Larkin hurried after the Branch Head into the back area of the guildhouse. It was a crowded room but he didn’t have time to look around as Cezar was already descending down a set of stairs under a newly opened trapdoor.
There was a set of lights embedded into the wall - taking the place of electric light bulbs back on Earth - so Larkin got a good view of the armoury that Cezar had led him to.
“Common Weapons Expertise?” Cezar asked over her shoulder as she confidently moved around the various racks.
He hesitated for a moment, confused, before realising that she was asking if he had the Skill. He confirmed he did, though the woman was already coming back with something.
“Here, this should fit.” The Branch Head said, handing him some leathers before turning back to poke around at things.
As soon as Larkin took hold of it he suddenly knew that it was gambeson and he started to put it on. Wearing it resulted in a strange dichotomy in his head. On the one hand it was a new experience, and on the other he felt a sense of comfortable familiarity.
More of my Fighter Class messing with my head. He thought wearily, pushing the momentary disorientation aside as he laced up the armour over his t-shirt.
“You can replace that crooked toothpick with this.” She told him, handing over a proper arming sword complete with sheath and thick leather belt. “And this too.”
She placed a kite shield on the ground next to him and went back for more. By the time Larkin had replaced the crude sword he’d taken from the goblin with the larger, clearly better made one, there was a leather helmet added to the pile, a shortbow with a packed quiver, and Cezar was holding a six foot spear.
All of which, Larkin could somehow tell that he was able to use as though he’d been training with them for years. But…
“Is it really okay for me to just take these?” He asked.
Larkin had no idea about how much things cost in Systemia, but all of this couldn’t have come cheap. And Cezar barely knew a thing about him.
The Branch Head just gave a short laugh as she thrust the spear into his arms.
“Like I said, we’ll take all the help we can get.” She told him. “And besides, you’ll either earn this by killing a bunch of monsters or I’ll get these back when I recover them from your body.”
Cezar didn’t give him time to respond to that cheerful thought, instead tossing a small leather pouch at him.
“A few utility items.” She said, before clapping him on the shoulder and practically dragging him back upstairs.
“Come on. The others should be waiting on the boat by now, and I don’t want to hear Jorg complaining that I should have given him more time in the tavern.”
Larkin stumbled up the stairs and back to the front of the guild. The captain, mayor, and the old priest had gone, but Gascon gave them a cheerful wave as they left the building.
Until Larkin blinked and turned to Cezar, feeling a sudden sense of dread.
“Wait, what boat?”
- - -
It turned out to be a very familiar vessel, complete with a familiar pilot. The fisherman gave them a grunt as the pair of them got on board after Cezar had led Larkin at a light jog to the harbour from the guild.
The fisherman gave off a slight whiff of alcohol, presumably from whatever dive he’d been pulled out of by the adventurers. But that was almost completely overpowered by the stench of drink coming from another one of the people on the boat.
“Whose this then?” The person in question asked, as the fisherman finished playing around with the rope tying them to the pier and they slowly began to move off.
There was a thick accent in that voice, discernable even through the alcoholic slurring. And Larkin found that his Skills were, once again, pushing new information into his head, as it seemed to recognise where the guy was from.
He speaks Calilean, but with a Baeish accent. Larkin found himself thinking. And Bae is spoken by the Dwarfs of Axehearth, to the north of Girant.
And Jorg was a Dwarf, he realised. It was hard to tell given the way he was sprawled out on the boat, but Larkin doubted that he could be much over five feet in height.
The Dwarf wore a thick cloak that covered what seemed like very heavy plate mail. And a ridiculously large axe and shield were sat next to him. Their size seemed even more crazy given the stature of the guy, though he was certainly bulging with muscles.
But he was also clearly sodden; his long grey hair and thick bushy beard failed to hide the tell-tell slackness around his face. And the sloshing wineskin in his hand didn’t exactly do him any favours either.
Larkin struggled to keep a frown from his face as he stared down at him.
“He’s the one who bought the news of the Firestingers, Jorg.” Cezar told him. “He’s a Fighter.”
She then paused and glanced over at Larkin.
“And… um, what’s your name?”
He grunted softly as he found a place on the boat as far away from Jorg as he could on the bobbing deathtrap.
“Larkin.” He replied, eyes going to the final member of the group.
She was a girl that looked about his own age, dressed in tight leathers. She was also carrying two very large bows, though he was guessing that at least one of them was Cezar’s.
“Thanks for getting my things, Jasset.” The Branch Head confirmed, giving Jorg a faintly irritated look. “You better sober up quickly.”
That got a grunt, and the short adventurer downed the skin in one big gulp before responding.
“I was meant to have a solid night devoted to destroying my liver, Cezar.” He groused. “So how come these tin-tins hustled me and poor Hecul here…” - he gestured at the fisherman with the skin - “...out here at this time of night?”
