Chapter 12: Talentless - Chapter 12

Exhausted but victorious, they returned to Penrith, receiving strange looks from the townspeople who wondered why five beat-up and bloody adventurers were making their way towards their town hall. Boh stared longingly at the tavern they passed, but one look from Ivy nipped that in the bud. They stopped just before the familiar sight of the beat-up town hall building, wary of the screaming match that was going on inside.

“Gods, Lauryn, they’re certainly dead by now. It's been a whole night. I bet the baron sent them here on purpose, just so poor Mayor Rhubarb would have a brief glimmer of hope to snuff out. He wants me vulnerable!”

“Have some faith, Rhubarb, you negative lout.”

“I had faith yesterday, Lauryn, now it’s gone. It vanished along with the only good adventures in this whole kingdom.”

“Don’t say that!” The chamberlain shouted. “The gods will hear you!”

“Oh really, so they’re just listening all the time, waiting for blasphemous Rhubarb, the mayor of shit-town to curse them?”

“You’re a buffoon, Rhubarb. A pessimistic mayor and a poor excuse for a husband. Which reminds me…how dare you insult my cake!?”

“What?”

“You told the adventurers our land was drier than ‘my sorry excuse for a wife’s attempt at a cake’. Really Rhubarb? I believe you might have mentioned a mistress as well, in one of your endless rants. You’re lucky they didn’t know I was your wife back then, or I would have slapped you right in your glum face. Also, I worked hard on that cake, and you told me you liked it, you big fat liar.”

“I see, so that’s why you’re so upset. Ha! Look me in the eyes and tell me that cake was moist, Lauryn! Tell me!”

Trying to stifle their laughter, Rayden and the others waited for a lull in the “conversation” to make themselves known.

“The heroes have returned victorious,” Jim proclaimed out of nowhere, strolling into the room with vigor. “Good morning, Mayor, Chamberlain.”

He tipped his hat in greeting as the two leaders turned in surprise. The rest of the crew filed into the room, and their eyes only grew wider. Rayden knew the five of them made for a shocking sight, covered in dirt and viscera from their delve, but both leaders still appeared excited to see them after recovering from their initial nausea. It was a pleasant reunion.

“Thank goodness, you’ve made it back,” the chamberlain smiled. “We were worried something had happened.”

The mayor puffed out his chest and emphatically shook his head.

“Of course they’re fine, Lauryn, how could you ever doubt such brave and capable warriors?”

“Your faith is much appreciated, Mayor,” Quill said, concealing a smirk. “We heard you express your confidence in us before we entered.”

The mayor blanched, and his wife began to laugh.

“Uh…sorry about that. But…I am truly glad to see you alive, we both are. So, how did it go?”

“It went well,” Rayden said, tired but happy to be back. “The goblins are dead, and the dungeon gate has been taken care of. There were some…difficulties, but we dealt with them.”

“So it was real?”

“You bet a crow's black ass it was,” Boh snorted.

“We were almost dragged into the depths by a hundred limbed sea monster and devoured,” Jim explained without context.

The mayor looked at the elf in horror, but Rayden gave him a reassuring nod.

“The gate was real, but it’s been cleared.”

The mayor bobbed his head as he looked around the room with a pensive expression. Rayden was originally going to suggest the mayor keep the dungeon secret on account of the attention it would bring, but he had decided it wasn’t his place to say.

Thankfully, Rhubarb was on the same page.

“I see…that is troubling,” he said, narrowing his bushy eyebrows. “I think we will keep that to ourselves for now, and we’d very much appreciate it if you did as well, at least until you’ve left the barony. If Gustav were to find out, I fear we’d all perish. That greedy old fuck would leap at the chance to send us to the gallows.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Rayden promised. “We don’t intend to tell anyone.”

He meant it, and not just because he feared for the town’s safety. They had cleared a gate without permission, a death sentence for everyone involved if any real power were to find out. Even though the others already had their Talents, he doubted they would be shown mercy. It was one thing if a gate appeared in the Feral Lands while some kingdom approved Attuned were nearby, but their vigilantism would be regarded as borderline treason.

“Thank you, kind sirs,” the mayor bowed. “You’ve helped us dearly.”

