Chương 214: Arc 4 - Chapter 16

Fritz stared at the three men he'd 'rescued' with a timely bolt from his crossbow, waiting for a reply.

"I think we'll keep the seal ourselves," Nail growled.

"Seeing as we did all the hard work."

"Yes, it does seem as if you've been struggling," Fritz agreed, glancing over their dishevelled states and many injuries. Nail's armour was dented and scratched, and the man himself was bloody and bruised. It was a similar case for Barge, his leathers were torn and he had a long cut across his chest. The thug didn't pay it much heed. All his remaining focus was on Trudge, and he was smiling gratefully. Neither of the two thugs could hope to complain when compared to the last man's wounds, though.

Bucket's arm hung limply, blackened and bent, and agonised breath ripped raggedly from his throat. He sat there staring at the stone bricks, counting them in an attempt to distract himself from his obvious pain. The sorry sight of these three mutineers pleased Fritz, and he smiled sharply.

"However, I wasn't requesting. I was ordering. I'll also have any other seals you've found." Nail scowled, but realised they were in no position to protest. Not when Fritz was flanked by Toby, Reed and Trudge.

"It's right there, take it," he growled. With a curt gesture, Fritz commanded Toby to pull the seal from the knight's corpse, then strode up to Nail, his hand on his sword. He held out his hand.

"What?" Nail ground out.

"Your seals," Fritz insisted.

"We ain't got none," he replied, his jaw clenched. A lie, he could feel the hidden weight imbued within the wax circles and their madly scribbled scripture.

"I know you have at least one," Fritz said, narrowing his eyes.

"Hand it over before I decide to take offence at your unruliness."

"Bastard," Nail grumbled, the veins bulging on his forehead. He didn't need to be told that further recalcitrance would end with his heart pierced by Quicksilver. The brute was an idiot, but not one with a death wish. Nail rummaged through his belt bag and produced two seals.

"Only two?" Fritz asked, disappointed.

"You've had a full night to hunt knights, and this is all you have to show?" Nail clenched his fist and held his tongue. Relenting on his recriminations, Fritz took the proffered seals. He turned his back on the seething man, then strode away, signalling to his current crew to follow.

"Are you leaving!?" Barge cried out.

"Without us?" Fritz stopped, then faced the three men.

"Of course," he stated.

"You're traitors. What could we possibly gain by letting you join?"

"I can still fight," Barge said.

"Put me on the front line." Fritz shook his head.

"The Spite. It's all three of you or none of you. And though I believe in second chances, Nail has already wasted his."

"I'll do whatever you want," Bucket whined.

"Please don't abandon us."

"Take us with you," Barge begged.

"Trevor, don't let him leave us." Trudge shuffled on his feet and rubbed at his eye. He began to suck in swift breaths.

"Sir Shade, I uhh... I uhh... can you... Can we take them? I'll give you all my Treasure. My share for the whole Climb. I'll be your man for life. Anything, please don't leave my brother here to die." As the large man stammered and pleaded, Fritz maintained his stoic expression. Though he soon found himself imagining his own despair if he and his brother were in this same plight.

Compassion crept into his considerations, and he felt that, if it could keep a family together, it wouldn't be a terrible burden to guide the three a little longer.

"There are simply not enough seals for everyone to be granted passage," Fritz stated.

"We have seven, now, we would need another two."

"We'd have to kill two more?" Trudge asked hopefully.

"We can do that."

"Look at them," Reed sneered.

"They're on the verge of passing out. They won't be of any use in a scrap."

"I can still fight," Nail argued, but his words were undermined by his slight sway. Fritz furrowed his brow. While he couldn't tolerate treachery, he also couldn't countenance casting away those who begged for his aid. He wouldn't let himself become cruel just for convenience's sake. The distant stomp of marching soldiers grew closer, and they couldn't afford to linger. He had to make a choice.

"Nail, I asked you to swear an oath before. Would you care to swear it again?"

"Why? I already did," Nail said.

"Just do it!" Bucket spat.

"You stupid squidsucker. This is our lives you're playing with! Sing and dance if he asks! If he tells you to drink piss, grin and gulp it down! You bloody idiot, this is all your fault, don't ruin our only chance to get out alive! I swear to the gods if you don't stop being so bloody stupid, I'll kill you." Spittle flew as the man raved, but eventually, as he regained control of himself, his speech slowed and softened to a deadly hiss.

"If you don't do as he says, I will slit your throat when you sleep." There was a long pause, then Nail spat back, "You only have one arm that works. You can't hurt me, you cripple."

"One arm is all I need," Bucket seethed.

"And he won't be alone," Barge added, picking up his sword from where it lay on the floor.

