Chapter 162: The City of Honesty

“Alright, kid, raise your right hand.” The grizzled Climber said. His face and hands bore the scars of decades of climbing. His hair was just starting to gray at the edges, and if his easy confidence was anything to go by, he probably had an Advanced Class, given that the 10^th Floor was a mere bus ride away.

Will couldn’t imagine someone getting this close and giving up here.

How interesting that people who would be demigods outside the tower choose to be rank-and-file guards on the inside. Perhaps ‘retirement’ meant different things to different people.

Obeying the prompt, Will raised his right hand.

“Repeat after me.”

Will nodded.

“I give my word that I am not a Fae, nor do I act on their behalf.”

Will repeated it.

“I give my word not to commit fraud, give false testimony, or unjustly deprive others of their life, property, or freedom inside the walls of Bakton Keep.”

“I give my word not to commit fraud, give false testimony, or unjustly deprive others of their life, property, or freedom inside the walls of Bakton Keep.” Will repeated.

As Will uttered the final word, he felt the Miasma around them take notice of him, Debt tightening snug around him.

At least it was a loose promise that left plenty of wiggle room for everyday behavior. Basically, don’t lie, steal, kill, or kidnap. Pretty simple to get through a week without doing those things.

Probably. Will’s life hadn’t always turned out to be that simple.

In theory he could still beat someone half to death, so that was good.

Will nodded to the gate guard and continued onwards towards the gate before the guard caught him by the arm.

“Hold on a moment, I’ve been looking around, and the people in your caravan are, by-and-large, teenagers, which is pretty unusual for people not being bussed. I’ve been asking around and they tell me the leader is William Oh. I can’t tell if they’re messing with me somehow. I don’t see anybody that looks like a nine-foot tall Climber with the power to crush giants. Can you point him out?”

Will pointed at his own chest.

The guard’s brow rose in a disbelieving expression.

“You’re him?” He asked, his tone skeptical.

Wordlessly, Will took his Feathered Serpent mask off his belt and put it over his face before hefting his tomahawk.

“Huh.” The guard grunted, eyeing Will from top to bottom. “You don’t look nine feet tall. You look five foot eight. At best.”

“I’m still growing.” Will said, a bit more defensively than he intended. He’d put on at least four inches since he started Climbing.

“And soloing a Raid Boss, and fighting a Graneshian army by yourself, that exaggerated too?” The guard asked, chuckling.

“Nah, I did that.”

The man’s chuckle persisted for a breath before his expression began fluctuating rapidly. Will watched as the man glanced over at his script, realizing that he’d already gotten the ‘no lying’ promise from Will, then his critical thinking skills kicking in, realizing that either William Oh could lie after making a promise on the 9^th Floor, or he was telling the truth.

Neither of which was normal.

“Ahem. Lord Bakton likes to meet caravan leaders personally to discuss their goals. You can schedule a meeting with the clerk in the office there.”

The guard leaned forward, his meaty arm reaching out of the window and pointing to a boxy building further through the gate.

“…It’ll be interesting to visit a place where nobody lies.” Will said, putting the mask back on his belt.

“It’s convenient, for sure, but it’s got downsides,” the guard said, his gaze drifting past Will and landing on a few of the settlers of Will’s caravan that had already passed the checkpoint.

“So, do you think my sister’s prettier than me?” Eolande the Seamstress asked.

“Lil’ bit.” Kearney the carpenter replied with gentle smile, his face slowly morphing into horror as the realization of what he’d just said began to dawn on him.

“I see.” Eolande said, nodding. “Good to know.”

“Babe, that’s not what I meant to say!”

“I know,” Eolande said as she walked away, her husband trailing behind, apologizing profusely.

“I see what you mean,” Will mused. “I hope it’s not too much of a problem.”

“Well, they can’t kill each other, so that’s good.” The guard said, resting his chin on his palm. “In my experience, if two people are actually in love, the truth will be a boon. If they’re not, the truth’ll clear that shit up real quick.”

“What am I supposed to do if some of my caravan break up here?” Will asked.

“…Welcome to Bakton Keep,” The guard said with a blasé shrug, waving Will past and dealing with the next member of the Caravan.

Will followed the guard’s instruction to the office, where a single older woman behind a bar bustled back and forth consulting books and scrolls while a floating pen at her desk made notes in a ledger of some kind.

Will glanced to the side and met Badur’s eyes, where their logistician was seemingly haggling over their taxes with the clerk.

Since the vast majority of the caravan’s wealth was Relics and Sacrifices, and it all had varying value, there were a lot of grey areas and wiggle room: Pay a bit more of this one thing we find worthless, in exchange, pay a bit less of this other thing that is vital to the caravan.

This book’s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Important work.

Badur looked like he was having a great time, sweat beading on his forehead, lips muttering curses. Will didn’t want to interrupt him.

“I’d like to make schedule a meeting with Lord Bakton.” Will said, approaching the bar.

“William Oh send his messenger boy?” the clerk said, directing her attention away from Badur. “Gods, you’re young.”

“I’m pretty fast, so I do deliver messages for William Oh from time to time,” Will said, studying the older woman. “This being one of them.”

Now that he thought about it, it seemed like each floor aged the population by a couple years. It wasn’t noticeable on the first few, but by the ninth Floor, it seemed like the majority of people were middle-aged.

It’s not that the Floor itself ages them, these are the Slow-and-Steady folk who carefully work their way up The Tower, taking as few risks as possible to reach this point.

The fast Climbers were by-and-large, dead by this point, which made Will’s caravan of fresh-faced young’ins something of a rare sight.

The clerk grunted, and a book flew down from the shelf into her waiting hand.

“Do you have authority to make appointments for William Oh?”

“Yes.” Will said.

“Hah. Most newcomers to the keep forget to give their messengers temporary powers of attorney.”

“What can I say? William Oh regularly defies expectations.” Will said.

“Lord Bakton is free…three days from now. Shall I book it?”

“Please.”

Her floating pen sang over to the book in her hand and made a quick scribble, and Will could feel the Debt around him settle into place, an ominous feeling that seemed to slowly descend on him. The very definition of a deadline. It seemed as though the Floor itself would enforce his arrival.

“Tell Mr. Oh that the Floor itself will see to his appointment being kept. If he feels a sudden urge to go somewhere three days from now, he shouldn’t fight it.”

“What happens if you fight it?” Will asked.