Book 5: Chapter 7 - Forced Negotiation (RAW)

The weak must pretend to be strong, and the strong must pretend to be weak.

- The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.

The doors opened with a low satisfying creak as Farzan’s men, clad in armor that glinted like polished silver under their proud purple sashes, allowed me through without question. They knew me, knew well enough where my loyalties lay.

"You wished to see me?" I muttered, my voice gruff as I stepped into Lady Aelayah’s reception hall.

The walls were a cool marble blue, painted with intricate, twisting sea creatures. Water trickled down the slick surfaces in rivulets, lending the impression that we were submerged in some grand underwater cavern. The air was chill, damp with a fine mist, as if the ocean itself had settled within the room.

Lady Aelayah sat poised, a thick, leather-bound tome resting in her lap. When her gaze rose to meet mine, those unnerving eyes of hers seemed to pierce right through me. A faint, silent sigh escaped her—barely audible, more felt than heard.

"I would offer you a seat," she said, her smile a thin, brittle thing, "but I fear you might ruin it."

Her words held a knife’s edge, a subtle sharpness that was unmistakable. I waited, saying nothing, letting the silence stretch like a taut bowstring. Silence, I had learned, could speak volumes if wielded and cultivated correctly.

Aelayah was the one to break it. "I’ve heard rumors… that you intend to venture into the storm?”

“Then you’ve heard true,” I replied. “And word does travel fast in these halls.”

Her brow arched slightly. “Is this… related to the barbarian’s death? We’ve done all we could—"

I looked down at her. “It is and it isn’t.”

“Then—”

“Let me finish, woman!” My voice rose, sharper than I’d intended, and she recoiled, a flicker of fear crossing her face. I’d forgotten how young she was, despite her lofty title.

I softened my tone. “Apologies. I only meant to say, I am going alone, to the Adventurer’s Guild. I’ve a score to settle and, if fortune favors, I’ll rid the city of at least one of the enemy’s pieces on the board.”

"By all means," she replied, her voice edged with sarcasm, though there was a tremor beneath it. "Enlighten me.”

“Sarcasm does not suit you, Lady,” I said with a touch of mocking formality. “It robs you of your beauty.”

Her expression shifted, an uneasy blend of flattery and insult warring on her face. But I continued, pressing forward before she could dwell on it.

“I intend to blackmail the Guildmaster into single combat. And, if possible, kill Kaila the Enchantress. She is a threat—not just to Salahaem but to the city itself, a threat on a level none here seem to appreciate.”

Lady Aelayah's expression turned incredulous. “The Silver Mirage? You think her power is that… considerable?”

“So that is what she calls herself now.” I scoffed. “It matters little. Her powers twist the minds of others, a perversion of free will itself. I would wager she’s behind much of the Council’s scheming, a puppet master hidden in plain sight.”

Aelayah’s face was drawn, her eyes calculating as she weighed my words. The air seemed colder, thicker somehow, as if the very walls of this watery room held their breath, waiting for what was to come.

"Then I will not hinder you in your task," Aelayah said, her tone measured but carrying a note of caution. "Still, I must warn you, we don’t know how long until the storms return. To be caught outside when they do… it would be a death sentence, even for you." Her voice softened, a hint of concern slipping through. "There are things in that storm…”

“I appreciate your concern,” I replied, a grim smile tugging at my lips. “But I will manage.” I paused, letting the weight of the moment settle before I continued, “Now, as time is of the essence…”

She inclined her head, granting permission with a subtle, almost weary nod. Her lips curved in a faint, melancholy smile, and something about it struck me—a farewell, perhaps, unspoken yet unmistakable.

*****

I made my way through the empty streets, the echo of my own footfalls loud a counterpoint to the soft susurration of the wind. Every door and window was shut tight, the wood nailed down, splintered in places from the brutal storm that had raged through the city. Here and there, the damage was stark—fountains cracked open, spilling water into the sandy streets like blood from a wound; vendor crates tossed and broken, splintered fruit and smashed pottery littering the ground; shards of glass glinting.

The sight that stopped me, though, lay just beyond the reach of the shadowed alley. A corpse, little more than bone, flesh stripped away and polished smooth by the relentless fury of sand and wind. The storm had stripped it down to its barest state, every scrap of flesh taken by the storm’s rage, leaving it exposed, raw, a grim warning. Would my armor be enough against its full force?

