Jingling coins could be heard as Banst tossed his quest reward playfully in the air. Being Rabbit-Ranked meant Banst didn’t receive as much reward as those ranked higher, despite being the key in the turning the tide of battle, but the Weakest Adventurer still remained feeling content.
Bird song chirped on his way past the Adventurers Guild. Salutations with smiles appeared on the faces of people noticing Banst was an Adventurer. No cloud in the sky allowed the sun to beam down on people going about their business. No arguments or harsh words marred the busy atmosphere. Only happy people roamed the streets today.
“One hell of a day,” Banst smiled as he walked through the crowds.
Herek and Gerad had exited a fanciful carriage in arriving at the Adventurers Guild when they saw Banst leave down the street. Neither could do a thing to him, Gerad especially. His family had found out that their most loyal servant, Oliver, had been severely injured. Not only that, Tereb had died out on a quest Gerad had specifically asked him to take. Tereb’s family, the House of Tuldric, had begun to ask questions.
Only Herek’s plots could commence against Banst now, while Gerad figured out his situation.
Banst continued on, clutching his coin purse with glee.
Beyond Banst, at a food stall, a young man with slicked back hair was conversing animatedly with the vendor. “I’m an Adventurer, you should be happy to give me free stuff,” he whined, attempting to convince the vendor to grant him free food. “I kill monsters for the sake of people like you.”
“…I gave you free food yesterday when you said the same thing,” the vendor responded warily.
“That happened?” Fenwick prompted, unsure. If true, that meant he was already running out of places to eat. He’d already convinced the food stalls in the entire east side of Hildew to grant him free meals and now was onto the west.
He stopped short in attempting to loosen a meal out of the vendor when Banst came into his sights, a smile then grew on his face that showed all his teeth.
“Adventurer Banst!” he cheered, easing himself in lock step with the thin young man in cheap iron armor.
Banst immediately rolled his eyes seeing him. “Adventurer Fenwick, what do you want?”
“Don’t be so cold to a fellow son of Hildew, my dear Adventurer Banst. We’re practically relatives being as we grew up in the same city.”
“What are you on about? Most of the guild is from here.”
“No matter, come with me. We shall eat a meal together!”
Banst’s stomach reacted before he could, growling in agreement with Fenwick. He coughed awkwardly. “Well, if Adventurer Fenwick insists, then I will join you.”
At a food stall that Fenwick was sure he’d never been to, he started off by saying to the vendor, “My good, honorable, handsome vendor! We are Adventurers in need of sustenance!”
“We have roast chicken, honorable Adventurers,” responded the vendor, happy to do business with members of such an illustrious guild. “It’s only two copper wevs a piece.”
Fenwick’s made a show of being disappointed then suddenly pretended to wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you. I’m injured, you see. I was fighting monsters and the like.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Fenwick waited for what he wanted to hear but there came nothing. He decidedly held his side and drew a gasp, “That goblin must’ve cut my purse off my belt when it cut into my rib, that dastardly fellow. By God, I don’t want to slay such dangerous beasts any longer but when I think of the people of Hildew City, my heart aches and I feel that I must keep fighting, for their sake.”
“What are you doing?” Banst asked, his brow knitting together. Fenwick threw him an inconspicuous wink.
Fenwick’s words clearly affected the vendor as he responded, “You know what, Adventurers. I forget who really keeps this city safe. Please, take this chicken as a thank you for the heroic sacrifices you make.” He shoved chicken legs pierced on sticks into their hands. “Please, you must take them!” he insisted.
Fenwick and Banst walked away, chicken in hand, Fenwick all the while whistling. Banst, however, had turned completely red. He had been thoroughly embarrassed.
“You aren’t injured,” Banst accused, glaring at Fenwick.
“No,” Fenwick agreed, “To think I’d have to push that hard to get the old vendor to budge. It’s always the slow ones that need a sad story before you can pry free food from their hands.” He bit off a chunk of chicken from his stick and while chewing, said, “Oh, by the way. I’d like to propose to you a team up-”
“That wasn’t honorable! To think you’d use our guild’s name in such a way?!”
“Huh?”
“No, I cannot abide by this.” Banst began to walk away hurriedly, leaving Fenwick behind. His parents had glorious reputations within the guild. Never would he ever try to take advantage of others by using the guild’s name. His parents would roll in their graves if he did. Banst then and there decided to avoid interacting with Fenwick’s ilk.
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It did not go unnoticed by Fenwick that Banst still took the chicken, despite his outrage.
While eating the food, Banst got over his embarrassment as he traveled to the Makers’ District where craftsmen lived as well as where they kept their shops. Down a narrow alleyway, he arrived at building with a sign that read “Durehn’s Artistic Armors.”
He knocked before entering.
“We’re closed,” Marlo yawned as he rolled around wine in his cup. Alcohol - a traditional dwarven breakfast, though it was already noon, Marlo had just awoken. Footsteps sounded as someone pushed through the smithy’s door. “Didn’t you hear me? I said, we’re closed.” Marlo came around a corner grumbling only to lighten up at the sight of Banst. “Oh, it’s just you.”
“Just me, aye?” Banst laughed, “You mean it’s me, the reason you can have such a lazy morning, dwarf.”
“Humans always bring up the past,” Marlo scoffed, as if Banst’s claims lacked validity, and patted the counter with a hand. “Leave your armor, Adventurer. It’ll be repaired before the day is up.”
Banst shed his armor onto the floor and said, “Tereb Armor, go to Marlo. He’s going to fix you.”
