by Ryan Rimmel
“Murder the ground,” I said slowly in Badger. “Pretend it's Charles.”
“I know you are playing me, but I’m still going to do it,” said Badgelor. He climbed out of the fish guts and began expanding in size until he was as tall as a horse but much wider. As soon as Badgelor got to the trench, a steady cloud of sand was kicked out. He was tearing into the ground like a chainsaw through a wedding cake.
Glorious Robert came and sat down next to me, his wife dropping a steaming bowl of chowder into place right as soon as he arrived. He grinned at her wickedly. She blushed before remembering they had an audience. This caused her to frown slightly, which made Glorious Robert laugh heartily. He slapped my back hard enough to rock me in my chair.
“You are a solid one,” stated Glorious Robert, as he got around to eating his own portion.
“Aren’t you going to oversee the trench?” I asked. Massive sprays of sand were shooting into the air like volcanic plumes. As Badgelor dug, the debris became more rock than sand.
“I got people for that,” stated Glorious Robert. “Margwal is in charge of excavations, and Hansa is around for troubleshooting.”
Those were two of Sir Dalton’s wards. All ten of the young women he’d sent from his estate near Narwal had integrated themselves into the town quite readily. Of course, it helped that they were all quite skilled in one thing or another. Margwal turned out to be quite the little civil engineer and Hansa’s curious nature was expressed through tinkering with just about anything.
“I’m surprised you got Margwal in the sun,” I replied, remembering how nearly snow white her skin was.
“I didn’t. Get her in the sun, at least,” stated Glorious Robert, gesturing toward a young woman. That same young woman was gesturing wildly at my badger. Margwal was wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a full body covering that left only her head partially exposed. The stream of rocks and mud suddenly changed course, and she quieted somewhat.
“She seems to have things well in hand,” I commented.
“Mining and excavation are her fortes, though she’s no slouch in getting basic structures built, either,” replied Glorious Robert. “That drydock is basically just a trench with some supporting buildings, and the trench is the hard part. I was lucky to get her. She’s got a waiting list a mile long.”
I remembered Mar mentioned using an expert to get the new farms all arranged based on my plans. When I’d placed them on the town map, it wasn’t a precise final location by any means. Mar had it in his power to adjust them, taking into account local conditions. I’d been mostly right, but he’d had someone knowledgeable making sure the new fields wouldn’t flood or anything. I was willing to bet that Margwal was Mar’s expert.
Suddenly, there was quiet. I heard several birds begin to chirp rhythmically. Glorious Robert spun around in his chair and, in one deft motion, threw a wooden spoon half-way across the partially completed boardwalk. The spoon smacked the red head in the ass just hard enough to ruffle her clothing. “No singing!” he shouted.
He gestured toward the large sign, which now made a lot more sense. Hansa pouted daintily. She was a young lady of medium height, cursed with an incredibly cute face. Pretty much anything she could do would look adorable. She spotted me, and her pout vanished. She quickly made a beeline toward the counter.
“Don’t set anything down that you want to keep,” stated Splendid Gloria. She had already picked up her book and the spoon she was cooking with.
“Mister Mayor,” greeted Hansa sweetly, as she drew nearer. The young lady practically bounced as she moved. It was impossible to tell if her exuberance was from a large amount of pent up energy or just her natural youth.
“And I’m chopped cod,” grumbled Glorious Robert who continued to eat.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Foreman,” she exclaimed. She threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. I expected a reaction from Splendid Gloria, but she just rolled her eyes. Hansa’s youth and enthusiasm seemed to save her from the wrath of a wife watching her fervently embrace her husband.
“So, you troubleshoot things?” I asked, causing Hansa to stop hugging Glorious Robert and spin around to me. For being in a construction zone, she sure was improperly dressed. The wide, flowy, blue and green dress twirled around in the air as she walked. The swishing sounds the skirts made reminded me of the fluttering of birds’ wings.
