Chapter 170: Cold-blooded logic

“I hope you know that wasn’t a joke, that was rage bait, but it was close enough that I’ll consider your task fulfilled.” Lord Bakton said as they limped toward Will’s caravan. “You laugh.” Will pointed out. “I laughed because that was some audacious bullshit, not because it was a funny joke. You just said something to piss me off and exploited a moment of anger. Inflicting damage than I did, by the way.” “You don’t think you’d have trouble fighting without a thumb?” Will asked. “Not as much as you would have with that gash in your core. Try kicking me, I dare you.” “Screw you,” Will said with a chuckle, his hand stemming the bleeding and preventing any of his guts from spilling out. “Ow.” “I gotta say, the scar’s pretty cool, though.” Bakton mused. “I never like an accomplished swordsman because no one’s ever been able to give me a scar. Now when people ask about it, I can say I got it from William Oh.” “Hah! No scars? Not even when you were learning?” Will asked. Bakton shook his head. “Me and the sword have been fast friends since I picked up my first wooden blade. It would never turn against me. My instructors were too good to hurt me by accident and my peers lost the opportunity practically overnight. And now a sixteen year old kid is the first to give me my profession’s beauty mark.” “And it’s a nice one, straight down the face, right at the golden ratio. Couldn’t ask for better,” Bakton said, sliding his thumb down the freshly healed scar in his eyebrow and cheek. “Huh. Sorry about the thumb.” Will apologized. “It’ll sort itself out,” Bakton said, flexing the appendage. “Still a bit stiff, but I expect it’ll fade.” “Cool. Follow up question: Why the did your healers not heal me!?” Will demanded. “Because you told them they were too expensive, and you had healers at home.” “…I don’t remember that.” Will replied, glancing down at the bloody rag held tight over his stomach. “That’s because you’re slipping in and out of shock.” “Shock? I was in way more pain when you dragged me around the arena and riddled my skin with shrapnel.” Will mused. “Common misconception. Shock is more about blood loss than pain.” Bakton said. “Wow, learn something new every day. I really want to take a nap. Is it okay if I take a nap?” Will asked. “After we get you healed up and then a bite to eat.” Bakton said, patting Will’s shoulder. Abyss with that,” Will muttered, bringing one of his Greater Healing Potions out of Phantom Hand and knocking it back. 120 Charge remaining. The consumeable turned into a small starter nodule in Will’s hand as he drank it, saving a bit over half for later. A moment later an itchy warmth spread through his entire body, and Will heaved a sigh of relief as the wound stopped throbbing and the lightheadedness eased up drastically. He was still a lightheaded, but he was no longer forgetting who and where he was. “You had healing potions the whole time?” Bakton asked. “Yeah.” “You said you didn’t have any on you.” Bakton said with narrowed eyes. “I was in shock and I thought…I guess I’m a paranoid tightwad when I’m in shock.” Will said before Bakton slipped Will off his shoulder, causing him to stumble and trip on an upraised cobblestone. “How did you say you didn’t have any?” Baktons asked. “Because they’re not me.” Will muttered, making Phantom Hand’s armor visible and waving with it. As Will stumbled forward, Aspect caused the ground to flow around Will’s awkward stumble and kept him on his feet. “You don’t even know how good that passive is for a melee combatant. Footing is literally and figuratively the foundation of a fighter’s power.” Bakton said as he watched Will’s feed, shaking his head. “No, I got an idea how good it is. Kicked your ass.” Will said, posturing. “Obviously you believe that. You got good hit in in exchange for being nearly disemboweled,” Bakton said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t even an even trade, let alone an ‘ass-kicking’.” Will’s attention was drawn up to a sign with a bowl of noodles. “Dude, dude!” Will said, slapping Bakton’s shoulder before pointing up, the sign radiating a faint golden light in his swimming vision. “Nooodles…” Will breathed. He hadn’t eaten all day. Or maybe he hadn’t eaten in hours, but in any case, noodles sounded amazing. “Come on, let’s get you home, Anna’ll make some noodles for you.” Bakton said, grabbing Will’s shoulder with an iron grip and steering him reluctantly away from the sign. In a matter of minutes, Will spotted the warm light of the caravan and smelled that night’s fresh stew. The shouting, however, was unusual. Will heard the patter of sprinting feet heading their direction moments before Ria came into view. “There you are! You have to come, there’s an emergency!” Ria said. “He’s not really at his best right now.” Bakton said, drawing Ria’s attention to him. Her gaze lingered on the Lord’s new scar before flickering down to the bloody rag cinched tight around Will’s stomach. “Blood loss.” “I’ll get you to Charnesa,” she said, budding a copy off, the two of them picking Will up and trotting towards the caravan. “I’m healed already, just woozy. What-what’s the problem?” Will said, slapping his cheeks and prying his eyes open through force of Will. “-And she wasn’t there when we did headcount!” “…sorry, can you repeat that and maybe get me something to eat? What’s good for blood loss?” Will asked Bakton who sprinted along beside them. “Meat, eggs and liver.” “That.” “The Civilians went out for leveling today. There was no obvious fight or anything, but when the group with Eolande in it did a headcount, the seamstress was missing!” Ria said, sprinting Will through a caravan that was swarming with anger like a kicked beehive. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. Those words and the furious activity words kicked Will’s adrenal heart into overdrive and the world came back into sharp focus as Ria skidded to a halt and plopped him down on one of the sitting stumps next to eh cookfire. Charnesa was waiting there with a plate of half-eaten venison and a fork. “Open up,” the withered saintess commanded before stuffing Will’s mouth with someone else’s dinner. “Swallow.” Will swallowed. “Try to ride out the rush.” She commanded, placing a hand on his chest. “The wha- It felt like a bolt of lightning travelled through Will’s entire body, fixing everything balancing everything, until he felt The venison in his stomach seemingly vanished as he was suddenly hit with a wave of hunger and euphoria all at once. He wanted to dance, he wanted to gorge himself. He wanted to chase something down and… Will realized he’d stood up, his skin flushed, breathing manic, pants tight and pulse pounding in his ears. He definitely had more blood in his system than just a moment ago. He took a deep controlled breath and sat back down as his Party assembled around him. “Run me through what happened.” Will said, controlling himself as best he could. Every part of him wanted to shout and start running but until he knew where, he needed to stay put. “The civilians were out in the grinding area, and Eolande missed headcount.” “Which group was she in?” Will asked. As it turned out, Eolande had been in a rather protected space. Since Sammohan had been dealt with, the grinding areas had returned to their normal empty state, and Will’s caravan had claimed a nice patch of land close to the city, claiming eight or so spots and populating the outward facing ones with higher-level climbers while keeping the ones with the civilians inside that perimeter. Protected and close to the city wall. Eolande had indeed been in one of the inner-facing ones, until she disappeared, implying that something had gotten past their guard… someone or something had planted some subtle control in her mind to create an opening that would allow it to take her. Will’s mind turned inward. The possibilities weren’t pleasant. There were only two scenarios where she was still alive, and Will didn’t think Sammohan would cross him like that so soon, and in such an inflammatory way. But he had to be sure. “Ria, round up every member of Sammohan’s gang.” Ria nodded and dozens of her disappeared into the night, splitting off into even more as they ran. Addressing the other possibility, Will turned his attention to Loth. “Loth, I want you to get Badur and possibly write something up for me.” Will said before turning to June. “After I talk to Sammohan, fetch me the fae in the bottle.” Will said. “And about an hour after that, bring me Eolande’s family.” June nodded and got to work. In a matter of minutes, Sammohan and his entire crew were kneeling in the dirt of the caravan, unkempt and dressed in their nightclothes, as if they’d been roused out of a dead sleep. They weren’t groggy though, as every single one of them was hyperventilating with a quartet of Tangled restraining them and holding razor-sharp talons the size of daggers to their necks, which were being brutally wrenched back until they could hardly breathe, physically wrestled into submission like some kind of human sacrifice, ready for the assembly line of heart-removal. “Quick question:” Will said, lifting his mask once all of them were present. So they could see his expression. “Did any of you have anything to do with the disappearance of a young woman from my caravan by the name of Eolande? Young, hair about this long, brown skin, seamstress?” The assembled criminals shook their heads furiously. “Anyone know where she is…or might be?” More head shakes. “Good, then repeat after me,” Will said, raising his hand. “I give my word that I did not take miss Eolande, nor did I assist in her kidnapping, nor do I know where she is or might be.” Brief, but fairly sturdy oath. Not many terms, not many loopholes. Will watched carefully as every single one of them swore the oath without a hiccup. Option one, Eolande had been eaten by a monster. Option two, Eolande had been kidnapped or killed by humans. Option three, Eolande was taken by the fae. With option two mostly ruled out, that meant that Eolande was more likely to be dead. Sure, there were other humans in the city, but Will was willing to bet Sammohan’s crew was the most likely to try anything by far, and if it was someone else, they would likely know who’d done it and spill in an instant to get out of this situation. “Alright, you gentlemen are free to go.” Will said, gesturing for Ria to release them. “Apologies for the inconvenience. If any of you think of anything that might help, don’t hesitate to bring it to us. Will scanned the audience. “For your sake. Don’t hesitate.” Will clapped Sammohan on the shoulder. “I’m looking forward to working with you on the 10th floor. We can make a real city with your help.” “…Thanks.” “Get the