Chapter 66
I don't know the exact statistics, but I suspect most children go through a period where they try on all sorts of professions.
It usually starts with the least realistic ones: astronaut, pirate, wizard, hitman—and then gradually shifts toward a more mainstream labor market. At least, that's how the process went for me. At one point, I even considered a career as a dentist.
— Dreams do come true, — I smirked, wrenching a golden tooth from a dead Druchii with a pair of iron pliers I'd found among his comrade's belongings. — Dreams do come true, comrade isekai-protagonist.
Liandra, who was searching the other dead elves, likely heard this strange phrase, but I intentionally spoke it in a language from another world.
The destroyed group of thugs hadn't possessed impressive riches, but they still managed to fix our financial situation. Five gold coins and triple that in silver, plus jewelry, gemstones, dental prosthetics, weapons, armor, and a few miscellaneous potions.
— We need to sell all of this quickly so that I look my status, — the elf declared. — Otherwise, we will have to fight our way through the streets of this city far too often.
— I'm not exactly against that. I rather liked the results of this skirmish.
— They were weaker than us, — the girl agreed, pulling a pointed helmet off another corpse and tossing it into a bag. — But even an experienced warrior can be felled by a stray bolt. I would not care to tempt fate too often. Not until my mission is complete.
I liked this dedication of hers. Thanks to her hypertrophied sense of duty, Liandra was predictable and, in a sense, reliable. Very valuable qualities when the world is full of bloodthirsty psychopaths and ruthless egomaniacs.
However, one shouldn't forget that she would also sacrifice me without hesitation if her service to Malekith demanded it. Liandra seems to fangirl over him harder than a schoolgirl over her favorite K-pop idol.
We left the site of the mass slaughter with two heavy bags. The elf immediately strapped one of the trophy swords to her belt. The rest would be for sale.
We split the jewelry equally. Mostly, I ended up with the teeth. This was actually logical within the framework of my cover. Financial literacy isn't a trait of Norscan berserkers, but they do love shiny things and teeth, which partly relates them to greenskins.
We veered off the planned route and reached the nearest shop. It wasn't a particularly luxurious store, located on the ground floor of a six-story building.
"Armor, Weapons, Tableware. Repairs and Sales," the sign read.
As soon as we nudged the dark wood door open, we were greeted by the melodic chime of bells and the grim gaze of the proprietor, whose face resembled a skull draped in skin. He was likely old by elven standards, or perhaps he had just led an extremely unhealthy lifestyle for a very long time.
— I will tell you two things immediately, — the merchant announced in a raspy voice. — I do not sell on credit, and there are two crossbowmen behind those viewing slits.
— Only one, — Liandra countered, relying on her heightened senses. — And we have no intention of taking anything on credit. Look at this junk. I want to sell it quickly and am therefore prepared to lower the price, but I will consider blatant cheating an insult.
— Yes, yes, — the merchant replied melancholically. — Bring forth all the trophies you are ready to discard. I smell fresh blood. To me, that smells like profit.
While the merchant inspected the weapons and armor, I scanned the shop's assortment. Swords, repeaters, shields, light armor. Everything was second-hand. And there really were eating utensils for sale.
— Ahhh... I remember this dalakoi. Mail with the hallmark of Har Ganeth. Human-hide lining. Who bought this from me? Tarket? Sulpher?
— Someone who will buy nothing from you again. Inspect it faster, old man. I wish to try this on and finalize the trade.
Liandra chose a fairly typical Druchii harness for herself, consisting of a dark breastplate, bracers, and pauldrons. Probably the best set on display here.
— That can be done, — the merchant replied. — How about the mail? Dalakoi will save your life, mistress.
Well, the mail didn't seem to help the previous owners much.
— No. Poorly fitted mail only gets in the way.
In the end, we managed to secure armor for Liandra that more or less suited her status. Though without the mail and a helmet, the set seemed incomplete. The armor cost us almost all the trophy gear. That was fine. We kept the gold and gems, and lugging around several sets of armor and a mountain of swords is inconvenient. This isn't Skyrim, after all.
We circled back toward the site of the slaughter and moved into a wealthier district. The street became wider, cleaner, and featured lighting in the form of magical lanterns. The number of Dark Elves around increased, and they looked different. Well-groomed, in luxurious robes or armor.
— We are being followed, — Liandra said, leaning almost directly into my ear.
— Did it start here or earlier?
— It has been some time. Almost immediately after the fight. Whoever it is knows how to remain unseen, which is why I was at first uncertain.
Friends of the thugs we'd slaughtered? Possibly. In that case, we were likely in for another battle.
