Chapter 23 – Two Thugs And A Broken Arm

Lurim gave her directions through the ruins again. They were heading away from the cylindrical elder house, even deeper into the ruins. The buildings rapidly reduced to foundations, then soil, and then grass. About a hundred meters further, they reached a wind-bent treeline on the slope.

Whatever the boy wanted to do was on the other side of the treeline. Darya thought twice about heading this far on her own, but she decided to take the risk because she was fairly confident about keeping the boy and herself safe.

She found herself at a cliff overlooking another strip of shoreline after following a grassy footpath through the wet forest. The waves lapped against an abandoned pier with not even a rowboat on it. The wooden building next to it looked recently renovated, but it was still full of gaps and holes.

“Someone’s down there?” Darya asked.

The boy nodded.

“We’ll go talk to them first,” Darya said, looking at the rickety path that led down the cliff. She didn’t know who they were going to fight. It could very well be some merfolk fishermen this toddler had a grudge with.

Apart from a clothes line of dirty rags, there was no sign of any habitation that she could see. Darya placed the boy down, grabbed his hand tightly, and walked down the thin zigzagging path down the cliff.

They walked across the beach right onto the pier without any sign of life in the area. Lurim was preparing his slingshot the whole way there, always with a pebble drawn like a soldier sweeping the terrain.

“Ehhem!”

They both got startled by someone loudly clearing their throat behind them. The boy jumped, turning around to point his slingshot in the direction the voice came from.

“Well, I’ve seen the brat before, but who the fuck did he bring here now?!” A rough voice erupted from the wooden house as they neared it. Darya heard the click of a weapon behind her.

“Oy, issit that brat from the cave?” a second rough voice asked.

“Gentlemen, I’m just here to talk!” Darya said, interrupting them.

“Hands where I can see them, lady. Or you’ll have no head in a second,” the first voice said. She heard the click of the weapon again. “And tell this brat I’m going to shoot him if he sends another rock my way!”

Well, I don’t know his sign language. If he heard you and still takes a shot, that’s up to him.

“Oy, oy! Gelbur! issen this one of ‘em white nuns?!” the second voice asked, turned to a higher pitch in surprise.

“Who gives a shit, this is our turf.”

Darya managed to turn her head just enough to catch a glimpse of the two men behind her from the corner of her eye. They weren’t merfolk. The first grumpy voice belonged to a fat, gray-skinned man with a crude gun with a stout black barrel. The second voice belonged to a thin man with a curved sword. They both had dirty braided hair.

She hadn’t heard their footsteps or felt their presence before they appeared behind her on the pier. The wood beneath her feet was creaky and loud. There was no way she wouldn’t have noticed.

How were they so silent? A potion? skill?

It couldn’t be spells. These thugs didn’t have Manacers.

[Inspect]

Rork Gelber

Role: Deckhand
Level: 35
EXP: 240,220 (40%)

HP: 1,117
MAX HP: 1,117
MP: 326
MAX MP: 326
SP: 812
MAX SP: 812

STR: 255
DEX: 215
CON: 120
RES: 117

Deckhand. That’s a role now? Deckhand of what ship? Is this a pirate?

Heavy footsteps thudded on the pier as the heavy man walked up to her behind. He grabbed Darya’s hands with one hand while pressing the barrel of the gun against her back with the other.

“Ha! You got somethin’ under the glove!” the man said, squeezing her right hand middle finger. She felt his breath on her neck. “Something big! Ha ha!”

“Princess! Do something! This is an emergency!” Sarka’s panicked voice came from her hand just then.

Ah shit. He panicked.

“Eh?” the man leaned back. “You say summin’?” he asked his friend. “You call someone a–a princess?”

“What? Gelber, you idiot. Thassa nun right there,” the thin man cackled like a dog.

“You called her a princess, not me!” The heavy man said, squeezing Darya’s wrists tighter.

“What are you on about?! Who’s a princess?!” the other man argued.

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I need to get rid of the ring. I can’t even throw a punch wearing it!

Darya struggled to loosen the ring inside the glove. The heavy man noticed her twisting her hands and poked her hard with the gun. He yanked her hands back, taking both her gloves off in one go.

“I said, don’t move!” the man yelled, kicking her on the back. Darya flew forward and crashed to the floor as Lurim leapt away. It had somehow worked out. The ring was no longer on her right hand.

Darya stood with a grunt and faced the two thugs. The heavy man was feeling around her gloves to find the solid thing inside. He pointed the gun at her when he noticed her looking at him. He gestured at her to raise her hands.