by J. T. Wright
Was it talking about the axes? The cowl? How powerful could they be? Trent tried to use Appraisal on them but only received the words “cowl and hand axe” in response. Either they were simple items, or his Appraisal Level was too low.
“When you bind them, you will see their value,” the figure instructed, “or else you will return the way you arrived.”
Less than a second later, the items were bound, Trent forcing out almost all his Mana in his haste.
Masked Cowl of Sight
Rare item
Soul-bound/will grow with user
Provides Ability Dark Vision when mask is equipped
Reduces cost of stealth related Skills and abilities
Armor rating 5
Hand axes: Sorrow and Strife
Paired Rare Items
Soul-bound/will grow with user
Damage +15
Trent’s leather cap only had an Armor Rating of 1, and his sword only did +5 Damage. These were better, though how light cloth could be stronger than leather was beyond him. And Masked Cowl?
“Where’s the mask?” Trent asked the fire Spirit.
“Equip the Cowl.”
Trent did as he was instructed. After removing his cap, he pulled the cowl over his head. He arranged the fabric around his shoulders and pulled the hood up.
“Now, reach up and grasp the edge with your fingers and pull down.”
Feeling a little foolish, Trent pulled with two fingers ever so slightly. A smoky grey mask slid out from the hood and wrapped around his face. He could feel its presence, but it did not obscure his vision in the slightest!
He turned his head from side to side, testing the fit of cowl and mask. “This is pretty great! But what’s the ‘will grow with user’ bit?”
Flashing blue sparks appeared around him, and the figure’s voice spoke one last time.
“I wish you good fortune, Summons Trent. Remember, tell others of this Trial.”
You have left the Trial of Perseverance.
Chapter 15
The sun was setting again. Cullen’s feet were touching the water. He ignored the burning. It was nothing. If Trent thought a little fake fire was enough to keep Cullen from getting hold of him, he was wrong.
His frustration and anger built a shield against the pain that was developing. He would drag the runt out of this lake and get an explanation for this, even if it killed Trent.
Growling at the back of his throat, Cullen cracked his neck and was about to charge forward. He felt a presence at his back. He turned, drawing his sword.
Behind him stood a figure wearing a hood and mask. The mask was smoky grey, and, while there were indentations where the eyes should be, there were no obvious holes for seeing or breathing. The figure was wearing familiar clothing and had a pair of what looked like hatchets tucked under one arm.
The jacket, trousers, and boots looked like Trent’s, but Trent was a small lad, slight and fragile-looking, standing under four feet. His Status said he was twelve, but he could pass for younger. Most would think he was ten.
This figure was closer to five and a half feet tall. While still slight in frame, his shoulders were broader than Trent’s. He filled out the jacket, an obvious product of Taylor’s hands, better.
This is the problem with the Well Fitted enchantment. It’s easy to steal from someone weaker than you, and if their clothing is enchanted to fit the wearer, it can be a good way to expand one’s wardrobe. Cullen couldn’t judge; he’d taken a suit of clothes off a likely target once or twice in the past, though he preferred to pick on men bigger than him. But that was in the past.
“Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck did you get those clothes?” Cullen growled. He might not judge, but that didn’t mean he approved of mask-wearing freaks stealing from his trainees. And if this prick talked fast enough, maybe Cullen would only kill him a little bit.
The mask-wearing figure took a step back, startled. He was lucky it was only one step. If it had looked like he was going to run, the hooded bastard would find out that the Sergeant knew how to hamstring a running man.
“Sergeant, it’s me!” The figure’s hands came up, waving defensively. His voice was clear, not muffled by the mask that Trent forgot he was wearing.
Cullen’s sword tip lowered just slightly. “Trent?”
A frantic nod.
“Take off the mask!” Cullen demanded. Trent’s eyebrows shot up as he recalled his new attire. His right hand went to the mask, a little too quickly for Cullen’s taste, but he didn’t cut it off. Trent pushed the mask back into the hood. The hood was then pulled back, revealing Trent’s drab brown hair and unassuming face.
Only it wasn’t quite Trent’s face. It was leaner, more defined. His brown hair was finer than before and had the slightest of red hues to it. Cullen frowned, if it was a disguise, it was a poor one. Could this really be the runt?
Cullen activated his advanced Identify Skill, Mentoring Eyes. Trent’s name and Level, or lack of the same, were displayed above his head. But Cullen didn’t quite trust it. Skills could be fooled sometimes.
“Show me your Status,” the Sergeant barked, and Trent hurriedly complied.
Name: Trent
Age: 12
Race: Human
Level: 0
Class: None
Profession: None
Health: 210
Stamina: 210
Mana: 60
Strength: 10
Agility: 9
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 7
Endurance: 3
Intelligence: 6
Wisdom: 6
Free Skill Points: 0
Skills
Dash Level 1
Mining Level 1
Appraisal Level 1
Unarmed Combat Level 1
Basic Short Sword Level 1
Herbalism Level 1
Riding Level 2
Animal Care Level 1
Mana Control Level 1
Abilities
Map
Storage Level 1
Heart of the Inferno
Spells
Spark/Charm Level 1
Again, Trent’s Status, but not Trent’s Status. His Attributes had risen significantly, and there was a new Ability, Heart of the Inferno, that Cullen has never heard of before. There was also a ridiculous amount of Experience, and the symbol next to his Status meant he was finally able to level up.
