Chapter 47 — Trouble Finds the Unwary

  Toren knew it was not a good look.

  The Kale guy gave him a bag of coins to give to his tenants, and what did he do? Rush off to a brothel to spend them. How could it be seen any other way?

  Appearances aside, this was still a bad idea. Toren kept his [Danger Sensing] sharp, feeding it everything he was tracking with [Mana Sensing] and [Combat Awareness] as he distantly followed a group of [Sailors] into the less well-off southern side of town—the side of town more likely to be under the control of the Conclave.

  Overhearing the [Sailors] discussing how they’d introduce their fellow to the ‘charms’ of the girls that worked at Viella’s, Toren resigned himself to Jianfu having put a finger on the scales of chance and not-so-subtly guiding his decision. When the Thieving Fox offered an opportunity, it was often wise to take it. Or, so the saying went.

  A few potential Conclave spotters loitered in the occasional alleyway as the flow of pedestrians mixed along the raised walkways and the cobble streets below. None made suspicious moves after he passed.

  Maybe he was being too paranoid.

  When the brothel came into view, Toren snorted in amusement. The building was painted in vivid purple, pinks, and yellows, the establishment’s name written diagonally across the front in large stylized script shaped like well-endowed women taking various provocative poses.

  The [Bouncer] at the entrance let the [Sailors] in after a brief warning to the ‘new guy’, a warning Toren got to experience himself when his turn to enter came: “Cause trouble inside, and visiting again will be the least of your worries.”

  The garishly mauve interior and lingering musky floral scent that greeted Toren drew a grimace.

  A statue to Uyenth shaped from a marbled blue stone dominated the entryway. The statue was clad in flowing sheer fabric that did little to protect the moon goddess’ modesty. How the goddess of water and beauty in motion would feel about how the statue was presented, he couldn’t say. As a goddess with fae origins, it was possible she might find it amusing.

  Sounds of music, the indistinct blend of conversations, and rowdiness drifted from deeper in the shop. The unlikelihood of a conversation being overheard was a good sign that this was a ‘friendly’ meeting that had been requested of him.

  Past the statue, a bruiser of a guy was finishing up collecting the [Sailors]’ knives and sabers and handing them to a Professionless girl in maid-like attire.

  Having to hand over his weapons was a less good sign, raising the likelihood this location had been chosen specifically to ambush him while unarmed.

  Toren still stepped forward when it was his turn and started removing his bow and quiver, enchanted sword, metal club, bandolier of knives—when had he become a man-at-arms?!

  Even the bruiser was rolling his eyes. “New patron? Four silver chits for entry, and you’ll need to hand over your weapons for safekeeping if you want to spend time with the girls. Unless you’d like to make arrangements with Madam Viella, have a seat and enjoy food, drink, and entertainment until one of the girls makes an offer.”

  He had to pay just to get in?

  The tier-2 woman lounging behind a counter puffing on a glass pipe connected to some sort of alchemical apparatus was likely the ‘madam’.

  “Thanks,” Toren offered with a pleasant enough smile as he handed over the coins. He wanted to grumble, but fitting in and not being memorable was how these games were played.

  The maid-girl returned to take his weapons wherever they kept them, and offered with arms full, “Um, I can take your cloak, too. If you’d like?”

  Toren winked at her from under the hood of his cloak. “I think you’ve got enough to carry there.”

  The girl blushed and ran off, seemingly embarrassed for some reason.

  Another maid-attired teen awaited him once the bruiser let him by. “Hi, I’m Chelly! Welcome to Vielle’s Vivacious Vixens! Do you have a table preference?”

  Having a pretty good idea how these establishments worked, Toren held up a silver chit for the girl. “Some place discreet. I’m meeting someone.”

  “I’ve got just the spot!” the bouncy girl said, claiming the chit. She spun around with a flair of her skirts and cheerfully escorted him toward the sounds of activity and into a large open hall.

  Booths and tables surrounded an oval stage with a woman dancing while striking and shaking a percussive hand instrument and another playing a tall harp. Like the statue of Uyneth, the pair were effectively nude even with sheer fabric pretending to hide the important bits.

  The booth Chelly led him to was ideally away from the enchanted lighting of the stage and windows, and Toren eased himself onto the curved bench ridiculously upholstered in pink with the kind of divotted cushion likely only seen in nobles’ manors.

  “Simple drinks and snacks are included with your entry. Would you like to start with an ale or maybe something more adventurous? The jungle provides a great many fun fruit juices and liquors.”

  After the entry cost, Toren certainly didn’t want to settle for anything as plain as ale. He gave the girl a smile. “I’ll trust you to surprise me with something fun then, Chelly.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Before leaving, Chelly grinned and dipped just enough to give him a glimpse down her dress. “Someone will be right back with your fun.”

  He could only shake his head in bemusement. The shop girls were certainly working their Skills.

  Alone for the moment, Toren let his gaze take in the clientele and the layout of the establishment. He had mostly been focused on using [Mana Sensing] and [Combat Awareness] to keep track of potential threats, but now that he was looking with his eyes, the women serving the food and drink or sitting with the ‘patrons’ were similarly attired to the dancer and harp player—the ones old enough to have Profession Cores, he soon determined.

  Toren was relieved to note all of the Professionless apprentice-aged girls wore modest maid attire like Chelly and the one who took his weapons. A bit surprising for a location like Farharbor, but maybe due to the shop’s buxom theme?

  The [Sailors] that had arrived before him were already having a good time, loudly cheering from one of the stage-side tables as the dancer’s chest jiggled for them with a particularly percussive and shoulder shimmying stretch of the performance.

