The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

In the aftermath of her disappointing encounter in the Adventurer's Guild, Illyana had gathered some of her funds and used them to buy a horse. Nothing too fancy, just a stalwart auburn nag who didn't mind carrying the weight of an armoured elf on her back.

Varis had followed after her, astride a sleek white horse laden with supplies. When Illyana had asked him why he was following her, he merely replied that he was bored and that a trip up to Sentinel promised to be exciting if nothing else.

It would have been a pain to chase him off, so Illyana simply endured his presence. It helped that the rogue was a skilled hunter, and they never wanted for provisions. They pressed on north, toward Sentinel.

Every time they stopped in a village, or at a roadside inn, there was a new horror story about goblins being told. Trade caravans being ambushed, villages being bombed, religious temples being desecrated. Illyana often took every tale she heard from travellers with enough pinches of salt to generously season a roast dinner, but she knew from experience that she couldn't write off the goblin stories entirely.

If they destroyed one town, they would likely destroy others if given the chance.

It was past high noon as they reached the crest of a tall hill, beyond which the winding road to Sentinel was rather direct. Indeed, the city cut an imposing figure on the horizon, with the Obelisk standing like an upraised sword that cleaved the sky. Illyana strained in the saddle, glimpsing the city above the rows of trees that stretched ahead of them.

"Been a long time since I was last here," Varis calmly mused. He reached into the canopy of trees overhead, plucking a palm-sized fruit from the branch. He pulled a tiny knife from his belt, where he seemed to have a never-ending surplus of blades of every shape and size, and set about slicing the yellow skin away. "Sentinel's a fine place. Assuming you don't end up on the wrong side of someone."

"And I assume you ended up on the wrong side of someone?" Illyana asked as she rocked idly in the saddle.

Varis chuckled, plucking a wedge of citrus on the tip of his knife. "Perhaps. I am something of a naughty lad from time to time. On paper I'm a low-ranked member of the Adventurer's Guild. But I have my hobbies and pursuits outside of that."

Crime, most likely, Illyana noted. He likely wasn't a cutthroat or an assassin, he was much too sane to be a member of the Brotherhood of Daggers. But a man with his skills could still go far doing illicit work under the table. It was possible, even, that he had ties to the Strays.

Well, it didn't much matter to her. So long as he kept his blades to himself, he was a useful ally. If irritating.

"You don't have a bounty on you, do you?" she asked.

"Oh, no, not at all." He paused, quietly chewing a piece of fruit. "Well, not that I'm aware of. I did, nearly, end up in a pot of boiling water for my troubles. But I think I got out before anyone could get a good look at my face. And nobody has come looking for me, after all."

Illyana paused, giving him a sideways look. "What... exactly were you in the process of doing?" the elf asked.

"Nothing bad. Nothing violent, at least. But, well, when you try to take something from a wealthy individual, the lawmen treat that about the same as committing a murder."

"Mm. True enough." She was about to ask for more when her pointed ears suddenly twitched, picking up on the sound of frantic footsteps racing their way from further up the road. She narrowed her eyes, slowly reaching up to grip the hilt of her claymore.

A figure burst from the brush, red-faced and sweating. An arc of dried blood had fallen across his nose and fleshy cheeks. At once Illyana could recognise his priestly white robes, with a diamond pattern stitched above his heart.

He came to a skidding halt just before Illyana's horse. "A knight! Oh, thank goodness! The Goddess herself, in my hour of most dire of need, sends a divine envoy to protect me!"

"Oh, great," Varis muttered, "a preacher."

Illyana watched him warily. "What's going on?" she asked. Only a split second later, the noise of a weighty footstep echoed through the woodlands. The elf tensed, gripping and unlatching her claymore. Another footstep shook the trees. Then another, and another, until the branches of the nearby trees began to shake.

The preacher inched between the two, trembling as he watched the bend in the road. Varis cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should try and find another way around?"

The treeline erupted as a large orange figure burst forth, shoving a tree out of his way with enough force to dislodge it from the ground. Illyana dismounted in a flash, blade raised, and watched the approaching ogre with widening eyes. He was dressed as savagely as his kin usually were, crude fur boots and a loincloth. But what caught Illyana's eyes was the symbol branded to his sloping gut. The same symbol from the flag recovered from Glain.

In his hand he held a wooden cudgel nearly the size of Varis' body. His left hand was drenched in slowly drying blood, definitely not his own. The ogre halted, staring at the trio with his burning ruby eyes. "Th-that beast!" the preacher exclaimed. "That demon from the Bleak! He killed my cohorts, my horse! And now he comes for me! Stop him!"

