Book 2: Chapter 4 - The Quest

  It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.

  - Voltaire.

  The security at other guard posts around the thieves’ hideout proved as laughable as the first. With Seraphina’s blade and the deadly precision of Frest’s crossbow, it was a simple enough thing to neutralize them. As a bonus, for fighting in armor, the world had rewarded her with an organic increase in both her Heavy and Medium Armor skills. She could already feel her movements becoming slightly more fluid, her body adjusting naturally to the constraints of the, albeit now dirty, steel shell.

  In the aftermath of the carnage, the pair discovered a modest cache of fine wines hidden away in one of the guild’s storage rooms. Frest took a generous swig straight from a dusty bottle, then offered it to Seraphina.

  “So, what do we do now, milady?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ve done more work here than Meridian’s city guards have in years.”

  Seraphina wrinkled her nose at his casual disregard for etiquette but ultimately let it pass, shaking her head. “Now,” she said, her voice turning grim, “the horrid part begins. We must enter the old sewers.”

  Frest raised an eyebrow. “The old sewers?”

  “Actually,” she continued with a dismissive wave, “I was considering going alone. You can fetch Miriam to clean up this—” She gestured at the carnage around them. “—mess.”

  Frest glanced around uneasily. “It is quite a lot of mess to clean up,” he admitted. “A whole buffet of…”

  Seraphina released a weary sigh. “I’m sure she’ll manage. But don’t worry yourself. As my personal guard, I understand you may feel compelled to—”

  “I can’t very well let you wander off defenseless,” Frest interrupted, sounding almost offended by the suggestion.

  “Defenseless?” Seraphina snorted, incredulous. She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling into a half-smile. “You think I am defenseless?”

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  “Not precisely,” Frest said, his brow furrowing in earnest, “but you know my meaning, Lady Seraphina.”

  “Fine,” she relented with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “If you’re that determined to come along, I suppose I can’t stop you. Honestly, Frest… Sometimes I wonder what I’m to do with you.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off with a curt wave of her hand. “Enough dilly-dallying. We go now. Chop-chop!”

  Frest shook his head and heaved a resigned sigh.

  ***

  They stood before a heavy iron grate, beyond which lay only darkness and the faint rush of flowing water. Without hesitation, Seraphina grabbed the rusty iron bars, straining against the metal until it finally tore free under her determined effort.

  She knew there was a more conventional entrance to the Old Sewers—one that wound through a maze of traps and hidden chambers—but she also remembered discovering this hidden shortcut during one of her old-world gaming sessions. Back then, she had accidentally “clipped” through into this section of the Thieves’ Guild hideout in Meridian.

  Of course, in that digital realm, destructibility was not nearly as extensive as it was in this new “reality.” Here, she could quite literally carve her own path in this world if she felt like it. Indestructible walls had become very destructible walls if she so wished them to be. Perhaps there was a lesson in that, she mused silently, if only she could be bothered to unravel it.

  Seraphina stood on the edge of the murky drop, her nose wrinkling at the foul stench rising from below. Below was almost complete darkness.

  Seraphina turned back to him, her eyes flashing with resolve. “You will speak of this to no one,” she said, her tone deadly serious. She held out her hand. “Zajasite.”

  Without a word, Frest placed a small, glowing gem in her palm. Seraphina clipped the Zajasite to her belt, its light cutting through the gloom just enough to reveal the swirling current of sewage below. She bit her lip, drew a slow breath, then shut her eyes and leapt down into the dark, dirty water.

  It was about a three-meter drop, and she created quite the splash in the blighted water. A putrid wave touched her thighs, and she grimaced at the sensation. Still, she steadied herself, trying not to think about the filth clinging to her boots. Overhead, Frest peered down with concern etched on his face.

  Up above, he called out to her, “You alright down there, milady?”

  “I’m fine!” she called softly, more to reassure herself than him.

  Turning away, Seraphina raised a hand to shield her eyes from the faint, eerie glow of the stone, letting them adjust to the gloom. The Zajasite’s crystal’s eerie light cast dancing shadows on the slime-slick walls. She took one cautious step forward, then another, determined to reach her destination.

  Behind her, Frest dropped down, inadvertently splashing her with more yet more of the effluvia. This would be a devil to wash out of her hair. He apologized profusely before following closely in her wake. Despite the sewer’s stench and the vile current swirling around them, Seraphina pressed on.

  Perhaps this was a test of the gods to teach me humility, she thought bitterly.