Séliss paused. She had to think for a bit. To weigh her words. Even if they managed to get out of there by themselves, this would take them a lot of time, time they did not have the leisure to waste.
So, why would they help them?
- You don’t really have a reason to help us, she finally responded. And that’s why I won’t ask you to put your citizens in harm’s way. We just need you to tell us the quickest route to go back to our home… before the demons ravaged our houses.
Sull furrowed his brows.
- Demons? he repeated. Tell me more.
Séliss told Chief Sull about the attack on the surface, as well as their discovery of the cultists’ corpses on the road to Neatholme. The rat-man listened to her closely, thoughtful. Once the tiefling had finished, Sull turned his gaze to Lann. The latter nodded. The group waited the hybrids’ chief’s reaction in silence, as he was looking each one of them up and down with his small rodent eye.
- You seem sincere, he finally concluded with a warm smile. If demons are indeed attacking the surface, you need to go back home as soon as possible. There is a route that would get you back to Kenabres. But…
Sull paused, hesitant, his smile changing into a worried expression.
- I am affraid to tell you it will not be a simple task…
- What do you mean? Séliss asked.
- As I told you, you are not the first ones to come see us, Sull continued. Some months ago, people from the surface came to see us.
He sighed.
- They enrolled some of our youngest warrior by promissing them “great battles” which would allow them to “gain back their past glory”... A lot of our young ones grow up with the stories of our ancestors and dream of becoming heroes themselves. When we tried to reason with them, they left the village. According to our hunters, they set up camp in the only tunnel that lead to the surface that we know of. We thought that this position had no interest, but… if they really betrayed us to obey demons… They are as worhtless as them.
Konrad shrugged.
- Let’s go see them, then. We don’t have much of a choice anyway, he simply said.
- I wouldn’t recommend it, Lann interviened. They attack on sight anyone who dares to approach. You would be better off looking for another ro-
- We don’t have time for this! Anevia exclaimed.
The scout had stayed silent until then and her sudden explosion of anger surprised everyone. Not even the guards dared to make a single sound. Realizing she had lost her temper, Anevia reassessed herself before explaining:
- As we are talking, the Crusaders are fighting against an army of demons with double agents who could turn against them at any moment. We need to warn them as soon as possible.
She clenched her hand against her torso, as if to get a hold of her heart that was becoming heavier in her chest. She was worried sick about Irabeth. What if… what if the demons had already caught her? What if she was…
Anevia was right. Now that they had proofs of infiltrated cultists in Kenabres’s army, every strategic place of the city risked being compromised. The more they waited, the more the world was in danger. Séliss looked at each of her companions. She could read in Celia’s, Konrad’s and Elemiah’s eyes a renewed determination in the face of this reality. The same she could see in her father’s soldiers’ eyes before a perilous mission. She smiled. Then she turned her attention to Lann.
- You heard the lady, she said, a challenging smile revealing her pointy teeth. They can try to attack us. We will repel anyone who dares to try to stop us on our mission.
- You seemed determined, Sull remarked, his expression becoming warm once more. Since you made your decision, you will need some gear. Lann? Take our guests to our craftsmen. I also give you the mission to accompany them to the surface.
- Understood, chief, the archer responded while hitting his chest with his fist.
Victory! The negotiations went even better than planned! Horgus stared daggers at Anevia for convincing the others of choosing the most dangerous solution, but she ignored him, relieved.
The group followed Lann out of the building. While the village seemed entirely empty when they came in, the road was suddenly filled with people. Tens of humanoids with unique shapes and sizes were scrutinizing them for head to toe, whispering among themselves. Lann did not pay attention to it and guided the group under his peers’ eyes who where spying on them from their windows and rooftops, no longer trying to hide themselves.
They ended up getting to a big square alive with activity, full of colorful stalls. A fountain of clear water surrounded by a circle of some sorts of pale vegetables, alike some products from the surface but nonetheless different, took center stage. Hybrids were trying to draw passerbys’ attention, showing them their displayed products. The adventurers from the surface felt their hearts grow heavy in front of this scene so reminiscent of the gardstone’s festival. May the crusaders have repelled the enemy…
- It’s here, Lann said. I’ll go look for a place where you can stay before we get back on the road. We’ll meet again in three hours here.
And this is how the group found themselves in such a peculiar situation. They explored the marketplace so alike what they were used to, but many meters under the ground with products vastly different from their craftspersons'. As much as it may seem surprising for an underground civilization, their goods were many and varied. There were a lot of weapons to sell, of diverse quality. Probably a reflection on the local fauna’s dangerosity. From clothes to weapons, by way of day-to-day tools, everything was of a simple style, favoring effectiveness rather than elegance, even though they were surprised to see some more fantasist jewelry. Many of those items were made of bones, chitine, stone and metal, and some sort of braided plant fiber. It was surprising how civilization is able to adapt itself to its environment, substituting usual materials for others more readily available. Some may see it as Abadar’s work, the god of civilization and wealth, known to influence the mortal great minds in their conquest of inhospitable lands.
But, before they could buy gear, they had to find something to eat. Per chance, they had found some rations in the abandoned camp, and the chimeric scouts had shared some of their food with them on the road. But it was far from the gustatory satisfaction of a real meal. So much so that, when the smell of meat and vegetables coming from a group of stalls further down the road reached their noses, each one of them realized how much they were starving.
