Wild Era, Ch 41: Baron Crest

Some Hours Earlier in Highmist. Orest’s Perspective.

It had been over two days since Yaris was arrested by that trash of a guild captain.

Orest had no ability to demand his release from the guild, so he’d been forced to ask the baron for help, and right now, he was waiting for news in the well-appointed parlor of a trading house that he didn’t like to visit. 

Baron Crest was not a patient or kind man, and the elegance of the furnishings was lost on Orest as he paced back and forth.

This wasn’t the baron’s real house, just one that he used from time to time, and Orest had been lucky to find someone here when he checked.

This was the third time he’d been here, attempting to make the same request, but until now he’d been sent away without even being allowed to see anyone.

His anger hadn’t improved with the delay.

The only thing that kept him from destroying some of the furniture in protest was that he was outclassed by the guards in the hallway, who were Level 150 at a minimum, and that the baron would not take it kindly.

He knew better than to try.

Normally, he sent messages through less obvious channels, but Yaris had killed his messenger so he’d been forced to come in person, under the guise of requesting a guard contract for one of the baron’s shipments.

It was work that the Wind Hunters did for him, so it was valid, but the baron wasn’t known for his compassion.

The cost of this visit had yet to be determined.

Eventually, a butler appeared. 

The man was dressed in an elegantly embroidered black coat and matching trousers, and the high-collared white shirt he wore was pristine. 

He was also Level 180, so Orest didn’t dare to be rude.

The butler looked around the room, obviously cataloguing everything to make sure it was still there, and then he turned his attention to Orest. 

“Come with me,” he said flatly. “He will see you now.”

Orest followed him as they headed out of the waiting room. They eventually stopped at a set of polished mistwood doors that blocked the end of the hallway. 

Mistwood was a rare material from a few of the Celadon dungeons. It was infused with mana and as heavy as iron, with a durability to match. It also took enchantments well, which made it a favorite of the wealthy for defense, but few people could afford enough of it to make a door like this.

It was a statement about the man on the other side.

“Mind your manners,” the butler reminded him. “You know what will happen otherwise.”

“I know.” Orest’s response came out as a low growl despite his attempt to restrain himself.

Without bothering to reply, the butler opened the door and waved him inside.

Orest walked through into an airy study that was full of light from tall windows on the side. Shining silver crystals set into the ceiling added even more light and made everything glow with a faint magical aura.

Those crystals were even more expensive than the door, and they had the ability to reveal the invisible, break obscuration enchantments, and dissolve some spells.

They were another of the defenses here.

The man Orest had come to see was sitting behind the desk. He had a refined but cold look, as if his humor had long ago fled. There was a calculating look in his eyes as he studied Orest’s approach.

His name was Silas Crest, Baron of Verasun. 

He was from one of the ancient noble families of Celadon and he held the rank of baron due to some of his holdings near Highmist, with a name that came from long before the city was founded. 

Of the major forces in Highmist, he was in the upper circle. He had a high position in the Merchants’ Guild and was heavily involved with trade.

He was also a force to be reckoned with in combat. 

Orest knew better than to analyze him, but the last time he’d heard, Silas had been around Level 220. 

It was why he didn’t dare to act too arrogant.

The baron was one of the major political and economic powers in the city and the backer for the Wind Hunters, as well as for a number of other forces, both public and private. 

The Wind Hunters’ compound with its three mansions, their success in the city, and the reason most of them weren’t in jail for various crimes...all of it came from this man.

Working for him came with many benefits.

There was also another person in the room, a young woman that Orest had never seen before. 

She was elegant with an athletic build, long raven hair pulled back in a braid, and sharp blue eyes. She was dressed in a set of form-fitting dark blue leathers that showed off her curves, but her hands were on her hips.

She looked irritated, and when Orest walked in, she frowned at him.

Orest’s temper got the best of him as he glared back, automatically analyzing her as he tried to figure out who was interrupting his meeting.

Isla Crest. Level 90. Storm Mage-Whistling Blade.

She arched an eyebrow at him as she noticed the attempt. 

Then a bolt of lightning slammed into Orest’s chest and hurled him across the room. He struck the far wall and slid down in a heap. 

It didn’t seriously injure him, given the difference in their levels, but his muscles were twitching and numb, which meant her class at Level 90 was far stronger than it should have been. 

A wave of red light surrounded him as he automatically started to slip into a rage, and energy began to flood through him.

A crackling ball of lightning gathered around her hand as she stepped forward, but a cold voice interrupted them both.

“Isla, that’s enough,” Silas said calmly. “And Orest, take that as a lesson. You might not have been born with manners, but by now you should know better than to analyze nobles, much less my daughter.” 

Orest froze as he remembered where he was, and he struggled to control himself as he forced the rage back down. Then he climbed back to his feet, refusing to look at the woman. 

In a different situation, he would have shown her how a berserker deals with a mage, but the word daughter made him keep his gaze locked on the baron instead. 

He would keep his anger under control until he found a better opportunity.

Not that there would be one unless the baron was dead.

