Before I knew it, it’s already the last day of Undecimber. With Undecimber being the longest month of the year with 35 days, I thought it would feel slower but I guess my experimentation with the herbs Riane picked out for me has distorted my perception of how quickly time passes. Unfortunately, warping my judgment of time is about the only thing the herbs have done for me. They haven’t been able to stop my dreams at all. Though they are still fun for recreational use.
Right now I’m relaxing in Azureview Manor’s mess hall next to one of the windows, smoking on my wooden pipe and exhaling the smoke out the window. Ilithian moss has a pleasant odor when burned and makes me feel like I’m standing in the middle of a woodland meadow hidden deep inside a grand forest. My head feels like it’s miles away from the rest of my body and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now. When I open my eyes, I see Torban in the opposite corner of the hall, sharpening his blade.
He’s been like this for a month and a half at this point but no one can get through to him. Derriv tried a bunch of times but he could never break Torban out of his trancelike state. Bertrand, Quinn, and Angelene all gave it a try as well but came up empty handed. Torban didn’t even seem to notice when Ilya, Mary, and Paige tried to get his attention. The only person he somewhat responds to is Bafal. But even then it’s minimal.
Bafal will bring him food three times a day and that will slightly bring Torban out of his thoughts. He’ll ask Bafal how he’s doing, if he’s eating well, and he’ll tell him to make sure he’s listening to everyone in Candle and helping out where he could. Aside from that though, nothing. Every night Torban hands over his sword to the inn’s staff and will head back to his private room and sleep by himself while Bafal will join us in the public beds. When it’s morning, Torban will retrieve his sword from the armory along with a whetstone before sitting in the same seat, at the same table, in the same corner of the hall and then proceeding to sharpen his blade.
At this point, not only do all the other patrons in the inn but the inn staff themselves stay away from him, afraid of him snapping one day and slashing them all to death. They’ve basically assigned him his own corner of the mess hall and no one approaches him unless they’re forced to. But hey, once January is over, we'll be heading back to Midriver and maybe he’ll go back to normal.
We don’t have any sort of celebration planned for the new year. We’ll probably only drink tonight until we’re all wasted. I heard the nobles in Ocean’s Rest love holding huge balls to celebrate the coming of the new year but that’s not really for us. We’ll just welcome the new year with the people close to us. Tonight is also when we’ll all grow a winter older.
The winter technically doesn’t end until sometime in March but almost everyone uses Undecimber as the passing month for measuring age. Time sure does fly fast. Exactly one year ago, I was still shivering in Augustine’s barn, nearly freezing to death. Now I’m getting high in one of the most expensive inns in the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen.
The last night of the year passes uneventfully. Or maybe it was eventful and a bunch of exciting things happened but I can’t seem to remember. I don’t remember much from last night. All I know is the morning after, Wraine and I are sparring against each other. Bertrand and Quinn apparently got into an argument last night while they were both drunk and now they’re having the two of us go toe to toe with each other to settle it in their stead as their representatives.
It’s early morning and it’s officially a new year. Today’s date reflects that and it’s January 1, 8981. For whatever reason, the entirety of Candle showed up behind Azureview Manor to watch this fight happen. Well, aside from Torban obviously. Even the girls woke up early to watch this through their bleary eyes.
Wraine’s standing with his back facing the southern horizon while my back is facing the northern horizon. I originally positioned myself with my back facing the eastern horizon to give myself more of an edge using the sun’s glare like Bertrand taught me to but Quinn caught on to what I was doing and made us start at more neutral positions. I don’t know how seriously I want to take this fight but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to win. This isn’t about Bertrand, this isn’t about Quinn, this is about how far the both of us have come since leaving our homes nearly one year ago.
We’ll be using some wooden weapons we bought from a smithy right when they opened up for the day since Bertrand is the only person in Candle who still trains with actual weapons wrapped up in linens. I have a simple cheap wooden shield strapped to my left arm, a wooden sword in my right hand, and two wooden axes hanging off my sword belt. I have no idea whether I’ll get a chance to use the axes but I prefer having them over not having them. Besides, at this point I think my level of skill with both sets of weapons is about equal. Wraine only has a wooden longsword but if I underestimate him with that thing, he’ll knock me out cold before I can even get started.
Over the past few months, I haven’t been the only one who has outgrown their clothes. Wraine has always been a few inches taller than me but over this past year, he’s grown like a weed. He’s nearly a head taller than me now and I don’t think I’m all that short. I’m 15 winters old and I measure about five feet five inches tall while he’s 16 now and he’s around five feet nine inches. Not only is he taller than me but he’s quite a bit larger than me as well.
He’s naturally more muscular than me which is bullshit because I know for a fact that I spend more hours training every day with Bertrand than he does training with Quinn. I’m going to need to increase my meal sizes after this fight if I want to keep up with him. Everyone watching from the sides is placing their bets on who’s going to win. From the sounds of it, I’m the major underdog and going just by our physiques, I don’t blame them. Wraine looks like he could pick me up by my armpits and toss me through the air. But a fight with swords comes down to more than just physique.
Derriv counts us down and the moment he finishes, the both of us launch ourselves at each other. There’s about ten yards separating us but such a short distance doesn’t mean anything to either of us. As he’s running at me, I can see his lips moving and no matter how subtle he tries to make his chanting, I can already tell he’s preparing a spell. The moment we reach each other and our ranges overlap, he swings his sword in a huge horizontal arc, from left to right.
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The problem with such huge swings is they always come with huge indications. The moment he started his swing, I had already slowed my momentum and stepped backwards, his swing finding nothing. The other problem with such powerful swings, and in my opinion the most fatal problem, is they leave you wide open if you miss. The moment I was clear of his swing, I stepped into his range from his blindspot and thrust the tip of my sword at his right flank.
