《Raven Knight: The Makings of Myth》


 A short Backstory

    In the dark between realms, something wakes, it feels the clawing of corruption, ripping, shredding, tearing its way through the fabric of the narrative, and the veil between the realms. It needs to do something. It cannot allow this to continue. It expands its consciousness throughout the tapestry before it, searching, seeking something, a solution. It finds one.


    Why not make the corruption a part of the narrative? One that is done away with at the end of its chapter?


    It nudges one of them, one of the few beings beyond its influence, Tiwaz, and pushes forth a concept, an idea. Now it just needs the components. It skims the flow of souls into Samsara, the wheel of life and death, through which all souls must pass as they are reborn. Sometimes a soul, or a part of it, is copied, as the body dies, it is the remnant shards of this process that the being seeks.


    The shards of a learned man from a baseline world, a powerful archmage from another, a great warrior who slew thousands, and an ascendant being were melded together, formed into a single being. An amalgam soul, one with surprising cohesiveness... Was it the race? All of the soul shards had belonged to a human male. Perhaps it was the synergy of the primordial brand? The souls had all shared the same brand...


    No matter, the being turned its unfathomably vast attention to the disturbances, poking at the being with their wills. The uncontrollable ones offered blessings to its new creation. It accepted.


    Vulkan offered knowledge of the forge, and an affinity for fire, if he would but be allowed to select the site where the amalgam would come to be. Klotho offered guidance, if she and her sisters were allowed to oversee his fate, though they ought not intervene. Tiwaz offered potential, so that the amalgam might grow ever stronger, should his passion run hot in the fires of battle. Shinian offered might, though it was not his domain, and saw no need to bargain.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Others offered, too, and would offer later, but the narrative would not allow power without challenge, power without tragedy. So, the keeper dismissed the blessings of the others, keeping only those here mentioned, and weaved them into the amalgam, to strengthen its creation.


    But before its creation could be set adrift, to be placed at its destination by Tiwaz, another blessing came. From the realm of the failed divine beasts, a roaring fire came. A flame of divinity, flying out through the immaterial realm, through the ether of creation, eviscerating astral beasts in its passing with its wings of primordial wind.


    On and on it flew until it barreled into the keeper¡¯s wall, the barrier that kept the keeper¡¯s unending nature from overwhelming the life around its tower, where it oversaw the narrative. The fire roared, crackled, and flickered as it bent the very laws of the narrative weave, diminishing all the while, until it bypassed the barrier at last.


    A raven landed at the keeper¡¯s table, staring at the amalgam. Its tattered pale feathers and bright crimson eyes stood testament to its failure, the remnants of its misfortunate fate. The raven bore the cinders of the fire that had roared throughout the astral, the embers of condensed divinity, nowhere near enough to ascend. It had possessed the power of countless other failed divine beasts, enough to ascend, and had chosen to spend it to break past the keeper¡¯s wall.


    ¡°Why?¡± The formless keeper asked in its soundless voice, the raven knew the question¡¯s meaning.


    ¡°So that he might succeed.¡± The raven answered in a wordless caw. Its beak descended to rest upon the amalgam¡¯s chest.


    Then the keeper saw. It saw the raven, Muninn, it knew, fused with two others, begin to turn to light, condensing its body into raw divinity, and the essence of its being. Neither would cause a great change. There was neither enough divinity to ascend, nor enough essence to transform the amalgam, but that was not the raven¡¯s purpose there. Muninn weaved its essence into the amalgam¡¯s soul, to manifest a bloodline, even as it died, and stabbed its beak into the soul¡¯s chest, condensing its divinity there, crystalizing it, even as Muninn completely faded.


    The keeper completed the raven¡¯s work, it was the least it could do. The amalgam was set out to astral seas as the keeper turned its formless eyes and fathomless consciousness to a realm quite far away. It beheld the resting place of a thousand failed divine beasts, sacrificed to help as best they could, to grant hope, that the keeper¡¯s plan might work.

 Chapter 1: Year 1.

    He awoke with a start and a rush of energy. A quick survey of his surroundings tells him that he is in a plain wooden room, on a rustic bed, there is little furniture in the room. A chair sits by his bed, next to a bowl of water, and a wet rag rests upon his lap, having fallen off his forehead as he sat up. He attempts to stand, and knowledge rapidly floods into him, forcing him to sit or fall.


    The body he now inhabits is known as David, David is the son of a blacksmith and a huntress in the village of Eidrahm. David is the eldest of three, at ten years old. David has been practically catatonic from the moment of his birth to now. The only reason David isn¡¯t dead yet is a prophecy made by a seer. He is David.


    That knowledge was accompanied by an understanding of the basics of magic, flashes of another life¡¯s knowledge, and a pounding headache. His body was weak, atrophied, standing was an almost Sisyphean task. But damn him if he wasn¡¯t going to try. He grabbed onto the wall and hefted himself onto his feet, ignoring a pain that could really be anything, as he attempted to stay on his feet.


    A noise like a bell¡¯s toll heralded the arrival of an abnormality. He could hear the thump of feet on wood in the background. He ignored it, there were words floating in the air before him, they were more important than some sound in his surroundings. He had to read through the words several times to truly grasp their meaning.


    [Greetings, traveler, welcome to Erisia, world of discord!]


    [In order to activate the Ascendancy Operating System, please answer this question: 17 x 2957]


    ¡°Fifty thousand two-hundred and sixty-nine," said David. How he knew the answer to that question was a mystery to him.


    [Congratulations, you have activated the Ascendancy Operating System!]


    [ERROR: Divine shard detected, utilizing energy to optimize body, activating originator system.]


    [The divine energy I left behind in your soul from reincarnating you appears to have condensed into a ¡®shard¡¯, this means that you are now incompatible with the system and will thusly be excluded from it. In other words, you get to perform ¡®freeform¡¯ magics, like most worlds¡¯ peoples. Anyways, I do not know why the energy turned into a shard, there shouldn¡¯t be enough of it, but I¡¯d not look a gift horse in the mouth. - Tiwaz]


    Then the blue screens disappeared completely, and David was left bemused. He briefly pondered the implications of what he¡¯d just experienced before his body loudly reminded him that he was, in fact, very hungry, and weak. He found, however, that the strain of standing was significantly reduced, and so approached the door. He stopped when he noticed a brass mirror hanging from the wall, he had to see what he looked like.


    He was not surprised to see that he was gaunt and pale, having never risen from his bed on his own due to his previously catatonic state. His new body was tall, which he knew was partly due to the, diluted, giant-blood in his veins, and he would likely be broad-shouldered in time, even if he was currently scrawny. Pale green eyes peered out from behind a gaunt visage, shoulder length tawny hair hung from his head, and an odd scar adorned his cheek. He was dressed in a plain shirt and pants made of wool and linen.


    He took himself in; this is what he was now, who he was now. He was still human, he was still who he knew he once was, but now he was more. He decided to test his strength a bit before departing his room, picking up the bowl of water near his bed and finding that it wasn¡¯t so heavy as he might have imagined. He then picked up the chair by his bed and found it far heavier than he thought it¡¯d be. He was only able to lift it to waist height before it fell from his grasp, hitting the ground with a resounding thump.


    The sequential thumps of a person running in his room¡¯s general direction heralded the spontaneous opening of his room¡¯s door. A child stood at the door, approximately seven years old in appearance, ginger haired and blue-eyed. He knew this to be one of his new siblings, Leif, who immediately broke into a scream.  ¡°Auntie! Mom! David is awake!¡± Leif yelled, bolting from his door and down what sounded like a stairwell, repeating his message all the while.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    David followed slowly. The stairs were difficult for his clumsy and weakened body to traverse, but so long as he held onto the railing and moved slowly, he probably wouldn¡¯t lose his balance. It¡¯d be a shame to have his life cut short by some stairs. It took some slight struggling, but he eventually reached the bottom of the stairs, a dining room, and decided to find a chair so he could sit down and rest his already strained eyes for a moment. Soon enough, a door in another room slammed open, and he could hear clamoring voices and running.


    He heard the running draw closer and come to an abrupt stop, someone now stood at the doorway, staring at him. Another someone drew in a gasp. He opened his eyes and looked up to the two people that now stood there. One, a stocky, broad-shouldered man dressed in blacksmith¡¯s clothes; David recognized him as his father, crimson haired and green-eyed. Another, a short, stocky woman who David knew to be his aunt, Ethel. She¡¯d been the one to gasp, was he truly such a ghastly sight?


    She was the first to move. She was at his side in the blink of an eye, looking him up and down. In another, she had him in a highly constrictive hug and was talking at him too quickly for his recently awakened brain to understand. She held him there until his father tapped her on the shoulder and she let go. Of course, the reprieve was short lived, and he was soon held in another crushing hug by his father, who did not speak.


    David¡¯s father was mute, having been born incapable of speaking. But he had other ways of expressing his feelings, like crying, and having his sister say them for him. ¡°We thought you¡¯d never wake!¡± Aunt Ethel exclaimed, speaking far more slowly.


    ¡°Ten years, I guess the oracle wasn¡¯t wrong.¡± Said a man who¡¯d just arrived, Uncle Olgierd, the tallest of his father¡¯s siblings, a lumberjack by trade and a cynic at heart. By his side stood David¡¯s eldest sibling, the tawny-haired and green-eyed Ingrid, who¡¯d seen nine summers. Leif stood behind her, carrying a salamander the size of a medium dog.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go get you some food, you¡¯re probably hungry.¡± Ethel said and departed for what David assumed to be the kitchen or pantry. For whatever reason, the layout of his home wasn¡¯t included in his instinctual knowledge. Then another person swept into the room, nimble and silent. She was the tallest of the group, dressed in leathers and carrying a bow and quiver strapped to her back. She had tawny blonde hair and blue eyes. His mother.


    She too hugged him, and the rest soon followed, one by one, until only his youngest sibling, little bright Frieda, stood before him. She was five summers old, if his knowledge didn¡¯t fail him, and looked like a near perfect copy of his mother, if a lot younger. ¡°Want to play?¡± She asked, extending a wooden carving of some beast or another.


    ¡°Not today.¡± David responded to his audience¡¯s great surprise. Another round of clamoring voices as they all rushed to converse with him. He almost felt¡­ nostalgic, if that were at all possible.


    ________________________________________________________________


    Over the course of the next few months, David would get to know everyone in the village, from the village elders to the lads and lasses of his ¡®own age¡¯. All the while he would learn to smith and hunt from his father and mother. They told him he was a ¡°natural¡± at it. They couldn¡¯t have been more wrong.


    There was nothing natural about his skills and random bits of knowledge, nothing at all. He knew things he should not know, and many things were almost instinctive. He knew how to hold a smith¡¯s hammer, and how to work the bellows. He knew how to draw a bow and fletch an arrow. He could not explain why. He even knew how to use magic of some sort, though he lacked the understanding to explain why.


    He wasn¡¯t supposed to be able to use magic. Per the elders, a person¡¯s magic didn¡¯t awaken until the age of twelve. Just another one of the multiple questions about himself to add to the pile, right alongside his anomalous strength and muscle gain. He no longer looked like a skeleton, he now looked like a perfectly normal lad for his age, recovering far faster than he should¡¯ve recovered, or so something told him.


    He currently found himself playing a game called ¡°Jarl¡¯s Gambit¡± with one of the village elders. The game itself was very much akin to chess, which he could not explain his knowledge of, the sole difference being the replacement of the unit names. He was, surprisingly enough, winning. One normally didn¡¯t expect to win in any board game against the elders. Alas, winning wouldn¡¯t be enough to get him a beer, which, oddly enough, he felt nostalgic for. How could you feel nostalgic for something you¡¯ve never had?


    Either way, he had to slay a monster, as part of his coming-of-age ceremony, before he could get a beer.

 Chapter 2: David Armodson gets blooded.

    David was now fourteen. He¡¯d spent the years living what was probably an average village child¡¯s life, learning, running around, exploring the nearby forests and hills. He¡¯d even made a few friends. Like Fergus, who had a penchant for brawls, and Arren, who kept trying to build treehouses in suboptimal places, and Deagan, who wanted to be a mighty warrior and had declared himself David¡¯s blood-brother.


    To celebrate his fourteenth year of life, he would begin training to wield a weapon, to begin to prepare him for his sixteenth birthday, when he¡¯d have to slay a monster. This is why he now stood in a clearing with his aunt Ethel, who would be his instructor. She was apparently a skilled warrior, though you¡¯d not think so having met her. She didn¡¯t look like a warrior.


    ¡°Pick any weapon dearie, whichever one calls to you.¡± She said and gestured to the many wooden weapons now arrayed before them. She was currently dressed in the blue gambeson that was standard for all of the village¡¯s warriors. David, however, was dressed in an aketon, a lighter gambeson made for wearing under heavier metal armor. He selected a hammer and round shield from the array of wooden weapons and entered a stance his instincts told him was correct.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been watching the guards training, eh?¡± his aunt asked, scanning his form for flaws. ¡°It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s better than what most start off with. Let¡¯s begin your instruction.¡±


    The two hours that followed were a very painful pair of hours. Aunt Ethel found every flaw in his form and hammered it with a stick till it disappeared, and then she made him attack. Every time he made a mistake, she¡¯d smack him with the stick, until he could go about attacking without making a single mistake. Then they began to spar.


    His dear aunt was far stronger than she should be. Every blow against his shield knocked him back, nearly off his feet. Every blow of his hammer was deflected unerringly, unflinchingly, as if the hammer were as light as a feather. She had him on the back foot and there was no possible way he could win, so he simply tried to endure.


    This went on for minutes, him dodging, blocking, and deflecting, ever closer to exhaustion. Ethel jabbing, slashing, hammering away at him, untiring and putting in no real effort. The spar continued until his hands were red and ragged and his shield lie splintered and shattered. It took less time than one would imagine.


    Their return to the village, however, would be delayed.


    They had been packing away the many wooden weapons they had brought along when it happened, a girl¡¯s screams sounded out, moving rapidly towards their clearing. Foliage rustled as creatures fled the noise, and the sounds of a cart could be heard in the distance.


    ¡°Get back here! Don¡¯t let her get away!¡± Bellowed a woman, a fair distance away, judging by the sound of her voice.


    ¡°Stay back and watch.¡± Aunt Ethel said, drawing a seax from God-knows-where, seeing as she had no visible scabbard for it, and entering a defensive stance.


    The girl that burst into the clearing was not what he was expecting, however. He¡¯d expected a human, she had a muzzle, pale fur, and a pair of long pointed ears atop her head. Ergo, she was not a human. She was shorter than him, about sixty inches tall to his own seventy, and dressed in the rags of what had likely been a parka, now ragged and torn. Around her arms were metal shackles, chains still attached.


    He gestured for her to stand next to him, a good distance from the tree line, she chose to hide amongst the exposed roots of the massive oak that dominated the clearing. That was fine. Her pursuers burst through the bushes soon thereafter. They were all dressed in gambeson, their heads and faces covered by a hood and mask, their species indeterminate. They wielded daggers, axes, swords, and hammers; simple, nimble, weapons that could be carried anywhere and wouldn¡¯t get in the way.


    They stopped before David¡¯s group, arrayed in a linear formation, they numbered seven. ¡°Hand her over.¡± One of them said, its voice a genderless, rattling, hiss that made it obvious enough that this thing wasn¡¯t human, and considering its evident choice in career, he¡¯d have no qualms about seeing it die.


    ¡°No¡± Aunt Ethel responded, and her blade began to glow.


    Three of the beings lunged at Ethel, two stayed back, two bolted from the clearing, likely to flank. David ran to stand before the tree¡¯s roots. He didn¡¯t know what he could do, he had no weapon and was absolutely exhausted, would he be able to use magic? Would it even do anything to his opponents?


    He¡¯d tested his elemental affinity, life, fire, and Space, two were rare, only one was common. While he had an inkling that he¡¯d be able to gain more affinities and strengthen them to the extent of his existing ones, that needed time, time he did not have. Nor did he think he had the energy for an extremely complex or powerful spell. He needed something basic, simple, effective.


    He didn¡¯t have anything of the sort at the moment, so he¡¯d have to settle for throwing rocks. He¡¯d picked up a pair of fist-sized rocks earlier and he knew damn well how to throw them. He picked out a target from amongst the stalemated melee and launched a rock at its head, the impact rocked his target back, causing it to lose its balance and unbalance another as it stumbled.


    Ethel took the opportunity it presented, bringing her seax up to cut one''s throat and using another as a body shield to block a spell from the ones who had stayed back. Two dead, five to go. Of course, things were never that simple. Ethel¡¯s remaining attacker hissed and gurgled in whatever tongue it spoke and began to emit red light. An ominous blood red glow that engulfed its whole body. A berserker, evidently.


    Its savage attacks would certainly keep Ethel occupied, and it was likely durable enough to ignore some attacks, seeing as a thrown stone impacting its head had no effect at all. A twinge in David¡¯s awareness also made him aware of another threat, the two that had bolted were standing just out of sight of Ethel, preparing to cast a spell. The two who were not hiding were also now preparing to cast a spell, chanting away with arms extended before them.


    The sight of the runic circle forming at the tip of their arms triggered something like a memory, a memory of a mage¡¯s education. A struggle. A question. An epiphany. An understanding. Not all spells had to be learned from others.


    If it was a collaborative spell, killing one of the casters would disrupt it, this he now knew. So, he surged forwards, ripping an axe from the corpse of a dead foe and narrowly avoiding the loss of his head at the hands of the raging berserker. He didn¡¯t try to close the distance, instead throwing the axe at a mage with all of his strength and managing to embed it in the fool¡¯s chest. The mage slumped back; the chant changed; the runes continued.


    They¡¯d spontaneously twisted the spell to compensate for their now missing compatriot.


    A gurgling roar signified a change in Ethel¡¯s battle, she¡¯d managed to cut off one of the berserker¡¯s hands, and its attack with its remaining hand had intensified. A flare of light from the casters and David knew the spell was almost complete. What would it do? Magic could do many things, it could flay a person alive, necrotize their skin, ignite their very blood within their body!


    Then he had an idea, a last, desperate, trick that would likely fail but could possibly save them from whatever spell was about to be cast, or at least delay it. He extended his hand, two fingers pointed towards the visible mage, and envisioned a spell. A simple beam of fire, imbued with half of his stored energy, which he knew was called ¡®mana¡¯. He feared it wouldn¡¯t work.


    Then he felt a pressure next to his heart, a sluggish rotating movement, like a turbine beginning to spin, a sharp pain followed, and a rush of energy came after, fleeing down his arm and towards his fingers. A beam of scorching fire lanced out from his fingers, arcing like a thunderbolt, it struck his target dead center. The struck mage let out a hissing shriek as its body became engulfed in fire, rapidly burning away into nothing, and David felt himself suddenly revitalized, yet more tired than ever before.


    His instincts told him that his mana had been completely depleted by that spell, though he did not know his capacity, but his stamina had seemingly seen the opposite effect, being almost entirely restored. The fact that no spell had struck out from the forest told him that his own spell had been successful in disrupting the weave of the enemy spell. Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t get an opportunity to celebrate as one of the two remaining mages surged out of the bushes and right towards him, dagger trained on his heart.


    ....................


    This was fun, or so thought Ethel Ignasdottr, Hammer of Eidrahm. It¡¯d been a while since she¡¯d had a good fight. Oh sure, she wasn¡¯t going all out, that¡¯d be no fun, but it was still a good fight; The Vraskar in front of her was a good fighter. Nowhere near as talented as her, of course, but still very strong. This one had been trained well.


    The Vraskar was strong, unpredictable, but not unskilled. Every strike was aimed, directed, intended. If he¡¯d started off with his rage rather than waited for her nephew to help her kill his two comrades, she¡¯d have been in trouble, for the brief second it¡¯d take her to get serious, that is.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Talking about her nephew, he was doing wonderfully. First, he¡¯d made an opening for her to kill two of the Vraskar by throwing a rock right at one¡¯s head. Then, he grabbed an axe, dodged a lethal blow, somehow, and launched said axe right at a mage with wonderful throwing form. He¡¯d managed to embed it in the mage¡¯s chest, likely a lethal blow. And now he¡¯d really surprised her, having cast a spell, her nephew was apparently a battlemage in the making, without her having been aware of it.


    Never mind the fact that he was too young for magic, it wasn¡¯t unheard of for some to unlock theirs early, he had somehow learned or thought up a spell and then used it successfully! The thought of it ignited a fierce pride within her. Her nephew was going places, Jarl places. He may even become a worthy successor for Jarl Belgruf someday, with proper training. The ancestors smiled upon him.


    She almost wished he¡¯d been born to her. Alas, she¡¯d lost that ability to an errant spear early on in her life, so she¡¯d settle for being the best aunt she could be. Her brother would be pissed when he found out about the attack on them, as would the elders. They¡¯d have to ask the Jarl to increase patrols in the area.


    To think that a Fexxakin slaver caravan would dare to wander so closely to Eidrahm. The audacity, they¡¯d clearly forgotten the results of their last war, if they dared to travel through their lands, enslaving their sworn siblings. And now one of their Vraskar thralls was charging her nephew while he was exhausted. She sighed, punching the berserker away and launching her seax at the charging spellcaster, bisecting its head, then picked up a stone and catapulted it into the remaining spellcaster¡¯s neck, tearing it apart with the force of impact.


    She then approached the fallen berserker and kicked his head in with her greaves. No survivors. It was a mercy, really, the Vraskar were likely thralls, forced by magic to live and die doing another¡¯s bidding. Better dead and free than a living slave.


    Their master would be along soon enough, she had no doubt of that, the sorceress wouldn¡¯t let the death of her servants go unavenged. Particularly, the sorceress would want to recapture the escaped Lycan no matter the cost, and likely also David, for he would undoubtedly fetch the sorceress a high price. Ethel wouldn¡¯t let that happen, neither would old Father Oak, judging by the creaking of his bark.


    Indeed, the flare of mana that signified the beginning of a major spell set Father Oak in motion, his roots wrapped around the clearing, creating a root wall and his branches writhed in his fury. A wizened face manifested upon the wood of his trunk, scowling in wrath, and his once hidden eyes glowed with his fervor. He had never liked it when those he considered kin were attacked. The Sorceress¡¯ cart was dragged into the clearing by gigantic roots and the tree spirit¡¯s eyes narrowed at it.


    ¡°LITTLE SORCERESS, TRYING TO HIDE?¡± The Oak said in his bellowing voice, and a lash of flame batted his face from beyond the clearing ¡°FOOLISH GIRL, ALLOW THIS OLD MAN TO EDUCATE YOU.¡± Spoke he, and his roots surged tearing out into the canopy of the nearby trees. Beams of blue flame fell upon the oak¡¯s canopy, but they would not be enough. Ethel had watched an army try and fail to fell the wise old tree, breaking themselves upon his bark and boughs. One little sorceress would never be enough.


    A tree within the clearing began to shift, creaking and moaning as bark long since fused by growth began to separate. Wood shifted to take a fitter shape for movement and activity, a Treant waking up. The treant said nothing, reacted to little, not even the lances of balefire that struck the wise oak, it simply moved, and the plants parted in its path. A force of nature, unimpeded by the world around them.


    The treant¡¯s form became more defined as it neared the center of the clearing, until an aspect of nature incarnate stood there before them all. It lifted its arms, numbering four, thick as a man¡¯s torso. Its feet, each a mighty tree¡¯s trunk, dug into the ground, turning into roots. And roots surged from all around them and from the mighty treant, forming a wooden dome above them all. This was a treant guardian, a mightier protector one could rarely find, no beam of flame would pierce the dome.


    The Oak¡¯s battle with the sorceress raged outside, unseen, but well-heard. This sorceress was strong, the strongest Ethel had ever been around, and she gave the oak a mighty fight. Crackling fire met creaking root, piercing stone spear met unbending bark, whooshing wind met unbending branch, and fortune met nature¡¯s unchanging ways. A mighty crack, like the boom of a thunderbolt, and the roots began to fade, as did the sorceress¡¯ mana signature.


    ..........................


    ¡°Holy shit¡± David whispered. He¡¯d thought Aunt Ethel was strong, yet she wasn¡¯t even the strongest person in this clearing. When he¡¯d felt the overwhelming dread of a major spell being cast, the sheer magnitude of its power, he¡¯d thought to himself ¡°This is it, we¡¯re done for¡±. He couldn¡¯t have been more wrong.


    The giant oak tree in the clearing wasn¡¯t just an oak, it was magical. Maybe he should have expected it from the five-story-tall oak tree, though he didn¡¯t know if he should have expected it to grow a mouth and talk! The Oak and mage had displayed more power in their little exchange than anything he had ever seen. One was subtle, using no flashy spells or overt magic, the other was overwhelming, throwing about dread-inducing magic spells that he knew could have disintegrated him a thousand times over. The mage was overwhelming with her overt power, but the oak was different, the oak was gentle with its power, a force of nature, not inherently dread inducing as the mage¡¯s flames had been.


    And the Treant! The treant had been a calming presence, a bastion of sanity in the temporary magical mayhem. When it took the clearing¡¯s center, the overwhelming dread fled, as a shadow flees from light. The root dome had drowned out all but the sound of battle, not even the magical dread piercing through it. He decided to busy himself while the battle raged.


    He ripped his new axe, a sleek, well-maintained tomahawk made of a shiny blue metal, from the chest of a mage, where he¡¯d embedded it with his throw. He searched the mage¡¯s body for anything else he¡¯d like to take, finding a pouch full of crystals and a rondel with a wickedly sharp blade made of a silvery metal. He also took the mage¡¯s pendant, which had glowing runes and was likely enchanted. The other mage he¡¯d killed had been thoroughly disintegrated and little remained there but for molten metal and the ashes of clothing. His aunt had been doing the same, taking stock of the spoils of battle.


    ¡°What did you earn, laddie?¡± Ethel asked, she was sitting on a tree¡¯s stump, cleaning her seax with a fallen enemy¡¯s gambeson. David showed her his trophies, she took particular interest in the axe, but said he¡¯d have to get his father to identify it. The crystals she dismissed as useless, the dagger earned her approval, and the pendant had to be identified by one of the elders, who was a druid.


    They chatted as she examined their trophies and were eventually interrupted by the giant tree. ¡°APOLOGIES, LITTLE ONES, I WAS CONFIRMING THE SORCERESS¡¯ DEATH,¡± said the tree. ¡°BOY, YOU DID A GOOD JOB, I SAW THE ENTIRE THING.¡± The tree praised. ¡°COULD YOU GO AND FETCH THE LITTLE WOLF FROM WHERE SHE HIDES WITHIN MY ROOTS?¡±


    The plants moved as if to point him to his destination, and he followed the path they opened, ambling towards the little nook he knew the Werewolf girl was hiding in. He approached carefully, slowly, not wanting to alarm her. She was curled up into a ball, ears folded back, face against her knees, arms wrapped around them, soft sobs muffled by her fur. He¡¯d not noticed it before, but she had a tail, or had once had one, he could see the stump of it poking through a hole in her ragged shorts. A wary azure eye peered up at him from where she cowered, he kneeled and offered his hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re safe, the people who hurt you are dead.¡± He began, he spoke calmly, softly, trying his best to reassure her, though he knew he wasn¡¯t very good at it. He¡¯d never been in this kind of situation before, not in any way that either of his lives could remember. ¡°They will- can- not hurt you now. You¡¯re safe.¡±


    The Werewolf did not respond. He sat down and placed a hand on her back, wanting to help but being unsure of how he would go about it. Instead, he waited for Aunt Ethel to appear, for she would surely be able to comfort her. Within minutes, Ethel was there beside them, she looked down and dismissed him with a flick of her hand, taking his place as he departed.


    The treant stood outside, now sporting a far more human-like appearance, like a rather tall statue of a hunchback carved from maple, but with branches growing from its back and unstripped bark instead of sanded wood. The treant carried a shield of steel-colored wood and a war-hammer of the same material, some of his branches were adorned with trinkets made of the material. He looked very different from the other treant. Then again, perhaps this was a different treant?


    ¡°You did quite well in that battle, manling.¡± Spoke the treant. He spoke with a deep, age-hardened voice, and there was a creaking in his voice like that of bending bark. ¡°You are not yet of age, and not yet fully trained, but you did well. It is a shame that you did not get to display your prowess in melee combat, I would have like to see how I can advise you.¡±


    ¡°What folly do you speak of, Steelbark?¡± Queried another treant now emerging from the forest beyond the clearing, staff thumping against the forest floor. ¡°The boy is clearly a spellcaster, not some branch-swinger like you, you saw the magic he cast. The question now is why I cannot Identify his class or level, if I could do that, I would be able to help him refine his spells and affinities to a mighty level.¡±


    This treant was odd. He stood upright, tall, with shorter branches than the other, branches that terminated in a structure that resembled a conifer. He had vines hanging from his jaw and from atop his head, like a beard and a mane of dreadlocks. But that wasn¡¯t what made this treant odd, it was his glow. His vines and conifers emitted a slight flickering glow the colors of a raging fire, flickering with power.


    ¡°I¡¯m not old enough for a class. Besides that, I¡¯m aiming for more of a battlemage role, traditional mages, like the ones we just fought, are too easy to kill, and spells are far too useful to not to use.¡± David stated matter-of-factly.


    ¡°Is that right?¡± Steelbark stated. ¡°Then we will both be able to aid you, for a battlemage wields magic and steel in equal measure... What do you think, Flameroot?¡±


    ¡°A battlemage does not bind himself to any form of magic, does not specialize. By melding the arts, both martial and magical, a battlemage ensures that they will continue to be effective on any battlefield. Whereas a normal spellcaster can be a little situational, depending on the specific battlefield conditions. This is acceptable.¡± Rumbled Flameroot, and sparks emitted from his mouth as he spoke.


    ¡°This is not an easy path, manling.¡± Said the other. ¡°It speaks well of your bravery and spirit that you have picked it. Ah, it appears the hammer has finally coaxed the little wolf from the Elder¡¯s roots.¡±


    Indeed, Aunt Ethel had emerged from the giant tree¡¯s roots with a calmer werewolf girl in tow, and a thunderous scowl upon her face. ¡°We¡¯re returning to the village, she needs treatment.¡± She said, pointing to the werewolf. She kicked a corpse as she passed it by, and David could hear her mutter ¡°I¡¯ll kill every last one of the fatherless whores for this.¡± Beneath her breath as she stared at it.


    The treants, surprisingly, travelled with them. They spoke of a coming storm, a terrible event foreseen by a treant woman named ¡®Orchid¡¯, who was an Oracle. They had been tasked with guarding the village and watching for any signs of this event. They also spoke of other things, of their hidden realms, of the beautiful sights found in the wild, and of great battles the venerable beings had been involved in. This continued until Eidrahm was in sight, and a calm silence overtook them for what remained of the journey.

 Chapter 3: The Council Convenes.

    Ethel made a beeline for the village¡¯s mead hall, there was no time to lose, she had to gather the elders. ¡°We¡¯ve been attacked!¡± She bellowed as she burst through the mead hall¡¯s doors. She took extra care to look ruffled, as if she¡¯d run a few miles or gotten in a real battle, to add some urgency to their reactions. ¡°Call the elders!¡±


    The villagers practically seemed to teleport into the mead hall with how quickly it filled up after that. Half of the village had shown up in mere minutes. The elders, of course, were some of the first on the scene. Every eye was on her as they waited for the hall to be sufficiently full. A tense silence had them all in its clutches.


    ¡°We were attacked by a Fexxakin Arch-Sorceress in the old woods, she had a good number of thralls travelling with her.¡± Ethel told the gathered crowd. The news elicited murmurs of anger and whispered curses.


    ¡°We?¡± asked elder Adric.


    ¡°Her and my son!¡± exclaimed her brother¡¯s wife, Anni Bjornsdottr. Her Seven-foot-tall frame had made her presence hard to miss even before she¡¯d spoken.


    In response, whispers of ¡°What happened?¡±, ¡°How did he do?¡±, ¡°Did he kill any?¡± Began to fill the room.


    ¡°There were seven thralls, he slew two and was a significant help in slaying another two. The thralls were initiates, not champions like the ones we fought in the war, it''s likely that this was a training expedition. The sorceress was powerful enough to stand up to the Ancestor Oak, for a time.¡± She reported. ¡°I do not think I would be able to match her power. Had we been elsewhere I believe we would have died or found ourselves collared.¡±


    ¡°Was it just a training expedition, or did the slaver filth have other reasons for being in our territory?¡± asked the scarred and battle-worn Elder Amos, the long-serving trainer of the village¡¯s warriors.


    ¡°They had a captive, who we rescued, a Lycan lassie from the village of Salga, she¡¯s seen about fourteen summers, same as David. I¡¯m thinking we can have someone escort her there to her family.¡± There was a silence following her words that told her she¡¯d missed something during the time she was gone, some crucial piece of news that she¡¯d likely have wanted to know right about now. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Salga¡¯s gone, razed by a dragon, it''s likely the girl was running from that when she got caught.¡± Someone stated from the crowd.


    ¡°Fuck. We¡¯ll keep her then; I don¡¯t assume anyone knows how to raise a Lycan?¡± Ethel asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± Said Elder Bertha, the greatest huntress the village had ever seen. She¡¯d married a Lycan, though he¡¯d taken a manticore stinger to the chest shortly thereafter so that she didn¡¯t have to. It figures she¡¯d know how to raise a Lycan, she¡¯d probably been preparing to raise a few half-kin.


