Wizard's Tower: A LitRPG Adventure Read online

  With a groan, I sat up and reached for the table beside my bed. On it, my servants had placed a platter with an herbal concoction for a hangover, my usual cup of Asrid Flower tea, and a serving of eggs and fruit. Outside my window, birds arrogantly chirped their happy songs, completely unaware of how close their actions were to causing their own demise.

  The concoction, dark green with blue swirls, was swallowed hastily. I hardly wanted to endure more of the taste than needed. Quickly, it was followed by two heavy gulps of fragrant yellow tea. Asrid Flower tea was my one and only vice. The leaves themselves offered a low boost of energy and a day-long sense of calm, at the cost of a mild addiction.

  After a moment to allow the hangover cure to take effect, I plucked away a slice of pear to slowly chew as I stood and stretched. I was still wearing my wrinkled battlerobe from yesterday, having lacked the wherewithal to bother changing out of it this past evening. This would not do for today. Sometime last night, I had reached the conclusion that I had no further reason to live in this city. With that heavy thought in mind, I sat back down on the edge of my bed and wiped a hand down my face as I considered this decision.

  A quick magical check revealed no subtle mind magics or charisma-induced thought processes. I hovered on checking my Soul Status Scroll before disregarding the thought. No, I’d made the decision to depart on my own.

  What really held me here? My closest friend was gone.

  My position at the Academy? It’d been decades since I felt the thrill in instructing young human minds. With rare exception, their lives were often too short to further the magics they used. I still valued my time conducting magical research there, but I’d long felt the social and legal constraints on my studies.

  My position at the Adventurers’ Guild? With Ram’s death, I had no desire for more adventure. I’ve done more than my share of dungeon delving and monster slaying. I could still join in fighting a beast wave should it endanger something I cared for, but I felt no calling to seek out such things.

  The Orphanage? They’d done well by me when I first arrived at the city, but I’d been supporting them for more than a century and a half. Far longer than the scant few decades they’d cared for me. There was no longer anyone who’d remember I had once been a child there. I wasn’t so lacking in self-awareness to fail to understand I’d been using the institution as a salve for my own inability to father children. While I could have adopted one or more, I still held deep-seated fears of failure induced by my own childhood. So I kept them at arm’s length.

  My cottage? I paused to consider this. It was only a level three cottage. Sure, it was situated right against the wall to the second circle, and one of the few two-story homes to possess any real garden. A pond, fruit trees, and a separated servants’ quarters also made it a touch more valuable than other homes in the third circle. I’d gained it as a reward for my part in suppressing Tilen’s Rebellion, a gift that only cost the lives of thousands. Certainly, at the time I’d received it, it was an earnest reward for honorable work. But now? Now that I’d seen, year after year, how little humans valued each other’s lives? How cheaply nobles spent those beneath them? How repetitively they slew one another? Any fond memories I’d had for my cottage were long faded. It was more a quality place to sleep than it was a home I cared for.

  My responsibilities to the Kingdom? Ha! The Kingdom had lost my records during the second-to-last draft, and I’d had to seek the scribe out in city hall just to ensure that I wouldn’t be prosecuted for missing a draft I never received notice for. The one after that, I’d ignored when I realized I hadn’t received a summons. I doubted that I’d ever be drafted again. After all, what human looks at a record over a hundred years old and thinks, “This person will be the difference between our victory and loss!”? No, odds were any citizenship record for me were collecting dust in the archives, if they hadn’t already been purged.

  I turned my shoulders back and forth, stretching my lower back, before patting my legs. First, I needed to change. I wasn’t sure where I’d head to, but the first step was to start pulling back from my life here. It wasn’t that I no longer grieved for Ram—no, I’d known the rivers of grief for a long time, and it would be years before I felt normal again—rather, I pushed those emotions down. The memory of his body, the look Lutha gave me, the wholehearted desire to collapse and let myself fall apart were all shoved harshly into a corner of my mind so that I could carry on today. I’d helplessly watched many friends die: adventurers and soldiers I fought beside, colleagues at the Academy, even neighbors around me. Humans have such short lives. The only difference here was that Ram was a longer-lasting, closer friend. His passing lent a feeling of… finality to my life in Sena City. That, and Lutha’s words maybe hit too close for me to bear. She would get her wish not to see me again; I’d make sure of that.