“Let’s dispense with the pleasantries,” Silas said, ignoring the tension as he glanced down at his desk. “My time is limited. I already know why you’re here, and my people have dealt with the details.”

He picked up a piece of heavy parchment that had a wax seal on it.

“This is an order for your son’s release,” he announced as he held it in the air. “It’s been signed by the captain of the city guard, and it lists three witnesses who swear he was at a different location at the time of the alleged attack. The guild won’t like it, but they’ll accept it to keep the peace.

“A case of mistaken identity, you see. Uncommon, but possible. Guild amulets are difficult to trick, but they record what they see, and illusions are an old trick among bandits. Clearly, he was being impersonated.”

The baron folded the parchment and set it on the edge of his desk. It was sitting right there, but Orest knew better than to take it. 

Nothing here came for free.

“What do you want for it?” he asked bluntly.

“Before we get to that,” Silas said, “I have a different question for you.” 

He folded his hands together into a steeple, with his elbows on his desk, as he looked at Orest with interest.

“What do you know about the young man who had your son arrested?”

Orest frowned at the question, unsure of what the baron was asking, but as Silas raised an eyebrow, he pulled himself together to answer it.

“You mean the brat Yaris was after?” Orest asked, trying to clarify what the baron wanted. “He knew about Yaris’s new men stealing at the orphanage. He was protecting the two witnesses that Yaris wanted to get rid of. That’s all.”

“Did you know that he was at the mine?” Silas asked.

“The mine...?” Orest’s eyes narrowed at the question. “You mean that fire crystal mine? How’s that possible? There shouldn’t have been any complications there.”

“And yet, he is one,” Silas said. He was smiling slightly as he stared at Orest, but his eyes were like a viper’s, still and emotionless. “What should have been simple has become much more complicated somehow, thanks to him.”

He was silent as he watched Orest for a reaction, but when none was coming, he shook his head. There was a flash of condescension in his eyes.

“It seems I need to put the pieces together for you,” he said. “He was one of the workers in the mine. A Level 9 drudge, to be exact. He should have died there like the rest, and yet he didn’t.” 

He shook his head. “Of course, none of them would have died if the mining company had taken the offer I gave them, and which you delivered, but that’s neither here nor there.

“But here’s the interesting part,” he continued. “He was Level 9 then, but what level was he when he dealt with that rogue of yours? And then what level was he when your son ran into him a few days ago?”

Silas waited a moment, but when there was no answer forthcoming, he provided them himself.

“Just a few days after the mine collapse, he was Level 33,” he said. “And a week later, Level 63.”

“That doesn’t sound possible.” Orest said as he tried to put the numbers together. “You’re saying he jumped from Level 9 to 63 in...two weeks? Less?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Silas said calmly. “And what I want is an explanation. A no-name drudge, with no backing, manages to escape a mana-flooded mine after being left for dead. Then he suddenly leaps up 54 levels, joins the guild, and has enough pull with them to get your son arrested on fairly thin charges.”

He tapped his fingers together.

“What’s more, he’s not acting like someone who’s been helped through those levels, which was my first thought. Every bit of information I have about him, including the event with your son, describes him as intelligent, skilled, and even gifted in combat. Those are not traits normally held by a drudge. So, is there anything else you know about him that you want to tell me?”

The silence stretched out as Orest wracked his brains for an answer, but he had nothing. Eventually, he just shook his head.

“I see,” Silas said. “That’s unfortunate.”

He glanced at the butler, who was still waiting by the door, and flicked a finger. The butler bowed and then disappeared, closing the door behind him.

“You’re saying he’s actually good?” Orest asked with surprise. “He’s had no training time, and he ran away from Yaris.”

“Yes,” Silas agreed, “and that leaves me with a dilemma. He’s either a guild spy who was hiding his level and just pretending to work in the mine, or something stranger. It is odd that his level changed twice, but it could have been false both times.”

“A guild spy?” Orest froze as he considered the implications. “You think he’s after us?”

“Not us, Orest,” Silas said drily. “Me. That isn’t the first dungeon I’ve made, and I certainly don’t intend it to be the last. You should know how the guild feels about that.

“The odds of a guild spy randomly being in that mine are low, so perhaps it was a coincidence, but he apparently retrieved the explosive artifact from the bottom of the mine and gave it to the mining company as proof that it was a deliberate collapse, which made them suspect that you and the Wind Hunters were behind it.

“But that artifact was supposed to disintegrate!” Orest protested, his voice rising. “They weren’t supposed to know it was us!”

“It was supposed to,” Silas agreed. “It might have in a couple more days in that mana density, except that he found it first. But that is not the largest problem. That artifact was created through several cutouts and obscured by seers before you used it. Your presence there was also obscured by the artifacts I loaned you. 

“So while they might believe it was the Wind Hunters who placed it there, it’s hearsay unless there is more proof. It’s being dealt with.”

He flicked his fingers, dismissing the problem, as well as the series of deaths by natural causes that would undoubtedly happen in the next day or two.

