Aidan Luminar stopped his writing to stare outside the window of his study. His desk was positioned to take advantage of the sun’s light and warmth, as well as provide a clear vantage point to the entrance of their manor.
His eyes widened as he saw the forester’s boy walking towards his home. His daughter would often meet with the boy in the morning and return for an early supper.
He stood up, unsure what to do. There was something in the boy he found unsettling – even unnatural. He observed him looking at people similar to how an inquisitor would check for spies. His cold calculating eyes seemed to delve into people’s souls, marking them as ally, enemy, or cattle.
Then, there was the way he talked. Warwick would pause every time he was posed a question, as if entertaining different answers and weighing their value. He would have marked him as a liar – but liars would at least make an attempt at deceipt.
“Celus.” The wooden door glowed briefly at Aidan’s touch. He left the room, closing the door behind him and renewing its wards. He was a mage of the kingdom and his work was something that even his family was not privy to.
He walked almost briskly as he descended the stairs. He was prepared to confront the boy when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind him.
“Father, you should try to fix your hair before mother sees you,” Eda urged. She stopped in front of Aidan as they reached the bottom of the stairs and brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from his face.
“My hair is fine as it is, young lady,” he pouted. “Off again with your little plaything?”
“Warwick is my friend, father,” Eda smiled, though her voice belied a trace of irritation. “We both have a few months left until the unchaining. We’re aiming to be adventurers and we’re practicing our skills in the woods.”
The unchaining was both a tradition and a rite of passage. At the age of fifteen, children left their parents and fended for themselves for the next three years. Parents who refused to unchain their children were looked down upon and unchained children were often shunned or ostracized.
Aidan frowned. There was a part of him that wanted to keep his daughter safe – but he would not deny her the chance at freedom and independence.
“You chose him as your companion?”
Eda slightly winched at the tone of her father’s words. “We’re just friends, father. A team like you, mother, Uncle Trent, and the Hammer.”
Aidan paused at her daughter’s words, remembering how his own parents worried about him. He also remembered how he settled in another city with a wife that was expecting close to the end of his unchaining.
“Just be safe,” he whispered as he hugged Eda close. He couldn’t help but flinch as he saw Warwick standing at the open door to their house. He patted his daughter lightly on her shoulders. “Your mother made Tilda bake sweet bread for your trip. Head to the kitchen while I talk to your friend.”
Eda pulled away from her father’s hug and gave him a strange look. She glanced at Warwick with a smirk and waved before heading to the kitchen with a merry gait to her steps.
Aidan immediately turned to the boy, not even waiting for Eda to reach the kitchen. He felt himself being measured. The boy looked at him like a predator searching for weakness or weighing himself against another of its kind.
“Can you protect my daughter?” he bluntly asked. He was in no mood for trivialities and he was beginning to get irked by the boy’s stare.
Warwick was taken by surprise at the question. He had no immediate answer – but there were several options that came to mind. He could reassure him and say yes, play on his pride as a father by insisting that Eda could protect herself, or burn down bridges by saying he had no obligations to protect the girl.
Warwick exhaled and decided to forgo his inner urgings. “It depends. Against what?”
“Bandits, a troll, maybe even a dragon?” Aidan glared at the boy even harder after seeing no trace of fear or doubt in him. Most people would be cowering at the anger of a noble – much more if that noble was also a mage!
“A troll or two shouldn’t be a problem, especially with Eda’s fire spells,” Warwick answered. “Bandits would be problematic. Less than eight should be fine, nine to twelve would be difficult, any more than that would be risky. As for the dragon, it depends on the size of the dragon, its tactics, its breath weapon, and its motivation.”
Aidan stared blankly at the boy. He was quite taken aback by the confidence and surety in his words but he tried his best not to show it. He detected a strange conviction instead of mere bluster. He wanted to believe the boy, that his daughter was in safe hands – but the boy could be grossly misjudging his own abilities as well as that of his daughter’s.
Trolls or eight bandits not being a problem? He was surprised the boy didn’t declare himself capable of defeating a dragon!
“Are you two done?” Eda’s piping voice preceded her arrival from her trip to the kitchen. She took Warwick’s arm and pulled him towards the door. She glanced back at her father, baring her teeth in an exaggerated snarl that looked more comical than threatening.
Aidan stared as the two as they left the manor. He shook his head at the strangeness of youth and went back up to his study.
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There was little talk between the two in their walk to the forest. Warwick’s questioning left the two feeling awkward – but for very different reasons.
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“I think we should hunt trolls today,” Warwick broke the awkward silence as they entered the forest.
“Trolls?” Eda wondered at the sudden change in their plans.
“Your father seemed quite concerned about them for whatever reason,” Warwick explained. “Maybe he’d feel better if we brought back a head or two.”
There were no stationary quest-givers in the world, but Warwick’s conversation with Eda’s father had all the inkling’s of a proper quest. He was also given options on what to face depending on his ability and skills.
