Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 49 – Floor 6: Part 2

It took Mathew several hours to reach the camp. The beach bent and curved as he walked, and even though he could see the plume of smoke and dust was close by, the water of the bay separated Mathew from his destination.

He was forced to go further inland, making his way through a jungle for nearly an hour. The wilderness slowly retreated as he neared the beach again after the long diversion.

Mathew sighed in relief as he reached a small hill and could finally see people gathered around white-walled tents in front of a long dock with a massive wooden ship moored at it.

There were thousands of people and hundreds of tents. Flags and pennants flapped in the wind, all bearing the same symbol of a blue dragon on a field of white. Everyone was dressed in garb that could have been taken from a Renaissance fair.

Simple clothed peasants and servants scrambled around, carrying boxes and crates to the ship or other items between the tents. Guards wearing metal breastplates and wide-sleeved silk shirts ringed the camp, each wielding a long polearm, spear, sword, and shield.

Mathew could see richly dressed men and women sitting in a large pavilion at the center of the camp with tables filled with food and wine. More guards protected them, and hundreds of servants catered to their every need.

Mixed between the elegantly clothed people were strange individuals wearing long robes in bright red, black or white. They held long staffs in their hands or thick books under their arms and were festooned with jewelry or other items.

Mathew’s appearance at the top of the hill sent the camp into a frenzy. Dozens of armed guards ran toward him while several robed figures followed slowly behind them. He could feel the mana billowing off of these people, letting him know that they were capable of using magic or Blessings like himself.

“Halt!” The lead guard shouted, dropping the point of his spear toward Mathew as dozens of his fellows followed suit. Now that they were closer, Mathew could see they all had the same dragon symbol on their uniforms.

Raising his hands in a non-threatening manner, Mathew avoided any sudden movements. The ‘Buzz’ didn’t activate, letting him know they weren’t more powerful than himself, but it didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous. He was outnumbered, and their weapons looked sharp enough to poke a few holes in his skin.

“I’m Mathew. I’ve been sent as a Champion from the gods to ensure the marriage between Talrand and Ama proceeds as planned.” Mathew explained, focusing on the lead guard as he spoke. He hoped they knew something about the gods and champions or things were about to get troublesome.

The guards paused for a moment, a hopeful sign to Mathew before their leader raised his spear and looked at one of the robed people behind them. An old man with a long, white beard and red robe stepped forward and nodded.

“We have heard that a Champion’s arrival was imminent. We have prayed to the goddess of Serene Reconciliation for their divine assistance. I am a Magus of Talrand’s Spire, Bargoth.” The older man tilted his head forward in a minuscule bow.

“Before we allow you into our camp, you will need to swear an oath on the goddess that you will do no harm to our prince, nor will you take any action that may jeopardize the peace we seek.” The old man said, his blue eyes locked on Mathew’s face.

“I swear.” Mathew said, holding his hand up like he had seen done in court in his past as a lawyer. A strange sensation swept over him. It was like a tightening, a binding that connected him to something else, something greater than himself. It was uncomfortable, and it took a while before the feeling faded.

Was this what an oath on the gods felt like while he was in the Tower?

“Like I told you, the gods have sent me to help. That includes your goddess as well.” Mathew said, trying to dismiss his sense of unease at being bound to an oath.

“We welcome your assistance, Champion.” Bargoth said doubtfully, his face forming a frown as his eyes flicked quickly over Mathew’s outfit. Compared to the nobles' silk robes and fine clothing, Mathew was underdressed in a black jacket and white t-shirt.

“Please, follow me. We have been awaiting your arrival for a number of days.” The red-robed Magus said, gesturing slightly with his hand. The guards parted slowly, still wary of the stranger. Mathew gave them a quick glance, aware of how close they, and more importantly, their weapons were to him.

Joining Bargoth, the others fell into step behind them as they walked toward the center of the camp. They attracted stares, but no one else approached them. Mathew assumed they all thought the Magus had it handled.

He could feel the mana exuding off the man, and Mathew estimated Bargoth was a few levels below him if he was comparing them correctly. He didn’t know if they had a system of levels here or something stranger. It was the first time he had met humans with mana that weren’t players, and he was curious about them.

“Have you met a Champion of the gods before?” Mathew asked, and the Magus nodded.

“Once, several years ago. She was a strange character, wearing outlandish clothing. I found her to be disrespectful, but her power was undeniable. She defeated a demon and returned to wherever she had been summoned from.” Bargoth responded.

They had moved deeper into the camp, and Mathew saw more of the servants carrying out tasks and a few people training with swords and spears. Slowing down slightly, Mathew watched them as they trained.

They were fast and strong, nearly supernaturally so, and Mathew estimated they would be Olympic-level athletes if you had sent them to Earth. Each had mana within their bodies; he could sense it flowing around them as they moved.

One young man, stripped to his waist and wielding an actual sword rather than a wooden training blade, held it horizontally to his side as he stared at a training dummy. The blade ‘pulsed’ with mana, like a heartbeat, and the young man breathed deeply as he focused.

In a split second, the young man moved forward and sliced the dummy in half, sheathing his blade before the top of the straw man hit the ground.

“Impressive.” Mathew said, in equal parts for the technique and the magical blade.

Bargoth nodded, having slowed down to match Mathew.

“Marath is showing a lot of promise. He will have a bright future if he continues to train diligently. Hard work leads to glory.”

“Indeed it does.” Mathew agreed.

“Would you like to spar with him? I’m sure Marath would be delighted to learn from a Champion.” Bargoth offered, and Mathew couldn’t tell if he was being insulted or not.

“Me? No, I’ve never held anything more than a knife.” Mathew confessed.

“Ah, you study magic then? A kindred spirit! I’ve studied the Arcane Arts for my entire life.” Bargoth boasted, causing Mathew to shake his head.

“No, I know a few spells from my Blessings, but I’ve never studied magic. I didn’t even know it was possible to learn it by studying. I thought it only came from the Tower.” Mathew admitted, causing Bargoth to scoff.

“Absurd! The gods may provide Blessings, but true magic comes from diligent study and generations of accumulated knowledge. The Spire of Talrand has spent millennia collecting our scriptures for the benefit of humanity.” Bargoth explained.

“I would love to see a demonstration.” Mathew requested, and Bargoth thought for a moment before nodding. He gestured for Mathew to follow, and they took a branching path from the one they had been following toward the Prince’s Pavilion.

They arrived at another large tent, this one bearing an additional symbol to match the blue dragon of Talrand. It was a prominent, black spire on a field of yellow. There were rows of younger men and women, all wearing robes or rich clothing.

Several were studying in large books while writing notes, while others were carving symbols into slates or other objects. They all looked up from their work as the pair entered.

A young woman in a bright red robe stood up quickly, bowing her head to Bargoth. Mathew guessed she was in her late teens or early twenties. She was beautiful but had a frosty demeanour.

“Master.” Bargoth smiled warmly, pride evident in his expression as he nodded in greeting.

“Amberlith, my apprentice. This is the Champion of the gods, Mathew. He has requested a demonstration of our magic.” Bargoth explained, and his apprentice nodded. Picking up her book from the table, she walked to the side where her staff was leaning and picked it up.

Waiting patiently, Mathew looked forward to the demonstration.