Cullen kept his sword up for another minute, mostly to make Trent sweat.
After he returned it to his sheath, Trent let out a sigh of relief and then winced at the Sergeant’s next words.
“Tell me a story, Runt. Tell me about the time a trice-damned, milk-sucking, empty-headed boy decided to run off for a day and a half without permission from his Sainted Sergeant. Tell me a story and make it good, or I swear by blood and fire and Rindel’s left nut, that I will cut off all your limbs, and let you squirm back to camp!”
Trent started talking fast. When the Sergeant started swearing by deities’ genitalia, he was serious. He talked about finding the Trial. He spoke at length about the pain and how Trials needed to be challenged. He described the island and held out his rewards while stammering about the Heart of the Inferno.
However, even in his panic, he did not mention the Fire Spirit. Like his Loyalty Rating, this was something he could not voice, even if he wanted to. He spilled everything he thought was relevant, including his disgust at his own weakness, and, finally, Cullen ordered him to shut up.
The Sergeant turned back to regard the lake. “A Trial, a thrice-damned Trial, and no one knows about it! A Trial of Perseverance? Never even heard the type mentioned.”
A large part of Cullen, the Adventurer part, not the Sergeant, wanted to enter the lake right away. The boy was right; Trials needed challengers. Of course, the boy was right. Cullen was the one who had drilled that into his head over and over.
Cullen clenched his fists. He wasn’t an Adventurer anymore
; he had traded adventure for Duty. This was something the Duke needed to know right away.
Besides the Major Trial in Al’drossford, there were five other Trials in the Duke’s territory. They were all Permanent Trials, low-leveled and suitable for training. Cullen had planned on taking Trent to one on their next training exercise. Despite already having five Trials, the Duke needed to know about the lake. A large part of a Territory’s Strength was in its Trials.
Trent waited patiently as Cullen suppressed his Adventurer’s instincts. The Summons had questions. He hoped Cullen would think his story was good enough to… not forgive, Cullen wasn’t good at that… to overlook his transgression.
“We’re heading back! We’ll discuss this in the morning, on the road,” Cullen said abruptly. He sighed when he caught sight of Trent’s face, “You look like you’re about to burst, Runt. Ask your questions, but they’d better be good.”
“Secondary Attributes, what are they?” Trent nearly shouted in his haste.
“You can’t figure that out?” Cullen replied witheringly, not really upset, mostly out of habit. “They’re complimenting Attributes. They enhance primary Attributes. You noticed the increase to your Health and Stamina? That’s the result of your Endurance Attribute.
“And you’re damned lucky too!” Cullen snorted. “Most never get a secondary Attribute. To have one and not have a Class, that’s just ridiculous.”
“Do you have a Secondary Attribute?” Trent asked.
“Well, that’s one stupid question out of the way. Why don’t you ask another and see what happens? And start walking! I swear by blood, trainees make me forget my own sense sometimes.”
Following on the Sergeant’s heels as they headed back to camp, Trent kept talking. “How does an item grow, Sergeant?”
“With its user, obviously. I swear, Soul-Bound equipment and Secondary Attributes in the hands of an idiot. The world is baffling!” Despite his scorn, he offered a bit more explanation. “You level up, your equipment gets stronger. Not every Level and sometimes not by a lot, but it’s equipment you’ll always be able to use.”
Trent mulled this over. All his current equipment was basic. He would outgrow it, eventually, and need to replace it with stronger items. The Sergeant was saying the cowl and the axes would always be useful. He might find better someday, but when he outgrew that new equipment, these would still be good. He liked the idea.
“What about my Level, Sergeant? I have enough Experience to choose a Class now.” Trent considered his Status. Those symbols next to his Class and Level were very exciting to see. He’d never enter that lake again, but he couldn’t say he regretted entering it the one time.
Cullen stopped walking but didn’t turn back. “What do you have available?”
Eagerly, Trent willed his Experience into his Level. When a thousand Points had been applied, he received a message.
You have Leveled Up, current Level 1. You may now choose a Class. Classes available:
Warrior – basic
Rogue – basic
Scout – specialized
Survivalist – advanced
Mage – basic
Fire Elementalist – specialized
Healer – basic
Trent read the message out. Cullen grunted and started walking again.
“It’s your decision, Runt. What appeals to you is the best choice. I will tell you this. Basic and Specialized Classes receive 4 free Attribute Points per Level, and Advanced Classes get five. I’ve never heard of Survivalist before, so I don’t know if it suits you or not. Advanced Classes have definite perks, but they can be a bitch to level. Take your time deciding what is best for you.”
Cullen was glad Trent was behind him. A choice between all of the most commonly seen Class types? Access to Specialized and Advanced Class at Level 1. Even Cullen couldn’t keep a straight face hearing that.
Trent considered his options. He knew Kirstin wanted him to be a fighter. If a change from Human to Dire Wolf had been a choice, she’d probably insist on it. He’d be a proper Summons then.
