When Ambrose finally arrived at the station where the night shift guard captain was supposed to be situated, the moon was well on the rise, and the sun had long dipped into the horizon, not to return until dawn. The guards moved about the stone structure in practiced pair patrols, their heads on a swivel even as they maintained quiet conversations. When she reached the door, one guard, a simple human male with a bow slung across his shoulders and his helm slightly askew, moved into her path.
“Halt. State your business,” he commanded, his eyes roaming her with some genuine interest as he awaited her answer.
“I'm here on the advice of the guild. I was told the night guard is seeking assistance in the apprehending of some smugglers with your limited resources,” Ambrose replied, considering her own options already. “I'm here to get the details and possibly offer my assistance if it's needed.”
“Your assistance?” The other guard at the door, a rather stocky woman who carried an arming sword, asked, looking Ambrose up and down. “How would you be able to assist?” She asked, putting a disgusted emphasis on the word ‘you’. Apparently the day was not going to ease up on its abundance of bigots any time soon.
Rolling her eyes, Ambrose shifted into her human form, and then, after a moment of consideration, the Pantrada, which seemed a more apt form for any night time business. The transformations had both guards standing slack jawed in the doorway, and Ambrose mentally giggled at the sight of both of them standing bewildered.
“Understand?” She asked, not bothering to explain any of her little display, but saying the word as though talking to someone obviously lacking points in intelligence.
“Uh. Yes. Yes of course, ma'am. Right this way,” the man said with a quick glance over her head before he turned to lead her into the building, running face first into the doorframe on his way, something that caused Ambrose a significant amount of joy. Rather than comment on his collision, she simply followed him inside.
The man led her up stairs and down halls until they found themselves standing in front of a hardwood threshold, the door hanging ajar. The pale haired drow woman in the room was leaning over several documents, her quill moving in a blur as she transcribed some information. She was a stern looking woman, her hair done up in a tight bun, and her perfectly trimmed brows furrowed as she focused.
The man knocked briskly on the threshold to get her attention and she glanced up. “What?!” she asked, before zeroing back in on the paper she was working on.
“Um Ma’am,” the man stammered, obviously bad at speaking to anyone with more authority or power than himself. “I have someone with me who is volunteering to help with tracking down the operation we are looking for.”
The captain looked up at that, her violet eyes looking at the man and then behind him to where Ambrose stood, her twin tails swaying behind her. The eyes of the woman widened and she quickly glanced over Ambrose’s head before locking onto her face and bangs. “An adventurer of high rank. That’s… that’s perfect. Please come in,” she said, gesturing to the seat across from her.”
Ambrose stepped around the guard, moving past him with the pantrada’s native grace and elegance, slipping into the open chair. “I heard from the guild that help was needed here. While I’m waiting for my credentials to process I’ve chosen to help out around town,” Ambrose said, trying to be plain and straightforward with the other woman.
“The guild wasn’t lying. We need help. We’re short on men for patrols and we need to be patrolling in tighter lines. Last night we found boxes of Siren crystal in crates in the city. It’s been smuggled in, but we don’t know how they’re getting in or where the supply was going to. Anyone willing to help will receive a guardsman’s day rate, and if you can help in the solving of this, a hefty reward will be in order.”
“Siren Crystal?” Ambrose asked, not able to withhold the question.
“It’s an illegal artifact drug. The stones are technically cursed. They warp the effect of mana on the body, forcing the mana channels to cast pleasure inducing nature magic throughout the body. The problem is, the entire process is toxic, and decays the mana channels over time,” the guard captain explained.
Ambrose paused at that. She’d never heard of any substance like that back in her village. It sounded… unsavory to her. Kind of like succubus venom, but with less pay off. Rather than dwell on it though, she nodded after a moment and looked back to the guard captain.
“I think helping still sounds good to me,” Ambrose said with a smile, “Though I do have another question.”
“Ask,” the captain said, eying her.
“We're the crates found on the riverside around some dwarf corpses that seemed like they'd been poisoned to death?” Ambrose asked, wondering if her hunch was right.
The dark elf's eyes narrowed and she looked closely at Ambrose. “How did you know that?”
