Gideon counted out five-hundred gold coins on the table.

“Forge, this is your little friend’s half of the reward.”

Nodding, Forge separated one-hundred gold from the pile and gestured to the rest.

“This will keep us fed for a while and the rest can go into the team’s kitty,” he said as he stored the gold.

Gideon gave him an appreciative wink and turned to the small girl sitting at the table.

He handed Angela a small burgundy pouch and bowed deeply.

“And the other five hundred goes to our brave little savior.”

Tentatively, Angela took the small bag and looked inside.

“How does it fit all the gold?”

Gideon grinned.

“I thought you’d like it. It’s a dimensional storage bag like Forge’s ring. Only this one can only store gold.”

The swordsman gave her a wink.

“Best of all, if you blood-bond it to you, it’ll be empty to anyone else, so stealing it would be pointless.”

Forge stared down at the bag in wonder.

“Doesn’t she need to have an open mana-gate to bind it?”

“Not at all. This is a system generated bag that’s powered by ambient mana, so it just requires a binding. It doesn’t even need a ritual circle,” Gideon answered.

“How in the world did I not know about this?” the paladin asked.

Gideon looked down at Angela and rolled his eyes.

“Can you believe this guy? He grew up in a small town, never had more than a few coins to his name, and wonders why he doesn’t know about something.”

Angela giggled, then reached into a pocket and pulled out her dagger, preparing to bind the bag.

Gideon held up a hand.

“When’s the last time you cleaned that thing? Here, use this,” he said, handing her a small spring powered lancet.

She looked over the small metal tube questioningly.

“Just pull back the top until it clicks, put the small end on your fingertip, and then hit the button on the top,” he explained.

Nodding. She primed the lancet and used it immediately.

Gideon nodded in appreciation.

“I hate to say it, but you’re much tougher than me. I still hold my breath and flinch when I use one of those things.”

Angela touched the small drop of blood to the bag and her eyes went distant, as she looked at her System screen.

The swordsman shared a look with Forge, and he nodded back.

“You know, I’m not sure when you’re going to unlock the System and start earning points, but there’s a really great Guild school that will give you the basics for when you’re ready. Best of all, you automatically get added to the Guild when it’s done without having to pay the fee,” he said.

Angela looked at him and then at Forge.

Gideon jumped back in.

“The entire team decided that since you saved us, the least we could do is foot the bill for it.”

“It would also give you a safe place to sleep, good food, and protection,” Forge added.

“Maybe,” she said.

Gideon made to retort, but Forge held out a hand to stop him.

“This is her decision. We can’t make it for her. She needs to decide what’s best for her. All we can do is offer,” he said.

Gideon looked at him askance, then shook his head.

“And if something were to happen to her because of her connection with us, you’d be okay?” he demanded.

Forge shook his head.

“Of course not.”

He crouched down, so he was eye to eye with the girl.

“You were the first friend I met in the city. It would hurt me more than you can imagine if something were to happen to you.”

He took off his mask so she could see his face.

“And Cinder would be devastated,” he whispered.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Angela’s eyes widened.

“I…need to think about it,” she said finally.

Forge nodded and replaced his mask.

“I understand. Just be careful in the meantime, okay?”

She nodded, said her goodbyes, and bolted.

Gideon sat down at the table and leaned back in his chair.

“She’s a little girl with money. That makes her a target, and a potential pressure point someone could use on us,” the swordsman said flatly.

Forge sat down in the opposite chair and relaxed, feeling some of the stress of the last two days escape him.

“She’s stubborn. If we try to pressure her, she’ll never accept our help. Also, I’m pretty sure she’s older than she looks. Maybe twelve or thirteen. So, only a few years until she unlocks the System.”

Gideon sighed.

“And in the meantime, while we wait for her to come to her senses?”

“Ask Zap to have his people keep an eye out for her. That’s all we can do for now,” Forge answered.

Gideon stood up and walked to the door.

“I’m going to get a drink, followed by a little rest, and then tomorrow, we’re going to sit down as a team and go over our plans. We need to come up with a way to get a spot in a dungeon sooner than later,” he said.

“Til then,” Forge agreed.

Watching the swordsman leave, he took out a pen and paper and began jotting down notes.

He had a future to plan.

***

Count Drascol finished his third run of the Fencing Master’s Triumph and worked to keep the effort from showing.

He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in a rhythmic pattern to slow his pounding heart.

It wasn’t enough to fight and win. A true master of the blade had to look the part.

Fencing was a true noble pursuit, the perfection of movement, beautiful and deadly.

He raised his sword in salute, first to the summoned golems he had fought against, then to the elf that had instructed him.

“Good. That looked much better. Though, you need to increase your agility and endurance stat if you wish to flow with the necessary grace of a true master, without sucking in wind once done,” the elf stated dryly.

Drascol handed his rapier off to one of his men and received a glass of wine in trade.

