To me, the stats looked like decent starting armor, probably better than what I would've gotten had I started normally in a town and not ended up here. I loaded the armor into my inventory, then equipped it. I didn't have to physically change into these clothes. As soon as I equipped them, they appeared on my body and fit as if they had been tailored for me. And just like that, my Defense rose from 25 to 95.
"Absolutely. This is fantastic." I stretched, did a couple of squats, then pushed the screen aside so I could see myself in the mirror over the tub. I looked… Well, kind of awesome. It was only low-level equipment, but it fit well and looked great.
The Chamberlain inclined his head. “When you are ready, the lady wishes to see you.”
My first impulse was to rush off to see what Rutha wanted, but then I abruptly remembered where I really was. Archemi was a game, with game mechanics... and a quick glance at my character sheet told me that I had a level to consolidate, unspent skill points, and a bunch of skills and abilities that needed training. It was easy to think of Rutha as a real person… but she was really an NPC. Hot as hell, but an NPC. Whatever item she was going to give me, there was a good chance it would come with a quest or a job.
“In a few hours,” I said. “What’s the time now?”
“Two hours past midday.”
I nodded. “Please tell Rutha I have some business to attend to and will be at her laboratory at six.”
“As you wish.” The Chamberlain bowed from the neck, and turned to sweep out of the room.
“Sorry, before you go, I need to ask something,” I said. “Do you have a blacksmith here?”
The man turned, looking at me down his nose. I don’t think he meant to, he was just one of those guys who was effortlessly arrogant. “Yes, we do. Do you need something altered?”
“Sort of.” I nodded. “I want to talk to the smith and get some supplies to maintain this armor.”
“Ah. Well… here.” The Chamberlain pulled a small scroll from his pocket and handed it to me. When I opened it, I saw a map.
[New Map Added: Dinant Palace]
“The smith can be found in the outbuildings near the stables,” he said. “And Lady Rutha’s laboratory and quarters are in the underground level of the East Tower.”
“Thanks.” Satisfied, I tucked the map into a pocket. I felt it dissolve, and then saw the notification as it transferred to ‘Quest Items’ in my Inventory.
It wasn't until the Chamberlain left that something else occurred to me. I didn't have any money, and I hadn't really collected any useful items while I was on the slave ship. My inventory was limited to ten slots and five of them were empty. I had a curved knife, the sword I looted from the Captain's Guard, the clothing and other odds and ends I looted from the wreck. All together, I'd probably be able to buy some basic equipment to maintain my armor, and hopefully some raw materials to start learning the Armor Smithing and Self-Repair skills.
I eyed the wardrobe, the desk and trunk. Then I went over to go and have a look inside of them.
As I thought, nearly all of the lootable items were categorized as 'Junk' and only worth coppers, but enough coppers added up to a silver piece, and enough silver pieces would eventually add up to a gold piece. However, when I took the clothes and other bits and bobs, their inventory entries was surrounded by a thin red border marking them as stolen.
"Hmm." I didn't really have a problem with the stealing part, to be honest. This was a palace after all – it wasn't like they couldn't replace watch pieces, spoons, and clothing. But I was guessing that none of this could be fenced to the smithy. Resigned, I put the items back and left the room to go and see what else I could do.
I headed for the outbuildings where the smithy was supposed to be, and sure enough, I heard the sound of the hammer striking iron in the distance. Palace guards were drilling in the big open space that separated the palace from the rest of the buildings, and the stables – which were visible from the exit – were not full of horses. The building was full of dinosaurs. They snipped and snarled at one another, brandishing their scythe-like front claws if their neighbors got too close. Their feathered forelimbs were neither hands or wings. The bones had fused into a single long claw that was held back along their ribs. Superficially, they strongly resembled velociraptors. They had sharp teeth, brilliant gold or white eyes, long stiff tails, and high, straight backs. My HUD identified the creatures as 'hookwings':
Hookwings (also known as Ghora, Myinn)
The favored destrier mount of most warriors in Artana (the Eastern Continent of Archemi), the ferocious dinosaurs known as hookwings are known for their intense loyalty and fearlessness in battle. Naturally bold, curious and pack-orientated, they can cope in conditions that would send even the best-trained herd animal mounts into a panicked retreat.
