Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story

by Kirill Klevanski

  “What’s the news?” Lari asked.

  Mary gave him a reproachful glance. She knew that Lari was more interested in rumors than news. Particularly rumors about Ternites who had gotten themselves into some serious trouble. As she flipped through the pages she noticed someone named “Krivolap” be mentioned quite often.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she snorted.

  Continuing to flip through the pages, she soon found what she had been looking for — reports on recent duels and fights. These reports, written by that moron Perot, were something that interested almost everyone.

  “Guys!” she exclaimed, attracting their attention. “The Order got a new Master.”

  “Urg?” Blackbeard asked. “Don’t give me that look, it’s no secret that he’s ready to do just about anything to get a spot there.”

  “Smartass,” Mary snorted. “Yes, Toothless defeated Drunken Lee, the warrior monk, and took his place in the Order. He’s the eleventh one.”

  “Shoddy luck.”Lari spat. He had dreamed that one day he’d join the Order of the Dozen, but getting into it wasn’t so simple as the Order was an informal organization. One could say that it didn’t exist at all, because, unlike the Guilds, it didn’t have a coat of arms issued by the king.

  It always had twelve members, consisting of the most powerful Masters of the Mormanon Continent. It was said that each of them was equal in strength to a small Guild and that their rank in the Order corresponded to their power. No one knew how the most powerful member of the Order looked for no one had ever seen the Master.

  Little did the Wandering Stumps know that amongst them was the twelfth member of the Order. However, truth be told, Ash got this position by accident. It was because of this misunderstanding that those who wanted to become members of the Order would challenge the eleventh Master to battle. No one wanted to fight against the “demon in human clothing” after all.

  “It says here,” Mary continued, “that the duel took place on Bourbon Hill, which cartographers have renamed to Toothless Hollow.”

  “At least they didn’t decide to duke it out in the city,” Blackbeard muttered. “I remember when Ash and Gawain Ironhead had their duel... They leveled an entire city with the ground.”

  “It’s hard to believe that such monsters really exist,” Alice whispered, a little scared, and covered her legs with her robe as she was feeling chilly.

  “Those rumors are exaggerated,” Ash exclaimed, eyes still closed. “They didn’t destroy a city, just blew up a powder mill.”

  “And how do you know that?” Lari asked, chewing a blade of grass.

  “Well, I’m E’sh, after all.”

  Chapter 14

  T here was silence and then everyone burst out laughing. Lari’s roaring was the loudest, enhanced by him hitting the ground with his fist. Ash smiled as well, pleased that he had once again managed to make them laugh.

  “You don’t look like him!” Alice giggled.

  “How so?”

  “They say,” Tul winked at Alice, “that his staff is made of Aramia wood, also known as Firewood. According to legends, it was struck by the first lightning to ever split the skies of this world. That’s how the fire got to the surface from the earth’s bowels. They also say that the staff increases one’s firepower several times. All you have is a stick.”

  “Also,” Mary intervened, “to get the staff, E’sh had to defeat the God of Wisdom, Lao Fen, in chess. And we know that you don’t know how to play that game.”

  Ash twisted his “stick” in his hands and then rose to his feet.

  “Fire!” he shouted, pointing at the forest.

  At first, nothing happened, but then the staff uttered a small spark. The group laughed once again. Ash smiled shyly and scratched the back of his head.

  “And let us not forget,” Mary continued, “that he has a cloak that allows him to soar the skies, made of Wind’s Memories. Yours looks like a tattered rag.”

  “That’s not true,” Ash argued. “It’s just that the wind forgot a lot so I had to patch up the holes.”

  “You can’t fly!” she laughed.

  “Yes, I can!” he protested. “Look!”

  Ash drove the staff into the ground and grabbed the edges of his cloak. Bending over, he began to vigorously wave his arms up and down, mimicking a bird in flight. His attempts of soaring, however, ended up with him tumbling over the clearing, much to the group’s joy.

