Libriohexer ~ 27!

It took nine hours for Sam, Finn, and Bill to make it back to their Dungeon-turned-Den. Word about the dissolution of The Accords spread like wildfire through the streets of Ardania, and though the remaining mages tried to stamp down the rumor mill, those ugly whispers had taken on a life of their own. For every rumor that died, three more popped up in a city-wide version of Whack-a-Mole.

“The College was broken,” some whispered.

“The Arch Mage is dead,” said others. Most of those rumors placed the blame squarely at the feet of Joe—the now notorious Rogue Mage who’d been standing trial. In one tavern, Sam heard that Joe had summoned a Celestial Whale into the chamber where the Arch Mage was squished as the beast flopped around looking for water. In a back-alley market, a conspiratorial merchant said that Joe had made an alliance with a dark power; that he’d broken the Accords through a sheer effort of will. A portly black smith offhandedly mentioned that Joe had thrown away his humanity, siding with the Wolfmen.

That one, Sam knew was false. The rest? No one knew the truth, not for certain. Many of those same rumors said the College was beyond salvation, and that a new order would rise in its place. Sam doubted that. Even with The Accords gone, he knew the College was far from finished. They were powerful, well-financed, and connected to every royal house in Ardania; not to mention the King himself. The College was a powerful tool designed to keep the masses in check, and King Henry would never let such a useful tool be discarded so easily. Sam was sure the College would be back, under new management maybe, but back all the same. As Sam’s father often said, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Still, reasserting that dominance would take time.

In the interim, the dissolution of the College was a perfect excuse for people to act out in the worst possible ways. There were rioters in the streets, drinking and yelling and fighting with reckless abandon, looters that worked their way through North Waterside, stealing anything that wasn’t bolted to the floor. Sometimes more than a few things that were bolted to the floor.

The city was in turmoil and Sam couldn’t have been happier about it. He even used the chaos as a cloak to pilfer goods from a variety of high-end restaurants, stocking up on valuable food supplies for his brood. The downside was that the Royal Guards were also out in force, bringing order with an iron fist. They even had contingents of state-sponsored mages with them—an overwhelming display of force that explained in no uncertain terms that The College was still to be feared no matter what you may have heard.

Sam and Finn had to avoid those like the plague, lest they get shanghaied into one of the guard patrols. Worse, the city gates were also locked down for the better part of five hours. Sam and Finn managed to slip through just before dark, when the guards opened up to let any stranded adventurers back into the city before nightfall. They padded out, earning a few odd glances in passing, but no one said anything. They had bigger things to worry about at the moment than a few newbie adventurers seeking their own death.

Dizzy and the others had already respawned by the time they made it back to the Irondowns. Sam was more than a little surprised about that; in his experience, the game’s AI often punished stupid or reckless deaths. According to Dizzy, everyone in the party had received a paltry five-hour respawn time. Apparently, the AI was mightily impressed with the sheer gumption of their raid, and it seemed being dissolved by a mana kraken was punishment enough for any recklessness they may have engaged in.

Sam wanted nothing more than to head to the Barracks, get a long soak in the communal tub, then sleep for the next ten or twelve hours, but Dizzy wouldn’t hear of it. She crossed her arms and shook her head. They had somewhere else they needed to be, she told him—her tone saying in no uncertain terms that there would be no debate about the issue. Sam simply sighed in resignation and followed her away from the Irondowns, through the tangles of the forest and to the edge of New Narvik.

They scaled the walls, just as they’d done a thousand times before.

Sam crested the out wall but froze at the top.

Arrayed before him was a throng of Wolfmen gathered in a great circle, their luminous eyes staring up at him. At the far end of the gathering, a wooden dais had been erected. The O’Baba waited on the platform, staring at him just like the others. Sam felt a lump of fear and uncertainty form in his throat, but he didn’t speak. The moment felt enchanted somehow, and he didn’t want to be the one to break it. Finally, the O’Baba threw her head back and let loose a long, piercing howl. One by one, the other Wolfmen joined, each offering their own voices to the night. The sounding was a haunting melody that raised the hairs along the nap of Sam’s neck.

