Unbound

Chapter Seven Hundred And Eighty Two – 782

Chapter Seven Hundred And Eighty Two – 782

Down the main thoroughfare, the new construction continued, though beyond those blocks, Archie could tell it was mostly residential. The town was too small for much else. The quality of homes varied as the smell of mildew and water filled the air. A thin river cut through the southern end of the town, and the homes changed rapidly from large estates near the center of town to hovels at the muddy coastline.

Hmm. Less crowds in the side streets, but more blind alleys, it looks like. Those were always good places to find a less than savory element. We’ll try down by the river next.

At the moment, they were following the crowds. They thickened considerably the farther they traveled along the main road, until it reached a fever pitch at the very center of town. There, a wide circular plaza formed, with dozens of stores placed around its circumference. People of all shapes and sizes flowed like small currents, trekking in and out of the shops, resting at cafes, or entering the tall edifice of dark stone and mithril-capped spires. It looked like a gothic cathedral, and it dominated the center of the plaza. A Half-Orc wrapped in dark blue robes and sandals loudly proclaimed it to be the Hall of Judgment in between diatribes against theft and cruelty.

Archie paused, leaning casually against a stained fountain. Water dribbled from it, but parts of it were choked by curling vines. “They outright worship the Twins here. Reminds me of Birchstone.”

“Why?”

“The Dwarves love Noctis, at least the traditional-minded ones do.” Archie gestured at the chorister across the square. “Lots of this happens on the streets of that city.”

“Do they do that in Birchstone, too?” Beef asked, jerking his chin up at the thin spires that fronted the Hall. Large, black iron cages hung there, exactly the same as the one’s outside the town gates.

“Nah. They’re more likely to stick a Troll’s head on a pike.”

"I hate this," Beef said. He sounded sick. "What's the purpose of monster corpses here?"

Archie narrowed his eyes. "Those aren't monsters."

Beef peered closer. "Oh Jesus, those are people.”

“Bandits, according to our chorister friend here. I think I found out why there's so little crime in this damn town." Archie pushed off the fountain, already turning away from the chorister and his little Hall. "We’re not gonna find what we need here.”

Archie led Beef down a side street off the square, taking several sharp turns through the narrow ways until the boisterous sounds of the Hall faded away. A few promising figures lurked in doorways and alcoves, but they all vanished as the duo drew closer, leaving behind only the sound of slamming doors and clicking locks. Fear sang far louder, now that they were away from the crowds, a refrain that echoed from high windows and bounced across flat rooftops.

“You feel that?”

“Yeah.” Beef kept his head on a swivel, though it was hard for him. He had to squeeze sideways through some of the streets. “Everyone’s spooked. And not of me.”

“You sure about that? You cut an intimidating figure, even all cloaked up.”

“I know what it feels like when people are scared of me,” Beef said, voice low. “It’s a sharper sound. This is nervous dread. It sounds like...”

“Like how folks felt around the Titan.”

Archie recalled that terror well enough. It was his constant companion for months while the woman hunted him across the Rimefangs, never letting him pause more than a single night. He still couldn’t believe that the Titan was Felix’s sister, of all things.

They slipped through the side streets of Morva, moving roughly parallel to the main crawl. The smell of wet grew stronger, and judging by the air of neglect on all the homes and tenements, they were approaching the river. A few people walked around, but all of them kept their heads down and their pace up; none so much as tried to look in their direction.

A few blocks later, however, the fear and nervousness made sense.

Hmm. What’s this?

Two guilders walked beside a heavy wagon at least twice their height and double that in length. A pair of Spinar—those hulking turtle-folk—pulled the wagon, moving its incredible bulk with ease. Which was surprising–the thing was constructed with thick wood, iron-shod wheels, and heavy metal bars arcing up and over to create a secure enclosure. It reminded Archie of nothing so much as a mobile jail cell.

Beef leaned over and whispered. "What is going on here?"

"I don't know, but did you notice that the streets are empty now?"

Beef looked around, surprised. The few people they saw scurried away quickly, as if afraid to be spotted by the guilders. "That's not good."

"I can't do that!” Beef snapped. “She's uncontrollable!"

"So you brought her here? Gah! Whatever! Get her! Now!"

Fafnir sped out a stream of blackened green flame, hitting the thin man right in the face. He tried to scream, but it only came out as a choking gurgle as flesh and hair ignited.

"Put out the fire! Capture that lizard!"

"You're worried about the wrong reptile," said a new voice. And suddenly there were a dozen more figures on the street, goblins, humans, and elves, each of them wearing patchwork armor smeared with purple and yellow dye. "Leave the people of this town alone, guilders!"

"Wyrmkin!” one shouted.

“Terrorists!" said another.

The newcomers rushed in, weapons flashing with Skills that called down fire and acid, clashing against the guilders in a spray of opposing Mana. Two guilders fell down, run through, while the rest fought back against the Wyrmkin.

Someone opened up one of the wagons, and the old Gnome was pulled free. A guilder shouted, and ice slammed into the bars, rocking the entire thing up onto two wheels, but the Wyrmkin held tight to the woman and dodged away.

"Cease this violence!” The voice was resonant and loud. "Lay down your arms in the name of the Twins!"

"Oh shit! Beef, go get your Dragon!"

"It's a Hatchling!"

"Oh my god, just do it!"

The Minotaur rushed forward, scooping up the dark creature, who, in an uncharacteristic move, fairly leapt into his arms. He ran back, slipping past Archie just before the first armored knight rode into the view atop his enormous snake.

"Prostrate yourself before the Twins' Mercy," he demanded.

"Get bent, cop!"

Archie blinked. The fuck did they just say? He couldn't have heard that right.

"Unwise," the knight said, his voice suddenly echoing further. He lifted a hand, and a ripple of blue force smashed across the offending human, tearing off one of their arms entirely. They screamed and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out.

"You could have worked off your debt in the Fields, but now you will pay your pound of flesh to balance the scales of Justice." The knight lifted both hands and clenched his fist before bringing it down. "The Weight of Mercy!"

A field of blue covered the entire street and crushed down onto the Wyrmkin, sparing the bleeding guilders, who scurried out of its way. All of them fell to their knees or bellies. And it didn't stop there. The Skill kept crushing, a gleam of something cruel in the knight’s open-faced helmet. Blood trickled from the Wyrmkins’ noses and eyes, and their screams were almost strangled shut.

"Archie," Beef said, "we gotta help them!"

“Not a freakin’ chance!” They were just outside the range of the knight’s Skill, but there was no reason to tempt fate and step closer.

The field of blue jerked lower, and the screams became frantic. Terrified.

"I just wanted to look around. This is stupid! Fuck!" He pointed at Beef and his little Dragon. "Stay here."

With a whisper of magic, he fell straight through the earth.