  Busy laughing, no one noticed how the grass where the staff had been placed started withering and turning black as if it was burning up from the inside.

  “All right, all right.” Mary breathed out, wiping away tears. “Back to training. One more round and we continue.”

  Sighing tiredly, Ash pulled the staff from the ground and took his fighting stance, grabbing the weapon with both hands and putting it in front of him. For him, this wasn’t a fight, but a performance.

  As he watched Lari rush at him, he remembered his first fight and how it changed the flow of his fate forever.

  27th day of the month of Nust, 310 AD, Middle Kingdom, Royal Palace

  Garangan sat on the throne, lost in his thoughts. No one could tell what the young man, who had recently married the beauty of the Three Kingdoms, was thinking about, but they assumed it had something to do with the empire’s state of affairs.

  “My Lord.” The majordomo peered into the modest throne room. “The First Archmage has arrived.”

  “Thank you.” Garangan nodded. He had always considered that being polite to his servants was a sign of good rule. “Please, let him in.”

  “A moment, my Lord.”

  The majordomo, clicking the heels of his shiny shoes, disappeared behind the doors. A moment later, a weird man with a red cap, purple robe with frills on its sleeves, and a staff made of white wood walked in.

  “My Lord.” He bowed.

  “Welcome, Arthur,” Garangan said, getting up to greet his old friend. “How’s your back?”

  Arthur walked over to the throne and sat next to his friend, who used to entertain him with different tricks in his childhood. A few had the privilege to sit aside the royal couple, but for these few, special chairs were prepared. They were made of black timber, which was the most expensive wood in the Nameless World.

  “Aching, as is to be expected at my age.” Arthur smiled, stroking his long, silver beard.

  “Have you considered a vacation?” Garangan winked, that was a bit weird, taking into account his high rank.

  “And risk having charlatans come to you while I’m away? Over my dead body!”

  “Thought you’d say that.” Garangan sighed. “You never did like street performers.”

  “Oh, but you adore them.”

  “Both me and the wife, luckily. She really likes the circus,” he said and then switched to his business tone. “However, I didn’t call you to chit-chat this time.”

  “Whatever His Majesty needs.”

  “Six months ago, I asked you to take a young man under your wing.”

  The Archmage winced, and his lower lip quivered. In all his life, he had never gotten a task as difficult as this one had been.

  “That you did, my Lord.”

  “I’d like to know how he’s doing.”

  “His skills are, without a doubt, outstanding, my Lord. I’ve never seen someone absorb knowledge as quickly and efficiently as he does. In the past year, he had managed to master two forms of Fire magic and learn as many as seventy Words. All this before the first snow, may I add. Even I wasn’t that talented at his age. My Lord, you’ve brought a genius to the palace.”

  Garangan nodded.

  “I’m glad to hear that. But what do you think of him as a person?”

  “He’s a monster!” Arthur grimaced and gripped his staff tighter. “A devil incarnate! I watched him train with the guards, I watched him ride with the best of horsemen, watched the majordomo teach him manners and letters, librarians share their knowledge with him... I watched them
all fill his head with this or that, but I never saw so much as a shadow of emotion on his face! He shows neither joy nor sadness. He doesn’t care if a living being is killed before his eyes! He doesn’t know fear or lust or envy... Nothing! He looks like a sculpture that has been given the ability to move and think. An empty shell, endowed with a sharp mind. My Lord, remove this demon from the palace before it’s too late!”

  “Is what you say true?”

  “I swear! May the Heavens strike me dead if I’m lying.” Arthur’s eyes glowed with fierce flame. “Hell! I’ll eat my hat if I’m wrong!”

  Garangan did his best to not burst out laughing and hid his smile behind his hand. He knew that Arthur loved his hat more than anything.

  “As you say, Arthur,” he finally said and tugged on a rope that hung next to him.

  A moment later, the majordomo walked in and greeted the two with a bow. “You summoned me, my Lord?”

