Chapter 30 - Lets Have a Drink (1/2)
Some people dubbed Saltbrook the city of arches. It was a cliche name in Jeremy's opinion, but it wasn't necessarily wrong, either.
The enormous trade hub had an unbelievably large population, easily marking it as the largest settlement on the continent by a considerable margin. Not bad for what was once a simple riverside outpost for a salt mine, located in the middle of lifeless, arid-nowhere a millennia prior. As a result of the impressive density, the population had a tendency to build upward. The plethora of adobe bricks, carts of stone from the quarries, and entire caravans of imported wood from the mountainous northern forests and vast western swamplands, all reinforced by fleets of high-level carpenters and stonemasons, allowed for the construction of ultradense building complexes, many containing upwards of a dozen floors and hundreds of lodgings, store fronts, and more.
With so many massive buildings so tightly packed together, navigation around the city was a huge issue, especially considering a sizeable percentage of the population relied on foot traffic. From circumventing the maze of buildings to constantly ascending and descending numerous flights of stairs all day long, it simply wasn't practical. The architects of old had been forced to get creative, designing the city with shortcuts in mind. Throughout the city, buildings were lined with arching bridges that crisscrossed over the roadways, many wide enough to allow multiple carriages to pass at once without risk of scratching the paint. Tunnels and other open corridors were intentionally lined throughout the large structures, allowing for people to pass through buildings unimpeded. Ramps and stairs lined the walls of every building for transversing layers quickly. With residential communities so tightly interwoven with commercial wards, most people could live their entire lives without ever having to travel more than a few kilometers on any given trip. No matter where one looked, it was impossible not to see the arches that lined the commonfolk districts like a spiderweb, sometimes rampant enough to leave whole streets in perpetual shadow.
Needless to say, most of the overcrowding was limited to the poor side of the city, but when was that not the case? For the bounty hunter, it merely meant that finding anyone in this hive of wary eyes and existential depression was next to impossible.
Jeremy grimaced as he wiped his bloodied knuckles off on the unconscious man's tunic. Checking his surroundings, he kicked the limp body back into the shadows of the underpass. He made sure the body was face-down so he wouldn't choke on his own blood and broken teeth.
The hunter let out a deep sigh.
Okay, he have lost his temper for a moment there, but honestly, could anyone blame him? He had been hunting down hearsay apparitions within the underbelly of this overgrown, bloated heap of corruption and filth for the last eight months already. He had long been pushed past his limit. Six months just for a hint of a direction, and another two spent picking for a needle in a haystack. His pride as a hunter was at the lowest it had ever been. So, in his humble opinion, it was understandable if the pressure had gotten to him a bit.
The man straightened his Aura-nullifying cloak and made sure his equipment was in order after the minor scuffle. The lead-lined fabric was far too unwieldy for his taste, but he still made an effort to respect the laws of the city. Jeremy wasn't some low-life who preyed on the innocent. He worked to help people by dealing with threats. He was the kind of person people when things got bad. Every kid wanted to grow up and be a famous adventurer hero, but few people understood that real heroes couldn't be afraid to get their hands dirty once in a while. Jeremy was one such hero. He ran his fingers through his long, blonde hair, straightening it.
The bounty hunter pulled out a small notebook and jotted down his most recent findings as he walked back into the bustling, sunlit slums. A few more names were added to the list, a few more locations to scope out. After months of collecting information, which took a surprisingly painful amount of digging to scrounge up, he finally had enough information on the individuals directly involved in the trade to start making a move.
Alexa, former member of the Platinum Fists adventuring party, no surname. She was the individual who brought the egg to the black market in the first place.
Marketh Wintersfield, academic with a specialization in magical fungi, born and raised in Saltbrook but has been traveling abroad for some years. He returned to the city late last summer and made the purchase shortly after.
, black market beast trader, no surname. Apprehended by city guards one month prior. Deceased.
The level 32 [Dreadtracker Pugilist] crossed out the final name, having squeezed as much information as he could out of her before calling the guards.
Jeremy pondered the other two names. Given the academic had a confirmed purchase of an egg, he was leaning towards tracking him down first but ultimately decided against it. The mushroom man was a buyer, not a seller. Plus, he had reason to believe the man had already left Saltbrook. He'd still have to hunt the man down, unfortunately, but getting rid of the source was paramount, lest any more eggs be sold while he was out of town.
Jeremy continued walking down the crowded street before twisting off to the side and up a flight of stairs. He shoved the notebook back into his pocket. He swore as he nearly tripped over a random piece of trash left on the staircase, one that was particularly wobbly and absent of any guardrails. Damn, he loathed this city. He kicked the rotted object off the edge, letting it fall the two stories with a clatter. Honestly, he was practically a saint for going through such efforts to save these sorry pieces of work. If it weren't for his sense of duty, he would have already abandoned this city to its fate.
Well, that and his contract, of course.
He grimaced as he thought back to the magical contract he had signed. With that piece of paper being one of the only two things that had kept his feet in this asinine shithole of a settlement, he had read over it far more than enough times to know each word by heart.
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Not wanting to walk all the way across the city to his usual inn, he found a cheap one nearby and rented a room for a single night. After dropping off his pack, he made his way to the public baths down the hall. It was still a number of hours before the sun fell, so the bathhouse was largely unoccupied, giving him free rein of the lukewarm water.
The [Dreadtracker Pugilist] briefly activated the ability he had based his entire class off of. He held up his palm and let Mana flow through it. Having long since entered and surpassed the Mind Stage, Mana glowed in his vision as vividly as reality itself. The lights danced and twisted, taking shape at his command.
