The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The crack of a shot echoed through the cavern, a leaden ball cleaving the air and zooming toward Coin as he tried to flee. It was, unsurprisingly, harder to hit a moving target than it was to shoot a bound, kneeling man.

Even so, the ball managed to graze one of Coin's shoulders, tearing a bloodied chunk in passing. Coin hissed but pressed on, doing his best to ignore the pain. He'd taken hard knocks before, but that ball struck far harder than any arrow could dream of. An image flashed in his mind, of a horde of goblins armed with such weapons, shredding a fleet of human soldiers with dreadful ease. If they had enough black powder and lead balls, they could cut through any fighting force.

Lord Bleak, whoever he was, had stumbled upon a weapon that would forever change the face of warfare in the land.

Coin wound his way back through the dirt tunnels at an uncanny speed, the noise of shouts and pounding footsteps reverberating around him. But the mimic was quick, even without amplifying himself further with his reserves of absorbed strength, he could easily outrun a normal crowd.

He just needed to escape the hatch in the abandoned house, and into the foggy streets of Grafia outside. Coin doubted a gang of clandestine criminals would want to chase him into the open, exposing themselves in such a way. Still, he couldn't risk them catching up to him.

His left arm ached with every movement, blackened blood hissing from the wound. The torn flesh knit itself back together, drawing on Coin's latent biomass. But, even after closing it, the pain in his muscles lingered.

Coin swept the claws of his right hand into the ceiling, tearing chunks of rock and dirt from the compacted ceiling. A tremor shook the tunnel, a swathe of it collapsing behind him in a tide of dusty debris. Not enough to block the tunnel entirely, but the chunks of rock would take time to scramble over.

He had assumed, in that moment, that none of the mysterious crooks would be able to catch up to him.

A throwing knife whistled through the air, thudding into Coin's right thigh with uncanny speed and force. He hissed, stumbled, and flexed the flesh of his leg to jettison the blade. Turning, he scuttled away and narrowly avoided a swipe from Leona as she vaulted the rubble and lunged at him.

She was fast, inhumanly so, her twin blades whistling through the air toward him in a flurry. Coin only barely dodged them, scuttling backward through the cave. An eye formed on the back of his lid, allowing him to see where he was going.

"Don't know why a mimic is down here," Leona said, lifting and thrusting her left sword forward. It gazed his lid, nicking the sturdy flesh. "But it doesn't much matter to me!"

Coin lashed his tongue outward, the tip sharper than a spearpoint, aimed squarely at Leona's throat. She sidestepped him, swept a blade up, and sliced his tongue.

Snarling, Coin sucked his bleeding tongue back into his maw. That was new. She was a cut above the rabble of adventurers he'd killed in the past, that was for sure, both in her speed and the high grade material of her meticulously maintained swords. But he was a cut above any mimics she may have met before.

Inwardly, a meteorite ring shifted inside his flesh and started migrating toward his clawed right hand. He swung at her a few times, but she pirouetted away from his attacks with a smile painted on her pretty face.

"What's the matter?" she mocked, tilting her head and sneering down at Coin. "Want to make a meal of me? Too bad, you'll starve in the attempt!"

The shouts from the crowd were echoing up the tunnel, now mixed with the noise of men cursing at each other. The shaft was perhaps wide enough for three men to comfortably walk abreast through. But a miniature army, frantic and hopped up as they were, were getting stuck and tripping over each other.

Coin jumped back, progressively drawing closer to the entrance of the abandoned cellar. Leona pressed her assault all the while, growing faster and more aggressive until her movements became a blur. Her smaller frame worked to her advantage in the confines of the tunnel, dodging away from Coin's jabs and swipes.

Coin hardened the flesh of his trunk just as one of Leona's blades swept down toward him. "You can choke on my steel if you'd like!"

The ring emerged on Coin's right hand, half-embedded in his flesh. "Shut up!" he spat, his tone venomous and his voice an inhuman snarl that echoed around the duo.