  A different maid-attired girl, this one also blessed by the goddess of life and nurturing just as much as Chelly had been, approached Toren’s booth with a glass of teal liquid and bowl in hand. When she leaned forward to place the bowl and drink, she gave a similar view of her blessing, and her long black hair spilled out from her ear to be carefully tucked back in place with a now-free hand and a warm smile.

  “Hi, I’m Ressa! Chelly said you were looking for a bit of fun before meeting someone. This is one of my favorites: chilled zefa and our specialty hot twists! Please enjoy~”

  Toren reached forward to take hold of the surprisingly clear and perfectly rounded glass. “Thanks, Ressa.”

  The brightly-colored drink smelled sweet and condensation gathered on the glass. A mint leaf had been placed as if cut by the lip of the glass. Rather fancy for a ‘free’ drink. The oil-fried ‘hot twists’ in the wood bowl didn’t look any less expensive, sharply smelling of spices and orrog fat.

  Poisoning him would certainly be easier than an ambush, but would normal poisons even work on him anymore?

  “Is it not to your liking?” Ressa asked, tilting her head and innocently blinking as she again retucked her hair.

  Toren smiled and held up a disarming hand to reassure the girl. “Ah no, this is-”

  “Hoh, Bro, you’ve been busy. I got info for you. Buy me a meal,” Vim’s voice came from out of nowhere.

  No, not nowhere, the voice came from what appeared to be Vim sliding onto the cushion opposite, but Toren’s [Mana Sensing] said there was only air where the boy should have been.

  Illusion magic?

  Surely that was impossible for a boy with only a Skill Core. However Vim was doing it, Toren could only think the boy was sure to become terrifyingly powerful when his Profession Day finally came.

  Toren sighed. “Fine.”

  “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m gonna make this totally worth your while.”

  “This guest, a friend of yours, Vim?” Ressa asked while scooting onto the cushioned bench next to Vim. Her suddenly sharp eyes appraised him and rendered their judgement, “Rugged, and driven enough to not put points in Appearance.”

  “A bro from the same orphanage. Toren’s a good guy. He’s the one that got me here.”

  The girl raised a disapproving eyebrow. “And he left you on the streets to fend for yourself?”

  Toren snorted. “More like extorted me then disappeared.”

  The girl laughed and snuck an arm around Vim’s head, pulling his cheek against her bosom and ruffling his hair. “This cutie? Now your just being mean, Mr. Toren.”

  “Oy, Ressa. You’re messing with my image,” the boy complained, earning more smothering and a bit of mocking.

  That Ressa could physically interact with Vim proved that he wasn’t an illusion even if Toren still couldn’t sense the boy’s Skill Core or presence at all.

  “You’ve had your fun, Ressa, and verified that Toren isn’t a threat. Now shoo, shoo.”

  Ressa chuckled as she let Vim go and slipped out of the booth, putting on a fake pout. “Alright fine, I’ll get you both meals then and leave you to your big boy talk. I get it, no girls allowed, huh?”

  “Seems you made a friend,” Toren observed, trying not to laugh as the girl left and Vim straightened out his shirt and mussed hair.

  “Something like that. I have an arrangement with the old hag who runs this place. Let’s just say she doesn’t care if bad things happen to patrons that get rough with the girls. Once the creeps leave, they are fair game.”

  “I see.”

  Serious persona back in place, Vim leaned forward. “Alright, so here’s the thing. I’ve infiltrated the local underworld—literally. These Conclave guys actually have their secret meetings in the tunnels under the town. They are definitely up to something, something big. I suspect they are working with the Ith`zi, but I don’t have any proof yet.”

  The lizardman tribes?

  That was certainly bad news, but wouldn’t helping Ith`zi destroy Farharbor be bad for the Conclave as well?

  Toren sipped his fruity drink, feeling the chilled liquid spread liquor warmth along his tongue and throat as he considered what the cooperation could mean for the orchard and the Hatterwicks’ safety. Even if it was just diverting the [Guards] enough to delay the response to a raid, that could mean trouble for the steaders.

  Vim nodded at Toren’s reaction and took one of the fried snacks for himself, chomping down and giving it a few nonchalant crunches before swallowing. “Thought it important enough to let you know. Anyway, I heard you took out some of their guys. If you have the tokens, I’ll buy them off you for a silver rod each.”

  Toren’s brows raised. That much?

  Retrieving the odd tokens from his coin pouch, he slid them over.

  “Three, huh? And one’s a third-rank, nice. That’ll help a ton. Now I can recruit my own team.”

  A wry smile tugged at the corner of Toren’s mouth as the three silver rods he’d paid Vim almost a tenday ago actually returned to him. Judging by the sound of Vim’s coin purse, the fellow orphan was doing pretty well for himself in this new frontier life. He didn’t want to think too hard about how Vim was acquiring such wealth. The less he knew the better.

  “Glad to help out, I guess,” Toren replied and tried a length of the crunchy… pastry? Oddly savory and spicy. He took another cooling sip of his drink, the mellow warmth that followed spreading to ease the spiciness. It was an interesting feeling.

  If Vim needed a team… “The first day here, I met with some guys that might be trustworthy enough for your purpose. Three [Rogue]-types. Harlock? I think that was the guy’s name. He had two guys with goon-sounding names with him, and they were calling themselves ‘[Scouts]’. They’re part of the reason I got stuck taking care of the hatter and his family.”

  Vim shook his head in disbelief. “I know a lot of guys that would be violently jealous about someone getting to play house with such beauties, and you say ‘stuck’. Maybe you shouldn’t be so eager to seek Moreva’s release and enjoy life a little, Bro?”

  Toren could only stare. He hadn’t even noticed the boy watching him when he was with the Hatterwicks. Was it before they left the city? He could only hope that Vim was the only one with enough reason and talent to have kept eyes on him.