The Pinnacle Warrior

“You were close, but he’ll be ok.” Astrid sighed in relief as the Healer explained, “There’ll be some scarring, but most of it will be near the bottom of your jaw, and it won’t be extremely noticeable most of the time, given how pale you are.  If you grow a beard, I’d guess it’ll all be hidden.”

“Well, that would be all fine and dandy, if I could actually grow a damned beard.“ Skandr smiled with a mostly positive look at the news. He scratched idly at his newly healed skin, feeling where the rippling scar would form. Benedict swatted his hand away from the tender skin.

“There is no shame! Scars are a testament to the life you have lived!“ Muti wrapped Skandr in a rough hug as she said as much, her sharp teeth bared in a wide grin. “And you did not pretend you would die in order to gain my sympathy! A true warrior indeed!” She shot a glance Felix’s way as she said as much, but Skandr spoke, pulling her attention back.

“You’ve seemed pretty concerned about getting any scars on your face, Muti. I don’t know why you’re acting like I can’t be unhappy about having my face scarred.” Skandr half-heartedly tried to push her arm off from his shoulders, to no avail. Astrid and Muti both stiffened up at Skandr calling attention to her scar, but to Astrid’s relief, the Rogue relaxed.

“Your people do not think of scars the way my people do, especially on the face. Mine… is a sign to those who see me. For Humans, I have heard stories of how some Human women find scars to be pretty on a man’s face. Is this true?” She looked at Astrid as she asked it. The Warrior chuckled a little nervously as the gaze of each member of her party settled on her with raised eyebrows of interest. Even Benedict, blusterer that he was, laid off of any joking or pretending. Instead, he too waited for her answer.

“I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask.” Astrid managed. “I mean, instead of faces, I’ve always found… shoulders…“

She felt the blood rise to her face as she said it, her blush largely hidden by her complexion. With a purse of her lips, she stopped talking as Felix squared his shoulders and looked down his nose at his other two male companions’ slender builds. Muti, however, was unconcerned with posturing, instead taking the words quite literally.

“Yes, a man or a woman with broad shoulders can carry much to the next campsite, can carry their beloved to bed, can carry prey home for those they love. It is a good sign. The shoulders of a strong worker and a competent hunter, a good way to evaluate others.”

“Absolutely, that.” Astrid jumped wholeheartedly onto Muti’s explanation, not wanting to get into more direct explanations of how her focus on the shoulders was something else entirely and nothing to do with the ability to carry camping equipment from one place to the next. Carrying the—she shook her head, cutting the thought from her mind where it wandered as Muti spoke back up.

“Yet I still have my question. Do you think that a scar on a man’s face is pretty?”

“I don’t know! Just about everyone with a scar on their faces that I’ve met was a brigand or a thief! My mother is a guard captain in a small town, and any of the people who had scars in there were the ne’er-do-wells and vagrants. I’m sure if I saw a man who wasn’t actively trying to cut somebody’s purse with a scar on his face I wouldn’t have a problem with it. I’ve just never paid too much attention to a man’s face, if I’m entirely honest. Now,” Astrid raised her voice to cut off the following questions, “how much do we owe you?“

“50 silver,” came the Healer’s answer, her face twisted in a strange curiosity at the circus of a performance occurring in her clinic. Hearing the price, Astrid had to grit her teeth to keep from replying negatively. After all, they could afford it, and there was no reason for her to be so unhappy about paying a fair price to a skilled individual. She nodded and pulled out her purse to make the payment.

“You’re not going to try to negotiate?“ The woman asked with a surprise look on her face.

“I was always taught that anyone who’s healing you is giving you a fair price, and if you wanna complain about it after you’ve gotten the healing, you don’t deserve to be healed in the first place. So, if you say it’s 50 silver, it’s 50 silver. If we disagree with that, we just won’t return.”

“Are you saying there was a possibility to negotiate? Is there still a possibility to negotiate price?” Skandr immediately looked for an opportunity to negotiate, but the Healer shook her head. Astrid merely listened as the LIghtningmage finally allowed his attention to be pulled away from scratching his face.

