by Wolfe Locke
Ash rolled her eyes and clenched her fists harder. Sven could feel magic buzzing in the air. Every hair rose on the back of his neck. If I don’t get them to walk away, she might actually kill them.
"All right," he said. "All right. I think we can all take a step back here. We’ve all been drinking, yeah? Everyone just walk away. I’ll even comp you a room upstairs to sleep it off with breakfast in the morning.
The wolf wheeled on him, snarling. "I said leave us alone. We’re good, old man. Leave us be."
That was enough disrespect for Sven. "Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness." Sven said, his voice growing hard. "It’s time for you all to go."
The dryad took an unsteady swing at him, and Sven grabbed its arm and twisted, putting enough pressure that a single push forward would break the arm. "Hey," the dryad yelped. "Let me go. What’s the big idea?"
"One last chance," Sven said icily. "Will you walk out peacefully?"
"Yeah, and she’s coming with us," the Gnome giggled, clutching Ash’s arm harder. "Hee hee!"
Sven sighed. "Okay, fine. I tried." Just remember Sven, tone it down and don’t kill them on accident. "There are just two things that I can’t stand and one of those is men who can’t hold their liquor."
He pushed the arm forward and heard a snap followed by a wail as he shoved the dryad directly into the werewolf, who flailed drunkenly and was caught completely off guard by Sven. Then he turned to the gnome.
"Fun times for everybody!" the Gnome said, dropping its hold on Ash, and pulled a [Serrated Knife] from its belt. It dropped into a fighting stance, shifting its weight from foot to foot. The gnome's eyes were focused on Sven, and it was ready to attack.
"Get out!" Ash screamed from behind the gnome, kicking it in the back of the knee. There was a sick popping sound, and even as drunk as the gnome was, it dropped to the ground and started screaming.
Sven turned his attention back to the dryad and the werewolf. They had gotten to their feet and looked hungry for blood, the dryad clutched at its arm and looked at Sven in pure hate. He placed himself between them and Ash. How could he end this quickly before more of his stuff got damaged and without killing anyone?
Magic.
He was more of a physical fighter than a mage, but he did have some power. Though most of those had been blessings and earned abilities. The few actual magic teachers he had tried to get to teach him had always commented that he was all brute force but lacked refinement. Well, perhaps that was what was needed here.
"Walk away?" he said hopefully. "You’re clearly outmatched."
The werewolf and dryad didn’t respond. They just advanced on him, snarling. Well, it had been worth a try. Sven’s hand began to glow.
[Tremor Blast].
One of his favorites and one of the few magical abilities that he could use in a pinch. He unleashed it, the force of power moving from his body like a wave. Sven tried as hard as he could to blunt the force of the ability. Hopefully, this will just knock the B-Rankers out, teach them a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.
Despite his best efforts to hold back, he blew the roof off the tavern. Two walls were also destroyed in the blast, along with most of the armchairs and the rest of the tables. The gnome, tree and wolf were laid out flat on the lawn—unconscious but alive. Urgh. At least with the [Engineer’s Inheritance] the repairs to the building wouldn’t be quite as expensive.
"Wow, Mister! How are you going to pay for that?" The mage asked with a wide smile on her face.
Ash ran over to the unconscious B-Rankers and pulled out coin pouches from each of their pockets and walked back to him and placed the pouches in his hands. “Here, this should help.”
Sven looked over. Ash was standing next to him, looking completely unfazed by the altercation that just took place. Everything else was covered in dust and ashes, but she was spotless.
"You’re really powerful!" she said. "I knew I was in the right place. You weren’t just calling yourself Shatterfist."
Sven blushed. "I...uh, tried to hold back."
"I could tell!" she smiled. "Want me to clean you up?"
"Uh," said Sven inwardly panicking. What does she MEAN? But she didn’t wait for his response. She snapped her fingers and the dirt vanished from his skin and clothes.
"There we go!" she grinned. "Much better. Hey, you should have let me handle it myself. I had it under control. And I’ve got a lot more control over my magic and abilities. I’m a professional!”