“I already finished troubleshooting everything,” she grumbled. “I fixed the block and tackle and got a new shovel design made. It makes the sand here come up so much easier. Now, I’m bored.”
Glancing over, I noticed that the beach goers were using a flat-headed transfer shovel rather than the more conventional shovel we were using in town where the soil was much. . .dirtier.
“And the big meanie won’t let me sing,” said Hansa, frowning at Glorious Robert.
“Whenever you sing, we lose fifteen minutes of production. Besides, Badgelor is digging now. We don’t always have him around to help us,” stated Glorious Robert, looking to me for help.
I decided the best course of action was to eat more chowder, but, as I reached for my spoon, I realized it was missing. Looking up, I saw Hansa had it in her hands and was kind of dancing around with it. Splendid Gloria handed me a new spoon.
“She’s a kleptomaniac?” I asked softly.
“She’s saved us nearly fifteen gold in upkeep with her wild ideas. That transfer shovel plan alone saved me a few days. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. If Hansa wants to steal a spoon, I’m fine with it,” replied Splendid Gloria.
“The problem is that it never stops with a spoon,” grumbled Glorious Robert, clearing his throat. “Hansa, do we need to have Margwal search you again?”
Hansa suddenly became aware of what was going on and deposited the spoon back into my mouth with a plop. “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”
“Does it have anything to do with the ship or the drydock?” asked Splendid Gloria patiently.
“No,” replied Hansa glumly.
“Badgelor is digging a trench,” I offered, hoping to cheer her.
Hansa immediately perked up. “I’ll just go check on him. It would be an honor to offer Badgelor my assistance.” Off she went, racing toward the ever expanding cloud of debris that was the trench.
“She’s lucky she’s so cute. It's hard to stay angry with her,” said Splendid Gloria with a resigned smile.
“Speak for yourself,” said Glorious Robert, giving me a hard side-eye. “Jim, you fancy a sparring match?”
Chapter 6: The Fanciest of Footwork
You could technically spar anywhere, but, like most places where a friendly duel was likely to occur, the docks had a place set aside for it. Apparently, the practice was for two people to challenge each other while a third person walked around the field with a bunch of stakes and some string to mark the area. If the boundaries were drawn like that, the duel would automatically default to those dimensions every time. Then, people could build around it without worrying that their future building would become a violent sparring zone.
“Alrighty, welcome to my yard,” proclaimed Glorious Robert, as he dug out two practice swords and tossed one to me. They were actually simple swords, completely unenchanted. The duel settings would render us incapable of permanently damaging one other. “After I bust ya up a bit, I’ll help you figure out how to not run off when you duel with Sir Dalton next time.”
“I didn’t run off. I had to do some mayoring,” I grumbled indignantly, as I accepted the prompt for the duel.
“Sure you did, ya skeezer.” With that, the large ball of destruction that was Glorious Robert was off. The muscular fisherman was a shorter man, allowing him to come in low to the ground. That might have been an advantage with some of his partners, but I had been fighting goblins since I landed on Ordinal.
I parried a few of his strikes and used my bracer to block another. Riposting, I drove him back a pace. He attempted to immediately go back on the offensive, but I
used my Quick Strike skill to launch a follow-up swing. He wasn’t ready and was caught off-balance. I executed a Hack and Slash.
The three blows all narrowly missed, as he moved away from each strike. His absence of any significant movement allowed him to stay on the inside position, and Glorious Robert took the initiative. He launched a Powerful Blow toward my chest. I was wearing my leather armor, but a shot to the midsection would be painful. I Dodged the blow, landing several feet back and readied a Thrust.
“Hold the fuck up,” yelled Glorious Robert, as he stared at me. “Do you not know how to avoid attacks?”
“I avoided your attack,” I answered, slowing my pace. There usually wasn't much talking while a duel was ongoing.
“You Dodged, like a Rogue,” said Glorious Robert.
“So?” I replied, not understanding his point.
“What is your Footwork skill at?” he growled.
I paused for a long moment. Uh-oh. “What is Footwork?”