I pushed forward, my steps heavy, the weight of my mission pressing down on me. Sand crunched underfoot, gritty and fine, somehow working its way into everything.

As I neared the Adventurer’s Guild, a strange sensation prickled over my skin—a sound, no, a whisper in the air. Faint as a dying ember, but there, soft and haunting, a melody brushing past my ears like the ghost of a half-remembered tune. It drifted in on the wind, threading itself around me, familiar yet distant, as if calling from a place just out of reach.

I frowned, my hand instinctively reaching for the knife at my waist. That melody… it was like a thread pulled from memory, woven through with something both familiar and unsettling. 

The Adventurer’s Guild loomed ahead, the heavy doors of the main building weathered and scarred. I paused, the melody still lingering, whispering a final note before it faded entirely. Whatever it was, I would have to leave it for later.

I had business within.

I knocked on the thick doors, which creaked in protest at each strike. Hearing a whisper from within, I paused. Just as I considered breaking the door down, it swung open as if reading my intent.

“What are you doing out there? Get in, quick!” a woman’s voice urged. “If you’re caught outside, the storm will shred you to ribbons!”

I lifted the visor of my helm to see more clearly. It was the Guild clerk, Aldina. She looked much the same as I remembered, though the years had added a touch of color to her freckled face.

“Well?” She snapped, hands on her hips as she gestured impatiently. "Don’t just stand there letting the sand in!"

I stepped inside, feeling the gritty remnants of the storm settle behind me as Aldina shut the doors with a swift motion. Her stance was firmer than I remembered, her voice commanding in a way it had not been when I’d last seen her. It seemed the years had not only been kind to her looks but had also gifted her a sharper tongue—and perhaps the hint of a backbone.

The hall was thick with the smell of iron and sweat, filled to its rafters with hard-eyed men and women of all races, each one as rough and scarred as the next. Eyes followed me as I entered, their gazes a mix of wariness and a grudging respect that bordered on fear.

"It’s the one from Salahaem," one of them whispered, nudging his companion. The man flinched as my gaze settled on him, and I offered a sharp, humorless grin that sent his eyes darting to the floor.

A man in plain, practical plate and mail stepped forward, as nondescript as they come—brown hair, average build, a face so ordinary it might have belonged to a thousand men. Yet there was something in the way he held himself, something that spoke of quiet authority and the unspoken weight of his words. He was the Guildmaster if I was not mistaken.

“Aldina… that would be Gilgamesh of Uruk,” he announced, his voice a low rumble that hinted at some distant, exotic origin. “Originally registered at our Ansan branch.” Without another word, he drew a heavy purse from his belt and tossed it my way. It arced through the air, jangling with the unmistakable sound of coin, and I caught it easily, feeling the familiar weight of well-earned silver and gold in my palm.

“For services rendered in Ansan,” he explained. “You never returned to collect.”

Quest Complete.

500 experience gained.

I could not help it—I simply broke out into laughter, a sound that echoed off the stone walls like the crack of a whip. That was the trouble with having no quest log; sometimes, things slipped the mind. After all this time, I’d finally completed my task of warning the Adventurer’s Guild about an Echo-Stalker’s nest. But no one else found the humor in it. They watched me as if I were mad, their expressions blank, mirthless. Not that I expected them to understand. No one ever did.

“I have come to…” I began, though the words faltered in my throat, falling short of the dramatic tone I had imagined.

“You’ve come to end my life, I presume?” The plain man’s voice held an even tone, but a flicker of challenge danced in his eyes. “It would be logical for one of the Salahaem. You think you can face us all, alone in your arrogance. For our part, we acted as duty demanded, as our patrons required. Nothing personal. To think that, a man of the Copper like yourself carries a price—nearly a thousand in gold. It is temptation.”

“Interrupt me again, and your life ends here.” My voice rang coldly, each word sharp with the malice I dredged from my very core. “I speak with the voice of the Mother, and you would be nothing more than a sacrifice. You, like so many before, believe a man’s worth is bound only to his rank? I have killed more Silver and Gold than are standing in this room right now…think on that.” I let the silence stretch, the weight of my words settling into the stone of the room. “Shall I make myself clearer, or would you prefer I reveal the Guild’s true secret to all present?”

“You would not dare!” the Guildmaster hissed. “You could not even if you so wished.”

A few adventurers drew closer, tantalized by my promised revelation.