“Yes, thank you so much, Rayden, Boh, Quill, and Ivy,” the chamberlain echoed.

Rayden smiled, but was unsure of what to say next. They had helped Penrith in the short term, but the events his benefactor had set in motion were going to make the mayor's job much harder in the long run. In fact, it could only be months before a head-on collision with the baron was imminent. The town’s future gnawed at his conscience, but Rayden was still wondering what to do about it.

A jingling sound distracted him from his worries. He looked up just in time to watch the stout mayor fish out a bag of coins and toss it his way.

“Your five silver, friends, and if I had more, I would give you all of it,” Rhubarb said with gusto. “Please let me reiterate my gratitude: thank you from the bottom of my big angry heart.”

As the mayor beamed at them, Rayden passed out four of the coins to his companions, then took the final one and rubbed it between his thumb and finger. He was low on funds as always, and a silver would go a long way out here, but his comrades had made clear he had a reputation to uphold.

“Keep mine,” he said firmly, passing it back to Rhubarb. “A gate was more than enough of a reward for me.”

The mayor looked at him like he was crazy, then nearly fainted when Boh walked over and returned his share as well.

“Wait, wait, no, please, you truly do not have to do this,” the mayor protested.

“If you don’t want it, Rhub-man, give it to the smith boy,” Boh shrugged. “I don’t take gold from those who need it more…and I feel for the poor sod.”

The mayor looked to his wife, who smiled approvingly.

“OK…if you insist.”

When Quill and Jim both moved to hand back their pay, Rayden was scared Rhubarb was going to have a heart attack. The man’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, and his grin was bordering on manic.

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“Did we die, Lauryn?” He asked. “Is this a higher realm where people are kind and charitable?”

“Our Rayden’s spirit is rather contagious,” Jim winked.

“Indeed. I require no payment, please keep this, Mayor Rhubarb,” Quill said with formality, firmly putting the coin in the mayor’s palm.

With four of five coins refunded, everyone turned to Ivy. Rayden was shocked to see a nervous reluctance on her normally composed features. Was their taciturn captain—the same woman who had made a show of praising his generosity—secretly a skinflint?

“Fine,” she eventually relented, handing the mayor her coin with one last wistful look. “The hoard dwindles…”

“Well, well, well,” Boh said gleefully. “Our big ‘ol lass is as cheap as she is tall. Who’d’ve thought?”

Ivy glared at the dwarf, who took a few steps backward until he reached a safe distance.

“Thank you so much,” Chamberlain Lauryn said with a curtsy. “You may have saved us twice over now, with taxes coming due just next month. If there’s any alternative reward we can give you instead of coin, please let us know.”

A smile formed on Boh’s bearded face, and Rayden knew what was coming next.

“A night of ale on the house?”

“Ha!” The mayor laughed. “I think Cassie and Darron will be amenable to that. I’ll go talk to them…hmmm?”

He tilted his head at the sound of rapid footsteps, then all seven of them turned around as a middle-aged man dressed in an apron charged into the room.

“Darron?” Rhubarb said with a concerned expression. “Speak of the bar fondling devil. What’s wrong?”

The man spat out a few incomprehensible words as he tried to catch his breath, wiping sweat off his neat black hairline and panting like a dog. Despite his disheveled state, Darron was an unusually handsome man, with deep blue eyes and a chiseled jawline. A raised eyebrow from Quill suddenly made Rayden very jealous.

“Ba-bandits,” Darron finally got out. “A lot of them, Rhubarb. They want to speak to the town's leader, and they’re making their way to you know.”

The mayor’s face fell, and his good natured grin slid right off his face. For just a brief second, Rayden saw what lay under the man’s mask of bluster: anger, fear, and helplessness. Rhubarb’s pessimism was not just a big joke, but the cost of shouldering a burden for the town he loved but could not always protect. Rayden had watched his mother wither away under the same stress.

Rhubarb was probably thinking something like: Why is my town paying for protection if bandits are running amok and no one cares?

Sadly, the answer was obvious. It was avarice, corruption, and the nobles who let it fester. Rayden had seen similar situations all over Sepith and a small town in the Boot probably had it even worse. What did a baron care if a town in the middle of nowhere was pillaged every so often? Penrith’s tax money was a pittance, barely worth shedding a tear over.