That’s not quite what I was thinking was going to happen. "I know," Sven said. "I can tell."
She puffed up her chest and swung her arms in a an exaggerated motion and said in a deep force, pretending to be him. Ash laughed. “You fighter types are all the same, no finesse, its not always right to go so hard.”
The mage looked around, taking in the scene. The wreckage of the tavern was a lot to take in. Sven’s heart dropped. How long would it take him to rebuild? He should have just thrown the B-Rankers out the normal way. What was I thinking?
"Hey, Mister," Ash said, "this is pretty bad! You, okay? Seems like you could use a little help. I’m offering it."
"Do you know any construction spells? All I’ve got is a few artifacts." Sven said.
"Sure do!" she said, face bright. "I know a whole lot of spells of every type. Like I said, I’m a professional. I’ve even got a few summons that could help."
"Then I’ll take that help rebuilding," Sven said with a grin. "It took me weeks to build this place the first time. I’d like it to go a little faster the second time around."
"No problem!" Ash said, looking distracted. "But there’s one other thing. I’ve been watching you behind the bar all night."
Oh no. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was about to say next.
"You really look like you could use some help managing this place, Sven." She said, "Help from someone small and quick. I’m good with numbers, too. I can help you balance your books."
Sven’s heart sank and he shook his head quickly. "I appreciate the offer, but no, thank you. We’re fine here, Lloyd and me."
Ash narrowed her eyes. "You can barely reach anything. You’ve all the flexibility of a bear in winter. I’ve seen the way you give things away; you can’t be breaking even. You were comp’ing ales all night. You’re a softie. I’ll be a lot tougher. With me in charge of the financials, you’ll be raking it in. You’d be a fool to refuse my offer."
Sven wanted to refuse out of pride immediately, but something about her fierceness made him stop and think. Something about her just seemed so familiar. He could use help with the books. And it was true that he could barely fit behind the bar. He could use some help. But what is this going to cost me?
"All right," he said finally, begrudgingly. "You win. I do need help. What do you want in return? If I can afford it, and if you’re worth it, consider yourself hired."
"Yay! We can talk about that little bit later." Ash said, leaping into the air with joy. "I can’t wait. And for the first task... rebuilding the inn!"
Sven looked at the destroyed tavern and groaned. They had their work cut out for them, that was for sure. But if she keeps her word, maybe I won’t be ruined.
Chapter 12: What Magic Wrought
Ash was right. She was a huge help. They rebuilt the inn in just two days with Sven’s strength and her magic combined. She was clumsy as all get-out, but she knew her way around magic, and between the summoned wood spirits and her repair spells, the work went quickly.
"Wahh!" she screamed, tripping over a pile of rubble for the third time.
"That’s been there all day," Sven said, smiling. "You’d think you’d know it was there by now. You’ve tripped over it enough."
"I’ve been very busy helping you," Ash said, scrunching her face. "Fixing the damage you did to your own tavern! Show some respect! Be a little grateful, Mister!"
Sven held back a laugh. He’d only been working with the young mage for a day, but he already knew she took he
rself very seriously. She had been useful, and he didn’t want to alienate her. Sven didn’t want to admit it, but having her around, he felt a lot less lonely.
"Take that!" she said, pointing at the rubble pile. "I’ll show you!"
A jet of purple magic streaked from her fingers as she used [Construct]. The pile suddenly shot straight up into the air. Each broken piece of wall separated itself out from the rest as Ash figured out how to put it back together.
"Hmmm," she murmured. "That goes there? No…that goes there? No. There! There we go!"
The last piece settled into place with a crunch, leaving a fully completed wall floating ten feet above the ground. Ash clapped her hands together victoriously.
"See, Sven?" she said, gesturing to the floating wall. "All fixed!"
"Good work," Sven said. "Now can you put it in place? Or are you just going to leave it dangling up there?"
