The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel Page 11

  As Locke spoke, he slowly began to see an opportunity. She can’t kill a thousand men, but she can kill three --and quickly. To top it off, she wants to butcher my enemy as badly as I do, albeit for different reasons. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. “Tell me,” he continued, “if you could choose between dying and letting that scumbag win, or taking the cowardly road to kill the enemy and saving the lives of the people you love, which path would you take? Am I really so wrong?”

  “So you have a plan? You know a way to make it through the Holy Alliance’s encampment and slay their leader? You honestly think that you will ever get close enough to kill him with poison? Or that you can buy the loyalty of enough swordsmen to defeat his entire army? You think that wandering aimlessly through a swamp picking flowers is going to grant you the vengeance you claim to seek so dearly?”

  Do I have a plan? No, no, I really don’t. She’s right, I was just trying to get more powerful and raise money. She’s dead on. I have no idea what to do after I get money. Even if I kill the bastard, he’ll just respawn. Since I can’t kill him, I have to make sure he loses. Locke was stunned by the simple question. His mouth slowly opened as his brain tried to feed words through it and failed. What do I do to kill an immortal? He might as well be God from where I’m at, and I’m just some pesky mortal trying to upend him. “Do you?” He blinked. “Is there something out here that you’re looking for? Something that will help you win your wars?”

  “My business is my own, but if you must know, I was headed for Sine Nomine when I came across you and your deplorable band of miscreants.” Then, without warning, she smiled. Her face had been cold and stern throughout the entire conversation, and with the exception of her sarcasm leaking through the mask, she hadn’t shown any emotion. Even her charges against him had been largely devoid of the anger one would normally expect. When that guise melted, it was like she was an entirely different person. The only problem was that the smile never reached her eyes. “Perhaps you can be of some use to me, after all.”

  Chapter 4

  “I still don’t understand how this is going to help us kill that paladin prick,” Locke grumbled. He had somehow been coerced into going along with her plan, but he still wasn’t putting the dots together. She had briefly explained what it was that he was supposed to do, but it was beyond him to understand how it was supposed to help either one of them. After her sudden epiphany, the samurai-shadow swordsman had finally lowered her blade and allowed Locke to breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. They had spent what felt like far too long arguing back and forth, and he had expected her to finish him off as quickly as she had everyone else from the Blue Phoenix Brigade. Needless to say, it had been a bit of a shock when her demeanor suddenly changed--although he wasn't convinced that it was for the better.

  They had made their way out of the swamp and turned towards Sine Nomine, and the trip out had proved to be much faster and far easier going than it had been going in. The difference in difficulty was largely due to the fact that she was able to dispatch groups of Piranha-Priests with only the slightest effort, and Locke marveled at this strange beauty as she went to work warding off mobs. It was both alluring and frightening to watch, and the first time he witnessed her dispatch a monster, he was in awe of how fluid and conservative her movements were. She was always extremely precise with her attacks and never seemed to waste either time or energy in dealing with anything that attacked them. Not only was she efficient, she didn't need me to do a single thing to help out.

  His over-taxed and perpetually-empty wallet was already feeling the strain of the lost profits he could have turned from the potions he had been forced to use, not to mention all the lost bottles that he still didn't know the price of. How could she just throw those away like they were nothing? Why didn’t she let me look for them? What if they are worth fortunes, and I just lost a piece of my key to revenge?

  She remained silent as they drew closer to the gate of Sine Nomine, but he knew she could hear any protestations he made. “This is where I have to part ways with you. Don’t fail me, or I’ll hunt you down the next time you leave the city and finish what I started in the swamps.” With that, she vanished from Locke’s side almost as soon as she was done making her threat.

  Way to make an exit, Locke’s inner voice spitefully spat out in a cheeky tone. Even if he was on the same side as her for now, he hated feeling like he had been forced into this current ‘understanding.’ Just once, I’d like to think the person in control wasn’t the one with enough cards to be the schoolyard bully, he thought morosely, but that just isn't how life works. The people in power are usually just the ones who are holding the biggest weapon.

  “See you later, too.” Locke waved at the empty spot where she had been, pretending to be cordial and nice to an imaginary and now-faded figure as he turned to finish the remaining stretch into the town.

  Sine Nomine was one of the largest towns Locke had come across in a long while, perhaps even since he first signed into Tiqpa. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and the city seemed to him as if its architect had dreamed of a beautiful, glass-made Atlantis poised over the ocean. Ancient Grecian and Roman architecture was seamlessly blended with glass structures displaying a high level of craftsmanship that would have been impossible to recreate within the real world. Everywhere he looked there was something else equally breathtaking. His eyes instantly flickered between marble statues, ornately carved walls and the carefully crafted docks. The sculptures lining the streets were created in the likeness of every animal he could think of, some he was positive were only in the game, and they were more stunning than anything he could have ever believed game design could produce.

