The First Great Game (A Litrpg/Harem Series)

Chapter 474: Lila

Night Eyes seemed to be a centaur of his word. He sent the others out to stop the hunt and protect what was left of the herd, giving them some kind of mark of his leadership.

Mason just watched and listened without a word. If they tried to trick him and killed the animals, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. But it wouldn’t be pleasant.

He felt more or less the same way about centaurs as he did about orcs. All he’d seen from both them was violence towards humans or elves. And while he had no problem with warrior cultures, or living by the sword, he also didn’t feel bad ending them the same way.

For the moment, though, he followed his centaur host and watched everything, determined to keep an open mind and learn. What he mostly wanted was geographic knowledge. Maybe they’d even have ‘scout’ type classes that could directly inject his Wayfinder power with knowledge, just like Kiaan or Orlon.

“What brings you here, Hunter, if not the shadows that walk?”

The centaur had maybe a foot of height on him, and it was kind of annoying looking up. Mason just stared forward and shrugged.

“I go where I like.”

The centaur nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable answer. He gestured towards the horizon, past the gathered tribal camp.

“That way is the Blue Sea.” He gestured further south. “There lies a bog my people cannot cross, it stretches for days at a colt’s run and is filled with dangerous things.” He gestured north. “A small woods. A lake. A river from the mountains to the sea.”

Here he stopped and watched, and Mason was again taken by the feeling of the creature’s insight. Somehow it knew he didn’t know the area and was exploring, and his eyes flicked unconsciously to Apex Predator in his profile. Was the thing somehow reading his mind?

“You are not the first human to come this way,” Night Eyes said, a subtle smile on his lips. “But you are the first from the far north.”

Mason turned and stared, and the creature laughed.

“Peace, Baron Mason. You are known to the tribes. I am a Sky Shaman, and I see many things. I know you come from the Great Forest, that you are a defender of elves, and that you have killed many shadows that walk.”

Mason snorted, more impressed by the second. “Well, Night Eyes the Sky Shaman. You know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

Night Eyes nodded. “Perhaps I will teach you. And then perhaps the Green Sea tribes will have less to fear from the fierce human warriors of the north.”

“Perhaps,” Mason said, smiling a little now. But he honestly had no idea what he’d see in that camp. It was possible it would make him like the centaur less instead of more. For Night Eyes’ sake, he just hoped they didn’t try to kill him, and make things…awkward.

They reached the outer ring of warriors, and attracted a lot of stares. Some of the centaurs came closer to inspect, but with a wave from their leader these went back to their patrolling without much interest.

It was worse inside. Females and children were everywhere, talking and trading and laughing like it was some kind of human bazaar. All sorts of goods had been lined up along high stalls, and bejeweled and well-dressed female centaurs walked along like human women at a mall.

Mason attracted a lot of attention. Mostly from children. He was only a few feet in when a literal herd of ‘colts’ came swarming around him, bold enough to touch his legs and armor.

“Is it a slave? It doesn’t look like a slave,” shouted an older one in the chaos. “Is it a warrior, Night Eyes? Is it sport?”

“He’s a Death Hunter,” said the chief, waving them away. But he needn’t have bothered. On hearing the title the children all bolted in terror, some of the younger ones laughing like it was all a game.

Mason supposed he wasn’t shocked at the word ‘slave’. And as they kept walking he watched until he saw the cages. On the far end of the bazaar, the general stink of the camp got worse, and Mason saw dozens of species locked behind wooden bars, including other centaurs.

“I don’t like slaves, Night Eyes,” Mason said coldly. “If you have any humans, or elves, we might have a problem.”

The centaur looked genuinely surprised. He glanced at the many cages and frowned.

“No humans…” he paused and one of his dark eyes twitched. “None for sale, that is. There are two humans and one elf with masters in the camp. At least that I know of. We mean no offence. It is an ordinary custom here.”

Mason’s jaw clenched. Was there a chance there were ‘humans’ in this world that weren’t people from earth? Weren’t technically civilians or players? And did that make any difference?

