The two mysterious flying interlopers were apparently guards from a nearby harpy volary. The two men looked human, for the most part. The exception being that they had massive albatross-like wings. They also had bird legs, from the knee down, connected to powerful claws with razor sharp talons. The claws could also be surprisingly gentle. I know this, because they used those dagger-tipped claws to carry me by the arms back to their volary. They were quite adamant that I be presented to the queen so that she could sentence me.
I guess they do have trespassing laws on this world, after all, I thought, remembering the first time I met Juniper back on the Plains. I just hoped that the queen would show some leniency in light of the extenuating circumstances. Namely, Brakk curb stomping me through the ledge of a giant seaside bluff wall. I tried explaining as much to Feathers McGee and Officer Tweety up there, but neither of them were buying it. So, I was in the harpy equivalent of a paddy wagon on my way to meet the Queen and beg for clemency. At least I wasn’t a blood stain on a jagged rock at the bottom of the cliff. Or on the bottom of Brakk’s boot, for that matter.
I watched the scenery scroll by beneath us as they carried me on to the volary, but I couldn’t help but think back to my strategy with Brakk. The idea was good – make him think he’d overwhelmed me with his presence, lure him in, try to get in a sucker punch. Or a sucker stab, in this case. Either way, it hadn’t quite worked out how I’d planned. It was a little infuriating, having overlooked such an obvious move on his part. Of course he was the kind of guy who would pose with his foot on an enemy’s chest. It was like I’d learned nothing from all those years watching professional wrestling.
I replayed the moment over and over in my mind. Each time, I came up with new ways I could have ended him right then and there. Hypothetically, anyway. I had no real idea how much it would actually take to put him down. If I used Misdirection to make him misjudge the distance between us, I could have potentially sent him falling ass over tits down the side of the cliff. Would that have been enough? I honestly didn’t know and the not-knowing was killing me. Another thought occurred to me unbidden: I could have also used Fade to bypass the prick altogether. Honestly, it was probably better to get the initial confrontation over with, though. The more I knew about him, the better I could scheme for the next round.
Still, I didn’t like to lose, and this had definitely been a loss. At least I left him with a little scratch to remember me by. Moral victories never won a war, though. I’d need to be ready for him, the next time we met.
It took Harvey Birdman and Sam the Eagle about ten minutes to tote me from where I’d been cosplaying Spider-Man to the volary landing zone. They let me drop once I was maybe a foot off the ground and then landed on either side of me. Sam hit me in the face with his left wing, leaving a few downy feathers in my mouth. After delivering some bombastic side-eye to the harpy, I pulled the feathers away from my lips and looked at them. The ensuant tooltip showed that the feathers were of Legendary rarity and apparently had some sort of apothecarial use. I triggered Misdirection and tried to act offended, wiping my hands on my trousers while secretly pocketing the feathers.
The landing pad was more along the lines of an over-sized, semi-circular balcony that looked out on the sea. It was positioned just below the city, with a long flight of stairs leading up and around to the right side of town. From my vantage point, I couldn’t tell for sure, but I assumed that there was probably another such balcony on the opposite side of the town. Presumably, I could have used Environmental Mapping to be sure, but I didn’t want to risk anyone noticing when my eyes burst into flames.
“You know,” I said to the two guards, “you guys have wings…we could have just landed in town and saved ourselves a climb up the bleachers.”
“All entry to the city proper must happen at an approved entry point,” Harvey said.
“The city itself is a no-fly zone,” Sam added.
Odd that bird people would have flight restrictions in their own territory, but who was I to judge? I’m sure they had their reasons. I wasn’t interested enough to ask.
It took us another 15 minutes to climb the wooden stairs, and once the city came into view I was surprised at how much it resembled the orc stronghold of Slagfall. The primary difference was that the streets remained unpaved and were covered with straw, or some sort of dried grass. Looking at my captors’ feet as we walked, I supposed it made sense. Cobblestone would be a fairly risky venture for a population who had talons for toenails. They would be slipping and sliding all over the place – and when they weren’t doing that, they’d be getting their talons stuck in the cracks between stones. I wasn’t exactly sure what the straw was for, but I figured it must have a purpose.
The harpy community seemed to be a fairly curious one in that every person on the streets looked at me not with any visible contempt or animosity, but rather a sense of wonder. They looked at me in the way an Earthling might look at Ryan Gosling inside of a Trader Joe’s. Everyone just kind of looked lost as to why I was there. Apparently, they don’t get a lot of visitors in the volary. Much less wingless ones being escorted through town by two guards. Suddenly, a memory struck me – when I first arrived in this world and looked at my own stats, my card said “Emissary” rather than Infiltrator.
These people think I’m some kind of ambassador, or bureaucrat, I thought. If I used Misdirection more often and leveled it more, there were all sorts of uses for that little tidbit of information. I filed it away for later. For now, I would just play into their misapprehension by adjusting my posture.
