B3 Interlude 9: Plans and Betrayals

Cronte only remembered he was missing an arm when the ghost of his fingers slid right through the itch just behind his ear. He scowled, letting his stump fall limp as he returned his focus to the light forest around them. Regenerating the damn thing was going to cost him half of his bloody savings — sourcing those potions anonymously was not cheap.

Torin gave him a look, but wisely decided not to press him further.

At the very least they had made it away from the beast wave that had engulfed Old Yon’s compound — though not without a few new holes in his clothes. Bloody bastards might have been weak, but they’d been nigh unending.

He shuddered as memories of gnashing teeth and heaving carpets of fur washed over him. Just what fell affliction had fallen on the beasts, had encouraged them to such rabid heights? It was downright unnatural, and unexplainable at that.

Because of course the second he started to work his way up the hierarchy — earn some real respect — an act of the fucking gods flushed it all down the drain!

Though, perhaps that was a blessing? Old Yon was going to be apoplectic with them either way, but if those kids had escaped without him and his men being preoccupied with an all out assault? Well, he likely wouldn’t have survived the anger that would have inspired — no matter how valuable he might be as a Silver.

Cronte sighed — it was a fool’s hope, he knew that.

“Do you think our news about the beasts will mollify him at all?”

Torin gave him a sharp look of disbelief.

“That clusterfuck? The one that wiped his precious compound — and several hundred of his most trusted men, mind you — off the map? Cronte, don’t be fucking daft — the bastard’s going to be furious. I’m still half the mind to cut my losses and try my luck somewhere else — preferably on the other side of Vaastivar.”

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Cutting his ties was no small thing — it would all but require Torin to choose a new line of work. It was hard to even find a new crew — especially if he still had designs on full access to Onyx resources, something even Old Yon lacked. Worse, even as a silver, men in their line of work were not so trusting, and if word got out he’d fled after a bad job he wouldn’t survive long.

“It can’t be that bad, can it? Old Yon will certainly be furious, but we’re Silver. It’s not like he’ll kill us, we’re far too powerful and valuable to attempt something so crude — at worst we’ll just need to prove our value again.”

Besides, if either of them wanted true access to the value the Onyx provided, Old Yon was still their best bet — the man was still technically an associate, and if they could help him take a single step further they would gain much.

Cronte’s eyes twinkled, his imagination drifting to a sea of masked faces, bidding over a crystal that thrummed with domination affinity — a black auction, buried deep beneath the beating heart of a thriving metropolis. He needed that access! More than the jobs, the prestige, and the connections. Those exclusive gatherings were the only place that he would be able to secure the materials he needed for the ritual he had discovered.

If he was lucky, he might even be able to secure the two extra legacy skills his family needed. Nothing phenomenal, but he had no doubt that some of the more ‘common’ Skills would be available there — everything that had a price was.

A racial trait…maybe even two, if he got enough for Dynastic. Even if they only granted a single extra stat point, it would give his sister the edge she needed to stay out of the shitheap he had found himself in. He only had another four years. Four, short, years. Far too little time for him to be cutting his losses.

Torin, it seemed, disagreed with him. The hunter snorted, shaking his head.

“You think it’s Old Yon that I’m worried about?” Torin scowled, spitting at his feet. “It’s the bloody Guild that will kill us without a second thought — let alone those blasted kids.”

Cronte gave the hunter a disbelieving look. He was worried about the team that escaped? Regardless of what their boss might do to them, he wasn’t just going to take this loss lying down — Old Yon had far too much of his wealth tied up in that vault, and far too much riding on the knowledge that had been in that team’s head. No — if he knew the man at all, he would divert everything he had to the team’s recapture. It wouldn’t even be hard, with the tracking curse and the number of silvers he could call upon.

He was certain of it, that brat who had taken his arm would be back in chains in a month or two at most — this time without his arms and legs attached!

“Think about it you fool — one of them was enough to lop off your bloody arm, and fight both of us to a damned standstill. In the middle of a siege, no less! How fast do you think a team like that could level? Regardless of how he was blocking analysis Skills, I doubt their leader was all that much higher level than their mage — and he was already kicking our teeth in! What sort of monster do you think he’ll be at one-fifty? Or, gods forbid, Silver?”

Opening his mouth, Cronte searched for a response, but failed to find the words.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He wanted to brush Torin off as overly paranoid, but was he?

No, the hunter had to be wrong— no matter the boy’s strength, it was impossible to climb that fast. Even if he was a suicidal fool who solely fought monsters at the edge of his strength, the experience bonus couldn’t be that extreme. Old Yon wasn’t going to give those brats years to grow in peace, and he doubted they had the stomach for a multi-year delve. No, most likely they were fleeing straight to the arms of the Guild — it would be trivial to ambush them upon their return.

Torin waved him off dismissively.

“Bah, I can see you’re too much of a fool to consider it. You do what you must, and I’ll do the same.”

“I’ll do that.”

Silence fell over them again, and Cronte focused on making good time. They weren’t far off from one of the entrances to Deadacre’s catacombs that were hidden outside its walls.