He supposed if he followed that logic then he should worry about non-human slaves, too. But he wasn’t Blake. He wasn’t so madly ambitious to think he could save or unite the whole damn world. His protection needed limits, because reality had limits.

But that didn’t mean he had to suffer humans from earth being enslaved or tortured, whether by ‘emperors’ or centaurs. He had to draw a line somewhere.

“I want to see them,” he said. “I want to talk to them.”

Night Eyes winced, looking a bit uncomfortable now.

“My people have laws, Hunter. I cannot command a warrior to do anything with his property. But I will ask. And trade may be possible, if that is your aim.”

Mason took a calming breath and nodded. He was a guest here, after all, and he still wanted information. Getting himself into some kind of giant brawl with God knew how many centaurs over strangers wasn’t exactly the plan.

Night Eyes took him around the ‘bazaar’ and out of the main chaos to a row of rich looking ‘yurts’. He led him to one made of blue fabric with guards at its front. These looked surprised when they saw Mason, but not completely shocked. Night Eyes gestured him inside and took out a dusty stool obviously made for non-centaur guests.

“Please, sit. I’ll have food and drink brought. And I’ll ask after the slaves.”

Mason tried to smile politely and sit. He wondered what the horse-men might think if he summoned a giant wolf in their chief’s tent, but better judgment carried the day.

He sat and waited in silence, nodding politely when a few females brought trays of partially cooked mystery meat and a large cup of something that looked like a White Russian, but definitely wasn’t.

Old Earth Mason of several months earlier might have worried about it. Post-apocalypse Mason drank and ate without really tasting, staring out at the camp in silence, wondering how many of these creatures he might have to kill.

With his ever enhancing senses he closed his eyes and listened, letting his ranger or maybe druidic ‘feeling’ move through the ground and air with Speak with Nature, finding plants and living things until the sensations started to overwhelm him.

He looked for quick and clever animals in the ground and promised food. Before long there was half a dozen kinds of rodent creeping into the yurt, sniffing at his feet. He willed his mind to theirs.

Are there two legged creatures here? Creatures like me? Have you seen them?

He tossed bits of meat and waited, some of the creatures bolting with their goodies, a few others yammering nonsense. But there was a bigger looking rat with quick and clever eyes that waited and stared.

Two legs. Yes. Only few. More food?

Mason shook his head and tossed it a sizable chunk of meat, mentally gesturing it off. One of the guards snorted and clomped as a rodent ran by his hooves, but otherwise the animals snuck away.

It seemed Night Eyes was telling the truth. So that was something. Mason waited and soon heard voices and centaurs coming towards him. He wasn’t afraid, so he stayed on his seat, prepared for anything from a feast in his honor to a horde of half-horse assassins.

Somehow he was still surprised. Night Eyes arrived with three other, slightly more important looking male centaurs. One had a recently bruised and bloodied young man stumbling behind him on a leash. Another practically dragged an elven man bound at the wrists.

The third had a human woman on his back. Her dark hair was long on one side, her head shaved on the other like some kind of viking shieldmaiden.

Her body was covered in jewels and fine clothes, and Mason was pretty sure he saw some kind of nipple piercings poking through the fabric. She was maybe late twenties or early thirties, and her pretty face looked more bored than anything. She perked up when she saw him.

Mason was on his feet by the time Night Eyes stepped forward with a hand raised.

“Peace, Hunter. These are the only humans or elves kept by the tribes. Yarick has agreed to trade.” He gestured to the young man, then winced. “Athas says…”

“Athas says go fuck yourself, stranger,” said the large, imposing warrior. “I captured the elf on a blood hunt. He’s mine, and I don’t care what you want or what the shaman says. I’m going to eat him when I please.”

Mason nodded, very seriously considering putting an arrow straight into the creature’s eye. But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet.

“And her?” He gestured to the woman on the other centaur’s back.