The Wolfmen cut off their howls all at once, their eyes fixed on him with expectation. Bill sent in a conspiratorial tone, <I think you’re supposed to answer back,>

Sam glanced at Dizzy and Finn. Both just shrugged. Not knowing what else to do, Sam threw his head back and offered up a howl of his own. Below, the Wolfmen dropped their heads in a sign of respect and parted ranks, forming a narrow pathway for him that snaked its way to the dais. The O’Baba was still on stage, but a few other familiar faces had joined her. Kai, Sphinx, Arrow, and Velkan. The O’Baba snorted and motioned for them to join. When they finally made it to the stage, the O’Baba raised a hand high.

“Hear me, Redmane Tribe,” the ancient she-wolf said. Her voice was soft, yet the quiet of the night carried her words like a trumpet. “We gather to rejoice and celebrate in the kill of the pack. For many years we have fought a war of attrition against the humans of Ardania. Yet tonight, these new wolf pups have done what we have only dreamt of. This night, with great daring and boldness, they landed a terrible blow against the Mages College. This very night, one of our oldest, most formidable enemies has fallen. Though they will regroup their strength in time—as all worthy enemies do—it is cause for celebration!”

Another round of huffs and howls filled the night. But the O’Baba wasn’t done yet. She raised her hand once more, cutting off the merriment. “There are those among our number who have doubted the sincerity and value of these humans with the hearts of wolves. They have questioned my judgment in admitting them to our ranks and granting them the honors of nobility. But no longer. Let the actions of this night still every wagging tongue, and wag every still tail! These seven have demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt their commitment and loyalty to our cause. They have proven this not merely in words, but through spilled blood. So tonight, we will honor them. For their actions, I name each of them a Lord or Lady of the People, and promote Sam_K to the auspicious rank of Blood Baron! I also name them Extended Family! They are blood and bone and fur, just as we are-”

“Wait,” Sam forced himself to the front. “I apologize, O’Baba for interrupting. I cannot say how thankful I am for your kind words, but I cannot accept such honors under false pretenses. The truth is-”

<What in the abyss are you doing?> Bill hissed at him. < Don’t be a moron. You’re ruining everything. We’re almost in.>

<The right thing,> Sam sent back with a mental sigh. “The truth is, we aren’t responsible for the destruction of The Accords. From what I’ve managed to piece together, it seems that a Rogue Mage named ‘Joe’ is responsible for bringing down the Arch-Mage. Our raid was a success. We managed to assassinate a number of powerful Trustees. and plant some explosives throughout the College, but we can’t take credit for everything that transpired. The Wolfmen are a people of honor, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I had gained favor through lies and deception.”

The Wolfmen milling in the audience broke out into muted whispers. The O’Baba offered them a wolfish grin, one of her ears twitching in amusement. “I told you, Kosoruk of White Wyther.”

She had spoken softly, staring in victory at a lanky wolf with white fur standing nearby. He was swathed in a heavy cloak, and had a series of scars criss crossing his muzzle. “You doubted, but I told you he would have the heart not to take credit for a kill that belongs to another.”

Then, more loudly for the rest of the assembled wolves, she spoke again. “This is already known, Sam the Blood Baron. Our eyes and ears have told us such things. But your willingness to speak truth is only more reason to elevate you and your pack mates. As for the College, though you may not have caused it’s fall, it is fallen. You contributed. Perhaps you even did more than you know. We have a saying in the old tongue, Kruzhji ro kraz Gufetchitse. A little blood from all, kills the enemy. Wolves are creatures of the pack.”

