Chapter 32: Chapter 32: The Man with the Red Beard

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Man with the Red Beard

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As I took that first step toward town, Liara grabbed my arm and twirled me around so that we were face to face, with our noses nearly touching.

“Hold on, Wisdom!” Icy gray eyes stared at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. “What bad thing is about to happen to basecamp and how do you know about it?”

I thought it was rich that the she-elf was being suspicious of me when she was the half-blood spawn of a racist cultist who’d participated in at least one instance of mass murder.

“Well…”

I wondered if I could trust Liara with my secret while knowing that she might still choose to join the dark side rather than become my companion, thereby making her my future archnemesis. In the end, I decided that this sort of trust wasn’t earned in a week, and the she-elf would have to prove herself many times over before I could even begin to contemplate telling her about Extra Life.

“I used Star-Spangled Sight… and it showed me a vision of monsters attacking basecamp.” I wasn’t sure why, but this lie tasted a lot more bitter on my tongue now than when I’d given it to Mistress Lorelai earlier.

“Monsters attacking a camp full of adventurers?” The skepticism on Liara’s face became more pronounced. “Do you know how many roamers it would take for—”

“It wasn’t roamers.” The memory of my first dungeon break forced my face into an expression I wasn’t used to—apprehension. I was worried that if we failed again, I would have to watch as people I kind of liked died a second time in really horrible ways. “Trust me. I haven’t steered us wrong yet, have I?”

I know, I know. It was a bit hypocritical of me to ask for trust when I couldn’t give it myself.

“You and I haven’t known each other long enough for this kind of talk…” Liara let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, I believe you. Whatever. So, when is this attack supposed to happen?”

She was giving me the benefit of the doubt. That would have to be enough for now.

“The witching hour,” I answered.

“That gives us”—Liara glanced at her wristwatch, and her brow creased—“a little over an hour…” She frowned at me. “Then why are we here and not back at camp telling everyone about your vision?”

“One, please don’t say ‘vision’ in a way that people might misunderstand because I don’t want anyone thinking I’m some kind of prophet. Freaking busy bodies get the worst reviews on Yelper. Ugh.” I pulled out my status bar and showed Liara what was on its screen. “Two, I texted Dess to tell Mistress Lorelai what’s about to happen… Assuming our teacher listens to my plan, which I think she will considering my track record, as long as we can get reinforcements there on time, then we’ve got a shot at saving everyone…”

“You sent Mistress Lorelai a text message,” Liara repeated.

“I sent Dess a text message to share with her,” I corrected.

The she-elf raised an eyebrow at me. “You do realize that you just threw Desdemona to the wolves, right?”

Ugh, poor choice of words. Seriously. And, yes, I was sorry for placing Dess in Mistress Lorelai’s line of fire, but better the fairy than me.

“Has there been any reply from them?” Liara pressed.

“There have been some replies. A few threats of castration and stabbing—Mistress Lorelai’s very descriptive, you know.”

“It’s better that you don’t reply then… We can apologize after we save them…”

“Exactly what I thought.” I elbowed Liara gingerly on the shoulder. “See, we do get each other.”

“This is insane… and I can’t believe I’m just going with it…” Liara shook her head. “I have more questions, but they’ll have to wait. Let’s go, Wisdom.”

To her credit, Liara didn’t ask me to elaborate on the plan during those last fifty yards it took to get to Kells Falls’ entrance which was blocked by an iron barricade similar to the fence that surrounded basecamp. There were two LEPRCON agents in crisp green military uniforms and bowler hats guarding the only gap along the iron fence. Surprisingly, neither of them was a halfling.

The agent to the right of the gate was tall and lanky. She had a furry face that had rabbit-like features, complete with rabbit ears popping up from underneath her bob-cut white hair. While her companion, the agent standing to the left of the gate, was a stout male dwarf with the height of a ten-year-old boy. He had golden brushed-back hair and a braided beard that went down to his waist.

“Hold it right there, laddie”—the dwarf had the same highland accent as Dwalinn—“this here town’s off-limits to non-residents.”

“Per CR Act Twelve-Ninety-Seven, Kells Falls was placed under quarantine due to a large volume of cursed miasma growing within the town limits,” the rabbit-looking wildling added in a high-pitched, chirpy sort of voice.

“That’s a Congress of Realms statute that determines whether or not a town’s infection might spread to other nearby townships,” Liara explained in an undertone.

“I know what CR Act Twelve-Ninety-Seven is.” I pointed at the signboard erected next to the dwarf. “It’s explained right there.”

It was funny how the signboards and iron barricades cast a dark mood outside of town, and yet we could hear the sounds of celebration coming from beyond the gates.

The lights were on in all the quaint-looking rows of houses on both sides of the main street, with townspeople out and about and partying it up like they’d been infected by the party bug that was currently running rampant across basecamp.

