H - 83: This is Over Your Pay Grade (Patreon)

“It’s quiet.”

“Don’t,” Greg took his mouth off his pipes to command. “Don’t do that. I’m the bard in this party. You’re not rated to administer cliches in the field, Lilith. There’s a certification process.”

Lilith squinted suspiciously at him from beneath the wide brim of her extravagant hat. “There’s no way that’s true.”

“There is in Rhivaak!”

“Greg, don’t goof around when we’re on mission,” Riocco said softly, “especially since she’s right. It is too quiet.”

The party fell silent, including the long-suffering Karl; even Chevalier didn’t snort, simply plodding forward with his head down.

They were cutting this mission close, in terms of getting safely back to the city before the gates shut—which, considering they had trekked from the capital to the very edge of the valley and back, meant they’d made quite good time. Now, dusk had begun to fall; the light filtering through the leaves above had gone through orange and was trending red. At their current pace they would likely make it in time, if only just.

More immediately, the sounds of the forest had changed. True silence had not fallen, hence why Greg hadn’t noticed, but now the only animal noises were caused by…

“Insects,” Riocco said aloud, eyes ceaselessly panning their surroundings, resting their hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords. “I hear cicadas and crickets. No birds, no squirrels.”

“How bad is that?” Karl asked quietly.

“It means that something is nearby,” Riocco explained in an even tone. “Something which small animals but not insects regard as a threat. That could be a predator—around here, a bear or perhaps wolves. There won’t be pumas or cassowaries this close to the capital. Nothing that Greg’s efforts won’t dissuade.”

They nodded at him; nodding back, Greg put the mouthpiece back to his lips and resumed puffing away at the tuba sprouting from his huge pack.

“In the worst case,” Riocco continued quietly, “people. Little animals won’t react to most people passing through the forest. If it’s people, the silence of birds means there is either a significant number of them around us, or they are employing some kind of magic natural creatures instinctively abhor.”

“Wouldn’t…” Karl cleared his throat, eyes darting back and forth at the trees and the shadows beneath. “Wouldn’t that silence the bugs, as well?”

“There are magics, and then there are magics,” Lilith rasped.

Riocco nodded. “Magic comes in many types; several of the most noxious actually encourage insects and similar vermin. My point was that if it’s people, that is a concern. Greg’s bardsong will repel animals. People, if they are highly organized and/or employing counter-magic, may be able to penetrate the effect. Then we will have a problem.”

He just nodded back, silent. Karl had never actually been robbed before, but he’d most certainly been followed. The Silver Hound always shelled out for armed escorts of sufficient quality to deter casual bandits, and after all, he operated here in the central valley where there were few such. It was still the Evervales, though, and there was no power in creation that would dissuade the various…invested interests from stalking merchants, messengers, and anyone else whose comings and goings might reveal the merest tidbit of intel about their clients.

This was different. As Riocco had said, anyone ambushing them on the way back from their destination would be after more than information.

“You know these paths best,” Riocco said, stepping up alongside Karl’s seat and speaking softly, “and I feel blind in this forest. How close are we to the city?”

“Close,” he replied, nodding. It was quite normal for foreigners to be disoriented on Boisverd’s roads; outside the Evervales, most countries did not allow tree cover directly over highways and right up to city walls, much less cultivate it. “Almost there, in fact. At a normal pace, I’d say we should be in sight of the gates in…hm, within half an hour.”

Riocco nodded back. “Can we shorten that?”

“We can try.” Karl gave the reins a flick, not really expecting much.

Donkeys were not like most pack animals, much less people, at least in terms of obeying orders. Chevalier laid his ears back and turned his head just enough to bring Karl into his field of view. Thinking about it.

“C’mon, buddy,” Karl wheedled. “I know you’re tired, it’s been all day. You’re already due an apple after today’s work. If we pull through this, I’m getting you strawberries.”

The donkey turned back forward, inhaling deeply and letting out his breath in a hearty sigh, but then he lowered his head and picked up the pace.

“Good boy,” Karl praised. “That’s my best guy.”

“If it becomes necessary,” Riocco asked, “how long can you run? A person at a sprint can outdo this pace, at least for a while.”

“I’m not leaving Chevalier behind,” Karl snapped.

“We can’t leave Chevalier!” Lilith agreed, forgetting in her insistence to rasp.

Riocco nodded gravely. “One does not abandon a comrade. All right… My blades can make short work of this harness, if need be. The Verdi Herons’ insurance policy will cover exigent damage to the Silver Hound’s property. If we are accosted, I will cut Chevalier loose—then you get astride him. Unburdened by the cart, he can get you to the gate guards in minutes. We will buy you time.”

Karl opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it and nodded. These kids might be lacking in general professionalism…not to mention being altogether too much to deal with for hours on end…but hearing their leader now, and glancing at the resolute expressions of the others, he had to grant that they had the spine for this job.