Glorious Robert let his sword lower, as he took his face in his free hand. “You are telling me that you've been fighting all this time without Footwork?”
“What is Footwork?” I asked again.
“You know how Rogues avoid attacks by Dodging out of the way?” replied Glorious Robert. “Well, that usually leaves you out of place for follow-up attacks. Footwork is the skill Warriors use. It's similar to Dodge, but, instead of big movements, you try to move as little as possible.”
I had Thrust as one of my Duelist talents. If I Dodged out of the way of an attack and I needed to close, I could just use my Thrust attack to close the distance again. When Thrust was on cooldown, though, I’d found myself out of position for an attack more than once.
The Warrior skill tree had access to Mitigate, Block, and Parry. I hadn’t really realized that the Warrior skills included something to move your body. In retrospect, that had been foolish. I was just using Dodge, despite it being more costly to perform in heavier armor.
Glorious Robert raised his sword and stomped back over to the starting spot. “Maybe try to fight like a Warrior, for once. See if that works out any better for you.”
I moved back to the starting area and thought about it. It would be like the arrow catching trick all over again. I would just have to Dodge the least amount possible. Bringing my weapon back to the ready position, I stood and waited for Glorious Robert to advance again.
He did not disappoint, coming in with a flurry of blows that were just inside my ability to sidestep. As I continued weaving and avoiding the attacks, I got a prompt.
● You have learned about the Skill Footwork. You are unskilled. Give me an inch; that’s all I’ll need.
● Footwork is compatible with the Dodge skill. You have learned Fancy Footwork. All Dodge and Footwork Skill Points have been contributed to Fancy Footwork. You are a Novice at Fancy Footwork.
Suddenly, the slight moves I was making to avoid attacks were easier and costing less Stamina, but there was an issue. When Glorious Robert sidestepped he always managed to move around an inch out of the way. I was just barely avoiding the slices, often by only a hair's breadth. That gave me no margin of error and frequently let Glorious Robert tag me with his training sword with glancing blows. Meanwhile, I could practically feel my Dodge skill melting away at the same time. After Glorious Robert launched a particularly good slash, I attempted to Dodge backward. I only got a fraction of my normal distance.
“You were doing fine! What was that?” shouted Glorious Robert. He adopted the expression of someone looking in his menus. “Fancy Footwork? That’s a new one.”
“You can see my skills?” I asked, dumbfounded. I had a perk and a magical item. Both were designed to keep my stat sheet away from prying eyes.
“Of course! I was teaching you. I have the Mentor skill at Expert Rank,” stated Glorious Robert. “It lets me train up a skill faster for others, provided I can train it at all. I was trying to train you in Footwork, but that skill evolved rather quickly into Fancy Footwork.”
“Evolved?” I asked.
“You are from the sticks,” replied Glorious Robert. “Look, the gods may have put all living creatures in this world here in their shapes, but sometimes a creature, skill, or ability has a compatibility with where they are. If that happens, they will eventually evolve into something better.”
“What about natural selection?” I asked, still not entirely used to how Ordinal threw out technical terms.
“Natural Selection? Your first menu selection when you were a child?” asked Glorious Robert. “I don’t think that applies here.”
“Sorry. So, about my skill evolving. . .” I continued, once again giving up on Ordinal terminology.
Glorious Robert just shook his head. “If you learn skills that are particularly compatible with each other, like Dodge and Footwork, you’ll get an enhanced version of those skills. Then, you can apply either to your defense.”
“Couldn’t I do that before?” I asked. Glorious Robert blew out a long breath. I heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like, “Oh, boy.”
“Unless you didn’t plan on using your feet for both skills,” he answered. “You can use Block or Parry. Those are variations on the same theme, but parry uses a weapon, and block uses a shield or bracer. Footwork and Dodge both require you to move out of the way, and you almost always have to use your feet to do that. Therefore, you get a skill overlap.”
“Ah, yes, those suck,” I said, guessing from his tone.