  Part of the city’s magnificence was the stretch of walls that doubled as docks. In reality, the city was below sea level, but flooding was prevented by large white stone walls. The walls acted as a barrier, keeping the ocean out, and they stayed fixed at a static height. The docks, however, did not. It was one of the few parts of Tiqpa that showed the very real effects of climate change back and forth through the ages. Some of the stone-edged glass docks that jutted out from the side of the city hung two or three stories above the water with the long piers now functioning as White-Wing landing pads. Others could just barely be seen a few stories beneath the water with their entrances sealed shut by thick glass doors that were decorated with colored inlays depicting many of the famous Naga and Fire-Walkers who helped first build the city.

  As Locke made his way up to one of the bridges that lead into Sin Nomine, he was stopped by a guard. “Are you a resident? If so, do you have any papers? If not, state your name, your business and how long you plan to stay in the Queen’s city.”

  Locke quickly appraised the Naga guard who was blocking his way. He had always gone in and out of the city through one of the Holy Alliance-protected bridges, so he had never actually had to go past this sort of customs agent. The watchman looked like a cross between a Human, a Faery and a Knight-Clubber with the long and thick body of a massive snake for his lower half and a regular person’s body for his upper half. He had two shiny, fairy-like wings that would probably be twice as long as his arms if they were extended, and he was holding his hand out expectantly. There were unusually high numbers of Human residents in the area as a result of the Demon Host’s forward progress. As it swallowed up Human settlements, vast droves seemed to have fled to the city seeking a safe bind point or refuge, and it was no wonder he expected Locke to be just another citizen with all his papers in order.

  “My name is Shy,” he began, once again almost tripping on his words and saying ‘Locke’ instead. “I’m here as a pharmacist hoping to sell some healing agents within your town. My stay will vary based on how long it takes to move all my wares or find an adventuring party to sponsor me.” He tried to be as honest as possible while still leaving out the details about why he was really visiting the city. Locke didn’t think that the guard would be too keen to know that he was actually
coming here to meet a potentially Demon-friendly member of the Queen’s personal group of advisors and try to convert him into being a dedicated spy for the Demon Host.

  “And your woman, did she leave something behind? Will she be catching up?” The guard pulled out a makeshift clipboard and some papers and motioned in the direction of where his wayward companion had disappeared.

  “My woman? Oh, her? She won’t be coming.” Locke looked back to the spot the guard was motioning and realized whom he was talking about. My woman? If only. I’ve never had time to date. The forever-alone reflex automatically kicked in and stabbed at his heart before reason outweighed it. Not that I’d hook up with a psychopath.

  This piqued the Naga’s interest though, and he lowered the clipboard and papers to his side as the glaze over his eyes melted away into a keen focus. “Why isn’t she coming in?”

  “Umm. . .” Locke hadn’t expected this line of questioning, and he suddenly found himself in a tough spot. Normally, if he knew he would be interrogated at the door, he would have prepared at least a somewhat-believable excuse. Weaving a convincing lie without a readied yarn was always difficult.

  “Her hair . . . it was black. Were her eyes red, too?” The Naga questioned. His face slowly moved closer, his sharp eyes inching nearer as he carefully studied Locke for a change in expression.

  “Yes, yes, they were,” he answered, risking the truth. They’ve never stopped a player from coming into the city, have they? I don’t think. This shouldn’t be a big deal, should it?

  “That’s what I thought. She’s a Demon, alright. You mentioned you were carrying wares: Did she leave anything with you to bring into the city? A poison perhaps?”

  Locke suddenly felt ridiculously happy that NPCs, even ones guarding gates, couldn’t see what was inside his inventory. A poison? No, she didn’t. I’ll bring in over a hundred all on my own though! He wanted to laugh but decided it might be taken as lip and was probably bad judgment. “No, she didn’t leave me anything to carry into the town. She just wanted me to tell a friend that she wouldn’t be able to meet with her tonight. Why? Are people with red eyes not allowed into the town?”

  “Nope. Demons have been banned from the city until the Queen can sort out the city’s official position,” the guard said. “It’s likely to continue indefinitely if we seal a partnership with the Holy Alliance,” he continued.

  So, that’s why she was so insistent that I go and meet her friend for her. She can’t get into the town as a Demon. Wait . . . Didn’t Persephone have an eye color kit that let her change her iris color? Couple that with a good hair dye, and how would anyone tell the difference between a Demon and a Human? It would be impossible. I could run into a dozen Demons with those augmentations and never tell them apart from regular people. How come she didn’t do that? “Oh, well, I guess that’s why she’s not meeting her friend tonight. But no, I’m not carrying anything from her.” Locke raised both his arms out to his sides like he often did at the airport before being security-wanded.

  “Don’t worry. I believe you.” The Naga cocked his eye at what was likely a ridiculous-looking physical gesture to him. “Anyway, take this,” he said as he handed Locke a piece of paper which Locke immediately stored away in his inventory, “and make sure to keep it on you just in case. It’s your temporary registration. You’ll need that paper and mailing address within the city if you choose to become a permanent resident.”