“I’m not sure,” Eda answered while flipping through her book. “You have trolls listed as threat level 14. Ah, here it is.”
Troll
THREAT LEVEL 14
HP: 100?
MP: NA
Def: Armor (1-4)
Regen: 5-10?
Claw * 5-15 DMG
BITE * 5-10 DMG
Weakness: Low intelligence, fire stops regeneration
“So I’m dead if it hits me twice?”
“You can die if it hits you once with a crit,” Warwick answered. “If you stand still doing nothing, any attack would likely be a crit.”
“Then let’s not hunt trolls today,” Eda urged. “We don’t have the levels.”
Warwick turned to her with a slight smile.
“Warwick, we don’t have the levels!”
Warwick bit his lip apologetically.
“You’ve hunted trolls before, haven’t you? You slimy…”
“Just a couple of them with Uncle Dorn,” Warwick answered, “and one on my own.”
Eda looked at her friend with awe, envy, and rage. “You risked your life against trolls and you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought you guessed that bit after you had me write the troll stats,” Warwick shrugged. “They’re not that dangerous – especially with you here.”
“You bet,” Eda beamed at the compliment. “Trolls are weak to fire.”
“Not really,” Warwick scratched his head. “They don’t take more damage from fire – it just stops them from healing.”
“Then why aren’t they dangerous with me around?”
“Well…” Warwick hesitated. “Now I have someone to tie knots.”
“Knots?” Eda fumed. “I’ll show you knots you little–”
Warwick snickered as he playfully ran towards his house. Eda had seen the small hut that he called home a few times and didn’t seem bothered.
They needed a few supplies to ensure the safety and success of their hunt – some rope, a couple of tree rings, and a long metal rod.
Warwick noted the absence of Grey in the stable as they neared. His uncle was probably long gone, but he left a stew of venison judging from the faint scent in the air.
“You want a bowl of hot stew after?” he offered. His uncle had probably left enough stew to last a couple of days. There was probably enough for both of them.
“We’ll see,” Eda answered. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to eat after fighting a troll, especially after hearing the stories it took to defeat one.
She waited for Warwick to get their troll-hunting equipment. She expected jars of oil or acid – instead he brought out rope, a couple of big screws with rings on the end, and what seemed to be a sharpened metal rod.
“Oh I forgot something,” Warwick slumped in embarrassment and turned back to the house. He returned with an empty jar that he handed to Eda.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked. “I can’t fill this with fire. You know magic doesn’t work that way.”
“That’s for later,” Warwick smiled. “Just help me carry it – unless you’d rather lug the rope?”
“The jar is fine,” Eda shielded the jar with her shoulder as Warwick attempted to take it.
Warwick laughed as he swung the coiled length of rope over his shoulder. “We should get going.”
They walked for more than a couple of hours before they arrived at a clearing that Warwick said was close to troll territory. It was close to midday. Fortunately, the sun’s heat wasn't as bearable as it would be in the summer.
Eda sat down in the shade and stretched her legs. She took out a loaf of sweet bread, tearing a chunk of it and offering it to Warwick. He quietly accepted and they both spent a long moment staring at the trees while munching bread.
“We should start,” Warwick dusted off his pants for crumbs and stood up, offering a hand for Eda to take.
Eda took the hand and lifted herself from the ground. Warwick was not someone learned in the ways of etiquette, but he was quite considerate when it counted.
She was handed the coiled bundle of rope and told to hold on to it. Warwick took hold of one end in one hand while his other hand held the ringed screw.
“I’ll be seeing you,” he said as he jumped up, clearing a space close to the height of a man’s shoulders.
Eda watched as Warwick seemed to crouch in the air at the height of his jump – and then jump again to reach a nearby branch and grab hold. He waved at her to assure her that he was fine before performing another of his air jumps to reach a higher branch.
Warwick’s use of wind and water magic fascinated her. Not at first, with his feeble attempts to use water and wind as attack spells. She wondered where he came up with the idea that water and wind could cut his enemies down to pieces.
She remembered the look of defeat when he realized water and wind were quite useless when cast by novices – but then he found a way to make them useful. Not lethal, but useful.
“Give me some slack,” Warwick hollered from atop the tree. He pulled at the rope and gestured to Eda to uncoil the bundle.
The length of rope slowly made its way towards the top of the tree where it passed a ring embedded on the tree trunk before coming back down. Now, there were two pieces of rope dangling from the tree.
Warwick jumped down, once again using wind magic as a cushion to break his fall. “That was the easy part,” he said to Eda, before tasking her with keeping watch.
He spent half an hour filling six canvas bags with rocks and then tying them together on one end of the rope. Another screw ring at the bottom of the tree allowed him to pull the weighted bags up to around the combined height of two grown adults. Under his direction, Eda placed a small rod to lock the braided ring on the other end of the rope to the ring at the base of the tree.
The trap was set. All that was needed was to lure the troll.
Warwick smiled as he turned to Eda. “How fast can you run?”