by Wolfe Locke
“I’ll do it. I’ll go.” Ash responded; her voice full of frustration. “But on one condition, treat him like I’m right, like he’s the real Sven. Test his abilities if you have to, just let him have this. Because he is the real deal, and its not right that what he and the others sacrificed was hidden away from the world because the king didn’t want to admit a demon lord almost overthrew his kingdom.”
Lloyd looked at Galen and nodded.
“Fine, I’ll work on getting him tested. If his abilities are at S-Rank, he can have the rank. The training sessions should keep him busy until we have more information to figure out what to do next.” Galen responded. “Lloyd will keep on a good eye on him and keep him out of trouble.”
Lloyd spoke up, “If the grave is empty? What then? If this is Sven reborn to us.”
Galen shook his head. “That’s a problem for the me of the future, but I’ll put some of the guild’s resources behind it and see if we can’t research an answer. In the meantime, be discrete about it. People think him claiming to be Sven the Shatterfist is an entertaining gimmick to drum up business. Let’s keep it that way until we know better. We’ve already drawn enough attention and you know how precarious things are with the King’s tolerance of us.”
“I’ll be back soon.” Ash said as she got up to leave. “Take care of him while I’m gone.”
********************************
Sven woke up feeling like death the next day. He had a splitting headache and was completely covered in sawdust. He crinkled his nose. Oh gods it reeks. Somebody must have vomited in here."
He tried to sit up and slipped on something wet, slick, and overall unseemly.
"Ugh," he recoiled, realizing what it was. It was me. I puked.
He cleaned his hand off on the sawdust and fell back down. Sven had to shield his eyes for a moment, the sun was far too bright. And everything is far too loud.
"Hey! Shatterfist!" A voice boomed loudly, far too loudly and too close to his ear.
"What is it?" He responded irritably as he sat up and opened his eyes.
Ash was sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him, a cup of water in her hand that she pushed over towards him.
"You should drink that. No hair of the dog until you've rehydrated a bit. I'll admit though. That was a pretty smooth ability you were working on last night," she complimented. "I didn't know you could still do stuff like that. I was impressed."
"I didn't realize you were watching; I was sort of preoccupied." Sven responded suddenly feeling hot. A wave of nausea came over him. He felt awful, like that one time when I played coins with the dwarves. "Where are the trainees? What time is it anyways?"
"Just two hours after dawn. You're not late. Don't worry. I told them the training doesn't start until noon, so you've got time. And don’t worry about them the either. I made sure they all found their way safely to their rooms. After you passed out, they were out on the grounds shouting at each other trying to do some crazy spell nonsense.
Sven groaned, hoping nobody got hurt and the damage wasn't too bad.
"Don't worry," Ash said with a knowing smile. "I stopped them."
"Did any of them actually manage it?" Sven asked, struggling to gulp down the water. Ash recoiled from him and crinkled her nose.
"You reek, Sven." she said, retreating away from him before answering. "None of them did though. Well, sort of. That orc did a good job. He made the sword glow a little." she spoke. "He has potential. It’s not as common in these parts, but he would have made a good Dark Knight."
"Rogdul," Sven said. "Yeah, he was good. Better than the rest, he might be a good fit for Dark Knight training. I thought there were more of them around here though."
"Not anymore," Ash said quickly as she stood up and stretched.
"Anyways, I took a few liberties with the training program. I went ahead and made a list of the abilities you’ll offer for one on one training with an additional fee on top of the formal training program through the Guild. It’s kind of an a la carte thing to earn a little extra. One day it should draw more experienced adventurers, and better paying adventurers."
"Did you ask me if I wanted to do that?" Sven groaned. "Maybe I have other things I want to do with my time. You really should have asked. "
Ash shrugged. "I’m just here to help you Sven. If you want I’ll cancel, that's on you. I'll just send out notice that the "S-Ranker" giving out training classes on his ability has decided to cancel. Don't be a baby. It's not like you have that many abilities anyways. I've got way more."
"Depends on how you define ‘ability’. Let me see that list you drafted." Sven retorted and held out an open hand.
Ash pulled a large piece of parchment out of her pocket and unfurled it with a flourish before handing it to Sven. It listed the spells that he had mastery of and how much he would charge to teach them.
"What’s the [Time-y Wime-y Stop Spell]?" Sven asked confused. "That’s not mine at all. Neither is [Mount Draco Lich] I can't do that. I certainly can't summon one."
"Like I said, I took a few liberties on some things, and with others I made a few of the names up!" Ash said, grabbing the parchment back from him. "You were passed out! And I needed to get working on this."
"Ok. Uh.. thanks? I call it [Time Freeze], but its more that I focus my body to such an extent it's like time freezes, but not really.." Sven explained.
"Time...freeze...." Ash said as she jotted the new name down. "Boring, but okay, if that’s how you want things I’ll make a few corrections. But leave out that last part. It lacks pizzazz. Just doesn't seem like the ability of an S-Ranker."