The Branch Head gave a snort, taking his complaints in stride as she dropped to a graceful cross legged position next to Jasset.
“It’s barely an hour past sunset, you fool.” She chuckled. “The rate you were going, you’d have been on the floor well before midnight.”
The woman’s voice hardened.
“As for the news…”
Larkin was content to let her explain everything; because she’d be better at it - certainly not because the erratic movement of the boat felt even worse than before and he felt the very real risk of throwing up all over his new companions. Which he figured wouldn’t be the ideal start to their relationship.
Sitting huddled in a sweaty nervous state probably wasn’t great either. But there really wasn’t anything he could do about that.
But even though the conversation between the three adventurers largely passed over him, he did manage to pick up on a couple of things. The first was their Classes - Cezar was a Ranger, Jasset a Scout, and Jorg was a Shieldbearer.
And the second was that they were wary of the situation but ultimately confident that they could deal with it.
Or, at least, Jorg and Cezar were wary. Jasset just seemed utterly excited with the whole situation, peppering the other woman with constant questions. Cezar spoke with casual confidence of the various approaches they could take, with Jorg being her somewhat reluctant partner to bounce ideas off.
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And Larkin had to reluctantly accept that Jorg seemed to be sobering up remarkably quickly. The stench of alcohol lingered in the boat, but the Shieldbearer’s voice and face started losing the looseness of drunkenness.
The boat was soon travelling in almost complete darkness, only a couple of lights provided by the adventures offering any relief from the threatening emptiness around them.
That seemed to make the twitching sensation in Larkin’s stomach even worse, so he lowered his chin to his breast with a soft groan as he prayed for the ordeal to be over.
He was like that for a while before he heard someone move closer towards where he was sitting.
“So, you’ve killed some of those monsters already, huh?” A far too excited voice said into his ear. “What were they like?”
He raised his head enough to glower at Jasset - couldn’t she have kept bothering Cezar? The dark haired girl had an excited look in her blue eyes that suggested she was struggling to keep herself still.
“Very annoying.” Larkin grunted, thinking back to the encounter. “They were coordinated, and fast too.”
After a moment of thought, he reluctantly added.
“I was only using a shortsword though - my reach was pretty bad. I’ll have an easier time with this.”
He patted the spear that he’d laid down on the bottom of the deck beside him.
“Then my bow will give me an ever better reach.” Jasset told him. “So… how come you fought them with a single little weapon?”
Larkin bristled at that.
“I didn’t want people to get hurt.” He objected, before worrying that he sounded like an idiot. “Anyway, I didn’t know exactly what they were.”
That got a growl from Jorg, further down the boat where he’d apparently been listening in.
“An adventurer needs to know what he’s facing.” He announced. “Unless he wants to become a dead adventurer, of course.”
Before Larkin could try to defend himself, he found Jasset doing so.
“But that can’t always work.” She objected. “Otherwise, adventurers will spend all their time studying while the monsters are doing whatever they want. That doesn’t sound fun!”
Not quite the argument I was going to make, he thought, but he wasn’t going to risk his stomach by speaking up.
“Adventuring isn’t about having fun.” Jorg retorted with a chuckle, but Larkin felt his stomach twitch so let the two of them have it out.
And, fortunately, no one disturbed him again until they arrived back at the docks at Fari. Which was just a little after dawn, as Larkin saw as he staggered onto the wooden pier and started to follow after the others.
Except for the fisherman, Hecul, who stayed on the boat - looking, frankly, like Larkin felt.
Though he imagined that was more from a lack of sleep and a level of concern about the monsters, rather than seasickness. Or else the man had chosen the wrong profession.
Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed, and soon Cezar had a whole bunch of those old folks gathered around her; Cocin amongst them. They didn’t seem completely happy though, making wide gestures towards the west.
But Larkin found his attention drawn to another familiar face standing off to one side. Robiery didn’t look as though one night’s sleep had helped much; he was pale and a sense of defeat hung over him like a mantle.
“Robiery.” The villager jerked around as Larkin called out his name.
“Has anything happened?” He asked, jerking his head towards Cocin and the other greybeards. “They seem pretty excited.”
The villager turned to him, and Larkin noticed how shadowed his eyes were - had he gotten any sleep?
“The village set up a watch.” Robiery told him. “And a couple of them saw dozens of flying creatures moving to the north east just a few minutes ago. They must be heading to Pilough.”
Larkin blinked, uncertain how to respond to that. But a gravelly voice spoke up from behind him.
“The Queen seems to be desperate for food.” Jorg approached, with Jasset in tow. “And there can only be one reason for that.”
The Shieldbearer’s face was grim.
“She must have a bunch of spawn hatching soon. If we don’t hurry and kill the thing, there might be thousands of Firestingers infesting this area.