“And be not swayed by fear,” Riocco added. “This is still just due diligence, as of now. Like as not it’s just wolves or something.”

They barely finished speaking when an explosion just behind and barely a dozen paces to their right sent a flash of brilliant light through the trees, accompanied by shouts and curses from what were decidedly not wolves.

Chevalier discovered he wasn’t that tired after all, and the cart surged forward at such a clip that the three adventurers had to break into a run to keep pace. Karl was honestly somewhat surprised that they did it without visible distress, even Greg; the bard didn’t even stop playing his contraption as he loped alongside them.

“Rearguard formation!” Riocco barked, positioning themselves directly behind the cart so Karl couldn’t see what they were doing. The bard and mage maneuvered themselves to jog at either side of his position, doing a complete mid-run pirouette every few strides to keep an eye on their surroundings and rear. They even did that without stumbling.

This crew might be idiots, but the Herons trained their people well.

The group dashed along the highway as fast as Chevalier’s hooves could haul the cart, while the sounds and flashes of an obviously magical altercation unfolded around them. All around; it began strictly on their right, but before they’d gone twenty paces there came another explosion from the opposite side of the road, accompanied by an eerie blue flash. Shouts and curses were barely distinguishable, but barely was enough to reveal that someone was indeed after them in particular.

“They’re rabbiting! Intercept now!”

“Shit, what happened to—”

“Where’d she go? I can’t see—”

“Stay on the targets! Delay her, I’ll—”

Three distinct voices screamed and were nearly drowned out by a roar that sounded like a waterfall erupting from nowhere, accompanied by another blaze of white light.

Directly in front of them, a single figure burst out of the treeline, charging at the group with two short swords not unlike Riocco’s upraised. Riocco darted to intercept, and their attacker skidded to a halt in the road, glancing about and finding himself—apparently unexpectedly—outnumbered. More voices were yelling and cursing in at least two distinct places nearby, but no others had made it as far as moving on the merchant and his guards.

Before either fighter could engage, the flash and roar repeated, revealing this time that it literally was a waterfall—a brief, horizontal one. A torrent of water thundered out of the trees, right across the road, sweeping up the bandit.

Chevalier brayed and shied away, bringing the cart to a halt in his panic. That flash flood had ripped by alarmingly close to his nose.

“Circle up!” Riocco barked! “Don’t let them engage! Karl, is he okay?”

Karl had already leaped down from the driver’s seat, rushing forward to calm the donkey, who was most definitely not accustomed to this kind of excitement. The ongoing bangs and shouts from their surroundings were not helping. He tried to soothe Chevalier as best he could while the donkey was still straining against his harness in fear, aware peripherally of the three Lone Wolves shifting their formation to protect the two of them in particular, rather than the cart as a whole.

Even as they maneuvered, though, the sounds were changing. There was a cessation of flashing lights, and while the shouting continued unabated, it was noticeably receding as the affronted voices now clearly fled. The remaining crashing noises indicated people tearing through the dark underbrush in a hurry, rather than things exploding.

“Eyes up,” Riocco urged them as Karl finally got Chevalier to stand still, and the other two members of their team looked questioningly to the leader. “Don’t rush to—”

Another figure burst from the shadows, leaping over the ditch beside the road to land right in front of them, and bringing with her a source of light. This abrupt arrival made Chevalier bray in startlement and try to rear up against his harness, the three Wolves pivoting to face the new threat.

She stopped, though, holding higher the hand over which was hovering a swirling orb of golden light, to better illuminate their surroundings. The woman had a rapier, but it was sheathed at her waist, and she ignored the weapons being brandished at her, eyes darting about to take in every detail of the scene. Her attire was simple and practical, her blonde hair cut short and ruffled by recent exertions; she had the hollow-eyed look of someone who hadn’t slept nearly enough in far too long.

“Well, there’ll be no taking one of those alive,” she stated in clear disgruntlement. “Blast. More trouble than it’s worth to kill them, too.”

“Uh…why?” Lilith asked, prompting both Greg and Riocco to shush her.

“Those were Shadow Guild hirelings,” their rescuer said brusquely. “Doesn’t pay to get too rough with them, not when they’ll run if pressed. Piss them off and they’re likely to get—hang on.” She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes and intensifying the light. “I know you. We met at…it was the…”

“After the vigil for the Princess,” Riocco supplied. “It’s good to see you again, Lady Cora. And thank you kindly for the assistance.”

“Ah, that was it!” Cora d’Acron agreed, nodding as her expression cleared. “Right, the Lone Wolves, with the Verdi Herons. Apologies, I have been up to my neck in this matter for days and I’m afraid non-essential information tends to pour right out of my head when I’m this deep in a job.”

“Well, we certainly know what that feels like,” Greg said sagely.

“This matter?” Riocco asked. “We’re on a simple delivery escort. I don’t even know what that was about.”