“She isn’t interested,” said the woman with a pleasant tone, in some kind of maybe British accent. She hugged the back of the centaur’s muscled human half, and he patted her arm with obvious affection. Mason tried not to think about the exact nature of that relationship. Or the physics.

“OK,” he said. “So we’ll trade for the human covered in blood. After that we’ll think long and hard about the elf. And maybe tomorrow we’ll all enjoy the sunrise.”

Athas’ eyes flared, but Night Eyes managed to keep him still with the same calming hand.

“The Hunter is a stranger, as you say, I’m sure he means no offence.”

“I think I might.”

The shaman glared at him, but Mason could tell Athas didn’t want this to escalate. In fact the growing fear in the creature was disturbingly delicious. Mason could literally smell

“Even so,” said his host. “The Hunter is my guest.” He said this with enough chastisement Mason at least felt a little guilty. “We will all sit and eat yarro root together, and there will be no bloodshed on sacred gathering ground. Agreed?”

Athas grit his teeth but nodded. The woman’s ‘mount’ shrugged like he didn’t care. Yarick yawned and sat with surprising agility, folding his front legs and sort of flopping on a nearby cushion.

The others (and Mason) took their own seats, the woman digging out another stool from somewhere in the yurt as if she’d been there many times and was completely at ease.

She set it down across from Mason and smoothed her dress, smiling politely. And yeah, those were definitely nipple piercings.

“I’m Lila, mate.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I was in sales. You know, back on earth. I’m from Australia. East coast.” She leaned back and rolled her eyes before winking at him. “I could tell you quite a story. But, by the looks of you, I expect that makes two of us.”

Mason sat on his stool, at something of a loss. She didn’t seem to recognize him from the system’s blaring message in the sky after the Nexus, or from the Neutral Zone. But he supposed if she didn’t have a ‘human’ patron, it might have meant she wasn’t invited.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “That makes two of us.”

The other slaves were still standing miserably in the back as Lila smiled and took a piece of meat, popping it into her mouth. She looked between the centaurs, then grabbed her owner’s arm and shook it.

“I’m so excited! Another human! You’ll stay, won’t you? For the feast? This is Palacus, by the way. I call him Pally but he hates it. Oh I’m so sorry, what was your name?”

“Will you please keep your human slave under control?” Athas snapped. “Her voice irritates me.”

“As if I could.” Palacus snorted, both he and Lila looking totally untroubled. He opened a pouch and put something like chewing tobacco in his lip. Then he sighed and nodded at Night Eyes. “It’s hot. Why not get some more to eat or drink? I need something cool.”

Mason wasn’t sure how long he could sit there with bound slaves in the back. And not the new kind of ‘slaves’ who signed contracts. But the old kind, who did what you said or died.

He also had no idea how he was going to socially maneuver his way to ‘can you please tell me everything you know about the world’s geography?’ before his patience ran out.

He felt himself shifting uncomfortably in his seat, a fist clenching as his eyes flicked to the bruised face of the young man still tied to that fucking horse creature. His leg bounced with restless energy. And he realized he’d made something like a growl from deep in his throat he hadn’t at all intended.

Night Eyes turned to him and froze.

“The slaves,” he said to the others, again as if he understood. “They’re no threat. Untie them, please. Let them sit.”

Yarick shrugged and undid the rope on the bruised young man’s wrists. Athas stared long and hard at Mason, but eventually untied the elf, too. Both slaves sagged to the floor and put their backs against a wall, the young man giving Mason a grateful nod.

They all sat in a long, tense silence, until Lila flopped her hands in her lap with a big, audible sigh.

“Well. It’s been ages since I’ve met someone knew. Tell me all about how people are living now. And spare absolutely no details.”

Mason took a breath. But he felt the dangerous moment of violence pass. He nodded at Night Eyes to let him know things were fine.

“We live in a tree. And there’s a big city in the east.”

Lila blinked, clearly waiting for further details. When that didn’t happen, her face briefly scrunched like someone battling extreme disappointment. But it faded quickly.

“Marvelous.” She gave him a winning smile. “Absolutely marvelous.”