AN: Hey guys! The date is March 1 at the time of writing this. Or starting, anyways. Sorry for the big gap! Recently had a lot happen, like my ol dog passing away. I'll miss the old lady, but she was 18 years old in human years! So she lived 126 years from her point of view. Plus, Elden Ring came out and it's SO good, I can't stop playing it. Anyways, I'm not here for excuses. I'm here to write! This chapter took a bit to write, and admittedly is mostly filler. Just a couple little vignettes about Thom's day.
Also, you guys might have noticed that I changed chapter 6 very slightly. That's because a reviewer pointed out a small mistake I made. Big thanks to Kamalajan! If any of you happen to notice any mistakes, please do lemme know. I proofread my stuff but I'm definitely perfect. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!
I awake with a jolt, sinuses full of reeking mucous, and with a dry mouth tasting of bacteria. I hack, nose plugged with snot. 'HUK-ACKH!' I choke, before spitting out the window, quickly followed by me blowing two large globs of snot out after. I lean back into my room, turning to see Robin. She looks somewhere between disgusted and amused.
"Holy shit, my bad. 'Morning, sorry you had to see that." I apologize, plopping down onto my bed, sliding my pants on. She steps in, closing the door behind her.
"That was one of the grossest things I've ever seen, I have to say." She grimaces. I scoff.
"Gimme a break, I just slithered out of bed. What do you want from me?" I groan, feeling my back crack multiple times like a glowstick as I bend down to slide my socks on. I suck in a sharp breath, wincing.
"Sheesh, I was going to let you know breakfast was ready. Do you need something? Like a new spine maybe?" She jests.
"Oh, if only it were that easy, birdbrain." I think of making a witty retort, but at the moment I'm too damn tired to think of one. 'Sides, it's not like I haven't been living with literal years of back pain anyways. With another groan, I rise from my bed. I bend over, feeling a dozen pops throughout my back as it loosens. I slip on my boots and gunbelt, sliding my knife into the boot. As I'm about the throw my poncho back over my shoulders, Robin stops me.
"Oh! I noticed it earlier, but I forgot to ask. What is that mark on your shoulder? And why is it bleeding?" She questions. I twist my head around, looking at my right shoulder. -Oh, she means the Brand of Sacrifice I got tattooed. Man, I got that right after Miura passed, God rest his soul.
"Eh, just a tattoo. Not really bleeding. Had it done a few weeks before I ended up here. I have this one too." I offer, showing the one on my left forearm. It's the face of an Oni, with cherry blossoms scattered around it.
"Ooooh!' Robin beams, taking hold of my arm to get a closer look. "So pretty! How do you do that?" She asks. What, you tryna get inked, Robin?
"Well, the artist uses a machine with a needle that moves back and forth really fast, and they put special ink in it. Then they poke the top layer of your skin a bunch. Hurts like a bitch and it ain't cheap." I explain she looks disappointed.
"Oh," she pouts. "So I can't get one?" She complains. I tug my arm out of her grasp, moving towards the door.
"Nobody said that. There's more primitive ways. Hell if I know how they work but there's ways." I open the door, stepping through. "You comin?" I ask her. Silently, she falls in behind me. "So, what's for brekkie?"
…...
"Rng!" I grunt, hefting my fist towards Sully. She blocks my swing with her arm, reciprocating by kicking my leg out from under me, before lamping me one in the cheek. My head snaps to the side, vision obscured by pretty colors before I fall to the ground. Squinting my eyes, I clutch my head and lay there for a second. One my eyes open again and my head stops throbbing, I see Sully standing over me.
"How many times do I have to hit you before you learn to take a punch?" She huffs, grabbing my hand and hefting my off my ass. I wince, grabbing my shoulder. "Oh, don't tell me that hurt you too. Sure are soft, ain't you?" She jabs.
"Cut me some slack, red." I groan. "I ain't exactly been in a lot of fights, okay? 'Sides, I only asked you to help me learn how to fight hand-to-hand in case I'm unarmed."
She snorts. "Yeah, I can tell you ain't ever fought by the fact that you can't even throw a punch right!" She laughs. I growl in response.
"Whatever, one more round." I insist, spreading my feet shoulder length and lowering my stance a little bit.
She eases back into her stance. "If you say so." She sighs. We pause for a moment, a few feet away. Then we both close in. I thrust my palm towards her face, but she bats it away. As she guards, I manage to slip my other hand into her guard, hitting her in the gut, before kicking at her ankle. She stumbles a bit, but regains her guard.
She recovers and throws a straight at my head, but I grab her by the wrist by one hand, and under her bicep with the other. Then I space my feet apart, trying to pivot at the hip and throw her over me. I lack the proper strength to do so, and only end up leaving my back open to her with her grip on me.
She sinks in a choke with her other arm, kneeing me in the back. I struggle, gasping for air against the crook of Sully's elbow. In a last desperate act, I stomp on her foot, managing to catch her toes under the heel of my boot. While she's caught off guard I wrap my arm around her head, and fall to the ground. This brings sully down a bit. With her bent over me, I lean back and place my foot against her shoulder and kick as hard as I can while pulling against the arm, dislodging it from the socket.
"Agh!" She shouts, launching fists at my face. One, then two, then three. Four. She hits like a fucking train, and before I know it I can't see a damn thing. I let go of her arm, covering my head sab best I can to shield myself. I roll over, protecting my face.
I hear two sets of feet run over, and after a few moments I feel a warmth wash over me. I lay still face down in the dirt, feeling the ringing in my skull lessen, and my head stop spinning. Once I'm well enough, I move to stand, stumbling a bit. I hold my head in my hands, looking at my savior. It's... Maribelle? I thought she'd go help Sully. Hell, after last night I figured she'd just hated me outright.
"Ah, thanks Maribelle. Sully really gave me a good beating. Sorry for last night, by the way." I mutter, casting my head down a bit. She sighs.
"You're quite welcome. Though I suppose I should be the one apologizing. It was inappropriate of me to react the way I did, and you did not deserve such treatment." She admits. Huh. I guess we won't be havin' bad blood, after all. I hope.
"Don't worry about it. I appreciate the apology though. But I had a lot worse since I came to Ylisse." I give her my brightest 'I don't hold you beating the snot out of me against you' smile. She looks a bit confused, however.
"Oh? So you aren't Ylissean?" Is she serious? How did she not know?
"You couldn't tell? I'm dressed differently from literally everybody." I nearly groan. She turns her head away, tilting her head up.
"I just figured you were strange, is all. Not that you were a foreigner. After all, I don't know of any countries where that manner of dress is common." Well, she has a point.
"You aren't entirely wrong. Nobody where I'm from dresses like this either. I mean, they used to a bit over a century ago, but it's... kinda gone out of style." I explain. She turns her gaze back to me, looking at me like I'm some kinda idiot.
"And why were you dressed in century-old clothing?" She asks. Ok. Yeah, fair question.
"Well, you see... it was a hot day. Plus, Cowboys are cool." I explain. It makes total sense! Who doesn't love cowboys? What's so hard to understand? She just gives me a look of confusion before taking a breath.
"You are a strange one, and your manners could use some work. But you aren't entirely bad, I will grant you that." She admits. Huh. That's probably the nicest I'll get out of her.
"Well, if you ever feel the need to educate me on how to be eh, 'polite'... I wouldn't mind. I'm not native to this place, so if it would help me fit in I would appreciate the help." I ask. It's true, after all. I'm going to need a LOT of help to survive in this world. 'Bout as many advantages as I could get.
She quirks an eyebrow, taken a bit aback. "Well, I suppose I will think about it." She considers.
Wait. Fuck, is this supposed to be a support convo? I'm confused, do we have to fight in battle to rank up supports, or do they work like normal relationships?
I mean, I guess I'll go with it?
"Thanks, Mari. Lemme' know when you've made up your mind." I thank her. "I gotta head off now, Frederick's gonna be givin' me hell today." I shoot her a thumbs-up, moving off to grant Sully goodbye.
"I will let you know my decision next we meet, Thomas! Do not forget!" She shouts to me.
"Right, I'll see you then!"
…...
I wander about the main street of Ylisstol, just coming upon the market. Training with Frederick had been nothing special. Incredibly intense, but nothing special besides. It definitely deserves the name 'Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour'.
I'd asked Frederick about collecting payment in the Shepherds, and surprisingly I had already earned some form of compensation from helping in Southtown and the night after. Of course to Frederick whether or not I'd actually earned the pay was debatable. He may annoy the shit out of me but I can't be too upset, I guess. They call him the Wary for a reason.
Either way, I'd spent the next few hours wandering Ylisstol and acclimating myself to the small city. It's not too far from the size of my hometown, actually. I've mostly been looking for places I can find clothing, armorers, and taverns.
I pass into the market proper, and find myself surprised with just how many stalls, stores, and shoppers there are. The marketplace is bustling with people of every shape and size, all going about their business. Buzzing like flies around every shop.
I meander around all of the food stalls, buying myself a meat kebab for 10 gold. (Mutton ain't half bad, if I'm honest.) I gnaw on the tender chunks of meat, surprisingly well seasoned and cooked all the way through without any red in the center.
Ah, these people understand medium is the best way to cook meat. Maybe I'll be more at home here than I thought.
I mow half of the mutton before I realize it, but before I turn to go and buy another one my eyes are caught by the sign for an Armory hanging just overhead. 'Arron's Armory' it says. The sign is decorated by a crest depicting the head of a red horse, with two crossed hammers behind it. Interested, I stand in place for a second before deciding to stop in. It couldn't hurt to take a look, after all.
After a few steps, I push through the door, stepping into the store. It's surprisingly large, and well-stocked with arms and armor of all kinds. I gaze around the store, seeing all manner of weapons, from Halberds and Bardiches, to Shortswords and the like.
From across the room a man shouts to me. "Welcome! Anything I can help you find?" His voice booms. Despite how loud his voice resonates I can't find my eyes torn off the racks upon racks of weapons. I've never seen so many sharp weapons at once. Or blunt ones, I guess.
"Nope, I'm good! Thanks though." I reply, walking along the rightmost rack in the store. Everything is well organized, and it seems this 'aisle' is meant for the polearms an' such. I find myself uninterested in the longer weapons, since I already have something with decent range. My gun, of course.
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything. Every weapon you find here will treat you well, just as the armor." He says. I nod, moving over to the next aisle. Daggers, daggers, more daggers. Shortswords abound. I don't exactly need any of these. I have a dagger already. Hell, I have guns, and a dagger. A dagger is all well and good if someone gets too close and I'm not loaded, but I should get a sword. Something that isn't too big, or too rinky-dink.
Hell, should I really be buying anything? I just got paid for the literal first time. It would be irresponsible to buy something expensive so soon.
Then I realize, back home I was irresponsible with money back home too. So what the fuck do I care?
'Maybe the shopkeeper can help me, after all.' I think to myself. I stalk over to the counter, clearing my throat. "'Scuse me? I think I might need help here." He comes out from the back room, and I actually get a good look at the man. He has long, red hair. Just about the color of Cordelia's. And a big, bushy beard. His huge arms bulging underneath his shirt.
Fuckin hell, bro. If I looked up testosterone in the dictionary, I'm sure this guy's picture would be underneath the definition. What a chad. "How can I help you, friend?" he asks.
Ok, so I'm not gonna waste time explaining a gun to this guy. So uhh... let's just say I use magic. "Right, so I'm new to the Shepards, right? And I carry a dagger and can use magic, but I feel like I could have a better option for when someone gets too close. I'd rather keep the dagger as a last resort." I tell him. He puts a hand on his chin and hums to himself.
"Okay, so what are you looking for? Shortsword? Longsword? Maybe something built with thrusting in mind?" He inquires. I think for a moment. I'm not particularly strong, so anything big and heavy is out of the question. A thrusting sword would be good. It would give me decent range, and would be relatively easy to wield
"Ya'll got rapiers?" I ask him. He nods, coming out from around the counter leading me to a rack on the left side of the store.
"Rapiers. Here we have Schiavona, Backswords, Epee, things like that. What looks good to you?" He gestures to an array of rapiers lined up on a wooden rack. All well-polished, beautiful blades. Fancy hilts and guards flood my sight, but I let my eyes settle on one in particular. A spadroon with a hilt of polished red wood. It's got a hand-and-a-half hilt, and a beautiful black metal swept-side guard. The blade is beautiful as well. Unadorned with any fancy engraving or marking. Just sturdy, shining steel. It's a sword meant for both thrusting and sweeping strikes. Almost like a saber. It's perfect.
I'm a fucking weapon nerd, okay? Hop off my jock, I had a lot of free time at work.
I look back at the man. "It cool witchu if I try 'er out?" I ask him, my hands floating near the sword.
"By all means." He nods, taking a step back.
I lift the sword out of its slot on the rack, taking it in my hands. I give it a few slow test swipes, and a few swift pokes. It's well-balanced. I give it a twirl, before resting its blade in my hands. My gaze glides over the length of the sword, appreciating every detail. The blade's about as long as my arm, making it rather short but easy to control.
"She's a beaut. Hell, they all are. Who smithed these?" I ask him, turning to face the man.
"I did. This' me shop, after all." He declares. He looks proud. Rightfully so.
"Oh. So that would make you..."
"Arron. A pleasure." He introduces. I hold my hand out, and he takes it.
"Thom. Good to meetcha'." I affirm.
"So, what do you think about the sword?" He grunts.
"It's amazin' I don't think I ever seen a sword half as nice. 'M sure she slays." I fawn. If there's one thing I like, It's weapons. He nods, gesturing to the rest of the shop.
"Whole shop is full of masterworks. Can't go wrong with anything I make. That there is one of my finer pieces." He looks at it fondly. Then I realize. This thing will probably be expensive.
"So I know I'm gonna regret getting so attached to this thing, but how much? Probably too much for me, if I'm honest." I inquire. He scratches his beard for a second, before holding his finger up.
"Well, since you're a Shepherd I suppose I could cut you a deal. 'Sides, you seem to recognize art when you see it. For a fellow appreciator of arms, I suppose I can part with it for say, 700?"
My eyes bug out of my head. That definitely ain't too bad. Ain't exactly cheap. I think for a second about how much I have left. I had about 1k. I spent 10 for the kebab... so I can afford it but I'll be cutting it close until next payday or whatever.
Fuck it, what the hell? Not like I didn't do the same thing back home. "Deal." I tell the man. We shake on it, and we walk back to the counter.
As I'm counting out the gold to pay, he laughs. "I knew you were a smart one. Did I mention repeat customers get deals?"
I snort, amused. "What, like a rewards program?"
Arron grins. "Sure, I guess you can call it that." I push the neat stack of gold pieces over to him. He scoops them into a sack (heh, sack) before handing over the sword in its sheathe. It's sheathe is wrapped in a wine-red cloth. I take it from him, turning out to leave.
"Pleasure doin' business, mate!" I shout as I leave. He replies something to the same effect. I step out into the market, ready to return to the kebab stand about 700 gold lighter, and a sword richer.
I'm sure I'll be back eventually.
…
"So, you're telling me that you spent almost all your gold on a sword?" Robin asks, unimpressed. I MAY have made a mistake.
Actually, I definitely made a mistake.
But hell, no returns right? "Eh, I needed something besides a dagger for fighin' people who got too close. I don't wanna' have to get in knife range." I explain. She mulls it over, and apparently decides it to be a worthwhile reason.
"Well, let's see it." She says. Right, I forgot about that. I move over to my bed, unwrapping the sword from the cloth. I turn around, holding the sword in my hands. I offer it to her, and she takes it. She unsheathes it, turning it over in her hands before giving a nod of approval. "Well, I wouldn't say it justifies all the money you spent on it, but I think you definitely picked out a nice blade."
"I'm glad I got your seal approval. I always wanted to have a fancy sword of my own. Now I just need to name it..." She looks at me like an idiot. Something I notice has become a trend with most people I talk to.
"Name it? It's just a sword." She says. Oh, Robin. You dunno how wrong you are.
"Nope, It's my sword. And I think she deserves a name." I assert.
"Oh, so it's a she, huh?" She giggles, covering her hand with her mouth. Smug ass.
"You bet your ass it's a she. And I think I'll name her... Flora." I declare. Robin snorts.
"Whatever you say. So, do you wanna go to the Tavern or not?" She asks. I sheathe the sword, swaddling it back in its cloth and resting it against by bed.
"A few drinks with my favorite amnesiac? Sure." I shrug. I open the little drawer of the desk, sliding my dagger in my boot, and pulling my noticeably lighter coinpurse out. I give it a little shake, and it responds with a meagre and rather sad jingle. I turn to Robin, sheepish grin on my face.
"Uhh, heh-heh... you think you can spot me for tonight, though?" I laugh, nervously.
Her head slumps down, and her palms meet her face halfway.
It's gonna be a good night.