Chương 5: Sparring

The warped metal ball of the mace missed Joel by a hair. Its weight crashed against a wooden bench, cracking its seat in two, splinters flying everywhere. Joel took another cautious step back, keeping light on his feet. Some of the other men erupted in hoots and hollers, urging their companion — the mace-wielding brute — to smash Joel. How comforting. Another swing came hurtling. Joel ducked the strike, a whoosh of air blowing his dark hair. He rolled forward quickly, tumbling to his feet.

No point in waiting for his next swing.

"Come on, Flendel, you dolt, hit him!" yelled one of the younger men, his muddy face contorting. He shut up instantly as Flendel shot him a murderous glare. Joel hopped back at every enraged swing that followed. There was strength there, he couldn't deny that. But each attack was too obvious, the angles always straight and the wind-up slow. Another blow missed him, flying wide. This time, a shoulder crashed into Joel's chest. Not enough to do any real harm. No damage warning popped up.

However, it was still more than enough to shove Joel's back against the timber wall. Stumbling, Joel collapsed on his behind — seated — to avoid the follow up strike. The mace slammed into where his head had just been, shaking the lodge's wall. He heard a loud cheer from Curzan, as if getting his brain splattered was entertainment. [WARNING: Prone (Status Effect). Tilt afflicted.] Now this was annoying, insulting even. So much for a round of simple sparring to prove his worth.

If they wanted a show, he'd give them a finale. Joel kicked at Flendel's inner knee with his heel, hard and sharp. It was enough force to buckle him, dropping Flendel closer to Joel. The way that the brute's jaw hung in the air made it almost seem too easy. Twisting with as much force as he could muster in his seated state, Joel swung a short, precise elbow at Flendel's chin. The strike snapped Flendel's head sideways, the blow robbing him of consciousness.

Flendel fell forward limp, his heavy frame landing on top of Joel. The common room of the tavern went quiet, the only sound being Joel squirming out from underneath the unconscious man. No notification or EXP for knocking him out. Joel couldn't help but notice that. It was the same as the Early Access days. You had to finish the job to earn the rewards. He rolled Flendel off of him, getting to his feet.

"Impressive, you're tougher than you look," said Curzan, clapping his appreciation with a satisfied smile on his face. He tilted his head over to the dwarf, sitting at the other end of the bar.

"What do you think, Boreth?" Boreth shrugged, not bothering to look over.

"You're supposed to be the leader while your brothers aren't here. So lead." Curzan's face turned crimson, reminding Joel of a tomato. The other men pretended to not have heard. For a second, he was worried that Curzan was going to draw his dirk on the dwarf. But the fluster disappeared after a brief moment.

"Well, you're hired, kid. It'll be an easy job," said Curzan, turning back to Joel. The rehearsed smile reappeared on his face.

"As long as there's no trouble on the road, you'll be following along till we reach Wardenhal. And if there is trouble, well, we'll handle it together." Wardenhal. Now that was a place Joel recalled. A famous penal mine for the 'Union', one of the major factions in the early access version of the game. It was strange though. Joel had brought up the Union to Gorum, over a dinner's small talk. Gorum denied knowing anything about such a coalition of nations, saying he wasn't particularly learned in faraway history.

The innkeeper's curious expression had made Joel decide to drop the topic and avoid appearing like an amnesiac.

"We got a deal or not? I'd hate to have to take the old tusks over here," asked Curzan, motioning back to Gorum. Impatience crept into his tone.

"Deal."

"How swell. I'll see that you're paid a gold coin once we meet my brother in town." Town? Joel remembered small encampments scattered around Wardenhal, hardly worthy of the title. But, after generations, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility for the settlement to have grown. It was time to get used to surprises. Flendel began groaning awake. That was Joel's cue. He slipped away, heading upstairs to his room to pack for the journey.