They had a preview near the fountain, but the food there was really strange to them. Séliss and Horgus winced when they spotted, suspended by hooks, what looked like an enormous insect’s carcass. It was a good thing that their stomachs were empty…
The group approached one of the sellers who gave them a suspicious look, the memory of the previous strangers who came to the village still fresh. Séliss explained to him that they came from the surface, the tiefling’s friendly tone surprising and appeasing the man. Thinking they probably did not know anything about his wares, the latter then began explaining what they were.
Konrad was the first one to try his luck, listing which foodstuff he wanted, while getting a little purse out of his pocket and get some silver coins from it.
- Excuse-me, the merchant interrupted, but what is it?
- Uh… money? Konrad said.
- I’m sorry, but I don’t really know what I could do with that, the hybrid responded.
- Of course they don’t use coins here, Horgus remarked with a dry tone, as much to mock Konrad’s lack of logic as this backwater civilization. They must use a barter economy. Give me some stuff if you want something to eat.
The group then gathered as many items as they could part with. A bit of exploration gear they scavenged from the rubbles, knick-knacks from the festival - most of them bought by Celia, who was blushing from the embarassment under her mask -, the weapons they retrieved from the fake paladins… Horgus, the kindly soul he was, even had the kindness to gift the group with some of his rings, after Séliss had pressured him long enough to make him give in. They showed their loot to the food vendor. They indeed would have more luck buying gear with that. Then, his stare got attracted by a particular item.
- Can I see that? he asked.
Séliss was surprised by his request, but handed the brooch they had found in the abandonned camp to him. It was a simple piece of jewelry, made out of a copper-colore metal, in the shape of a bat on top of a mushroom. The man examined it for a moment, a grave look on his face.
- This brooch, he said, it’s our chiefs’ symbol. Where did you find it?
- On our way here, we stumbled upon a camp that had been caught in a rockslide, Séliss explained. We managed to scavange some gear, and I found that in a bag.
The merchant’s expression got even more grim. He gave back the brooch and added:
- You should show that to Chief Sull.
*****
Sull, a parchment in hand, was walking in circles in the throne room, as always when he was reading something. The scouts’ latest reports were not really encouraging. As he feared, the tremor they felt two days ago had destroyed a number of tunnels.
The chief stopped in his tracks, lowering the papers he was reading. Here he was confronted to multiple difficulties. The loss of all those tunnels risked to pose a problem for crafting materials and food’s scavenging. They would have to find new passages and clear out some of them, and almost certainly find new hunting grounds. And that was without taking the shift in the subterrean’s ecosystem that kind of even could provoke into account.
But most importantly, he had an important choice to make. The surface was now more than ever at a risk of falling into the demons’ claws. The hybrids’ ancestors were survivors from the Crusade, great heroes who stayed in the Worldwound after having been mutated by the chaotic energies seeping out of the breaches leading to the Abysses, the demons’ plane of origin. His people stayed hidden underground since then, hidden away. Would their ancestors, the first Crusaders, have gone back to the surface to help their nation? And if so, was the old chief ready to ask Neatholme’s citizens to put their life at risk to save a world that forgot them?
Sull was pulled from his line of thoughts when he heard someone knock on the door.
- Come in! he called.
The door opened on one of their guests, the horned woman who seemed to be their spokesperson. She seemed uneasy.
- Is everything going well for you? Sull asked with a reassuring smile. I hope my fellow citizens didn’t cause you trouble.
- Oh, no no, we didn’t have any problem with them, Séliss answered. I’m coming to talk to you about… something else.
The tieffling came closer, then handed out the brooch to Sull.
- Someone told me to get that to you…
Sull stared at the brooch, his expression indecipherable. When he finally took it, Séliss felt the hand of the rodent-faced man trembling.
- Where did you find that? Sull asked.
- On the road, we found an abandoned camp, the tiefling explained. Part of it was stuck under a rockslide…
- And you found nobody?
- Except for Lann and his team, nobody alive…
The old man felt his knees grow weak. He mustered his strength to go to his throne before letting himself fall on it with all his weight. Séliss stayed silent. She was starting to get what was happening…
- This brooch… I offered it to my son, Sull explained, his voice weak and trembling. Some days ago, we got into an argument, and he decided to leave Neatholme. The, the tremors began…
The tiefling lowered her stare, her ears low. They did not need to say another thing for them to come to the same conclusion.
- All my condolences, she said.
Sull got back up and went to a corner of the room where a chest was. He opened it and got a box out of it, a bit longer than a forearm. He ran his hand on its lid, scanning it for a bit, his eyes full of regret. Then, he approached Séliss, and, in front of her, opened the box. Inside was lying a morgenstern which metal was slightly shining. The wizard did not have to use her witchcraftery to know this was a magic weapon. The morgenstern seemed to have been crafter in the pragmatic style which seemed typic of Neatholme’s craftspersons, but with a craftmanship which could impress even an initiate.
- I wanted to gift this to him when he would come back, Sull continued. I wanted him to forgive me. But… Here. I’ll give it to you.
Séliss abruptely turned her stare to Sull, her eyes wide with surprise.
- I… I can’t accept that, sir, she stammered.
- I insist. Thanks to you, I know what happened to my son. And, well… I have a request.
Sull’s eyes were peering into Séliss’s. His usual smile had disappeared. Deep down into his stare, one could see the determination and the rage of a man who was ready to avenge the death of the one most important person of his life.
- Make those demeons pay for the death of my son, he ordered. I want you to crack their skull with this weapon.
At those words, Séliss’s lips spreaded into a determined smile while she was doing the crusaders’ military salute.
- Yes, chief Sull.
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