"Nail, just do as the Captain commands." Seeing that the tides had well and truly turned, and that his mutinous endeavours had come to nought, Nail deflated. His shoulders fell, and he stared down hatefully at the stone bricks.

"I swear to do as you order, Shade." The statement came out through grinding teeth. Reluctant, but truthful. A thin web, a promise, settled upon him, though the thug didn't notice.

"You two are next. Before we go any further, I need to know your loyalty truly lies with me," Fritz said. The oaths from the other two were far less hesitant. In fact, they were heartfelt. Fritz smiled, then demanded one last condition, "I will also require a favour from each of you."

"A favour?" Nail asked.

"What do you want?"

"That will be decided when I need it," Fritz stated.

"Don't worry, what I ask will not be too onerous." While he knew this was close to extortion, he also knew there had to be some reciprocity for his mercy. He couldn't allow these thugs and thieves to abuse his goodwill lest he find himself rescuing a would-be foe. A little bit of leverage, be it only a favoured owed, would cause some folk to think twice, or perhaps thrice, about opposing him. Some were fond of pride, and held their honour dear. They agreed, Barge and Bucket easily. Nail, again, with reluctance.

There wasn't much hope in turning that man's disposition around, but he would be needed to avoid the Spite. If he could only take the other two, he would. Alas.

"Very well," Fritz said soberly.

"Get your packs. There are soldiers approaching. We must be moving. Especially if we are to seize some more seals from any knights we chance across." Turning, Fritz led the way. He pulsed his Awareness, feeling for the door ahead and up. They would need to find some stairs.

"Are you sure about this?" Toby signed, striding up beside him. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

"As sure as I can be," Fritz replied.

"You're just going to take them to the top? After what they did?"

"Not to the top," Fritz denied.

"Only until they can leave on the sixth floor." Toby frowned, then nodded. Apparently, he had enough self-awareness not to argue about undue mercy. Fritz heard the marching drawing closer. He glanced over his shoulder and motioned to the crew to hurry. Thankfully, they were able to avoid the approaching force by a hair. The same could not be said of the knight that appeared before them, striding stiffly down the hallway.

"Damn these halls," Fritz muttered, re-arming his crossbow. He hoped he would be able to end the battle before it began, but the huge man-alike had already seen them.

"Be ready to charge," Fritz ordered. Nail grumbled, Trudge and Toby nodded, Mel spat, and Bucket whimpered.

"Should we use our new Treasures?" Clover asked.

"You found Treasures?" Barge barked. Fritz ignored the second question, finding it foolish and instead answered the first.

"Yes, but don't Activate them. We don't know what kind of Abilities you could release. The results could be deadly." Clover nodded, tucking her clouded, crystal rod into her belt. Reed grinned, tapping his club on his brass buckler. Toby also seemed excited to wield his new dagger. Fritz infused his crossbow with Gloom Strike, brought the sight to his eye, then loosed. The shadowed bolt flew with barely a whisper. It was aimed slightly too high, soaring toward the head rather than the throat.

The knight didn't even bother to raise its shield. Fritz cursed, only for his words to be cut off when the bolt struck. It caught the lower cusp of the helm, glanced downwards and into the neck. With a wet thunk, the bolt pierced the knight's chain coif and sank into its flesh. The creature made three more lurching steps before it fell. Its strange silence abated, and it sounded like a cupboard of pots and pans being overturned.

"Whoa," Reed said, stunned. Then disappointment crossed his face, likely due to the fact that he no longer had a foe to test against his buckler. Fritz himself was surprised that he had finally loosed true, striking where he had intended rather than missing wildly. More surprising was the fact he had slain such a mighty monster with only one bolt.

"You're so good," Clover said, eyes gleaming. The adoration was flattering, but made him uneasy. Still, he basked in it for a moment; he did deserve it, after all.

"Decent," Toby allowed, puncturing that moment of pride.

"Decent!?" Fritz blurted.

"You absolute prick, Toby. I'd like to see you do any better."

"Don't have a crossbow, now do I?" Toby argued.

"Well, you can't have mine," Fritz said.

"Try with your daggers, Mr. Blades."

"Don't have a knight either," Toby observed.

"We will remedy that," Fritz said.

"You don't have to," Toby protested.

"I insist."

"Insist away." The stomping from behind grew louder, and Fritz decided to cease engaging in petty disagreements. He called for silence with a gesture, then made his way to the knight's corpse before peeling a seal from its breastplate. Eight in total, one left to scavenge. He urged the crew forward, and they slipped from hallway to hallway, avoiding patrols as well as they could. After an hour of slinking through the castle, Fritz found what he had been looking for: a set of stairs leading up.

