[TLQ-B2] 17. Negotiations (Patreon)

XVII

Negotiations

Krog’s footsteps guided them down the side passage. Though the pathway was tall enough they could traverse it without bending their backs, the path spiralled downwards and grew narrowed with each footfall.

Their torchlight barely kept the shadows at bay.

“Remember to be respectful,” Master Circe whispered. She side-eyed Leah. “Especially you.”

The mage’s brow twitched. “I’ve had diplomatic training.”

“That so?” Master Circe huffed. “Wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Old age often impairs the senses,” Leah shrugged.

Nerya shivered. She’d fear for her life if she ever spoke to her Master like that. But she supposed a mage like Leah would be more confident in their abilities.

White clouds passed between Nerya’s lips. “How many reinforcements did you say we could get, Master?”

“Depends on how well we negotiate. Luckily for us we have an expert in our midst.”

“Negotiate?” Leah said. “You didn’t arrange them yet?”

“The allies we’ll be visiting are in my debt,” Master Circe said. “but not enough to gain the help that you need.”

Which was fair. Theirs would not be an easy battle.

Leah sighed. “Who will we be addressing?”

“Rog,” Master Circe said. “Krog’s grandfather. He’s the king of the Frostsplinter Tribe.”

Nerya turned to her mentor’s loyal servant. He was of royal blood? She’d never known.

The squat figure with arms hanging low to the ground rotated as if he sensed her thinking of him. His jagged teeth split into a grin. Nerya gave him a short wave.

Leah humming dragged her attention away again.

“Troggs are not known for their intelligence,” Leah said. “They mostly value strength, artefacts, and minerals that they can use to make themselves stronger.”

“Hoh,” Master Circe intoned. “Guess you weren’t lying about being educated.”

Truly. Troggs as a race were irrelevant to those living on the surface since they stayed underground. If she knew this much about them off the top of her head, she was indeed learned.

The mage turned up her nose. “We don’t have access to any of the things I listed. How exactly are we supposed to ‘negotiate‘ from that position?”

Master Circe snorted. “Why’d you think I brought you two along? You’re fine young babes. Marrying you off should do the trick. I would’ve offered myself, but I’m ‘aging,’ as you say so often.”

Nerya chuckled. Though not everyone shared her opinion, she’d always thought Master was funny—it wasn’t so much so what she said but her delivery.

Master Circe didn’t crack a smile even after two seconds passed.

…Was she being serious?

Leah, massaged her temples and muttered under her breath. Something to do with ‘useless’ and ‘killing’ a certain someone, though Nerya couldn’t hear who.

Despite not hearing her, Nerya understood her sentiment all too well. ‘She’s crazy.’ Whatever had happened to her Master these last few years had deranged her completely.

The issue was that Nerya couldn’t exactly flee.

They reached a level floor which connected to another series of tunnels. This far down, the pathways differed from those above. They weren’t shaped entirely from ice, and the finish wasn’t smooth. Instead of golems doing the digging, these paths gave the impression of having been dug out by hand.

“Troggs are notorious for digging,” Leah whispered.

“It’s where they get their strong arms from,” Master Circe said. “You’ll like them.”

Nerya gagged. Perhaps she did like a man with some muscle. But what she definitely didn’t like was a smelly one. With each step, a pungent odour that was south of mould and north of wet monkey increased in intensity. It grew so intense Leah wove a spell to spare her nostrils—she extended the spell to Nerya, bless her heart.

Master Circe chuckled “Crybabies.”

It hadn’t escaped Nerya’s notice that Leah didn’t extend the spell to Master Circe.

‘Please never let me get on her bad side.’ The girl was petty beyond anything reasonable!

Krog grunted. He had stopped in front of a crude door carved from stone that lacked a handle. It had no hingers either.

“We’re here,” Master Circe said. “Don’t forget what I told you.”

Nerya swallowed. “The be respectful part or the marriage bit?”

Her master grinned but didn’t answer.

Krog rasped his knuckle on the entrance. Steps sounded from the other side and a horizontal slab in the centre of the door was pulled away. Two heavy browridges appeared and studied their party.