  “Call Baronet Nameless, please.”

  “Right away, my Lord.” With another click of his heels, the majordomo disappeared, hurrying to obey his lord’s order.

  Chapter 15

  A sh was sitting on the balcony and watching the garden. His chambers, in his opinion, were far too luxurious for his taste. His eyes hurt from the white marble, and his bed, which stood at the east wall, was the size of a smaller room.

  Sighing, he returned his gaze to the book of legends he had been reading. He liked them more than the tragic history lessons and boring rules of etiquette. However, he had no choice but to study those. Not even he could go against the king’s orders.

  When Garangan suggested that he moved to the palace, Ash immediately agreed as he was tired of hiding from strange people and events in his shed of a home in the middle of nowhere. His heart had always yearned for adventure and travel, but something seemed to always be holding him back from following it on his own. It wasn’t until Garangan’s arrival that he finally managed to release himself from the shackles of whatever force had been keeping him in place for so long.

  The price he had to pay wasn’t all that big: learn to ride a horse, use cutlery (this took him some time to master, and he even managed to cut his fingers and tongue a couple of times), write, and even learn the basics of the economy. To this day he didn’t know what the whole fuss about money was about. He still couldn’t figure out why a musket cost a gold coin. The gun was so big, and the coin so small, it made no sense. Now, if you were to trade a musket for a good slice of grilled meat, that he’d understand. Meat filled your belly and you could go a day without eating. He couldn’t imagine himself eating gold coins.

  He also didn’t understand why girls looked at him so strangely, why they wore dresses and men wore suits, or why they had to use separate baths. In general, he didn’t understand what the difference in the two sexes was, save for the fact that they had different genitals.

  Because of all these gaps in his knowledge, he was very thankful to Garangan for teaching him a lot for free and for sometimes sitting with him on the roof under the stars, playing cards, and drinking rum. Ash, who so far showed nothing but disgust toward strong spirits, fell in love with rum, and Garangan seemed to share this sentiment. To make sure that they didn’t empty the palace’s cellar too soon, they’d often swap this wonderful drink for tea.

  A knock on the huge, mahogany door snapped Ash out of his reverie.

  “Come in!”

  Clicking with his shoes, the majordomo walked in.

  “Sir Nameless, his Majesty King Garangan IV summons you to the Throne Room,” he announced.

  Remembering the page he was on, Ash closed his book and got up. He had recently been given the title of a baronet, but nothing else that’d go with it, like land or inheritance that he’d one day pass on to his offspring. Not that this bothered him, he just found it slightly annoying since he didn’t like the fuss that came with having such fancy titles.

  Jumping off the railing, he walked into his chamber and took the ornate staff that Garangan had gifted him. Putting on his cloak, he followed the majordomo through the winding hallways. Amid the splendor of gold, velvet, brocade, and stained glass were elaborate bas-reliefs, sculptures, and paintings made by the most famous artists. Ash still couldn’t figure out what was it about their works that was more valuable than a child’s drawing. Or why their sculptures were better than the works of apprentice potters. All these things, dresses, jewelry, books, and pieces of art looked the same to him — without a purpose and soul. To him, a painting worth two hundred gold was equal to a brooch made of wire and glass.

  Turning the corner, they entered a wide, spacious hall and stopped in front of a tall door decorated with gold and ebony plates. One more thing that Ash didn’t understand was why they called the throne room small when it could easily fit about two hundred people.

  “The Lord is waiting,” the majordomo said and bowed.

  Ash nodded to him and opened the doors wide open, greeting both Garangan and Master Arthur. He was clueless to the fact that the latter feared him and wished to get rid of him. Not that it’d matter to him if he did, as he knew nothing of the pain of betrayal or love of another. To him, everyone was the same.

  “Your Majesty,” he greeted a bit quieter than the majordomo had taught him.

  “My friend!” Garangan said and, much to Arthur’s displeasure, got up to embrace the young man. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry that our last game had to be postponed.”

