Al'verren stomped up the stairs to the Great Hall of the Al'drossford Keep. The aching in his calves did nothing to ease his building temper. "Who puts a hall at the top of a fortress? Must the Al'dross do everything unconventionally?"
"There are rumors that the Duke is planning to build new towns on his border and is making appointments to run them," Avery said in a low voice. "Why he is doing so, no one will say."
Seth stopped to catch his breath, placing a hand against the wall to brace himself. "Duke! Al'dross is a Baron, however he likes to call himself, and when I'm through with him, he'll be lucky to keep his head!"
Behind Seth, safely out of sight, Avery rolled his eyes. He had never found Seth to be an impressive man. That was why Avery served him. Seth was a stepping-stone. Had he been worth serving, Avery would have stayed far away.
To hear a man like Seth threaten Lewis Al'dross was absurd. Weeks attempting to tease out information and build a network for himself in Al'drossford had convinced Avery that he wanted no part of a conflict with the Duke or the men who were sworn to him. Not that he told Seth any of that.
He plied his employer with tales of progress. He had even managed to keep Eliora's absence from her brother. That had stumped Avery. The girl had acted too quickly on her plans, and he hadn't been able to find anyone to follow her. She had disappeared from the Keep and the city as if she had never been there. Avery could hardly credit it.
Panting, with Avery close behind, Seth continued up the staircase until it spilled out before a grand set of open doors. Local people of importance mingled in the entryway to the hall and made small talk as they filtered into the room. Merchants and minor Nobles dressed in the finest clothing, speaking in quiet voices, all pleased to be invited to the day's event.
Seth kept the sneer in his heart from his face as he dabbed sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He tossed the cloth over his shoulder for Avery
to dispose of and straightened his doublet. He pasted a subdued smile on his lips and drifted into the crowd, nodding at greetings while looking down at those that offered them.
Who were these local peasants to speak to him? He was the son of a king. He had no equals in this room. People made way with bows as he swept to the front. Seth may not have wanted to attend this affair, but he would not stand at the back. He was here to be seen and to study his enemy. Someday, the clods gathered here would bend a knee when he passed. It was only a matter of time.
Seth's guise slipped as he saw Lewis Al'dross. Lewis was dressed in the black and silver of his house, with a ceremonial sash bearing his honors. The sash was mostly empty, only holding a few patches to denote Lewis's rank and Class. Normally, the evidence of how out of favor the Al'dross family truly was would have given Seth a great deal of pleasure.
It would have today as well, if not for what lay behind Al'dross. The great hall was rarely used in Al'drossford. Seth had never had a reason to enter it before. He was determined to remain unimpressed by the architecture and craftsmanship that surrounded him. He refused to acknowledge the history that was marked by the weapons, banners, and flags hung on the walls. What grandeur hadn't he seen before?
The sight of a masterfully carved wooden seat, however, caused his blood to seethe. Seth knew a throne when he saw one. His father sat on one forged of precious metals, decorated with shining jewels. That throne was in all ways more expensive looking than the simple wooden chair with its high back. The one that he couldn't tear his eyes away from.
The crowd murmured around him, but Seth couldn't hear them over the blood that thundered in his ears. The throne was beautiful in its simplicity, and Seth had never wanted to possess a thing more in his life than he did that chair. He wanted to rest in its embrace and issue his proclamations from it, surrounded by the scent of power and authority. That the chair belonged to Lewis Al'dross was a grave injustice.
Lewis opened his mouth to call the assembled crowd to order and paused.
His eyebrow lifted as Seth set a foot on the stone steps and began to climb. He ascended with graceful, calculated steps under the watchful eyes of a man called Duke by the World. Seth held his head high and peered down his nose as he walked closer, daring Al'dross to stop him.
Avery melted back into the mass of people who had fallen silent. He would not follow his master in this path. Seth was encouraged by Lewis's lack of response to his provocative actions. Avery recognized the look on Lewis's face for what it was, not a dare or warning, but a judgment.
When Seth brushed by Lewis, his shoulder ruffling the man's sleeve, Avery held his breath. He could not imagine what Seth was up to. This had never been in the plans they had discussed. As foolhardy as those plans were, they were the epitome of sense compared to what Seth was doing now.
Seth could feel Lewis turning his head to watch as he paced by. He walked, floated as if in a dream, a cloud on the wind, high above the man whose hall he strutted through. When Lewis failed to chastise him, Seth didn't question it. This was right. This was his destiny.
He arrived at the throne too soon. He hardly had the chance to savor the moment before he was standing in front of the siren wood. He ran his palm along the armrest, breathing deep to draw in the rich, warm scent of wood.
Had he looked back, Seth might have awoken from his dream. The look on Lewis's face, the craving and disbelief, might have given him pause. Seth was already lowering himself into the throne before he noted Lewis again, and by that time, it was too late.
Seth crossed his legs and clutched the armrests in the quiet. He did experience a moment of uneasiness when he saw the wide eyes of the Duke. A quiver spoiled Seth's complacency, but his natural arrogance suppressed it.
He lifted his right hand in a lazy waving motion. "You may continue, Baron–"
Then the screaming began. The heady wood smell was replaced by the scent of burning leather, silk, and skin. Seth ripped his hand away from the
throne, leaving a good portion of his palm behind. Blood stained the cuff of his shirt as it ran down his arm. Horrified shouts from the crowd mingled with his own as Seth tried to lift himself from the throne and was unable.
One man stood untouched by the chaos that erupted. Lewis Al'dross observed it all with unfazed blue eyes and the satisfied look of a cat drowning in cream as Seth twitched and burned. Seth had walked as if in a dream, but it was Lewis who was sure he was dreaming now. The Al'verrens kept their citizens ignorant; it was the basis of their power. Never would he have dared to hope that they extended that policy to their children so completely. Surely, the king warned his sons that there were some things they must never do.
When Lewis acted, it was to confirm the reality of the situation, not to save Seth. Swift strides carried him to the seated, screaming man. A hand that steadied a territory grabbed Seth by his shoulder and flung him from the chair that was trying to consume him. Seth thudded against the stone platform, shuddering and shivering, his throat already raw from screaming.
Lewis stood before the empty throne and reached out trembling fingers to brush away the ash that remained from Seth's clothing and flesh. For the first time, his fingers brushed against the throne that must not be touched. Once it was clean, Lewis laid his palm on the high back. The wooden seat did not resist his touch. The enchantments that had protected it were broken.
"Your Grace, he won't heal. It's not working." Helmand, in his panic, tugged at the Duke's sleeve. "What's happening?"
In a daze, Lewis lifted his hand and turned. Seth was on the ground, surrounded by medics from the Guard and a pool of his own blood. All Lewis had to do to ensure of his death was… nothing.
"Bind his wounds, no magic," Lewis hoarsely ordered. He cleared his throat. "Bandages and ointments. Tell Colonel Bromden to prepare plenty of Healing potions for the trip back. He will need them."
The medics heard the Duke's orders clearly. Helmand repeated them shrilly anyway and would have kept repeating them if Lewis hadn't grabbed his shoulder. "Leave them to their work. I need you to summon everyone.
Send these people home. I want this hall filled with my council, immediately, both administrative and military. Do you hear me, Helmand?"
Helmand's head wobbled on his neck as he nodded. He fussed with the front of his robes and tried not to look in the direction of Seth, whose screams had turned to moans. Bobbing a bow to Lewis, who had already swiveled back towards the throne, Helmand rushed off to summon every person of authority he could. He was certain he was gathering them to plan how they would appease the king as soon as news of Seth's injury reached the capital.
Lewis knew appeasement wasn't in the cards. The Al'dross were bound to the kingdom by charter. They had never sworn loyalty. There were only two ways to revoke the charter that constrained them. In his wildest fantasy, Lewis failed to imagine an insignificant person like Seth would be responsible for breaking the chains that had been wrapped tightly around Lewis's family.
Lewis felt like thanking Seth. Maybe he would if Seth regained consciousness before Lewis had him, and all the Nobles Seth had brought along, tossed out of the city. A stretcher was brought, and the wounded Seth carried away for treatment. Lewis listened to the footsteps of Guardsmen as they exited. He rested his hand on the back of the throne and ran his fingers around the curves carved into the wood.
"Will you sit?" Ranar asked, stepping into view from out of nowhere.
"It was never meant for an Al'dross… for a Dross." Lewis's voice was rough with suppressed emotion. He was a Dross now. That would take some getting used to. How long had his family waited for this day? How long ago had they given up hope that the day would come?
"Is that what you are now? Should I call you Elder Dross instead of Your Grace?" The jumble of emotions in Lewis's gut settled into a single flame of anger at Ranar's prodding.
"Do not test me, Ranar." The coolness in his words chilled the room without seeming to affect the unflappable Ranar.
"No test." Ranar crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against the throne. "I merely wonder what happens now. I've read the charter; it's not hard to see what happened."
"The seat is meant for a king." Lewis drew his hand away and took a step back. "Until the Clans come, none will sit in it."
"You sound uncertain." Ranar tucked his thumbs behind his sword belt. "Will the Clans come? How will you summon them? What awaits them when they arrive? I've seen the vault, seen all the preparations your family has made. Is it enough?"
"You've seen the vault then you know the answer to those questions." Lewis's eyes narrowed. "Within a week, the Guildhall will be converted into a Hub, and I will issue a Quest to bring the Clans. Inside of a month, the materials we've gathered will be used to build a teleportation circle. The Clans can use all the rest to build a nation! I will not stand in their way."
It pained Lewis to say it. For centuries the Al'dross had hoarded all the resources necessary to expand their borders and strengthen their people. All of those treasures could be put to use now. They would be used by strangers to change the home he had grown up in into a place he could not picture himself.
"You mistake me, Eldest of the Clan Dross." Ranar lowered himself to perch on the armrest of the throne. "I do not accuse you or test your resolve. You asked if I would go to collect Trent Embra. Do you understand why I don't?"
Ranar didn't wait for Lewis to reply. "I leave Trent to find his own way to this place because I see a greater need. A violet-eyed Al'rashian will bolster the clans moral. The Spirit Summoner I've heard of can restore the ties that once held our nation together. Who will lead them?"
"You think I should fill that role?" Lewis laughed at the suggestion in the ancient Al'rashian's words. "My eyes are blue, not gold, Ranar. Do you know how many generations you have to go back in order to find a full- blooded Al'rashian in my lineage? The Clans will never accept a Human
king."
"Is that what you saw when you looked into the mirror earlier?" Ranar closed his eyes and lowered his chin. "We are not Elves, Lewis Dross. There are no Half-Al'rashians. Yours is first among all the Clans. A drop of Dross blood is sufficient for me to see you in this throne. Unless the Clans have fallen beyond all recognition, they will acknowledge you as well. If they don't, I will help you toss them from this place personally.
"There will be no golden-eyed kings, Lewis Dross." Ranar's eyes opened and he stood. "There is no Spirit of Al'rashia to anoint a leader. Your ancestors must have forgotten to take that into account. You see a Human in the mirror. Do you know what I see?"
"This place was built to resemble Windshire Stronghold. Ther biggest difference I've found here is that Windshire had a statue guarding her gates. Perhaps your people should have recreated that as well. If they had, you would be able to see that, other than a few superficial differences, you are the spitting image of Aldren Dross.
"He built our nation and his eyes were blue for the majority of his life." Ranar place a hand in Lewis's shoulder briefly as he walked past the stunned Duke. "The Clans will follow the violet-eyed into the abyss, screaming defiance. It will take a Dross to lead them back into the light."
The Elder's voice echoed in the great hall, bouncing off the walls and columns to slam into Lewis. "You look tired, Your Grace. Sit upon the throne and think it over."
Lewis couldn't bring himself to lower his body into the chair. Left alone, with Ranar's words ringing in his ears, he was held back by chains forged by the expectations of the men who carved the seat.
A united Al'rashian nation. A golden-eyed king. The journals left behind by the original founders of Al'drossford made it seem like those things were within reach. The preserved pages containing all of the plans of his family had made it sound like a simple task with the right preparations.
Those plans had been made nearly a thousand years ago. Maybe Ranar was right. Maybe a home wasn't enough to draw the Clans. Perhaps only a leader could do that.
Chapter Twenty Trent came to his feet, knives in hand. When no threat presented itself, he
stood, muscles clenched, and waited for the surge of adrenaline to fade. He hadn't meant to sleep so casually, in the open without setting a single trap or alarm or concealing himself in any way. His dreams, dreams of flinging darts and fighting rats, had reflected his inner worries.
Breathing deeply, Trent started to return Sorrow and Strife to their sheaths when it occurred to him that Strife felt far more comfortable in his hand than it ever had before. A check of his Status left him stumped. Clever Hands was a welcome addition, but how had he learned it? In his sleep?
He also had 10 Free Attribute Points still waiting to be spent. That should have been done the day before but had somehow slipped his mind. Adding 7 to Dexterity and 3 to Strength left Trent a little light-headed, a result not only because of the changes to his Attributes, but also the realization that he could finally draw the short sword he had received in the Garden of Clarity.
The Weapon came out of Storage, and Trent held it tightly as he Appraised it. The sword almost fell from his hands as he read the results. He managed to hang on, which was probably for the best. Dreq had already been spilled to the ground by Trent's abrupt rising and was expressing his displeasure by gnawing at Trent's boot. Having a sword dropped on his head probably wouldn't have cheered the Dog up much.
Crystal Key
Damage rating 30
Go West
The weapon wasn't a weapon. Was it a key? Drawing it, Trent saw the blade for the first time. Two feet long and made of translucent crystal, it certainly looked like a sword, and it had a heft to it that his wooden blades lacked. Testing the edge, Trent found it dull. The Damage Rating probably
came from the item's unusual weight. It was more club than a sword and, according to Appraisal, it wasn't meant to be used as either.
The note, go west, in the description was curious, though not enough to cover his disappointment. Storing the useless thing, Trent rubbed at his neck. He might go west. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be. He balked because he didn't like taking directions from an inanimate object with no clear purpose.
Trent nudged Dreq away from his boots. Before the Dog could spring back, Trent tossed a portion of meat and a Beast tooth to the ground. That should distract Dreq while Trent went about his morning routine.
With the words "go west" at the forefront of his thoughts, Trent stretched. He exercised and practiced for an hour but wasn't able to work up much enthusiasm for it. As he ate the last of his dried rations under the watchful eyes of Dreq, he found himself growing excited at the prospect of discovering where the Key's direction might take him.
First, he had to return to Bellrise. He needed supplies and weapons. The Keeper of the Moonlit Forest had said Trent needed to learn that there was strength in numbers. The lesson Trent actually took from that Trial was that Healing and Stamina potions were necessities. Spare weapons would help as well.
He figured he and Dreq could make it back to the town by midmorning if they hurried. A glance at Dreq made him reevaluate that estimate. Somehow the Dog had gotten smaller in the night and lost two-thirds of his Stamina and Health. Training was called for; Trent was not going to carry the pup, no matter how many hopeful looks were sent his way.
On the road south of Bellrise, the figure of a young man could be seen trudging towards town. Very little stood out about the young man, Kerry Moss. Kerry's shade of brown hair and eyes could be found everywhere, his face was plain but honest, and he was average in height. Only his build set him apart.
Kerry's chest and shoulders went on for miles. He was a squat tower on legs, and he probably had to turn sideways to go through a doorway. Dressed in simple tunic and trousers, with hands tucked into his pockets, Kerry resembled a boulder that had learned to walk.
Looking past his width, two things would draw the eye of an observer. The first was that Kerry's abnormally wide shoulders were slumped, and his eyes never looked farther than the tips of his boots. He had the air of a man who had lost it all, with no chance of recovery.
The second thing of note is that Kerry was covered in what one would hope was dirt. Those hopes would be dashed upon approach. Kerry stank! The smell was bad enough to drive away Beasts and men, and worst of all, Kerry's nose refused to adjust to the odor that lingered about him. He was subjected to the scent constantly.
Scuffing his feet, Kerry was thinking about how he had always planned to join the Guard. That was still his plan. His aunt was a member of the City Watch in Al'drossford, and she could get him a place as a Recruit easily enough, but Kerry had grander dreams.
Guard Recruits were not provided with Skill Stones; they learned their weapons through drills. They would not be given any external help until it was time for them to Specialize their Class, a process which could take years under the exacting standards of the Duke's trainers.
It had seemed like a brilliant idea to enroll at Bellrise Academy. Recruits had limited time to delve Dungeons, and while they could keep whatever they found during their instructional expeditions, the fact was it could take dozens of trips into a Dungeon before you found a Skill Stone. Paired with the fact that there was no guarantee of learning the found Skill, Guard Recruits were stuck with what they could pick up manually.
Theoretically, the opposite was true for Academy students learning to be Adventurers. They were encouraged to explore the local Dungeon as often as they could. They were presented with a wide variety of courses where they could study any Skill they desired. If they found a Skill Stone they couldn't absorb, there was always someone willing to trade. Bellrise students should
have been overwhelmed with the number of Skills available for them to master.
In the six months he had been studying, Kerry had learned two, Heavy Armor and Taunt. It was not the glorious path to a quick promotion he had imagined. At this rate, when he did join the Guard, instead of being well ahead of others his age, he would be lagging way behind.
Most of Kerry's problems could be solved with money. Copper would get him into the local Dungeon to search for treasure and to level up. Silver would buy Skills and pay for extra lessons. Gold would cover the cost of his rash decisions, though that was a dream and one he tried not to think about often.
It was the pursuit of coin that had taken him beyond the town's walls today. He woke up early to beat the rush of Academy students to the Guild's Questing Pillar. He was the first to arrive and had his pick of all the Quests available to Wood Ranked Adventurers. He should have slept in. The Quest he ended up choosing would have been there regardless of what time he arrived.
The Quest was always available. It paid silver, but you had to be new or desperate to take it. The title, Herbalist's Request, and the simple description, "Eight hours of chores," accompanied by three silver and 20 XP reward, lured a lot of new students. It lured them once and only once. Kerry was the only person to ever accept the Quest twice.
The Herbalist who set the Quest kept Striped Beetles, a harmless type of insect Beast, for the sole purpose of using their excrement as fertilizer. It was said there was no better substance for cultivating herbs than the dung of a Striped Beetle, and the six-foot bugs were more than happy to produce plenty of the substance. All they asked for in exchange was bark and grass and a soft sandy place to sleep.
It was an unpleasant job, hauling and spreading the manure, but the reward should have made it worthwhile. It might have, if not for the stench and the fertilizer's other effect. Besides nourishing plants, the dung could be dried into a fine powder. When thrown at an enemy, the powder restricted
Mana, making it impossible for Spells and certain Skills to be utilized. It was most effective when refined with other ingredients by an Alchemist. Unrefined, it took more powder than was easily carried to work.
After eight hours of mucking beetle stalls, Kerry was covered in plenty, making it impossible for him to cast a Self-Clean Charm. He walked the three miles back to town, and the three coins in his belt pouch couldn't distract him from his own smell. Remembering the smirk of the Herbalist as he tossed the silver while holding his nose and thinking of the similar looks the guards at the gate would give him, Kerry decided he would rather die than take this Quest again.
Head down, caught up in his misery, Kerry never noticed what he ran into until he was already sprawled on the ground. It felt as if he had walked into a wall! Sitting up and blinking, Kerry nearly screamed when he saw what he had strolled into.
A black and white monster, with misshapen legs and a long neck ending in a tiny head, blocked the road. Kerry had left the tools of his trade in his room, unwilling to soil his prized armor. He regretted that now. Kerry had invested heavily in Strength and Constitution, but despite his size, he was not a talented brawler. He had thought he would be safe this close to Bellrise. He never expected a freakish Beast to appear.
"Are you alright?" The Beast spoke! It spoke, and the voice seemed to come from its nether regions. Its head began yapping at Kerry in a displeased manner like a puppy rudely awakened from an afternoon nap. Kerry almost rubbed his eyes, fortunately, remembering what was covering his hands before he did so.
It wasn't a Beast! It was a man – a man who was wearing a masked cowl and dressed in black and white leather armor. Kerry's confusion was caused by the fact that the man was doing a handstand with a puppy resting on the soles of his feet. While Kerry watched, the man flexed his knees, and then straightened his legs with a jerk. The puppy's yapping became a howl as it was propelled skywards with an indignant look on its face.
Trent bent at the waist and set his feet on the ground. Standing, he turned
and snatched a falling Dreq out of the air by the scruff of his neck. The Dog growled and snapped at him, clearly unhappy with how Trent had chosen to dislodge him from his spot.
"You should have walked on your own. It was hard enough getting you up there. How did you think I was going to get you down?" Trent asked, setting Dreq on the road. Dreq answered by sneezing and turning his back to Trent.
Ignoring the pouting Dog, Trent addressed Kerry again. "Are you alright? You fell pretty hard. It's probably because you're too stiff. You should loosen up."
"Yeah, right, loosen up." Kerry shook his head and scrambled to his feet. "I'm fine, though. Clumsy but tough, that's me. Were you just doing a handstand in the middle of the road?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Kerry wished he could take them back. Adventurers could be touchy sometimes. And this stranger, with his featureless mask and hands resting on the bone hilts of a pair of knives, gave Kerry an uneasy feeling.
"No, of course not, you can't get anywhere doing handstands," Trent denied. "I was walking on my hands."
"Oh, but why…" Another question threatening to spill from Kerry's lips faded away as Kerry took in Trent's appearance. Knives, leather armor, cowl, they all screamed Rogue. The stranger had said he was walking on his hands like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. It wasn't Kerry's business or place to dispute that. However, if he was a Rogue, then this newcomer had incredible value to an Academy student.
"I'm Kerry Moss. Are you new in town? Come to join the Academy?" Kerry blurted the words. Trent was excited to talk with someone after so long with only Beasts for company, but his voice turned decidedly cool at the memory of Martin Vane.
"I've been here before."
At their feet, Dreq's ears perked up, and he tilted his head to look at Trent. Trent had seemed pleased to meet someone at first, and this new person smelled interesting enough. Why did Trent suddenly seem ready to attack?
Kerry picked up on the change in Trent's mood as well and took a step back. "No offense! I thought you might need a guide, is all, if you are new. I could show you around to make up for running into you. If you already know your way around…"
Trent's caution wavered. Martin had a slyness about him that Trent had not picked up on, but Kerry looked more harmless than Dreq. It was also true that he did not know where anything was in Bellrise. He could find the stall that had sold meat skewers again. Other than that, he had no idea where he could buy weapons and potions.
"I could use a guide," Trent stated uncertainly. "Don't you need to clean up? They don't let you walk around town like that, do they?"
Beneath the filth covering his face, Kerry blushed. "I can clean up at the gate. I left my pack there this morning. It will just take a minute to wash up."
He had brought his pack with him last time only to discover that the dust had found its way into the sealed bag and coated his clean clothes. Kerry suspected the Herbalist had a hand in that. He did not allow those who took his Quest to wash up using his well and delighted in watching Adventurers walk away from his farm covered in filth.
"Do you not know the Self-Clean Charm? You should learn it, it's amazing." Trent was always willing to extol the virtues of charms.
"I know! But I…I don't want to talk about it!" Kerry said gruffly. Having his own state of cleanliness questioned banished any fear he might have of Trent. He kicked at the ground again and muttered under his breath.
"Oh." Trent gestured down the road. "Town's that way, right?"
"Yeah." Kerry set off at once, hunching his shoulders and tucking his
hands into his pockets. Walking with another person made it even harder to ignore the smell of Beetle dung. He couldn't help noticing that when Trent fell in beside him, he kept a good six feet away.
It was still a mile back to Bellrise, and Kerry spent the journey trying to discreetly find out more about his traveling companion. His efforts were wasted, though, as Trent deflected reasonable questions about his Class and past with monosyllabic answers and shrugs. The puppy that trotted at his feet and begged to be picked up was a more expressive companion!
Trent's refusal to be drawn into conversation only cemented Kerry's assumptions that he was a Rogue. Not only a Rogue, but an inexperienced one, even if his equipment said otherwise. Though his armor may look expensive, new Rogues always tried to play up the mystery of their Class. Each time Trent dodged one of his questions, Kerry became more determined to befriend him.
Kerry's party needed a Rogue, one with the Detect Traps Skill. Academy students could enter the local Dungeon for free if their group had a member that could Detect Traps. For one reason or another, the leader of Kerry's party had managed to alienate all the student Rogues, and the Archer in their group had not managed to learn the essential Skill yet. Trent represented a life without Striped Beetles and farm chores to Kerry, and he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.
The question of how to get closer to Trent plagued Kerry until they reached Bellrise. He momentarily dropped his objective and retrieved his pack from where he had left it, under the smirking eyes of the town Guardsmen. Changing in broad view and wiping himself down with a rag that one of the Guardsman wet for him, Kerry blushed as the smirks became outright laughter.
Ignoring comments about how it was a shame to hide such smooth, white skin, as fair as any girl's, under so much dung, Kerry cast the Self-Clean Charm once enough of the dried waste had been removed. Clean at last, he shouldered his pack and hurried through the gate.
Inside the wall, his ears still ringing from the Guardsmen's jokes, Kerry
found himself at a loss. He had told Trent he would show him around, but he still didn't know what had brought Trent to Bellrise.
"Ah, what is it you're looking for here? Come to delve the Dungeon? I can show you the entrance, and if you're alone, my friends and I are looking to work with a Rogue with the Detect Traps Skill," Kerry clumsily made his offer, as he turned to face Trent. "Or, if it's a general tour you want, I can do that too. Only we'll need to stop by the Guild first."
"The Dungeon?" Trent relented and bent down to pick up Dreq, who had reared up to place his front paws on Trent's knee. The town's streets were busy, and the Dog, exhausted from his walk, was in no condition to keep up any longer. Tucking the pup in the crook of his arm, Trent mulled over Kerry's words.
Martin had said he wanted to challenge the local Dungeon as well. It put Trent's guard up to hear a similar statement from Kerry. He would have left right then if not for the words, "strength in numbers," which held him in place. The truth was Trent was uncertain what he wanted to do next, and the thought of another Trial was appealing.
"Your friends," Trent said at last. "They're like you?"
"Well, not exactly. I'm the junior member of the party. The others are all close to Level 10," Kerry cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I'm a Warrior but I'm stuck at Level 4."
"We do know what we're doing!" He hurriedly added, "Jace has Basic Longsword at Level 7! He's the best Warrior at the Academy, and we're got a Mage who is really top notch! You won't find a better team to work with in Bellrise!"
Kerry's bragging sales pitch settled any qualms Trent might have had about the situation, though not in the way Kerry intended. Levels 4 through 9? Basic Longsword at Level 7? And they were the best Bellrise had to offer? If that were true, Trent had nothing to be afraid of, except the possibility that the stiff, broad-shouldered Kerry and his friends would hold him back.
"We can talk about it, I guess. I do have the Detect Trap Skill." Trent didn't clear up Kerry's misconception over his Class. Best to keep a few things secret in case things turned sour. "You need to go to the Guild?"
"Yeah, got to update my Token and report a completed Quest!" Kerry practically shook with excitement at Trent's halfhearted agreement to his offer. "Then we can get a meal at the Lucky Pig. The others should be there by now."
Trent made a noncommittal noise at the mention of a meal. He just followed Kerry, who led the way with a spring in his step, pointing out things of interest as they went.
"Most people buy at the market, but the general goods store there is the best place in town to sell if you have drops the Guild doesn't want."
"I've heard that it's the cleanest inn in town. I don't know if that's true. I sleep at the Academy dorms myself. You sure you don't want to enroll? The instructors are really good, and students get all kinds of discounts!"
"That Blacksmith has the most expensive equipment. Way more than I can afford, and to be honest, I don't think he's very good, but he's the only person that buys Common Ranked Skill Stones. I don't know why. He's got barrels of them, never turns them down. Only pays twenty-five coppers, though."
"That's the Lucky Pig. It's more expensive than the Guild, and the food isn't as good. Some Academy students go there to, uh, unwind."
"And this is the Guildhall." Kerry stopped in front of a nondescript two- story stone building with a sign bearing the crossed sword and pick of the Adventurers Guild. "You are a member, right? Wood Ranked?"
It was one of the questions Trent had avoided before, and Kerry crossed his fingers, hoping he would finally have an answer this time. It was a serious concern. Kerry's promises of free entry into the Dungeon would go out the window if it turned out Trent was Copper Ranked or better.
"Yes, I joined a few weeks ago." Trent stepped to the door and went inside. He missed seeing the way Kerry's shoulders sagged with relief and then sagged further as Trent's answer sunk in.
A few weeks ago? That meant Trent was greener than Kerry was. It wasn't a problem as long as he had Detect Traps, but considering his armor and weapons, Kerry had expected Trent to be more impressive. No wonder he had not wanted to divulge his Class or Skills. He was probably embarrassed.
Trent would have laughed had he been privy to Kerry's thoughts. As it was, he had forgotten the young Warrior existed. Trent stood in the Guild's lobby, examining the Questing Pillar while holding a Copper Token in his hand. It was the Token left behind by Martin.
He had wanted to get a closer look at a Questing Pillar since he first encountered one, but the rush to leave Al'drossford behind him had prevented that. Seeing the Pillar in Bellrise, Trent had hurried up to it, only to realize he didn't know how it worked.
Before he could find someone to explain the Pillar to him, the Token, picked up in the Moonlit Forest as a curiosity, started to jump and jiggle in his pouch. It had startled him enough that he took it out. Holding it, the Token felt warm and seemed to pull towards the Questing Pillar.
"What's the matter? Thinking about taking up a Quest?" Kerry came up behind Trent and peered over his shoulder. "We usually pick up any Dungeon related tasks before entering, but there's no harm in doing it now."
"Does this look like it's glowing to you?" Trent held up the Token for Kerry to see.
"I thought you were Wood Ranked! Why does your Token have a hole in it?" Looking closer, Kerry realized there was a faint sheen to the copper plate and, unlike Trent, recognized what that meant. "You found a Quest item! Holy crap, of all the luck, where did you get that?"
"It's just something I picked up," Trent said uncomfortably. He wasn't
ashamed of killing Martin, but he surmised that announcing you killed another Adventurer was frowned on by the Guild. "It feels warm too, what does that mean?"
"It's letting you know you've completed a Quest!" Kerry slapped Trent's shoulder and immediately stepped back. The familiar action caused Trent's head to snap in his direction, and the puppy in his arms began to growl.
"Sorry, I got too excited. Never seen a Quest item light up before." Kerry held up his hands apologetically. "Are you going to complete the Quest?"
"How do I do that?" Trent turned back towards the Pillar, glancing between it and the Token in his hand.
"You really are new, huh?" Kerry scratched at the back of his head. How could someone look so competent but be so ignorant? "Just touch the Pillar, and all the tasks you are eligible for will be displayed. Then it's a lot like manipulating a Status, though you have to touch the screen that appears to make it work."
Putting Dreq down, Trent stretched his hand towards the Pillar. The screen that appeared at his touch reminded him more of a traveling merchant's inventory than his Status, but it was easy to understand how it worked.
The screen had several lists on it. The first was titled Local Tasks; below that came Area Quests, Trial Quests, and World Quests. Looking over Trent's shoulder Kerry whistled at the number of jobs that came up. He reevaluated how new Trent was. To be eligible for this many Quests, Trent had to be playing around, pretending he did not understand how the Pillar worked.
"You can accept World Quests?" Kerry whispered loudly in astonishment. Checking for and accepting Quests from this Pillar every day for six months, he had never seen that title come up before. He had heard about them, of course. World Quests were often discussed in lessons, but they generally didn't become available until you reached Iron Rank, and all the instructors said to stay away from them unless you liked the idea of traveling
for years through unpopulated areas.
Reading the lists on the screen, Trent was underwhelmed. The rewards for the Quests that a Wood Ranked Adventurer could take were unimpressive. Herbalist's Request was the highest paying job he could find, and it did not interest him in the slightest. Depending on the 5 to 10 XP awarded for completing the assignments, it would take Trent years to reach his next Level.
And there was nothing about Martin's Token on the screen! Following a hunch, Trent touched the shimmering Token to the Pillar and almost dropped it when a loud chime sounded, and the text on the screen was replaced with a single Quest description and a detailed drawing of a man's face.
Quest, Missing Baby Brother. My dear younger brother has wandered off. He was born with the name Martin Vane, though he's a
mischievous lad and prone to changing it. You needn't detain him, simply touch his Token to the Pillar so I can know he is well. Reward: 3
Gold, payable at any Guildhall, 2000 XP. Quest completed.
"That's sad," Kerry muttered after stepping forward to read the screen. "They must have really loved their brother."
"Why is it sad?" Trent studied the drawing of Martin, and his hand clenched around the Token which had lost its sheen.
"The hole in the Token means the owner is dead," Kerry said, shaking his head. "And to put up a reward like that, one you can claim anywhere, not only does it have to be large, but you have to pay ten times the amount to the Guild to ensure it gets where it's claimed. And that 2000 XP? It comes from the Quest Giver, and there's no telling how much it will cost you. They might have lost a Level posting this."
"They loved him so much they hired strangers to drag him to a Guildhall, whether he wanted to go or not." Trent didn't share Kerry's sentiments. A Guild Token could not be separated from its owner. "How gentle would Adventurers be for the promise of gold?"
"Uh, not very," Kerry lowered his voice and leaned in to warn Trent, "You should keep that reward a secret. This is a pretty tame town, but good men can turn ugly over that much coin."
"It's not like I have it anyway." Trent put the Token away. "There's no reward chest."
"Chest? Like in a Dungeon? Why would there be? You've got to collect it from a Guild Attendant or the Quest Giver." Kerry's opinion of Trent shifted again. "How can you be an Adventurer and not know that? How can you be alive and not know that? How old are you?"
It was another question that Trent was unwilling to answer, and he turned away from the Pillar without a word. Unlike the Guild at Al'drossford, this hall only had two Attendants working the counter, and Trent joined a handful of other Adventurers waiting their turn.
"I didn't mean anything by that," Kerry apologized, joining Trent in line. "I just… You're pretty darn secretive, you know." He was getting defensive. "Can't tell whether you're really green or putting one over on me. If we're going to work together–"
"When would we do that? Challenge the Trial? Tonight?" Trent didn't know what Kerry expected of him. He also did not remember agreeing to work with Kerry in the first place and was starting to think he didn't want to.
"No, I have to clear it with the rest of my party first. They might have lessons in the morning." Kerry brightened up, thinking Trent was finally coming around. "Tomorrow afternoon, well, I think the others might have field exercises, but I'll be available! We can delve the first floor and get to know each other better. Nothing brings Adventurers together quicker than a Dungeon. That's what the headmaster says."
Trent's turn at the counter came and lasted longer than those before him. He had to present his Token to collect his reward, a fact he had been unaware of. There was a small hang up with the reward. Bellrise had never had anyone complete a World Quest before. The Attendant had to check with the Guild Master before she would pay out such a large sum. The Guild Master himself
was hesitant to honor the Quest but, with the reputation of the Guild hanging over his head, he finally agreed.
After the coins were collected, Trent asked the Attendant how he could progress from Wood Ranked to Copper. Learning that he had to complete Quests, a lot of them, to do that, Trent looked towards the Pillar with a gleam in his eye.
"So tomorrow then? We can meet at the Lucky Pig for lunch, or if you want to meet the others tonight…" Kerry was torn between his own business and following Trent as he left the counter.
"Tomorrow!" Trent's hand was already on the Pillar, and his fingers flashed as he picked out Quests. "Or maybe the day after. I'm going to be busy for some time."
Chapter Twenty-One Collect Iron Ore, 40 pounds – Reward: 50 coppers, 10 XP
Collect Cave Moss, 1 pound – Reward: 10 coppers, 5 XP
Collect Beetle Wings, 10 sets – Reward: 5 coppers, 5 XP
Trent felt lighter stepping out of the Guildhall with only Dreq for company, and a dozen new Quests filling his Status. All the tasks he had chosen were repeatable collection Quests for materials the Guild and local craftsmen needed. If he found 400 pounds of Iron Ore, he could earn 5 silver and 100 XP. Still no comparison to what he could earn in a Field or Instant Trial, but the Quests had opened his eyes to another possibility.
The Bellrise Trial wasn't going to be difficult. 5 coppers and 5 XP for Beetle Wings? If the creature were dangerous, only newly Awakened Adventurers would be tempted by it. To go from Wood to Copper rank, Trent would be better off hunting Beasts in the wild.
However, Trent had other considerations. He glanced down at Dreq who was chasing a spider along the edge of the road. "It's time for you to get stronger!"
The puppy tumbled as Trent's words interrupted his pounce. Rushing back to Trent's side, Dreq jumped up against Trent's leg and barked. He tried to communicate the words Food and Carry, but having been warned that animals should not be able to speak, he refrained from actually talking. Trent ignored him and went from his Quests to the main page of his Status.
Name: Trent Embra
Title: Shadow Hunter
Age: 12 Race: Al'rashian
Class: Survivalist Level
Level: 14 3 Class: Swordsman Level
11
Profession: None
Health: 630 Stamina: 630 Mana: 130 Strength: 37 Agility: 34 Dexterity: 40 Constitution: 12 Endurance: 3 Intelligence: 13 Perception: 2 Wisdom: 13
Free Attribute Points: 0 Free Skill Points: 11
Skills
Unarmed Combat Level 2
Basic Small Blades Level 5
Basic Shield Level 1
Basic Longsword Level 10/max
Thrust Level 6 Triple Slash Level 3
Chop Level 5 Long Slash Level 3 Archery Level 1
Disarm Trap Level 1 Create Traps Level 4
Detect Traps Level 3
Tracking Level 6 Dash Level 10/max Dodge Level 6 Mining level 1 Appraisal Level 1 Identify Level 5
Herbalism Level 6 Harvesting Level 5 Armor Crafting Level 1
Riding Level 2 Animal Care Level 1
Mana Control Level 1
Stealth Level 3 Camouflage Level 3
Mana Manipulation Level 1
Throwing Level 5 Climb Level 1 Ocean Meets the Shore Level 1
Three Steps Level 5 Acrobatics Level 2 Steady Footing Level 3
Military Fencing Level 1
Block Level 1 Parry Level 1
Disarm Level 1 Leadership Level 3 Weapons Crafting Level 3
Sewing Level 1 Light Armor Level 1
Flash Strike Level 1
Enhanced Jump Level 1
Arrows Flight Level 1
Bloodletting Level 3
Abilities Map Storage Level 5 Heart of the Inferno Fire Manipulation
Level 3 Far Sight Level 1 Earth Manipulation
Level 1
Spells
Spark/Charm Level 4 Ember/Charm Level 1
Spirit Flame/Charm Level 2
Self-Clean/Charm Level 4
Dust/Charm Level 1
Balm/Charm Level 1
Mend Level 1 Prepare Hides/Charm Level 6
His Quests were chosen with Dreq and his lowest leveled Skills in mind. Learning about materials and ores would help increase his Crafting and Mining Skills, as well as Harvesting and Herbalism. His conclusion after meeting Kerry and interacting with Martin, was that he was special, or at least, he had an advantage.
Skills! Skills provided Attribute Points along with knowledge and increased talent. Having an undeveloped Skill was like letting your sword rust. Kerry's excitement at Trent's having Detect Traps, and Martin's comparative weakness in combat, signaled to Trent that because of his Skills, he wasn't the pathetic boy who collapsed from running anymore.
And he could get stronger using a minor Trial to develop his lesser Skills. He just needed a few supplies first. Potions, a pickaxe, food, and a sword were all on his list, and with Dreq trotting beside him, Trent set to shopping.
Between the open-air market near the northern gate and the general store
Kerry had pointed out, Trent found all the basic supplies he needed and a few things that struck his fancy. He picked up a bag that he intended to pass off as a Storage device, concealing his own Ability, and filled it with Potions and food. He was delighted to find tools for Herbalism and Crafting. Those likewise went into the bag to end up in Storage, but one thing Bellrise didn't seem to have was a decent weaponsmith. Every weapon or piece of armor Trent found had him rolling his eyes with disgust. They were worse than the Basic Blades he found in Trials or those he had been given by Sergeant Cullen.
He would stick to his Elwire swords, or Sorrow and Strife, rather than use the trash that littered Bellrise. He was also disappointed to find that Spells like Firebolt or Fireball were not available on the market. Too many young Mages kept the supply short, and all tier-one Spells were snapped up the second they were available.
He wasn't sure it was smart to buy from the merchants at the market anyway. Prices had gone up from his first purchase to his last. They were all smiling, calling out to him, holding out their wares, all the while extolling the virtues of their products compared to their competitors. Those smiles had only gotten wider, and the shouting louder, when Trent passed over the coin they requested without complaint.
There was something to this shopping business that he was missing. There was always a pause between Trent laying down his money and the merchants sweeping it away, as if they expected something from him. They never said what it was, though, and Trent had been happy to see his Storage filling up with Potions and rations, so he didn't question it further.
Standing in front of the last shop he intended to visit before going to the Trial, Trent wondered if it was worth the time to go inside. Arden's Arms didn't inspire a great deal of confidence. The white paint on the exterior of the wooden building was peeling, and the words on the sign were hardly legible. Only the thought of a decent sword prodded him forward.
Pushing open the door, Trent was confronted by racks of dust-covered weapons. Squeezing past Trent's ankles, Dreq trotted inside curiously, kicking up dirt as he went. Dust tickled his nose, and a sneeze rocked the
Dog's body. A second monstrous sneeze tumbled him to his side, and Dreq rolled across the floorboards, clawing at his nose and attempting to bring himself under control.
"You're not sleeping on me until you clean yourself," Trent said, walking into the shop. His black and white companion had been replaced by a brown ball of fluff trying to eyeball him sorrowfully, but he couldn't keep from sneezing long enough to convey how much of a traitor Trent was.
Leaving Dreq to his battle, Trent began Appraising the shop's wares. Disbelief at what he found kept him from turning to go. Arden's Arms was filled with weapon-shaped items that made the few blades Trent had seen in the market look like gems. Spears with dull tips, swords that had never been honed, iron capped staves that were of more use as walking sticks than weapons. Not a single item on display had a Damage Rating.
Picking up a longsword, Trent was astonished to find the blade seemed to have two points of balance. It wobbled in his hand, threatening to plunge downward one moment, then twisting to the side the next. He hadn't even swung it! If the weapon-like object had been sharp, it would have been more of a hazard to its wielder than anyone else.
"You have a fine eye for quality. That is one of my best works!" The voice interrupting Trent's struggle to return the blade to its rack was filled with pride. The face the voice belonged to might have been prideful as well. Trent found it difficult to tell, covered as it was in soot. "All the items on that rack are on sale. Seems you can spot a bargain as well as a masterpiece!"
"You made all these…things?" Trent eyed the man who had appeared from a backroom, curiously. The man did not fit Trent's idea of what a blacksmith should look like. Narrow shoulders, weak chin, thin chest, stick- like arms, only the man's too-large leather apron was appropriate.
"I did! The name is Arden," he introduced himself while slapping his chest and sending a cloud of black dust into the air. "Finest blacksmith in Bellrise, if I do say so myself."
"So, you made all these weapons on purpose, then." Trent pushed at the
pole of the spear with one finger and watched wonderingly as the long weapon spun in place. "Are you the only blacksmith in Bellrise?"
"What are you implying?" Arden crossed the room, nearly knocking over a barrel of swords in his haste to defend his work. "You doubt my craft! These are real weapons, not that garbage you'll find in the Dungeon. Each piece is forged with love and dedication! I won't have you slandering me, young man."
Trent nearly objected to the title Arden imposed on him. Up close, the smith was shorter than Trent, and his face, what could be seen of it beneath the soot, was as unlined as Trent's own. If Trent were asked to guess, he would put Arden's age at no more than sixteen, perhaps a few years less.
"What are you here for anyway?" Arden harrumphed, putting his hands on his hips. "You buying or selling? If you're just here to disparage a craftsman, you can be on your way! Some of us have work to do!"
"Not buying!" Trent said quickly, heading off any possibility of walking out of this shop with one of Arden's masterpieces. "Maybe selling. I have a few Elwire blades that–"
"Blades? Does it look like I need to buy weapons?" Arden flung out his hands to gesture at the racks filling the store.
"Yes," Trent knew he was far from a great Craftsman himself, but at least his swords could cut.
"Well, aren't you just a mouthy little…" Arden paused. Pulling a handkerchief out from his apron, he wiped his face, smearing the filth on it before saying, "You have Elwire wood for sale? How much? Oh, the things I could do with Elwire wood! Working with high grade materials I could finally…"
Arden jumped and glanced around the empty shop suspiciously. Holding up a finger to indicate Trent should wait, he crossed to the entry and bolted the door.
"So we won't be interrupted," he explained, drawing the curtain on the shop's only window. "Now… I say, did you drop a hairball on my floor?"
Dreq, worn out from his fit, dragged himself upright to bare his teeth at the smith. Abandoned in his hour of need by Trent and now insulted by Arden, whose shop was the reason for his present state, the Dog was in no mood for ridicule.
He would have sprung for Arden's ankles if Trent hadn't picked him up by the scruff. Patting Dreq carefully to rid him of the worst of the dirt, Trent replied, "He's a Dog, I think. He follows me around."
"Well, you should give him a bath, he's a mess!" Arden began walking briskly towards the back of the shop. "Step into my office, and we'll talk business."
Follows him around? Needs a bath? Dreq sagged in Trent's grip as the hits kept coming. Exactly whose fault was it that Dreq needed a bath? If this Arden person cleaned his shop now and again, perhaps poor pups wouldn't be driven to distraction by the dust! Dreq's feelings were partially soothed when Trent settled the Dog into his customary spot in the crook of his arm and began patting the dirt from his fur.
Arden's office was his forge, containing little else besides the tools of his trade. It was littered with misshapen hunks of metal and scraps of wood and coal. Arden leaned against an anvil at the center of the room and proudly watched Trent examine the hammers and files that were strewn about.
"Quite the workplace, huh." Arms crossed over his chest, Arden nodded with satisfaction, taking Trent's stunned silence for approval. "Finest forge in Bellrise, if I do say so myself. Now, what did you say your name was?"
"Trent, Trent Embra," came the muttered reply. Trent had found a piece of scrap with a sharpened edge and was tossing it up and down with one hand. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning towards the wall where it stuck. The discarded trash had a Damage Rating and was the best weapon he had seen so far.
"Hey! Don't go messing up my walls! Who throws things in another person's workplace?" Arden stalked to where the scrap protruded from the wall and attempted to pull it loose. After several futile tugs to which the metal refused to yield, he stepped back. "Hmm, you know, I rather like it there. It's kind of like a tiny shelf. Quite ingenious of you to think of it, Trent, and your method of installation is certainly novel."
Arden tapped his chin and returned to lean against his anvil. "I like you Trent, you're an innovator. You think outside the box, you remind me of myself! I'm willing to buy all the Elwire you have, as well as any other materials that you're looking to offload. Are they with the rest of your party? When can you deliver?"
Trent kicked aside scrap to create a clean spot on the floor and took his new pack from his shoulder. He started to set it down, then gave the workspace and its owner a closer look. "Are you sure you can afford to buy my, uh, goods?"
Haggle, that was the word that Trent had been searching for while dealing with the marketplace's smiling vultures. Haggle and trade. Trent had a firm grasp on the latter from his dealings with Agatha and Ranar, but the former only occurred to him now. Mostly because, from the looks of things, Arden didn't have anything that Trent wanted to buy or trade for.
Trent would happily give a gold piece for a minor Health restorative. He would part with a Beast Core in exchange for a meal, but he wasn't quite so unworldly that he'd take a sword, without a Damage Rating, as payment for items he could use himself.
"Trust me, Trent!" Arden assured him. "Money isn't a thing I lack. You could pull out a whole Elwire tree and…" Trent began to re-shoulder his bag. Arden's words suddenly reminded him of Martin's.
"Hold on! Don't be so hasty." Arden rushed forward to grabbed Trent's arm, only to snatch his hand back when Dreq snapped at him. "I do have money! I swear it, maybe not enough for a whole tree, but I'm funded, well- funded!
"At least for another year." Arden sighed and ran his hands through his hair, causing his frizzy mop to stand on end. "Let me be honest with you Trent. I'm not a Blacksmith.
"But I can be! I will be!" Arden declared, eyes glowing with a manic light as he shook his fist at the air. "They say it's not possible but they're wrong. You're an innovator, Trent, so you can understand! You can help me! With enough practice, enough materials, and hard work, anything is possible!"
"It looks like you have plenty of materials already," Trent nudged half an iron ingot with his foot.
"Low quality junk, that's all the Adventurers bring me." Arden kicked the same ingot, then hopped in place, cursing as the metal refused to move. "I place Quest after Quest, and what do I get? Level 1 Iron. Half the Adventurers in Bellrise don't have the Mining Skill, and none of them have the Profession! They're just wasting my time!"
"Because they don't have the Miner's Profession?" Trent thought of the pickaxe and the Skill he intended to level using it and began wondering if his plans were worthwhile.
"Don't play the sly Dog with me, Trent," Arden said, wagging a finger "You know as well as I do that only Miners can find high-quality ores and gems. And those with just the Skill are lazy! They don't look for the ore; they just stumble on it and hack out a few pounds to sell. Leaving me stuck with junk and common ranked Skill Stones to work with."
"You work with Skill Stones? Can those be mined? What about Spell Stones?" Trent's plans underwent a drastic change as visions of Fire Spells hidden in rock filled his mind.
"Be serious, Trent, don't tease." Arden sighed wearily. "I buy Skill Stones to combine with my weapons. I have barrels of the things; no one else wants common ranked Stones. So far, it hasn't worked, but I know how it's done. One success, just one, and I'll learn the Smithing Skill, or at least Weapon's Crafting."
Behind his mask, Trent bit his tongue. He had so many questions! Questions he couldn't ask because doing so revealed his strangeness. Kerry had looked at him as if Trent had lost his mind when he asked about the Questing Pillar.
Setting Dreq at his feet, Trent reached into his pack and took out a chunk of Elwire from his Storage. Pulling his arm back to reveal the wood, Trent held it just out of reach of Arden's trembling fingers.
"Not enough for a spear, but it will do for a sword hilt," Arden swiped at the hunk of wood as he muttered. "I'll give you ten silver an ounce, and a discount on the finished product!"
"I'm not selling," Trent hid the wood behind his back, "but I'll trade it for a Basic Spear Skill Stone and a tier-one Fire Spell."
"I don't have those!" Arden wailed. He nearly burst into tears when Trent dropped the precious item back into his pack. "Don't be hasty, Trent! We've just begun to haggle! I don't have Basic Stones or Spells, but you can take any Common Ranked Skills I have, and twenty silver an ounce."
Trent almost leaped into the air at the realization that what he was doing was haggling. Pressing forward with this new information, he said, "Basic Spear and tier-one Fire Spell. That's what I need."
"Think about it, Trent." Arden tried to put on a reasonable expression. "That wood could make me a Blacksmith. A Blacksmith indebted to you. Isn't that what every Adventurer wants? Thirty silver an ounce!"
"I am thinking about it, Arden." Trent tossed the wood up into the air and watched Arden's eyes follow it. "And I think you need me more. Not only for the wood but because I have the Miner Profession."
The Elwire fell into Trent's hands, and Arden's jaw dropped to the floor. "Really?"
"Really," Trent repeated. It cost him 100 XP and a moment to manipulate his Status to make the words true.
Chapter Twenty-Two "Hello. How are you? Where are you from? Fine weather we're having,
don't you think?" Kerry kicked at the ground as he muttered to himself. He wasn't going to see Trent again. All because instead of gradually building the conversation, he'd drove straight into, "Hey, let's explore the Dungeon!" and "What's your Class, Level, and why don't you know the things you should know?"
Tomorrow? Yeah right! Kerry wouldn't show up to meet someone as pushy as he had been. He didn't know what he'd been thinking. Had he even told Trent anything about himself? That was what he should have done. Offer a stranger something of yourself, and they'll respond. Where had he heard that? Somewhere… maybe in the headmaster's speech at the beginning of the term?
Making his way to the Lucky Pig, Kerry rehearsed the proper way to make a friend, out loud, not caring that his mutterings drew concerned and suspicious looks. People made way for the fourteen-year-old Adventurer, partly due to his size, mostly because of the storm cloud that covered his face and the nonsense that spilled from his mouth. Arriving at the tavern, Kerry took a moment to lean against the outer wall and bang his head gently against it. An act that did not reassure the crowd that was watching him.
With a sigh, Kerry resigned himself to his fate and walked through the open door of the Lucky Pig. He hadn't exactly lied to Trent when he said the Pig was a popular gathering place for local students. Students did meet here, four of them, on a daily basis. Just because the majority preferred the brightly lit and festively decorated Guildhall, that didn't mean there weren't those that liked the dank and gloomy bar.
Though 'liked' might be a strong word. It was necessity that drove Kerry and his teammates to the Lucky Pig. They were no longer welcome to mingle with students at the Guild. A certain misunderstanding between the party's leader, Jace, and every Rogue in the Academy, had resulted in virtual exile
for the group of four. No one wanted to associate with a person who had accused a quarter of their classmates of theft.
Kerry knew he didn't want to. Unfortunately, he had obligations. Grimacing at the stale smell of ale and vomit that greeted him, Kerry walked to where he knew he would find the others. They always sat at the same table when they could. It was in the darkest corner, far enough away from the bar that on busy days, the waitress might never make her way to it. Jace had declared it to be his table, and it took rougher men than the local laborers to remove the best Warrior at the Academy.
Kerry tried not to step in the puddles of what was mostly alcohol as he weaved between the tables. He bumped into chairs and drunks as he went, mumbling apologies. The tavern was not crowded, but he wasn't light on his feet, and he drew more than a few angry glares. No one confronted him, though, one of the benefits to a barrel-like torso and arms like tree trunks.
"You're here," Jace's clear voice cut through the gloom of the Pig as Kerry pulled out a chair and sank into it. "You're two cups behind, and unless you have coin, you'll have trouble catching up. We're all out."
Kerry tossed a silver piece onto the table. "For the purse. I don't have any for drinks." He bit back a sigh as a glimmer of dissatisfaction crossed Jace's bright green eyes. The black-haired youth with the chiseled jaw snatched up the silver coin and made a show of dropping it into a pouch he set on the table.
"Well, that brings the communal pot to two silver," Jace grumbled. He turned the pouch over, and the mentioned coins fell out. He pushed them towards a cloaked figure on his right. "And now you can afford to take the Traps course again, Silas."
Silas, the party's archer, pushed back his hood revealing a pale face. Long fingers closed around the two coins and deposited them in a pocket in his cloak. "I've already taken it four times. Why don't we save for a Skill stone? Shouldn't cost more than ten or twenty."
"It was forty last time I saw one for sale, and that was over a year ago,"
Jace shot back. "Damn Rogues buy them quick, and if they don't, the Guards do. Drives up the price."
"You'd learn it if you applied yourself." Kerry was surprised to hear Holly chide Silas in her crisp but soft voice. The Mage usually kept to herself, preferring her own thoughts to chatting. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair that she wore in an intricate braid. Dressed in a silver robe, with a heart-shaped face and clear blue eyes, Kerry had had a crush on her at one time. That had faded once he got to know her.
"If it was easy to learn, the Stones wouldn't sell so fast." Silas leaned back and propped his feet up on an empty chair. "You are welcome to crawl through the weeds looking for wires and holes if you want. Say the word, and the coins are yours, Holly!"
"I met someone with the Detect Trap Skill today," Kerry interrupted the brewing fight before it could start. "He might join us for a delve."
Two sets of interested eyes pierced him, but it was Jace's disdainful ones that Kerry watched.
"New student? Archer or Rogue? I'm not working with a Thief!" Jace declared, slapping the table.
Kerry considered his reply while staring at the empty purse Jace had left on the table. It was the third such pouch he had seen during his tenure with this group. Jace claimed the others had been stolen. It was more likely he had lost them. No Academy student was bold enough to steal from a classmate, and more experienced Adventurers were not interested in taking the meager earnings of a Wood Ranked team.
Their party was in this spot, both financially and physically, because Jace refused to see things that way. It wasn't possible for him to lose the team's savings! They had been stolen! He reported the theft to the Academy's Headmaster, but without proof, nothing happened. That did not stop Jace from accusing every Rogue he met until no one would work with him.
"He didn't say, but he could be a Hunter. He had leather armor and wore
two knives. Had a Dog for company," Kerry wove his explanation carefully. If he could get the others to agree to work with Trent, and Trent to agree to work with them, all the while telling them he was a Hunter, Kerry's day of shoveling dung would be over, at least for a while.
"Hunter is a Specialized Class. Why would he want to work with us?" Silas picked up his empty mug and peered into it seeking a last sip or drop and finding it dry.
"Good question," Holly murmured. "You Basic types are useless."
Silas bristled and opened his mouth to retort to the Mage's insult. Kerry headed him off by raising his hand and bellowing for the barmaid. A haggard woman with suspicious eyes approached the table and raised an eyebrow at Kerry's call. He quickly set five coppers on the table and ordered three ciders and a cup of water.
Jace watched the woman sweep the coins into a pocket on her stained dress. He stared as she walked away to fetch Kerry's order, but it was Kerry that Jace addressed in a pleasant tone. "Thought you didn't have coin for drinks, Meat? The communal purse is empty. The charter says–"
"It wasn't empty when I sat down." Kerry grimaced at the nickname Jace threw at him. He was more than a meat shield! He dug another ten coppers out of his purse and slid them to Jace before the party's charter could be mentioned again.
"I have my own expenses, and I'm allowed to keep half my earnings for those," Kerry said bitterly as Jace counted out the coins and dropped half into the communal purse. Kerry didn't know why he bothered. One round would turn into two, and the group would be broke again.
"Didn't you work for old man Petrive today?" Jace played with the five coppers in his hand while pinning Kerry with his eyes. "That pays more than a silver and ten. The charter says– "
"I know what the charter says!" Kerry clenched thick stubby fingers and met Jace stare for stare. "My armor needs repairs, and I have tuition due. The
new term starts in a week."
All strictly true, but that wasn't how Kerry had disposed of what was left of the day's earnings. The majority of his three silvers had been placed in his Guild account for safekeeping. The charter that kept him from lying to Jace would have compelled him to give up a second silver if he carried it with him.
Jace might have pressed the issue if the barmaid had not returned just then. Kerry had never been so pleased to see the wrinkled face of the woman. She looked especially beautiful as she set mugs before the group, sparing Kerry's ears from any more mention of the charter.
"The charter says," was Jace's favorite way of starting a sentence when he thought Kerry was being mulish. As if Kerry needed to be reminded of what the charter said. He bleeding well knew what was written on the thrice- damned thing! He had read it very closely.
He had memorized the charter, the day after he signed it. That was the day the Academy lecture was on magic contracts, how they were useful, and why you needed to be careful of them. Kerry's ears had burned through that entire speech. While the rest of the class yawned and daydreamed of more exciting topics, Kerry had soaked up every word.
A charter allowed parties to share XP without needing the Leadership Skill. It insured fairness and equal distribution of loot. It could also permit a group of strangers, brought together temporarily, to trust one another implicitly, or make a group of friends operate more efficiently.
A charter could also compel a naïve Adventurer to invest all his Free Attribute Points into Strength and Constitution and dictate that his training be devoted to defensive Skills. It was a policy that had puzzled Kerry until he realized what it meant. It had taken him months of working with Jace to figure out the end goal.
All chapters had an escape clause, an essential element for the magic to work. Otherwise, it would just be slavery, and that kind of dark enchantment took considerably more power. Jace had set their escape clause at a buyout of
three gold. Kerry had nearly fainted when he read that fine print. It would take him years to save up a single gold, considering how much coin he contributed to the party. By the time his Guild account had three gold in it, Kerry's Skills and Attributes would be so messed up no other group would have him.
Jace took a long swallow from his cup and smacked his lips appreciatively. Kerry didn't know why. The cup was dirty, and the lightly fermented cider it contained was sour, with an aftertaste that lingered for days. Jace, Holly, and Silas drank it like it was the finest wine and often poked fun at Kerry for sticking to water.
"This Hunter, what's he asking for the delve? Will he sign the charter?" Jace set his mug on the table and wrapped both hands around it.
"I don't know." Kerry pushed his own cup away. He had ordered the lukewarm water, but that didn't mean he had to drink it. The cup was as unwashed as everything else in the Lucky Pig, and several small bugs were doing laps in the liquid.
"I'm meeting up with him again tomorrow, I'll sound him out then." Kerry had to word his next sentence carefully. "I wouldn't bring up the charter though. He's skittish."
"Aren't all Rogues, the dishonest bastards." Jace drummed his fingers against the side of the mug before taking another drink. "Well, find out what his Class is. As long as he's not a Thief, we'll work with him. Call it three days from now but don't make any promises. If Silas picks up Detect Traps, this mystery man of yours signs the charter, or he's on his own."
Kerry experienced an interesting mix of emotions after Jace made his decision. He wanted to cheer at Jace's agreement to work with Trent and had to fight to keep a grimace from his face at the Warrior's arrogance. Jace just assumed everyone should be honored to join his team.
You are now a Level 1 Miner. 2 to Strength.
You are now a Level 1 Herbalist. 2 to Wisdom.
Name: Trent Embra
Title: Shadow Hunter
Age: 12 Race: Al'rashian
Level: 14 Sub Level: 2
Class: Survivalist Level 3
Class: Swordsman Level 11
Profession: Miner Level 1
Profession: Herbalist Level 1
Health: 630 Stamina: 630 Mana: 130 Strength: 39 Agility: 34 Dexterity: 40 Constitution: 12 Endurance: 3 Intelligence: 13 Perception: 2 Wisdom: 15
Free Attribute Points: 0
Free Skill Points: 11
Professions were weird. Sergeant Cullen hadn't talked much about them, and neither had anyone else Trent had known, leaving him puzzled at the new additions to his Status. What was a Sub Level? Why didn't he get Free Attribute Points for picking up the only Professions available to him?
There were no new Skills or flood of knowledge that came with the Professions, only two new Quests. The strange thing about these Quests, Mine Ore and Gather Herbs, was that from what Trent could tell, they would only reward XP to the Profession that generated them.
Trent closed his Status and reached for a handful of dried branches he had gathered. Tossing them on to the small fire he had built, Trent held his hands in front of the flames. The warmth tickled the skin of his bare palms and face, and Trent batted at the flickering light, trying to catch the edge of dancing flames that were too weak to penetrate his fire resistance.
Night had come quickly after Trent left Arden's shop. At a loss for where people slept in Bellrise, Trent had ventured outside the town's walls to make
camp a mile away. There were a few farmhouses to be seen nearby, but no one came to complain about the stranger in their fields, leaving Trent to believe his actions were normal.
Fire Manipulation grabbed hold of a string of campfire, holding it still, and Trent closed his hand around it. He chuckled in victory and then settled back. Tucking his mostly empty pack under his head, he stared up at the sky. Watching the stars make their appearance occupied him for almost an hour. He counted the twinkling dots as they appeared until there were too many to keep track of, then sat up with a sigh.
His negotiations with Arden had seemed like a success. Trent came to realize he had a lot to learn about the art of haggling. Had he gotten what he wanted, he and Dreq would be in the Trial now.
But Arden had no Fire Spell to give, any more than he had Basic Spear. Instead, Trent settled for a battered and scorched book, and a small, egg- shaped stone, both of which had proven useless.
The Stone contained the common-ranked Skill, Spear. It wasn't what Trent needed to increase his Survivalist level, but it was a start. Or it might have been, had Trent been able to learn the Skill. That he couldn't, no matter how hard he concentrated on the Stone, disturbed him. It frightened him more than any Beast he had ever encountered. Had he reached his limit? Was he destined to be stuck with a Class that never leveled?
The thought panicked Trent enough that he was unable to conjure any excitement over the book, or rather the Spell Tomb. Arden had seemed hesitant to give up the tomb. After peering at the book for an hour, Trent suspected that had been an act. There were three Fire Spells recorded in what was left of the pages, and Trent couldn't make heads or tails of them.
The pages weren't even intact, not completely. Arden had said the burns and missing pages were due to a failed experiment at the forge, but a studious person could still pick out the important bits, which was good enough for Trent.
He should have looked at his prize more carefully. When he did, Trent
discovered that the book was filled with diagrams and notations, which appeared to be in the Common tongue. If that were true, then Trent didn't understand the language half as well as he thought he did. He read the words describing the first Spell, Firebolt, over and over until his eyes blurred and his head started to nod, without coming any closer to an epiphany on how to cast the Spell. This was supposed to be the way Mages traditionally learned Spells. True or not, it seemed a method that was beyond him.
Laying belly up beside the fire, soaking up the heat while digesting a generous portion of meat and fruit bought from street vendors, Dreq burped. The pup lifted his head, and his tail began to swish slowly when Trent's violet eyes turned to him.
"I guess I'll stick to Archery and Mining for tomorrow," Trent told his sleepy companion. "And if those squiggly lines in the book don't make sense soon, I'll choose a Mage Class and hope that clears things up. It's that or ask for help."
Trent settled back against his pack and, folding his hands on his chest, he closed his eyes. Dreq grumbled and flipped over, moving closer to tuck in beside Trent.
"Book," Dreq barked softly, resting his head on Trent's knee. "Book. Help."
"I don't want to think about it," Trent murmured. "I gave Arden two lengths of Elwire for the book and Stone. It will be another two pieces and a hundred pounds of iron ore if he comes up with the Spell or Skill Stones I wanted. How much you want to bet he manages to find them once I get him his payment?"
"Book, help," Dreq formed the words carefully, convinced Trent misunderstood his intentions. Talking was hard. His muzzle was not the right shape, and somehow, the thoughts in his head never came out the way he meant them to. "Storage."
"And that's where it's going to stay." Trent picked Dreq up and settled the Dog on his chest. "It's going to be cold tonight." A heavy piece of furred
hide was produced. Dreq's mention of Storage reminded Trent of its existence. Dog and boy were soon wrapped up, and Dreq, satisfied with this arrangement, decided explanations could wait until later.
Chapter Twenty-Three Kerry had to train Strength and Constitution according to the charter. It
didn't stop him from trying to raise his other Attributes. There were many ways to increase Strength that also built up Agility. He just had to be smart about it.
Normally, Kerry woke early every morning to run the Academy's obstacle course. He would make two or three laps daily before anyone else pulled themselves out of bed. It was a practice that had served him well. Although he hadn't seen much return to his Status, rising before the sun meant he was the first to the Questing Pillar on days without lessons.
When the obstacle course was occupied by Rogues who had dawn drills, like they did today, Kerry settled for running to the edge of the Dungeon's domain and back. It was six miles round trip, a distance that took almost two hours to cover. Kerry's Strength made him fast in short bursts. On longer distances, the extra weight of his muscles dragged him to a lumbering jog after a few yards.
A light drizzle mixed with sweat on Kerry's face as he pushed himself forward. The rain barely cooled him, but he was grateful for the moisture that wet his lips and tongue. Soaked cloth rubbed at his skin in an annoying fashion, though his relatively high Constitution kept it from chafing too much.
Kerry guessed he looked a mess as he stomped through a puddle and splashed mud up his legs. He was grateful the only people nearby to see him were a group of farm kids, too wrapped up in their own games to pay him any mind. It was a local festival day, some sort of harvest celebration if Kerry remembered rightly, and the children were taking full advantage of the holiday.
Now that the necessary chores were done, a group of fifteen had come together to play a version of Beggar Taunt. One blindfolded boy held his
arms out and swiped at the air as his friends ran past, giggling and shouting. The runners carried short sticks and took every opportunity to poke at the child designated as the Beggar.
The sticks weren't a part of the game the way Kerry remembered it when he had played at their age. He wondered if there was a scoring system for touching the Beggar. A point for the back, two for the chest, maybe? Not that he could see much sense in keeping score in Beggar Taunt. The winner would be whoever wasn't blindfolded.
Kerry had not learned his lesson yesterday. He really must pay attention to where he was going and what he was doing. A helpful puddle reminded him of this as his toes caught on a rock, and he splashed face first in the mud. He stayed put for a minute. When no jeers came from the direction of the children, he was confident he hadn't been seen.
He rolled onto his back, nothing injured except for his pride, and swiped mud from his face. He let the rain wash the dirt and embarrassment from his skin. He should blame Jace, Holly, and Silas for his predicament, but he couldn't work up any anger. He had signed the charter without reading it closely. He deserved this.
"Do you fall a lot? You should train Agility, or pick up Steady Footing. Or Acrobatics!"
"Yeah, 'cause it's just that easy, right?" Kerry muttered bitterly, "I'll do some somersaults and "bam," have a new Skill! After that, I'll take my pocket change to the market and pick up Steady Footing. Shouldn't be more than a couple coppers."
"Is that all? I would have thought it would be more expensive. The common Skills in the market were going for silver, and I think Steady Footing is better than common."
"I was being sarcastic! I know that…" Kerry sat up. Turning his head, he found himself looking at a face that wasn't much older than his own, perhaps a bit younger. It was always hard to tell the age of a person that had Awakened their Status and leveled up a bit, but the violet-eyed youth with the
sharp features still had soft cheeks and fair skin.
It was Dreq that helped Kerry connect the voice to Trent. Kerry had never seen Trent without his cowl and mask, and while his voice had seemed familiar, Kerry hadn't placed it either. However, there was no mistaking the puppy in Trent's lap, even if he was sopping wet.
The Dog was whining and trying to squirm away from Trent, who held him firmly in place with his left hand. The nimble fingers of his right hand were trying to tie a strip of cloth around Dreq's eyes, and Dreq was not happy about it. Kerry would have been impressed by the Dexterity Trent displayed if not for the strangeness of the scene.
Forgetting his own misfortunes, Kerry asked slowly, "What are you doing?"
"We're getting ready to train," Trent answered. He squeezed Dreq slightly in agitation, as the Dog shook his head to impede Trent's efforts. "Quit it! This is for your own good. It's not a punishment!"
Trent's words rang falsely to his own ears, but he didn't let it show on his face. He had been annoyed to wake up and find that Dreq had chewed a corner of their makeshift blanket, ruining the hide. That annoyance may have played a part in his decision to make Dreq wear the blindfold first. They would have tried this training exercise regardless though, so it wasn't really a punishment.
"Train? You are training your Dog with a blindfold? How?" Trent answered Kerry's question by pointing in the direction of the children playing not far away. "You're teaching your Dog to play Beggar Taunt?"
Trent stopped fiddling with the blindfold to give Kerry a serious look. "Play? I think you used the wrong word. I saw a similar exercise once. This one looks even more effective."
Trent continued to be amazed at the ingenuity of pre-Awakened children. Kerry had called it Beggar Taunt? Trent thought it looked like a great way to build up combat awareness, Agility, and possibly Perception. Sergeant Cullen
could learn a thing or two from the kids Trent had seen.
"But how is the Dog going to know what's happening? It seems a little mean. To him, he'll just be blind while you poke at him." Kerry bit down on his tongue. He was doing it again. Personal questions and criticisms were not how you started a conversation.
"I'm sure you know what you're doing!" Kerry nearly shouted. He took a deep breath to calm himself. "He's your Dog after all. Nice weather we're having, huh?"
Trent stopped tying the cloth around Dreq. He continued holding the puppy in place. He slicked back his hair and then held his hand out palm up to watch small raindrops splatter against it.
"It's raining," Trent said softly.
"Yeah, it kind of is," Kerry said miserably, "and it's cold."
"I think I like the rain." Trent lifted his face to the sky. "It's refreshing. The cold doesn't bother me much."
Ignoring Kerry, whose jaw worked soundlessly as he tried to decide just how well or poorly this conversation was going, Trent lifted Dreq to eye level. "Is it mean to make you wear the blindfold first?"
When Dreq yipped and nodded his head enthusiastically, Trent set him on the ground and said, "Fine! I'll go first and show you how it's done."
Trent stood, and Dreq started prancing around happily until the boy's words sunk in. He watched as Trent took a longer strip of cloth from where it was tucked in his belt and tied it over his eyes. Blindfold in place Trent bent and picked up two branches that he had set aside.
Trent started to push one branch towards Dreq and then hefted it contemplatively. "You can't hold this very well, can you?" He turned to Kerry. "You're training now. Do you want to join us? It should be good for Agility, which you need."
Kerry was studying the back of his hands, which lay in his lap, and it took
him a moment to realize Trent was addressing him. He looked up and found a stick pointed at his face. He took it uncertainly. "Ah, sure, could be fun. But Beggar Taunt is meant to be played in a group."
"There's two of you. That's a group." Trent tilted his head. "We could ask to join the others, but I don't think it would be fair."
"Beggar Taunt is never fair," Kerry said, rising to his feet. He looked over at the circle of screaming children. The kid playing Beggar had switched, which surprised him. In his experience, the weakest, least popular child stayed blindfolded until the others tired of the game, and if by some twist of fate, one of the in crowd ended up wearing the blindfold, their friends helped them reverse the situation soon enough.
"What are the rules?" Kerry asked, noticing Trent holding a long stick of his own. "You touch me, and we switch?"
"No." Trent walked to the center of the road and stood, his weight on the balls of his feet. "It would be over too quickly that way. You and Dreq attack how you like. We'll switch when… when we feel like it."
Kerry looked at the puppy, who sneezed at him, then back at Trent. His partner did not generate a great deal of confidence. Then again, he didn't think he would need any help. He sidestepped to the left moving as quietly as he could, seeking to get behind Trent as the traditional game of Beggar Taunt required. When Trent turned with him, unerringly facing him no matter how he moved, Kerry's brow tightened.
"You know this doesn't work if you can see through the blindfold, right?"
"That would be pointless." Trent touched the strip of bear hide around his eyes, wondering if there were people in the world whose sight could penetrate the thick leather.
Kerry pursed his lips, sure that Trent was cheating. He resolved to overlook it. Rogues cheated; it was a given. Trent would hardly be a
respectable backstabber if he played by the rules. What happened next turned Kerry's worldview on its head.
Dreq, more aware of what Trent was capable of than the lumbering Warrior, had circled to the right when Kerry went left. He gave Kerry more credit than the boy was due, sure the absurd questioning of Trent's integrity was to cover the Dog's movement and provide an opportunity. An opportunity Dreq seized.
A streak of black was all Kerry saw as Dreq rushed forward. The Dog's nose was stretched out, and there was no way for Trent to see him coming. Dreq's lips parted in victory when he was inches away. When he was a foot beyond, his doggy grin faded, and when Trent's stick poked him in the tail, sending him rolling into a puddle, it disappeared completely.
Kerry swallowed. Trent lifting his leg at just the right moment couldn't be explained. The perfect thrust he delivered when his foot came down in a lunge was improbable. The way he swished his stick invitingly as Dreq pulled himself out of the mud was just insulting.
Dreq and Kerry exchanged nods and the game began in earnest. Kerry charged, vowing to teach Trent the Beggar's proper place. Dreq followed close behind, certain Kerry would fail but hoping for an opening he could exploit. Both were doomed to disappointment.
Trent had to step wide to avoid Kerry's bulk, but his stick tapped the back of the brawny boy's head as he sailed past. Dreq wasn't spared either. He hopped to the side, and while he was moving, Trent's relentless weapon pushed him over before his feet firmly touched the ground.
Kerry lost track of time as he explored a version of Beggar Taunt that had never existed on the streets of Al'drossford. Trent refused to admit that he was supposed to be at a disadvantage. His leg kicked the feet out from under Kerry again and again. His stick poked at every vulnerable spot the boy and Dog offered him.
Kerry wanted to shout, "cheater!" every time Trent made an impossible dodge. Before the words could leave his mouth, Trent would prove he didn't
need eyes to find his target, big or small. He would reach back and snatch Kerry's branch away while pushing at Dreq with his toe. Armed with both sticks, Trent became a nightmare, and for a time, the Beggar became the chaser. This happened three times and lasted until Trent graciously handed the wooden weapon back to the disarmed Kerry.
In Kerry's experience, there had been no fun in this game, but with Trent, the young Warrior found a new way of playing. Trent never laughed when Kerry fell, and there were no accidental kicks. Kerry was the one laughing, even as he rubbed the back of his head to relieve the sting of a poke. Trent would grin at Kerry's outbursts but was too busy concentrating on pushing Dreq into puddles to fully join in.
Trent twisted his body to the side, his stick touching the side of Kerry's neck, while his free hand snatched Kerry's branch away. Kerry braced himself for another round of what he had come to call, Beggar's Revenge, and was surprised when Trent said, "Hold!"
The rain had ended at some point, and when Kerry collapsed in the grass, panting, it was sweat that soaked him. The ground was dry beneath him and the sky a chipper blue. The sun was more than halfway to noon. How long had they been at this?
"Did your Attributes go up?" Trent's question was the very kind of personal intrusion Kerry had tried to avoid himself. Checking his Status and seeing a notification that his Agility had gone up, Kerry didn't mind.
Only Trent wasn't talking to Kerry, something Kerry discovered when Dreq barked excitedly. They were an odd pair. Trent talked to the Dog like he could understand, and there were times Kerry swore Dreq's barking sounded like simple words.
"Good, then maybe we should go to the Trial now." Trent pulled the cloth from his eyes. "You should drink water first if you're coming with us. And the rest of you should explain what you want."
Kerry sat up confused, and the water skin that would have landed on his chest hit him on the chin. It fell into his lap as Kerry looked at the audience