He took a slow sip, making a show of enjoying the rich flavor of the western wine, but in truth, his body was screaming for water.

The elf raised an eyebrow and graced him with a cruel smile.

“I see you have curbed that weakness we discussed during our last session.”

The count gave the elf the slightest of nods, then joined him at the small table.

“I have talked to my man at the Guild and he has scheduled me another dungeon trip that should gain me the needed points.”

The elf nodded his approval, then gestured to the various servants and guards that stood at attention nearby.

“Have them leave. We have important matters to discuss.”

Drascol waved to his guard, who quickly ushered everyone out of the room and closed the door behind them.

The elf summoned a metal cube to his hand and placed it on the table.

Instantly, the count felt a wave of energy pass through him and then disappear.

“That privacy enchantment. I would pay well for one,” Drascol said.

The elf seemed to gaze through him before waving away the comment.

“You may have this one.”

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the table, fixing the count with his gaze.

“Providing you have some news for me.”

The count nodded.

“The paladin has joined the Guild and formed a delving team. I attempted to remove the team and manufacture a new friend for him, but by the time my man arrived, the paladin and his team had already dealt with the bandits.”

The elf’s eyes hardened.

“Bandits? That seems an incredibly risky choice. Your plan, had it killed the paladin, would have resulted in everything being lost.”

Count Drascol could feel the pressure of the elf’s gaze, but forced himself to retain an air of nonchalance.

“I had it well in hand. They knew not to touch the paladin.”

He returned the elf’s stony stare with one of his own and leaned forward.

“Perhaps I could have planned better if I had known more. As of now, I am out a considerable amount of gold and have nothing to show for it.”

Frowning, the elf remained silent.

“When I met the paladin, there was a young girl with him,” the count continued.

“I looked into her, and she’s some urchin that the paladin took a liking to.”

The count drummed his fingers on the table before catching himself.

Damn this elf, he thought. He’s making me show too much.

Hiding his irritation, Drascol chose his next words carefully.

“I’ve instructed my men to watch the girl, and we can collect and use her as leverage if needed.”

The elf summoned a cup of tea to his hand and took a sip, seeming to savor the taste.

“Are you familiar with the noble house, Galint?” the elf asked as his cup of tea disappeared.

The count nodded, and his eyes widened.

Cursing his reaction, he schooled his expression and tried to calm his pounding heart.

“Of course. Their young master joined the Guild and was found wanting.”

Drascol gestured to the swords on the wall.

“Their patriarch was the reason I reached out to you. Our city recognized his family as its greatest fencers and I needed a true master of the art to bring me to their level.”

“And now?” the elf asked.

“Gone. Disappeared without a trace. My man at the Guild informed me that a recruit had been killed by the Galint’s young master, and the fallout was rather severe.”

The elf nodded.

“To be clear. Galint was my student and eyes in this city and represented a serious investment of my time.”

The elf’s expression didn’t change, and Drascol marveled at the man’s poise. He showed only what he wanted to be seen. A feat he would need to emulate better before their next meeting.

“His imbecile son nearly cost us everything, and only my associate’s direct intervention prevented questioning.”

Drascol hid his shock and nodded his understanding before taking a sip of his wine.

“And the family’s disappearance? Was that you as well?” the count asked.

“Yes,” the elf replied casually.

Placing his hand on the enchanted cube, the elf seemed to take the count’s measure, an involuntary shiver running through the man.

“This paltry device is the least of what I can offer you. If you are of use to me, I will make available to you the power you crave.”

Holding both palms out, a sheathed rapier appeared in the elf’s hands.

Slowly unsheathing the blade, he held it out for the count’s inspection.

All decorum he might have cultivated disappeared with the sword’s reveal, and he reached a hand out towards the glowing silver blade.

“No!” came the elf’s sharp voice.

The count snatched his hand back and cursed himself for his loss of control.

The elf sheathed the blade and placed it on the table.

“This is the named sword, Darkbringer. Its touch brings death.”

Drascol tore his eyes away from the sword and back up to the elf, his eyes going cold.

“It’s clearly enchanted. Why tempt me with an item you know I can’t wield without an open gate?”

The elf seemed to enjoy his reaction as he placed a protective hand on the sword.

“You are incorrect, Count Drascol. The sword is not magical, it is divine.”

“A divine artifact? But how…?” he stammered.

“It’s quite simple. I walk the Path of the Divine,” the elf explained, a pleased smile spreading across his face.

He slid the sword across the table towards the Count.

“This blade represents the promise of power, with its true ability being unlocked by one that walks the Divine Path as a warrior.”

“A paladin, you mean?” the count asked.

“Just so. Prove yourself to me, and I will grant you the path.”

Delicately, Drascol picked up the sword, drawing it from its sheath but an inch.

“And to which god am I consigning my soul?” the count asked, eyes never leaving the soft glowing silver blade of the sword.

“Mot,” the elf replied.