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!” We both exclaimed at the top of our lungs, causing the whole room to quite literally explode in a ruckus of applause.
“LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE LUPINOR AND HIS KNIGHT!” The bartender exclaimed.
“HIP HIP!”
“HOORAH!”
“HIP HIP!”
“HOORAH!”
“HIP HIP!”
“HOORAH!”
Yet amid the uproarious cheers, my eyes remained on a single picture-in-picture frame of our ‘mysterious stranger’ still hanging by the bar counter.
He lifted his glass barely a millimeter from the table and, in that moment, offered the weakest ‘hoorah’ in all of recorded history.