The Land: Catacombs (Chaos Seeds Book 4) (38 page)

The builder looked up from his plate with a mouthful of eggs. “Oh.  I was actually talking to my food.”

Richter closed his eyes. Ten, he won’t respawn if you murder him.  Nine, I
definitely
need to shave off that fucking mustache.  Eight…

CHAPTER 23
 

Richter walked away from the table a few minutes later.  In the end, he was able to divert Roswan’s attention away from his meal long enough to finalize the building order and to get the elf to agree to creating a building crew to finish individual projects faster.  The order they agreed on was to build the workshop, healer’s hut, barracks, and lastly the storage shed.  One constructive thing that Roswan did add was that work could go faster if they had even rudimentary roads.  He proposed that the unused unskilled workers break rocks into gravel and then strew it between key locations.  Apparently a job as simple as that wouldn’t be affected by a lack of the Construction skill and it would lay the framework for better roads later.  At Richter’s nod, Randolphus made a note to start the project tomorrow.  The three men agreed to discuss other projects, like the scholar’s hut, once the first four buildings were completed.  

They also discussed the blueprint for the mana storage.  Unfortunately, Roswan’s skill level in Construction was only fifty-one, five skill levels shy of being able to construct the magic repository.  He had even less luck when he asked the elf if he could build a caster’s chamber.  Roswan just looked at him and asked how he could be expected to build something he had never heard of before.  Disappointed and irritated, Richter took the blueprint back.  He just hoped that Roswan would level up his skill enough by erecting the new village buildings.  He handed the blueprint to Randolphus, telling him to get the scribes to make a copy.  The chamberlain said he wasn’t sure if they had that capability, but he would enquire. 

Most importantly, Richter got Roswan to agree to be the official village Builder.  It was another Job of the Village, and with Roswan’s journeyman rank in Construction, having him as a builder provided a 6% boost to construction speed.  The elf initially didn’t seem at all interested in the position.  Richter offered him more money, but the elf just said “grrrmmm” and kept eating.  Then Richter had an idea.  He said he would make sure that Roswan could eat eggs with every meal—breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  A rare smile crested the builder’s face.  To Richter, it made his mustache look like the caterpillar was now floating on a bowl of yellow-white milk, but he was still happy to have the man’s services.  Roswan agreed to bend the knee as soon as Sumiko was available.  He said it with a mouthful of bacon, but Richter just sighed and decided to let sleeping dogs lie.

Randolphus and Richter stood up and began wandering away. “My lord, there was one other matter I wanted to discuss.  The encoded Night Blade ledger has begun yielding its secrets.”

“You know where the other nonhumans are?” Richter asked excitedly.  

The chamberlain shook his head in regret. “It appears the ledger was written by several different people.  Because of that, the code used varies from entry to entry.  I am getting closer though.  I should have the first one deciphered soon.” 

Richter thanked him and the man took his leave.  As Richter started walking away, he asked Futen how much time he had before midday, and the remnant told him about two hours.  He decided to head up to the meadow first.  He wanted to check on the Quickening and then go see the Philosopher’s Cauldron. 

“I really wish that I could tell time without asking you, Futen,” he remarked.

The remnant flared, and a clock appeared in the corner of Richter’s interface. 

“What the fuck?” Richter exclaimed.  “Could you have done that the whole time?”

“Yes, my lord,” came the flat reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“You never asked before, my lord.”

Richter’s blood began to boil.  He had known that was going to be the answer as soon as the question left his lips, but he just didn’t catch himself in time.  “For the last time, Futen!  Provide this kind of info BEFORE I ask for it!  And don’t ask me ‘what kind of info’!  That’s a circular argument!  If I knew what kind of info, I could just ask for it!  Do your best!”

Futen voiced a monotone agreement, calm as a Hindu cow.  Richter glared at the remnant, a little annoyed that his rant hadn’t had more effect, but then just let it go.  He examined his clock.  It seemed standard, two numbers before and after a colon.  Sure enough, it read “10:13.”  He willed it to disappear, and his vision cleared.  His arms glowed yellow as he cast
Haste I
on himself, and then he picked up the pace. 

*
Come meet me by the Cauldron, my love.
*

Alma agreed, projecting that she would be along soon.  Richter ran up the slope leading to the northern meadow and greeted the gardeners working at the entrance to the meadow.  He then turned left and jogged up to his glass building, appreciating the rainbow colors it made on the surrounding trees. 

The peaceful feeling the Dragon Cauldron’s beauty created was shattered by a cacophony of raised voices.

“I don’t care
what
you think, you crazy woman!  For the last time, stay away from my side!”  Richter recognized Beyan’s dulcet tones.

“Call me crazy one more time, you balding bastard, and I’ll make the right eye match the left one.”

“Can you two stop fighting?  I’m tired of this racket!  Keep this up and neither of you will get to run the Cauldron!”

Richter jogged up to see Sion with his arms extended to either side.  He was physically holding back Beyan with one hand and a glaring elf woman with the other.  Richter stopped and appreciated the image of the three-and-a-half-foot-tall sprite holding back the four-foot-tall gnome and a six-foot-tall high elf woman.  He was especially amused by the fact that Sion’s hand was pushing against the elf’s stomach because of their disparity in height.  If his hand was just a foot higher, Richter was fairly certain this scenario would be a good deal more interesting, volatile perhaps, but definitely more interesting.

