Born a Monster

Chapter 69: Born A Monster, Chapter 69 – Large Kerfuffle

Born A Monster

Chapter 69

Large Kerfuffle

“So, exactly who stabbed whose daughter?”

Anything below said by a Khanate citizen other than Awda was translated by Awda, and I am simply removing the statements for the sake of brevity.

Achmed’s eyes widened. “I stabbed no-one. Well, at least not with metal. And the woman was most certainly a willing participant in all... activities.”

I slapped a hand to my forehead, and scratched behind my eyes.

.....

“So you’re saying that Achmed slept with a woman, who is now claiming he raped her?”

“Oh no,” said Achmed. “Her father is the one claiming I raped her. When others came to my defense, that is when the fighting began.”

“Philecto, do you know who the father of this woman is?”

“Indeed, and you do as well. The man said he was a son of Oriestes.”

“Obviously a lie,” said Rina, “as Oriestes the Bow Hero walked this earth over two millennia ago.”

“Did the woman have a vastly different hair color than her father?”

“Indeed.” Achmed said, “A fiery redhead, dimpled like the sands of Khemesh, and with hair the color of the setting sun.”

“Philecto, once you’re released, get them to Narrow Valley with such haste as you can manage. Reprovision, and wait three days for me. As I’ve mentioned, your field support is already deployed.”

“Why are we to wait for you?”

“Due to a poorly worded oath, I’m coming with you. All the way to the throne room, or wherever we find Rakkal.”

His smile threatened to split his face. “I knew you were addicted to the lifestyle. Adara said you would be cautious after nearly dying, but I knew better.”

I sighed. “Did Lord Oriestes say where his manor house was?”

“He won’t be there.” Awda said. “He is staying at a house here in town. He even had me memorize the address.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Then expect to be free soon. Where do I find this house?”

It was a squat, simple affair, almost wedged in between a bakery and a tailor. Really, what were those two doing near each other? The front lawn was occupied by children, enjoying their sweetbreads.

They looked up, and watched me, but didn’t panic or ask questions.

I stretched upward to use the brass knocker. Someday, when I had the biomass, I needed to grow to human size.

The doorman, or doorwoman in this case, looked down at me from a face that spoke of Ruus blood and malnutrition. I couldn’t quite see through her skin, but it was thin and tight over muscles that seemed seized around a permanent frown.

“Hm. At least you bathe. Come in.”

I stepped down a steep flight of stairs, perhaps half as tall as I was. This dip let the inside floors be an extra foot and spare inches taller than a street-level look would suggest.

“Parlor. You will wait.” She threw an invisible ball into the room.

I would need to start developing my magical senses. From my short walk in the alvan wood, there were just too many useful things magic could be used for, and I wanted to at least know when such things were, say, pointed in my general direction.

#

By a chair cushioned with dust and feathers was a stack of four books. I found this odd because there were no bookshelves. Tales of the Legendary Weapons, by Mentoples. Modern War and Wards, by Sir Lionel Parcel. Culture of the River Delta Peoples, by Artemis Langstrom. Romance with a Minotaur, by Lady Aphrodite Lycentia.

A book for each taste; I wondered if he looked at them to learn about what, or if, his guests read. I might. I sorted the books by size, the titles facing toward the entry.

I was curious about the Mentoples book, but a quick glance confirmed it was far too advanced for me.

Let’s see, books, chair, fireplace, low table, sturdy wooden slab of a chair, bronze holder with wood, and less comfortable chair with no arms.

And a vacant corner, with slightly less dust. I knelt, but couldn’t determine what had been there.

“That corner normally holds a child’s stool, but it has recently been broken and not yet replaced.” The senior Oriestes-son said. “Come, I’m about to lunch in a room nearer the bakery.”

I could see why. It must have shared a wall with the bread oven, for the room was warm and smelled of fresh bread.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Well, first, how are you?”

“Aside from the splitting headache? I will recover.”

“And that, sir, is among the things I wish to speak with you on. Normally, when Geralt gives me a report that someone is dead, they remain that way.”

I sighed. “There is no way back from death. None that I know of, anyway.”

“Nor do I. But you have gotten close to death a number of times in the service of the Guild, have you not?”

“Forgive me if that is both obvious, and not something I care to revisit.”

“But you actually must. The heavy armor, the fully metal shield. It’s obvious you are trying to survive.”

“I still don’t see why this is a topic for discussion.”

“Geralt believes that you could, in time, become an excellent assassin. Not dying is a prerequisite. As you can imagine, a great number of people will attempt to kill you.”

“A great number of people currently try to kill me. I’m not a great fan of the process.”

“I can see that the speech Geralt prepared is not quite the correct one to sway you. Very well, on to the other matter. Young Miss Katherine seems to have quite a bit of your money.”

“That seems to be a matter between Miss Katherine and myself.”

“I have someone who can make certain she joins you on your quest.”

