by Pirateaba
“Oh.”
The Drake nodded.
“But I still think you might be willing to take me. I have valuable skills I could contribute and I—I’d like to improve myself.”
“Oh? And what class are you, then? And I don’t believe I caught your name.”
Flustered, the Drake bowed his head slightly.
“Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Olesm. I’m a [Tactician]. Level 24.”
—-
Ceria and Geiral returned to the inn and paused. Instead of dinner they saw an unusual sight. All of the Horns of Hammerad were sitting in the grass, watching as Calruz chased Erin around. He was punching and kicking at her—not hard or quickly as they knew he could, but with enough force that Erin was screaming and running around, dodging frantically.
“Aaaah! Help!”
Erin ducked and scuttled away as Calruz swung one massive fist towards her head. He scowled at her.
“Stop running! Don’t—don’t crouch like that. If you must retreat, do it quickly and without wasting motion. Never turn your back to the enemy!”
“Calruz! What are you doing?”
Ceria ran forwards. Erin dove and hid behind her. The half-Elf barred Calruz’s way as the Minotaur tried to follow Erin.
“Move aside Ceria. I am teaching her to fight.”
“By bullying her?”
“She must learn to fight an enemy stronger and larger than she is.”
“Yeah, but there are limits. I wouldn’t ever get in a fight with a Minotaur. If I’m ever without mana or any potions I’ll just run for it.”
“Exactly!”
Erin tried to keep Ceria between her and Calruz as she glared at the Minotaur.
“I’m hungry! And tired! I’ve been doing stupid spars all day! I haven’t even had lunch!”
“Is this true?”
Calruz didn’t appear fazed by either female’s disapproval. He snorted and didn’t respond. Ceria crossed her arms.
“I’m sure Erin was grateful to learn from you, but if she doesn’t want to learn any more, you have to respect that.”
Calruz waved one hand dismissively.
“Running away will not solve anything. She must hone her instincts. I will let her rest after she lands a proper hit on me. Now move—”
He pushed Ceria aside. The half-Elf growled but Erin dashed forwards.
“Take this!”
Erin kicked upwards. Instantly, Calruz’s legs tried to lock together but it was too late. Gerial, Sostrom, and every male in the Horns of Hammerad winced as Calruz bellowed in agony.
Fleeing backwards again, Erin stopped ten feet away and stared at Calruz.
“How’s that you jerk? Happy?”
Ceria started laughing as Calruz swore in his own language, uttering several guttural sounds as he straightened. He covered his private…part with one hand as he glared at Erin.
“That—was a dishonorable blow.”
“But it was what you wanted. Keep chasing me and I’ll—I’ll do it again!”
He glared, but Erin could glare with the best and she was tired and upset. At last he blew out air through his nostrils, veins throbbing on his forehead.
“Go. Rest.”
Before he could change his mind, Erin fled. Ceria was still laughing.
Calruz turned to Toren and pointed.
“I will teach you. If you are to protect her, you must fight better. Come. Strike at me.”
The skeleton rushed at Calruz without needing further prompting. The Horns of Hammerad began taking bets on whether he’d hit Calruz.
Toren feinted at Calruz, and then tried to copy the move Erin had used. His foot came up. Calruz caught his leg and narrowed his eyes at the skeleton.
Erin had just poured herself a cup of water and come back outside in time to see Calruz hurl Toren’s head off the hill. She cleared her throat and the Horns of Hammerad looked around.
“If you’re done beating up my skeleton, does anyone want something to eat?”
—-
“That was hilarious.”
“It was underhanded.”
“I’ve never seen anything funnier.”
Ceria was still chuckling as she sat with Calruz in the inn, eating pasta. It was Erin’s go-to option when she was pressed for time or tired. Boil water, insert pasta, chop up onions, add some butter and other ancillary parts and you’re done. Nothing simpler.
Calruz was still glaring at his plate, but he’d mostly recovered from Erin’s literal low blow. He shook his head as the half-elf kept poking fun at him.
“At least she was able to strike at me, even by surprise. That is good.”
Ceria stopped laughing and grew serious for a moment.
“But really Calruz, why were you so intent on teaching her? I thought you were going to just show her how to punch properly, not try and turn her into an adventurer overnight.”
The Minotaur grunted and forked a huge mess of noodles and sauce into his mouth.
“I was. But she showed me that she had more potential than that.”
“Oh?”
He grunted.
“She is—talented. Very talented. Ceria. In the course of a few hours she was able to overwhelm that skeleton in a fist fight. And then she unlocked a skill.”
Ceria had been drinking blue juice. She choked on her drink and Calruz had to tap her on the back before she got her breath back.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“That’s impossible.”
“She has a sense for battle. I have met others like her. She is gifted. Talented. It is a shame she never trained before this.”
“Stop. My ears are burning.”
Erin smiled at Calruz as she brought another plate of steaming sausages out for the two at their table. The Minotaur and Ceria both made sounds of appreciation, but he stopped her as she was about to go back into the kitchen.
“You have potential. But if you are attacked now, what I have taught you will not suffice. You must practice. Train. Remember that for now you are still weak.”
