Blood Money - 3. Boar Hunt

Dad always wanted him to go hunting. Arlo’s reply had always been along the lines of, “Over my dead body.”
Well… they both got what they wanted, he supposed.
He trailed behind Coradiel and Aldern, his musket slung over his shoulder. Tiny flickers of magic played over his fingers — his level in [Arcanist] had granted him a few Tier 0 spells to use at will.
Like the prestidigitation he’d used to bathe this morning after the whole… thing… with Coradiel. He’d slept with a man. A naked man. Arlo’s face burned just thinking about it. Sure, nothing had happened — that he knew of. But it was the principle behind it.
But… did it matter? He was dead already. That lich had snatched his soul from… wherever he’d been. Did that mean he was immortal? Was Arlo beyond the consequences of his actions?
“You okay back there Arlo?”
“Yeah,” he answered automatically. “Just… thinking.”
“Well don’t get too lost,” Coradiel said. “It’ll take all three of us to bring a boar down.”
“Yeah, my dad always told me they were some of the most dangerous prey.” Arlo shuddered at the memory of tales of gaping wounds, of fatally wounded boars murdering even beyond the grave. He wanted nothing to do with this… but he couldn’t let Coradiel come alone.
Why? Why was he so drawn to the half-elf?
He knew why. No matter how he didn’t want to admit it.
Did it matter? Coradiel was gay. And happily so, it seemed. He acted like it was completely normal to wake up with his boner pressed against Arlo’s back.
“So how long have you been fighting goblins?” Aldern asked as they walked.
“About a day,” Coradiel chuckled. “Yesterday was my first live engagement; before now, I’d been training in Magnimar as a city guard.”
“How’d you find your way here?”
“I heard about the consecration of the new temple. I direct prayers to Shelyn among others, so I was happy to visit.”
“And I’m glad you did. You handled those goblins masterfully.”
“I couldn’t have done so without Arlo sniffing them out for me,” Coradiel added. “He’s the one who discovered the attack before it could properly be launched. He saved many lives.”
“Truly, I aspire to your level of greatness,” Aldern said, not even glancing at the amurrun. Not that Arlo cared; he was happy enough out of the limelight. Let Coradiel deal with the pressure of holding up the town. Of being people’s hero. Of-
A snort caught his ear. A sniff caught the rank stench of swine. And Arlo swung his musket off his shoulder.
“[Abundant Ammunition].” The spell sparked over his bandolier, and Arlo pulled a cartridge out. He tore into it with his teeth, spitting out the gritty paper.
“Do you see something?” Coradiel asked.
“Smell it,” Arlo grunted, focusing on loading his musket. “[Mage Bullet: Flaming].”
Another point of mana gone, but it would last him the next two minutes. If they needed longer to kill the boar… he shuddered at the thought.
Bringing his musket to bear, the catfolk crept through the woods. He followed his nose for a few feet before the boar appeared. Rooting around a tree, the pig grunted suddenly. Its head turned.
And Arlo squeezed the trigger.
CRACK!
Blood spurted from the boar’s side. A red bar flashed above its head; 4 HP left out of 18. Arlo’s eyes widened — fuck, that was a good shot!
The boar squealed in rage, whirling on the mage. Before the animal could reach him, Coradiel had already stepped between them.
“Arshea, grant me strength,” the paladin breathed, levelling his blade.
Arlo frantically reloaded, but before he could bring his gun up again, the boar was charging.
Ducking aside, Coradiel brought his sword down in a heavy arc. He carved deep into the pig’s side, snapping the creature’s back with the weight of his blow.
The boar dropped like a stone.
“Bravo!” Aldern ran toward them, clapping his hands. “A masterful stroke to fell the beast! Well done, Master Coradiel!”
“Arlo did heavy damage to it beforehand,” Coradiel pointed out, but Aldern brushed him off.
“Still, I say well done striking the killing blow!”
Arlo frowned at Coradiel — what was the half-elf’s deal? He kept pushing everything onto Arlo. Okay, yeah, his shot had done more damage — wait, how did Coradiel know that? Could he see the healthbars too? Or was he just trying to make Arlo feel better? Didn’t he have any resentment about this morning?
“This isn’t that big of a boar,” Arlo said, pushing aside his worries for the moment. “Maybe we could find another. Feed more people.” And hopefully get him some more XP — he still hadn’t lost the urge to level up. Opening his character panel with a thought, the catfolk could see he was at 2800 XP out of 5000 needed to reach level three. If they killed another — he did some quick maths on his fingers — four boars, he could be at level three by the end of the day.
“And who would carry the carcasses back to the village?” Coradiel asked. “Unless you happen to know how to dress a boar.”
“I…” Actually, he did remember a few things about carving up a pig. “I could probably get it done if I’m not distracted. Do you have a knife?”
“Of course,” Aldern interrupted, handing the amurrun a thick blade. “Coradiel, perhaps we can speak some more while your friend prepares the food.”