Ash looked scandalized. "I’ll put it in place! If you tell me which wall it even is!"
"It’s the front one. You can see the door. And all the windows." Sven answered, trying to hold back a laugh.
"You’re right!" she said, looking at the wall critically. "It is the front one!"
She pointed to the empty space at the front of the tavern. The wall obediently flew over to it, rotated, and settled gently into place on the ground. It looked better than it had when Sven had first built it even with the [Engineer’s Inheritance].
"But seriously," Sven said, grinning at the reconstructed inn. "You’re good at this. It took me a week to build that wall manually. You did it in about five minutes."
"I told you," Ash said happily, dusting off her hands. "I’m a professional."
The tavern was open again the next night, and every customer marveled at how quickly they’d accomplished the task. Ash had done most of the major construction work, but Sven had fixed all the windows and shutters and rebuilt the front door. He’d also insisted on adding mortar between all the stones himself, with his bare hands. Magic was useful, but there were some things he didn’t trust unless he did it himself. This was one of those.
The interior had been a joint effort. Sven had rebuilt all the tables, and they looked almost like they had before. Almost. The same basic idea, clean but rough-hewn, made of raw wood and lightly stained. Ash insisted on re-making the armchairs herself, though, and they looked quite different. Before, they had been simple, all a matching faded red, now they were frilly, floral and ornate. Each chair had a different pattern, and they were all very loud. It made Sven’s head spin to look at them—but he had to admit they were much more comfortable than the others had been. A lot more comfortable. He admitted again, sitting down in one.
"I like flowers! You want me to be happy here, right?" Ash said when he tried to protest. "They’re pretty! Your chairs were boring before."
Sven didn’t want to be rude, so he didn’t say anything about the new chairs. The young mage had been such a tremendous help that he didn’t want to lose her, and Sven sensed he’d need to take advantage of her offer to manage his finances in the future. If it makes her happy, it can’t be that bad.
"Looking nice, Sven," boomed an adventuring halfling as he settled down by the fire. "Love the new interior."
And so, just like that, the chairs stayed.
Ash was incredibly helpful behind the bar as well. She didn’t know how to mix a cocktail, but she was a fast learner, and Lloyd was a good teacher. She was small enough to fit into the packed storerooms that Sven couldn’t even enter, and she was incredibly nimble in crowds of people. Sven had worried that her clumsiness might lead to issues, but she didn’t drop a single stein nor spill a drop of ale. In the first week after their grand reopening, nothing broke at all. Lloyd was over the moon and continually reminded Sven of how great Ash was doing the job Sven had been doing.
Every night, Ash went over the tavern’s books with a red-inked quill, looking for errors. Sven often looked over to see her scowling and crossing out entire lines emphatically.
"You’re crazy, Sven!" she said one night, ink smudges all over her face. "You can’t do math! And you give so much stuff away. Are you running a business or not? You’re not even comping the heavy spenders. Don’t encourage freeloaders with more freebies.”
"I’m an adventurer," Sven protested. "Not a businessman. I don’t know how any of this stuff works."
"Were an adventurer," She corrected. "And you’re a businessman now. Do you want to run a profitable tavern, or not?"
"I do…." Sven muttered, feeling irritable.”
"Then stop comping half the bar every night, Mister, and let me run the accounts from now on! Three freebies max, a night. In total, not per person. That’s a rule." she told him with a smile, and he gladly agreed.
He didn’t really enjoy dealing with the financial aspect of tavern-owning, and he was more than happy to hand it over to Ash. He did miss giving drinks away—but he saw the mage’s point. The inn did need to make money, after all. Especially if I’m going to pay back the sum, I owe to the city. Sven shuddered.
Things went well for weeks, and Sven allowed himself to think that all of his problems had been solved. He hadn’t forgotten his conversation with Krivor, but the spider had always been strange and vaguely sinister. Perhaps she’d just been trying to mess with his head. He did his best to put it behind him and focus on the present. Running a tavern alongside Lloyd and Ash was the happiest he’d been in a long time, even with his failings. Maybe I can do this, after all.