  “Thank you!” Locke gave a slight bow of his head before beginning his walk across the bridge. Compared to the rest of the city, the walkway felt strangely out of place. Even the docks were decorated with carvings and pictures of animals, city founders or glorious battles, but this structure was simple, plain, wooden and completely unadorned. It was no more ornate or detailed than the table at a tavern in a 1980’s demo game. And there, waiting at the other end, was something else that stuck out like a sore thumb.

  “Shy! You made it!” Sampson was waiting for him at the entrance to the town. “How on earth did you manage to make it out alive? That crazy gray ganker was insane. What the heck was she even doing in that area?”

  Gray ganker? No, I’m afraid she’s just a bit of a loon. Locke thought about correcting Sampson. He didn’t think that ‘gray ganker,’ a term often used to describe a high-level player who gets off on killing significantly lower players, could possibly apply to an NPC. But he also felt like telling the story of the psychotic game sprite might take a little longer than he was comfortable with. “Actually, I kind of promised a favor in return for not being butchered on the spot.”

  “Really? But why do you care if you die? You’d just have ended up in town a lot sooner, and we could have gotten moving quicker,” Sampson said, patting Locke on the back as they started walking toward town. “Everyone is waiting at The Wench’s Best Bubbly Head, the bar by the lion statue. Let’s head on over now.”

  The Wench’s Best Bubbly Head? Wait, isn’t that where I’m supposed to meet Eliza’s contact? Locke let out a sigh of relief. He was worried about how he would separate himself from Sampson to make his clandestine rendezvous. It’s going to be at least half an hour before this collaborator is at the tavern. I need to stall the group.

  “Actually, I need to kind of buy some more bottles and sell some potions off before we head out. Do you mind if I go to the market first? Maybe log and check the forums for buyers?” Locke asked Sampson as they continued. “Oh, no problem. Reginald’s mom has him doing chores, and we’re waiting on him anyway,” Sampson chuckled. “I think the gang has decided that we are going to tease him about wetting the bed or something when he gets back. That’s if the others get back from dinner in time to put up a unified front for mocking him.”

  “Should we throw in a few jokes about dirty socks he has to pick up from under the bed?” Locke laughed. Teasing people about their age was always fun, no matter how old they got. Either they were so young they hated being called a kid, or they were so aged they hated the fact they were the ‘old man.’

  Sampson snickered. “I remember the first time we heard his mother through the microphone. We were playing this FPS, and she was yelling at him for not picking up the poop after their dog. The worst part about it for poor Reginald was how she managed to fit ten embarrassing and personal details into a single sentence that everyone could hear. I honestly think the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and that she just wanted to mess with ‘her little, cute Reggie-reg.’”

  Ouch, that had to be embarrassing. Locke couldn’t stop from laughing as he pictured the kid who was playing the Satyr. Is he even 18? Is he living at home with his mom, or is he still like twelve? His voice didn’t sound that high pitched. “Sounds good . . . By the by, which way is the market?”

  “By the by? People still say that?” Sampson laughed.

  And there we go. Now he thinks I’m on the other side of the age coin. “They uhh . . . They do where I’m from?” Or at least they did at my old part-time job. Of course, my boss and co-workers often smelled of whiskey and cigars like they were trying out for the lead role of an early noir film and thought that it was a requirement to stay in character twenty-four seven. “Either way, where is the market?”

  “Oh, let me check. I honestly don’t know. I got my weapons in a dungeon before we got to the mainland. Give me a moment. I’m going to go check the forums real quick,” Sampson said, logging off where he stood.

  “I’ll . . . Does anyone ever wait for goodbye?” Locke gave a half-smile as he logged off to check the forums too. This was the second time in under an hour someone had just disappeared before he could say anything.

  Locke opened up the forums and went to the black section where he often sold items. He made a quick, auction-style post to feel out the market. It wasn’t long: ‘I have potions for sale. They last about seven and a half minutes and buff weapon damage by five to six points depending on which ones you buy. I’m in Sine Nomine. PM me with offers. Limited sale. Will only reply to the highest one.’
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  He then grabbed a snack, made himself some ramen with eggs as quickly as he could and came back upstairs to see if anyone replied. When he got back, there were pages of offers waiting for him. The first one wasn’t that impressive, just a simple ‘I’ll pay you five gold pieces per poison,’ but the ones after started to make his eyes go wider than white saucers at a dinner table. Ten gold pieces? Fifteen? There is one for thirty-five gold pieces per poison, and he’s willing to buy them all? Who is willing to pay that much?! He started to scroll through the other offers when he realized that the thirty-five gold piece offer was from someone he recognized from the Holy Alliance. In fact, several of the highest offers were all from quartermasters at the Holy Alliance. Two of them were individuals who had introduced him to Anthony in the first place.

  Yeah, no, I’m never doing business with your people again, Locke grumbled and started looking down the list of buyers for people he didn’t recognize. He managed to find enough offers to put together around a hundred and fifty sales at an average of twenty-six gold pieces per poison, but he was still really bummed that he couldn’t take up all that money from the highest bidders. He was almost tempted to take the offers and just pocket the cash, but even if he was comfortable with helping the Holy Alliance out, he definitely didn’t want them to see him, put two and two together and realize that his account was still alive and well.