Chapter 21: Chapter 20: Hands of the Artisan I

Chapter 20: Hands of the Artisan I

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[THE SILVER SEAT - Southside of the River]

Nameen ran. He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t go back!

He had been able to go to the Night Market by claiming he was hungry, even though he hadn’t been hungry since he had woken up in this world, however long that had been now. He was glad. If he were capable of going hungry... He thought of the others, and how they had faded away slowly over time. The ones that hadn’t been bought.

Nameen wasn’t sure who had been luckier, to be honest. He heard the stories, but he had also heard others. He didn’t know what to believe.

It had been his mistake. He had been trying it out, when the woman saw, and discovered his talent. Stupid stupid stupid! Why had he done that? Though he cursed himself, he was still unsure. What if she hadn’t discovered his talent? Would he be in a better position?

Armed guards, all day every day. They had fed him, and he ate, even though he didn’t need to. The less information they had on him and what he was capable of, the better. He lied constantly to them about what he could do. He looked for chances to escape.

He had pretended to faint out of hunger when she wasn’t there. The guards accompanied him to the Night Market. They didn’t want to be blamed for the woman’s golden goose dying. Fear. They felt the same way he did now.

One moment of distraction was all he needed, and he was out of there.

The guards that had been assigned to him had searched the Night Market frantically, but he was small and short and it was easy for him to disappear into the crowd. They didn’t dare raise their voices too high. They didn’t want to be discovered either.

He ran and ran and ran. For hours and hours, until he was sure that they weren’t on his trail anymore. He wanted to stop, but anxiety still bore into him deeply like a knife. Both places with people and places with no people seemed like they could be the end of line for him.

She had eyes everywhere in the city.

Nameen sniffled. He wanted to cry, but he was too scared to make sounds. What if they found him?

He wanted to go home.

By the time he had come to his senses, he had realized where he was. One of the large bridges spanning the river that connected the north and the south of the city was above him, and he could hear the clip-clopping of horses and chatter from above.

He could hear them, but they couldn’t hear him.

Good. That was good. If nobody perceived him, then nobody could hurt him.

He gingerly clapped his hands, trying to make as little noise as possible. A violet window appeared in the air.

[NAMEEN BHATTACHARYA]

[LEVEL 1]
[EXP - 0/100]
[JOB CLASS: NONE]

[HP 70/70]
[MP 60/60]

[STRENGTH] - 8
[DEXTERITY] - 13
[CONSTITUTION] - 8
[INTELLIGENCE] - 13
[WISDOM] - 14
[SPEED] - 14
[LUCK] - 7

[SYSTEMS ACTIVATED:]
-SYNTHESIS-

It was still here, the window. It trapped him. He didn’t remember the world before very well, but he had been free. Not like this. Not since the window showed up had he felt free.

He just wanted to be free.

The rags he wore gave him little protection from the elements. He shivered. He couldn’t freeze to death. He knew that for a fact. That didn’t mean he wasn’t cold.

“Lad, are you alright?”

A warm voice.

Nameen looked up. A dwarf. Simple clothes and a cloak, with an apron. Frazzled hair and beard. Painful years had left their mark on his skin - it resembled beat up and tough old leather. Worst of all were his hands, which seemed to be covered in more scar tissue than skin.

Nameen’s eyes widened.

He had been found!

He had to run! He had to run! Before she found out. Because she knew! She always knew! She had EYES EVERYWHERE!

The world started to spin around him, and he teetered on his feet.

“Breathe, lad, breathe.”

The old dwarf had clapped his hands against his shoulder. They were face to face now. He breathed in, paused, and let his breath out. Breathed in, paused, and let his breath out. Nameen found himself copying the movement despite himself.

“There it is, lad. There you go. In and out, slow.”

The world slowly righted itself. Nameen could breathe again. The shadows he could see in every corner seemed to brighten, if only slightly.

---

[THE SILVER SEAT - Lamplight Abbey]

“I didn’t think we’d be neighbours,” said Cain as they walked through the halls of the Lamplight Abbey. The robed servants that they saw occasionally bowed to them as they passed.

“They gave me the option to choose,” said Muse. “But, I don’t know anybody else here and the one next to yours was a corner suite! How could I refuse?”

In hindsight, a corner suite was a great idea, thought Cain. The view from Lamplight Island was amazing, and getting another window would’ve been nice. Ah well, he had already set his stuff up, what little he had of it.

“Once I get my place all decorated, you can come check it out!” said Muse with a grin. “...Although you’d be the only one. The Grandmaster said that we’re not allowed to bring anyone in from the outside. Nobody’s supposed to know of us.”

Muse sighed. Well, no big deal. She didn’t have that many friends in the Seat, considering how often she had been out in the provinces.

They stopped. The grand double doors of the Grandmaster’s office awaited them. It was an intimidating sight, even if this was the second time that Muse had been here.

“Enter.”

They stepped into the office, and Muse saluted as she approached the desk.

“Knight Muse Aberra, reporting for duty!”

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It felt good, saying that.

Cain copied her motion awkwardly. No Control Scheme was going to save him on this one.

“K-Knight Cain Thompson, reporting for duty.”

He suddenly felt very out of place.

“At ease,” said Baal with an amused smile on his face. “And Knight Aberra, there is no need to salute a superior within our organization. I suppose that is one of the things you’ll have to get used to. Also, that is an Iron Bar salute, not the one we use here at the Black Lamps. Please demonstrate, Ronove.”

