God Class, page 34
The young guard laughed and put a hand on Silas’s shoulder. “Hungry?” He asked with a sly grin.
Silas had not realized what he had looked like in that moment, and felt his face grow flush red. He pictured himself as one of those cartoon characters that were lifted away by the smell of a fresh apple pie. The guard only shrugged after seeing his embarrassment then tried to talk through a laugh.
“We will see you to the Odd Elm. Melra and Tiffy will be happy to accommodate the Forest Guardian and its allies, and they serve the best stewed chicken pie in all of Perlavore to be sure.”
The female guard elbowed him, and he grunted with a huff of pain.
“Have you had all of the stewed chicken pie on Perlavore?” She asked.
“Ow! Hey! And maybe I have!” He answered and gave a softer elbow in response.
“Alright, alright. Easy you two,” the other spear-wielding guard said, stepping between them and laughing.
The group approached a large building that held a rickety wooden sign stating it was the Odd Elm Inn. A large door that set just above a small set of stairs and was tucked within a large porch. Several patrons sat at a table on the porch with the glow of a lantern in the center, and most nearly spat out their ale or wine when they saw the Forest Guardian and a Goblin approaching. Silas wondered if there was a joke there about a tree and a Goblin walking into a bar, but he was too distracted by thoughts of stuffing his face to come up with anything half decent.
He didn’t know what a stewed chicken pie was, and he really didn’t care.
Inside had been much brighter than Silas or Tulk had anticipated, and both sheltered their eyes after walking in. The dim light of the forest, partnered with the darkness of the caverns, had really set them up for a difficult time with all of the glowing lanterns. When Silas’s eyes adjusted, he tried to get a better look at them and find out why they were so bright. It seemed like they contained a glowing orb in the center that had a sloshing liquid in it. He noted that some patrons would give the lantern a little shake when it began to dim, and the liquid inside regained its luminescence shortly after. It was interesting, and Silas had to wonder what the science was behind something like that. Alchemy? Did this world have alchemy? He really hoped it did.
The guards had brought them to a long table that was completely empty, which was odd given how many patrons were packed into the establishment already. The table itself did not seem especially special, with a lighter wood stain on it and several chairs tucked below. However, as the guards passed through Silas realized that this table must be held aside specifically for the guards themselves.
As they sat, surrounded by the fearful glares that met Argor and Tulk, Silas decided to introduce himself and the others to the guards officially, and thanked them for their hospitality and help again. A couple of the guards shook Tulk’s hand hesitantly, not as excited as the other had been earlier, and then they each placed their hands on Argor’s wooden mitt and gave bows of recognition. Silas only got the most normal human handshakes of his life, but he supposed compared to the other two he was the most boring one there at a glance.
He learned their names as well. Reimond was the rifle wielding male guard that had nearly shaken Tulk to death. He seemed the youngest and most cheerful of the group, with a beaming smile adorned with deep dimples and a dusting of a mustache that the others joked had taken him months to achieve. Ingran and Pawlin were the spear guards, with Ingran being older, thickly built with a dark graying beard, while Pawlin was a bit leaner, sporting black hair and a scar that ran from his chin to his left ear. Esabell was the female rifle guard and seemed to be the rashest of the four, possibly even the head of their squad. She remained as professional as possible, even ordering the round of drinks and pies for the table and designating who sits where. She and Pawlin had some kind of playful back and forth as they waited for the meals, chiding one another and being generally flirtatious.
It felt weird to Silas, seeing all of these other humans after only having Rae the last few days. They all seemed so real and so unique. Their features, their way of speaking and even their mannerisms. It all only solidified to him that this was a real place. This was all real, they were all real. It was a soothing thought, and for once he felt comfortable in this world.
“So, Silas,” Esabell said as the tankards were served by the barmaid. She took a swig, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her guard jacket and then continuing again. “Where do you hail from? Ivyrun? Melodyrun? You do not strike me as being from Yobahn given your clothing…”
“I’m, uh… well, I’m not from around here. Or anywhere close to here,” he said and quickly snatched his ale.
It was foaming and bitter, sloshing over his tongue and coating his throat in a gentle, warm burn as it fell to his empty stomach. It was a taste he hadn’t known before, given the condition he spent his formative drinking years in, but he imagined it must be pretty close to beer from Earth. It prickled as it went down, and there was an aftertaste of cinnamon or maybe clove that sat on his tongue for a just a moment. Silas found himself taking two or three more long swigs in rapid succession, just happy to have something other than Argor’s mushrooms in his stomach.
“Silas comes from a place very far from our own, in more ways than just distance alone perhaps,” Argor said, folding their arms and leaning back in the chair. The carved grin returned to their face.
Tulk had already finished his tankard in what could have been mere seconds and had then moved on to drinking Argor’s. A bit splashed onto the table, and Burbles leaned down to take in a bit with their maxillipeds. The crustacean shot back up, pincers held high and shouted, “Very far!” as loud as she possibly could before returning to the task of cleaning up the spilled booze.
Everyone around them was far too enthralled in Argor, and far too frightened or angered by Tulk, to pay any mind to the odd crab.