The city itself was vibrant with street vendors selling various wares – food, art, weapons, armor, potions…the usual fare you’d expect from a place like this. I had to keep Scorch from popping out of my jacket pocket several times when she tried to come out and investigate the smell of roasted meats. I wondered if I could send her messages the way I did everyone else. There didn’t seem to be a good reason why it should be impossible, except we had never exchanged contacts. I would have to rectify that when we left this place. Not being able to speak privately was proving to be an encumbrance we couldn’t afford.
The guards led us through a promenade that terminated in a set of wooden stairways that flowed up and around either side of a stone balcony overlooking the square. Likely where the Queen gives her speeches, I thought.
The royal living quarters appeared to built into the side of the red rock cliffs. It wasn’t a city built into a mountain, like the Nephil ruins, but more like a castle that had been built inside a cave system. At the top of the stairs was a large silver gate with guards positioned on either side. Harvey and Sam saluted the gatekeepers, who returned the gesture before allowing us inside. We took a sharp right-hand turn and descended a set of stone stairs that had been covered in a thick mat of cave moss. I thought it was pretty nice, actually, until I discovered at the bottom of the stairs where they were leading me – holding pens.
“Hey. I thought you were taking me to see the Queen,” I complained.
“And you think people can just march in and get an audience whenever they feel like it, do you?” Sam asked, amused. “You will stay here until the Queen decides to see you.”
They pushed me into an enclosed room with a wooden door.
“We don’t get many ‘visitors’, so if the Queen isn’t busy, she will probably want to interrogate you immediately. In the meantime, please enjoy our hospitality,” Harvey said. Then he closed the door in my face.
I looked around the room. There were no windows, but there was a small air vent. In the worst-case scenario, at least I could get Scorch out of there. That was a small win. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. I engaged Environmental Mapping and started scouring the palace. Immediately, I noticed that the place only had a few entrances. That seemed to be on purpose, and it probably made sense – it wasn’t like the place was in any danger of burning to the ground. Before long, I had the entire layout of the place memorized. I could give guided tours, if they wanted me to.
With that accomplished, I turned my attention to the door and felt my eyes light up as I triggered Advanced Schematics for a moment. I smiled and released the ability. I could pick my way out of this place with almost zero effort. A little picking, a little Fade, maybe some Misdirection and I was a free man once more. That, however, was probably not the best plan. I put it on the back burner and went to lay down on the cot that sat next to the wall. Scorch wiggled out of my jacket and stretched before sitting on my chest and grooming herself.
“Looks like we’re going to be here for a bit before they let us see the Queen,” I said.
“Mhmm,” she replied, too busy licking the back of a paw to give a proper response.
“When the time comes, let me do most of the talking.”
“As if anyone ever has a choice when you’re around,” she said between licks.
Before I could answer, the sound of keys jingling came from outside my door and Scorch scampered back into my jacket pocket.
“Not as long as we’d anticipated then,” I said, half to Scorch and half to the guards opening the cell door.
The two guards led me back up the stairs, through the foyer to the back of the main cavern where there were – you guessed it, more stairs. We followed them up a couple of flights as they slightly spiraled upward. The stairwell terminated at a large landing that lay before an even larger gold door. The guards pushed the door open and led me into the throne room. I’d never been in a throne room before. It was nice. As far as I knew, anyway. I wasn’t exactly a throne room expert. It seemed to meet all the criteria for regality, though – plenty of gold plating, chandeliers, and what have you. The only thing missing from what I’d come to expect from TV shows was the line of nobles on either side of the carpet that led to her Majesty’s throne. We were alone. Even the guards politely took their leave and closed the door behind me.
“That’s a lot of trust that I won’t do anything stupid,” I said to the Queen, from my place near the doorway.
“You call it trust,” she said, “I call it preparation. My guards have inspection skills that tell them more about their captors than is normally available. I know that you are under level twenty-five, emissary Rockland Azariah Hall. There is nothing you can do to harm a matriarch of my level. Please, approach.”
I started walking toward her, and as I got closer it was plain to see that she was objectively gorgeous in every conceivable way. The word regal didn’t feel majestic enough to describe her. She exuded royalty the way the sun emitted light – a natural consequence of her simply existing. Her wings were folded elegantly behind her, the pure white feathers catching the setting sunlight from the open windows to our left. Her golden crown glinted sunlight into my eyes with every other step I took. To distract myself from looking at her too closely, I used Threat Assessment as I slowly approached.
That was certainly an odd thing to say in a Threat Assessment system note. I frowned and pulled up Environmental Mapping. Then I stopped dead in my tracks. There, right where Oryore sat imperiously, magnificently perched upon her throne…was a golden icon. Just like the one Jasmine had the night I met her. I mumbled in disbelief:
“Mother. Fucker.”