fuck outta here, I’m busy,” Will said, turning away to where June was hustling forward with the captive fae in a jar. “...Can we help?” Sammohan asked. Will’s head reared up and he glanced back at the hardened criminal. “…Yes. Coordinate the search of the Keep with Ria.” Will said, pointing to the nearest Tangled before taking fae out of June’s hands. The fae was being held in a jar with Will’s hand suspended above it with a sturdy cord. The whole thing was held in place by a wood contraption whipped up by Eolande’s fiancé of all people. The blackened hand was slowly rotting, revealing more and more bone as it continued to struggle to reach the jar, clasping and unclasping it’s fingers as it tried to seize the fae. The jar didn’t even have a lid, but the instant the little creature stuck its head above the lip, it would be in the hand’s grasp. A most undesireable predicament for it. “I want some information from you.” Will said. “I’m not telling you until you retake ownership of this hand.” The fae said, arms crossed and pouting. “Let’s make a deal:” Will said. “Agree to answer me, these questions…thirty, and I will retake ownership of the hand.” “From where I sit, you look pretty desperate,” The fae said with a mean grin. “You’re gonna have to make a better offer than- Will cut the cord holding up the hand and it plopped straight into the jar and began immediately crushing the life out of the fae. “Okay!” The fae screamed with the last shred of breath as it turned purple. “I agree to the deal!” Will felt the scales of Debt snap into a different configuration, and Will’s undead hand relaxed around the fae, climbing out of the jar to throw itself at Will. Will whipped his tomahawk down and pinned the errant hand on a nearby stump, where it struggled mightily but ultimately didn’t have the strength to dislodge the axe. “Now, tell me everything you know about what Kincaid does with pretty young women he’s caught.” The fae immediately began spilling the beans, and once it’d run out of horrors to reveal to Will, he was resolved: Even if this bastard wasn’t the culprit, Will would make a point to kill him anyway. He’d previously entertained the idea of making a deal for a pound of the fae’s flesh for a sacrifice, but that was no longer necessary. He would just take his head. “Thank you, I’ll let you know when I want to use one of my questions.” Will said. “But-“ The fae’s eyes widened in horror as he realized Will hadn’t actually anything. He was still in Debt. “Get the fuck outta here, I’m busy.” Will said to the fae, thumbing over his shoulder. “Jean, I’m done, bring them in.” Will called to June. “Loth, you and Badur, too!” Duncan, Brenna, and Kearney were guided into Will’s tent by June. Their eyes were red, faces pale. Kearney looked like he was about to explode, but her parents seemed almost resigned. They had experienced enough loss in their lives to know when to harden their hearts against the worst. “Let’s just get this out of the way.” Will said as they sat. “Eolande is probably dead.” “YOU!” Kearney shouted, the carpenter shooting to his feet before being dragged back down by his mother-in-law. “But if she’s then a Fae Lord named Kincaid probably has her. she’s alive, she’s probably being delivered to his castle by one of his poachers as we speak.” “Then let’s go get her!” Kearney shouted. “Let him finish,” Brenna, the aged leatherworker said, meeting Will’s gaze. “There has to be a reason he isn’t already on his way.” “I’m not sure I can win.” Will said. “You beat that Hunt handily enough, what makes this any different?” Kearney demanded. “Because it’s a creature that has been bathing in the raw Miasma of the Key site for hundreds if not thousands of years, and it’s dangerous enough that Lord Bakton doesn’t try his hand at it. If I took it on, there’s a damn good chance I fail and Eolande dies.” “Well, what the Abyss are you suggesting, then!? Eolande’s father chimed in. “If she’s not dead then there is time.” Will said. “Kincaid doesn’t just kill his victims right away. I suggest we go up to the 10th Floor and establish a Stronghold, and I will try and retrieve her on the way back down.” Kearney couldn’t contain himself and lunged forward with a carpenter’s fist clenched into a brutal weapon. Will saw this coming and used Phantom Hand to keep the blow from landing until Brenna reeled her son-in-law back in. “Are you suggesting we let my daughter get tortured and possibly killed for, what, , while you lollygag!?” Duncan demanded. “It would really good to rush in there and start hacking away at fae. It would good to make a desperate bid to save your daughter, but you have to ask yourself one question: does it have the highest chance of getting your daughter back?” Will asked. “I’m suggesting that you send a Lord with an Advanced Class to rescue her, rather than a level thirty-eight nobody.” Will said, trying to maintain his calm in the face of their outrage. “I’ve also thought of a way to prevent her from being tortured or killed while she’s waiting…But it’s a gamble.” Will motioned for Loth to come closer. “Loth, can you and Badur author an ironclad contract for one of these people to serve Kincaid in exchange for fair treatment of both of them?” Will glanced back at the family. “Until I kill him, of course.” “Now. Which one of you is willing to risk your freedom to buy Eolande time?” Will asked.