Sven shrugged. "But that's false advertising. Besides, I’d prefer to call the ability simple and descriptive. That's not what I'd call boring. That’s how adventurers know what you’re doing. The names keep things self-explanatory." Sven said.
"I put that new move from last night on the list," Ash said. "I’d like to call it [The God of Ultra Violence] but we can call it something boring too if you like. How about [Light Sword]?"
"Sure," Sven said, yawning. I really need to get cleaned up and clear my head.
He stood up and stretched, then walked over to the horse trough and plunged his head into the freezing water. Quickest hangover cure he knew. After all, he had a group of adventurers to train."
"Say Ash, you want to join me for breakfast?" Sven asked as he stood and shook the water out of his hair.
She smiled. "Always. But Lloyd’s cooking, not me. Or you for that matter. There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyways."
Ash crinkled her nose again and pointed a hand at him, "In the meantime I cast [Cleanse]! You're welcome, by the way."
Chapter 26: Sovereign Undead
Sven spent the evening at a table in the back of the bar, taking notes on the trainees’ first day. He split his notes into two tables, going over sustains and improves, both for the trainees and for himself. Sven was not too proud that he was unwilling to examine himself as a trainer and look for ways to do better. He had to admit, though, the Guild had chosen well, and none of them were totally hopeless. Makes me feel useful too.
Rogdul, the orc, was the best of the lot by a wide margin. He was a little older than the rest and had already spent a few years out on the road. Doing what, Sven didn’t want to ask. We’ve all done things were not proud of. The orc had come to the program knowing his specific weaknesses and hoped to improve on them. It would be good to pair him with one of the younger students when they started hand-to-hand combat.
Next was the lizardman, Xenox, and the elf knight, Valindra Olaberos. Both had had some more formalized training in magic and combat. They were comfortable with the basic techniques though Valindra had more raw talent in magic. Sven made a note to consider sending her over to Ash when Ash returned from her, whatever it is, for extra sessions. She might consider switching her specialty from knight to battle-mage. That would be something to see.
The remaining three, however, w
ere totally green and would have died within an hour of stepping into any dungeon. One was a minor noble from a house nobody could name whose only claim to the nobility was that he had his own horse. The second was a goblin archer who kept tinkering with a crossbow he was trying to customize for himself. Maybe not completely green. He shows promise. I wonder if there are any tinkers nearby I could link up with that could teach him the craft. Would be good to see some clockwork minions.
Then came the last. A scrawny young thief, more boy than man, named Zane. He was from the Cobbles and Sven knew the boy had been chosen specifically to pander to him. Well it worked. Sven was charmed by the boy’s scrappiness and made a note to give him extra stew at dinner that night. None of the three had any training at all, but they all were sharp, respectful, and learned quickly. In Sven’s hands they would make competent adventurers at the very least.
Overall, Sven was pleased—but he knew the Guild would be hassling him soon to train up the others who could pay better and weren’t quite as malleable. That’s the secret to getting anyone to do anything, though, isn’t it? Little compromises that lead elsewhere. The path to hell as they say.
At the least, the Guild had agreed to his request that half the class slots be at his discretion, and though Sven hadn’t managed to snag a recruit so far, he was ok with that. Galen had hoped for ten or twelve students in the first session of the training program, and he wouldn’t be satisfied with just six that Sven was working with now.
Well, that’s Galen’s problem to worry about. Sven intended to move slowly. He would find the trainees that he felt were the best suited to the job, and he also planned to start a scholarship for students who couldn’t afford the fees–to be paid out of his own pocket if the Guild refused. That would take time. I want to build somebody up, somebody that can reach the same level that I did, that my companions did.
His head started hurting. Sven set his notebook down and leaned back in his chair, glad his work was done for the day. He considered going around behind the counter and pouring himself a pint of ale, although his hangover from the morning made that idea less appealing. But… then again, the best cure for a hangover is the next drink, right? The thought immediately vanished when he overheard a scrap of conversation that honed his senses and made him prick up his ears and pay attention closer.
"…Sovereign Undead…."
He looked around to see who was talking. Two travelers were sitting in the corner, their cloaks still wet with rain from outside. They were conversing in hushed voices, trying not to be noticed.
Trying to be subtle, Sven crept to a closer table. If he listened hard, he could hear what they were saying.
"They’re out on the roads," the thinner of the two men said. "And in force. More than I’ve ever seen before."
The other man hissed his disapproval. "Awful creatures. Did you see them? Truly what are the guards pissing on about then? Shouldn’t they do something? Those talking undead give me the creeps."
"Yes. I saw them. There were a lot of them too, led by an elder lich. All undead. All skilled fighters. You know how the guard is. They ignore and look the other way, hoping the monsters never actually reach the city. They close the gates and hope for the horde to pass."
"I heard a new group of rookies just got attacked near the Dungeon of Infinite Sorrow. The undead have been carrying off the living they take."
"Aye. Horrible bit of business, that is. Liches consume the souls of the living to survive."
Sven stiffened. The flower girl’s party. He tried to remember if she’d said when they planned on tackling Infinite Sorrow again. It has to be her.