When you saw the world in gold, a few people mattered little.

Rhubarb turned to the adventurers with a desperate plea in his eyes.

“Will you stand with us…please?”

The embarrassment on his face, the humiliation of having to beg those more powerful than him, almost made Rayden sick. He was tired of men and women having to grovel for protection.

“I will, gladly,” Rayden sneered, before looking around to gauge his comrades' intent.

The four of them had already helped far beyond what was expected, and he wouldn’t hold a grudge if they decided to leave now. However, he would think less of them. He couldn’t help it; that’s just who he was. Thankfully, they returned his gaze with resolve.

“I am a bit tired, but what man can say no to a little extra bloodshed?” Jim said excitedly.

“Of course,” Quil said, taking her staff off her back. “Rhubarb, your town has taken enough of a beating, as far as I’m concerned.”

Ivy simply nodded, while only Boh looked a tad reluctant.

“I don’t know if you’re listening, Charity, goddess of the hearth,” he grumbled. “But if you keep delaying my next mug of ale, I’m gonna end my life as a sober atheist. The first one in the history of dwarves.”

Despite his complaint, the stout man raised his hammer in solidarity.

“We’ll share a drink soon, Boh,” Rayden promised. “Just one more fight, my friend.”

“Always good to take out the trash before a meal, I suppose,” Boh shrugged.

Rayden nodded approvingly, before noticing that the three residents of Penrith in the room were staring at him in awe. After all, a random group of adventurers who had already saved them once were about to do so again, and without asking for a reward.

He smiled at them, reminded of why he kept trying to help, in hope of a world where guardian angels could be counted on. A world and kingdom where everyday people had better expectations of those more powerful than them.

Rayden’s new path forward would start with Penrith and a group of bandits, and maybe one day, end atop an empty throne.

That said, he was also itching to try out his new Talent, as well as his shiny new daggers. But altruism, principled kindness, and a better world were far more sacred than such trivial whims, of course.

“Lauryn, Darron, get out of here now,” Rhubarb commanded, newly emboldened. “Circle around while we talk to the cutpurse rats, and get anyone brave enough ready to attack from behind if a fight breaks out.”

His two subordinates nodded, then everyone followed them out the door and into the street. Rayden grabbed his new enchanted weapons and began to flip them around in his eager hands. He was more than prepared to stand up to some bullies today.

“Let’s at least give them a chance to damn themselves,” Quill said, getting a sense of Rayden’s mood. “At the very least, they haven’t attacked anyone yet."

“Please do,” Rhubarb agreed. “I would prefer this to end peacefully. Even if we can defeat them with your help, it won’t be worth it if we lose someone in the process. We don’t have fighters in Penrith. Our people will go down fast.”

Rayden bowed his head to the mayor.

“Understood.”

As vengeful and worked up as he felt, a diplomatic resolution was acceptable. However, he wasn’t optimistic it would happen, and he knew the mayor wasn’t either. Most bandits were smart enough to know the value of extortion. If you murder your victims in cold blood, you can only pillage once. If you rob them instead, they might live long enough for you to squeeze them a second time.

“Good morning to you!” A gruff voice called out.

A hulking, muscle-bound man emerged from a corridor a moment later, shirtless and smiling. His long curly black hair was restrained by a red head band, the only clothing item he wore besides a pair of brown trousers. A large double-sided ax hung down his back, sharp and scary.

“I’m Gordo,” the cheerful brute said, sauntering forward.

“And this is my merry band.”

An army of bandits slowly poured in behind him, saturating the town square with close to thirty imposing-looking bodies. Rayden guessed that being shirtless was celebrated in this particular brigand culture because the handful of women in their group wore canvas bindings that covered only their chests.

Each of the lackeys had an ax of some sort, in many shapes, metals, and sizes. There was not a sword or dagger in sight. He would have thought it was a strange trend if not for his unique life experience on the kingdom’s outskirts. Having been all over Sepith, Rayden had learned that, for some reason, bandits fucking loved axes.

“Hello, Gordo,” the mayor said calmly. “What brings you to our humble town?”

