"...So, Pate and I reached the deepest levels of the fortress, passing through a narrow corridor and the small entrance just ahead, stepping into the massive chamber of an underground cavern—filled with ruins and occupied by the battered form of a giant."
I continued recounting parts of my adventures to Warfarin, who listened intently. I wasn't lying, but I had to adapt my story to make it coherent. Drangleic had been devastated after the queen manipulated the king into attacking a kingdom across the sea, prompting its inhabitants to destroy everything in retaliation.
I simply didn't mention that the queen was a fragment of the Father of the Abyss, that the king was a man nearly six meters tall, and that the kingdom's inhabitants were giants who transformed into trees upon death. Hollows had turned into bandits and warriors without a cause, monsters into enraged beasts, and worse.
"A giant? Are there people taller than you in your homeland?"
She asked, a look of doubt crossing her face. I suppose she had pictured the ancient Giant Lord as merely a tall man, not a being nearly ten meters in height.
"Many; I might even be considered short compared to them, though I've gone through a growth spurt recently."
The vampire fell silent, giving me a look of disbelief, and I could only nod in confirmation.
"Anyway, it was an arduous fight. Despite all those years as a prisoner of war, the giant was still powerful and seemed strangely intent on killing me, but we managed to defeat him in the end, obtaining the key to keep moving forward through the fortress."
"You and Pate must have become close friends after that, right?"
She offered me a smile, but her expression quickly changed when I answered.
"Not exactly; Pate is a deceiver. His spear, armor, and shield are customized to give him the best possible offense and defense without making him look strong, and his polite demeanor masks his true intentions. He lures people in with promises of treasure, hoping they'll die so he can loot their corpses later. Strangely enough, he also possesses a sense of honor: the treasure is always real, and the traps work exactly as he describes. If you manage to secure the treasure, he won't try to take it from you—he might even congratulate and reward you for it. I suppose, in the end, he respects those who are strong and resourceful enough to succeed, while looting those who perish due to their own greed... or perhaps it's all just a game to him."
I shrugged; when all was said and done, Pate survived, while Creighton died by my hand. I chose to keep the con artist alive rather than the serial murderer who converses with the voices in his head. At least Pate gave me the key to his hideout—where the chest containing the Engraved Gauntlets was kept—though the explosives rigged to detonate upon opening it came as a painful surprise.
"T-that's horrible! Is there no one left to uphold the law in Drangleic?"
"There are the Blue Sentinels, but their numbers are limited; they can't be everywhere at once."
"Pate could have killed you!"
"He wouldn't be the first, and I'm used to that sort of thing by now."
Warfarin tried to protest but gave up halfway through, letting out a weary sigh.
"I don't think you were lying when you said Kazdel was a pleasant place to live. Depending on where you are, you might find some measure of safety, but in Drangleic…"
"Everything collapsed long ago; there is no law or unifying force. If you aren't strong enough to survive, well…"
I offered her a hesitant smile, but her downcast expression didn't change, so I tried to change the subject.
"But what about you? Do you have any interesting stories to tell? What made you become a healer?"
That seemed to work, as she soon brightened up and began to speak.
"It's a silly story, but when I was a child, I was playing in the castle gardens and decided to climb a tree, despite the maids telling me not to. As you might imagine, I ended up falling and hurting myself. Just then, one of them came running over and used her healing arts on me. I don't know what changed in my mind, but I thought it was so amazing that I started pestering her to teach me. My parents eventually found out, and after hiring a few tutors, they discovered I had a knack for it."
"I don't think that's silly. If you'd never been healed yourself, perhaps you never would have become the skilled healer you are now."
"Oh, you flatterer—you're making me blush!"
We shared a few laughs, and our conversation continued.
-XXXXXX-
I have to admit, last night was pleasant, but after a long time spent talking and swapping stories, the time had come to head back. I used the remaining time to work on my projects. Now it was a new day, and I was heading downstairs to the kitchen, ready to make breakfast, but just as I lit the stove and grabbed a pan, a voice stopped me.
"Stop! Don't even think about it!"
I turned around immediately to see Warfarin dressed in casual clothes, though her hair was messy and her face set in determination.
"What did I do?!"
I began racking my brain, trying to figure out what the problem was.
"It's not what you *did*, but what you're *planning* to do!"
She strode over, snatched the frying pan from my hands, and stepped away.
"I'm just making breakfast."
I followed her, trying to get the pan back, but she made sure to keep her distance.
"That's the problem: you don't know how to cook! That bread you baked is proof!"
I stopped in my tracks as she pointed the pan at me like a weapon, her face full of indignation.
"And what's wrong with my bread?!"
Now it was my turn to be indignant; after all, I'd been working hard to learn the things normal people do.
Warfarin narrowed her eyes and, without another word, walked over to the kitchen table, where the bread in question sat on a plate in the center. She raised the frying pan over her head and brought it down on the food—which, under normal circumstances, would have been crushed—but what happened next made me realize what she meant.
CLANG!
A dent appeared in the cookware, perfectly shaped like the bread.
"See?"