  I changed out of my battlerobe and used a quick spell to clean myself before choosing a well-crafted dark green robe and a sash of orange silk as a belt to bind it. I selected the dark green square-brimmed hat that matched, though I had to shake the dust from it and wipe the beaded corner tassels clean. Eighty years ago, these hats had been the height of fashion for the aspiring wizard. I don’t think I’d worn it in two decades, but it reminded me of nights at the pub with Ram when I used to drink more frequently.

  I headed downstairs and waved goodbye to my butler Nisto, but Hertha caught me right outside the door.

  "Good morning, sir. Did you mean what you were saying last night or were it the cups talking?" She spoke politely, but her eyes showed concern.

  Hertha was Nisto’s wife and also my gardener, even if their daughter Nyra spent more time playing in the flowers and pond than I had recently. Nisto was a medium-sized but portly man with a clean-shaven face, brown hair, and brown eyes. Hertha was a young, motherly woman with long light brown hair and blue eyes. She upheld the standard for a classical level of pretty—for a human. I would normally call Nisto reserved and Hertha the quieter of the two, so for her to ask was a little off-putting. More so because I could scarcely remember a word I might have said to them the previous evening.

  "I’m afraid that I may not have been myself last evening, Miss Hertha. Could you refresh my memory?"

  She looked warily at me a moment, as if I might have been playing a trick on her. "Yes, sir. You might have mentioned raining death and terror upon the Chillrest Dungeon in such amounts that the Kingdom itself may not survive. That mercy was no option, and may fate warn any of those who would stand in your way, be they guards or kings or the gods themselves."

  While she began speaking in her normal voice, by the end of it, she was most certainly doing a fair impression of me. Though, by her giggling, I knew she didn’t hold any true fear that I would act upon my drunken ranting.

  I admit that I was a little embarrassed by her reenactment of my boasting, so much so that my face may have blushed red. "N-No, I think not, Miss Hertha." I shook my head. "Though I do plan on moving away soon, if I’d said as much."

  She nodded at me. "We thought you might. Where will you go, sir?"

  "I don’t rightly know yet, but I will write you and Nisto an excellent letter of recommendation if you choose not to join me. Please inform him to seek out a few wagons to employ for my furniture, as well as begin packing away my winter garments."

  "Yes, sir," she said with a curtsy.

  I turned away, walking in the direction of my first stop: the Adventurers’ Guild. I had several things to do there, including collecting my portion of yesterday's pay, retiring, and notifying them of Ram’s passing. While I would assume the others had already informed the guild and left me my share of the spoils, I knew that humans were not always dependable for these things. Also, who knew what that damn [Paladin] Nika may have claimed?

  The walk to the Adventurers’ guildhouse took an hour. Despite spring’s arrival, the past few days had forced the city to welcome a chilly breeze and a few late snow flurries. Today was little different, and while I di
dn’t see any snowflakes, the skies still threatened me with them. In my head, thoughts circled about how poorly these humans treated each other, calling some of their own “unfortunate” and restricting those to hovels and poor meals while others lived in luxury. I cursed my human mother, very briefly, for her responsibility in giving me whatever portion I had of that same need for ambition.

  But I knew what I was really doing by cursing my parentage and the social practices of those around me. I was giving room for the negative emotions to air and dry. Later, after my anger was spent on useless considerations, I would turn my attention inwards to consider the pain of my lost friend without the anger to accompany it. This certainly was a valid reason for a wizard to stalk down the street, muttering angrily and disregarding the paths of those around him.

  By the time I’d arrived, I no longer had any more creative metaphors for the failings of men, and much of my anger felt spent—though I knew it would return. In front of the guildhall stood a bronze statue of an armored man pinning a clawed serpent to the ground with a spear. The building itself was large, standing tall at four stories, twice the height of those surrounding it. A tall, doorless archway was the entrance on the face of the building. Tall as if to proclaim that those within were of greater stature than those without. Doorless to proclaim that those foolhardy enough to try to steal from the building would not make it out. Not that I stopped to pay either the statue or the building much attention.