“There was never any opportunity to change the price. I just always have to deal with people who think that they can convince me I’m not worth that much  and then get frustrated when I tell them that the price isn’t going to be adjusted.” She nodded as Astrid handed over the payment. “Thanks for coming and paying promptly. If you need me in the future, I am available after hours by coming to my home. The address is—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Astrid raised her hand. “We are leaving Kznietch in the next few days, and won’t be delving in any meaningful capacity until after we leave. Thank you for the offer, though.”

The Healer shrugged and turned back to the front of her clinic where a couple of the citizens of the city waited for her ministrations. Astrid figured the local probably gave other locals a much better deal then she would give the delvers, but despite any frustrations, that just stood to reason. Once they got back to the inn and sold the various materials and spoils from the Boss fight and the rest of their delve, Asher was positive they’d make well over a gold, and that was more than any of the people in the waiting room would make in months of hard work.

Astrid led the way through the streets, pulling the sled laden with two irregular corpses. It wasn’t as easy as it had been before, given that the quickly approaching spring had melted off much of the snow, letting the street be entirely untouched by the ice and snow that let the tool slide easily over its path. Astrid had recently talked to the original craftsman that sold them the sled about getting wheel attachments for it, and getting around to buying the attachable wheels was something on their to-do list before leaving the city. For now, though, she was pulling her load over the cobbled streets without any help, though her waist still twinged with every step. 

As they arrived back at the inn, Klara came out to process the materials and so on. She was accompanied by a Scribe who’d only recently come to town to replace the traitorous Anders. The mousy woman wore a pair of spectacles, which Astrid originally had been confused by, given how the Class and its attributes were sure to have granted her perfect vision. Then she realized the silver-rimmed facewear was an enchanted piece of equipment that gave her some measure of information that Astrid didn’t have.

“So it was an irregular day, huh?“ Klara asked with a smile. “Glad to see you came out on top for your final day.”

“Yes. The Boss left both of these, which seem to be a slightly weaker version of Felix‘s axe over here. We were in too much of a hurry to pay it too much attention. What are they worth? Not a set item, are they?”

Though Astrid had asked Klara, the assistant representative turned to her Scribe for an answer. The other woman twisted an unseen dial mounted on the front of the left eye’s glass, and the hue of the tool shifted from clear to slightly yellow.

“Each is worth 85 silver, not a set.” She reported with a surprised gasp.

“Really?“ Astrid demanded, turning to Klara. “You said that the Boss would be worth about one gold before, if it was in the regular. Were you lying to everybody? Again?”

“I wasn’t lying, but I was deceiving.” Klara reported without any embarrassment. “We both saw how you acted for just a couple gold to get you a head start. If I’d told everybody explicitly that an irregular Boss was worth as much as it is, do you think I would have been able to keep people from running down there and getting themselves killed en masse in the hopes of striking it rich?“

Astrid didn’t need to respond, and she shrugged while gesturing at the irregular shaman and chieftain’s corpses. Klara didn’t need to get any additional advice from her assistant for the prices and said, “The Boss and shaman paired with everything else you’ve gotten from the fifth floor will come out to 3 gold. That’s slightly generous on our side, but consider it a going away present.”

Astrid didn’t need to look at her party to know that Skandr was thrilled, Felix and Benedict were happy, and Muti was only half listening. That was all par for the course, and Astrid strode forward, offered the bags of trophies and materials taken from the other gnolls, and went to walk into the inn. Before she did so, she met Klara‘s gaze and said, “Even with everything else, I want to tell you thank you. You’re not perfect, far from it, but you’ve helped us out. You’ve taught us lessons, maybe not the ones that you wanted to, but you’ve been good in several ways. Hope you can learn the lessons that the Guild wants you to.“

It would seem that Astrid hadn’t been able to mask her real thoughts as well as she’d hoped. Klara’s face twisted in displeasure at the tone with which Astrid addressed her, but after grinding her jaw for a moment, the older woman nodded once, swept her hand over the materials, and turned on her heel before stalking into the Guild.

“Are you sure you really want to antagonize her right now? Is that… at all intelligent? All you had to do was nothing.” Skandr asked, unable to keep from continuing to rub at his face where he’d been healed.

