Book 2 Chapter Twenty: Support

TWENTY

“There he is!” Deacon’s voice was loud in the clamor of the crowds coming through the gates. Roan had been heading down to the quest board to see the arrivals and had been spotted first. The collection of independents who had gathered briefly to make the first steps toward a public library had seen better days. All of them were wearing bloodstained clothes, slow-healing bandages, or were just in general disheveled.

Roan waved his hand in greeting as nearly twenty people pulled out of the stream of people and surrounded him. They looked worse for wear and Roan didn’t see Vanessa, but Billie was there, leaning to the side and looking grim.

“Wondered if you’d ended up here on in another instance,” Roan said, pulling out the manuals he’d bought and the original one he had used the groups funds to buy.

“Didn’t look very hard, did you?” Deacon said venomously as he stood straight and glared at Roan.

“No, not really,” Roan said. With him accepting the Pact, there was little need for this group of independents now. It had only been his own stubbornness and the shame of feeling inferior that had driven him to them in the first place. With his own bloodline and the growth he’d experienced, Roan didn’t feel inferior to any of them, aside from Taoya.

“Just ran off with the manual. The one we paid for!” Deacon growled, the anger apparent on his face as he leaned closer.

“Yeah. I did. Now, do you wish to remain angry or would you like to see what else I have to offer you? Or continue to be mad that I didn’t go out of my way to find you?” Roan asked, keeping his voice level. He could understand their anger. Between their battered state and the missing faces, he could only assume that this floor hadn’t been kind to them.

Deacon’s face mottled with anger but Billie stepped up, her small hand on his shoulder pulling him back with incessant strength. Roan looked over the woman and could only assume she’d bought stat points if she was strong enough to haul Deacon backwards.

“Roan, good to see you again. We lost a lot of friends last night,” Billie said, her voice raspy like she’d been inhaling smoke.

“I’m sorry for your losses. I truly am, but this is the Unconquered Tower for a reason. There’ll be many people lost in our climb and we did not make a true alliance. Just that we’d share resources when we could. Now, do you wish to continue to share resources, or I could pay you back what you paid for the tempering manual and we all walk away,” Roan offered. The four hundred credits that had felt like a monumental task to earn on the last level was a drop in the bucket of his earnings.

Deacon scoffed, but held his tongue when Billie lifted her hand up. Roan observed silently, looking over the battered group with merciless eyes. They had fallen even further behind on this floor, not strong enough to participate in the Horde officer fights and gather the plentiful rewards for them.

“The advantages really do snowball. It’s easy to forget when we spend our time with the Pact members.” Roan only needed to look up and down those who hadn’t been lucky or pushed hard enough on the first level. It would only grow worse as they reached the next level.

“We need the help. It’s that or dying here,” Billie said, turning behind her to look at the group of battered people. Heads nodded along with her words and Roan couldn’t help but feel like there was opportunity here. When he’d met this group last time he’d been on equal if not slightly inferior ground than they had been. Their fortunes had reversed in a major way.

“I will tell you what I need and you will decide if it’s suitable for you. Regardless of your answer, you will have access to these skill manuscripts,” Roan said, tapping the Body Tempering and Arborealist’s Touch manuscripts. Billie’s face paled a bit as she grimaced, but she nodded to hear his terms.

“I don’t have time to find everything I need, whether that’s ingredients for alchemy or finishing quests, or whatever. And I’m sure as we climb that’s not going to get any better. I am only one man and there is just too much to do,” Roan began.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Servants. You want us to be servants,” Deacon whispered from behind Billie. She whirled on him and held up a finger, her voice a harsh snarl that was easily heard by everyone in the wide courtyard.

“What do we have left Deacon! We tried to stand on our own and look at us! Half of us are fucking dead! We’re tired, starving, broke, and have nothing left. We’ve burned our money on healing potions and have barely made anything fighting on the walls. Tell me, would you rather die with your pride, or live?”