— Will the Dawi-Zharr dagger have time to recharge? — I asked Loom-Pia.
— I doubt it, warm-blooded creature.
Shame. If the opponents were stronger this time, the ashen lash would have been very useful.
I marched along the smooth pavement, trying to glance around every now and then. It's difficult to identify hidden assassins when you're already surrounded by a crowd of assassins. However, there was some hope they wouldn't attack us here. There were plenty of guards and noble bodyguards around. I didn't rely on their sense of justice, but I figured if someone started breaking the peace, they might fill them with bolts just for good measure.
— Glory to Khaine! We love Kaela Mensha Khaine! — several ringing children's voices chanted.
Out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed a sight that surprised even my jaded psyche. Several well-armed Druchii were escorting a procession of a dozen richly dressed children, who were joyfully jumping and dancing about, holding the severed heads of humans, elves, and even a couple of dwarfs by the hair.
— They are heading to the outer walls after a sacrifice at the temple to mount the heads on spikes, — Liandra explained. — It is tradition.
— Did you do that kind of stuff as a kid too?
— In the life of a Black Guard recruit, there is no room for carefree amusement.
— I feel deeply for you, — I replied, trying not to let the irony show in my voice.
— Do not. Trials forge strength.
We turned off the wealthy street onto a less prestigious but equally wide avenue. The buildings on either side no longer looked much like residential houses. Towers, curtain walls, circular domes bristling with spikes. Toward us came a procession of men and women dressed quite provocatively. At first, I thought they were adepts of the infamous Cult of Pleasure, but looking closer, I noticed different iconography. Six men carried a wooden altar on their shoulders. Atop it sat an idol made of bones, skulls, feathers, and animal pelts. The semi-naked women dancing around it were draped in similar pelts. Each held a long spear with a barbed tip in one hand and some trophy in the other.
— Servants of Anath Raema, — Liandra explained. — Goddess of the hunt, the chase, and vengeance. She is highly revered in Clar Karond. And we are going to those who particularly value her favor.
The roar of beasts grew louder around us. Looking closely at the buildings, I noticed many were decorated with statues of various monsters. On our path, we frequently encountered rows of cages—a common sight in the city of the Dark Elves—but inside were not slaves, but various creatures.
— Is this the Beastmasters' Quarter? — I asked.
— Correct. We go to see one of them. Kehmor Spiked-Whip. He knew my father well once and may provide us a chance to rise in this city.
Or a chance to vanish for good.
— Look at what these maddened, pathetic creatures are doing, — Loom-Pia cut into the conversation with unexpected emotion.
I turned my head, noticing a team of four black-maned horses dragging a massive spiked cage down the street, containing a shackled, wounded creature. Blue scales were covered in marks from deep cuts. It was a reptilian humanoid with the head of a crocodile. A Kroxigor. A breed of Lizardmen.
— You didn't show such empathy at the sight of human slaves, — I noted ironically.
— I care nothing for the squabbles of warm-blooded lesser races. However, how dare they encroach upon the freedom of the Children of the Gods? This captive could be serving the Great Plan right now, but he will perish here without any purpose.
— Well, yeah. Like hundreds of thousands of other captives.
— If you have a chance to grant freedom to one of the Children of the Gods—take it immediately.
— Is there any point in taking such a risk?
— We could convince them to provide us aid. I will explain to them that within your imperfect body hides the spirit of a servant of the Old Ones.
Hmm. Interesting idea. I'd dreamed of having my own pet dinosaur much more often than becoming a dentist when I was a kid.
Finally, our long walk ended near a massive building whose huge iron gates were covered in curved spikes. To the side was a smaller, less pretentious door. Two guards stood near it—a standard Druchii Spearman, and beside him, an Archer in attire typical for the servants of Anath Raema.
— Buyers, spectators, or prey? — she asked us.
— Guests, — Liandra replied coldly. — Kehmor Spiked-Whip awaits us.
— He awaits, — the archer replied with a smile. — But whether you are guests or prey is for him to decide.
With such an optimistic welcome, the door leading into the dark depths of the massive building was opened for us. I immediately felt the stifling smell of animals kept in cages. I remembered that smell from zoos in my home world. However, after the long confrontation with the Nurgle-worshippers, the local bouquet seemed almost like fine perfume.
Inside, a long, wide corridor awaited us, which seemed to encircle the entire building. Busy slaves scurried here and there. Many were bare-chested or wore only a loincloth. Pale natives of the north, swarthy visitors from distant lands, and pitch-black men. I would have very much liked to talk to them—to better understand the world I'd landed in—but the slaves remained silent and didn't even look me in the eye.