“Doesn’t look like quarantine’s being enforced right now,” I noted.

The dwarf LEPRCON agent glanced over his shoulder. “Aw, they’re all just happy to be free of that godsdamn curse.”

He raised a mug of strong-smelling mead to a bunch of townies who’d toasted him as they passed by the gate. Meanwhile, the wildling LEPRCON agent was sipping on a mug of her own, with both of their weapons—a bow staff and war hammer—leaning uselessly against the quarantine signboard.

“The town’s free of the maenad’s curse then?” Liara confirmed.

“Yeah, apparently, a bunch of snot-nosed brats from the Yggdrasil Academy—”

He narrowed his eyes at us.

“How do ye know about the maenad’s curse?” he demanded. “Who are ye?”

The dwarf looked to be reaching for his war hammer when his partner pointed to our blue cloaks.

“Aren’t those the Academy’s cloaks?” she asked us.

“It is?” the dwarf asked.

“I used to wear one.” She gave me and Liara a toothy, welcoming grin. “These cloaks belong to the Tower of Mages. This we know.”

“Didn’t know ye were an Academy elite, Proudfoot,” the dwarf gave his companion the once over. “What the Hel ye doing on guard duty then?”

“Flunked out in my journeyman years, Sarge.” Proudfoot shrugged. “Only the cream of the crop ever makes it to the master courses. This we know.”

Well, I did not know that little piece of Academy statistic, but it didn’t bother me much. There was no way Divah’s apprentice would flunk out at the Academy. She’d kill me herself if that ever happened.

‘Sarge’ turned his scrutinizing glare on me first, and then Liara, who was shrewd enough to twirl around for him so he could see the Academy’s vaklnut logo sown on the back of our cloaks.

To help Liara out, I began to boast of our recent accomplishments, culminating with, “She and I each slew an Irish ogre.”

“Yep, they’re Academy novices alright.” Proudfoot gazed at us with wide-eyed appreciation. “That kind of conceit is a requirement. This we know.”

Sarge still looked skeptical, but he didn’t refute his partner’s claims.

“So, what are two Academy brats doing out here in the dead o’ night when that bastard Doyle’s been making us jealous with all his drunk calls over the radio about the high-quality booze he’s drinking over at ye’r camp?” Sarge asked.

I pointed at the mug in his hand which smelled heavily of honey and alcohol.

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“Local fare’s not bad.” The dwarf took a swig of his beer, and then belched loudly in our direction. “But it’s no comparison to the imported Vanaheim stuff ye lot get at basecamp.”

I let out a sigh. Dwarves. Bloody alcoholics, the whole lot of them.

“I’m sorry we’ve disrupted your night, sir, but…” Liara spoke in that honeyed voice that made most males blush. From the way Proudfoot’s cheeks flushed, I guessed my she-elf companion could produce that same effect on females too. “…we’re here on Academy business, which my friend here—”

She pointed her thumb at me.

“—will explain right now.” Liara prodded me forward with an elbow to the shoulder. “Won’t you, Wisdom?”

“Yeah, yeah…” The smile I offered the dwarf and wildling produced a lackluster effect compared to when Liara showed them her pearly whites. Sheesh, tough crowd. “We’re here to meet with Red Beard, and if you could—”

At the mention of Divah’s old comrade in arms, both LEPRCON agents straightened up suddenly. Then they exchanged wary looks.

“Ye came here to meet with Red Beard?” Sarge confirmed.

“Yes?” I replied uncertainly.

I wasn’t sure if the agents turning suddenly serious was a good thing, because, for all I know, Red Beard had caused trouble in town—which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility—and was now persona non grata with the townspeople.

“Not it,” Sarge said about a half second before Proudfoot did.

“Vargr,” Proudfoot cursed. Then she sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll take them…”

***

Baldr’s balls, if I knew name-dropping an old acquaintance was all it took to get past the town’s quarantine and be escorted by a LEPRCON agent through the crowd of celebrating townies, I would have just invoked Red Beard’s name right from the beginning. Sadly, we’d lost precious minutes answering the agents’ questions.

“I guess everyone knows our quest was a success?” I assumed.

Townies who noticed us raised their wine glasses in our direction and toasted to our health. Someone had even started a chant of the Academy’s school anthem—which I hadn’t memorized yet—that others quickly picked up so that Liara and I were followed by an out-of-tune rendition of “Land of wise seidhr~~rs, and the home of brave~e drengrs~~s!”

“Now, now, stop crowding these heroes,” Proudfoot chided the crowd that was gathering around us. “They’ve got business with the boss of the Crimson Corsairs.”

At the mention of one of the top guilds on Earth—and a rising star among realmsverse guilds too—the crowd surrounding us quickly dispersed with apologetic expressions fixed on their faces. As if to say that they were sorry for getting in our way.

“What did that crazy bastard do to the townspeople?” I wondered aloud.