- - -

Two boars and four mana later, the trio entered Sandpoint once more. Arlo felt like they’d been lucky; his shots seemed way too powerful for this early on. Maybe it was a power fantasy isekai. He wouldn’t complain if it was.
Even luckier, they’d actually found more than one boar while wandering the Tickwood. And even luckier still, no giant man eating ticks!
“Well, I must be off to prepare for the feast,” Aldern said to Coradiel. “I trust you will be okay with delivering our offering to Ameiko?”
“I’ll have Arlo to help me,” Coradiel smiled. “I believe we’ll do just fine.”
“Oh! Yeah, we’re fine!” Arlo raised his hand. “[Floating Disk].”
A concave circle of force warped into sight, hovering above the ground. Arlo grabbed Coradiel’s pack, heaving it onto the disk. The paladin’s eye twitched.
“Neat trick. I wish you’d thought of it before we walked six kilometres with a hundred kilos of boar meat.”
Wait… fuck, they used the metric system here? He was so screwed! Quick, what was a kilo… half a pound? That wasn’t too bad… or was it two pounds? That was heavy as fuck! And what about their pints? Arlo thought they’d been rather big. No wonder he’d… fuuuuck….
“I was… trying to show Aldern how strong you were?” Arlo tried.
The paladin snorted.
“Anyway, I believe we’ll be fine,” he repeated. “Now that I’m not hauling everything myself.”
“Oh, hey, does anyone have a magic spell that could lighten the load for us?” Arlo groused.
“A wizard should know what spells he does or does not have,” Coradiel pointed out.
“Jesus Christ…” For someone so hot, he sure was an ass. Though Arlo supposed Coradiel was right. Maybe he needed to study his spellbook again.
Pushing the disk with a spin of his hand, the catfolk stalked off toward the Rusty Dragon. Behind him, he heard Coradiel making quick apologies to Aldern. Then hasty footsteps as the paladin caught up to him.
“What is your problem?” Coradiel demanded. “Ever since you woke up, you’ve been in a horrid mood.”
“Oh, you know me so well,” Arlo muttered. “I just… I’m adjusting, okay? Before yesterday, I’d never shot anything before. And now I’ve killed goblins and boars. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Oh. And Aldern keeps thanking us for it.”
“I just don’t like nobles.”
“You’re talking with one. Albeit one whose entire inheritance is bound to a local orphanage in Magnimar.” Coradiel ran a finger over his citrine amulet. “Did you think this was just for show? It’s the Arthien seal.”
“Then you’re probably the only good noble in the world,” Arlo scoffed. “Don’t expect me to start calling you “Your Lordship” or anything.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

- - -

A gold a kilo. Arlo wasn’t sure if that was a good rate; his [Appraise] skill only seemed to work on magic items. But it still gave both Arlo and Coradiel a hundred gold each.
Gold he immediately put toward his gun. It took everything he had to fix the musket, and he really had no idea how he did it beyond replacing a few parts, but after about four hours of work at a table in the Rusty Dragon, the catfolk was broke once more, and his gun was a masterwork of ingenuity. A bit of [Prestidigitation] ensured that no grease or scuffs were left, leaving the weapon with a burnished shine.
Coradiel had vanished somewhere, probably to the Cathedral to pay his respects to his gods. It gave Arlo some time alone.
Or so he thought.
“Arlo.” A man sat down in front of him, scowling as the catfolk put his musket aside. “You confuse me. We had a deal, you and I. A nice warm bed in your own house for only eight hours of work a day.”
Arlo frowned. Who the fuck was this joker? Come on System, give me a name, a motivation, anything!
“This is two days now that you have shirked your duties at the Feedbag. Now, I pride myself on being a generous man,” the human said. “But I’m not stupid either. If you’re no longer in need of a place to live, I can always give it to someone else.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” It was probably the dumbest thing he could say. Arlo scrambled to cover up. “One of those goblins whacked me over the head; I’ve been having issues remembering people.”
“Jubrayl Vhiski. The Varisian who gave you that charming little cabin just across from Sandpoint Savories. Does that ring a bell?”
Fuck… something about the Sczarni… a local gang of thugs and thieves… and Arlo’s background [Skills] were for a bookkeeper. He could put 2 and 2 together — his [Intelligence] was 18 after all, even if his [Wisdom] was barely 10.
“No sir,” Arlo said quickly.
“Then I will see you in the Feedbag in one bell. And not a minute later.”
“Of course sir.”
Fuck… he really wished this was a power fantasy isekai.