“Oh, I know. I’m not going to do anything stupid even if I do learn to fight, though. Anyways, if I ever do get attacked I’ll just toss a jar of acid at them.”
Ceria paused as she reached for the largest sausage on the plate.
“A jar of what?”
Erin carefully brought out one of the small jars she’d made for the Goblins and showed it to Calruz and Ceria, explaining where she got it from. When she heard about the acid flies Ceria scooted her chair as far away from the glowing green liquid as she could.
“Do you—do you have no sense of danger?”
“Hey, I’m not the one handling the stuff. Toren doesn’t have any fleshy bits to melt and it’s useful.”
Ceria shook her head.
“You Human—no, you’re insane. Pardon me Erin, but you are.”
Gerial leaned across the tables and studied the jar of acid. He looked up at Erin.
“May I buy one?”
“You? Are you insane, Gerial?”
“It may come in useful Ceria. Besides, it shouldn’t break if I put it in my pack.”
“It’s your funeral. Just don’t walk near me while we’re fighting.”
Erin nodded happily and took the silver coins from Gerial.
“I’ve got lots more if you want some.”
Gerial hesitated. He eyed the jar of acid and shook his head.
“One is fine. It may be quite useful, but I’ll trust to my usual preperations rather than rely on it.”
“Speaking of which…”
Ceria cleared his throat and nodded to the other Horns of Hammerad. They gathered around and the half-Elf pointed to a big pack she and Gerial had carried from the city.
“It’s time. Yvlon bought supplies, but I’ll hand them out now so you can put them in your packs. We’ve got rations and water and four healing potions and four mana potions each. Torches and flint—all the basic suppl
ies but we’ll have a few carts we’ll take in with us.”
Erin was curious.
“Only four healing potions? Wouldn’t it be better to, I dunno, take a lot? That way you can just heal up again and again, right?”
The adventurers laughed, but not condescendingly. Ceria shook her head and smiled as she explained.
“There’s a limit to how much we can heal. After so many potions the body just—quits. And besides, if we’re taking enough injuries to need more than a few healing potions we’re already in trouble.”
Gerial nodded as he handed out bulky packages of dried rations and water flasks around.
“The longest battle we’ve had was against an undead Lich a while back. We ran out of potions and half of our group could barely move from healing up. We can’t rely on magic for everything.”
“Just everything important.”
Ceria muttered under her breath and smiled at Gerial when he glared at her. Calruz cleared his throat and all the people in the room quieted.
“I am not one for speeches. But tomorrow we go into new ruins, and we may find treasure beyond our dreams there or the greatest of enemies. Regardless, we go together. The Horns of Hammerad shall return triumphant.”
He raised his mug.
“To honor and glory.”
“To honor.”
The Horns of Hammerad clinked glasses. Erin watched, silently, as they drained their mugs in a single go. She was impressed. Even Ceria managed to do it. You wouldn’t expect such a petite form to be able to hold so much liquor—especially when she repeated the trick.
“Can you really handle drinking so much?”
Ceria grinned and shrugged.
“This isn’t that strong. And besides, we’re heading in later in the morning. If I get really drunk I’ll get someone to heal me. Or drink a mana potion.”
Erin looked confused. Ceria explained.
“Mana potions and alcohol don’t mix well. I drink it, everything comes back up. It’s messy, but effective.”
Somehow the idea of a graceful half-Elf puking like a college student after a night of hard drinking offended Erin more than anything else.
“Just so long as you don’t forget and drink the acid.”
Ceria shuddered and Gerial shook his head.
“No worries. I’ve got that securely put away.”
They went to bed early. That surprised Erin. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep a wink, but maybe it was the alcohol that did it.
The Horns of Hammerad trooped upstairs. Erin remained in the common room. She wasn’t tired yet. Well, she was, but there was still some part of her that was awake.
She sat in the empty room, watching Toren move around collecting mugs and sweeping up dust. Vaguely, Erin rubbed at the knuckles of her right hand. It still hurt.
She stared at her hand. It was just a hand. She’d moved chess pieces with it for so long her fingers were callused. But now she stared at her knuckles. She’d never hit anything before in her life. But today she’d won a fight.
Erin closed her fingers into a fist and then sighed. She shook her head.
“…What a crappy thing to be good at.”
[Skill – Power Strike Learned.]
—-
On the first day Ryoka woke up. Her head was screaming but her mind was clear. She heard the voice in her head – only it wasn’t her own.
[Skill – Indomitable Will Learned.]
She cancelled it. A skill was meaningless. She didn’t need what she already had. She would never be controlled again.
Ryoka got up and began to run.
North.
Towards Liscor.
1.00 H
On the day of the expedition all the members of the Horns of Hammerad woke and trooped downstairs to breakfast in silence. Erin, the cheerful innkeeper had provided breakfast—eggs and bacon.
Ceria sat at one of the tables, blinking and poking at the wobbling yellow yolk of one of her poached eggs. She was still sleepy, but the blue juice woke her up in a pleasant way.
