The Byzantia Quest - Chapter III

Chapter III

The night had seen another two feet of snowfall, although the sun shone by the time we had awoken and began to gather ourselves for another day of tracking down Graves. And yes, myself and Narxity fornicated endlessly.

"Which direction?" I inquired, prompting Narxity to repeat the dust arrow as she had done yesterday, which in turn pointed due north, towards Gyildale and what was perhaps a large Byzantium invasion force.

"Shit," mumbled Faraday.

"Shit is an understatement," said Nagassa, pulling her shirt and armor on before placing her bow and quiver at her back.

"To the north," I shouted, at least giving us two barbarians the energy to move.

---

We trekked for three hours along the coastline, the snow decreasing until green grass once again was the terrain. We had reached the outskirts of Gyildale and could see a pair of warships at the docks, hundreds of well-armed-but-not-necessarily-well-trained soldiers debarking and beginning their hostile takeover of a once-free township.

"What now?" I asked, always the optimist.

Nagassa withdrew a looking glass from her pack and peered into the city. "There's far too many, even for two barbarians, a mystic, and a Hunter. At least a thousand, plus cavalry."

Gyildale marked the end of the southern comfort and the beginning of a desert which spanned north a hundred miles and east to Byzantium, which was built upon the greatest of the Golden Oasis. Byzantium was truly a city to admire, with over two million inhabitants and the single largest structure of all mankind; the Temple of the Goddess, which was a thousand men high and equally as wide, a vast complex which dominated the horizon as well as the cityscape.

"We could travel around Gyildale by nightfall, avoid the scouts and patrols, then continue north through the desert," suggested Narxity.

"Fuck no," I interpolated. "I'm not waiting until nightfall and 'slipping' through the woods again."

"Wait," said Sarra, speaking for the first time since last night. "I know of a series of underground vaults which would take us under the city and keep us surreptitious."

"Great," I exclaimed. "Where are they?"

She pointed to a small stone obelisk several hundred paces from our current location. It stood in the center of a ring of oaks, which was between us and the city walls in a large plain. Not something us barbarians could sprint to and remain unnoticed by the new Byzantium guards posted on the said wall.

"There is a certain stone which-"

"Yada, yada," I broke in, "the standard secret stone. Got it; let's go."

And with that, we began our sprint across the naked grass and to the oaks. We made it in about a minute, and due to the lack of a horn sounding, one could assume no one had seen us.

Sarra pressed a stone, which was clearly marked with runes and inscribings, and we began our descent.

The smell of death was apparent after we ventured past an ivory portico. The whole vault sensation was unbecoming, especially because natural light was bouncing in and providing us with an easily-navigable journey. Although the smell increased, we continued.

Of course, some assholes had decided to use the underground as a place to build a lair for stolen loot, and the said assholes were, at the present time, stashing some stolen loot.

Nagassa wasted no time and laid one out with an arrow protruding from his face and blood splashing through the dry air. Before the assholes had gotten their bearings, I had bullrushed them with blades drawn, slicing the first two's heads off and the two behind them I halved, producing what I could imagine to be a rather dazzling spectacle. The sole survivor Sarra dispatched with a thrown dagger to the back of the spine.

"And that is how a massacre is done," I said, cleaning my blades on the thick hair of a decapitated head.

The assholes had, to their credit, some pretty impressive loot, the most impressive of which was a gold-and-gem-encrusted platinum crown which was "Fit for a fucking prince," I proclaimed to the group, holding it aloft.

"That is the prince's crown," said Sarra, taking it from my hands and admiring it. "It belongs to the prince of Gyildale who is the king's son."

Again, I looked at Faraday, knowing what that meant.

"The prince is dead," I blurted. "Holy shit, someone had the king's son killed!"

"No we don't know that for sure," said Nagassa, moving to take the crown and inspecting it.

"Look," said Sarra, pointing at an inscription, "the royal emblem. It's definitely the crown."

"Okay, great," said Faraday. "That doesn't prove he's dead, and even if he is, why should we care: there's no way in fuck whoever did this is going to go north to the Northern Spine. I don't care how big this guy's balls are, no one's going to take down an entire country of barbarians."

"True," I said, kicking one of the mangled torsos aside. "Regardless, we'd better be on our way so we can get the fuck out of here; I'm getting claustrophobic."

No sooner had I said that than four pairs of footsteps broke the silence, coming in the direction of our progress. Instinctively, we readied ourselves and prepared to kill four more soldiers.

"Holy shit!" she shouted as one of Nagassa's arrows narrowly missed her head. The second arrow lodged itself firmly in the rock where the woman's shoulder had been microseconds before.