Hookwings are named for their specialized forelimbs – vestigial wings that have fused into long, powerful claws. The finest hookwings are said to be bred in Vlachia, where they are known as Ghora, but the oldest lines of domesticated mounts are found in Prrupt’meew, home of the Meewfolk, where they are known as Myinn.
"What are you doing standing around, soldier!"
I jumped in my skin as a mustachioed man riding one of the hookwings pulled up beside me. He was carrying a whip and wore a saber at his belt.
"Where’s your pack?" He looked me over, frowning. "Hold on, wait: You're one of those foreign legionnaires, aren't you?"
"I…"
"Go and see the quartermaster," he said before I had a chance to really reply. "Assuming you understand what I'm saying."
"Of course I understand what you're saying," I replied. "And I'm not one of your soldiers, so-"
The man's mustache bristled. "Then what are you, then?"
"A guest of the court sorceress. I am a warrior, though."
"Oh. Well, in that case, I'd advise you not to be walking around the training yard. Not unless you fancy yourself good with a sword or spear, and want to train with us."
That actually wasn't a bad idea. My only weapon was currently the shittiest dagger in the world. "Sure. Do you have a sparring session or dummy that I could train with?"
"Across the yard there." The officer gave me a curt nod. He pointed to the other side of the courtyard, where three soldiers were hacking and slashing at straw dummies wearing armor. "I'm sure my men would be interested in sparring with a foreigner. Go over there and see how you go."
[New Quest: Training with the Soldiers (Reward: 20 Skill EXP)]
While he rode his dinosaur into the stables, I accepted the quest and headed over to the training area. Like all soldiers, I had some training in hand-to-hand combat, but basic training and my frontline combat in Indonesia hadn't covered swords and spears. I wasn't sure which weapon I preferred yet, and this was a good time to start developing a specialization.
As I walked up, the three soldiers stopped beating on the dummies and turned to look at me.
"Who's this, then?" The man closest to me, his doughy face framed by a round helmet, planted the butt of his spear on the ground.
"Hector," I replied. "I came to train."
"You a recruit?" He eyed my new armor with some suspicion. All of the soldiers here wore the same uniform - plain steel armor with a purple surcoat emblazoned with a white gull.
I shook my head. "No. Just visiting. Your officer over there recommended I come and learn with you. Said you might be interested in fighting someone with a different style. Either that, or I guess I can stand here and beat on one of the dummies for a month or two while everyone stares at me."
"Sure we would. Be good for when we get sent to the front. I'm Franco." The guard with the spear nodded. "Come on, then. What have you got?"
Literally one crappy dagger. "I've had more experience with a spear than anything else, but I'll try a sword."
Franco nodded. "There's practice swords over there. Pol, you go in. We'll watch."
Pol - the tallest of the three - nodded and stepped forw
ard. He drew his sword, which had a blunt edge like the practice sword I picked up. The others stepped back, and we got to sparring.
The yard soon rang with the sound of steel on steel. Within a minute, I was sweating. Pol pressed the attack relentlessly, swinging his sword like a hammer, and forcing me to defend myself. I swung up to clumsily defend myself from an overhead blow, only to trip and fall when he swept my legs out from under me. The other two soldiers laughed.
"Like I said, no real practice with swords," I said as I picked myself up. I could either be humiliated or energized by what was happening here, and decided that I wasn't going to let these men humiliate me. "Again."
With a grin, Pol came at me again, and once again, I lost. But every time his blade struck mine, and with every bruise and stumble, my sword fighting skill was going up. It wasn't long until I got the notification – I'd reached Sword Fighting 2.
"Okay," I said. My arm was burning from the weight of the longsword. "I'll try with a spear instead."
"You can't be any worse with a spear," Franco chortled. "Spear versus sword, do you think?"
I nodded, and held a hand out for the practice spear he was carrying. He gave it to me without a word of complaint, smiling with more than a little malice as I took it and faced off Pol again.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" He lifted the sword and faced off with me.