Curzan's crew didn't look like they were planning on staying overnight, probably wanting to take advantage of the good weather as long as they could. The room was nothing spectacular. A straw stuffed mattress laid on a makeshift bedframe. A small table and bench sat underneath a window with a wooden hatch. He tossed some folded clothes into his bag, wool tunics and trousers from Gorum's adolescence. They were the only things that the half-orc had that fit him.

A small ache in his elbow made him reach over and massage it. Despite their power, Flendel wasn't anything too serious for a level 1 adventurer. That said, seven people anywhere close to Flendel's strength would be a hard group for any bandit to attack. Escort missions were never Joel's favourite. They bored him because the threats were usually never that worrisome, so it became a long walk instead of an exciting mission. On top of that, Joel didn't like the way Curzan spoke to Gorum.

Or how he just spoke in general. The arrogant, authoritative airs irked Joel to no end. Pressuring the old innkeep into a two day journey felt needlessly cruel. A knock on his door broke Joel from his thoughts.

"It's me," said Gorum, his voice gruff but hushed, "I got ya some cheese and bread for the road. Oh, and the old broomstick""It's open." Gorum entered, holding hunks of wrapped food and Joel's quarterstaff. He closed the door carefully, pausing to hear the men's raucous laughter downstairs. The half-orc finally turned, his face falling into a worried frown. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Ya shouldn't have done that," Gorum said quietly as he stowed the food into Joel's bag. Setting the quarterstaff against the wall, he nervously picked at his white beard.

"Even if that idiot Curzan is one of them, the Burton brothers run a serious outfit around here."

"I'll keep my head down. Seems like they're some of your regulars," replied Joel. He didn't mean to sound as accusatory as he did. Gorum sighed.

"The cost of being the only roadside inn within ten leagues. I'd turn them down if I was sure they wouldn't burn the place down."

"They're that dangerous?"

"Worse. All three would be good enough to be Freewalkers, and do proper League work if they had the guts or the heart." Freewalkers meant registered adventurers. That much had stayed the same. The title gave them some leeway when crossing international borders to handle their missions. Technically, if things hadn't changed too much, any level 1-20 player could be a Freewalker. Joel tightened his boots.

"So what they're doing isn't exactly above the board. I saw that vault of a carriage out front, what are they moving?"

"Never asked. Though I've heard of them smuggling all sorts of things. Weapons. Glee honey. Exotic creatures." Glee honey? Another oddity to remind him that the world wasn't the same.

"Long ago, I took a peek while most of them were out drunk. Had a few drinks myself," continued Gorum.

"Carriage was rattling fierce. I took a glance but didn't see anything… till it jumped at me. A jaguar, snarling for my head. Nearly pissed myself."

"You didn't get in trouble?" asked Joel, picking up the quarterstaff.

"Almost. Never tried risking it after that," answered Gorum. The half-orc rummaged through his apron's front pocket.

"Be mindful on the road and watch ya back." Joel couldn't help a flourish with his quarterstaff, a quick spin around his hand before expertly catching it.

"Gorum, don't worry. You've seen me work. I can handle myself."

"Don't ya go looking for trouble now. No fights with these ones," said Gorum, his frown deepening.

"Do this old man a second favor, huh?" Another spin of the quarterstaff to the other arm. The elderly half-orc's concern reminded him of his dad. It made the loneliness within Joel shrink.

"I'll stay out of trouble," said Joel, nodding with a sheepish smile.

"Good lad," said Gorum, patting Joel's shoulder before turning to the door.

"Hopefully those idiots haven't broken anything." Gorum's prudence was warranted. If they ran into a patrol or the local law, Curzan wouldn't think twice about throwing him under the bus. That meant getting to Wardenhal and coming straight back. Joel's stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten yet. The morning's excitement had distracted him. He lifted his bag over his shoulder.

"Let's see if there's something I can just munch on the road," said Joel, hopeful that Gorum had packed some of the delicious spiced cheese.

"[Inventory]." — [Wool tunic x 2] [Trousers x 2] [Spiced Cheese x 5] [Loaf of Bread x 5] [Flask of Ale] [Waterskin] [Minor Healing Potion] [Coins: 12 copper, 0 silver, 0 gold, 0 platinum] — A healing potion? That wasn't his.