Marlo’s wine cup flew into the air as he jumped at the sight of Banst’s armor coming alive and walking toward him.
“Burn my beard!” the dwarf cried out then became flustered. “Dammit, Adventurer Banst. Warn me before you set loose your puppets all of a sudden.”
Banst let out a loud guffaw at Marlo’s expense. The prank had been worth the look on the short smith’s face. The flustered Marlo thumbed toward the room at back to which the puppet armor understood and disappeared into the forge.
“You know,” Marlo said, observing Banst’s new armor walk away, “I could use a new puppet servant around here.” To not only have tireless blacksmith puppet working for him but a tireless slave puppet to do the menial work would be heaven for the dwarf.
“Save your words,” Banst denied, “Every puppet requires a soul. Unless you want to commit murder, I’d reserve my want of a puppet servant if I were you.” It wasn’t like Banst hadn’t thought about creating a team of puppets to help him, but he’d rather not hunt the souls of others just so that he could achieve such a goal.
Marlo could only sigh in resignation.
Arriving back in the impoverished Drenching District, within the Habberbatch House, Banst stood before a door that revealed a wrinkled old woman with a scowl that only seemed to lengthen her already drooping jowls.
“What do you want?” Clarice Habberbatch crooned, veined eyes filled with impatience. Shiny coins from Banst’s hand seemed to shed years off her face as she smiled. “That’s why I like young people that work hard. They’re so dependable.” Though she did not receive the whole rent, it did not stop her from enjoying the feel of precious metal in her withered hands.
Only a wary smile could Banst conjure as a response. The old bat was a miserly one, that was for sure.
But now that Banst’s life seemed to stabilize for the moment, he could focus on what he wanted to do - explore the extents of his armor’s abilities. The armor warning him of Isaac’s attack had ignited a curiosity in Banst in what was possible with a soul bound puppet.
Morning came with the sun shining upon Hildew City, its rays reaching Banst standing in the Adventurers Guild training yard, glinting off his cheap armor.
The training yard of the Adventurers Guild - a wide area filled with the means to train every manner of combat their members used. Magic, weapons, ranged, and even subterfuge - state of the art training facilities were available for each. However, there were tiers ranging from high to low in what was available to certain Adventurers. Was it status or riches that gained one’s access to the most privileged places? No, it was rank. The stronger a member was, the more the guild wanted to nurture them.
Of course, Banst wasn’t one of them.
At the lowest tier of training facility, Banst stood before a wooden dummy everyone could use, scars crossing its body, reminding Banst of a certain dead guild member that had once called him “Guild Worm.” As a matter of fact, Banst had used to imagine Terek when he trained using these dummies. However, that man was dead, killed on a quest.
Banst couldn’t let that happen to himself.
“Tereb armor,” Banst said, gaining a whisper of acknowledgment from the armor. “Attack this dummy.” A sharp ring and his armor unsheathed his sword, then attacked with practiced stances and pretty techniques. Artistic was how Banst would describe his armor’s abilities. It was as if he were looking through the eyes of a noble in action.
“What an unfair world,” Banst couldn’t help but sigh. All his life he had wanted to catch up to them — to the nobles and the truly gifted. By seeing his armor fight again, he knew how ignorant he had been. There laid a chasm between he and them that was never going to be bridged no matter how hard he trained. It also didn’t help that he was naturally untalented, slow, and clumsy.
Murmurings caught Banst’s ear. At the outer reaches of the yard where the dummies stood, there were Adventurers training as well, a mage at a pool of water meant to promote a peaceful mind for magic, an archer at a shooting range, and a knight training at the furthest dummy from Banst - all were throwing him curious glances.
“Armor, stop!” Banst commanded hurriedly. He froze mid-swing as if time had stopped. “No, go back to being a regular suit of armor!” The armor stiffened, becoming a standing statue as if it had been put on display. “No,” Banst hissed, feeling as if he’d tip over at any moment. “Give me back control of the armor!”
His body finally loosened and breathed out heavily, making sure no one was observing him too closely. Banst had nearly been caught. It was foolish of him to think he could display his armor’s skills here without being noticed.
“Dammit all,” Banst cursed, wishing for more time to witness the skills his armor wielded. The sword was back in his control, his eyes locked onto the dummy. “Back to regular me,” Banst sighed. He swung and lunged too far forward, falling in a clattering iron heap. There was a strange amount of strength in his legs, his arms also moving too quickly and too smoothly. A power dwelled within his body like an aquatic beast lurking in the depths of the ocean.
He hadn’t realized yet that the armor had not only gifted him Tereb’s skill but had also transformed his body. Well, as long as he was in the armor at least.
When he found this out, Banst whooped in joy, attracting more glances. With a sword swing, a resounding ring echoed from the training dummy, accompanied by a trembling throughout its wooden frame. Banst suddenly back-flipped in place. The body gifted by the armor was truly amazing.
“If only I had your skills, armor,” Banst laughed, running around like a madman, enjoying the feel of an athletic body, “I would truly be a worthy opponent for any man or beast. Pity you can’t train me, aye, armor?”
“Does master wish to train using the soul of Tereb?” the armor asked with respect.
Its words caused Banst to trip over his own legs and go sliding on the ground, dirt getting caught in his helmet. Others training having witnessed his fumbling shook their heads.
“You can train me?!” Banst sputtered, nearly shouting.
As a servant would, his armor answered, “Your wish is my command, Master.”