The fire raged in the middle of the village while food was being cooked. Adam noted that some of the villagers were wearing scales which had been sewn into a soft leather underneath. At their sides were a warhammer and a club. They seemed to be the more experienced group, and considering their bruises, had been in the front of the fighting.

Every villager carried at least a club, whereas a few carried maces or staffs too. Skeletons fell quickly to such weapons, so it made sense that they carried mostly weapons with blunt ends.

“There were so many Fireball spells, that is what you call them, yes?” Merl, the Chief, asked Vonda once they were all sitting at the fire.

“Yes,” the young Priest replied.

“How amazing! I didn’t know that Priests could cast Fireball, I always thought it was the magics of those others.” Merl gave Vonda a knowing look, as though they were talking about something terrible.

“Some Priests can, but I cannot,” Vonda admitted.

The Priests of Noor, those who could be found in most places of Aswadia, knew how to cast such a spell, which is why it was so difficult for Aldland to invade.

“So it was Sir Aswadian Priest?” Merl asked, looking to the dark skinned Dunes.

“Dunes,” Dunes introduced himself, understanding that she may have forgotten his name. “And no, it wasn’t me either.”

Merl stared at the pair confused. She knew that Fireball was a great spell, they said only those who were Experts and stronger could cast them. Was there another great Expert who could cast such spells?

“That was me,” Adam said.

“You?” the Chief asked. “You cast Fireball?”

“Yes.”

Merl stared at him for a long moment. Then, seeing those pointed ears, everything made sense to her.

Of course an Elf could cast great magic.

A few injured villagers were brought towards the centre of the village, and Vonda quickly excused herself to assist them.

Mana: 9 -> 0

Spell: Healing Word

Adam, as slyly as he could, cast his spell.

“Had a nice day?”

“Skeleton really got you good, huh?”

“Oof. That’s going to leave a scar.”

He spoke casual words each of the wounded villagers, who were filled with a great warmth as his healing magics filled them.

Healing Word.

Though it wasn’t quite as powerful as Cure Wounds, it allowed Adam to heal from some distance.

The villagers were certain that the Elf had cast magic upon them. Seeing as he had healed them, and that he was casually eating, seemingly not wanting to make a big deal of the matter, they left him alone.

“Merl, come here and sit with the kind Elf,” the Chief called. ‘Fireball and magics of the Gods?’

“Half,” Adam corrected. “Half Elf.”

“Half Elf, wholly good,” the Chief joked.

Adam smiled. “I know someone else wholly good too. Our Nobby’s a big lad and good at heart. He’s still not an Expert, I’ve been a little busy for that, but I’m sure he’ll be an Expert soon, probably at the end of this year.”

“Right,” Merl, the young one, replied, completely disinterested. She sat down nearby, not beside them, but she didn’t want to annoy her grandmother.

Nobby sat beside Adam, though he remained quiet. He wasn’t able to look at Merl, who he thought was as pretty as Dawnval.

“We will have to remain here for a few days,” Jurot said. “The Undead will continue to attack for some time.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“What about the other villages?” Adam asked. There were two other villages from here to Red Oak.

“Iyrmen have already been sent,” Jurot assured.

“That’s good,” Adam said.

Food was brought to them, and they sang and drank and ate. A handful of villagers were on watch around the small towers which had been built about fifty steps apart from one another, with at least two hundred on watch at all times.

“How did you manage to become so powerful so quickly?” Argon asked, once they were all in the large house which had been prepared for them.

“Luck?” Adam said, smiling at Argon. They had met a little over a year ago, when he had been a wee little Level 1.

Now he was an Expert, Level 5, meaning he could either cast Third Gate spells, or he could attack twice with his blade. Well, he was someone who could do both, so was considered slightly greater than an Expert, especially since he could fend off someone considered a Master for some time.

Argon just laughed. “Luck?”

“Do not bother him,” Tazwyn said. “If he does not want to say, then leave him.”

“It may be luck,” Jurot said.

The pair looked to Jurot. He, too, had been someone who was like a newly born calf just a year ago, and yet here he stood, an Expert. Their eyes fell to Jaygak and Kitool, who had been slightly less experienced than Jurot, and yet they were considered Experts too.

Argon was the most powerful of the group, firmly an Expert, and on his way to become a Master within a decade. Each of his companions were also firmly Experts, and they were on their way to become a Master a little after him, and yet he couldn’t help but think they might reach such heights only after these whelps who had only stepped out of the Iyr a year ago.