"Finally, the Well," Bucket nearly cried. He was near delirious from pain and potent remedies he'd been pouring down his throat, which was excusable only due to the horrible sight of his arm. An awful blackness covered his entire hand. While Fritz didn't like the man, not one bit, he couldn't help but remember his own burnt arm and the terrible agony of it being twisted with cruel heat.

"S'not the Well," Mel corrected, though it was obvious from her eyes that she wished she were wrong.

"Just another floor of this fort." Bucket groaned, then sobbed. It was pitiful. Fritz pulsed his Awareness.

"We're close, another nine minutes at most. Hold on." He snuck up the steps. It was a long climb, but eventually he reached the landing, then peered around both corners. At each end of the hall was a knight. They were far more ornately adorned than the others Fritz had seen. Their armour was intricately gilded. Flowing patterns of floral design stood out in gold leaf that mostly resembled clover. They had no shields or shafted weaponry.

Instead, they held great claymores point down, both hands grasping huge, golden hilts. These knights were also unbent, their backs straight and proud. Imposing figures of great might and greater splendour. Though they were resplendent, what truly caught Fritz's attention were all the seals. Both of the knights had at least six each, ornamenting the gleaming armour, the parchment flapping gently in the chill breeze.

"Spire's Spite," he cursed.

"What?" Toby asked from behind.

"Just look," Fritz said, moving aside.

"Oh! This bloody lying Spire," Toby groused.

"What is it?" Reed hissed. The question of what the two had seen was echoed all down the staircase. The crew was soon cursing, some ruefully, most just because it seemed right.

"So the only six seals bit was a lie," Nail asked.

"It said six knights," Fritz corrected.

"And yes, it was a lie. I told you as much."

"I could do without the 'told ya so's," Nail muttered darkly.

"And I could do without your mutinous antics," Fritz replied blandly.

"Sorry," Nail grumbled softly.

"Forgot you can hear everythin' we say." And not just that, Fritz thought. It wouldn't do to say so out loud, he didn't need everyone to be on guard against his emotional eavesdropping. Even if they couldn't hide anything, they would still avoid him, just as he would if it were someone else with the same truth-finding power. Fritz smiled, "That's right. So I'll ask you to be silent until I need your incredibly limited wisdom."

"What do we do now?" Toby signed. Fritz considered their predicament, then stuck his head out from where he was hidden to observe the gilded knights. Their armour had fewer flaws than their duller brethren; there were more small plates to better defend joints and other articulations. The mail underneath, a brightly polished steel, was also thicker wherever it could be seen. There was also the eerie feeling that the eyes, well guarded within the helm, were staring right at him.

Right through any shrouding veil between them. Yet, even if they saw him, the knights did not move from their stations. It was then that Fritz found it worth pondering the claim that they would be granted passage. Were the knights sentinels, waiting to be offered a seal? Was it worth risking his life to investigate this truth? Not his life, Fritz decided.

"Nail, I have a task for you."

"What do you need?" he asked suspiciously, as he should.

"Oh, it's nothing too perilous. I just want you to take this seal and give it to the knight at the end of the hall there," Fritz said. His tone was light, as if he were merely asking a maiden on a stroll through one of the King's parks.

"What?"

"You heard," Fritz replied, more sternly.

"I suspect the seal will grant you passage."

"And you want me to prove this?" Nail asked.

"Quite so," Fritz agreed.

"What if it fails?"

"What if it succeeds?" Fritz countered.

"I'll bloody do it if you're too scared," Bucket spat.

"Give it to me, Shade. If it gets me to the Well quicker, I'll go." Fritz tilted his head, thinking. While he would have preferred sending Nail, Bucket was also a fine choice for the job.

"Very well," he allowed. He held out one of the true seals, considering it foolish to test his theory with his forgeries, not yet. Though if it had been Nail, he would have likely embraced that foolishness. Bucket, his face covered in sweat, took the seal gratefully.

"Thank you." Fritz couldn't accept the thanks. He was using the man as bait, but he smiled and clapped the thief gently on his good shoulder. It almost sent him sprawling. Still, Bucket caught himself and set his shoulders straight, then slowly made his way up the stairs and down the hall, toward the knight.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Toby asked.

"He can barely stand."

"It is. Though it's not kind," Fritz admitted.

"I can't see how sending him to a near-certain death is wise," Reed stated.

"He'd slow us down anyway. He'll be no good in a fight either, if it comes to that," Fritz explained. His voice sounded defensive to even his own ears.

"Ah, who cares?" Nail said.