Cora heaved a sigh and dismissed the floating light, running her fingers through her hair and rumpling it further. She turned her head to scowl at the darkening treeline, chewing her lip for a moment in a clear display of someone operating under a dearth of mental energy considering what should and could be said in this situation.

“Look,” she finally said in a voice barely holding back frustration, “I’m acting here in my capacity as Court Mage. This is a matter of the Crown’s business and the security of the nation; I really can’t divulge details. I know that’s not reassuring, given you’re already involved, but—well, it’s like those Shadow Guild toughs just now. The Crown understands better than anyone how business is done in the Evervales. You’re not in any legal trouble; the Silver Hound and the Verdi Herons are just doing business, and we’ve no reason to think it’s not in good faith. Being unknowingly hired by enemies of the state isn’t a crime. Even the Shadow Guilds are—well, not legal, obviously, but as far as I’m aware they’re professionals in their way. This won’t be personal for them, so you needn’t worry about that.”

“Ah…what should we worry about?” Riocco asked warily.

Cora fixed her full attention back on them, frowning. “Even if I were free to talk, I’m not sure I’d have much advice for you. I am nipping at the heels of someone—something, more accurately—whose motives and agenda I don’t yet understand. All I can suggest is that you think about why someone would want you silenced, but not until after your errand was done, and before you reported back. Look, you’re adventurers, and your guild is serious business. You guys are a newer party, if I recall right? That might help explain why you were targeted, but even so, personally I wouldn’t antagonize the Verdi Herons. Not many players in Boisverd would—I’m honestly surprised any of the Shadow Guilds were willing to take that risk. As I said, I’m not yet sure exactly what is happening here. Just…keep your heads down and try to avoid getting tangled up in anything else too…exotic. For my sake as well as your own, please. This is complicated enough already.”

She turned with no further word and started off up the road toward the city.

“Wait!” Riocco called out, holding out a hand after the departing mage. “We’re also loyal subjects of Boisverd! If we’re already involved, we can help you—”

“No!” Cora barked, spinning to face them again. “Gods no, not even—” She broke off, pressing a hand over her eyes for a moment to regather her patience. “Look. I appreciate the thought, but this…this is over your pay grade. Just…be mindful of the laws, don’t actually commit any treason, and if anyone tries to induce you to, report it to your Guild and let them notify the Crown. And you might think about taking a different job in the meantime. Just…please keep out of trouble. Now I really do have to get back. Be safe.”

She took off at a brisk jog, giving them no more opportunity to argue and no farewell save a halfhearted wave over one shoulder.

Three adventurers, a teamster, and an unsettled donkey stood in the highway, staring after her.

“Well,” Karl said finally, “this sure is…a lot. Needless to say, we have some reports to make to our respective organizations. C’mon, Chevalier, let’s go.”

He stayed on foot this time, walking alongside Chevalier and encouragingly patting the donkey’s neck as they resumed trundling toward the gates.

“Ah…right, yes,” Riocco said, shaking themselves off and falling into step alongside him. “Indeed, we’d best make haste, lest we find ourselves locked out when they close the gates at sunset.”

“Yes, I do not fancy camping,” Karl said sourly. “It’s usually safe enough, right there under the gatehouse with the other poor bastards who didn’t make it back in time, but there no sense getting stuck on the road if you can help it. Chevalier and I both deserve better accommodations after today. And you kids too, of course.”

“Needless to say,” Lilith graveled, “there is no question of us simply forgetting this affair, now that we have been dragged into it.”

“Not a chance in the last hell!” Greg proclaimed, adding a brass fanfare which made Chevalier flatten his ears in annoyance.

“We must be careful,” Riocco agreed gravely, “but we must not be negligent. Someone has played us false, my friends, and we can scarcely call ourselves adventurers if we let it stand.”

“Just leave me out of it,” Karl groaned.

“Of course, my friend,” Riocco assured him. “This is no matter for civilians. Be assured none of us shall take it amiss if you choose to recuse yourself from this job henceforth. To change the subject… Greg, do Rhiva bards actually need a certification to use cliches?”

“What?” He turned to them, blinking, then grinned. “Oh, well… I mean, presumably not. It was just a joke. You know, Rhivaak being…”

“Right, the Rhiva love their bureaucracy and regulations,” Riocco said, nodding. “Everyone knows that. Just as, where I was growing up, everyone knew that Valefolk are shifty and untrustworthy. And how I still occasionally get evicted from nicer teahouses in Boisverd because everyone knows Zouzhi like to start fights.”

“Sorry, boss,” he said with a grimace and an apologetic descending arpeggio on his arm keyboard. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No harm done,” they said, smiling and giving him a pat on the shoulder, on one of the few spots free of his apparatus. “Experience has taught me to find no humor in stereotypes. I don’t mean to be a wet blanket.”

“It is a worthwhile reminder,” Lilith grated sententiously. “Those who are chosen by destiny can ill afford to fall prey to preconception.”

Karl heaved the deepest sigh of his life.