Hyperion Evergrowing

Chapter 104: Checkpoint

Jerin slumped against the portcullis of the checkpoint gate, taking a deep breath from his pipe, then exhaling over the course of several seconds. Smoke billowed out before him, slowly fading in the evening air.

“You know that shit’ll kill you, right?” Another soldier said, leaning away from the smoke and wrinkling his nose.

He snorted, and took another drag. “Not if I invest half my free points into [Spirit] it won’t.”

“That isn’t military standard, how do you expect to get promoted if command finds out you’re not following the levelling plan?” The other soldier said, the younger man adjusting his helmet and standing up straighter.

“Fuck kid, you really are green as shit?” Jerin grunted, shooting the man an amused look. “Firstly, everyone fucking invests points into whatever they want, the trick is hitting benchmarks by certain levels. Secondly, we’re stationed in the middle of fucking nowhere, to get promoted you need to be on the promotion track, and we sure as shit aint.”

The rookie didn’t look convinced, that was fine, wasn’t Jerin’s job to convince anyone. “Well, I’m following the levelling plan. If I’m a few points over the next benchmark then so be it.” He said resolutely.

“If you invest points into [Charisma] you might get laid more.” Jerin commented, taking another breath of the sweet smoke, tobacco filling his lungs and easing the aches of standing still in one place for several hours.

“R-really?”

“No, not really. Actually, it's more of a maybe? I think anyway, some people believe it makes them more confident.” He could tell the other man was interested. Jerin snickered to himself before continuing. “But what’s one hundred percent real: The higher your [Spirit] attribute, the longer you last in bed, trust me kid.”

“Y-yeah, I guess that makes…” His colleague trailed off, attention arrested by a group of almost twenty approaching along the riverbank from the west.

“Hey!” Jerin called, shouting over his shoulder to the other soldiers lounging around behind the walls. “Anyone got eyes on the incoming group? There’s quite a lot of them.”

Minutes passed as the group drew closer, one of the scouts called out that several seemed to be bound, which made the alertness of the outpost slowly drop. Jerin squinted as the newcomers reached the far side of the river, stopping briefly to study the stone bridge that spanned it. The checkpoint was an old stone fort built to check merchants and travellers as they ventured south. He was pretty sure it outdated the nearby town by a good few centuries, at least judging by the state of decay.

“Wow.” His fellow guard said. “Looks like four people looking over about fourteen prisoners, what do you think happened?”

Jerin grunted, he was more interested in why the fuck anyone was still living past the imperial cordon. Didn’t they know the lands up north were swarming with undead, enslavers and who the fuck knew what else? Though there hadn’t been many undead attacks in the past week, maybe the gods had given pity to the frontier and the poor souls who tried to settle it.

“Halt travellers!” Jerin called, raising a hand after putting out his pipe. “This is the Klos checkpoint, state your business and intentions. This territory is under the empire’s protection.” It was the standard thing he was supposed to say, though he hadn’t had much practice over the past few months.

The group of four looked between one another, then a tall man wearing a mask stepped forward. The man’s eyes seemed to glow gold beneath the wooden covering, and it was the only distinguishing feature Jerin could make out as the rest of him was covered in a heavy travelling cloak. He instinctively tried to analyse the man, not particularly trusting anyone who covered their face. The skill bounced, revealing no information. To his side his fellow soldier tensed, likely having gotten the same results.

“As you said.” The masked man stated, his voice a low baritone that emanated from behind his mask. His words seemed to hang slightly in the air, as if given additional gravitas by the wind that carried them. “We are travellers, looking to trade.” He gestured back to the sorry looking procession of grimy captives. “We discovered this lot attacking a village three days from here, though there was about double the number. We have possible information on their motives.”

He understood the implication. There had been twice the number of bandits, but this group of four had likely killed them during an engagement. Jerin’s eyes took in the other three, his hand involuntarily tightening on the hilt of his sword at the horns a man and woman had jutting from their head. The man saw him looking and grinned, but the woman just ignored him.