    ¡°We need to ask the Jarl to increase patrols, we can¡¯t allow the Fexxakin to continue to traipse about in our land unpunished.¡± Ethel stated, having suddenly remembered her original intent. She was answered with nods and whispers of ¡°aye¡± and ¡°He¡¯ll surely do something about it.¡±, all signs of agreement.


    ¡°And while we¡¯re at it, Ethel, you were witness to David¡¯s first kills, was he a worthy warrior?¡± Elder Corgin, one of the only dwarves in the village, asked. A warrior¡¯s coming of age could be done through a hunt, a proving, or by killing enemy warriors in a raid, he likely wanted to know if the battle would count as David¡¯s own coming-of-age.


    ¡°He was worthy.¡± She answered.


    ¡°I do not want you to count it.¡± said David from behind them. ¡°I am not yet sufficiently trained, I¡¯m barely even a novice warrior. I wish to train further before undergoing my real coming-of-age, so that I may slay a creature far more dangerous than two neophyte mages.¡±


    ¡°Where is the Lycan?¡± Ethel had left her with David, and she was nowhere to be seen, had he abandoned her?


    ¡°She¡¯s with Healer Tala, and I¡¯m here to pick up something for her to eat, I don¡¯t think the slavers gave her much in the way of food while she was with them. Also, you might want to mention my magic.¡± He said, brandishing a small pouch of bread and jerky. She¡¯d not noticed how silently he walked until she watched him depart the hall, soundlessly, just as he¡¯d entered.


    ¡°His magic?¡± asked Olga, likely wondering what he meant by that, seeing as he¡¯d never demonstrated any class-determinant capabilities previously. That was likely because, as a mage, he¡¯d had little reason to until he had to use his first combat spell. And what a combat spell it was, Ethel had never expected such a thing from a would-be mage, and neither had either of the two casters in the village, judging by their reactions as she regaled them with the story.


    ¡°I¡¯d no idea the boy had unlocked his magic. But then again, it is possible that he has learned to do magic outside of the system, like all the talented mages did.¡± Stated the village¡¯s sole teacher, the old woman in charge of teaching all of the village kids.


    ¡°Does nobody else find it odd that this boy, who was in a coma up until recently, knows so much?¡± asked elder Adric. ¡°He¡¯s far more mature than he ought to be, and his-.¡±


    ¡°It is a gift, from Uldren, Father of Knowledge, the boy is favored!¡± Declared one of the more pious villagers to a chorus of assent. ¡°The years he spent in a coma were a sacrifice of time, and should he follow the path the system has laid out for him it shall be but a drop in the ocean of his life!¡±


    ¡°I concur, now, as for the reason why we are here...¡± began Steelbark in his deep resonating voice.


    ¡°How the fuck?¡± Ethel demanded.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°A simple casting of ¡®Obscure Presence¡¯ and ¡®Pass Without Trace¡¯, of course!¡± Laughed Flameroot who seemed to suddenly manifest from thin air. ¡°I also used it on the boy, David.¡±


    ___________________________________________________________


    ¡°Eat.¡± Said David, handing the Werewolf a piece of what was likely venison jerky. It was definitely jerky, but the animal it came from was a mystery to him. He figured it was venison, seeing as deer were some of the more common creatures in their region.


    The Wolflike girl sniffed at it, seemingly weighing the odds that it might be poisoned, before ripping it in half and offering him a piece. Smart, if it were poisoned, he likely wouldn¡¯t eat it. Luckily, it wasn¡¯t poisoned so he had no issue with it. He offered up another, and they repeated their little exchange.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± he said, having heard his brother calling him from outside the healer¡¯s house. ¡°What is it, Leif?¡± He asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re back, are you hurt? Can we play? Can you teach me to fight?¡± Leif asked, following his questions up with more questions without letting him answer.


    ¡°Sorry Leif, maybe later, Aunt Ethel told me to help our new friend.¡± He interrupted. David hated having to talk over Leif like that, but he¡¯d never have been able to get a word in if he hadn¡¯t. He hated seeing Leif dejectedly walking away even more, but he could make it up to him by telling him a story later.


    He returned to see Tala dropping off one of her too-large bowls of stew and departing the room. The goliath healer was like a second mother to every kid in the village and viewed every last one of them as perpetually skinny. Which, of course, led to her always giving them food whenever they needed treatment. It just so happened that her portions were rather disproportionate for the village kids, closer to what a goliath child their age needed than what they needed.


    ¡°Carrot stew, her favorite.¡± said David as he returned to his seat. The bowl she¡¯d used this time was one of her bigger bowls, and it was even more full than her usual bowls. Did she really think the lass was going to scarf down that much stew? Where would she even find the space?


    ¡°There¡¯s a second spoon there for you.¡± He heard Tala say from the kitchen. The spoon in question was being offered to him by the Lycan, who¡¯d apparently spotted it before he had.


    He took the offered spoon without complaint, knowing full well that even with the two of them sharing there would be enough left over to feed another David. Assuming neither of them tired of the taste of the vegetables before then. Of course, remembering the existence of the jerky he was carrying, he decided to tear the remaining cuts into pieces and drop them into the overlarge bowl before them, they might have made it a bit easier to palate.


    The Wolf-girl decided to continue their previous interaction, offering him her spoonful of stew and taking his own... and leaving him thoroughly bemused. He could understand a fear of poison, after what she had likely gone through, but this was a bit excessive. He peered into her dark blue eyes, searching for an answer, the flecks of gold within her eyes made them a singularly mesmerizing sight, one that he decided to look away from as something within him thrummed. He hadn¡¯t found the answer he was looking for; he¡¯d just found another question to be asked.


    What was that resonance? Why did his instincts offer nothing? He¡¯d known so much, somehow, and had always had at least an inkling of guidance from them. He knew it was magic, a gift he¡¯d awakened with that always offered a pertinent piece of knowledge and was likely where all of his knowledge came from. So why is it that this one being was the limit of his gift¡¯s knowledge? He pondered his questions even as they continued their interaction.


    ¡°I¡¯d heard you younglings could be lightning fast, but this is something else entirely.¡± Tala chuckled from the doorway, startling them both. How long had she been standing there? ¡°They say the eyes are window to the soul, well you two must have seen something special in each other.¡±


    The two of them looked down bashfully, as if they¡¯d been caught pillaging fruit from the orchard. He¡¯d only known her for a few hours, there was no possible way he¡¯d have fallen for her so quickly. The elders had been trying to matchmake him with the Chieftain¡¯s daughter, Anya, for the past few years and hadn¡¯t succeeded, so why did the implication embarrass him so?


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop on my behalf, I¡¯m leaving back to the kitchen now.¡± Tala said as she departed, still chuckling. She¡¯d once again interrupted his train of thought. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming his mind and centering himself once more.


    Things were awkward after that, and his counterpart was no longer the only one seemingly incapable of speaking. They hurried up so as to extricate themselves from the awkwardness as quickly as possible and found that things became even more awkward when there was nothing for them to do. They just sat there in an awkward silence, occasionally interrupted by some noise or another from outside or the kitchen.


    ¡°David, is Tala done with you and Runa?¡± Aunt Ethel asked as she burst through the door.


    ¡°Yes.¡± He responded. ¡°Wait, Runa?¡±


    ¡°Aye, has she not told you her name?¡± Ethel asked as she beckoned them to follow.


    ¡°No, I can¡¯t say either of us has spoken much, so no.¡±


    ¡°Ah... She¡¯s still shy, eh?¡± Ethel asked. ¡°No matter. David, go home, I¡¯ll take Runa to where she¡¯ll be staying, if she wants to stay there.¡±


    ¡°Very well, do try to not scare her too badly.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, I¡¯ll make sure to pass by your house, so she knows where to find you.¡± Ethel said. ¡°By the way, Seer Viggo is willing to teach you magic, starting tomorrow.¡±


    ________________________________________________________________


    The sun was setting by the time he arrived home and was beckoned to the forge. ¡°I will make you a proper weapon for your coming-of-age.¡± His father said in sign language. He preferred sign language to having to write down every little thing, so David had been taught this land¡¯s sign language shortly after his return. It was useful, seeing as it let him and his siblings communicate with each other in ways that few other villager children understood.


    ¡°Pick a metal¡± his father said, gesturing to the wide assortment of materials on a nearby table. David recognized a grand total of three of them. They were all rare materials. So, he asked his father to identify them.


    ¡°Orichalcum, low-moderate durability, very magically conductive. Frost Steel, cold to the touch, enhances frost magic. Mythril, high durability, good magic conductivity, lighter than others. Adamantium, Extreme durability, very heavy, not very conductive to magic. Verdantium, medium durability, low weight, capable of repairing itself. The rest are assorted alloys and elemental metals.¡±


    ¡°Where did you even get these?¡±


    ¡°The family vaults.¡±


    ¡°I see... Mythril, better for a seax, I think.¡±


    ¡°A seax? Basic, but versatile, effective. Very well. That material works on anything that isn¡¯t blunt.¡± His father said. David only stuck around to watch the beginning of the process, but it was, as always, fascinating. The way his father could mold the metal with his bare hands, without even heating it, was always astounding. As were the blue flames of the forge, and his father¡¯s seeming immunity to heat, and fire, helped too. He could stick his hand right into the forge and come out unscathed.


    It was fascinating. An application of passive magic that all who had access to the system possessed in one form or another.


    He departed shortly after the end of this demonstration, finding the house empty, and his room as he had left it, messy. He didn¡¯t bother to clean it; he barely had the energy to take off his gear. He had departed for sleep¡¯s sweet oblivion the second his head slammed onto his pillow, though not before his mind returned to a previous question, what was that resonance?

 Chapter 4: Fate, Fire, and Life

    Seer Viggo was the village¡¯s wizened ancient and mysterious guide; the man was more rumor than fact for most of the villagers. This stemmed from the fact that, for whatever reason, he had chosen to live in a treehouse thirty meters above ground level in the forest near the village. He also rarely bothered to descend and interact with people, spending most of his time seeking visions of the future or whatever. Thus, David had no idea what to expect from the man.


    He had certainly not expected to find out that he was, in fact, a slime in human shape.


    ¡°I know, I know, you expected something else. I would have too. Alas, I am a Fate Slime, no matter how much I may wish elsewise.¡± The slime said as its surface bubbled and began to warp, returning to a human form. ¡°We slimes are one of the many forms of elemental manifestation, one far more ¡°Bound¡± than others. The most common of us are, unfortunately, the Decay slimes often found in sewers and dumping sites. Some, however, are intelligent.¡±


    ¡°We fate slimes are just such a type of intelligent slime. We are extremely rare, spawned only from places where fate mana is extremely abundant, or from other fate slimes. We possess, among other gifts, the innate ability to sense the future or past in some way, shape, or form. I was gifted with limited prescience, which was later enhanced by my skills. Nowadays, I can see visions of important future events,¡±


    ¡°I am also an accomplished spellcaster and spell instructor.¡± The slime concluded.


    ¡°Why exactly do you want to teach me?¡± David asked.


    ¡°You mean aside from the fact that you are the only youth in the village capable of magic?¡± The slime questioned. ¡°Well, I can tell you could be very powerful in the future, and that means you will be very attractive prey to certain creatures. Creatures that may hurt the villagers. I have grown very fond of the villagers. The stronger you are, the less of these creatures will show up, as you will be far more dangerous prey.¡±


    ¡°Creatures like what?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Fexxakin Mage-Eaters, to name just one. Artificial lifeforms created by Fexxakin Biomancers specifically to hunt down enemy mages. Some of them were set loose during the first war for this region, seventy years ago, and never recaptured. Now, they have reproduced and spread out, consuming novice mages and young mana-beasts wherever they can be found.¡±


    ¡°Now, for your first theory lesson, we will talk about my favorite magical affinity, Fate.¡± The slime began. ¡°What do you know about fate?¡±


    David shifted nervously in his seat; he had not expected to be quizzed on magic. ¡°Fate magic allows one to see, and affect the future? I don¡¯t know much more than that.¡±


    ¡°You are partially correct. Fate is the past, present, and future of any given thing. But there is no single given fate, fate is a branching, twisting, turning, tangled mess with even the smallest change possibly resulting in a different future. Fate magic is more than just knowing what will happen, it is making new things happen, creating new possibilities. Fate magic¡¯s greatest strength is how it allows one to twist probability.¡±


    ¡°A skilled wielder of fate can change the outcome of anything simply by understanding probability.¡± Said the slime, picking up a glass cup from beside him and suspending it in the air before him. ¡°For example, what is the chance of this cup bouncing instead of shattering? Very low, I assure you. But with a simple twist of fate, I can ensure that my desired future comes to pass. Observe.¡± He let the cup fall.


    The cup fell, impacting the wooden floor at just the right angle to cause it to bounce slightly and land on its bottom, cracked but not shattered. ¡°The ability to twist probability towards your preferred future will not cause reality to suddenly violate its own rules to give you a perfect future.¡± said his instructor.


    ¡°Now, what is your affinity, If I might ask?¡± Queried the slime.


    ¡°Life, fire, and Space.¡± Samuel stated.


    ¡°Fire will be the more immediately useful, so let¡¯s talk fire.¡± The slime said. ¡°Fire is a simple thing, it can be used to create and destroy, it may bring death or life or desolation in equal parts. This is fire. It is one of the most common magical affinities, matched with earth, wind, and water, many spells use these. As I understand it, your first spell is one such spell, a bolt of fire. I will teach you the spells I know, few as they are.¡±


    He motioned for David to follow, and they descended the tree via a rope elevator, trekking through the forest until they arrived at an abandoned quarry. There, it would be safe to practice with fire magic. ¡°Let us begin with the first spell any fire mage is taught; fireball.¡± Said the human-shaped slime. Fireball was an easy spell to learn, and easier still to cast, David managed to cast it successfully on his third try.


    The next was not so simple. Summon Lesser Elemental ¨C Fire, was a far more difficult spell, requiring a gesture, a verbal component, and a temporary magical contract. The summoned elemental would be a fire sprite, a living ball of fire, and would have to be fed mana through the contract or it would disappear. Summon Minor Elemental would summon a flame spirit, which would be a more humanoid and intelligent being. Summon Elemental would summon a Sylph, Greater Elemental a Fairy, and Mythical Elemental, an extremely rare spell, an Avatar.


    The spell could, of course, be modified into other spells to summon other elemental lifeforms, like slimes. A similarly difficult spell was Magebane Flare, a spell that could devour other spells, or the mana within them. The spell¡¯s five matrixes were by far the most complicated he had seen. He only managed to learn fireball during the training session, which lasted until his mana ran out, leaving him far more tired than was normal, at least according to his instructor, and they returned to theory for the rest of the morning.


    ¡°Let us talk about life magic. Life magic, as you no doubt know, is the form of magic wielded by most healers, clerics excluded, druids, tamers, and some Enhancers. Life magic is more than just healing or encouraging life to grow, it is also strengthening, weakening, and changing.¡± Said the slime, whose human form had now grown a long white beard more in following with the appearance of the stereotypical elder mage.


    ¡°No practitioner of magic is ever helpless, especially not the healers. This is because-¡± David already knew what he would say, his instincts had been quite well aware of it, in fact, so he interrupted.


    ¡°Because you are not the only living thing within your body. Your cells are all living things, and there are countless living organisms so small as to be invisible to the naked eye on (and in) all parts of your body. These beings cause illness and may be weaponized when enhanced with life magic. Your cells too may be turned against you by speeding up degradation or causing the creation of a malignancy.¡± Said David.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Very good! You must have had Tala teach you some healing!¡± The seer exclaimed. ¡°I myself know little of healing, but I will have those books I possess about life magic transported to your home along with those on Space and fire magic. I know you will study them in your free time. Alas, I believe it is midday already, and our lessons must end for the day.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for instructing me, Seer Viggo, I shall return next month for further training.¡± Said David, bowing respectfully.


    ¡°There is no need to thank me, I am doing it for, partly, my own self-interest.¡± The Seer declared. ¡°Oh! I¡¯d nearly forgotten. The H?xa of Ford Vilgen should be visiting the village today, she is a mighty enchantress and may deem fit to seek you out when she learns that you have begun to learn magic. In fact, knowing her, she¡¯s likely to be waiting for you at home. She is an exceptional wielder of life and stone, take any opportunity to learn from her, you might never get another chance like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right. Before I forget-¡± Viggo began. ¡°Again- You will soon reach the limits of what you can do with mana. You¡¯re incompatible with it and will soon reach the limits of what you can do with it. The path laid out before you calls for a different form of magic, which you will someday discover. It is a path of balance, consumption and creation, and it is incomparable to the path of the mage.¡±


    _____________________________________________________________________


    He soon found out that, indeed, the Witch of Ford Vilgen was waiting at his home, drinking mead with his aunt. They were apparently old friends.


    ¡°Ah! There you are, David! I was just telling Gertrude about you and your magic!¡± His Aunt had exclaimed as soon as he¡¯d opened the door to his house. ¡°Gertrude here is the Witch of Ford Vilgen and used to be a Frostgale city enchantress. We fought together before she nearly died and became a witch.¡±


    ¡°Gertrude?¡± David asked. ¡°With how much fear everyone has for the H?xa, I was honestly expecting a more intimidating name. No matter, it is a pleasure to meet you, Gertrude.¡±


    The witch fixed her eyes on him, looking him up and down. ¡°This bairn expects a more intimidating name? You¡¯d have bin shivering oot o¡¯ yer boots if it were no¡¯ fer my aura being suppressed!¡± She said, and David felt it then, an all-encompassing magical presence, a mountain of magic to his bright little spark. He forced himself into maintaining a neutral expression.


    ¡°Brave little shite Isn''t he?¡± Said his aunt with a mirthful smile. ¡°Could you believe his first battle was yesterday? He scored himself a few nice trophies with his pair of kills.¡±


    ¡°I ken, auld pa¡¯ Oak told me in oor chat.¡± The witch said, not taking her eyes off him. ¡°What are yer affinities, boy?¡±


    ¡°Fire, Life, and Space.¡± he stated as he drew up a chair.


    ¡°Wha¡¯ aboot fate? Have ye tested that one?¡± Said the Witch who did not look like a witch, most witches were described as old, she was young, mid-twenties at most.


    ¡°No, I do not know how.¡± David said.


    ¡°Well, how aboot this, ye answer a few simple questions and I¡¯ll tell ye if ye have an affinity fer fate magics?¡± The witch stated. ¡°Have ye ever foreseen something, an attack maybe? Or mayhap ye¡¯ve dreamt something that later came to pass? Or better yet, ye¡¯ve seen something of a person¡¯s soul, thought, or future when you looked intae their eyes? This seeing doesny have to be a thing ye see with yer eyes, it can be an odd feeling or a thought.¡±


    ¡°I felt something warning me about incoming attacks during the battle against the Fexxakin, a twinge in my very awareness, telling me exactly where an attack was coming from, but I can¡¯t recall any times my dreams have been prescient.¡± Said David. ¡°As for odd feelings, I¡¯ve had a few of those before, but it''s hard to know what¡¯s normal and what¡¯s not, they¡¯re just feelings.¡±


    He neglected to mention whatever it is he¡¯d felt while staring into the rescued one¡¯s eyes that had set him off so severely, not sure if he should trust a witch. They had a reputation, and it was likely well-earned. He did not want to test it.


    ¡°Ye can probably add Fate to yer list, laddie. Ye have an affinity fer it, or a divine or Fae patron guiding you, but ye¡¯ve no fae mark on yer soul, just the dragon-mark.¡± Said the witch.


    ¡°Dragon mark?¡± asked David.


    ¡°Called such because only dragons an¡¯ their god ken what it means.¡± The witch answered.


    ¡°You¡¯re likely to encounter and befriend those who share you share a mark with.¡± His aunt offered, speaking from her place at the table.


    ¡°Another term fer it is soul-sign, an¡¯ those whom ye share it with are called soulmates.¡± The witch explained. ¡°Dragons can supposedly see the threads that bind us tae each other, and they all lead tae the soul-sign. It is these threads, they say, that draw people tae each other.¡±


    ¡°How does one know when they¡¯ve found a soulmate?¡± David asked, already wondering if any of those he¡¯d met so far shared his dragon-mark. Perhaps that was the resonance? But no, his instincts told him, it isn¡¯t that simple. He felt them straining, like if his gift were constrained, or reaching the limits of its power.


    ¡°Tae be honest laddie, I have no farking clue, ye¡¯d have to ask the divines themselves for an actual answer.¡± Said the witch. ¡°Now, what do ye ken about biomancy?¡±


    ¡°Biomancy is the manipulation of biology through the usage of life magics. A skilled biomancer can reverse aging, enhance biological functions and physical capabilities, modify living beings, and heal wounds. Though they are less effective at the last than a skilled healer.¡± David listed off.


    ¡°Indeed! I assume ye got that definition from Viggo the fate slime? How many biomancy spells did he teach ye?¡± The witch queried mirthfully. ¡°Such a rigid definition, just like Viggo would have given back during his training.¡±


    ¡°He has not yet taught me any life magic spells, just flame. I am currently out of mana.¡± Said he.


    ¡°¡®At¡¯s fine, I¡¯ll just leave ye a tome of spells to study after- Oh!¡± She cut off and her eyes turned pure, shining white. ¡°Yer cute Lycan lassie is heading this way, ye¡¯ll want to meet her by the smithy afore three minutes if ye want tae make a good impression. I cannae spoil yer future any further. Go on then.¡± Said the witch, who¡¯d by now lifted him off his chair and was bodily pushing him towards the door. He wanted to say something, to ask what future she saw, but rapidly decided to just go along with it.


    He hurried his way to the smithy, where his father was working, and was beckoned inside. The inside of the smithy was, as always, sweltering, and the forge¡¯s fire crackled with additional fervor today, it¡¯d likely been augmented with elemental flame powder. His father handed him a pommel and hilt and drew from the forge¡¯s fire a resplendent blade of moon-pale metal. He slammed a cross guard of burnished black metal onto the blade¡¯s base and in seconds they slipped the hilt of odd metallic bark after it and attached the black-steel pommel onto the hilt¡¯s end.


    But before they could hammer it into place, David spotted pale fur beyond the smithy¡¯s door, heading towards their home, and his father noticed too. He gestured outside and nodded at David, ushering him out. And out David went, just in time to be noticed by Runa. She hurried to his side, Tala followed closely.


    ¡°Apologies, she wanted to see the village, and I proposed that we¡¯d ask you to guide her-¡± Tala said.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± David said. He began to seek guidance, and his instincts answered. Or was it the possible fate affinity? Either way, he suddenly had a feeling like he knew exactly what to do, but to what end? And why did he want to be around the cause of his previous distress? He took a brief moment to consider this, disguised as brushing his clothes off, before deciding to just go with the flow.


    He''d figure it out someday, he swore, but he couldn¡¯t just stand there. He sighed. ¡°Come on, Runa, I¡¯ll show you the market.¡±


    They spent the rest of the day touring the village, exploring the surrounding woods, and running from his siblings, it was wonderful. But his gift told him it wouldn¡¯t last.


    A year passed; David learned. He learned the basics of biomancy, pyromancy, and divination magic. He became... acceptably skilled with the shield and hammer, now moving on to other weapons. He built friendships he cherished like the blood in his veins.


    Fergus, who he so often brawled with for fun. Runa, who always left him conflicted, and she remained the cause of his greatest conundrums. Arren, the builder¡¯s son, who he often collaborated with to avoid interaction with their siblings. Deagan, his sworn brother, who tested out the weapons he crafted. These were friendships that ensured he would never be bored, or lonely. Gods know the lot of them would never let him have a moment of contemplative loneliness unless he was lying in bed.


    His life was picking up steam, and his questions would be forgotten, lost in the increasing storm of activity.

 Chapter 5: Wyvern

    Four months. That¡¯s how much time David had until he was sixteen. Four months until his coming-of-age ceremony. Until the greatest challenge of his life. He would have to slay something mighty to be recognized by the gods. He¡¯d begin his hunt two months before the ceremony proper, to give him plenty of time to succeed. Now if only he knew what to hunt...


    Perhaps a Wyvern, or a Wyrm. Or maybe he¡¯d tame a Drake, nobody had managed that in centuries. He¡¯d need to be cunning and strong in equal measures if he had any desire to succeed in any such task. His magic and martial skills alone would not be enough, so he¡¯d used what his mother had taught him, and what little he now knew of runes, to design traps.


    He¡¯d settled on three designs as the best fit for his needs. One was a basic pitfall trap with a bunch of spikes at the bottom. Another, a roll of bear-skin leather with the runes for an elemental explosion stitched on one side. The last, a rudimentary ballista loaded with a bolt laced with a paralytic. The last was the least practical of his options.


    He was still going to forge the bolt, though he may not use the ballista; he¡¯d prepared the paralytic after all. Of course, seeing as he couldn¡¯t wield his mithril blade, he¡¯d need to forge a few expendable weapons, which is what he was now doing.


    The fire crackled and danced as more coal was placed within it. Sweat ran down his skin in rivulets, his clothes were practically soaked in it. The clang of steel on steel thundered through the smithy as his hammer descended to meet the red-hot metal of a blade he had pulled from the fire. His muscles ached and groaned.


    He had been at it since early morning, it was midday. A pile of defectuous blades lay in one corner of the smithy, a far smaller pile of good blades rested upon a nearby workbench. The defective blades would be melted down to make more, the rest would be given a hilt and pommel and used. He placed his current one in water to let it cool and watched the water steam and bubble. A closer inspection of the blade once it emerged showed it lacked significant defects, so it went onto the bench. This had been his routine for several weeks now, in preparation for his hunt, but today, he¡¯d forged the last blade he might need.


    His hammer descended one final time, to rest upon the anvil. A pull of a cord sealed the forge, starving the fire of oxygen, and extinguishing it. A pull of another and the shutters opened, letting the sun¡¯s light into the smithy. He moved to the workbench and began pulling materials from their place within a crate beneath it. Wood, leather strips, adhesive, the materials required for a hilt.


    He¡¯d forged six dirks and spears, for stabbing and throwing, two seax blades, a nice pair of arming swords, and even a bearded battleaxe that he probably wouldn¡¯t end up using. He¡¯d forged the pommels for all, he merely needed the hilts or, in the axe¡¯s case, shaft, to complete the weapons. He began to whittle the hilts for his weapons as his father had taught him, carefully shaving away the bark to meet his measurements. A blade¡¯s hilt had to be comfortable in its wielder¡¯s hands.


    He finished a pair of dagger hilts and began to bind them in leather, attaching it to the hilt¡¯s wood with adhesive. The hilts proper were hollow, made to wrap around the blade¡¯s tang, a smaller metal protrusion from the blade proper, like a hilt. Once the hilts were in their rightful place, he hammered the pommels onto their end. He¡¯d made the pommels in the classic circular style that he¡¯d seen his father use, and that the echoes of his two lives knew to be common.


    Once the pommel was attached, all that was missing was to sharpen the blades, so he took them to the smithy¡¯s grindstone. Before he could get to work, however, his vision was suddenly and spontaneously obstructed by a pair of gloved hands covering his eyes.


    ¡°Guess who.¡± A voice he did not recognize said. It was obviously a woman¡¯s voice. There was a fond, playful tone to it, but the words were spoken as if in a language foreign to the speaker. Clearly not a native speaker. Certainly not one he recognized. He decided to pick the safe option, someone he¡¯d never heard speak and was friends with.


    ¡°Runa?¡± He guessed. They¡¯d grown a lot closer in the time they¡¯d known each other, though he still felt the odd resonance whenever he looked into her eyes. At this point he figured it was one of the mythical bloodlines people so coveted.


    ¡°Yes! How did you know?¡± His vision returned to him; her hands had been taken from his face. When he turned around, she was jumping in excitement, dressed in a cloak and some light leather armor.


    ¡°Just a guess. Anyways, since when do you speak Nordic?¡± he asked, astonished. In fact, he had no idea she could speak at all, he¡¯d thought her mute, like his father.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been learning!¡± Said she ¡°The system finally granted me the skill.¡± In a blink, she¡¯d left his side and manifested at his workbench, inspecting the blades he¡¯d crafted. ¡°These are nice. You must have the bladesmith skill.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not old enough to use the system.¡± He stated before being struck by a sudden realization. ¡°Wait. How old are you?¡±


    ¡°Sixteen and three months, why?¡± She asked from where she now stood, before the anvil.


    ¡°You¡¯re about seven months older than I am.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Anyways, Elder Bertha said that you could teach me how to use my daggers.¡± She said, unholstering a pair of dirks from her thigh.


    ¡°I can, yes, but I¡¯m no expert. I only know what Aunt Ethel taught me.¡± He began to rise as he spoke, leaving the dirks he¡¯d been working on by the side. It was a good thing Ethel was trying to teach him everything she knew¡­


    ¡°Teach me. I know even less than you do.¡± She said, once more by his side.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s head ov-¡± He was being pulled away before he¡¯d even finished speaking. She¡¯d latched onto his arm and was now running in the direction of the training yard, pulling him in her wake.


    They got a few odd looks along the way, apparently it wasn¡¯t often you saw the smith¡¯s son being dragged along by a lass. Especially not the adopted daughter of the entire village. People had grown fond of her, and that put a bit of extra scrutiny on their friendship.


    It wasn¡¯t long before they¡¯d arrived at the training yard, with all its training dummies and bow targets and other training apparatuses. There were a few people there, a guard practicing his cuts on a dummy, another honing his aim, and three doing exercises. It was practically desolate. They both picked up a pair of wooden daggers from the weapons racks and made their way to the nearby combat pit, this might hurt.


    He began demonstrating the basics of dagger use, watching Runa repeat them, and couldn¡¯t help but notice a key detail... She was nimble. She moved with an absurd grace, never once stumbling or making a movement that wasn¡¯t absurdly smooth. She was fast. She would be able to outrun him handily, without needing to use the obvious movement skill she¡¯d been using in his smithy.


    She caught on quickly. She¡¯d mastered the basics of dagger use in minutes, followed by the footwork required, and then the rest of what he could teach her shortly thereafter. It¡¯d only been an hour by then. She¡¯d exclaimed that she¡¯d unlocked the dagger skill at some point during their training, so perhaps that was why, or perhaps she was just a fast learner. His decision to spar after she¡¯d learned the skill would certainly be one he¡¯d feel the consequences of for the next few days, though.


    He¡¯d switched his daggers in favor of a shield and hammer for the sparring match, though he quickly found the shield to be useless. Runa was like a phantom, slipping through his fingers as if she could go right through matter. She dodged his attacks effortlessly and struck like a mantis, fast and nimbly, always returning to a spot just out of range of his attacks.


    She¡¯d landed blow after blow while narrowly avoiding his own. He¡¯d decided that something had to change. Remembering his lessons in life magic, he began to distribute energy throughout his body with one intent: to enhance. And soon enough his bones felt harder, his muscles stronger, his mind keener, and his organs more effective. He began to be able to move faster, now capable of blocking Runa¡¯s attacks and forcing her into longer dodges.


    No longer could she just narrowly evade his hammer, she had to move greater distances to dodge. But when she triggered her movement ability... It was like returning to square one. The gulf between someone with the system and someone without was too great. She had become too fast for him to battle, to fully perceive while in movement.


    He had to do something to bridge it, to close the distance. So, he shunted more energy into his brain, to let him register her movements, and his muscles, for greater strength and faster movement. He wouldn¡¯t be able to match her blow-for-blow, but he would be able to react to her movements. When she next bolted in for an attack, he was ready. His hammer was discarded, and his shield narrowly deflected her attack as he brought his free hand to her neck. His enhanced musculature allowed him to lift her up into the air above him and they made eye contact. He shivered as he felt the resonance.


    A wry smirk manifested upon her features, and he braced himself for whatever trick she had up her sleeve. No such trick manifested. ¡°Harder, Davi.¡± She joked and, suddenly and inexplicably bashful, David let his grip slip, and she fell upon her back. ¡°Ow. I didn¡¯t mean ¡®drop me¡¯.¡± she said as she sat up.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been able to speak with me for one day, and this is the first joke you make?¡± David asked as he collapsed into a sitting position. His enhancement dropped and his muscles suddenly ached, he was definitely going to be feeling that for a while.


    A sudden blast of light drew their attention to another side of the combat pit, where an armored skeleton had manifested. ¡°Summon Skeleton Warrior, level two.¡± someone said from somewhere nearby.


    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± David bellowed as he jumped to his feet. He placed his shield before him and began to draw upon his magic, whatever form of it he used. Power flooded from his heart, or somewhere near it, to his right hand, manifesting in a crimson light on the surface of his skin. The skeleton charged them. It held a maul up above its head as it charged. Skeletons weren¡¯t exactly the brightest creatures.


    He extended his hand towards the skeleton and bellowed. ¡°Magebane!¡± In response, the energy within his hand transformed, becoming a ball of blue flame that flew at his target, impacting its chest. The skeleton stopped in its tracks, and began to fall apart as the spell that animated and held it together was consumed by the fire.


    Runa was engaged with one behind them, that had apparently already fallen apart and put itself back together, as reanimated skeletons tended to do. The only way to truly ¡®kill¡¯ an animated skeleton is to either damage it so severely that reassembly was impossible or disrupt the magic that animates it. He didn¡¯t have the mana for another magebane, but he did have a hammer laying on the ground beside him and enough mana to enhance himself once more.