“At least you understand the basics,” replied Glorious Robert. He adopted a more relaxed position. “You know, I could train you a few hours a day in your Fancy Footwork skill. Get you all ready for the dungeon.”
It occurred to me then that I hadn’t actually invited anyone to go with me to the dungeon. I’d certainly discussed it, but I’d have to mind my manners and actually ask some people to accompany me. Glorious Robert was looking at me expectantly, though.
“That sounds great! I would love some training,” I replied. Glorious Robert nodded. “Why only a few hours a day though?”
Looking particularly pleased with himself, Glorious Robert responded, “The Mentoring skill only provides bonus experience for a few hours each day. I’d normally charge a bunch for this, but, as a personal favor to you, I’ll do it for free.”
That sounded fantastic.
Chapter 7: Personal Growth
“Well, aren't you Mister Fancy Pants,” said Shart, as he plopped back down on my shoulder. It was early evening, and I was finally leaving the docks. Glorious Robert and I had trained until after the final bell sounded, and everyone left for the day. Badgelor had become bored and wandered back to the kitchen hours ago. As my demon and I headed back, I heard Hansa singing the Go Home song from somewhere in town. I figured the badger was doomed.
“I got a ton of Skill Points,” I groaned, still awed by my rapid skill boost. The Mentor skill gave its user the ability to be treated as an enemy for skill training purposes, which allowed you to practice your skills with that person much more effectively. At higher ranks, the Mentoring skill gave your students additional Skill Points. It also gave a host of other benefits, like faster skill gains, higher skill limits, and longer training windows. The three hours a day that Glorious Robert could train me represented all that an Expert could manage.
What I’d learned about skills, between Glorious Robert’s attempts to smash my face in with his sword, was that there were normally caps on your maximum skill level. These caps were based on your class level, at least for adventurers. Normal people didn’t have skill caps, but they also advanced much more slowly. By level 15, a normal adventurer could train up to Journeyman in a skill, or the Talented rank in a skill critical to his class, like Sword for Duelist. A Mentor could bump that up a level, which is how someone like Sir Dalton had so many combat skills at Expert rank.
Glorious Robert had finally laid out the full skill rank list for me which went: Unskilled, Amateur, Novice, Init
iate, Journeyman, Talented, Expert, Advanced, Master, Grand Master, and finally Divine. Each higher rank has a significant cost increase over the previous rank. Perks were awarded at rank four, Journeyman, and then every 2 ranks beyond that.
“Since I don’t have skill limits, could I just train up to the highest rank in all of my skills?” I asked Shart as we walked.
“To Divine rank?” asked the demon. “Sure, I suppose, but Divine rank requires more than just spending Skill Points. You’d have to complete your Trials first.”
“What are those?” I asked, picking up a stone and carving a small frost rune into it.
“Sort of like your Beast Lord Path. They are trials you need to overcome to achieve the next rank on top of the Skill Points required,” answered Shart.
“Sounds complicated,” I said, tossing the rock aside. It landed on the ground and popped, sending ice shards in all directions.
“There’s always the Demon Door,” replied Shart, and I groaned. It looked like I was going to need to double down on my skills, probably forever. I needed to plan out my progress this time, though. No more clowning around.
I entered the eastern gate, just as everyone was dispersing from a Hansa-inspired musical number. Badgelor waddled over to me and climbed back onto my shoulder.
“That was hell,” he said.
“You guys left a while ago,” I replied.
“She sang the whole way back, and then she did something called a power ballad,” stated Badgelor.
“Did you get any buffs?” asked Shart curiously.
“Yup. Believe in Yourself, which grants me a +1 to my Willpower,” answered the badger.
“That’s not bad,” I said, as we continued walking. Well, as I continued walking. My unruly passengers continued to bitch.
“It is, if it takes an hour to get,” replied the badger, shaking his head. “Look, I like a good song number just as much as the next badger. Holding me up in the air and yelling ‘Oval of Living’ was a bit much, though.”