The gate guardian released a guttural grunt that rocked Nerya’s eardrums. Her master responded in kind, and the two exchanged a quick series of noises. Nerya blinked. Master could speak Trogg? She’d assumed Krog would do the talking…

‘She really spent that long in this place?’

There was always the possibility that she’d learned a spell to aid her understanding of the language, but language spells were quite complicated and were hard to come by, so the chance was high Master had learned to speak Trogg the hard way.

After the trogg and Master finished, the guardian slid back the stone slab. Nothing happened for some time. When Nerya was beginning to question if negotiations had already broken down, the entire door, which was about the size of Leah, moved.

The stone ground against the walls. Pieces of rock crumbled and tumbled, then the entire entrance literally dislodged. The trogg, holding the whole door, grunted.

A sparse number of torches fastened to the walls of the interior chased away the dark. Layered plateaus of carved rock (their edges chipped like they’d been struck with an axe) covered the underground. Troggs hauled game—rats and the occasional mole-like beast—on sticks. Children huddled around each other and tossed pebbles into a circle demarcated with rocks in a game whose purpose Nerya couldn’t begin to tell. But what struck Nerya most of all, were the hundreds of holes in the walls. Troggs in the dozens climbed out of certain entrances while only one or two exited others. Homes. Those were their homes, Nerya realised.

That made the other exits tunnels. There was entire network down here.

“This is a large colony,” Leah said. “Larger than any I’ve ever heard of.”

Master Circe chuckled. “The Frostsplinter tribe is one of the three big clans of Trogg kind. Now, move your legs. Keeping the king waiting is disrespectful.”

A wide set of steps led towards the centre of the chamber. Nerya wasn’t sure where she’d expected to find the king—if those entrances really were their homes, he couldn’t exactly accept any guests there—but the troggs also lacked any form of furniture or homes like she was used to.

Rog, King of one of the three major trogg clans, was sitting on a boulder as he picked his nose and surveyed the goings-on in his kingdom. He wasn’t wearing anything but a tattered piece of cloth around his privates, which left his bulging muscles on display.

The troggs, though their intelligence was questionable and their ways primitive, were stout. Despite their height (the biggest reaching Nerya’s chest), they would likely be a match for all but the most trained human fighters in pure strength.

Which would make them more than a match for most of the demons they’d faced until now.

Nerya’s face set. This negotiation had to work.

Some of the troggs grunted at Master as they passed, which Nerya assumed was a greeting—

Her Master leaned leaned towards Leah. “That one just now said he liked your build.”

The trogg in question was lying belly-up on the side. Nerya had half the mind to think her master was joking, but the trogg was literally staring at Leah.

Leah kept her gaze ahead and didn’t respond.

That only made Master smile wider.

They reached the large boulder King Rok was using as his throne. King Rok was even bigger up close. His chest was covered in scars that looked to be the result of a crude weapon. And there was a shine hidden in his eyes. Something Nerya hadn’t found in any of the other troggs as of yet. Not even Krog.

A gruff, thick voice roiled over them. “Circe, welcome back.”

Her master inclined her head. “Thanks for having me, King Rok. I bring with me two surface dwellers that’d like to speak to you.”

“Speak to me?” The trog stopped picking his nose and leaned forwards. “And what is it that a bunch of surface dwellers could want from King Rok?”

One of his eyes was a little lazy, which only added to the uncomfortable chill passing through both girls.

Leah discretely elbowed Nerya, making the latter cough.

“King Rok,” Nerya stammered and managed a curtsy. “There’s an urgent matter we’d like to discuss…with you.”

The king’s heavy brow rose. He glanced at Circe but her Master didn’t reveal anything.

‘Damn it! Get it together, Nerya!’

She cleared her throat. “We’d like request the services of your men.”

“Services of my men?”

Murmurs travelled through the pack of troggs behind them.

Nerya’s tried her best to stop her cheeks from flushing and corrected quickly: “The strength of your men.”

He waved her away. “You want to start a war with the duvels, Dweller. I know.”

“That’s an old term for demons,” Master Circe offered before she could ask.

Nerya inclined her head. “That is our intent. They’ve captured some of our allies.”

