ARC 6-Winter War-11

Eh? Something happened to Howie?

[It would appear so. The barmaid is quite distressed and the feeling is genuine.]

Saints damn it all. I didn’t think the guilds would be petty enough to retaliate this soon. How can monster hunters be so hot-headed? Don’t they care how it looks? Don’t they fear any repercussions?

These bastards are really looking down on me. I wonder who it is. The supposedly number one ranked guild? I find it hard to believe any group ambitious enough to achieve that title is willing to settle for second-rate potions over the best that is Howie’s brews. Especially when they are about to risk their lives in a place where the best of the best die in droves.

Or could it be the guild full of noble rejects? I don’t have to take a step inside their inner circle to know it’s a cesspit. If they’re anything like that Nimble bastard, they’d kidnap Howie without a second’s thought. They also seemed inordinately interested in that Haze drink. Interested enough to resort to unscrupulous means? I wouldn’t put it past them.

Finally, there’s the Shadow Wolves. The guild responsible for the failed meeting. The guild that has already threatened the brewer multiple times, though they’ve never resorted to violence against him. I suppose it was only a matter of time. Powerful people aren’t known for their patience. Or their tolerance of perceived insults.

Whoever it is, they’re going to regret this. I made an agreement with Howie and warned them directly. That makes this an assault on me too. Doubly bad for my future victims, I don’t have the time to handle this politely. Going through proper procedures could take days and end without clear resolution. In that time, there’s no telling what could happen to the poor halfling.

I carefully move away from Alana, rolling on top of my wife. Hands grab my waist as she hums. A quick flip of a ‘film’ and I can see her slightly opened eyes and amused smirk clear as day. “Right beside our star?” she purrs in a voice husky with sleep. “Do you think you can keep quiet?”

“Tempting, but no.” I lean forward until our noses touch and whisper as softly as I can, “Wanna go on a rampage with me?”

Her eyes snap open, gaze darting over my features, gauging me. “…you are serious.”

“Very.” I carefully roll out of bed and she is quick to follow, both of our movements slow and tense as we do our best to avoid waking the sleeping saint. Once the door is closed behind us, my wife latches on to me with an eager smile.

“What has brought this on?”

“Someone did something stupid.”

“Coo!” Bell scampers down the stairs before us to a waiting Geneva, smiling softly while her tail wags lazily. Nomad enters the room shortly after we descend. I shiver as his dark gaze, complete with its usual bags, lands on me.

I don’t know what to make of him after Geneva’s investigations into his origins. The memories she unearthed are as unbelievable as they are confusing. The barest fraction of what they suggest is enough to make me incredibly uncomfortable around him. If it was the previous me, I’d be outright terrified.

Howie’s barmaid is seated on one of our couches, her usual apron abandoned, blowing her nose into a handkerchief. I thought Bell was exaggerating when she said the usually stoic woman was crying herself silly. Mm, this is serious.

“Hey.” I lay a hesitant hand on her shoulder. A part of me wants to comfort her but even if I was good with such things, we aren’t close enough for it to feel anything but awkward. “Tell us what happened.”

She takes a deep breath to still her sobs, tugging on the poor handkerchief to vent. “We were closed for the night and Howie was drinking like usual when the doors were knocked down. Two people rushed in. One attacked me while the other went after Howie. Once they had him, they both ran off.”

Two attackers. My immediate thought is disdain, wondering how they failed against such a meagre force. Then I remember that most people don’t measure up to the standards of my household and they were probably drunk on that half-gob’s impressive drinks at the core of this mess. “What can you tell us about them? Appearance? Fighting style? Did they say anything?”

“They were both dressed in black. Black cloth covered their faces…” Her face is pinched in concentration before she shakes her head. “They didn’t say anything either but the one who attacked me had the fire affinity…I think.”

“You think?”

“It was weird. His hands were covered in reddish mana, so it had to be the fire affinity, but he didn’t use fire. He was a martial fighter and everywhere he hit me, I became frighteningly cold. It’s what kept me from chasing them. He hit my legs and I couldn’t run properly. The second one…I barely saw him. Didn’t see him use any magic but he was fast, even with Howie on his shoulder.”

I suppose I can’t expect criminals to leave notes with their names and details on them. “And? Once they were gone—”

“I stumbled after them but quickly realized that I couldn’t catch up. So, I moved to the closest guardhouse as quickly as I could.” She scowls. “Useless bastards. They’re so scared of the guilds, they’d only move if they saw someone murdered right in front of them. Wasted time asking me if I was sure I’d been attacked and my boss kidnapped. Cowards, all of them. The lord too.”