  Inside, the first floor was a bar and kitchen and dining hall, with short, round tables and sturdy chairs. More than a dozen adventurers of various classes were seated and eating or conversing in soft tones. A wide, curving staircase at the back of the room led up to the second floor, which was my destination here. I ignored those dining and quickly made my way up.

  In the back of my mind, I realized that the sound of conversations had hushed when I entered the first floor, but I paid it little attention. It was a much more profound effect when I arrived on the second floor. The staff behind counters and the adventurers waiting in line to speak with them all fell quiet. There were maybe ten adventurers standing in lines before a long counter with four clerks. A handful of men and women in armor, two clerics, a druid, and a ranger without his beast companion all took note of my arrival.

  It was to my surprise that the four adventurers in line ahead of me all stepped to the side to allow me to pass.

  The clerk, a matronly woman with a weathered face, nodded her head. "Mister Fargus, we’ve been expecting you." I raised an eyebrow at that, but before I could speak, she pointed a gnarled finger toward a room in the back. "The guildmaster would like to speak with you."

  I furrowed my brow to express my confusion but made my way around the counter toward the room she’d indicated. I’d had no cause to visit with the current guildmaster since his appointment. The last one had been a graduate of the Academy, and frequently sought me out for consultation on a myriad of concerns that stretched from new wardings on the guildhall all the way to properly disenchanting an enormous iron stag—a failed experimental golem—that had been rampaging along the coast for the better part of two years.

  I was surprised when I entered. The room was completely different. It felt cramped. The wooden floor was partially covered by a plush fur of some beast, pale yellow with large red dots. At the far end, an extravagant table with stacks of papers and a single high-backed, cushioned chair made of ornately carved mahogany took a third of the space in the room. In the remainder, a low stone-top table with a tea set was surrounded by three low-sitting decorative couches, the colors clashing with the rest of the room. I was impressed. To be able to afford three couches? It spoke of a noble background—a wealthy one, at that. If I owned three, I would have ensured my couches clashed as well, if for no other reason than to draw attention. The rest of the room contained numerous shelves—bookcases, really—displaying shining golden and silver ornaments and curios, with a few finely carved chairs in between each case. It left little space to walk around the furniture and get to a seat.

  In the room, two men sat opposite each other on the couches, talking and sipping at tea. On the opposite wall, a woman sat holding a poorly bound book and making notations. They continued talking while I stood, ignoring my presence entirely, so I took the time to [Analyze] them, figuring rude begat rude.

  The guildmaster was well dressed in a brown-colored silk vest and tan-colored leggings, with sharp eyes and an oiled mustache. He gave off a stately impression as he spoke in conciliatory tones.

  Name: Xi

  Species: Human

  Classes: 4th Tier Archer Lord level 6 / 2nd Tier Scribe level 34

  The other man, whom I vaguely recognized—more so after I [Analyzed] him—possessed a dark countenance. High-quality leather armor covered a wiry, athletic frame. His face gave off the impression of a grizzled and experienced adventurer, and the sharp, deliberate movements he made felt as though they contained an unspoken threat of violence.

  Name: Cothram

  Species: Human

  Classes: 5th Tier Darkblade level ? / ???

  It was rare that my [Analyze] skill couldn’t pierce through something’s information, but even I had to be wary of a 5th Tier class. This man was likely one of a scant handful in the entire Kingdom. Judging by his manner of speech, which came across to me as both arrogant and condescending, he likely knew that well. Getting to that Tier in the lifetime of a human was a feat unto itself. Those that did normally never made it through legitimate methods. I doubted this man was the exception, so I maintained a cautious demeanor.

  The third person in the room, a woman no doubt chosen for her beautiful appearance, wore a fashionable blouse and long skirt. She had long black hair, elegantly styled into a bun, and brown eyes that moved back and forth as she read, though her speaking gave way to the impression that she was air-headed. While I should give her the benefit of the doubt, I’d seen enough men that owned three or more couches to know that her presence in this room had little to do with her profession.