“I was not aware of any tribes still within the region!” A voice called down from atop the wall, the sound making Jerin double check his pipe was hidden. “As captain of this fortification, I demand you state your identities and levels.”

The masked man raised his palm face up, the air above it distorting for a brief moment before a small metallic object appeared. Jerin was impressed, he didn’t think anyone in the nearby town even knew what a spatial ring was. Though perhaps that was too harsh, they’d probably heard the occasional story.

“I am an associate of the Academy, and have business within Ahle-ho. By what authority do you bar our passage?”

“By the authority of the Emperor.” The captain replied blandly, seemingly unimpressed by the words that had just about taken away Jerin’s breath. “Show me that, I need to check its validity.”

The masked man stared up at the top of the wall for several breaths, then flipped the token, sending it spinning in a graceful arc. Jerin tracked the small object as it flew up over his head, vanishing from sight as a hand reached out and grabbed it from the air.

“Hmm.” The voice came from above. “It seems authentic, but we have no way to tell for sure. I will still require proof of identification and levels, suppress yourselves and let my men analyse you.”

If you can’t tell, why the fuck did you make him toss you the token? Jerin thought, idly wondering how the captain got his head shoved so far up his ass. If it were up to him, he would have let the group through already. You didn’t fake a connection with the most famous institution from the empire’s central provinces. He was pretty sure they had an entire division of high level combatants they sent after people who lied about that sort of thing, reputation was everything after all.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I thought the empire was protecting these lands from monsters, I wasn’t aware you had the authority to prevent lawful travel within territory you do not control? We are not permitted to pass?”

Jerin winced as the captain let out a short, barking laugh. “Who are you to lecture me on authority, savage? And is protecting this land from monsters not what I’m doing? You creatures are barely above the monsters that birthed-”

The captain’s words were cut off as the air trembled, something intangible yet undeniably real washing out from the masked man. It wasn’t violent, almost the opposite, an extended hand rather than a clenched fist. The power flowed over the checkpoints walls, carrying with it the unmistakable mark of birthright and nobility. “You want my identity?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “I am Leif Vin, member of the Varan nobility. Do you require additional identification?”

Silence reigned over the outpost, only broken by the amused snickering of the demikin man as he was elbowing the man next to him. Jerin could barely hold back a laugh of his own, though the knowledge he would get latrine duty for a month kept it at bay. He desperately wished he could see the captain's face, the sight would undoubtedly be glorious. It’s like smugly asking a lion if it’s ever eaten meat before. He mused, trying to keep the dignified composure that the Empire demanded of its soldiers.

“I-I… N-no, not at all Lord… It was my mistake, p-please let us hold you for no longer than necessary.” Came the snivelling reply from above the wall. Jerin rolled his neck and pulled out a small crystal from a pouch at his hip. Nothing happened, as expected, but he still marched along the bridge and waved the small object at the demikin and restrained bandits as he went.

“Clear.” He called, over his shoulder. “Ain't nothing undead about them.”

Moments later the portcullis was raised, and the procession walked inside. Jerin sighed as he got back into position, the rookie glancing through the metal bars at the masked man. “Don’t give the captain any reason to shout at you.” He said in a hushed tone. “Cause you can fucking bet he’ll be screaming at some poor bastard the moment the noble is gone.”

The younger man nodded rapidly as he turned back to look out over the bridge, his helmet falling down to cover his eyes. Jerin smirked but didn’t say anything else. It definitely wasn’t every day a damn inheritant strode up to your bumfuck nowhere outpost and flopped their metaphorical dick onto the table. He sighed, imagining a reality where some lonely noble widow with a thing for bald, middle-aged soldiers with tattoos on their ass adopting him into her family. Yeah, fat fucking chance of that.

