Chapter 3 of "I Left My Hormones in Another World: Vol. 2"

“Have you ever been on a bounty before?”

“No.” I pulled at the collar of my gambeson, the sheep’s wool sweltering in the heat. “Got any tips for a couple of noobs?”

The Anthrocadon chuckled, revealing a pair of viper’s fangs in place of the crocodilian teeth I’d come to expect from the race. “Simple,” she hissed. “Show no mercy.”

Harv and I exchanged glances. We’d made the long trek east to Cusalok, the mud brick city from which Anthrocadons hailed. When we arrived, we were joined by a local druid called Fennel, the adventurer that originally reported our quarry to the guild. The three of us were gathered on a flat rooftop overlooking the mile-wide town square, where hundreds of Anthrocadons were participating in a grand bazaar. Standing tall at the dead center of the square was a magnificent temple to rival even the Cathedral of the Steadfast back in Bastion. Four branching canals, one in each cardinal direction, met at a lock set into the temple’s cavernous underbelly.

“Hast thou taken many of these jobs before, my friend?” Harv asked.

“You could say that,” Fennel replied. She pulled out a leather cord from around her scaly neck and held it out for us to see. Yellowing teeth from all kinds of races hung from the thread, about two dozen in total.

“Those are—ah. Yes, I see,” Harv said pleasantly, though he was turning a deeper green than Fennel. “Thou art a… decorated veteran!”

“I prefer the title ‘bounty hunter’.” Fennel slipped the teeth back under her vest. “There’s no faster way to rank up in the guild. Why bother with anything else?”

“Why indeed,” I muttered. B-rank quests typically went for twenty-five points; if we managed to complete this bounty, we’d each get fifty.

Harv cleared his throat. “We’d best get moving; dost thou have any idea where to start?”

Fennel laughed, though it sounded more like hissing. “I find that setting out bait works best.” She slithered over the edge of the building and down the façade, blending in with the crowd below without elaborating any further.

“What a deplorable creature,” Harv muttered. “Are you sure you want to be involved in all this? There’s still time to back out.”

Despite Harv’s obvious discomfort with taking on a bounty, he’d relented and joined me anyway. However, whether it was a result of our argument or his own morals, Jaune had elected to stay behind. I understood his issue with swapping roles with the paladins that gleefully tried to murder us back in Viurnia, especially considering the lofty ideals my title apparently demanded of me. Champion of Light stuff aside, it wasn’t like I loved the idea of hunting down another sentient being any more than he did. What I needed was a break: a break from Bastion, the church, and my so-called divine status. A normal adventurer wouldn’t have to think twice about taking a job like this; why should I?

“This quest will give me enough points to get to B-rank,” I deflected. “We’re already here; we might as well see it through.”

“You’re the boss,” Harv sighed. “Where do you want to start?”

“What do we know about the target?”

Not much, as it turned out. The bounty was for a female adventurer named Glissadé, a B-rank dancer. We didn’t have a picture of her or any idea what her crime was besides Fennel saying she violated the guild code, which I didn’t even know was a thing. Either I was oblivious, or the Adventurer’s Guild needed to do a better job training new people. I’d complain to HR, if HR wasn’t just Meena. I didn’t need to give her another reason to hate my guts.

“Shall we mingle in the crowd and ask for directions?” Harv suggested.

“If we must,” I groaned.

We split up, hoping to cover more ground. The bazaar made the market lining Bastion’s main street look like a series of roadside stands. There were vendors from all over the continent; Phusaadians sold livestock and other farm goods, panting heavily in the desert heat; mushroom-like Viurnians carried fungus and incense and performed psychic readings; human craftsmen hocked their Shardcraft of all kinds; and plenty of Anthrocadons peddled textiles, paper, and other local goods. Nothing, however, compared to the sight of the Great Temple of Cusalok.

Up close, the temple was more of a fortress than a place of worship. Armed guards stood on each corner and at each entrance. The iron doors were windowless with no sign of latch or lock. How anyone ever entered the structure was a mystery to me, but it was easy to see why security was so tight. At the heart of the temple stood Cusalok’s Great Shard, a massive crystal of deep indigo. With the Great Shard intact, alleged crooks like Glissadé were the worst threats the city would face.