"Gorum, of course… Well, it's nice to have someone that cares," voiced Joel, smiling. Healing potions, regardless of their quality or rarity, were luxury for most folk. He tabbed to the [Minor Healing Potion], trying to remember how much it restored. — [Minor Healing Potion] [Replenish 500 HP] — Okay, 500 HP. At 253 VITALITY, the small vial would be enough to heal him back to full. That meant saving it for emergencies. Either way, he'd make sure to thank Gorum when he got back.

He could hear the front door of the lodge opening up. A few loud burps followed by rowdy laughter. Curzan's crew must have had their fill of food. He closed out of the [Inventory]. Tightening his bag's rope strings, he headed out and downstairs. He was determined to avoid having Curzan yell for him or bother Gorum any longer. By the time he got to the front, most of Curzan's motley crew seemed raring to go. They were a frightening bunch, poorly disguised thugs by every measure.

Something that could aid or hinder them, depending on whoever they ran into on the road. Curzan had taken the driver's spot of the carriage, holding the reins of the horses. Next to him, a bruised Flendel glowered at Joel. The strange pale elf guarded the back. The lithe elf sat on the top of the carriage, one leg hanging over the edge. That meant the rest of them were walking. Expected. As they started their trek down the road, Joel hung back, dropping to the rear of the group.

The further he got from Flendel's glare, the better. Head down, no trouble. The first few hours of travel were peaceful. Warm sunlight and cool breezes made the weather mild. The rolling plains stretched for miles, patches of trees providing periodic shade. A shrill voice spoke up next to Joel.

"Welcome to the crew!" Joel turned to see a young man — dust caked his face — smiling at him. He was the one that had taunted Flendel during the earlier scuffle. Somehow, the wiry man had a clumsy gait, even with his spear being used as a walking stick.

"I'm Perri," he said, walking up next to Joel, "That was a whooping you laid on Flendel!"

"Just luck."

"Hah!" snorted Perri, wiping his brow. The sweat streaked the dirt on his forehead, mixing with his oily brown hair.

"I've seen him clobber three men in a drunken rage. Their heads were smashed in like a cracked egg. Yolk spilling, if you get my meaning." Gross. There went his appetite.

"Right, well, I've had some training."

"From that place Boreth mentioned? What was it called again? I've never been that far from Lorent." Shit. What was that place called? Where they thought he came from.

"People from there just call it the Archipelago," said Joel, failing to wrack his brain for the specific name.

"Yeah, that place. So that's where you learned those moves," said Perri. The young man swung out flimsy elbow strikes, imitating Joel's attack.

"Hiyah!" He watched Perri throw more strikes at imaginary opponents. The uncoordinated display made him grimace. Joel hoped he didn't look the same when he fought. It was a long march to Wardenhal. He might as well gather some proper intel.

"Hey, how long have you been working for Curzan? He's the boss, right?" asked Joel, trying to maintain a casual tone. Perri couldn't have been around that long. Too young. Better to keep the questions general. Another two sloppy elbows.

"Uh, not really. Well, I suppose he is when Symar and Dirien aren't around. Dirien's in charge though, everyone listens to him the most."

"Why aren't they here?"

"Dirien's been gone for a while, almost a full year now. Gets us leads and stuff. Symar went a week ahead of us to get a deal in Wardenthal," Perri said absent-mindedly while walking backwards. Joel tried to seem aloof.

"Deals for what? What're we hauling into town?" One question too many. Perri seemed to snap awake at those last questions.

"What's that?" Trying to deflect. It was hard to blame him.

"Listen, Perri, I'm just tryin-""What's that?" he repeated, interrupting. Perri was staring past Joel, slowly raising his hand to point. Joel turned, spotting the dust cloud building behind them.

"Riders! Hide the cart off-road!" yelled Boreth, the seashells in the dwarf's beard rattling.