She showed me the pan, a smug grin spreading across her face; as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I was a disaster in the kitchen.
"I admit it—you're right."
"Great! Now, could you fix this?"
Grumbling, I pulled my staff from my bag and cast Repair, undoing the damage to the pan. I then sat in a nearby chair, letting her finish preparing the meal—which smelled wonderful.
The rest of breakfast went by without incident; we mostly talked about what we'd do next. When we finished, I headed toward my shop, only to freeze—petrified like a statue—at the sight of the eager crowd waiting outside.
"Alden, what's…"
Warfarin followed close behind but fell silent when she saw what I saw. Our success was turning into a problem, and we realized right then that we had a long day ahead of us.
-XXXXXX-
"…Thanks for your purchase!"
I smiled and said goodbye to the group of mercenaries who had come to buy more healing consumables—specifically, Life Gems. They were among my best-selling items and were cheap to produce; after all, I used stones I found on the ground as raw materials.
"Damn it! It seems people can't go a single day without getting hurt!"
Warfarin complained, wiping sweat from her weary face with a handkerchief.
"Workplace accidents?"
"I wish! Fights over the stupidest things!"
I was about to reply but stopped the moment I heard the door chime. I turned toward the sound, ready to serve customers, but my expression hardened as soon as I recognized the people entering—led by an armored figure wielding a warhammer: the Hand of the Earth and the Gargoyle Official.
Warfarin had already leapt behind the counter, staff and daggers at the ready, and I raised the mace I kept stashed beneath the counter—but the fight never began.
"Wait, we aren't here to fight!"
The Gargoyle raised a hand in surrender, his voice tinged with fear. The vampire and I exchanged glances but didn't lower our weapons.
"What business brings you here?"
"We only wish to talk!"
"Oh, now you want to talk?! Did the thrashing we gave you after you kidnapped my siblings finally knock some sense into you?!"
Warfarin shot back; the mercenary officer flinched before sighing and reaching a hand toward his helmet. The movement made us jump, ready for a fight. The other mercenaries did the same, yet no one made the first move.
When the piece of armor was removed, we found ourselves face-to-face with a young man—pale-skinned, with white hair and red eyes—whose face bore a few poorly healed burns, likely inflicted by me.
"I know my words don't mean much, but I am sorry for our actions. The job we took... it was nothing more than a distraction so that something could be stolen from us."
We hesitated; The regret on his face and in his voice seemed genuine—or else he was an excellent liar. Slowly, we lowered our weapons and let him continue.
"You won the fight, so you're entitled to the spoils, but—if possible—I'd like you to return the Eye of Gaia. We're willing to negotiate for it."
There was a moment of silence—the mercenaries expectant, us confused—until I remembered what I had seen before escaping the ruins.
"Are you talking about the red gem you had set in your hammer?"
"Exactly!"
His tone turned hopeful; unfortunately, I had to dash those hopes.
"Unfortunately, I don't have it, but I have an idea of who does. Now, listen closely."
Then, I recounted what I had witnessed after our fight ended.
-XXXXXX-
"...So, I believe your sacred relic is in the hands of my companion's grandmother, and the kidnapping and ransom of her siblings was nothing more than an elaborate scheme to steal the Eye of Gaia and improve Warfarin's opinion of Dragos."
No one answered at first—faces lost in deep thought—until my vampire friend broke the silence.
"I'm not surprised she planned it all."
"Do you really think she orchestrated the kidnapping of her own grandchildren?"
The mercenary officer asked in disbelief, receiving a deadly serious reply.
"You don't know my grandmother. She isn't feared for nothing. Everyone who opposed her either vanished or died under mysterious circumstances, yet everyone knows they were examples of what happens to those who defy her will. On one hand, she is a cruel monster, but on the other, she transformed my clan into the prosperous faction it is today—so dealing with her is complicated. Your best bet would be to get the Royal Court to demand the return of your relic."
"Hmm… I see. Thank you for the information. I'll have to consult the other officers about our next move."
"Before you go, what does the Eye of Gaia actually do?"
"There are many legends among my people, but of one thing we are certain: the Eye of Gaia is a powerful amplifier of Arts. It can turn an amateur into a deadly caster, and in the hands of someone capable… Let's just say that person would become a monster."
This time, the warning was directed at us. With a final word of thanks and a farewell, the mercenaries were about to leave, but I had something to say.
"Before you go, I have one more question. You don't know Alexandria, so who hired your group?"
"Just a Sarkaz like any other. We don't ask questions about our clients; we just take the pay and complete the mission."
I nodded, and they left. Then I looked at Warfarin, whose face was set in an expression that was hard to describe.
"My grandmother—what is she planning this time?"
"Do you think we should warn the King?"
"I don't know. We might be stirring up trouble and drawing unwanted attention for no reason, but if we do nothing, we might regret it later."
"Then we'd need proof."
"Exactly. Otherwise, what would we say? That Sarkaz killed other Sarkaz to take something valuable? That happens all the time."
I crossed my arms, thinking: maybe I can do something about this.
END OF CHAPTER