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Chapter 172: Games (5)
🕑 Added 2025-03-21 01:25:38 +0000 UTCWorld: MSS - Loading...
***
I didn’t say anything for a long time.
“Haha, perhaps I left out some details.” Bright-Ear looked abashed, clasping his hands together. “It seems my impatience got the better of me.”
“Is this really the best place to discuss such things?”
“Ah, you have the wrong idea. Understandable.” Bright-Ear cleared his throat. “It sounded like I was asking you to do something illegal, like freeing slaves against their owner's will.”
I didn’t comment, choosing to keep listening.
“What I’m asking for is an escort. It is to my understanding that you originally hail from Miltus?”
“That’s correct.”
“Perhaps another explanation is in order then.”
“No. Not if it’s long.” I held up my hand. “Please, keep it short.” This was already sounding like a headache and I didn’t want to spend too much time with Bright-Ear if possible. There were other people I wanted to meet.
What I had done could be construed as extremely rude, especially to Bright-Ear who was the equivalent of a Turina noble. But I’m an adventurer, and in our circles it should be smoothed over. Still, I felt some of the Walkers mumble,, like a slumbering beast beginning to stir.
“Hm. Well, Zimmskar has been working on purchasing Slaves all throughout the Turina Empire as well as the Jayu States, where slavery of beastmen are most common. Purchasing them is never an issue, we seldom run into trouble with merchants who won’t honor a sale, after all.” Bright-Ear waved his hand, telling his bodyguards to settle down. “What we lack is transport. It’s not uncommon for our freed brethren to be kidnapped by Orc Raiders or other Slave Merchants on the way to Jayu, only to be enslaved again.”
“You have your own Walkers for that.”
“We do, but not enough. That’s where we do our best to recruit trustworthy adventurers such as yourself, completing the transport for us.” Bright-Ear looked at his hands. “...More than once, have we been betrayed by the very adventurers we hired.”
“What?” That was preposterous. Adventurers lived and died by their word, following the contract which they signed. If any adventurer was found to abandon a contract and betray their client as a result, that’d be the end of their career. No matter how powerful they were, adventurers were associated with the Guild –and that Guild had a reputation to uphold.
“Ah, yes. We were surprised too. But you have to remember, that the Adventurer’s Guild too has individuals who value coin over honor.”
“...It still doesn’t matter.” I shook my head. “I can’t take the job even if I wanted to. In a week, I’ll be leaving the Trader’s League.”
“And you’ll be back before Spring. I guarantee it.” Bright-Ear added without missing a beat, having been ready for me. “This conflict has been simmering for years, it will simmer for years yet. But sources tell me that the human and elven faction will make their move around Spring. The Zimm Circle will do our best to free as many slaves as they could.”
“...That still doesn’t mean-”
“I have some things you might be interested in.” Bright-Ear nodded towards one of his men.
The blue-scaled lizard beastman came over and produced a small box, no bigger than one of those cases used to hold business cards. He opened it up in front of me.
The box was lined with red-purple velvet and encased in its fold was a single card.
It was thick to the touch, heavier than I expected too. The black card had a single emblem engraved in the center: a golden coin.
“...What is this?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“The Free Trader’s League has one of the biggest auctions in the entire continent. Surely, an adventurer of your level have suspicions.” His eyes twinkled like a grandfather handing a christmas toy to his grandson.
“An invitation to underground Auctions.”
“A membership, more like.” Bright-Ear corrected. “And not just underground Auctions. All auctions.”
“All? What’s an All Auction?”
“No,” He looked directly into my eyes. “All auctions. Every. Single. One.”
…Damn.
“I thought to myself what an adventurer such as yourself might need before setting off into a place like Claw’s Nest, and this was the best I could offer.” said Bright-Ear.
“Let me get this straight.” I placed the card back in the box, closing it. I hadn’t accepted his offer yet. “You want me to go to Claw’s Nest and on the way back, join another caravan leading your freed people back to Zimmskar. And for that, you’re giving me this membership–”
“It’s called the golden ticket.”
