Towering trouble a litrp.., p.46
Towering Trouble: A LitRPG Isekai, page 46
“No I’m not angry.” Despite his unwanted advances, she didn’t feel threatened around him. It had just been talk, and something told her he’d never push further without permission. “I may not have survived in that place if it hadn’t been for you. Thank you.”
“You talk unusual, even for princess,” he said.
“I’m not a—ah forget it. So what now, Rover Dog? Now that you’re free, I mean. I take it you’ll want to leave the city…”
“I not yet explored Torpend. Only fighting pit. Very boring. Much yet to see in city.”
“Uh…Rover Dog, you realise, the city watch aren’t going to just let you go sightseeing…”
“Not alone. With princess. With benign squishies. What can squishy sentinels do?”
“Quite a lot, actually. Look, as far as I know, our options are: lay low here with the, uh, benign squishies, or get the hell out of dodge. Anything else is suicide—or captivity. I haven’t decided which option is best for me. But don’t feel you have to stay by my side and protect me or anything. You’re free to do whatever.”
“Princess too kind. Not demand service.”
“That’s because I’m not a—”
“I choose stay with princess for while. Not just for protect. For…companion.”
Saskia didn’t know what to say to that. If she understood him correctly, he was lonely. Probably hadn’t been with his own kind in a long time. If he only knew just how poorly she fit the mould of a real troll… Still, an ally was an ally. Maybe even a potential friend. She wasn’t about to turn down such a rare opportunity.
Just as long as he kept that thing away from her.
Later, the older dwarven woman—Myrna—appeared bearing a large basket, bundled high with furs and cloth. “Wear these,” she said curtly, dumping the basket on the floor at the water’s edge. Without so much as a glance at the trolls, she picked up Saskia’s wormhide leather outfit, eyeing it distastefully.
“Where are you taking that?” asked Saskia.
“To be washed,” said Myrna, rushing out the door before Saskia could protest that she’d already just washed it herself.
The clothes in the basket were very basic—barely more than blankets with holes in them, but they were the right size for her and Rover Dog. Better than running around naked while she waited to get her armour back.
Stepping out the door, Saskia came face to face with Ruhildi.
“Good,” said her friend. “Let’s eat. I’m famished!”
Ruhildi led them to a smokey room where the dwarves sat on the stone floor around a firepit. It was almost like a campfire meal, except indoors. There were no massive dining tables brimming with food and wine like in many a historical or fantasy story she’d read. These dwarves talked and laughed amongst themselves, gnawing on roasted meat and root vegetables and crisp bread and slurping down cups of what she assumed to be some form of alcoholic beverage. The smell was divine. Saskia’s stomach growled loudly as she stepped through the doorway. All talking ceased, and all eyes turned to her.
“Fetch our guests a meal for ten!” shouted Baldreg.
“Better make it twenty,” said the old woman—Myrna—standing by the firepit turning what might as well have been a pig on a spit.
Saskia felt her face grow hot as plates were heaped in front of her. To be fair, she probably would eat all of that. Still, she shrank inward under the scrutiny of all those eyes.
Thorric broke the ice by running over and plonking himself down between Saskia and Rover Dog.
“Is that…is that safe?” asked the giant dwarf seated next to Rover Dog, his gaze flitting to the tiny boy sandwiched between the two trolls. This guy wasn’t anything like the badonk dwarf she’d pictured when she first saw his cloaked form. His large stature and the impressive beard dangling from his chin did little to disguise his relative youth. He looked nervous and fidgety.
“He’ll be alright, Kveldi,” said Ruhildi. “Sashki’s wouldn’t eat someone as little and stringy as Thorric. Now you, on the other hand…”
“Don’t listen to her,” said Saskia. “I don’t eat people. I’m a very nice trow. Isn’t that what you called me when we first met, Ruhildi?”
“Methinks I called you a few nastier things afore that, whilst I were in your care,” said Ruhildi. “But I came around. You are a nice trow. You only drooled over me a fistful of times.”
“You’re not helping!”
“I nice trow too,” said Rover Dog around a huge mouthful of meat. He rubbed his belly and looked at the dwarf, who shrank away from him. “I only dine on nefarious squishies.”