She looked up from her food and glanced around the room. Good. Everyone was present. All ten members of the Horns of Hammerad were sitting, eating or talking quietly. Calruz and Gerial sat together, discussing the plan no doubt. Sostrom and the only other mage in the party, Marian, sat at the same table talking while the five warriors sat at another table and ate silently.
Aside from Hunt, the most senior among them, Ceria didn’t know them well. They were colleagues and friends of course, but she’d only fought with them for less than year—in the case of their most junior members, only a month.
Sostrom laughed at something Marian had said. He liked her. Or rather, he liked her as the only other human mage in the group, and the only person who didn’t make fun of his bald spot on occasion. Ceria still hadn’t figured out if he and Marian were sleeping together.
If they were, she hoped Marian wouldn’t break his heart when she left. She was a good mage, a solid Level 16 [Elementalist] – ordinary in both class choice and spell selection, but she pulled her weight.
It was just—
She wasn’t a true adventurer, a true member of the Horns of Hammerad. Ceria still respected her, but Marian only wanted to earn enough money to start a store or an inn. Adventuring was a job for her.
It was for Ceria of course, but it was also her life. She lived to adventure. By earning gold she could master new spells, and with the rare magical items she looted she could continue to improve herself as a mage and level. She wouldn’t stop adventuring even if she found a thousand gold pieces lying around. She’d just buy a new spell book or a wand and continue on.
Ceria was a lifer, although she didn’t know that reference. She, Gerial, Calruz, Sostrom, and Hunt were all adventurers who would never quit. Even before they’d joined together to form the Horns of Hammerad two years ago, each one of them had spent years working their way up the ranks to get where they were.
Someday Marian would quit. And they would find someone else to fill her place. Perhaps right after the expedition. If she didn’t die.
That was a dark thought, and not one she should be having. Ceria shook her head and concentrated on her meal. She broke the yolk on her egg and watched it soak into the slice of toasted bread. How delicious.
She loved eggs. She loved climbing into trees and stealing them out of nests. Humans tended to disapprove of that in general, but Ceria had grown up part of her life foraging off the land. She wasn’t picky about where her food came from.
She’d eaten earthworms, beetles, bark off of trees which wasn’t good for your bowels or health, birds both raw and uncooked, and occasionally, mushrooms and roots and such. She’d come close to starvation so many times she had developed an appetite for unusual things. Like bugs, although Ceria didn’t like having to pick them out of her teeth afterwards. But they were fun to eat.
Mm. She wondered what those acid flies Erin sold tasted like…
—-
“Mm. We’re all set. Time to head out?”
Gerial took a drink of the sweet blue juice before replying to Calruz.
“We’ve got an hour yet. Plenty of time. Let’s not rush things.”
The Minotaur nodded silently and gestured at Toren for another plate of bacon. Gerial wondered how he could eat so much. His stomach wasn’t letting him eat more than a bit of breakfast. He was so energized with nerves as much as anticipation he felt like getting up to pace around.
But of course, he couldn’t. The vice-captain of the Horns of Hammerad had to project calm, and that was what Gerial was going to do. He took his job seriously. He had to be a leader like Calruz.
And Ceria, for that matter. Gerial spotted her sitting at her table, looking pensively down into her plate of food. She didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous. He envied her that.
The half-elf’s gaze had turned far-off, and her expression had become distant. Gerial was familiar with that look. Another thing to envy.
He felt
he would never understand the true complexities and unearthly thoughts that surely ran through her mind. She might appear human in many ways, but Ceria was half Elf. Half of her was descended from legends and who knew what deep thoughts she pondered at times like these?
“Hey there!”
Gerial jumped and quickly looked away from Ceria. He smiled up at Erin and smoothed his mustache. Now here was someone he could understand. Erin Solstice was as likeable and approachable as any innkeeper he had ever met. He would be sorry to say goodbye.
“Ah. Miss Erin. I hope you are recovering from your cold? We were intending to leave payment and go without bothering you, but you were up before we were.”
Erin looked startled.
“What? Oh, no I couldn’t do that. I’m feeling a lot better. And you guys paid me so well—a big breakfast is the least I could do. You’re uh, heading into the ruins today, aren’t you?”
Calruz grunted and Gerial nodded.
“Indeed we are. We and four other adventuring teams are going in.”
“Wasn’t it six?”
Gerial winced and glanced at Calruz surreptitiously.
“The last adventuring Captain ah, pulled out at the last moment.”
“Hendric. Coward.”
Calruz rumbled darkly. Gerial hoped he wouldn’t start shouting. That would be the last thing they needed right before the expedition.
To his relief, Erin didn’t seem off-put by the Minotaur’s ire. She poked Calruz in the side, causing the Minotaur to glare at her while Gerial choked on his food.
“Cheer up, grumpy. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
She glanced at Gerial.
“So—should I expect you guys to come back tomorrow? Or tonight…? How long is this uh, dungeon exploration going to take?”
“We’re not sure. I wouldn’t count on our return, but it could happen.”
Gerial shrugged uncomfortably, not liking the uncertainty in his own voice.
“We have enough supplies for at least four days. I doubt we’ll be down there that long unless we need to do excavation, though.”
Across the room Hunt looked up from his meal. He had egg in his beard, which Gerial didn’t comment on.