“The golden ticket,” I rectified, continuing, “as an advance payment? Even when there’s no guarantee that I’ll return from Claw’s Nest alive?”
“I reckon that if you fail to come back, your party members will complete the task in your stead.” Bright-Ear replied, “But I am entirely sure that you will come back alive.”
“...What if I’m like the other adventurers? I could just take this and-”
Bright-Ear laughed.
“I did my research on you, Lock Slaveborn.” He doggy-grinned at me, “And I, too, have learned my lessons. I’m not a bad judge of character if I do say so myself.”
My hand hovered over the box.
I could use this.
I really could.
Funds aside, one of the hardest parts about these Black Curtain Auctions was getting in there legitimately. If Zenom’s contact didn’t yield anything, I was actually considering going out with Stole to find something on our own. She had experience with the Underworld sort of things after all.
Yet, here was Bright-Ear, offering me the easy way out.
Something was fishy. The deal was too good to be true.
‘Because it is too good to be true, there’s definitely a catch.’
“...What’s the catch?” I asked.
“No catch.” Bright-Ear spread his palms. “I swear by it.”
Goddamn, whoever said dogs were men’s best friend never played MSS before. This conversation started with Bright-Ear being somewhat frazzled. But with the golden ticket, it had changed. Even his tone had changed; confident and fluid. This guy wasn’t a dog, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Er, Dog’s clothing.
“I need to think.” I tapped the box with a finger.
“Take as long as you need.”
“That’s not my style, I’ll give you an answer now.” I tapped it again.
Leaving for another expedition right after this one would be tough on my party. Plus, there was no guarantee that we’d be in a condition to join this expedition in the first place. It was entirely possible that we’d be on the run, chased by Zenom and every other Turinan out there. Plus, Delas and the Player’s Guild. Delas hadn’t made many moves, but he wasn’t out of the game just yet.
The Autarch’s Key was just too valuable.
If I could get into the Autarch’s dungeon and ransack it…
‘Don’t get distracted.’
On the surface, this deal was good. I got something I needed desperately, with the chance that I might not need to pay for it. And even if I did pay for it, so what? I would have to visit Zimmskar someday. Honestly, I wanted to visit Ragnia Mountain or the Delirious Jungle before, but Zimmskar had their own share of Dungeons and Fractures that I wanted to raid.
Also, if I was on the run from Zenom, couldn’t I just slip into this merchant caravan who probably had their own ships and transport to get away from him?
Too good. Too good to be true.
There was something here. Something that my stupid, stupid brain couldn’t get ahold of.
Just what…
Clover.
Clover Weinport.
Oh, that bitch.
I took in a breath. “So, what does Clover get out of this?”
“...Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’m talking about Clover Weinport, who made this deal with you in the first place.” I palmed the box. “The Priestess who introduced us to each other.”
The lizard beastman hissed. “Show respect to Council.”
“Learn some more words.” I quipped, turning to Bright-Ear. “See, it wasn’t too clear at first. But I see it. Kind of. I mean, it’s not crystal clear but…” I laughed, things making more sense now. “She basically created an easy escape route for me to take.”
“I do not…”
“Please, you’re just making fun of me at this point.” I slid the box over to him. “Here’s how I see it. Clover creates an escape route. She gets me to take it, while ignorant of the fact that I’m taking a way out that she created. So she has the upper hand.”
“How-”
“How she has the upper hand? I don’t know. Control, maybe?” My tongue moved like it had a motor attached to it, gaining momentum. “But I assume she expected to reveal it one way or another, when she was sure she had an advantageous position.”
“You-”
“I’m not sure if that’s the path I want to take.” I said quietly.
Bright-Ear just sat there, mouth hanging open. It didn’t last long. He composed himself quickly.
“You,” He said finally, “Are a paranoid man.”
“And you,” I said solemnly, “didn’t deny what I said.”
I had to wonder how much Clover told this guy. Did he know about the Autarch’s Key? Probably not. Not that I’d be able to tell, but knowing Clover, she’d never tell anyone about the Autarch’s Key unless she had to. I bet she hated the fact that I knew about it and that Arione knew about it. No, information like that, Clover would keep to herself as much as possible.