Pushing thoughts of darkness and war from my mind, I set about the task at hand. I’d only awkwardly spoken to a couple of vendors before Harv rejoined me to say he’d found a lead. He led me to a stand that reeked of fish; what may have once been fresh catches baked in the sun. A large wicker basket of water sat on the other side of the counter, from which a pair of strange creatures rose. Their skin was a smooth, shiny brown, and their short fingers were webbed. They had large, round eyes like the fish they sold and six frilly stalks growing from the back of their heads. All in all, they resembled humanoid salamanders, right down to the long, slimy tail.

“May I introduce Lady Jen of Kennakit,” Harv announced as we drew near.

“Kennakit?” One of the salamanders croaked. “She doesn’t look like any kin of mine!”

“Quexal, don’t be rude,” the other squeaked. “She could be from… you know…” They exchanged glances and then looked me up and down with bemused expressions.

“He means ‘Connecticut’,” I sighed, much to the salamanders’ apparent relief. “I’m not from around here.”

“Nor are we!” Quexal laughed, splashing about. “Don’t let those canals fool you; Cusalok isn’t a healthy place for Lotls like Phren and me. Most of us don’t normally come this far inland, you see? When we do, it’s strictly for business.”

“That’s why we thought it so strange that adventurers would be looking for a Lotl here, of all places,” Phren chimed in. “Especially these days.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, these days?”

“You don’t know? Rumors say that demons have been attacking adventurers in Cusalok for weeks now,” Phren explained with a shudder.

My eyes widened. “Is there something wrong with the Great Shard?”

“No, of course not. They’re just rumors.” Quexal patted Phren’s shoulder with a stern look. “Besides, if there really were demonic summonings in Cusalok, the Monastery would put a stop to them. This is monk territory, you see? Safest city in the east. Sadie must’ve agreed, if she’s here, too,” Quexal added, as though that clinched it.

I raised an eyebrow at them. “You mean Glissadé? You know her?”

“Know her?” Quexal’s gills writhed with excitement. “We’re her biggest fans, you see? Finest performer to ever come out of Kennakit, on both land and sea!”

Harv frowned. “Strange that I’ve never heard of her, being a similarly gifted performer myself.”

“Never heard of her!?” Quexal’s gills perked up with indignation. “Once you see her in action, you’ll wonder how you’ve gone so long without.”

“We’d love to,” I interjected before Harv could match the Lotl’s boast with one of his own. “Can you help us find her?”

Both Lotls’ expressions brightened. “Find Sadie?” Phren gasped. “It would be an honor!”

The source of all water in Cusalok was the Serpent’s Vein, a freshwater river that doubled as the city’s eastern border. Like the canals that were fed by it, its waters were the brightest, most vibrant blue I’d ever seen. We passed several beaches, where Anthrocadons of all shapes and sizes napped in the shade or lounged in the rushing water, before arriving at our destination: the mouth of the westward canal. According to Quexal, it was used for shipping goods from abroad through the city.

“Yes, you see?” Quexal emerged from the canal, lifting a small basket over their head. “This is Kennakit basketry. She must have been living in the water here.”

“You’re holding Sadie’s basket!” Phren cried, on the verge of swooning.

Quexal’s round eyes widened further as they realized the treasure they held. “I am! You see? I’m touching something that belongs to Sadie!”

“I’m so happy for you,” I said.

“Why would she make her home in the busiest canal?” Harv wondered.

I nudged him, pointing out the many gondolas and rafts on the canal. “She can make a quick getaway if needed.”

“Besides, if she was in the other canals,” Quexal chimed in. “Dirtwalkers like you would never find her, you see?”

I frowned down at the creature as he slithered cheerily about in the water. “What was she doing here at all?”

“If I was a Lotl on the run from the guild, a canal in a desert would be where I’d hide,” Harv reasoned.

“Sure,” I allowed. “But Fennel was the one that reported her, right? Meaning Glissadé was already in Cusalok when she broke the code. I wonder why.”