Trent did like the idea of Warrior, but as he walked and considered it, he found himself leaning towards Healer or Rogue. His reasoning was simple. If he wanted to be useful, those were probably areas his master’s party was lacking. From what he had heard, they weren’t popular Classes amongst nobles who became Adventurers.
He didn’t dismiss the idea of Mage or Fire Elementalist. Not exactly. He did have certain advantages in those Classes, thanks to Heart of the Inferno. It was just that the way he earned the Heart that made him shy away from them.
Survivalist, an advanced Class. There were real advantages to an advanced class, and he was fuzzy on the disadvantages.
He concentrated on the Survivalist Class, and his Status provided him with a minimal explanation.
Survivalist – Advanced. Adept in Traps, Stealth, and Survival Skills. The Survivalist Class provides bonuses to Stealth Skills as well as Health and Stamina.
After he read this, Trent still didn’t understand what made Survivalist advanced, but his eyes kept noticing the bonuses to Health and Stamina. Both of those aspects had gotten a serious bump with the Endurance Attribute, but it wasn’t it possible to be too healthy, was it? Was there such a thing as too much Stamina?
He’d chosen Survivalist before making a conscious decision.
You are now a Level 1 Survivalist. You have learned the Skill, Stealth. You have learned the Skill, Climb. You have learned the Camouflage Ability. 5 free Attribute Points available.
Requirement to next Level: 1000 Experience. Create Traps Level 3.
A lot of new information entered Trent’s brain. He received a faint understanding of his Class. If what he felt was right, the heart of the Survivalist was adaptability. Whatever the situation, alone or in a group, the Survivalist would endure and thrive, or at least survive.
There was more to it. An underlying hunger that Trent couldn’t quite wrap his head around. Survivalists were aggressive? That couldn’t be right. The first Skill the Class had given him was Stealth. Didn’t that make him a Rogue, striking from the shadows and retreating? That wasn’t the impression Survivalist gave him.
Trent set the thought aside for now. His new Class came with information that was much clearer than the subtle changes to his personality. Skills! It did irk him a bit that the Skill he needed to level wasn’t one he gained with his Class, but he wasn’t displeased with anything he had gained.
Stealth would make his movement smoother and decrease the amount of noise he created while moving. Camouflage limited his presence, making it harder for him to be seen. It worked best when motionless but could be used in conjunction with Stealth.
As for Climb, he wasn’t sure how useful that would be. From what he could tell, it would make traversing hills and mountains a little easier but was primarily useful for scaling cliffs and trees. He hadn’t had much opportunity to do things like that yet.
What was most exciting about his new Class was that his Health and Stamina shot up to three hundred and fifteen. This was excellent since his new Skills and Ability used twenty-five Stamina per minute at Level 1. He also felt sturdier. He didn’t think he’d be taking damage the next time Tersa threw him to the ground in training.
And Attribute Points! He finally got free Attribute Points. Five, thanks to his Advanced Class! But where to put them?
Endurance was his lowest Attribute. One Point there could only help, only it wouldn’t go. Was this going to be his second stupid question? Endurance was related to Constitution, and the Sergeant didn’t think well of people that blindingly invested in Health.
“You can only raise Secondary Attributes through special actions or Trial rewards. And they can never be higher than the primary.” When he finally asked, he got a straight answer, but the Sergeant broke off when he realized what the question implied. “What did you chose?”
“Survivalist.”
“Brave choice; time will tell if it’s
a wise one.”
Silence.
Trent decided to bring Agility and Dexterity to ten and dumped the last two Points into Intelligence. His strength was fine thanks to the two Points from Heart of the Inferno, and Intelligence would only increase his training speed. He’d need that boost since he needed to learn Create Trap before he could hit Level 2.
All in all, Trent was starting to put the Lake and Trial of Perseverance behind him. He really felt quite pleased with himself.
Until, “It occurs to me, Runt, that you left yesterday morning carrying a bag that belongs to me. And yet, it does not appear that the bag is currently in your possession. I wonder what will happen if you don’t retrieve it and catch up to me before I reach the camp. I don’t imagine it will mean good things for you,” Cullen spoke with disdain.
He never thought Stamina and Agility would come in so handy so soon.
**********
Trent started chuckling quietly, as he and the Sergeant parted ways at the camp. Once the Sergeant was safely a few feet away, that is. He did it! He ran to the lake and back before Cullen reached the camp. He was aware that the Sergeant hadn’t been walking as fast as he could have, not even as fast as normal, but that didn’t affect his mood. A week ago, two days ago even, just trying to accomplish that feat would have left him panting in the dirt.
The camp had changed while he been in the Trial. The horses were no longer tied to a picket line. Now they were enclosed in a corral made from wooden posts. He was sure the labor had been performed by recruits under supervision. He had no idea where they’d gotten the material. He wandered over for a closer look.
He set the bag of herbs down on the ground and leaned against the fence. The fence felt solid and steady. He found it rather relaxing to rest his weight against it. He observed the horses for a few moments, and soon enough, a familiar small brown mare came trotting over.