Knight of Corruption (LitRPG)

3 - The Art of Fencing

Exarch's Bend was a miserable place. Hidden deep in the woods, between two mountain ranges and by the side of a large river. It was a large, otherwise sleepy town that had found itself thrust in the centre of global politics by sheer chance. It was the central point between The Kingdom of Sull and the Confederation of the Heartlands, two sides that had been butting heads over territory and natural resources for as long as anyone could remember. The town itself had switched hands dozens of times.

Currently it was the Confederation's turn in the driver's seat. They were my preferred overlords thanks to their spurning of the inquisition and their zealous manner of tracking down corrupted items. As long as the confederation had control, I wouldn't have to worry about my friends in red stopping me in the street and cutting my head off.

Rickety wooden walkways formed man-made pathways over the boggy ground underneath. Much like the trees that surrounded the town, every building was twisted out of shape. Nothing was a perfect square. They looked like they were leaning to one side, or were about to tip over and kill everyone. Lanterns burned at all times of day to illuminate the streets, struggling versus the giant trees that loomed above and sucked up the sunlight.

Despite the war the residents were trying to go about business as usual. They haggled, drank and huddled together for gossip. I had slept on the outskirts of the town under some natural cover, while I would have preferred to find a room here there weren't any available. Most of them were occupied by the Federation's officers.

The Bend had an unfavourable reputation as a home to all kinds of rogues, bandits and thieves. That reputation was well earned. I took a hard left down a nearby alleyway between two tall buildings and descended a set of stairs. At the bottom was a heavy wooden door. I knocked four times. The slit opened and a pair of weathered eyes inspected me.

"Morning."

"Morning, didn't expect to see you back so soon."

The door unlocked and I was allowed inside. This was the town's main fence. If you wanted to sell some illegal goods, this was the place to do it. "I've had a busy few days," the owner – Fitch, explained. "That big battle out in the sticks? Lots of people coming with stuff from there. I take it you're the same."

I followed him through to the main floor of his shop and planted my leather looting bag on the counter, "Yeah. You have no idea Fitch. Bloodiest damn battle I've seen in... forever. Thousands of bodies." Fitch opened my bag and tipped the contents out in front of me. He began rifling through my picks while I leant back and took a moment to catch a breath.

"Looking pretty light, considering..."

"Inquisitors."

Fitch stopped, "Inquisitors? Here?"

"Came out of nowhere." I had to stop myself before I revealed too much, "Had to hide under a pile of bodies just to avoid getting caught."

Fitch shook his head, "I thought the Feddies would keep them away."

"Must have heard about the fighting and decided to swing by."

"Did they take anything?"

"Not that I saw."

Fitch started to separate out the more valuable rings, leaving them in a small clay bowl. Married men kept you in warm clothes, can't help but feel a little bad for the widows though. Still, if not you, someone else would have taken them. Nobody was going to go through the effort of recording all the losses and checking them for valuables. They'd be left there to rot for months, if they were lucky someone might count them, before tossing them into a mass grave to forget about.