Sam was in shock as the O’Baba continued, “Only one wolf can land the killing blow during the hunt, but hamstringing an enemy is no small thing. All actions are cumulative, and all actions contribute to the kill, regardless of who lands the final blow. Perhaps removing Octavius created an opportunity for their downfall. Perhaps killing the Trustees weakened the Arch Mage in ways we cannot foresee. In our eyes, it matters not. We honor the kill, and we honor your integrity.”

Nearby, Kosoruk pulled back his lips, revealing yellowed fangs, then dipped his head and laid his ears back flat against his skull. An acknowledgement of the truth in the O’Baba’s words. The assembled Wolfmen erupted in cheers. More howls echoed throughout New Narvik as torches rippled through the crowd and great bonfires flared to life, followed by the clamor of pipes and the raucous hammering of bass drums. Wolfman mead flowed like water, and battle-scarred warriors engaged in an odd sort of staged combat, equal parts dance and sparring match. Bodies and weapons twirled in time with the music, drawing bright splashes of blood and good-natured chuffs of mirth.

Every time blood was shed, a new dancer rotated in, trying their hand against the reigning champion. The display was beautiful, strange, and a firm reminder that there was still a lot about the Wolfmen that Sam didn’t know. Sam paused when he saw Yurij BrightBlood standing apart from the rest of the revelers. Their handler had his arms folded across his chest, ears laid back against his skull, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Somehow they managed to win over Kosoruk of White Wyther—hater of humankind—but not grumpy ol’ Yurij BrightBlood.

Go figure.

The shaman sniffed dismissively then turned and disappeared, forgoing the festivities entirely. The O’Babba followed Sam’s gaze. “Do not worry about Yurij. He is a grumpy old wolf, even less easily impressed than I. You will win him over in time, I have no doubt. Now go. Enjoy the celebration. It is for you. You will be welcome at any fire, and this night you will eat and drink your fill.”

The others took off, though Velkan lingered behind. Sam went to follow, but the O’Baba snagged his wrist before he could depart. “Not you, Blood Baron. You have fulfilled your end of the pact, now I shall fulfill mine.”

Quest complete! Exalted of the Pack: Hey, hey, hey. How about that! You pulled off the seemingly impossible. Not only did you help to contribute to the downfall—sort of—of the Mages College, you’ve managed to prove your loyalty and devotion beyond a shadow of a doubt, even to the most ardent haters of humanity. Color me impressed. You have earned 12,500 Experience points for completing this quest, and have been personally elevated to the Rank of ‘Blood Baron’, which is one step lower than a Tribe head. Additionally, reputation with The People has increased by 2,000 points, from ‘Friendly’ directly to ‘Extended Family.’ Among the Wolfmen, there is nowhere you aren’t welcome.

The O’Baba has also agreed to grant you a special reward for your daring: a meeting with the elusive Totem Shaman. What you gain there cannot be given, only understood.

Golden light engulfed Sam, lifting him into the air as euphoria swept through his body. With the added ten-thousand points from completing the quest, he’d just leveled up for the third time that day, hitting level thirteen.

Name: Sam_K ‘Merchant Ambassador’

Class: Bibliomancer

Profession 1: Bookbinder

Profession 2: Chicken Keeper

Level: 13 Exp: 98,112 Exp; to next level: 6,888

Hit Points: 150/150

Mana: 667/667

Mana regen: 19.07/sec

Stamina: 165.5/165.5

Characteristic: Raw score

Strength: 20

Dexterity: 34

Constitution: 19

Intelligence: 60

Wisdom: 58

Charisma: 23

Perception: 24

Luck: 14

Karmic Luck: +1

Sam had four Characteristic points to distribute from hitting level twelve, but he now wasn’t the time or the place to take care of that. The O’Baba was waiting for him, and he was finally about to get some long overdue answers about how to unlock his next specialization. Having a few extra points might even come in handy, depending on what he learned.

“It is time for you to meet the Totem Shaman,” She solemnly informed him as he closed out of his menu. “Velkan, take our newly minted Baron to the Bakkuo, you are expected.”