The manservant nodded. He had his Corpse Candle on, and clapped his legs together while moving one arm behind his back. The other one he held horizontally in front of his chest in a two-fingered position, the palm to his body so they could see the back of his hand.

The Royal Seal of Solomon appeared on the cloth.

Cain and Muse both gave it a go. It certainly felt very official, Cain decided. The seal appearing was a very nice touch. Definitely gave them an intimidating presence.

“Your position is such that you need only salute the Grandmasters of the other orders, and any members of royalty,” explained Baal. “You may also use it to identify other Lampknights in the field. Now, to more important matters.”

He shuffled through some of the papers on his desk.

“The mission of our organization is to monitor and manage the risks of Players. That is to say, we keep track of those we are aware of, and try to discover the location and statues of those we are not,” said Baal. “Many of our cells are often out in the provinces or overseas, looking into strange rumours and unexplained phenomena.”

“You two will form a team, Beelzebub Cell, and Ronove will serve as your immediate superior and supervisor. From now on, any questions or concerns you have you may bring up with him.”

Baal got up from where he had been sitting, with a pile of papers underneath his arm. He walked over to the door, past the other three people in the room and turned to them while opening the door.

“We’ll get you started on work right away. Ronove, please fill them in.”

And with that, Baal left.

Ronove nodded, and began to speak.

---

[THE SILVER SEAT - White Hand Precinct No. 7]

Knight Inspector Alonzo Sierra scowled as he chewed his cigar, the scent of smoke filling his office. His damned wife didn’t let him smoke at home, so he was going to take this chance when he could. Maybe he wouldn’t have such a craving for nicotine if the world would stop throwing problems in his way.

“Knights Muse Aberra and Cain Thompson,” reported the half-orc girl in front of him, referring to both her and her human partner.

“Alonzo Sierra, knight of the White Hands. A buncha free knights, are ya?” growled Alonzo. “Whaddya want.”

“I believe you’ve already been informed of the reasons for our arrival,” said the girl smoothly. “We’ve been asked by the government to provide aid in your recent case, the one involving the attacks.”

Alonzo’s scowl deepened. Cain tried not to stare. The man in front of him was one of those with animal features - a beastman, Muse had explained. Wolf ears, sharp canines, and a bushy tail that twitched in annoyance.

“Buncha government whozits. Bet you don’t know the first thing about how these thugs around here run things.”

Cain shifted uncomfortably.

“Shit, but fine. Breakin’ my balls over here,” said Alonzo. “Never let it be said Alonzo Sierra didn’t do nothin’ for you. You got that? Let those geeks workin’ desk jobs in the government know that Alonzo Sierra knows how things work around here. Free knights. Youse here for the sword.”

Muse nodded. Cain wisely let her take charge. She was far more familiar with how things worked in this world, so he was really just along for learning and the ride.

“Got a report couple’a weeks ago ‘bout somebody gettin’ murked on the streets,” said Alonzo as they walked through the precinct’s hallways. “Southside, so you know these things go. Didn’t think nothin’ of it, sent out a few squires to check it out. Didn’t turn up nothin’, cause all the gangs out there observe the code of silence. Just a pool of blood - somebody had dragged the body off before we could get on the scene.”

He sniffed.

“We figured somebody slept with the wrong man’s sister, or spat in somebody's face. Some dumb honour shit. The usual suspects. Just another one of those gang crimes that nobody would talk to us about. That’s when it escalated.”

“Turns out the victim was a member of the House of Many Pelts, and they were pissed. They tore up the place lookin’ for the perp, and it turns out that they hadn’t been the only ones lookin’. The Boxers got involved too, a few of their people had been deep-sixed themselves.”

“Caused a scene, they did, rampaging. ‘Til apparently, the ones who had done it got wind of it. Next thing y’know, my boys are picking up body parts and putin’ em into bags. Twelve men dead, seven of ‘em from the House, and four from the Boxers. One unaffiliated man, with a weapon we ain’t never seen before in his hands. Guy was the only one who wasn’t killed with a blade.”

The entered a room which was marked with the word ‘Armoury’. Muse and Cain followed Alonzo as he took out a set of keys and opened the iron door.

“This right here’s the weapon, and it’s got the whole precinct spooked.”

A wooden sword, similar to the ones that Cain had been provided for his morning practices, stood on top of a wooden box.

As far as he could tell, there was nothing fancy about it. It looked just like any other wooden sword, except for the fact that it looked rather new, as if it had only been freshly carved. This was the thing that had an entire precinct of knights scared?

“This doesn’t look like anything special,” said Muse.

“Nothin’ special? Well, how ‘bout this.”

He took out a massive warhammer from the wall - so large that he visibly struggled a little moving it. He raised it above the box where the wooden sword was situated, and lowered it with a smash.

BOOM!

The table shuddered and fell apart. Cain and Muse swiped away the dust cloud that had formed, coughing slightly. The debris settled, and they opened their eyes to look at the result.

“Still nothin’ special?”

The wooden box that the sword had been sitting on was smashed to pieces; wood bits littered the ground. But the sword that had been sitting on top of it was completely untouched.

“And that’s not all,” said Alonzo, picking up the sword.

He swung it at the hammer, and immediately cut the massive thing in two. The large metal slab split cleanly, as though cleaved by a laser. Both Cain and Muse’s mouths opened in shock.

“This thing’s a monster,” said Alonzo, gripping the weapon. “And we’re dealin’ with a band ‘a killers out there armed with a heckuva lotta these things.”

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