But my sword only touched the air behind him. The moment he missed his swing and I started my counterattack, he finished chanting his spell, Tailwind, and sent himself flying forward past me. That’s a huge mistake I just made. I expected him to cover his missed swing with Gust and push me back away from him but he used Tailwind instead to reposition himself behind me. Without looking back or thinking for another second, I twist my body around with my shield raised high, anticipating an overhead slash from him.
The massive impact coming from my left arm informs me I predicted correctly. If he already missed with his horizontal swing then I expected him to follow up with a vertical slash on his second try and I was right. But even if I’m right, it doesn’t mean I can bear the pressure he’s putting on my left arm. I have to use my right arm to reinforce my shield blocking his sword but even then he’s still overpowering me.
Looking at his face, I can see his lips moving again and he’s getting another spell ready but before he can get it off, I stick my left leg between his legs and plant my left foot right behind his right foot before casting Flash right in front of his face. While he forcefully shuts his eyes and winces in pain, I summon all the strength in my body to push forward while he’s disoriented. His right foot trips over my left foot and he starts falling backwards but before he hits the ground, he finishes chanting Gust and a powerful burst of wind wrenches my sword from my hand. Because of my Flash, he missed hitting the center of my body with Gust and could only fling my sword away from me but this fight is already over. I have more than just a sword.
As I march my way over to the downed Wraine, I grab an axe from my belt. He feebly tries to keep me back with his sword as he starts another chant but I violently knock his blade aside with my shield and bring down my axe, stopping its edge right before it touches his neck. He stops his chant and sighs in resignation while everyone erupts into cheers and applause. Tossing the axe away from me, I bend down and grab Wraine’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He takes a look at me and says, “You fucking got me good.”
“Hey, using Tailwind back there was genius and if you followed up with another horizontal swing, you would have won.”
“Wanna know why you lost?” Quinn’s voice comes from behind us as Bertrand and Quinn make their way over to us. Bertrand is counting the coins in his new coin pouch while Quinn has a sour look on his face. When they reach us, Quinn looks at Wraine and says, “Been focusing too much on those spells of yours. Your positioning that whole fight was garbage and the moment Isaac took your balance, you were easy pickings. How the fuck did you let him insert his leg between yours without punishing him? You better prepare yourself, I’m drilling the basics into you again until I’m satisfied.”
Bertrand and Quinn walk away from us and Wraine can only despondently mutter under his breath, “... Fuck.”
…
The rest of January goes by pretty quick and we’re already at the end of the month. Bertrand was wrong about something though. King Aethelbrande couldn’t wait until January ended and started marching to take back Vansgrieri before the snow had even fully melted away. Even our group is waiting for a few more days until February begins before we start heading back to Midriver. But our king and his actions make for good conversation topics.
“He’s lost his damn mind, that’s all I can say.” Bertrand insults our king while taking a drink of ale.
“We’ve always known he’s not a patient man. I’m surprised he didn’t start the Vansgrieri campaign last month in the middle of Undecimber.” Derriv adds on with a chuckle.
“Can you imagine being there when Aethelbrande lands with his troops? It’s going to be a massive battle. I’ve heard estimates that Aethelbrande has upwards of 50,000 men.” Angelene chortles while drinking her ale.
“Mm.” Uriah only grunts in agreement as he nurses his mead.
As we’re talking about what’s happening with King Aethelbrande and the Vansgrieri campaign, a new group of people enter the inn. They look extremely wealthy judging by how they’re dressed in expensive looking formal suits. They’re probably of noble origins as well seeing how they hold themselves with dignity. They look around for any openings in the mess hall but there are none, aside from our table that is.
“Would it be alright with you if we shared your table for the night?” One of the younger looking wealthy individuals asks us. His blond hair and blue eyes complement his formal attire and I can’t help but feel slightly envious of the handsome young man.
Derriv looks around and checks each of us for discontent, especially at Quinn. But all he does is grunt and drink his ale. “By all means, the more the merrier.”
The group of wealthy individuals sit down at our table and begin ordering food and drinks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Torban get up and leave the room. I guess it’s that time of the night already. The blond man who initially asked us if his group could sit with us asks, “Pardon me if I’m intruding but when I first arrived, it seemed like you fine folks were discussing King Aethelbrande and his recently launched Vansgrieri campaign, yes?”
Everyone at our table shuts up when they hear this. We don’t know how this guy will react to us badmouthing the king and considering he might be nobility, that just makes it all the more dangerous. Seeing our apprehension, he says with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not the biggest fan of our king myself. I’m actually a member of the Followers of Oswald the Benevolent. You can call me Roderic.”
Although some of us relax slightly when we hear that, not all the tension leaves us as he could very well be lying to us. But a few of us do start conversing with him and his group, mostly regarding our king and our latest campaign. As we’re talking with them, I see Torban coming back into the mess hall. That’s odd, he normally stays in his room until morning after he leaves for the night and for some reason he still has his sword with him.
Torban moves his way through the mess hall like he’s trying to appear aimless but he eventually makes his way to our table until he’s standing right behind Roderic. There’s a strange look on his face and it looks like he’s muttering something silently under his breath. Something’s not right and before long that strange look on his face morphs into utter derangement. Before I can tell Derriv something’s wrong with Torban, he pulls out his sword and in one swift motion, he stabs Roderic from behind and pierces through his heart. The entire table, no, the entire inn is stunned. We can’t believe what we’re seeing and the rest of Roderic’s group are in the exact same situation.
With his bloodied blade still impaled through Roderic’s body, Torban slightly turns his head towards Derriv before blankly muttering, “I’m sorry.”