Saskia couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. She really hoped he wasn’t.
“She’s a beauty, aren’t she, Ruhi?” said Freygi, her eyes shamelessly roaming across Saskia’s body. “Unlike any rock trow I’ve laid eyes on afore, and I’ve seen a few in my tunnel-wanderer days. How’d you get her skin so smooth?” She reached over and ran a finger down Saskia’s arm, making her shiver.
“Are you jealous, bonnie?” said Baldreg, earning himself a swat on the arm.
“That’s not for me to tell, Frey,” said Ruhildi. “I’ll not be sharing any of Sashki’s secrets without her permission. Best you ask her yourself.”
Freygi looked between Ruhildi and Saskia. Her eyes widened, then she burst out laughing. “You’re really fond of her, aren’t you, Ruhi! Good for you!”
Ruhildi reddened. “She’s not just my pet, if that’s your meaning. Though if the city watch should come knocking, that’s all she is, alright?” She looked around the room, earning nods of assent from each of the other dwarves. “But in truth, Sashki’s my friend—as true a friend as either of you. She saved my life more times than I can count, just as you did, Baldi.”
“Answer self-evident,” said Rover Dog. All eyes turned to him now, and there were more than a few perplexed frowns. “Princess skin smooth because she princess.”
Saskia rolled her eyes. “I’m not a princess, okay? I never was—nor will I ever be—a princess.”
“Actually, Sashki,” murmured Ruhildi into her ear. “Your pap were a king…”
Saskia’s mouth dropped open. She hurriedly bit down on chunk of bread to cover her surprise. Oh my god, she’s right! she thought. Damn you, Calburn! Why’d you have to make everything so complicated?
“King?” said Rover Dog, whose hearing was apparently just as good as Saskia’s. “Grongarg have no kings. Only queens. And princesses.”
Saskia groaned. This just kept getting better and better.
It was Baldreg who eloquently expressed what the other dwarves were no doubt thinking. “What’s he on about?”
“’Tis none of your concern, Baldi,” said Ruhildi. “All you need to ken is she’s my friend. I ask that you treat these trows as part of the crew as long as they’re here.”
“Aye, that I can do,” said Baldreg. “Och how I wish we’d had trows back in our Vindical days…”
As the evening progressed, cups emptied and lips loosened, and Saskia began to get a feel for just what it was Baldreg’s crew did for a living. They were mercenaries, smugglers and adventurers, of a sort. Not hardened criminals, by any means, but they weren’t on the best terms with the city watch. It all sounded like rather a lot of fun, actually, although Saskia couldn’t see where she and Rover Dog would fit in, because most of the jobs they did required a good deal of stealth, and there were few things that would draw more attention than a pair of trolls.
Thorric fell asleep against Saskia’s leg, whereupon Myrna carried him off to bed.
“You ken, Ruhi,” said Freygi, who had been hitting the mead especially hard, “this is the first time I saw you smile since Nadi…” Her words trailed off, and she dabbed at eyes gone suddenly moist. “Och shite, I mean…when I thought you passed into the Halls Beyond, to be true, I were happy for you. Finally at peace, together with her, after…”
“Bonnie…” said Baldreg, frowning at his wife. He looked apologetically at Ruhildi, whose smile had frozen into a horrible parody of itself.
“Lemme finish!” said Freygi. “I mean, I can’t even imagine ’twere like for you up there. All the pain. The rage. And yet here you are. To see you like this, it warms my…” She leaned her head against Baldreg’s chest, eyes fluttering.
“What she were trying to say is nothing pleases us more than to see you smile,” said Baldreg. “’Tis so good to have you back, my friend. I have to jab my eye each time I awake just to convince myself ’tisn’t a dream. Now speaking of dreams…” He smiled at Freygi’s sleepy form. “…to bed with us! You all have a good night.” Baldreg did his best to prop Freygi up against his shoulder as they staggered to their room.
Cute couple. Saskia could almost think of them as some of her old university buddies…if it weren’t for the fact that they could kill a man without breaking a sweat.
