Benjo the Great? (1)
1407 Words
After a quick teleportation, I end up in an agricultural town.
There are wide open fields where wheat is being cultivated to make flour, which is a necessary ingredient for something simple such as loaves of bread or something gaudy such as a pistachio-flavored wedding cake.
Farmers are happily tending to those fields, as they expect harvest time to be near, since the wheat plants are now of a golden color, the indication that they are already ripe.
But now, here in Forhampe, the town of wheat, I'm not here to farm.
I'm here to find the VIP and protect him at all costs.
These tall wheat plants make finding a particular person a pain in the rear to do.
Luckily, I can ask the farmers.
“Hey, may I ask you something?”
“Leave me alone. I'm busy.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Aw, just kidding. I have all the free time in the world now, you know.”
“OK. Do you know where a guy only known as Benjo the Great is?”
“Uhh... never heard of him. Please go ask someone else.”
“Alright. Thanks.”
I ask another farmer. “No, I don't know him.”
Ask another. “We have no relations to him!”
And another. “Are you sure you've picked the right town? Go ask the constabulary.”
Dead ends. All of them.
Did the guild mistress mis-configure the portal or something?
In the midst of my introspection...
I spot two armored knife-wielders approaching me.
They have this kind of vehement hatred in their eyes.
But I'm not engaging them in combat, no.
I'll just whip out my magical improvised weapons when the enemy is ready to assail.
And right now, they're not in the mood to attack, whew.
Instead, they both ask me.
“Have you seen that bastard propagandist shilling troll known primarily as Benjo the Not-so-great?”
'Not-so-great?' Now that's a low blow.
“U-Uh... I just landed here in this town. I haven't seen him yet.”
“You'd better not be lying!”
The yellow-armored man is provoking me. Fortunately, I just reply calmly.
“Look, I'm not lying. Look into my eyes. Are they the eyes of a pathological liar to you?”
After some stares that don't verge on the side of the hostile...
“OK, we believe you. But beware of that trolling low-life regardless. Here, a scroll. You will know more about the person we're hunting down, in the hopes of making his pathetic excuse of a life disappear from this world.”
The red-armored then gives me a freshly-made paper scroll, with the smell of ink still wafting in the air.
“If you know his whereabouts, please consult us, and not the constabulary. We believe that poor mess of a human being has already paid off them off using the money he earned from shilling that equally poor excuse of a town mayor.”
“Uhh... OK.”
“Alright then... we're now off.”
And off those two armored men go.
Since the weather here in Forhampe is sunny, but not sweltering hot, I can just stay where I currently am and read the scroll.
I unwrap the ribbon that holds up the scroll, and...
Whoa! That's a long one I've got here!
It even touches the ground, and it continues on unraveling itself until its other end arrives at a scarecrow barely five meters from where I currently stand.
I wonder why that scroll is too freaking long...
Oh. OH.
I meticulously read the scroll's contents.
PEOPLE BEWARE!
This pathological shill, known primarily as Benjo the Great, is supporting the bloodthirsty and corrupt mayor of Forhampe, Wilagun Portanalto, by brainwashing its residents to support his corrupt regime.
His main method of brainwashing is by peddling white lie after white lie after white lie about that poor excuse of a mayor. After all, a lie told a thousand times becomes the “truth”, right?
And with his endless shilling, he earns so much more than an ordinary laborer, and the funds for his continued shilling allegedly come from the accursed mayor's coffers.
Even worse, he goes by so many different aliases, changing them every time we bust his cover.
Here's a long list of his trolling aliases:
Jingboy Protacio
The Battlestar Razor
The Customizing Boy
Ballaster Valeria
Victor Natokham
Omar Alhambra
Deli DeTia
Jhomarlen Spiritus
Homer Samson
Fulf Picshaun
Avaya Lokhal
Trayk Touda
Shwarobshki Cubano
Soi Sei
Gayana Pawah
Ougon Rheyshow
Matt Daemonlite
Shaia Serprays
Jabby Reglamador
Arlong In'ashal
Procopio Bonush
Phil Slike Heyben
Clement Buyas
Homero Stacies
Miwazzam al-Ahmor
Tonton Stark, Jr.
Hugo Wearving
Milator Doubtwater
The Introverted Bird
Ethelen Motoiha
Charon Cuneta
Budots Alamokaya
Pororot Jusmeg
Ammei Aybeg
Avueba Inbarong
Richmond Cheffield
Kardo Lothringen
Perdtin Tetrio
Yi Shun
Mischa Chimineia
Guy Ferosh
Eddy Whao
Julio Cesar Manning
Xyllem Shigop
Zural Cardson
Bernie Toukwa
Cheneleng Mercado
Cardio Dalisay
Jerjer Benhay
We'll make sure that this bastard shill, and eventually that bastard mayor, will be held accountable for their crimes against humanity.
For more information, please contact us, the Anti-troll Warriors.
We can be easily seen with our yellow and red armors that stand out.
Linus Gai the Yellow-plated
Deecuz Duae the Red-plated
Based on what I've read...
I personally don't know who to trust anymore.
The angry and overzealous warriors, hellbent on making that “shill”'s life a living hell for abetting a bloodthirsty regime; or the shill himself, who's supposedly my client, whom I haven't met yet.
But, a quest is a quest, so I must see it through the very end.
I trudge through the fields of wheat via the available dirt-laden roads; and before I know it...
I'm now in the actual town of Forhampe.
This town seems peaceful, as typical of a town under the kingdom's wing.
Brick-and-mortar houses are everywhere; and in front of those houses are sacks of flour, ready to be sold to bakers and confectioners all over the kingdom, neatly stored in durable wooden racks.
My client has to be here somewhere...
And due to having no leads in asking the farmers about his whereabouts, I'll try finding him myself, using only my wits.
I walk through the sidewalks of the town's cobblestone roads, looking for something unusual.
Most likely, he's hiding in an underground shelter that won't be easily noticed, especially by those two Anti-troll Warriors or even their potential associates.
So far, I've seen nothing that stands out.
Just the houses and the sacks of flour.
I'm about to throw in the towel and cancel the quest when...
“A scrapyard? In the middle of town?”
This scrapyard is notable for several reasons.
First, it's a mishmash of seemingly unusable weapons and tools.
I can see broken swords, wooden staves and rods with lopped-off heads, bucklers that are too warped for blacksmiths to repair, discarded furniture, and run-down machinery (mostly milling tools) that are gathering dust and rust.
Second, I can make use of those junk parts somewhere, in this quest or even more quests down the line.
And third...
“Whoa! A secret entrance!”
As I take the junk parts for myself and store them in my magical satchel that can be upgraded to accommodate more items in a compact space, I see a hole barely fit for an adult to enter.
Guess the client is wise enough to hide underneath piles of junk. Not literally, that is.
With some effort, I enter the hole in the ground.
I try not to suffocate myself while crawling carefully through the crudely-dug underground tunnel.
Ten meters in, and I can see a small room, barely decorated with only the bare necessities that are made from the same junk that I encountered at the entrance.
And in that same room...
...sits a cloaked man in a chair that is made of scrap wood, enjoying his favorite past time: Writing.
Naturally, he senses my presence.
With a hostile voice that is only absorbed by the underground dirt...
“HALT! Who goes there?”
I answer with no hesitation...
“It's me, your client!”
“I don't believe you! You must be one of those goddamn associates of those two goddamn bastards who are trying to kill me!”
“What do you mean?! Look, I can show you my adventurer credentials!”
- Writer