The bandit chief took a slow step forward, then bowed.

“Thank you for the kind greeting, sir. You must be the mayor, is that right?”

Rayden noticed that the majority of Gordo’s oafish minions were too busy swaggering to soak in their surroundings, but a few of the more perceptive bandits were looking at him and his crew with trepidation. They probably hadn’t expected anyone here to be properly armed.

“Yes, I am. My name is Rhubarb,” the mayor answered.

“Nice to meet ya’s, Rhubarb. Seems like you got yourself a nice little band of guards there.”

He gestured over to Rayden and company. There was a sudden spike in tension until Jim stepped up and began to do his strange thing.

“Hello, Gordo!” Jim said enthusiastically. “We’ve heard much about you and your gaggle of good-natured fellows.”

“Uh, you has?”

“Why of course, and we certainly wouldn’t want to get into a quarrel with such a charming group, right?”

Gordo scratched his head and looked around at his cronies.

“Uh, no, yous wouldn’t want that.”

“Indeed, Gordo!” The garrulous elf smiled. “So why don’t you have your talk with the mayor, and then we’ll pick the bones of what’s left!”

The big bandit continued to look very confused, but eventually, he shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

Rayden had to admit that, for all Jim’s eccentricities, the man was good at talking sometimes.

“Well, first, let me say that we mean you no harm, mayor, sir,” Gordo said, returning his attention to Rhubarb. “My lot may be an ugly bunch, but they’re good folk when it matters.”

The mayor blinked at that, but remained wary.

“That’s good to hear. How may I be of service?”

“Well, I’m awfully sorry to impose an’ all. It's just… money's been a little tight of late. We all would love to live off the land an’ all that, but it don’t pay the bills. So…I was wondering if you could spare us a bit of coin.”

If there was any truth to the man’s claims, it was undermined by the laughter of his henchmen. As the mayor’s expression hardened, Rayden opened his palm flat and began to feel out the air around the group of bandits, manipulating it as gently as he could with tendrils of mana.

He technically didn’t need to use his hand to activate his Talent, but the motion helped him visualize his intentions.

“Hmmm, I see,” Rhubarb nodded, having recovered his mask of patience. “That’s quite understandable. We are enduring tough times as well. However, I think we can part with one silver, if only to help good men stay true to themselves.”

A not-so-subtle grin flashed across the lead brute’s face.

“Ah, a silver, huh? How kind. That’s awfully generous, sir. Right cordial of ya.”

He turned around and faced his brutish fellows.

“What do you think, boys?”

A chorus of jeers and boos rang out in the square until their chief finally turned back around with a shit-eating grin.

“Hmm, it seems that just won’t be enough, I’m sorry, mayor, it’s just…on account of hard times, you know?”

Boh tightened his grip on his hammer. Quill readied her staff. Ivy bent her knees, ready to charge in at any moment, and Jim began to subtly gather purple mana around his arms.

Rayden focused, stacking hot and cold air together in between a thin barrier of mana. He didn’t understand exactly what he was doing, but his new instincts guided him, confident in the end result.

“So what exactly would be enough, Gordo?” The mayor asked with a sigh.

“How about this, Rhubarb, sir?” the bandit smiled. “Why don’t you show us everything you have, and then I’ll tell you exactly how much we need. I’m not the best at finances, but seeing coins all stacked up together really helps me count, ya know?”

At that moment, Rhubarb’s calm face erupted with hatred. He had reached his boiling point, the final indignity of a man who was used to being spat on by tyrants while swallowing his pride. No matter how level-headed a person was, there was always a limit.

Rayden had seen it in his mother’s eyes when she was disrespected in her own home. Back then, he had cowered at the table, but he was no longer a child trembling in his seat. He was a sword in the mayor's hand, ready to unleash hell and send the bandits to its depths.

The air around the bandits began to vibrate, bracing for a wrath unleashed.

“I see, thank you for making your intentions clear, Gordo,” Rhubarb said coldly. “What a shame. In that case, I have a proposal for you. How about this: you take that big axe on your back and slice off the boiled eggs you call your testicles—and having lost the ability to procreate, you finally achieve one good deed in your miserable fucking life.”