  Name: Beth

  Species: Human

  Classes: 2nd Tier Scribe level 88

  "The, uh, guard says that Mr.… um… Sig was accused of adultery,” the scribe said while I finished my [Analyze] on the group. “Ha! That’s funny. I thought you had to be an adult before you could become an adventurer. The Justice issued a penalty of stoning to death, but Sig claimed he was a renowned adventurer and should be spared."

  The guildmaster seemed to be having two conversations at once as he answered, "His level and class?"

  "Oh!" She began shuffling back through her book looking for the answer.

  Turning away from her, Xi spoke now to Cothram. "It doesn’t look like any of the current crop of adventurers will make it past 3rd Tier this year, though I’ll be sure to inform you of any rogue classes that make it to a level of skill that could be suited to your needs."

  Cothram snorted. "I doubt any you got here will meet my needs. Check for rangers too, though. They do skulk about sometimes."

  "Ah!" Beth exclaimed. "Here it is. He’s a 2nd Tier warrior, level 88. Oh, I remember him! He’s kinda bulky, with a big smile and gray eyes. He’s one of the more respectful ones—"

  "Stone him; he’s only Tier two. And a warrior, at that. Worth less than a gate guard in the fifth ring." Cothram scoffed, answering for the guildmaster.

  For Xi, it seemed he wasn’t going to oppose the man, though it did sound technically like Xi’s decision. A slightly inclined head offered concurrence.

  "Okay!" Beth scribbled something in her book.

  I took the opportunity to break into the conversion by faking a cough into my fist.

  "Mister Fargus, it is good tidings that you join us. Please, have a seat." Guildmaster Xi offered a pleasant nod and gestured to the one empty couch.

  I wasn’t going to deny the opportunity to test the furniture, as I was always interested in ways to increase the level of comfort I lived in.

  I heard the
scribe muttering to herself from her chair on the wall as she flipped through pages in her book. "Fargus… Fargus… Fargus…"

  "I understand that you had an interesting day yesterday. Tea?" Xi motioned to the tea set.

  It did smell appetizing, so I nodded once and answered, "Please."

  I don’t know if it was intentional, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was, but Cothram spoke at the same time I did. "'Interesting’ isn’t the word I would use to mean you got your people killed."

  The derision in his tone caused both the guildmaster and scribe to pause their actions for a moment before they both continued.

  I pointedly ignored the man as I took the offered teacup and drank a sip. It seemed a southern tea, likely imported from the jungles. A surprisingly expensive taste, if so. That didn’t mean the tea tasted great; the taste was only mediocre.

  "Yesterday, a good friend of mine, Ram Stonemouth, was slain by a metallic drake. The final guardian monster in Chillrest Dungeon. I am here to report this and divert any income from that delve I may have earned to his remaining family, a wife and child. Also, to file for my retirement from the guild."

  While I heard Beth scribble away in her book, Cothram scoffed. The asshole. The guildmaster, Xi, seemed to take a moment to consider this before nodding his head and answering, "His death was already reported, and making allowances for your share should not present any difficulties."

  I waited. He waited. The scribe scribbled. The asshole chuckled.

  "And…?" I provided.

  "As for your retirement, we were hoping to—" Xi began, but was quickly cut off.

  "You don’t look that old to me, Nemon," Cothram butted in.

  This time, I weighed my options before answering. I doubted this man was here by happenstance. I gazed around the room, considering the items on the shelves along the wall. When I first entered, I’d had the impression that the guildmaster must have a heavy mercantile or political background. Considering his demeanor and the presence of the 5th Tier adventurer, political was more likely—not that there weren’t cases of the two blending. That meant the guildmaster had some pull to bring Cothram here. Likely to pressure me to do something. Perhaps some difficult quest that required a high-leveled wizard? I turned away from that thought process. The motivations were meaningless. I would not be pressured into action I didn’t want by anyone less than the king himself, and even then it wouldn’t be without sufficient reward. No, I had to answer the pressure with pressure of my own.