A shiver of unease traveled down his spine at the magic displayed. As a [Dreadtracker Pugilist], his entire modus operandi was built around finding and eliminating hidden threats as quickly as possible, primarily with his fists, they became an issue. This skill, [Dreadsense], a cousin of minor divination magic, showed him how big of a threat his marks were likely to become if he didn't stop them.
And the threat level had increased. Again.
Letting the skill dissipate, he reclined in the uncomfortable tub and considered his plans for the coming weeks. He was eager to finish up this mission as quickly as possible. Before it was too late.
Jeremy strode along the wooden walkway, passing through the tavern's vestibule with a casual air. This was a larger establishment, one located relatively close to the city's western gate. It was still midday, but most of the tables had already been taken by wary travelers and hired guards fresh off the road. Sweat and grime coated every article of clothing, and the stench of weeks of travel through warm climates was enough to make the eyes water. The hunter tried not to vomit as the smell hit his improved senses like a fist to the face.
Successfully keeping his breakfast down, he took a quick glance around the dimly lit room. And, as expected, his mark was lit up like a beacon to his Mana sight. The level 25 fighter made no attempt to restrain her Aura. While still in the Mortal Realm, it wasn't strong enough to do any damage, but the wide breadth around her table made it obvious how uncomfortable a combat class user's Aura was for the average person.
For him, this was a perfect opportunity. A nice, quiet corner of the room was a perfect place to gather information before things inevitably came to blows. Finding his target had taken a bit of tracking, and he didn't dare confront her in an open street where she could run, but it seemed everything had worked out in the end. As much as he hated dealing with amateurs, it was often convenient when his mark didn't bother to do the smart thing, like sitting near any doors or windows they could escape from.
Jeremy meandered to the bar and ordered himself an overpriced mug of light ale before making his way toward the lone former adventurer.
"Hey, is this seat taken?"
Alexa looked up, unamused. "I'm not interested."
"Don't worry, you're not my type."
He ignored her scowl as he took in her appearance. He noted the prosthetic left arm, heavily enchanted, likely quite expensive. She handled it awkwardly, clearly unused to its weight. A recent purchase, then?
Her eyes had heavy bags under them, and her face bore clear signs of prolonged depression and anxiety, but her eyes carried a light of determination and purpose that heavily contrasted the unmaintained rags she wore. So, something changed for her, and let her get her feet back on the ground. Almost guaranteed to be related to the arm, somehow. Or, more likely, the arm was an impulse purchase as a result of this newfound purpose in life.
He noticed a certain stiffness under her waist-length shawl. Leather armor was the image that came to mind. Like with the arm, her movements were a bit clumsy but not entirely so. They were movements of someone used to wearing something heavier but had been forced to downgrade. Given the price of the prosthetic, it was likely due to funds. Regardless, people didn't tend to walk around the city wearing armor unless they were preparing for a fight or planning to leave, and it only took him a second to spot the packed travel bag stuffed under the table.
There was a flicker of movement from under her attire. A small animal of some kind? Something to keep an eye on.
He sat down without waiting for a response.
Alexa spluttered as he sat down, almost spilling her drink with incredulity.
"Name's Jeremy. Nice to meet you." He held out his hand as if to shake, his tone friendly and disarming.
The adventurer just stared.
"Not a fan of handshakes? That's fine. Not everybody cares for that kind of thing." He pulled his hand back and took a long sip of his drink. Noticing that she still hadn't spoken, he continued. "I don't usually care much for joints like this. A little too bland for my taste. But, it was cheap and close by." He shrugged.
"Fuck off." She made a crude gesture with her metallic hand while polishing off the rest of her drink with the other. She made to stand up when Jeremy butted in.
"Hey, no need to be so rude. I'm just trying to have a friendly chat." He nodded at the drink. "Here, let me buy you another round. You look like you're having a pretty terrible day. Tell me about it. Sometimes, venting to a stranger is a great way to get things off your chest. I mean no funny business, honest."
He noted her fingers twitching towards her coin purse before letting the fingers pause, curl, and then relax. So, financial issues might be a bit worse than he had guessed. This last round might have been already scraping the bottom of her pouch. He looked at her gaze. She stared at the drink longingly for a moment before firming her gaze and looking away. She bent over and scooped up her pack. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not interested. I've got somewhere to be."
The blonde man grimaced internally. Time for a more direct approach.
"That's a nice piece of work you've got there." He leisurely pointed to her arm. "I bet it cost a small fortune." He took a sip, watching her closely.
Her posture immediately turned defensive. "I don't know who the hell you are, but I have no interest in chatting. Fuck. Off." "She turned around and started to stomp off.
"You selling any more... produce?"
She froze. There was a heartbeat before she slowly turned back around. "What did you just say?"
"I'm interested in buying if you know where I can find a few more?"
A dagger was in her hand before he finished his sentence. She pointed it at him, the steel tip quivering. "How... you. How fucking dare you."
Ah, a little too direct. Touched a nerve.
He set down his mug and rose to his feet, giving her a cocky grin. "Make you a deal. You give me your source, and I don't pull that information out the hard way, yeah?"
The room had gone deathly silent. Jeremy let his cloak fall to the floor, allowing his own impressive Aura to fill the room. If a High Mortal Realm's Aura was uncomfortable, a Low Elite Realm's Aura was enough to send the room's inhabitants fleeing. Not that anyone wanted to be near a fight between high-level individuals. Collateral damage was always a given.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. "Last chance, lowlife."
Even though Jeremy was at a higher level, his class wasn't a pure combat class like Alexa's, so the fight would be much more evenly matched. He cracked his neck, excited. Man, it felt good being the hero.
There was a flash of a blade... And then there was chaos.
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Should I wrap class and skill names in square brackets?