Drip-Fed

 

The Inevitable party stopped in front of the government building. Tall walls of orderly cut stone formed an out perimeter. The oaken double doors were currently open, but the two guards still stopped the quartet. “Your invitation?” one of the dark elf men asked, his hand demandingly extended.

Aclysia respectfully bowed her head, she delivered the parchment. An eyebrow rose, as the guard read through the Guild’s description of the party. “Unvetted in matters of messaging…” The man rolled up the scroll and handed it back. “…you haven’t even earned your iron. It is your luck that the Sleeping Empire judges merit on its own. Honour that by not wasting the lords' and ladies’ time.”

A gesture of the guard’s head permitted them to enter. Reysha bit back her impulse to joke or stick out her tongue at the guard. There was enough money at play for her to mind her manners.

They followed a demarcated path into the building. The inside was thrice as ornate as the outside. Grey pillars of polished stone, half-embedded in the walls, segmented corridors filled with oil paintings, statues, and vases. Walking through another oaken door brought them into a large courtyard. Garden patches marked the rim of it, separating the expensive windows from the fighting pit at the centre.

Opposite the entrance was a balcony, hovering above everything, the other adventurer groups in the courtyard included. They were a loose assembly, the parties clustering, with some friendly and quiet banter between friends ongoing.

The Atlas party was there, the leader of them chatting with a member of another party and chuckling as loudly as the environment allowed. He and his other party members noted the arrival of the Inevitable and covertly waved, before returning to the conversation. There were older friends here that they wanted to catch up with.

No one in the quartet was surprised at seeing them there. Atlas and his party would obviously want a job as well-paid as this one. In total there were five parties in the room, six with the Inevitable party included. The smallest consisted of only two members and, at five, the Atlas party was the biggest.

Apexus guided his companions to the left of the group, where the symmetrical layout of the courtyard was currently devoid of people. A glance down at the fighting pit revealed its remarkable quality. Enchanted plaster covered the unevenly shaped terrain, meant to simulate the conditions out in Chimerion. The material was sturdy, but could also be easily patched up if it was broken, the optimal combination when it came to having civilized fights between adventurers.

“The promised hour has arrived!” a haughty voice came from above, shutting up all chatter in the yard.

Apexus raised his gaze, finding a woman whose beauty was marred by her clothes. The many sparkling layers were utterly ridiculous to the humanoid chimera, each inhibiting the movement of the grey-skinned noble more than the last. Indeed, the only purpose of the clothes appeared to be the accentuation of her hips and her, for an elf, unusually large breasts.

What Apexus found to be deeply distracting, the other people were, at worst, ambivalent about. Many of them, the women in particular, found the gem-encrusted blue and grey layers of cloth incredibly fashionable. Whatever they thought of her clothes, none could deny the attractiveness of her symmetrical features.

“I am Lady Frashina, your hostess for today,” she spoke, every word carrying in it power. Not any magical or personal power, but the power of authority. Such a power was mightier than that of any of the adventurers below, yet lesser at the same time for it relied on their kin. “It is my impressment that you seek, my authority to grant you the honour of delivering letters and gifts of diplomacy to the leadership of Summerdawn.”

She snapped her fingers and servants hastily brought chairs to the edge of the white balcony. Frashina sat down, as did the other nobles who occupied the embassy. These trials existed in no small part because they were looking for amusement.

“First, each of you shall introduce yourself. What are your merits, why should you be given the honour of serving as the arm of the Sleeping Empire?” Farshina gestured. “Atlas, scoundrel, step forward first.”

“Always glad to be working for you,” the brown-haired Warrior joked, causing the noblewoman to chuckle behind a raised hand. “My party has great experience in operating with and for the Sleeping Empire. There is a sour loss in our streak, admittedly, but that was a year ago and we have since improved in all aspects. The last three times you relied on us, we delivered swiftly. Our track record speaks for itself.”

“Indeed it does… you, then, go next.”

One after another, the other four parties introduced themselves.

“We are the Stinging Scorpions, eager to serve the Sleeping Empire. We specialize in spelunking and deep delves and are never caught off-guard. All of our members have the iron, our equipment is strong, and we know how to present ourselves as your noble deliverers!”

“The two of us are the Night Runners. We have been making a name for ourselves in the business over the last few months and now aim to take on this most esteemed Quest. Our service is one of speed. None will move your message quicker than us.”

“We are the Bastion. While speed is not our forte, security is beyond the question. All of our members are heavily armoured and our paladin is one of Kolten. His spells assure we are never ambushed and never stolen from.”