“I happened to be in the area last night when their boat was taken. They're coming into the city late at night by sneaking in through the river entrance,” Ambrose said. When she had seen the men the night before, her focus had been on the manticore. Not on the dwarves and what they were moving. She hadn't cared to check their goods because she had been… occupied with other thoughts during the night and that morning.
“You saw what happened to those dwarves?” The woman asked, straightening up in her seat.
“Yes. I was trying to pursue the woman who did it to see if I could get more information. She had just finished an attack on the Royal Academy, and was moving to leave the city,” Ambrose said. There was no point in hiding the truth of the situation, especially from a woman who could ensure something was done about it.
“I'd like to question you about tha-” the guard captain proposed before she paused. Ambrose had raised a brow, as the woman seemed ready to treat her like a criminal, rather than someone there to help. Her gaze shifted up to just above Ambrose's head again and then she sighed. “I… Never mind. I'm grateful for your help. If these people are invading through the waterways, then the best thing we can do is monitor those and see if we can spot where they are heading. If you are ready to aid the guard in monitoring them then we'll assign a station to you and converge on these smugglers when we get a chance.”
Part of Ambrose acknowledged that the reputation of the academy had possibly saved her some trouble. Another part insisted that it was her rank, and that it was her own implicit might that had dissuaded the captain from interrogation. In the end, she decided that the cause didn't matter to her. All that really mattered at that moment were the results.
—
The initial spot where Ambrose was sent to monitor for the evening got nothing in the way of illegal entry and the pantrada found herself laying off of a roof, lazily monitoring until she felt the presence of one of the shadow stalking night guards moving her way. The informant had told her that the dwarves had been spotted entering from a side stream that closed back in to rejoin with the main river inside of the city.
The two of them had rushed back to rejoin the night guard in stalking the dwarves, the drow remaining hidden while the less night savvy guards gave the river a wide berth. By the time they were in line with the rest of the stalking guards, Ambrose could see how they had made it to the point in the city where the Manticore had slaughtered the last men for the shipment. Rather than stopping at that same location, though, the dwarves sailed further upstream, closer to the castle and the noble area of town.
When they did pull to the waterway and tie off their boat, a group of people were waiting for them. The lead was a slender, cloaked figure who loomed over the other trio, who Ambrose just happened to recognize. It was the racist adventurer group from the guild. They had apparently made it to the healer’s in record time. The lead man seemed fine as he helped the dwarves heft the crates of illegal crystal onto the pavement. The halfling used a small pyre of fire magic to light the endeavor for his companions. The fighter seemed to be standing watch, though Ambrose was fairly certain she was being lazy and doing a shitty job, because she never observed the roofs.
Not that Ambrose expected anything good from bigots. As they went about their business, Ambrose looked for the Captain to see if she was with the group yet. She didn’t see her, and so didn’t drop the information on the trio off just yet. She’d just have to keep them in mind and perhaps get some evidence to show the guild. She was fairly certain the Adventurer’s guild didn’t like dealing with the city guards banging on their door to demand restitution for the acts of bad apples.
With the help of the adventurers, the group was soon sending their boat back downstream with about two other dwarves, likely to exit the city and try to smuggle in more crystal later. Ambrose watched a contingent of the guard break off to go and deal with them. Ambrose was tempted to join that group, but the main course was right in front of her. She really didn’t want to miss out on the action.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
The men on the roof with her followed along as the slender, cloaked individual led the main group into the city. With the guards in the street as far from the action as they were, and the boat the goods had been snuck in on floating away, all there was left to do was follow quietly while their targets slipped through the streets toward an unknown destination.
—
Lita tried to keep ahead of the group as they moved through the streets at a relaxed pace, as though they weren’t smuggling highly illegal minerals through the city and to the old alchemical refinery. The martial artist had not been having a good day. Getting Trevor and Kamden both healed had cost a pretty penny, and there had been no extra for Lita to heal her own bruised leg. That crazy cow bitch in the guild hall had completely wrecked the party. Lita didn’t actually believe in M rank people, but if they existed, she figured they would be able to cause so much damage with a simple block.
Looking back at their S rank escort, she shivered. The S ranks were ridiculous enough with three or four special stats to go with their classes. She didn't want to deal with the fantasy of someone with five or all six special stats. So instead she focused on her job. “No one ahead,” she whispered back.