“So a time-sensitive, high-risk case,” his lips mouthed the syllables slowly, ensuring she was aware of the weight of what she was requesting.

“We understand what we’re asking,” she said. “We’re willing to pay handsomely. My village—”

“Winterforge,” he said.

“If you know of it, you must be aware of the capabilities of our craftsmen. Golems, materials, infrastructure. The list of what we can offer is long.”

Had any villager heard her put their golems on the list, they would’ve branded her a heretic and staked her.

Their golems were a secret they’d held on to for generations.

But times were desperate.

However, despite willingly giving up her clan’s heritage, the king’s expression didn’t change.

Nerya coughed. Leah elbowed her again, knowing what she was about to say.

The image of Levi and Varrick being in the claws of the demons flicked through her mind. For a moment, the thoughts did war with the idea of giving herself away…but the idea of her mother’s saviour and her brother outweighed anything fear could serve her.

Looking at the floor, Nerya forced the words out. “Unless…of course…that’s not what you’re looking for…”

Leah’s arms jerked as she no doubt fought the urge to put her face in her hands.

The king studied the quivering Nerya, then turned to Circe. “Circe, what’s the matter with this dweller? Did she fall on her head? She’s been stuttering the entire time.”

Master smirked. “I told them you were after their hand in marriage.”

There was a pause.

Then King Rok burst into rumbling laughter that the other troggs in the room joined in on. Nerya wasn’t sure if they’d understood the joke or if they were merely mimicking their king.

“A sickly, thin thing like you, my wife?” King Rok slapped his chest and kicked the rock he was sitting on. Only after a few more breaths did the king bring his laughter under control. “Jokes aside, I must say, none of the things you mentioned sound incredibly appealing to us. Whatever you think you can craft for us, I assure you our tribe has no use for it.”

Nerya kept herself from frowning. ‘I can see that.’ Their techniques and arts were developed to serve ‘surface dwellers,’ not troggs living underground. Even if they were to build these troggs a house, she doubted it’d be much different than living in a cavity in the wall for them. They’d probably much prefer the latter.

However, if there was nothing he wanted from her village, and he didn’t want their maidenhood either, there was nothing else…

While the dread of returning from here empty-handed settled in her stomach, King Rok swivelled to the other dweller which had yet to say a single thing. “You’re a sorcerer?”

Leah lowered her head. “A mage, to be precise, King Rok. If there’s anything my talents may offer…”

Nerya’s ears jerked. Of course! Material wealth, goods, and services may not mean anything, but a mage could work wonders! She almost wanted to rush and drag Leah of her feet in appreciation.

But the king’s next words doused her mirth and replaced her joy with confusion.

“What’s that you have in your pocket?”

Leah blinked. “In my pocket, Milord?”

Mages ever had a lot of items on their person, so what could he be referring to?

“It’s exuding quite the aura,” King Rok said.

The words took a moment to parse in Leah’s mind. She fished the frost shard out of her robe. “This?”

King Rok nodded.

“It’s an undead core,” Leah said.

“Undead?”

“If I may, King Rok,” Master Circe said, drawing his attention. “Recently, the Warden of the kingdom on the surface has changed. She’s a necromancer.”

The king’s gaze narrowed. “Belonging to…”

“That old line, yes,” Master confirmed. The king’s lazy eye widened an instant later than his other pupil.

‘Incredible,’ Nerya thought. To think the Warden’s infamy extended this far underground. Who exactly were her ancestors that a tribe of troggs would know of them?

Now, the king placed his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his palms, a pose all too human in nature. “That core was entrusted to you?”

“Yes,” Leah said slowly, unsure of where the king was going with this.

“Then you must be one of her confidants.”

Leah’s lips parted. She frowned and closed her mouth. With great difficulty, she said: “Something along those lines.”

Nerya still wasn’t aware of how Leah had ended up in the Warden’s services. Since the mage didn’t need much of an excuse to start cussing the Warden out under her breath, she assumed it hadn’t been a pleasant situation. That said, Leah did try to help in earnest, so she cannot be totally forced to act against her will.

“Then here’s what I want,” the king said.

And both girls hung onto his next words.