The Maid Is Not Dead

Under the firelight in the dim, beer-reeking tavern floor, Mr Matthias continued the grim story that had brought him to his seat today. A tale filled with hardship and treachery, which showed how, much like in the mountains, the higher one climbed as an adventurer, the colder the air grew. The name he uttered then even gave me the chills.

The fabled Machina City. Perhaps the most mysterious of the Nine.

The ceiling beams of the tavern hall seemed to shudder at the mention and the candles momentarily dim.

"Marcellus claimed his power to manipulate metal had advanced to a stage, where he could subdue the Bane of Kyfros. Not destroy it but rob control of it from within. Together with Noel's understanding of engineering and mechanical constructs, it could be done. We were to travel to the northern wastes and test the plan first on a lesser spawn of Iskander; an A-rank foe on its own. Even if we failed to pacify the abomination, we could still destroy it to meet the promotion requirements, and make bank selling the components."

A daring idea, to be sure.

"It shames me to admit, but even I fell for it," Mr Matthias said, guility shaking his head. "Marc's plan was detailed and made sense. I honestly thought I'd made a mistake to doubt the man, and that in his own twisted way he still wanted the best for us. Maybe, if everything went smoothly, we could put our differences aside, and the good days would return. See? With the pattern laid down plainly like this, it truly highlights the folly of man, does it not? Feel free to laugh, Mary. No need to hold back on my account."

"My apologies, but laughter does not come easy to me. Also, your insistence to see the best in people should not be ridiculed by any means. The mistake may have been obvious in hindsight, but not one for which to be condemned. If anything, that you still had the courage to give a man so evidently foul a chance is worthy of admiration."

"Damn it, Mary," he said, "if you keep this up, you may yet see a grown man cry. Though I'm not sure if I have any tears left."

"Having shown a scene no less embarrassing today, I couldn't afford to judge you for that either. But do go on. From your presentation, I assume Marcellus eventually betrayed your hopes with his plan. How did it happen?"

"Just a moment." Mr Matthias waved to a barmaid and ordered another ale before continuing. "It happened in such a—How should I say?—plain way, I never saw it coming. I wouldn't have thought a man so slippery could pull off a stunt as uninspired. Old-fashioned. Yet ruthlessly effective all the same. We came to a town close to the border of the wastes in Calfrid. Aunos was its name. You likely don't know it."

"Afraid not. The mapmakers don't seem to have found it important enough to jot down."

"That makes it sound as though you know the whole Atlas by heart."

"Indeed, if it can be found in the common edition, I'm confident I can place any name."

Mr Matthias grimaced. "Don't you think memorizing all that small print is only a waste of headspace?"

"I have been assured the human memory is virtually limitless."

"And I can't even recall what I had for breakfast. Hmm. Where was I?"

A few ales less a night might help with that, I wanted to say, but we were distracted enough as we were.

"Your party arrived in Aunos, where you learned of your companion's treachery."

"Ah, right." The crease splitting Mr Matthias's brow deepened. "It was the oldest damn trick in the book to divide a group. I was framed for murder."

Sure enough, I didn't expect such a twist. "For murder? Whose?"

"My own best friend. Larson," Mr Matthias answered, and took a momentary refuge in his freshly delivered tankard. "We checked in at the only lodge in the town for the night. The same as any other time we would come to a new place on a job. And, by morning, the childhood friend I loved like my brother was found dead in the backyard with one of my bolts buried in his back. Shot clean through the heart. Death was instant. Poor bastard, he never saw it coming."

The man breathed a long sigh at the memory of the tragedy.

"The town watch carried out an investigation and didn't think there was any confusion on the culprit. Of course, I knew right away what the deal was. My arbalest uses titanium darts and Marcellus could manipulate metals. He couldn't have stolen from me, but Noel was the one who crafted my ammunition, and Marcellus could get his hands on spares whenever he pleased. When I saw that smug clown's face, I lost my head and pounded on him right there, in front of the guardsmen. That didn't much help my case."

"I imagine it wouldn't. But surely that wasn't enough to convict you? What motive could you have had to murder your best friend? Anyone should have found the circumstances suspicious. Did none of your other companions speak on your behalf?"

Mr Matthias took a moment to answer, the lingering fire of old anger behind his eyes.

"They did speak, but against me. A motive was found too. It was—relationship drama. That scoundrel of a mage presented that Helen had been cheating on me with Larson; that I found out and killed my friend in a jealous rage, the hothead that I was. In the questioning, Cephen and Bozy testified to having seen Helen and Larson meet privately on the previous night. The two had been arguing heatedly, supposedly. Helen protested that this never happened, but the investigators saw it more likely she was trying to spare my feelings. It only made my guilt more apparent to the jury. I got twenty years for homicide. The only reason I wasn't hanged was Marcellus making an appeal for me. He called it a rash act of passion, that could have happened to any of us. That I was an honest fellow at heart, who deserved a second chance. His final insult. I'll never forget that day and that damn murderous peacock preaching like a saint in front of those gullible morons, and I, the greatest of all fools."

