Chapter 24: Trying Not to Lose Your Head as a Merchant (Patreon)

We will step away from Alice the Rock for a chapter.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Trying Not to Lose Your Head as a Merchant

Traffic in and around the Lossen Valley had fallen to a trickle since the birth of Eva the Witch. The now-notorious territory was surrounded on all sides by inhospitable mountains, travel over which often meant death. Only a journey through the valley itself could reasonably ensure the health of cargo and their porters, though between bandits, daemons, and curses, few were brave enough to take the risk.

At either entrance to the valley stood the tall gatehouses of the Border Princes, the titles a reward for the duty placed upon the local nobility by the Counsel of Magi. For three short years, the Border Princes had watched over the Lossen Valley and made sure no daemon born of Eva the Black's [Awakening] escaped into the wider world.

Knees the Merchant had made the journey through the valley half a hundred times, however, and had not once seen a daemon. He knew they came down from the mountains occasionally, but he concerned himself with more important matters. Such as where could one find the cleanest prostitutes after a day's trade in Waterhold? Who in the Puck Boy Gang will stab you in the belly for saying hello and who will see you safely from the South Gate to the North Gate for a bagful of coin?

These were far more important concerns than frightful talk about daemons. Because Knees had made the journey through the cursed valley over half a hundred times and knew just what to expect and where to expect.

Though he had never run into a situation like this before.

"Unacceptable! Simply unacceptable!" Knees muttered to himself. He had made this same comment several dozen times over the last hour. He had been waiting outside the North Gate with a handful of other waylaid travelers for several hours.

Normally, carts were waved quickly through the gatehouse after their owners handed over the outrageous tax demanded by the Border Princes. But not today. Not for several days, if the word Knees heard was true. The guards were checking anyone and everyone who entered, and Knees had not missed how nobody seemed to be coming out of the gatehouse and into the valley.

"I would turn around and try my luck at the South Gate if not for my cargo!" Knees said to Bess, his trusted mule. He could not imagine both Border Princes enacting these absurd searches. Unfortunately, leaving through the South Gate would add at least another week to his travels, and Knees was all too eager to quit this cursed place.

"Next!"

Knees jumped at the martial shout. It was a voice he had heard far too infrequently over the past few hours, and one he was not at all familiar with.

"Come on, Bess," Knees said softly, and he urged his mule towards the open gatehouse. Several guardsmen leaned on spears outside, but Knees' attention anchored onto the tallest amongst them.

"Purpose."

The man did not look at all friendly. Those who manned the Valley Gates often looked bored and sour most hours of the day. Knees knew such men were not assigned to this faraway duty for their bravery. Hardly any daemons remained within the valley, after all, and those that did seemed quite content to hide out in its mountains.

But this man... There was an intensity to the guard's face that frightened Knees. He did not let it show on his own face, however.

"Returning from trade," Knees said simply. The guard wore a pot helm that covered much of his face, but it was a face Knees had never seen before. He had traveled in and out of the Lessen Valley so many times that he had thought he knew all the men who manned the twin bastions.

"Huh," was all the gruff guardsman said in answer.

"Y-You know, this waiting is all rather... unacceptable," Knees squeaked, patting the cargo Bess hauled. "Every hour spent here, well, is an hour lost."

The guardsman screwed up his face and glowered down at Knees. The look was enough to make Knees regret ever having opened his mouth.

"Lookin' for a murderer," the man said gruffly, prodding Knees' wares with the butt of his spear. "Real nasty type. Got to check every cart."

"There certainly isn't anyone hiding amongst my wares!" Knees said, more than a little suspicious of this explanation. He had heard something entirely different from another merchant the day past.

"Yeah, well, you'll be glad when you don't wake up with your throat cut open," the guardsman said lazily, and he waved Knees forward. "Go on. They'll do a more thorough search inside."

Knees held his tongue, bowed his head, and urged Bess on through the open gate.

His eyes darted around the tall stone parapets overhead. He had been so annoyed at the delay that he had never really studied the walls... but why were there so many soldiers walking them?

"Is there really a murderer running around...?" Knees wondered worriedly. He had never seen the North Gate so stuffed with bodies. Never mind the walls. There were soldiers gathered around several cookfires within the keep's courtyard, as well. "The Border Prince must really want to find that killer..."

Knees led Bess deeper into the crowded courtyard, his eyes studying the surprising busyness.

A bored-looking guardsman waved him over, and Knees squinted suspiciously at him.

"We'll take that," the man said, and once more Knees realized he had no idea who this fellow was. Almost none of the faces that walked the gatehouse walls or crowded its courtyard were known to him. "Someone will perform a personal inspection inside there."

The bored-looking guardsman pointed at the small stumpy keep that loomed over the gatehouse. Knees had only been inside once to bribe the Gate Commander.

Knees offered Bess the Mule a worried look as she was led away. With a resigned sigh, he took a step towards the stone keep. Before he could take a second step, however, his neck began to prickle.

"Oh."

Knees considered himself to be a good and honest [Merchant]. The Fates had blessed him with a comfortable life, so he had only ever used [Detect Danger] a handful of times. And each time it had felt like a faint prickle across the back of his neck.

