The Butcher of Gadobhra

The duel between the Baroness and Marco had turned into an extended affair. Neither was in a hurry to see it end as the duel slowly moved to the battlements. First one, then the other would press the attack with a flurry of blows, then fall back as their opponent turned the course of battle and gained the upper hand. Marco had wounded Layla a dozen times, only to have her ignore the wounds completely as if the pain and blood loss weren’t affecting her. Worse for him, each bleeding wound she inflicted healed one of her own and invigorated her. Marco, for his part, had been chugging healing potions whenever he had the chance, but that supply was now gone.

They'd also sparred with words. Marco hoping to gain any information he could sell to his employer, and Layla was interested in Alchemarx's plans. Marco was surprised at how many details she was giving up.

"How many dungeons?!" Marco fell back after Layla mentioned half a dozen. His surprise had given her an opening. She threw two hard blows at him, then regained her balance and stepped back.

"It's difficult to say; we keep finding more. There are at least four in Gadobhra, but there are hints that the Pit may actually encompass several smaller dungeons. Old records we recovered from the Thieves Guild aren't specific. And we can't even get into the Dance. And then, of course, there's Sedgewick with its own dungeons. You should visit sometime after Alchemarx gives up their annoying raids."

Marco winked at her, making sure the dagger in his sleeve was ready to throw. "I'd love to take my guild into those. I'll have to make sure that dungeon access is part of my bonus."

"Still chasing after that bonus, are we?"

He took a step to the side and parried a blow from her great sword, which added another small chip to the edge of his own sword. He noted with envy that her weapon seemed as sharp as ever. "Part of it, at least. It could be even bigger in a moment. I can see it now: brave Marco disarms the Baroness, ties her up, and escapes down the wall. Think how fun that would be. I'll hold you for ransom, and we can drink wine in a quaint village I know of until ACME pays up. Think of it as a vacation with benefits.”

"Tempting, I do love swilling wine in little villages with more goats than people, but I have a city I need to run. Once I finish this damned money pit of a fortress, there are quite a few guilds that want to discuss things with me, along with other lucrative side projects. Gadobhra is about to enter into a growth period. Too bad you're tied to Alchemarx. Tell me, how is it working for old women with warts on their noses?"

"I can deal with the warts, but frankly, it's their attitude that gets me. Here, we have a fantasy world like no other, and they're still stuck on paperwork. I have to fill it out here and in the real world. And don't get me started on their HR department."

She laughed at that. She'd never been happier than the time spent in the game. "Not how ACME does it, that's for sure. Sink or swim. They only care about the bottom line."

"Sure, if you’re nobility. But I'm sure that doesn't hold true for your poor workers, toiling in the fields."

That comment made her snort and hold up a hand for a time-out. "Sorry, laughing too hard to keep fighting. Did you see the guy fighting your Hobobarian? He's already in Tier Four and is a nightmare of a fighter. I can barely wound him when we work out. My Butchers and Shepherds are who we send after annoying players. They aren't doing so badly while they 'toil in the fields.' And all of my peasants are at least Level 6, and many are pushing into the third Tier. I have to thank Alchemarx someday for driving them all North to me. It’s working out very well for all of us."

"Um...seriously? How do you get farmers to gain so many levels?"

She winked at him. "Move to Gadobhra and find out. I've got abandoned castles that could make nice Guild Halls and dungeons for experience and profit. I need more competent people, especially if they have a brain and are disgusted with corporate politics. We may be hiring soon, and we play hard and pay well."

"That's a tempting offer." It really was, and something he might think about in the future, but he wasn't done with this fight yet. "How much are you paying? And I’m talking monthly, real-world dollars? Rent for my townhouse in Denver isn’t cheap."

"Not a damn thing. Forget about the real world and real-world money. Dump your expensive apartment and put your pod in a cheap closet. This is the real world now. Live in a castle, delve into dungeons, and amass your fortune. None of you or your friends will ever own land over there. But here you can. The world is ripe for the taking. Why do you think all the major corporations are scrambling to take control? A decade from now, the people that got in early will be nobles. And that’s just a start. The time is soon when select groups of people will be able to sell items and land here for those real-world dollars you want. And I’ll give you a hint: Alchemarx isn’t going to get there soon. They haven’t made the connections that I have."

He grinned again, hiding a growing curiosity. "Maybe...but it still works out better if I can earn that bonus, and take you up on that offer down the road. A baroness in the hand is worth more today than a castle of words." He launched a furious attack at her, confident he’d taken her measure. In a flurry of blows, he forced her backwards until she was off-balance, with the battlements and a long drop behind her. His splintered shield had long since been abandoned leaving him free to palm his hidden knife. He threw it, and followed up with a hard blow intended for her skull, trying to knock her out with the flat of his blade. He anticipated that she would dodge the dagger aimed at her face, and leave herself open to the blow to the side of her skull .