"Unfortunate indeed," I said. "I take it you did not serve twenty years?"

"I couldn't afford to. Marcellus had done away with his main opposition within the party, but the plan was not a lie, and they wouldn't give up on vying for A-rank. The plan hinged mostly on Noel and that serpent, anyway. The rest of us were hardly needed. They recruited a handful of reinforcements from the town to be safe, and set out a week after the trial. Helen came to bring me the news. I begged her not to go, begged on my knees, but she couldn't let her brother and the others ride into their deaths. She swore she would set things right and secure evidence to release me. But though I knew her strong and capable, more capable than myself, my worry for her overrode my faith. The same day, I began to plot escape."

"It could not have been too easy."

Would sort of defeat the point of imprisonment if it could be exited at will.

"No," Mr Matthias admitted. "It wasn't a prison of walls they had in Aunos. Every morning, we were marched to work in the Norhill coal mines eight miles out of the town; at night to be dragged back half dead to the barracks. There was never enough food, or rest, escape becoming more difficult by the day as our strength waned. There were guards everywhere. Former soldiers and adventurers. Tough damn bastards, and without a shred of mercy or humanity. But I was a B-rank adventurer and not a complete pushover. I found by chance this Kyfrosian gizmo buried in the mines, with which I could cut my shackles. I had to kill a couple of guys, but caught a horse and escaped by the skin of my teeth. I was now guilty of all the things they accused me of, a wanted killer on the run, no money or weapons, dressed in rags. What could I do? The only thing on my mind was finding the girl I loved. Do you think I was wrong, Mary? Was there any other, better path I should have taken?"

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"I couldn't say. I was not there to see it happen. But certainly most in your position would have done the same, if only they could."

"Right. I appreciate you saying so."

"Then, what did you find in the northern wastes, Mr Matthias? Did you catch up with your party? What became of their plan?"

The man drank deep of his tankard and set it down with a heavy hand.

"I did find them. But alas, much too late. They had three weeks on me. I knew better than to hold onto hope. By that point, they should have been either successfully returned or no longer on this earth. And it had to be the latter. The spawns of Iskandar prowl that desolate land, never sleeping, safeguarding the slumber of their master, and bringing ruin to all living that cross their path. Those monstrosities are incomparable to any ordinary beast, beyond the understanding of man. And the party had gone to challenge one such a menace with that rotten snake and a handful of randos. Even without more betrayals, it wasn't going to end well for most of them. I tracked them in the wild for another two weeks, like a feral savage, but by the time I met the scene of their battle, nothing was left. It was a vista from a nightmare. Noel. Helen. Cephen. Bozy. The slime himself. All the men and horses, demolished. Pulverized. Never have I beheld a battleground so thoroughly upheaved. Hardly a scrap was left of the victims, a hand here, a foot there. A helmet, a boot, a piece of a skull. A fit end for that bastard! If only he hadn't taken everyone I loved with him."

"You had your vengeance, in a sense," I said, "though I imagine it comforted you little. I am impressed you were able to pick yourself back up after such an episode and made it back to the south alive."

Mr Matthias awkwardly scratched his neck.

"Not by choice. I could either get my act together or face the Maker. But it was never in my nature to obediently roll over and die, and there were still things I owed to the deceased. Noel had warned me time after time again that his designs couldn't end up in the wrong hands, or they could distort the nature of war forever. So I had to go get my arbalest back from the Lord of Aunos. I first intended to destroy the thing and then kill myself, but fate kept on giving me reasons to fight on. Before I knew it, I was working the same as before, roped into quests I didn't want to do, ensnared by mechanical routine. So blinded by my dazzling dreams, I never noticed just how many need a helping hand in this world. Maybe lending mine was a way to soothe my guilt. Though that path never brought relief for me, only more losses."

"How so?"

The man stared into his tankard with a wry smile, before setting it, now empty, next to the group of others.

"Say, Mary," he said, "do you know what is the role of a runner in a party?"

"No. I don't think the term came up in basic training."

"I reckon it wouldn't. It's not a formal tactic and the Guild doesn't officially sanction practices of that sort. See, the runner is someone, often an outsider, typically a ranged fighter, whom you hire only for high-level marks. His job is, as it says, to run away if it looks like defeat is a given. It's a cowardly task, but a coward couldn't do it. It takes an observant eye and a keen mind. The runner's report is invaluable to other adventurers. He tells how the party was defeated, what kind of monster did them in, what were its abilities, weaknesses, and so on. This knowledge is added to the Guild bestiary and makes the next attempt more likely to succeed."

