Chapter 37: Source of the Wild
If Hawthorn were given a second chance, it’s safe to assume he wouldn’t have wasted so much time on monologues.
But the world does not deal in second chances.
Hawthorn’s death was handled so discreetly that his men only realized what had happened after Alistair’s knights had already seized control of the entire keep. They surrendered without protest. Not a single man dared to try and avenge their fallen lord.
Alistair’s knights herded the prisoners into the open space outside the castle. When Alistair departed, they would be loaded onto carts, transported back to Frostfell, and then assigned new lives as either freemen or indentured laborers, depending on their disposition.
After a battle that had been nothing short of a rollercoaster, the players had quickly grown familiar with Alistair’s soldiers and the good-natured Minotaurs. They now stood together, gawking at the prisoners and chattering amongst themselves.
One player pointed at the nearly naked Lazlo and whispered to a soldier, "Who’s that guy? Why is he only in his underwear?"
"That’s Baron Hawthorn’s steward, Lazlo. We found him just as he was about to take a bath."
"Are his underpants always that dirty? Doesn’t he wash them?"
"They’re not so bad. We usually wash ours every six days or so. He could get a few more wears out of those."
"Bro, a physique like that? Back where I come from, we’d call that Grade-A Prime!"
"What does that mean?" a Minotaur asked.
"It means you’re awesome!"
"Thank you for the compliment! You have a good eye, Outlander brother!" the Minotaur boomed, flexing his enormous biceps. A wave of drool-wiping swept through the surrounding players.
In the council hall of Sablewood Keep, the knight who had killed Hawthorn removed his helmet.
He was a handsome young man with flaxen hair and a sprinkling of freckles across his nose.
"It’s been a while, Lord Alistair. I believe I just saved your life."
"I knew it was you, Rowan," Alistair said with a smile, shaking his hand. He was one of Alistair’s childhood friends. They hadn’t seen each other in a year or two, and he never expected to meet him here. "The moment you started explaining the map, I recognized your voice."
"What are you doing in Sablewood Creek? And why haven’t you ever come to visit me in Frostfell?" Alistair gestured for Rowan to take a seat.
"Believe me, I didn’t want to be here. You have no idea what it’s like. That man, Hawthorn, sang from dawn till dusk and forced us all to listen. His voice was atrocious... Ugh, I can’t even think about it. My head starts to ache..."
Rowan slumped into the chair with a dramatic flair and shrugged helplessly. "I was here on the Duke’s orders. A deep cover asset, to be activated when needed. I suppose my cover is blown now."
"A deep cover asset? What is Father planning?" Alistair asked, a confused look on his face.
"The king is old, Lord Alistair."
At the mention of the king, Rowan’s easy-going expression sharpened into one of keen intensity.
Alistair fell silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "The king may be old, but he is still a Legendary Knight. For Father... to be making preparations now seems a bit hasty."
"You haven’t been to the capital, my lord. You don’t understand. All the great dukes are choosing their sides. If Lord Dorian remains indecisive for much longer..." Rowan let the sentence hang, confident Alistair would grasp his meaning.
Alistair sighed, a weary look crossing his face. This was precisely why he had run off to this remote borderland in the first place. The politics of the capital were a bottomless abyss where one wrong step could send you plunging to your doom. Worse, there were always people trying to shove you forward.
He could only hope his father in this world, Duke Dorian, didn’t overplay his hand. The man had always been good to him, never favoring his older brother simply because he was the firstborn.
"If that’s the case, then I have crucial intelligence for you as well," Alistair said, his own expression turning serious. "Relay this to Father. He will know what precautions to take."
He paused, gathering his thoughts, before recounting everything he had seen and heard in the church basement.
"How is that possible?"
It wasn’t that Rowan disbelieved Alistair, but that the story was simply too absurd.
The blood of beastkin girls was a medium for cultivating Templars?!
Rowan struggled to accept it, but seeing the deadly seriousness in Alistair’s eyes, he knew it was no joke. "My lord," he said gravely, "your intelligence is of the utmost importance. I will return to the capital immediately and report this to the Duke. But what about you? How will you handle things here at Sablewood Keep?"
"By rights, a situation like this means the fief of Sablewood Creek reverts to the crown. The king will appoint a new lord and grant me some compensation." Alistair paused in thought. "Of course, there is another possibility. In exchange for the orc chieftain’s head, the king might just grant me this small territory outright."
"Your Frostfell is already nearly the size of a Marquisate..." Rowan said, shaking his head. "And things are unstable with the orcs now. Behemoths have never been seen outside the Northlands before." He tried to warn Alistair not to get ahead of himself, but the hint was clearly lost on him.
"What is there to fear? Did you not see my ten Minotaurs? They are more than a match for any beast!"
"I don’t know where you found them, Lord Alistair, but as long as you know what you’re doing." Rowan knew Alistair was not a man given to blind arrogance, so he didn’t press the issue.
He glanced at the night sky outside the window, then stood and began to don his armor. "I won’t delay any longer. On my way back to the capital, I will present the head of Morgash Bloodhowl to the king on your behalf."
Rowan departed, and Alistair watched his old friend’s lone figure disappear into the darkness, silently wishing him a safe journey.
And now, it was time to tally his real spoils.
First, there was Hawthorn’s treasury. The bastard had been feigning poverty the entire time. Sablewood may have been a small territory, but its famous Rime-fin fish was a delicacy sold across the nation. With the entire Sablewood River flowing through his domain, how could Hawthorn possibly have been poor?
In gold coins alone, they found over twelve thousand. In addition, there were more than three hundred sets of armor, various gems, and valuable paintings. The haul filled seven or eight carts, making Alistair click his tongue.
Perhaps he should make a habit of soliciting... donations... from the surrounding lords. His own Frostfell was so poor, his people suffering so terribly. It was only reasonable that his neighbors help him out, wasn’t it?
With business in Sablewood Creek concluded, Alistair prepared to return with his army and his newly acquired wealth.
The players trailed behind the carts laden with gold, gems, and armor, practically drooling. It was the most money any of them had seen since the closed beta began; many hadn’t even laid eyes on a single gold coin.
"I think we might be the most pathetic players in gaming history. I’m actually poorer than an NPC..."
"If I just... slipped one coin into my pocket... you don’t think the Lord of Frostfell would notice, do you...?"
Alistair cast an amused glance at the players, their eyes glittering with avarice. Someone else might have shared a portion of the gold with them, considering their contribution to the battle.
But Alistair knew better. He knew exactly what was on their minds. Give them gold, and the first thing they’d do is start researching how to kill him and take the rest.
He shook his head, clearing his mind of such trivial thoughts, and called out internally to the system.
"System, lottery draw."
[Ding! Host has completed a daily villain quest. Claim reward now?]
"Stop asking for confirmation. Just claim it directly next time."
The system said nothing. A familiar red wheel of fortune materialized before him and, without any prompting, began to spin.
The pointer slowed, eventually coming to a stop on the "Curios" slice.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host, you have obtained the Curio: Breath of the Wild... Ding! This reward has triggered a lucky critical hit! Congratulations, Host, you have obtained the Source of the Wild! The reward has been automatically integrated into the Host’s body. Please experience the changes for yourself.]