Chapter 13: The Divers
One Saturday night, a group of young adventurers walked through the door and sat at a table by the fireplace. They seemed quiet and respectful, and they kept to themselves, so Sven comped clocked their cover charge and paid them no further attention.
He was off bar duty for the night, and he planned to spend the evening drinking Lloyd’s best dark ale and listening to Party of Illusion’s greatest fiddle hits.
That is up until Sven heard a scrap of the youngsters’ conversation from across the bar. Please tell me they’re not that stupid.
"We’ve got the Dungeon of Infinite Sorrow tomorrow! Drink up tonight boys! Who knows what the dawn will bring!” One of them called out.
Sven’s stomach dropped as he studied the adventurers more closely. They looked young—younger than Ash—and they carried themselves with the confidence born of inexperience. Stupid, stupid. They’re not ready for that at all.
There were four of them: a night elf who had the look of a priest about it, a human archer wearing a helmet and short sword, a burly cyclops who might have been a front-line fighter, or mage, it’s hard to tell, and a thin-legged goblin whose role on the team Sven couldn’t quite figure out.
All of them were drunk, and from the sound of it, they thought themselves ready for a dungeon far beyond them. All due to some dubious advice from some higher ranking adventurers. They’ll die if they go alone.
Sven had run that dungeon several times. It was not for beginners, and the monsters in there were deadly. A single mistake would end in death. He could see at a glance that this party did not have the skill to make it out successfully. Sven hunkered down with his stein of ale. He listened hard to see if he could pick up any more of their discussion.
"My half-brother Crassus is an A-Ranker and he told me it’s one of the toughest dungeons, but that we could handle it. He gave me an [Ointment of Protection] that’ll keep us safe. A single run can make us all extraordinarily rich," the night elf said, smiling widely. "He made me a wager that if we can clear it faster than he did as a C-Ranker, he’ll give us each some of his A-Ranked gear, and you know just how much better their equipment is." "Yeah!" said the cyclops, banging his stein on the table approvingly. "Get some of that Vuzuri gold!"
The elf scowled. "Clazdor, I can’t help how my brother grew up. You know how the upper rankers are, they work hard for their position. They never let us forget it, I know my brother doesn’t."
"Some of us had to work for our
money, Qashuri," whined the goblin. "Not our parents. Us!"
"Like I said, I can’t help how I grew up! What, do you want me to jump off a bridge because my father had gold? You think I shouldn’t exist at all?" replied the elf getting angry.
The others immediately jumped in to soothe the elf, and Sven rolled his eyes. He’d already had enough of these kids. If they want to survive, they need to grow up. He was reminded of some of the wealthy young adventurers of his youth. They’d been equipped with the nicest, most expensive equipment their parents could buy, but they didn’t know how to work hard.
Some things never change. They wanted to jump straight to the hardest dungeons, the ones only the most skilled adventurers dared to try, without having to go through the tedious, grinding process required to get to that level. Some of them died. Most of them didn’t, when things got hard, the soft folded and just ran back to whatever comfort they’d left, crying about how unfair everything was. Just like the old Guild Master used to say, "The cowards never tried, and the weak died along the way."
On the other hand, the poor adventurers, the ones without money, were used to hardships and had no choice but to grind. But they, the children of wealthy parents, had never had to get accustomed to them. It was harder for them out on the road.
Sven hated that sort of person. The way the used to laugh when he’d go into a dungeon wearing whatever odd assortment of armor, he could piece together from the scraps he found. Part of him wanted to let them fail in the Dungeon of Infinite Sorrow, be punished for their youthful arrogance, learn to be better than that. But that would be cruel, and Sven wasn’t cruel, not anymore.
He kept listening to the young party’s conversation.
"What’s in the book about this dungeon?" the archer asked the goblin, and Sven groaned. They were reading advice from a book? It went against all best adventuring practices. I hope it’s not the "Big Wide Book of Adventuring" again.