===

The town of Klos was unremarkable in its size. The northern part of the town built into the gradual slope of a grassy hill had a low stone wall that Leif didn’t think could actually stop any sort of attack. Most monsters would have the physical strength to climb over, if not simply jump over the stone fortification.

There was a well worn dirt path that separated partially harvested fields from the wall, and Leif, his companions and their increasingly rowdy group of prisoners had to travel along its length to enter the town proper. Farmers watched them go by, a group of children ran past throwing hardened balls of mud at one another.

The town wasn’t prosperous, but at least it was safe, that was more than Leif could say for the frontier settlements. It was over a decade since the kingdom of Pherin fell, back then this town would have been comfortably placed within territory controlled by humanity, but now it hosted an imperial garrison guarding against encroaching monsters.

But the imperial soldiers in their blues and silvers weren’t the only armed presence. Soldiers in burgundy and green had their own camp, separate but neighbouring the imperials. Leif wondered if they had taken over farmland, or if the ground hadn’t been in use. As the farmland came to an end several squads of imperial soldiers watched them with keen interest, but they didn’t move to intercept their approach to the town.

The second group of soldiers did, a dozen peeling away from their camp and moving to place themselves along the road leading into Klos. Leif wanted to skip the song and dance at the checkpoint, so he let his stronger aura roll out to meet the approaching soldiers like one might roll out a nice carpet to meet guests.

“It feels like cheating.” Samil commented as the soldiers all stiffened, then split into two rows on either side of the path. “But at least it’s making them friendly.”

“A fight would be more fun.” Olav grumbled. “You could have at least waited for them to make fools of themselves.”

“Let's not make any more of a scene.” Leif said, raising a hand to greet who he assumed was the leader of the soldiers before him.

The officer, a stocky woman with short hair and more than one scar bowed stiffly. “Welcome sir, I hope you had no trouble at the checkpoint.”

“No trouble.” Leif said, already liking her more than his last encounter with a military officer. “We have business we would like to complete within the town, and hand off the criminals we apprehended attacking a village a few days' travel from here.”

“That is fine. There is a standing bounty on bandits and thieves, but it is paid out by a guild representative. Their office is halfway up the main street of the town, if you pass the tailor you’ve gone too far.”

“I have a written letter from the village elders detailing the attack, I assume I hand it to this guild representative?” The woman nodded briskly, then gestured to her waiting soldiers to grab the bandits. “Is there anything we should know about the situation here? This is our first visit.”

“Klos is under martial law, curfew two hours after sunset and any exchange of goods may be inspected by a member of the Ahle-ho guard for any reason.”

“Not the imperial troops?”

She scowled, glancing at the nearby camp before turning back to him. “No sir, that isn’t their jurisdiction, their prerogative is the defence of the frontier.”

Leif sighed internally, he absolutely did not want to stick his nose into whatever political mess was going on here. “I’m Leif by the way, could I request a conversation with whoever’s in charge before the bandits are… dealt with?”

“Captain Peri.” She said formally, nodding slightly. “And the person in charge would be me, I can accept that request and see it actioned.”

The scion just nodded, and chose to ignore the muffled yelling and struggling of the bandits as they were led away. Peri turned on her heels and marched off, leaving Leif and the three demikin alone to enter the town. He felt the tension leak from his shoulders, letting out a long sigh of relief. While this was an excellent test run for when he went further south, he couldn’t help but wish things were less stressful.

“Cheer up!” Liv said as she slapped him on the back with more than a little strength, he didn’t budge. “As long as you’re around, me and the big doofus can hide behind you, probably won’t be too bothered by the little gift from our revered ancestor poking out of our heads.”

“I welcome any challenge.” Olav said, crossing his arms. The grin slipped from his face as he continued. “But we should complete our task with haste, it would not be good to delay our return by too much.”

“You have my sympathies.” Samil said with a shake of his head. “At least my heritage is less obvious, though I am a few generations more removed from my ancestor. Besides, Ahle-ho is more friendly with demikin than the empire proper, so things should be fine.”