“Honoured lady, I represent the Parlour’s Tricks and we-“

“Parlour’s Tricks?” the lady interrupted. “Ah, the follower of the 33rd – get out of my sight. I’ve had enough of your people’s games for this year.”

The man speaking opened his mouth, then shook his head when he realized that there was no talking to a noble. A wave of his hand and the rest of his disappointed compatriots followed. They would talk about a name change later that day.

Expectant, the gaze of the noblewoman landed on Apexus next. It wandered over to Aclysia when the metal fairy took a half step forward. “I speak for the Inevitable party,” she introduced them. “We are a recent arrival on this Leaf and our past has given us little opportunity to work with the Guild. However, I assure you that our capabilities are vast. The leader of our party was trained by Maltos himself.”

As Aclysia had predicted, that caused some mumbles even among the people on the balcony. “Do you have proof of this claim?” the noblewoman asked.

“We have items that once were in his possession,” Aclysia said. Playing along, Apexus presented them with the compass that always pointed towards the world that Maltos himself had been trained on – the world that they were ultimately heading to. Leaves like the current one they visited for many reasons and getting stronger was foremost among them.

“A Leaf Compass is expensive, but there is no proof it belonged to him,” the noblewoman stated. “Do you have a writ?”

“Of sorts,” Apexus answered and pulled out the notebook that his teacher had bestowed on him. While the majority of it was a compilation of the humanoid slime’s own writings, Maltos had added some of his own notes.

The noblewoman snapped her fingers and another noble descended the staircase that led up to the balcony. “May I see that for a moment?”

“Do not damage it,” Apexus warned, not caring in the slightest if this was a breach of etiquette. The glare of the noble made clear that it was, but he was too enticed when he carefully flipped through the pages. He nodded. “This is the same handwriting as some of the old exchanges with the Radiant Hand.” Closing the book gingerly, he held it ponderingly. “I would buy this for 30 Platin from you?”

“No.” Apexus put his hand out. The noble scoffed but handed it back. Apexus quickly put it away.

“Very well, then!” The noblewoman said, deeply pleased. “Stinging Scorpions, you too shall leave.”

“W-what, why?!” the leader shouted.

“Do not question me!” Frashina snapped back. “Leave or face the consequences.” Several guards moved, their armours clacking, as the threat was spoken. Grumbling, the second of the six parties took their leave. “I will proceed to ask you questions. Only the one I look at shall respond.” She focused on Reysha first. “What is your greatest fear?”

A quip was fast on the redhead’s lips, but a covert pinch by Aclysia kept her tongue in place. Thinking for a moment, the memories of the flaming sky came back unbidden. Clenching her teeth, Reysha chased away the images of trauma, overcome but never gone. “Losing who I am.”

The noblewoman nodded solemnly, then directed her gaze at one of the two members of the Night Runners. “What would you do if a monster attacks?”

“I would rely on my comrade so that both of us can slip away if it is strong or slay it if it is weak.”

A less enthused nod, then Frashina looked at Kumlin. “You come across an injured man on your journey, what do you do?”

The dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Certainly, he would have my aid. His wound would be healed and I would accompany him for as long as necessary to maximize his survival.”

Another nod. Frashina’s eyes kept wandering and she kept asking questions. They seemed random, possessing only a general undertone of testing the moral character and flexibility of the people. “Would you ever steal?” she asked the other member of the Night Runners.

“Certainly not from the Sleeping Empire, milady,” she answered quickly. That she had misspoken in her haste to impress dawned on her the moment the words left her mouth. “No, I mean never from-“

“Enough – get out of my sight.” The order was given and, hanging her head, the one Rogue was guided away by the other. That left them with half of the original attendants of the meeting. The Bastion party moved closer to the middle of the courtyard, to use the newly opened space. “I understand each of you is here because you desire the money. Adventurers are such a lot, desiring wealth to drink and buy your safety through magical trinkets. Beyond that, however, what do you desire? What does each of your parties wish to achieve in the world? You may think for a minute.”

Korith tugged on everyone’s sleeves to get their attention. “Uhm, what do we say there? Do you have a good response to that?”

Apexus lightly tilted his head. “I have a true response.”

“Is it finding tasty things?” Reysha joked.

“Give darling more credit than yourself,” Aclysia reprimanded.

“Never.”

The group disengaged their heads stuck together, the women backing Apexus as he turned to the balcony. “We desire the wisdom and might to make the places we visit better than we have found them.”

“A noble endeavour,” the aristocrat commented.

“You know what we are about,” Atlas answered next. “We want to live good lives and make sure that extends to those we care about.”

“Simple, but honest.”