This time, steel struck wood. He pressed the offense, but his downcut was twisted aside by the staff of the spear as I instinctively blocked it and then kicked him in the gut. He stumbled back, and I swung the butt of the spear up to tap him on the edge of the jaw before spinning it and lunging forward with the point resting in the join of his armor between his helmet and his gorget.
"Nice, nice," Franco said. "I'll try next. Leo, go get us another spear."
I rested and allowed myself a small moment to savor the victory. I was already at Polearms 3. Maybe it was just that the [Rusty Spear] had been my first weapon in the game, but the polearm felt more natural in my hands than the sword had.
Leo was a compact man in his early 40s with the spare, hard face of a soldier who had seen many battles. He handed Franco the second practice spear and then stood back so that the two of us could face off.
"Look sharp!" That was all the warning Franco gave me before he charged in, spear first.
The weapons clacked, and he struck mine with almost enough force to knock it from my hands. I managed to hold onto it, spinning and ducking as he jabbed it toward my neck. I hit him in the back with the end of it, sending him stumbling forward in his heavy armor, and when he turned around, he found the tip of the spear resting in his armpit.
"Not bad." He grinned, and this time it wasn't mocking. "I'm glad you're better with this than you are with a sword."
"Me too," I said. "I think about the only thing I could do with a sword is fall on it."
That made them chuckle. Franco nodded at the weapon. “You can keep that, if you want.”
I looked down at it. This was also a [Rusty Spear], with exactly the same stats as the one I’d used on the ship. “Sure. Thanks.”
The four of us paired off, and as the hours ticked by, my skill meter rose. I was tired and trembling by the time we called it quits, but I'd leveled my Polearms skill to 4, and the quest gave me Skill EXP on top of that. I saved it for now – I needed time to review my build before I started spending points.
"All right, gentlemen," I said. "I think that's about all for me. Is there a place I can get something to eat here?"
"I was just thinking the same thing," Franco said. "The mess should be open, if you want to come and grab a bite."
"Sure." I folded the spear into my inventory and resigned myself to relying on it for the time being. Skills worked strangely in this game: Sword 2 was better than Sword 1, but my natural aptitude for the Spear not only made it level faster, but better.
I was comfortable in mess halls. Sitting alongside the palace soldiers, I was able to eat and drink without worrying about offending anyone. Dinner wasn’t fancy, but it was delicious: some kind of hearty meat with berry sauce, roasted leeks, butter on hunks of coarse, flavorsome bread, and fruit ale on tap. The stuff was called lambic, and it was probably the best beer I’d ever had: thick, frothy, and intensely flavored with fresh raspberries. I wanted to drink a lot more of it, but I still had to go and see Rutha and I didn't fancy doing that while drunk.
It was dark by the time I reached Rutha’s laboratory, which took up the ground and basement levels of the eastern tower. There were a pair of guards waiting outside the entry, both dressed in ornate silver armor and carrying halberds.
"The lady is expecting you," one of them said. "Enter. You will find her downstairs.”
The first room was a deceptively normal-looking solar, with a sofa, firepit, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The intricately tiled floor reminded me of Middle Eastern mosaics, except that this room’s mosaics were sealed with a glassy material that crawled and sparked with magic. No sooner had I stepped in than Rutha's voice echoed out of thin air. She sounded pleased. "Hector! Head through the left door and meet me downstairs?"
"Uhh... sure?" I looked around for the source of her voice, but there was nothing resembling speakers. Shrugging, I followed her directions and headed down a steep flight of stairs, idly wondering how she'd gotten down them with her wheelchair.
The wheelchair was nowhere to be seen in the rooms below. It was a solid rectangle of stone, blazing with mage lights and a fire in the hearth. Shelves lined the walls, but there were fewer books and more vials, flasks, and other equipment. A huge hutch held jars of herbs and ingredients for potion making. Diagrams hung on the wall; another cabinet displayed Rutha’s magical gauntlets. Special books lay under glass or rested on reading stands. In contrast to the rest of the palace, the furnishings here were all dark, rich wood and brown leather, and it smelled of parchment and spices.
Rutha was seated on a fainting-couch style sofa with a book in her lap. She smiled at me, cat-like, and stretched as she sat upright to greet me.
"Feeling better?" I asked.
"Much," she said. "Help me up. I have something I want to show you, a gift, and perhaps also something to explain."
"Like how you got your wheelchair down here?" I went to Rutha and scooped her up. "Someone carry it down?"
"Yes. Arnaud did." The elf motioned to a door across the room with a languid hand. "And if you would bear me to my chamber, mighty steed, I shall reveal mysteries beyond counting.”
Chapter 17
Rutha gestured with a hand, and the door to her study opened as I carried her toward it. A desk crowded with papers took up one side of the room, and a tinker's bench covered in parts took up the other. It was stacked with crates full of metal pieces and racks of tools. This room was messy, even chaotic. There was only one notably clear space: a strange, alien-looking altar sculpted from metal feathers. Suspended over it was a glowing sphere made up of floating rings, like an old-fashioned atom symbol. At the core of the rings was a perfectly round, dark red jewel. It was currently throbbing like a racing heart.
I set the sorceress down on a chair, and she motioned to the altar. "This is why I was on the Arabella - and possibly why you were there, too. This artifact is the Star of Destiny, used to find Starborn like yourself. The process of using it is... complicated... and until recently, it was dormant."
"What made it activate?" I studied it curiously, but didn't get too close.
"The reappearance of Starborn on Archemi." The sorceress gestured expressively with her hands as she spoke, motioning to me. "You, and possibly others as well. You're very rare."
"Not for long," I replied. "There’ll be a huge wave of us soon."
She regarded me with some surprise. "You know this? How?"
I didn't really feel comfortable saying 'because this is a fake digital world being used as an emergency refugee program for victims of a bio-weaponized plague', so I shrugged. "I just know."
; "I see." She nodded, then sighed. "Well, I’ve recovered enough of my memory to be able to tell you how I ended up a slave. About three weeks ago, I was able to divine that there were Starborn being incarnated in Gilheim. I went north with a company of six men... all of whom were all slaughtered when we were attacked by Reavers. We fought, but one of them landed an unlucky blow on my head, and that was the end of that. The Reavers who sold me onto that ship."
"Right." I frowned. "Why were you looking for Starborn?"
"A very serious matter, unfortunately. One which I was just discussing with Commander Arnaud." The sorceress sat back, her injured leg resting stiffly in front of her. "The Caul of Souls is failing."
She’d been talking to Arnaud, alone? I crossed my arms. "You mean-"
"The barrier in the North which seals the great evil bound away by the Aesari." Rutha watched me with violet eyes, drawn and serious. "Year by year, the magic that holds the barrier together is becoming more unstable. It could be that the demons sealed in the Caul have awoken, and they are struggling against it from the inside. It could be that the Artifacts that bind the Caul are corrupting with time. My former master tracked the decline over his career by measuring the resonance of the Caul, and I have done the same since his passing. Every season, it frays a little more. In the past, the decay was not measurable… but it is accelerating.”
"Well, shit." I rubbed a hand over my mouth, scowling. "That isn't good."
"No, it's not." Rutha glanced down at the floor, pursing her lips. "The Drachan are bound by the Caul, but they are deathless. That which cannot die does not wither. They are behind this, I’m sure of it."
"You say this barrier is failing." I crouched down on my heels, linking my fingers between my knees. "What can we do about it?"
"Before he died, my master found an incredible artifact," Rutha said. "Go over there, and unwrap that bundle on the table."
I rose and went over, untied the bindings on the cloth, and opened it up to reveal an ornate glaive-like weapon, battered and rusty. Once, it would have been magnificent… but now, it was a ruin. The weapon was deeply tarnished, the metal pitted, and there were nine round holes bored into the haft. My HUD read it simply as [Ruined Spear].
Dragon Seed: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (The Archemi Online Chronicles Book 1) Page 14