"I see. That is news to me."

"Most kids don't want to do it, since ditching your comrades unavenged is vile and dishonorable. But I have no reputation left to maintain, and I don't care what they say about me. My weapon of choice allows me to maintain a broad distance, which is why I'm often asked to be the runner. They call me 'Zombie' in the north, because I always come back alive from perils where stronger people are lost. But..."

"...It's an ungrateful task," I concluded.

Mr Matthias nodded grimly.

"B-rank parties and above already have a solid grasp of their capabilities and only recruit a runner when they know a wipeout is likely. It's more common than you'd think. Seeing so much death does get to you. I don't think I have much more left in me. Only today, I returned from a trip with another party of youngsters. They were just like us in our heyday; invincible in their own eyes. They took a quest in Harwall to clear a new wyvern nest upon the Blue Mist Peak. But there were more wyverns than the client reported, and the flock was at least four months old already. Almost twenty feet long, and hungry. Those kids were good. Very good. But not good enough that even the addition of one old man could tilt the scales. I couldn't kill the wyverns fast enough to save them. I finished the quest and reported it for them and was paid seven shares plus the parts, but really—none of the money belongs to me. It was supposed to be for those kids' future."

"…"

There was nothing I could say to that.

The amount of wisdom I'd built in my short life so far was not enough.

"You must wonder what was the point of this crappy tale," Mr Matthias remarked in an easier tone. "I guess I just had to get it off my chest. Someone like me may be better off forgotten, but nobody knowing Helen's name and the happiness she gave me, nobody knowing Noel's ingenuity, or the innocence and loyalty of the unjustly murdered Larson, or the other victims of Marcellus—that idea didn't sit right with me. There are so many that go into their graves unknown. Well, as said, I cannot force you to remember them, or write this down. But I've done what little I could."

Mr Matthias now took the platinum mark from his pocket and put it down on the table in front of me.

"Well, this ended up taking a lot longer than I thought it would. Sorry about that, Mary. Goes to show what a great listener you were. You've fulfilled your task like a pro and earned your pay."

He cast a fistful of copper from his pocket on the table for our drinks and stood to go.

I quickly rose and called after him.

"Why do you speak like a man who already has an appointment with the Ferrier? Don't you think you'll still have many more opportunities to tell your story and have it put in books and songs?"

Mr Matthias paused, not turning to face me, staring at the doorway.

"When I checked in at the bureau in town, the local Guildmaster recruited me to an upcoming dungeon raid, in the name of the King of Argento. It seems everyone above C-rank is targeted. The quest is mandatory. I'll lose my license if I refuse it. What would I do if I'm not an adventurer anymore? It's the only life I've known. But a marksman isn't of much use in caves, and I heard what happened with the previous attempt. I doubt we'll see each other again. But thanks for your time. Best of luck to you, little sister."

Mr Matthias turned to go on. It seemed he had truly sought nothing more but a willing soul to hear his story, and considered this favor alone worth a hundred marks of solid gold. No. Considering the platinum marks' rarity, there were collectors out there willing to pay ten times the nominal value. I felt like starting a collection myself.

But not like this.

"Just a moment."

I caught up with the adventurer. He turned around, raising a brow, and I took his hand and put the image of Beatrice the Great back in it.

"It is my firm belief that hearing the troubles of a fellow person falls within common human decency and should not be a paid service. So I must ask you to hold on to this, for now. However, I am also convinced the story you told me tonight has not yet found its true ending. It holds several points that contradict themselves and questions that were not answered. If you could be so kind as to hold onto your life for a while longer, I believe I may provide another chapter to the tale. You can pay me if I manage that, as uncovering the mysteries left by our predecessors is at the very heart of adventurer work."

Mr Matthias stared back at me, almost disturbed.

"What do you mean? What contradictions? What questions could there be left? Everyone involved is dead and gone! The story's over."

"Perhaps. And perhaps not. There are a few things I must confirm on my own, before I can present my theory in full confidence. Once I've verified these points, I will contact you again. All you need is to hold on until then, as you have. I don't think that's an unreasonable thing to ask. Who among us could cheat death as you have, Mr Matthias the Zombie, B-rank?"

So I said to him. The man stared at me blankly for a moment and then asked,

"...Has anyone ever told you that you're one strange woman, Mary?"

"No, I am confident no one has ever said so."

Mr Matthias weighed the platinum coin in his fist for a brief, judging moment, then stuck it back in his coat pocket, and turned to go.

"Surprise me then. Gods know I could use it."