- - -

Eight hours. Eight fucking hours of sitting in one place, of staring at ledgers for the Feedbag. For so many years, Arlo had always thought if he could just have a job that let him sit down and work with books, maybe, just maybe, he could actually enjoy his life of slaving away for a little cash.
This dashed all those hopes to shreds.
Even worse, there were no breaks. No sips of water stolen between swings of a pickaxe or bathroom runs to rest his weary bones. Arlo wasn’t sure what was worse — transitory work as a day labourer, or working for a mountain of a man while listening to brawl after brawl in the front of the tavern.
Gressel Tenniwar finally thundered into the backrooms, where Arlo slaved under dim candlelight, desperately trying to correct account balances, figure out where all this extra money came from and decide what needed to be accounted for and what needed to vanish.
“Sun’s down. Get out,” the man bellowed at him.
Gingerly blotting the drying records, Arlo jumped at another bellow, nearly upsetting his inkwell. He slammed the book shut and grabbed his gear, eager to escape the hell his life had suddenly become.
Arlo dodged a flying chair, rushing out of the tavern. He just barely ducked into an alleyway as Sheriff Belor appeared — for some reason, getting detained by the law did not feel like a good idea after the day he’d had.
Reaching the Rusty Dragon was a rush of darting from building to building, trying not to be seen. He wasn’t sure why, but Arlo felt filthy in a way even [Prestidigitation] couldn’t clean.
Why couldn’t he just stick to murdering goblins?
Savoury meats flooded his nose as a door opened. Arlo froze, struck by a culinary hammer. Eyes watered, saliva dripped… was that the boar they’d caught?!
“There you are!” Coradiel waved at him from the Rusty Dragon, and Arlo forced his feet into motion once more. “Ameiko didn’t wait for you, but we managed to save you a good slice.”
“It smells incredible,” Arlo breathed. His stomach roared with aching need, and the amurrun pushed past Coradiel. “Ameiko did this?”
“Well, it was a team effort, but yes,” Coradiel said. “Granted, I wasn’t here for most of it — Father Zantus wanted me to help ensure the graveyard was secure against any further threats. I think you scared him.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Arlo dropped into a wooden bench as a halfling carried a platter of meat over. His stomach snarled again, and the halfling chuckled.
“Enjoy your feast, and don’t forget to give your server a big tip,” she added with a wink.
Laughing weakly, Arlo waited until she was gone before stabbing into the offered meat. A large bite shoved into his mouth, and then another, before he allowed himself to chew and taste the food.
Succulent juices burst in his maw, spices flooding his tastebuds. Mixed with the smell of the roast, Arlo had to take a moment. He was almost afraid he was going to cry. Food had never tasted this good before.
Beside the pork, curry sat over cubed potatoes, tantalising his senses. He couldn’t resist the siren call, even if he wanted to. Heat erupted in his mouth as he took another mammoth bite.
“You can slow down, you know,” Coradiel said, dropping into the seat beside him.
Arlo instinctively angled his body, eating faster as he hid the food from the half-elf. The catfolk swallowed roughly, and shook his head. He had to get every bite he could before it was gone.
But, as always, it was gone too soon. Arlo stared forlornly at the empty plate. Would he get in trouble if he licked the curry off? Sighing, the catfolk slid the plate away, and slumped onto the table.
“Fuck, I’m exhausted,” he muttered.
“I’d offer you my room again, but after this morning, I’m starting to think you don’t want to share a bed,” Coradiel said.
Arlo groaned. Fuck… he’d really ruined a good thing- wait, what was he saying? He wasn’t gay! He couldn’t be gay!
“Hey Ameiko!” Coradiel called over the hubbub of the tavern. “Didn’t you say your brother was in town? Wanna hook me up with him?”
Arlo’s eyes widened in horror. He lunged, trying to slap his mouth over the man’s mouth, but it was too late.
“Not on your life, cleric,” Ameiko laughed. “He’s into the ladies last I heard.”