“Oh, I do enjoy a good game of guessing! Let us see then… hmmm…” Pawlin said, leaning in and placing a hand to his scarred chin. He squinted, studying Silas carefully. “You are a bit pale… perhaps a town in Valt’s Peaks then? You are lacking the necessary girth for such a climate though…”
“Aumento! My guess is Aumento!” Reimond shouted, streams of ale glistening from his lips. He wiped his face before shouting Aumento one more time.
Ingran gave him a bop to the back of the head, his leather glove adding a thump sound, and then laughed aloud with a hearty grin. After a long swig and a belch, he said, “Reimond, ya damn fool. Have ya ever seen a man come from Aumento? They guard the poor bastards like they be cattle ready for the roast!”
“Poor bastards? If they are simply poor bastards, then I volunteer to be one of them!” Reimond added, rubbing the back of his head. “A whole island of warrior women? I bet if I was there then… well, maybe… maybe I could find-“
“The love of your life,” Pawlin, Esabell, and Ingran interjected in unison, causing the whole squadron to burst out in laughter.
Silas looked to each of them feeling completely lost. And maybe a little buzzed as well. He knew that he would be a lightweight, between his lack of tolerance and his literal light weight, but half of an ale already had him feeling woozier than he would have liked to admit. He took another sip for show but dedicated himself to taking it easy. At least until food arrived.
Argor chimed in to assist Silas. “Aumento is a small continent to the southeast. It is the home of the largest flora in all of Galleon, with trees that nearly cut the clouds and trunks so large that they serve as homes to the natives. The citizens there have a strict matriarchal society that sees the females among them run the military while the males serve to tend the homes or work the regular positions in their towns.”
Silas nodded along, still stuck on the idea of the massive trees.
“Have you been, Argor?” Reimond asked, with the other guards giving him sour frowns. He cut himself off and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Oh, I apologize legendary Forest Guardian. This one does not-”
“Ugh,” Tulk interjected. He rolled his eyes and pushed his second empty tankard away. “Do not start with the ‘this one’ talk, boy. It is unbecoming of a warrior. Speak with your soul, bark with your gut. Feel your spine straighten with your words.”
“I am in agreement,” Argor said with a nod. “There is no need for formalities. We are indebted to you for your kindness, and in turn I ask that you refer to yourself in the casual rather than the proper. Now, to answer your question, yes. I have frequented Aumento. As the Guardian of the Forest, I must ensure the respect and preservation of the rare trees that inhabit that continent. The Aumentian people do the forest a service with their treatment of their land and have earned my respect as such.”
“Wow, cool!” Reimond barked excitedly. “I have always wanted to see the home of House Cilipe-”
“Quiet down!” Ingran cut in and covered the young man’s mouth, glancing around to either side cautiously.
Silas also did so, as if to mirror the older man. “What’s wrong? What’s happening? Is it a giant acidic slug? Fireball throwing Hobgoblin leader lady?”
“What? No. It is nothing,” Pawlin answered, also gazing nervously over the crowd. “The boy here has a way of allowing his lips to move before his mind, that is all. Would you say that is correct, Reimond?”
Reimond nodded with Ingran’s hand still covering his mouth.
Tulk glanced up from the table and began to survey the guards a bit closer. His brow furrowed as he did so, and he met Silas’s eyes with a look of understanding. Silas trusted the Goblin, and he could understand the intention of that stare. Tulk knew something or had picked up on something that Silas may not have.
The guards quickly steered the conversation away, continuing to ask Argor questions, occasionally including Silas while practically ignoring Tulk. They asked about more interesting places that the Guardian had been, or about the other Guardians; Pawlin mentioned that when he was in the Empire’s military force he had come across the Guardian of the Sands, though none believed him. Argor was more than happy to discuss the various forests around Galleon that they would appear in from time to time, and how it could traverse the various territories with the assistance of the other Guardians but had said little to nothing of the other Guardians themselves. The only one that was mentioned at all, other than Pawlin bringing up the Sand Guardian, was the Sea Guardian, but even then, it was just about their assistance with bringing Argor to the different continents.
Eventually the food was delivered, another round of drinks was served, with Esabell order something a bit stronger for Tulk this time around. Silas took in the smell of his pie, which had been cooked in a deep ceramic bowl with a golden crust of pastry coating the top. It smelled of warm herbs like thyme and rosemary, a hint of pepper, and maybe even green onions. As a child he has always preferred things to be spiced heavily with pepper flakes and chili powder, loving the way fire seemed to dance on his tongue with every bite, but there was something humble and beautiful about the gentle herbs on this pie. The scent was that of Thanksgiving and gave him vibes of an end of October cool night and family gathered around the dinner table. He exhaled, allowing his nostalgia to flood out of him before he became too emotional at memories that continued to seem cloudy.
Then, he dug in.
For the first time in his life, he understood the phrase better than sex. Given his brief, brief, barely existing sexual history, he truly found that pie to be better than anything he had ever experienced in his entire life. Only one bite in and his mouth began to salivate, and he became ravenous with the only goal in his mind being to see the bowl emptied entirely.