“All I know is that when we find Glissadé, that layabout Fennel better not expect an equal share of the reward,” Harv sniffed. “So far, I’ve done all the work.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry. When we find her, you can continue to carry our party by playing a song to trap her. She’ll be too busy dancing to run.”

“That’s a good idea,” the bard replied, pulling his lute off his back and attempting to tune a string, though he only managed to make the note flatter than it already was. “No member of the fairer sex can resist the musical charms of Harv the Bold!”

Before I could point out the most obvious exception to that statement, a flash of movement caught my eye. Something slithered from the waters below into a barrel just before it was loaded onto a raft for transport.

“It’s her!” Phren screamed, then passed out from excitement.

“Go now, adventurers!” Quexal cried, fanning their partner with a webbed hand. “See her majesty for yourself!”

The crewmen finished loading their goods before I could get close and set off, pushing the raft down the canal with long rods. I ran alongside the canal until the raft drifted close enough for me to leap on board.

The Anthrocadons were not pleased to see me. “Stowaway!” one hissed. The two that were not driving the raft drew knives from their belts and advanced on me. The lid of the barrel popped open just a crack, revealing a pair of large eyes from within.

“Easy,” I said, raising my empty hands. “I’m not a stowaway, I’m trying to catch one. She’s in that barrel right there; if you let me grab her, I’ll be on my—”

“Thief!” One screeched, and then both rushed me. My buckler was strapped to my left arm as usual, so I met the first knife’s swing with it while I drew my blade with my right hand, just in time to knock the second assailant’s dagger from their hand with the hilt of my sword. The disarmed crewman dove for their weapon before it could clatter into the water while the other pressed their attack.

I parried the next swing, gripping my sword with both hands. I rammed my shoulder into my attacker, and they stumbled to the floor just as the second bore down on me with their recovered blade. I swung my sword again, aiming for the dagger in their hand.

The emerald in the pommel of my sword flashed, and the blade changed course on its own mid-swing. Its sharp edge hurtled towards the Anthrocadon’s throat, aiming to kill. I yelped in surprise and pulled the sword away from them, though it felt like I was pulling on the leash of a wild dog that had just seen a cat. The sword relented suddenly, and with the loss of its resistance, my own strength buried it into the wooden floor.

My almost-victim recovered before I could and scored a flurry of shallow cuts on my gambeson’s sleeve as I tried to backpedal.

“Hail, noble seaman!” In the commotion, I’d all but forgotten about Harv. He was jogging alongside the canal to keep up with the raft, lute in hand. “If thine craft is as fine as thine skill, then thou best make for shore before thou go under!”

My attackers paused, glancing at one another. Whether the bard was successful in insulting them or not, he’d given me the distraction I needed. I ripped my sword from the raft and swung at the barrel, slicing the top clean off. A lithe figure with bright pink skin leapt from the barrel into the canal before I could react. It had to have been Glissadé.

“He broke our barrel!” One of the steering crewmen shouted. The two attackers shook off Harv’s mockery and advanced on me, blades at the ready, forked tongues tasting the air.

“‘She,’” I muttered under my breath. “‘She’ broke your barrel.”

Those large eyes suddenly appeared over the opposite edge of the raft, surveying the situation. When she noticed me staring, she winked and slithered silently into another barrel. The four Anthrocadons were none the wiser, focused as they were on me.

I deflected the next flurry of blows with my sword and shield, forced back by the crewmen’s furious assault. At one point I had an opening to take one of the attackers out of the fight by knocking them on the head with the hilt of my sword, but the sword had other ideas, and attempted to take their head clean off instead. I stopped the sword from tasting innocent blood at the expense of my footing; the other crewman was able to shove me off the raft into the brilliant blue waters of the canal.

“Why do I always end up soaked,” I complained to Harv after he fished me from the canal. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. “Don’t even think it.”

“Yes, well,” Harv cleared his throat. “The raft is just about to reach the lock at the center of the square; if we hurry, we’ll be able to catch her on the other side.”

“Good thinking,” I replied. “You really are carrying the party today.”

“Thou need not sound surprised.”