There were four beautiful young women, clothed in nothing but tops of gold and jewels which covered no more than the nipples and bottoms which did little to disguise the natural treasures underneath; a mere gold string around the waist with three strips of gems hanging four inches down in front and one in back. Each had gold daggers and the last had a pack no doubt full of supplies. All of the weaponry was drenched in red blood.

"Who are you," said Narxity, not letting down her Hunter guard for an instant.

They, however, lowered their daggers. "We are the Royal Courtesans. The prince's playthings during the night and his bodyguards by day. I am Aphrodite," as she gestured around the group, "this is Serena," who was clearly the most beautiful of the four; her body was a golden dark brown, with obvious sandpeople heritage; "and she is Eva" who bore resemblance to barbarian lineage - she was tall and slender albeit supple in specific areas, with stunning white hair and a strong face; "and she is Phernia, the prince's favorite" who I considered the least attractive - which wasn't saying a whole lot considering the company she bore; she was tan with coal-black hair and blazing green eyes.

"Where are you coming from and going to?" interrogated Narxity.

"The Byzantium soldiers. They are everywhere, killing and raping," said Phernia, who was clearly dainty and whose blade bore the least blood.

"In that case," I said, lowering my blades and puffing out my chest more than discreetly, "I am Dagon the Slayer, a barbarian from the Northern Spine," that caught Eva's attention as she smiled, "this is Faraday, touted barbarian slaughterer from the same clan as I, this is Nagassa, his fiance; Narxity, Hunter of Tal Rasa, and Sarra, mystic extraordinaire. We were traveling these tunnels to bypass the commotion."

"Good luck; they're minutes behind us," chimed Serena.

"What forces you to bypass the city?" asked Aphrodite.

I looked at Narxity, who nodded. "We are on the tracks of a certain Graves, a man who owes us far more than his head."

The women looked at one another with pale expressions; clearly they knew who we were chasing.

"What the fuck was that look?" I queried with much force.

Aphrodite trembled. "Graves is the man who killed Prince Gavin. He is the man behind the killings." She broke down into tears, prompting the others to gather around and sooth, likewise tearing up. I rolled my eyes at Faraday, who snickered before Nagassa punched him in the ribs.

"I take it you knew Graves before he killed Gavin?" said Faraday, wincing from pain.

Phernia looked up. "He was Gavin's right-hand man and the commander of his armies. He was on loan from the king as a military advisor."

"And he was amazing in..." started Serena, before fully taking into account the nature of our party and silencing herself.

And then a squad of soldiers barged in on our tearfest.

"Step away from the women," commanded the lieutenant, decked out in his shining medallions and insignia of ass-kissery. That, naturally, was before he look into account the stature of myself and Faraday.

He, like the other ten, turned to run before my thrown bastard sword sliced his torso into lovely, neat little halves. Sarra closed her eyes and began murmering some gibberish as the air around her began to move and glow a bright blue. Then her eyes flew open and energy rippled from her body, forming into the shapes of three mighty steeds before leaping past the gaping me and Faraday and continuing on to trample the fleeing men into a bloody pulp before disintegrating into thin air.

"What the fuck was that?" I demanded as the last of the giblets fell to the rocks.

She shrugged. "I know a little magic and I thought I'd practice it."

"A little magic?" bellowed Faraday. "That was fucking sorceress material!"

Again, she shrugged. "What can I say?"

I sighed and bent to retrieve my sword from among the lake of gore, again wiping it on a severed head's crusty hair.

"There will be more at the end of these tunnels," warned Aphrodite.

"Well then," said Nagassa, moving forward, "we'd better get the hell out of these tunnels before we're trapped. Or worse, they put boulders and cap us in."

"At least we'd live like kings," I said, tossing a solid-gold plate against the far rocks, shattering it. That made me happy.

---

After ten minutes of walking, we reached the entrance into the city. Since the alcove of the thieves, the tunnel had become increasingly carved and ornamented, with slots in the walls for what appeared to be corpses. Except they lacked the element which made them tombs: dead people.

"Where does this come out?" asked Narxity.

"In the cellar of a tavern."

"Which one," I pondered, always on the lookout for a good pub.

"Ye Olde Tavern I think," answered Phernia, who was never one for intelligence.

"Fucking sweet!" proclaimed Faraday.

Ye Olde Tavern was a chain of pubs set up across the map by a barbarian two hundred years in the past. Instead of the Imperial-owned taverns of contemporaneous society, Ye Olde Taverns are places of endless alcohol, tales, and sex; just the place for a proper barbarian. And, of course, Byzantia is hesitant of shutting them down for fear of barbarian retaliation.