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Instead, she ignored the knife, taking a deep wound to cheek and jaw. She braced one foot on a crenellation and and extended her great sword in a hard, straight thrust as he charged, catching him in the chest and impaling him. The sword cut through the thin armor with ease running through him so far that his chest was on the crossguard and his face was only inches from Layla.

The Baroness leaned close and whispered in his ear. "Look me up when you're free of those hags. We'll continue your lessons."

As the light left his eyes, she pushed his body off of her sword. Slow heavy clapping made her aware of Ares presence. “A pretty fight. Dueling with both blade and words while drawing out his tactics until you knew how to kill him. Although, I suspect your words had another purpose.”

She smiled, “Call it a recruitment drive for the next war.”

Ares laughed. “Wise, because there will always be a next war. I will see to that.”

"It's ruined, I say, ruined! Curses upon all Hedgehogs for the next sixteen generations. I'll never be able to fix this; we'll have to start over." Vladimir stood beside the huge disc of bloodstone recovered from the Red Chapel, tears running down his face. "It would have been a work of art!"

Johannes had recovered quickly from the blast, used as he was to explosions in his laboratory. "I must admit that I'm out of my field a bit here, but the rune channels you carved seem unharmed. And so is the Hermetic Seal that was burned into the stone with Godfire. What am I missing?"

Vladimir stared at him. "What are you missing? How can you not see it? The stone had been soaked in the blood and gore of the battle and absorbed it unevenly, giving the stone such a lovely patina of colors and designs. The spells that it endured drove those lovely browns and reds into the top layer of the stone. It was almost a shame to use it for such a mundane task as a teleportation stone. My mother's people would have mounted it in a frame and carried it from festival to festival. Such a classical piece of neo-violent semi-contemporary artwork! I shall weep for days as I sit in the shade of a withered oak and drink elderberry wine."

Damien was unsteady on his feet but had extricated himself from the market's wreckage. "Gods, but you are such a little snowflake sometimes. Here, have a sausage; they're quite tasty."

Vladimir crossed his arms and looked at Damien in disgust. "Your soul has never been able to appreciate true art."

"Too busy warping reality. And you only care about art half the time, anyway. What would your father's people think of that rock?"

Turning to stare again at the bloodstone circle, Vladimir inspected it. "My father would say that the acid wash did a nice job cleaning away the impurities, and the conductive metal will adhere to the channels more securely. Alas, poor art, you lose again to practicality." He glared at the people around him who were slowly filtering back to the center of the fortress. "To work! I've finished the basic rune design, now I need people with skill in their fingers to carefully follow the design and deepen the channels. And how are we set for mana-conductive metals to put into the channels?"

Damien shook his head. “Fresh out, I had to pack to fast. I have oodles of components but only a few ounces of Silverite to use in the transferal nodes.

Jorges pulled a small ingot from his apron. "I'm producing this from the Silverthorn vines that come from the Fae lands. The Butcher brought back a bag full of it—a large bag. It's good, weapon-grade metal, but I'm not so sure it has the mana-conductive properties you need."

Vladimir inspected it, staring at it, measuring it with two strange devices, and tasting it. "Strong, but no. I need something better; I don't suppose there's any high-tier material coming from all those dungeons you people have a plethora of?"

Ozzy stepped forward and set down his bag. "Not the dungeons, but I pulled this out of my pit after we melted down a crazy star-spawn. I was saving it for a special project, but this takes precedence." He dumped a large chunk of glowing silvery-white metal in front of Vladimir and Damien.

Damien touched the metal with reverence. "Oh my, so pretty. What I could do withpure Starmetal!"

Vladimir looked at the lump of shining metal. "It is called Stella in the old language of the dragons and Namath Murmal by the dwarvish smiths of the high mountains, who valued it for its strength and beauty. I think this might do if we can alloy it with the silverthorn metal. It will take a heavy urn of ceramics and a fire hot enough to burn iron to ash."

Jorges snorted. "Is that all? Might as well ask for bits of the sun and the moon. The fire that melted this lump damned near destroyed the whole town."

Ozzy looked over to Sedgewick, where a thick pillar of smoke told him where his pit was. "That was with a Tier Two charnel pit. It shouldn't be a problem for a Tier Four. Set up whatever we're using for a mixing pot, and I'll bring the heat. The chain on his arm rattled and began to turn red, and the Ancient Billhook of Entwined Fates appeared in his hand, ready to channel the heat of his charnel pit. He noticed a bloody and battered Layla slowly walking into the room and pitched his voice to carry to her. "Of course, there is the problem of compensation for such valuable metal."

Layla sat down on a piece of the rubble, "This is no time to worry about petty details like money. Do it, and we'll work it out. We have a half-dozen experts here to estimate its value. The Barony will pay you 70% of that. You do work for me, after all."

“I’d be happier at 80%.”

“75%, no tricks, with payment in 30 days.”

Ozzy smiled and shook her hand, "Good enough for me. Let's get to work."

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