We pushed our way through the crowded bazaar to the west side of the massive temple while the raft was still waiting at the lock. It hissed open and the raft floated out, heading towards the main gate out of the city. Without hesitation, I jumped back on board the vessel and tore open the barrel I’d seen our quarry slip inside. It was empty, save for some loose fish. I turned as the four Anthrocadons advanced on me, anger burning in their snake-like eyes.

“We lost her,” I gasped after climbing out of the canal for the second time in a matter of minutes. “She could be anywhere in the city by now.”

“Lotls are a slippery bunch,” Harv observed. “Perhaps we should try to find Fennel and see if she’s had better luck?”

I was about to reiterate my stance on giving up this quest when a bell chimed overhead. There were shouts and crashes coming from the temple above; next thing I knew, a pink-skinned figure leapt from a ledge on the upper floor of the temple onto the roof of a nearby stall. Using the sea of heads and stands in the marketplace as her platforms, Glissadé quickly crossed the bazaar and clambered up the side of a building on the bazaar’s western side, a scroll clutched tightly in her webbed hand. A beat later, three other figures—a human, a Phusaadian, and an Anthrocadon all clad in orange—leapt out after her. The monks of the Monastery were giving chase. If they caught her instead of us—

“Harv.”

“Go,” he sighed. “With all this running, I’m starting to get sweat stains on my outfit.”

I took off without another word, following the narrow, twisting streets of Cusalok. Glissadé stayed ahead of the pursuing monks for now, but if the vendors Harv and I had spoken to earlier were any indication, Lotls were not adapted for this kind of dry heat. If she didn’t return to the water soon, her strength would falter, and they’d catch her for sure—if she didn’t fall off a rooftop first. As if to test my theory, the monks began to fire blasts of deep blue force from their palms and feet at their quarry, knocking potted plants and more debris from the roof onto the streets below. I dodged the falling obstacles, cursing under my breath.

The chase continued deep into the city, leading to a shady street. The relatively cool air made my damp sheep’s wool gambeson feel like ice against my skin.

The gap across the alley was much too great for Glissadé to cross; she had her back pressed up against the ledge two stories above my head.

“Return the scroll!” One of the monks demanded. “Now!”

“I’m just borrowing it,” the rogue dancer replied in a sultry, if breathless, tone. “If it wasn’t meant to be borrowed, why was it in a library?”

“The Monastery library isn’t open to the public! Especially not for women of the public!”

Glissadé rolled her eyes and looked down, noticing me below her.

“Jump,” I shouted. “I’ll catch you!”

“My hero,” Glissadé muttered, but nevertheless offered the monks a mock salute before vaulting over the edge of the building into the alley. I caught her with surprisingly little trouble—she was a tiny thing, barely a head taller than Templeton. She didn’t remain in my arms for long, though; she easily slipped out of my grip and landed on her feet a few paces away. “Why have you been following me all day? You a crazy fan or something?”

“I’m with the guild,” I panted. “Jen Joyce. There’s a bounty on your head.”

“Oh, that,” the dancer said, as if I’d commented on the weather. “Well, you did a great job catching me, bravo. But I have what I came here for, so I’ll be on my way.” She turned and started walking towards the mouth of the alley.

“Wait!” I called.

A snarl like a car starting answered my shout. Glissadé stopped short before leaping out of the way of a dark paw that slashed at her. She landed beside me, gill stalks pressed flat against the sides of her head. She was looking at something over my shoulder; I turned to see three beasts file into the mouth of the darkened alley behind us, their eyes glowing with angry red fire. The snarling drew closer from the other end of the alley, and the thing that’d attacked the dancer stepped into view. It was a bear the size of a school bus, with six legs as thick as tree trunks. The demon bellowed a furious challenge, and the other demons returned its call.

“This can’t be happening,” I breathed. “How—”

“Let’s worry about the how and why after we’ve kicked their asses,” Glissadé advised. She grinned up at me and shoved the scroll in her pocket. “Shall we dance, Jen Joyce of the guild?”

I drew my sword and planted my feet at the ready, putting my body between her and the massive, unholy creature. “I don’t dance.”