“That I could even speak of speaking of it should be proof enough,” I replied lazily, barely concealing the threat under a layer of calm. “Or do you wish to test me? Decide quickly—my patience wears thin.”

There was a murmur before the hall grew quiet once more.

I saw the flicker of unease cross his face. The subtle tremor in his hand, the tightening of his jaw—he knew he’d been cornered. His silence only confirmed it, a damning, hollow quiet that hung heavy in the hall.

One more push and he was done.

“We will discuss terms now,” I continued, my words edged in steel.

I watched his resolve crumble like a castle of sand meeting the first waves. He looked away, fingers raking through his hair in a gesture of surrender. “You couldn’t have chosen a worse time…” he muttered, voice tinged with desperation. “We’re assembling to face the Djinn that threatens this city, here in the heart of the storm. I can offer you two hundred gold if you step aside, and a pledge to act if we fail. A talent of mithril if you join us. Aldina will see it done.”

It was an offer grand enough to pull a gasp from me. I’d come here expecting to leave the place awash in blood, not to negotiate riches.

“A talent? Guildmaster Canis, you can’t be serious!” came a sharp cry from the gathered throng. A small, wiry man, clad in a thick coat of plates with a pair of sickles at his side, glared at the Guildmaster.

“Silence, Xan! The men are talking!” Canis snapped, his voice harsh and clipped.

“Will Kaila be joining you?” I asked, feigning nonchalance, though I watched Canis closely.

His eyes narrowed, probing for whatever intent lay beneath my words. “Of course. She’s one of our strongest—one of the most reliable among us.”

“Then here is my counter-offer,” I said with a cold, vicious grin. “A sanctioned duel to the death—with her. Keep your coin.”

The hall fell still. The silence was thick, shocked, disbelieving. I knew if the Salahaem won the Contest of Knives, I would have more than enough gold soon. Money meant little to me at this stage of the game.

“You can’t be serious,” Canis barked, his voice straining. “What has she ever done to you? What reason could you have to kill her?”

My face was blank, my voice as flat as old iron. “Let’s just say that she came to my village one day and slaughtered all its people, left me an orphan.” It was a lie, but my tone was dead enough to carry its weight. The voices within started whispering, forming the threads of an old spell.

The gathered fighters shifted, unease spreading through the hall like the chill before dawn. Canis scoffed, skepticism hardening his face. “You’re lying.”

Without a second’s thought, I flung out my hand. A dark, curling spell of Rust surged through the air, black lightning that latched onto Xan’s armor. His armor and weapons flared in a violent blaze as the metal corroded in an instant, sparking an exothermic burst that seared his flesh. He screamed, high and shrill, his body aflame in a terrifying wreath of red-hot decay. 

The hall erupted into chaos, but I stood still, a grim smile tugging at my lips as the Guild saw firsthand what defiance might cost them.

You have slain a human 10 experience gained.

A shout echoed across the room as the smell of roasting flesh filled the air, rich and sickening. The adventurers’ faces twisted in horror and fury, weapons flashing in the torchlight as they began to close in, their eyes lit with the promise of violence.

“STOP!” Canis’ voice thundered, cutting through the chaos like the crack of a whip. Instantly, the advancing mob halted, their steps arrested by the sheer force of his command.

A ball of water splashed over Xan in a desperate, fruitless attempt to save him. It steamed and hissed upon contact, sending up a sickening sizzle that only served to underline the futility of it. Xan was already beyond saving, his death a brutal punctuation mark to Canis’ command.

I turned to address the room, my voice carrying over the simmering murmurs, aimed as much at the mob as it was at Canis. “Besmirch my honor and call me a liar again,” I warned, “and you will find me with patience spent. But, out of respect for your bravery, I will amend my offer. I will fight you both at once. It would be unsporting not to grant you some measure of survival, slim as it may be. And in exchange, I will lend my aid to the fight you face, against this Djinn.” I paused, letting my gaze sweep over them. “Remember this well: gold and silver may sway a man’s hand, but there are greater things that guide his purpose.”

Canis’s face was an iron mask of self-control, each feature rigid with the effort it took to contain his wrath. But to his credit, he held himself steady, forcing the words from his mouth with grim determination. “Very well, Gilgamesh of Uruk,” he ground out, his voice low and strained. “As the Goddess is my witness, I accept your terms. May the strongest find favor in her eyes.”

He met my gaze, the room watching, tense, as the die of fate was once again cast.

You have gained 1 Charisma