The moment of silence that followed Jorg’s ominous words were broken by a tinkle of laughter.
“That just means we have to hurry up and kill the bitch, right?” Jasset asked with a shrug. “So what are we waiting for?”
The girl was clearly eager to go monster hunting but Larkin felt that he had to raise another matter.
“What about the people in that village? Pilough?” He asked.
Only for Jasset to give a dismissive shrug.
“They’re monster food by now.” She stated. “No point in wasting time on them.”
He saw Robiery’s face twitch, doubtless thinking of his own family that had been taken. Larkin turned an angry look at the girl.
“How can you say that?” He demanded. “Why are you so callous?”
Getting a surprised look from Jasset, but Jorg spoke up before the dark haired girl could respond.
“The people of Pilough are probably still alive.” He corrected Jasset. “Firestingers don’t usually eat their prey immediately when they catch ‘em. They’ll often keep them around for their newborn to feed or if the Queen has sudden next for any extra food.”
Obviously that last part was not what Robiery wanted to hear, either. But at least there was a slim chance that his family might still be alive.
“And you need to learn some sensitivity, lass.” The Shieldbearer continued, eyeing the girl. “Don’t forget that you’re a Classbearer now; your words will carry weight, whether you mean them to or not.”
The Scout bit her lip, but nodded even as she looked away.
“But Jasset’s right about one thing.” Jorg told Larkin. “Us going to Pilough would be a mistake; acting reactively will just keep us on the backfoot. And allow the monsters to attack more villages.”
He nodded to where Cezar was still talking with the gathered old folks.
“The people of Fari are going to be scared by the idea of rampaging monsters, absolutely.” He remarked. “But the quickest way for us to end all of this is to find and kill the Queen.”
That got a question out of Jasset, who was looking at the scrum around the Ranger with a frown on her face.
“Why not just tell them all that?” She asked. “We’re wasting daylight with all this chatter.”
Jorg gave out a chuckle.
“Part of our role is to give assurances to those without Classes, Jasset.” He replied. “Panic and hysteria can sometimes be just as bad as monsters.”
Jorg then turned an appraising eye towards Robiery.
“You’re from the village of Willow, are you not?” He asked, surprising Larkin. “Pasco’s son, right?”
Robiery blinked for a moment before nodding.
“Yes, that’s right, Sir Jorg.” He replied, a conflicted set of emotions going over his face.
The Shieldbearer spoke in a gravelly but matter-of-fact tone.
“We will need to have a guide take us to Willow.” He told the man. “And to Red Oak, as well. Probably to the local Wardstone, too.”
Jorg gave the villager a tight smile through his beard.
“Will you show us the way, Robiery?”
The man began to splutter, before straightening his back.
“Yes, Sir Jorg.” He proclaimed.
Sounding, Larkin noticed, far less miserable than he had been just a moment ago.
How had Jorg done that?
It was now impossible in his head to reconcile the stinking drunk he’d met at the start of their trip to the proud Classbearer that practically radiated confidence and assurance.
He put the question to one side as Cezar approached them, shedding the old geezers in her wake.
“We need to move.” The Branch Head told them, before giving Robiery a curious glance.
“Young Robiery has agreed to show us the way.” Jorg told her.
Which got a pleased grunt from Cezar.
“Good man.” She told the village. “Walk with me.”
The Ranger headed off, with Robiery hurrying to keep pace with her. The Ranger immediately started grilling him about the terrain and the monsters that he’d seen. Jasset trailed behind them, listening to them with a faintly bemused expression on her face.
Larkin fell into step beside Jorg, at the back of their little group.
“How did you know Robiery’s father?” He asked in a low voice.
It was just one of the questions that he had, but bugged him in a way that he found hard to justify. It seemed odd to him that the Shieldbearer would just happen to know something about the villager they wanted as a guide.
Jorg must have seen some of the thoughts going through Larkin’s head from his expression, as he gave a chuckle before responding.
“I met Pasco shortly after I was transferred to the guild branch in Gavlim.” He said. “So that would be twenty years ago.”
Larkin felt his eyebrows rise.
“And you still remember him?” He asked. “Were you close or something?”
His perplexity only increased when Jorg shook his head.
“Part of the job is about knowing people.” He explained. “Younglings tend not to think about that, which is a damn shame though I can’t say I was any different. Hunting monsters isn’t just some pastime of ours that we do because we enjoy it. We’re doing it to help people so it behooves us to at least try and get to know those same people.”
Larkin couldn’t find any reason to disagree with any of that, though found that line of thinking difficult to reconcile with what he’d seen and heard from Jasset so far.
But he pushed those thoughts aside as they left Fari.
Worry about all that once the Firestingers are dead, he thought.
And just hoped that Cezar and the others actually knew what they were doing.