After dinner, Ruhildi took Saskia aside for a quiet word. “What do you think, Sashki?”
Saskia grinned at her. “About…?”
Ruhildi whacked her lightly on the leg. “About Baldi and the others, of course!”
“I like them. They seem…real.”
“Well they’re not figments of your imagination, if that’s what you fear.”
Saskia shivered. “Never can tell, on this world… But yeah, I could work with them, if they have any use for trolls who can’t take three steps without waking up the whole block.”
“Good,” said Ruhildi, with visible relief. Then she frowned again. “Because there’s something I haven’t told you about them…”
Saskia raised her eyebrows. “Oh? Don’t tell me! They’re actually secret government spies!”
“No. I don’t ken what you just said, but no. What I haven’t told you is they hold to a fair particular faith…”
“Faith? As in religion. Why would that be a problem?”
Her friend looked down at the floor, in obvious discomfort. “I…ah…well you see, they’re followers of your father.”
Saskia stared at her for several long seconds, before saying, simply, “Oh.”
“Aye.”
“Oh…”
“Aye.”
“Oh…kay, I’ll stop now. So these guys are, what, my father’s groupies? Fantabulous.”
“I don’t ken this word groupies, but from your tone, I can tell you don’t approve,” said Ruhildi.
“I don’t know what to think! It seems everyone on this world knows more about my father than I do. Or at least thinks they do. The fact that he has worshippers even after all this time…kinda creeps me out.”
“Worship isn’t the right word—for many of his followers, leastwise. He is, as you say, no longer with us. ’Tis more of a faith in what he represented: standing in opposition to the tyrant who now sits upon the amber throne.”
“Oh. I suppose that’s not so bad. Aside from being kinda suicidal. Wait…if you ran with this crew, are you also one of these…what do you call them?”
“Calburnists,” said Ruhildi. She hesitated for a long moment before continuing. “I…were one of them. Baldi and the others were there for me after…in a very dark time. Now, having met you, the demon king’s daughter, I just don’t ken. Methinks you’d want to stomp on me if I knelt afore you.”
“Yup,” said Saskia. “So how serious are these Calburnists? Do they just show up to Sunday meetings, or do they plot to overthrow a certain very real god in his name?”
“Depends who you ask. Amongst my kin, there are those who despise the demon king, those who pay him lip service…and some who would follow him to the ends of the arbor, were he to rise again…or his successor. My friends are, shall I say, a wee bit more serious than most.”
“Dogramit,” breathed Saskia.
“As far as they ken, you’re just a trow, Sashki. It can remain so, if you wish. Or…”
“Or I could tell them. But why would they believe me? It’s a bit of a stretch.”
“Not if I tell them everything I’ve seen,” said Ruhildi. “And you can show them your belly.”
“What? Oh, right. No bellybutton. Rover Dog got an eyeful of that and he didn’t say anything.”
“He’s a trow, Sashki.”
“What, really? And here I thought he was a giant octopus.”
Ruhildi gave her a long stare, then jabbed her in the leg again. “They’ll believe you. And when they do—when they see you as Calburn’s heir—you’ll find no-one else in the ’Neath more willing to offer their lives to protect you.”
“I don’t want anyone dying for me!” said Saskia. “I’m just…me, not some demon messiah! I haven’t done anything to earn that kind of devotion.”
But then she thought about what she was up against. An actual god, Abellion, wanted her dead. That wasn’t the kind of opposition she could hope to overcome without allies, and lots of them. She remembered the skirmish she’d had with the god when he invaded her dreams. She’d won that battle, but she had no illusions about going up against the real deal.
She sighed. “I’ll…think about it. Thank you for telling me. Now I think it’s time I got some sleep. It’s been a really weird day.”
She shared a room with Rover Dog that night; a large storage chamber filled with shelves stacked high with tools and containers of all shapes and sizes, messy workbenches, weapon racks and chests. The shelves, they pushed aside to make room for the trolls. This chamber had an even higher ceiling than the rest of the spire—high enough for her to stand up to her full height and stretch her back. Not that she had any intention of staying upright for the next eight hours.