"Get a move on!"

"Eh?" Knees jumped as a guardsman shouted angrily at him. It was not the same bored-looking fellow that was currently leading Bess, and Knees' precious cargo, away.

"Go... Go in there?" he asked weakly.

The irritable guardsman eyed him suspiciously. The faint prickle had already disappeared from Knees' neck, but it had to have been [Detect Danger]... or was he simply overreacting? What sort of danger could lurk with so many guardsmen nearby?

"Of course, ser!" Knees said, not waiting for an answer. He marched hurriedly towards the dumpy stone keep, two guardsmen with spears standing bored and idle by its entrance.

"First door on your left," one of them said as they ushered him inside.

A sconce burned within, offering only enough light to illuminate the drab stone floor and a simple wooden door to its left.

"Oh..."

He felt the same prickle again, though more intense now, as if [Detect Danger] sought to rudely rouse him from a deep sleep. Knees wanted to remain optimistic, but it was odd there were so many guardsmen. It was odd that they were checking everyone. Very odd, yes, but dangerous?

"Nobody was coming out of the gatehouse..." Knees muttered anxiously to himself as he crept towards the open door. A faint light fluttered from within, casting a warm glow on the stones outside.

He reached the door, his face awash with sweat. He could hear no noise from within.

Knees shot his head forward and glanced inside, but there was only a desk and two chairs. The room was as empty and as ordinary as tulips.

"H-Hello?" Knees squeaked. He poked his head a little further inside and turned quickly to study the corners, half expecting some daemon to jump out from the shadows.

But there was nothing to see. The room was entirely empty.

"What... What is going on here...?" Knees muttered nervously to himself.

Like a leaf fluttering serenely down from a tree, a silver thread danced in front of his face. It flashed brightly in the flickering candlelight, and Knees looked up, following the thread to its source.

Ice gripped his chest like a mailed fist.

A woman of haunting beauty watched him from the ceiling like some kind of overlarge spider. The silver thread was wrapped around her delicate hands...

...and within a heartbeat, that same thread wrapped itself around his throat.

THUMP went Knees the Merchant's head as it rolled off his shoulders and onto the floor. A geyser of red blood gushed and splattered Helle the Spider. She let out a muffled gasp.

Knees swayed on his feet, as if unable to decide which direction to fall without his head. In the end, he fell face forward, though his face had already rolled away.

Blood pooled around the room's stone floor, but Helle the Spider still lowered herself, much like the insect she was named after, onto the crimson puddle.

She was a tall woman, lithe and beautiful, with skin so pale she was often mistaken for a corpse in dimly lit rooms. Her hair was cut short but was silky smooth. It was the same raven black as the inquisitor robes that covered her like a mourning dress.

Helle the Spider bent forward, not seeming to mind the pool of blood that dirtied the hem of her robes, which, in any case, were already messy with dried red. She picked up Knees the Merchant's head... and held it tight against her chest. From the dried blood that stained her black robes, this was not the first time she had done this.

"Put that filthy thing down."

The voice was as harsh as its owner. A squat woman, hardly taller than a child, waddled into the room. Her face was impossibly square, as if it had been molded from clay rather than flesh. She wore the same black inquisitor robes as Helle, but hers looked almost like a cartoon parody because of their small size.

"Are you crying?!" Iskra the Dwarf was incredulous as she drew closer to the corpse. "That's just some heretic!"

Helle was crying as she cradled the severed head like a newborn infant.

"The High Inquisitor... He said we should love even the heretic." The Spider's voice was so quiet one instinctively leaned forward to better hear her. "But this man... These are not heretics."

With a final sniffle, Helle kissed Knees the Merchant's severed head and placed it gently on top of his corpse.

"Well, I'd never disagree with the High Inquisitor," Iskra the Dwarf said quickly, and she waddled up to the corpse. "But that's stupid. Love the heretic? Maybe love killing the heretic."

The female dwarf held out her hands, the knuckles of which were as hairy as some human beards. The air seemed to ripple with an unseen force, and then Knees the Merchant disappeared.

Iskra leaned forward and picked up a small cube. If one looked close enough, and it was not advisable to do so, they would have seen the cube was made out of meat and bits of cloth.

"I'll be glad when we can start the operation," Iskra said, tossing the Cube of Knees into a leather bag affixed to her hip. "Any word?"

Helle the Spider rose slowly above the door. A flurry of silver threads wrapped around her, hoisting her like an overlarge stone.

"Aalt recently arrived at the South Gate with more of the Border Prince's men," Helle said, her words the softest whisper. "It won't be long now. A week. Maybe two."

"Hah!" Iskra cheered, flashing misshapen and inhuman teeth. "About time!"

"It is a dreadful thing we must do," Helle said reproachfully from her perch. "Simply dreadful..."

"But it must be done," Iskra said as she waddled towards the exit. "The High Inquisitor himself said so, and I would never disagree with him! Everyone within the valley must die."

That's not good. The Inquisition is on Alice's doorstep. Do Alice's new cultists stand a chance?!

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