Once the mission was complete, and a few more rounds had been brought out, the night had officially ended. Silas had no idea what time it was but had to guess they went well past the middle of the night. The guards had bid them farewell, with Esabell and Pawlin agreeing to return in the morning to show them around town. At that point Silas could barely stand, and the wooden room seemed to spin in cartwheels all around him. The barmaid had shown them to their shared room, and Silas hit the pillow like a prize fighter.
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Seventeen
A Guard, A Guardian, A God, and A Goblin Walk Into A Bar
Carp ran as fast as his scrawny legs would carry him.
Several times the rugs nearly slid out from under him as he hauled through the halls, almost sending him to the stone floor again and again. Still, he knew there was no time to waste. Even if he fell, he would get back up. He could not dwell on this news; it was his job to do just the opposite. Carp had to be the one to compile all of the necessary information and present it to emperor Rainier as soon as possible. And this was not the kind of news that could be saved.
He rounded another corner, nearly knocking down one of the cleaning crew staff and then almost tripping over a guard shortly after. Each time they shouted at him all he could manage was a brief apology back as he raced down each hall.
“Kings and their bloody castles,” Carp said to himself, winded and weary.
The throne room was fast approaching, and Carp waited until the final moment to slow himself down. Only mere steps from the entryway, Carp readjusted his clothing, collected his notes in a more formal stack, and proceeded to gracefully walk through the threshold and into Rainier’s throne room.
The large emperor sat on his throne as he normally did. His elbow propped on the arm rest, head resting in his palm, and gazing out of a large, ivy covered window over the capitol proper. He sighed, either in boredom or at the presence of Carp, and then acknowledged the small man before him.
“Yes, Carp? What is it now?”
“My lord,” Carp answered, managing a small bow before unfurling his notes and clearing his throat. “Our forces to the south have sent word of more strange happenings in and around the Hiisi Forest.”
“Goblins then? More Goblin business?” Rainier answered with a slow drawl. “I will burn that forest to the ground for the mere peace and quiet it would bring if nothing else.”
Carp shook his head. “No, my lord. No, they reported something else entirely. Many things, actually.”
Rainier raised his free hand and twirled it around lazily. “Get to the point, Carp. It is much too early for Goblin business.”
“My lord,” Carp continued. “The first report was that of a great explosion of some kind. Scouts outside of Autumnrun, Yobahn, and even Ivyrun reported that the ground seemed to shake for a moment, and that there was a loud crash that seemed to carry out for miles. We do believe this to be Goblin related, my lord.”
Rainier rolled his eyes. “The inferior pests build stone tunnels below the earth and fill them with flaming torches. Charred Bone fits the name of those forest dwellers quite nicely, given that is all probably remains of them.”
Carp raised his lips for a nervous smile, matching the proud one Rainier showed for his own joke.
“That was great, my lord. Thank you for the humor on this morning,” Carp said and presented another bow. Rainier lost his smirk instantly and huffed, shifting his gaze back outside of the window. Carp cleared his throat and went on. “Then, uh, there was the claim that an enormous beam of light appeared, like that of a great column that rose from the forest up through the clouds themselves, and some even said they could hear it, though this is unconfirmed.”
“A pillar of light, you say?” Rainier drew himself up in his chair, pushing off of the arms and coming to a standing position. His face altered, becoming more interested and inquisitive as he began to descend the stairs of his throne to approach Carp. Once he was only mere inches from Carp, he peered down with wide eyes full of fascination and greed. “Tell me more, Carp.”
Carp cleared his throat, desperately trying, and failing, not to break out in a nervous sweat. He dabbed his head with the sleeve of his royal bastion and smiled like small child.
“Ah, yes, well, there are other reports as well. They say a crazed robed man ran from the western forest’s edge towards Melodyrun, then asked for directions to Asrashire. He was described as disheveled, deranged…” Carp peered closer at his notes. “Dirty, downtrodden, defeated, derelict… you get the picture I am sure, my lord. Now, our units did not believe that he was tied into the events, however he did appear shortly after the light appeared and may have knowledge. Next, there were maddening sounds of squelching and slaughter reported by a hunting party. They say they drew close but only found various large insect carcasses, mainly belonging to hunter worms and burrower leeches, although they claimed it was an uncountable amount of them that all appeared to be cut, slashed, or pummeled.”
“Interesting,” Rainier added. He wandered to the window and peered out again. Carp moved beside him and could follow the emperor’s line of vision as he peered out past the capitol and towards the very distant horizon where the forest was. “Deploy a small regiment of a few fine scouts back to Asrashire. With our presence having just been there they will not suspect a few outsiders as being of our own. This robed man has a head start on us, Carp, so ensure our scouts move at double time to head him off. If this man walks and takes regular rests, he should take just over four days to arrive. See that our troops do it in two.”
“Very well, sire,” Carp said and marked down the request in his notes. “Now, the hunters also report finding something else out of the ordinary. It was an enormous slug creature, possibly a Spore-Strider variant given its toxic nature. The thing had been severed numerous times and was nothing but chunks of acidic flesh when they found it, but the hunters could tell what it was well enough.”
