Born a Monster

Chapter 58

Berserks and Witch-Eaters

Why stock up on winter gear in a tropical island chain? Well, because Norvik are crazy, is why. We didn’t need those tents and such for Lavin Buscala itself, but the governor lived above the snow line of the local mountain.

I wasn’t joking earlier when I said it was an arduous half day journey from the port to his long-house. Nothing like crossing the Twelve Daggers mountain range, but still not something I’d do for fun.

But, according to our plan, we didn’t need to go up the mountain... at least at first.

We booked passage on Garm’s Dog Biscuit, a double deck vessel with both a sail and oars, shallow of draft, and supposedly designed to ride right up onto a beach. Don’t ask me how or why, it sounded like crazy talk to me, too.

.....

Of note is that there was no Sea-Witch on the vessel; instead, two spearmen looked over the port and starboard sides of the bow and hurled their spears at passing fish. Trust the culture that invented the Witch-Eater class to distrust arcane casters.

But other than that, they were much like any other wooden vessel; they poured pitch into their decks daily, and took care to produce a level deck surface. Oars were checked daily, or twice that if they’d been used recently.

On the second day, a ship of the Order of the Wyvern was sighted, but did not engage in hostilities.

The day after, they broke out the oars to help navigate a squall.

But at no point were our lives threatened (except, perhaps, by the undercooked fish stew served to us repeatedly during the voyage), and we arrived at Lavin Buscala on the eighth day.

What is there to say about Lavin Buscala? The old town was one and two story structures, square houses like you’d find most anywhere. The new town was a group of log longhouses, just inside the wall. It was a reasonable wall, with braced walkways inside, two parallel series of walls with packs of hunting dogs living between them.

It wasn’t stone, but there were runes emblazoned on the timbers, and one presumed those could be powered. (Though a quick check confirmed that wasn’t their usual state.)

The Norvik had been in charge of the colony for two or three generations, and there were already signs of the old Itinar lineage being merged into the more numerous Norvik families.

Designed to beach or not, the Dog Biscuit rolled into dock, and tied off much like any other boat of similar size would have.

There were no carts or handcarts for rent, so we carried our lodgings out through the east gate and put up tent there. The gate guards looked at us quizzically, but said nothing. The women were all supposedly gathering information at the time, and Narces and I had an interesting time getting the tent assembled and up with just the two of us.

But the tent did go up, and the hammocks, and then we were ready to join the others back inside the gate.

#

The gate guards eyed us warily, but took our tin coins to allow us entry to the town. We met the womenfolk at the Lone Swordsman, a tavern and grill built to Itinar physique, which made it cramped for the Norvik (and Gamilla) to access.

There is a tale behind that title, but it doesn’t belong here. If you’ve heard the tale of the one veteran soldier who died defending a bridge, that’s the one. Horatio something or other, not Hornblower, the other Horatio.

They served us mutton, roasted in its own fat and butter glaze, with onions and some tiny green leaves that the fire took the taste out of. Whatever, it was much better than a bale of hay.

“I notice there are a large number of very dull axes in belts.” I told our waitress. “Is that some manner of local custom?”

“Eh, local tax is more like it. If you’re staying for more than a week, you’ll want to buy axes as well.”

“Really?” Kismet asked, “Is there a war or something?”

“It’s an or something.” She confirmed. “One plate each?”

“To start with.” Narces said. We ended up having two meals due to portion size of the default meals. We also got the full story.

Apparently, a Cousin of Fenris, an especially smart and ferocious variety of wolf, had been brought to the island for Findseth and his brothers to hunt. And... they botched it. They chased the wolf deep into the interior of the island, only to discover that the Fenris had circled around, and killed seven of twelve of their entourage.

This had led to a few outspoken critics, all of whom were dead now, their unmarried daughters claimed as slaves. It wasn’t a popular move, but nobody dared to say that. In the meantime, the Fenris was picking of herdsmen and their flocks at will, a process the locals had taken to calling the ‘wolf tax’.

Naturally, Lord Findseth had declared the herders would pay their full taxes, and his taxman Ragnar Liefwold had privately declared that no such thing was in effect until he confirmed it.

Of course, nobody was talking about the wolf in other colonies; eventually the Findseth brothers would find the creature and end its life. In the meantime, the colony refrained from celebrating openly, even as they tapped reserve stores of mead and ale.

“So,” Madonna asked, “are we hunting the Cousin of Fenris, or counting him or her among our allies?”

“I’m willing to do either.” I said.

“Well, he’d best not be aiming for the lovable animal sidekick.” Dimmihammas said.

“Or she.” Madonna said.

#

We arrived at our tent, to find that it, and our belongings inside, had been vandalized. This primarily affected Narces and I, whose miscellaneous belongings were in the tent.

“Some guards.” He said.

“It might have been the guards who did this.” I said.

It wasn’t, as the teenage hoodlums responsible came charging into the tent from three sides.

“Fires, children of the flames of hell...” Madonna began.

“Like we’d let you! Eat magic!”

“Husband, kill that one first!”

Many people mistake the Flavian as a sword requiring room to swing, and forget that it has a point. Also, never charge a Pankratios unless you intend to grapple, and certainly NEVER do so with your bare groin visible.

“Ah! It’s got my willy!” screamed the one, trying to hack at me with an axe. I blocked his elbow. There were axes and speartips, and knives, and some unfortunate fool tried to approach Kismet with a sack.

In the end, we only captured four of the lads, with the others making it to the safety of the town gate, which the guards closed behind them.

“I didn’t see THEM pay any fees.” Narces observed.

“Hey, if you let us go, we won’t press charges.” Said the one in the sack that Kismet was sitting on.

“Tie this one tighter.” She said.

“I know it’s hands for thieves, and the other hand for vandals, what part is cut off of murderers and slavers?”

“Wait, no, we were only going to rough you up a little bit.”

“Sounds like rapists.” I said. “Do we even HAVE castration tools?”

“Wait, CASTRATION? No, we weren’t going to **** anyone.”

“Looks like they were ready to **** us to me.” Madonna said.

The gate cracked open. The guard beckoned.

“Narces, cover me. Nothing rash on the pirate rapists until we arrange for them to face trial.”

“We’re not pirates!” cried one.

“We’re not rapists!” cried another.

“Silence, pirate rapists.” Kismet said. “Or else I’ll... do our documents LET us cut out their tongues?”

The documents must have given us some very broad powers, because the threats from the criminals faded to nothing.

I walked up to the guards. “When does the courthouse open in the morning?” I asked.

“Sir, just release the lads, and I don’t think they or their parents will press charges.” The brown-haired guard said.

“Release criminal rapsits, caught in the act?”

The blond guard scoffed. “It is our culture, when unarmored, to attack without pants. Unless you’ve got evidence, tonight is just mischief.”

“No, tonight is vandalism, thievery, and attempted murder. If you’re telling us there’s no justice to be had in this port, we might as well just execute them now. Are pirates hung in this port?”

“Sir, you don’t seem to understand local laws.” Blonde said.

Brown also chimed in. “Hold up, can you show us the vandalism by torchlight?”

“Gladly, gentlemen.” Narces and I showed the guards our damaged belongings, and pointed out that they had attacked us with sharpened weapons, and the wounds suffered by ourselves.

“Oh.” Said the blond. “No, this goes beyond fun. Hold onto them for the night.”

“We know the rest of this group. We’ll let the parents know their children are at risk of thralldom.”

“Thralldom? As if!” said the bagged one.

“You’ll be sorry, once you learn who our parents are.” Another warned.

“Rotating guard on the pirates.” I said. “Normal shifts.”

#