“What is going on here?” Richter exclaimed in his best “dad” voice.  He thought it might have been laid on a bit thick, but it worked.  Beyan and the elf woman took a step back with chagrined expressions on their faces.  Richter used
Analyze
, enjoying the skill’s expanded utility for the first time.

So this is Tabia, he thought.  She… made an impression.  High breasts hugged an athletic body.  She was wearing light brown leather armor that contrasted with her beautiful dark brown skin.  Her black hair was dreaded down her back and held with a simple rawhide strap, revealing her high pointed ears.  The hair fell down to her waist, ending atop a taut bottom and matching leather brown leggings that looked like they had been painted on.  In short, she was a knockout.  Which might explain why Beyan’s ugly mug was sporting a black eye… but probably didn’t.

“I asked a question,” Richter said sternly. 

“This might be partly my fault,” Sion said.  Both Beyan and Tabia looked at him sharply, but the sprite quickly held up one hand, palm facing out, letting the two know that their input was not required or desired.  “We have been trying to familiarize ourselves with the Cauldron.  I figured the more the merrier, so I invited Tabia to come because of her journeyman rank in Alchemy and apprentice rank in Herb Lore.”  Sion’s tone indicated that he thought his decision had been completely reasonable.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the end of the story,” Richter said, fixing Sion with a glare. 

“Everything was fine… at first, but then these two started fighting about every little thing.  So I made a very simple statement that I might need a second-in-command to run the Cauldron.”

“I won’t work for or put up with advances from someone that doesn’t even have the right tool for the job!” Tabia spat. 

“You would be so lucky,” Beyan shot back.  “My height isn’t the only thing on me that’s four feet!”

“So you
do
want a matching set then?” Tabia snapped, raising a fist.

“Enough!” Richter said loudly.  Everyone quieted and he said, “I think I see the problem here.  You’re both trying to fight it out to see who is going to be able to run things when Big Daddy isn’t around.  Let me make this simple.  THIS,” he said, gesturing around at the entire Cauldron, “is all MY shit.  Ya’ll are just guests here.  So there isn’t any need for you to fight over something that isn’t, and never will be, yours.”

Richter turned to his Companion, who was nodding along at his words. “And you!  Quit pissing in my Kool-Aid, man!  Don’t start trouble that I have to deal with.”

Sion rolled his eyes a bit, but still said, “Okay.  I’m sorry I didn’t handle this myself, but we still need to have someone be in charge when you and I are gone.”  

Beyan and Tabia looked to him for a ruling.  Richter glared at Sion, communicating a big “fuck you” with his gaze.  Sion just smiled back.  He turned his attention back to the two alchemists. “Okay.  We’ll do it like this.  You both have a week to make the best potion you can.  I will give each of you temporary access to the Forge during that time.  Whoever can impress me the most will be granted
temporary
command of the Cauldron, after Sion and myself of course, for a one-month trial.  Let me repeat, one month.  Whoever loses agrees to do their best to work under the other person.  You are only eligible if you will swear fealty though, Tabia.  Now are the two of you in or out?”

A prompt appeared in front of him.  His eyes widened slightly as he read it.  Beyan started speaking, but Richter waved him quiet as he took in this interesting new development.  

You have created a Quest:
Prove Your Worth.
  The alchemists Tabia and Beyan have been vying for power in the Dragon’s Cauldron.  You have given them the task of creating a potion that will “impress” you.  Whoever does better will be granted a one-month trial of running the Cauldron, answerable only to you and your Companion Sion.  This is a
Duel Quest
: Failure of one person to fulfill the objectives or accept the quest results in the other quest recipient immediately winning.  Rewards: Trial management of the Dragon’s Cauldron.  Penalty: The loser will work for the winner to the best of their abilities.  Fail Conditions: Lack of fealty by end of the week.  Do you wish to offer this quest?  Yes or No?

Know This!  You are bound by the terms of the quest you created.  Failure to honor these terms could have grave consequences, both long and short term. 

Richter read through it several times.  This was the first time he had created a quest!  In the back of his mind, he had wondered if it was possible, especially after receiving so many quests from his villagers.  He never got the feeling
they
were creating them though.  Was this a special function of him being Master of this village and Place of Power?  Richter shook his head. Whenever he got a handle on things it seemed like something else popped up to show him how little he actually knew.  He didn’t really see any downsides to issuing the quest, even though he didn’t like the idea of being locked into a course of action.  It was true that he didn’t know Tabia that well, but even the quest had specified that it would just be a trial management position.  Also her disposition towards him was “friendly.”  Richter decided it was worth it, even if just to see what happened as an experiment.  He selected “Yes.”

Both Tabia and Beyan’s eyes unfocused.  Tabia appeared to finish reading first as she oriented on Richter again.  He got a “Quest accepted by Tabia” prompt, quickly followed by one for Beyan.  The beautiful elf spoke up. “I will make you a wonderful potion, Lord Richter.  Also, I have spoken to many of the original villagers over the past week and based on what I have been told, I believe you are someone I can put my faith in.  I will swear fealty now if you like.”