She pauses before hesitantly raising her gaze to meet mine. “Then I remembered you. Howie seemed pretty relaxed while you were around so I thought you might be able to help…” She swallows heavily. “I-I’m sure he’ll reward you once he's okay, so please!”

“Stop!” I hold up a hand to cut her off as she looks like she’s about to start begging. “You don’t have to throw yourself at my feet. I’m going to help.”

Some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “Then we have to go. Right now!”

“We will.” This is a good opportunity to see how I compare to the elite of Quest. And not just me. The kids need their sleep but… “Nomad, bring the carriage around.”

“Let not the fires burn too long lest the world be blinded by the ashes,” the possibly-a-celestial mutters as he leaves. It’s his usual vague nonsense but now there’s a real chance that there is something behind it. No, no. Already decided I’m not going to touch what’s going on with my strange servant without ample information and preparation. Hopefully, Geneva can find me more clues.

“Bell, go wake up my gardener. Tell him to prepare for a possible fight.”

“Coo!”

“Thank you,” the barmaid mutters, fresh tears wetting her eyes.

“How exciting,” Kierra purrs.

-

Ours is the only carriage on the road as we head for the edge of the Grand Market, the entry point to the Hall. The earth casters in charge of raising and lowering the platforms that grant entry from the city give us a curious look but have the tact not to ask questions, taking our payment and sending us on our way.

Quest is a bit more active but the streets aren’t exactly bustling at the early hour. There is no one to complain as we thunder down the roads, headed for Howie’s bar. We make it there in record time and our small group converges at the entrance.

“I thought you said he didn’t use any fire?” I ask pointedly, looking at the scorched walls and ceiling. The bottles along the back wall are mostly shattered, glass sprinkling the counter and the floor around it. Most of the furniture is intact but turned over and strewed across the room haphazardly. With the brewer missing, the bar feels even emptier than usual.

“I threw a few spells but I don’t know what happened.”

“Fires like good drink as well,” Kierra says while chuckling.

The barmaid coughs, the faintest flush to her cheeks. “Anyway, how are we going to find him?”

I clap, making her jump. “Pets.” As my succubi move to the center of the room, I put an arm around the barmaid’s shoulder and turn her around. “You shouldn’t watch.”

“Huh?”

A quick glance over my shoulder and I catch the faintest glimpse of pulsing red flesh. I avert my gaze before the retaliation can affect me. The transformation takes longer than usual, a matter of minutes rather than moments. Then I hear something large puttering around behind me, making strange snapping sounds.

“How cute,” my wife coos.

“Not very subtle, Belolial, but a good choice otherwise,” Geneva says in the tone of a tutor. “I prefer to inflict a more alien fear.”

Her transformation is much faster and audible, the wet sounds of flesh twisting and folding making me itch. The poor woman under my arm is trembling. “What…what are…”

“Don’t worry about that. Here, wait by Gajin.” I communicate with my eyes for the gardener to comfort her as I lead her to him.

Ill-used to entertaining others from both his time as a bandit and his time in my service, he looks more than a little uncomfortable at the prospect but takes on the job bravely. I turn as he produces a flower from his jacket to look over my succubi.

In the place of my adorable imp is an eight-legged monstrosity that vaguely resembles a canine. Thick, gray fur, a bushy tail, triangular ears, four of them, and a long muzzle. That’s where the similarities end.

The creature has no eyes. There’s two folds in the skin at the proper place that suggests where they should be, or worse, once were, but there’s no bulge to suggest the presence of eyeballs.

Where’s its nose should be is a strange pink appendage. It looks like two hands pressed together at the palms, four wiggling fingers extended on either side, each half as long as my arm, which is still comparatively small on the creature that’s nearly as tall as me and much bulkier.

Standing beside it is another horror. This one is vaguely human, standing upright on two legs while crossing two arms, and bowing its head. That’s it. No eyes. No ears. No nose. No hair. Nothing but a solid shadow, its skin a bit shiny like the back of a beetle. It’s also incredibly tall and slender. If I saw a person that skinny, I’d think they’d already died of starvation and that only makes the thing scarier. Extending from its brow are two antennae, reinforcing the insectoid image.

I don’t even want to imagine how or where they came across such forms.