Which meant that he got something else from Clover getting an introduction to me. Or maybe he was doing her a favor by extending this request to me.
Either way, I had no intention of playing into Clover’s hands.
“I think we’re done here.”
“Hmm.” Bright-Ear reached out for the box. “If you truly think-”
And I closed my hand over it.
“Unless we can strike a deal ourselves.”
“...Excuse me?”
Yeah, I had no intention of playing into Clover’s hands.
“So… how much gold do you have?”
But I had all the intention of changing the rules.
***
After the conversation with Bright-Ear, I found myself at the bar. Instead of drinking, I studied the layout of the ballroom. Or rather, the inhabitants of it.
Like before, Beastman, Dwarves, Humans and Elves all mingled together. Looking all important and fancy. But there was a definite invisible line that delineated who belonged where. The line was split straight down the middle, Beastman and Dwarves occupied one side while Humans and Elves occupied the other.
However, the most important you were, the closer you were to the middle. It wasn’t strange to see Beastman Emissaries talk with Human Nobles, or Elven representatives. Only the higher ranked ones did so, however. The ones without rank or obvious wealth tended to remain in the background. The only exception to this rule were the adventurers.
‘From the layout, Beastman and Elves do the most talking. Most of the Dwarven Merchants don’t even bother talking with the other races. Humans talk the most to Elves, then the Beastmen. They don’t talk with the Dwarves.’
Of course, there were exceptions. But this was my general read of the room.
“Sir Slaveborn, your poison?”
The bartender was a slim man, nondescript in every way except one: one of his sleeves was tied off.
“Uh. Water.”
He gave me a look, mostly hidden by his hair. The man had bangs, and it covered his face right above the tip of his nose.
The bartender moved with grace, grabbing a a clear glass and pouring water into it with gusto. Judging by the fizz, it was seltzer. He finished it off with a slice of lemon, lime and strawberry all winched onto the glass tip.
“Didn’t ask for lemon.” I complained. I was still in a bad mood about Clover.
“On the house.” The man quipped.
I shrugged, turning back to the crowd and watching them.
Skaris was still surrounded by the human woman. But most of them had given up on their sobriety long ago. A lot of them had a blush to their cheeks and it wasn’t from Skaris anymore. More than one empty wine bottles lay on their table. They laughed, hushing each other like school children keeping naughty secrets, and continued to talk.
All the while ignoring Skaris who say there, eating in silence.
…My Gods of MSS and my Underpants.
Was he actually spying on them?
“Strange, isn’t it?” The bartender muttered next to me.
I flinched. I hadn’t detected him moving towards me at all. Still, the bar was between us. He was leaning on the bar, resting his chin on the single hand he had.
“What’s strange?” I felt compelled to ask.
“Humans.”
I took a careful sip, swishing it around my mouth before swallowing. “What about them?”
“The whole ordeal. The masquerade.” He smiled, only his mouth visible. “The fact that they yell out this human supremacy, yet you’d be surprised by how many highborn nobles and wealthy merchants have entire families. Separate from their legitimate ones of course.”
“Isn’t that how Bastards are born?”
“Partially true. But not all Bastards are pure-bred human.” I could’ve sworn the bartender’s eyes were shining. “I mean families with the other races. Beastmen, Dwarves, Elves. Sometimes, even Orcs.” He pointed to himself. “Why, my mother was an Orc.”
I looked at him, surprised. Technically, it was possible. In MSS, there were no barriers in having children between the races. Your children didn’t come out mixed either. One in four inherited their father's race, while three out of four inherited their mother's race.
It’s just that for humans, especially Turinans, would be ashamed of that fact. Actually, not just Turinans but especially Turinans. Even Beastman and Orcs of mixed heritage faced some sort of discrimination, though not as harsh as I imagined Humans would have to endure.
25% Chance to be a Human with an orc mother.
75% to be an orc in a human world.
I'm not sure which is worse.
“I… see.”
“My father won her as a trophy. She was given to him as a present.” He continued.