“Of more interest is this potential spy and what the guild is up to. I don’t like having an unknown around.”

He paused and placed a finger on the letter on the table, which he slid forward closer to the edge.

“This letter to free your son is my way of thanking you for bringing him to my attention.”

Orest grimaced, since he didn’t like getting credit he hadn’t earned, but as he looked at the baron’s calm expression, the man seemed sincere. 

Imagining what Silas Crest was thinking was something he tried not to do, so he stepped forward to take the letter. Then he froze as Silas held up his hand again.

“However, it is conditional on one other thing.”

“What is it?” Orest asked.

“I have a new job for you,” Silas said, “one a bit more dangerous than the last.”

He picked up another piece of parchment and set it beside the first.

“Here’s a map of where you’ll need to go. It’s a little ways from the city.”

“What type of job is it?” Orest asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the map. He wanted that order to release Yaris, since he’d be burned if he let the guild win and keep his son in jail, but he needed to know the cost.

“You’re aware of my need to control more dungeons throughout Celadon,” Silas said as he tapped on the map. “My family’s future hinges on it. However, Sarathia has apparently decided to interfere with local dungeons, and for the moment their interests contradict mine.”

He tapped on the map.

“They’ve been tampering with dungeons, which will result in a dungeon break if they aren’t dealt with. That would reflect badly on all of Celadon’s nobles, especially for those dungeons that are privately maintained, but it also raises an opportunity. 

“I received word about their plans a week ago, and I sent my men out to see what they were doing. Just two hours ago, they identified one of those dungeons, an unclaimed one that the guild hasn’t registered yet.”

Silas looked up at Orest, his gaze direct. 

“I want you to deal with it instead of the guild. It will go a short way to making up for your failure at the mine. But this time, you will not be going alone.” 

He nodded at his daughter, who had been silent during the conversation.

“Isla will go with you. By the laws of Celadon, if an unclaimed dungeon is cleared by one of noble blood, the land it is on will become part of my holdings. Officially, she will lead the party.

“It’s a Level 80 dungeon, nothing that should pose a threat to you, even with Sarathia’s tampering. You’ll head there as soon as possible and take care of it, before any other nobles can make a claim on it.”

He placed his finger back on the letter, pushing it toward Orest again.

“One other thing. My men noticed an adventuring team snooping around the entrance. Killing guild adventurers gets too much attention, so they trapped them inside. I’ll have my butler teleport you to the entrance, to a beacon my men set up. 

“The adventurers are only around Level 60, so they’ll probably die quickly, but if they haven’t, you can treat them as canaries. Drive them ahead of you and let them spring any traps or other dangers. Then get rid of them before they get to the dungeon boss. I can’t have them clearing the dungeon first and reporting it back to the guild. 

“Leave their bodies inside the dungeon. The guild won’t ask as many questions that way.”

“Alright,” Orest agreed as he looked down at the letter. “It shouldn’t take long. I’ll take a couple people along with me. A Level 80 dungeon isn’t much.”

Then he paused for a moment.

“What about the guild spy?” he asked. “Should I take care of him too?”

“I sent someone to take care of it already,” Silas said calmly. “But if he manages to survive, you have my permission to deal with him. Just do it out of the guild’s sight. He seems to be highly favored, and his connection there has already caused enough trouble for you, I imagine.”

His words implied that if Orest messed it up, he wasn’t going to bail him out again. He took his finger off the letter, leaving it clear for Orest to pick it up, and leaned back in his chair.

“Remember to be more cautious in the future,” he added. “Otherwise, those three witnesses who swore your son was somewhere else will change their minds about what they saw. The Decennium is approaching, and my tolerance for failure is limited.”

He glanced at Isla and waved at her to go with Orest. 

The girl frowned, but she stepped forward.

“Now go,” Silas said, “my butler is waiting for you outside. You have an hour to gather anyone else you want to take, so don’t waste any time.”

Orest bowed as he gingerly took the letter off the table.

“I’ll wait for you here,” Isla said coldly as she stopped outside the room. “Hurry up.”

Orest held back his temper enough to give her a short nod, and then he left the building.

After that, it didn’t take him long to get ready. 

Most of the time was spent getting Yaris out of prison, and the letter made that easy. It seemed like word had been sent ahead, and as soon as he showed it at the guild prison, Yaris was simply tossed out the door at his feet.

He was a little bruised up, but they weren’t new, so Orest ignored it as he told him to follow. 

He’d already decided he was taking Yaris with him. 

It was the best way to keep him out of trouble for a little while, and this way he would see what working for the baron was all about.

Orest swung by his mansion to get a few things, and on the way back out, he found Yaris’s useless team had arrived, so he decided to take them along too, rather than any of the other Wind Hunters.

They were a high enough level to handle the dungeon, at least with his help, and if it turned out that this mission was more sensitive than expected, he didn’t mind getting rid of all of them.

It would be a good lesson for his son.

Just under an hour later, he was back at the trading house. 

The butler was waiting for them beside a teleportation circle. Once they were standing inside, he sent all of them away with a crack of magic that twisted the world.