    So, he picked up his hammer and charged, slamming into the skeleton with his shield and knocking it down. He followed that up by pulverizing its skull with a crushing hammer-blow. Then he slammed his shield into the ribcage, shattering it completely. ¡°No getting up from that one.¡± He stated.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°Well done!¡± Someone exclaimed from beside them. Whatever spell they¡¯d been using to stay concealed dropped suddenly, to reveal the most frightening treant David had seen so far. Its bark was like bleached bone, its figure thin and nimble (compared to the other treants), its leaves were black as night and only present on the treant¡¯s chest, head, like a long mane of hair, and forearms. Its facial structure resembled that of a bat¡¯s skull.


    ¡°Well done.¡± The treant repeated, unshifting. Its voice was like shifting leaves in the night, sibilant, compared to the creaking of the others. ¡°I am Shadeleaf, sprout of Ashbark. I am the watcher of the forests around this training yard. Elder Bertha asked me to test you.¡± He pointed at David as he said the last part.


    ¡°David, son of Armod.¡± David stated, introducing himself. ¡°You mentioned that Elder Bertha sent you to test me, why?¡±


    The treant huffed and shrugged. ¡°I do not know. I owed her a favor; I paid it back. No questions asked. Perhaps...¡± It gave a thoughtful hum. ¡°Perhaps it is because of your magic, it is of a type I have seen but a few times before, and not in the last four centuries. Additionally, you two have an¡­ interesting relationship.¡±


    David and Runa laughed in unison. Neither looked at the other. ¡°I know the elders are trying to figure out why I declined to be betrothed to Hilde, but it¡¯s certainly not because I¡¯ve fallen for my best friend!¡± David chortled. ¡°Hilde is just plain unpleasant. Why would I waste my time being around her, when I could spend it with a far more pleasant person?¡±


    ¡°Davi, do you think he can help us train for your coming-of-age?¡± Runa asked, he got the impression she wasn¡¯t fond of the topic of Hilde.


    ¡°There is no need to ask the human, I will help.¡± The treant said, and one of its hands became a blade.


    _________________________________________________________


    Three months later, David had found his prey, a young wyvern. The brown scales and stone-like protrusions marked it as a common earth wyvern. Incapable of spitting flame, common earth wyverns were instead given the ability to adhere stone and dirt to themselves and use it as armor. They, unlike other wyverns, also tended to burrow. For this reason, they were granted a larger body and thicker, almost shovel-like claws. Their club-like tail also provided additional offense.


    He¡¯d initiated their engagement with an enhanced spear throw that simply bounced off the blasted thing¡¯s stone armor. A spiked pitfall trap had had little effect. An overcharged spell had been ignored thanks to the beast¡¯s stone armor. He¡¯d gone so far as knocking a tree down on it. All to little effect.


    So now he¡¯d decided he was going to break out the big guns, he¡¯d lure the beast to a clearing on the edge of a wide and shallow river, where he¡¯d set up a barrage of elemental explosion runes to be triggered by the wyvern. Then he¡¯d lure it into the water nearby. But first, he needed a lure. Bait.


    He¡¯d need something big, something that wyverns normally ate. Alas, he did not know the forest, not like his mother, or the treants. But he could not ask for help. So, he shadowed the beast on its day-to-day. An entire week, it took, but he eventually found the beast¡¯s favorite prey, the giant wild rams native to the region.


    He whiled away his time for five days before beginning preparations for his final encounter with the wyvern. Four rams were brought down and dragged to the trap circle, butchered and set upon a pyre. Six spears he¡¯d tied with rope to trees by the riverside, to hold the wyvern there above the river. Ten runes of elemental release he¡¯d carved onto the rocks and charged fully with mana.


    He anointed the pyre with animal fat, from the beasts he¡¯d hunted to feed himself. An arrow wrapped with cloth soaked in oil and fat is set aside. And from afar, the pyre is ignited. The wyvern flies above, once, twice, again and again it flies over the site, enticed by the pyre¡¯s scent, until it eventually decides to land. And as it feeds, its fate is sealed. David triggers the runes.


    An explosion of force engulfs the clearing.


    The air is displaced in a thunderous roar, trees and rocks fly, the pyre¡¯s flame is extinguished. In the explosion¡¯s wake, the beast roars, it had seen him, in his place across the river, and begins its flight towards him. Its armor has been stripped, its scales are torn, and a leg is limp. Yet still, the beast, enraged, flies to its next battle.


    It flies to its death.


    He picks up a spear, empowers himself, and launches it right at the beast¡¯s flank. It stumbles in the air. He repeats the process. It is repeated five times, and the beast impacts the ground. It rears up roars and flares its power, commanding the stone to armor it, but it does not respond. Water intervenes with earth magic.


    He pulls his battleaxe from its place upon his back and charges. He cannot take a direct blow from the beast. He cannot allow it to break the enchanted ropes. Its tail flies at him, he barely slides beneath it. He sidesteps a claw swipe and brings his battleaxe forth, across the beast¡¯s wing-arm, the claws fly off.


    He ducks beneath its head, as it attempts to swipe at him, and jumps into a descending slash with his axe, which bounces off. He jumps back to avoid a bite and begins to empower his body with all of his magic. A low swipe with its tail is bypassed with a jump, another head swipe is ducked. The beast rears up to fall upon him and he barely dodges out from under it.


    A snap, and a roar shakes the trees, one of the ropes had snapped and jostled one of the spears within the wyvern¡¯s side. Its roar of pain has left it open, however, and David charges in to deliver the final slice. An upwards cut from his axe, and the wyvern¡¯s head soars, and its body falls limp. But slaying the wyvern, young and wounded though it may have been, was only the first part of his tribulation.


    He must now, as a self-imposed trial, transport the beast¡¯s entire body back to the village. He ties hooks to ropes and stabs them into the wyvern, ties the beast¡¯s head to its back, grabs hold of the ropes, and pulls. Over the course of the next day, he pulls the wyvern¡¯s body through the forest and towards the village, stopping only to rest and recover the pieces of the wyvern¡¯s armor. He takes his time, for there is no fear of reprisal from another wyvern.


    Earth wyverns, like flame wyverns, and much unlike their wind-aligned and coastal cousins, are solitary beings. They do not flock, they do not share, if two are found in the same territory it is because they are either mating, or because one is the other¡¯s offspring and just about ready to leave. This is contrary to griffons, which are commonly found in mated pairs and will become a royal pain in the arse if one of them is slain and the other is not. But, alas, he has no reason to fear reprisal and will not be challenged by any of the woodland¡¯s native creatures because few of them are willing to risk earning the attention of whatever slew a wyvern. It¡¯s a shame, he¡¯d hoped to bag a larger haul than a single wyvern.


    Then again, trying to slay more than one may have killed him. He¡¯d had to weaken the one he¡¯d slain significantly before the fight, and the beast still took everything he had. And he had no idea how he¡¯d even transport them all, the one he was currently pulling took the full power of his enhanced body to pull, very slowly, because it weighed about as much as a pair of bears, and this was a young specimen. Still, eventually, and after much sweat and effort, he manages to pull his haul to the village¡¯s western gate.


    ¡°Bloody-! Vilkas, open the gates!¡± He hears someone bellow from atop the wooden wall. There are a few yells of ¡°he¡¯s back¡± and ¡°he¡¯s here¡± before there¡¯s a clunk and the gates slowly open. He drags the wyvern through.


    ¡°By my beard, lad, how did you manage this?¡± Elder Amos asked from the forefront of a crowd of guards.


    ¡°With some cunning, and a lot of effort.¡± He responded. ¡°Also, a good bit of magic firepower.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯d expect nothing less, I just didn¡¯t imagine you¡¯d bring back a wyvern. May I?¡± He asked, gesturing to the wyvern¡¯s corpse, David just nodded in response. ¡°This is a marvelous beast; I can tell he was very healthy; I mean just look at the luster of his scales, lad. He would have been a magnificent bastard, had he grown to adulthood. Still, he¡¯ll be a useful beast, especially his-¡±


    ¡°Amos, stop rambling, have your men pull the beast aside and let me see the lad.¡± Said Healer Tala, pushing through the crowd. She came to a stop before David, kneeling to inspect him. Her eyes were glowing green, likely from her usage of healing magic to see his injuries. ¡°The blood you¡¯re covered in is not your blood. You¡¯re surprisingly uninjured, mostly just bruising, and those claw marks on your chest and back, likely from some big cat... or canine...¡±


    ¡°Let the lad rest, healer.¡± Said Shadeleaf, emerging from David¡¯s shadow. ¡°He has not slept in two days.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been in my shadow all this time?¡± David asked incredulously.


    ¡°Yes, and your mother has followed from the treetops." The treant stated.


    ¡°Dammit, whatever, I need sleep, and a bath.¡± David stated as he departed towards his home. He was congratulated by everyone he passed, though the person he wished to see most was not amongst them. He arrived home promptly and hurried through the process of scouring his body of the draconic blood that covered it before diving onto his bed and into sleep until the next day¡¯s noon.


    _____________________________________________________________________


    He was awoken by the sound of a horn trumpeting out from the mead hall, it was the iconic horn of celebration, that which informed the entire village of a forming feast. In this case, it was his coming-of-age feast that it was heralding. He barely had time to dress himself up before his siblings were trying to break down his door to wake him. ¡°I¡¯m awake!¡± he bellowed ¡°Stop trying to break down my door!¡±.


    The second he¡¯d opened his door he was practically picked up and carried down the stairs, his sister lambasting him for sleeping all day and his brother harrying him with questions about the hunt. His father waited at the bottom of the stairs with a scabbarded sword in hand, which he handed to David. ¡°It¡¯s yours, you¡¯re worthy of it. I am already making you a better scabbard and armor from the wyvern. Go and feast.¡± He said.


    And feast David did. The Mead-hall was packed, the entire village was present. The tables were piled with meats and fruits and meat, or occupied by feasting villagers, and flagons of mead were being ferried about to anyone who could drink. Even he received one. It was the greatest drink he had ever tasted.


    They eventually filed out to the temple of Udren, where his ceremony would take place. They did not, however, stay within any part of the temple he¡¯d known existed, instead going into a massive underground chamber dominated by a glowing green crystalline tree. The wyvern¡¯s head was there.


    Eadric, the resident priest of Udren took stood before the tree. He was dressed in bone armor. His helmet was a giant ram¡¯s skull, his pauldrons were bird skulls, his breastplate was the ribcage of some beast or another that he did not recognize, his greaves and gauntlets too were made of bone. This was the ancestral, ceremonial, garb of Udren¡¯s tribal clergy.


    David had expected, in keeping with the garb, to hear some shamanic chanting or whatnot, instead, he was stood before the tree whilst the priest gave a short introduction.


    ¡°Brothers and Sisters,¡± the priest began. ¡°We are gathered here today to witness another¡¯s blessing. David Armodson, step forth, and present your trophy.¡± David did as he asked, presenting the wyvern¡¯s head to the crowd. All the while he searched the crowd for familiar faces and smiled at who he saw, they returned his smile. His friend, Deagan, currently wearing an odd bone mask, gave him a rude gesture in place of a smile, but David knew he was smiling beneath his mask.


    ¡°To become a man, he swore to slay something greater than the foes he slew two years ago. He has delivered! He has slain a young wyvern of the earth element with but himself and his tools! He makes us proud. He makes his ancestors proud, he who has earned the favor of Udren! Favored of the gods, present your trophy to the tree of ancestors, and lay your touch upon the crystal.¡± Said the priest.


    He stepped up to the tree, placing the wyvern¡¯s head at its foot, watching it disappear in a blue-green glow before he placed his hand upon the tree¡¯s trunk. Light filled his vision, runes danced within the light, flittering to and from, before his sight returned to him.


    On one side of the cavern stood a massive spectral Raven, surrounded by an army of other, far smaller, spectral creatures. The raven¡¯s lone eye glowed crimson, though the rest of it glowed blue. The great creature¡¯s legs were shackled, though the chains were broken, and around its neck was a collar engraved with runes. Its wings were bound in runic chains. It stared down at him with a judging, wizened, eye and then began to speak.


    Interesting, that an ascendant with no relation to me would carry such a link when so few of my offspring do... Then again, I suppose this is not my power, inherited, it is entirely yours, now, and akin to my own only by your own making. I am Huginn, brother to Muninn and Badb, once-thrall of Woden. You, David, have earned the notice of quite a few gods and goddesses. Your status as an ascendant has excluded you from the system that was created to help mortals utilize magic, that means you will have a harder time of things than most will.


    The others looked on in stunned silence at the raven, though David had a feeling that they did not hear the Raven¡¯s words as he did.


    While I cannot provide you with access to the system, I can make it look like you have access to it for the purpose of maintaining a facade of normalcy. You will need it. The servants of the others will find you and attempt to use you for the causes of their divines. You must not allow that to happen, unless you wish to serve another. I will also bestow a gift. Good luck.


    Upon the conclusion of his message the raven¡¯s beak opened one final time and a wisp of light flew out, floating right into David as the spectral beasts faded away. Nothing happened. He felt no difference in his power or knowledge or capability. Nothing had changed.


    Words appeared upon the tree¡¯s surface. ¡®Paladin of the Self¡¯ they read. There was a brief cheer from the gathered crowd before they surged forward, sweeping him up and then back to the mead hall. They celebrated for two days. They had good reason to, for they had seen one of their patron deities in the spectral flesh. They feasted, drank, and sung and brawled merrily, without stopping, for two days.


    And when the celebration finally ended, David went to a sleep he¡¯d later wish he¡¯d never woken up from.

 Chapter 6: Rage.

    Azrakeh the Elder was a proud dragon, a ruler of the sky, he answered to no one. Even his fellows found him to be stubborn, vain, and uncontrollable. And he was proud of this. He was proud, that no god, spirit, or kin had any claim to command him, that there was no way to manipulate him into following orders.


    Except one.


    His hoard. His was a grand hoard, the object of desire for every dragon, man, and beast to have ever heard of it. It was grand, the spoils of a hundred plundered kingdoms that could not stand up to his supreme might. For thousands of years, he had protected his hoard from all who would wish to take it, building it higher all the while.


    However, never before had anyone dared to threaten it, as the priests of some goddess or another had now done. They had threatened to melt his hoard down with captured Balor-flame, and he knew they could deliver on their threats. But all they asked was that he burn down a few measly villages, draw the attention of the land¡¯s jarl away from whatever they had planned. He could do that.


    He¡¯d burnt down hundreds of villages, devoured tens of thousands of kin, from the smallest, most pathetic members of their peoples, to those who wore metal and liked to futilely poke at him with sticks. He had no fear of them. He would burn down all the villages he could, devour every. Last. Prey. And eventually, he¡¯d find the Balor-flame artefact that threatened to melt his horde and rid himself of it.


    Then... Then he¡¯d burn down every last temple to the gods in the land. It was only a matter of time. He would live eternal, remember everything. The little ones were frail, generations would pass in the span of time he considered a short nap, and they would forget.


    And he would strike.


    But now, as he soared over this pathetic collection of wood and stacked stone edifices, he thought not of the future, but of how he would torment these pathetic pests. His jaws opened; death spewed forth, a crackling maelstrom of destruction.


    .......................


    David awoke to the sound of the battle-horn and the scent of burning. Something was attacking them. He dressed quickly, donning his gambeson and what weapons he had in reach; his mythril seax, a pair of dirks, and a longsword. He charged downstairs just in time to see his father and aunt armoring themselves.


    ¡°Equip the wyvern-scale armor in the smithy.¡± His father gestured. ¡°Your mother is taking the children and those who cannot fight away from the village.¡±


    David did as he said, finding a suit of plate-mail layered with wyvern scales. The arms had been given additional plating descending from the shoulders, this plating was made primarily of wyvern-scale, rather than being metal layered with scales. The entire suit had been layered, even the beaked bascinet helmet was covered in wyvern-scale. It all caused a sense of nostalgia from one of his sets of memories.


    There was even a metal round shield layered with the wyvern¡¯s bronze scales and painted with the family crest. He equipped himself and tested his movement, he¡¯d never worn full-plate armor, and he found it to be a lot more restrictive than his usual gambeson. Still, it wasn¡¯t as restrictive as he expected, and he would only really begin to feel the effects of its weight on long marches.


    A pained roar, louder than anything he¡¯d ever heard, shook the smithy. He charged out into the village¡¯s streets and found a vision of hell. Where the mead-hall once stood, there was now a dragon, a beast as tall as five houses and many more in width. Its blue scales, already scarred by the battle, glowed with reflected firelight as the beast roared out into the air. Against his every instinct, he did not run from it, but towards it, blade and shield at the ready.


    The beast roared out again, this time it was furious. A beam of crackling thunder lanced forth from its open jaws, aimed at someone near its forelegs. He wondered why the beast had not yet taken flight.


    He got his answer as he arrived at the scene. One of its wings lay severed from its body, the wound smoldering with purple flame. He watched as the beast¡¯s head descended and it engulfed someone¡¯s torso in its jaws, a pair of legs was all that was left of whoever the beast had caught. He watched his aunt Ethel, dressed in crimson armor, charge towards the beast, rocketing into its side with a speed and strength he would never be able to match as he was now.


    Healer Tala, wearing armor scorched and ragged by the toil of battle and hoisting a great-sword as tall as David upon her shoulders as she charged the beast¡¯s flank, charred in a single blast of lightning. His aunt, thrown aside with a sweep of the beast¡¯s paw, not to be seen again for the duration of the fight. His father, cratering the ground as he jumped atop the beast¡¯s head, thrown off with a single shake. Elder Bertha sprawled across the ground, an arm and half of her torso missing.


    This was the scene he was greeted by. As the elders and the village¡¯s other skilled warriors scuttled beneath the beast, trying to do it more harm but already tired from the battle. He faced a realization now; he was not strong enough. He had known that the elders were strong, but he¡¯d never quite grasped the magnitude of the gulf between them until he¡¯d watched elder Corgin call down a grand arcane thunderbolt, an expert rank spell, and still do very little to the dragon. This dragon was to them what they were to him, an insurmountable mountain. And he, he was an insignificant speck of dust to be ignored by the dragon.


    He didn¡¯t like being ignored. His mana core churned violently as he began to form his spell, and he searched deeper. There was something there, he could feel it. A pulsing font of energy, beating like a second heart, raging at his impotence. He knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to grasp its full power, and he could feel it growing even now, so he merely asked for a fraction, a mere drop of the churning pond. And what he received... it made him feel like he could shatter a mountain with his bare fists.


    His spell intensified as he poured all of the power he¡¯d received into it, watching the spell become more than a runic circle floating in the air, transforming into a burning lance of stellar fire, contained, begging for release. He felt his energy drain from him until he had only the barest sliver left, and he let the spell fly.


    For a brief moment in time, his spell matched the power of the dragon¡¯s lightning, burning, with it¡¯s dark light, a massive scar in the dragon¡¯s chest, melting away the first layer of scales, and he earned the vain beast¡¯s wrath. Before he could recover from having cast the spell, a blast of lighting speared out towards him. In the blink of an eye, his mother and father ceased to be, as they rescued him from certain death and took the blast head-on. He was flung aside, impacting the wall of a nearby house, and consciousness fled him.


    .........................


    Knight-Captain Dagan Erion Lachaumes and his company were hunting. They had been asked by the Jarl of Sagresh to hunt a Dragon that had been plaguing his countryside. So, upon the arrival of the request, Fangbreak Bastion¡¯s commander had dispatched the Knight Captain and his detachment to aid the ailing Sagresh. Thus, fourteen knights and twenty-eight squires marched out from Fangbreak Bastion and the Gildar kingdom, knowing full well that some of them might not return.


    They had chased the beast out through the countryside, trying to figure out what drives it, to see if there might be a way to lure it out. Alas, there was no rhyme nor reason to which town or village the beast chose to attack. They had always been three steps behind the beast, running from village to village, always arriving just in time to see the remnants of the beast¡¯s havoc before the rain washed it all away.


    This time was no different.


    The beast had attacked a village, Eidrahm, according to the map, in the middle of the night. One of their squires had spotted the smoke from where they were camped, and they immediately began a hurried march. It took them an entire night of marching to arrive at the village. It was a sight like most they had seen, in Sagresh and elsewhere, with a crucial difference.


    The dragon¡¯s blood painted the rubble of some edifice at the center of the village, a massive wing lay on the ground where the beast had been wounded. Whoever the villagers had been, they had given it a good fight, something highly uncommon. He hoped some had survived. ¡°Send out the scouts, figure out where the beast went, it cannot fly anymore.¡± He ordered. ¡°The rest of you, search the rubble! Look for corpses and survivors!¡±


    ¡°Aye sir!¡± His troops chorused and set to their tasks with the fervor of hopeful men. What else did they hope for, but to be able to save a few lives, to not find the broken and charred corpses of children and innocents, victims of the dragon. For many of them, this was how they started off, victims of a dragon attack, the sole survivors of smoldering villages and massacred caravans. Some of them had children and saw in every dead child their own worst nightmare, that the next they dug up might be their own.


    How they hoped to prevent that. To one day rid the world of belligerent dragons, to never have to see another destroyed village, another land rendered barren by dragon¡¯s fire. Some dragons agreed with them. It was they who had first taught them to slay their kin. It was they who had christened them ¡®Dragon Knights¡¯.


    ¡°Healers, we¡¯ve found a survivor!¡± Bellowed one of his knights. A Dwarven knight in white and crimson armor ran through the rubble towards his caller; his squires followed after him.


    ¡°Outta my way.¡± He yelled as he pushed the other aside. ¡°Francesco, get his helmet off! Mateo, ready a healing spell.¡± He ordered. ¡°Gallana¡¯s tits, he¡¯s just a fucking kid!¡±


    Dagan decided to see what all the ruckus was about and found that the healer¡¯s reaction had, in fact, been justified and not just a symptom of his advanced age. The boy they had dug out of the rubble was, in fact, a kid. He looked to be barely seventeen years old. The only reason he didn¡¯t think he was any younger was because of the slight beard the lad had.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    He had short tawny hair and a jagged scar on his lower jaw, from the cheek to the underside of the jaw. The boy already had the beginnings of a proper beard forming, seeing him reminded Dagan of his son, he certainly resembled him. But of course, they were nords from neighboring regions, there was a good chance they were related in some way or another.


    ¡°No major damage, Dagan.¡± Knight Stelrun, the healer, stated. ¡°The boy¡¯s armor is very good; it prevented any damage he might have taken. Or he regenerated already. It¡¯s possible, he has a bloodline, and you know how those can affect a person.¡±


    ¡°Is that... Wyvern scale?¡± Dagan asked, just now noticing the material that had been layered onto the armor.


    ¡°Oh? Aye, those are wyvern scales. Slayer-bind enchantment on the armor implies that the lad slew the wyvern himself.¡± Stelrun stated as he ran his squires through a diagnosis spell. ¡°Not like that, you daft bastards, gently, you¡¯re looking for wounds, not casting a fireball!¡±


    Three hours later and no more survivors had been found, just corpses promptly buried. The rest of the village had either died or chosen to flee, it would be better if they had run. The scouts had returned and confirmed the dragon¡¯s current location; a ravine within walking distance of the village, just a mile or two away. They would depart as soon as the boy had woken up, and they would put an end to the dragon.


    ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡± Someone screamed, almost as if in response to his thoughts.


    ......................................


    David¡¯s mind was sluggish at first, confused. He¡¯d thought he was waking up in his home after a long party. That he would go down, eat something, and then head out into the village to catch up with Runa. See if he could build up some courage to¡­


    He suddenly became aware of his surroundings.


    He was in a tent. His village was likely little more than rubble and cinders. His friends, family, the other villagers, all likely gone. He¡¯d seen some of them die. He¡¯d seen his mother and father obliterated by the dragon¡¯s thunder. He wanted to break down, to cry and rage against the world, and to curl up and die where he lay.


    But something stopped him. Something stirred within his heart and mana core. A cold, calculating intelligence that cared little for anything but his vengeance, and everything else, every irrelevant feeling and pain, was swept aside for later. Spurred on by a warlike, vengeful fervor, he donned his armor and weapons and marched from the tent.


    He had a dragon to slay.


    He felt a thread of magic, still connecting him to the crystal tree, and something spurred him on to call upon the thread. So, he did, and through it he swore a vow, guided by an unseen hand. ¡°On the blood of my fallen kindred, on the ash of the dead, tonight I shall see that dragon slain.¡± Was his oath, and it wrapped around his heart like a serpent, waiting to constrict. He felt it guiding him towards the dragon, and he grimly followed its lead.


    He was aware of people trying to talk to him, then packing up their gear to follow him, but they didn¡¯t matter, not to him, not right now. He was aware of the rubble that tried to slow his movements, but he simply plowed through it, it didn¡¯t exist anymore. He was aware of his old home, the smithy, the healer¡¯s house, the tannery, and more, passing him by. He was aware of the training fields, where he¡¯d first sparred with Runa and the rest of his friends, he was aware of the ruined temple, destroyed by the dragon¡¯s breath.


    He chose to ignore it. There would soon be time to grieve. But first, he needed vengeance.


    He heard Vidarr¡¯s call.


    .............................


    ¡°What the fuck, sir?!¡± Squire Gerald demanded, struggling to keep up. They were marching at a pace that the squire could barely match, hoping to catch up to the Nordling who¡¯d spontaneously marched off like a man possessed. ¡°He¡¯s going to get himself killed!¡±


    ¡°He swore an oath, Gerald. Half our lot once did the same. This is normal.¡± Dagan stated.


    ¡°Normal? He¡¯s not even a trained dragon knight, the beast will just spew some lightning at him and there he goes onto the next life!¡± Said Gerald.


    ¡°He¡¯s vengeful, Gerald. I assume he actually fought the beast, and he got to see it slaughter everyone he knew and cared about. How many of us can actually say we fought a dragon before our training?¡± Dagan stated. ¡°Besides, he¡¯s apparently not new to killing draconic beasts, that armor he wears is made of wyvern scales and steel.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, sir.¡± Gerald stated defeatedly. ¡°How are we going to keep him from killing himself?¡±


    ¡°By helping him kill the beast... We¡¯ll do what we usually do, I assure you he¡¯ll survive. Probably.¡±


    .................


    The filthy, pathetic, ignorant, useless mortals had wounded him. Him! Azrakeh the Elder! The mightiest sky dragon in the region! They had scarred him! Severed one of his wings!


    They had dared to actually wound him! And now, like the worthless scavengers they are, more of them come, to finish the battle. But these are not normal little mortals, these are the scions of the traitors, the so-called ¡®Dragon Knights¡¯...


    He would not stand for this. Their transgressions would not go unpunished. He would devour them all and, when his wing regrows, hunt down their blood and consume all that bear it. He would tear them all apart and then end their lines one by one. Their offspring would be given the most excruciating death he could manage...


    If his offspring could see him now... their mighty father reduced to treading the ground like a drake or wyrm... they might just end him themselves. He could not leave the ravine. He would slay his foes and sleep until his wounds had fully healed. Then and only then would he leave the ravine¡¯s shelter, he decided.


    So, he reared up, raising his head high, and elected to wait, though the ache in his wounds and the rage it instilled spurred him to charge out and tear his foes apart...


    The first thing he saw was a familiar suit. He¡¯d seen this one before, during the battle in the night. Armor of steel padded over with the scales of false dragons, of wyverns. This one had hurt him. Seared away the scales beneath his neck with a beam of flaming death, left behind a wound that Azrakeh¡¯s scales would be marred by for generations.


    The ones behind this one were not so familiar. Fourteen were armored in metal and the scales of the insipid little green dragons, the rest were armored in leather and steel in equal parts. He cared not for the armor of mortal prey, merely that some carried items worthy of being added to his hoard. He roared.


    It was a proud roar, a bellow that expressed his challenge to all that would hear it. It was a roar that had frightened away many a challenger and drawn many mates to him. Yet his foes barely reacted. The one at the head, the one he recognized, marched on towards him without breaking stride, unsheathing an impressive mythril blade. The others marched on too, though some had a brief flinch.


    The one at the head picked up speed, flashing forward at what was doubtlessly an impressive speed for the little mortal. The others entered a formation. Nine began to weave a spell, twelve prepared shields and the rest charged or began attacking from afar with a bow. Still, the first was missing from his sight, having fled his vision when he¡¯d turned his attention to the others.


    His lightning sac began to swell, with its help he spewed death at the knights. But those with shields projected a shield of magic and blocked it. His paw swiped away a foe and nearly crushed another. Again and again, he struck, ever more tired, his previous wounds aching, and again and again his blows did little. And all the while, something was hacking away at one of his back legs, striking at one of his wounds, until the leg gave way and he slammed into the dirt beneath them.


    He felt someone running up his back, but his attention was stolen by the spell now carving its way into his shoulder, tearing apart his muscle and turning bone to dust, and he focused on stopping it. Nonetheless, he soon felt iron feet upon his head, between his horns, and saw light emit from above him, and then a blade of magic longer than it should be pierced his skull, and his spirit fled him, to the hoard of the great father.


    ......................


    The world came crashing down.


    David felt the dragon topple under him; the empowered blade having pierced its brain. He careened off the beast¡¯s head, unbalanced by the fulfillment of his vow and thrown off by the beast¡¯s spontaneous movement as it keeled over.


    The vow¡¯s fulfillment took from him the calming, reliable, presence that had sealed away his feelings, his loss, his grief, his hope, and replaced them all with cold and calculating vengeful hatred. All the sentiments that he had avoided began to rush in as the dam finally burst as he fell. Tears welled up as his composure broke and he fell ever closer to his demise.


    He never felt the impact.


    He woke up in yet another tent sometime later. Moonlight streamed in through a hole in the roof. His armor and weapons lay near him, all but his aketon, which he was still in. His amulet, a leather circle with the rune for day and hope, D?g, embroidered into it, lay on his chest. The amulet had been a gift from Runa, and as he beheld it, his memory of the previous day came rushing back.


    He needed to get out. Get some fresh air. He picked up one of his dirks and walked out of his tent in a daze. He could not allow himself to break down. Not there.


    He walked in the direction of the moon for what felt like hours, but it likely wasn¡¯t more than a single one. He heard the howls of the wolves somewhere nearby, but ignored them in daze. He walked until he arrived at a cliff, he recognized the land below them, they were heading east, and were likely on the rugged hills near Gorenshal, a relatively large city. He sat on a rock and stared at the moon, processing events.


    The elders were gone, killed by the dragon, healer Tala too, and his mother and father, and likely his aunt. They were gone, all of them. Moved on to whatever awaited them after this, after life. How many others had survived? Had the children and noncombatants escaped?


    What of his siblings and friends, of Leif, Ingrid, Arren, Runa, Fergus, and the rest? The people he had grown up with, befriended and cared about? How many had made it out, and how many made it to the nearest city? What would their fate be?


    And what would be his own? Even now he struggled to hold his composure, even with the aid of whatever spell or enchantment he could feel upon him, still active and working to calm him.


    Those who had survived likely thought him dead, as the others were, they would grieve, though he did not want them to. They would move on, though he despised the idea. The thought of them moving on, replacing him, brought to heart a hatred that could make demons shy away. He knew that¡¯s not how it worked, that moving on didn¡¯t mean replacing him, but it still angered him.


    The rage built up, washing aside his muted grief, pushing back the tears threatening to form even past the mind-calming spell that still affected him. The growls from behind him alerted him of something he could use to take his rage out. The pack of wolves. He pulled his dagger from its place at his thigh and entered a combat stance, rage and sorrow intensifying as he remembered the person who had taught it to him, and the way she¡¯d died. A wolf lunged towards him.


    A massacre followed.


    Every wolf that pounced on him found a dagger at the end of their path. Throats were cut, jaws stabbed through, hearts impaled, he was not clean about these kills, the last wolf was disemboweled while in flight. His rage abated somewhat, enough that he took the time to skin the corpses before departing, finding a river to clean himself and the pelts off in. The process had allowed him time to push his rage below the surface, to contain himself once more.


    ¡°You know, most are still crying, raging, and screaming by now.¡± Someone said to him as he sat on a rock to wait for his aketon to dry. He felt a pulse of magic as whoever it was spoke, calming the turmoil somewhat.


    ¡°What good is that?¡± He asked. ¡°Screaming, crying, continuing to rage against the world... it¡¯s tempting, but it won¡¯t fix the damage, it won¡¯t lessen the pain, or bring back the dead and lost. Or at least, I¡¯ve already raged, and I¡¯ve regained nothing.¡±


    ¡°Sensible.¡± Said the voice. ¡°I¡¯ll skip to the point; do you want to join the dragon knights? You are an extremely talented individual, to the point where you have slain your first dragon already. People like you are few and far between, and always welcome amongst the dragon knights.¡±


    ¡°I do not wish to be exclusively a slayer of dragons; I suppose that will not be an issue?¡± David asked. The thought of the dragon that had slain his kin nearly made him lash out as his rage bit once more, like a caged animal gnawing at the bars, raring to be freed. But he knew that dragons were not the only foe that others faced, not the only being that could have slain his kin, and he would not see others suffer as he did, powerless against such a mighty beast.


    ¡°Not at all. The term dragon knight originates from the belief that we once served and were taught by dragons, not from an exclusive dedication to the hunting of dragons.¡± Said the voice. ¡°Those of us who specialize in dragons do call themselves dragon knights, the rest go by our actual name; Venator Cavaliers, or Hunter knights.¡±


    ¡°Then I accept.¡± Said David.


    ¡°Marvelous. Your training will begin when we arrive at Fangbreak.¡± Said the voice, fading as it became more distant. He was alone again. He bottled his rage. He had to be calm and collected when he officially met the knights.

 Chapter 7: Four Years Pass.

    For the past four years, David had trained. He had been training since the day he arrived at the Fangbreak Bastion, but its purpose now differed from what it had been.


    When he arrived, he was still feeling the aftereffects of a tragedy. He sought to pour himself into training and learning, to forget the outside world, and his past. He sought to train until he forgot his rage, and the events that birthed it. Especially after the news he¡¯d received.


    He¡¯d not been told to his face, but he had good ears. The caravan of people leaving Eidrahm had been attacked. The dragon-knight scout who had followed it had been separated and unable to find any living remnants of it after his battle. Just a battlefield.


    The news nearly broke him, and he let his rage rule him once more. He started to take risks, do things others would consider suicidal, all for greater power. He threw himself into training until his bones were broken and his muscles were torn, healed himself, and did it all again. He interacted little with his fellow cadets, and was somewhat disliked, but excelled in his classes.


    He wore himself out studying everything he had access to in Fangbreak¡¯s library, every day. And when he was so mentally spent that he could barely think, he threw himself back into physical training. It began to cut into his sleep, his health deteriorated. He kept going.


    It took him throwing himself into a hand-to-hand with an adult wyvern on a dare (and nearly dying) to make him realize he needed help. Fortunately, he didn¡¯t have to go through the process of building up the courage to ask for it, the instructors intervened. The order¡¯s healers weren¡¯t limited to healing the body, they could also heal the mind, it wasn¡¯t uncommon to need it in their line of work.


    It took time, months of guidance, for him to be... somewhat normal again. The damage would not be undone so easily, or quickly. It would never fully fade, or so the fading memories of other lives told him. He wasn¡¯t na?ve enough to delude himself into thinking he would ever return to what he used to be.


    He merely tried to get better. Eventually, upon the end of his second year in the order, he was made a squire to another knight. It was a short squire-ship, the other knight, commander Irvendael, an elven paladin of Avaniss, their goddess of justice, merely wanted to test him. He¡¯d heard of David and wanted to see if David was worthy of being a knight, and stable enough to not martyr himself for no reason.


    Irvendael certainly tested him. They visited plague-ravaged cities, a war-torn kingdom, dragon-infested mountains, and more. They fought creatures that David would never have battled without a battalion of knights at his side, by themselves. And they survived.


    By the end of their journey, he¡¯d been officiated as a Knight. There was no fanfare, no mysterious apparitions or crowd of proud people, he was merely handed a ring and medallion and told ¡°Welcome to the knighthood, brother.¡±, and that was that. He was a knight.


    In hindsight, he ought to have sought help immediately upon arrival, and he greatly regretted not having done so. He did not regret what he had learned from it, however. For it was because of this that he had been trained by a knight he now admired. His journey with Irvendael had given him valuable experience and forged him into what he now was, its value was unrivaled by any piece of equipment he could have acquired.


    Time passed since his knighting, and still he continued to train. But now it was no longer just him, he had squires of his own to train; to train for the day when they might face some beast or another that required them to excel. On his fourth year since joining the order, he and his squires set out from Fangbreak at the behest of a Gildarian noble on the border between the Kingdom of Gildar and the clan-lands of Sagresh.


    The noble, a Viscount, had a bit of a monster problem, to the point entire villages were disappearing. He had requested aid from his king, who had sent a battalion of his personal monster hunters to their death. Not a single one of the fools had returned alive.


    Thus, of course, the logical solution to his problems was to request aid from... adventurers. He had requested aid from adventurers, perhaps under the misguided belief that the dragon knights would be expensive for his king to hire. They too, had failed. Only then had the viscount requested their aid. David and his squires had been the response.


    They were to scout the land for any clues as to what their quarry might be. Their first destination; a village known as Cederburg, the place the adventurers had first gathered.


    ¡°You know, sir, I still don¡¯t understand why the good viscount decided to hire adventurers over us.¡± Said Roderick, his half-elf squire. He was currently sitting atop his horse, even though they¡¯d stopped for a break, whilst David and Olga, the other squire, ate some trail rations.


    ¡°Hiring adventurers was not a bad idea... or it wouldn¡¯t have been where it not for the lack of information.¡± David began. ¡°Adventurers are capable, they probably do more combat than even we do, thanks to their dungeons, and are highly skilled. They are not as well-trained as we are, but they are still highly capable. The problem, however, lies in that those are the higher echelons of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°The Adventurers divide themselves into ranks. At the bottom, we have copper, the level one to ten fools that have only just started. Iron is ten to twenty, not much of a change. Then, there is silver, level twenty to thirty, fairly experienced, and what you¡¯d count as. Then gold, at thirty to fifty, dedicated and far more experienced, and often highly talented.¡± David continued before he was interrupted.


    ¡°You¡¯re a gold, then?¡± Olga asked, the half giant reclining on a tree as she listened. David himself did not have a quantifiable level, something that had greatly confused the order¡¯s scholars, so his ranking was entirely derived from that of the strongest opponent he¡¯d been able to beat, this being a gold-rank knight he¡¯d dueled after a disagreement.


    ¡°Yes.¡± David stated. ¡°Moving on. Above gold, there is platinum, fifty to eighty, these are the ¡®old monsters¡¯, guildmasters, and prodigies that you call in when you really want something dead. Above them, theoretically, is electrum, which is all the way up to one hundred. And even more theoretically, there''s mythril rank, high above the rest.¡±


    ¡°What happened here, is simple. The Viscount posted a request to the guilds, mentioning missing villages and... little else. There was no information other than that. The more experienced adventurers look at a request like that and go ¡®not worth my time¡¯, because it¡¯s not. A request like that could be anything, from a legendary monster that decided to climb out from a dungeon¡¯s depths to a simple ghoul nest that some silvers could deal with.¡±


    ¡°Evidently, it¡¯s not the latter, sir, seeing as the adventurers that accepted this request were silvers, irons, and coppers.¡± Roderick stated.


    ¡°Evidently.¡± David agreed, standing up and dusting off his armor. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get going, we want to get to the village before nightfall.¡± David got back on his horse; Olga got back on her giant boar, and they set back onto the trail.


    It was a good day for journeying. The trees were proud and tall, the leaves whispered softly, and the sky was clear and bright. A very good day. The fact that there were no interruptions to their travels from any bandits or creatures certainly helped to keep that opinion. Even as the sun began to fall, the day remained a good day.


    They arrived at a mostly empty inn and tavern. Hushed voices and empty seats where there should have been riotous laughter, lively conversation, and plenty of people made the tavern feel rather eerie. Still, it had everything else you¡¯d expect of a tavern. Some folk sat around a table playing dice, a fellow dressed in a black hood and cloak sat in the darkest corner of the tavern, smoking a pipe, and what must have been the village beauty, already flirting with Roderick, the lucky bastard.


    ¡°Right, Roderick, go and find us a table while Olga hitches the mounts, I¡¯ll go talk to the Innkeeper.¡± David ordered as they entered the tavern.


    ¡°How can I help you?¡± The innkeeper asked, overly long mustache waggling ridiculously as he spoke.


    ¡°Three rooms and the tavern¡¯s specialty for three, if you would.¡± Said David.


    ¡°Very good, that¡¯ll be a silver and three coppers.¡± Said the innkeeper, David placed down two silver coins. ¡°Say, you wouldn¡¯t happen to be a dragon knight?¡±


    ¡°I am, those two I came in with are my squires.¡± David stated. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where the adventurers that gathered here decided to go from here, would you?¡±


    ¡°Tillega. One of the first villages to disappear. The most recent is Osterville, but I figure that could just be monsters leaking out from the Crimson Fjord.¡± The innkeeper stated. ¡°Here¡¯s the keys to your rooms.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I appreciate the information.¡± David said, departing for his table and watching a group of six hooded individuals enter the Inn.


    They spoke relaxedly, waiting for their meals and drinks to arrive, basking in the day¡¯s good quality. A quality that was promptly ruined the moment he took a sip of his drink. It was poisoned. Likely by one of the hooded figures, the one who had bumped into the tavern lass who had delivered their drinks. He kept his expression controlled, unchanged from what it¡¯d been before he took a sip.


    ¡°I need some air.¡± He loudly announced to his group, standing up abruptly and departing the tavern. He waited behind the stables for his suspicions to be confirmed. The hooded figures emerged from the tavern shortly. He walked into the forest, making sure to make an obvious trail deep into it, then he hid behind a thick tree. The assassins followed his trail.


    ¡°The trail ends here.¡± One of the assassins gurgled as they reached the trail¡¯s end, just a few feet from his tree. ¡°Search! He must be nearby.¡±


    They burst into motion. He bid his time. The approach of one of the assassins was the cue he needed. They hadn¡¯t seen him, not even as he grabbed one of their comrades and shoved a dirk into his heart. He sat the corpse on the tree¡¯s root and moved, a dagger in his left and his sword in his right hand. He severed one¡¯s carotid as he passed, another¡¯s right wrist was slit, alas his thrown dagger failed to wound any, as it was parried by its target, lodging in a tree.


    He pulled his shield from his back and entered a defensive stance, his blade shining faintly with magic. The weapon still brought memories of his past, even though it had changed so much in the time since it first came into his possession. The greatest change was obtained when he killed the dragon, the blade¡¯s silver metal gained lightning-like blue streaks. All but that were purely cosmetic, that one let it be wreathed in lightning. It was what was known as a ¡®wild enchantment¡¯, manifested naturally, and it was one he had no need to use in this fight.


    He deflected a descending blade upwards, using the momentum of the impact to disembowel his opponent, cutting through cheap leather armor as if it weren¡¯t there, then whirled and bashed another with his shield before bringing his blade into a swipe. It cut into his foe¡¯s neck, and the assassin dropped with a wet gurgle as its neckbone was severed. The remaining assassin dropped from above, trying to get at his head, he sidestepped and took the assassin¡¯s head off with a single blow. They¡¯d been much too slow to be of any use against him.


    ¡°Copper, you¡¯d think assassins would be smart enough to know when a contract is infeasible.¡± He muttered as he retrieved his dagger. He returned to the tavern with nary a glance towards the corpses.


    ¡°Another assassination attempt, sir?¡± Roderick asked upon David¡¯s return to the table.


    ¡°Yes. Coppers.¡± David stated. ¡°One of these days, they¡¯ll send someone competent, and I¡¯ll finally find out who it is that wants me dead so much.¡±


    ¡°If I may ask, which poison did they try this time?¡± Rodrick asked. Over the past years, David had rapidly developed a resistance or outright immunity to many poisons and learned to identify them. He owed it primarily to the order¡¯s toxin training, but also to how often he got poisoned by would-be assassins.


    ¡°Noxious Lotus. You¡¯d think they¡¯d have figured out that that one doesn¡¯t work on me, seeing as it hasn¡¯t worked the past thirteen times it¡¯s been used.¡± David shrugged. It was likely that the assassins all belonged to different organizations, seeing as the different groups were liable to try the same strategies.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Another gold for me, Olga ma¡¯am.¡± Rodrick said, and Olga flicked him a gold coin. ¡°Were they at least skilled fighters, sir?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, the gulf between us is too vast, and I didn¡¯t have to go all out because I caught them off guard. Honestly, all things considered, they were probably fresh recruits for whichever organization they are a part of.¡± He concluded. ¡°Anyways, we ride out for Osterville tomorrow morning, so use the chance to rest while you have it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in Osterville?¡± Olga asked. ¡°I heard it¡¯s close to that bloody caldera, are we going there?¡±


    ¡°No. Osterville is one of the most recent mass disappearances.¡± He said as he stood. ¡°I¡¯m going to my room; I¡¯ll see both of you in the morning.¡±


    They departed early next morning with utmost haste, temporarily held back only by a desire for breakfast. Once that was fulfilled, they set out with their steeds at a gallop, in hopes of not letting their quarry get too far ahead. They passed through several deserted villages on their way to their destination, never finding any trace of a scuffle.


    ¡°It¡¯s like they all up and decided to leave...¡± Olga said as they passed through one such village.


    ¡°With all due respect, Lady Olga, they would not have left their belongings if they had left of their own will.¡± Said Rodrick.


    Their journey continued perfectly from there, but David couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was no resistance, the wildlife was cowed, even the bears refused to so much as look at them. There was no birdsong, as if the birds were constantly hiding from some predator or another. The very wind seemed ominous, whispering doom in their ears.


    The first signs of a scuffle consisted of a jumble of footprints and blood splatters in the forest near their destination. It was fortunate they¡¯d taken the detour. Weapons and armor lay bloodied and discarded within the circle of prints that had once been a battle formation. There were no signs the corpses had been dragged away, though there were imprints of bodies on the ground.


    There were footprints leading away from the battlefield. They chose to follow one trail. What they found at the end of it was worse than they could have imagined.


    ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± Olga asked at the sight of the scene before them. David, too, had asked that question and started going over what he knew in search of an answer. The scene before them was a nightmare, but the monster orchestrating it was perhaps the worst part.


    The monster was a demon. More specifically, a humanlike demon that radiated charisma and attraction, a seducer. There were several variations of seducers, succubae, incubi, and lilitu were just the most common, fortunately it appeared that the demon before them was just an incubus. He could deal with that.


    ¡°Olga, cast harden will on us. Roderick, use the portal scroll, get back to fangbreak, tell them we have a demon infestation. Likely a breach.¡± David ordered. He dismounted and began to gather his equipment, searching for anything that could help against a demon. He felt the cool caress of magic reinforcing his willpower and saw Roderick teleport away from beside them. He expected that reinforcements would take some time to arrive.


    ¡°Alright, looks like the incubus has some people in cages, we¡¯re not going to let that continue. Olga, I want you to support me from afar with your magic, use frost spells primarily, as you¡¯re not a cleric.¡± He ordered and began to descend the hill they were on.


    ¡°You expect to face more than the single demon?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Demons never fight alone, nor do they fight fairly. I have never fought them before, but I know this for a fact. It is the one thing every single book in the Fangbreak library that mentioned them agreed on.¡± He said as he unsheathed his seax and pulled his shield from his back and onto his left arm, still approaching the demon. He did not run, he kept his shield at the ready and his senses honed, searching for an ambush and continually approaching his target.


    The demon noticed his approach and stood from its bench, pulling a scimitar from its hip. He refused to see the demon as anything other than a pest to be exterminated. He didn¡¯t stop the sneer that overtook his features when it began to speak, the demon certainly noticed it, seeing as he hadn¡¯t kept his helmet on.


    ¡°-Have you been listening to anything I said, mortal?! Heed my demands, kneel!¡± The demon continued. David felt a wave of charisma magic slam into him as he approached. It slid off of the shield that was his will. The demon lunged, closing the distance between them at speed to stab David.


    He batted the telegraphed strike aside with his sword and slammed his shield into the incubus, pushing him back. A spike of ice shot over his head and stabbed the incubus in the shoulder, it dropped the scimitar. It was his turn to lunge; he smacked the incubus with his shield again, letting the incubus stumble back from the impact, and then stabbed it through the heart. The demon spent its final seconds flailing at his sword¡¯s point as it vented lighting into his veins.


    ¡°Weak.¡± He spat. ¡°Must not have been a very high-ranking demon. Probably just some demon lord¡¯s spoiled brat, or a random grunt.¡± A wheezing laugh from one of the cages drew his attention. A heavily wounded lizard-kin lay upon the floor of the cage. He was garbed in the classic armor of the Shallarn demon hunters.


    ¡°A dragon knight...¡± The injured lizardman wheezed. ¡°Oh, that demoness is... so fucked now. This was her worst case...¡± David approached the lizard¡¯s cage, breaking the door open with a shield slam. He slipped a healing tonic from his pouch and kneeled.


    ¡°Drink¡± he ordered, offering the Lizardman the uncorked tonic. The lizard obliged. The lizard was old, that much was evident. His scales were a dull green, and the ridges that served as his brows, and those that descended towards his back, had grown smooth where once they¡¯d have been sharpish. He likely wouldn¡¯t survive his wounds without the tonic.


    ¡°Thank you, dragon knight.¡± the lizardman said after his wounds had healed and he had stood and stretched. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want information?¡±


    ¡°I will, yes.¡± Said David. ¡°But first, introductions. I am David Armodson, of Eidrahm. My companion over there...¡± He gestured towards Olga. ¡°Is one of my squires, Olga Gunarsdottr.¡±


    ¡°Helor of Dargatz, demon hunter.¡± The lizard said. ¡°I was passing through this land when I felt demonic energy and chose to investigate. I found a demon baroness and her retinue. She¡¯s stronger than I am, level forty-eight, I¡¯m at thirty-two. Her retinue was nothing special.¡±


    ¡°And I assume you attempted an assassination, and she survived, and she chose to hand you to an iron-ranked demon instead of keeping you close? Makes sense, she likely knew you wouldn¡¯t be recovering and wouldn¡¯t be a threat, so she left you with one of her weakest, to die.¡± David deduced. He gestured for the arriving Olga to liberate the caged people.


    ¡°Actually, she repeatedly stated that she wanted me kept alive. Likely to torture me later.¡± said the lizardman. ¡°I assume you intend to slay her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± David responded. ¡°I intended to wait for the others to get here, but I assume that she intends to capture as many people as she can and then return to whichever territory of the Pit she originates from. Where she can sell them as slaves. If she feels harried, she may yet choose to hasten her return, I cannot allow that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Neither can I, may I join you?¡± The lizardman asked.


    ¡°You have your skills and your equipment, seeing as they left it on you, and you¡¯re trained to kill demons. I see no reason to say no.¡± David said. They sent the rescued civilians and adventurers on their way and departed in search of the demonic baroness.


    They didn¡¯t have to search long, Helor had a skill that allowed him to detect demonic energy, and the baroness was an impressive repository of it. She had made a big mistake, choosing to leave members of her retinue behind at intervals to guard her captives. The result of this mistake; she¡¯d left herself practically unguarded. Her sole guards were the imps she was using as infantry, and these weren¡¯t very strong imps.


    They ran ahead and prepared an ambush. Olga would cast the Polar Storm spell, to whittle away at the imps. Helot would rain arrows from a distance, until David engaged the demoness. David would charge through the polar storm and to the center of their formation, where the baroness was commanding from. When he engaged the baroness, Helor would flank and join the fight.


    The start went off without a hitch. Olga¡¯s Polar Storm engulfed the entirety of the Imp battalion¡¯s front ranks. The demons started falling like flies. He slammed his helmet onto his head, readied his shield and prepared to charge, empowering his muscles with magic. He burst into motion, running through a tree and into the storm, and through it. Imp after imp was knocked aside as he charged through their lines.


    Those he hit directly would never get up again. He charged until he bashed into the demonic baroness, sending her sprawling, though she recovered quickly. ¡°A dragon knight! I know a few demons who¡¯ve always wanted one of you, you¡¯ll fetch a high price indeed!¡± Said the demoness, a succubus, its charisma magic was already brushing past his shielding willpower, searching for a crack to exploit.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never get that chance, fiend. I don¡¯t intend to let you return to the Pit of the Abyss, you marched into this realm, and you will die in this realm.¡± David declared as he dashed forward with an upwards slash at the demon¡¯s throat. The demoness deflected; David blocked the retaliation, the impact sent shivers down his arm.


    The demoness entered into a combo attack with its glaive, David blocked them all. His energy was steadily dropping from his enhancement, but he had time. His attacks were deflected again and again, but he had a plan. His blade had gained an enchantment when he slew his first dragon with it, and he was going to use it fully. With a thought, his repository of energy gained an additional drain and the blade wreathed itself in crackling thunder.


    When his next attack was blocked, the demoness screamed, a scream rivaling a Banshee¡¯s own. Nearby Imps clutched their hands to their ears in pain, his own ears began to hurt. Helor dashed in behind the demon, stabbing at its neck. But the demoness whirled, dodging the attack and decapitating Helor in a single brutal cut from its glaive.


    David saw red, his rage rattled its chains. A badly deflected slash of the glaive, now glowing faintly, bit into his leg, cutting through his armor, and he tapped into his rage. He felt his armor strain as if his muscles were growing, likely a figment of his imagination. He heard the cawing of a flock of ravens, flying over the battlefield. He blocked cut after cut, the demoness growing faster, and sloppier, with every attack.


    A stab went through his shield, cutting into his arm. He roared in his pain and fury. He stabbed forward, pouring more power into his blade. The demoness dodged, the blade¡¯s energy unleashed in an electric arc that burnt at the fiend, charring through the enchanted robe it¡¯d been wearing, and charring the skin of its left arm, though it was still usable.


    The glaive¡¯s blade descended from above, David dodged, throwing the remnants of his shield at the demoness as he did so. A spell began to build in his left hand. He stabbed forward again, the demoness tried to dodge. The fiend met a wall of ice, rather than empty air. His sword cut into its torso, stabbing through where a kidney would be on a human. The demoness dodged the pinning attack, dodging away from the blade and forcing it to cut out through the demoness¡¯ side.


    A blast of magic sent David flying, hurtling into a small group of imps, who found themselves crushed beneath his bulk by his momentum. He recovered in time to receive a continuous beam of flame to the chest; the beam rapidly began to melt into his cuirass. David threw his seax, empowering it once more, and the blade cut through the demoness¡¯ arm, severing her forearm. The spell cut off.


    His hauberk was ruined, and he¡¯d definitely have a new scar if he¡¯d gotten burnt. He traced a few arcane sigils into the air with his left hand, the magic he poured into it manifesting them as his fingers moved, a muttered incantation and a flick of his hand was all he needed to blast the demoness into the ice wall with a beam of arcane thunder that seared into her even as the ice wall crumbled from the impact. The demoness would definitely never get rid of those scars, assuming she managed to escape.


    He shook his head, why had he begun to think of it as a her? As a person? It didn¡¯t matter, her time was short anyways.


    He marched forward, drawing one of his dirks as he approached his fallen enemy. The ice had shattered from the impact, but still the demoness stirred. He felt her probing at his mind, his willpower, and she¡¯d found a crack. ¡°Help me!¡± Ingrid, his sister, demanded from where his foe once stood. He slowed but continued to approach; he knew it wasn¡¯t Ingrid, but demons often had a few tricks in reserve just for situations like this.


    ¡°Don¡¯t do it, son!¡± His father spoke, he ignored it and continued onwards, memories rising to the surface as he remembered the last time he¡¯d seen his father. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t hit your mother, would you?¡± his mother asked, the demon¡¯s voice leaking into her own as the illusion began to fail, he lifted the blade and prepared to stab. ¡°Please, Davi?¡± Runa asked, he hesitated as the illusion intensified, becoming far more lifelike and dredging up far more memories, but his blade descended anyways, pushed by another¡¯s hand.


    He collapsed onto a boulder of ice. He ripped his helmet off and set it on his knees. ¡°Thank you.¡± He said to Olga, who stood by him.


    ¡°For what?¡± She asked.


    ¡°For pushing the blade down. I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve been able to do it myself.¡± He spoke.


    ¡°I did not do it.¡± Olga stated, clearly befuddled by his statement.


    ¡°Then who?¡± David asked. Nobody answered. A raven landed before him; his sword clutched in its talons. It was a very large raven, larger than even the eagles of Fangbreak mountain. It cawed at him, as if asking a question, and hopped forwards and onto his legs, letting the blade drop.


    He felt a kinship with it, a bond, like that with a familiar or summoned creature. The Raven hopped onto his shoulder, and it became ever clearer that this was not a normal bird. Its beak was longer and wider, and the edges were jagged, forming protrusions akin to fangs or serrated teeth. The beak and talons had a metallic sheen, like a blade. The raven¡¯s feathers were nothing special, though they were patterned like a night sky.


    It was the eyes that most gave him pause. Black eyes with an emerald shine, a glow, that seemed to hold boundless intelligence. Not that said intelligence was being used much. Not even by the beast¡¯s smaller brethren, who¡¯d already descended upon the battlefield to pick apart the corpses.


    He placed his helmet back on his head. ¡°Olga, give me a health tonic, take a mana potion, we¡¯ll go wipe out what remains of the demons, then teleport back and let the others deal with the cleanup.¡± His wounds knit together in minutes upon taking the health potion, and they set out to finish the job.


    ..................


    It took three days to track and destroy all of the demons, and by that time their reinforcements had arrived. They¡¯d arrived far faster than expected, having chosen to fly out on wyverns. Conveniently, they¡¯d chosen to land upon the obvious battlefield, which David and Olga had returned to by then.


    A procession of knights now approached their position at the edge of the battlefield, near a cave where Olga had chosen to store the frozen remains of the demonic baroness. The knight at their head was one that David would recognize anywhere, and one of the few of them who had battled demons before.


    ¡°Knight Commander Irvendael. Knights Varen and Curtis.¡± He greeted. ¡°It is a pleasure to see you all here.¡±


    ¡°You look like shit.¡± Irvendael deadpanned.


    ¡°Yes, well, we did stop the entire demonic invasion by ourselves, me and Olga, that is.¡± Said David.


    ¡°The entire invasion, boy, were you not supposed to only scout?¡± Curtis questioned angrily. He¡¯d always been far too inflexible, in David¡¯s opinion.


    ¡°Yes, those were our orders, but the situation did not permit that.¡± Began David. ¡°The demon baroness, whose remnants are in that cave, was soon going to begin a retreat to the pit, taking all of the civilians she¡¯d captured with her. I could not allow that to happen. It was a close fight, but the demoness appeared to specialize far too much into beguiling her foes for her to beat one such as me.¡±


    ¡°You won, the demons are dead, and you remain in one piece. This is good.¡± Spoke Varen. ¡°Return to Fangbreak, we will complete the cleanup.¡±.


    Fangbreak welcomed their return with great fanfare.

 Chapter 8: Interlude.

    Grimnir the Bard had heard tales and songs of dragon knights before, great things, tales of almost mythical heroes defeating countless wrathful dragons. Of hordes of beasts brought to a halt by a single knight in shining armor. He¡¯d heard songs of the brave dragonslayers saving kingdoms for nary a pittance, compared to what adventurers would ask. And he¡¯d heard of them destroying all who sought to conquer them, tearing kingdoms apart for the offense of killing a single knight.


    He¡¯d heard there was a song for one in every five dragon knights. He knew all folk on the continent would see a knight at least once in their lives. He knew this, but how many could count themselves lucky, or unlucky, enough to have played a role in the events that spawned one such song?


    He was one such person. Rescued from a demon¡¯s clutches by a knight, who with a raven companion and a giantess squire, laid low a demoness and all of her lackeys in the course of a mere three days. The first in generations to slay a demon.


    It was a tale worthy of song. And Grimnir was going to write that song, and he would spread it to the wider world.


    ........................


    In the land of Sagresh, an old warrior wonders.


    She had heard many songs throughout her life, many songs of warriors, heroes, and monsters, and encountering a new one was always a pleasure. The one she had just heard, however, had left her mind reeling.


    Demons, on the border between Sagresh and the Gildar? Such a thing could only mean that the demons would soon invade the world in full once more. The last time such a thing had happened, entire kingdoms had been obliterated. The mightiest empire the world had seen, destroyed.


    The best-case scenario was a failed summoning from a mage accidentally opening a gate to the Pit of the Abyss. And even that could have destroyed kingdoms. She hoped it was merely a failed summoning, and not an expeditionary force. She hoped the dragon knights had sent a magical barrage through and then sealed the gate immediately.


    The possibility of the gate reopening was one that could not be allowed to pass. She¡¯d have personally moved to guard the site if she weren¡¯t otherwise preoccupied, but the god of war called her to the frontlines, and who was she to deny him?


    ¡°Oi, red plate, we got another wave of Fexxakin thralls heading our way, you ready?¡± A dwarf asked her. She nodded, she was ready. Ready to win.


    ..................


    Elsewhere in the same land, a warrior hears a tale of wonders.


    ¡°-And so, he split the demon head to toe!¡± The drunkard declared boisterously. He¡¯d been telling a tale of how he was rescued from a cage guarded by a demon by a dragon knight. The warrior had found it an interesting tale, enough to fund the drunkard¡¯s bad habit, even if it was a bit exaggerated. The huntress would like to hear the tale, and would reimburse what was spent on coaxing it from the drunkard.


    More interesting was the part that came next. ¡°He healed the demon slayer, he did, and they introduced themselves. Knight told ¡®is name was David Armodson¡­ forgot the slayer¡¯s name¡­ fink it was ¡®Healer¡¯ or somthin o¡¯ the sort¡­ then they went out to hunt the boss demon.¡± said the drunkard. That was a familiar name.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Very, very familiar. The warrior handed over a few copper coins and stood making to leave the inn. ¡°If¡¯n you¡¯re lookin¡¯ fer ¡®im¡­¡± the drunkard said, speaking directly to the warrior. ¡°I don¡¯t expect ¡®im to be in the same place.¡±. The warrior nodded and left the tavern, right into a circle of thugs.


    The warrior sighed. Things always had to get complicated.


    ....................


    On Fangbreak Mountain, smiths hurry.


    ¡°Goddess, damn command for their stupidity.¡± A smith said as he worked the bellows. ¡°Apparently, they couldn¡¯t have thought of having us make the latest ¡®hero¡¯ new armor before it was about time for his next mission.¡±


    ¡°Aye. But at least he won¡¯t just be a big goddamn hero; he¡¯ll also look like one.¡± Another said, almost drowned out by the clank of a hammer or metal. ¡°More importantly, he¡¯ll be able to make far better use of his magic now. The usual armor restricts magic in all but the direst situations.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but the doddering old fools don¡¯t seem to grasp that we can¡¯t just rush a full set of armor like this one out in one night!¡± Went the other. ¡°The poor fucking enchanters look like they¡¯ll pass out from the heat and the strain of enchanting this much equipment while it is being forged.¡±


    ¡°Quench my fire, what the fuck is this?¡± Another cursed.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Asked the first.


    ¡°The glaive we¡¯ve been asked to purify, it¡¯s reshaping itself. The damned thing is changing its appearance into something less demonic.¡± Said the third. ¡°Buggers must ¡®ave given it some damn good enchantments.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a good thing, less for us to do to prepare it for its new wielder.¡± Said the second.


    ¡°Aye, let¡¯s see if we can purify the bloody thing in one night, someone fetch the priest.¡±


    They still had much to do.


    .........................


    In the halls of Jarl Adalbrand, Events are set into motion.


    Adalbrand, son of Adalgrim, was a proud man. He had reason to be. He had fought since the age of thirteen, seeking to be ever stronger, ever wiser.


    He had battled in three wars by the age of twenty-two, earned himself a place at the jarl¡¯s side. He had helped guide and protect his people for years. He had fathered some of the greatest warriors the clanslands had seen. And when his predecessor was claimed by age, he took the jarlship and tried to do his best for his people.


    Alas, his people found themselves assailed from all sides. The Fexxakin came from the north, with their Vraskar thralls and battle slaves, their so-called champions, seeking to conquer and subjugate. From within, dungeons, overflowing with power, were constantly spewing ever greater monstrosities out into the wild. From below, though the common folk were not aware of it, swarms of giant creatures, scared by something greater. And now, demons at their borders.


    The situation left him with little choice but to call upon the dragon knights for a representative, and a permanent chapter headed by said representative. He would not waste his people¡¯s lives by not calling those who were best fit to help them. Besides, it wouldn¡¯t hurt their coffers too much to pay for the construction of a fortress for the Dragon knights. The lives it would save would be worth it.


    Of course, he¡¯d have to help them find new recruits... Some of his huscarls had sons and daughters in need of training. He could send them. It would force him to recruit new huscarls, rather than just having them trained, but it would be worth it if it got the dragon knight chapter in the region active faster.


    The question was who the dragon knights would send as their representative. A member of the old guard? Or perhaps the new hero he¡¯d been hearing of? The representative would become a chapter master, so it would have to be someone skilled and experienced. What resources would the chapter be provided? They already had a fortress, old and abandoned, but easy enough to repair.


    Adalbrand would provide additional resources anyways, but it helped to know what the chapter might need. They¡¯d always need rare materials for weapons and armor. He had those in spades. They would likely also need smiths and, while he couldn¡¯t give them a legend like Armod of Eidrahm, he could still find some damn good smiths.


    He¡¯d have to instruct Bifurr, his steward and spymaster, to find the finest smiths in the clanslands for him and gather the materials he¡¯d gift the chapter. He¡¯d also likely end up making the dragon knight chapter master a Thane, so he¡¯d need to have a proper weapon prepared. He¡¯d likely gift them one of Armod¡¯s pieces, those were the highest quality weapons he had.

 Chapter 9: Zealotry

    The portal scroll burnt away as he arrived at his destination. In a matter of seconds, he had been transported from Fangbreak¡¯s outer courtyard to the confines of a teleportation circle in an entirely different kingdom.


    Magic truly was a wonder.


    David had been ordered to use the scroll to travel to Sagresh so that he could represent the dragon knights in negotiations and open a new chapter of their order. Unfortunately, he¡¯d been unable to bring his squires along, they had to be reassigned to someone whose duties would not prevent them from educating the squires. It was his good fortune to have obtained his new armor and weapon before his deployment, it¡¯d be a pain to have them transported otherwise.


    He cut a striking figure now. Armored in a lighter plate and chain colored in a striking black and red coloration and adorned with pieces of a feathered beast he¡¯d hunted some time back, as well as the feathers of his bound raven, which were used to make a crest for his helm. His cuirass was covered by a tabard made of black wyvern scales, and embroidered with his family crest, a shield and hammer, now accompanied by a raven, the d?g rune, and the order¡¯s signature.


    His shield had been remade, to go with the new theme, and had his family crest embossed onto it. His new glaive, the glaive once wielded by the demoness, now reforged, also fit the new theme. He was certain that, with this all taken into account, he looked far more intimidating than before, something that would certainly help him avoid having to deal with brigands. Though he wasn¡¯t very enthusiastic about his new title, given by those he¡¯d rescued after the battle against the demoness.


    Apparently, the most notable thing about him was the massive raven on his shoulder whilst he¡¯d rescued them, so they¡¯d started calling him the Raven Knight. He supposed that it was not the worst he could be called.


    He spotted the Jarl¡¯s steward heading his way, surrounded as always by his cohort of spies and guardsmen. ¡°David Armodson, I assume?¡± The steward asked.


    ¡°You are correct.¡± David said as he unclasped his helmet. It was rude to converse with one¡¯s helmet on.


    ¡°A kinsman, eh? Which city are you from?¡± The steward gestured for them to walk as they talked. The circle of guards and spies opened to accept them.


    ¡°Village. Eidrahm, which now lay as ashes and rubble.¡±


    ¡°Wait... Armodson? Like Armod the smith or another Armod?¡± Asked the Steward. David could hear the spies already muttering to each other; apparently his father had been famous. That did explain the occasional visiting couriers, he supposed.


    ¡°Armod the smith was my father, yes. I assume you know my name because you were purposefully notified beforehand?¡± It stood without mention that should that be a false assumption, the dragon knights would have to start searching for spies and blabbermouths amongst their ranks.


    ¡°I was notified, yes, through a sending stone, too, rather than the usual couriers.¡± Said the steward. ¡°Tell me- How are your siblings? I know you had several.¡±


    ¡°I do not know. I have not seen them since the day the dragon attacked.¡± Said David. ¡°To be honest, I was not aware I still had siblings.¡±


    ¡°Have you not searched?¡± the steward asked as they made their way into a courtyard and garden. The Jarl was known to be a skilled alchemist and had a famous love of plants, so it figured that such a courtyard would be found in his castle.


    ¡°The order¡¯s informants searched the nation; though brief, the search found no trace of any remnants of my family. The caravan they would presumably have been a part of was found, however, or the remnants of it, at least, seeing as it¡¯d been attacked by bandits.¡±


    ¡°Is that right... Sigrun.¡± The steward beckoned a spy to his side. ¡°Check the records for the surnames Armodson and Armodsdottr, and do use the rune of finding, I¡¯ve no interest in waiting three days for a result, thank you very much. Besides, David, I assume you¡¯ll only be here for the duration of the ball and a meeting with the Jarl?¡±


    ¡°That is correct, the fortress in Valgard needs to be searched and prepared for the arrival of the builders, and the rest of the staff, which I have yet to hire. I¡¯ve hired several architects and rune-mages to perform renovations and restore the wards, but I¡¯ve yet to hire anyone beyond that.¡±


    ¡°The Jarl had me make a dossier of persons whom you might hire, all skilled and willing, I believe you¡¯ll find it in the chest of funds in your new office.¡± Said the steward, pushing aside the massive pair of doors to the Jarl¡¯s throne room.


    ¡°You had your people inspect the fortress? I shan¡¯t assume they also left a report on the state of the fortress, as analyzed by an architect?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Yes, and Yes. The Jarl wants to help your chapter get active as soon as possible. In fact, he even had me look for some suitable recruits for your new chapter, from his pool of huscarls, and I¡¯ll be introducing you to them during the ball. On that note, the Jarl will see you now.¡± Said the steward, and they made their approach.


    David had been in several throne rooms before, but he was glad to say, now that he¡¯d gotten a proper look at this one, that he¡¯d finally found one that wasn¡¯t completely ostentatious. Most throne rooms he¡¯d seen were opulent, with gold and silver everywhere and massively oversized paintings or windows of tinted glass mosaics or lines of statues and busts. An attempt at overcompensating, he figured.


    This one was different. The structure proper was a simple Wood and Marble affair, both materials commonly found in the region. The floors were lined with polished wood and the pillars of marble holding up the roof were carved with scenes from great battles and hunts, but there was not a speck of gold or silver to be seen. Banners and tapestries of lavender cloth hung down from the pillars, a massive beast¡¯s skeleton was suspended in mid-air, hanging from the roof.


    The few other decorations were trophies and weapons placed on display for all to see, every single one belonged to the current Jarl. It was common knowledge that the sole decoration to remain upon the changing of a Jarl, apart from the banners of the land, was the skeleton that hung from above. The massive beast¡¯s skeleton was considered proof of the greatest triumph of their people, the slaying of a spectral leviathan, a beast from the astral sea, a beast that consumed the souls of the dead. The Jarl¡¯s throne sat beneath the beast¡¯s open Jaws, a reminder of the position¡¯s dangers, so that the Jarl might never get too comfortable.


    The current Jarl was already waiting for them. David approached and stepped into a kneeling position. ¡°Jarl Adalbrand, I bring greetings from the high council and the commander of Fangbreak Bastion.¡± The Jarl¡¯s power was palpable, charging the air with energy, a high-level mage?


    ¡°Stand, kinsman, there is no need to kneel, I am not some Gildarian noble that needs his ego stroked with every action.¡± Said the Jarl. ¡°It is good to see one of our lost kinsmen finally returned to us. Might I have your name?¡±


    ¡°I am David Armodson, of Eidrahm, dragon knight.¡±  He said as he stood from his kneeling.


    ¡°Armod the smith¡¯s son? It is good to know that you still live, I was saddened to hear of your village¡¯s demise. How have you fared, since that time? You¡¯d have been young when the village fell.¡±


    ¡°I am well, Jarl Adalbrand, I mourned for long but have since recovered, with the help of my new brothers and sisters in the order.¡±


    ¡°That is good to hear, David Armodson. Please, call me Adalbrand, I once counted your father among my friends, and it would not do to have the child of a friend call me by my title.¡±


    ¡°A friend of my father¡¯s is a friend of mine, Adalbrand, call me David.¡±


    ¡°Very well, David. On to business. I am willing to provide significant aid to your new chapter of the order, beginning with this: David Armodson, for services rendered by yourself, and soon to be rendered by your chapter, to the land of Sagresh, I name you a thane of the land.¡± Said the Jarl, and his steward stepped forth carrying a chest. ¡°I grant you, as a token of your station, this hammer, forged by your father, and as a gift, twenty-five beast cores, all within that chest.¡±


    ¡°I accept, Jarl Adalbrand, the gift, and the duty. I am honored to be a thane of Sagresh.¡±


    ¡°Very well! But enough of the formalities, the ball will soon begin.¡± Said the Jarl as he stood from his throne. ¡°Bifurr, show him to the banquet hall, I¡¯ll join the festivities shortly.¡±


    The steward gestured for him to follow, and so he did. They soon arrived at a mostly deserted banquet hall. ¡°The others will be here soon enough. Before they get here, however, it stands without mention that there will be assassination attempts on yourself and the Jarl, if recent events are any indication. Should any such attempt begin to evolve into more than just poisoning, one of my agents will approach you and say this: ¡®Pale Orchids Rustle in the Northern Wind.¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Said David, already looking for an empty table to take a seat at. Soon enough people started trickling into the room, an eclectic mix of individuals, already mingling and maneuvering. He saw people already staring at him, their faces ranging from curiosity to anger, in the case of one Gildarian nobleman. None approached him, none except for a hooded monk.


    ¡°Excuse me, son, is this chair taken?¡± The monk asked.


    ¡°No. You may sit.¡± Said David.


    ¡°Thank you, I¡¯m afraid these old bones aren¡¯t what they were when I first set out from the western continent.¡± Said the monk, shaking off his hood. The monk was old, more so than the eye could tell, there was a weight on his words, the weight of eons, of the passage of time itself. He was wrinkled like old parchment paper, and his hair was almost as white as the northern snow, his face bore the scars of countless wounds, some long since faded. Dull red scales climbed his cheek from on his neck, patterned like those of a serpent.


    ¡°You¡¯re not human.¡± David observed.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± The old monk responded. ¡°Once you reach a certain point in your cultivation, you cease to be as human as you might wish.¡±


    ¡°Cultivation?¡± David asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re not aware? Yet you have a core?¡± The monk asked. ¡°Of course, there are no sects here, admittedly my fault, the arts have likely been lost...¡±


    ¡°A core?¡± David pondered. ¡°You mean my mana core?¡±


    ¡°What you have is not a mana core, it is a nascent Qi core, you can still use magic through it, of course, but it''s not the same. If I¡¯m right, you inefficiently convert Qi to mana, which would explain why you are only in the first stage of body refinement at your age. I can prove it.¡±


    ¡°How so?¡± asked David. He would freely admit that the possibility intrigued him, or some forgotten part of him that was somehow familiar with the concept. In response, a pulse of energy emanated from the old monk, rhythmically, and David¡¯s core imitated it. The pulse swept through him, like a tidal wave rushing through his veins.


    ¡°Do you feel it? That is Qi, your core responds to a pulse of my Qi because yours is starved for Qi and attempts to assimilate my own. You can feel your own core, right, son?¡±


    ¡°I can, yes. I¡¯d only ever noticed it reacting upon my usage of magic, or when in combat, though I am aware that I can make it cycle, or ¡®churn¡¯, at will and it will speed up with every cycle, I¡¯d simply never bothered to experiment with it.¡±


    ¡°Cycling your core is good; it will cause your core to grow in power and size. Right now, you have a miniscule core, barely formed, you¡¯re barely any stronger than an average person at their physical peak.¡± The monk reached into his bag and began pulling out tomes. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to do this, the mysterious mentor routine, that is. All of these books detail cultivation, and techniques, for initiates and adepts. I cannot stay around to instruct you, but you can keep the books.¡±  With that, the old monk departed, disappearing into the crowd of strangers.


    He shoved the books into his spatial bag and sat back, waiting for the crowd to die down. The Jarl had arrived at some point and caused a ruckus, it appeared that every group of partygoers wanted something from him. People had immediately stood from their seats to crowd the Jarl, undoubtedly wanting to complain and beg and demand things from their ruler.


    Another figure sat at his table. The steward sat before him, holding a scroll and ledger. ¡°Your siblings are alive.¡± The steward stated, placing the scroll before David. ¡°You will find the locations of their residences in this scroll. Now then, follow me to your new huscarl, and your new recruits. There are thirty-five of them, plus your huscarl, allow me to lead you to them.¡± They stood and he followed the steward out into the courtyard where the huscarls waited in formation.


    One stepped forward, a heavily armored Ursid female. She was tall, a good head-and-a-half taller than him, and he stood at a good eighty-eight inches tall. A morning star mace hung from her hip and a round shield was slung over her back, her armor rattled as she stepped into a salute. ¡°Astrid Beckett, at your service, my thane!¡± She greeted.


    David stepped forth. This wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°At ease. This is not the Gildarian militia, I have no desire to be saluted or treated like some spoiled noble, and, like most dragon knights, am not much for formality. So please, call me David.¡± He could tell that none of the other huscarls would be anywhere near that rigid, perhaps it was just a quirk of this one¡¯s upbringing?


    The rest soon introduced themselves, a motley arrangement of persons and personalities. The Jarl appeared to have selected the widest variety of races and vocations that he could. Shield-bearers, swordsmen, rangers, mages, spearmen, and even an elven artificer. These were obviously well-trained warriors, which would save him the hassle of training new knights from scratch, he¡¯d merely have to teach them about monsters. His new chapter of the order could be up and running in a few months.


    He dismissed the recruits with orders to meet him at the city¡¯s gates the next morning. All but one of the huscarls departed. The remaining one followed him to his table. ¡°Astrid, why are you tailing me?¡± He asked the huscarl that stood behind his chair.


    ¡°I am your huscarl, your bodyguard, my liege, I am merely doing my duty.¡± She answered.


    David sighed ¡°You do not have to tail me; I am more than capable of defending myself.¡±


    ¡°It is my duty, until I retire, or you are no longer a thane of this land.¡±


    ¡°Then at least take a seat, nobody will manage to sneak up on me, I assure you.¡± He felt her hesitation, though she eventually relented and took a seat in the chair opposite his own. ¡°Tell me about your training, and your accolades.¡±


    ¡°I was trained as a defender, to wield heavy armor and serve as my thane¡¯s shield. I am a high gold level adventurer and cleared the gold rank dungeon of the crystal woods by myself. I have also assisted in the slaying of a wyvern.¡± She stated.


    ¡°Not going to elaborate?¡± David asked. No response was given. He had his work cut out for him if he wanted a bodyguard that was at least moderately fun to be around. This one took her work too seriously.


    They sat in silence, watching the different groups as they arrived and mingled, forming themselves into groups. He was no expert in politics and posturing, but even he could see the dynamics of the interactions before him. Everything from the clothing one wore to the depth of one¡¯s bow had a meaning to these people. And because of that, identifying those who also didn¡¯t belong was so very easy.


    He picked out several such people. At a nearby table sat a group of beastkin, mostly Lycans, but also a few humans, all warriors of some kind or another. Armored knights, hooded rogues, a few rowdy barbarians, and the odd mage. They were a boisterous group; one likely hired by a noble or clan-chief, unless they¡¯d somehow earned some honors in the Jarl¡¯s court.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    A masked individual flitted about through the dancing ball-goers, stopping occasionally to greet important persons, clumsy bows and etiquette marked them as inexpert. A group of finely dressed gentlemen stood at the center of the dance, unmoving. A small collection of ladies, clearly the forgotten commoner dates of noble partygoers that had gotten too caught up in their conversations, sat at a corner table, chittering amongst each other.


    There were a few other such groups and individuals, small and obvious. It wasn¡¯t their actions that gave them away, not really, it was the exclusion. None of those groups would be interacted with by nobles. In fact, they were outright avoided.


    He made a decision. He signaled a servant to take drinks to the table occupied by the warriors and stood from his own. His huscarl followed after him. He made sure to make himself conspicuous as he approached, summoning his raven to his shoulder and loudening his steps. He found an empty chair and wordlessly took his place amongst them.


    ¡°What¡¯s your story, another noble¡¯s dismissed bodyguard?¡± A knight asked the second he sat down.


    ¡°Fool, he¡¯s an invitee.¡± A crass mage berated. ¡°Don¡¯t you recognize him? He¡¯s the fucking raven Knight, goddess knows we¡¯ve heard the man¡¯s tale enough in the past few days.¡±


    ¡°Already that title has spread so far, news seems to travel faster every year.¡± Said he with a sigh. ¡°David Armodson, dragon knight.¡±


    ¡°And thane of the land.¡± Interjected Astrid.


    ¡°Apologies, noble ser, for the crassness of my companions,¡± Began one of the barbarians, a redheaded human woman of significant stature. ¡°The two meant to greet you and welcome your companionship.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to be so formal, lass, I¡¯m not a noble.¡± David stated. ¡°I¡¯m just a village boy with the good fortune to have been born into a family of warriors. Gods only know that the skills I gained from them are the only reason I¡¯ve gotten so far as I have.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short, I¡¯ve heard your full tale, my fellows sing your saga from its very start, it¡¯s a rather grim tale.¡± said a Lycan wolf-kin barbarian with an oddly lute-shaped axe on his back.


    ¡°My full tale, you say? What feats are attributed to me, beyond the slaying of the demoness and her horde? Those are the sole feats of note...¡± He began as he took off his helmet.


    ¡°Oh, where to start, where to start? Why, at the start, of course!¡± The bardbarian started, already pulling his lute off his back. ¡°You hail from a mighty-¡±


    ¡°-Not right now, Bard, I think our new friend has had enough of his tale being told.¡± Said the redhead. ¡°What¡¯s with you, Zosha? I¡¯ve never seen you stare at someone quite so intensely... and why is your half mask still on?¡±


    ¡°Nothing¡± the previously unnoticed Lycan fox-kin rogue stated, using Nordic sign language. A mute? The surprise in the eyes of her companions told David that the Werewolf didn¡¯t typically speak in sign language. He stared at her, soulful brown eyes peered back from amongst crimson fur.


    ¡°You mute?¡± Armored fingers signed, much to her surprise.


    ¡°Yes, speech necklace broke.¡± She returned.


    ¡°Standard enchantment?¡± David asked, to which he received a gesture of affirmation. ¡°I can fix it.¡± The half-mask came off to reveal an utterly normal fox-kin, if scarred by a slash to the throat. Was she ashamed of her necklace, or the scar? Neither were things to be ashamed of. She passed him the necklace.


    The necklace was much like what he¡¯d seen on some of his comrades who¡¯d lost their voice one way or another, and to the one his father had vehemently refused to wear. The enchantment matrix had been disrupted by magical degradation caused by a leakage of mana. It had been faulty. Correcting the fault was easy, thanks to the order¡¯s equipment maintenance training, recharging the necklace was more so. Everyone¡¯s eyes were on him as he repaired it. Soon enough, it was returned to its wearer¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She said, her voice melodious enough to rival a siren¡¯s own. ¡°You are mute?¡±


    ¡°No. But my father was, as are many of my comrades, so I learned to repair the spell matrix, just in case.¡± Said David. His awareness twinged, the smell of blood, the band¡¯s music seemed too loud. A minor portent.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t even know she was mute.¡± Declared the bardbarian. ¡°Another detail for our ballad.¡±


    ¡°Say, Raven Knight, what brought you to the court of our Jarl?¡± asked a knight, unaware of the guards rushing from the room behind his back.


    ¡°I am opening a new chapter of the order here, by request of the Jarl and the will of council.¡± Said David. He looked past the knight to where a table of clan-chiefs were spewing their guts out. It was a good thing the drinks he¡¯d ordered had never arrived. Come to think of it, he¡¯d not seen a servant in some time... He nudged Astrid to follow the guards, the raven hopped onto her.


    ¡°Ah, the beasts have been growing stronger and more numerous in recent years... I suppose this is the logical solution. Is it truly just you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It is not the normal course of action, but I am alone for the moment, the rest of my comrades are otherwise occupied, at least the supply caravan¡¯s people will join me upon its arrival. The normal course of action would have seen me never arrive in time for the ball, though I¡¯d have gotten here with a contingent of my fellows ready to support me, should something happen.¡±


    ¡°You are expecting something to happen?¡± Asked the vixen.


    ¡°Expecting? It''s already happening. Someone¡¯s poisoned the beer, the caterers are dead, and the guards are in combat, if my raven doesn¡¯t lie.¡± He saw cloaked individuals Wearing the jarl¡¯s crest manifest from thin air, moving to engage what could only be their infiltrators.


    ¡°The Raven¡¯s a familiar?¡± Asked the mage, though he was drowned out by the knight.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you left, then?¡± the knight asked.


    ¡°No need for me to seek my foes out, they¡¯ll come to me. In fact,¡± David began. He stood and drew his seax, maneuvering through the now panicking crowd of nobles and their attaches. ¡°They¡¯re already here!¡± said he, gesturing towards an infiltrator with his free hand.


    The infiltrators didn¡¯t appear to be very high level, their movements were too slow for what an agility specialist should have at a level above thirty, they were likely at the middle or start of the twenties, and some had decided to mix their specializations, seeing as some were even slower, and wielding truncheons rather than their profession¡¯s preferred daggers and short blades.


    The thrum of a lute¡¯s string, accompanied by a pulse of magic, empowered his armor and bolstered his courage. A knight took his place beside him, kite shield and longsword at the ready. The other soon joined them, he held a pair of hammers, ready to dash forth and into battle at a moment¡¯s notice. A flare of magic, and spikes of ice manifested to suspend themselves above the mage¡¯s outstretched hands, he hadn¡¯t even moved from the table. The barbarian was already in the crowd, fiery hair whirling this way and that as she punched through a small group of infiltrators, wisps of red rose from her tattoos. In a blink, the rogue stood behind the shield-bearer, wielding a pair of scimitars.


    ¡°Skellen, Harald, support Trudy, preferably before she gets killed.¡± Ordered the Bardbarian. A spike of ice flew into an infiltrator¡¯s shoulder, the hammer-wielding knight dashed forward with a laugh. It appeared that his words ceased to rhyme whenever he got serious.


    A crossbow¡¯s bolt bounced off David¡¯s armor. He searched the crowd for the crossbowman, he spotted none. ¡°Crossbow somewhere in the crowd!¡± He bellowed. ¡°I don¡¯t see the wielder!¡±


    ¡°You heard the man, Regis, create a distraction, Sara, eliminate any ranged attackers!¡± The bardbarian accompanied his orders with a bellow infused with haste magic, to help the noncombatants escape faster. David replaced his helm onto his head and launched towards the largest group of enemies.


    It was a bloodbath. None of the assassins were powerful enough to hurt him, and they were assailed from all sides by the Jarl¡¯s own agents. He had free rein over the battlefield. But he had no illusions about them having been the ones sent to kill him. He knew they hadn¡¯t, he could feel the power of several high-level individuals in the area, and one was rapidly approaching. Still, he culled his foes until the ballroom was drenched in blood and he was free to battle whoever he would have to without any enemies intervening. The ones that remained were too busy with the agents and adventurers, and some of the nobles.


    He stood at the center of the ballroom, senses extended, weapon at the ready, waiting. His enemy drew nearer. The aura implied his foe was high level, on the cusp of platinum. He felt when the roof above him broke, long before it happened, dodging out of the way of the descending enemy and into a defensive stance. A pulse of energy filled the room with a buzzing, crackling, disruptive energy, though it did not harm them directly.


    ¡°My magic is being blocked!¡± The mage hollered from the ongoing fight against the assassins.


    ¡°The blessings of our lady are stripped from the heathens in the presence of a true believer.¡± Said the newly arrived enemy. A zealot in chain armor, helmed with a steel mask, he was larger than any human, likely due to his nature as a goliath. He twirled his mace and pointed it at David, the buzzing intensified. ¡°I demand a duel. Should I lose, I will be dead, should I win, I will take you to our lady, the goddess of us all!¡±


    ¡°I accept.¡± Said David, and he felt the magic close in on him. ¡°On the condition that, should I lose, they-¡± he gestured towards his fighting allies. ¡°-be allowed to escape.¡±


    ¡°This is acceptable.¡± The zealot stated, and the magic fell upon them. It rushed into them, settling around their hearts like chains ready to constrict, to punish, should the rules be broken. ¡°I trust you know the rules to a goliath duel?¡±


    ¡°I do. To death or incapacitation, a ritualistic exchange of blows, who will have the first turn?¡± Said he, changing into a more evasive stance, lower to the ground and less solid. It was a good thing his armor was light and more flexible than a normal plate suit.


    ¡°Then let us begin.¡± His enemy lunged forward, attempting to grab him, he dodged the grab, delivering a punch to the goliath¡¯s knee as he did so. The big bastard barely flinched, his mace came down in a brutal crushing blow, aimed at David¡¯s head. David barely rolled out of the way on time. His seax stabbed out at a gap in the zealot¡¯s chainmail and was repelled by some artefact or spell.


    He couldn¡¯t damage his enemy, but could he outlast him? Likely not.


    The zealot lunged forth, mace aimed at David¡¯s chest, but his shield was in his free hand and over his chest in milliseconds thanks to binding magic. The mace clanged off, being unable to defeat the shield¡¯s enchantment, but the shield still shook, sending vibrations down his arm. His grip faltered.


    A kick from the zealot dented his armor and sent him skidding across the ballroom, into a wall, sending up sparks the whole way through. He stood before the goliath could get there. His grip on his shield tightened, he braced himself. He charged. He didn¡¯t hammer into his opponent, he knew that would have little effect, instead choosing to pivot mid-charge and use the momentum to throw his shield into his opponent¡¯s face before continuing his charge, right past his enemy, to arrive behind him.


    That was when he spotted it, the artefact. An amulet hanging off his opponent''s back, he stabbed at it. The zealot pivoted, taking the blow on his arm, rather than on the artefact. An ascending blow from the zealot¡¯s mace impacted David¡¯s free arm.


    He felt the bones shatter.


    He dodged the next blow, and the next, and the one after that, never allowing himself to take a direct hit.


    It was hard.


    The zealot clearly hadn¡¯t had much reason to empower his speed, but he was still faster than David. His sole saving grace was his higher mental acuity, which enhanced his reaction times. The zealot attacked and he just kept dodging. He was starting to think that, with all the dodging he did, it might be for the best if he changed his plate armor for something lighter and more agile.


    An explosion shook the ballroom, three high-level fighters ceased to be detectable. The zealot let himself be distracted by that. David did not. He used the brief pause, the small moment of respite to slip behind the zealot¡¯s back, and finally stab through the artifact.


    Or he would have, had someone not parried his blade.


    A white-cloaked man, face covered in a steel mask, stood between him and his target, a single, steel-clad finger extended, halting his seax before him.


    ¡°You really must be more careful, Lothar, you nearly let an artifact of our goddess get destroyed.¡± The white-cloaked man stated.


    ¡°The others... they are dead?¡± The zealot asked, his voice was filled with grief.


    ¡°Yes. The Jarl is a far stronger combatant that we expected.¡± Said the cloaked one. ¡°This will set our efforts in this region back greatly.¡± The zealot did not respond. Gold and crimson motes of light drifted up from his skin.


    ¡°Fuck, Knight! He¡¯s about to rage!¡± Someone yelled from the sidelines. The hooded one sighed, he ripped the amulet from the zealot and turned to look at David, then disappeared in a flash of silver light. The buzzing disappeared. The duel¡¯s chains snapped. The Zealot lurched, suddenly hit by the backlash of violating the duel¡¯s laws.


    David was empowered, his muscles, bones, and armor hardening with magic power. This was the magic¡¯s way of evening the playing field and assisting him in punishing the oath-breaker. A duel was just that, an oath, not to a deity, ruler, or person, but to the magic itself, that two individuals would fight honorably, and then honor the terms of their defeat, or victory. The zealot would be weakened, and David would be empowered.


    The zealot whirled, noticeably slower. David didn¡¯t give him a chance to attack. He attacked continually, relentlessly, following every attack with another, not giving the zealot any time to catch his breath. His blade could cut him now. The zealot¡¯s skin was no longer unbreakable. He could look out from their fight now and still manage to suppress the zealot.


    His allies had, evidently, won, they stood at the sidelines of their fight, ready to intervene. David wouldn¡¯t let them. The zealot had caused him a great deal of pain and suffering and would not go unpunished. ¡°DO NOT INTERVENE, HE IS MINE!¡± He bellowed. His voice emerged a discordant roar, the screaming of a multitude enraged, rather than a single warrior.


    He decided to try something. He searched for his Qi, and found the cycle. Qi was all around them, a second layer to the magic of the world, given form and purpose by all within it. In a place of stone, it would take to the stone and adopt the element. He, too, had an element. Life, Fire, Space. He had not seen it previously, but he¡¯d adopted those elements when he¡¯d first used Qi, in the old forest as he fought against the Fexxakin Thralls, and now he would wield them truly.


    It just required some experimentation.


    The Qi around them was thin, a trickle of what it should be, per his instincts, and he wanted more. Qi flowed as he breathed, pouring into his meridians, the channels that it travelled through, but it was not enough. His opponent was beginning to overcome the oath¡¯s punishment, growing stronger with every second he raged, and still had higher attributes than David did. He needed more knowledge.


    In the meantime, he had to experiment. He cycled his core, the Qi within it shifting outwards, better aligned to his own element, and the Qi beyond it cycled in, to repeat the process. The purified Qi formed a second layer of core and could be spent to do his bidding. The faster his core cycled, the more Qi he got. The more his core cycled, the faster it would cycle, though it likely had a limit. For the time being, he spent his entire second layer, forming a ball of fire behind his armored head. He felt his connection with it and knew he could control it. It was his Qi, after all. He also knew it could gather Qi, which would lead to it eventually dissolving due to being diluted.


    The ball orbited around him once. The raging zealot recoiled, the chainmail on his left arm superheated by a temporary adjacency to the fireball¡¯s surface. David lunged forward, the ball orbiting at a fair distance, picking up speed. It would punish any attempt to retreat. The Zealot blocked his lunging stab, and their dance¡¯s tempo changed.


    No longer was the barbarian just on the defensive, now he was losing ground, and that would lead to his rage ending. Slash, Stab, Stab, Slash, Parry, Riposte, their dance went, and his blade hummed, the mythril resonating with every strike, the air parting with every slash. He took a risk. He broke the rhythm, ceased to attack, the zealot rocketed forward, roaring as his mace fell in a descending strike, which David took head-on.


    It was reckless, impatient, sloppy. They were both growing tired, but David had the advantage in their dance. His raven landed on a broken piece of wall, and cawed a triumphant caw. His fireball morphed, taking the form of a raven, and soared into the zealot¡¯s back. The zealot¡¯s glow extinguished, and he roared in pain, and David¡¯s blade rose and silenced him. The fireball was reabsorbed.


    He stumbled away from the corpse. He hated the stench of burning flesh. It always revived the memories of the worst moments of his life. He sighed, he was tired, pained, and crippled, a state that was quickly becoming his default after a fight. He fell to his knee and fumbled around his bag, searching for a health tonic. He quickly found what he was looking for, a vial of crimson liquid, quite akin to blood.


    ¡°Need some help?¡± He heard someone ask as he fumbled with his helmet.


    ¡°Yes.¡± He said, and someone tore his helmet off. The vial was quickly downed, and he felt the familiar searing pain and writhing discomfort of bone rearranging and melding. The fingers in his formerly broken arm flexed, a pair of displaced ribs clicked back into place, and his spine cracked as he stood. ¡°Good thing my armor isn¡¯t too dented.¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± his helper asked.


    ¡°What was what?¡± David responded, to which his helper merely gestured at the corpse of his opponent. ¡°Ah, the fight? Something a monk taught me during the party, evolved with a little experimentation and my knowledge of magic.¡±


    ¡°Cultivation, you mean?¡± his helper asked. David peered up. The Jarl stood before him, definitely worse for wear.


    ¡°Yes. I do appear to be a cultivator.¡± Said he, watching as a group of healers barreled through the ballroom, members breaking off to see to those still living. He began to stand. One of them knocked him out.


    .......................


    ¡°So, the venerable ascended elder has selected an heir to inherit his teachings.¡± Said the Jarl as they met in the banquet hall after David had been seen to by the healers. They¡¯d not had a chance to speak after the battle as the healers had scooped him up and whisked him away to their temple. No matter, he appreciated the free healing, and a chance to clean the blood off himself and change into unbloodied clothing.


    ¡°Ascended?¡± David asked.


    ¡°Yes. The ultimate goal of most cultivators is to ascend to immortality, and to defy the divine. Those who manage it eventually leave this world for another, or a divine realm, or decide to just reenter the cycle of reincarnation.¡± Said the Jarl. ¡°The monk you met is one such ascended individual. He¡¯s been lurking around sucking up all the Qi in the region for the past four hundred years, searching for an inheritor for his legacy.¡±


    ¡°Moving on. By all appearances, the assassins were here to eliminate us, the rest of the guests being little more than an afterthought. They wish to rid themselves of me for the obvious reason of me being our people¡¯s leader, but I simply cannot figure out why they want you dead.¡±


    ¡°Well, it may be related to the churches that Irvendael and I burnt down while I was his squire. Correction, the wyverns we were fighting burnt the churches down, we merely dodged out of the flame¡¯s path. It¡¯s unlikely, but you never know with the faithful and zealous.¡± Said David. ¡°We¡¯ll have to figure it out the old-fashioned way.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. Unfortunately, my agents have been unable to extract any information from the few fools we captured, even using the more old-fashioned methods.¡± Said the Steward, who sat beside them. "The enemy agents are either exceptionally well-trained or completely uninformed.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now, they played their hand and failed.¡± David declared. Huginn ¡°Now they know they won¡¯t be able to pull a move like that again. I don¡¯t doubt they¡¯ll continue to make attempts on our lives, but, at least in my case, it¡¯ll be far more difficult. Especially once my chapter has been established.¡±


    ¡°You intend to depart soon?¡± asked a noblewoman, Lady Talis, who¡¯d joined the battle in the ballroom and watched his duel.


    ¡°Indeed, I hear you¡¯ve already instructed your new cadets to prepare to depart.¡± Added the steward.


    ¡°It''s true, we set out as soon as they¡®re ready. If we make haste, we can arrive at the fortress before the week¡¯s end. I need to have the perimeter secured before the arrival of the supply caravan, so that they can get to work as soon, and safely, as possible.¡± Said David.


    ¡°I could have you teleported to the site?¡± Offered the Jarl.


    ¡°Thank you for the offer, but I¡¯ll have to decline.¡± Said David ¡°I¡¯ll need the time we¡¯re on the road to get to know my new recruits, and my huscarl. Speaking of huscarls, there she is.¡±


    ¡°Sires, and Lady¡± Astrid greeted, dropping to her knee. Following etiquette, she waited for the Jarl to give her leave to stand before continuing.  ¡°The Dragon Knight recruits are eager to depart as soon as possible.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll not keep them waiting any longer, we depart immediately.¡± David declared, standing from his seat. ¡°Farewell, and may the future bring good tidings.¡±

 Chapter 10: Momentum

    Fort Shatter-Shield was once an impressive edifice, built shortly before a great war, and abandoned shortly after. It was a time when the dragon knights thought themselves peacekeepers, intervening in the affairs of the continent¡¯s nations to prevent stupid wars, be it by regulating a nation¡¯s expansion, or defusing diplomatic incidents. It was a noble, if misguided, undertaking, a brutish attempt to keep the peace. One that was punished.


    The nations of that age grew tired, and their kings grew greedy. They viewed the dragon knights as an impediment to their rightful futures. And so, they went to war. Not with each other, no, but with the Knights that had for so long protected them from the monsters.


    Fort Shatter-Shield earned its name in that war but was soon thereafter abandoned as its knights left for other lands. Now, ruinously decayed though it may be, the fort was returning to life.


    David and his recruits had arrived in a mere two days and immediately got to work. Rubble was moved, a perimeter established, and the wards were repaired, all in anticipation of the caravan¡¯s arrival. The caravan of workers and resources arrived a mere five days after their own arrival and immediately set to work.


    In just two weeks, the fort was functional. Certainly not in the best condition, but functional. This meant he could start training his recruits in the practices of the dragon knights. They¡¯d already been given proper martial training, which meant they only needed the knowledge and instincts that formal dragon-knight training would have given them.


    They were akin to freshly forged blades, usable, but in need of sharpening, and he had the perfect whetstone for them.


    The Crimson Fjord Caldera. So aptly named for its fjord, which tends to run red with the blood of monsters during the bi-annual monster outbreak event, and the frenzy that runs concurrent with it. The extremely wide variety, and quantity, of creatures within the caldera made it a perfect grindstone to train new recruits in, letting them get some hands-on experience. Which is what he was doing.


    ¡°KEEP THAT SHIELD UP, LUGAID!¡± He bellowed into a portal. He sat upon his Warg and watched through one-way portals as the recruits struggled, chuckling softly at the memories their struggle elicited. The recruits had been divided into seven squads of five and given an area of the forest to hold. They weren¡¯t doing too well. Then again, the batch of cadets he had been part of hadn¡¯t done much better.


    ¡°This showing brings dishonor to your family.¡± Astrid deadpanned into another portal. She¡¯d stationed herself next to him and had made it her duty to prevent any beast from approaching him, even though he¡¯d welcome the chance for a fight. She had, to his surprise, proven to be far less of a hard-ass than his first impression led him to believe, though that was only whenever she wasn¡¯t on ¡®active duty¡¯. Whenever she was on active duty, she returned to the cold professionalism from which his first impression had sprung.


    His thoughts, and eyes, soon returned to the battlefield he was observing, and he prepared to give his recruits some more pointers. ¡°ADISA, STAB THE VENOM SACKS, NOT THE TAIL!¡± He bellowed, and a girl shown through another portal jumped in surprise at being addressed. Her squad was one of the better ones, seeing as they had remembered and made use of most of the weaknesses present in their foes, those that they¡¯d discussed, at least. But they were not perfect, and that meant that they did make mistakes, one of those mistakes would soon have observable consequences.


    ¡°Jagrenai are slippery bastards, but you never want to stab their tail, though it might be easier to hit as they burrow.¡± He explained to Astrid. ¡°If you stab their tail, they¡¯re liable to shed it and then they become that much faster.¡± As if to punctuate his statement, one of the aforementioned creatures, a nimble quadrupedal reptile with a long tail, did just that, and suddenly, its legs were a blur, and it was running circles around the group of recruits, spreading poisonous fog as it did.


    Until a lucky spear found its way to the creature¡¯s head, that is.


    ¡°It is a shameful showing on their part.¡± Said Astrid, ears flicking as she finally detected the big cat sneaking up behind her. She leaned low onto her warg¡¯s back and gutted the feline as it pounced above her, it would have taken her head with its blade-like claws had she not ducked. ¡°That they have paid so little attention to your lectures is a disappointment.¡±


    ¡°They paid attention, Astrid, it''s just that some of us learn better with hands-on experience, as you already know.¡± Said David. ¡°Of course, we usually learn to learn from lectures and books, eventually, when it becomes clear that we won¡¯t live very long if we don¡¯t. It¡¯s a dangerous line of work, and if you don¡¯t know the weaknesses of the beasts you can expect to encounter, you¡¯ll quickly find yourself becoming their prey. That¡¯s the lesson today is meant to hammer into them. One moment-¡±


    ¡°BJARNI! TELL YOUR SQUAD TO RETREAT, NOW!¡± He ordered. He¡¯d noticed something odd in their area, now he knew what it was. The stone beast statues weren¡¯t an artifice of a dungeon, which the caldera was, they were of another being¡¯s make altogether. A being his recruits were not capable enough to handle.


    Of course, it¡¯s that same lack of capability that led to them drawing said being¡¯s attention. He sighed even as he converted an entire layer of his now four-layered core into mana to rip open a portal to their location. He¡¯d been practicing his cultivation in his free time, and it was already paying off, he wasn¡¯t too much stronger than he¡¯d been before, but he was still noticeably stronger, faster, and more durable. He was going to need that, if he wanted to kill a basilisk on his lonesome, unless he used valuable resources like his alchemic compounds.


    He and Astrid led their mounts through his portal and onto Bjarni¡¯s team¡¯s battlefield. ¡°TO ME!¡± He bellowed. The corpses of hundreds of beasts lay scattered around where he stood and four recruits retreated towards them, shields and arms covering their eyes. ¡°Astrid, take the recruits, return to camp, I¡¯ll kill the beast.¡±


    ¡°My thane, my duty is-¡± She began to protest.


    ¡°As your thane, I am ordering you to take the recruits and return to camp, huscarl.¡± He said as he began to arm himself. His shield gleamed, lightning crackled and arced off his sword¡¯s blade, his warg growled beneath him. ¡°Sorry, Lass, you¡¯re going with them.¡± He said as he dismounted, his warg followed him until he sent her a glare, and she turned to follow Astrid and the recruits, as he¡¯d told her to, back into the portal.


    He traipsed through the forest, senses extended, towards where the team had been when he¡¯d given them the order to retreat. A new statue stood in the clearing, Bjarni. He couldn¡¯t sense the basilisk anywhere nearby. Having analyzed the area for a foe, he approached the petrified recruit and pulled a vial of anti-petrification solution from his pouch.


    It was a solute of nitric acid and strong alcohol designed specifically to cause fiery explosions, though it could also shatter the layer of skin converted into stone by petrification, when not ignited, thus breaking the petrification¡¯s stasis and freeing the person within unharmed, if extremely sore from having a layer of skin, and any armor they were wearing, converted into stone and rapidly regrown, and then having the stone stripped away. The reformed layer of skin would be sore and tender for a while after that. He uncorked the vial and tipped it over the petrified recruit.


    Immediately, the stone began to crack, falling apart to reveal skin, and armor. ¡°Sir?¡± The disoriented recruit asked as his head was cleared of its petrification. The cracks spiderwebbed down.


    ¡°You got yourself petrified, recruit.¡± David stated disappointedly. ¡°Your comrades managed to retreat, having shielded their eyes to prevent them from seeing the basilisk¡¯s own. You are going to have to flex your muscles to break your body out of the stone, and then you¡¯ll walk back to your clearing and through the portal to camp that I left behind. In the meantime, I¡¯ll go kill that basilisk.¡±


    He turned and left, following the basilisk¡¯s serpentine tracks. He walked for nigh an hour before the basilisk decided to attack. By then, his recruits had all been ordered back to camp and Astrid had signaled their safe arrival, so he wasn¡¯t worried about time constraints. When the basilisk attacked, lunging through a tree to bite him, he wasn¡¯t very surprised, he¡¯d been able to feel its gaze for a good while by then. He sidestepped the serpent as it barreled through the tree and brought his crackling blade up, and the massive snake cut itself as it slithered past, a mighty rent down its body.


    It hissed and coiled up, a writhing mass of scales, constantly shifting. He knew what came next, the beast would continually peek from its coiled mass and attempt to catch his eyes, to petrify him. He hefted his shield to block his face, sheathed his sword, and pulled out another vial. The beast was in for a nasty surprise.


    Indeed, when next it looked from within its coils, opening a gap from which its eyes might be seen, he launched the vial right into it. A blinding flash of light scoured the shadows from the clearing, the serpent writhed in pain, its eyes clenched. He charged forwards, aiming to stab through its head with his glaive, but was forced onto his knee by a sudden crash onto his shield. A rabbit charged with qi had jumped onto it, unleashing a barrage of kicks at his shield.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    The qi had begun to return to the land with the ascendant¡¯s flight, and this was a result. A spirit beast, as he had learned they were known by most beyond the region, the natural source of beast cores, the most important of enchanting materials. He let go of his glaive. His sword flew from its scabbard and onto his hand as his shield, now charged with qi, launched the rabbit away and charged. When his charge met flesh, his sword, like crackling thunder, lanced into the basilisk¡¯s skull, and lightning tore through its body.


    He dodged its final thrashing in time to block the rabbit¡¯s second flurry of kicks. Hateful, crimson eyes peered at him from among its pale fur as it bounded back onto the ground. This time he charged forth. His blade was dodged handily, the beast so much faster than him that his attacks would be as slow as a turtle¡¯s movements, but he need not hit it himself to end its life.


    The thunder arced off his sword as he swung, and sought out the rabbit, which then recoiled in pain, its fur singed. He felt at the bond with his raven and called his familiar to him as he blocked a jump and took a qi-charged kick to his armored sternum, leaving an overlarge dent. His shield, reinforced with qi as it was, could stand the blow, not so much his armor, which groaned as metal dented.


    He might not have been able to match the rabbit¡¯s speed, but he could outlast it, and he would. Already it was growing tired, he need only wait it out a little bit longer. Or he would have, had his raven, large as a martial eagle, not swept in and taken the rabbit in its steely claws. A single peck of its beak ended the spirit beast before it could attempt to protect itself.


    He took his time to gather his glaive and the resources from the slain beasts before returning, the materials were all highly valuable. For example, basilisk venom was known for its potency, a single drop being enough to kill ninety men, and being fully capable of melting through metal when not diluted. A special flask had to be used to contain the venom, luckily, he always carried an empty one in his spatial pouch. The scales of a basilisk too, were highly valuable, highly resistant to the elements, light, and exceptionally tough.


    The forest was positively brimming with such materials, but he only gathered his own kill before beginning the trudge back to his camp. He would have opened a portal, but he preferred to not have to sacrifice a layer of his cultivation for that.


    The sun was falling by the time he arrived, and he could hear the sound of merrymaking. The camp had, at some point, been joined by what looked like a band of merchants, which he knew to be agents of the jarl, and their traveling troubadour. They were celebrating a successful day of training, in the case of his recruits, and, no doubt, the countless valuable monster resources retrieved from it just waiting to make the merchants richer, with a small party. He joined his huscarl and the merchant caravan¡¯s leaders at the center fire, pulling the basilisk¡¯s eyes, preserved within a jar, from his spatial pouch for all to see. They were safe, now that the magic in them was inert, but the few merchants that recognized them still recoiled.


    ¡°The basilisk is dead.¡± He announced.


    ¡°I can see that, sir knight.¡± The caravan¡¯s head of acquisitions stated. ¡°I assume you know the value of the resources you got from it, especially the eyes?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡± He answered. And he did, at the order¡¯s prices, the pair of eyes alone was worth five hundred gold coins, half the value of a king¡¯s platinum coin. Each fang was a good hundred, each roll of scales, four hundred, the flask of venom, a platinum, a liter of basilisk heart blood, five platinum coins. Monster hunting was a lucrative business, but extremely dangerous, one wrong step could easily end a hunter¡¯s life. Even then, many became hunters, because while they would not match a noble in the grandness of their treasury, they would be able to live comfortably and let their friends and family do so too.


    ¡°Six hundred gold for the eyes.¡± The merchant offered.


    ¡°Deal.¡± He handed the jar to the merchant, who handed it to an attendant to stow away. ¡°The venom is reserved for the order, as it is considered contraband in most nations, and the scales are to be used to craft armor for the recruits. That leaves the fangs.¡±


    ¡°Two hundred and fifty for the fangs.¡± The merchant offered.


    ¡°Agreed.¡± He handed the fangs to the merchant.


    ¡°And, in my power as a representative of the jarl, a hundred and fifty for the service of culling half of the monsters from the caldera and killing a basilisk.¡± Said the merchant, handing him a platinum. A servant passed them and they both found themselves with a tankard in their free hands. ¡°I hope, master knight, that you will keep these humble merchants in mind when you next need to sell something. Now then, Willem, a song of your choice, if you would.¡±


    ¡°Gladly.¡± Said the troubadour, pulling a lute from thin air. Troubadours were always pompous bastards, this one especially. He loudly cleared his throat, tested his lute, and with no small amount of flourish, began to strum. ¡°This song I learned in the far north, deep within a forest, sung by the muses themselves! ¡®Tis a part of a saga, so stay and listen for the rest.¡± He declared and he began to sing.


    He was skilled, or the song¡¯s writer had been skilled, its melody, so akin to a song he¡¯d liked in his youth, painted a clear image. Or perhaps that was the mead? Either way, the tune was quite nostalgic. It went a bit like this:


    In the cold spring of a northern day,


    Cometh the hour,


    For us to sing of a coming day,


    And events that follow.


    In light so bright,


    In autumn old,


    Blood is shed on the morrow.


    It stains the tale we¡¯re told.


    For one man,


    Hope seems to flee the light.


    He hides his pain neath mask so bold,


    A hero in the morn,


    But in the dark his pain is borne,


    Carried by him alone.


    None stands to help his ailing soul,


    Till hope is taken form.


    When tears they fall from scarred face,


    She ambles from the snow.


    She comes to hearth


    Where fire ignites,


    Alight in palest glow.


    They knew each other long ago,


    But each has changed,


    They know,


    The scars one bears now mar his soul,


    His pain has gone untold.


    The other,


    Bolder than before,


    Her heart as bold as gold,


    Her spirit yearns for something lost,


    Words left unsaid now told.


    What will they say?


    Where will they go?


    What things they¡¯ll do,


    We don¡¯t yet know.


    He did not remember the next songs.


    ..............................


    He did not sleep peacefully that night. One of his recruits had almost died for his negligence. Had he surveyed the land previously, he would have seen the basilisk and prevented the entire confrontation, and the recruit¡¯s petrification.


    For whatever reason, his failure brought forth a once recurring nightmare. The scent of burning flesh, ash in the air, ash on his skin, on the rubble all around him. Irvendael, slain upon the rubble of a temple. Samara, devoured by a dragon. The corpses of his comrades strewn about the ruined city, many rendered to ash.


    It was a simple nightmare, with a simple premise; ¡°Would I still have failed in Eidrahm, had I my comrades with me?¡±. The answer, in his nightmare, was yes. He awoke from it as he always did, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, though the soreness all over was new. It took significant effort for him to get up and go about his morning routine. He did notice Astrid snoring loudly from his cot. How long had she been there?


    Armor rattled loudly as he staggered from his room to... whoops and cheers? ¡°Ladies and Gentlemen, we have our victor!¡± One of his recruits announced boisterously, he recognized it as Bjarni¡¯s voice. ¡°Commander, how did you manage to tame the icy baroness?¡±


    ¡°Tame the- what?¡± he asked bemusedly.


    ¡°Come on sir, don¡¯t act dumb, we all heard your ¡®performance¡¯ last night.¡± Said Bjarni.


    ¡°What the fuck was in that drink?¡± David asked himself. ¡°You¡¯re implying that I-¡±


    ¡°For three whole hours, you don¡¯t remember?¡±


    It was at that moment that Astrid burst out of his tent, struggling to reequip her gambeson over the, admittedly massive, pair of obstructions she¡¯d bound to her chest with bandages. ¡°Nothing happened last night.¡± she said, accompanying her declaration with a glare in their direction.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even remember anything beyond the song last night.¡± He muttered to the recruits.


    ¡°She was very impressed by your heroics.¡± One of the recruits whispered as Astrid stormed by. Another recruit had started singing a song about ¡®two drunken fools¡¯, a song he recognized from some of the taverns he¡¯d been to, and one that earned the recruit a glare from the huscarl.


    He could tell that the recruits would keep pestering him and Astrid about this for a while and decided it would be better for all of their sakes if he gave them something to complain about instead. ¡°Alright, get yourselves ready to depart, I want us gone by Midday.¡± He ordered.


    The journey to Shatter-Shield was quick, for the fortress was close by and none of them wanted to linger, as all wished to be guarded by sturdy walls and mighty ramparts. He''d dismissed the recruits as soon as they¡¯d arrived at the fort¡¯s courtyard and headed to his study, bypassing the areas of the fort still undergoing repair, they all needed a proper rest after the ordeal he¡¯d put them through, and he had reports to read.


    The reports were mostly the same, messages from the newly arriving staff, like the smiths he¡¯d recruited, or information about the fort¡¯s surroundings, or reports on arriving resources. None of those were very important, they weren¡¯t the message he was expecting, that one was buried beneath them.


    A report on a newly formed dungeon, one near the ruins of Eidrahm, with monsters that were too dangerous for the bronze adventurers that had first discovered it. It wasn¡¯t the dungeon itself that intrigued him, but rather a name in the report, Deagan Lageson, guild master of the adventurer¡¯s guild of the town of Wingfall. He hadn¡¯t been that excited in years.


    He rearmed, resupplied, cleaned his armor, and was ready to go in under an hour. This was not a matter of serious importance, nor was it time-sensitive, but it was one that he needed to see to, and quickly. Of course, then he remembered the requisitions papers he had yet to approve and decided that he ought to approve them before the quartermaster decided to tan his hide.


    Once those had been filled out, however, he barged from his office at an arrow¡¯s pace and almost ran into Astrid, who¡¯d been standing guard beside his door. ¡°Where are you going?¡± She asked, and he beckoned her into his office. They¡¯d been awkward the entire journey to the fortress, partly because he¡¯d started to remember the previous night, but also because of the heckling of the merchants that had chosen to travel with them and inviting her into his office was certainly still awkward.


    ¡°To see an old friend, hopefully.¡± Said he.


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to tell me. As your huscarl, it is my d-¡± She began.


    ¡°This is a personal matter, Astrid.¡± He interrupted. ¡°Make sure the recruits continue to train while I¡¯m gone. It¡¯ll only be a day or two.¡±

 Chapter 11: Devourer

    The journey to Wingfall was slow. Not that it was far, nothing in the region was very far from Shatter-Shield, seeing as it was at the region¡¯s center, but rather, the environment decided it didn¡¯t approve of his journey. A landslide that had blocked the road before him and heavy rain forced him to divert his path through the old forest, he did not know whether that was a good idea and was very reluctant to continue.


    A major factor was that he didn¡¯t know the path through the old forest very well and could easily get lost. Another was that he of all people knew quite well how aggressive the forest could be to those it viewed as invaders, and did not know if it would recognize him. He also considered the fact that he did not know where the normal trees gave way to the Old Oak¡¯s grove, and whether the patrolling ents and other forest-kin would bother to speak to him before attacking him as a trespasser.


    Still, he decided to continue his journey, for he knew not when he¡¯d have another opportunity for a personal journey. He¡¯d just have to hope the sapient grove, or at least the Old Oak, somehow recognized him after all these years.


    As he travelled, he remembered how impressive the scenery had seemed all those years before, and how striking it was even now. Bioluminescent mosses climbed and hung from every tree, as active in the rain¡¯s dark as they would be in the night, highlighting the world around them in gentle blue, purple, and green. The leaves rustled in the rain, the insects chirped, and the beasts called out in their activities. Bushes rustled as a wildcat chased a rabbit, a snake with glowing stripes hung from a tree branch, and a wise old owl looked down upon the forest floor. Life continued in the forest, as it had for so long, even in the unbearable rain, which made his helm ring like a bell with every drop that fell upon it.


    His first sign that he was being watched was a pale stag, with glowing blue eyes and a similarly glowing pattern of lines that were akin to a tattoo. It stood in a small clearing, staring at him intently, almost unmoving. The second was the wood-stalker hanging from a branch, also staring at him with its featureless face.


    Wood-stalkers, also known as converted seekers, were any sylvan grove¡¯s basic line forces. Humans, or other races, implanted with a seed akin to that of a parasitic spriggan, a seed which would slowly transform flesh to bark and flexible mycelium, creating a featureless, unintelligent soldier, capable only of following orders. The older and more successful ones would develop intelligence and evolve to take a different form, but those were no longer considered converted. Converted could also be grown directly, though that was a lengthy process.


    He knew not whether the one that now watched him with its featureless face of glowing green moss was being controlled, but it hadn¡¯t attacked him yet, even when he passed below it, so he took that to be a good sign, and moved on. It was only a matter of time before someone came to speak to him. He continued through the forest, enjoying the scenery, noticing the subtle rustling of the foliage as beings flickered to and from. Animals, or something more?


    The question became harder to answer as a heavy mist rolled through the forest, obscuring the forest floor and anything near it. His warg was becoming unsettled. The glow of the moss was dulling, though there was no less of it. The creatures were going quiet. It was an unsettling change in scenery.


    ¡°Dragon Knight¡± said a rumbling voice from somewhere nearby, sparks flew into the air, orange glowing eyes peered at him from an indeterminate distance.


    ¡°Flameroot.¡± He responded.


    ¡°Few know that name, but all who know it are friends.¡± The voice rumbled, far warmer now than before. ¡°Lilypad, please dismiss your mist.¡±


    ¡°I am not quite so trusting as you, one that burns.¡± Said another, far more feminine voice. ¡°What is your purpose here, Dragon knight, and how do you know the charred one¡¯s name?¡± Vines crept up his foot as she spoke, his warg remained untouched, but tensed anyways.


    He chuckled at the attempt at interrogation but answered anyways. ¡°I am not supposed to be here, but the rain and a landslide have forced me off the road, but I would not allow that to halt my journey. As for how I know that name, I reckon he has an inkling.¡±


    ¡°That is not an answer.¡± Said Lilypad. Flameroot, however, had a different response. He slammed the butt of his staff into the ground and a fire illuminated the clearing and dispelled the mist.


    ¡°Please, take your helm off.¡± He asked. David did as he was asked. ¡°Little David? Ethel¡¯s prized nephew? I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re alive!¡± The lumbering Ent closed the distance at an alarming pace and swept him into a hug that made his armor creak and his warg begin to growl.


    ¡°It is good to see you too, Flameroot, but I think you¡¯re alarming my warg, and likely about to start leaving an imprint on my armor.¡±


    ¡°Apologies.¡± Said the Ent, dropping him onto his feet. ¡°You¡¯ve grown mightily, and earned far too many scars for a mage. I suppose hunting monsters is an arduous endeavor. That or... don¡¯t tell me you ended up as another branch-swinger like Steelbark...¡±


    ¡°Mind introducing me, one that burns?¡± Asked the still-unseen other Ent.


    ¡°When you show yourself, Lilypad.¡± He rumbled back.


    ¡°You¡¯ll find, Flameroot, that I¡¯m no such thing. I use plenty of magic in my line of work. I even have a familiar.¡± He stated, calling down his raven, which dove through the canopy to join his pauldrons on his shoulders. ¡°A raven, an interesting choice, wisdom and cunning are not things you lack.¡±


    ¡°Have you considered, O burner of fields, that he didn¡¯t get to choose it? Some of us are spoiled for choice, and others have to work with what they¡¯re given.¡± Said the other as she emerged from the ground before his mount. She was dainty, for an Ent, about a head shorter than him and about his width, instead of branches she possessed a giant Lilypad atop her head, covered in colorful flowers. Her bark, in the few places it was seen, was blue and green like a lake¡¯s water and the surface of her body appeared as if it were made of roots of similar colors. A pair of three-fingered hands immediately set to caressing his warg.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Lilypad.¡± Flameroot acquiesced. ¡°Right then, David this is Lilypad, she¡¯s a lake mandrake. She¡¯s also my current patrol partner. Come on then, lad, the elder wants to speak with you.¡± The Ent led them through the forest and to a familiar clearing, where a familiar Ent stood proudly. Before they could greet each other, however, a booming voice filled the clearing.


    ¡°BOY, IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU ONCE MORE. YOU HAVE GROWN SO MUCH, THOUGH IT SEEMED LIKE YESTERDAY WE LAST SPOKE, AND YOU WERE MUCH SMALLER THEN.¡± Boomed the voice of the Old Oak. ¡°I AM SORRY ABOUT EIDRAHM, HAD THAT FILTHY LIZARD PASSED ABOVE MY FOREST HE WOULD NEVER HAVE ARRIVED.¡±


    ¡°I am aware. But unfortunate though it might be, what occurred so long ago is set in stone, impossible to change. Though I wish I could.¡± David stated.


    ¡°INDEED. I HAVE ACCRUED MANY REGRETS IN MY LIFE, BUT THAT IS NOT A TOPIC TO DISCUSS TODAY.¡± Boomed the tree. ¡°VIGGO INFORMED ME OF YOUR COMING, AND THAT YOU CANNOT STAY, SO I WILL HAVE FLAMEROOT ESCORT YOU TO WHAT REMAINS OF EIDRAHM, WHERE THE NEW ONES BUILD THEIR TOWN. I DO HOPE YOU WILL VISIT AGAIN, SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE.¡±


    ¡°That I will, Old one, I assure you.¡± David stated. ¡°Thank you, and farewell.¡± Flameroot led him away before Steelbark could greet him, Lilypad breaking off to do whatever it is Ents do in the night. They travelled quietly, Flameroot having cast a spell to muffle their steps, and once more stepped onto the path to Eidrahm, as they had once before.


    ¡°This brings memories.¡± Flameroot chuckled. ¡°It is a shame that Ethel could not be here once more, as she was before. Ah... no matter, I will sing a song, to remind us of those days.¡± The Ent began to sing, it was a song that Aunt Ethel had been fond of and had sung as they travelled to the forest and back during his training. It certainly brought forth old memories.


    He could see light further down their path, the flickering of flames at even intervals, likely from braziers, and the glow of distant windows. He could hear the quiet roar of an inn in the evening, though only thanks to his enhanced senses, and the rustling and clinking of an armored patrol somewhere in their vicinity. Flameroot eventually split off to return to the grove, waving farewell, and he soon arrived at the gates to the new town.


    ¡°Who goes there?¡± Demanded one of the guardsmen before the gate.


    ¡°A Dragon Knight, as you ought to know by my armor.¡± He answered.


    ¡°What are-¡± began the same guardsman.


    ¡°Mirva¡¯s sake, man, open the goddamn door!¡± Another exclaimed, rounding on his comrade. ¡°Where do you get off interrogating a goddessdamned Dragon Knight? His business is to slay monsters, we have a monster problem, of course he¡¯ll show up! Now, help us open the goddamn gate.¡±


    ¡°R-Right.¡± Muttered the now thoroughly admonished nervous young guard as he helped push the gates open.


    ¡°Apologies about my junior,¡± said the other guard. ¡°He¡¯s a bit paranoid. Afraid of dopplers and whatnot, to the point he¡¯ll go and overstep his authority. He¡¯d have tried to put you through a runic array of reveal true form, next, then he¡¯d have had you searched by a healer... you get the point. He¡¯s got me at the end of my rope.¡±


    ¡°Paranoia is good, in some lines of work, and only to a certain extent.¡± David responded. ¡°At the end of the day, it is an illness of the mind, and any mind healer worth his salt will be more than willing to help with it. Alternatively, have him transferred to an investigative force; they¡¯ll make good use of his paranoia.¡±


    ¡°Right. Unfortunately, he refuses to get help. I¡¯m hoping we can get him to loosen up a bit and get him drunk, might be able to get him to a healer then.¡± Said the guard.


    ¡°Good luck with that.¡± Said David. ¡°Now, you mentioned a monster problem?¡±


    ¡°Yessir. A wyvern in the mundane woods nearby, and a drake in the hills, officially undetermined variants.¡± Said the guard.


    ¡°And unofficially?¡± David queried.


    ¡°Me and the boys think it''s a flame wyvern. Call it an insight from experience.¡± The guardsman lifted his helm to reveal a burn scar encompassing the left side of his head. ¡°The wyvern has already killed a group of adventurers. The drake is likely also a flame beast, seeing as it likely caused the recent fire in the hills.¡±


    ¡°Yes, those might be correlated.¡± He responded. ¡°I¡¯ll check in at the inn and see what I can do tomorrow. You¡¯ll likely have to wait a few weeks for me to get a team out here to kill the wyvern, unless it turns out to be a youngling like the one I killed for my coming-of-age. I can, however, handle the drake.¡± They said their farewells and he departed to the bustling inn, an inn decorated rather... accurately.


    The Dragon¡¯s Head inn gave the distinct impression that it had been built into a dragon¡¯s skull, with the exterior being an exceptionally accurate marble reconstruction of a sky dragon¡¯s head. The Inn¡¯s menu, along with everything else about it, appeared to be themed around dragons, with their signature platter being called the ¡®Dragon¡¯s Wing Filet¡¯, which he found to not be actual dragon flesh.


    Someone must have noticed his heraldry, because he was soon approached by an adventurer. ¡°Are you here to kill the wyvern?¡± The adventurer asked.


    ¡°Not originally no, and not actually, unless a team of my fellows manifests to aid me in that task.¡± He said as he finished off his platter.


    ¡°It''s a wyvern, not a dragon!¡± Someone heckled.


    ¡°Yes, and? Were it a juvenile I guarantee it¡¯d be dead by now, slain by the adventurers sent out to kill it, but as it is not, that leaves a few possibilities.¡± He began. ¡°One is that your comrades were weak,¡± He spat the word out as if it were something vile. ¡°Another is that the wyvern was in fact multiple wyverns. The last is that it¡¯s an adult, or elder, wyvern. In which case I will require a full team of knights.¡±


    ¡°Assuming it is a common fire wyvern,¡± He continued. ¡°Because, as far as I am aware, there are none, or very few, of the rarer breeds in this region, I believe I can rule out the possibility of it being a pack of wyverns. Thus, it is likely that the wyvern in question is an adult, or older. A Juvenile requires but a single knight, or a team of adventurers, to slay, an adult requires a team of knights, and an elder requires a team, or two, and heavy preparations. And that, is assuming that the beast hasn¡¯t started cultivating.¡±


    The adventurers had fallen quiet as he explained, but the room erupted in uproar when his explanation concluded. Questions, complaints, and statements of doubt flew as the adventurers processed his statement. He did not deign to answer most of their questions, only the good ones.


    ¡°Why do you say that fire wyverns wouldn¡¯t travel in packs?¡± One asked from her place near the hearth.


    ¡°Common fire wyverns, as a rule of thumb, are highly aggressive and territorial, only ever seen together during mating season, after which the male departs, and the female remains to care for their clutch.¡± He explained.


    ¡°What of the drake?¡± asked another from amongst a table of elves.


    ¡°Drakes are far easier to hunt, stemming primarily from their lack of flight, which makes using traps so much easier. They are also, commonly, more brutish, dependent on strength rather than elemental might.¡± He answered.


    ¡°Could the wyvern be a dragon?¡± asked a deep-voiced fellow somewhere near the innkeeper.


    ¡°That is... not altogether impossible. The Ancestor Oak, guardian of the old forest, would never let such a creature fly above it and survive, but it would not be the first time that a dragon bypassed the forest, as your guild master could tell you.¡± He answered.


    ¡°I am the guild master, Dragon Knight, you know of my past?¡± the deep-voiced fellow, now known to be Deagan, asked.


    ¡°Well, old friend, I survived the attack too.¡± He answered.


    ¡°Fergus? No. You¡¯re Leif.¡± Deagan decided.


    ¡°Incorrect, but close.¡± He stated, standing from his place and fully removing his helm. Short tawny hair rustled in its newfound freedom, glowing green sclera-less eyes peered out from a now-scarred face.


    ¡°You¡¯re dead, you died fighting the dragon, we were told there were no survivors.¡± Said Deagan, also standing.


    ¡°Did I die? I¡¯m not sure. But I lived!¡± He exclaimed. ¡°And here I am today.¡± His old friend rushed forward, and he instinctively dodged the charge, letting his old friend crash into the tables.


    ¡°Sorry Honey!¡± Deagan exclaimed in response to a glare from the innkeeper and stood from the splintered mess that was a table. ¡°That never did work on you, David. You know everyone thought you were dead, except for Runa.¡±


    ¡°I figured as much.¡± Is what he¡¯d begun to say, but he stopped short. His amulet had started heating up under his armor. He pried his cuirass off and separated it from the chainmail it had been warming.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Deagan asked, peering at the amulet. His eyes lit up once he recognized it. ¡°Wait, is that the amulet she gave you during the solstice in which you-?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He interrupted. The story Deagan was about to start off on was not one he had any desire to relive, else he might remember a far less pleasant night. ¡°It is heating up.¡±


    ¡°Odd.¡± Deagan stated, moving his hand until it was hovering just off the amulet¡¯s surface. ¡°I can feel it. It almost burns.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± David agreed. ¡°I ought to have someone better equipped to determine whatever power it''s been given examine it. The heat is already fading.¡± He reequipped his gear.


    ¡°I believe that amulet is enchanted with guidance, pair bond, and empower flames, just off first glance.¡± Said a sagely adventurer from the nearest table. ¡°You should get an expert to examine that.¡±


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Thank you, Zeren.¡± Said Deagan.