We moved up the hewn rocks, which was no easy task. They were steep and narrow, without support on either side. We continued up for two or three minutes which, by my rough count, was around two hundred steps, before we reached a wooden trapdoor, which was reinforced with iron strips and spikes, so that if one were being pursued, he could slam the trapdoor closed and pull the spikes out, impaling whomever opened it and neglected to check for spikes before hauling ass down the steps.

The sound of drinking and debauchery were loud, proving instantaneously this was an establishment of Ye Olde Tavern. My spirits were high as I wondered how the soldiers ventured through such a place. Clearly there must be another entrance because they would have been massacred.

"Welcmmm to de Oldd Tvrn...!" shouted a drunkard, falling down the wooden stairs and landing teeth first in a sack of manure. By my best guesses, that was the bartender. Yep, this was fucking barbarian territory regardless of what empire wanted to take over the city.

"What's the strategy?" asked Aphrodite as her and the Courtesans brought up the rear.

"Strategy?" shouted Faraday.

"Fuck strategy!" I whooped as we charged up the stairs and into the drunken pandemonium of the tavern.

It was a chaotic scene; there were barbarians littering the floor, the bar, and the chandeliers, clinging on to whatever alcohol containers could be located. Equally-intoxicated barmaids were stumbling to and fro, delivering more spirits to shouting, singing, or fighting monstrosities of men.

It was at that point, when the Byzantium soldier decided it was high time to take over what was probably the last thing to take over in the entire damned city.

They came busted through the door with swords drawn and shouting. "Everyone out! By command of the Byzantium Army you are to disband or be imprisoned and hanged! Everyone out!" Now whoever had enough balls to shout that, with weapons brandished, at a tavern full of drunk barbarian, deserves a pat on the back.

And that came in the form of the barbarian who had been previously hanging off the glass chandelier, who vaulted (in respect to our culture - what he did was far less graceful) from the contraption with a massive battleaxe and swung at the lieutenant, cleaving him at an angle from shoulder to waist. That brought a cheer from the crowd and a general raising of bloodlust. It was time for barbaric mayhem, and the last people on earth I would want to be is the soldiers.

They were cut down in an instant; body parts were flying through the air along with fountains of blood as the surge of barbarians pushed the soldiers and their remains out of the tavern and onto the mid-afternoon streets.

"I am not missing this battle!" I shouted, following the horde. By the time three seconds had passed, three hundred soldiers were now six thousand pieces and the pack of barbarians was pushing swiftly towards the ships, where the survivors were retreating with haste.

Myself and Faraday pushed to the front of the multitude, which at this time was being led by a man we later learned to be Gregory the Mighty, a warlord in the Frozen Woodlands.

The frontline, which was chaotically so, was massacring the soldiers at an impressive pace. I could only kill a dozen and Faraday the same before we were aboard the flagship, hacking and slashing left and right.

In all of ten minutes from the command of the ill-fated lieutenant, the entire contingent on both ships was dead. The main road which led from the tavern to the docks was a swath of destruction and blood, with vultures and other carcass-disposing creatures gathering to take away the remains.

"What a fucking battle," I proclaimed as the bloodlust wore from my veins.

"Indeed," sighed Faraday. We trudged down the gangplank and past the docks, where the horde was dispersing to check on families and friends, who were more than likely dead or tied up somewhere. Out of a city of eighty thousand, the only ones left were likely thirty barbarians and what females the soldiers deemed rapable. A good mixture for a fervent night of sex.

"What to do now?" asked Nagassa, exiting the tavern with the others.

"We didn't have much time to think," said Narxity, alluding to the cursory battle, "but we figured we'd head east toward Byzantium and see if we can't dig up more about this takeover."

"I disagree," said Faraday. "We should go up the coast and gather more barbarians, then head to the Northern Tundra to defend ourselves."

"That is what I and the others are doing," said Gregory in passing, hands on the asses of two uncovered blondes.

Nagassa shrugged. "We could take a north-east path and cut up around the desert, that way we could dodge the coast and still get information and get to the Tundra in good time."

"I like it," I said. I looked at the Courtesans. "What about you ladies?"

They looked amongst one another. "I suppose we'll travel with you until there is something better to do, if that is acceptable," said Aphrodite.

"Fine by me," exclaimed Faraday, who, like me, was going to benefit with four additional buxom females.

"Then off we go."

Continued in Chapter IV

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