“No one tailing us,” she heard Trevor call a little too loudly from the back of the group. The man was, frankly, an idiot. Even if she’d joined this little group because he was attractive and she needed a bruiser to help her grow, the appeal of the man had gradually worn off. He couldn’t be bothered to thank anyone for help, took credit for things he didn’t do, tried to hog loot, and was a pig at the best of times. In the perverted respect, Kamben wasn’t much better, but he had his wits about him, and she believed that the high intelligence statistic contributed at least a little toward making him tolerable.
Kamden shushed him, and thankfully Trev kept the volume low as they approached the looming refinery. The building was one of the taller ones in the city, at three stories, and borrowed its design from the dwarven machineries in southern Advelhein, because the architect had been hired from the empire to build for the once great alchemist something or other. Lita didn’t remember the name, but Kamben had been yapping about it when they started working with the cloaked man earlier in the week. Lita only really cared that the pay out was going to be good. The metal doors were slightly ajar as they neared the entrance and the flat face of the brick building loomed over them, its many dark windows on the upper floor staring down at them like blank, soulless eyes in the night.
The place gave Lita the shivers. Still, she walked up to the door, knocked twice, paused, then knocked three times before opening the door and slipping in. The half orc man on the other side of the door stepped away, lowering his glowing hand, and grabbed the other door to open it for the rest of the group as she did the same on her side. “Welcome back,” he rumbled.
Lita gave him the once over and licked her lips. Kashar, tonight’s door guard, was a real man. An A rank magic pugilist with the tall, muscular body of a god and the voice of an incubus. He wasn’t a pervert and didn’t leer too long at anyone, even the slutty Enchantress that had hired them all for this gig. Nor did he say anything stupid. If he didn’t know the answer to a question, he simply said so and tried to find that answer in his own time. He was a decent conversationalist too, and Lita hoped that she could possibly stay in contact after this job was done.
The group ambled past, the dwarven workers and their cloaked guide all moving in before Trevor tailed in at the end, his hands on the back of his head as he leaned back and tried to show off to them both. Kashar didn’t even look twice, starting to close the doors, but Lita was looking, comparing them both in her head. Trev didn’t compare favorably at all as far as she was concerned. Once he was past her, she closed her door as well before giving Kashar a flirty wink and turning to head after the group while the man locked up. She didn’t miss the little smirk he gave her in return.
The interior of the building was simple, there were work stations all over the first floor, set up for the dwarves to take the magically imbued crystals and test, polish, or crush them, depending on potency and other factors that made Lita’s head spin. In the center of the large space, dominating the middle of the building was a huge refining cauldron. It was a massive thing that towered well into where a second story might be expected from the outside of the building. But there was no floor there to surround the mouth of the vat. Instead the third floor was composed of high railways, with hand rails to prevent falling, that allowed the people on the top floor to observe the vat and the main floor and to power the mana delivery device. The metal vat seemed to Lita like it should contain a large amount of fluid or potions, but it was being used to hold crystals and a special, mana conductive oil for lubrication between the crystals.
She’d watched a few times from the top floor as the sun crystal powered beam shot down into the crystals, filling them with mana while the machine arms inside of the vat churned the crystals round one another, making them move like rolling, bubbling water. When the cursed crystals were actually finished and fully charged, the red minerals maintained a little halo of sunny yellow around them, making them look almost holy in the right light. Had Lita been a fool, she might have kept one around herself, but she knew what siren crystal did to people in the long run. There was no way she’d let herself get hooked on the stuff and ruin her chances at a long, fruitful career.
“Well done,” the man who had escorted them said, looking around the group as the dwarves all moved over to the loading station for the crates to get the crystals up into the vat.
“Awesome,” Trevor said, moving over to the man. “That’s another delivery made. Pay up, my guy,” he said, holding out a hand toward the S rank. Trevor had never been too concerned with self preservation as far as Lita could understand things. He had no fear of a man two ranks above him, and simply demanded whatever he wanted from who he wanted to. It had gotten them in trouble earlier in the day.