    ¡°Moving on. I intend to tackle your drake problem tomorrow and scout out the wyvern. Neither was my original reason for showing up, however, that was a need to make you aware that I am, in fact, alive, and live nearby.¡± He stated. ¡°Should you have any monster problems, send notice to fort Shatter-Shield, it is where I command my new chapter.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Said Deagan. ¡°Better to have you close for when your siblings find out, and so I can see the fallout of Runa finding out.¡±


    ¡°What do you expect?¡± David asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. She¡¯s been in a frenzy in recent months, something about having spoken with an oracle, and I have no idea what she¡¯ll be like once she sees you.¡± Deagan said. ¡°Anyways,¡± he gestured to a table. ¡°Tell me everything.¡±


    ¡°Gladly.¡±


    David regaled the gathered adventurers, and his old friend, with a recounting of his adventures since the destruction of his village, and far more recent events. He told them of his training, and the wyvern hunt that nearly killed him. He told them of his time as a squire, of the plagued city of Rammanir, and the ghoul-ridden ruins of Lughmar, and the second dragon hunt he was a part of. And of his early days as a knight, he told the tale of a battle with a griffin, to save a spoiled noble, and of his duel against a troll, in the arena of the Gildarian capitol, and then of the demonic incursion, thwarted alongside his squires.


    He was not some marvelous storyteller, but he still captivated his audience. Then again, they were adventurers, they lived for things like that, and the younger ones yearned for similar adventures. If only they, the younger ones, understood that such adventures would also lead to the loss of many friends and comrades in the line of duty. Perhaps then more of them would choose to be more cautious in their adventures, or simply not undertake any such adventures.


    Eventually, everyone departed, having grown weary with the night¡¯s passage. He was no exception.


    ...................................


    The next day saw him first in the mundane woods near the town, searching for tracks. He traversed the woods swiftly, on foot, though he was certain that a trained ranger could have tracked his foe even faster than him. He was no ranger, however, so he made do.


    He began by locating the place where the, now dead, team of adventurers that had attempted to hunt the wyvern had camped. Once that site was found, he followed the path they¡¯d cleared through the foliage, finding few, but not none, of the major signs of a wyvern in the area. Key amongst those signs, was the presence of another wyvern, a juvenile flame wyvern, clearly killed by a similar beast, though possibly of a different element. There were few creatures in the region that could kill a wyvern, another wyvern being the obvious example.


    The shape of the wound, however, implied either that the scavengers had been at it for a while, or the presence of something a bit different from a wyvern. The peculiar upturning of the ground at intervals around the wyvern certainly helped his forming theory. He continued the search, looking for the slain party, or the site of their battle. He noticed, as he traveled, the unusual lack of other creatures in the area, something normal with the active presence of a predator, but there was no obvious predator in the area.


    Finding the site of the battle only compounded that. There were more of the unusual spots of upturned ground, as well as more obvious marks, as if a creature had been travelling just below its surface. The corpses of the adventurers, decayed as they were, were in quite a state. The adventurers were all missing parts, and several corpses were completely absent, and evidently nowhere near the area, considering that, no matter how hard he searched, they could not be found. Having checked the party register, he knew that this specific party had two halflings, a trio of dwarves, and a human, the dwarves were the most intact, the halflings completely absent, and the human¡¯s lower half was missing in its entirety.


    These factors taken into account; he bolted out of the woods faster than he¡¯d ever run in armor. He knew what it was he was dealing with, and it was considerably worse than any wyvern. It was also not supposed to be there. Meaning that something had pushed it from its home further south, and few indeed were the creatures that could pull that trick off. He beat feet to the town gates and only then did he halt his stride as the guards approached him.


    ¡°What is it?¡± One of them asked, nervous. Few indeed were the days a Dragon Knight panicked; this was one such day.


    ¡°Open the door, get the chief and the guild master, have them meet me in the tavern, have someone fetch all of the adventurers in the town. Now.¡± He ordered. The guards acceded. He ran to the inn, commandeered a table, set out all of his books, checking and rechecking, hoping he was wrong, and started setting out resources. Poisons, Venoms, potions, books, and materials soon covered the table, and another that he¡¯d dragged to its side.


    People had started flooding in as he checked his books and became more and more agitated as he frantically started setting out resources, but they were not yet aware of what they were dealing with. He set aside a copy of ¡®Monstrum: On Exotic Beasts¡¯ as Deagan and what must have been the town chief arrived.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Deagan asked as he arrived before David.


    ¡°A Devourer.¡± Answered David.


    The tension in the room spiked, sharp as knives now. Everyone had at the very least heard of the Devourer, few were the creatures that were so feared as them. Not because of some grand amount of power, but rather because they were a terror, and one not quite so rare as dragons and similar beasts. Certainly rare, but far more common than Dragons.


    ¡°For those who only know the name, and the fear it bears: A Devourer is an abomination, gluttony made manifest in the form of a beast. It swims through solid land like a fish through water. It devours every living thing for miles, moving on only when all that remains is desolation. It detects life energy and seeks it. It will eat anything, be it beast, man, or plant, if it lives it will be consumed. Even wyverns. They possess an extremely strong, scale-like shell, and a stronger bite.¡± He explained.


    ¡°They hunt by leaping from the earth¡¯s embrace, swallowing their prey whole, or ripping massive chunks from them, unfortunately that is the sole moment in which their weakness is displayed. Their belly. We have but one choice, unless you wish to evacuate, we must slay it. Alas, there are few poisons the abominations cannot resist, I have but one of them. It will weaken the beast but not kill it outright.¡±


    ¡°What poison is that?¡± A dwarven adventurer, armored lightly and with many vials of toxins on display, asked.


    ¡°Basilisk venom.¡± David answered, and the dwarf whistled.


    ¡°Tha¡¯s expensive, and powerful.¡± Said the dwarf.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan?¡± asked Deagan.


    ¡°Do we have any earth mages here?¡± David asked. Three hands rose. ¡°We¡¯ll be depending on you to hold the abomination or at least force it aboveground. How many of you can enhance others?¡±


    Five hands rose. A priest of Uldren stepped forth. ¡°I can perform mass enhancement and consume all enhancements on those around me to empower a single person.¡±


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll not be able to reach the abomination¡¯s weakness unless we can flip it over, so we¡¯ll need enhancements to breach its carapace if we cannot exploit its weakness. We will lure it out three days from now, I already have suitable bait. In the meantime, prepare, do not stray too far. Today I will hunt the drake in the hills, and hopefully tame it, it ought to be strong enough to deal significant damage to the abomination. Tomorrow we will practice, and the second day will be spent in preparation; the third day shall be the day of our battle. I will be able to create a far more comprehensive plan once I am aware of your capabilities.¡±


    ¡°How will you tame the drake?¡± a barbarian asked.


    ¡°I am hoping that it is of the more numerous breeds in the region, which are wardrakes of the old kingdom that have long since gone feral, in which case it will submit if I can display sufficient strength. If it is not, then it will still submit, it will simply be far harder to control. Either way, it is not entering the town.¡± David Explained.


    ¡°Can a Devourer be tamed?¡± Someone asked.


    ¡°No.¡± He answered.


    ...........................


    The grassy hills near the town were mostly unchanged from when he¡¯d last been there, still as sparsely wooded and populated as ever before, mostly. There was one that had undergone a few obvious changes, beginning with the crown of jagged stones that rose about its top, and ending with the current ashen greyness of the hill. Closer inspection revealed the remnants of the slaughter. The charred remains of the adventuring party that had been sent after the drake, an obvious result of the fire.


    But what came first, the fire, or their death? For most, he assumed, death had come first, death by dismembering. But some remained intact, but for the charred state they were in. Jagged stone rose from the ground at seemingly random intervals, scorched and shattered at similarly random intervals, could it be?


    Perhaps the fire was a last-ditch effort, not from the drake, but from the party, a large fireball spell set off at close range? The marks of conflict had already been washed or burnt off the ground, so he had only speculation to go off of, but it was an enticing possibility. A stone drake would be an exceptionally valuable tool for his efforts, capable of turning the tide against the Devourer. If he could tame the drake.


    Unfortunately, that was not to be, he soon found the remnants of the drake, missing its head and entire frontal half, and decided to retreat, before the Devourer that had likely killed it returned.


    And so, three days later, he found himself, alongside a good thirty adventurers, standing in a pit, waiting for a single beast to take the bait they¡¯d laid out. ¡°Why, exactly, did you insist that all of us needed to be here?¡± asked an adventurer adjacent to him.


    ¡°This is a very big Devourer, likely an old beast, and they get stronger as they age, like most abominations and magical beasts. Additionally, you are all relatively low level, most of you being below silver. In fact, Deagan and I are the only gold combatants here. You intend to use the dungeon as a grindstone because you¡¯re too low level to handle it, not because you can already beat it.¡± The earth started to rumble as he gave his answer, a sign of the nearing foe. He jumped into the pit.


    An armored fin broke the earth¡¯s surface within the pit, a pair of black horns before it. The ground bulged out. The beast was fast approaching. They only had to wait a minute before it erupted from the ground beneath their bait, engulfing it in a single bite. Spears and Javelins, their throwers empowered by the mages and priests, clattered against the beast¡¯s carapace, doing little against it.


    The beast caught on quickly. It attempted to dive beneath the soil¡¯s surface but found it too tough to break without more time and effort, so it whirled around and charged at a group of adventurers, or at least the wall they stood on, forcing them to scatter to prevent any loss of balance from the impact. He charged the beast, Deagan right behind him, and kneeled midway, arms out to push his friend into the air. Deagan fell upon the beast with crushing might, his hammer doing little to crack the Devourer¡¯s scales.


    ¡°Fucking thing¡¯s tougher than steel!¡± Deagan exclaimed, dodging away from the beast¡¯s head before it could attempt a bite. ¡°I don¡¯t think this is a normal Devourer!¡±


    ¡°No, it is.¡± David said, dodging a spear that had been deflected off of its shell. He drank a strengthening potion and burst forward, stabbing at the beast. Mithril bit into its shell-like scales and the blade left a deep gouge, even as it skidded off the still-moving beast¡¯s carapace. The Devourer¡¯s charge had ceased as it redirected its attention, but its momentum still carried it forward, for it was a massive creature, and it barreled into a wall.


    A zealous spear-wielding fighter ran up to it as it recovered, evidently intending to stab its vulnerable eyes, but underestimated the speed at which it would recover, and was soon missing his lower half. That¡¯s when the ballista they¡¯d prepared took its first shot, though it ought to have been fired well before that. A massive bolt, engraved with runes to enhance its impact, crashed into the beast¡¯s flank, causing its diamond-hard carapace to crack somewhat, though not enough to make any real difference.


    ¡°Attack the cracked parts,¡± He bellowed, charging back into the fray. He placed himself at the beast¡¯s shattered side and stabbed again, right between the cracks, and dodged away. Deagan rushed up and hammered the shattered area with a mana-charged blow. ¡°We need to clear the way for the next bolt!¡±


    ¡°Will we even manage that?¡± Deagan yelled as they dodged below a whip-like lash of its tail.


    ¡°Certainly, if the beast keeps getting distracted by your adventurers throwing spears and javelins at it.¡± Said David, evading a swipe of the beast¡¯s clawed Wyvern-like front legs to rush in and stab it again. ¡°Besides, its weakened, the poison¡¯s doing wonders.¡±


    ¡°This is it weakened?!¡± His friend roared, hammering the shattered scales once more, and sending shards flying.


    ¡°Yes.¡± He responded as he took Deagan¡¯s place at the beast¡¯s shattered side. The shattered scales were by now falling apart, and his blade had a clear way through. The lightning within it roared to life, and he stabbed. He fed Qi into the blade, all that he¡¯d gathered in the past few days, not enough to bite into his core¡¯s third layer. The lightning ripped through the beast¡¯s body, as it had through the basilisk¡¯s own. It was nowhere near as effective as it had been then.


    The beast fought through the pain quickly enough, and he was forced to dodge away even as it whirled to try to bite him. Fortunately, in doing so it exposed its shattered flank to Deagan, who hammered into it once more. It reared back in pain before it could bite him, which it would have otherwise. A whistle sounded out from the walls.


    ¡°NOW!¡± Deagan bellowed, and another bolt flew, alongside another barrage of spears and javelins. The bolt struck its mark and pinned the beast to the ground; it roared in pain, and an arrow struck its exposed throat, a stone spike lanced from below and through its back, just below one of the frontal legs. The beast fell, dead or unconscious.


    Cheers rang out through the pit, and he approached the fallen Devourer. His blade sunk into the soft scales on the underside of the beast¡¯s neck, and he slit it. ¡°Someone better come help me get its head off.¡± He stated, and soon enough, its head was off, having required a group effort to remove. ¡°Mount it as a trophy for the guild hall.¡± he told Deagan as he got to work removing the beast¡¯s heart.


    ¡°You don¡¯t normally do all the harvesting yourself, do you?¡± Deagan asked.


    ¡°No, only on the field.¡± David stated. ¡°When we kill something this big, we normally let a specialist harvesting team have at it. When we¡¯re in active combat, or too far to get a team out to the corpse, we just take the most valuable or needed parts. In this case, however, I¡¯ll leave the looting to your guild, I¡¯m just confirming the kill.¡±


    ¡°I assume you¡¯ll want an in for your trainees?¡± Deagan asked.


    ¡°Correct.¡± He answered. He dumped the beast¡¯s massive heart into a barrel that¡¯d been brought out. ¡°For services rendered, I want your guild to be willing to accept my recruits as guildmembers and allow them to delve dungeons under your guild¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°Other guilds don¡¯t accept you?¡± Deagan asked. ¡°It seems to me like having dragon knights among your number would be a great honor.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He began. ¡°Most guilds don¡¯t accept us dragon knights. Most guilds believe us to be arrogant pricks who look down on them all and steal their non-delving contracts, and as such, tend to treat us like rival guildmembers, rather than independent agents who might join theirs. This, of course, makes getting our recruits field training that much more difficult, and dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I assume they don¡¯t see the benefit in having extremely well-trained guildmembers who are practically guaranteed to go further than others and bring out more resources?¡± Deagan asked.


    ¡°Oh, they see the benefit, they just don¡¯t want to alienate the ¡®proud bold Adventurer¡¯ types.¡± David explained. ¡°After all, those are the most prominent and numerous adventurers in their guilds. They¡¯d see a loss in revenue from delving up until they trained some fresh talented adventurers, and even then, they¡¯d be receiving support from the Order to mitigate the damage and hasten their growth.¡±


    ¡°Our growth is in your favor because you could use our expansion as a way of finding new recruits and cultivating talent.¡± Deagan surmised. ¡°It also reduces the number of chaff contracts around because our guildmembers can undertake them and succeed, so you¡¯ll encourage the growth of our guild.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± He agreed, and began to cut into the beast again, now searching for its second heart. ¡°Now, I know the past few days have been all old stories, fierce fights, and comely adventurer maidens, but the real reason I came here was to get your support, not to notify you of my continued existence.¡±


    ¡°This fight has served you well, then, because you¡¯ve earned the entire guild¡¯s support.¡± Deagan declared. ¡°Your recruits will always have a place in the guild¡¯s membership. Now, what would be a proper reward for these adventurers?¡±


    ¡°A scale for each of them, and a fang for each of the mages and priests.¡± Said David, cutting through a membrane in his way. ¡°Each scale, the size of a man¡¯s hand on a normal devourer, is worth sixty gold, and each fang is worth five hundred. For this beast, I expect each scale to be closer to two hundred and each fang closer to a platinum.¡± He made sure to speak extra loudly, so they could all hear him.


    ¡°That, is a lot of money.¡± Deagan said, astounded.


    ¡°Yes, well, each scale is about as tough as blacksteel, though some call them diamond scales, and each fang is just as tough, and an exceptional channel for magic. Although... the beast itself doesn¡¯t use much magic.¡± He said, before remembering something important. ¡°You need to claim the Crimson Fjord Caldera.¡± he said abruptly.


    ¡°Claim it?¡± said a bemused Deagan.


    ¡°It is a dungeon, but it has no guild. Yours is close and now allied to my chapter of the order, so if you claim the caldera, I can have my recruits police it until you can establish a branch, and then you can set up delves and claim revenue from it.¡± He explained as he cut the arteries connected to the heart. He took a bottle and filled it with the heart¡¯s blood while he was at it.


    ¡°Why has nobody done this yet?¡± Deagan asked, moving a barrel closer to David so he could store the second heart.


    ¡°Because the Caldera, old friend, is, simply put ¡®dangerous as fuck¡¯.¡± He said as he began cleaning his gauntlets off with his canteen. ¡°It is on a world vein, so it produces an absurd number of monsters, those in the deeper levels being very powerful, but regulating themselves, and the ones on the surface overrunning the place. My cadets recently performed a culling of the surface monsters, your adventurers should also be able to manage it, with sufficient training and experience from delving.¡±


    ¡°Guild master.¡± Greeted a herald. ¡°Sir Knight, there is an Ursid here, she was searching for you -.¡± The herald¡¯s sentence was cut short by Astrid barging past him and pushing him aside.


    ¡°Had I known you were leaving to fight a devourer, my thane, I would never have allowed you to leave.¡± She declared coldly as she stepped up to him.


    ¡°Astrid, I did not know I was leaving to fight a devourer, the devourer was not a factor until the day after I arrived, when I discovered there was a devourer in the area.¡± He explained calmly, as if he¡¯d not just been fighting a beast that ate wyverns as a regularity and had absolutely exhausted him. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m not even wounded, I¡¯ve come out of other fights worse than this.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And what, my thane, motivated you to battle the beast with a cadre of wannabe adventurers and their babysitter?¡± she asked, stepping closer. He could already hear the complaints that comment elicited from some of the adventurers and resisted the urge to chuckle at them, mirth would only make his situation worse.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t just allow them to die, Astrid, and I knew they wouldn¡¯t evacuate, so I did my duty as thane and dragon knight both.¡± He responded, her expression softened.


    ¡°I know, my thane, but you¡¯re more important than-¡± she said softly.


    ¡°Brother, you never told me you had a wife!¡± Deagan interrupted, boisterous as always, and obviously heckling him.


    He laughed. ¡°A wife? Deagan, this is my huscarl, not my wife¡±. Said Huscarl had pointedly turned away.


    ¡°Well, whoever chose her for the role picked well, I¡¯ll say that much. You bicker like lovers, and you¡¯ve only known each other for such a short time!¡± Deagan laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll be seeing nephews before long!¡± The adventurers around them chuckled.


    ¡°Please I¡¯ve known her for less than a month, I¡¯m certainly not magnetic enough to have made her fall for my dashing countenance already.¡± David chuckled. He certainly didn¡¯t consider himself ¡®dashing¡¯, not with the scars he¡¯d earned and the monochromatic glowing green eyes that had replaced his once normal eyes.


    ¡°You say that, but you ought to remember that the same thing happened with Runa, the two of you took less than a week to become inseparable.¡± Said Deagan, chuckling softly at the memory. Something in David raged at it, at the mere memory of his days with her, it was an unsettling resonance that he¡¯d carried with him since he¡¯d met his fondest friend, and one he ought to speak to an expert about. Either way, that was a topic that he did not wish to speak to his friend about, not now.


    ¡°You know, why is it that you call me brother, was the blood oath not dissolved when I ¡®died¡¯?¡± David asked, obviously trying to change the topic.


    ¡°Trying to change the topic, eh? I guess there really is something there, did you want to keep it hidden?¡± Deagan needled.


    David sighed.

 Rewrite 1 Prologue: [Insert Title Here]

    Harald Agnarsson, knight of the chapter of Fan¡¯gshuur Bastion, or Fangbreak, as it is known in the common tongue, was on a mission. He was a Venator Cavalier, a monster hunter, like all other members of his order, though they were famed specifically as dragon hunters, for there are no fiercer beasts. His status as a member of the order brought with it great prestige, and responsibilities. One of those responsibilities was to hunt the monsters that plague the world.


    His latest mission took him to the Gildar Kingdom, at the request of a noble. The noble, a Viscount, had a bit of a monster problem, to the point entire villages were disappearing. He had requested aid from his king, who had sent a battalion of his personal monster hunters to their death. Not a single one of the fools had returned alive.


    Thus, of course, the logical solution to his problems was to request aid from... adventurers. He had requested aid from adventurers, perhaps under the misguided belief that the dragon knights would be expensive for his king to hire. They too, had failed. Only then had the viscount requested the order¡¯s aid. Harald and his squires had been the response.


    They were to scout the land for any clues as to what their quarry might be. Their first destination; a village known as Cederburg, the place the adventurers had first gathered.


    ¡°You know, sir, I still don¡¯t understand why the good viscount decided to hire adventurers over us.¡± Said Roderick, his half-elf squire. He was currently sitting atop his horse, even though they¡¯d stopped for a break, whilst Harald and Olga, the other squire, ate some trail rations.


    ¡°Hiring adventurers was not a bad idea... or it wouldn¡¯t have been where it not for the lack of information.¡± Harald began. ¡°Adventurers are capable, they probably do more combat than even we do, thanks to their dungeon delving, and they are highly skilled. They are not as well-trained as we are, but many are more experienced in combat. The problem, however, lies in that those are the higher echelons of adventurers.¡±


    ¡°The Adventurers divide themselves into ranks. At the bottom, we have copper, individuals who¡¯ve yet to prove themselves, or have low magical power. Iron is the next step up, somewhat proven in battle, slightly higher magical power, not much of a change, what you count as. Then, there is silver, median magical power, little ability to project it passively, fairly experienced. Then gold, significant increase in power, near doubling, dedicated to their work and far more experienced, and very lucky.¡± Harald continued before he was interrupted.


    ¡°You¡¯re a gold, then?¡± Olga asked, the half giant reclining on a tree as she listened.


    ¡°Low gold, but yes.¡± Harald stated. ¡°Above gold, there is platinum, three times the power of an average gold, these are the ¡®old monsters¡¯, guildmasters, and prodigies that you call in when you really want something dead. Above them, theoretically, is electrum, which is all the way up to a domain, which is an ability to fully express that power as both a pressure, or aura, like golds and platinums can, and as a sort of way of altering reality around you, somewhat. And even more theoretically, there''s mithril rank, high above the rest, it is also known as the ascension rank, at which point you become a god.¡±


    ¡°What happened here, is simple. The Viscount posted a request to the guilds, mentioning missing villages and... little else. There was no information other than that. The more experienced adventurers look at a request like that and go ¡®not worth my time¡¯, because it¡¯s not. A request like that could be anything, from a legendary monster that decided to climb out from a dungeon¡¯s depths to a simple ghoul nest that some irons could deal with.¡±


    ¡°Evidently, it¡¯s not the latter, sir, seeing as the adventurers that accepted this request were silvers, irons, and coppers.¡± Roderick stated.


    ¡°Evidently.¡± Harald agreed, standing up and dusting off his armor. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get going, we want to get to the village before nightfall.¡± Harald got back on his horse; Olga got back on her giant boar, and they set back onto the trail.


    It was a good day for journeying. The trees were proud and tall, the leaves whispered softly, and the sky was clear and bright. A very good day. The fact that there were no interruptions to their travels from any bandits or creatures certainly helped to keep that opinion. Even as the sun began to fall, there were no signs of monsters or beasts, just the crisp winter wind and good conversation.


    They arrived at a mostly empty inn and tavern. Calm voices and empty seats where there should have been riotous laughter, lively conversation, and plenty of people made the tavern feel rather eerie. Still, it had everything else you¡¯d expect of a tavern. Some folk sat around a table playing dice, a fellow dressed in a black hood and cloak sat in the darkest corner of the tavern, smoking a pipe, and what must have been the village beauty, already flirting with Roderick. Lucky bastard.


    ¡°Right, Roderick, go and find us a table while Olga hitches the mounts, I¡¯ll go talk to the Innkeeper.¡± Harald ordered, breaking away from his squires.


    The innkeeper, a portly old man, sighed somberly as Harald approached. ¡°More young adventurers going to their deaths... How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Three rooms and the tavern¡¯s specialty for three, if you would.¡± Said Harald.


    ¡°Very good, that¡¯ll be a silver and three coppers.¡± Said the innkeeper, Harald placed down two silver coins. The somber expression on his face lifted considerably when he saw the insignia on them ¡°You¡¯re a dragon knight.¡±


    ¡°I am, the two I came in with are my squires.¡± Harald stated. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where the adventurers that gathered here decided to go, would you?¡±


    ¡°Tillega. One of the first villages to disappear. The most recent is Osterville, but I figure that could just be monsters leaking out from the Crimson Fjord.¡± The innkeeper stated. ¡°Here¡¯s the keys to your rooms.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I appreciate the information.¡± Harald said, departing for his table and watching a group of six hooded individuals enter the Inn. He didn¡¯t think there were enough dark corners in the tavern for all of them.


    He joined his squires, plus village beauty, in conversation as they waited for their meals and drinks to arrive and basked in the nights¡¯ good quality. A quality that was promptly ruined the moment he took a sip of his drink. It was poisoned. Likely by one of the hooded figures, one who had bumped into the tavern lass who had delivered their drinks. It was not the first time such a thing had happened.


    He kept his expression controlled, unchanged from what it¡¯d been before he took a sip, even as he considered what he¡¯d do to his would-be poisoners. First, he¡¯d have to draw the assassins out, one way or another... and he already knew exactly how he¡¯d do that.


    ¡°I need some air.¡± He announced to his group, standing up abruptly and departing the tavern. He waited behind the stables for his suspicions to be confirmed. The hooded figures emerged from the tavern shortly. He walked into the forest, making sure to make an obvious trail deep into it, then he hid behind a thick tree. The assassins followed his trail, further confirming his suspicions.


    ¡°The trail ends here.¡± One of the assassins, evidently not human, hissed as they reached the trail¡¯s end, just a few meters from his tree. ¡°Search! He must be nearby.¡±


    They burst into motion, searching their surroundings, and he bid his time. The approach of one of the assassins was the cue he needed. They hadn¡¯t seen him, not even as he grabbed one of their comrades and shoved a dirk into his heart. He sat the corpse on the tree¡¯s root and moved, a dagger in each hand. He severed one¡¯s carotid at the neck as he passed, another¡¯s right wrist was slit, alas his thrown dagger failed to wound any, as it was parried by its target, lodging in a tree.


    He pulled his seax from its sheath. The weapon still brought memories of his past, even though it had changed so much in the time since it first came into his possession. The greatest change was obtained when he killed the dragon that had set him on his path, the blade¡¯s once silvery metal having gained lightning-like blue streaks. All but that were purely cosmetic, that one let it be wreathed in lightning.


    He deflected a descending blade upwards, bringing his own down with the deflection¡¯s momentum. It cut into his foe¡¯s neck, and the assassin dropped with a wet gurgle as its neckbone was severed. The remaining assassin dropped from above, trying to get at his head, he sidestepped and took the assassin¡¯s head off with a single blow.


    ¡°Coppers, you¡¯d think assassins would be smart enough to know when a contract is infeasible.¡± He muttered as he retrieved his dagger. He returned to the tavern with nary a glance towards the corpses.


    ¡°Another assassination attempt, sir?¡± Roderick asked upon Harald¡¯s return to the table.


    ¡°Yes. Level tens.¡± Harald stated. ¡°One of these days, they¡¯ll send someone competent, and I¡¯ll finally find out who it is that wants me dead so much.¡±


    ¡°If I may ask, which poison did they try this time?¡± Roderick asked. Over the past years, Harald had rapidly developed a resistance or outright immunity to many poisons and learned to identify them. He owed it primarily to the order¡¯s toxin training, but also to how often he got poisoned by would-be assassins.


    ¡°Noxious Lotus. You¡¯d think they¡¯d have figured out that that one doesn¡¯t work on me, seeing as it hasn¡¯t worked the past thirteen times it¡¯s been used.¡± Harald shrugged. It was likely that the groups of assassins all belonged to different organizations, seeing as the different groups were liable to try the same strategies unless they shared knowledge.


    ¡°Another gold for me, Olga ma¡¯am.¡± Roderick said, and Olga flicked him a gold coin. ¡°Were they at least skilled fighters, sir?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, the gulf between us is too vast, and I didn¡¯t have to go all out because I caught them off guard. Honestly, all things considered, they were probably fresh recruits for whichever organization they are a part of.¡± He concluded. ¡°Anyways, we ride out for Osterville tomorrow morning, so use the chance to rest while you have it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s in Osterville?¡± Olga asked. ¡°I heard it¡¯s close to the bloody caldera, are we going there?¡±


    ¡°No. Osterville is one of the most recent mass disappearances.¡± He said as he stood. ¡°I¡¯m going to my room; I¡¯ll see both of you in the morning.¡±


    They departed early next morning with utmost haste, temporarily held back only by a desire for breakfast. Once that was fulfilled, they set out with their steeds at a gallop, in hopes of not letting their quarry get too far ahead. They passed through several deserted villages on their way to their destination, never finding any trace of a scuffle.


    ¡°It¡¯s like they all up and decided to leave...¡± Olga said as they passed through one such village.


    ¡°With all due respect, Lady Olga, they would not have left their belongings if they had left of their own will.¡± Said Roderick. ¡°Not unless they were in quite the panic.¡±


    Their journey continued perfectly from there, but Harald couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There was no resistance, the wildlife was cowed, even the bears refused to so much as look at them. There was no birdsong, as if the birds were constantly hiding from some predator or another. The very wind seemed ominous, whispering doom in their ears. It was a drastic change from the previous day¡¯s ambiance.


    The first signs of a scuffle consisted of a jumble of footprints and blood splatters in the forest near their destination, a slight detour from it, really. It was fortunate they¡¯d taken that detour, however. Weapons and armor lay bloodied and discarded within the circle of prints that had once been a battle formation. There were no signs that the corpses had been dragged away, though there were imprints of bodies on the ground.


    There were footprints leading away from the battlefield. They chose to follow one trail. What they found at the end of it was worse than they could have imagined.


    ¡°What the fuck is that?¡± Olga asked at the sight of the scene before them. Harald, too, had asked that question and started going over what he knew in search of an answer. The scene before them was a nightmare, but the monster orchestrating it was perhaps worse than that. He recognized it from the order¡¯s tomes, and knew that its presence was a herald of worse to come.


    They looked upon an open cavern, a yawning hole in a hill, packed full of cages holding people, and guarded by a true monster, a demon. More specifically, a humanlike demon that radiated charisma and attraction, a seducer. There were several variations of seducers, succubi, incubi, and lilitu were just the most common, fortunately it appeared that the demon before them was just an incubus. He could deal with that. He was not so certain he could deal with whichever demon this one was in service to.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Olga, cast harden will on us. Roderick, use the portal scroll, get back to fangbreak, tell them we have a demon infestation. Likely a breach.¡± Harald ordered. He dismounted and began to gather his equipment, searching for anything that could help against a demon. He felt the cool caress of magic reinforcing his willpower and saw Roderick teleport away in a flash of light. He expected that reinforcements would take some time to arrive.


    ¡°Alright, looks like the incubus has some people in cages, we¡¯re not going to let that continue. Olga, I want you to support me from afar with your magic, use frost spells primarily.¡± He ordered and began to descend the hill they were on.


    ¡°You expect to face more than the single demon?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Demons never fight alone, nor do they fight fairly. I have never fought them before, but I know this for a fact. It is the one thing every single book in the Fangbreak library that mentioned them agreed on.¡± He said as he unsheathed his seax and readied his shield, cautiously approaching the demon. He did not run, he kept his shield at the ready and his senses honed, searching for an ambush and continually approaching his target.


    The demon noticed his approach and stood from its chair, pulling a scimitar from its hip, and raising it towards him, in doing so it displayed a wound upon its hip, a weakness. He squashed the little bit of sympathy that reared its head at that. He knew the demon was sapient, he knew it was a he, and something bid he have compassion for it, but he refused to see the demon as anything other than a pest to be exterminated. He didn¡¯t stop the sneer that overtook his features when it began to speak, the demon certainly noticed it, seeing as he hadn¡¯t kept his helmet on.


    ¡°-Have you been listening to anything I said, mortal?! Heed my demands, kneel!¡± The demon continued, having apparently been screaming at him since it stood. Harald felt a wave of charisma magic slam into him as the demon stepped towards him. The foul manipulative magic slid off of the shield that was his will and the demon lunged, closing the distance between them at great speed, aiming to stab Harald.


    He batted the telegraphed strike aside with his sword and slammed his shield into the incubus, pushing him back. A spike of ice shot over his head and stabbed the incubus in the shoulder, it dropped the scimitar. It was his turn to lunge; to conclude their exchange of blows. He smacked the incubus with his shield, letting the incubus stumble back from the impact, and then stabbed it through the heart. The demon spent its final seconds flailing at his sword¡¯s end.


    ¡°Weak.¡± He spat. ¡°Not a very high-ranking demon. Probably just some demon lord¡¯s spoiled brat, or a random grunt in his army.¡± At that, he heard a wheezing laugh from one of the cages, and immediately knew why. A heavily wounded lizard-kin lay upon the floor of the cage, garbed in the classic armor of the Shallarn demon hunters.


    ¡°A dragon knight...¡± The injured lizardman wheezed. ¡°Oh, that demoness is... so fucked now. This was her worst case...¡± Harald approached the lizard¡¯s cage, breaking the door open with a shield slam. He slipped a healing tonic from his pouch and kneeled.


    ¡°Drink¡± he ordered, offering the Lizardman the uncorked tonic. The lizard obliged. The lizard was old, that much was evident. His scales were a dull green, and the ridges that served as his brows, and those that descended towards his back, had grown smooth where once they¡¯d have been sharpish. He likely wouldn¡¯t survive his wounds without the tonic.


    ¡°Thank you, dragon knight.¡± the lizardman said after his wounds had healed and he had stood and stretched. ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want information?¡±


    ¡°I will, yes.¡± Said Harald. ¡°But first, introductions. I am Harald Agnarsson, of Fangbreak. My companion over there...¡± He gestured towards Olga. ¡°Is one of my squires, Olga Gunarsdottr.¡±


    ¡°Helor of Dargatz, demon hunter.¡± The lizard said. ¡°I was passing through this land when I felt demonic energy and chose to investigate. I found a demon baroness and her retinue. She¡¯s stronger than I am, level seventy, I¡¯m at fifty-seven. Her retinue was nothing special.¡±


    ¡°I assume you attempted an assassination, which she survived, and then she chose to hand you to a low-ranked demon instead of keeping you close. Makes sense, she likely knew you wouldn¡¯t be recovering and wouldn¡¯t be a threat, so she left you with one of her weakest, to die.¡± Harald deduced. He gestured for the arriving Olga to liberate the caged people.


    ¡°Actually, she repeatedly stated that she wanted me kept alive. Likely to torture me later.¡± said the lizardman. ¡°I assume you intend to slay her?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Harald responded. ¡°I intended to wait for the others to get here, but I assume that she intends to capture as many people as she can and then return to whichever territory of the Pit she originates from. Where she can sell them as slaves. If she feels harried, she may yet choose to hasten her return, I cannot allow that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Neither can I, may I join you?¡± The lizardman asked.


    ¡°You have your skills and your equipment, seeing as they left it on you, and you¡¯re trained to kill demons. I see no reason to say no.¡± Harald said. They sent the rescued civilians and adventurers on their way and departed in search of the demonic baroness.


    They didn¡¯t have to search long, Helor had a skill that allowed him to detect demonic energy, and the baroness was an impressive repository of it. She had made a big mistake, choosing to leave members of her retinue behind at intervals to guard her captives. The result of this mistake; she¡¯d left herself practically unguarded. Her sole guards were the imps she was using as infantry, and these weren¡¯t very strong imps.


    They ran ahead and prepared an ambush. Olga would cast her Polar Storm spell, to whittle away at the imps. Helor would rain arrows from a distance, until Harald engaged the demoness. Harald would charge through the polar storm and to the center of their formation, where the baroness was commanding from. When he engaged the baroness, Helor would flank and join the fight.


    The start went off without a hitch. Olga¡¯s Polar Storm engulfed the entirety of the Imp battalion¡¯s front ranks. The demons started falling like flies, weak as they were. He slammed his helmet onto his head, readied his shield, and prepared to charge, empowering his muscles with mana. He burst into motion, running through a tree and into the storm, and through it. Imp after imp was knocked aside as he charged through their lines.


    Those he hit directly would never get up again. He charged until he bashed into the demonic baroness, sending her sprawling, though she recovered quickly. ¡°A dragon knight! I know a few demons who¡¯ve always wanted one of you, you¡¯ll fetch a high price indeed!¡± Said the demoness, a succubus, its charisma magic was already brushing past his shielding willpower, searching for a crack to exploit. His training demanded that he cease to see the demon as a person, and more as an object, as that would help resist the charisma, so he shifted his mentality and embraced his training, but not before he gave his response.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never get that chance, demoness. I don¡¯t intend to let you return to the Pit of the Abyss, you marched into this realm; you will die in this realm.¡± Harald declared as he dashed forward with a stab at the demon¡¯s throat. The demon deflected; Harald blocked the retaliation, the impact on his shield sent shivers down his arm.


    The demon attacked with its glaive, unleashing a skillful flurry of blows. Harald blocked them all, barely. His mana was steadily dropping from his enhancement, but he had time. His counterattacks were deflected again and again, but he had a plan. His blade had gained an enchantment when he slew his first dragon with it, and he was going to use it fully. With but a thought, the drain on his mana intensified, and the blade became wreathed in crackling thunder.


    His next attack, though blocked, caused the demon to let lose a cry of pain rivaling a Banshee¡¯s own as lightning flooded through her body. Nearby Imps clutched their hands to their ears in pain. His own ears began to hurt, too, but it did not seem to impede Helor, who dashed in behind the demon, stabbing at her neck. But the demon whirled, dodging the attack and bringing its glaive up in a brutal cut, decapitating Helor.


    Harald saw red, the Northman''s blood-rage, that gift which all sons and daughters of the north carry, awakened.  A badly deflected slash of the glaive, now glowing faintly, bit into his leg, cutting through his armor. He felt his armor strain as if his muscles were growing beneath it, likely a figment of his imagination. He heard the cawing of a flock of ravens, flying over the battlefield; death¡¯s heralds watching as he blocked cut after cut, and the demon grew faster, and sloppier, with every attack.


    They knew as well as he did that only one would survive.


    A stab went through his shield, cutting into his arm. He roared in pain and fury and stabbed forward, pouring more power into his weapon, a storm within a blade. The demon dodged, the blade¡¯s energy unleashed in an electric arc that burnt at it, charring through the enchanted robe it¡¯d been wearing, and charring the skin of its left arm, though it was still usable.


    The glaive¡¯s blade descended from above and Harald dodged, throwing the remnants of his shield at the demon as he did so. A spell began to build in his left hand. He stabbed forward again, the demon tried to dodge. it met a wall of ice, rather than empty air. His sword cut into its torso, stabbing through where a kidney would be on a human. But the demon dodged the pinning attack, dodging away from the blade and forcing it to cut out of the demon.


    A blast of magic sent Harald flying, hurtling into a small group of imps, who found themselves crushed beneath his bulk by his momentum. He recovered in time to receive a beam of flame to the chest, a beam which rapidly began to melt into his cuirass. Harald threw his seax, empowering it once more, the blade cut through the demon¡¯s arm, severing its forearm. The spell cut off and the demon shrieked in pain once more.


    He took a brief moment to assess himself before he approached his foe. His cuirass was ruined, and he¡¯d definitely have a new scar, but he was otherwise fine. The same would not be true for the demon, once he was done with it. He released the spell he¡¯d been holding, a beam of arcane thunder cutting through the night, blasting the pitiful demoness into the ice wall. She did not recover.


    He marched forward, drawing one of his dirks as he approached his fallen enemy. The ice had shattered from the impact, but still the demoness stirred. He felt her probing still at his mind, his willpower, and she¡¯d now found a crack, it appeared.


    He felt charisma magic slam into him like a boulder, his movements forced to slow down as felt a sudden reluctance to attack the demoness. The demoness¡¯ form twisted and morphed, her features changing uncontrollably as she looked for a form to fully leverage her magic with from within his empty memories. He raised his blade to stab, fully prepared to eliminate the demoness even past the effects of her magic, and then she found a form. For a brief moment, too fast to process, the demoness seemed to begin to shift fully, and his movements stopped completely as the magic became chains that held him back from acting. Then the moment fled, and his blade descended.


    He collapsed onto a boulder of ice, his body failing in a brief moment of exhaustion. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, his heart pounded furiously, and his mind burned from the exhaustion of having resisted that much charisma magic. He lay there for an unidentifiable amount of time, his mind whirling from the effort, and yet working overtime as he tried to decipher what form the demoness had been trying to take. ¡°Thank you.¡± He said to Olga, who¡¯d arrived at his side unnoticed.


    ¡°For what?¡± She asked.


    ¡°For assisting me in the battle. I don¡¯t think I would¡¯ve been able to do it by myself.¡± He spoke.


    ¡°I was merely doing my duty.¡± Olga stated, somewhat befuddled by his statement of thanks.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all?¡± Harald asked. ¡°We still deserve thanks for the service we provide.¡± Olga did not answer, her eyes drawn to the skies. He soon saw why.


    A raven landed before him; his sword clutched in its talons. It was a very large raven, larger than even the eagles of Fangbreak mountain. It cawed at him, as if asking a question, and hopped up and onto his lap with a brief flap of its wings, there it left his blade, and looked up. Its pale feathers rustled as it cocked its head, questioning. Magic thrummed for a brief instance, and he felt something new.


    He felt a kinship; a bond with the raven, like that with a familiar or summoned creature. The Raven hopped onto his shoulder, and he took the time to assess it. Its beak was longer and wider, and the edges were jagged, forming protrusions akin to fangs or serrated teeth. The beak and talons had a metallic sheen, like a blade. The raven¡¯s feathers were nothing special, pale as the snow, certainly, but nothing out of the ordinary.


    It was the eyes that most gave him pause. Black eyes with an emerald shine, a glow, that seemed to hold boundless intelligence. Not that said intelligence was being used much. Not even by the beast¡¯s smaller brethren, who¡¯d already descended upon the battlefield to pick apart the corpses. Perhaps this was one of Uldren¡¯s birds, those which watched the worthy and the wise, and were said to carry knowledge to him.


    No, they were a myth, and even if they weren¡¯t, he doubted one would be bound like this, especially to him. The demons, however, were most certainly not a myth, no, they were a problem that he had to deal with, and he was certain that there were still more in the area. He steeled his resolve and stood, ready to finish what he started.


    He re-equipped his helm and looked to his squire, who stood at the ready. ¡°Olga, give me a health potion, take a mana potion, we¡¯ll go wipe out what remains of the demons, then teleport back and let the others deal with the cleanup.¡± His wounds knit together in minutes upon taking the health potion, and they set out to finish the job.


    ..................


    It took three days to track and destroy all of the demons, and by that time, their reinforcements had arrived. They¡¯d arrived far faster than expected, having chosen to fly out on wyverns. Conveniently, they¡¯d chosen to land upon the obvious battlefield, which Harald and Olga had returned to by then.


    A procession of knights now approached their position at the edge of the battlefield, near a cave where Olga had chosen to store the frozen remains of the demonic baroness. The knight at their head was one that Harald would recognize anywhere, and one of the few of them who had battled demons before.


    He recognized them all. One was Irvendael, the elven knight he¡¯d apprenticed under. Another was Tomasz Varen, a knight from the other side of the continent who¡¯d been his instructor as a recruit. The last was Grimbolt Curtis, a dwarven knight who¡¯d been serving for longer than Harald had been alive and had also served as an instructor whenever other knights were unavailable. ¡°Knight-Captain Irvendael. Knights Varen and Curtis.¡± He greeted. ¡°It is a pleasure to see you all here.¡±


    ¡°You look like shit.¡± Irvendael deadpanned by way of greeting. It was a greeting that had become a bit of an inside joke between them during his squireship, as those had been the first words they''d said to each other, and were repeated many, many times, as they both tended to get roughed up quite often.


    ¡°Good to see you too, teacher. You know, I¡¯ve spent three days killing demons out here in the wild, and I still don¡¯t look half as bad as you did after a visit to Samara.¡± Said Harald, referencing his teacher''s old paramour. The woman had somehow managed to rough him up worse than a troll had, and she wasn''t even a warrior. ¡°Anyways, it¡¯s about time you got here, I found the gate but-¡±


    ¡°The entire invasion, boy, you were only supposed to scout!¡± Curtis interrupted angrily. The dwarven knight had always been far too inflexible, in Harald¡¯s opinion, and far too prone to outbursts of rage.


    ¡°Yes, those were our orders, but the situation did not permit that.¡± Began Harald. ¡°The demon baroness, whose remnants are in that cave, was soon going to begin a retreat to the pit, taking all of the civilians she¡¯d captured with her. I could not allow that to happen. She was an exceptionally tough fight, I nearly lost.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t, the demons are dead, and you remain in one piece. This is good, no matter Curtis¡¯ objections.¡± Spoke the ever-blunt Varen. ¡°You did well. Return to Fangbreak, we will complete the cleanup.¡±.


    Fangbreak welcomed their return with open arms, as always.

 Rewrite 1 Chapter 1: Fangbreak

    Teleporting is an arduous process, when done through scrolls. It is a complete dissolution of the mind and body, which are turned into mana and hurled to their destination, then reconstituted. Again, an arduous process. It was quite different from a portal, which required but a step, and teleporting always left him disoriented.


    That disorientation could be used by both his enemies, and, in this case, his comrades. His arrival in Fangbreak quickly became a demonstration of this, as he and his squire were swarmed by other knights and carried away from the arrival platform, and into the fortress¡¯s medical pavilion, where the healers did their work. There, they were separated, carried off in different directions based on the seeming severity of their injuries, healed though they might be.


    He himself was carried into the pavilion''s innermost sanctum, where life mana flowed freely, and the healers could best make use of it. There, a team of healers stripped him out of his armor and looked him over, searching for flaws in his healing, and for untended wounds. They ignored his protests and declarations of wholeness, searching also for illnesses and, with the aid of a priest, demonic taint. Much to their chagrin, there were no wounds, untreated or improperly healed, for them to tend to, nor were there any illnesses, curses, or any trace of demonic taint. A waste of their ever-so-valuable time, one of them had called it.


    They released him promptly, though without his armor and less the glaive he¡¯d taken as a trophy, for those would have to be seen to by the smiths. He¡¯d not complain about having his armor repaired, but he expected that he¡¯d need to have it adjusted again after the smiths were done with it. That would see him stuck in Fangbreak for at least a few more days, so he decided to head to the fortress¡¯ mead hall, where he could have a drink and plan out a new training regimen for his squires. It was also where he¡¯d be most likely to find Roderick, assuming he hadn¡¯t found his way into someone¡¯s bed in one of the barracks.


    The mead hall was lively at nearly all times, full of knights and squires taking a break from their training to socialize with each other and prepare for their next excursion. Servant golems, dainty things not meant for combat, them being the size of a common goblin, waltzed between tables, carrying trays of food, flagons of mead and beer, and used dishes to and from the kitchens. Knights gathered around a fight pit at the center of the edifice, where arguments could be resolved in classic northern fashion without breaking chairs and tables, cheering and booing for their preferred victor.


    He found a seat near a corner of the great hall, beneath the mounted head of a Chimera, and summoned his journal and writing equipment. It was not long before someone slammed two flagons onto the table and joined him, interrupting his planning. ¡°Agnarsson! Need a drink?¡± the man greeted, offering a flagon of mead. This was Brus, a fellow knight, though not one that Harald had often worked with. He accepted the drink.


    ¡°Heard you slew some demons?¡± asked Brus. That explained his presence at Harald¡¯s table, the towering crimson-haired northman was a paladin, so the presence of demons was naturally his concern. He probably just wanted information.


    ¡°I did, yes. A few seducers and an imp legion, led by a Baroness.¡± Was Harald¡¯s response. ¡°It was not a true invasion, just a slave taking expedition.¡±


    ¡°Good. But it is disappointing, I¡¯m getting tired of killing undead day in and day out, if they¡¯d just let me hunt down whatever necromancer is raising them all...¡± Brus said wistfully. Leaving what the necromancer¡¯s fate would be unspoken. They all knew the fate that awaited necromancers, at least those who used captured souls in the creation of their undead, it was neither a swift, nor painless, end.


    Another joined the table, a wood-elf knight trainer who Harald and his squires had accompanied on some training excursions for the recruits. Ilora was her name, If Harald''s memory served him, and she was quite the firebrand, in and out of the battlefield. Notably, she¡¯d been unafraid to tackle opponents larger than her whilst unequipped and unprepared, which had served their encounters well. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but overhear your conversation, you¡¯re talking about the Thilhaas necromancer, right?¡±


    ¡°Aye, right bastard, that one is, fighting his undead was fun at first, but slaughtering his horde is getting right proper boring now.¡± Said Brus. ¡°I heard they¡¯ll be sending some of the recruits out to train against them, I assume that¡¯ll be your lot?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I don¡¯t assume you¡¯ll be willing to watch over them again, Harald? They¡¯ll need someone to keep an-¡± her words were interrupted by yet another new arrival. Well, a pair of them. Roderick an Orc lass that Harald didn¡¯t recognize, though she wore the squire¡¯s insignia on her clothes.


    ¡°Sir! It¡¯s good to see you survived, meet Anna, short for Annakellgr-¡± ¡°Just Anna, please, you¡¯re butchering the name, hon.¡± ¡°Right, just Anna.¡± Introduced Roderick. Seeing that Harald¡¯s flagon had remained untouched, he stole it away for himself as soon as he¡¯d settled in.


    ¡°You¡¯re not allowed to drink, Roderick.¡± Said Harald, remembering what had occurred when last his squire had gotten drunk. There was a reason he was forbidden from drinking in Fangbreak, though Harald would allow him to break that rule in moderation when outside the fortress. His squire ignored him, likely thinking that since a single drink wasn¡¯t going to get him drunk, Harald would do nothing. He was wrong. A flick of Harald¡¯s wrist and the mead rapidly turned into steam, leaving behind an empty flagon.


    ¡°Oh, come on, sir, it¡¯s just one drink.¡± Roderick said disappointedly. ¡°It''s not like I¡¯ll turn into that with a single drink.¡± The look on his face was pitiful, so much so that the entire table burst into laughter. Not least of all because everyone there had been around for Roderick¡¯s last bout of drunkenness, and the escapades that followed.


    ¡°Tell ye what, lad, I''ll get you some of that wine the Gildarians like so much, weak as piss, that. No way you¡¯ll turn into that if all you¡¯ve got to fuel it is some Gildarian slop.¡± Brus said once he¡¯d managed to stop laughing. Roderick¡¯s protests were drowned out by a second wave of laughter.


    Once they¡¯d calmed down, he turned to the wood elf. ¡°Ilora, I¡¯m afraid I cannot help with the training expedition this time, as I¡¯m currently less a suit of armor.¡± Said Harald. ¡°Turns out a hellfire bolt to the chest is not conducive to maintaining armor integrity.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so that¡¯s what the big hole in your shirt is, I thought you were just showing off your muscles, sir.¡± Said Roderick. ¡°Anyways, sir, would you happen to know Olga¡¯s whereabouts?¡±


    ¡°Roderick, she¡¯s likely off with her betrothed, and you should focus more on the woman besides you than on the one afar from you. Figuratively, and literally.¡± Roderick might have tried to hide it, but most people who¡¯d worked with him for long knew quite well about his fascination with the half-giantess. Not that he showed it whenever she was present. Fortunately for Roderick, his orcish fling didn¡¯t seem very attached to him; another might have taken offense at not being the center of his attention.


    The Order had no qualms about interpersonal relationships, as their leaders were of the mind that such things were only natural and bound to happen. Their line of work often saw knights sent on long expeditions to cull monsters throughout the continent, and that meant that they¡¯d be stuck with their fellows for extended periods of time, and they¡¯d be fighting for their lives together. There was no greater builder of bonds than such situations, and the order recognized this, and accepted it. It was better to have knights forming relationships, growing attached, and even falling for each other, than to have them burning out under the stress of their line of work.


    Besides, they weren¡¯t monks or divine dedicants. Nobody was going to demand abstinence from them.


    But that was neither here nor there. The conversation at the table had calmed after a while, with the others talking shop about their trade while Harald continued his writing. That was until something drew his attention. It was Brus, talking about the order¡¯s legions. One would be arriving soon. ¡°-the second legion will be joining us next week to cycle out forces and resupply.¡± Brus had said.


    The Order¡¯s legions were groups of hundreds of knights, travelling the land on airships, wyverns, drakes, etcetera, with the express purpose of putting down monster infestations, dungeon breaks, and other anomalous phenomenon that most kingdoms couldn¡¯t deal with on their own. Only three such legions existed. Any knight could volunteer to serve in one, though they¡¯d only be allowed to serve a seven-year tour before they¡¯d have to cycle out, for their own health. Harald had long been resolved to join the second legion, once it arrived.


    It would bring him glory and a much-needed change of pace.


    But first, he needed to get back to his room, and to his well-deserved rest.


    _________________________________________


    He awoke early next morning to the sound of marching boots and a well-known cadence, a marching song that had been a classic of the recruits for generations. There wasn¡¯t a single knight in the region who didn¡¯t know the song. It had once served as the backdrop to all of their marches from the fortress as recruits, and now it served as the backdrop to his morning preparations.


    He grabbed his dagger from his bedside table and stood, he¡¯d begin the morning with a shave, as he¡¯d forget if he put it off any longer. It was a brief walk to his mirror, and he stared into the mirror¡¯s silver. Green eyes stared back, an unkempt mane of blonde crowned his head, kept short so that it did not bother him when he wore his helm. He¡¯d grown a beard at some point, which he also kept short, but it always bothered when he wore his helmet, so he began the process of shaving it off. His scar became more and more pronounced as the beard was cleared away.


    The sight of the scar always brought back bad memories, hateful ones. The smell of burning timber and ozone, blood and charred flesh, the feeling of ash and rubble beneath his boots, blood dripping down his chest, and the sight and sound of roaring fire. He didn¡¯t much remember what had happened that night, the night he gained his scar and lost it all, nor did he remember much of what had occurred before it, which he was told was a normal reaction to such an experience. But though he lacked the full memories, the scar still made him feel, and he had a few theories as to what had happened.


    He stared at it as if it would vanish off his face if he stared hard enough, but all he felt was pain and loss. Here was a man who knew nothing of his past, of what he had been, just what he was now and of the blazing fury and hatred that had once motivated him, when he had wanted nothing else but to butcher every dragon, beast, and monster under the skies and stones of their world. He was told it was tragic.


    Here was a man who did not know his father, his mother, his siblings, his friends, cousins, aunts and uncles, he did not even know if he had ever had any. He did not remember. His memories sealed away, though he did not know if it was by magic or trauma.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    But on the other hand, here was a man who had become a warrior, which he was told his people prized, who was brave and mighty. Here was a man who had slain beasts of all kinds, from shambling undead to a mighty raging dragon, though he had required aid for the last. Here was a man who had stood against a demonic fiend and won. A man who had undergone the most rigorous and extensive training on the continent, and thrived. Or so he had been told.


    As he had been told that his ancestors were proud, that his kin were mighty, that he was worthy. Sometimes he doubted that.


    He went through his routine like a golem as he pondered the path his life had taken, and the path he wished to take. Though he ultimately decided upon nothing, for he had yet to see the full breadth of his options. Instead, he put on a shirt and marched out into the fortress, and its courtyard, to join the other knights in their morning stretches and exercise. He¡¯d likely join the recruits who¡¯d stayed behind for their morning practice, if only because he knew that seeing their seniors join them might raise morale.


    First, they ran around the fortress walls while weighed down with ruck and weighed gear, six times, in fact. This was the minimum for all knight-recruits near graduation, though squires were expected to be able to do more. It was good training, particularly when one took into account the fact that for an extended journey, you¡¯d likely have somewhere to store most of your burdens, like a cart. This, of course, meant that one would be able to travel greater distances. It also helped to practice physical enhancement, a valuable magic skill for every knight.


    Then, they ran out of the fortress and to the training camp beyond, where the recruits would practice climbing, athletics, and strength. By the end of their training, a recruit ought to be able to lift a small boulder, even as a specialist in magic, climb extended and median distances in full armor, and perform standard feats of athleticism, like vaulting obstacles and jumping extended distances, like onto the roofs of one-story houses.


    After that, they returned to the training yards within the fortress, where they would spar and practice their combat forms. His personal favorite form of practice was the ¡¯pendulum¡¯, which saw a trainee stand upon a small wooden pillar while a log or weighed sack swung from a rope at them. The purpose was to avoid the log, dodging it as it swung, and to strike it, without getting knocked off the pillar. It was excellent training for balance and coordination, if nothing else. Especially once more logs and pillars were added, though that was training reserved for squires and knights.


    He was in the middle of demonstrating these skills to the recruits when the fortress¡¯ commander arrived to interrupt him, beckoning him over. He halted a trunk swinging his way with an arm and jumped off the pillar he had been on, making his way to the commander¡¯s side. The armored man watching sternly as the recruits made way for Harald.


    The commander was, by the standards of the Venators, an old man, having lived to see one-hundred and seventy summers as a knight, the longevity being a benefit of his power. This was a prodigious age, because few in their line of work made it very long before a monster of some ilk came along and ended their career. Indeed, it took talent, skill, and no small amount of luck to reach that age and remain capable of serving. The commander¡¯s age showed in his every waking moment, his short-cut black hair and beard already through with grey lines, and the beginnings of wrinkles becoming apparent.


    ¡°Commander?¡± He asked, saluting his senior. The commander merely gestured that they walk. It appeared that this was not a conversation for the recruits to hear. They made their way through the training courtyards in silence, only speaking when they arrived atop the fortress¡¯ walls.


    ¡°We have an issue. It pertains to what you encountered.¡± The commander stated. He leaned into the ramparts and looked out into the wilds, staring at nothing that Harald could see. ¡°The rift into our realm, our mages say, should be impossible, unless one of two things are happening. The first possibility, according to Thelan, is that someone opened the rift from our side, that being an issue for obvious reasons.¡±


    ¡°The second possibility...¡± The commander sighed. ¡°...is that the mana levels in the Duamar region are increasing. Significantly. This would allow them to open portals from their side, if the veil were already weakened.¡± Said the commander.


    ¡°Commander, with all due respect for Thelan and his fellows, how can the mana levels in an entire territory increase?¡± Harald asked ¡°I understand how they might increase in a confined locale with the introduction of high-magick materials, but an entire region? Much less an untamed one, the size of a large kingdom?¡±


    ¡°I asked the same thing... Apparently, sufficiently powerful beings can disrupt the flow of mana by drawing it right from the leylines, which is what had been happening up until recently. Some new monster was feeding on our continent¡¯s leylines from the northern isles, until it was killed by some so-called warrior of the light.¡±


    ¡°...and now the magic is rushing back in.¡± Harald surmised, his eyes going wide in realization. The monster that had been draining the Leylines must have been extremely powerful, a calamity. ¡°Who is this ¡®warrior of the light¡¯? He must be strong indeed to kill such a creature. Some champion of the churches, perhaps?¡±


    ¡°A demigod son of the goddess of fertility, apparently, though that doesn¡¯t matter for our purposes. The increase in mana is not just throughout the jarldom, but throughout the entire continent, though the Jarldom is more mana-starved than the rest. Thelan believes that we can expect to see magical phenomena in the region, manifestations, elementals, etcetera. It is for this reason, that we need someone to head out that way with a squad, to control the situation.¡±


    ¡°You... are to be the leader of this squad.¡± The commander continued. He let his words hang in the air for a brief minute, perhaps distracted by the strong breeze from the north, carrying a fierce chill. ¡°You will be provided with the resources to establish an outpost, or a fortress, if the legion decides to fork over some support. Your squad will also be provided with wyverns, for your knights, and squires. Courtesy of the Legion, of course, they had a larger brood than expected during this deployment.¡±


    The wind began to howl, a sound that carried a resonant thrumming, the fearful boom of large wings beating against the air. It was a sound they all knew well, and it explained the chill in the air. The commander pulled a spyglass from one of his armor¡¯s pouches and looked to the north, to a small sliver figure on the horizon. Harald did the same.


    ¡°Ah, it¡¯s Vallasiron.¡± the commander said, somewhat relieved. ¡°You¡¯ve not met this one, but he and his sister, Vallasindra, have visited several times before, usually while you¡¯re out on expedition.¡±


    Harald had no clue how the commander could differentiate the dragon from others, as far as he could see it was a common northern white dragon, as characterized by the pale scales, and the fur that adorned this one¡¯s serpentine neck, wings, spine, and legs. It was a dragon like any other, to him indiscernible from other white dragons. He knew they were intelligent creatures, certainly, but the main way that most of them identified each other was the feeling of their minds, as all possessed limited telepathy, and their smell. Few indeed were the dragons that used adornments, and even they used accessories primarily so that mortals might recognize them, or for the purposes of their vanity.


    The two knights watched the dragon fly closer until it began to circle the fortress, looking for an empty courtyard to land in. At this distance, Harald could see the ridges in the massive creature¡¯s scales, and the gap between its fangs, and the frigid chill that radiated off of it. Eventually, the dragon landed, and the two knights made their way to the courtyard where it had landed. It appeared to have business for the commander, as there were few other reasons for a dragon to visit them, well, except for the one that took a human as a lover. It was a good thing that dragons could shapeshift, he supposed.


    They arrived at the massive creature¡¯s side shortly, and it stared down at them. It was, as always, a magnificent sight. All dragons were, really, and it was more than just their sheer size and power, and beauty, it was a lot more than that. Every dragon was a towering monolith of muscle, covered in scales tougher than iron, and sometimes as beautiful as gems. And the variety, by the gods, the variety; there were so many forms of dragons that it was absurd.


    Dragons with metallic scales, dragons covered in feathers, dragons with serpentine necks and the typical draconic body, serpentine dragons lacking any legs or wings, or given many, there were even dragons actually made of gemstones. The sheer variety of the creatures had always astounded him, though it was a shame that so many were... less than friendly. The one before him was no less magnificent than any other dragon he had ever seen, and hopefully, a hell of a lot more friendly.


    He felt, so much as heard, the dragon speak, as the beast stared down at them. ¡°Roran, and knight-I-have-yet-to-meet, I greet you. I have come to ask of the wider world¡¯s tidings, as some of my sister¡¯s dreams concern me.¡± Said the dragon.


    The commander caught Harald¡¯s quizzical look and explained. ¡°His sister is an oracle, though all dragons possess the gift, to an extent.¡± Then, he turned to the dragon and explained what he had told Harald about the increasing levels of mana.


    ¡°Godspawn, here? A new age indeed, sister...¡± spoke the dragon, his voice an avalanche. He did not elaborate on what he meant, but seemed to move on, fixing his attention on the knights again. The dragon¡¯s massive eyes narrowed as it stared at them, and it became engulfed in light, shrinking and morphing rapidly. In a brief moment, a new creature stood before them.


    It was scarcely sixty inches tall, barely to Harald¡¯s abdomen in height, though it¡¯d have seemed a lot taller to those without giant¡¯s blood, who didn¡¯t stand at ninety-four inches, as he did. The creature before him was covered in what, at first glance, looked like fur, much like that which adorned the dragon, but upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a type of feather, which was in line with its reptilian form. It stood on two digitigrade legs, balanced with a long tail, and it stared up at him past a short reptilian snout.


    He did not recognize the creature. As far as he could tell, it was just a feathered kobold, but he did not think any such creature existed. It cocked its head at him inquisitively, and he struggled to reconcile it with the dragon that had been standing before him mere seconds before. ¡°What is it?¡± It asked in a voice that sounded like a mimicry of the dragon¡¯s voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m just... confused by your current form, wise dragon.¡± Said Harald. The dragon had been, as all dragons were, an intimidating and daunting presence. This creature, with its blueish feathers and amber eyes, and its stature, was anything but intimidating. In fact, it was difficult for him to take it seriously at all.


    ¡°Ah, I had forgotten to introduce you all to these creatures, my apologies.¡± Said Vallasiron. ¡°My current form is that of a subspecies of kobold that dwells beyond the Vastrand mountains, where your kin have yet to explore. They have a civilization there, a republic, nothing like the tribes of their cousins. I¡¯ve grown quite fond of the creatures, they learn quickly, and are quite friendly.¡±


    ¡°Their tongue consists primarily of chirps and other avian sounds, so you¡¯d not be able to call them what they call themselves, but I believe that the name ¡®Vastrandian¡¯ is apt, as they originated in that region.¡± Said the dragon. ¡°I could talk about them all day, but first... introductions, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve met you.¡± He said as he circled Harald.


    ¡°I am Harald Agnarsson, Knight of the Order, at your service, wise dragon.¡± Said Harald, giving the dragon a brief bow. The dragon scoffed, ¡°You¡¯re at no one¡¯s service, youngling. I cannot fathom why you knights still say that. Anyways...¡± he sniffed, still circling around Harald. ¡°...You smell like a holyman, but you¡¯re no paladin, cleric, priest, templar, or any other variation of that ilk, how interesting. Do you have a blessing? Is that why I can smell divinity on you? Or perhaps some godsblood in your veins... or are you a dormant-?¡±


    ¡°Vallasiron, would you kindly stop harassing my newest knight-captain? I know you¡¯re curious, but us mortals don¡¯t just go around smelling each other.¡± interrupted the commander, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.


    ¡°Scales, I¡¯d forgotten.¡± The dragon said, shaking his head embarrassedly and stepping back. ¡°Apologies, Sir Agnarsson, I... I forget myself sometimes, especially when I¡¯m hungry or curious, or both. And divine mana smells... very appetizing... and is very rarely found on mortals who are not aligned with a god, or blessed, making you a curiosity...¡± Dragons were thaumatophages, meaning that they could as much consume magic as they could normal foods, which, Harald supposed, could excuse the reactions from the dragon. Divine mana must be a heavenly delicacy for them. ¡°Do you know why you have divine mana?¡± the dragon asked, staring up at him.


    ¡°I have to say, this is not how I expected any dragon to act¡­¡± Harald chuckled. ¡°And no, I cannot fathom why it is you smell divine mana on me. As far as I know, I¡¯m as mortal as any other knight.¡± Said Harald. The dragon cocked its head and seemed to consider something, opening its mouth as if to give a response, but deciding otherwise. It shook its head and looked towards the Commander.


    ¡°We need to speak, Commander.¡± Was all the dragon said.


    ¡°Very well, follow me and we¡¯ll head to my office.¡± Said the commander, turning on his heel. ¡°Agnarsson, you¡¯re dismissed, we¡¯ll have a full briefing once the Legion gets here.¡±