"Better him than us." Upon hearing Nail agree with him, Fritz doubted his own methods for the full minute Bucket staggered toward the hulking, armoured figure. He arrived and, with a shaking hand, raised the seal towards the towering knight. It did not move for a whole second, then its visor gleamed with a cold, white light, and it took one of its enormous hands off the grip of its sword. Bending with barely a sound, the knight knelt, bowing its head.

Bucket trembled like he was staring down a flood, but with a gulp, he stepped forward and pressed the seal to a bare spot on the man-alike's breastplate. A small cloud of steam issued from the contact, but the wax stuck fast. The knight stood almost silently, then swept its arm in a gesture of welcome. Bucket sighed, then shuffled past, turning a corner to which Fritz had no sight. He sighed, releasing the breath he had been holding.

"Did it work?" Mel asked.

"It did," Fritz said, rolling his shoulders to shake off their sudden tightness.

"Who's next?" Reed asked.

"We'll send the wounded," Fritz stated.

"Mel, come here, take this." He gave her another of the real seals, then, without complaint, she made the same walk. Mel struggled far less. Her injury, while debilitating, was not nearly as severe. The knight accepted her offering, just as it had Bucket's, and she continued on, out of sight. Fritz felt a feather-light touch of a formless ire fall over him and the crew. He recognised it for what it was, the Spite. It meant that one or both of the two had left the Floor, or had died.

Fritz didn't dwell on the latter thought, and knew he needed one more to leave before the Spite grew to be more potent. He scanned the team, thinking about who he trusted most and needed least.

"Clover." He chose, beckoning her forward and handing her another of the true seals.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Fritz nodded.

"Take care of Mel." Reed shifted impatiently.

"Go on. Get movin', I got a bad feelin'."

"That's the Spite," Fritz said.

"So swiftly?" he asked.

"Should take longer than that." Fritz shrugged.

"Maybe it's because this is a Hidden Floor. Maybe it's the Spire itself. Maybe it's because I cheated a little."

"Maybe it just doesn't like you," Toby added.

"Maybe," Fritz agreed. Clover hesitated to leave.

"Go on," he urged.

"We'll be right behind." She did, and soon she was before the knight. Then she was also allowed passage. Not long after, the ineffable anger of the Spite faded. Fritz nodded, glad that he had been right in his choice.

"What do we do now?" Barge asked.

"We only have five seals left," Fritz said.

"So we either assault one of these knights and break through, or we search for more wax downstairs."

"Wax?" Nail asked. Fritz nodded, but explained no further. Reed filled the two ignorant thugs in.

"You just made more seals?" Barge asked, dumbfounded.

"Of course," Fritz said.

"It's far more sensible than hunting knights all night."

"I didn't know you could do that. Fool a Spire, I mean," Barge continued.

"I wouldn't necessarily say I fooled it," Fritz hedged.

"What I did was well within the reach and realm of possibilities the Spire set out for this Floor. Or at least I assume so. Though knowing this Spire, it's probably furious that I foiled its stupid trick to turn us against each other. If it can feel that at all."

"Do you ever wonder how the Spires, you know, do things, or why?" Reed asked with a thoughtful cast to his thin features.

"It's not worth dwelling on," Fritz said.

"Not with our meagre knowledge and power." Reed nodded in agreement, though he didn't look satisfied. In truth, Fritz felt the same way, though he also believed what he had stated. It was a matter for Kings and Master Climbers, not for backwater lords such as himself.

"Fritz, we're wasting time," Toby reminded. Fritz pulled himself from his pondering and, having made a decision, explained his plan.

"Wait here, I'll approach the knight with one of my false seals," he said.

"If it works just as the others did, I'll return." Fritz handed out the other seals. Keeping only the finest forgery for himself, he then left the stairs and tread forward. He approached the knight, slowly, surely, and was watched by its deadly eyes. Closer and colder with every step. His breath began to mist before him, and he shivered. The seal in his hand hummed with warmth, but it wasn't a true heat. As he neared the knight, he felt like he was being bathed in icy water, and his shiver grew.

His teeth chattered. The others he had watched walk this same hall hadn't endured this chill, he was sure. Or if they had, perhaps their seal had protected them. Still, he couldn't stop plodding forward. Something in those expectant, judging eyes drew him forth until his legs stilled, frozen before the man-alike. The knight moved slowly, kneeling. With a tremor-wracked hand, gloved yet still achingly cold and rimed with frost, he pressed the false seal to one of the gilded pauldrons.

The knight's head tilted in what could have been confusion or contempt, then it stood. Instead of gesturing for Fritz to pass, it raised its blade, tall as a man, sharp as a razor, sure as death, high over head. Then it swung.