I chuckled, and then broke out into laughter. “I have seen Rakkal shatter gates. You want to know why the Uruk bent their code of honor? Rakkal is a focus of physical power unlike anything else I’ve seen. The idea of being within Flash Step range of him terrifies me. There are mortal limits, and somehow he seems to exceed them.”

“No, anyone who wants to not do this quest simply doesn’t attempt it. Honestly, if you’re looking for a favor, have a spot prepared in Furdia for the Morleas family and their brassworks to move to if we fail.”

“Excellent. In return, you now owe me a favor.”

#

[You now owe Morven Oriestes-son a favor. The nature of this quest is unknown. This quest is on hold.]

No.

No.

No.

Quests are stupid, and dangerous, and stupid. How did I keep getting them? Was it a system setting I needed to disable?

I was ONE! One year old! I should still be rooting around for forage, not trying to learn to read, and certainly not running around doing QUESTS. How did I get from where I started to where I found myself?

I sighed. “What is your favor?”

“Oh, rest assured, there is time to get to that later. What would you like to discuss?”

The things we discussed do not immediately bear upon this story. The redhead, as you may have surmised, was a professional and most definitely NOT his daughter.

Lord Oriestes-son had other matters to tend to, so I was released with the sun high above.

I wandered next door, bought some flour biscuits. I really should have asked for butter, even though the biscuits were cold.

I debated. If I left now, I might catch up to the others. Or, I could enjoy plentiful food. Tasty food.

Sorry, Gluttony index. Getting out of this cursed town of cavalry and kidnapping had to be a priority.

Maybe it was time to get another evolution to help counter pain? Yeah, like I’d ever have the development points for that.

There were bandits in the woods again, four of them, two with bows, and two with crossbows.

“You’ll be handing over your coins, or else... oh hells! Ruuun!”

As usual, the female archer fired a single shot at me. It was fast. It was sure, aimed directly where mystics tell you the invisible eye on your forehead is. It bounced off my shield, only reducing the condition by a single point.

I absolutely enjoyed my new shield.

There are multiple ways to travel faster. I expended both charges of Fleet of Foot, and then just applied fatigue to run the way most people do.

Honestly? Who developed that method? It was EXHAUSTING.

But I was unable to catch up to the others, so I set up camp, and began preparing stew.

I heard them first, coming down the road behind me.

.....

“Relax. He’ll have a fire like that one.” Philecto said.

Faraj spoke through Awda. “With a lizard-kin sitting by it, like that one?”

“Exactly like that one.”

They enjoyed a laugh. I put more wood onto the fire; I was going to need a bigger pot.

#

Morven had suggested a question. “Everyone, if I were rendered unable to lead, who should lead?”

“Well, clearly me. I mean, I am in charge.” Philecto said.

Awda was of a different opinion. “I am the only one who can speak to all; I should lead.”

“I am the smartest,” Achmed said, “therefore, it should be me.”

“Leadership is the art of the heart.” Faraj said. “My sister Awda should lead.”

“I am the most holy; by divine right, that mantle is mine to wear.” Dina said.

“Rina, who should lead?” I asked.

“Whomever has the most experience hunting big things, I think that Awda should lead.”

“I’ve hunted big things!” Philecto protested, slapping his stew with his spoon. “Rhishisikk, you saw the Spider Queen. Surely she counts.”

“She counts, Philecto. All, Philecto shall be my second, as I know him best. Awda, would you be his second, should I fall?”

Awda nodded, chewing on her upper lip.

I had to cook a second pot of stew in order to feed everyone, and although the forage was theirs, they were right to complain that there wasn’t much of it.

I baked some nuts into flatbread for the next day, but it truly wasn’t enough. Remember how nutrition needed was size modifier times Might times character level? Get enough character levels with a Might of 4 or 5, and you’ve got a recipe for constant hunger.

The other complaint was seasonal, or more specifically, seasoning. The Kathani (this is not the most accurate name for the peoples of the Khanate, but I needed to use one, and this one fits the mixture of cultures among the heroes the best) were used to plenty of hot spices, peppers, and salt thick enough you could see the grains.

So by this time, I was just frustrated. I mean, we had everything we needed, but our budget was ... thin. We just couldn’t have everything we wanted, but the Kathani wanted spicier food, and were vocal about caring more about the spices than other things, so ... we bought spices from Narrow Valley.

The plan was that we’d just need to meet the others near Hattan, and circle through Uruk loyalist lands to get to Montu’s Glory. We enter the city, enter the temple keep, depose Rakkal (probably by killing him), and try to escape the city and the Uruk aligned with the Red Tide. And then, back home, and all the survivors would go home happy.

In theory.

Reality had other plans, and we saw the smoke the next day.

“Someone has a bonfire instead of a campfire.” Philecto said.

“Does anyone know of a festival? The week of Hearth is long past, but it is not yet the week of Harvest.”

Nobody else seemed to know, either.

“It’s because the town is burning.” Ahmed said. “I can tell by that squadron of giant goblins, there.”

Atop the ridge where he indicated, there were ten Uruk with bows, and black arrows were already in the air, arcing towards us.

#

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