  “Think nothing of it. I see Master Arthur is with you,” he said and greeted the old wizard with a nod.

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like it that the young man had been given one of the rarest privileges a noble could be granted — sitting while the king stood. To Garangan, however, this seemed but a trifle. Had it not been for Ash, he never would’ve gotten the chance to hold his lovely wife in his arms.

  “Come and join us,” he said and sat down with Ash. “We were just talking about you, actually. He had nothing but praise for you.”

  “I thank you for the kind words, Master Arthur,” the young man replied and bowed to the old wizard. Arthur didn’t so much as acknowledge him. “But I fear that you’re exaggerating my successes. I still have a lot to learn.”

  “Modest as always!” Garangan burst out laughing. “Many of my subjects lack that quality. But now’s not the time for modesty, my friend. A storm is coming, and I’d like you to help me fight it.”

  “My—” Arthur began, but Garangan cut him short with a wave of his hand.

  “It’d be an honor.” Ash bowed yet again. “Your orders, my Lord?

  “All in its due time, my friend,” the king said with a hint of youthful cockiness in his tired voice. “First I must check to see if you’re suited for this assignment. Guards! Bring in the convict!”

  The doors opened almost immediately and two guards in light armor dragged in a man in dirty, tattered clothes. His hair was unkempt and his body unwashed, causing the majordomo to put a handkerchief to his nose and grimace with disgust.

  The guards threw the man in front of the king’s feet and drew their swords. Only the royal guards were allowed to draw their weapons in the palace, anyone else who dared present their blade would be killed immediately

  Ash looked down at the man who, curled up, was coughing and groaning. He didn’t care about his pain, he didn’t understand why he should care about a stranger.

  “Your Majesty?”

  “Patience, my friend.” Garangan turned to one of the guards. “Give him your sword.”

  The man stood motionless, staring at his king in disbelief.

  “I said give him your sword!”

  “Y-Yes, my Lord!” the guard exclaimed nervously. Throwing his blade to the convict, he dropped to his knee.

  The man didn’t waste a second. Immediately grabbing the weapon, he leaped to his feet and bared his yellowed teeth. Through the scars and locks of dirty hair, shone eyes of a madman. But even he wasn’t that mad as to jump at the king.
>
  “This, Ash, is a swordsman from the city of Felsham, convicted of violence, robbery, murder, and looting. He was to be hanged tomorrow morning, but I pardoned him. Do you know why?”

  “I do,” Ash lied.

  Truth be told, he didn’t care about what the man had done or what would’ve happened to him. All that the man was in his eyes was a sack of flesh and bone.

  “I’m willing to give him a chance to save his life. If he defeats you in a duel, I’ll give him a horse and three days of advantage. Then I’ll send my men after him. If he escapes them, he’s free to live his life as he pleases.”

  “So, I have to fight him?”

  “That’s right.”

  “As you wish, my Lord.”

  Chapter 16

  A sh stood up, bowed first to Garangan, then to Arthur, and then turned to his opponent. There was no signal. The duel began when Ash took his staff and assumed a battle stance.

  Uttering a mad cackle full of bloodlust, the convict charged at the young mage. Blade shining with an emerald light, the man shouted as he swung at Ash, who blocked it with his staff and used the momentum to redirect the blow to the side. The man stumbled, took two unskilled steps back, and attacked once more.

  “First Form: Incarnation.”

  Flickers of flame danced around Ash. The convict cackled, licking his cracked lips. He continued laughing even when the flames flew toward him. Spinning wildly, he attacked them with the sword, the blade of which was now shimmering ruby red. Only an experienced swordsman could slash through elemental spells. Ash seemed to have underestimated his opponent.

  The man took a strange stance: bending his legs, he outstretched his right hand, and put his left on the blade, the tip of which he pointed directly at Ash’s heart. The young mage, however, didn’t seem at all worried about the deadly sting threatening him. Arthur was right when he called him a sculpture devoid of a soul.