The leader of Bastion cleared his throat. “We dedicate ourselves to the protection of the innocent!”

“Urgh,” Frashina outright retched at that. “Lies leave a terrible taste in my mouth. If protection of the innocent was your goal, you would join the Church and the army – and you certainly would not seek a Quest whose first and foremost reward is money.”

“We-“

“I do not care – Leave.”

“Fuck,” the Bastion leader spat out a curse, then turned on his heels. Now only the Inevitable and the Atlas party remained.

“Do we do this the same as always?” Atlas then asked. “Because I do not like my chances.”

“We indeed will. Remaining competitors for the honour of serving the great Sleeping Empire, choose your champion. Face each other in combat. First blood will decide the loser of this bout.”

Atlas sighed, resigned to defeat. Monks were usually a bad matchup for Warriors. Warriors had the edge in defences, but Monks both had speed and power on their side. One of the most basic Skills of the Monk, the Rippling Palm and its many derivatives, was designed specifically to strike through protective layers.

On the other side, there was a short talk. “Should I go, maybe?” Reysha suggested.

“Uhm, I think that’s a bad idea,” Korith whispered. “Don’t take this the wrong way but, uhm… you’re a little bit of a killer.”

“What wrong way is there to take that? I absolutely am,” Reysha agreed readily, her face devoid of a smile. “We don’t want to draw last blood… alright, sure.”

Throwing Korith into the fight was similarly out of the question. The drawback of her reliance on leaping was that she could not do as much as a half impact. Apexus and his measured fighting style were the best all around here.

The Monk and the Warrior stepped into the fighting ring. “When this handkerchief touches the ground between you, you may begin,” the lady declared.

Apexus kept his eyes on the opponent, even as the pink cloth sailed down between them. It settled on the floor, to no reaction from the two combatants. “You can divest yourself of your armour,” the humanoid chimera offered.

“Gesture is appreciated, but I fight best in it,” the Warrior answered.

A nod, then a step forward. Atlas raised his shield, covering much of his body. It included his sword arm. Apexus let his vision blur, concentrating on his tremor sense and his ears. He caught the little adjustments in posture that accompanied a hand lowering and the slight click of a weapon being drawn.

Apexus snapped forwards suddenly. The aggressiveness of the assault surprised Atlas, but Warrior Control was in full effect. Like all of his Class, the frontliner was specialized to have the magic surging through his blood constantly, creating an effect that was lesser than the spikes of other Classes in exchange for the reliability that let him meet the charge with a swing of his shield.

The changed angle of impact made it so the Rippling Palm’s energy surfaced again where the arm was not located. Atlas then immediately lunged forward, a dagger in hand. Ironskin clad, Apexus knocked the weapon aside. Any larger weapon would have been too heavy to turn around in time. Atlas went for a second stab, just as the Rippling Palm slammed into his chest – accompanied by the metal denting impact of the mantis shrimp smasher hidden in the wrist of the humanoid chimera.

The combined impacts flung Atlas. He remained on his feet, catching himself after two stumbles. “Yup… your victory…” he wheezed, sensing the blunt trauma on his ribcage. “Definitely bleeding…”

“As Atlas says, then-“

“No,” Apexus interrupted. “The victory is his.”

The noblewoman leaned over the railing, to get a better look at Apexus. As always in combat, he had taken off the upper part of his robe. There was not a single dot of red to his lightly tanned form. “Do you surrender?” she asked, confused.

“No. He won.” Apexus wandered over to Reysha.

“Always such a goody-two-shoes,” she theatrically rolled her eyes and handed him one of the new weapons she carried on her. The true silver dagger felt awkward in his hands, least of all because it was too small for his paws.

In demonstration, Apexus raised the weapon to his own face and cut a trench over his cheek. The aristocrats cringed at the display – an emotion soon replaced with interest when they only spotted a glimpse of deep blue before the wound sealed itself. “My species does not bleed like most people do. His second strike struck my shoulder. He broke skin before I did.” He handed the dagger back. “He is the victor.”

“…So he is then,” the noblewoman hummed. “Very well, the Atlas party will have the job.”

The party was not in as festive a mood as usual when they got a gig like this. Certainly, the Warrior trusted in Apexus’ assessment. The armour made it impossible for either to know who had truly bled first. Atlas did not bring it up. They wanted the Quest and a niceness stand-off would lead to very little.

“Inevitable, know that I will remember your conduct,” Frashina declared. “Now go, I have details to discuss with the Atlas party.”

“A pleasure meeting you,” Aclysia said her goodbye, then followed the rest of the party out the door.