“It probably wasn’t smart, no. However, it’s what I did.“ Astrid didn’t offer any other explanation as she fought to keep the sudden surge of anger and displeasure she felt towards the Guild representative down. It was unreasonable to hold so much of her resentment against somebody who was trying to help the delvers. Instead, she should have solely hated those responsible, but Klara remained a guilty party, whether by incompetence, overconfidence, or malice.

Shaking her head, Astrid walked into the warm bar. Striding into the inn for what was nearly the last time was as ordinary as ever. The party had planned to return right around dinner time—which they’d managed—after leaving early the morning before. A couple people had seen Skandr being rushed to a Healer, but for the most part, their fellow delvers nodded hello before turning back to their conversations, not entirely realizing that it was an important day for the party. And why would they care? For many of them, Astrid had been there less time than they had, to say nothing of Felix and Benedict, who’d been pushed to level 11 faster than any of them could dream of. The few delvers who they’d been close to had been killed, kidnapped, or moved along as they’d passed the second Bronze watershed.

As they made their orders and ate whatever they wanted, effectively unlimited in what and how much they could buy, Astrid allowed herself a smile. It was nearly time, and she was with friends she could trust to fight hard and enjoy the lives they led.

***

“Yes, to Brighid Spellblade. I’m her daughter, and even if I wasn’t, I’ve given you the information and the payment, so go already.”

Astrid squinted at the messenger, gesturing for him to leave. He’d heard that she was leaving town, and seemed somehow concerned that that would make her money not good. As she evaluated him, Astrid wondered if she should even trust that the letter would be delivered. The established system was such that the “sender” of any letter would pay half the price while the receiver would deliver the other half upon reception, but not being able to come back and complain to her was seemingly offputting to the man. He’d heard of her slightly famous mother and seemed to doubt that Brighid would want to pay the other half of the letter coming her way.

“Do you think it’s going to be any better in Purcell?” Benedict asked. “I mean, they’ve got a larger Dungeon branch, so more people are there, do you think that’ll be a positive or negative thing?”

“I’m just hoping for positive outcomes in general, not allowing myself to think about anything specific,” Astrid answered, looking up to the heavens to see if maybe that would somehow help her. There was no way to know what the future would hold, but having some hope wouldn’t do her wrong, would it?

“Well, if we have you and Muti haul the sled into Purcell,” Benedict mused, “then I bet we can make them think that we have you domesticated, or something like that. Then, getting the people to not hate you as much might be a bit easier.”

“Yes, a famously good decision,” Skandr scoffed, “deceiving everybody into making them think that people aren’t who they are, and are instead, slaves, so that way when the truth comes out, they trust us so much more. Perfect plan, no notes.”

“You know, that’s not the most flattering way to put my idea.”

“Well, if the truth makes your ideas seem like garbage, then it just might be that your ideas were garbage. How’s that sound? Because, all else told, I did nothing but put your plan in plain terms. Next time, keep your mouth shut and don’t say stupid things. I mean, come on.” Skandr’s voice dripped with disappointment.

“At this point, you should know that I’m very good at trying to be funny while also failing miserably to do so. If this is what tips you over the balance of dealing with me, I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say but that I don’t think I’m going to stop being dumb and impulsive anytime soon.” Benedict shrugged, then turned to Astrid and Muti. “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thought, and I should have put more than a half of a second’s planning into it. Trying to be funny, ended up being an arse, and I was wrong.”

“You are a fool. That is why you delve when you are led by your tongue, not your strength or mind.” Muti shrugged. “I have learned this of you. You are forgiven, though you will learn to sing one of my songs in repentance.”

Astrid pursed her lips but nodded in acceptance of the apology, and Felix stepped forward to add his own opinion.

“Yeah, it’s enough. We already knew you were dumb, that’s not gonna change.” The Bodyguard slapped the other man on the back hard enough to send him forward two steps. Benedict grunted, shook his fist, and settled down into looking at the wheels temporarily mounted on the sled.

“Do we have any replacements for these things?“

“I bought a dozen and the tools to replace them.“ Astrid answered as she looked at her fellows. “We ready to go?“

“Purcell waits for us!“ Benedict shouted as he stepped forward into the lead.