Arlo looked around frantically, searching for an exit… but aside from a few laughs, no one even reacted to Coradiel.
“See?” the aiuvarin said, peeling Arlo’s hand from his mouth. “No one cares if you like guys here. Aside from your deity, no one I know would deny two men the love between them.”
He gripped Arlo’s hand, forcing the catfolk to meet his eyes.
“I would never force anything on anyone,” he added quietly. “But anytime you want to join me for my prayers, my room is always open. And I promise, Arshea and Lymnieris will accept you with open arms, whether you like men, women, or anyone else.”
Arlo grunted.
“I’m going home,” he muttered.
Before he could move, the door slammed open.
A middle aged Tian Min man stormed into the suddenly silent tavern. Looking around furiously, he barked something Arlo couldn’t understand — so much for a universal translator.
All around the tavern, people focused on their food, doing their best not to catch the man’s eye. For his part, Arlo slouched, trying to keep low. He knew that tone of voice; someone was in deep shit.
“Where is she?!”
A hand slammed on a table. Arlo jumped. Every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for a blow that never fell.
“You!” Footsteps stalked toward him. Arlo hunched lower in his seat, staring at the empty plate as if it was the most fascinating object in the universe. Don’t stop don’t talk to me don’t look at me-
“I’m talking to you.” A hand grabbed Arlo, spinning him around. “You so-called hero.”
“Get your hands off him,” Coradiel said quietly, dangerously.
“And what will you do? Take matters in your own hands? Yell about goblins, create a panic, play up the hero act?”
“Lord Kaijitsu, you are the one causing a panic,” Coradiel said.
“You want a panic? You want to be the hero?!” The Tian-Min shoved Coradiel. Hard.
That push shattered Arlo.
“No.” The mage growled, standing up. “You do not touch him.”
“Arlo, it’s fine-” Coradiel caught Arlo’s hand before he could raise it. “Don’t do anything stupid. He’s just a little man angry at the world. It’s hardly a killing offence.”
“Father!” Ameiko appeared in a doorway, a soupy ladle in hand and a scowl on her face. She barked something in the same foreign tongue the man had, and he snarled back in kind. Storming toward her, the man stopped short a bare metre away.
“Should we help her?” Arlo shuddered, watching the two. “I mean, he’s definitely violent."
“You sit down,” Coradiel said. “I’ll intervene if necessary, but I think this is just a family quarrel. Ameiko’s always been something of a joke among Varisian nobles. Looks like the joke finally got on Lonjiku’s nerves.”
They watched as the two grew louder and louder. Suddenly, Lonjiku’s hand raised. Arlo leapt to his feet, but before he could reach the two-
WHACK!
Lonjiku stumbled back. Soup dripped down his face into his fine clothing. A few snickers scattered around the tavern, and the man glowered.
“You’re as dead to me as your mother,” he snarled at Ameiko, before stalking out of the building.
Silence enveloped the room. Arlo shuddered as the tension mounted even further. Suddenly…
“I better get a new ladle. No one ordered jackass in their soup.”
Laughter filled the tavern. Ameiko tossed the ladle back into the kitchen, before approaching Arlo and Coradiel.
“Hey. He didn’t brutalise you too much, did he?” she asked.
Coradiel shook his head.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” Arlo added. Holding out his hand, he motioned toward a splotch of stew spattered over Ameiko’s shirt. “[Prestidigitation].”
The spot vanished as though it had never happened. A wan smile lifted Ameiko’s lips.
“Thanks. You two are welcome to stay here, free of charge, for the next week,” she said. “I handled him on my own, but I saw you two ready to help. It means a lot.”
Turning away, Ameiko headed back to the kitchen. A hand patted Arlo’s back, and the catfolk flinched.
“Look at you.” Coradiel smacked his back gently. “I saw you freeze up, but when someone else was in danger, you didn’t hesitate to help them. That’s what a hero does.”
“I’m not a hero,” Arlo muttered.
“Sure you are. You would have fought to protect me. Thank you, Arlo.”
Grunting, Arlo stood up finally.
“I’m getting out of here. Don’t expect to see me around tomorrow; I need to talk to Quink about a spellbook.”