The sight and sound of a mimic speaking stunned Leona mid-swing, giving Coin a chance to lift his hand. A strong gale of wind, launched from Coin's palm, shook the tunnel and slammed into the assassin like a brick wall. She was flung off her feet, striking against the walls of the tunnel, and left tumbling unceremoniously onto her side.

Leona struggled, seemingly aching from head to heel, and whipped a throwing blade toward Coin. The mimic's hand, still upraised, flickered with a sudden and unfamiliar reflex. A concussive bolt of red light flashed in his palm, akin to the magic of the elven bandit he'd devoured a few days previously, shot from his palm and deflected the blade into the tunnel wall. A lingering numbness tingled in his palm.

He had anticipated the possibility of absorbing that magical potential into himself, but he hadn't expected that form of magic to come unbidden. Not that he was complaining...

"What... in damnation?" Leona murmured.

He should have killed her. Put her down then and there. She had seen too much, heard too much, knew that she wasn't dealing with some ordinary cave monster. But already Coin could see long shadows advancing up the walls of the tunnel, flickering in the firelight. The precious seconds the act would take him would allow the goblins and their allies to close the gap. And if they had more of those... hand cannons...

He turned and fled to the mouth of the tunnel, the eye of his back letting him see the first of the crowd rounding the corner. Leona was pushing herself to her feet, shouting and cursing, her pretty features twisted with rage.

A hard punch from the mimic tore the metal cellar doors from their moorings, sending them cartwheeling across the dusty floor of the building.

"What th-" Toller, in sluggish guard fashion, reached for the hatchet on his belt to cut down the unwelcome intruder. A dismissive swiping punch from Coin launched him away, leaving him sprawled in an unconscious heap in the next room. Coin scampered away, into the streets outside, where the downpour had become torrential and the fog had grown into a blinding thickness. The mist enveloped him like a shroud, his silhouette fading away from sight.

The various criminals halted by the destroyed cellar doors, knowing that it would draw too much attention to chase the mimic. Slowly, begrudgingly, they began to retreat to the underground. As far as interruptions went, none of them had expected that. And the question of the shadowy mimic would dominate the group's minds for that night.

Coin scuttled through the soaked streets, using the fog and shadows to mask his movements. The town was mostly empty at this hour, save for the occasional roaming guard. And even their lanterns struggled to cut through the murk. Still, he couldn't be too careful. He continued watching his back as he went, checking for any trace of a pursuit.

Eventually he reached the backside of the Fisher's Haunt. A few of the windows were illuminated by lamplight, but the majority of the rooms were dark at this late hour. Soon after renting a room for the night, before they ventured out to earn money with Pearl, Coin had put a few of his things aside and left his window open to air the room out.

Now that same window was still open. He smiled with relief. Or, at least, smiled as best a treasure chest could.

He scuttled up the wall with the quickness of a spider. His mass morphed and shifted to better fit through the gap in the window, emerging onto the floor as a writhing mass of waxy flesh. It swiftly reshaped in the dim light of the room, removing his clothing from its internal hiding place.

Gooey limbs untangled themselves and elongated, sliding into his sleeves and trousers. In a matter of seconds his attire had unfolded and been filled by Coin's shapeshifting flesh. The walking treasure chest had vanished, replaced entirely by Coin's human visage.

A low groan rose in his throat, the mimic briefly pressing his palms to his face. What a damn night. The men he'd followed hadn't been seeking to harm his group, but the reality of the situation seemed to be much worse. A reality he was still grappling with, trying and failing to grasp the immensity of it all.

A cabal of criminals, working with goblins to threaten the kingdom... And the man he and Elijah had cut a deal with was arming these people too. They had tripped and fallen headfirst into something dangerous. He'd have to tell Elijah, but... how would he explain the situation without giving away the details of his true nature?

Questions and worries flooded his mind in a seemingly endless deluge as he slid his hands from his face. Coin turned toward the bed, figuring a night's rest would help his mind make sense of his situation.

And froze.

Essine was sitting on his bed, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes.