《Cheese the Skill-Grinder [Progression Fantasy]》


 Ch 1. The Wall

    Location: The Island Kingdom of Gelia


    The first tendrils of a new days warmth found Cheese staring up at the rough-hewn beams of his ceiling already wide awake. The morning mist was creeping in through the cracks in the walls, and he could feel the chill teasing at his skin. Cheese remembered cutting those beams as a young man of 16. He had done the work with his father, cutting them down with the elder man in the fashion of their people. He had once been proud of the work. yet now it was simply a reminder of how little he had grown over the years.


    The faint clucking of his hens drew him from his melancholy. The hens had been gifts from his parents on his 18th name day some ten years ago. Their sounds outside told him it was time to get up. Yet the man lingered a moment longer his vacant vision pointed at the ceiling; eyes fixed on the familiar Skill Tracker hovering at the edge of his vision.


    [Axe: 14]


    The number hadn¡¯t changed in over two years. In Timberbrook, a rural town steeped in the work of lumber and woodcraft, level 14 in Axe was a common bottleneck. Most men did not even reach these heights, but those who did often stayed at 14 for life, their potential capped as though some invisible force held them back. Only the few who had the rare combination of endurance, skill, and luck broke through to level 15. At that level, they were considered masters, their names whispered with respect in the workshops and workhouses. Cheeses¡¯ father had year ago surpassed his own bottleneck, a feat that earned him a place of honor among the townsfolk. He had become a master crafter, and his skill was celebrated by the entire town. Now he held office, and the people all wondered if this trait would be passed down to his eldest son Switzler, who everyone called Cheese. His father, while a respected man, had decided to name the boy after his favorite brand of cheese. The nickname had stuck so long that Cheese didn''t even question it anymore. He simply referred to himself as Cheese just like everyone else did.


    He rolled out of bed, stretching his sore arms. Last night¡¯s sleep had barely taken the edge off the ache in his shoulders, but he was used to that. He worked hard, trained his skills diligently, yet his Axe skill never climbed past that stubborn fourteen. The other skills he¡¯d developed over time¡ªCooking at 11, Mending at 10, Animal Handling at 7¡ªwere varied, but none of them had reached 14.


    Outside, the morning was damp and quiet. After stopping to light the fire and putting on the kettle and iron Cheese went over to his small flock of hens, reaching into the nesting boxes to pull out four warm eggs. A low clucking from his favorite hen, a dusty brown girl he called Mags, was his only greeting. He patted her head before heading back inside, cradling the eggs in his calloused hand.


    Setting the eggs on the table, he grabbed a hunk of cheese and some sausage he¡¯d gotten from his friend Ibron, who lived next door. Ibron had a knack for bartering and managed to secure fresh cheese from one of the traders who passed through Timberbrook on occasion, and the sausage came from the man''s brother, a butcher in the town. Ibron always saved a piece or two for Cheese, who paid him back with help repairing tools and stacking lumber. Though he said it was just because he liked to barter, and procuring cheese for the lumberman gave him joy... and a healthy trading skill of 13. It had grown the previous week.


    Cheese threw on the sausage as he thought of the cool fall morning. The air was nice, and the fog had already begun to lift. He cracked the eggs into a bowl, gave them a quick whisk, and poured them into his worn iron skillet beside the sausage. They sizzled as they hit the pan, filling the air with a warm, savory smell. He took out his hatchet and began cutting some onions he had on the table. As he chopped, he tried not to think too much about his Axe skill. He tried to focus on his onions. He loved these small additions in his eggs and cutting them was a joy. But the number seemed to mock him. It was as though no matter how much wood he split or how many hours he spent at the mill, he was destined to stay mediocre. Even his recent addition of cooking with his hatchet was simply a punch at the fates that locked him down so thoroughly.


    Cheese added the onions to the eggs, and with a swift series of cuts he began to shop the cheese into quick small squares. He added those squares to the center of the eggs in a pile, and then flipped the omelet closed with a deft twist of the hand.


    After a few minutes of waiting, he added the eggs and sausage to a plate and added his warm water from the kettle to a cup. Cheese loved tea, but he simply didn''t have the money to pay anyone to collect the herbs, and he didn''t have the time to collect them himself, so he had plain warm water with his meal. It didn''t make the flavors any less enjoyable, and he devoured the meal quickly.


    Breakfast finished, Cheese rinsed his bowl and skillet in a small basin of water and went outside to start his day properly. He grabbed his two buckets and made his way to the town¡¯s well, where most folks gathered for their daily supply of water. The air was crisp, and thin wisps of mist still clung to the ground. Timberbrook had always had a quiet beauty in the early hours, before the sounds of axes and saws filled the air. It was a small community on the side of a large waterway, the river Tiberio. Timberbrok boasted a modest population of some 150 families, and some 60 unmarried men ranging from 16 to 35. That was simply the type of community it was, there were no single women of marrying age here, and a man who lived in Timberbrook lived for one reason. The art of woodcraft.


    The well sat in the center of their small cluster of homes, a simple stone structure with a thick rope and sturdy crank. This morning, a few early risers were already gathered. There women with baskets slung over their shoulders, young boys carrying empty pails, and older men leaning on staffs and chatting about the day¡¯s work. No one around his own age had bothered to come yet. Cheese was unusual in that way. The man eventually spotted his parents approach on the other side of the well as, his mother Villa chatting with the new smith, and his father examining an axe the man had made with a critical eye.


    ¡°Morning boy,¡± his father greeted him, looking up as Cheese approached. As Cheese looked, he saw his father¡¯s nameplate hovering above his head. [Rook, Axe: 23], a badge of honor that few in Timberbrook could claim. They were a party, and that afforded them to see each other''s "Badge¡± skills, those being the primary skill that they selected to show. It was possible to broadcast the skill to all, but it was seen as gaudy and for a man of his father''s skill it would be simple boasting. ¡°Early to the well today.¡±


    ¡°Better to start before the rush,¡± Cheese replied, lowering his bucket into the cool water. He pulled it up slowly, muscles straining as he hauled the full pail up over the stone lip. ¡°Morning to you, too, Mother.¡±


    She looked away from the merchant who she was in a heated conversation and smiled at him, her eyes warm and lively. ¡°How¡¯s the mill treating you?¡±


    Cheese shrugged, his expression unreadable. ¡°Still the same.¡± He tried to sound casual, but the frustration was evident in his body language.


    His father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. ¡°You¡¯re doing well, son. And were all proud of the man you''re becoming¡±


    Cheese¡¯ vision drifted over to old man Gelsh. He was an elderly man of some 60 years, and above his head floated [Gelsh, Axe: 14] Cheese replied with a noncommittal ¡°Thanks dad¡±


    His father just nodded, as though he¡¯d read his sons'' mind. Maybe he had read his son''s mind. Who knew with Cheeses'' father. Rook had always seemed to have an insight that the younger man couldn''t understand. They finished filling their pails in a stark silence. Those around them exchanged a few more words, and soon Cheese set off back to his small home with full buckets, his mind already working towards his plans for the day.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Once back, he grabbed his axe, an old tool that was hardly worthy of the name anymore and set off toward the lumberyard. His father''s lumberyard, which most simply called the mill was nestled in a bend in the river that pushed out and away from the houses of Timberbrook. Cheeses'' boots squelched in the mud of the path leading through Timberbrook. The town was built on lumber; so, sawdust and the smell of fresh-cut pine were ever-present, yet even the sawdust could not stop the wet mud from caking everything so soon after a rain, and the first rain of fall had come not even two days before.


    Rain brought good tidings, so Cheese was heartened by it, however it was early in the year for such a downpour, and the elders of the village worried about the coming of winter. Everyone here worked in woodcraft or supported the lumber trade in some way, yet there were farmers, merchants, and other craftsmen who worked with the three companies that formed the backbone of their community. The worry that the elders expressed was that those people would leave them in the winter if it was to harsh. Timberbrook did not often have harsh winters, yet in years past there had been unnaturally harsh snows that arrived early in the year before the peoples were ready. To that end the Mill was being pushed to produce more. The idea being that an influx of trade and wealth would entice those not attached to the mills by contract to stay over the winter.


    Cheese did not worry on this for himself, but for Ibron and his family. They were craftsmen and tradesmen. If the family which was some 40 people strong if one included all the cousins and uncles decided to leave, then he would miss his friend.


    Soon Cheese had to brush these worries away, for he was finally there. With long strides the young man entered through the large gates that surrounded the Mill. This was the tradition of their people, the mills were large yards, but they were surrounded by high walls. In times of war, not that their kingdom had faced a war in over 50 years, people would come here to the mill for safety.


    As Cheese walked into the yard, the familiar sight and smells of piled great logs, wood shavings, and sawdust greeted him. The other workers had yet to arrive, so Cheese stalked over to the small shed that the men used as a meeting hall and sat on a stump that had long ago been carved into the shape of a chair.


    The Mill had an actual meeting hall, a large gaudy stone structure that was in the shape of a mead hall. Yet they did not often use it, and the structure was mostly abandoned. The only time it was used was once a year when the men of the village gathered to do their duty as the protectors of the realm, and they trained for a week with the elders. When the Milita trained in this manner the hall sheltered ever able-bodied man over 16 for a full week. Any who could not fit in the many rooms were forced to camp in the lumber yard.


    After a time, the men who worked the mill began to filter in. There were over a hundred men in his father''s employ, yet only twenty or so worked the yard. Mauren, his father''s right-hand man was their foreman, and as such he was the last to arrive. He greeted the group with a grunt and began to regurgitate the days assignments. Nothing was changed from the previous week, yet he still ensured every man knew his role. Eventually Mauren finished his speech and asked if anyone had questions, since no one did he nodded and told them to "Get to it".


    Cheese turned and walked across the yard to his station for the day. He was quite senior here in the yard, as men aged, they tended to either take up a more serious role in management like Mauren had or take a position in a less strenuous role. Yet Cheese had no taste for management, and he was not one to shirk work. Cheese enjoyed his position in the yard, so here he stayed.


    As such he was in charge of a station. The flow of the yard was simple, logs entered either from the gates to the west of Timberbrook, or from the river. They were separated by the size of the Logs and the grade of the wood. Some were already bare once they arrived, but when they came on carts, they were often untouched, their branches still on them.


    The men would process these logs. If they were to remain here, then they would be stripped of branches and bark and chopped to a workable size. If they were to be sent downriver, they were simply stripped of branches and sent on their way. A station consisted of three to four men depending on their assignment. Cheese worked his station alone. That was by request, he did not enjoy competing for work with less skilled men.


    Cheese gave a brief nod, as he stood beside his pile, and then gripping his axe tightly he sunk it into the base of a medium sized tree. He was processing Fir trees today, and he had many to work through. HIs only worry was that his Axe would not hold up. The tool was sturdy, but it was wearing down. Cheese often felt like it was an extension of his body, and like when a body was breaking down from over exertion Cheese knew his axe was not long for this world. As Cheese pulled the large fir down and processed it he thought of how he had spent months saving for an adequate replacement, but no amount of scrimping had worked. In his mind a tool was a tool for life or no tool at all, to that end he had consulted a merchant on a design for an axe that would last him, unlike the many that had worn down over the years. 20 gold was the price for what he wanted, an absurd price Ibron had told him. A worker on the Yard made a paltry 10 silver a month. That was a higher amount than many men, and they were even allowed to own their own plots which was unheard of in many places, but 10 silver was only enough to feed a man, and perhaps a family if one saved. That was the reason the Main Hall here in the yard was not entirely abandoned. Many men lived with their families well into adulthood. Cheese had left his parents'' house at 18, but that was because of the size of their family. Ibron had remained in his mothers and fathers'' home until he was 25, and even that was considered early. If a man who worked for the mill was thrown out of their home and lacked funds for their own, they were put up here in the mill. Yet Cheese had his own house to fund, and that cost money. Money, he didn''t have because of the price of replacing axes every month. An axe was an expensive tool, he had to get it from one of Timberbrooks two blacksmiths and the price was 3 silvers. 3 Silver every month for a new tool due to wear on the head. It would not do.


    This attrition was not due to a lack of skill, but the opposite. Cheeses` father had a custom axe. All the other masters did as well. Owning such a tool was not a sign of wealth but a requirement of it. The skills of a master simply destroyed lesser tools, and in spite of his frustration Cheese understood he was knocking on the doors of mastery. He could almost taste it, which was why it was so frustrating.


    Cheese took aim at the bark of the first log and began shaving it. He thought about the motions for a moment before he began. He had started as a feller all those years ago. Those were the men who dropped trees in the nearby woods to then be sent here. The man who had sent this log had done a decent job, and Cheese felt he knew the swings that had stripped the many branched. It was the work of his brother Waff. The giant of a man had a particular pattern when he worked a tree. The branches had all been taken in one swing, even the largest ones.


    Forgetting his thoughts Cheese began quickly moving across the length of the Fir. He deftly split the log into workable lengths for later down the line. then moved onto the next tree.


    Shave a tree, on to the next. Shave, a tree, on to the next. That was the flow of his morning. In two hours, the young man went through 34 of the firs, his arms never stopping. Then he paused, deep breaths going in and out as he leaned back, his arms and face covered in sweat.


    [Axe: 14]


    The familiar feeling of frustration crept in, though he tried to ignore it. The system was strict, each swing of the axe contributing to experience, yet progress was agonizingly slow. The Axe skill required endurance and precision, and though he¡¯d honed both over years, level 15 remained out of reach. Even though he slaved day in and day out, and each strike was as precise as possible, he was missing something.


    Hed already worked through the mornings due, piling his logs and stacking them neatly. So, he left his work and joined the team of boys who were nearby doing the larger oaks. The four were grateful for his help and followed his lead. Each strike reverberated through his arms, the rhythm a steady beat that let his mind wander.


    As he worked Cheese listened to the younger men. One of them was talking of adventurers he`d seen the day before.


    "Four of em" said the gruff worker. "Three boys and a man, a noble by the look of him."


    "No way" replied the other as he sipped his water. "Four adventurers here in Timberbrook? Why? And three of them no older than us."


    "Skills" Cheese interrupted.


    He felt the men''s eyes on him as he moved his axe in a small shaving pattern. "We see them from time to time. Young nobles will come searching for things in the wild, to fight and increase their skills."


    The men shared a look, and then one asked "Does that work?"


    Cheese shrugged. "For those that live it does, but most die. To be an adventurer only three things are required."


    The men looked on intently as he continued "One must have a desire to learn, a willingness to risk their life, and a written license from the king.¡±


    The men deflated as he said the last part, as he knew they would. The license could be gained by anyone who wanted it, provided they had the gold to submit the paperwork. Cheese had often considered this path, but like these men he simply didn''t have the money.


    Cheese glanced at the Skill Window again, knowing what he¡¯d see but unable to help himself.


    [Axe: 14]

 Ch 1.1: A walk with Ibron

    The rest of the morning before lunch passed in much the same way, each log a reminder of Cheeses` limits. By the time the sun rose high in the sky, his arms were sore, and his hands felt like they¡¯d been torn raw. But the stack of piled logs beside him was high, and his task was done. Mauren gave him a shake of the head he passed by.


    ¡°Dammit, Cheese,¡± Mauren said. ¡°You¡¯re the steadiest journeyman we have but those boys will never learn if you keep babying them.¡±


    Cheese mumbled an apology as the new hires tried to hide their shame and defend him. To them he was a powerhouse, and without his help they would have fallen behind. But neither Cheese or Mauren cared for that. If one fell behind, then one fell behind. Another man would always be there to pick up the slack. Cheese had never fallen behind in such work, even as a child.


    "Yes Mauren¡± he replied after a moment.


    "Well good work anyway" the foreman replied. "Now get home and get some food, all of you." the otehr man turned without furter ado and walked to another group of men who were finishing up.


    As he made his way back home, Cheese couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of dissatisfaction. Level 14¡ªenough to make a living but not enough to advance, to achieve anything of real worth in Timberbrook. His thoughts returned to the tales of adventurers, those who threw caution to the wind for a chance at something greater. He knew his path was set, that this life was secure and dependable. But he couldn¡¯t shake the nagging thought that maybe, somewhere out there, something more awaited him. Not adventure; he was to simple a man to yearn for that. But a man can desire greatness many ways, and for Cheese it was the desire for greatness in this. The axe. In the chopping and wielding of a blade in his hands.


    Suddenly Cheese stopped in his tracks, a frown forming on his face.


    [Skill up! Athletics: 14]


    The sight of another skill stalled at fourteen felt like a mockery. No matter how hard he worked, it seemed he was always pushing against some invisible wall, a barrier that allowed only a rare few to pass. His father had often spoken of the bottleneck and how it held many of Timberbrook¡¯s working folk back. But Cheese had always thought he¡¯d somehow find a way to break through.


    He opened the door to his small house, letting it swing shut behind him. The room felt emptier than usual, as if it too shared in his exhaustion. Setting down his battered axe, he collapsed onto the wooden stool near the table and slumped forward, rubbing his sore shoulders.


    The sight of his meal¡ªsome bread he¡¯d saved from breakfast, a leftover chunk of cheese from Ibron¡ªsat on the table. Cheese gave it a weary look, but even hunger was a weak motivator with the weight of his frustration pressing him down. He dropped his head into his hands, feeling the rough callouses scrape his face, and sighed. Fourteen. No matter what he did, the number stayed the same.


    He thought of his friend Ibron, who always seemed to carry himself with an easy confidence, finding ways to trade, barter, and strike deals that others only dreamed of. Cheese had long envied his resourcefulness. Ibron¡¯s skills might not be glamorous, but they let him get by without fighting for every scrap. And the man was content. Why could Cheese not be happy. Why could he not press through and get what he chased after.


    ¡°Fourteen,¡± he muttered to himself. It was a wall he couldn¡¯t climb, a ceiling that kept pressing him down.


    What was the point? He had no chance of finding a way past the skill limits¡ªno chance of advancing in life, either, it seemed. He¡¯d tried everything: extra shifts, side work, even grueling exercises he¡¯d picked up from the local priest of Dal. Nothing he did moved the needle. So here he was, years later, still stuck.


    A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. Cheese willed the invader to leave, but still he straightened, blinking, before he heard Ibron¡¯s familiar voice on the other side. ¡°Cheese? You in there?¡±


    Cheese opened the door to see his friend¡¯s grinning face. ¡°A bit early for the end of the day, isn¡¯t it?¡± Ibron asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. ¡°You look like you could use a drink.¡±


    ¡°More than one, if I¡¯m honest,¡± Cheese muttered, sinking back onto his stool. He didn¡¯t have to explain his frustration; Ibron had heard it all before.


    Ibron looked around, taking in the meager spread on the table, and shook his head with a soft chuckle. ¡°You know, if you¡¯d just let yourself take a break every once in a while, maybe you¡¯d make some progress.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Cheese sighed, folding his arms. ¡°A break won¡¯t change my level in Axe, or Athletics, or anything else. I¡¯ve tried all that.¡±


    Ibron shrugged. ¡°Maybe. But you¡¯re also as stubborn as the day is long. You put yourself through the wringer, day after day, and then wonder why things stay the same. You¡¯re not a machine, Cheese. You¡¯re just¡­ Cheese.¡±


    The words stung, but they had a ring of truth to them. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d done anything but work or strain himself in some attempt to reach level fifteen. ¡°I just¡­ I need to be better, Ibron. I need to reach the next level. For once, I¡¯d like to see my skills mean something.¡±


    Ibron studied him thoughtfully, then leaned back against the table. ¡°You know, there¡¯s something to be said for being satisfied with what you¡¯ve got. Not everyone¡¯s meant to be a master. Plenty of folks live good lives here in Timberbrook without breaking past the bottleneck.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Cheese said, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°But I want more than just to get by. I want to be able to give something better, start something¡ªlike a family. I can¡¯t do that while I¡¯m stuck where I am.¡±


    The words hung in the air for a moment before Ibron sighed. ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s take a walk. The fresh air might do you some good. Who knows¡ªmaybe inspiration will strike on the way.¡±


    Cheese shook his head saying, ¡°I can''t, I''m scheduled to join the swimmers in this afternoons run to Fairhaven.¡±


    His friend smiled and replied ¡°No you arnt, I talked to the boss. We have the day off¡± Then he grabbed his friend and pulled him into a walk out the door. Cheese grabbed his water skin as he went.


    The midday sun was soft and golden as it hit their faces, casting a warm glow over Timberbrook as they set off down the familiar well-worn path. With a few steps they were out in the countryside. Their houses were only a single row away from the wilds and the town held no walls. Fields of swaying grasses stretched out along the edges of town, dotted with wildflowers and the occasional sturdy, towering tree that would never under the weight of an axe. Birds chirped lazily, weaving through the air as though the day itself were as slow and reluctant as Cheese felt.


    They walked in silence for a while, letting the sounds of the countryside fill the spaces between them. Farmers worked in distant fields, bent over their tasks, occasionally straightening up to wave or nod as Cheese and Ibron passed. A couple of children dashed past them, chasing each other with peals of laughter and leaving a trail of dust in their wake. Cheese¡¯s gaze lingered on them, envying their boundless energy.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look too bad for a guy who¡¯s got nothing left in him,¡± Ibron teased, nudging Cheese with his elbow. ¡°Just like old times, right? Remember when we¡¯d run through these fields, trying to race each other all the way to the river?¡±


    Cheese gave a faint grin. ¡°Yeah, I remember. Though I was a bit faster back then.¡± He glanced sideways at Ibron, feeling a bit of that old warmth stir. ¡°Athletics got to fourteen today. Hit it on the walk back from the yard.¡±


    ¡°Another fourteen, huh?¡± Ibron¡¯s face softened, his usual teasing slipping away. ¡°It¡¯s rough, mate. That wall¡­ it¡¯s like we¡¯re all trying to claw through a stone wall with our bare hands. There¡¯s no shame in being tired of it.¡±


    Cheese nodded, kicking a stray pebble on the path. ¡°It feels like everything I try to get better at just¡­ stops. Everyone keeps saying level fifteen means mastery, but it might as well be some magic trick. I¡¯ve been busting my back just to get by, and for what? I¡¯ll never get anywhere, let alone impress someone enough to marry.¡±


    Ibron¡¯s mouth curled into a smirk. ¡°Ahh, so there¡¯s a bit of romance behind all this ambition. Got someone in mind, then?¡±


    Heat crept into Cheese¡¯s face, and he shook his head quickly. ¡°Not really. I mean, no one specific. It¡¯s just¡­ at my age, I should be able to start a family if I want. But look at me¡ªwhat have I got to offer? In the name of dread all my money seems to do to tools these days.¡±


    Ibron shrugged, kicking a clump of dirt as they walked. ¡°Plenty of lads in Timberbrook feel the same way. But I don¡¯t know, Cheese. There¡¯s something about ambition in a man. And you¡¯ve got that in spades, even if it doesn¡¯t always come with all the skill points. Plus, you¡¯ve got some charm to spare.¡±


    Cheese snorted. ¡°Charm means nothing they¡¯re all looking at you instead!¡± he gave his friend a well-meaning wallop on the shoulder. It actually looked like it had hurt a bit but his friend shrugged it off with a laugh. ¡°Nah, mate, they¡¯re looking for someone who¡¯ll stick by them, not chase the next flashy opportunity,¡± Ibron said, shaking his head. ¡°Honestly, they¡¯re more likely to go for someone like you. But you¡¯ve got to see yourself that way, first.¡±


    They passed a corpse of trees, their tall, sturdy trunks casting long shadows across the path. Beyond the trees lay a vast field, dotted with wildflowers in shades of yellow and blue. Cheese let himself enjoy the view for a moment, feeling the tightness in his chest begin to ease.


    As they turned a bend in the path, Cheese let out a sigh. ¡°If only it were easier to believe that. ¡°


    After a moment of silence Ibron said ¡°You heard about the adventurers?¡±


    Cheese shook his head, and his friend continued. ¡°They.... They came back this morning. The nobles in bad shape. They said that they found something out there. They killed it, but he looked like hed had his face eaten off. It was pretty bad.¡±


    Cheese shivered and made a sign to the gods. The two of them fell silent, walking side by side along the path. The air was filled with the scent of wild grass and pine, a comforting reminder of the countryside they both knew by heart. As they walked, they occasionally passed other villagers: a hunched old man, leaning heavily on a cane, gave them a nod; a pair of young sisters in simple dresses hurried by, their laughter carrying on the breeze. They had long ago turned back to the town, and eventually the two young men reentered their home.


    But then, just as they were about to go indoors, a distant scream split the air.

 CH2: Cutting the Cheese

    Ibron shared a long hard look with Cheese. For a moment the two simply stood there at the entrances to their hovels. The pained shriek had come from near the market, and neither man could mistake the urgency of its tone. They were like brothers, these two, souls who had grown in the same environment, under the same conditions. Yet they were not the same man, and both knew it. Cheese nodded at his friend. ¡°There is no shame in it. Go, secure our families, take them to the mill.¡±


    Ibron gave him a look of gratitude and, with a bounce, darted into his home to grab the shield and spear that hung by his doorway. He was a good man¡ªjust not a brave man.


    Truth be told, Cheese did not feel like a brave man either, yet he¡¯d seen an almost feverish panic in his best friend''s eyes that he himself did not feel. True, both would stand to battle if accosted, yet Ibron didn¡¯t have it in him to willingly push himself into the jaws of danger. The very thought of it had shaken him, so he would go and defend their families as was the way with such things. Truthfully, that was what honor demanded of Cheese, but his conscience wouldn¡¯t stop screaming at him to go and help whoever was in trouble.


    Cheese dipped his head into his hovel and moved to the back wall for his shield. He was a member of the town levy; all men above the age of sixteen joined the levy to be called in times of war and strife. Yet he had never seen battle. He¡¯d trained some¡ªevery winter for a tenday, and every summer for half that. But he¡¯d never actually faced battle. Now, though, he instantly knew that battle had found their village. He could hear the clash of weapons on shields and the rising screams that accompanied it.


    Yet Cheese paused as he passed his cot. Sitting on it, glowing faintly in the dim afternoon sunlight, was an exquisite hand-crafted axe that he had never seen before. It was nearly the size of a man, standing well over a meter tall from haft to head. The Axe head was engraved with runes that held an unmistakable energy, and the haft was made of Susine wood which was a wood that grew deep in the northern forest. It was a highly sought after and massively expensive type of tree. Beside the axe lay a letter, which Cheese opened with a deft hand.


    It read:


    Son, I am sorry for the subterfuge. It was your mother¡¯s idea. She said you never liked to see people when you received gifts. So, I asked Ibron to take you out this afternoon and distract you. Again, I apologize, but I believe she had the right of it.


    I¡¯m not much for writing¡ªyou know that. So, I¡¯ll get right to it. I got you this because I believe you deserve it. You¡¯re the best damn axemen I know. The tree was found many years ago by your grandfather. He cut it down in the first expeditions here, and I kept a single branch of it. Ibrons father has worked for many years to craft a worthy head. I''m sorry it took so long son, but this is my gift to you, I know you will use it well.


    With Love,


    Your father.


    For a moment Cheese forgot why he was in the room as he stared at his father¡¯s gift. It was¡­ it was perfect. He gingerly touched the haft and pulled the axe close to himself, wanting to savor the moment. Yet as he did, another loud clang and shriek tore him from his reverence.


    The axe was large, too large to wield with one hand. It was a war axe, plain and simple, so Cheese left the old shield and stormed out of the house.


    He held the great blade in both hands as he sprang between the villages'' hovels. Far ahead past the village center, he could see a rising column of smoke, and closer still, he heard a rolling cacophony of screams and thrown bodies.


    Since he was a boy, Cheese had lived in this village, and they had never been attacked. Hells, the village didn¡¯t even have a wall, only the mill had one. The only "battles" here were the adventurers going out to fight bears or wolves that roamed the countryside, bothering farmers. So, the commotion up ahead was unlike anything he¡¯d ever heard before. As he got closer, he began to smell smoke and burning flesh. Then Cheese rounded the last corner to the town square and saw it.


    Before him was a single creature, it was surrounded by dead and dying men who had been here at market. It had a long, whip-like tail encased entirely in metal, which danced back and forth, striking at the men who had undoubtedly been near to market when the commotion began and responded faster than him. The creature was the size of a bull, with the body and face of a cat. It deftly stood on its hind legs as a man cut at it with an axe and reacted with lightning speed smashing the poor sod who struck at it dead on the spot with one paw. The worst part, though, was the face. Its rotting and decayed, the flesh virtually falling from one side as it exposed a barren skull. As it moved, the creature grabbed one man with its putrid claws and impaled another with its tail. The name hung on Cheese¡¯s tongue and then fell out unbidden. ¡°Nekomata,¡± he said. And as he spoke, a second fiery tail lashed out and struck the old man Gelsh square in the chest. The two-tailed beast jumped back as a new throng of men entered the market.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Cheese assessed the situation, and it was not good. The creature had already dispatched many men, and in the distance the fire was spreading. He gripped his axe and charged into the fray alongside his townsmen.


    Immediately, the Nekomata dashed forward to meet the new wave of men, only to be caught off guard as a pair of fishing nets were thrown over it. The large feline stumbled, tripping on its own legs.


    The men pounced. They might not have been warriors, but they were hard men, and they did not balk at the creature. Its rotting flesh burned as they laid into it. Their opportunity quickly ended, however, as the creature turned red-hot, igniting the nets. Its sickly green smoke burned as its second fiery tail lashed around its body. Devon, one of the younger men Cheese knew well, was struck across the face, his flesh melting off in an instant. Cheese let his Axe dig into the being in a vicious arc, scoring three hits into its side before jumping away.


    Cheese fell back into a defensive crouch and took two steps back, yelling, ¡°Form up!¡± to the men around him. They reacted quickly, interlocking shields. To a man, they held a shield and a spear or axe. It was the way of the local Milita; their lot was to hold the wall while stronger, more capable men did the hard work.


    And though he held no rank, the men respected Cheese. He was the best of them, though he didn¡¯t think it. A scion of the largest mill in town, the hardest worker they had, and a good man. So when he spoke, they listened, unsurprisingly to most, shockingly to himself.


    That was how Cheese ended up between a mythical creature straight out of nightmares and a wall of wood and blades.


    And once he was there, he realized¡­ he didn¡¯t have a single clue what to do. He¡¯d spoken instinctually, without a plan. Forming up was just what you did in battle. Yet he¡¯d forgotten he bore no shield, forcing him to stand at the fore of the formation.


    He studied the beast as its lifeless eyes peered back at them. It didn¡¯t attack, merely posturing defiantly as more men filtered into the market. This gave the young man precious seconds to think and absorb information. Eventually, Cheese realized what the feline was doing. Its wounds were slowly but surely closing in on themselves. Shocked, he went to call the men to charge, then realized not all the wounds were healing. The ones across its left flank, where he had stood and struck, were still there. Cheese looked down at his axe and saw the glowing head. The runes were ablaze with fiery light, bright even under the intense sun.


    He steeled himself, then stepped forward gingerly. No one stopped him as he tentatively entered the creature¡¯s striking range. It recoiled, as if recognizing the danger in its lifeless grey eyes.


    Moments passed as he crept closer one toe at a time. When he was within a meter, the monster struck like lightning. Its metal tail came first. It looped in a high arc overhead.


    Cheese stepped forward and the tail crashed into the space he''d just been standing. Cheese then dropped as the second tail flew over his head, passing through the space his chest had just occupied. Cheese rolled as the metal tail tried to skewer him into the ground. As he came to a stop he sprang to his feet and the men surged forward, scoring strikes against the foe with their spears. It turned its attention to them and Cheese had its back. he let his Axe soar in an arc aiming for the creatures'' neck, but the Nekomata caught the blow with its metal tail.


    Cheese jumped back yet again as the second tail flew for his head. It missed by inches and Cheese felt his face warm to an uncomfortable level due to the fire. The creature jumped suddenly and landed among the men, its body becoming an inferno as the tail wrapped around the creature. Then it rolled over the men like a dog preforming a trick. The move caught many men, burning them to a crisp as it crushed them under the Nekomatas large form.


    Cheese rushed forward in a panic, and the beast jumped up again. It pulled back from him, a single paw at the ready. As Cheese closed with it the creature readied its tails, the fiery one slowly unwinding from its body, the flames on its form dying as it did so.


    Cheese stopped suddenly, his senses telling him to be wary. The men around him were screaming as they held their burning bodies. Cheese wanted to vomit at the sickly smell of burned flesh, yet he kept his eyes planted firmly on the Nekomata.


    The creature teased forward slowly, and Cheese felt his muscles being directed by something that was not himself. It was akin to the feeling he had when chopping wood, he simply knew that to do in the moment.


    As the feline pounced Cheese stepped to the side. The metal Tail landed where he had been standing, and Cheese knew what would come next, yet he did not duck like before. Instead, the young warrior stepped into the fiery tail, raising his blade above his head as he did. With a great heave Cheese brought the blade down.


    An explosion of flesh shot out from the Nekomatas head, and the beast seemed to waver, yet there was still power there, still momentum. The being fell forward towards Cheese, and with its final vestige of energy it sent out a tendril of power. A third tail formed. It was a sickly green that twisted around Cheese as the rotting flesh landed on his form.


    Pain lanced through Cheeses` body as the necrotic magic entered him. It was a shadow of power, yet to the uninitiated it meant death. Yet Cheese was not thinking of that, or of the pain. As he lay under the rotting flesh Cheese smiled to himself. For in the corner of his vision, pinged a single notification. Cheese laughed, blood filling his mouth.


    [Axe: 16]


    Two whole levels. His father would never believe it.

 Ch3: A Decision

    There are few true magics in this world, those being forces that truly defy the laws of causality and physics. Yet, they are known to exist and always have been. What assaulted the town of Timberbrook, however, was as potent as any ancient magic that had been unleashed on the land. Cheese fought an undead Nekomata, a being that stood at the pinnacle of power in this young world. These creatures, known to the elder races as "fire-tails," were beings of pure, fierce magic. Yet, seeing not only the one Cheese battled but two others corrupted was a revelation¡ªa dark omen that should have called adventurers from across the world to their small town.


    But all was not well in the wider world. This incident was neither isolated nor unique. Cheese¡¯s father had fought down one of the other creatures himself. It had taken every ounce of skill he possessed, but he had triumphed, emerging unharmed. The third was slaughtered by the combined efforts of the local adventuring party. Only one of their members survived. He was a scion of the Baron of Gabrio, a trading partner of the village who lived to the north.


    A council of elders was swiftly convened, calling the most influential citizens together, and three messengers were sent out. One sailed down the river to the nearby port of Fairhaven, another journeyed south to the county seat of Kongsraveth, and a third rode to the distant capital of Gelia for which the kingdom was named. The Capital was a long journey some miles to the north, but the messenger went on horseback as swiftly as he could. Five days passed and only the man who had gone downriver returned. He hadn¡¯t even completed the day''s journey, for before he reached the port, he saw a column of fire stretching kilometers into the sky and immediately turned back. Yet, on the third day after Cheese was struck down by the undead feline, a message from the count at Kongsraveth finally arrived.


    <hr>


    Rook sat in the dimly lit council chambers with his fellow elders and listened to the recounting of the secondary scouts sent to Fairhaven. In days past, he would have never believed the harrowing accounts the men told him, yet since the brutal battle here in their once peaceful community, nothing truly came as a surprise. The Priest of Many Gods was calling it the Unbinding. He had given testimony to the elders the day before on the matter. The Shrine of Aiden, the God of Spring, had been sundered the night before; the sacred statue simply crumbling to powder during the morning dedications. Many other shrines had begun to disappear, some in small ways, simply falling apart, others in far more catastrophic ways. The gods were dying.


    And yet, with all of this¡ªthe terrifying monsters, the cities crumbling, and the gods themselves disintegrating¡ªRook could only think of one thing. His son was dying.


    He tried to fulfill his role as councilman, yet he knew he was unneeded here. Rook knew deep in his soul that he could do nothing in the face of this devastating chaos. True, he had fought down the horrific undead monster, but he had been too slow, too hesitant. Because of his ineptitude, his eldest son had fallen, and now the poor boy lay rotting on the cot in the next room. When he had faced the Nekomata, Rook had known instinctively never to let it strike him. He was unsure why that gut-wrenching feeling was embedded in his mind, yet he had done everything possible to avoid its blows. It was as if an invisible, primal will had directed him as he slowly dissected the vicious beast, one cautious step at a time. Eventually after a grueling protracted battle he had severed its head from its shoulders. Rook had taken his time, fought with reserved precision, as was his nature, and it had cost him his son. His son, who had been so agonizingly close to overcoming the wall he had ground his will against for two long, brutal years.


    It had torn the old man apart that he could not tell his son the secret to overcoming the wall. Perhaps, if he had been able to, he would have saved the boy. Yet, it was widely known that if one was handed the answers too easily, their ascent would eventually stagnate, and they would no longer rise in mastery. Cheese was not the kind of man who would accept such a fate. That was a fate that none of their family would ever wish for, so he had kept his silence, and this had been the tragic result. His boy, cut down in the first days of this harsh new world. Perhaps it was for the best. But there was a strange, aching pride in the sorrow. His boy had done it. He had grasped the elusive concept of infusion. He had managed to press his raw will into his axe and perform a strike that separated not only the physical fibers, but also the intangible spirit of his opponent. Cheese had long ago overcome the wall¡ªat least from an experience standpoint, his sudden leap to 16 proved that. All that had remained for the boy was to understand that to truly cut something, to truly sever it and make one into two, you needed to sever it at a far deeper, spiritual level. That was why you could not simply tell someone how to do such a cut. Aye, you could explain it to them, and they could pass the wall, but the sharpening of will that was required to make that final leap had consequences that were essential for further progression. It took a will of immense, unyielding strength to do such an act without even knowing what it was truly doing. And his son was one such being, one who possessed an indomitable, unbreakable will.


    Only one who had a natural affinity for the magics of the world could pass the wall, and his son had done it. Rooks heart was filled with an unspeakable pride, yet it ached. Because his son though he had achieved his Lifes goal was dying.


    That is what Rook thought of as the scout droned on and on. Giants, yes, giants. He keyed back into the conversation and tried to push his grim thoughts away. Fairhaven was a grand port, second only to the county capital in size. It housed some 20,000 bustling families. It was the seat of Baron Gelroy, a fat, pompous man who was inexplicably a level 26 Merchant. How such a vile, slippery bastard managed to get anyone to take a deal was beyond Rook¡¯s comprehension. He lived in a lavish castle in the heart of Fairhaven, perched atop a solitary, prominent hill¡ªor he had. The hill was now crushed under the weight of a colossal, 10-meter-tall gargantuan figure who was naked save a loincloth and held a massive club. It was this being along with two more that used the fat man''s castle as a seat. The castle had been obliterated, and the shattered rubble piled into a makeshift chair for the giant.


    Fairhaven was gone. And with it, access to the outside world. Not that that truly mattered to Rook and his people. Their kingdom boasted one of the strongest, most feared navies in the world, as befitted a small island nation nestled between two vast continents. Fairhaven had been the primary port on the island, which boasted a flourishing population of some two million souls. Well, it had. The gods only knew how many survived. Yet, Rook had never left the island. His great-great-grandfather had been one of the first settlers some 150 years prior. Rook had lived his entire life in one remote lumber camp after another. That was their family¡¯s way; they would travel from area to area, chopping and clearing farmland for those who came after. It had been his grandfather¡¯s passion, his father¡¯s, and now it was his and his three sons'' mission in life¡ªCheese, Waff, and Char. Well, it had been. By night¡¯s end, he would likely only have two sons. The dark green sickness was devouring his eldest, as it had devoured all others who fell to the Nekomata¡¯s vicious strikes, and without any news from the ships of the greater world, who knew how long even that would last?


    The scout delivering the report stated that they had sighted two of the large, bloated ships sitting far out at a great distance from the port, but it was at such a daunting distance that they were unable to signal it for fear of alerting the giants to their presence.


    As the scout concluded his report, there was a commotion at the door. They had sealed the room for fear of eavesdroppers reporting the words to the people and causing even more of a panic. It was not that they would not pass the news on; they simply wanted to converse before pressure from the townsfolk tainted their minds. A guard presented himself, he was accompanied by the Rooks middle child Waff.


    Waff was a giant of a man. he walked into the council with lumbering strides and bowed. "Masters, councilmen. I bring work from the counties seat. A letter."


    He raised it and handed it to Elder Tompson, who verified the seal saying "It is the Counts. It bears his mark"


    Tompson handed the letter to Rook who read it out loud. As he finished reading Tompson summarized the words. "The Count is dead. The seat holds. No other word is sent What then shall we do"


    Before any response could be made a single scream sounded out in the night. Mauren bolted through the doors and laid his eyes on rook saying a single word.


    "Cheese."


    Rook jumped up and rushed forward, his movements seeming unnaturally fast to those around him. He had sat at the fore of the meeting, as was now his place. This quick movement showed exactly why that was. In an instant, he was through the door, quicker than any of the other councilors were able to even begin rising.


    Rook brushed past his friend and took three swift steps through the doorway where his son had lain dying. He prayed that he was not too late, yet as he entered, he saw not the necrotic, decaying form he had feared. He saw his boy, his son, wreathed in a brilliant, roaring fire. Cheese¡¯s mouth was opened in a silent scream, as if he were in excruciating pain, yet no words came out of the boy. Rook stood frozen in the doorway, waiting tensely as the flames grew brighter and continued to climb his son¡¯s form. He watched, unmoving. Eventually, a sister of the Many Gods rushed back into the room with a large bucket, but Rook stopped her and said, "Sister, look at how the skin reseals, I beg you. Do not douse him."


    The sister looked and saw that Rook was right. The flames licked at Cheese¡¯s skin, but they didn¡¯t harm him. "But his face," she said worriedly.


    Rook nodded solemnly; he could see the immense pain his son was in. The boy''s features were a twisted, contorted mess of agony. Yet somehow, he managed not to thrash about as he screamed silently.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    <hr>


    Cheese¡¯s dreams for the first few days were a fever of muddled scenes and frantic motion. He was a child, a young boy of five. He chopped and sliced with his small axe as his father and grandfather looked on, or ran with Ibron, laughing and chasing friends through the lumberyard. Then, he was a teenager, felling slender trees alongside his father to master the mechanics of a tree¡¯s fall. He climbed the towering timber, taking in the vastness of the county. His grandfather had taught him that trick years ago, showing him how scaling those natural giants allowed one to almost see the entire world. No building rivaled the towering heights of those ancient trees. That was his true playground among them.


    But then in time the struggle began. The wall. His grandfather had left them, and his progress stalled. His father tried to help, but there was little he could do for the troubled youth. Cheese yearned for his grandfather as visions of chopping and cutting flashed before him. They were visions of his stalled potential. Yet... hadn¡¯t he already overcome this? Yes. He had. Cheese refuted the visions of helpless struggle, and then they changed.


    Finally, he was there again. Standing before the rotting Nekomata as it slaughtered the first men to reach it. Yet this time, as he stared, Cheese felt something¡­ strange. A tug, as if his vision was being directed down two paths. The young man knew that one of the paths was to follow his earlier steps and fight the beast, to enter into its range and slay it. That path now felt wrong, as if to accept the blow would be to unmake himself. He focused on it a way he never had before, and then Cheese sensed¡­ something around the creature, and he knew that this was the other path, the one that would save both him and the being before him. Then it appeared¡ªthe tail. But as it emerged, Cheese felt that tug intensify. The tail was not simply a tail; true, it looked like one, but within it was a small, horrified energy. The Nekomata guided the tail as it whipped around, striking down anyone near, yet it was as if the tail had a momentum and will all its own. Cheese suddenly realized it was a creature of fire, a kind of spirit working with the undead cat. And what¡¯s more, he sensed a connection to it. Cheese pulled on that connection, but it resisted.


    Cheese felt a barrier between him and this power, and as he pushed against it with his will, he sensed the entity¡¯s balance¡ªit was braced, leaning away from him. So, Cheese pushed harder. He had never done this before, but instinctively he knew that if he just focused and¡­ yes, he thrust with a sharp snap, and the creature faltered. Cheese dug his will in and yanked on what he sensed.


    He heard a voice out of the darkness that enveloped him. the voice was old and tired, as if it had recently returned from a great battle. It said, ¡°Oh now, this will not do. What is it that has latched onto you, young warrior? No, it won¡¯t do at all. Let me help.¡±


    And then Cheese began screaming. He hadn¡¯t thought this through; in truth, he hadn¡¯t thought at all. That was how Cheese awoke¡ªengulfed in flames and screaming into the night.


    <hr>


    God, it hurt. It burned. Not the flames¡ªno, the burn was not that of fire; it was the pain of intense cold. The pain of death. Every inch of Cheese''s body was so cold he could not feel it, and that cold was approaching his heart. The pain came from there, right at his core. It was like his body was a battlefield, and his forces had centered themselves there, fighting against an ever-encroaching enemy. That was the pain he felt¡ªthe slow death of the soldiers fighting back against an endless tide of death. And with each icy swing, he felt his very being beginning to die, step by step. He was fighting back, but he was losing.


    Then the fire swept in. It was the exact opposite of what had assailed him: a soft heat that rekindled his flesh. Yet even that came with its own pain. As Cheese became aware of his skin, he felt the energy slowly battle along his form. It was as if the army of necrotic burn was surrounded, and it responded with aggressive stabs of energy toward his core. The slow drawl of his death was replaced with a race, as both energies tried to consume him. One consumed him, and the other tried to free him. He could feel that neither energy was sentient; they were like water flowing along their natural course. Cheese felt the rate of decay and awakening and knew instinctively that the fire would lose if nothing changed. The cold death was simply too close to its goal, and his forces were almost depleted. So, the boy pondered, even as he decayed from the inside. He felt along the ever-collapsing edge of the cold force, and slowly he began to exert his will. He latched onto the cold with a tendril of energy, throwing it out like a squad to sacrifice at an unthinking enemy, and then, when the force collapsed onto the squad, Cheese would encapsulate it and drag it deep into himself. He did this many times, thus slowing the ever-encroaching cold. It slowed the progress, but not enough.


    Cheese kept at the task, but he knew he needed to do more. He needed to find a way to truly overcome this force, to trick it¡ªbut he was running out of time. That¡¯s when a thought struck him. Why was this force trying to reach his core? Why was it the goal of this cold energy? Cheese turned his attention inward and found... nothing. There was nothing at his center. No spark, no chamber. The only thing at his core was him¡ªhis perception. It was as if he was looking at himself, not some immovable organ or energy.


    It was Cheese himself that this force was after, surrounded by vital, life-giving energy. So Cheese simply opened a channel of energy to the front lines of the battle and began preparing to hack away at the energy. He was no general to stand in the back and direct his forces; he was Cheese, and Cheese was an Axeman. Cheese was a warrior. So he put his being in the fore and welcomed the invader to try to take him down. And try it did.


    In the palace that was his soul, Cheese felt a cold wave approach. A tendril of power lanced forward at him. Then his mental image shifted, and he found he truly was in a palace. It was a longhouse quite like the one that was in the mill. The center was filled with a large roaring fire. Furs and pelts lined the walls, and Cheese had in his hands the axe his father had given him. He was happy to have it here, even though he did not understand why.


    As Cheese looked up, he saw it enter the room. The great doors slowly opened, and a gargantuan green shadow slunk in. It began slowly creeping forward to the flame in the center of the room, and Cheese knew that he must not let it touch those flames. He acted instantly, jumping over the flames and pulling his axe in a sweeping arc. A gash formed across the energy; it was deep and fiery. As Cheese recovered and brought his axe around for another strike, he saw flickers of flame burn at the creature''s form. Yet it did not falter. Instead, it began encroaching from another direction, its form pushing out around the room on all sides. Cheese swung again, and another vector of approach was stalled. He began chopping and cleaving at the energy as he felt the oppressive darkness encapsulate him. For so long, the young man chopped away, stalling the energies. Yet while he could stall them, he could not push them back. With time, he became conscious of a pressure at the gates. But that pressure could not enter his meager palace. Cheese¡¯s soul was full and could not hold the energy at the gates. This battle was for him and him alone. So, in the night, he continued his work and beat back the darkness trying to claim him.


    <hr>


    Two more days had passed as Rook waited. Cheese`s axe had disappeared the day prior. Since then, not much had happened. The flames had not died down on his eldest son. As he looked up from his small table, Rook saw his youngest enter.


    "Char," he said as the boy walked over to him.


    "Father, how is he?" asked the dark-haired boy. His father had named him Char for that hair¡ªit was the color of charcoal: dark and endless. He patted the seat beside him as his son sat. Char was 23, and the only one of his sons who had not continued with the family business. He was his own man from the day he was born, a stubborn child like his brothers but in a unique way. On his tenth name day, the boy had run away and slept in the forest for three nights, returning only when he had finished the task of collecting three wolf pups and making them docile enough to return with him. The reason? He said his god demanded it of him. You see, Char was an acolyte of Yid, goddess of nature and boundless plenty.


    Of course, the goddess had not actually spoken to the child, but he claimed he had heard the whining of the wolf pups in his sleep and had been compelled to follow. At first, the boy had not known why he did so, but when he found the pups in a cave in the dead of winter, he felt that this was why he had come. Their mother had died in the winter, and the three were in need of a savior. Upon returning and finding that the whole town was in panic, the small boy had smiled faintly and asked if he could please speak to the priest of many gods. That day, he had pledged his life to the goddess, saying simply that it felt right.


    Rook nodded at his eldest and said, "Your brother persists. He has not changed."


    The small man nodded and reached into his cloak. He pulled out a single leaf, handing it to his father. "I¡¯m sorry it took so long, but here it is. Do you honestly think it will work?" As he spoke, one of the great wolves walked into the room after his son. It sat beside the boy. The beast''s head came up to his son¡¯s chest.


    Rook took a long moment as his eyes locked onto the leaf, and he shook his head as he grabbed it. "No, I am not. But I can feel the energies in your brother. One assails him, and the other is similar to what I feel in this leaf. How did you find it?"


    Char¡¯s hand fell to the head of his great wolf. This one was Tonn, or Tooth, in the old tongue. As he did, he replied, "I had felt its energy before. There exists a tree a day¡¯s travel away. It is a place where I worship my goddess. The tree resides there."


    Rook nodded and gingerly asked, "How... how does your goddess fare?"


    The boy¡¯s face was unreadable as the question hung in the air. Then he turned and walked toward the door without answering, yet that alone was answer enough.


    For a moment, the great wolf stared at Rook, and then it got up and ran after its master. No¡ªafter its father. For that¡¯s who Char had become when he had saved them from the snow.


    Rook turned and began making tea with the leaf. He had quite the cooking skill; over the years, it had passed all the way to 14. As he prepared this tincture, infusing his spirit into it, the skill ticked up further. Yet that was not all. Surprisingly, Rook was met with two notifications:


    [New Skill: Alchemy 1] [New Skill: Potions 1]


    Alchemy? And what was a potion? The old man shook his head as he prepared the tincture. It took longer than he expected, yet he was patient as he slowly watched the juices seep into the water that he had asked the priest to bless. Finally, after many hours, the drink was ready. He looked at it and activated a skill he had gotten many years ago when he broke through the bottleneck but rarely used: [Observe: 3]. He looked over the tea and was surprised by the description: [Blessed Tincture: Imbue the drinker with vitality granted by the fallen goddess Yid. This life-preserving tincture will unlock new pathways for any who drink it. However, if splashed on a foe of the goddess, it will instead burn away the unnatural energies.]


    Well, there was his answer, at least. Yid, goddess of nature and life, had fallen. Rook looked up and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the goddess anyway. Fallen or not, she had managed to send this gift of life to his son, perhaps it would change the balance in the boy''s favor.


    Or, perhaps it was unnecessary the old man thought to himself as he changed his view to his son''s indicator in the party menu. He smiled as he saw the number he had watched the previous two days tick up yet again. [Axe: 24]

 Ch 4: The Grindstone

    Cheese knew exhaustion. He was a man who worked diligently, day in and day out, stopping only for a breath or a swig of water before plunging back into the task at hand. But this was different. This was an exhaustion that reached past muscle and bone, that stripped him bare and drained his will. Now, as he stood within the strange palace of his own soul, he battled something more elusive, more treacherous¡ªa darkness that seemed to take root in his very being.


    His axe swung again and again, each strike carving through shadows that crept and coiled, eager to consume him. But for every sliver of light he freed, the dark spread wider, deeper. It wasn''t a battle he could win by force. His strikes landed as hard and as fast as he could make them, yet still, the darkness regenerated, fed by some endless source. He had taken the measure of that force as he battled it before, ripping it apart, yet here in his soul the darkness had found and fed on something else, something deeper than itself. So far after it should have ended the darkness pressed into the young man.


    And then, as if mocking him, the whispers began.


    ¡°Why fight? You¡¯ve done enough,¡± a voice murmured. It was soft at first, reasonable even.


    ¡°Rest,¡± it continued, seeping into his mind between swings. ¡°Lay down your head.¡±


    He hacked at the darkness, but each chop was met with new whispers, more insistent, more intimate.


    ¡°Give in.¡±


    Chop.


    ¡°You are struggling for nothing.¡±


    Chop.


    ¡°Why continue this?¡±


    Chop.


    The voices rose and fell with every stroke, each cutting closer to the truth he didn¡¯t want to face¡ªthat maybe, just maybe, there was no end to this. But still, Cheese didn¡¯t stop. His entire life, he had kept going, a steady rhythm that only knew how to move forward. He swung and cut, deeper and harder, until he wasn¡¯t fighting the darkness anymore; he was dancing with it.


    The rhythm changed then, and he knew the fight had shifted. He wasn¡¯t clearing the dark to destroy it, he was clearing it for something else¡ªspace, openness, acceptance. He knew, as he struck in sweeping arcs, that the darkness wasn¡¯t his enemy. It was a part of him, a weight he bore as naturally as the warmth at his back, which he now felt stronger than ever.


    In this strange half-light, Cheese understood this wasn¡¯t the day the dark would take him. Not yet. Today, he could hold it at bay. He kept moving, not in struggle, but in a fierce, deliberate celebration of himself, of his own endurance. The darkness was a shadow at his feet, a whetstone against which he sharpened his new gift he held the blade in his hands as one would hold the palm of a lover, tenderly yet firmly, guiding it in their dance. And he used the darkness that was his soul to grind that gift to a finer point than any axe he had ever wielded.


    <hr>


    In the small room Ibron, Rook, and Villa watched him as Cheese laid there on the bed. Ibron stared, unsettled. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ smiling,¡± he murmured, watching Cheese¡¯s face where he lay in a small, humble room. Only a few days ago, his friend had been wreathed in golden fire, but now, he seemed at peace.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Rook only nodded, his voice carrying a quiet conviction. ¡°My boy¡¯s found what he is looking for.¡±


    Villa spoke next, glancing at Ibron with a steady gaze. ¡°Have you thought about it?¡±


    He looked up, meeting her eyes. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m still not sure, but¡­ I think it might be worth a try.¡±


    The news from the county capital had come days ago, a list of horrors that swept through every city, every town, leaving nothing untouched. Villages like theirs were battered but standing, while others fared worse. Those had been attacked by everything from necrotic creatures similar to the ones that Timberbrook had destroyed to fire-breathing lizards the size of small houses.


    They knew now that they couldn¡¯t survive the winter without help. Supplies were scarce, and they needed the stores left in Fairhaven.


    A day before the giants had gone. They had roamed to the north towards their allies who lived under the Baron Gabrio. The baron had ordered his people to flee the city under guard in anticipation. In response the council had chosen Ibron, the only remaining merchant, to join a convoy under the guard of the Milita. With enough men, carts, and courage, they would recover what they could from Fairhaven. This was their only hope to endure the long months ahead.


    Villa eyed her son uneasily as she asked her husband "Do you think it will be long now? Will our son wake up."


    The large man frowned as he considered the question. "A night more my love. He is done, but he will not wake until he has rested. He will sleep now."


    She stood then and Ibron shifted and looked away as the large man reached out and kissed his Wifes fingertips gingerly. "If anything changes" the elder said "I will send a runner. I ask you to sleep wife." He said, his eyes never leaving his son as he spoke. Villa looked at her husband with a frown, and for a moment her eyes glanced at the mug by his side, still full. Yet she said nothing as she walked out of the room. She had always trusted Rook to raise his sons as men, and even now her trust for his actions was unshakable.


    "Ibron" The mans voice cut in as the merchant began to rise.


    "Ye- Yessir" spoke out the young man softly.


    "I have spoken to the council. It must happen" said the old man, he cast a sad look at his sons friend and Ibron caught a sliver of pity in that glance.


    He stuttered again as he responded "It- It-it simply wont do, the audacity of it, me? An elder? I''m not even two score winters sir. What do you mean it must be? Surely there is another more qualified for the position. I swear I will do this task, but to ask that is to much."


    The old man nodded as Ibron spoke, yet he did not change what he said. He simply would no, no could not be swayed. "Ibron, none can replace master Duncan. It simply cannot be done, but you are the only one who possesses the skills of a master merchant."


    It was true, since the unbinding had started Ibrons skills had exploded. He had taken over as quartermaster for Timberbrook. The disaster at the market had resulted in every other merchant over level 15 dying to the Nekomata that had fought Cheese. Rooks'' eyes leveled on Ibrons head, and he saw [Merchant: 14]. The explosion of insight had been necessary, and thus it had happened. Timberbrook had needed a merchant, and thus the cream had risen, and now it would rise more. Rook reached out and handed the young man a pouch. It held a single golden band. It mirrored the ring around Rooks own arm, the armband of the quartermaster. What he was forcing on this young man was more than a seat on the council, it was a station that was matched by only two men in their town. Rook held one, a bronze armband, the master of the warriors. The third was held by the eldest man in the village Elder Tompson, a man of well over 90. It was for all intents a military position as much as a social rank. That is why the young man was so reluctant to take it. But what Rook said was true, and Tompson agreed with him. Theirs was a town on the move, and the likelihood was once they got proper word from the capital they would be called to the march, and an army needed a quartermaster. As Ibrons hand closed around the pouch Rook glanced his eyes to his son and used his observation skill. As he did, he smiled and sat down. Whatever came next, he would face it with his family.

 Ch 4.1: Waking

    Cheese blinked awake, his senses slowly stirring to life. For the first time in years, he didn¡¯t feel the need stare at the ceiling as he did so. The aches in his shoulders had simply disappeared. He swung his feet off the bed, and his gaze fell upon a woman sitting across from him. He hadn¡¯t noticed her at first, but now her presence seemed to fill the room.


    She looked young, maybe nineteen or twenty, her hair as black as midnight¡ªa black so deep, it seemed to drink in the light around her. The darkness in her hair reminded him of his brother Char¡¯s namesake, yet this was a shade beyond, a darkness that held mystery and beauty. When he met her eyes, a quiet chill ran through him. They were green, but not just any green; they held the hue of winter moss, a green that whispered of unbridled life, and her face was still and smooth, like the surface of an undisturbed pond. She was stunning, so much so that for a moment he forgot himself, caught up in the scent of bread and warmth that surrounded her.


    She leaned closer, her voice soft and ethereal, almost like the brush of wind. ¡°Prepare for what is to come, star of my eye, brother of my heart. We will be waiting at the end, for those of you who come, for those of you who defend.¡±


    Then, without another word, she turned and stepped forward. He blinked, trying to keep her in sight, but it was as if she simply dissolved into nothingness, fading into the air itself. It was only as she vanished that his eyes drifted down, and he noticed what he hadn¡¯t seen before: beneath that hauntingly serene face, she wore a robe of pure white¡ªabsolutely drenched in blood. The cloth on her back was missing in two long streaks, obviously streaks of a blade. He opened his mouth, a question ready, but before he could speak, she was gone. His eyes tried to follow, but there was no longer anything there.


    Slowly the young man surveyed the room. In the far corner his father rested in a chair, he was in a deep sleep, a cigar still it in his mouth. Cheese sat back on the cot and pulled up his skill menu, yet he was surprised that when he summoned it a message appeared.


    [Welcome]


    A planetary level System announcement will commence in 1 day 1 hour 3 minutes and 4 seconds. Until then all status pages are locked. We apologize for the inconvenience.


    Cheese frowned at the message. The message contained many words he didn''t understand. As he read it again and again his confusion didn''t change. After a moment he looked at his father and went to reach out for him, then he smelled it. It was divine. Was that a hint of mint? Cheeses eyes darted at the steaming cup by his father''s hand. He snatched it up and sniffed. Where had the old bat gotten this? The aroma was so rich. Cheese thought for a moment and then sipped at the drink tentatively. It tasted even better than he had expected. The young man sighed and sat across from his father as he sipped down the sweet sweet nectar.


    By the time Rook woke Cheese had nearly finished the drink. The old man sat up, and in a panic looked at the bed. Seeing no one there he glanced towards the door and then stood quickly, quicker than Cheese had ever seen a man move.


    Cheese surprised his father with a shout. "I`m here" Rook turned quickly and bellowed a laugh.


    "Why are you out of bed boy?" he asked with a smile.


    Cheese shrugged and said "I feel better is all. Have you been here waiting for me to gather myself?"


    Rook laughed again, and a guard ran in from outside. "Yes, you could say that" he responded as he drew up a chair. Then he saw that Cheese had been drinking his tea and Rook felt his smile fade.


    "Well, I see you found that. Your brother brought it. It''s made from mountain herbs, it is believed to enhance skills. We thought we could use it to enhance your resistance skills."


    Cheese looked down and felt his mouth open with apology, but rook cut him off. "I had it made for you. You''re no longer sick, so we will see what comes of it. Once this damned system announcement happens. As far as I know it could do nothing so there is no loss."This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Cheese was grateful to his father, and their conversation turned to the process cheese had undergone as he broke through the wall. His father frowned at Cheese` words but eventually he began to nod.


    "You grasped something son" he said with a smile. ¡°Now comes the hard part. You must press forward. Tomorrow we will have to deal with this, but for now relax. I will call for your mother, and we will talk about what has happened, but until then you must eat.¡±


    The older man left, and Cheese was brought a broth and some bread by one of the younger women who served with the priesthood. He wanted to complain but he held in his words.


    <hr>


    Cheese` family were there within a half hour. His mother Villa kissed him and hugged him while complaining about his health for that same span of time. Yet when he finally stood and explained he was fine, she was silent. Her only show of concern was a thin frown.


    As they spoke Cheese snuck a glance at Char and thought on the woman who had appeared before him. Had that been his god? She had said "Brother of my heart" Surely that could only be his goddess or an angel of hers, yet her form, the blood. For now, Cheese said nothing as he waited for more info, he would speak to the elders about it later, best to wait for whatever this announcement was.


    They spent the first half of the day together, which to Cheese was a happy affair. He had missed his family as the years went on and work took more and more of his time.


    Yet things like this never last, and soon his family left him to go about their work.


    Cheese was forced to relax by the priests'' nurses. In time he drifted to sleep and was unconscious until the evening approached, and with it the system announcement.


    <hr>


    Cheese was woken by the nurse who was shaking him.


    "Master Switzler" she said as she roused him. "The other masters have called for you. Your presence is requested at the Ampitheater.¡±


    Master.... Cheese shook himself and stood. It was true, he was a master now. Cheese checked the timer and rose as the nurse let herself out of the room. The count down was less than an hour.


    Cheese quickly changed into a set of new clothes that had been laid aside for him and walked out the door towards the Ampitheater. It took him a good fifteen minutes to walk the length of Timberbrook to the east and finally arrive.


    The amphitheater was a meeting place for all peoples in the village. The concentric circles of stone benches were built into the side of a large steep drop that sat to the east of Timberbrook in the direction of Fairhaven. All settlements had one such construct large enough to house most of the population, or a number of them for the same purpose. When there was not a cliff or hill the builders simply dug into the earth. This, like the use of mills for defense was simply the way of things.


    As he entered Cheese was shocked at how few people were there. Maybe there were 400 people total. He glanced at the timer and guessed that he was likely the last person. Had the damage truly been that large? To think three monsters could kill so many. He slowly walked to the second most inner ring of seats closest to the stage.


    Cheese could feel his palms begin to sweat. It was the ring of masters. After a moment Cheese sat with what he hoped was confidence. No one questioned him. He was startled when a moment later both his brothers sat alongside him. He had been in his own world. He gave them both a quiet nod as he turned to look at the stage.


    His shock at his brothers joining him was dwarfed when Ibron joined his father and Elder Tompson on the stage. The frail elder was standing at the fore with the two others behind him; yet Ibron was undoubtedly in the position of an Elder. Cheese wondered for a moment why that decision had been made, and then he remembered the market, and a shudder went through his spine.


    A time passed, and finally as the last child filtered in and sat at the top of the rings Elder Tompson spoke out. Cheese realized that the timer had a paltry five minutes remaining.


    The withered man spoke softly, yet his voice carried so even the children at the topmost row could hear it just as clearly as if they stood beside him.


    "It is rough times in which we live." The elder began. "Yet rough times make rougher men, and I am unashamed to see that the men and women who stand before me are rough indeed." A roll of giggling came from the top floor at the elders choice of words, and it descended all the way to the master''s bench. There it stopped, yet even Rook allowed a smile to touch his lips. "I may jest" continued the elder. But I know you feel the seriousness in my words and see the steel in my heart. We are a family, a true family. We are Timberbrook, but more than that we are men and women of the axe. And I beseech you all to remember that as we push forward." There was a stamping of feet that sounded as men threw their ascent into the elders'' words. After a time, a woman stood in the row of elders, she was Hardien, his aunt on his fathers side. As she stood, she raised a hand and cast a glance at the rings, silence quickly fell. She then sat quietly and waited for the elder to continue, but he did not simply stepping back as the timer counted down to zero. The old master had said all there was to say. They would face whatever was to come together as a family.

 Ch 5: Dac, Lord of Dread.

    They all waited, staring at the flickering announcement that centered itself in front of them. The amphitheater itself was newly built, its pale wood and rough stone polished just enough to withstand the weather, but raw and bare in the moonlight. The rows of simple stone cast all their eyes directly at the three men as they looked onward into the non-existent distance.


    The villagers sat in complete silence. Eyes remained fixed on the blank space, where the system announcement should have appeared by now. But there was nothing. The announcement timer hung frozen in the air


    System Announcement: 1 Second


    Cheese swallowed, a laugh clawing at his throat¡ªa helpless, near-hysterical urge to break the silence that he fought back. His eyes drifted toward the stage, where the town¡¯s three leaders stood as if they too feared to move or speak.


    Rook his father stood at the center, tall and unyielding, his shoulders set against the empty darkness like an immovable rock in a storm. His jaw was tight, face shadowed beneath the half-light, unreadable as he surveyed the crowd. Ibron, on Rook¡¯s right, looked uneasily out at the crowd, as if he wished to flee, his wide shoulders tense. Yet the man persisted and stood ramrod straight under the press of eyes. Every now and then, his hands flexed, restless, his steady gaze darting from crowd to Rook, waiting for some kind of signal. Thomphson, leaned heavily on his walking staff, knuckles white as he clutched it tightly, his gaze fixed with a peculiar intensity on the crowd, as if to hold their silence. His lined face, still as stone and sent a single message to his people, his children. Cheese could almost hear the ancient mans will as if it was his own, it said "Betray no fear." And the look that he cast cheeses way pushed the hysterical laughter away instantly, the boy felt his spine straighten as he watched.


    In the ring closest to the platform, the ten elders sat in silence, hands resting on their laps. Their eyes darted to one another in a series of flickering glances, their mouths set in grim lines. Some leaned forward, some sat bolt upright, and others clenched the edges of their seats. They were still, yet the tension between them hung thick in the air, each one tense and poised, waiting for a sign or a word as to what to do.


    Cheese sat further back among the town¡¯s masters, his two brothers beside him, both with eyes fixed on the platform, as still as statues even Waff seemed to feel the weight of the moment as the gargantuan man was not even breathing. To Cheese¡¯s left, Vella, the master weaver, sat rigidly, her hands tracing invisible patterns over her knees. Her fingers moved like she was spinning thread out of air, needing something to work, something to control. Further down the row, Halrick, the log rider, clenched his hands in his lap, the faint torchlight casting shadows across his brawny arms, his soot-streaked fingers gripping hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Nearby, Soryn, the herbalist, sat hunched forward, clutching her pouch of herbs with a look of almost feral alertness in her eyes, her head tilted as if she could hear something none of the others did.


    The silence deepened, expanding into the night. The quiet was an almost physical presence, thick enough to choke on. They were all waiting for something¡ªfor words that had not come, for guidance, for a mission, answers. The occasional creak of leather, the shuffle of boots on stone, or the rustle of a cloak in the cool night air felt deafening, magnified by the silence.


    Then, suddenly, a sound broke through¡ªa soft, rhythmic pad of footsteps, far off at first but unmistakable. They grew louder, each step falling with precise, deliberate weight. It was a sound foreign to Timberbrook ears, like footfalls on cobblestone. Few here had even walked a cobble path, let alone heard this noise. Even those who had never heard such a noise before felt a chill race through them at the sound, the unnatural cadence of it setting everyone on edge.


    Rook¡¯s jaw clenched tighter, his eyes narrowing as he stared into the shadows beyond the amphitheater. Beside him, Ibron¡¯s fists clenched, his gaze flicking toward the darkness beyond the torchlight, as if willing the footsteps to reveal themselves. Tomphson remained motionless, though his grip tightened even more on his staff, his frail shoulders somehow exuding a steely resilience.


    Among the elders, every face was turned toward the sound, their grim expressions fracturing as unease broke through their stony calm. The masters around Cheese stilled as well, their fidgeting hands freezing mid-motion. Cheese felt his heart hammering in his chest, each step drawing closer, tightening the tension like a drawn bowstring. They had gathered here expecting an announcement, something to clarify the darkness that had begun to cloud their town. But instead, they were met with silence, and the approaching echo of something unknown.


    Then, like a bowstring snapping against an arm, the tension was suddenly broken as a form materialized before them taking center stage.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Oh and what a form it was, the figure stood eight feet tall and was clad in Dark obsidian armor. Cheese looked at it and felt a oneness with the form. He instinctually knew what it was he was seeing. This WAS void. This creature before him was the embodiment of that darkness that he had recently faced as he warred with himself. As the form swept its view along the people present it spoke out into the crowd saying simply "Am I truly the first? Well. So be it."


    His words were simple, but his message was like Ice through their souls. Every syllable held a weight that threatened to crush those who heard it, and all who heard those words instinctively knew across the planet every single person still living was seeing the same thing. And in their own way they knew who this man was, Dac, Lord of Dread.


    And Cheese knew his voice, it was the voice that had spoken out during his battle with the Nekomata. Cheese wanted to rise, to ask the being before him what was happening, yet he was held in place by a weight. As Cheese struggled to move the figure leveled its gaze on him, and Cheese stopped. He felt... cold. It was as if the mere gaze of this being was the essence of cold, of loss. In that moment Cheese felt his desire to speak be taken away. He simply waited.


    Dac was known to all who went out on dark nights, to all who faced their fears, and to all who felt that lingering doubt in the back of their mind. So, all who were present simply help their tongue and waited for someone else to speak.


    A time passed, and then finally someone spoke out. It was a small voice that squeaked close beside Cheese. "Uhhhhhh, Master Rook, may I speak?" It was Vella, her hands still knitting as she made her request.


    All eyes turned to her, and as Rook nodded his confirmation, she continued. "I believe we may all be seeing the system announcement, but I do not trust my feelings. By a raise of hands, is there anyone who does not see a man in dark armor, casting a magical aura that forces you to cringe?"


    Only one hand went up, and it surprised them all. It was a small child named Rickon at the very rear of the amphitheater, barely four years of age. As he raised his hand, Rook asked him, "Boy, what do you see?"


    The boy shrugged and said, "I see nothing, Master Rook. I feel a feeling I''ve never felt before, like a sickness in my stomach, but I don¡¯t see a man in armor."


    There was murmuring at this, but after a moment, Vella continued. "That tells us much. I cede the floor." She then sat, and silence overcame them. The figure stood before them all, and after a moment, they heard a loud sigh, and he began to speak.


    "Well, I guess it is unsurprising that in this time I may be the strongest of us. I expected Jansriel, or perhaps the Blood Huntress. Yet what do magic and a search for battle hold against human fear, eh? Well. Know that I, too, await the system¡¯s decision on recent matters, children. So do not mind me."


    With that, the God of Dread simply walked down to the amphitheater seats and sat. The elder next to whom he sat, Master Theilen, hurriedly scooted as far away as tradition allowed.


    Over the next twenty minutes, similar scenes played out. Cheese became more confident in his feeling that everyone in the world had these visions. Or perhaps it was more that those in amphitheaters saw these apparitions, as he knew that they were a place rooted in the spiritual. Since the beginning of civilization, such structures had existed, and it appeared they had a purpose beyond the mundane. As the time went on there were moments where those around Cheese had a reaction, but he himself did not see the forms that others saw. Once he felt the reactions of the others, but he himself did not register any being appearing.


    However it appeared not all of the known gods presented themselves. The Church held 23 gods in its pantheon, and other pantheons existed around the world. Yet many were absent, and some who did appear looked diminished.


    In time all of the pantheon who would come were present, and other entities began appearing on the stage. These were accompanied by a system message. These appearances started after the gods descended from the stage, and by that time, the three leaders had joined the elders in the ever-more-crowded Masters¡¯ circle of the amphitheater.


    Presenting: Highest Level Skill Holder


    An elderly man, appearing even older than Thomphson, stood with the title [Human, Teaching: Level 51] above his head. A ripple went through the crowd at this, and even a few gods seemed interested. He was a small man with dark yellow skin and tired eyes. Looking out at the crowd, he spoke.


    "Oh my, it is strange. I can see so many of you, stacked like wheat on a cart. You weave in and out like a basket. May I ask you glorious beings¡ªwhere are we?"


    The first of the Gods stood to answer him. "Greatest of mortals, I am Dac. You are at the original place of gathering. Come, sit among us and see what is to come."


    The old man walked gingerly to the steps and sat a row above the gods. An elder quickly vacated the spot as he approached, and Cheese didn¡¯t doubt the same was happening across the world.


    Several other achievements were presented¡ªeight more in total. They were largely skill-dependent, though one was for the largest number of subjects, held by a king Cheese had never heard of, and another for the largest religion. Surprisingly, this did not go to a god but to an acolyte of Zelphon, God of Wine, who boasted a congregation of 24,000 daily worshippers. The god, a being rounder than a wheel of cheese joyously greeted the drunken acolyte offering him wine and a seat beside him.


    The last achievement appeared. Before Cheese could read it, he felt an uncomfortable pull on his being, not unlike the tug of battle he had felt in recent days.


    The words Presenting: Most Damage Dealt to Invaders: 2,232,424 appeared, and Cheese found himself standing in the center of the amphitheater, millions of eyes on him as he tried to collect himself.

 Ch 6: Those who stand together

    Cheese''s heart hammered as he looked around the amphitheater, the stone walls pressing in on him, the weight of the situation sinking deeper with each passing second. His fingers tightened around the haft of his axe, grounding himself in the only thing he truly understood. It wasn¡¯t long ago that he was just a simple lumberman, his skill level stuck and frustrating. Now, he found himself surrounded by gods and faced with a decision that would shape the future of his world. His people were at risk. The System had changed. And he had no idea what any of it truly meant.


    Dac, god of dread, leaned forward, his shadow stretching over the gathering. His gaze was heavy, full of both curiosity and calculation. "Tell me boy. How did you do it? How did one of your power manage to do so much to the foes at the gates?" he asked, his voice low and deliberate.


    Cheese swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. he felt an intent there, warning him not to voice his connection to Dac, not to say what he felt, that the god must surely know, he had been there. "It.. I''m not sure My father and me both killed the same type of foe, a Nekomata but I was wounded in my battle and... infected."


    Dac hummed thoughtfully, the silence stretching, before another voice interrupted. Jansriel, God of magic and knowledge, spoke with an air of mild curiosity. ¡°And your magic? How was it effected by the creature.¡±


    ¡°Magic?¡± Cheese blinked, baffled. ¡°I am no mage sir; I''ve never used magic.¡±


    Jansriel¡¯s eyes narrowed, but before he could speak further, a new voice cut through the tension¡ªan almost playful tone. The Blood Huntress, goddess of the hunt, tilted her head. ¡°For one so young, you stand on the edge of what we would call the first step. And I feel a desire in you, a hunger tell me boy, what is your name.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s face flushed with embarrassment. ¡°I¡¯m Cheese, just Cheese.¡±


    For a moment there was a disbelieving silence as the gods processed this, and then to cheeses shock the ethereal form of Rook stepped forward, and he began to speak. His words were simple, yet they carried a weight ¡°My son is a man of skill, yet he is humble, if I may¡±


    Cheese let out a deep breath as his father spoke, relieved to have him there, standing beside him. For all the questions and strange gods in the room, his father was the one who truly understood him.


    Dac nodded his agreement, and then suddenly Cheeses father weas there in the flesh. He spoke calmly as he looked at the crowd. ¡°My son recently broke through the wall at level 15. He did so while battling a creature of fire and death. Afterwards its energies invaded him, and he fought off a sickness that killed all other similar cases. He only woke a day ago.¡±


    Cheese was... less than enthused with this characterization of him. What would it do to have the world think of him as this weird super humble standout? But he dared not speak over his father.


    Dac leaned even more forward in his chair as Rook spoke, as did the other gods. Yet it was Jansriel who raised a tentative finger. Rook nodded to him, and the god spoke out slowly.


    ¡°The boy says that he bears no magic, yet I can feel it. His soulspace is singing with power. He holds a lower understanding of concepts that can only be achieved with mana. Is this new?¡±


    Rooks'' lips went to a line as he considered his response. After a time, he seemed to find the proper words and he said ¡°We are not a magical people you must understand. However, from what I know of magic from the Masters guild, understanding at least one is a necessary step to become a master. If that is true, then my son grasped one such concept in his recent fight. What other concepts he grasped I cannot say, yet I know there was rapid growth. Before his sickness he was... a reasonably talented youth who possessed a drive that was almost fanatical. Now he is bordering on surpassing my own mastery of the concept of separation and the axe skill.


    Jansriel seemed quite intrigued but ended his questions there. The next request came from a surprising source, it was the ancient teacher. He tentatively raised his cane, and when Rook nodded the man asked, ¡°This old man humbly requests to know, have you felt it as well, the lifting of the boundary.¡±


    Rook simply nodded, and did not fully respond. This seemed to satisfy the old man who cast him a grateful look. As no more questions came, Rook fell back and let Cheese take point.


    As his father stepped back, Cheese slowly walked over and sank onto a stone bench beside the old man, exhausted. The amphitheater grew quiet. The gods¡¯ eyes began to glow in unison, a pulse of energy filling the air. Then, a voice¡ªdeep, resonant, and all-encompassing¡ªspoke, filling the minds of every being present.


    "Denizens of this world, the time of decision has come."


    "In accordance with the rites of integration Citizens will now have full System access," the voice continued. ¡°Every native to this planet will immediately be granted citizenship. All former restrictions that were emplaced on local creatures during the divine tutorial period will now be reinstated. The system has detected an unsanctioned incursion and has calculated a reward to be given. As 10% of all creatures on your planet were affected there will be one gift given to a citizen level entity as voted on by all planetary citizens. As more than 50 percent of your divine beings have fallen there will be a reward of appropriate strength given to one divine representative.


    Voting on these matters will take place during this assembly of citizens. Every citizen in a designated place of meeting will be able to cast vote. Gods must be physically present in the first place of meeting to vote.


    Additional topics for voting by count are as follows:


    None


    Additional topics for voting by representation are as follows:


    Due to the nature of a decision made by your planet''s divine beings, as well as their lackluster performance during the tutorial and their nonresident status you will be given a vote on the way your planet chooses to engage with the galaxy.


    Option A: Allow your patrons to prove their power, nondivine realms will be given a grace period of 150 years during which time they will not encounter incursions. After which they will be open to unrestricted passage of nonresident beings.


    Option 2: Citizens will stand alongside the world''s divine beings. All citizens will be given the ability to contact the divine beings through prayer and pledge themselves. Pledged citizens will be summoned to defend the world at their god''s behest. Power restrictions will apply to incursions. Gods will be able to summon only citizens that give them their belief, or citizens who''s power they have negotiated access to. Gods will be able to converse at the cost of soul coins with their chosen. Restrictions will apply to gods directly interfering in the mortal realm.


    Option 3: Citizens will usurp the divine beings. Divine beings instantly perish. Their power will add itself to the world. The system will allow limited incursions that will ramp up over 300 years. If at that time, there is no divine council in place then incursions will become unrestricted. If there is at least one pantheon in place, then incursions will be halted, and the world will reenter a tutorial stage.


    Voting on this item will begin now, all beings have 2 hours in which to cast their vote.


    The systems words trailed off and there was silence.


    Cheese¡¯s mind raced, trying to absorb the magnitude of what was happening. A strange, uneasy tension filled the air as the gods, once detached and distant, became much more... mortal. They needed their people. The people did not need them. And yet, the barrier had fallen. The world was exposed to the Outworlds. Time drug on as the Ampitheater filled with a hum of activity, yet no one actually present moved.


    After a time Dac sighed deeply. He slowly stood and walked to the center of the Ampitheater. He looked out over the many Citizens of the planet, and then with a slow hand Dac, God of dread took off his helmet.


    And he looked .... tired. He cast his pale blue eyes across the Ampitheater and spoke slowly as he did. ¡°I do not claim to be any more than what I am. The best of you. I am the same as all here, I trace my line back to Nerg, world of ancients. You likely do not know this, but that is the world from where we all came. Us gods, and your ancestors.¡± As he spoke Cheese found himself assessing the being that so many legends had long spoken of. He was ... just a man. His aura had retracted and now Cheese saw the god for what he was, a tired, haggard man giving a lesson on their shared history.


    ¡°We, the others of this pantheon and me lived there for many lifetimes. After a great vast stretch of time we managed to each individually grasp concepts that shaped us into the forms you see today. The system that was devised by our forefathers calls us Gods, I have always hated that name. We are not gods, we are simply Ideals, concepts, that grabbed onto a mortal soul and allowed it to transcend. Yet our planets pantheon was full, so we were required to go out, to populate this rock at the edge of the galaxy. With us came your ancestors. Men and women who had served us in our mortal lives and wished to continue their adventures alongside us.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    The god froze as if remembering those faces which were now but distant memories. No one interrupted his mourning of those long dead souls, and in time he continued. Cheese was drinking in the words, as he didn''t doubt many others were as well. He leaned forward in his seat. Dac voice had begun to raise as he said ¡°That is who you are, and many of you still revere us. Yet I ask that you understand, we are not gods. We are not almighty beings, we are simply warriors, or jesters, hunters and fools who decided to try to be more than what we were. Upon entering this world, we were separated from you and underwent a sort of trial. It was to teach us of the power we now held. We had very limited ability to view this plane, and only the most revered of us were able to gather the resources to directly effect it. That was over 3000 years ago.¡±


    The last of his words hung on the air as those before him processed his words. So long had these beings endured, so long had they struggled. Few could grasp at the absurdity of that timescale. Yet some, like the teacher, realized how cosmically insignificant it was. 3000 years of strife. In that moment Cheese also connected the dots. These beings had failed to meet the systems expectations in 3000 years, what hope did they have in a paltry 300. Dac said no more as he walked to his seat and sat, leaving the stage open for any to talk.


    Mel, god of war jumped up and strode to the stage. He began as he shook his head. ¡°Your caution is your weakness, Dac. The children need more time. Time to gain skills. Time to grow. We are far from ready to face what comes yet it is our duty, why do you try to convince them to join us. We should take the fore as is our place at the top.¡±


    Dac stood and spoke. ¡°We¡¯ve fought before, and we will fight again. I try to convince no one; I only wish to tell them who they are. I formally vote that the gods take the fore of this battle to come.¡± A single tally formed on the first option in the top right corner of cheese` vision, followed by two more. Cheese instinctually knew them to be the votes of Jansriel and the god of war.


    The god of war nodded and left the stage. It was a tense few minutes before anyone else spoke. The old man slowly rose and walked forward. He turned to the crowd and asked ¡°How, then, can one such as I help? I am beyond my prime. I am an old man, barely a shadow of what I once was.¡±


    It was Jansriel who responded. ¡°With the System integration, you will find new life. No longer bound by the limitations of your age, you will grow younger as the days pass. The System¡¯s power will extend your vitality.¡±


    The god then spoke of the new System. The old limitations were no longer set in stone as the old man had hinted at. Now, with System access, the only limit was ones understanding of concepts, and the 50th rank was not where ones understanding would stop. He also made it clear that to the wider galaxy even a ranking of 30+ in one skill was seen as low for a student to have. One was expected to enter this realm by 40 at the latest. The system had imposed various limiters on them while the gods were in their tutorial so many would rapidly rise as their skills caught up to where their conceptual understanding was, but a true master had 75 points in their skill.


    Quickly a single vote joined the tally for option number two, and then a number of others joined it. In no time the vote was tied, and only Cheese remained. He sat there listening to the gods and humans speak, and he simply could not decide.


    As the gods and men spoke, Cheese¡¯s mind had wandered. The god of dread, his presence dark and unsettling, fixed his gaze on the young man. ¡°Well then, it appears you have the choice.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s brow furrowed, his hands tightening around his axe. ¡°I¡¯m unqualified to make such a decision. I¡¯m just an Axeman,¡± he replied quietly. ¡°It is for the elders to decide. I don¡¯t fear making a decision¡ªI simply know it is not my place.¡±


    The god of dread¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Failure. Is that what you fear?¡± he asked, his tone dark and knowing.


    Cheese met his gaze without flinching. ¡°I have failed in the past. I do not fear my own failure, I shall overcome it. I simply fear the failures of those I do not know.¡± Cheese was shocked by the boldness of his own words, and as he spoke, he cast his eyes were cast at the other gods. They had all lived for so long. They were timeless beings of immense power, and yet he saw a kindred fear there. Not of their own failure, they feared him, and the citizens that they had never even truly met. His gaze fell back on Dac.


    The god¡¯s expression shifted, a glimmer of understanding passing through the dread. ¡°You would vote for it wouldn''t you? If you could you would truly try to usurp us.¡±


    The room was silent. Cheese had known the truth deep in his soul, yet he had not believed the truth of it until it was said to him. He actually believed that they could do better. He reflected on his thoughts, and then spoke ¡°No, I do not wish to usurp you, however I would if the vote allowed it. Because I know that there are those among us that could attain what you attained. I know my people. I know our drive. I know that it would protect our families for all time, so I would bear that burden if it came to it. Yet I must trust you, and therefore I vote to trust you all only as much as necessary the rest we will do ourselves.¡± and with that Cheese choose for them all.


    Result:


    Your representatives have chosen Option 2: Citizens will stand alongside the worlds divine beings. All citizens will be given the ability to contact the divine beings through prayer and pledge themselves to their cause. Pledged citizens will be available to be summoned to defend the world at their god''s behest. Power restrictions will apply to incursions. Gods will be able to summon only citizens that give them their belief, or citizens who''s power they have negotiated access to.


    New quest activated: Clear out the riffraff


    Some 30,000 entities non-native to this planet have latched onto your world. Clear them out by any means necessary.


    This quest is retroactive. All previous kills are entered into the calculations. Currently there are 12,324 invasive beings'' remaining.


    You have 14 days to clear these beings out and complete the quest. Divine transportation will be unavailable for this time. All citizens who wish will be given an indicator that will point them to the nearest invader.


    In 14 days the first incursions will be made into your world, they will last for 14 days. Incursion level will be limited to legendary rarity creatures and Grandmaster ranked invaders.


    Cheese took in yet more information and then cast his view to Dac. The Gods helmet was still off. He looked even older than he had speaking, as if the vote had deflated him. Rook nudged his son and said ¡°Well, We have work to do boy.¡±


    Cheese nodded at his father and then considered what was to happen next. The system chimed as he thought


    Next vote:


    Every citizen will get one vote, you are to determine a champion, who will lead you. This being will receive a system granted boon appropriate to their powers. You have 3 minutes to decide.


    ¡°Three minutes?¡± Asked cheese. ¡°Why so little time?


    Yet as he spoke he understood. The system believed it knew who would be chosen already. The king of that far away people stood and then addressed the masses saying. ¡°I Legate Dominic Halrix beseech you, please my loyal subjects, and those in the sister kingdom of Alr. Vote for me. Long has there been strife on our continent, yet you all know I have always led from the front. Three weeks ago I was simply a Legate, and yet now I am a Cesar, with this power I would be able to continue in these new times of strife and I swear I shall protect you. ¡±


    As he finished speaking over 25% of the votes were quickly cast. Rook leaned to the right, as if listening to an unseen voice and then cast Cheese a glance. With a frown the old man stood and walked to the fore of the Ampitheater. He spoke out as all listened. ¡°I would like to express my support for this man. I do not know him, but he is positioned to help clear the most foes for us. As are his people. If there was another king here I would vote for them, yet I cannot. He is what the system has given us, and he leads the most people on this planet, therefore I cast my vote for Legate Dominic Halrix.¡±


    No one else stood, no words were exchanged, and at the close of the three minutes only 75% of those who were able to voted. The result was overwhelmingly in favor of the Legate.


    Result:


    You have voted for King Dominic the Bull of Chaia. He will be granted a boon befitting his traits and needs.


    A king deserves a crown, the king will be given the following item


    Crown of Belief (Legendary): As your people''s faith in you grows, so does your realm of influence, and your burden. Further details are hidden to all but the owner


    New vote:


    The gods must choose a being as champion. Time allotted 24 hours. Each god will be given a single vote, each god will be given votes in proportion with their tutorial ranking. Each god will be given votes in proportion with their devotees and prayer counts. Gods may purchase votes with faith coins.


    Unlike the earlier debate this one was all chaos. Instantly Jansriel stood and screamed out ¡°What drivel is this, votes can be bought with faith coins? The absurdity.


    Many parroted the gods'' words. It appeared that not all gods held these coins. Or at least some held far more than others.


    As they all spoke out Dac stood, and then walked to the fore. He was accompanied by a small blonde god who had spoken little during the procession. Cheese knew her as Damiel, goddess of hearth and home. Dac looked out at his fellow divine beings and said ¡°Many of you know that if we wished it me and Damiel could win the vote. The confluence of faith coins that came during these past few days was enough to ensure that. Yet I do not wish to go that route. Additionally, why would we gain a boon for ourselves? Therefore, I ask you to cast and confirm for the mortal¡±


    His eyes bore down on Cheese, and then suddenly the system announced


    Results:


    The gods have chosen to gift the mortal realm with their power. Their champion will be given a boon in their stead.


    Cheese felt his skin begin to burn, and as he was teleported to the center of the stage he began screaming and writhing from the pain in his back and arms as the system spoke on.


    Due to this beings'' recent interactions with divine entities and rapid rise in power he will be given the following boon.


    Brand of the rising Heretic (Divine): As your faith is shaken, so are your shackles dashed. You are unable to be bound to any divine entities power well. You can accumulate soul coins and faith coins. You gain access to a heightened version of the system shop (Divine Circle 1). Access to unique quests. You gain access to the Deity Pannel (Limited).


    Cheese stopped his screaming as the soul deep burn lessened. He could feel the marks on his body healing themselves as smoke rose from his form. Yet as he quieted the system continued.


    Unrestricted system access is now granted. Thank you for your time and patience. This concludes the first Planetary assembly.


    And then cheese and his father found themselves back at Timberbrooks Ampitheater, surrounded by the silent gazes of their people.

 CH 7: What the Hecks a skill menu

    The amphitheater was still, a blanket of silence settling over the crowd as Elder Tompson and Ibron moved slowly down the aisle, their heads bent in private conversation with Rook at the front. Cheese took the moment to open his newly updated System Menu, hoping to make sense of all it revealed.


    <hr>


    Name: Cheese


    Age: 29


    Soul Coins (SC): 1


    Faith Coins (FC): 12 ? 13 ? 14


    Displayed Title: Branded Heretic (Locked)


    Displayed Skill: Apprentice [Axe 29]


    Quest Rewards: None


    Quests:


    Clear Out the Riffraff ¨C 12,324 / 30,126 invaders remaining


    Closest invader is 1.23 kilometers to the north-northeast.


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>[Axe 29 Common]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Manipulation 23 Rare]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Resistance 13 Legendary]</li>


    <li>[Cooking 11 Common]</li>


    <li>[Climbing 10 Common]


    ...</li>


    </ul>


    Abilities:


    <ul>


    <li>[Cleave 11 Rare]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Binding 1 unique]</li>


    </ul>


    Cheese scrolled through the skills and abilities list, noticing each entry¡¯s unique classification. No extra information or skill descriptions were available, but he felt he knew each ability well enough to make use of them. Shifting to the Shop tab, he noted that items could be bought with either Faith Coins or Soul Coins. His Faith Coin count had slowed after an initial surge, now ticking up by about one coin per minute, resting at 32 for now.


    In the Shop, only eleven items were unlocked¡ªall Divine Message Scrolls, each priced at a single Faith Coin. He hesitated, considering the purchase but decided to explore another option. Moving on to the Divine menu, he saw an entry for his standing with the gods:


    <hr>


    Pantheon: Heretical Usurpers


    Deity Rank: 1/1


    Planetary Rank: 4th among all planetary pantheons


    Available Divine Actions: None


    <hr>


    The menu was... underwhelming. Its starkness left him pondering; he might need to make contact with one of the gods and get some answers. After a time, he managed to flit through his abilities and skills and came to a few conclusions.


    The skills seemed to have a rarity, and a ranking. That ranking was determined by the level, which was also shown, whereas Cheese was unsure what determined the Rarity. He was able to piece together that the skills were ranked Novice, then Apprentice. As he asked about, he discovered that a few had passed the barrier at 30 including his mother. She had gained a level 32 skill in cooking and was a Journeyman. Cheese wondered to himself what the next level was and concluded that it must be past the barrier at 50. Sadly, the old man who had broken that barrier was not here to ask, so Cheese was forced to leave the question of what was past the barrier at 50 unanswered for now. However, due to the gods'' conversations he knew that the barrier at 75 was the one to mastery, so Cheese was left with this incomplete understanding of skills.


    Level 0-15 Novice


    Level 15-29 Apprentice


    Level 30-50 Journeyman


    Level 50-75 Unknown


    Level 75-Unknown Master


    Cheese was inclined to assume that the levels capped at 100, but he had no basis for that. Also, he did not know if master was the highest ranking of the skill. He simply didn''t have any information on the topic.


    Before he could worry on the matter more, Cheese realized the elders seemed to have concluded their discussion.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Rook took center stage, as was his custom, his voice steady as he addressed the crowd. ¡°I have spoken with the new king,¡± he announced, his words prompting hushed murmurs to ripple through the assembly. ¡°Prince Aleon has taken the mantle, and his orders are clear. We are to reclaim the port of Fairhaven in the coming weeks and rid our lands of invaders. He will be moving in our direction after they meet with other forces. Are there any questions?¡±


    Rook¡¯s gaze swept over the gathered townsfolk, but no one dared speak up. Satisfied, he nodded. ¡°Very well, let it be so. We¡¯ll rest for eight hours, then gather our things. Tomorrow night, we march. Once we reach Fairhaven, we¡¯ll set up and begin ferrying supplies. I¡¯ll remain here if anyone wishes to speak with me.¡±


    With Rook¡¯s command, the people of Timberbrook moved quickly. Though not a town of soldiers, the people were accustomed to hard work and discipline. A tide of purposeful movement swept out of the amphitheater as villagers made their way back to prepare, each eager to contribute as best they could.


    Cheese, however, felt a strange draining sensation as he walked with his family back toward his small, weathered hovel. His heart wrestled with all that had happened¡ªonly days ago, he¡¯d stood before beings of divine power, and now he found himself here, at home, in a town forever changed and soon to be abandoned. Yet he was not scared.... he was excited.


    It was true, the Heretical usurper title rocked him, but besides that he had few qualms, a new path was open, and he finally felt as if he was growing.


    <hr>


    Cheese woke while it was still dark. That surprised him, he had hardly slept yet he felt refreshed. As he sat up, he skipped the customary lethargy and then thought for a moment on how strange that was. He walked outside and saw his lovely hens clucking away in the morning. He went about his normal schedule and began slowly making arrangements for his breakfast. Cheese had been away, but his friend had kept the hovel stocked and the chickens fed, so he ate a small meal of meat and eggs with wine, then he began preparing like the elders had told them. He packed his things neatly in a logger''s ruck, a thick backpack made of leather.


    Cheese opened his ruck, placing each piece of gear carefully inside. There wasn¡¯t much to take, but he packed his essentials with methodical care: a sturdy bedroll, dried provisions, a flask, and a few tools. His hand hovered over the spot where his axe should be, only to remember he¡¯d stored it using his ability the night before. Cheese took a breath and focused on his core, summoning the blade using <b>[Spiritual Binding].</b>


    Taking a deep breath, he focused on summoning it. A strange, tingling sensation sparked in his chest as he reached out to the weapon, willing it to his hand. At first, nothing happened. He furrowed his brow, concentrating harder, until suddenly the axe was there¡ªsolid, tangible, and almost warm in his grip. The Susine wood haft felt steady in his hand, the runes faintly glowing in the dim light. He gave it a few test swings, admiring the balance.


    He then focused again, thinking only of storing it like he had last night. The axe shimmered slightly, then faded from view, returning to the void of his spiritual space. It was far easier to store the blade than it was to manifest it, and Cheese had found that he could only do this with the axe. After a few more tries, the summoning felt easier, more natural. A grin broke over his face as he muttered to himself, "That fight with the Nekomata was almost worth it just to get this skill."


    Satisfied, he headed outside to his hens, tossing them feed and filling their troughs generously. "This should last you all a few weeks, ladies," he said softly, watching them peck at the ground. He would miss their morning clucks, but Timberbrook would change drastically by the time he returned¡ªif he returned at all.


    From his storeroom, he selected the best of his food: dried meats, cheeses, and hard biscuits. He bundled everything neatly and made his way to the mill, where he loaded the provisions into the family¡¯s old wagon. The streets were empty and unnaturally silent as he walked, his footfalls echoing off the shuttered homes and deserted storefronts. He¡¯d woken before the others, and Timberbrook lay in a pre-dawn hush, as though holding its breath.


    Just as he finished loading the wagon, he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Rook standing nearby, arms crossed, watching him with a quiet pride in his eyes.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you up already,¡± Cheese said, nodding to him. ¡°Everything from last night still on your mind?¡±


    Rook nodded. ¡°That meeting¡­ it marks a new chapter for our people. This System announcement has stirred things up. People are restless, unsure, but you¡ª¡± he paused, his gaze sharpening as he studied Cheese, ¡°seem almost eager.¡±


    Cheese chuckled. ¡°I am. It¡¯s strange, but I feel like I finally have a purpose. I know it¡¯ll be dangerous, but¡­ I¡¯m excited to see where it takes me.¡±


    Rook¡¯s expression softened. ¡°Then I have something I¡¯d like you to do, son.¡± He gestured to the supplies in the wagon. ¡°We will march for Fairhaven, yet I ask that you lead your bothers and take out those invaders. If it''s the giants simply fall back, but if you can I want you to take whatever you find down. Don''t take risks and then come home to me.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°You want me to lead them? Really?¡±


    Rook nodded. ¡°This isn¡¯t the world we knew. I need men I can count on, and I know you¡¯re ready. Will you do this for me son?¡±


    A wave of determination filled Cheese, settling into a steady resolve. He straightened, nodding back. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    Rook clapped him on the shoulder, and with a nod, he turned to leave, disappearing back into the silent streets. Cheese stood there a moment longer, watching his father¡¯s figure fade into the dawn mist. Then, with a steadying breath, he prepared to meet whatever came next.

 Ch 7.1: Making Good Speed

    Traveling with his brothers was¡­ less than ideal.


    Char had brought his wolves, and Cheese was startled to see how the pack had grown over the years. Once a modest group, the family now numbered twelve¡ªeach wolf with a lean, feral look that told of a life lived on the edges of civilization. Char had tamed these beasts and, as Cheese noted the glowing tag above his brother¡¯s head¡ª [Leadership Uncommon 22]¡ªhe understood how. Char led with an almost magnetic presence, one that commanded respect from the wolves as they loped beside them through the swaying plains grass.


    They often stopped as the three of them ran so that Char could sniff the air, or howl to his pack who were in a loose formation around the three. That was how they moved in relative safety, the pack acting as an alert and a barrier to anything trying to come at them. It also helped that they were running through the relatively barren plains and farmland that expanded northward to the mountains and then the coast of the island.


    The brothers kept a steady trot as they cut a path northward. It left them time to talk.


    "How is the life been treating you" Cheese asked the larger Waff. His brother had for some years been a feller, and life out in the mountains with nothing save an axe and yourself for company could drive a man to madness.


    The fields around them were broad and golden, stretching out in endless waves under the early morning light, and Cheese directed his attention to them while he waited for the answer that he knew would be slow to come. Yet come it did.


    "It is good. I have had success, and I enjoy the life. I will miss it."


    Cheese let the conversation lapse as they ran through the wild grasses, dusted with dew which caught the light and shimmered faintly. Each step rustled wet stalks, filling the quiet with the soft, rhythmic sounds of travel. Every so often, they would catch sight of a lone tree or a distant stream, but for the most part, it was plains as far as the eye could see, with the coast a gray line on the horizon.


    Cheese was happy, truly. He tried to talk to Char, but there was a melancholy there that he was beginning to place. His brother''s god had likely fallen, whatever that meant. Cheese was unsure of what he could do, so he remained quiet on the topic. Thus, a day passed in relative calm. They ran for seven hours, then at noon stopped for water and food. The wolves hunted a few rabbits, and the men circled up and ate. Well Cheese and Waff did, Char hunted with the pack, and once they had caught their fill he ate with the wolves. It was weird to watch, but his bothers had gotten used to such things from the man over the years.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Then they ran five more hours, and at night they slept on simple bedrolls made of a thick cloth that was rolled many times.


    Not Char, he slept with the wolves. Cheese supposed that was likely more comfortable than their arrangements.


    On the morning of the next day cheese was met with a start as he glanced at his System Menu. in the corner of the menu their quest displayed a helpful arrow pointing them forward, that was how they had been tracking the Giants. However, the numbers didn¡¯t seem to add up with what had been shown the previous day. They had expected to close in on their target within an hour or so of waking, but the distance meter was far from what it had been the night before. Their new indicator was pointing directly to the east, and slightly south, not to the north as it had been the day before.


    Char called a halt, his gaze shifting to Cheese with a raised brow. ¡°We lost it. Whatever it was. Perhaps someone else found our quarry,¡± he said, sounding only slightly perturbed. ¡°Guess we¡¯re chasing something else now.¡±


    Cheese nodded, looking to his other brother, Waff. Waff, the largest of the three, barely looked tired; his chest rose and fell evenly, and his powerful frame showed no sign of fatigue. They¡¯d covered a grueling stretch the day before, yet both Char and Waff seemed as fresh as if they¡¯d just begun. Cheese felt his own pulse, and it was steady. He realized he was equally unruffled after the previous day, his breath as even as theirs. Cheese packed his things and then stood.


    With a simple nod, he motioned to set out, and their group began its brisk pace, moving ever eastward. The plains began to thin as they traveled, giving way to coastal bluffs and the deep scent of salt on the breeze. They were nearing the ocean, and along this coast ran peaks of ancient mountains. Cheese did some mental math and realized that their quarry was likely headed in that direction, north into the mountains. When he thought of that he knew what they would find.


    The trees began to thicken, and in time they exited the plains fully. The brothers instead found themselves in a young forest. They picked through the brush for a half hour and then they saw it. It was as their father had warned, a Giant. It was one of the smaller creatures, yet it still stood some five meters tall. Above its head read [Hill Giant: Journeyman Tier]


    Cheese frowned at this. They were still a half a kilometer out, yet the giant was readily apparent. The reason was that it was walking through a line of many trees that had simply been crushed underfoot. Not by him, but by something far larger.


    Cheese looked to his left and his right and sent his brothers a signal, they spread out and as one began stalking their prey.

 Ch 8: Giants

    The brothers spread out wide as they approached the giant. It was a tall, fat creature; its girth made it waddle as it walked, slowly stepping back and forth. As they closed the distance, Cheese had to stifle a groan at the rancid smell wafting from the creature.


    They halted as they approached the being. The wolves, already circling the giant, had cut off its escape. Finally, the creature seemed to notice them. Leaning over, it ripped a thick branch from a fallen tree trunk and let out a deafening bellow:


    "ARRRRRRRRRRGH!"


    The giant''s roar echoed through the forest, shaking the underbrush and sending birds flapping into the twilight sky. Now that it faced them cheese saw it was a grotesque thing, a mass of coarse, leathery flesh mottled with patches of pale white and sickly gray. Its face was an awful mask of sagging jowls and it had a bulbous, broken nose, its red eyes set deep beneath a heavy brow. Yellowed teeth, chipped and uneven, jutted from its wide mouth like crooked gravestones. Dirty, matted hair clung to its misshapen skull in tangled ropes, and a foul stench of sweat, rot, and damp earth rolled off it in nauseating waves. It yelled something in a language cheese couldn''t understand.


    The plan was simple, one they had used many times before on smaller prey¡ªbison and boar, moose and bears. Of course, "smaller" was relative in this situation.


    To Cheese¡¯s right, Waff had just finished untying a bundle of javelins. The large man hefted one and hurled it at the giant. Meanwhile, Cheese stood his ground, yelling obscenities at the creature in an attempt to intimidate it. They wished to cow it while it stayed back and got pelted, yet that was not in the cards.


    Cheese kept his eyes on the creature''s tree-branch club, now swinging back and forth like a pendulum in its meaty hands. It wasn¡¯t just the size of the thing that was terrifying, though that alone could crush a man to paste. It was the weight behind the swing, the pure, brutal strength it must take to wield it so effortlessly.


    "Move!" Cheese barked as the giant¡¯s piggish eyes locked on them.


    The creature charged, its uneven gait turning into a thunderous advance. The ground quaked under its bulk, and the sound of snapping branches and squelching mud followed each step. Waff veered to the right, his javelins rattling as he bolted into the denser woods. Char darted left, disappearing into the shadows of the underbrush. Cheese gritted his teeth and scrambled backward toward the clearer ground behind him, his boots skidding on loose dirt.


    From his left, Char¡¯s voice rang out, sharp and taunting. "Hey, fatso! Over here!" He waved his arms, drawing the giant¡¯s gaze.


    From the right came the hiss of another javelin slicing through the air. Waff had already found his rhythm, his broad shoulders flexing as he sent the spear hurtling toward the giant¡¯s flank. The weapon struck with a dull thunk, embedding itself just above the creature¡¯s knee. The giant staggered, letting out another enraged bellow, but it didn¡¯t slow. As the brothers hit the creature they dodged in and out of the trees, finally it reasserted its vision on Cheese who was still standing in the open, it charged and Cheese who had stopped to watch turned and fled in full.


    The wolves howled. Their eerie cries sent a shiver up Cheese''s spine, but they held their distance, weaving in and out of the trees as if testing the edges of the battle.


    "Focus," Cheese muttered to himself, gripping the haft of his magical axe. The runes glimmered faintly in the dim light, as though they shared his apprehension.


    His breaths came fast but steady as he widened the distance between him and the giant. This was no clumsy animal like a boar or a bull. Its movements, though ponderous, had a cruel intent behind them.


    Cheese¡¯s heart pounded in his chest as he ran full sprint away from the Giant. The space they were slowly entering gave cheese room to maneuver, but it also meant the giant would have fewer obstacles slowing it down. He couldn''t let it close the gap.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Cheese continued his run until finally he was out of the trees and in the grassland fully. This was important as he had already seen the creature grasp at one of those large branches and wield it like a club. As he came into the grass and darted forward 40 meters cheese cast a glance back. The giant was some twenty meters behind him and surrounded by the wolves and his brothers. It had two large javelins in its back, and one in its leg, yet the giant seemed to hardly notice the sticks as it sighted Cheese. Its breaths came in large, ragged heaves as a putrid ungodly smell was sent from it to Cheese.


    Suddenly the giant¡¯s guttural roar tore through the clearing as it barreled toward Cheese, its tree-branch club raised high. The earth seemed to shudder beneath its pounding steps, and the fetid air around it made Cheese¡¯s stomach churn. He steadied his breathing, gripping his axe tightly as the creature closed in.


    To the giants back, Char suddenly stopped moving and raised his hands, muttering under his breath. A sickly green glow flickered between his fingers before he thrust his palms forward, shouting an incantation that made the air ripple unnaturally. Cheese was shocked, they had not talked about this happening, and he had never seen his brother exhibit this type of skill.


    The effect was immediate and bizarre. The giant¡¯s wineskin, dangling from its crude loincloth, bulged and burst with a wet pop. The spilled liquid shimmered, twisting unnaturally before coalescing into writhing green vines. They lashed upward, curling around the giant¡¯s legs and torso, squeezing tightly as though alive.


    With a guttural snarl, the giant flexed its massive arms and tore the vines apart as if they were nothing more than cobwebs. The green magic dissolved into mist as the creature let out another earth-shaking roar, its eyes now blazing with fury.


    "Shit" Cheese yelled, as he saw his brother was retreating further into the trees, his face pale with exertion.


    Well, that was bad. However he had stopped the charge, and now grabbing the momentum Waff hurled a large rock at the giant, his powerful arm sending the stone streaking through the air. It struck the giant square in the shoulder, pounding hard onto the thick muscles. The creature stumbled but didn¡¯t fall, instead turning its bloodshot eyes toward Waff.


    Before it could pursue, the wolves struck. Their howls turned to snarls as they darted in from the sides, teeth snapping at the giant¡¯s ankles and calves. One managed to latch onto its heel, tearing through the thick skin and drawing dark, oozing blood. Another wolf leaped for the giant¡¯s thigh, only to be swatted away mid-air by its club. The poor creature yelped as it tumbled across the ground, but the pack kept up their assault, circling and nipping with relentless ferocity.


    Cheese seized the opening. He hefted his axe, the engraved runes along its Susine haft glimmering faintly, and hurled it with all his strength.


    The axe spun through the air in a deadly arc, the blade biting deep into the giant¡¯s side with a sickening thunk. It bellowed again, swinging wildly at the wolves as it staggered. Cheese extended his hand, and with a whispered command, the axe vanished in a flash of light, reappearing instantly in his grip.


    He threw it again.


    The axe struck true, this time embedding in the giant¡¯s thick forearm as it tried to shield itself. Blood spattered the ground, and the creature¡¯s bellows turned to pained, guttural grunts. Cheese was amazed as the Axe seemed to cut through the bone and muscle like butter. The runes had begun to glow a deep red as they continued their assault on the being.


    Cheese¡¯s arms burned with the effort of hurling and recalling the weapon, but he didn¡¯t stop. Each throw had to count; each strike had to slow the monster down just a little more.


    ¡°Keep at it!¡± Waff¡¯s deep voice boomed from the right as he charged back into the fray, now wielding a long hunting knife.


    The giant roared again, its furious bellows echoing through the forest as it lashed out at everything around it¡ªwolves, men, and trees alike. But it was bleeding now, its movements growing slower and more erratic.


    As he repeated his assault his brother closed and stabbed the hunting knife into the back of the large creature, however the knife was stopped a few inches into the creatures back, not being able to go deep enough to hit a vital spot. The giant threw an elbow back and caught Waff in the side of the head flinging him away.


    Cheese had a moment of panic, but Waff stood quickly and fell back.


    As he threw his axe one more time the giant let out a vicious howl and leaned back, the axe sunk deep into its neck, and then suddenly it was over. Cheese was greeted with a *Ping* and an ability


    [Throw (3) Common]


    His brothers slowly circled the beast and then walked around to cheese. As they took stock cheese realized that two wolves had died and one seemed greatly injured. He locked eyes with Char and saw exhaustion plain on his brothers face.


    "Shit" said Waff interrupting Cheese` thoughts. "Weve got to move." Cheese cast him a curious glance and then saw that his indicator in the top of his vision was rapidly counting down. An invader was coming to them.

 Ch 9: Intervention

    They broke into a sprint, abandoning the steady trot of earlier. Now, their strides were desperate and wild, pounding against the earth as though outrunning the end of the world itself. The wolves kept pace, their long legs propelling them effortlessly alongside the brothers.


    Because to the brothers, the world was crashing down.


    The first sign of pursuit came less than an hour later¡ªa deep, booming vibration that shook the ground. Each footfall of the giants reverberated through the earth, rattling their bones. The brothers stumbled, but the quake did not abate. Then came the voices¡ªinhuman, mournful, and impossibly loud.


    ¡°NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!¡±


    The sound carried across the forest, twisting the air with grief and rage. A pounding followed, but it wasn¡¯t the pounding of footsteps. It was a primal rhythm, a drumbeat of the earth itself, a manifestation of the giants¡¯ fury and mourning. The ground undulated, making every step treacherous. Cheese tripped and fell more than once, his hands and knees scraped raw.


    Then, abruptly, the pounding ceased. The forest fell silent, save for the brothers¡¯ ragged breaths and the faint rustle of retreating wolves. Char raised a hand, motioning the pack eastward with a sharp whistle and a low howl. The wolves veered off, disappearing into the underbrush. As they fled cheese kept an eye on the indicator, they were slowly losing ground.


    ¡°They¡¯re still hunting us,¡± Cheese muttered. ¡°And we cant take them to Fairhaven, the village cannot stand against this foe.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Waff gasped, his chest heaving, ¡°does anyone have a plan? Because I think we¡¯ve really pissed them off.¡±


    Cheese had been wracking his brain, but nothing came to mind. It was Char who finally spoke. ¡°I think that was their child.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Cheese said, incredulous. ¡°Why would you think that?¡±


    Char gulped down air before answering. ¡°Because it was small.¡±


    ¡°Small?¡± Waff barked, glaring at his brother. ¡°That thing was twice my size! It was bigger than a bear. Small, my ass!¡±


    ¡°Smaller than expected,¡± Char clarified, his tone calm despite the tension. ¡°The reports said hill giants are ten meters tall. That one was five. And it died too easily. If I had to guess, it was young. If we killed their young that would explain the rage... and the earthquakes.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of magic,¡± Cheese interjected, his voice raised over the pounding of their feet, ¡°What was with the vines? Since when do you have secret powers?¡±


    Char shot him a sharp look. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. What right does a woodsman have to a magical teleporting axe? And one that cuts through giants like butter?¡±


    Cheese hesitated, uneasy under his brother¡¯s gaze. ¡°Dad gave it to me,¡± he admitted. ¡°It negates magic. But when I use it... I can feel it. It¡¯s strange.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, both of you!¡± Waff snapped, skidding to a halt. He turned to face his brothers, his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. ¡°How in the hells are we getting out of this?¡±


    Cheese shook his head, frustrated. ¡°They¡¯re tracking us somehow. I¡¯ve shifted directions twice, and they¡¯re still on us.¡±


    Char frowned, his expression grim. ¡°It¡¯s magic,¡± he said finally. ¡°We¡¯ll have to fight them. I sent the wolves to Dad, but it¡¯s just the three of us now.¡±


    Waff grinned, despite the gravity of the situation. ¡°Then here¡¯s the deal. Whoever doesn¡¯t get a kill tonight makes dinner.¡±


    Cheese snorted, unable to help the wry smile spreading across his face. He turned and began jogging toward Timberbrook. ¡°Two kilometers to go,¡± he called back. ¡°Let¡¯s make them work for it.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    <hr>


    <u>The Throne of Dac </u>


    Dac lounged on his crystal throne in a room that had no lighting save the screen above him, a glass of wine in hand as he watched the unfolding scene hanging before him. The massive display, a relic of the old world, broadcasted the mortals struggles in vivid clarity as he stood alone against the threat.


    Jansriel, the god of knowledge and magic, entered the chamber and raised an eyebrow at the outdated technology. ¡°Still clinging to that thing? A scrying orb would do the job better.¡±


    Dac smirked, waving his friend to a nearby chair. ¡°It¡¯s not about function. It¡¯s about nostalgia. And no, I¡¯m not getting rid of it.¡±


    Jansriel took his seat, his gaze shifting to the screen. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll make it?¡±


    ¡°Fools, the lot of them,¡± Dac muttered, sipping his wine. ¡°But we¡¯ve learned something from their stupidity, haven¡¯t we?¡±


    Jansriel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. ¡°Indeed. The invaders have a quest. And that woodsman... he¡¯s something else.¡±


    <hr>


    <u>Timberbrook </u>


    Five hours later Cheese saw them. He had never seen anything so massive. The two giants dwarfed anything he¡¯d encountered before. The male stood taller than the female, his presence oppressive and commanding. Their names hovered above them in ominous red text:


    [Hill Giant Matron: Expert]


    [Mountain Father: Incursion Leader]


    The plan had been simple¡ªlure the giants to the mill, force them through the deep water, and for Cheese to distract them while his brothers pelted them from afar, what they hadn¡¯t anticipated was the giants stepping across the water as if it were a mere puddle.


    The Mountain Father spotted Cheese almost immediately, his heavy brow furrowing. With a single stride, he crossed the river and loomed over the woodsman.


    ¡°Human,¡± the giant boomed, his voice a crushing weight. ¡°Where is your army?¡±


    Cheese swallowed hard, his mind racing. ¡°I have no army,¡± he shouted back.


    The Mountain Father lowered himself onto a massive log, the earth groaning beneath his weight. The movement threw Cheese off his feet.


    ¡°I must say,¡± the giant rumbled, ¡°never have I seen one such as you. To kill giant-kin so brazenly... tell me, did you do it alone?¡±


    Cheese hesitated before answering, ¡°No. My pack and I hunted your kin.¡± As he spoke his mind was whirling, and Cheese began to form a rudimentary plan, he needed his brothers to be on the same page, but he trusted them to think of it as well. As long as they weren''t sitting there pissing themselves like he was.


    The giant¡¯s laughter rolled like thunder. ¡°No kin of mine,¡± he corrected. ¡°The hill-borne are hers,¡± he said, gesturing toward the female, who lay on her back, her belly exposed to the sky. ¡°You killed her child. She wishes to eat you. I wished to speak first.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s thoughts churned as he looked back toward Timberbrook. He saw in the distance a thin tendril of smoke rising into the sky. Cheese knew it for what it was, and he let out a smile. A signal from his brothers, they seemed to be on the same page as him. He turned back to the behemoth and let out a laugh.


    ¡°I am not one to die willingly, friend,¡± Cheese said boldly, the smile full on his face as he summoned his axe. ¡°Tell her if she catches me, she may try. But I do not intend to fall so easily¡±


    With that, he hurled the axe. The weapon soared impossibly far in a long arc, yet Cheese did not see it. Without hesitation, he had turned and sprinted through the mills gate, out into the streets of Timberbrook.


    Yet Cheese knew that the blow had hit, for the giant let out an agonizing roar. A moment later Cheese felt a surge of energy as he tried to return his Axe to his hand, and he was surprised to find that he could not. Cheese strained against this force with his mind, and after a moment the Axe snapped back to him.


    <hr>


    <u>Throne of Dac</u>


    In the throne room, time stood still. The golden light of the divine halls seemed dimmer, as though the very fabric of the space hesitated to witness what was about to occur. The screen before Dac flickered faintly, the image frozen mid-action: Cheese, his axe mid-flight, the look of determined defiance etched onto his face as he fled through the street.


    Jansriel leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes scanning the scene. ¡°Will one such as he repay the favor?¡± he asked, his voice low and pensive.


    Dac¡¯s fingers drummed on the armrest of his throne, his dark eyes locked on the screen. ¡°Repayment?¡± he repeated, his tone distant. ¡°That¡¯s not why we do this.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Jansriel pressed, leaning forward now. ¡°This¡­ glitch, as you call it, is no small thing. The System does not abide interference lightly. What you¡¯re about to do will have consequences. Backlash.¡±


    Dax nodded. Then without speaking he willed his menu to flit over to the [Divine] Tab. He studied the menu and then siphoned off a portion of his power into an ability. He selected it from his menu. The "Donate" skill sucked on his power greedily, and the god found his vision narrowing, systems notifications piled on as his mind tried to process what was happening.


    Beside him Jansriel was thrown back, as the power of one who was so much stronger than him was simply too much to bear. After a moment Jansriel stood, a large slash across his chest billowing light and mana into the environment. The man frowned as he stepped forward and looked at Dac, who was curled into a ball of chaotic mana.


    Jansriel let out a sigh, and then turned his attention back to the mortals, to see if their risk would pay off.

 Ch 10: The Mountain King

    Cheese made it only a few more paces before the blast hit him. It bellowed out from the far side of the river, expanding outward in a wave of necrotic force that decimated the walls of the Mill.


    Cheese was sent hurtled through the air, the force of the blast slamming into him like an unrelenting battering ram. The impact sent him careening through the first hovel in front of him, splintering wood and shattering stone in a cacophony of destruction. He tumbled through walls, each collision sending shockwaves of pain through his body, though the adrenaline coursing through his veins dulled its sharp edges. Eith every impact Cheese felt somthing exit his core and protect him.


    Then he flew through another, and another as he flipped and turned about. Each impact slowed him until his chaotic flight was ended abruptly. Cheese crashed face-first into the dirt, something massive and oppressively heavy pinning him to the ground.


    Gritting his teeth, he planted his hands in the earth and pushed, every muscle straining as he forced the weight off his back. A jagged section of a bedframe slid off of him with a sickening crunch, collapsing into a heap beside him and raising a choking cloud of dust.


    "CHEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAT!" came a roar from behind him. The voice vibrated his very skin as it resonated with the air.


    Cheese staggered to his feet, his legs trembling but unbroken. That in and of itself was astounding yet he could feel his energy had been depleted, his core was as empty as a void and Cheese felt a hunger there just out of his grasp. Cheese looked back and saw the giant figure was raising his hands to the sky in protest as he yelled at the gods themselves for interfering.


    Cheese began to run, and after a moment the vibrations of the giant''s colossal steps began reverberating through the ground as he gave chase. Each step was like an ominous drumbeat heralding doom. Cheese bounded forward, trying to orient himself.


    As he bounded through the debris and destroyed houses from the earlier blast, he heard the giant yell out again ¡°Where are you human, where are you cheat, abomination of all that is right. I will find you and I will grind you into a paste!¡±


    Every word chilled his bones as Cheese darted in between hovels. After a moment he heard the giant scream in rage, and then the beast began kicking the small homes as he searched for the young warrior.


    It took less than ten seconds for the giant to destroy the twenty or so hovels in his area, and then Cheese felt the mammoths vision fall on him as he darted towards the center of the village.


    ¡°There you are¡± came the voice. Three rumbling steps followed as the giant came closer. The monstrous footsteps grew closer. And at the last moment a notification pinged loudly, and Cheese` vision was obscured.


    Divine Form Activated:


    Burn Faith and inhabit a Divine Form.


    Cheese stumbled as he minimized it, and after a moment he felt a flush of warmth on his skin. Then before he could think about this new skill, a massive foot whooshed beneath him, the sheer force of its passing sending him soaring upward in a high arc.


    He flew above the rooftops, limbs flailing as the burning town spread out below him like a twisted tapestry of chaos. For a brief, surreal moment, he was weightless, and a wild, reckless grin spread across his face. The earlier blast had hurt and left him feeling drained, but there was no pain in this one. Cheese used the moment to expand his will, and right himself in the air so that he could face the beast.


    He was able to, but it took him to long and a moment later Cheese hit dirt throwing himself into a tumble. The world became a chaotic blur until he finally skidded to a halt in Timberbrook''s market.


    "Well, fuck," Cheese muttered, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. His body screamed in protest as he wobbled upright, he yet again expected to find bones broken, or muscles torn but Cheese was miraculously intact. Cheese checked his status and saw that he was burning faith coins at an alarming rate.


    Cheeses thoughts were cut off the ground shook anew. The giant resumed its pursuit, its footsteps like the tolling of a massive, earth-shaking bell. Cheese turned toward the sound, the firelight from Timberbrook¡¯s burning buildings casting wild, flickering shadows that danced over the destruction. He broke into a run, the acrid stench of smoke and charred wood filling his lungs as he headed toward the beacon of fire and ruin.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The beast reached back with a foot and again kicked the young man square in the chest. This time however Cheese was prepared. He jumped into the strike and attached a single tendril of energy to the sky. Cheese used this energy to stop his spinning and tumbling far more quickly that he had before and was able to stare directly at his foe as he flew away from him.


    In mid-air, Cheese summoned his axe, gripping its smooth haft tightly. With a feral yell, he drew it overhead and hurled it with all his might. The effort sent him spinning uncontrollably and left him drained. In the confusion Cheese had neglected his core. It had already been emptied at the start of this, and he had pushed it even farther to correct his flight. As his vision blurred cheese concentrated on the glow around him and drew on that to fuel himself. Cheese` vision cleared and right before he struck the dirt he saw his strike land.


    The axe struck true. The giant¡¯s guttural scream split the night. It was a roar of agony so primal it made Cheese¡¯s skin crawl. The Axe man landed hard, rolling in a tangled heap, and then the ground was no longer there. In a disoriented spiral Cheese continued to roll and fall as he was cast into the amphitheater. The mans, form tumbled through the stone seats, gouts of magic being stolen from him with every minor impact. He did not stop until he struck the stone of the stage with a loud THUD. Disoriented, he forced himself upright, the crackling flames of the town casting eerie shadows across the ancient structure around him.


    The magic was gone from his body, used up in that final gust of power and the fall into the Ampitheater. Cheese felt the drain deep in his soul, and he drug himself up to a sitting position with his back against the stage.


    By the Gods it hurt. Every rib felt like it was broken, and he had a vicious twist to one of his fingers. But he was alive. Cheese looked up to the top of the seats, towards the hill, and the giant.


    Timberbrook¡¯s amphitheater was a sanctuary of stone amidst the blaze that he had come through, built into the hillside and fortified against time. The air above him shimmered with heat and smoke as flames licked at its edges. yet he was safe from the flames here for they could not penetrate the stone. Above the infernal din, the giant¡¯s pained howls echoed out.


    Cheese couldn¡¯t help but laugh, a hoarse, defiant sound that felt more like a battle cry than amusement. He wasn¡¯t just surviving¡ªhe was still in the fight.


    With a struggle Cheese managed to summon a single tendril of power, his axe returned to his hand, the runes along its haft glowing faintly as if in response to his resolve yet Cheese felt a backlash. The young man coughed up blood, and his vision became a haze. After a moment Cheese was able to breath, and he slowly stood.


    ¡°This is it,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Hope you¡¯re in place.¡±


    The plan had been a desperate gamble, Cheese knew that. And he hadn¡¯t expected to be flung halfway across town to get here, but it had worked out. Now he only had to hope his brothers could finish the beast.


    Minutes ticked by, each one stretching interminably. Cheese''s nerves frayed as the pounding footsteps turned to a distant rumble. He opened his status menu, searching for clues, and spotted the lumbering form of the incursion leader. The number was steadily falling. Cheese looked up with anticipation.


    When the giant finally appeared, Cheese¡¯s breath caught. From his vantage on the stage, the beast¡¯s colossal form towered above, its silhouette against the flames like a nightmare made flesh. Its face bore a gruesome gash, and one eye was missing, black ichor streaking its cheek.


    ¡°You have cheated, little man,¡± the giant growled, its voice a venomous snarl. ¡°You are a heretic. I see it now. Before, I thought you were one of the weaklings of this place, but you... You have killed her. You are strong. Yet your power has wanted. Your faith falters, your magic gone. Now it is over.¡±


    Cheese said nothing, he simply stood and tried to halt the shaking in his legs.


    After a moment the giant sneered, and its massive frame began descending the stone ramps with deliberate, earth-shaking steps. The circular seating which was large and luxurious for a man was like steps to the beast. Cheese braced himself becoming unsure, but just as the giant reached the right spot, his brothers struck.


    From the amphitheater seats, two saplings erupted like living missiles, their growth fueled by a spell Char had been holding. This surprised Cheese, but he was not unhappy at the development. The trees speared the giant¡¯s knees with a sickening snap, sending the monstrous creature toppling backward with a thunderous crash. Its head struck the stone stage, leaving a crater in its wake.


    Up above hidden from view Char collapsed, coughing blood from the strain of his spellcasting, but the opening was enough. Cheese sprinted forward, aiming for the giant¡¯s legs, but Waff who had been above as well was faster.


    The burly man vaulted onto the giant¡¯s head, grabbing a fistful of its hair. ¡°Throw!¡± he bellowed to his brother.


    Cheese understood instinctively, lobbing his axe high into the air. Waff caught it mid-swing and plunged it into the giant¡¯s remaining eye with brutal precision.


    The monster howled, its hand reflexively driving the weapon deeper as Waff leapt clear, landing on the dirt atop the hill.


    The giant was on its back, and blind. Yet none of the brothers had the strength to finish him. Cheese stood, and on wavering feet he began to limp slowly away from the battle.


    Behind him the giant bellowed and thrashed. Yet he was unable to find the brothers in his rage.

 Chapter 10.1 Fairhaven

    <u>Two Days prior</u>


    The caravan rolled out of Timberbrook just as the first hints of dawn peeked over the horizon, a thin band of orange splitting the night¡¯s fading darkness. Fifteen wagons trundled in single file, their creaking wheels and the soft clatter of hooves the only sounds in the still morning air. Each wagon was battered and weatherworn¡ªlogging wagons repurposed for the journey eastward.


    The townsfolk moved with the quiet efficiency born of years spent working together, their faces set with grim determination. Everyone knew their purpose: aid Fairhaven, assess the damage, and save survivors they could find. Rook sat on the lead wagon, flanked by Elric and Mareen, two of Timberbrook¡¯s better archers.


    Grassland stretched endlessly before them, the sea of green shimmering with dew in the pale light. It was the kind of landscape that could lull a person into a false sense of safety, but Rook¡¯s eyes never stopped scanning.


    ¡°Fairhaven¡¯s not far, not if we keep this pace,¡± Elric said, his voice low.


    ¡°Still a day out,¡± Rook replied, leaning forward to survey the horizon. ¡°And a lot can happen in a day.¡±


    The wagons rolled on, the soft murmurs of conversation drifting back through the line. Everyone knew everyone here, their lives intertwined by shared labor and hardship. Yet the mood was subdued, the memory of Timberbrook¡¯s own battle still fresh in their minds.


    By midday, the grasslands gave way to sparse clusters of trees, the wagons weaving through the natural breaks in the landscape. It was here they encountered the first signs of Fairhaven¡¯s devastation.


    From atop the wagons front seat Rook saw a small group of haggard survivors stumbling into view from the trees ahead, their clothes torn and their faces hollow with exhaustion. The caravan came to a halt, and Rook climbed down from his wagon, motioning for the others to hold position.


    The survivors, some 500 people were led by a man who wore a set of heavy plate bearing the seal of the Fairhaven Guard. A scattering of other less well-dressed and well armored men followed him. Their group looked distinctly separate from the surviving peasants who followed them. Rook did not know the man, but he disliked his look.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Fairhaven?¡± Rook asked the man.


    The man nodded, his voice hoarse. ¡°Gone. Monsters came in the night. We ran, but not everyone made it. There are still people there. Hiding, maybe. Or worse.¡±


    Murmurs swept through the caravan as the survivors were helped onto the wagons, given water and scraps of food.


    ¡°The giants have been gone from there for at least two days,¡± Mareen murmured to Rook.


    Rook looked to the man and asked "What was it that you saw, surely not the Giants. We have reports they are moving north as we speak."


    "No" Came the reply. Rook saw the man''s eyes glance about as if calculating. "We do not know what they are. Small green things that moved about in the night. may I have your name sir?"


    Rook thought for a moment and then replied cooly. "I am Rook, of Timberbrook. I am a captain of his majesty''s militia."


    A light came to the means eyes, and he said "I am Captain Jean of the Fairhaven guard. My father was the Baron Gelroy. Where is it you go Captain?"


    Rook stared at the man for a moment. Then sighed deeply. So that was to be the way of it. "I go to my holding on the river Captain."


    Jean nodded and then seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Finally, he gathered his courage and said "Well, I would have you and your men accompany me to retake the city of Fairhaven then. As is only proper."


    Rook had seen this coming, and he let out another deep sigh rubbing his forehead as he thought. Eventually Rook cast his eyes to Elder Tompson who had ridden up to the front of the column.


    The old man had heard everything, and he gave Rook a steady look. After a time, he gave a single nod.


    Rook smiled and said "I apologize Captain, but I am unable to accompany you. The Milita marches to my holding to await orders."


    Jean began turning red as he opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he got hold of himself and stuttered out "By the gods man, I will not have a commoner tell me what to do. You will order your men to follow me and retake my land post haste."


    Rooks smile slipped off his face, and he jumped off his wagon with a huff. he stalked forward slowly until he was face to face with Captain Jean. Slowly rook spoke, ensuring only those closest to him could hear, he did not want his words to make it to the women and children who were close behind the lead group of men. "Your father was a coward. You ran from the fight and abandoned your city, Jean. I have no desire to work with or for you. I will not sacrifice my men on this fool''s errand. Now, if you wish to you may follow behind my train with your people. We go to my mill. If not, you may go to our settlement in Timberbrook, though I warn you that we left little in the way of meat or grain."


    Rook stepped back and said loudly "My honor to meet you, Captain. Good day" and walked back to his wagon where he leisurely climbed atop the seat and signaled the driver to proceed.


    Rook was unsurprised to see Captain Jean and his people following close behind. He would need to talk to Ibron and discover how to manage provisions for 500 more souls.

 Ch 11: Fate and the divine

    The distance from Timberbrook to Fairhaven was a bit less than a day''s travel by wagon or riding down the river. That was how Cheese had always done it, those long rides on the back of gargantuan logs were the only way he`d been to the city, and in truth he had never actually been within the port cities walls, they had always slept the night in the Mill that was a few hundred meters from the city''s walls. He had often thought about venturing inside, yet he had never had the coin to do so. His small salary from the mill would not allow for him to splurge like some of the other men did. Not if he expected to be able to buy the fine exotic foods he so loved and still manage to slowly save up for a dowry one day. Most men who reached marrying age would sleep in the communal longhouses or workers houses of the mill; it was only those men who married that spent on their own homes.


    Thus, he was very annoyed at their slow progress to the Mill. They had been stumbling forward for the better part of a day. Cheese was unable to progress at much faster than a walk, and his lethargy from the draining of his energy was showing. yet none of the brothers dared to slow, they would rather be caught limping away from their foe than asleep. A full day passed like this. Then as the moon began to rise a howl reverberated through the air. All three stopped quite quickly.


    "They are off course" his Char said. His eyes gleamed as he listened to the howling of his pack.


    As Cheese thought about it, he nodded. "The woods must be alive. Weve spent all this time thinking about invaders, I wonder what it is they hunt" he said calmly.


    There were many things that lived in the woods that could draw the ire of the wolves, but it would not do to dwell on it. The wolves had a job to do, and so did the men. Then suddenly from the direction of Fairhaven, north of the earlier howl came another fainter one.


    "Thats my girl," Said Char. "They split the pack. Marien was injured in the fight. A broken hind paw, they must have sent her to Fairhaven when they caught scent of whatever this is."


    "Well," said Cheese looking at his Indicator "Whatever it is, we need to move. That Giant is blind, but he''s still a threat and we need to make sure we report to father."


    As he spoke a notification pinged at all three brothers. And before they could read it Cheese saw his indicator swing around wildly a few times before it turned south, indicating it pointed to a creature some 635 Kilometers. That was a vast distance, Cheese was unsure if that was the mainland, but it must be. And as he watched the system began an announcement.


    Planetary Alert:


    The Mountain Father leader of the Giant kin of Eros has fallen. All his surviving followers have now lost touch to their pathway home and as such are no longer considered incursion members. This has affected 0 incursion members. He fell to a combined effort of the High Preist of Yid, The Heretical Chosen, and an unaligned warrior by the name of Waff. The battle took 17 hours and resulted in the Great foe, an Expert level threat succumbing to his wounds. The Heretical chosen will get 50 Percent credit for this feat, as he slayed a guard in single combat. The other factions shall evenly split the remaining credit when quest rewards are distributed.


    This marks the first falling of an Incursion Leader, and a closing of the pathway that particular pantheon was using to invade this world. Your systems have been updated to show progress twords ridding your world of this threat.


    Incursion Leaders Remaining: 5/6 Invaders remaining: 952


    A tendril of energy began to fill Cheese, and he was silent as he felt his body recover. He noticed his brothers were in a similar situation. As they waited and listened to the message all three were rejuvenated.


    "What in the-" began Char. His form was glowing a soft green as he spoke.


    Cheese felt his core begin to fill, and he began to get lightheaded. After a moment he felt close to bursting. In time it stopped, and all three brothers stood there panting. Finally, Waff spoke saying,


    "Six Is much better than 9-5-2" said Waff. As he spoke the numbers, he said every number individually as Nine-Five-Two.


    "Are we going to just ignore that?" Shouted Cheese. "My finger was snapped, and I was on deaths door, and you want to talk about numbers?"


    Waff looked at his brother and then said "I don''t know what that was. But I can''t help it. We killed a giant, we got better. If you have a better reason for it then I`m all open to your suggestions."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "True" said Char with a shrug. "All we can do is hope someone knows more. For now, I`m also concerned about those foes more than an explanation."


    "About that" interrupted Cheese with a frown. "We got report that the capital and the county seat are in turmoil. How is that possible. If there are no invaders does that mean the King lied to father, He said they were unable to repel the invaders at the capitol, yet it is not that far away. I have never actually been there, but it is supposed to only be six days by wagon. That would mean at most a couple hundred Kilometers."


    "We simply don''t know" Replied Char, he was now wearing the same frown as his brother.


    "Well, what we do know is that we need to report to our father" Waff said, he had finished pissing and was now eating some bread he had pulled form a pouch. As he watched Cheese saw him take out a pouch and dip the bread inside of it. A sweet smell of honey filled his nostrils.


    "You could at least wash your hands" Interrupted Char.


    "You sleep wif woves" Waff said around gulps of honey coated bread. "But if`n it would please the high priest I`ll go find water n` do so" Waff wore a smirk on his face as he chewed the last of the bread. "You`re just mad you don have no vittles yerself!"


    "About that" Interrupted Cheese leveling a look at Char "Yids high priest? when did that happen?"


    "Ten minutes after the incursion started" He replied blandly. "I was alone unlike many. I was beset by a single small green creature. I killed it, but right after I finished it I felt a wave of.... almost darkness. It is hard to explain. I ran to my shrine, and when I got there it was gone. Then a moment later I got a notification telling me the High priest had fallen. Then moments later another, and another. It didn''t stop, as soon as one was named another fell. Until the system told me that I had been chosen. When that happened the energy pulse, I felt earlier rammed into me. It almost killed me but I..." He looked at cheese for a moment and said "I don''t have to tell you of all people. I was strong enough and I defeated it. My fight was not as hard as yours, but the energy was of the same make."


    Cheese nodded, and motioned for them to begin their run now that they were healthy there was no reason to not make it to their people in good time. As they did, he stuck close to his brother and asked, "Have you gotten any special privileges since you were made High priest?"


    "No" replied Char "And before I tell you more, I need an oath brother, an oath that you will not target my Goddess."


    The idea honestly shocked Cheese. yet there was no malice in his brothers'' words. He sensed no fear either, just that he needed what he asked for before he continued. "You have my oath that I will not act against her if she does not act against me or our people" Cheese said after a bit of consideration.


    That seemed to work as Char said "A quest. I received a quest. If I am to bring her back, I must finish the incursions and invest faith into her shrine. I don''t know exactly what that means, but I can also see the count of priests, and every time someone prays to her, and it worries me." He looked pained by his words, and Cheese could sense a tinge of worry on his brothers'' face. Yet the smaller man continued "There are three other priests, I must assume that like me they were acolytes when this began. I can send them messages, and they me in a way. You see when any of us prays we can hear it, almost like we were gods ourselves. I think all of this is the systems way of letting us have a chance to help our goddess. They are all in the same place, in a forest in the land of that Imperator from the system announcement."


    Cheese and Waff who had drifted closer simply listened as their brother continued. "They said that they were in the court of a Priest of Yid. When the incursion began, they felt something, but they couldn''t really describe it. The priest told them to be calm, and then after a moment they saw the same notifications as me. Their Priest was chosen to replace the high priest, and in moments he fell to the necrotic power. Then it simple left. In time it came back killing a number of them who rose to fill the seat. They had no congregation; they were like me. I think all of Yids churches are like mine, simply out in the wilderness. She does not preach; she does not have her people gather. Her way is to embrace nature and embrace those who live in it." There was a pain on his brother''s face. Cheese wanted to speak but couldn''t find the words, so on he listened. "I can see her followers. They number less than a hundred. I don''t know if that''s enough, and what''s worse her entire pantheon fell. I have seen the statues of the church. Yid, Na`here, Poseidon. The Blood huntress remains, but I can feel it, she has left their pantheon and founded her own."


    "So" Waff said "I''m thinking its pretty simple what ya gotta do"


    Both Cheese and Char smiled, expecting some funny retort but their brother surprised them. "We need to kill these incursions, and Cheese needs to share you some power"


    They were so shocked that both men stopped their running and stared at him.


    Waff stopped a moment later and looked back at them "That or take her into your pantheon, that way you don''t go around all mopey little guy" His big oafish face was smiling as he said this, but Cheese and Char were simply stunned at the man''s words and couldn''t even tease him on it.


    Once they collected themselves, they began their run again. They conversed on the topic and decided that it was probably worth a try after all. As they did Cheese checked his faith counter, it had steadily picked up speed after the fight earlier. It was now back above 200 and growing.


    As they bounded forward Cheese laughed and said "oh and Char"


    "Yes" came the reply through gritted teeth.


    "I`m partial to Eggs for breakfast brother."


    Waff let out a howling laugh that was a nice accompaniment to the thud of tired feet.

 Ch 12: Bladesman

    It was not long before they reached the mill that Rook had established as his base of operations. The brothers arrived in the early hours of the morning, racing through the cold as quickly as the slowest among them, Waff, could manage, approaching from the west. The usually cool morning air was turning stiflingly hot as soot rained from the sky. Cheese wished he had brought a hat or a hooded cloak and cursed himself for forgetting. This was due to the smoldering embers of the lower city ward.


    Inside the giant-stricken walls, the city had burned overnight, the source of the column of smoky fire they had seen earlier. Fortunately, the walls of Fairhaven had contained the fire, preventing it from spreading to the sparse forests and fields surrounding the city. Yet, what shocked Cheese as they approached was that the singular guard atop the gatehouse who hailed them was unfamiliar. He glanced at his brothers as they slowed their trot.


    The mill was a rallying point in times of war, as were all ports. It had access to the delta where the river met the sea and was thus vital in the event of an invasion. If war came, it was to be garrisoned and fortified, with three-meter-high stone walls and large gatehouses on both the eastern and western roads.


    As they neared, Cheese inspected the guard and was surprised to note the faraway look on the man''s face, as though he was gazing beyond them rather than at the brothers. The gate guard was an older man, which made little sense to Cheese¡ªwhy would such an outsider be chosen for their defense? He looked to be about 50 years old and quite frail.


    "Halt in the name of the Lord of Fairhaven!" the elderly man shouted. Cheese noted that the man displayed no visible skill and was slightly shocked to be stopped with such authority.


    "Identify yourselves! Are you chased? What tidings do you bring?" The guard shouted again, pulling out a great war bow. He held it casually at the ready but did not draw, simply nocking an arrow as he surveyed the distance behind them.


    "Hail, friend," shouted Cheese as he stepped forward. "Surely you know my face, but I do not know yours. Name yourself and tell me how you came to be atop our walls."


    The man seemed confused by Cheese¡¯s response. He looked at Cheese, no hint of recognition in his eyes, then turned to glance at each brother in turn.


    "Three of you," the man said. "I was told to look out for three by my lord, though your face is not known to me, youngling. Name yourselves and be quick about it. By the rite of the codes of war, I am the officer on watch Bjorn the Eagle-eyed you may name me, and we will do this properly."


    The man¡¯s tone was weary, but his words carried authority. Cheese found himself instinctively summoning his axe and standing at attention. It might have seemed a comical sight¡ªan old man barking orders at youths and making them stand straight-backed¡ªbut Cheese complied.


    "I am militia man Switzler Rookson of Timberbrook, under the command of House Oakenveil. I am to deliver a report to my city''s senior militia officer, Rook the Strong."


    The old man nodded. "Aye, that''s the right of it. You may pass, lordling. Sorry to make you stand on precedence, but I had to be sure. Your father is inside the main hall with the other officers not on watch. He will want your report."


    As he spoke, the old man lowered his bow, and the creaking of the gate sounded as it opened. From behind the crenellations, several other archers leaned out to watch the brothers rush forward. Cheese glanced up at the last moment and caught the old man smiling as he briefly displayed his skill level: [Bowman 42].


    "Shit," Cheese muttered under his breath as they passed through the gatehouse and trotted into the mill.


    The scene inside was chaotic¡ªa veritable tent city. The mill itself was large, but nowhere near large enough to house the influx of people who had decided to call it home. "There must be over two thousands of them," Cheese said to no one in particular as they wove between tents. In the early morning, there was little activity, but Cheese knew it was only a matter of time before the camp stirred to life.


    The mill''s layout was familiar, resembling the family mill in Timberbrook, which also belonged to their father. The brothers made a beeline for the main building. Along the way, Waff let out a quick laugh and said, "He called you ''lordling.'' That''s about right."


    Cheese shrugged off the comment, focusing on the task ahead.


    The main hall was a large stone structure¡ªthe only significant building within the keep walls. It served a martial purpose due to the mill''s role as a lumber processing and shipping yard. Taller than the walls, it had three floors: the top floor held a kitchen and storeroom, the middle floor housed rooms for workers (or warriors in wartime), and the ground floor contained a hall and a small war room.


    As they approached the double doors at the center, Cheese finally saw a familiar face¡ªa man from the militia. The guard saluted, fist to chest, and said, "You are expected." He stepped aside and knocked on the doorway with a closed fist.


    The doors opened a crack, and the three were permitted entry. As they stepped inside, their eyes were immediately drawn to the long table dominating the center of the meeting hall. It stretched nearly the length of the room, its polished surface reflecting the faint glow of the lanterns hanging above. The table seated some 25 men, with a large, intricately carved throne set behind its head. Despite its prominence, the throne stood empty, an unspoken symbol of a leader not present.


    At the head of the table sat Rook, a commanding presence amidst the chaos. His broad shoulders and calm demeanor exuded confidence, though his eyes carried the weariness of a man burdened with responsibility. Around the table, other figures leaned in, their faces marked by concentration and fatigue. The room fell silent as Cheese and his brothers entered, the gathered men turning to appraise them.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Cheese paused, taking a moment to scan the faces before him. Of the roughly 50 men assembled, he recognized only a handful¡ªElder Thompson, seated to Rook¡¯s left; Ibron, their stout and steady neighbor; and a few others whose names eluded him but whose faces were familiar. The majority were strangers, a patchwork of hardened men who bore the look of survivors.


    The mismatched crowd lining the walls caught Cheese¡¯s attention next. Most of them stood, leaning against the rough-hewn stone or clustered in small groups, listening intently to the plans being discussed. Unlike the Timberbrook militia, who were relatively well-clothed in their neatly patched uniforms, these men wore the ragged remnants of Fairhaven''s city guard and militia gear. Their armor and clothing showed the scars of battle¡ªtorn fabrics, dented plates, and bloodstains that had resisted cleaning.


    Cheese noted the injuries among the junior leaders¡ªslings cradling broken arms, hastily bandaged wounds, and limps that betrayed deeper hurts. The wear and tear spoke volumes. These were not men newly recruited for defense but the battered remnants of the Fairhaven city guard and militia, survivors of whatever trials had befallen the city.


    The stark contrast between the people of Timberbrook and these rugged, war-torn men was impossible to ignore. Where Timberbrook''s militia bore a semblance of order and preparation, these others were raw and desperate, the marks of recent combat etched into their faces.


    Cheese felt the weight of the scene settle over him like a heavy cloak. Here was no ordinary gathering. This was a council of survival, a patchwork force clinging to cohesion in the face of devastation.


    "Stand and deliver your report, Bladesman Switzler," Rook declared, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the hall with commanding authority. The unearned title, spoken aloud, landed heavily on Cheese''s ears. It carried a weight. He stiffened instinctively, clicking his heels together. His brothers mirrored the motion, their movements stiff but earnest.


    Cheese began to speak, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment. He recounted their hunt and the terrifying sight of the giants. As he described their first encounter with the towering creatures, a voice from the gathered men broke through:


    "The babe¡ªit went north as well!"


    The words carried a tremor of fear, but the speaker was silenced quickly by sharp glares and whispered reprimands. Cheese pressed on, detailing the explosion at the mill and the frantic chase through the town. His words seemed to ignite a storm of whispers among the men. This time, no one dared to hush them.


    When Cheese finished, Char stepped forward. His voice, calm yet resolute, silenced the hall. "As emissary of the Goddess Yid, I swear to this man¡¯s words."


    Cheese glanced around the room, trying to piece together the undercurrents of tension. The gathered men¡ªabout fifty in total¡ªwore expressions of exhaustion and grim resolve. None bore the attire of nobility or high office, and many had a wariness as they spoke, as if testing for any excuse to call them out. Yet Chars words rang out and those with dark looks glanced away in shame.


    Rook rose slowly from his seat at the head of the long table, his presence commanding attention. "Well, there you have it," he said, his voice thick with conviction. "The giants will not press us. It is as I have said since that damned announcement woke us in the night. Do any now disagree?"


    The room fell silent. His tone was venomous, daring opposition. Before anyone could muster a response, Rook drove the point home.


    "You have one day from now to prepare. After that, we assault the city. I will have no more excuses or stalling. It has already been two days. Our scouts report that the bastards are repairing the walls, and if we hesitate any longer, we will lose our city."


    Rook¡¯s fiery declaration was met with stunned silence. Then, turning sharply, he fixed his gaze on Cheese. "Come with me," he ordered, stalking toward a side room.


    Cheese followed; his brothers close behind. Elder Tompson, Ibron, and a young man with his face half-covered by a bloodied rag joined them. They entered a small chamber behind the throne¡ªa room clearly not built for war. Its mismatched chairs and worn couch betrayed its long-abandoned martial purpose.


    As the door clicked shut, the severity drained from Rook¡¯s face. A weary smile replaced it, and he stepped forward, pulling each of his sons into a tight embrace. "My boys," he said, his voice softer now, "how glad I am."


    By the fire, a large she-wolf padded over to Char. She nuzzled against his leg, and he knelt, pressing his forehead to hers in a quiet moment of communion.


    The warmth of the moment was fleeting. Waff broke the silence. "What was all that, Pa? Why is everyone being so uptight? And what was that about Cheese? Callin him a Bladesman?"


    Cheese nodded, echoing his brother¡¯s confusion. The title of Bladesman was no mere courtesy¡ªit was a rank of nobility, a recognition of deeds great enough to earn a family¡¯s place in the annals of history. It was not something given lightly, nor did it belong to men like them. It was passed down from father to son, and only given by the king.


    Rook¡¯s smile turned sly. "Oh? Do we not, Waffen, Shield of House Oakhammer?" he teased before turning to Char. "And you, High Priest of Yid¡ªdo I need to explain?"


    He shook his head, then reached into his coat, producing a gold-lettered missive. "Much has happened while you were gone," he said gravely. "And we have little time to discuss it."


    Char took the letter and read aloud:


    "I, Lord Ibis, send this by hawk to any loyal retainers of the kingdom, large and small. The Dukedom of Anscher has fallen. The capital held by our king and liege has fallen. The king has fallen. The four great county seats have also fallen. We are beset by a horde. I have taken to the road, but I fear I too will soon fall. All peoples are urged to Fairhaven. If you are able, secure it. If you are not, lay in wait for the prince¡¯s arrival. Prince Aleon carries the mantle. He rode from us a day ago. Loyal men of the king, join him there."


    Cheese¡¯s stomach churned. His mind reeled at the implications. "Who... who did this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    Rook shrugged; his expression weary. "In every place, it was different. It was not the incursion. It followed the arrival of the Giants here. Monsters. They came as if from the earth itself after the giants left the creatures began pouring out of the ground. At first, they were alone, singular creatures no taller than a boy and a deep green. They would flee if a person saw them, then they began roaming in packs and larger ones accompanied them. Then when we came in the night, we were met with an explosion in the town square, and they poured out of the ground like rats in barley.


    Char cut in; his tone sharp. "So, we are to storm the city before they can solidify their defenses?"


    Rook nodded. "Yes. Those cowards out there refuse to act. They are led by a man named Jean. Before we came this way, he tried to command an assault. Then once it became apparent an assault was needed, he refused saying they lacked orders. Now they cry for the king, claiming he¡¯ll come. But we cannot wait. The walls must be ours before the invaders entrench themselves."


    Cheese locked eyes with his father. "Will you give it up?" he asked bluntly.


    Rook¡¯s response was immediate. "Yes. If the prince arrives, I will surrender command. I am no king, son. I was never made for it. But I will not let our people fall. Someone must hold them together."


    In that moment, Cheese understood. His father wasn¡¯t seeking glory¡ªhe was building a foundation, a rallying point for their people to survive the coming storm. The title of Bladesman wasn¡¯t for honor but necessity, a symbol to inspire hope and unity in a fractured kingdom.


    Cheese smiled faintly, despite the weight of it all. "Bladesman," he murmured to himself, the word tasting strange but right.

 12.2: The Camp

    They remained in the room for a further hour as the family swapped stories of the past two days. In time the group started to file out of the room. Finally, it was just Cheese and his father. Rook nodded at his son and said "I`m proud of you boy" and Cheese felt his voice catch.


    Then his father continued "Now, go I have work to do" and returned to his files as the younger man quickly exited. The heavy door of the war room creaked open as Cheese stepped out, his mind still buzzing with the details of his father''s strategy. He paused, scanning the room beyond. The tension that had filled the air earlier had given way to a more relaxed hum. People clustered in groups, eating, drinking, and speaking in hushed tones.


    Across the room, his gaze caught Elder Tompson as he leaned on the long table. The elder stood amidst a group of younger boys, his gnarled hands deftly stringing a large bow. As he did so Cheese could see the man was struggling, as was to be expected of someone in his nineties trying to string such a weapon. Yet despite the evident strain, the elder succeeded, lifting the bow with a satisfied grin as sweat poured down his aged face. The young boys clapped, admiration clear in their wide eyes.


    Cheese strode over, curious. "Impressive work, Elder," he said, nodding toward the bow. "What¡¯s your skill level, if I may ask?"


    Tompson chuckled, his weathered face crinkling. "It¡¯s a 23 Bladesman," he said, with a hint of pride.


    Cheese blinked. "23? " His surprise was genuine. he had never known that the older man had such skill in the bow. He quickly said "And just Cheese. I can''t have my elders calling me that"


    The elder smiled knowingly then gestured to one of the boys¡ªa slender, bright-eyed youth. "Bladesman, this here is my great-grandson, Nold," he said. "He¡¯s twelve and eager to find a noble to serve. Good with his hands, quick on his feet, and sharper than he looks."


    Nold gave a hesitant bow, his gaze flicking to Cheese with a mixture of awe and determination.


    Tompson laid a hand on the boy¡¯s shoulder and looked back at Cheese. He said solemnly, "Would you take him under your wing?"


    Caught off guard, Cheese hesitated. He glanced between the elder¡¯s earnest expression and the boy¡¯s hopeful eyes. "I... suppose I could" he said, his voice uncertain but kind.


    Tompson nodded as if this were the answer he had expected all along. "Come," he said, turning briskly. "I have something to show you."


    Cheese followed him up a narrow staircase that wound its way to the second floor. The creak of the wooden steps echoed faintly, adding to the sense of anticipation. At the top, Tompson led him to a small room, sparsely furnished and quite dusty. It was apparent it hadn''t been slept in in years.


    In the center stood an ancient armor stand. Draped over it was a mail hauberk, its links dull with age but sturdy, and a breastplate that bore the scars of many battles. Beside the stand, a helm rested on a small table, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the lamplight.


    Cheese stepped closer, his hand brushing over the mail. The cold metal links jingled faintly under his touch, each one a testament to the craftsman¡¯s skill. The breastplate was solid, its weight reassuring as he ran his fingers over the worn engravings.


    "You¡¯ll need these," Tompson said quietly. "A Bladesman¡¯s position isn¡¯t just a title¡ªit¡¯s a burden. We¡¯re scared, all of us, and we need someone who can give us hope. Someone to lead."


    Cheese turned to the elder, the gravity of the moment sinking in. He nodded slowly, gripping the helm and lifting it. It felt heavier than it looked, both in weight and in meaning. "I¡¯ll do what I can," he said, his voice steady.


    Tompson placed a hand on Cheese¡¯s shoulder. "That¡¯s all we ask."


    <hr>


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The day passed rapidly, a steady march of routine and preparation. Lunch had been a brief affair¡ªbread still warm from the ovens, served with a hearty potato stew thickened with cream and seasoned with herbs from the nearby hills. There had been a plate of pickled vegetables, sharp and tangy, to cut through the richness, and wedges of salty cheese to finish. It was nourishing but plain, consumed quickly as they reviewed maps and exchanged clipped words about the enemy''s movements.


    It was in this time that Cheese met captain Jean. he was a dense man, who strolled around with an air of self-confidence that was very grating. it seemed that at every opportunity he took the opposite stance of Rook just to annoy the man. Cheese had mixed feelings when his father told the captain that he was placing him in command of the defense. He felt even warier when his father told the man he was also stripping his guard apart and filtering them into units under his sons'' command. The guard was a strong unit as far as Cheese knew, but he couldn''t think men who were trained by this man were to be trusted. Only time would tell.


    Dinner, however, was a quieter, more solemn event. The long table in the hall was set with a mix of food, each dish bearing the mark of effort in difficult times. Cheese and Waff sat near the head of the table; their moods darkened by the day¡¯s reports. They were annoyed that Char, who had failed to kill the giant in their last engagement, wasn¡¯t assigned to kitchen duty. It felt only fair. But their father had sent him to scout the enemy defenses, leaving the meal preparation to others.


    The scents of the dinner wafted through the air, comforting yet faintly bittersweet. Roasted venison was the centerpiece, its skin crackling and darkened by an herb crust of rosemary and thyme, juices pooling in the tray beneath. Bowls of wild rice, speckled with dried cranberries and nuts, offered a rich and earthy side, while plates of dark, leafy greens saut¨¦ed in garlic and olive oil provided balance. There were also loaves of dense, crusty bread¡ªperfect for sopping up the juices¡ªand a dish of mashed turnips, their creamy texture hiding a slight bitterness.


    For dessert, someone had managed to procure honey. It glistened golden over baked apples stuffed with spiced oats and walnuts, the aroma of cinnamon lingering as the steam curled into the cool air. A jug of ale and a bottle of berry wine were passed down the table, their contents dwindling steadily as the tension of the day gave way to murmured conversations.


    The reports brought to the table were grim, each one more discouraging than the last. Scouts spoke of the enemy¡¯s growing numbers, their strength bolstered by new arrivals and fortified positions. Cheese found himself distracted, turning the information over in his mind. His father had ordered a frontal assault from both gates, a bold but risky move. Cheese understood the reasoning¡ªspeed and strength¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that a smaller, more elite force might achieve the same results with less risk. Why bring all their men when the enemy could be cut off at the head?


    But such thoughts faded as the meal stretched on. The flickering firelight softened the lines on his father¡¯s face, and the voices of his extended family, even subdued, carried a sense of unity. For now, Cheese let himself enjoy their company, appreciating the rare moments of connection amidst the growing shadow of war.


    Later, when he retired to his quarters, he found a pleasant surprise. Nold had been busy. The boy had swept the room clean of dust; the air now faintly scented with lavender from dried sprigs tucked near the windowsill. Fresh bedding lay on the cot, the blankets neatly folded, and a small pitcher of water stood ready on the table.


    Cheese smiled faintly as he settled in. The day had been heavy with worry and decisions, but the quiet kindness of a twelve-year-old boy reminded him that even in dark times, there were sparks of light. He drifted off to sleep early, comforted by the thought that tomorrow was another day to face the challenges ahead.

 Ch 13: Battle

    Cheese still hadn¡¯t adjusted to the whirlwind that had become his life. Strapping on the bracers and settling the helm of his new station onto his head, he reflected on the staggering transformation of the past few days. He had been an axeman¡ªa worker in a successful lumber mill, reliable but unremarkable. Now, he bore a noble title, elevated to the role of a Bladesman, a lord of war. The absurdity of it would have made him laugh if the weight of the moment weren¡¯t pressing so heavily on his shoulders. Yet there was that nagging voice in the back of his head that he was beginning to embrace screaming that he had been chosen. Hadn¡¯t he? True they called him a heretic, but the system and the gods had chosen him. With a smile he considered what that meant,


    "We weren¡¯t able to get you a banner," Nold said, his voice tinged with regret. "I¡¯m sorry, M¡¯lord."


    Cheese paused, taken aback by the formality. He shook his head with a small, reassuring smile. "Why would I need a banner?" he asked, his tone light.


    As he spoke, he summoned his axe. The weapon appeared in his hand with a soft hum, its blade glowing a deep blue in the dim light of the room. The runes etched into its haft shimmered faintly, as though alive. The sight of it filled Cheese with a strange mix of comfort and dread. This weapon, a gift from his father, had become an extension of him in ways he was only beginning to understand.


    He glanced down at his attire¡ªdeep blue garments that marked him as a militia officer of Fairhaven. They were finely made but old, pulled from a dusty trunk in the room his father had claimed for them on the second floor. The fabric smelled faintly of cedar and age, and it was clear these clothes had been stored for years, perhaps decades. Despite their age, they fit him surprisingly well, as though they had been waiting for someone like him to claim them.


    Cheese adjusted the bracers, feeling the weight of the armor and the burden of responsibility they represented. For a moment, he met Nold¡¯s eyes. The boy¡¯s youthful earnestness reminded him of something he¡¯d nearly forgotten in the chaos: hope.


    "I think I¡¯ll manage without a banner," Cheese said, his voice quiet but steady. The boy nodded solemnly, as if the words carried far more meaning than Cheese intended.


    The axe glinted in the faint light, a reminder of both the power he now wielded and the battles yet to come. Cheese exhaled slowly, his mind bracing for the challenges ahead. He didn¡¯t feel ready¡ªnot for the title, not for the war, not for the responsibility. But he would face it, one step at a time, after all if a giant couldn¡¯t kill him what chance did some little men hiding in shadows have.


    A familiar knock at the door broke his focus. He smiled faintly as Ibron stepped into the room; his usual confident stride tempered by the weight of their situation.


    "Time to move, Bladesman," Ibron said, his voice steady but warm, the bond of friendship evident beneath the formality.


    Cheese nodded, rising to his feet. "You could just call me Cheese, you know," he said, grinning slightly as he adjusted the helm resting on the table.


    "Not today, my friend," Ibron replied with a wry smirk. "Today, you¡¯re the Bladesman."


    Cheese sighed but followed Ibron out of the room. Together, they descended the stairs to the main floor, their footsteps muffled on the worn wood. Outside the side door, the afternoon air was crisp, carrying the mingled scents of sawdust, leather, and smoke from the makeshift campfires scattered beyond the mill.


    Ibron led Cheese through a narrow path alongside the mill''s stone walls. As they passed through a small gate, Cheese caught sight of a group assembled on the leeward side of a hill. Many such groups were scattered about, taking cover from the city wall¡¯s watchful eyes, but this one was his. About twenty men stood in a loose formation.


    Fifteen were young, barely out of boyhood, their shields slung awkwardly on their arms. They wore uniforms dyed the same deep blue as Cheese''s, their expressions a mix of determination and unease. Their displayed skills hovered between levels 10 and 14¡ªsolid, but not extraordinary.


    Leading them was an older sergeant, his grizzled face partially obscured by an eyepatch. The man exuded a quiet authority, his stance sharp and unwavering despite the weight of years.


    Ibron gestured toward him as they drew close. "That¡¯s Hald," he said, his tone respectful. "One of the toughest bastards you¡¯ll ever meet."


    Standing beside Hald were five archers. Four were younger, their skills refined to level 14, while the fifth drew Cheese''s attention immediately. It was the elderly officer from the gate earlier that morning, his warbow slung casually over his shoulder.


    Hald turned as Cheese approached, his one good eye narrowing in a quick assessment. His voice was gruff but respectful. "Bladesman Switzler," he said, giving a curt nod. "These are your men."


    Cheese scanned the faces of the young soldiers, the eager archers, and the weathered sergeant. For the first time, the weight of his new role pressed down on him with undeniable force.


    Ibron excused himself with a quick pat on Cheese¡¯s shoulder as the Bladesman addressed the officer and sergeant. "Hald, Bjorn," he said, gesturing for them to follow. The three climbed a slight rise that gave a clear view of the city¡¯s ruined walls.


    The walls were a wreck, yet Cheese could see small figures moving atop the shattered embankments. His stomach tightened as he studied the battleground.


    "I¡¯ll have the truth," Cheese said, his voice steady despite the tension. "What combat experience do you have?"


    Hald answered first, his tone blunt. "Brigands here and there. I¡¯ve served twenty years as a guard, but as you know, we¡¯re a nation that sees little combat."


    Cheese nodded, noting the man¡¯s displayed skill: [Command: 18]¡ªa level Cheese had never encountered before. He turned to Bjorn.


    The archer shrugged, his voice calm. "Fifteen years as an adventurer when I was a boy, three as a mercenary on the mainland, and then twenty as an officer here in the Fairhaven guard."


    Cheese regarded the archer with approval. "Well," he said, "until a week ago, I¡¯d never killed anything bigger than a boar. I¡¯m no grizzled veteran of campaigns like you two." Hald scoffed lightly, but Cheese pressed on. "Yet my father places his hopes in us. He tells me you¡¯re the best he has, and I believe it. Do you know your men?"Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Both men nodded. Hald spoke again. "Yes, we know them, and we know each other. I¡¯ve served with the old man here since he joined the guard. The boys are young, younger than even you, but they show promise. And they¡¯ve seen..." He paused. "All of Fairhaven¡¯s guard have seen things these past days. They didn¡¯t run. They didn¡¯t give in. They¡¯ll do their duty, Bladesman."


    Cheese nodded. For a moment, he considered telling Hald to call him by his name but thought better of it. Instead, he said, "Well, I¡¯m no tactician, and I know almost nothing about what we face. I¡¯ll be in your hands. Stay close, Hald. If I do anything foolish, either stop me before I can or make sure it works."


    Hald cracked a faint smile. "Understood, Bladesman."


    Cheese turned back to the ruined walls, his expression grim. "Now," he said, "what can you tell me about these little green men we¡¯re going to kill today?


    <hr>


    An hour later, they began their march.


    Cheese crested the top of the hill at a brisk trot, his breath steady but his heart racing. To his left, his father¡¯s unit of five hundred men sounded a loud series of blasts from their war horns. The deep, resonant calls echoed across the battlefield, stirring a sense of purpose and forewarning that rippled through the ranks.


    To his right, about 150 meters away, Cheese could see his brothers alongside Elder Tompson and Ibron, at the head of a force of about 250 men from the city guard. Their movements were careful, measured¡ªthese men would enter the fray more slowly, preferring to hold back and react rather than charge headlong into danger. Similar formations were occurring along the city¡¯s perimeter, as pockets of defenders took their positions in anticipation of the impending assault.


    Before the incursions, Fairhaven had been a thriving city of some 20,000 souls. Five thousand of those had been part of the militia in some capacity, from combat-trained veterans to the newly enlisted. Now, only about 2,000 remained. Many had fallen to the giants and the swarm of little green men that had invaded the city with terrifying swiftness.


    But it wasn¡¯t the survivors who concerned Cheese. It was the raw numbers who lacked real combat experience. While he and his men¡ªthe elite fighters of Fairhaven¡ªwere trained and battle-tested, most of the militia had no true battlefield experience.


    Fairhaven¡¯s strength had never been in its fighters, but in its merchants, crafters, and governors. It had no history of defending against invasions. Unlike Timberbrook, where every man knew how to swing an axe or hold a shield, Fairhaven¡¯s soldiers were glorified laborers, tradesmen, and farmers¡ªmen who could build or bargain but had never been asked to face the horrors of war.


    The thought of them facing seasoned warriors made Cheese uneasy. Against an enemy like the one they now faced, men like him, and his men would be forced to fight and survive or perish trying. The rest¡ªthose who were little more than common townsfolk pressed into service¡ªwere more likely to flee than fight.


    His men were different. Elite. Hand-picked. They had been drilled, sparred, and trained for this. They knew how to fight, and they knew how to die, if it came to that. Unlike the others, who wore shields more for protection than for prowess, Cheese¡¯s men held their shields with confidence, their skill levels ranging from level 14 to 16. They were the sharp edge of Fairhaven¡¯s defense, and Cheese was their leader.


    Cheese¡¯s eyes wandered briefly to the field where his men were forming up. Fifteen young soldiers¡ªmen barely out of boyhood¡ªstood ready, their shields gripped tightly as they eyed the horizon. Their skill levels ranged from 10 to 14¡ªsolid but not yet seasoned. They would need his leadership, and the leadership of Hald and Bjorn, if they were to survive.


    To the left, beyond his father¡¯s unit, he could see the chaos of the larger, less organized militia. Those men weren¡¯t the ones he would rely on¡ªthey would advance at a slower pace, lacking the fire and precision his unit could deliver. It would be up to him and his men to cut through the enemy lines and pave the way for those less prepared.


    Cheese tightened his grip on his axe, the glowing blue runes along its haft casting a faint, ethereal light. The weight of it, both physical and metaphorical, was becoming more real with every passing second. His men were prepared, but the rest of the city¡¯s defenders¡­ they were something else entirely.


    "Keep your heads, and stick with me," Cheese murmured to his unit, his voice calm but firm. "We¡¯ll hold the line."


    As the horns sounded again, the signal to move out, Cheese set his jaw and led his men down the hill. Their formation was tight, purposeful. They weren¡¯t just militia¡ªthey were soldiers, elite and ready for the coming storm. Cheese didn¡¯t know if it would be enough, but he would be damned if he didn¡¯t give it everything.


    The first shot came from Bjorn, hardly fifteen seconds after Cheese¡¯s command. The older man loosed one of his great shafts with a practiced hand. It flew through the air with deadly precision, striking one of the enemy creatures. The impact sent the creature hurtling backward, knocking it off the wall. Another shot followed quickly, taking down a second foe in the same manner. With a resounding thud, both figures tumbled over the battlements.


    The enemy¡¯s response was swift, but it was already too late. The archers stationed atop the wall were silenced before they could even nock their arrows. Bjorn had cleared the area with deadly accuracy¡ªnone of the creatures could get a shot off at Cheese''s unit.


    "Their bows are weak!" Cheese shouted, his voice ringing out over the battlefield. The men behind him erupted in cheers. They continued their march, undeterred. Cheese led from the front, his soldiers following in two tight ranks. The first rank, composed of shields and spears, moved forward with determination. Behind them, the five archers moved in tandem, awaiting their turn.


    Bjorn didn¡¯t let up. He continued to fire, each arrow finding its mark, until his quiver ran empty. A shield-bearer passed him a fresh one, slung over his back. But by the time Bjorn was ready to resume his fire, the enemy archers had already ducked behind the battlements, too far out of sight for any further shots.


    Bjorn had fired thirty arrows in total, and only three had missed their mark.


    "Hold fire and watch for their heads!" Bjorn commanded. His fellow archers, armed with smaller bows, acknowledged his order. Their bows lacked the power of his warbow, but they were ready to act as soon as they saw an opportunity.


    As the unit advanced, the sounds of arrows and slung stones echoed in the distance, but none of it was aimed at their small group. The enemy had no chance to retaliate in this section of the wall, their archers already dealt with. Cheese¡¯s men advanced unmolested, steadily closing the gap between them and the enemy.


    Cheese¡¯s unit pressed on, each soldier climbing the broken stones with swift determination. They neared the base of the wall where the giant footprints had left an imprint in the stone, leaving a jagged slope up to the top. The wall itself was a fortress, towering above them, but one section had collapsed entirely, the rubble now serving as a makeshift ramp for the soldiers to ascend.


    As they neared the base, a sharp crack of tension filled the air. Cheese¡¯s eyes darted to the far side of the rubble, where a small figure appeared it was no taller than a child, moving swiftly from behind a pile of debris. The creature was quick, its movements erratic, but its purpose clear¡ªit was aiming for them with a bow, drawing an arrow as it darted forward.


    A flash of red words appeared above the creature''s head as it took aim. [Goblin archer: apprentice], the interface read, glowing faintly. Cheese¡¯s mind processed the label, instinctively noting the creature''s rank and name.


    The goblin released the arrow with a practiced motion, but before it could reach its target, Hald moved like a shadow. With a grunt, the older sergeant raised his broad shield, the massive surface meeting the arrow with a resounding thunk. The bolt was absorbed in the shield, rattling Hald but failing to harm him.


    Cheese ducked instinctively as the arrow glanced off the shield, but Hald was already positioning himself to retaliate. The goblin, seemingly unfazed by its failed attack, retreated behind the rubble, but Bjorn¡¯s warbow sang with deadly accuracy. The bolt struck the goblin in the chest, and it crumpled to the ground.


    "Thank you, Hald," Cheese said quickly, his voice sincere. The old sergeant didn¡¯t reply, offering only a grunt as he lowered his shield, his eyes already scanning for any other threats.


    Cheese glanced back at the fallen goblin, its small form lying in the rubble. Above its lifeless body, the words [Goblin archer: apprentice] still lingered in his mind, but the interface quickly faded. What was a goblin? He wished he had time to think on it, but he knew they needed to act. So, cheese topped the walls and called for his men to follow him into the city.

 Ch 14: Feints

    They descended into the city with a controlled vigor and speed that Cheese knew would be unusual in a normal unit. They were few¡ªjust twenty-some-odd men¡ªbut they were the best of this ragtag force. He knew that, and he knew his mission, but he felt like a boy as he stood behind the shields of his comrades, pushing down the street and into the city proper.


    Their mission was simple. While the bulk of their force descended on the city, it was Cheese''s mission to reach the heart of Fairhaven and uncover the source of the enemy¡¯s power. The assumption of his father and the other commanding officers was that, like any force when outmatched, these goblins would fall back to the city center and request reinforcements through whatever means were available to them. It was up to Cheese and his men to find out what means these creatures had and do their utmost to impede them.


    To that effect, Cheese and his men marched forward slowly and methodically. They paused at every intersection to let Bjorn listen. From there, the aged archer would direct the men toward the center of the now-collapsing lines of sound. Their larger force had entered the city; that much was apparent from the noise. What was not apparent was whether the goblins would mount a dedicated and effective response.


    Cheese was largely along for the ride as this unfolded. He allowed Bjorn not only to direct the men but also to take the lead position in the advance. The reasoning was simple: this was Bjorn''s city, and he was far more experienced in the art of war.


    However, it was Cheese who noticed it first. As they passed alley after alley, he eventually spotted the scuttling of feet in the shadows¡ªa movement at the last moment as the group of men passed. Cheese called for a halt and gestured for Hald and Bjorn to join him.


    ¡°What is it, m¡¯lord?¡± Hald asked, as they looked down a side street littered with half-burnt wooden refuse and collapsed cobblestones.


    ¡°Down there,¡± said Cheese, pointing to a rectangular hole in the ground he had noticed. ¡°I saw a small creature¡ªsmaller even than the goblins at the walls¡ªjump down that hole.¡± Cheese thought of his page and added, ¡°Perhaps it was one of their children. It had the look of a child. Small and green. It waited for the block to pass and then ran there. I don¡¯t believe it noticed me in the rear.¡±


    The older men exchanged a glance, and for a moment, Cheese felt a tinge of red on his neck, flushed with inexplicable embarrassment. It felt as though he were confessing to having struck his own foot in front of his father and grandfather. Yet the young man composed himself as Bjorn replied, ¡°That might explain it.¡±


    ¡°Explain what?¡± asked Cheese.


    ¡°Well, we have sewers here in Fairhaven.¡±


    Cheese looked at him, clearly puzzled, prompting Hald to step in and spare Bjorn the awkwardness. ¡°Tunnels that carry the shite to the water, m¡¯lord.¡±


    Cheese was momentarily stunned. ¡°Really? That¡¯s a thing? Across the whole city?¡±


    The men nodded, and Bjorn continued, ¡°We never determined how they got into the city. As I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard, they would simply appear, and we had no idea where they were coming from. If they came from the sewers¡­ Well, if they¡¯re using the sewers as a means of transportation¡ª¡±


    Bjorn¡¯s face suddenly went pale as the implications dawned on him.


    But it was too late.


    As his mouth opened to speak his fears into existence, a shockwave rippled through the city. A great booming erupted from every direction, and then suddenly Cheese''s world descended once again into chaos as he and many others were caught in a series of devastating explosions.


    <hr>


    Rook


    Rook was on edge. Things were simply going too well for his liking. In the past few days, nothing had gone this smoothly.


    Rook was no general. He had commanded his squad and company in combat, yes, but that was different. As he stood atop the walls of Fairhaven, directing his men, he reflected on this distinction. Commanding men you knew and trusted was far more reliable than what he now faced. The men of Fairhaven were just so damn inconsistent. He would give an order, and it felt almost optional, judging by the sluggish speed with which it was carried out.


    As he watched his latest runner disappear into the streets below, Rook wondered if the captain in charge of the reserves needed to be relieved. The man was headstrong¡ªRook had seen that much in less than two days. A man who clearly craved command. The captain had insisted on leading the charge himself, showing every sign of insult and indignation when left to defend the Mill instead.


    Yet, in truth, Rook couldn¡¯t entirely blame him. He doubted he would have been able to ignore the itch in the back of his own mind if he had been left behind. This unshakable urge that something had to be wrong. That this was too easy.


    The goblins had fallen back with hardly a fight. That was what the System called the little green men: goblins. Reports from his scouts insisted the creatures had flitted away into alleys and disappeared into thin air. Perhaps it was magic? Rook honestly didn¡¯t know.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    This unease lingered as he heard it: a low echo from beyond the city walls.


    Rook turned and spotted the reserves. The 250-some-odd men had abandoned their position at the Mill and were now marching in rank and file toward him. His frustration boiled over, and he turned to the officer beside him.


    ¡°Signal them to return. Damn him. If there is a¡ª¡±


    Rook never finished his sentence.


    The blast came first, ripping through the wall beneath his feet. The world erupted into chaos as stone and fire consumed the structure, sending him and his men into a deadly fall.


    <hr>


    The world came back to Cheese slowly, like a nightmare surfacing from the depths of sleep. His ears rang with a sharp, relentless tone, and his vision swam in dizzying, chaotic patterns. Smoke curled around him in dense, choking waves, stinging his eyes and filling his nose with the acrid stench of burning wood and something far worse¡ªcharred flesh.


    His leg throbbed with a pressure so unbearable it cut through his disorientation. When he tried to move, the agony spiked, and he realized why: a massive rock pinned his lower leg, crushing it mercilessly into the rubble beneath him.


    Cheese gritted his teeth and took in the scene around him. Blood pooled in dark rivulets across the broken stone, some of it his own, though he couldn¡¯t tell how much. His hands trembled as he clawed at the debris, and he noticed with sickening clarity that his index finger was bent at a grotesque angle, the bone nearly pushing through the skin.


    A wave of horror washed over him as he stared at it. His breathing quickened, coming in sharp, panicked gasps that only pulled more smoke into his lungs. His mouth tasted metallic¡ªblood.


    With a shaking hand, Cheese grasped his broken finger, and after a moment of hesitation, wrenched it back into place. He screamed. The sound was raw and guttural, but it cut off as blood surged into his mouth. He coughed violently, spitting it out, desperate for air. The coughing didn¡¯t stop, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might choke.


    Finally, a single, rasping breath made it into his lungs. Then another. He forced himself to focus. He was alive.


    But the rock was still there, immovable, crushing him. His hands scrambled over its jagged surface, searching for leverage, but the dust and rubble offered no purchase. His vision swam again as the smoke thickened, every breath burning his throat.


    Cheese closed his eyes, reached deep inside, and summoned his axe. The magical weapon materialized in his trembling hands, and he used the haft to wedge it under the boulder. His arms strained against the weight, his muscles screaming in protest. Inch by inch, the rock shifted, until finally, with one last heave, it rolled away.


    He collapsed back onto the ground, panting, but the reprieve was short-lived. His leg¡ªnow free¡ªwas a ruin. Blood seeped from torn flesh, and the bone jutted at an unnatural angle just above his boot. When he tried to move it, a wave of searing pain shot through him, and he bit down on a groan, tears streaking through the grime on his face.


    The ringing in his ears began to fade, replaced by faint, muffled sounds. Moaning. Groaning. The sounds of men dying.


    Cheese called out hoarsely, his voice raw. ¡°Help! Is anyone¡ª¡± He broke off, coughing again, the smoke tearing at his throat.


    As the dust began to settle, shapes emerged from the haze. Bodies¡ªtoo many bodies¡ªlay sprawled across the rubble. He recognized the motionless forms of Hald and Bjorn nearby, their stillness sending a fresh spike of panic through him.


    Struggling to sit upright, Cheese took stock of his surroundings. Slowly. Methodically. Every movement was agonizing, every discovery worse than the last.


    Cheese forced himself to look. His head swam with grief and smoke, but he scanned the devastation. His first discovery was a young man lying on his side, his chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths. The boy¡¯s helm had been knocked askew, revealing blond hair matted with blood and dirt.


    Cheese crawled closer, his mangled leg dragging behind him. ¡°Who is that?¡± Cheese bit through broken teeth.


    The boy blinked up at him, tears streaming down his face. His lips trembled as he stammered, ¡°Torv¡­ Torv, m¡¯lord Bladesman.¡±


    It was then Cheese saw the source of the boy¡¯s agony. His left arm ended at the elbow, the rest torn away, leaving a bloody stump that oozed and dripped onto the stones. Torv¡¯s wide eyes were fixed on the wound, his breath hitching with every sob.


    Cheese swallowed back his own rising panic. ¡°Torv. Listen to me. We need to stop the bleeding.¡±


    Torv whimpered but nodded, his gaze darting between Cheese and the gory mess where his arm had been. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t want to die, m¡¯lord. Please¡­¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Cheese said, though his own voice wavered. He pulled at Torv¡¯s belt, unfastening it with shaking hands and wrapping it around the stump. The boy let out a scream as Cheese cinched it tight, the improvised tourniquet cutting off the blood flow.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± Cheese said firmly. ¡°Focus. You¡¯re alive, Torv. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    The boy nodded weakly, tears still running down his face. He managed a shaky whisper, ¡°Your leg, m¡¯lord¡­ it¡¯s bad.¡±


    Cheese glanced down at the ruined limb but ignored it. ¡°We¡¯ll worry about that later,¡± he said, his tone more clipped than he intended.


    Another voice broke through the haze. ¡°Torv!¡±


    Cheese turned to see a man staggering through the rubble toward them. Blood streaked his face, and his leather jerkin was torn, but he was upright. The man¡¯s bow was gone, but the quiver on his back was still intact, its arrows clinking softly as he walked.


    ¡°Fjorn!¡± Torv cried, his voice trembling with relief.


    The archer dropped to his knees beside them, his breathing labored. ¡°You¡¯re alive, lad. That¡¯s a damned miracle.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s lost his arm,¡± Cheese said quickly. ¡°But he¡¯ll make it if we get him out of here.¡±


    Fjorn¡¯s sharp eyes darted to Cheese¡¯s leg, then back to Torv. ¡°And you, m¡¯lord?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± Cheese snapped, though his face betrayed the strain.


    Before they could exchange more words, another voice called out through the dust and smoke. ¡°Anyone! I need help! Over here!¡±


    Cheese turned toward the sound. A third man¡ªdark-haired and stocky¡ªwas crouched over a prone figure. His hands were pressed to the man¡¯s chest as he looked back toward Cheese.


    ¡°It¡¯s Hald!¡± the soldier shouted. ¡°He¡¯s alive, but barely.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t walk,¡± Cheese rasped, his gaze dropping to his mangled leg.


    The younger man nodded grimly and helped him up, bracing him against his shoulder. The other two soldiers carefully lifted Hald, their movements strained but steady. Together, they began to pick their way back through the rubble, retracing the path they had entered by.


    The world around them was silent now, save for the occasional crack of distant flames and the muffled sound of their labored breathing. Dust clung to their skin, and the acrid stench of smoke and death lingered with every step.


    Cheese bit down on the pain, focusing on each agonizing step forward. There was no time to mourn the dead¡ªnot yet.


    Not until they were out of this hell.

 Ch 15: Choices that make a man

    As the explosion blasted out of the city, flinging rock and stone high into the air, Rook¡¯s command was decimated. He had pushed forward aggressively, and the eruption of fire from beneath their feet struck precisely where it needed to do the most damage. Of the two thousand men at the walls, ninety percent were killed instantly.


    For those who survived, it was an inexplicable calamity. Never before had the men of this world witnessed such large-scale devastation. They had seen magic¡ªspells capable of destruction¡ªbut this was different. This power was on another level entirely.


    There was no explanation for it. Even a thousand mages casting spells in perfect synchronization could not produce such destruction¡ªnot at the level of power known in this world.


    <hr>


    Captain Jean was a coward. He always had been one, even in his younger years. It had served him well enough as he adventured, and even better in his fathers court. Yet to be regulated to guard duty by no more than a jumped-up peasant rankled even him sorely. He was the son of a baron, a great man, and he was meant for more than this. So what if he had fled with a band of survivors. It had been his duty to report to the king.


    So, when he saw this Rook charge forward, hogging all the glory he had refuted it. Oh, he did not hate the man for his drive. Drive was good in a warrior, and a commander, yet Jean knew that he must act if he was to share in that glory. That is why he left the keep with the men he could convince. The rest he allowed to stay in reserve, the elderly or nay sayers. He gave them to the command of that fool Tompson that the woodsmen seemed to revere so highly. The ones who came with Jean were young men to be sure, unbloodied, yet Jean had seen the foes they faced on this day. Killing these small green men would be good work for such unbloodied green men.


    He was therefore unprepared for the blast that took him off his horse.


    Jean was pulled up quickly by the men as he heard them begin to scream. He looked at his nearest seargent and yelled "Form a square man!"


    Yet they were to slow for even that. They had been evenly between both the walled city and the mill. As he gave his order Jean saw a tide of green rush from the northern wall of the mill, twards the rivers delta. It was an ambush from the sea.


    And the force was not comprised soley of those little green savages that had raided the city, for among them were larger figures, the height of a man. For every ten of the smaller forms there stood one or two of these larger creatures gesturing wildly as they ran. Even from this distance Jean could see a name floating above one of their heads One struck him as a threat above all others [Orc Leader: Expert].


    "Shit" Jean said to himself quietly. They had all been appraised of the new skill systems as the weeks passed. That indicated this creature, skills that exceeded 50 at least. And there were so many of them. As he looked, he appraised their number to be over five thousand, and they had the jump on his small force.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "FOLLOW ME!" he shouted, standing firm "TO THE CITY WALLS MEN, WITH ME"


    And with that the captain of the reserve turned and fled, running as swiftly as he could to the crumbled ruins of Fairhaven.


    <hr>


    Cheese hobbled forward with his men, every step a torment. His shattered leg throbbed relentlessly, and the crude splint barely held it in place. Bjorn and Hald were carried between the others, their groans mixing with the distant chaos that hung over Fairhaven like a shroud. The smoke was thicker here, choking the air and obscuring the ruins ahead.


    Through the haze came the faint echoes of shouts and screams, carried on the acrid wind. The sound gnawed at the edges of Cheese¡¯s mind, growing louder as they pressed on. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself onward. Each footfall kicked up ash and rubble, the city¡¯s devastation laid bare beneath them.


    Then, out of the smoke, a goblin lunged. Small and hunched, it came with a crude blade raised high, snarling as it charged. Without thinking, Cheese¡¯s axe appeared in his hand. In a single motion, he swung. The creature¡¯s head toppled from its shoulders before the rest of its body crumpled to the ground.


    ¡°Another,¡± murmured one of the men, his voice dull.


    More goblins emerged, emboldened by the sight of the wounded party. Cheese¡¯s movements were mechanical, his axe slicing through the air with brutal efficiency. He did not think, did not feel¡ªonly acted. One fell, then another, and another. The goblins were dispatched with all the thoughtless certainty of cutting firewood. The men said nothing, their expressions grim as they trudged forward.


    The screams grew louder, sharper, punctuated by the clang of steel and the guttural cries of the goblins. Cheese¡¯s head snapped up as they reached the edge of the smoke, and the scene beyond came into view.


    A group of men holding his fathers banner, fewer than fifty, were caught between the wall and a sea of goblins. The small green forms swarmed around them, cutting off any chance of escape. Among them moved taller shapes¡ªhulking, muscular figures with cruel weapons that gleamed in the dim light. Orcs. Cheese knew of orcs. They were from the mainland, a race that had long ago died off as the men there hunted them to extinction. HIs father had told him stories of their brutality.


    The men¡¯s screams tore through the air, raw and desperate. One man¡¯s cry ended in a wet gurgle as a blade pierced his throat. Another staggered, clutching his belly as a goblin slit him open. The force tried to hold, shields locked and weapons lashing out, but the tide of green slowly overwhelmed them as they watched. The goblins swarmed over their formation, dragging the men down one by one.


    Cheese froze, watching the carnage unfold. He felt his stomach turn, bile rising in his throat. The screams seemed to echo inside his skull, a cacophony of despair and death. He wanted above all to help, but he knew he could not.


    ¡°Keep moving,¡± Cheese rasped, his voice hoarse.


    The others obeyed, their faces pale. They skirted the battlefield, the moans of the dying fading as they pressed on. The city walls loomed over them, cracked and crumbling. Smoke curled from fires burning along its length, the remnants of the explosion still smoldering.


    They exited the city through a gap in the wall, and cheese saw that the scene of earlier was playing out again to their west. A number of men, some hundreds of them had been pressed against the city wall. The goblinoids were ripping into them with glee as a single man held them back. He was clad in silver armor, his blade biting forward as he did his best to save his men.


    Cheese turned away form that as well. It pained him yet as he looked at his men, he knew his duty.


    "Come" he said as he walked slowly forward. His eyes were on the mill, and the flag that still flew there high in the sky. They limped onward, their path marked by blood and ash, toward the last bastion of Fairhaven.

 Ch 15.1: Survival

    Cheese and his battered group moved as fast as their injuries allowed, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they crossed the fields toward the mill. The distance couldn¡¯t have been more than a few hundred meters, but every step felt like an eternity. The flag of Fairhaven, a beacon of hope amid the carnage, beckoned them forward.


    Behind them, chaos reigned. The goblins and their larger orc kin were still locked in a vicious melee with the remnants of the reserve. The reserve force, pinned between the goblin tide and the collapsing walls of the city, fought with desperate ferocity. It was this struggle that bought Cheese and his men their slim window of opportunity. The greenskins were too consumed with the massacre to notice the crippled group limping across the ruined fields.


    But the reprieve was short-lived. As they neared the mill, the first goblin head turned in their direction, its guttural shout cutting through the din. Others followed, snarling and pointing as the small party became a new target.


    ¡°Run!¡± Cheese bellowed, though his own body protested the command. The men obeyed, their fear overriding pain and fatigue as they stumbled forward.


    The first arrows came before they reached the last stretch. Wicked, black-fletched shafts hissed through the air, thudding into the ground and striking the wounded. One buried itself into the back of Fjorn . He crumpled with a cry, dragging Hald and the other warrior carrying him down to the ground.


    ¡°No!¡± Cheese screamed, skidding to a stop. He turned, his hand outstretched toward the fallen man.


    Cheese hesitated, his heart wrenching as his gaze locked with Halds` broken form. Then another arrow streaked past his face, forcing him to stagger back. Tears burned his eyes as he turned and limped toward the mill.


    The last few meters were a blur of motion and pain. The arrows came faster, driving them forward. One of the men opened the gate just enough to let them squeeze through, and the survivors scrambled inside, gasping and bleeding.


    ¡°Close it!¡± someone yelled, but the goblins were already upon them.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The weight of bodies pressing against the gate stalled its movement, and the creatures began clawing through the gap. Cheese, still unsteady on his shattered leg, forced himself upright. Summoning his axe, he staggered forward and shoved his men aside.


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold them!¡± he growled, his voice raw with fury.


    Cheese planted himself in the gap, his injured leg trembling beneath him as he raised his axe. The first goblin to squeeze through met the blade with a sickening crunch, its body collapsing to the ground. Another followed, and another, and each time Cheese struck, his weapon moved with unnatural precision.


    He felt the force of his power coursing through him. His axe became an extension of his will, a tool of destruction that chopped through flesh and bone with ease. The goblins snarled and screamed as they fell, their blood soaking the ground at Cheese¡¯s feet.


    The System dinged faintly in his ears, barely audible over the roar of combat. He ignored it, his focus entirely on the next enemy. Time blurred as he stood there, an unyielding wall of fury, hacking and cutting until the press of goblin bodies began to thin.


    [Axe 27 ¡ú 28]


    [Axe 28 ¡ú 30]


    His leg gave a sharp throb of protest, but Cheese stood firm, leaning into his strikes. His breathing was ragged, his muscles trembling from exertion. The goblins hesitated now, their momentum faltering as the pile of their dead grew higher. Then he heard it, the sickly scream of goblins at the gate, Cheese glanced up and saw the men on the walls, they were overturning burning oil onto the invaders. Cheese went back to his work as the thrum of bows began above him, joining into the layers of defense. His skills pinged again.


    [Axe 30 ¡ú 31]


    With one final, savage strike, Cheese cleaved through an orc¡¯s torso, sending its upper half tumbling to the ground. The remaining goblins shrieked in terror, scattering back out into the darkness, the sick pop of burning flesh followed them as they ran.


    Cheese sagged back, barely catching himself on the gate as the men rushed forward to close it. The sound of the heavy wood slamming shut was a relief he hadn¡¯t known he needed.


    He collapsed against the wall, his axe slipping from his blood-slicked hand. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, the scent of death and smoke heavy in the air.


    ¡°We made it,¡± someone whispered, though their tone carried no triumph, only disbelief.


    Cheese nodded faintly, his body trembling as the adrenaline ebbed away. They had made it to the mill, but at what cost? His mind lingered on Hald on his father, and on the horrors yet to come.


    As he breathed heavily he slowly sank to the ground, his destroyed leg finally surrendering under the weight of his body.

 Ch 16: Recovery and planning

    Ibron stood over his old friend, Cheese, who knelt atop a mound of green and grey flesh and splintered bones. Blood and dirt streaked across Cheese¡¯s scarred form, his breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. Ibron¡¯s chest tightened at the sight. He wanted nothing more than to let his friend rest, but he knew that wasn¡¯t an option. Not now.


    Elder Tompson approached slowly, his cane tapping softly against the blood-soaked ground. The chaos of battle still raged around them, but the elder seemed untouched, his focus sharp. Even so, the vigor Tompson had shown earlier was fading, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the day. Placing a firm hand on Ibron¡¯s shoulder, he spoke in a low, urgent tone.


    ¡°Get him on his feet, lad. We¡¯ve no time to waste.¡± His eyes flicked to the gates. ¡°The work¡¯s not done, and neither is he.¡±


    Ibron hesitated, glancing at Cheese¡¯s torn leg. The bone glinted through the ragged gash in his calf. How was the man even alive, let alone moving?


    At Tompson¡¯s signal, two boys rushed over, one of them Nold, the page assigned to Cheese. Together, they lifted the battered Bladesman to his feet. Cheese said nothing, though his face twisted into a grimace of pain. When he finally steadied himself, his bloodshot eyes locked onto the elder.


    ¡°You need tending,¡± Tompson said, his gaze dropping to Cheese¡¯s mangled leg. ¡°The enemy has pulled back for now, scouring the city. I¡¯ve ordered the women and children to tend to the wounded. We must use this respite while we have it. Now, come.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, Tompson turned and began walking briskly, his pace belying his age. Ibron and Nold supported Cheese as they followed, his weight heavy on their shoulders.


    As they moved through the camp, the stench of blood and ash filled the air. People rushed past, their faces pale and weary. Ibron leaned closer to Cheese, his voice low.


    ¡°It was Captain Jean,¡± he muttered. ¡°He ordered the fort abandoned. Left us open. I stayed behind with about half the town. Thought we¡¯d hold what we could.¡±


    Cheese grunted in acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere.


    ¡°We¡¯ve lost a lot,¡± Ibron continued, his tone more somber now. ¡°Maybe seventy good men left. Another forty if you count the elderly we can put on the walls. And fifty boys, young but willing.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°My mother¡ªdoes she know?¡±


    Ibron nodded. ¡°She does. We¡¯re taking you to her now. She¡¯ll see to your leg, but you¡¯ll be back on the wall before long.¡±


    Cheese didn¡¯t respond, just gave a weary shrug as they arrived at a large canvas tent. Inside, rows of makeshift tables stretched out, each one occupied by wounded men. The air was thick with the iron tang of blood, mingled with the sharp cries of the injured.


    As Cheese entered, a hush fell over the tent. The women at the tables paused, their eyes fixed on him. For a brief moment, even the groans of the wounded seemed to fade. Then, as if shaken from a trance, the women returned to their work, the sounds of agony and frantic activity resuming.


    Ibron tightened his grip on Cheese¡¯s arm, guiding him forward. ¡°She¡¯ll fix you up,¡± he said quietly. ¡°But after that¡­ there¡¯s no rest, friend. Not yet.¡±


    Cheese nodded faintly, his gaze sweeping the room as he soaked in the death around him. So many had died today, it sickened him.


    As Elder Tompson led Cheese to a table near the back of the tent, he gestured for Ibron and Nold to lay the injured man down. The table was hastily cleared, blood-stained cloth and tools swept aside to make room.


    ¡°Vanessa!¡± Tompson called, his voice cutting through the commotion.


    A tall woman emerged from a cluster of workers, her presence commanding despite her simple, blood-smeared apron. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, revealing muscular forearms, and her dark hair was streaked with grey. She moved with urgency, but her face softened as her eyes met her son¡¯s battered form.


    ¡°Cheese,¡± she said quietly, kneeling beside him. Her hand brushed his matted hair, and she leaned down to kiss his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m here, love. You¡¯ve made it this far, but this will hurt.¡±


    Cheese grunted, too exhausted to respond. Vanessa looked up, her tone turning sharp. ¡°Hold him down. All of you.¡±


    Ibron and Nold grabbed his arms, while another man from the tent stepped forward to press down on his uninjured leg. Vanessa¡¯s fingers probed his knee, her jaw tightening as she examined the damage.


    ¡°Dislocated. Bone¡¯s slipped out of place.¡± She glanced at Tompson, her expression grim. ¡°I¡¯ll set it, but it¡¯ll bleed more when I do.¡±


    ¡°Do it quickly,¡± Tompson replied.


    Vanessa nodded, her hands steady as she positioned herself. ¡°Stay with me, Cheese,¡± she murmured before pulling hard and sharp on his leg.


    There was a sickening pop, followed by a spray of blood. Cheese¡¯s scream tore through the tent before his head slumped back, unconscious.


    Vanessa worked quickly, her movements precise as she wrapped the leg in layers of bandages, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. By the time Cheese stirred, groaning as his eyes fluttered open, she was finishing her stitches.


    ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she said softly, her voice both relieved and firm. But her expression darkened as she turned to one of the women nearby. ¡°Bring the iron.¡±


    The assistant handed her a glowing metal rod, heated in a brazier near the center of the tent. Vanessa turned back to Cheese, who was watching her with bleary, pain-filled eyes.


    ¡°This will keep it from festering,¡± she said, her voice gentle but unyielding. ¡°Bite down, son.¡±


    Ibron pushed a thick piece of wood into Cheese¡¯s mouth. He barely had time to brace himself before the iron was pressed against his leg.


    The searing pain was immediate, a blinding agony that made Cheese convulse despite the men holding him down. He bit through the wood with a loud crack, the splinters cutting into his tongue as his scream turned into a choking sound. His body went limp, darkness swallowing him again.


    When he woke, the tent was quieter, the chaos around him fading into the background hum of activity. His leg throbbed, the pain dulled by exhaustion. He could taste blood in his mouth. Vanessa was wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.


    ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± she said softly, her voice full of relief. ¡°But you¡¯ve done enough lying down.¡±


    Elder Tompson stepped into view, his expression stern. ¡°We must speak Bladesman. You¡¯ve earned your rest, but there¡¯s no time for it now.¡±


    Cheese tried to sit up, his body screaming in protest. Vanessa placed a hand on his back helping lift him.


    ¡°Slowly,¡± she warned. ¡°You¡¯ll need your strength.¡±


    Cheese nodded faintly, his head spinning as he rose. The battle wasn¡¯t over¡ªnot for him, not for Timberbrook.


    <hr>


    As they exited the tent, the crisp night air greeted them, heavy with the faint tang of smoke and blood. Cheese blinked, his vision adjusting to the darkness. The walls of the mill were ablaze with torchlight, their warm flicker casting long shadows over the town. He could hear the occasional shout from the guards stationed there, their vigilance palpable even from a distance.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Elder Tompson led the way, his steps purposeful, while Ibron and Nold helped Cheese limp forward. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his body, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to falter.


    ¡°We¡¯ve had about a hundred men filter back in throughout the day,¡± Tompson said quietly as they made their way up the path.


    Cheese nodded faintly, though his mind was clouded with fatigue. His ears caught an eerie sound in the distance¡ªlow, rhythmic drumming, accompanied by faint, guttural singing. The direction was clear: Fairhaven was truly overrun.


    ¡°They¡¯re celebrating,¡± Cheese muttered, his voice thick with disdain.


    ¡°Monsters,¡± Tompson said grimly. ¡°Unnatural creatures. These¡­ goblins, as you call them. I¡¯ve heard of the orcs, brutish and savage. But these? They¡¯re something else entirely. Not from the incursion¡ªthat much is certain.¡±


    Cheese glanced at the elder, his brow furrowing. ¡°Then where did they come from?¡±


    ¡°That, we don¡¯t know. But we will find out.¡± Tompson¡¯s tone brooked no argument, though his weariness was evident.


    They reached the longhouse, its broad structure dark except for a faint glow spilling out through the cracks in the shutters. No guard was stationed at the entrance; every able-bodied man was on the walls. Tompson pushed the door open, and a wave of noise greeted them¡ªvoices raised in frantic conversation, mingled with the occasional wail of despair.


    Inside, the longhouse was crowded with women, children, and the elderly, many of them refugees from Fairhaven. The air was thick with tension, the weight of the day pressing heavily on everyone. As Cheese was slowly guided to the front of the room, the noise subsided.


    Then he saw him¡ªWaff, his younger brother. The sight of him alive and whole hit Cheese like a blow to the chest, and he had to stop himself from breaking down.


    ¡°Waff,¡± he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    The large man turned, his broad shoulders tense with exhaustion, and his face softened the moment he saw Cheese. Waff strode over and wrapped a strong arm around his brother, careful not to jostle him too much.


    ¡°You look like hell,¡± Waff said, a faint smile on his face despite the grief in his eyes.


    Cheese managed a shaky chuckle. ¡°Feel like it too.¡± He glanced around. ¡°Where¡¯s Char?¡±


    Waff¡¯s expression darkened, and his grip on Cheese tightened slightly. ¡°We¡­ we lost him. Pulled into the tide of goblins while we were fighting our way here.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s stomach sank, but something in Waff¡¯s face gave him pause. Beneath the sorrow, there was a faint glimmer of hope¡ªor denial.


    ¡°You think he¡¯s gone,¡± Cheese said softly.


    Waff looked away, his jaw clenched. ¡°I don¡¯t see how he could¡¯ve made it. But¡­¡± He shook his head. ¡°You know how Char is. If there¡¯s a way, he¡¯ll find it.¡±


    Cheese nodded, though his chest felt hollow. Char was resourceful. He had to believe that.


    The brothers sat together as Waff recounted the events. While he did a number of bedraggled men filtered into the seats, among them was a hangered Priest of the many gods. ¡°After the blast, they came from the forest. Hundreds, maybe more. We fought as best we could, but there were too many. We had to fall back. When we reached the mill, the gates were under siege. We hit them from behind, smashed through, and fought our way inside. By the time we made it, you were already in the tent.¡±


    Cheese listened intently, his mind piecing together the fragmented story.


    ¡°We need to strategize,¡± elder Tompson said. ¡°Now.¡±


    Cheese and Waff rose, then walked over and sank onto a bench at the head of the long table. Around them, men began to gather¡ªsome familiar, others strangers. Yet all bore the unmistakable signs of battle.


    Tompson started listing their forces. ¡°We have the original seventy men from Timberbrook, your five, Waff and his group¡ªanother hundred or so. That¡¯s every able-bodied man we¡¯ve got, just shy of 200. Then there are the elderly¡ªforty, maybe fifty, who can stand guard if need be. And the boys¡ªfifty or so between ten and fifteen. If we include everyone, even the wounded, we have, mayhap, 300 men.¡±


    Cheese nodded, his mind already racing. The odds were slim, but Timberbrook wasn¡¯t out yet.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± he asked, his voice steady despite the fatigue gnawing at him.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Tompson, his eyes fixed in the distance. ¡°We have a watch. If you give the order to incorporate the men I listed, we¡¯ll make three watches of 100 men each. They¡¯ll work eight hours apiece, with eight hours of rest. A second hundred will remain on standby.¡±


    Cheese nodded along. He wasn¡¯t experienced in such matters, having never commanded before, so he simply agreed with the elder. Finally, he said, ¡°Make it so.¡±


    ¡°And what,¡± asked Ibron, ¡°is our plan? That¡¯s the main issue. We need to decide what we¡¯re going to do. We have food enough to last several months, perhaps a year. Are we simply to wait under siege until then?¡±


    Cheese frowned. Gods, he was not meant for this. Luckily, Elder Tompson intervened. ¡°It is simple. We do our duty. We failed in the assault; the city is not ours. That much is obvious. The King is on his way¡ªyour father saw to that, Bladesman. So we wait, and we ensure that when he arrives, we are here for him to command.¡±


    Cheese nodded and asked, ¡°When do we believe he¡¯ll be here?¡±


    Tompson¡¯s face wrinkled as he said, ¡°Mayhap a week or so. The roads should be clear, but it¡¯s a long way from the capital. They were harassed, so if he and his guard come with haste, he might make it in slightly less.¡±


    Cheese nodded and said loudly for all to hear, ¡°It will fall not to the men to bear the worst of this, but to the women. I ask all of you to ensure, as you always have, that our men are prepared to fight.¡± He leveled his eyes on his mother, who stood beside the seamstress Vella. ¡°To that task, I command you two. Mother, I ask that you take charge of the daily running of this fort. Master Vella, I ask that you ensure the men are roused on time for watch and that nothing impedes the quartermaster¡¯s work.¡±


    As he spoke, Cheese was astounded to see the two women actually curtsy to him¡ªhis own mother and a master of the weave.


    He turned his eyes back to the table and the men seated there. ¡°Elder,¡± he said simply to Tompson, ¡°do we have a count of the enemy?¡±


    Tompson¡¯s expression darkened slightly as he nodded. ¡°Yes. The guess is that they number some ten thousand. They appear to have left a token force inside the city after the assault¡ªa thousand or so that didn¡¯t escape.¡±


    Cheese was silent for a moment, then shrugged. ¡°Ten thousand or a hundred thousand¡ªit matters not. If they mean to take us, they¡¯ll have a hard time of it. Do we know how they performed that magic?¡±


    The elder shook his head, and as Cheese surveyed the men around him, he didn¡¯t see even a flicker of an idea forming. Nevertheless, he pressed on. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. From what we¡¯ve seen, they can¡¯t use this skill at will. They need to prepare a trap, and we need to walk into it; otherwise, they wouldn¡¯t have sacrificed their men.¡±


    Nods of agreement spread around him as his words sank in. Cheese continued, ¡°I¡¯ll take the first watch. Elder Tompson, are you able to stand?¡±


    The old man nodded. ¡°Aye, I¡¯m strong with a bow.¡±


    Cheese clasped a hand on the old man¡¯s shoulder with a smile, surprised by the feeling of coiled muscle beneath his touch. ¡°Well then, you¡¯ll take the mid-day watch into the early night. That leaves you, Waff, for the evening watch.¡±


    Ibron cut in, ¡°Bladesman, it isn¡¯t his place. I¡¯m the quartermaster; the responsibility falls to me.¡± Despite his words, Cheese could see the weight of responsibility pressing on his friend.


    ¡°Nay. Your duty as quartermaster is exactly that, Ibron. You must ensure the rations, weapons, and water keep flowing. I also task you with overseeing the training of the men.¡±


    ¡°Training?¡± Ibron asked skeptically.


    ¡°Yes, training. Just today, I gained more levels in my skills than I¡¯ve ever known anyone to gain in a single day. The world has changed, and our men must grasp this power. If we intend to survive, we must grow stronger, my friend. So, when the men are on their downtime before their watch, if nothing presses them, I task you with overseeing their sparring and fitness. By the time the King arrives, I intend no man within these walls to have their main combat skill below 40.¡±


    ¡°Forty!¡± shouted Ibron incredulously. ¡°Just a week ago, you were stuck at 14! How do you expect the men to attain such a level of expertise in so short a time? The ammunition alone for our bowmen makes such a thing impossible.¡±


    Cheese nodded. ¡°Aye, it¡¯s true that not long ago I was at a wall, as were many of us. But that wall is gone, my friend. Before this quest is complete, I intend to be knocking on level 50¡ªmark my words. Still, you¡¯re correct. What are we to do about ammunition?¡±


    At these words, a man stood up. He was older, similar in age to Elder Tompson, and raised a weary hand. ¡°I may have a solution there, good sirs.¡±


    Cheese nodded. ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°My name is Floki. I am¡ªor at least, in my youth, I was¡ªa blacksmith. My son went out today, as did my grandsons. They won¡¯t return. However, I still have some strength.¡± The man displayed his smithing stat, and Cheese let out a low whistle.


    [Smithing: 37]


    ¡°My body has decayed in recent years, which is why I no longer tend the forge. Yet, recently, like many others, I¡¯ve felt a return of strength. With one or two hands to help stoke the forge, I believe I can produce enough arrowheads to keep us going.¡±


    Cheese nodded. ¡°Very well, Floki. I¡¯ve never seen you before. Where do you hail from?¡±


    Floki smiled bitterly. ¡°I was from Fairhaven, sire.¡±


    Cheese paused, then asked, ¡°Are there any other masters of Fairhaven who survived these events?¡±


    Two women and a man came forward. Both women were seamstresses assisting with triage and stitching. The man, however, was exactly what they needed.


    [Woodcarver: 37] His name was Green.


    Cheese shook his head. ¡°Green, why didn¡¯t you present yourself?¡±


    The middle-aged man looked confused. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m a master, or I was, but I¡¯m a carver. My trade is trinkets. That¡¯s hardly useful here.¡±


    Cheese laughed. ¡°No, man, you¡¯re a woodcarver. You work with wood, and now you¡¯re a fletcher. Have you ever made arrows before?¡±


    ¡°As a boy,¡± Green admitted. ¡°But I¡¯m no hand at it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll learn,¡± Cheese said with a smile. ¡°You have plenty of material to practice on¡ªthis is a mill, after all.¡±


    Laughter rippled through the room as Cheese brought the meeting to an end. Just then, a single blast from a horn echoed from the walls.

 Ch 17: The Baron

    Cheese stood as quickly as his ruined leg would allow, his balance shaky and uncertain. Beside him, Waff rose as well, the lumbering man holding his younger brother under the armpit to steady him.


    The men rushed toward the square, a chaotic tide surging toward the walls. Yet, amidst the clamor, they instinctively left room for the bladesman and his imposing companion.


    As they approached the wall, a second horn sounded, its twin blasts reverberating through the keep. The call was unmistakable in its meaning. Men to the walls, battle imminent. The armies of the Kingdom used a straightforward signaling pattern: one blast for a sighting, two for an approaching enemy, and three for friendly reinforcements.


    Cheese strained to hear, silently praying for a third note to follow the first two. But it didn¡¯t come. His heart sank as the cold stone steps came into view. He climbed slowly, each step a fresh reminder of his injury, while men hurried past him in a blur.


    When he reached the top, he was met with a grim sight. Two blasts meant an attack¡ªbut not their own battle, not yet. Before the keep, some two hundred men fled the western horizon, their horses galloping in desperation. The riders wore the colors of the county seat, their flight a disorganized panic.


    Behind them came the enemy. Large, misshapen creatures bounded forward on all fours, their grotesque forms illuminated by the moonlight. Their hind legs replaced their forepaws in an unnatural, rhythmic gait. They outpaced the horses with terrifying ease, and occasionally a rider fell, disappearing beneath a writhing mass of claws and teeth.


    Cheese¡¯s hand twitched as he raised it, ready to order the gates open. But before he could give the command, another horn sounded¡ªa lone blast, this time from the eastern wall.


    Then came the unmistakable thrum of arrows in flight, followed by the screams of men. Cheese turned sharply, his eyes scanning the eastern horizon, where dim torchlight flickered in the distance. Between Fairhaven''s walls and their own, shadows moved with purpose.


    "Open the gates," Cheese commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. Turning to the man beside him, he added, "Elder Thompson, the wall is yours. Save as many of those men as you can, then close the gate."


    Thompson¡¯s eyes widened, but he nodded. Cheese locked eyes with the older man and said, softer now, "Do not let the enemy inside, no matter the cost. If it means giving those riders the mercy of death outside the walls, so be it. If they near the gate, throw them ropes. But do not, under any circumstances, let the horde in."


    Thompson swallowed hard but bellowed the command: "OPEN THE GATES! BY ORDER OF THE BLADESMAN, OPEN THE GATES!"


    With a lumbering creak, the great doors began to swing outward. Cheese turned to Waff and said, "Brother, take me to the eastern wall."


    Waff didn¡¯t hesitate. With a grunt, he scooped Cheese up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Cheese groaned but bit back any complaints. Time was too precious, and dignity could wait.


    The journey was a tense blur of noise¡ªthe screams of dying men, the clash of steel, the thunder of hooves echoing off the stone walls. By the time Waff deposited Cheese onto the eastern battlements, the younger man¡¯s heart was pounding with urgency.


    Cheese looked out over the moonlit field. The enemy was gathering just beyond the reach of their largest war bows. Orcs and goblins milled about, forming a rough line under torchlight. They snarled and shouted as larger figures¡ªhobgoblins and something bigger still¡ªpushed them into order.


    Beside him, Waff bellowed, "OFFICERS TO ME!" His voice carried down the line, cutting through the disarray.


    The men on the wall, most unequipped with the large war bows of the Fairhaven Guard, scrambled to find cover behind crenelations. Some milled about aimlessly, unsure of their roles.


    A familiar figure approached¡ªMauren, the foreman of Cheese''s father''s mill. Above his head, the System displayed his skill: [Leadership: 21].


    Cheese greeted him with relief. "So, Mauren, you''re in command here?"


    Mauren nodded. "I was told to hold the walls until you arrived. When the horn blew from the west, the goblins started gathering. I''ve got our best archers picking off their officers and torchbearers to disrupt them."


    Cheese nodded approvingly. "Good. Make sure the men conserve their arrows. If the enemy disperses, tell them to stop firing unless they¡¯re certain of their shots. We can¡¯t waste ammunition on an open field."


    Mauren saluted. "Yes, Bladesman."


    Cheese winced at the title but said nothing. He turned to Waff, who was clearly hiding a grin. Before Cheese could snap at him, his page, Nold, appeared, carrying a folded cloth.


    "What in the devil are you doing here?" Cheese snapped, glaring at the boy. "This is no place for you! You¡¯re unarmored and¡ª"


    Nold interrupted, unfazed. "I¡¯m twelve, sir, and you said the youngest were to join the battle." He held up the cloth with a grin. "Look! It¡¯s perfect."


    Cheese took it, unfolding the crimson fabric. On it was a deep yellow sunrise. Nold explained, "They said it¡¯s the standard of the merchant families who founded Fairhaven. Mistress Vanessa told me your family has no crest, so I thought..." He trailed off nervously.


    Cheese stared at the flag, emotions swirling. Finally, he said, "Thank you. See it mounted and bring it back. And get yourself a spear, helm, and shield. It wouldn¡¯t do for my page to die in his first battle."You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Nold beamed and dashed off, leaving Cheese to turn back to the field. The enemy was shifting, pulling back. A massive creature¡ªlikely their leader¡ªshoved its subordinates into order. Even from this distance, Cheese could feel its gaze. Their eyes locked, and an icy dread crept over him.


    The creature waved a hand and disappeared into the shadows.


    "Prepare the men," Cheese told Mauren. "Keep them sharp. I¡¯m going down."


    Mauren nodded and saluted Cheese before shouting orders and running along the walls. Cheese began the agonizingly slow limp down the stairs, his battered body protesting every step. Waff hovered nearby, his massive hands twitching as if ready to hoist Cheese over his shoulder again. Cheese waved him off with a glare.


    ¡°I¡¯m walking,¡± Cheese growled through clenched teeth, though his pace was little more than a shuffle.


    The square below, once crowded with tents and crude wooden shelters, was now eerily clear. The structures had been torn down or abandoned in the chaos, and survivors huddled in the longhouse. A grim silence hung in the air, broken only by distant shouts from the walls.


    As Cheese approached the gathering of horsemen, a sergeant, identifiable by the stripes on his sleeve, intercepted him. Without a word, the man guided Cheese toward a tall figure astride a great white horse. The rider bore the sash of a general¡¯s office, and his weathered face was streaked with blood and soot. Cheese recognized him instantly.


    The man¡¯s sharp eyes fixed on Cheese as he neared. ¡°You,¡± he barked, his voice a rough edge. ¡°Where is the man in charge of this keep?¡±


    Cheese halted, taking a moment to size up the man before him. He appeared to be in his fifties, his stark white hair and long beard lending him an almost mythical presence. His armor bore fresh dents, and blood spotted his deep green tunic beneath the plate. Yet his horse stood calm and unscathed, a sharp contrast to its rider¡¯s battle-worn appearance.


    Cheese squared his shoulders, speaking in a measured tone. ¡°Who is it I address?¡± The formality in his voice carried no deference, only professionalism.


    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed, his lips curling slightly as he evaluated Cheese¡¯s bloodied and soot-streaked face. The brands on Cheese¡¯s forearms caught his attention, and his expression shifted. He swore softly under his breath.


    ¡°Apologies,¡± the rider said, his tone tempered with realization. ¡°You¡¯re the boy from the gods¡¯ audience, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Cheese inclined his head but said nothing.


    ¡°I am the Baron of Gabrio,¡± the man continued. ¡°A fishing settlement to the north. My count and king sent me here with word, but we were ambushed on the way by those hound-like beasts. I know your father¡ªRook, is he in command here?¡±


    Cheese¡¯s stomach twisted at the mention of his father. He shook his head. ¡°No, my father is... not here,¡± he replied, his voice low.


    The name Gabrio sparked recognition. Cheese had heard of the baron¡ªa renowned mercenary from the mainland who had achieved mastery in five skills and reached level 45 in swordsmanship before retiring to Gelia. His father had spoken of him with respect, especially after the baron had purchased large shipments of lumber during the founding of his hamlet.


    ¡°We are honored by your presence, Baron,¡± Cheese said carefully. ¡°What word do you bring?¡±


    The baron dismounted; his movements slow but deliberate. ¡°Well,¡± he began, his tone grim, ¡°I bring the king¡¯s command: Fairhaven is to be taken. But I see now that¡¯s... unlikely.¡± His gaze swept the ruins and the haggard faces of the soldiers. ¡°The king¡¯s plan is to stage an exodus from the surrounding lands to Fairhaven. Your father was to ensure this was possible. What¡¯s happened here?¡±


    Cheese recounted the ambush and the explosion within Fairhaven¡¯s walls. The baron listened intently, his frown deepening with each word. Finally, he nodded.


    ¡°I see. That tracks with what I feared.¡± He reached into his saddlebag and withdrew a small scroll, its surface covered in intricate runes. ¡°The creatures that attacked us¡ªthey¡¯re connected to this. It might explain their origin.¡±


    Cheese took the scroll gingerly, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar script. After a moment, he sighed. ¡°I know my numbers and common letters, but this is beyond me.¡±


    The baron studied him for a moment, then nodded. ¡°It¡¯s an old script¡ªone your father would likely recognize. It speaks of summoning rites and binding magic. Those beasts... they¡¯re not natural. Someone, or something, is bringing them here.¡±


    Cheese tightened his grip on the scroll, a cold knot forming in his chest. The baron¡¯s words hung heavy in the air, their implications clear: the enemy was not merely attacking¡ªthey were orchestrating.


    "To what end" he asked the Baron.


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    The baron shrugged. ¡°Goblins and orcs are ancient creatures. They dwell in the western wastes, under the control of the Yasian Horde.¡±


    Cheese blinked, the word catching him off guard. ¡°Goblins?¡±


    The old man nodded. ¡°Yes. That text was found on a goblin in the capital. One of the king¡¯s men¡ªan adventurer from the old days¡ªcould read it. It¡¯s marching orders and a contract. Strangely, it coincides with the System-imposed Incursion quest. When the quest ends, so will the contract... unless it¡¯s completed before then. The creatures in the capital were instructed to assassinate the king within the timeframe. If they succeed, the contract allows them to remain. If they fail, they¡¯ll be banished back to the wastes.¡±


    Cheese frowned, his expression darkening. ¡°Do you have any idea who might have the power to create such magic?¡±


    The baron shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s why I brought it here. Your father had a skill¡ªObserve. It was powerful, and we hoped it could reveal details about this scroll and some other artifacts.¡±


    Cheese swore softly, his shoulders tensing. ¡°I don¡¯t have that skill,¡± he admitted. ¡°And my father... he¡¯s dead. We lost him in the assault.¡±


    The baron¡¯s face fell, his tone shifting. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss. Is this all that remains of your forces?¡±


    Cheese nodded. ¡°Yes. And the city holds a garrison numbering in the thousands.¡±


    The baron was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the ruined fortifications. Finally, he spoke. ¡°Very well. What is your rank?¡±


    Cheese hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again before answering, ¡°My father named me Bladesman. I... don¡¯t know if it¡¯s official.¡±


    The baron chuckled, his sharp eyes studying Cheese¡¯s posture. ¡°Bladesman, is it?¡± He raised a brow. ¡°Was it for killing the Incursion leader?¡±


    Cheese nodded, and the baron let out a short laugh. ¡°And have you any formal training in the art of war, boy?¡±


    ¡°Only what the militia gets,¡± Cheese replied with a shrug.


    ¡°Then you¡¯re in luck, Bladesman,¡± the baron said, a wry smile curling his lips. ¡° I now grant you formal command of this... fortress.¡± He glanced around at the sparse defenses, his disdain evident. ¡°If one can even call it that.¡±


    Cheese stiffened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.


    ¡°I also name you a Commander in my retinue,¡± the baron added with finality. Without waiting for a response, he turned and began striding toward the longhouse. Cheese, limping badly, struggled to keep up.


    As they walked, the baron¡¯s tone shifted to conversational. ¡°Your leg¡ªwill you keep it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Cheese admitted. ¡°I was unconscious until today. I¡¯ll know more in time.¡±


    The baron nodded, his green tunic swaying with each step. ¡°Very well. My men and I will stay the night. Tomorrow, we¡¯ll talk.¡±


    Cheese gave a brief nod, his mind reeling as the baron strode into the longhouse. Turning to Waff, who was hovering nearby, Cheese muttered, ¡°I¡¯m finding a bed. I need the rest.¡±


    Waff nodded in understanding, his massive frame a comforting presence as Cheese hobbled away to seek what little solace sleep could provide.

 Ch 18: Clothes maketh the man

    Cheese slept deeply that night. He did not dream¡ªsuch is the way with men at war. Exhausted, his mind overtaxed, the moment his head hit the bed he was tugged into slumber rather than drifting to it.


    He awoke early in the morning to the nudging of a gloved hand. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, candle-lit room where he''d made his bed, he recognized the form of Nold. The small boy nodded at him and said, "Sire, you must awake. The bath is drawn, and the Baron waits for you in the war room."


    "Bath?" asked Cheese, his voice tinged with incredulity. Why would he need a bath?


    "The Baron insisted, sire. He said¡­ he said your appearance was fine for a battlefield, but if you insist on calling yourself a Bladesman, he insists you be washed." Nold hesitated, avoiding Cheese¡¯s gaze. "He laughed when he said it, sire, but he seemed very serious."


    Cheese chose not to push the subject, simply raising his arms to allow the boy to remove his shirt.


    Nold dutifully stripped the larger man, and as he worked, Cheese felt the cool air prickling his skin. Though the room was warm, compared to the heat under his blankets, it seemed as if he were in a snowstorm. As Nold handed him a clean shirt, Cheese rose and stripped off his pants. They came away with a wet, sucking sound, and he winced as he looked at his leg. The bone was slightly exposed, and the movement had removed a layer of skin, but staring at the wound, he felt a faint hope. Given time, he might recover.


    But Cheese knew time was not in abundance. He grabbed a hooded cloak and the pair of pants Nold offered, hobbling after the boy, his nudity forgotten.


    By the gods, the stone was cold underfoot. Most of the keep was made of hard stone, and these warriors'' quarters lacked the wooden flooring common in Timberbrook to insulate against the chill. Cheese supposed this construction style¡ªstrong, magic-wrought stone¡ªwould persist now that the old restrictions on mages had been lifted. He wondered idly what that would mean for woodcutters like him.


    No, he decided. Nothing could replace a man with an axe and a saw, strong arms, and the will to create.


    The hallways were busier than he expected for the early morning. Hobbling along after Nold, Cheese felt a moment of embarrassment, his awkward gait and bare legs exposed to all. The feeling only deepened when he passed two young maids he didn¡¯t recognize. They turned toward him, giggling, before covering their faces and bowing.


    "Bladesman," they said in unison.


    Cheese chose not to respond. It had nothing to do with his reddening face or how quickly he hobbled away. And the squeak he let out while rounding the corner to the bathing chamber? Absolutely unrelated to the roaring giggles that followed him.


    Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Cheese muttered, "Nold?"


    The boy looked up from where he was stirring something into the steaming water. "Uh, yes, Master Bladesman?" Nold asked, his face confused.


    Cheese sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he said, "Nold, please. When we¡¯re alone, call me Cheese."


    The boy hesitated, clearly grappling with something. "But my grandpa and the Baron said¡ª"


    Cheese cut him off. "Nold, we¡¯re both from Timberbrook. Your da and I played together as kids. I know your ma¡ªhells, I know your ma. I¡¯m no lord, Nold. Out there, maybe, but not when it¡¯s just us. Please."


    Nold nodded quickly. "I can do that, Cheese."


    "Thanks." Cheese glanced at the steaming bath and frowned. "I¡¯ve never used one of these. I¡¯m no perfumed noble. What do I do?"Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Nold grinned and shrugged, holding up a sponge. "I think you scrub with this. The guards gave me the perfume. I think I mixed it right. You just take soap and a sponge and wipe yourself¡ªor, uh, I wipe you."


    Cheese grimaced. "A sponge? Like Ma used to clean plates with when I was a kid?"


    Nold nodded. "Yup. I guess they use them to clean their bodies. It¡¯s weird. Whenever I wash, I just use a rag and some soap."


    Cheese agreed silently but hobbled to the water. Without further complaint, he sank into it gingerly.


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    It was nice. After a few moments, Cheese¡¯s body adjusted to the heat, and the tension in his muscles began to melt away. The water, scented faintly with lavender and something sharper¡ªmint, maybe¡ªwrapped around him like a warm embrace. He hadn¡¯t realized how much grime and sweat clung to his skin until now, as the soapy water worked its way into every crease and scar. He flexed his hands under the surface, watching dirt and blood slink away in cloudy wisps.


    His leg, though still painful, felt lighter in the water. The heat soothed the angry throb of the exposed wound, and as he shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position, he let out a long, shuddering sigh. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in two days, it felt like the weight of the world wasn¡¯t trying to crush him.


    The weariness slinked off his bones, slowly, reluctantly, but it was leaving. His muscles relaxed one by one, his breathing deepened, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to just be¡ªa man in a bath, warm and clean.


    But the memories crept in. They always did.


    The battle with the giants. The way the air had seemed to hum with the force of their blows. The sound of wood splintering, of men screaming, the goblins and orcs, rushing like a tide of chaos and filth. He remembered Hald and Bjorn and the explosion.


    He thought of his father. His proud smile when he saw Cheese with the axe with its Susine wood haft and engraved runes. The letter. The way the words had reached into his chest and pulled something loose, something raw and unfamiliar.


    Before he realized it, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks, mingling with the water. At first, they came quietly, then in soft, heaving sobs. Cheese didn¡¯t try to stop them.


    A small hand rested on his, and he looked up to see Nold sitting on the edge of the tub. The boy said nothing, his own eyes glistening as tears began to fall. They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, both crying for the weight of what they¡¯d lost and what they¡¯d survived.


    In time, Cheese¡¯s sobs quieted, his breathing steadied. He gave Nold¡¯s hand a squeeze, waited for the boy to gather himself, then asked, voice hoarse, "Have you bathed yet?"


    Nold shook his head, wiping his face quickly.


    Cheese frowned, standing slowly in the tub as the water sloshed around him. "From now on, you bathe before me. I need you to take care of yourself, Nold. Understand?"


    The boy hesitated, then nodded, his gaze steady.


    As Cheese stepped out of the bath, Nold was there with a cloth, helping him dry off and then dress. The shirt Nold handed him was purple¡ªa deep, rich color that seemed out of place on Cheese¡¯s broad, calloused frame.


    "Purple?" Cheese asked, looking down at himself.


    "The Baron said it¡¯s your house color now," Nold replied, carefully fastening the shirt.


    Cheese¡¯s brow furrowed. "House color? I don¡¯t even have a house."


    Nold smiled faintly. "The Baron stayed up all night after you arrived. He¡¯s been seeing to everything¡ªsetting the defenses, sending out scouts, reorganizing the men. He even named Elder Thompson your second in command. Both of you have been given rank in the nobility."


    Cheese blinked. "Can he do that?"


    Nold shrugged. "He did. Unless the king says otherwise, this is the way it is now."


    Cheese stood still for a moment, absorbing the information as Nold finished fastening his clothes together, and began putting him in a solid breastplate. His life, it seemed, was changing faster than he could keep up. "How do you know how to do this" Cheese asked the boy as he slipped a set of old iron bracers onto Cheese` hands.


    "My pa wanted me to join the guard here in Fairhaven. He said it would be good for me. So he... well he taught me a few things. He was a page you know, back before grandpa and great grandpa became woodsmen."


    Cheese nodded as the boy spoke, finally looking down to his neat outfit. He had an old breastplate, it was not form fitted like the barons, but it was quality. A set of bracers and a set of gauntlets were in his hands, they made them feel unfamiliar, yet Cheese knew they had purpose. his feet now had simple shoes made of leather, and his shins were covered with a set of nice pants. "Nobility," he murmured, shaking his head. "What a mess."


    But when he looked at Nold, still dutifully brushing lint from his sleeves, he managed a small, weary smile.


    "Let¡¯s get on with it," Cheese said, adjusting the purple shirt. "The Baron¡¯s waiting, and there¡¯s work to be done."

 Ch 19: On the job training and the start of the siege.

    Cheese descended the polished stone steps, each one sending a muted clink up through his armored boots. His legs felt strange encased in greaves¡ªbracers for his shins¡ªthat he wasn¡¯t used to wearing, though they fit snugly enough. A purple long-sleeved shirt peeked out from beneath the breastplate that weighed down his shoulders. It was finely made, too fine for a lumberjack from Timberbrook, and it rubbed oddly against his skin. His bracers and metal gloves, gauntlets the baron¡¯s steward had called them, completed the ensemble. He felt more like a child playing dress-up than a man ready to lead.


    Still, the weight of the armor was oddly reassuring. The pain in his knee and leg was dulled, the bath having worked wonders, and he moved far more smoothly than he had the night before. Though the stiffness lingered, each step was easier than the last.


    At the bottom of the stairs, a figure stood waiting, his broad shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of something unseen. Torv. His left arm ended just below the elbow, the bandaged stump cradled against his chest.


    Cheese offered a small smile. "Morning, Torv."


    Torv straightened at the sound of his voice, his weary expression softening. "Morning, Bladesman." A pause, then, "Cheese. I... wanted to thank you."


    Cheese frowned. "For what?"


    "For saving me," Torv said, glancing down at his arm¡ªor what was left of it. "You pulled me out of that mess when you didn¡¯t have to. If you hadn¡¯t, I¡¯d be dead for sure."


    Cheese shifted uncomfortably, the metal of his gauntlets creaking as he rubbed his neck. "We were all just trying to make it through."


    Torv nodded, his jaw tightening. "Still. Thank you."


    The man took a deep breath, straightened further, and met Cheese¡¯s gaze. "I... don¡¯t have anywhere to go now. Nothing to do. My unit¡¯s gone, Bladesman. All of them. When I told the nurse that, she said you might need a bannerman."


    "A bannerman?" Cheese repeated, blinking.


    Torv gestured with his good arm, his voice gaining strength. "I¡¯m only missing a hand. I can still hold a banner. I know I can. I once knew a one-armed spearman who could fight like hell itself. If he could do that, I can hold a bloody banner."


    Cheese studied him. Torv¡¯s face was drawn, lined with exhaustion and grief, but his eyes held fire¡ªa determination that refused to be snuffed out.


    "You¡¯re sure about this?" Cheese asked.


    "Dead sure," Torv said. "I need something to do. Something worth what time I¡¯ve got left."


    Cheese hesitated, then nodded slowly. "All right. You¡¯re my bannerman, Torv. But I expect you to prove you can handle it."


    A grin split Torv¡¯s face, a genuine smile that made him look younger, as though some of the weight had been lifted. "You won¡¯t regret it, Bladesman. I¡¯ll hold that banner higher than anyone ever could."


    Cheese allowed himself a small smile in return. "Good. Now go find yourself some clothes that match mine. Purple¡¯s the color, apparently."


    Torv saluted with his good hand, the motion crisp and full of purpose. "Yes, Bladesman." He turned and strode off down the hall, his steps steady despite his injuries.


    Cheese adjusted the straps of his breastplate and continued down the corridor, the coolness of the stone floor seeping through his boots. His limp was more of a shuffle now, the armor¡¯s weight oddly comforting.


    As he neared the war room, he passed the old throne, a relic of a time when Timberbrook¡¯s rulers were more than barons. He paused for a moment, inclining his head in a simple gesture of respect. It felt strange, acknowledging a seat of power he had never aspired to, but something about it felt right.


    Straightening, Cheese squared his shoulders and made his way toward the heavy doors of the war room. There was work to be done, and he was ready to face it.


    Cheese pushed open the heavy oak doors, the hinges creaking faintly as he stepped into the Baron¡¯s war room. The air inside was thick with the scent of wax candles and ink, mingled with the faint tang of metal from the armor of the gathered men.


    At the far end of the long room stood the Baron, his stark white hair a striking contrast to his deep green tunic and breastplate. Despite the chaos of the past days, he looked fresh and composed, his voice carrying clear and steady as he addressed the gathered officers.


    Cheese paused near the doorway, taking in the sight. The officers were an interesting mix¡ªmany were men Cheese recognized from Timberbrook, their rugged faces familiar from years of shared toil in the mill and the militia. Each of them wore the same shade of purple that now adorned Cheese, or a bright pink that stood out starkly against the room''s subdued tones.


    Beside each of them stood a man clad in the Baron¡¯s deep green, their armor polished to a sheen that seemed almost ceremonial. The juxtaposition was stark: local men of Timberbrook paired with the seasoned warriors of the kingdom.


    The Baron¡¯s voice was calm but commanding as he continued. "You will operate in pairs," he said, gesturing to the room. "Each of you, new to this role, will follow the lead of an experienced officer. I expect you to give their counsel every regard, even if they seem to be of fewer years than you. This is how we will ensure the future of House Timberbrook and whatever house ¡°Cheese¡± decided to create¡±. Through discipline, through trust, and through the training of the next corps of officers and elites." He smiled wryly.


    A faint chuckle rippled through the room, but it was good-natured, and when the Baron glanced in Cheese¡¯s direction, it was with a nod of acknowledgment.


    Cheese felt a flush creep up his neck but managed a nod in return, stepping further into the room. He spotted Elder Tompson standing near the side, his wrinkled face impassive as always. Beside him was Ibron, wearing the simple tan of the Timberbrook militia. Ibron caught Cheese¡¯s eye and gave him a brief nod, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a reassuring smile. Cheese eyes returned to elder Tompson, and he swore the man had the face of someone in his 60s, he truly was getting younger like the gods had said.


    At the center of the room, a rider stepped forward, his travel-worn clothes still damp with dew. He saluted crisply before speaking.


    "My lord," the rider began, "we circled the goblin camp under cover of darkness. Harried them as best we could while maintaining distance. Based on our observations, their numbers are approximately four thousand, a mix of goblins, orcs, and trolls. The trolls arrived an hour ago."If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Trolls," the Baron repeated, his tone sharpening.


    "Yes, my lord. Ten feet tall, grey-skinned brutes," the rider confirmed.


    Cheese felt his stomach twist at the description. His mind conjured up images of the hill giants he and his brothers had fought¡ªtheir hulking forms, the sheer power behind their blows. These trolls sounded no less formidable. He took a moment to consider the mans estimation, they had estimated their number closer to ten thousand. Both his fathers force, and the force on the far side of the city had been assaulted at the same time, and both forces had left a few stragglers who gave the reports of numbers approximating five thousand goblins attacking directly after the explosion. But Cheese waved away the thought. He trusted the barons reconnaissance to provide more solid numbers than their scattered intelligence.


    The Baron nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, rider. You¡¯ve done well. Ensure your men rest while they can. We¡¯ll need them fresh for what¡¯s to come."


    The rider saluted again and withdrew, leaving the room silent for a moment. The Baron swept his gaze over the assembled men. "You have your orders. Retire until your watch. Dismissed."


    The officers and their green-clad counterparts filed out in pairs, their boots echoing off the stone floor. When the last of them had gone, only the Baron, Cheese, Elder Tompson, Ibron, and a handful of young boys¡ªsquires or pages, Cheese guessed¡ªremained.


    The Baron turned his full attention to Cheese, his sharp blue eyes studying him for a moment. "Bladesman," he said, his tone neutral but edged with something unreadable. "You¡¯re just in time. We¡¯ve much to discuss."


    Cheese squared his shoulders and stepped forward, feeling the weight of his armor with each movement. He nodded toward Ibron and Elder Tompson, who gave him nods of acknowledgment in return. Whatever was to come, Cheese knew he wasn¡¯t facing it alone. The baron turned and said "Squires, bring us something hearty, eggs and meat. Bring five chairs, and call in the lady" he looked at cheese and asked "Got a house name yet?"


    "No baron" came the response and the baron simply said "Bring us the Bladesmans mother."


    In twenty minutes they were sitting and eating breakfast, soon after they started Cheese` mother arrived. She wore a simply grey dress. thankfully Cheese saw she had taken the time to remove the bloody apron and change.


    "Baron" she said with a small curtsy. Nold pulled back her seat and she sat next to her son with a smile in his direction.


    "Well" said the baron calmly as he drank his wine. "I have given it some thought. Firstly, we will take the city." He paused and read cheeses exp[ression. He gave no indication that he was surprised at this, yet internally Cheese was screaming. Take the city? That was madness.


    "Do you know what a city is cheese? Why Fairhaven is important? It is in ruins, yet the order persists, we must take it. These goblins know as well, there is power there, and we do not need to take the whole city, we simply need to take the power." the baron held up a scroll that unfurled, as he did he revealed a drawing, it was of a gem. The gem had sharp angels, and was obviously expensive.


    "Power. That is why Fairhaven is important. Similar gems exist in every major city. They are the seed for our magical professionals. We believe that whoever is doing this wants the gems. You see the gem of the capital sat on the crown of the king. Its gone now, but we know that the gem of Fairhaven was inside of the keep that the giants destroyed."


    As he said this he leveled a look at Cheese. "The young King will be here the day the quest expires. He wished to be here earlier, but with this situation and these delays I have been forced to send word for them to stall. He must live Cheese, so it is on you and me to do whatever damage we can and ensure that we get access to one of these tablets from the orcs. if their goal is the gems, we will get them back one way or another. Until then we have scouts watching the rubble of the keep so now or later, we wil ltake back Fairhaven."


    "How" asked cheese. "The keep is inside of the city, how are they able to watch that from afar and be sure no one enters it."


    The baron smiled replying "My men are skilled, though normally this would be impossible you are correct, but those goblins blew the city sky high. And they have set up camp out in the open field. No, all we have to do is occasionally send out raids and slip the horsemen into the city in passes. I doubt they will even try to be honest. The giants swept that keep to smithereens. Did you happen to search their corpses after you killed them?"


    Cheese shook his head and said "No, we weren''t there"


    The baron gave him an incredulous look and Cheese explained that they had fled, he told the man of the fight, and their last-ditch surprise plan. As Cheese said this the baron listened intently, finally as cheese finished, he asked, "May I see this Axe?"


    Cheese summoned it, and as he did the baron jumped in surprise. He searched for something in Cheeses eyes and said slowly "So there is magic to you, I had begun to think that the gods were off their rockers."


    He inspected the axe slowly, commenting on the workmanship. "Susine wood?" he asked as his hand neared the Haft. Cheese nodded and the Baron continued "Hummmmm this explains it, you have an axe that has a haft made of Susine, and a head of Black Steel. Thats a vicious combination."


    "Black steel?" asked cheese with a frown.


    "yes boy, black steel. Your father must have paid a fortune for it. Black steel is a living metal, or at least when its worked like this it is. It is self-sharpening, and hard as all hell. In time your mana and its will mix, which appears to have already happened. That allows you to cast around it, but no others. Watch" as he said this the baron lifted his arm and spoke out a number of words. Nothing happened. "I just cast a spell, but holding this I can''t even feel the mana around me." The baron had a strange look on his face as he said this, finally he smiled and asked "Cheese, do you want to sell this to me?"


    The young man jumped to his feet and shouted "Never"


    The baron smiled and said "Welp, cant blame me for asking. I would pay handsomely, but no price is worth selling that boy. Its worth more than anything I own save my own blade." The baron smiled as he pulled out his own black sword. it had a sinister gleam to it, and cheese could almost feel the sharpness with his eyes.


    "Now" said the baron returning his sword to its scabbard and tossing Cheese his axe. "To important matters. Your house, Have you thought of a name"


    Cheese looked at his mother who said "Yes, We shall be the house of Rook." Cheese nodded at her words and the baron clapped saying "Yes, House Rook, it fits. You have a house color, and a house name. I hear you have a standard, which will in turn give you a crest. I can trust you to handle this mistress rook?"


    Cheeses mother nodded, and said "I will handle the family affairs. However, my son is without funds, can he rely on you?"


    The baron nodded turning to Elder Tompson and Cheese as he said "yes, I will take you both under my employ. Bladesman, Tompson, I offer you both position in my court. If you accept I will see o it that the king grants you both the title of baronet. Do you accept?"


    Cheese looked to his mother who nodded. Saying simply "If you wish to help the people this is the way forward"


    Cheese nodded, and after a time the older Tompson did as well. When they did the baron let out another clap saying "Well that makes us three. Ibron, can I trust you to attend to their affairs with the lady Rook?"


    Ibron jumped at being addressed by the charismatic man and said "y-yes my lord. It will be so."


    Then their discussion turned to matters of politics. Cheese swam at the barons words, not grasping much of it. Yet he understood a few points. Firstly the king planned to move his full court here. Not much of the capital had survived, and after the goblins began assaulting them the king had fled. His wagon train had been beset by all manners of beasts and monsters, and eventually the prince had left it with a small guard. he had sent word to the Baron to ride south. As it stood the country was in turmoil, and the King had asked all able men to rally here. There was word from Kongsraveth that they had recovered the county capital, but the population was in shambles. Other counts and the kingdoms only duke had reported heavy losses. It looked like they would recover in time, but for now things looked rough.


    "So" said the baron as he stood. Well over an hour had passed while they spoke "for now that is all, we must turn to other matters. Bladesman, you lack a formal education, how is your education in war?"


    Cheese shrugged and said "The same, I have a high skill, and I can swing my axe better than most, but for formal education I have little experience. Only what my mother taught me and the Milita"


    The baron nodded and said "Well, let''s go out to the pitch and see, shall we?" he began walking away, and Cheese had to struggle to rise and hustle after him as the baron walked quickly out of the building, and into a square that had been staked out by the men. Inside of that square stood some 30 men in various colors who strained against one another with blades.


    "Well Fuck me" said Cheese with a smile as he realized what the baron had in mind.

 Ch 20: Meeting the Master

    The Baron strode into the square, the sharp click of his boots against the cobblestones a rhythm that silenced the murmuring crowd. With a flourish, he drew his jet-black blade, the motion precise and deliberate. Cheese¡¯s eyes locked onto the weapon as it left its sheath¡ªa moment ago, it had been a bastard sword. Now, its profile had shifted, the blade elongated and its edge thickened into that of a longsword. A faint hum of dark energy emanated from it, enough to make the hairs on Cheese¡¯s arms stand on end.


    The Baron dragged the blade across the palm of his hand with deliberate slowness, showing no sign of pain. He turned his hand to Cheese, revealing an unbroken surface. ¡°See this?¡± he said, his voice clipped with authority. ¡°Cynthia does not harm her own. Neither will she harm you.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s throat felt dry as he nodded, his eyes flicking nervously between the Baron and the blade.


    The Baron motioned him closer with an impatient gesture. ¡°Have you ever performed a Gl¨ªma?¡± he asked brusquely.


    Cheese hesitated, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air. Slowly, he shook his head.


    The Baron sighed; his gaze sharp as he studied the young man. ¡°The Gl¨ªma is an exchange of body and momentum before a bout,¡± he said, his tone like that of a schoolmaster forced to explain the obvious. ¡°Mainlanders call it wrestling, but they miss the purpose. They treat it as sport. We do not. It is a ritual¡ªone that loosens the muscles and prepares the mana beneath the skin.¡± He tilted his head toward Cheese. ¡°You¡¯ll understand once you¡¯ve felt it. Come.¡±


    He raised a hand, summoning a figure from the sidelines. The man approached with an unhurried stride. He was short, barely a meter and a half in height, but his compact frame radiated strength. Every step was balanced, every movement deliberate. His muscles, corded and sinewy, reminded Cheese of a coiled spring ready to strike.


    ¡°This,¡± said the Baron, gesturing toward the man, ¡°is Gelrock, my court¡¯s Master-at-Arms. He will see to you.¡±


    Cheese held his tongue, unsure whether he was expected to bow or speak. Gelrock¡¯s eyes locked onto him, a piercing gaze that seemed to take in every detail¡ªthe set of Cheese¡¯s shoulders, the stiffness in his gait, the faint grimace that betrayed his still-healing injuries.


    The silence stretched. Then Gelrock turned to the Baron and, with a firm shake of his head, said, ¡°No.¡±


    The word struck like a hammer. For a moment, Cheese panicked. Had he already failed? The Baron¡¯s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing around his blade, but before either could speak, Gelrock continued.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°He is untrained,¡± Gelrock said, his tone calm but resolute. ¡°He is injured. His spirit is erratic and dark. If I am to take him as a pupil, it will be done properly. No shortcuts. No rushing.¡± His dark eyes flicked back to Cheese. ¡°I will not waste my time, nor his. If you want him ready, you must allow me to do this my way.¡±


    The Baron¡¯s nostrils flared, but after a tense moment, he gave a curt nod. ¡°Fine. Do as you must.¡±


    Gelrock turned back to Cheese, his expression unreadable. ¡°Boy,¡± he said, his voice carrying an edge of command, ¡°you will follow my instructions exactly. No hesitation. No questioning.¡± He stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing down on Cheese. ¡°I don¡¯t care how much it hurts or how much you think you know. If you want to survive, you will do as I say. Understood?¡±


    Cheese swallowed hard and nodded. ¡°Understood.¡±


    Gelrock gave the faintest of nods, his approval measured. ¡°Good. Then we begin now.¡±


    Cheese nodded slowly as Gelrock explained the steps. He wasn¡¯t new to forming parties¡ªhe¡¯d been in a few before, like when his father had taken him and his brothers out to clear the woods of pests. Those memories brought a faint warmth to his chest, his father barking orders while patiently teaching them to work together. But this¡­ this felt different.


    Focusing on Gelrock, he navigated his skill menu. The process was simple: select Party Settings, add a member, and confirm. The moment he completed the sequence, a ripple of energy passed between them, and a new option lit up.


    Teacher Access Enabled.


    Cheese frowned. He¡¯d never seen this before. ¡°What¡¯s this¡­ Teacher Access?¡± he asked, pointing at the glowing option.


    Gelrock smirked, the expression both reassuring and sharp. ¡°That¡¯s new. The System added it not long ago. With my Teacher skill at Level 25, specialization in martial training, I can grant you access to learn faster. While you¡¯re under my instruction, if I have a skill higher than yours, your progress will accelerate by 25%. If my skill isn¡¯t higher, you¡¯ll still learn, but at half the speed. Clear?¡±


    Cheese blinked. That was¡­ powerful. ¡°And you get something out of this too?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Gelrock replied with a shrug. ¡°I receive a portion of the experience you gain from any skill you improve under my instruction. The returns are proportional to how much you¡¯re able to push yourself. Think of it as my way of growing stronger alongside my students.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s eyes widened. His mind immediately jumped to the possibilities. ¡°That¡¯s incredible for group sessions. Imagine a whole team training together with a teacher who¡¯s got high levels in everything they¡¯re working on. It¡¯d make an entire squad stronger in no time.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Gelrock said, clearly pleased that Cheese grasped the potential so quickly. ¡°But it only works if you¡¯re willing to put in the effort. Laziness kills progress. Now, stop daydreaming and finish enabling Teacher Access.¡±


    Cheese toggled the option, and another notification appeared:


    Gelrock Irontide¡¯s Teacher Access activated. You will learn skills at an accelerated rate when instructed by this teacher. Note: Experience gain is shared with teacher.


    The moment the notification faded, Cheese¡¯s menu adjusted. A subtle overlay highlighted his stats and skills, as if marking them for Gelrock¡¯s scrutiny. Cheese let out a slow breath, nerves prickling as he studied his menu alongside the smaller man.

 Ch 21: Sparring

    Name: Cheese


    Age: 29


    Soul Coins (SC): 1


    Faith Coins (FC): 242


    Displayed Title: Branded Heretic (Locked)


    Displayed Skill: Journeyman [Axe 35] (Locked)


    Claimable Rewards: None


    Quests:


    <ul>


    <li>Clear Out the Riffraff ¨C 3,324 / 30,126 invaders remaining</li>


    <li>Closest invader is 523 kilometers to the north-northeast.</li>


    <li>Clear out the trash (Optional) ¨C Kill the incursion leaders to end the quest early. Nearest leader is 12,234 kilometers to the east. 3/6 leaders remain.</li>


    </ul>


    Skills:


    <ul>


    <li>[Axe 35 Common]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Manipulation 25 Rare]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Resistance 13 Legendary]</li>


    <li>[Cooking 11 Common]</li>


    <li>[Climbing 10 Common]</li>


    <li>...</li>


    </ul>


    Abilities:


    <ul>


    <li>[Cleave 11 Rare]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Binding 7 Unique]</li>


    <li>[Axe Throw 5 Common]</li>


    </ul>


    "Hummmmmm, what the fuck''s a Soul Coin? Or a Faith Coin?" The Master at Arms¡¯s voice rumbled in the quiet space, his brow furrowing as he eyed the strange menu floating before Cheese.


    Cheese blinked, caught off guard by the question, but he quickly recovered. "Honestly? I¡¯m not sure. They¡¯re tied to whatever the gods did with their system boon. I haven¡¯t been able to puzzle it out myself." He shifted uncomfortably, eyeing the symbols as if they might reveal something new. "They¡¯ve been¡­ a part of this new system ever since the gods made their grand entrance. Also there are only three incursion leaders left? When did that happen?¡±


    The Master at Arms snorted, crossing his arms with a shrug ¡°Well, ain''t that a fine mess. The incursion leaders fell the day before we arrived . Likely while you were passed out. Now about your boon, is there anything weird connected to it?


    Cheese hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "It¡¯s... complicated. All I know is that they allowed me access to a new tab, but it''s mostly locked. I can spend the coins at a shop, but it doesn''t have anything useful in it." Cheese looked down at his brands and said "Also I`ve got these, and I keep seeing my skills raise on their own. I got Axe to 32 in battle, but it¡¯s higher now."


    The Master at Arms didn''t react to the story¡ªhe just listened, his eyes narrowing as he took it all in. Finally, after a long beat, he said, "Thats normal for us now, everyone''s skills are adjusting and they are raising passively with time, but what about the spiritual skills?" He gestured vaguely at Cheese¡¯s stats. "Seems you¡¯ve got a fair bit of Spiritual Resistance, and that Spiritual manipulation of yours. But what the hell are you doing with ''em? Those are generally seen on mages and wizards who use mana to protect themselves."


    Cheese felt confused by the question, and for a moment, he wasn¡¯t sure how to answer. he had never usedd mana like that, had he? "I got those after my fight with the Nekomata, it.... well, it invaded my soul, that''s the best way I can explain it." Cheese went on to explain teh interactions with the force in his core, and how he had managed to fight it off. As he got to the end of his story the Master at Arms raised a hand, cutting him off.


    ¡°Thats magic boy, and you didn''t even realize you were using it. Magic¡¯s all well and good, and it appears you have an affinity for it. But you''re an axeman, boy. You rely on your body, your strength, your stance. You can¡¯t just keep throwing your mana around like it¡¯s a free pass while ignoring the basics. If you¡¯re neglecting your physical form, you¡¯ll suffer for it. I don¡¯t care how strong your mana is¡ªif you can¡¯t hold the line, you¡¯ll fall. And when you fall, that¡¯s when you¡¯re gonna end up with more than just a bruised ego.¡±


    Cheese¡¯s fists clenched, the words stinging. He didn¡¯t want to admit it, but the Master at Arms was right. He had been so focused on finding a shortcut that he neglected the basics. He¡¯d let his body grow weak while he leaned too heavily on the magic. Part of him had known this, his athletics was stuck at 14, it had stopped raising when this whole thing began.


    ¡°I... I get it,¡± Cheese muttered, his voice low. ¡°But how do I stop using something I don''t even know I''m using.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Master at Arms said firmly, his tone resolute. ¡°You haven¡¯t. I¡¯m not telling you to stop using magic, boy. I¡¯m saying you can¡¯t rely on it. Just like you can¡¯t rely on your body alone. You need to learn to train your other skills. But until you do I have a trick.¡±


    As he spoke, the small man pulled out a leather strap attached to two ropes. He moved around Cheese, slipping the leather loop over his neck like a necklace.


    ¡°This is a tool made by our people,¡± the Master explained. ¡°An inhibiting collar. We use them on mages in the capital who are imprisoned, or like in this case on young warriors who lack proper mana control. It blocks the flow of energy between the brain and the heart, suppressing their abilities. It¡¯ll do the same for you while we train.¡±


    The effect was immediate. A weakness surged from his neck to his toes, and sapped the energy away in a flash. Cheese''s bad leg gave out, and he crumpled to the cold ground with a grunt.


    "Now we are ready for the Gl¨ªma," said the smaller man as Cheese rolled onto his back. "This training will build your muscles, but first, we must address your injury." As he spoke, he knelt over Cheese and began manipulating his limbs, folding legs, twisting arms, and bending his body into strange positions.


    "These are the forms of beginning¡ªyou will memorize them," the smaller man instructed, paying no mind to Cheese¡¯s grunts and complaints. Cheese felt weaker than ever before, straining to hold each position that the small man moved him into. ¡°You will do this every morning and every evening. It will strengthen you."


    After thirty grueling minutes of stretching, for that¡¯s all it was, Cheese was allowed to stand. His clothes and breastplate were filthy from the ground. Around them, the sparring men had rotated out, replaced by a new group as Gelrock worked to stretch Cheese.


    "How does the leg feel?" Gelrock asked as Cheese tested his weight on it.


    "I can still feel the injury, but it¡¯s no longer too painful to stand on," Cheese replied, surprised.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The master-at-arms nodded. "As I suspected. I believe your magic is hurting you. That¡¯s something I can¡¯t fix¡ªnot completely. Your magic is invasive; it pushes, separates, and harms. For someone like you, healing is difficult. Your injury wasn¡¯t as bad as it seemed¡ªyes, a dislocation and some damage¡ªbut at the journeyman level, such wounds would almost heal overnight. Your mana is stopping that, Cheese."


    The words shocked Cheese. ¡°What!¡± he exclaimed.


    Gelrock nodded. "Yes. I only know this because of my skill. I¡¯m no sage, just a master-at-arms, but a skill at this level offers insight into one¡¯s students. Your biggest challenge is that your mana and your path as an axeman are at odds with each other."


    Cheese absorbed the explanation as Gelrock motioned toward the edge of the training pit. "Strip your plate and return. Then I¡¯ll show you the next part of the Gl¨ªma. You¡¯ll perform the exercises I¡¯ve shown you on your own every morning and evening. The next part requires a partner."


    Cheese limped to the edge of the ring but noticed his hobble was fading. The pain lingered, but his leg was holding his weight. Nold and Torv were there to assist him, and Torv¡¯s purple shirt earned an approving nod from Cheese. Together, they stripped off his armor, and Cheese reentered the training grounds.


    Gelrock waited, bare to the waist. Cheese followed suit, tossing his shirt to his page. "What now, master?" he asked.


    "Stay off the ground," came the curt reply.


    Gelrock crouched into a strange stance, his chest low over his knees, arms outstretched like he was about to snatch a fish from a stream. Cheese hesitated but adopted a stance the militia had taught him¡ªsimilar to chopping a tree.


    "No striking," Gelrock warned. "Your goal is to put me on my back. I¡¯ll do the same to you." He crept closer.


    Cheese had never done anything like this before, and it showed. When Gelrock reached forward tentatively, Cheese swatted at his hand, then pulled back, remembering the rules. Too late. Gelrock seized his wrist with startling strength, yanking him forward. Cheese lowered his body to counterbalance, but the smaller man was already behind him. A foot pressed against his knee, buckling it and sending Cheese stumbling forward. He ran into the fall, trying to regain his footing, but failed. A notification appeared:


    [Athletics 15].


    Cheese stood facing Gelrock, who smirked, still crouched in that strange stance. "Do not let your opponent grab you¡ªwrists, head, legs. If I get a hold, you go down. In a fight, going down means death."


    The lesson continued for an hour. They paused only for sips of water and short explanations. Gelrock taught Cheese to control his balance by throwing him off it. He demonstrated how to protect his legs by grabbing them. When Cheese hit the ground, Gelrock showed him how to keep moving to avoid being pinned. They didn¡¯t progress to the finer points of sparring¡ªnot yet. By the end, both were sweating heavily.


    Cheese glanced at his skill list:


    [Athletics 23].


    He grinned at the absurd rise. Gelrock, however, remained focused. "We¡¯ve done all we can for your body today. Come," he said, removing Cheese¡¯s suppression collar. "Where¡¯s your axe?"


    Cheese summoned his weapon with a thought. Gelrock extended a hand, and Cheese handed it to him. "Markaer," the master murmured, inspecting the runes etched into the blade.


    "You can read it?" Cheese asked, astonished.


    Gelrock nodded. "The name is in the runes. Now take your blade and show me a strike¡ªshow me how you earned this axe and your position. Strike the post as if it were a man."


    Cheese took back the axe, savoring how its name, Markaer, rolled off his tongue. He faced the post¡ªthick and embedded firmly in the ground. Imagining an opponent before him, Cheese stepped forward and swung with all his might. The blade cleaved cleanly through, offering only slight resistance. Momentum carried him forward, nearly sending him tumbling.


    Gelrock frowned, arms crossed. "I asked you to cut as if striking a man, but you swing as though chopping firewood." He gestured for the axe. Cheese handed it over.


    "Hold it like this," Gelrock instructed, gripping the weapon at its midpoint. "An axe is versatile. Swinging from the back is powerful, yes, but if your opponent catches the blade, you¡¯ll lose it."


    He adjusted his stance, pulling his front leg back slightly to reduce exposure. "Your stance is fine, but presenting your front leg leaves it vulnerable. Keep your weight balanced. Your axe provides force enough¡ªyou don¡¯t need to overdo it."


    Gelrock demonstrated, bouncing lightly on his feet, then struck the post with less power than Cheese but with controlled precision. The wood split cleanly, and he remained steady.


    Cheese stared, awed. This was a level of mastery he had never imagined, he kept his eyes glued to the man as he moved and struck the wood. Then suddenly Cheese was met with a notification as his skill ticked up [Axe: 36] he gawked at this for a moment before his masters words tore him back to reality.


    "You have skill, that much is apparent, but you need to incorporate that skill with your bodies power. That will be what we work on tomorrow."


    "Tomorrow?'' asked Cheese.


    "Yes" said the smaller man. "You will wash, and then lunch. Then we will meet with the baron. We cannot spare the entire day in fun" the words were said with a longing smile.


    Cheese nodded saying "yes master" he then stood and walked to the edge of the pit, Walkling up to his men as he did.


    Cheese, Nold, and Torv then made their way back inside the main building, stepping through the bustling camp with its clatter of activity. Soldiers and camp workers moved in a constant flow around them, going about their duties with swift purpose. Some women carried crates of supplies, others prepared meals, while groups of men gathered in small circles around the men of the baron, discussing watches or repairing gear. The air was thick with the sounds of busy labor.


    The hall loomed ahead, its great wooden doors welcoming them as they entered. Inside, the noise shifted¡ªvoices echoed off the thick stone walls. The first floor was alive with the heat of conversation. The long table stretched across the room, men and women sharing mead, bread, and hearty laughter. The smell of cooked meat mixed with the wood smoke and salt of the sea. Men and women paused as Cheese passed, nodding in respect or offering small bows, their gazes momentarily lingering on him. Cheeses` first thought was how clean everyone seemed compared to the previous day. There was a hint of the tragedy, yet everyone looked at him hopefully, and Cheese found this strange, yet he welcomed it. Cheesae followed his two men up the stairs to the side of the hall as they ascended.


    Once on the second floor they made their way to the washroom cheese had used this morning. it smelled of steam and soap. In the center of the room was the tub, Cheese was surprised at this, the water seemed clean and still warm. Nold interrupted his thoughts "We had some of the women from the village fill it. The baron told us you would need a wash."


    Cheese hesitated, the strangeness of it all still sitting heavy on him. "Ahhh" said Cheese "just feels a bit weird is all. Having people do things for me"


    Nold nodded, laughing as he said "Yeah, and two baths in a day. not really what were used to I guess"


    Torv approached, unclasping the breastplate from one side as Nold did the other, for a moment he fumbled with a grunt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡± Torv said with a grin, catching Cheese¡¯s eye, ¡°I¡¯ll get it right eventually.¡±


    Cheese smiled; his discomfort momentarily forgotten. But his thoughts soon returned to the bath. He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling of being an outsider in this strange routine. Still, as they finished taking his clothes off, he sank into the tub with a deep breath, the warmth of the water easing the tension in his muscles.


    His thoughts were interrupted when two women entered the room. They were younger, wearing the deep purple of his house. The sudden intrusion startled him, and he yelped in surprise. Nold and Torv, too, looked taken aback.


    One of the women quickly spoke, cutting through the silence. "Oh, shut it. The baron sent us to care for you. Said this morning you smelled like a Cassian whore and needed a proper woman¡¯s touch." Before Cheese could respond, they ushered the men out of the room, and Cheese reflexively sunk lower into the tub, exposing only his face. His heart raced. This wasn¡¯t just a bath¡ªit was becoming a hassle, a complicated reminder of how little control he seemed to have over his own life now. The door closed behind Nold and Torv with a soft thud, and Cheese was left alone with the women, the sound of water lapping against the sides of the tub filling the silence.


    He swallowed, the discomfort now a sharp, lingering sensation. The tension in his chest wouldn¡¯t ease, but as the steam from the water curled around him, he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the unease. This was something he would have to endure.

 Ch 22: A good meal

    A half an hour later a flustered yet clean Cheese rushed out of the washroom as fast as his legs would carry him. He walked straight into Torv who had been patiently waiting for the Bladesman. Torv turned, looked at Cheese and tried to hold back a chortle that slowly ripped from his throat like a suffocating hyena.


    "Where are your clothes?!" Shouted the Bannerman as he bent forward and held his sides.


    Cheese had fallen backwards and landed on his rear as he hit the larger man. A scuffle of feet sounded behind him and the ginger haired maid ¡ª she had confided in Cheese that her name was Piper ¡ª shouted "Master Switzler, you need to let us dress you, you cant be rushing around in the nude!"


    "Help me" Cheese pleaded to Torv, a look of stricken horror on his face.


    Torv couldn''t contain his amusement, and laughed even louder as he responded. "You want me to stop them from dressing you? Why in the hells would I do that?"


    "They won''t stop, and they won''t listen to anything I say" pleaded Cheese. "They insist on putting their hands in unnatural places. And that one" he pointed yet again at Piper "Insists on me standing before her like a doll. She won''t do anything I say, and won''t listen to me. Please you must help."


    As he finished the other woman¡ªLillie she had called herself ¡ª Walked out with a robe and placed it on the young lords'' shoulders saying "Master Cheese. You must allow us to do our duties. If we do not, then the baron will lose face. Please." Her voice was soft, and Cheese felt a large deal of shame for his actions.


    His reply came in a whimper as he stood saying "Can you... can you stop her from trying to do that again? I see no reason the baron should ever see THAT part of my body, so there is no reason for her to try to rub perfume down there." He tried to sound resolute, but his words came out more as a whimper.


    Piper smiled broadly as they ushered him in, and as the doors closed Torv heard her say "Well, the baron might not have told me to do that part. It just seemed like the thing to do."


    <hr>


    It was another twenty minutes before Cheese was allowed to descend the stairs and eat. He was told the baron had led an excursion out into the city, so while he waited for him to return Cheese had what felt like the first real meal, he`d eaten in days.


    As he was the person in command of the garrison, he had a spot reserved for him to the left of the Baron. No one would consider Cheese above the baron, even in this place, so the baron reserved the head of the table. Yet as Cheese sat in his spot, he felt quite comfortable.


    The meal was a simple one, yet it reminded Cheese of his home. It was made of piece of a simple flatbread thin as parchment. On that was thrown a local cheese that had been chopped into long strips and salted. That cheese was then topped with the already cooked body of a chicken that had been pulled apart by the fibers making a loose layer of meat. Then a paste made of herbs and peppers was added, and more cheese to ensure the paste was sealed. A second flatbread was added to the top, and then the entire concoction was put on a pan to be cooked. The person cooking this simple meal had today added even more salt, which cheese found he liked quite well.


    With this meal came a cup of milk, still quite warm to the touch. Cheese had always been a fan of milk with lunch, so he was quite happy to drink it now.


    As Cheese and Torv ate they talked about the changes in the keep since the barons arrival.


    "This is just how it is" said Torv with a shrug. "Nobles, they have a way of writing things, making people feel normal. And this is what normal looks like in a war camp." He took a large bite of the meal and continued "Once the people had the Baron explain that the goblins were not going to storm the walls then this was the natural course of things. Especially if the King is going to soon be here"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Cheese took a sip of his wine and asked "But why is he so sure the Goblins will not take the walls, there are thousands of them, and we number hardly five hundred able bodied men, many of which are simply children."


    Torv had finished his food, and he stood, but before he could reply Cheese heard a cough come from beside him. He looked and saw Gelrocks diminutive form, and as he turned Cheese noticed quite a few men around him were listening intently to his conversation with his bannerman.


    "The truth of it" said the smaller man as he sat down and began eating at his own food "Is that the goblins lack both power and direction." He took a big square of his meal and put it into his mouth, chewing greedily as he did. After a time, he spoke again "The baron, myself, and to an extent you are able to hold these walls indefinitely. Sure, they have numbers, but no number of apprentices would be able to fell these walls. So they must rely on siege weapons. Ladders, towers, whatever you will. That is why the Baron rides out today, and why we send out scouts. The foe facing us lacks the numbers or discipline to surround the keep, so their camp is open to us. Because of this we can see when they try to construct anything. And due to that we are able to strike at those constructs. We are also able to harry their raiding parties." he spoke as if teaching a class, and Cheese found himself enraptured along with everyone else.


    "Yet" continued the smaller man. "They are many, and we are few. We have killed around 300 of them in the past day. Mostly the baron and his elites during night raids. Tonight we will kill more if I have the right of it. Will you accompany us Bladesman?"


    The last words were said with a gleam in his eyes, and Cheese was forced to suppress his excitement at the words. he replied tentatively "I am not one to politic, yet I must ask master, will that be allowed?"


    The small man shook his head saying "No master here, this is not the pitch. You and I are simply two retainers of our lord Baron at this table, and you yourself are the master of the table. But I believe it will be fine, so long as a member of your house holds the wall while we are away. That large one, Waff. He will do, he is martially inclined. Though I do not know how you will convince him to stay from the fight, he constantly begs the other officers to let him out, indeed he is with the baron as we speak."


    That was a surprise to Cheese, yet not an unwelcomed one. "Who then has the wall?" he asked.


    "The old man" came the reply from behind Cheese. He turned and saw Mauren walking towards him. behind him were a series of men who looked to have just gotten off the walls. "He came to relive me. May I have the honor of your table lords? Mauren asked, looking to Gelrock as he spoke.


    "Sit" came his reply. He didn''t look up to Cheese, simply scooting on the bench and making room for the other man. "Any news to report of the goblin camp?"


    "No" replied Mauren as he took off his gauntlets and placed them at his side. "The creatures still camp to the east between us and the city. The Baron and his men closed on horseback and shot them with arrows for an hour or so. They did damage, but not enough to matter, and then left to scout."


    The Master at Arms shook his head and said "Learn this. A cut may be superficial, but a hundred will fell a giant." He rose his voice for all to hear. "We do not have their numbers, but if we kill a hundred a day, then in fifty days they will all be dead. We kill more than a hundred every day. And once half their men are dead, they will flee. If this does not change then in a week those creatures will have fled this place, or they will seek open battle. They may even do us the favor of charging the walls and ending our work prematurely."


    Cheese felt the wisdom in this and nodded along with the words. Then he chose to put his own sense forward to the conversation. He noted as he did that even the low voices ceased when he spoke. "Say that the enemy holds five thousand creatures, even double that. And we hold five hundred men able to fire a bow or stab a spear. That means we can rid them in ten days if each man kills but ten foes. I have seen our men fight Mauren, I`d wager each could kill ten of those creatures quite easily."


    Mauren thought for a moment and then nodded his agreement. "There is truth in this, they only defeated us due to that magic. I wish we had an inkling of what that was."


    The two men did not reply to these words, there was no reply to be had, yet it was Torv who broke the uncomfortable silence.


    "Fairhaven is in truth gone. The city is destroyed, and we know that this magic needs to be emplaced beforehand. So, I do not find reason for us to worry. They cannot place their magic under our feet like before. I would like to learn it for our own purposes, for it has great strength, but I do not fear its application. So long as we are wary in the future we will be fine."


    There was a great stamping of feet at this, and Cheese turned his attention to more pleasant things, as he realized Piper had just delivered a second helping of the meal to his plate. He nodded his thanks at her and smiled as he began his second helping.

 Ch 23: The Sword, Not the Scales

    After a half an hour the Baron had not returned, so the three men went out into the Mill yard. The morning air carried a crisp bite, a reminder of the season¡¯s change. Cheese tugged his cloak closer as he walked through the camp, Mauren by his side. Nold and Torv followed a few paces behind, their presence a quiet but constant reassurance. The camp hummed with life around them¡ªsoldiers preparing their gear, workers ferrying supplies, and the occasional bark of an officer issuing orders, the laugh of a squad before they went to arms on the pitch.


    Their first stop was the wall. Tompson sat atop it, leaning casually against the stone parapet as he scanned the horizon. The man greeted them with a nod, his face weathered but cheerful. He had de-aged further and now looked near forty to Cheese` eyes.


    ¡°How¡¯s the watch?¡± Cheese asked, shading his eyes as he looked out toward the distant walls of Fairhaven.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± Tompson replied, gesturing with a lazy wave toward the horizon. ¡°The goblins are out there, though. You can see ¡®em butted up against her." He pulled out a hand towel and began polishing his spear as they stood in silence.


    Cheese squinted, straining his eyes to pick out anything of note. The goblins were little more than vague shapes against the distant backdrop, wholly unremarkable. They moved, and there was a fire lit, but nothing seemed to be truly stirring.


    Fairhaven¡¯s wall loomed behind them like a silent sentinel, a stark reminder of what had been lost.


    Mauren leaned against the parapet, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the scene. ¡°They look small from here.¡±


    Cheese allowed himself a dry chuckle. ¡°They¡¯re small up close, too.¡± The joke came out flat, the grim undertone in his voice betraying the humor he tried to force. Tompson nodded, his expression sobering. ¡°Small or not, they¡¯re nasty buggers. Lucky for us, they seem content to keep their distance¡ªfor now.¡±


    "The trolls, how big are they?" asked Cheese.


    "Well, they''re big" replied Tompson. "Waff says they are about half the height of the baby you felled. So, they shouldn''t be an issue but a hundred of them is quite the sight to see let me tell you"


    Cheese simply grunted. Thinking of the giants was a fever dream to him now, that fight had been so chaotic. And he was not of the mind that it had been a simple fight, whatever Waff claimed.


    In time they descended from the wall, the sounds of the bustling camp enveloping them once again. Their next stop was the blacksmith¡¯s shop. It was a makeshift affair set up in the remnants of an old toolshed. The forge was modest, barely enough to keep up with the demands of the camp, but it burned hot, a constant plume of smoke rising from its chimney. Beside it, a fletcher¡¯s workstation had been cobbled together, where workers were busy crafting arrows from whatever materials they could scavenge.


    Floki, the blacksmith, was hammering away at a blade when they approached. He looked up, his face streaked with soot, and gave Cheese a curt nod. ¡°Bladesman.¡±


    ¡°Floki,¡± Cheese replied, stepping closer. ¡°How¡¯s the forge holding up?¡±


    Floki wiped his brow with a cloth, glancing at the forge. ¡°It¡¯ll do, but we¡¯re running low on iron. I¡¯ve been melting down whatever scraps we can find, but it won¡¯t last. I`ve made maybe 400 arrows, thats only enough for ten men to shoot an hour or so in battle.¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Cheese frowned. ¡°How long before it becomes a problem?¡±


    ¡°A week, maybe less, at this pace, I can make enough to kill the bastards, but only if every shaft claims a life¡± Floki said. ¡°Arrows and blades eat up the stock, luckily I only have to make the arrows. If a man breaks a sword or axe, well at this point I will haev to melt down the Iron and make a spear.¡±


    Cheese nodded, his gaze shifting to the fletcher¡¯s station. The workers there were hunched over their tasks, fitting shafts with improvised fletchings¡ªfeathers, bits of leather, even strips of cloth. One of them, a wiry man with sharp features, looked up as Cheese approached.


    ¡°Bladesman,¡± the man greeted, setting down the arrow he was working on. ¡°You here to check on our progress?¡±


    Cheese nodded. ¡°How¡¯s it coming?¡±


    The fletcher sighed. ¡°Slow. The wood we¡¯ve got isn¡¯t the best for shafts, and we¡¯re running out of proper feathers. It¡¯s a wonder these arrows fly at all.¡±


    Mauren crossed his arms, his brow furrowing. ¡°Can we send scouts to gather more supplies?¡±


    Cheese shook his head. ¡°Not with the dogs prowling the forest. It¡¯s too dangerous to risk lives for feathers and wood, maybe we could get Iron, but that''s the Barons call.¡±


    The fletcher grimaced but didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Fair enough. Just thought I¡¯d ask.¡±


    Cheese hesitated for a moment, then nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll bring it up tonight.¡±


    The men exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of hope and doubt. Cheese noticed but chose not to address it. Instead, he clapped the fletcher on the shoulder. ¡°Keep up the good work. We¡¯ll make do with what we have for now.¡±


    As they left the blacksmith and fletcher behind, Mauren fell into step beside Cheese, his expression unreadable. For a while, they walked in silence, the sounds of the camp filling the gaps in their conversation. Finally, Mauren spoke.


    ¡°They¡¯re looking to you for answers, you know.¡±


    Cheese sighed, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°And yet you keep dodging the hard questions,¡± Mauren pressed. ¡°They expect you to be decisive, Cheese. To lead.¡±


    Cheese stopped walking, turning to face Mauren. ¡°I¡¯m not a leader,¡± he said firmly. ¡°I¡¯m a Bladesman. My role is to fight, not to manage supplies or plan logistics. That¡¯s Ibron¡¯s job.¡±


    Mauren¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°And what happens when Ibron isn¡¯t here? What happens when you¡¯re the only one left to make those decisions?¡±


    There was a long silence, eventually Cheese sighed deeply, and opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Mauren clapped him on the shoulder and said "I unlike them do not doubt you. But your father kept me around because I know when to stand on a point. I`m standing on this one Cheese. You need to be the man we need, not the man you want to be. Now let''s go see the men in the Infirmary.


    As they walked the camp bustled around them, a hive of activity that never seemed to rest. Cheese felt the weight of it all pressing down on him¡ªthe expectations, the doubts, the quiet fear that lingered in the eyes of the men and women he passed. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the rhythm of his steps and the tasks that lay ahead. There was still much to do, and the day was far from over.


    The two men leaned low into the larger tent that housed the operating table where Cheese` mother and Master Vella worked. Inside it against he far wall were two men, both wrapped across the midsection with large bandages. They were the two the scouts had recovered from the battle with the goblins. Cheese walked up to them and stood beside their beds. Both men were unconscious, but there was a nurse sitting who said "Honor Bladesman"


    He nodded at the woman and asked, "How are they?"


    "They are well" came the reply from one of the sleeping men. It was the one who wore the pin of the Fairhaven guard across his chest. "How goes the fight Bladesman?" he asked, his voice a croak.


    ""Well enough" replied Cheese. "We send forays into their camp, the enemy is hold up outside Fairhaven''s walls. How do they say your mending will go?"


    The man ignored his questions, instead saying "I was by him. When it happened."


    Cheese felt his mouth tighten, but no words came out. "He sent my brother as a runner to that daft bastard Jean. Saved my life too. Hid me under a rock. he was a good man"


    Cheese nodded, built didn''t say anything. After a time he asked "your brother?"


    The man inclined his head to the pile of bandages beside him. "He lived too aye, somehow. We both got found by that Barons scouts. Good lot of men them."


    As the man finished his words it sounded, and Cheese felt his blood run cold. A single horn from the wall.


    In moments a second note followed, loud and long. Cheese knew there would not be a third. He summoned his blade and began to run.

 Ch 24: The Siege (1)

    Cheese felt his heart quicken as he strode towards the eastern wall. Looking up he saw that the men had already begun loosing arrows, and he had to strike a returned bolt from the sky as he walked. The bolt glanced off his blade, and Cheese let out a bellow to those around him as he did. "WOMEN AND CHILDREN TO THE LONGHOUSE!" he bellowed. As he did he infused his voice with a modicum of his power, and he felt it be amplified greatly.


    Nold and Torv were both beside him in a flash. Cheese reached over and patted the young man on the head saying "If you are to follow me then you must have a shield and spear, go. To the gatehouse with you, grab a horn while you are there. Meet me atop it as swiftly as you may."


    Nold looked up with scared eyes and nodded. Then he darted off in a flash. Cheese watched him for a moment, happy to see the boy kept close to the wall as he did.


    Suddenly Cheese felt his skin tingle. He looked up quickly and saw a stone that was as large as a wagon fly through the air some twenty feet to his left. before he could warn anyone, it hit with a thud rolling over five or six men. Cheese felt the bile rise in his throat as he processed this. For a moment his vision went back to Hald and Bjorn dead on the ground. He began to tunnel as his vision closed in and his breathing quickened.


    Then from behind him Cheese heard Mauren shout "We need to move Bladesman!" and he snapped out of it in a flash. He moved to the stairs that stood beside the wall. There was a clamor of bodies, but he cleared them with a shout of "Make way!" from Torv. The men turned and began opening up, allowing Cheese to rush to the top of the ramparts.


    Mauren quickly began relaying orders to men as they filled in spots in the walls crenelations. Torv stood beside Cheese as he took stock of the tide of bodies approaching them.


    It was like looking on a writhing field that was covered in ants. There were thousands of the creatures coming towards them in a swath that reached as far as he could see in every direction.  Cheese could not guess how many there were before him, but he was sure it dwarfed all estimates that had been given before. As he watched he felt a series of calculations go, and then he found that suddenly he knew things about the enemy force. Not specifics, but he had general ideas that he did not think were his own.


    His first thought was that the force before him was akin to a rabble or a mob, not a true army. Cheese looked out and as he did, he could feel something on the edge of his senses. Cheese tried to look at the tags of the individual creatures, yet he could not. he strained his sight, but it did nothing, then right before he gave up Cheese had an idea. He took a deep breath and pressed out to his foes with the strange energy that had filled his body in the fight with the giant. he pushed that power into his skull and began working it. For a moment nothing happened, and then Cheese felt the sense strengthen. He realized that what he was feeling as a tingle in the back of his head was the energy of the army arrayed before him.


    As Cheese came to this realization he was met with a loud *PING* and a notification of a new ability.


    <b>[Observe Mana (Epic) 1]</b>


    Normally such an event would be reason for celebration, but Cheese immediately put it to work as he swept his eyes over the army rushing towards their walls.


    Cheese realized he was not looking at their individual powers, but the aggregate power of the tide as a whole. It seemed dim but he didn''t have a reference point. Cheese looked to his left and right, and noted that most of his people on the wall burned far brighter than those who were collapsing on him. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Cheese grasped his axe in both hands and threw it into the tide of bodies, he was able to sense denser clusters, and he aimed haphazardly at one of those lumps of power. As he did so he bellowed "To me! Captains to me!" and began moving towards the gatehouse.


    He had yet to see the origin of that original stone, so as Cheese moved along the wall towards the gatehouse, he kept his eyes out for whatever had caused that stone to fly towards them. Cheese resummoned his blade and then threw it yet again, this time he aimed at a large orc that was rallying a group of goblins. The creatures were beginning to close the gap between the walls of Fairhaven and their own as Cheese made it to the top of the gatehouse. It was not an enclosed gatehouse like many walls have. The mills gatehouse was an open construct that had a slightly wider ledge for the men to stand on. It was here that Cheeses` banner flew, and where he had decided to gather his command.


    He was followed quickly by Elder Tompson, Ibron, Torv, and Mauren. Mauren quickly reported "I sent a runner to the western gatehouse to apprise us, but there has been no sound."


    Cheese nodded and looked at Tompson who said "They poured out and I sent a signal to sound the horn. They just keep pouring out of Fairhaven."


    "Where did the stone launch from?" Cheese asked quickly.


    Tompson pointed to the far gatehouse and said, "Behind that, I do not know if it is some engine of war flinging it, or an act of magic, but It came from there."


    Cheese nodded as he looked off into the distance. Before he could say anything, a horn began blasting from the western gatehouse. Cheese felt his breath catch, but after a moment he began to breathe again. Two more short blasts had sounded. Friends. By the gods Cheese hoped it was the Baron.


    Cheese turned to the western gatehouse and saw them opening the gate. "Send a runner" Cheese said to Mauren. "We will direct the defense from here. I will rely on you two. Also I have a new ability that might help."


    He explained his new ability and saw Mauren''s face light up as he said "That is astounding. We can use it." Then the man turned and called over a trio of boys who he sent out with messages. One ran to the western wall, and the other two scampered off to find Elric and Mareen, the two strongest archers they had in the camp.


    Then their commands were sent, and Cheese knew that Mauren would direct anything he told him to, so the Bladesman turned his attention back to the tide that was moving towards them.


    Less than a minute had passed since they had gotten to the walls, but the goblinoid ranks had already covered the majority of the distance from Fairhaven to the mill. Cheese remembered the exodus they had made carrying Halds body. They had spent tend of minutes crossing that stretch, yet these creatures came forth like a tide. As he looked out Cheese began to notice a number of ladders being carried by the creatures. yet there were so few. He called out Mauren, have the men aim for the ladders" and heaved back with his arm throwing his axe at a large flame of mana.


    Cheese was cycling his ability on and off as he marked targets and kept a look out for any flying stones. Luckily none came but he watched anyway. It was slightly disorienting, but he was able to find the brightest center of mana, and from there narrow down on a target. His throws did not always hit, but he slowly began accumulating levels in his skills and abilities as they pinged up and up. As the enemy closed and began to throw up ladders his last level of throwing dinged.


    <b>[Throwing (Uncommon) 11]</b>


    <b>[Axe (Common) 39]</b>


    <b>[Observe (E<b></b>pic) 4]</b>


    <b>New Skill [Leadership (Uncommon) 2]</b>


    The last was gained as Cheese turned and shouted "Draw blades! Close ranks! ARCHERS KILL THE ONES WITH LADDERS!"


    This last he had imbued with a touch of his power. Cheese stopped throwing his Axe as an archer an forward, it was Elric, as he ran up Cheese said "A bit late, you stand over there" he gestured to the corner of the gatehouse "And do your best to make sure that those who are climbing the ladders don''t come up to fast, they don''t have many but you need to stem the tide." Cheese didn''t even give the man a second thought as he unquestioningly moved to take up position. he did cast a quick glance about as he noted that runners were bounding up and down the walls. To his left was a crenelation that elder Tompson had taken up, and a small boy who could not be more than eight ran forward and placed a bundle of arrows into a barrel that was to the Elders left. Then the first ladder slammed into the wall and Cheese turned to meet it. behind him Elder Tompson and Elric were shooting their Greatbows with a calm precision, but Cheese drowned the sounds around him out as the first of his foes showed their heads.


    <b></b>

 Ch 25: The Siege (2)

    The first head popped over the ramparts and Cheese identified it as his axe came crashing down. He had lifted the blade above his head in an arc, and he used it to split the creatures` skull like a log. [Goblin Warrior: Novice] Cheese almost felt regret for the strike as it landed. This creature was weak, astoundingly weak compared to him. He could hardly feel its mana, and it was unable to react to his strike as separated its head. A scant few moments later it was followed by another and Cheese had to snap out of his regret as he dispatched the creature with a similar swipe of his axe.


    As he smashed the invaders Cheese kept a thought for his core. His earlier throws had begun to drain it, and it was currently at around ninety percent full. He was unsure how exactly he knew that, but Cheese just had a sense of his power that seemed ingrained.


    To his side Tompson shouted out "ROCK!" and Cheese cast his eyes to the sky before his instincts triggered. A great bolder was flying toward the wall, but as he watched it fell short. The massive stone landed in the tide of bodies that thronged below them. The twang of arrows began again, and Cheese turned his eyes to the ladder. He could push it away, or cut it with his axe, and for a moment Cheese thought of doing exactly that, but then he decided against it. He yelled out "NO ONE FIRE ON MY LADDER! LET THEM UP!" to his men and was unsurprised when his words were met with a cheer, and an increase in his Leadership skill.


    A few more moments passed, and then a slightly larger form ascended the ladder. Cheese saw as it bulged under the creatures'' weight, yet the mana in its core was pitiful, same as the rest had been. Cheese allowed the creature to step over onto the gatehouse as he stepped slightly back.


    This one was massive, easily twice the size of the previous goblins. Its thick, green-gray skin glistened with sweat as it hefted a rusted iron club the size of a small tree branch. As it stood it let out a bellowing yell, and Cheese smiled to himself as he tightened his grip on his axe.


    The goblin roared again, the sound deep and guttural, like boulders grinding together. And then it stepped forward with surprising speed, its massive foot pounding against the stones.


    Cheese didn¡¯t flinch. As the club came crashing down, he sidestepped with ease, letting it shatter the stone where he had been standing. He swung his axe in an upward arc and split the Goblin in half. As it fell past Cheese, he felt the regret again, but this time it was less. It had been a [Goblin Berserker: Apprentice] after all. That was better than killing a novice, right?Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    The system didn''t seem to think it mattered, as Cheese` axe skill refused to raise over the next ten or so minutes as he fought down the enemies. More and more of them were of the apprentice level, and he had killed more than thirty before his skill pinged [Axe: 40]


    "For fucks sake" he said to no one in particular. Yet he heard a reply from beside him.


    "Wine my lord?" Came Nold''s voice. Cheese looked away from the massacre and nodded. He stretched his hand out and swigged at the skin before handing it back to the boy.


    The rocks had come sporadically, over this time but Cheese paid them little mind. The one time they came close to their position Elder Tompson called it out. Cheese had readied himself to move, but it had landed some twenty meters behind them, striking in the center of the training ring and rolling for a time.


    Cheeses` main issue he had found was managing his energy. He could rely on brute strength to beat down the Goblins, but that only lasted them so long. He could rely on his magic, but that exhausted itself far faster.


    He was draining, not fast but it was happening, so with a reluctant sigh he was forced to finally end the goblins assault. Cheese reached back with his axe as a particularly large creature with a shield tried to top teh wall. he drove his axe down, and pressed out with his mana, using his Chop Ability for the first time in the fight.


    A wave of mana pressed out in a thin line, and it descended down the wall towards the ground, as it did it killed a number of goblins and then a moment later the ladder fell apart. It had split at the wrungs as the wave sliced downward.


    Cheese turned and said "Mauren" the man was in the middle of delivering orders to a pair of men, but when Cheese spoke, he turned and waited for the younger man to speak. Cheese stopped for a moment. Was that a tinge of fear in the other mans eyes?


    Then it was gone as Mauren said "Out with it, men are dying"


    Cheese nodded and said, "What do I need to do?"


    Mauren shrugged and replied "Everything is in hand. We lost a few men to arrows before they realized crenelations are for standing behind, and a few more to goblins who were on the stronger side. But everything is in hand. The men are taking the goblins two to one, and when they begin to get overwhelmed, we send reinforcement."


    "Was that the baron who returned earlier?" Cheese asked as the older man finished.


    "No" came the reply. "It was a number of his scouts with your brother. They reported that the baron had been cut off by some of those dogs. The baron and 30 of his men were pushed to the south by those beasts as the assault began. Your brother is on the wall helping the Master at arms, but once this stops, we can get his report."


    Cheese nodded and then summoned his axe back and turned to the wall. There was work to be done.


    As he walked away from the goblin bodies the young warrior stopped and smelled the air. It was weird. These little green men reeked, in fact most things smelled horrible when killed. Yet for some reason these goblins left a smell of rotting eggs.


    Cheese shrugged and turned his attention back to his work.

 Ch 26: Torgig

    Torgig slumped down into the pile of droppings as the Underbeast slithered by. Torgig was a small being, perhaps a half a meter tall and weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. He had the dishonor of being the smallest of all the goblin kin in the great cave, therefore, it was not difficult for the great serpent to pass by him without taking note of his presence.


    Torgig sat in the pile for many moments. Then he slowly rolled to his right. [Skill upgrade Suppressed. Maximum skill for stealth and perception achieved] in the corner of his vision, but Torgig paid it no mind. Long ago he had learned that to him the squiggles meant nothing. He could no more understand them than the words of the cave masters.


    Torgig had served in the cave for longer than any other dirt fetcher. Usually a dirty fetcher outgrew the role, or was eaten. Not Torgig. Torgig had served the cave masters as a dirt fetcher for fifteen whole years. He had seen cave masters rise and fall, being replaced by one generation after another in an endless cycle of death. Yet Torgig had not taken notice of these changes. The cave masters were big, and one that was small did not look at one that was larger. Torgig had learned that early on. A member of his clutch had made the mistake of looking at one of the matrons that sired them. That had been Torgigs first glimpse at death.


    Food was easy to come by in the cave, yet only those who served the cave masters ate. Torgig was hungry, which was the only motivation that pushed the little man further into the pit that was the Underbeasts'' lair.


    it was out hunting, and it would be for some hours. At least that''s what he hoped. This made sense to Torgig, he was hungry, so he found food. The Underbeast was hungry, so it found food. Things like this made sense to the small goblin. The cave masters told the small ones to fetch dirt, so they fetched dirt. This also made sense to Torgig. What did not make sense was the watcher.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    it had appeared many sleeps ago in the night. Torgig could not see the watcher, but he knew it was there. As he creeped forward, he felt its eyes on him, boring into his head. The watcher was always there, and it scared the small goblin.


    Yet no one else seemed to notice. Torgig had tried at first to stay near other larger, stronger goblins. Perhaps they would see the watcher. They were taller and could see farther so that made sense. Yet they had not paid it any mind. So Torgig had eventually decided to ignore the watcher. Instead turning his attention to getting food.


    Thats what he did now, pushing it back into his small mind, slowly forgetting its presence.


    Torgig crept forward slowly into the center of the lair, stepping left and right over the small bones that littered its floor. As he approached the center he reached to his loincloth and untied a small pouch. It was empty, ready to be filled. The small goblin took a handful of the soil and brought it close to his mouth. It was white, starkly so. The cave masters had a name for the dirt of the Dreadbests cave. He could not remember it, as Torgig could not talk, but he knew what it was used for.


    Torgig put a handful of the powder into his pouch, and slowly sunk back into the dark, thinking of how good his next meal would taste.


    And silently, in another plane the watcher smiled at his favorite goblin. As he did he turned his attention back to another one of his projects. Nodding, he made his decision. A tendril of power reached out and encapsulated the great lizard, pushing it slowly through with an imprint formed in its mind. The imprint of a face, taken from the mind of a goblin berserker right before death. The watcher smiled and turned his sight back to Torgig, to see what the goblin would do next.

 Ch 27: Priests and Status Screens

    It took Cheese and his men another half hour to clear the walls of ladders. The enemy had pressed forward like a tide and now pulled back in the same relentless manner, dragging with it a grim haul of injured creatures pierced by arrows and spears. As Cheese watched their retreat, he scanned the throng for the leader he had seen during the failed assault on Fairhaven all those days ago.


    He hadn''t caught the creature''s rank, but Cheese was certain none of these beings were him. That was... disturbing. More unsettling still was the absence of the trolls that scouts had reported earlier.


    Not that Cheese had much faith in scouting reports anymore. For days, their intel had promised dwindling enemy numbers, successful raids, and camp disruptions. Yet here they were¡ªunder siege by a force that dwarfed any prior estimates. Worse, the invaders hadn''t even bothered to deploy their most powerful assets.


    The setting sun glared in his eyes as Cheese squinted toward the western wall, where the enemy had first broken through. "Mauren," he called, dismissing his great blade. "I need a report. Where is my brother?"


    Beside him, the old foreman looked worn. Mauren had been crucial to the battle, managing defenses while Cheese lured foes to the top of the gatehouse. Cheese couldn¡¯t help but think of his late father, who had been fortunate to command someone so reliable. Yet the effort had visibly drained the foreman. Breathing heavily, Mauren finally answered, ¡°He¡¯s coming, Bladesman. I sent a runner.¡±


    Cheese nodded. Of course, Mauren had thought ahead. ¡°Do we have an estimate of casualties?¡±


    Mauren shrugged. ¡°On our side? Not yet. Ten confirmed dead or missing, but many younger men are injured. They held the walls, but not everyone has your skill. It got tense in places without a Journeyman-level warrior.¡±


    Cheese grunted. This fight had been a harsh lesson in the importance of skill. Against untrained foes, he cut through them like swatting flies. Yet today¡¯s battle had given him a sobering perspective on his prior encounter with the giants. He¡¯d been damned lucky to survive that first blow, let alone kill one of those monsters.


    ¡°As for the enemy,¡± Mauren continued, ¡°we estimate a third of their force fell. Not precise, but close enough.¡±


    Cheese grunted again, the number sounding plausible. Still, what did it matter? He alone had killed so many, exhausting his resources in the process. Glancing at the faces around him, he saw the toll the fight had taken on his men. If those goblins had possessed proper equipment, this keep would have fallen. There was no denying it.


    ¡°Mauren,¡± Cheese said flatly, ¡°gather the officers in the war room and send my brother there.¡±


    Without waiting for a reply, Cheese turned and stalked off toward the main hall followed by Nold and Torv. With a gesture Cheese sent the one-armed bannerman back to the others.


    Despite his worry, it wasn¡¯t all doom and gloom in his mind. Most of his men had survived. As he crossed the yard that had served as a training ground that morning, he shrugged to himself and pulled up his status menu.


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    Name: Cheese


    Age: 29


    Soul Coins (SC): 1


    Faith Coins (FC): 524


    Displayed Title: Branded Heretic (Locked)


    Displayed Skill: Journeyman [Axe (Common) 43] (Locked)


    Claimable Rewards: Locked


    Quests:


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.Clear Out the Riffraff ¨C 2,123 / 30,126 invaders remaining


    Closest invader: 4,323 kilometers northeast.


    Clear Out the Trash (Optional) ¨C Kill the incursion leaders to end the quest early.


    Nearest leader: 6,023 kilometers east.


    Leaders remaining: 2/6


    Time remaining: 4.9 days


    Skills:


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    <li>[Axe (Common) 43]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Manipulation (Rare) 25]</li>


    <li>[Athletics (Common) 20]</li>


    <li>[Spiritual Resistance (Legendary) 13]</li>


    <li>[Cooking (Common) 12]</li>


    <li>[Climbing (Common) 11]</li>


    <li>[Leadership (Uncommon) 10]</li>


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    Abilities:


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    <li>[Spiritual Binding (Unique) 22]</li>


    <li>[Cleave (Rare) 15]</li>


    <li>[Throwing (Uncommon) 14]</li>


    <li>[Observe (Epic) 8]</li>


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    The countdown in his quest log troubled Cheese most of all. It had appeared mid-battle, unnoticed until now. While the progress in his skills excited him, the ominous timer overshadowed his gains. According to Mauren, the countdown didn¡¯t align with the system¡¯s projected timeline¡ªthey were being shorted by more than a day. Cheese could only trust that humanity at large would manage.


    For now, he focused on what mattered: faith coins and quest rewards. His coin reserves had surged unexpectedly, though their source remained unclear. Opening the shop, Cheese noted that many scrolls had disappeared, replaced by other items¡ªtempting but priced well beyond his reach. Some items exceeded a thousand coins, and the sellers bore unfamiliar names.


    ¡°Nold,¡± Cheese said as he entered the feasting hall.


    The young man, ever diligent, stepped forward. ¡°Yes, Bladesman?¡±


    ¡°Fetch the head priest and bring him here,¡± Cheese instructed.


    ¡°Ours or Fairhaven¡¯s?¡± Nold asked, hesitating.


    Cheese considered. ¡°We are Fairhaven now, Nold. Bring them both.¡±


    Nold nodded and darted off, leaving Cheese to continue toward the war room.


    Once inside, Cheese shut the door, finally alone. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned against the doorframe, a massive sigh escaping him. Exhaustion hit like a wave, threatening to drown him. For a moment, he fought back a sob, but he let himself relax, his body was just... spent.


    He could feel it deep in his soul space, that darkness. It loomed, ready to pounce. But Cheese didn''t have time to let it. As he took a number of steadying breaths, he tried to quiet his mind and center himself. There would be time to grieve later. For now, he had to command.


    Cheese straightened his back, and walked further into the room. After a minute of standing there waiting he heard a knock on the door and said "Enter"


    The door opened and his mother walked in with Nold and two men who wore dark black robes and had their faces cast down. Cheese frowned and said "Mother" in way of greeting.


    Her reply came in a nod as she said "I was told you wished to speak to the priests so I had Nold bring us here"


    Neither man looked at Cheese, and for a moment he felt like he was on trial. As the silence stretched he asked, "And why do you not look at me?"


    A single reply came forward from the Fairhaven priest. It was whispered so low that Cheese was unsure if he had imagined it.


    "Unworthy"


    Cheese looked at them both and then at his mother and asked "Uhhhh..... What''s going on?"


    She had a strange look on her face that Cheese could not place. There was discomfort there and.... apprehension? Finally her reply came. "The priests have been saying that we are unworthy to speak to you. They''ve.... well they''ve built a shrine to you and have spent the past days speaking your praises. it started when the system took you to speak to the gods and it hasnt stopped. When we got here it got worse. Toggert met with this man here" She gestured to the man who sat beside their priest, he was one Cheese didn''t recognize. "Who presided over the parish here. And when.. the day Waff delivered his report on the battle we lost your father in they began a campaign. Saying that you were their new God. That you''d give us your all, and they must do the same. Since then they have actively avoided you claiming that they were unworthy."


    Cheese looked down at the two and sighed. When he did the man who he had grown up with as his priest, Toggart fucking shivered. As if he was out in a freezing blizzard. Cheese Choose his words carefully and said "I will grow annoyed if this continues you two. Stand and look me in the eyes."


    A moment passed and then the two stood. They raised their eyes to Cheese, who tried his best not to let his annoyance bleed into his smile.


    "See, not a god. Now, I have questions, and I need you to answer me. I know I should know some of this, but I need to know about the so-called gods who are in charge of this planet, and you''re the two most educated men I know."


    The man beside Toggart let out a yelp, turned white, and promptly passed out.


    Cheese raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention to the other man. "Well... that¡¯s promising."

 Ch 28: Choices and Plans

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    Cheese knelt beside the unconscious priest, his sharp gaze sweeping over the man¡¯s pale face. "So?" he muttered, pressing two fingers to the priest¡¯s neck to check his pulse. Satisfied that the man was alive¡ªif exhausted¡ªCheese leaned back on his heels. "Will he be, okay?"


    Toggart, still kneeling with his head down, sighed. "He¡¯ll be fine. Poor fool is a bit excitable. And the days have been long"


    Cheese snorted, rising to his feet and brushing his hands on his stained tunic. "That is true. While he¡¯s out, I¡¯ve got questions. You¡¯ve been my priest my whole life. I suppose you know about the other gods?"


    Toggart raised an eyebrow. "That¡¯s a broad question, Bladesman"


    Cheese walked over to the war table, dragging a finger across one of the maps before flicking a stray cheese rind onto the floor. He looked at Toggart seriously. "The three other pantheons. What can you tell me about them? I keep hearing bits and pieces, but nothing that fits together. Honestly until this all started, I thought the pantheon of the many gods was it in terms of gods."


    Toggart¡¯s expression shifted to one of faint surprise. "Three? There is only one I know of besides our own. And it''s not popular. The church venerates the Pantheon of the Many Gods¡ªthe collection of divine beings who oversee aspects of human life. You know, gods of war, dread, love, wine, justice, the usual."


    Cheese waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I know those. We met them so I''d hope I was familiar. What about the others?"


    Toggart adjusted his robes, speaking carefully. "The other one is the Pantheon of Life, typically seen as the non-human gods. The spirits of the natural world¡ªthe god of the forest, the god of wolves, the river gods. Entities that embody the wild and untamed. They don¡¯t always align with human concerns but maintain the balance of nature itself."


    Cheese frowned, rubbing his chin. "So, like Yid? She¡¯s part of this Pantheon of Life?"


    Toggart hesitated. "Yid is¡­ complicated. She¡¯s considered the protector of nature, yes, but humans are her chosen instruments. Because of that, some classify her as part of the Many Gods rather than the Pantheon of Life. She bridges the divide, in a way."


    "Then" continued Cheese as he leaned his back on a wall and stared at the other man. "There is the pantheon of the Heretic..." Cheese turned his attention to his divine panel. "At least one. And I do have powers, though they are limited. Do you have any information on that, on the powers it gives? I can''t be the first heretic in the world."


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    Toggart¡¯s lips twitched, almost smiling despite himself. " Well, Bladesman, I can''t speak to powers from the divine.... but you''re changing. We can all see it. We are all seeing growth since this started, but your growth is absurd. Just two weeks ago you were stuck at the first bottleneck and now..." He trailed off not needing to point it out. Cheese had almost reached the level of that teacher who had been recognized by the system. It was unnaturally fast. Toggart continued "Men can see something in you... and its building. You serve this baron, and it feels unnatural to us all to see you subservient to another. We know why you do, and we trust you. But it''s just wrong in a way I can''t describe. And I knew you before this all. Some of the men did not, and there is a power in that. They believe in you."


    Cheese leaned on the table, glaring down at the chaotic pile of maps. "So, people feel drawn to me?"


    Toggart opened his mouth and then closed it. "I can''t honestly say if it¡¯s magic. It may just be the trust they place with you due to the gods choosing you. But I can say I feel a draw and reverence I don''t understand. And others who know you feel it as well. I know you''re .... I know Switzerland, the boy who ran around and chopped trees with his father. The young man who wanted nothing more than to make the village proud. But I FEEL the Bladesman. When you walk into a room it feels oppressive, strong. That feeling is overpowering to everything else I know about you, and it almost replaces the memories. What¡¯s more I want it to replace them. Because you provide hope. ¡°


    Cheese saw his mother nodding along with the priests'' words. "If I had to guess" said Toggart as he glanced up. "That is a power from your pantheon."


    Cheese was quiet for a long moment and then he asked, "Have you seen the force arrayed against us Toggart?"


    The man nodded and Cheese asked the question he had been building towards without knowing it.


    "And when you look on them.... do you feel that same presence?"


    A moment passed and then finally Toggart nodded again. "Not in one particular individual.... but yes. It is there. Over the entire force there is a faint tinge of it. But different. I see them and I feel hopeless. Like a predator is watching me. Whereas when you look at me I feel almost safe. I feel like as long as you are there, I have hope, yet when I look out on that sea, I feel as if all hope is being sucked out of me"


    Cheese nodded at this. That confirmed one thing he had been thinking about. During the fight he had felt that film of power over those he fought. It was not the largest discrepancy in the world.... but it was enough. What his new Observe saw, and what he faced felt different. They were drawing mana from somewhere else.


    "Well," Cheese said as he poured wine for himself. "The two questions we have to ask are, who are the other pantheon, and which one are we facing here?"


    "Ex-excuse me?" asked Toggart with a glance of surprise. "What exactly do you mean by other pantheon? I told you there are only two, and yours. That makes theee total"


    "My menus" said Cheese as he sipped at his drink. He frowned, it tasted like it was spoiled. He checked the label and laughed at himself, it had been made before he had been born and had likely been in this war room for ten years. "It says there are four. Mine, and three others. I`m ranked fourth overall."


    The smaller man let out a yelp Cheese had to let out a sigh. "So, I know I`m not the cause of them. That leaves three others. Two we know of and seem unlikely. So, who is the third one?" He left the question in the air, and then slowly continued. "If you had to ask one of the remaining gods that question.... who would you choose Toggart?"


    The poor man''s mouth was opening and closing rapidly, and Cheese had to stifle a groan. Eventually a reply came. "Knowing what we know... the blood huntress. She is the most inclined to assist you in a hunt. She is not a schemer, at least the legends say she is not. And she looked favorably on you during the audience."The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Cheese wasn''t so sure about her looking on him favorably. She had scared the shit out of him, but the rest seemed accurate, so he agreed saying "Fine, I`ll do it soon."


    A squeak escaped the man, and he said "You mean you can actually speak to them? Whenever you want?"


    Cheese shook his head and replied "No it will cost me, but not a lot. And I''m not sure what form the conversation takes. Now, moving on. How are the men dealing with this all."


    He addressed his mother in this as well, and she said "The injured are healing rapidly. I`ve been quite surprised. A number who were injured yesterday show only bruised overnight."


    Toggart nodded and added "We read this in the scripture. Injuries heal far faster, and people of great skill can even regrow limbs if given enough time. "


    That surprised Cheese, but he was glad to hear it. Before he could reply there was a knock on the door. The unconscious priest began to stir, and Cheese said "Enter."


    The door opened, and a number of his junior officers, as well as Elder Tompson and Ibron filed in. They skirted around the still kneeling Toggart, and the now awakening priest. Cheese nodded at his brother Waff who walked up and without preamble said, "Got our ass kicked."


    Cheese raised an eyebrow. "The scouting party?"


    The large man nodded, accepting the wine Cheese handed him. He downed it without so much as a grimace at the poor taste. "Got any water?" he asked, settling into a large chair. Despite the men standing at near attention around him, he seemed entirely at ease.


    Cheese turned to Nold. "Will you please have someone bring us drinks?"


    The younger man jumped up, his response quick and eager. "Yes, Bladesman." He scurried out of the room.


    Cheese shifted his gaze to his brother, who began recounting the battle outside the walls. As Waff spoke, a frown crept onto Cheese¡¯s face.


    "Well, ya see," Waff began, "we were out there because the Baron wanted to see the land for himself. He said the scouts'' reports didn¡¯t add up. One set reported 5,000 of the green bastards. The next said three times that number, and after that, back to 5,000. It made no sense. So, he wanted a look himself."


    Waff paused to sip his wine before continuing. "So, we went. We¡¯d barely made it out of the walls and into the woods when we fell into their trap. They came at us from the forest¡ªsome 400 of those dogs and about ten trolls."


    He went quiet for a moment, his expression grim. "The trolls were big¡ªnot as large as the giants we fought before, but close. Worse, they were almost all experts. The dogs were easy enough to cut down, but the trolls harried us for three hours, forcing our horses south toward the coast. Eventually, they pushed us exactly where they wanted us."


    Cheese watched as Waff chose his next words carefully. "Out there... there¡¯s a landing happening along the water. Many ships were Ferring men, trolls, beasts, and goblins to the shore. I couldn¡¯t count them¡ªthere were too many. The trolls drove us straight to it. When the Baron saw what we were up against, he turned us around and gave the order to charge the trolls. He was still fighting when my squad broke through."


    A heavy silence followed his words, broken only by their mother¡¯s quiet voice. "Did... did the Baron give any orders?"


    Waff turned his gaze to her, nodding slowly. "He said to run."


    Cheese swept his eyes over the officers gathered before him. Run? How could they run? They¡¯d all seen the enemy forces outside the walls. Forget the approaching horde¡ªthey couldn¡¯t even handle the creatures already here. He sighed deeply, nodding solemnly. "Waff, how long before they arrive?"


    The larger man shrugged. "That many? We covered the distance in about three hours, and that was on horseback, under heavy pressure. They¡¯ll likely take a day¡ªtwo if we¡¯re lucky. I just don¡¯t know."


    One of the silent officers stepped forward. "Bladesman, I serve as a scout of the Baron''s. May I speak?"


    Cheese nodded, and the man continued. "I can¡¯t estimate the enemy''s numbers accurately, but their force is vast. They¡¯re not prepared to march just yet. They¡¯ve been there for some time¡ªweeks, at least. They¡¯ve built structures, clearly staging for something. Whatever they were waiting for, though, we¡¯ve forced their hand. When they saw us, they sounded horns, and a score of riders pursued us. I believe we¡¯ve sprung the trap early. I¡¯d expect them here in no less than two days."


    Cheese chewed his lip, his mind racing. Finally, he turned to Ibron, who stood with the other officers. "Go. Make ready for the women and children to flee tomorrow morning."


    Then he turned to Waff, bracing himself. "Brother, I¡¯m sorry," he said, his tone steady. "I order you to take charge of the people of Timberbrook and Fairhaven. You¡¯ll lead them across the river tomorrow morning and guide them north. You may take a hundred men."


    Waff held his gaze, his voice low and measured. "Why not Ibron? Or Tompson? Why send me away?"


    Cheese didn¡¯t hesitate. "Because I trust you to have the strength to protect them, and you were not on the walls with me. I felt them looking Waff. If me or them are not out there tomorrow, then they will know something is wrong."


    The look on Waffs face was hard, but after a moment he nodded and said "By your leave Bladesman" then stood and stormed out of the room.


    Cheese looked at Elder Tompson who stood in the rear of the room with his great bow. The older man simply nodded once in agreement.


    "Mother" Cheese asked offhandedly "Can you please go make sure our wounded are ready to go?"


    He looked in her direction as he spoke and saw that she was holding back tears. Yet she responded in kind "Yes Bladesman." before leaving the room.


    Cheese turned his attention to his officers then. As he scanned the room, he saw many of them shifting uncomfortably before him. "Before I speak, are there any questions?"


    A single man stepped forward, it was the scout who had spoken before. He asked "Bladesman, are we to die?"


    Cheese looked at the man cooly and said "Die? Perhaps." he let a moment pass and then continued "I do not consider death. It will come or it will not. What we will do is convince the enemy that we remain strong. They come at us with a tide of bodies. Our goal is to plan on how to part that tide until either help comes, or we kill them all. We know that the king approaches from the northwest. My question is, why did they let us see their plan?"


    There was silence in the room, the weight of Cheese¡¯s question hanging heavy in the air. If the enemy was trying to trap the king, why would they alert the force here of it?


    It was Tompson who finally broke the stillness. "Because someone wasn¡¯t happy to be used as bait for the King."


    "Exactly my thoughts," Cheese replied, a smirk playing on his lips. "Someone in Fairhaven wants us to tell the king about the trap¡ªor at least, they want us to try. Either the Baron lives and is heading there now, or he¡¯s already dead."


    The men around him absorbed this grim logic, the implications sinking in. Then Nold, his voice small but steady, spoke up. "So... our people should be safe?"


    Cheese nodded. "Yes. Whoever is directing these events from Fairhaven will likely allow our people to leave¡ªso long as they head toward the king."


    "Then why do we stay?" one of the young officers blurted out, his voice sharp with frustration.


    "Because," Nold answered softly, "the enemy at the boats knows we¡¯re here. If we all leave, they¡¯ll follow. It¡¯s only those at Fairhaven who are allowing us this chance."


    A quiet understanding settled over the group, the gravity of their situation palpable. Cheese felt a flicker of pride for the boy; Nold had reached the same conclusion he had.


    After a moment¡¯s thought, Cheese addressed the room. "So the question becomes: how do we make it clear that we are confident in our position while giving those who flee tomorrow the chance to escape?"


    The silence stretched as the men considered this, until Cheese leaned forward, his voice firm and resolute. "I will take volunteers. Under the cover of darkness, an hour before the citizens leave, we¡¯ll strike. I need 200 warriors¡ªat least high apprentice level."


    A murmur rippled through the room, but before anyone could respond, a sudden knock echoed from the door.


    Cheese stiffened. "Enter," he called, his voice steady, though his hand hovered instinctively near his blade.


    The door creaked open, and a scout stumbled in, his face pale, his breaths labored. He looked up, his eyes wide with alarm.


    "They¡¯re moving," the runner rasped. "The enemy... they¡¯re gathering outside of bow range with ladders."


    Cheese¡¯s smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by grim determination. "How many?"


    "All those in the city, thousands" he said as he straightened himself. "And they''re being led by.... well you best see yourself sir."


    For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of the words settling like a stone in their chests. Then they sprang into action as the horns began to sound.


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 Ch 29: Calm before the Storm

    Cheese rushed out into the cold night, his heart heavy with an unsettling sense of dread. The darkness seemed thicker, more oppressive, as if the air itself held its breath. Tompson, Torv and Waff were by his side as he remounted the wall and surveyed the killing field from the top of the gatehouse. The ground below was still field with the dead goblins who had assaulted the walls only hours before, and it stank to high hell. The distant sound of a horn from the tower to the south echoed through the night¡ªits single, sharp blast summoned the men to arms. The gatehouse was already manned by twenty soldiers, with another hundred or so scattered across the wall slowly forming for battle.


    But it wasn¡¯t just the number of men that unsettled him, so few scattered across such a long wall. It was the exhaustion that clung to every soldier, a weariness that was more than physical. The earlier battle had been brutal, and only a couple of hours had passed since its bloody end. The men had barely rested. Cheese himself felt it¡ªhis limbs were sore, his mind fogged with fatigue, but there was no time for rest.


    Gelrock and Mauren were already there, waiting. As Cheese arrived, Mauren immediately gave his report.


    "The enemy is gathering," Mauren said grimly, his voice tight with concern. "Our scouts just returned. Another thousand or so have joined their ranks. They¡¯re forming up for something... bigger. And they are human"


    Cheese nodded, his gaze flicking to the horizon. That is what the scout had meant when he said Cheese needed to see for himself. Their foes were joined by men. it was not a suprise given the earlier conversation. His thoughts were interrupted as he looked over at Gelrock. The smaller man stood in full plate armor, the faint gleam of metal catching the torchlight as he warmed his hands by the fire. Cheese¡¯s eyes fell to Gelrock¡¯s title, a flicker of something warm in his chest as he saw [Gelrock, Expert]. Cheese smiled as he realized the older man had broken through the barrier before him.


    "When did that happen?" Cheese asked, his voice betraying a hint of surprise as the other officers gathered.


    "Earlier today, during the battle," Gelrock replied with a knowing smile. "Did you think my highest skill was ¡®Teacher¡¯?"


    Cheese offered a wry grin. "Honestly, I hadn¡¯t really thought about it. Too bad¡ªwe won¡¯t have time for training in the morning."


    Gelrock looked momentarily insulted, then grinned back. "Why do you think I¡¯m here, boy? This is where the fight gets real. And I¡¯ll be watching you¡ªmaking sure you don¡¯t make too many mistakes."


    Cheese paused, a thought suddenly crossing his mind. "Speaking of training, do you know any tricks for improving Observe?"


    Gelrock¡¯s eyes lit up with amusement. "So, you¡¯ve got it, eh? I had a feeling you would. Skills like that tend to run in families. Your father¡¯s Observe skill was something special¡ªyours might not be quite up to his level, but we¡¯ll see. What can you see with it?"Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Cheese hesitated for a moment. "I can see mana."


    The air around them seemed to go still. Gelrock¡¯s gaze sharpened. "Anything else?"


    Cheese shook his head, a flicker of frustration in his chest.


    "Well, fuck," Gelrock muttered. "Usually, that skill comes with some nice bonuses. Your father¡¯s was Uncommon, and you don''t see that often. How about you what''s yours?"


    Cheese¡¯s smile was small but satisfied. "Mine''s Epic."


    Gelrock¡¯s expression shifted¡ªhis eyes widened as if he¡¯d just heard the gods speak. For a moment, Cheese thought the smaller man might actually pass out. Gelrock let out a breath, as if trying to recover. "Epic, you say? Well then, I guess that¡¯s something to look forward to. Epic¡ªthat¡¯s a different animal. I¡¯ll wager you¡¯ll unlock some interesting additions as you grow with it."


    "hat¡¯s your highest skill?" Nold, the page who had stuck close to Cheese, asked Gelrock.


    Gelrock gave him a pointed look. "Dagger."


    Cheese blinked, surprised. He had never imagined Gelrock as a dagger user, especially not in full plate armor. But then he noticed the sword at Gelrock¡¯s hip, the bow slung across his back, and the small, wickedly sharp dagger sheathed beside it.


    "A well-rounded warrior has many tools," Gelrock said with a smirk, warming his hands once more by the torch.


    "Bladesman," Mauren interrupted, his voice tense. "They¡¯re moving."


    Cheese¡¯s gaze snapped to the distance. The enemy¡¯s torches were shifting, their movements slower now, more deliberate. They were not closing with the walls, simply fanning out. His chest tightened. He activated his Observe skill, watching the enemy ranks. Among the scattered lights of their forces, he could pick out the dimming glows of officers. But then his attention shifted again¡ªto Gelrock, standing next to him. The small man blotted out most of the light around him, his own presence somehow overwhelming Cheese¡¯s ability to focus. Cheese shifted slightly, recalibrating his senses.


    Still, despite the enemy¡¯s numbers, he didn¡¯t feel the same fear he had earlier. There was no sign of greater skill among them¡ªonly a mass of bodies.


    "Why are they attacking?" Cheese asked, his voice grim. "What do they want, and why the hell did they hit us earlier today? They are just throwing away lives."


    "To test us," Gelrock replied, his voice cold but steady. "Earlier, it was like swatting flies. A wave of children I barely had to think about. It gave us some levels, but otherwise for us it was just a waste of energy. Id wager they learned a bit though, and tired us out. Let me ask you, Bladesman¡ªdo you feel any real threat from their force?"


    Cheese shook his head. "No, I don¡¯t. Even my skill shows them as no stronger than us. Yet they are stronger than what came at us earlier in the day."


    Gelrock nodded, a grim smile creeping across his face. "Aye, but our men say there are trolls among them¡ªat the Expert level. Yet those are not assaulting the walls. I don¡¯t think they want to risk their best troops yet. They¡¯re probing us, testing our strength. They¡¯ll wait until they know exactly what they¡¯re up against... then they¡¯ll hit us when they think we¡¯re ripe for the taking."


    "Then what do we do?" Nold asked, his voice laced with a bit of panic.


    Elder Tompson chuckled, his laughter full of warmth and assurance. "Why, we grow, boy. They¡¯re sending us a whetstone to sharpen our blades. And we¡¯ll use it."


    Gelrock nodded in agreement, his tone more confident now. "Aye, these tactics might have worked in the past, but now? Now they¡¯ll only serve us. As long as we rotate the men and keep pushing, their skills will grow faster than the enemy expects."


    Cheese felt the dread that had gripped him at the start begin to fade, replaced by a newfound optimism. He looked around at his men, at the officers, at the warriors who stood ready, despite their weariness. The first bows twanged in the distance, and Cheese¡¯s heart lifted.


    "Well then," he said, grinning wide. "Let¡¯s use it for all it¡¯s worth."

 Ch 30: Rocks and Arrows

    Cheese stood with the men as he fulfilled the role of Bladesman. He could feel the eyes on his silhouette in the night. As he stood atop the gatehouse, his sharp gaze scanned the battlefield in the torchlight. The night which had grown thick with the acrid stench of burning wood was now filled with the distant screams of the enemy as they began marching to the walls. Cheese found that he could tell the difference between the goblins and men as they swarmed toward them in droves. The men stood high above the goblins, but they did not have the bulk of orcs. A sea of the shadowed figures, their eyes gleaming with malice advanced under the protection of shields.


    The enemy had brought more ladders than last time, Cheese noted, his eyes narrowing. The torches illuminated the enemy forces, flickering against their crude shields and armor. He could see the ladders in their midst being hauled forward. The bows of his own forces sang as those clumps of attackers crossed the invisible line that marked their range, striking down enemies in quick succession, but it soon became obvious that there were simply too many. He could hear Maurens commands echoing through the air, and the sounds of the battle began to blend into a cacophony of chaos as the bowstrings thrummed around him. Most of the twenty-some-odd men here had bows, the others were simply runners and Torv who stood nearby with a banner in hand. For now, Cheese remained still, watching.


    He could feel the familiar tingle of his mana as it begged to be let out, but he chose not to waste it just yet. His duty was to the axe and the wall, not to unnecessary flare. He would wait for the right moment, when it would count. The others¡ªTompson, Gelrock and the archers¡ªwere doing their part, releasing arrows into the mass of enemies, thinning the ranks where they could. The bowmen fired with practiced precision, each shot finding its mark and piercing through the shields. But it wasn¡¯t enough. There were too many, and they kept coming in a slow flow to their walls.


    As the enemy drew closer, Cheese saw that one group was clustered thicker than the rest. A low growl rumbled in his chest. They were going to test the gatehouse, and the group held a thick mana denser than the rest. His gaze flicked to Gelrock, the Master-at-Arms, who was losing arrows in a steady stream.


    ¡°Battering ram,¡± Cheese said loudly, infusing some power into his voice for the small man to hear over the noise.


    Gelrock snorted in disdain, his arm never stopping as he loosed arrow after arrow. In between shots he spoke out. ¡°A poor weapon for the job, if you ask me.... They don¡¯t know how to use their trebuchets properly either....If they did, we¡¯d be in more trouble than just some clumsy ram.¡± He wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, then kept shooting as he glanced down the wall at the other defenders. ¡°Only two of their rocks today made it in the walls and none hit it."


    The sound of rocks flying through the air cut through the night. The enemy trebuchets had begun launching their payloads, but their aim was poor. A few rocks landed near the gates, but none of them came close to breaching the wall. Gelrock¡¯s lips twisted into a grim smile as a number of the payloads took down the attackers. ¡°They¡¯ll need better engineers, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    In the midst of the battle¡¯s chaos a boy rushed up to Cheese, holding a bucket of water. ¡°For the blood, my lord,¡± he said breathlessly, handing it over. Cheese nodded his thanks and motioned for Nold to help the boy.


    Cheese nodded again, and his thoughts returned to the enemy. They were slowly closing in, moving beneath their cover. It was a slow advance, but the enemy¡¯s persistence seemed endless. Still, it didn¡¯t stall the steady rain of arrows from their archers. Every shot hit its mark, but it would take more than that to keep them at bay.


    "Hold the line," Cheese muttered to himself. He gripped his sword tighter, watching the waves of enemies'' surge forward, determined to protect the gatehouse. He could feel the weight of the moment bearing down on him. The anticipation of battle was starting to get his blood hot, and he reached to his waist for his wineskin. But when he grabbed it he remembered it had been emptied during the days fighting. he spit on the ground, angry at himself for not thinking to fill it. Then Torv shouted out "Here sir" and Cheese was surprised to see a wineskin flying at him. He grabbed it out of the air. The one-armed man had thrown it with his stump. Cheese nodded his thanks in return. He drank a long swig and then threw it back. The other man caught it with his stump, and Cheese was astounded to see he even looped it around his belt, the banner never leaving his good hand. Cheese nodded his approval, and the other man beamed a smile.


    The enemy surged forward as the Bladesman returned his vision to them, shouting and screaming as the arrows rained down from the ramparts. Every time one found its mark, the attackers would stagger, some falling to the ground, others twisting in pain. The sounds of the battlefield filled the night, a discordant mix of guttural curses and shrill cries of agony as men and goblins were struck. A few javelins flew from the enemy ranks, but none managed to reach the top of the walls.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Cheese stood unmoving, his eyes flicking across the scene. The chaos below was unfathomable¡ªwaves of bodies pressing ever closer, their shields raised, their faces twisted with desperation. The attackers seemed to multiply with every breath, as though the night itself was giving birth to more enemies. Each step they took toward the wall seemed louder than the last, a drumming rhythm of impending doom. Yet in no time at all, the first ladder was raised to his right. Then another, and another.


    He toggled his observation skill, and with surprise he felt the world around him sharpening into focus. The skill pinged [Observe (10) Epic] New Passives Unlocked. The movement of the enemy was suddenly clearer, their positions more distinct in the dim torchlight. He could see the glint of metal on their blades and the frantic scrambling of their feet as they scrambled over the piles of fallen bodies, those who had been struck by arrows. Yet Cheese also felt a greater drain on his mana, he quickly shut off the skill.


    The enemy, a maddening tide of limbs and faces, roared as they began climbing the ladders. More arrows flew, striking down several of them, but there were too many to stop now. No ladders were raised at the gatehouse and Cheese felt anger begin to stir. He wanted to MOVE to help his men.


    Mauren¡¯s voice cut through the noise, a command that rang out across the battlements. "Throw stones!"


    The order was swift and urgent, and the defenders who lacked arrows moved as one. There were piled rocks against the ramparts. Cheese nodded as they were grabbed by every available hand and sent crashing down onto the attackers below. Each stone was the size of a man¡¯s head, and each thud likely meant a dead foe. The air was filled with the sound of shouts and the sickening thuds of rock meeting flesh. Men and goblins were struck down in droves, some crumpling under the weight, others flung aside by the force of the blow. The attackers staggered, some retreating momentarily, but quickly regrouping as others climbed their fallen comrades and continued the climb.


    Unlike earlier in the day, Cheese¡¯s men had orders to repel ladders when given the chance, and they did not disappoint. The men on the walls started chopping at the ladders and pushing them away as the goblins started their ascent.


    Cheese¡¯s gaze moved with practiced ease, watching the lines of enemies advance relentlessly, the flashes of their weapons rising and falling in rhythm with their charge. Yet he felt his eyes drawn to the thick line of men who carried the ram. The chaos seemed endless, like a living thing, twisting and surging as though it could not be contained, yet those men seemed a steady hand in the storm of bodies. Cheese activated his vision and realized why that was. Now that they were close, he could see that they were all at the Journeyman level, and many wore strong armor.


    He could feel the weight of realization hit him. The wall would hold. It had to. The gate, however, would fall.


    "Gelrock," he said calmly as he came to his decision.


    "Aye," came the reply. "Me and you could hold it; it''s a small gate. Two men across would do the trick for a time."


    That confirmed Cheese¡¯s worries. He had hoped the older man had a trick up his sleeve, but it appeared not. "Do we open it or let them try their hand?" he asked the more experienced man.


    "It makes no matter," came the reply. "The gate was bound to fall the second they wanted it to, boy. Open, closed, it makes no matter."


    Cheese nodded and looked to Mauren. The officer was listening to their conversation, and Cheese nodded to him, saying, "Send my brother out with the families now. They likely won¡¯t get another opportunity."


    Then, without another word, Cheese turned and began walking toward the stairwell that led to the base of the gatehouse. Torv, Nold, and Gelrock followed close behind.


    The stairwell was narrow, the stone steps slick with the sweat of too many bodies passing through, but the descent felt like an eternity. Each step echoed, hollow and heavy in the quiet of the lower gatehouse, and yet all Cheese could hear was the distant crash of the battering ram against the gates above. His muscles tensed with every tremor that rattled the walls, the constant rhythm of that terrible force battering against the door. It would not hold for much longer.


    As they reached the bottom, the air grew thick with the smell of oil and stone. Cheese could feel the weight of the decision hanging heavy on his shoulders. The gate was their last line of defense, but it was quickly slipping away from them. His thoughts raced as he glanced at his companions. Gelrock¡¯s face was grim, Torv¡¯s jaw set like stone, and Nold¡ªyoung, wide-eyed¡ªkept his gaze forward, trying to keep his composure.


    Cheese took a deep breath. There was no going back now. The ram was close enough that if they didn¡¯t act, the gate would be splintered to pieces, and they would be overwhelmed.


    ¡°Ready?¡± he asked, his voice low but steady.


    Gelrock gave a curt nod. "Aye. Open it, let¡¯s give ''em hell."


    Cheese turned his gaze to the thick timbers of the gate, the large iron bolts that held it fast. The crashing of the ram grew louder, more intense. The gate would give way soon, with a breath he signaled two men who stood nearby, and they unbarred the gate.


    Then¡ªanother thunderous impact, and suddenly it was wide open.


    Cheese froze, and it was like time froze with him. His heart which had been pounding in his chest was quiet.


    Cheese felt the men who came from beyond the door, yet there was something else there that had hidden from him, and with a start Cheese realized.


    The men with the ram were no longer the biggest threat.

 Ch 31: Lizards?!?!?!

    The gates groaned open as the ram hit them, the sound tearing through the stillness like the scream of a dying beast. In the fore stood Cheese and Gelrock like sentinels in the dim light. For a moment, the figures beyond the threshold hesitated shadows shifting in the dim torchlight cast by their flames. Then, with a guttural hiss and a deep roar, they surged forward into the courtyard. Ten figures in total, their weapons gleaming and their movements unnervingly precise. Cheese felt the wrongness there. No men moved like this.


    Cheese¡¯s breath caught as the light revealed them. He¡¯d expected men, but what stepped through were something else entirely.


    Half of them were hooded, their features concealed beneath deep cowls, but as they moved into the brighter light of the courtyard, Cheese¡¯s perception froze. The hood slipped from one as it lunged forward, revealing a scaled toothy face unlike anything he¡¯d ever seen. Its skin shimmered in shades of green and black, the scales reflecting the torchlight like polished stone. A pair of sharp, golden eyes locked onto him, their gaze cold and reptilian. A forked tongue flicked from its mouth, tasting the air.


    [Lizard Folk, Journeyman]


    Cheese had no other word for them, and what he did have come from the system. Yet, it fit. They stood upright like men, but their bodies were sinewy and alien, their hands clawed, their feet taloned and their maws held thick wicked teeth. Thier tails swayed behind them, balancing their movements with eerie precision. Their weapons¡ªprimitive spears and clubs¡ªlooked worn but lethal in their clawed grips.


    Cheese had fought giants and goblins before. He had even faced creatures twisted by magic. But this was different. There was something about their presence, about the way they moved¡ªsilent, deliberate, predatory¡ªthat sent ice shooting through his veins. For the briefest moment, he couldn¡¯t breathe. He saw in their eyes a hunger, and knew it was for him.


    ¡°Boy!¡± Gelrock¡¯s voice snapped him back into the moment.


    The first lizardman lunged, its spear stabbing forward with shocking speed. Cheese barely twisted out of the way, his axe swinging up to parry the follow-up strike. Sparks flew as the metal connected with the spearhead, and the force of the blow sent him skidding back a step. Yet the spear was not so fortunate, as it had snapped in his opponent¡¯s hands.


    "Their weapons are not magical" Came a shout from atop the gatehouse.


    Cheese¡¯ instincts kicked in. He swung his axe in a wide arc, using Chop to keep distance. The burst of force sent the creature stumbling with deep a gash in its chest, and it gave him a moment to regain his footing.


    To his side, Gelrock was already in motion. The older man moved with the grace of a seasoned warrior, his dagger and sword weaving arcs of steel as he pressed into the invaders on his flank. Cheese took a breath, adjusting his grip, and stepped forward again to join him. He entered with a THROW as he ran forward, the axe blade sunk into a lizards chest; and he summoned it back into his hands at the last moment as he struck again.


    The fight became a blur of motion and sound. Cheese swung his axe in precise, heavy arcs, each strike infused with mana to keep the creatures at bay. He would mix in throws occasionally to confuse the beasts. The invaders pressed hard, their weapons darting in coordinated strikes, but they didn¡¯t seem to use abilities¡ªno bursts of energy, no spells, just cold, relentless physicality.


    But something was wrong.


    As Cheese fought, he felt it¡ªan oppressive presence pressing against his mind. It was subtle at first, like a weight on his shoulders, but it grew with each passing moment. The shadows in the courtyard seemed to deepen unnaturally, pooling in corners where the light couldn¡¯t reach. A cold sweat broke out on his skin, and for a terrifying moment, it felt as though the darkness itself was alive and watching him.


    He toggled his Observe skill, hoping for clarity.


    The world sharpened into focus, details leaping out at him¡ªthe flicker of torchlight on scales, the rhythm of the lizardfolk¡¯s breathing, the slight twitch of their tails before an attack. But it did nothing to ease the oppressive feeling. If anything, it grew worse.


    One of the lizardmen suddenly darted forward with unnatural speed, its spear aimed for his chest. Cheese twisted and stepped forward into the spear thrust sneding the lizard soaring past him, the blade narrowly missing him, but another lizard swung a club toward his side. He raised his free arm instinctively, and the impact sent a jolt of pain through him.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Mana surged into his skin before he could think. A faint shimmer covered his body, and he felt the blow deflect slightly, the force blunted. The club scraped past, and Cheese swung back, his Chop slicing through the air and forcing his attacker to retreat.


    A notification flared in the back of his mind.


    [Spiritual Resistance] leveled up!


    New Ability Unlocked: [Mage Armor] (Rare) - Level 4


    Cheese didn¡¯t hesitate. He activated it, and the mana around his body solidified, a protective shell forming tighter and harder than anything he had ever managed before. It wasn¡¯t just a faint film now¡ªit was tangible, a gleaming barrier that radiated strength.


    The next strike came fast as the lizard with the spear came at him aiming for his leg. It skidded harmlessly off the armor, and Cheese returned the thrust with a Chop that took off the lizards head. He turned his attention back to the gate as the lizard slumped down to the ground. Cheese felt a surge of energy fill him, and he frowned. He had not felt that these past few days. Was this because the lizard was on his level of skill?


    Cheese exhaled slowly as his mind processed the information, his resolve hardening. The oppressive presence still loomed, heavy and consuming, but he focused on the fight. He stepped forward, his axe swinging, his Chop carving the air as he drove back the attackers.


    ¡°Gelrock,¡± he called over the clash of steel. ¡°You holding?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± came the gruff reply. ¡°Push harder, boy. Let¡¯s send these lizards back to the pit they came from.¡±


    Cheese nodded, his eyes locked on the golden gaze of the nearest lizardman. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of his mind, but he buried it deep.


    Whatever was waiting in the shadows could wait. Right now, he had a fight to finish.


    More than half of the lizardfolk had already fallen to their strikes. The courtyard was a bloody chaos of scales and shadow, the bodies of the dead sprawled where they had collapsed under the relentless assault. Cheese and Gelrock pressed the attack, their timing near perfect, carving through the remaining foes with ferocity.


    The survivors began to falter, their steps uneasy as they retreated under the combined weight of blade and axe. The lizards hissed and growled, their tails lashing in agitation as they were forced back toward the open gate. Above, the defenders on the walls found their mark. A volley of arrows rained down, striking with deadly precision. One of the lizardfolk fell instantly, with a shaft buried deep in its back, another struggled on as an arrow punctured its arm. A number of other arrows hit, but they bounced off the lizards flesh.


    ¡°Keep the rhythm!¡± Gelrock shouted, his sword flashing as he feinted toward one of the remaining attackers.


    Cheese matched his movements, his axe rising and falling with calculated brutality. The sound of the archers loosing above became a cue, each strike timed to their rhythm. The chaos of battle found a strange, deadly order as steel and arrows worked in concert.


    One of the lizardfolk lunged for Cheese, its spear darting like a serpent¡¯s strike. Yet compared to the earlier lizard this one seemed sluggish. Cheese sidestepped, his axe sweeping in a brutal arc. The blade cleaved cleanly through the creature¡¯s torso, separating it in two. The lizard¡¯s body crumpled to the ground, its golden eyes staring blankly as its life faded. Cheese frowned as he felt none of the lizard''s energy entering his body.


    Gelrock dispatched the next with a practiced thrust, his sword skewering the lizardfolk through the ribs. It let out a sharp hiss, clawing feebly at the blade before slumping forward.


    Only two remained now, their movements erratic, the fight leaving them. Yet even as Cheese steadied his breathing, his skin still tingled with unease. He could feel it¡ªthe same oppressive presence as before, but stronger now. It wasn¡¯t just the weight of battle or the looming threat of the gate falling. It was something else. A vision, like eyes from a great distance, watching him. Waiting.


    It rooted him for a moment, the sensation so palpable he felt as though he could turn and see the gaze fixed on him.


    Then pain snapped him back to reality.


    A goblin¡¯s javelin had slipped through the chaos, striking him just below the shoulder. The impact staggered him, and though his Mage Armor absorbed much of the force, the jagged tip still bit into his skin.


    Cheese gritted his teeth, ripping the arrow free and tossing it aside. The pain burned hot, but it cleared his mind.


    Focus, boy!¡± Gelrock growled, stepping closer to cover him.


    Cheese nodded, shaking off the haze. The two remaining lizards snarled and lunged.


    The first came at him with a club, its clawed feet scraping against the stone as it moved. Cheese planted his feet, his axe sweeping upward in a powerful arc. The weapon caught the lizard square in the chest, splitting it open with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the courtyard as the creature crumpled at his feet.


    The last lizard hesitated for just a moment, its golden eyes flicking to Gelrock. That was all the veteran needed. Gelrock surged forward, his dagger slicing upward to disarm the creature as it pierced his hand, his sword plunging deep into its neck. The lizard choked on its own blood, collapsing in a heap beside its kin.


    Cheese wiped his axe clean on his sleeve, his chest rising and falling with exertion. He turned to Gelrock, who gave him a curt nod, his expression grim but satisfied.


    It should have felt like victory, but the oppressive weight hadn¡¯t left. Cheese¡¯s gaze drifted to the gate, where the torchlight illuminated the mass of goblins gathered outside. They stood just beyond the threshold, jeering and snarling, their weapons flashing in the firelight.


    And behind them, somewhere in the darkness, he could feel it still. Watching. Waiting.


    Cheese tightened his grip on his axe and glanced at his skills with a smirk. Well, this was one way to grind a skill.


    The goblins roared and began slowly advancing.

 Ch 32: Mounds

    The first goblins approached the duo slowly and tentatively. Cheese was surprised, as he had expected a rush of bodies to press through the gate. The fear of the lizards had held them back before, what was it that held them back now? Was it Cheese and Gelrock?


    Yet come they did. The first goblin was a small thing hardly more than a half meter tall and its tag read [Goblin: Novice]


    This was the first goblin with that rank that Cheese had seen. That somewhat surprised him, as one would assume many of these creatures would be at that lower level. Strangely though none of those who came before had been at such a low level. They had been at the apprentice level at the very least. The small being walked forward propelled by his peers and Cheese stepped into it, deciding to go with a backhanded fist instead of a strike with his axe. It was a strange decision, but Cheese felt as if this goblin almost insulted him with its presence, so he struck it down. He did not imbue any mana into the strike. The creature''s head did not care as it caved in and exploded into a gory mess. Cheese looked at his hand in shock and then looked up at the wall of spears before him and smiled. As he did so a shout rang out from above.


    "Don''t fucking waste time, kill ''em" Came Tompson''s plea as he threw a stone down into the throng of goblins.


    In response Cheese lifted his axe overhead and brought it down, imbuing it with power as he activated Chop.


    The skill cleaved down several goblins and Cheese stepped forward to close the gap with the remaining ones. As if sensing his intent Gelrock stepped back and let him take the lead.


    The gatehouse was a semi-large construct, but it was no great gate like the ones on Fairhaven''s wall. It held no portcullis, no killing boxes. It was simply a large double door set into an even larger stone construct that the gate was bolted to. Cheese would not have been able to fill the entire gate in a true castle, however here in the walls of the mill, his larger form was enough to fully take the flow of bodies. That is what Cheese did now, he stepped forward and began pushing into the mob of goblins who screamed and tried to flee as they were cut down. Their small forms were unable to flee properly as Cheese activated Chop many times in quick succession. The skill began to tick up as he sliced away at his foes. Cheese could feel the drain on his core, yet it was not a large drain. The more massive of the lizardfolk that he had slain had almost fully replenished it, and Cheese was being sparse on his use of the Observe skill.


    He was using the axe like one might use a scythe to cut down wheat, and in quick order, he found himself inside the gate. The goblins who had earlier fled from him were now dead, their allies pressing them into the throng, and Cheese decided to activate Observe as a fresh force closed with him. Their number was cut down right before they reached him as a flurry of javelins and arrows flew over Cheese''s shoulders. He heard Gelrock say "Be careful lads, don''t hit the man" and then raised the axe above his head, bringing it down to sever a [Goblin: Apprentice] in half.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Cheese was sure now as he saw this, they were sending the weakest of their host in first. The lizards had taken the lead for whatever reason, but the goblins were settling into the same pattern as earlier today. Why had there not been any of the earlier novice-leveled goblins in the day''s first attack?


    Cheese took his axe and began slicing down from above onto the heads of the smaller forms. His axe skill ticked up again as he killed another goblin. [Axe: 49].


    he had finally gotten there. The wall before Expert level. Cheese lifted the axe and let out a laugh and then stepped backward, inviting the press of bodies to advance inward.


    As he did so he yelled behind him "I need a Drink" he turned his eyes forward and saw that the goblins were resisting the urge to advance, and a few of the larger ones began pushing the throng forward.


    Cheese heard Gelrock laugh and shout back "Do you need a swap boy?"


    "Aye" He yelled in reply "Like I need more rats underfoot, just give me a drink!"


    He turned and caught the wine in one hand and put it to his lips. After a moment of peace, he felt the goblinoids press in, propelled by their kin and Cheese dropped the wineskin. He had retreated to the close side of the gatehouse, and as he brought his axe into a horizontal slice he killed four of the goblins who had decided to press forward. Cheese saw over their heads, and noticed the first Orc. hovered above its head, and it paced back and forth some twenty meters behind the throng of goblins. Cheese set his sight on the creature''s head. It was a large figure and had the head of a boar. Around it stalked many larger goblins who helped the Orc press the mob forward.


    An arrow that had been shot from the ramparts impacted the Orc, and a thin veil of mana popped into existence. It deflected the arrow sending it into a nearby goblin.


    An idea formed, and Cheese stopped his passive almost mindless sweeps of his Blade across the nearby goblin ranks. He sent out a series of three Chops and then quickly raised the axe overhead. The Larger form was turned away directing his force, and Cheese took the opportunity to throw his large Axe end over end at the beast. It soared in a low arc, nearly hitting the top of the gatehouse, yet the axe flew true.


    The mana materialized, but there was no reaction from the Axe. It sunk deep into the chest of the creature. The Orc looked at Cheese, disbelief in its eyes, and then down at the Axe. It put a hand on its chest and then touched the axe head.


    Cheese activated Spiritual Binding and the chest of the orc exploded outward. A notification pinged, and Cheese felt a warmth fill him as he leaped across the gap into the realm of an expert.


    [Axe: 51]


    He smiled to himself and laid back into the mass of fodder that had so kindly been laid out in front of him.

 CH 33: Surge

    Cheese stood amidst the carnage, the mounds of bodies that had formed around him as they killed. His heart pounding in rhythm with the chaos around him. The rush of adrenaline, the ping of notifications, and the satisfaction of his ascension to an expert axeman thrummed within him like an intoxicating melody. He felt stronger than he had ever felt before. Cheese lifted the axe, and let out a Cleave into the newly forming lines of goblins. They crumpled back in a wave as he felt the mana leave his body. He could see it, like a thin line of steel being shot into them.


    Some twenty of the creatures fell instantly adding to the piles, and Cheese had to rely on the power of his will to stop from falling onto the ground from exhaustion. Gods that had been a lot of mana. He turned his attention inwardly as Gelrock stepped forward sensing his weakness. A full tenth of his energy had disappeared in that one swipe. "Fuck" he said as he realized the implications. He would not be able to rely on his abilities for now, not until he had control of his mana. Gelrock replaced Cheese in the gateway taking the brunt of the enemy for the moment.


    "Bladesman" came a low voice from behind him. Cheese turned and saw that it was Torv. The younger man had the keeps standard in his good hand.


    "What is it?" he asked, his voice far more horse than he had expected.


    The bannerman didn''t show any sign of realizing, and simply said "Do you need the men to take over while you assess?"


    A circle of men with shields and spears had formed around the gate, ready to take over. Cheese shook his head and said "No. Once Gelrock needs a moment I will step in. Wait in case we need you."


    Torv nodded and Cheese turned his attention back to the escalating battle before him. Gelrock was a whirl of motion as he danced back and forth before the goblins. Whereas Cheese relied on his larger strikes the Master at arms was a surgeon. He darted in and bypassed the simple guard of the goblins, striking at a neck, an armpit, or a leg. He let the press of bodies kill as often as his blade, and he was able to keep up with the pace due to his superior body. As he did so he ensured to not let them push far past the gate.


    This type of assault was risky, and it relied on superior skill and strong legs whereas Cheese`s tactics of simply chopping everything into pieces was less skillful and relied on a strong upper body and more stamina. Cheese was able to endure the drain of his tactic because of the years of work he had done, whereas Gelrock was simply made for war. He had adapted over the years to his smaller stature, and due to this he was familiar with the necessity of movement in battle. As Cheese watched the smaller man ducked under a goblin thrust, something only possible due to how short he was in the first place, and stabbed up taking the creature in the armpit.


    This went on for an hour as the man steadfastly held the gate. In time he began to form the mounds into ramparts, and he stood atop them as the goblins tried to climb the dead to reach the smaller man. Around the twenty-minute mark, the relentless surge of goblins began to wane, and the pressure eased. Gradually, the caliber of their opponents improved. By the end of the hour, Gelrock found himself frequently battling goblins at the journeyman level. who came forward not in a tide, but in ones and twos as they pulled their way to the top of the small pile of bodies. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It was around this time that Cheese felt that dark force that was observing take its leave. He was unsure what it had been, but as the goblins began growing in time he felt as if it stopped viewing him and turned its attention south. Cheese should still feel its presence, but he was aware of that presence leaving them. That worried the bladesman, not only the presence of such a creature watching their battle but that he could feel it. As he focused on it the being felt almost oily against his perception.


    The slow trickle of goblins continued until that hour was up, and Cheese was brought away from his pondering. Gelrock gave a shout of "Boy" and cheese looked up.


    And he felt a smile cross his face as he looked at the new foe that had presented itself. <b>[Orc, Journeyman] </b>The larger creature held an axe and had a sinister pig-like face. As it passed the threshold of the gate Gelrock asked, "Do you want this one?"


    "Aye" Cheese shouted as he ran forward, leaping past the older man on his pile of goblins. He brought the axe up and down, but the orc sidestepped with a snarl. Cheese let out a front kick, and the orc took it on the chest, stumbling backward slightly as it landed. The orc lashed out with a sinister blade and Cheese stepped closer as it did, placing them chest to chest. He grabbed the orc''s sword arm as it overshot looping his arm under its armpit and then yanking the orc towards himself in a simple throw the militia taught their warriors to use in unarmed combat against an opponent with a spear.


    Using it against a larger opponent who bore a sword was unusual, and quite dangerous, but Cheese was simply faster than the orcs sword arm, and the unexpected move caught the creature off balance. Cheese rotated him and slammed the orc onto its back, as he did so the orc landed on a goblin who had fallen earlier with a crunch. Cheese had to drop his axe during the throw, but he simply resummoned it as he brought his arms down in an arc, driving the axehead into the orc''s skull.


    Fuck that felt good, but Cheese immediately realized the issue with this. He had taken nearly ten seconds to deal with the Orc, and as he looked back up he saw that five more of the creatures had come forward. Gelrock caught two of them as they tried to climb the embankment of death, but the rest were running out in a wide arc, and more were coming through the gate.


    Cheese let out a <strike></strike> <b>Chop </b>towards the gate killing three of the orcs there, and then threw his axe at the nearest Orc hitting it in the back. Right before the axe hit two arrows sprouted out of the orcs neck, and the creature stumbled. Cheese heard Tompson shout from above the gatehouse "We`ve got your back, deal with the front"


    He nodded grimly and resummoned Markaer. As he threw the axe he internally gauged his mana. It was down a further ten percent from that<b> Chop</b>. He could not keep this up, so Cheese stepped forward and squared his shoulders against the gatehouse, and began cutting his way there. It was only some ten feet from him to the gate, but the press of orcs was strong, and he had to kill many of them before he cleared that distance.


    Eventually Cheese made it, leaving a trail of death behind him. As foes came forward he raised the axe overhead and brought it down, like he was cutting wood, then took a step forward. Chop. Step. Chop. Step. There was no mana infused in these Chops, but the strength of his body was enough to make progress. These foes were stronger than the others that much was true, but at the e nd of the day, Cheese was simply a cut above them. So he embraced his axe, and got to the work of killing, intent to not let a single creature past him.