"Well, that’s the end of them then," the thin man said with a shrug. "They can’t defeat a lich. Another party dead. Let’s pour one out for ‘em and be back on our way to getting pissed."
"Terrible, it is." the other man said. "And more soldiers for the lich’s undead army. A sad state we’re in when the undead walk free."
Sven had heard enough. He stood up, and his chair fell over with a bang. The two travelers looked at him, surprised.
"Good night fellas. Your drinks are on me," he said and strode upstairs. "Lloyd, lock up when they're done."
Sven walked upstairs into his room and looked over at where his armor was secured to a padded dummy in the corner of his room. A glowing enchantment on it that prevented anyone but him from grabbing it. The personal armor the deep dwarves had crafted and enchanted for him. The dwarves has named the full set Risorgimento and given it to him as a gift. The armor was freshly oiled and polished. Like it had been waiting for him. It had been a while since he’d done it, but he could gear up in two minutes flat. His hands moved deftly, quickly lifting the armor off its stand and buckling it onto his back.
His sword came last. An Ancient Blade named "Worldrender." It had been forged in blood and the iron from a fallen star hundreds of years ago. He hadn’t used it in a long time. It wasn’t necessary for the dungeon runs he’d been doing and he didn’t want to dull its edge. It wasn’t a blade to be used unless the need called for it. Sven lifted it from the enchanted stand and held it up. The blade was still gleaming, sharp and deadly.
Sven looked at himself in the mirror, really looked. It was the first time he’d do so in a long time. Maybe my time isn’t up. He looked good, strong. Like a force to be reckoned with. Like a hero. He quickly lit up a single incense and made a silent prayer to the watching gods. May I make it on time.
Chapter 27: The Unicorn’s Horn
Before Sven could set off, there was just more thing he needed. In haste, he ran out to the trainee’s lodgings with Worldrender in hand. He banged on the door with an armored fist, careful not to break the door in the process. This is where Ash would really come in handy.
Shortly after the lizardman, Xenox opened the door, looking both startled and terrified to see Sven dressed in full battle regalia.
"C---can I help you? Xenox stuttered, the lizardman obviously panicked at Sven’s sudden intimidating presence.
Sven paid him no mind. "Is Montesquieu here?" He asked, and the lizardman stepped aside to reveal the unwanted nobleman’s son was sitting by the fire reading an book with lewd images on the cover.
"Montesquieu," Sven asked, not really giving the kid a choice and definitely not bothering to ask him what he was reading, "I need to borrow your horse. That’s ok, right?"
"Uh, sure." he replied uncertainly. "The bridle’s the brown leather one outside his stall. Keep my horse safe ok? And his name is Camoe"
Sven nodded. "I will. Thank you."
He ran out without another word and headed directly to the stables.
The horse was exactly what Sven expected--Montesquieu was a younger son of a minor noble and couldn’t afford a superior mount. On the wall of the stall Sven could see a handwoven blanket to keep the horse warm on a frigid day. It’s good to see Montesquieu is taking care of his horse, how a man treats his horse shows his character.
Camoe was a mediocre cob with skinny legs and un ugly, uneven coat, but he whickered happily when Sven approached and took a saddle well enough. He would be a good sport on a cold and rainy night.
"Easy now, Camoe." Sven said as he mounted up, making a mental note to give the horse a bowl of warm bran mash when they returned.
In seconds they were on the road at full gallop. Sven used his superior senses to help navigate in the dark. The entire time they were pelted with heavy raindrops. Sven pulled the hood of his cloak up, trying to keep the water out of his eyes, and urged the horse on faster. I need to get there fast.
The lich and his minions had no right to be on the road. Sven wouldn’t allow them to waylay travelers, innocent or not. Sven had a feeling of dread. He knew that he had to stop the sovereign undead. He just hoped that he wasn’t already too late.
As Sven and the horse barreled down the road toward the Dungeon of Infinite Sorrow, Sven thought of Maggie. She had no business facing off against an elder lich. If it was her party that had been ta
ken, the lich would keep them alive until it could absorb their souls. Sovereign undead are like that. Every kill is more ritual. Violence isn’t random, though it is a guarantee.
A bolt of lightning struck the road ahead of them, and the horse reared, almost falling over backwards. Sven leaped from the saddle and landed hard on the road. The horse took off as fast as it could in the opposite direction, stirrups flapping at its sides. Sven was alone and mount less.
Another flash of lightning revealed a looming creature silhouetted on the road ahead of him. A giant made from the bodies of the recently dead.
A flesh golem. A mindless creature of death set out to guard a perimeter. I’m close.
Sven was not to be denied. He pulled Worldrender from its sheath and obeyed the kata. The beast bellowed as Sven sprang forward. A wave of noxious green gas emitting from the creature as it pulled out a giant cleaver and attacked with an agility uncommon for creatures of its size.
Another flash of lighting showed the cleaver swiping through the air towards Sven. Sven jumped up, landing on the edge of the cleaver, and brought Worldrender down in one swoop, severing the weapon from the golem’s hand.