Besides the thralls, there were Druchii here as well. Guards, trainers, and visitors.
— We leave two or three slaves to clean the cage of a large beast, — one of the establishment's employees was telling two guests. — They have their own special exit, while the beast enters back through the main door. The slaves' door opens slightly later than the main one. That way, neither they, nor the beast, nor we have time to get bored.
— And how often does the monster manage to catch a slave? — the guest inquired.
— That depends on the price of slaves, — the trainer smirked. — The lower it is, the longer we take to open the small doors.
From the depths of the giant menagerie came dozens of hissing, growling, snarling, and roaring voices. Occasionally, one could hear muffled impacts of enormous power. However, the thick walls of the menagerie did not tremble with the rage of the monsters imprisoned within.
However, we weren't headed there, but into a sort of office, guarded by sentries just like the outer door. Only now they weren't just spearmen or half-naked hunters, but two swordsmen in heavy armor.
— I arranged a meeting, — Liandra announced.
Both guards looked at us silently for a few seconds and then stepped aside without a word. Behind the door lay the spacious office of the Master Beastmaster. The walls were decorated with the heads of various beasts, their skulls, and horns.
Kehmor Spiked-Whip sat on a sort of throne, with iron spikes rising above the backrest. Before us stood an elf, likely middle-aged by the standards of these long-lived bastards. There was something serpentine in his thin features. As if to emphasize the resemblance, part of his clothing consisted of cured lizard skins.
Kehmor was alone here, save for five massive grey-white wolves, each nearly the size of a calf. The beasts remained quiet, but I felt their bloodthirsty attention on me. The wolves had spiked collars decorated with blue gemstones. Likely, Kehmor valued these beasts—perceived them as favorite property.
— My, look what the night tide has washed in, — the tamer said with a smile, displaying artificially elongated fangs that weren't very elven. — I was just about to strike your name from my memory, girl. I assumed you were dead.
— You should remember my name, Kehmor, — the girl said with a touch of defiance.
— We shall see about that. My memory doesn't always have room for the names of many pets. A place in it must be earned. And I see you've decided to get yourself a pet as well. Good muscle mass, but the gaze is somewhat unreliable. Is he good in a fight? What are his habits?
— He is good. He likes killing goblins and eating them.
Well, Liandra wasn't even lying there. The late Erik would have confirmed it, peace be upon his soul.
— Splendid. Do you intend to put him in the arena?
The arena? Me? Yes! I want the arena! That sounds like a perfectly profitable and easy way to farm experience. Provided, of course, the fight conditions are acceptable. But that needs to be thought out in advance.
— I am here to discuss something else, — the elf replied. — He who renders me a service will not go unnoticed in the capital.
The Beastmaster smirked maliciously. The Dark Elves mostly smirked exactly like that.
— You forget yourself, — he said with a squint. — When I said I communicate with you because you are your father's daughter, I did not mean at all that I count on his favor for helping you. Oh no, girl. I know perfectly well that your father doesn't give a damn about your life. If my people flayed you right now, made a cloak of your skin, and sent it to him, he would only be offended if the style didn't please him. However, I will not order such a thing. On the contrary, I will help you and do business with you because you are your father's daughter. I have seen what he is capable of. You have his blood. If you are capable of even a quarter of what he could do at your age, you are worth doing business with. It will be profitable. It will be interesting.
Liandra listened to the tamer's reprimand quite calmly and then said:
— I need work, Master Kehmor. The kind that brings much gold and takes little time. I am prepared for great risk.
— Do you think I have too few warriors?
— Your best warriors are beasts. They cannot be trusted with every task.
— You are partly right, — a certain condescension appeared in the tamer's tone. — I must consider where your sword and your new pet can be used. I highly recommend taking him to the arena. It will help me think faster. You understand yourself: a Druchii's intellect and willpower can be judged by the beast they are capable of controlling. For now...
The tamer pursed his thin lips in a particular way and gave a short whistle. One of his massive wolves rose lazily, padding over to a pile of cushions with an air of importance. There, it took a small pouch in its teeth and brought it directly to Liandra's hands.
— Is this an advance? — the elf inquired.
— This is a retainer, — the tamer replied. — Take it and do not seek other patrons in this city. Either I will find you work myself, or I will provide you with gold to travel somewhere far away. I know your breed very well, girl. People like you either solve problems or create them. And one more thing... I do not like your pet's gaze. He is wild and intelligent, which means he is dangerous, for us included. Tame him quickly.
Right. We'll wish Liandra luck with that.
Though...
I could suggest a way.