‘Is this a new age?’ Argon thought. However, that was as far as his thoughts went. He would allow Tazwyn to think on his behalf. He would just wield his greatsword, as he always did.

Tazwyn’s thoughts went deeper. She wondered how Adam had managed to gain such heights, but she thought about what he had said.

A previous life.

Back then, when they had first met, Tazwyn was unsure if she should have let the Half Elf live. She had heard that he was close with his sister, the sister he shouldn’t have known would have existed.

“Adam,” Tazwyn called.

“Yeah?” Adam asked, yawning.

“Are you treating Lanarot well?”

Adam scoffed. “Why don’t you ask Jurot?”

Tazwyn looked to Jurot.

Jurot nodded. “Cutest In The Whole World.” Jurot then lay back in his blanket.

‘What does that mean?’ Tazwyn thought.

The next few days passed with Adam and the others assisting the villagers with skeleton slaying. There were a great many skeletons which had arrived, but with almost an entire group of Experts, two of whom were Priests with access to Spirit Sentinels, and a third Expert who had access to Fireball, what were the skeletons to do but fall politely before their magics.

Kandal roared with laughter, wrestling both Jurot and Adam under his arms as they made their way to the central fire in the late evening. He dragged them to drink with him, which they dared not refuse. Kandal was normally quite quiet, along with Eshva, but he became quite loud whenever it came to fighting and having fun.

“It was in this village you gave me the Right to Lead,” Kandal said.

“Excuse me?” Adam said. He wasn’t sure what Kandal was talking about, though it sounded familiar.

“Last year, with Balrog. You forced us to fight with him to save those children. I was happy to fight, but Argon wished to kill you.”

“Right, I remember,” Adam said. When he had spoken with Argon later, the Iyrman had told Adam that he was moments away from dying at one point.

Jurot drank another cup. “Adam gave me a great honour.”

“As he did with me,” Kandal said, nodding to the young Iyrman.

Jurot had some history with Balrog. Back then, when he was a boy, he had brought a great shame to his father. He was a boy, so there was no stain in the honour, but it had weighed on his mind.

Adam had guaranteed Jurot something, something which had allowed him to step forward and attack. It was then, Jurot supposed, that he had first given Adam some trust. Adam had allowed Jurot his vengeance, a chance to wash away the stain of dishonour which he had felt in his heart.

It hadn’t been for him, however.

“I wonder how those kids are,” Adam mumbled quietly to himself.

“They were returned back to their families safely,” Kandal assured.

“I know that much,” Adam replied. “You’re Iyrmen, after all.”

Kandal smiled. “I was denied my Right to Kill, but I was given the Right to Lead. I brought the story back to my wife, and now there is little Candal.”

“Here’s to Candal,” Adam said, raising his cup into the air. “May they burn brightly.”

Kandal threw his head back in raucous laughter, but raised his cup, drinking with the pair. “Adam! Are you married yet?”

“Not yet,” Adam said. “I’m too young to marry.”

“You are old enough! Come, I will find a cousin of mine for you! You use an axe already, yes? You can use a bigger axe!” Kandal kept laughing.

“Sorry, Kandal, but I’m a Nephew of the Rot family, and I don’t plan to marry any time soon.”

“I will find you a nice young man or woman!” Kandal assured.

“Kandal,” Adam called. “I’m not gay.”

Kandal stopped laughing, before staring at Adam. He looked down to his cup, wondering if it had impaired his hearing. “You are not?”

“No.”

“Every Dal member is built well!” Kandal assured. “Man or woman!”

Adam sighed, drinking more. He had to refuse Eshva too, but luckily Tazwyn and Argon had left him be.

The fighting continued over the next few days, and at one point, Nobby had almost fallen in the battle, but he was in capable hands, and was healed.

“Don’t worry,” Adam said, patting the young man’s shoulder. “You did well. If it was a villager, they probably would have died.”

Nobby just nodded.

The skeletal army was being beaten with little difficulty, and proved to be great practise for Brittany.

“Jurot,” Adam said, staring off into the distance on the fourth day of helping the village. “What is that?”

Jurot looked to what Adam had spotted. He wasn’t sure if Adam was joking, since it was obvious what that was. ‘It is exactly what it looks like,’ Jurot thought.