The cloaked figure hesitated, staring at Trev from under his cowl for a long moment before handing him a heavy pouch that clinked against his palm. Trev smiled wide, bouncing the pouch and turning away to walk back over to Lita and Kamden.
It was around that moment that the enchantress showed her face, coming down from one of the stairs to the third floor two at a time as the refinery activated. The woman was, admittedly, a bombshell. Lita wouldn’t deny a feeling of envy when the other woman was in the room. The slutty mage wore tight fit dresses with slits that exposed her wide, tanned hips and her plush thighs as she bounced down the stairs. The neck-line was scandalous, letting her assets bounce and wobble with her movements like they were out of control, and her long arms teased their way in and out of the disconnected sleeves of the maroon piece. Her hat, a large brimmed thing with a rounded, feathered top, stayed on whether she was outside or inside, along with a ridiculous pair of sandals that propped up her heel.
Lita had heard it was fashion from the north. From the high edge of Bristol, where the brothels were renowned for hosting succubi to teach their whores. I bet that’s where she’s from, Lita scoffed inwardly, some whore from the north here to do the bidding of some bigger fish.
“Good job, good job! And you too, new hires,” she purred, practically moaning the words at the group. The woman immediately had Trevor and Kamden’s attention. Both of them leered at her as she came down the stairs and hit the landing with a click. “The three of you have been a rather nice investment, each night we’ve had you working with us our deliveries have made it here on time and unscathed. You’re like little luck charms,” she giggled.
Lita wanted so badly to roll her eyes, but both of the boys were falling for it.
“No problem, no problem at all ma’am. Working with you has been a delight for the senses,” Kamden replied, eying the woman with what Lita could only define as a longing gaze.
Hells, Kamden, she’s twice your height, man… she thought to herself as the mage drooled over the enchantress.
“Yeah. We’re happy to lend you a hand, Maribelle,” Trevor chimed in before fumbling the bag of coin and nearly dropping it to the floor.
“Whoopsie!” the enchantress giggled, putting a hand to her lips to cover the delicate simper. The noise caught Trevor’s attention just as he caught their pay. “You should be careful with that, Trev~” the woman said, giving him a playful smolder and biting her lip at him. The effect was immediate. All of their coins hit the floor.
Lita smacked Trevor while the dwarves around them and even the stoic, cloaked asshole laughed at them while Kamden started picking up the silvers off of the ground. “Eyes on the coin! Not the tits, Trevor!”
Trevor looked ready to protest when there was a loud bang from the front of the refinery. Everyone went silent. Then there was a roar from Kashar and one of the doors flew into the building spinning like a throwing knife and smashing into one of the dwarves, sending him and the door flying toward the back wall.
Shouts filled the air and everyone began to move. Lita snatched the pouch and began stuffing coins into it as quickly as she could while the operation went to shit.
—
Ambrose grunted breaking in the metal door had been far easier than she’d expected. Well, one of them had. It had gone flying into the three story building and away from her as she breached for the night guard to follow. The problem was that the man behind the other door had completely halted the barrier, then sent it rocketing back at her. She’d caught the flying sheet of metal on her shield and bashed it to the side, only for a tall, powerful half orc to surge out with blazing hands and begin laying blows onto her shield too quickly for her to bring her blade to bear.
Ambrose was glad she had thought to take her tower shield and sword off of her human form and re-equip them before breaching the entrance. Each pounding smash of his fist onto her metal shield numbed her arm and heated the metal with a savage ‘GONG’ as he beat her back. Ambrose tried to back off and adjust for more space, but the half-orc stayed close to her, beating on her defenses to keep her turtled and unable to respond. Yet even as she was being overwhelmed, she could sense the other night guards entering the building past them, moving through the shadows. Shouts began rising from within the building while Ambrose tried to hold her ground.
“Fuck,” the man grunted, taking hold of the side of her shield. She moved to bash him, but he rode the movement with ease, coming around the side with a savage hook that caught her right in the side forcing the air from her with his burning fist. Her hooves left the ground and even with her dense musculature and body, the pain was mind numbing. His next uppercut buried itself in her stomach, bending her over the fist. Her knees wobbled and she felt them losing strength. “Sorry girl,” the man growled, cocking a fist back to take her across the jaw and end the fight entirely.