“...I’m sorry to hear that.”
The bartender continued like he didn’t hear me.
“There’s this… sick fascination among the Turinans. Some are disgusted, some are mesmerized, some are simply curious. But it usually manifests in one way or the other. Open hostility or,” He gestured towards the women crowding around Skaris. “Wanton abandon. Yet, with the Slave Trade drying up…” He pretended to wipe the countertop, leaving streaks everywhere. “It became a fashionable to gift someone a slave. Kind of a game among the nobles, guessing where the other one’s taste lay. Towards torture? Love? Servanthood? Grooming them as Adventurers? Beastman? Dwarves?”
“Turinans are a funny breed of people. For all the hate that they preach about being the superior race,” He finished, “They can’t help but be attracted to what’s forbidden. And everyone, everyone, turns a blind eye to it. Even the Church.”
“Are you calling them hypocrites?”
“No. Yes.” The Bartender straightened. “Who can say? Simply saying that not all is as it seems.”
“I think that’s pretty clear to me.” I pointed to Skaris. “He’s a powerful adventurer and some of the older ladies want a night of fun. I’m more curious about the fact that no one here seems to care about Jared Akka Xalud’s eyes.”
“Crude, but expertly put.” The Bartender replied. “Yet, one has to ask, why should they?”
I frowned.
“We’re not in Turina. Who would care if a couple of people want a night of fun with some stranger? Beastman or not, Jayu States are known for their rather… open culture.” He grabbed another glass, pouring himself a drink. “Only the Light knows, even if they end up with a child, they have the means to have a second, third or fourth family.”
“Because we’re in his house.”
The bartender smiled, taking a sip of his drink.
As a 21st century human who hailed from the United States with a rather conservative outlook on life, I felt uncomfortable with this line of conversation.
I tried to walk away.
His hand reached out and grabbed my wrist in an iron vice.
“Why? Does my heritage bother you?” He pulled me in so suddenly that my feet left the ground for a moment. My ribs slammed into the countertop and he whispered in my ear, “That my filthy half-breed orc hands are on your skin?”
The fuck? I didn’t want to cause a scene here. “No. I don’t care for your heritage. I don’t care for you either. Let go.”
He smiled, all creepy-like. “You really don’t care about people’s backgrounds do you?”
Something was horribly wrong here. “Listen, barkeep. If you have some sort of pain in your heart, I’m not the person you want to talk to. If you’re drunk, I suggest-”
The world spun and something slapped me upside the head so hard that I felt my temples crash into the wooden counter.
The bartender’s single hand grinded my head against the countertop.
“Oh, you really are a treasure. If any of my knights touched you in this way, I have no doubt, that their heads would be rolling.” His breath washed over my ears, all fake flowers and perfume. Something so unnatural about it. "You have too much mercy for the weak, Lock Slaveborn. A weakness."
I immediately whipped my legs, trying to gain momentum and escape.
The bartender suddenly pressed my head against the counter, hard. Wood crunched and I saw stars.
And then,
“Ladies and Gentleman, the main star of our evening, and our host; please welcome: Scion of the Akka Xalud House, Jared Akka Xalud!”
And spotlights shone.
Right on the bartender.
Suddenly the weight was gone. The bartender stood up straight, sweeping his hair back to reveal his face.
Jared Akka Xalud.
He smiled at me.
“Welcome to my House, Slaveborn. Please, do enjoy yourself.”
Then the fucker left me lying there, confused as hell, and walked up towards the top of the stairs to meet and greet the nobles.
Comments
Someguy
I came back to specifically read this chapter and was shocked at how few comments it has. Jared is such an interesting character. Faux-Bartender? Super (and uncomfortably) aggressive and close with Lock? Airing his thoughts on human/non-human relationships and revealing he has orc parentage? Guy has some serious trauma and it has clearly resulted in a very interesting person. I'm looking forward to seeing where wkrrk is going with him.
Ben Nikel
Puppy Grandpa: You're extremely paranoid. Lock: Yup. Sneaky Bartender: Your poison, sir. Lock: *drinks the whole thing.*