Her bed consisted of a straw mat and some tiny blankets that barely covered her legs. Still, given where she’d been sleeping since she arrived in this world, this felt like the height of luxury.
As she slowly relaxed for what seemed like the first time in weeks, Saskia sifted through the day’s events. For a bunch of demon cultists, Ruhildi’s friends seemed like a pretty nice bunch. If only she could dispel the mental image of having them grovel before her, their new goddess, muahahaha! She imagined herself reclining on a gigantic throne of skulls, being oiled and massaged by an army of tiny men. That led to…ooohhhh…
It had been a while since she’d had one of those dreams.
The next morning, Saskia awoke to find a bundle at her feet: her wormhide armour, immaculately clean, and the stitching had been strengthened too. Ruhildi’s handiwork, or Myrna’s?
No sooner had she gotten dressed than Ruhildi entered the room with a platter of delicious-smelling bread and cups of steaming beverage.
“Oh wow!” said Saskia. “Room service! I could get used to this.”
Ruhildi looked at her blankly. “Sleep well?”
“Oh yeah,” said Saskia, flushing as she remembered her dream. “Great, actually. Sure beats sleeping on rocks or in a cage.”
She took a sip of the drink, trying not to grimace. Definitely not coffee.
“I not complain,” said Rover Dog. “Except princess honk like congested goresnout.”
Saskia glared at him until Ruhildi piped up, “Och that sounds like Sashki. Rattles louder than a loose board in a howling gale.”
“Louder than mating mamifaunt,” agreed Rover Dog.
“Loud enough to knock tiles off the wall.”
“Are you quite finished?” said Saskia. “Yeesh, if I knew it was pick-on-me day, I’d have just stayed in bed.”
Ruhildi’s expression turned serious. “When you’ve finished your meal, there’s a wee lad waiting outside who wishes to bid you a fond farewell.”
Myrna, it turned out, had already found a new family for Thorric: a childless couple looking to adopt an orphan. She was taking him to be with them today. The boy was none too pleased to be leaving.
“I want to stay!” he wailed, clutching at Saskia’s leg.
Saskia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Don’t worry, child. We’ll see each other again.” She wasn’t at all certain of that, but what could she say? “You’ll love your new family, I’m sure of it. And they’ll keep you safe.”
“I don’t want to be safe!”
“Well I want you to be safe. And you’ll never be safe around me. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is.”
Left unsaid was that fact that though she liked what she’d seen of Ruhildi’s friends, Thorric wouldn’t be safe around them either. This was no place to raise a child.
After he left, a lethargic feeling of melancholy settled over her and stubbornly refused to bog off. This feeling may have been triggered by Thorric’s departure, but she knew it was probably more of a rebound from yesterday’s whirlwind of meetings and revelations, and the weeks of non-stop struggle and danger that had preceded it. Rest was what she needed. A few day’s rest and she’d be back to her old self.
A few days later, Saskia was bored. Ruhildi and her friends were gone most of the time, doing who-knew-what out in the city. Whatever hijinks they were getting up to out there, clearly they didn’t deem them suitable for trolls.
Here she was, stuck indoors with only Rover Dog and Myrna for company. The latter was clearly no fan of trolls, and who could blame her, really? This house was not made for such creatures. Who wouldn’t get cranky at the sight of a giant monster spread-eagled in the sun room, clad only in a contented grin? That was Rover Dog, by the way, not Saskia. She would never—well, except for that one time in her senior year at high school when she got absolutely plastered—but that was beside the point. Saskia did her best not to tread on any metaphorical toes, but her feet were really big and heavy. There were…missteps. Things tended to break around her.
Boredom and claustrophobia and a sense that she was being useless and outstaying her welcome combined to form a seething muddle of discontent in her belly. She needed to get out. She needed to do something.
So when Ruhildi came to her with an offer, Saskia could barely contain her excitement.
“We’ve a job for the whole crew—you and Rover Dog included—starting at first dark tonight, if you’re ready,” her friend told her. “A few seasons back, my friends found an entrance to an unexplored section of the ancient crypts buried beneath the city, and—”