“It’s nothing bad.” Proudfoot smiled sheepishly. “We didn’t have enough agents on hand so the Crimson Corsairs helped to keep the peace and crack down on accursed. They were a bit heavy-handed, but the injuries were mostly minor. Mostly.”

“So, Red Beard… he was part of Dragon Flail before the original group disbanded, right?” Liara prompted.

“Yeah…” My eyes narrowed slightly. “None of the OGs liked the new management after their guild master died so they left the guild in a mass exodus.”

“Were you also a member of Dragon Flail?” she asked.

I shook my head. “They let me tag around because of Divah, but back then Dragon Flail only accepted high-ranking adventurers into the organization. It’s what made them one of the top guilds in the realmsverse.”

“Top three from what I remembered,” Liara added. “Dragon Flail’s fall from the high rankings is well-documented.”

“And most of its OG members started their own guilds,” I added. “Divah was the only one to go solo.”

“Because of you?” Liara asked.

“No, my master just didn’t want to bother with the hassle of setting up a new guild.” I chuckled at the thought of Divah and paperwork. “Although she did use to say that raising one brat was way harder than managing a guild.”

“Sounds like she really cared about you…” Liara said that last bit in almost a whisper so that I had to strain to hear her.

As we crossed a street sandwiched by charming townhouses painted in a variety of colorful shades, I stole a peek at the she-elf and noticed the sadness marring her pretty face.

I guess that me talking about Divah with a big fat grin was enough to remind the she-elf of her family circumstances, which I gathered from my meeting with her father hadn’t been the sunny, picket fence house and Sunday family dinners childhood that I assumed all bright elf children had.

I didn’t get to ask Liara about her life before the Academy though, because our guide informed us that we’d arrived.

Proudfoot brought us to an old-fashioned tavern on the corner of Main Street where loud, boisterous noises could be heard coming from the inside. Above the door was a sign that read; The Wild Clover.

“Sounds like a fight,” Liara said.

“Yep, that’s probably it,” I replied.

“The Corsairs like to get rough when they party…” Proudfoot ushered us into the tavern, although she remained by its threshold and wouldn’t go in. “Good luck… you’re going to need it. This we know.”

With those ominous final words, our guide shut the door on us, leaving us with the thirty or so adventurers who had their backs to the door because they were all focused on something happening by the tavern’s back wall.

“Kick him in the gonads!” one man yelled.

“Don’t kick him in the gonads! Man’s got a new wife!” Another person yelled. To which, a third female replied, “She’s his sixth wife. Doesn’t count anymore!”

“What do you think?” I whispered into Liara’s ear.

“Feels like home,” she replied.

It did sort of feel like we were back in the tower’s hearth with all the rowdy mages and their nightly revelries. Except none of our tower mates looked as intimidating as these rough-looking adventurers with their tarnished gear of mismatched armor and their unusual assortment of torture weapons out in the open for the world to see, which, as the peer counselor by my side probably knew, was a violation of CR Adventurer Code of Conduct Eighteen-Point-Twenty-One, the so-called Concealed Weapon Rule.

“I heard a rumor that the leader of the Crimson Corsairs pissed his pants the first time he lost to the dragoness!” I yelled over the din.

Silence quickly filled the room while all eyes snapped toward the tavern’s front door. There was a yelp that was followed by someone heavy falling over, but no one seemed to care as grim faces and annoyed looks remained focused on us.

A figure moved toward the doors from the very back of the tavern and split the crowd in two like Moses parting the Red Sea. Then a tall, dark-skinned man with short-cropped red hair and a Viking’s braided red beard came into view, and his wolf-eyed glare was truly something to behold.

Twin red orbs appraised mine and Liara’s faces for a long moment before he said, “Of course, I pissed my pants. Who the fuck wouldn’t?”

A big fat grin flashed on Red Beard’s face, and the atmosphere around us lightened considerably, which was followed by everyone laughing at their guild master.

“Now, I may have embarrassed myself in front of the dragoness that one time,” he raised his hand for quiet, and then pointed a finger at me, “but I know for a fact that you shit—”

“Hey~~y, did you get buffer”—I immediately cut him off—“because you look like you’ve been working out, big guy, and it’s a good look.”

One of the things I loved most about Red Beard was how quick he was on the uptake. A glance at Liara and the gruff-looking middle-aged adventurer knew that my embarrassing preteen stories were off the table. At least for now.

We exchanged high-fives, which transitioned into low-fives, then a Viking handshake, into the drengr wrist clutch, which flawlessly ended with the seidhr fist bump and explosion combo.

Afterward, Red Beard pressed a heavy hand on my shoulder, and with all seriousness, asked, “Alright, what kind of shitty disaster did you get yourself into now, Will?”

Seeing his reliable grin, the heavy knot of tension I’d been lugging around since my last resurrection unwound, and I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Funny you should mention disasters…”