The ogre nodded, grinning to expose rows of broad, yellow teeth. Fog smoked from his jaws. "Yeah. I kill little humans. Now I kill you. Then I eat horsies."

"This is a cut above my paygrade," Varis muttered, awkwardly gripping the handle of his billhook. He sat rigid in the saddle, debating whether it would be better to run, or try his luck in a fight.

"P-please, save me!" the preacher cried.

Illyana sighed, trying to ignore the distinct scent of urine coming from the man. No point trying to argue or persuade an ogre. She spread her feet in the dirt, lifting her claymore and aiming the tip at the creature's stomach.

She had fought ogres in the past. They were as strong as they were stupid, where even a glancing blow could prove fatal. Their scales were dense, but they were softer around the belly.

She braced and dashed forth, ducking into a slide to dodge a swing from the ogre's cudgel. The warped edge struck the trunk of a tree, splitting it clean in in half. Illyana's blade swept up, aiming to bury the edge in his midriff, but the ogre withdrew and was only nicked on the hip. He snorted, portions of a sliced scale dropping to the ground.

Illyana threw herself into a roll, avoiding a crushing blow from the cudgel that tore a furrow in the soil. Her counter was swift, a swing that grazed the ogre's back. His scales were tougher than stone, and the slash barely drew a drop of blood.

This went on for some time, a swift back and forth between both parties. Illyana dodged each swing, the repeating blows uprooting chunks from the ground. And for every strike she dodged, she landed a fresh cut on the ogre's body. Blood seeped from several points in his scales, yet this did little to hinder him. And he was smart enough to keep his belly guarded. And with the melee so frantic, Varis didn't have a chance to get a shot off at him.

Not that a crossbow bolt would have done much to an ogre's dense hide.

"Fast elfy-woman," the ogre said, grinning. "Can't kill me though. Too weak!" He swept his club through the dirt, kicking up a blinding cloud that washed over Illyana before she could react. And, while she tried to dodge, a harsh blow lifted her off her feet and smashed her into a boulder just off the side of the road. It fractured beneath her.

Illyana gasped, struggling shakily to her feet. She blinked the blindness from her eyes, to see that several plates of her armour had been crumpled by the strike. Blood seeped from her arm. And, even more concerning, her claymore had been knocked from her hands in the process. She grit her teeth.

Nothing broken, she knew at once, but half of her body ached something fierce. Another hit like that, and she wouldn't get up again. She struggled to her feet, swaying uneasily, as the cackling ogre advanced on her.

"Shit," Varis huffed, fumbling to draw his crossbow from his saddle.

Illyana stood erect, raising her fists. And, with her back against the wall, she had no choice but to dig deep into herself again. Her magic, such as it was, had rendered her a source of mockery in Thallborea, and shame in Clan Rosso. She could not help being born with stunted magic. But her limited capability at least gave her the means to boost her physical abilities. Even if the recoil was bound to sting like a bitch when she stopped burning magic through her body.

The elf raced forward with a burst of speed, so swift that the incoming over had no time to brace. Her mailed fist crashed into his stomach, the impact like that of a warhammer, knocking the air from the ogre's lungs and forcing him to his knees. She caught the ogre with a right hook, then a left, each punch snapping the ogre's head in a different direction and coating her gauntlets with splashes of blood.

She hooked her hands together and swung them in unison. The impact smashed the ogre in the face, lifting him off his feet and flinging his bulk several meters away. He hit the ground with a thunderous crash, skidding to a halt.

The burning magic faded from her body, causing Illyana to sag forward and huff for breath. She staggered for her sword and lifted it, heedless of the shocked stares from Varis and the preacher.

The ogre slowly rose to one knee, groaning. He snorted deeply through the thin slits of his nostrils and spat out a gob of blood and a chunk of broken teeth. He grinned at Illyana, as she hesitantly raised her blade.

"You strong, elfy-woman. I like strong. Respects it," he said, blood oozing from the crooked edges of his mouth.

Illyana braced herself as best she could, expecting another attack. Yet, it never came. Instead, the towering beast turned and stalked off toward the brush, leaving Illyana and her companions standing in dumbstruck silence. Tree branches and shrubs were shoved aside by his girth and closed behind him to obscure his departure.

"Well," Varis eventually said in a low voice. "I think you may have just made a friend, Illyana."