“When I slew Granath in the last circle, I had to rely on the help of your people to deal with his lieutenants. In Mire, I am afraid that the quantity and quality of such servants will be far higher, given that the realm is open in terms of mana quality. As such, I need help.”

“What sort of help am I qualified to give you?” Arkanon replied. “Your token would be too weak to take both of us to Mire, even if I wanted to leave my kingdom behind.”

“What if you brought Slothari here?” Hushar chimed in, his voice unusually quiet. It seemed that he was cowed by the presence of Arkanon.

“How?” Jonathan asked. “My token is far too weak.”

“Does she not also possess one?” Hushar replied. “If you can trick her into using it, she will have to fight against the entire forces of this realm of Tartarus, leaving her allies to be fought in Mire. We would need far more fighters than we have now though.”

“What did you say your name was?” Arkanon asked, interested in Hushar for the first time.

“Hushar, lord. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Spare the pleasantries. You are not of this realm, and are not one of my subjects. I believe that you already have a lord. He is standing next to you.”

Jonathan twitched a little at the recognition, but he knew it was true. Despite his efforts to act as a friend to Edgar and the others, in the end there was really only one way that their relationship could be seen. That of a lord and his vassals. Power only worked one way.

“Very well. It is a pleasure to meet you too, Arkanon. It is always nice to see one of my people reach such heights.”

“Ah, save it for the theaters. I know you hunger for my power. If you did not, I would have no respect for you.”

“You have theaters here?” Jonathan couldn’t resist asking.

“We aren’t simple brutes, despite our appearance. We have a culture. It just happens to be one with an emphasis on battle.”

“While this is all interesting, we have a mission here,” Hushar said pointedly, looking at Jonathan.

“Right. Can we count on your aid if we manage to bring Slothari to Tartarus?” Jonathan asked.

“I would like nothing better than a chance to get revenge on that filthy ooze. Her spawn have plagued this realm for far too long.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Very well then,” Jonathan said, before turning.

“Where are you going?” Arkanon asked. “You are still far too weak. You are in need of training. I will not let the only chance I have at revenge disappear because of your weakness.”

“What sort of training?” Jonathan asked, not sure if he would like the answer.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Indeed, Jonathan did see, and he didn’t like what he saw. Arkanon took both him and Hushar to a private corner of the palace, to a room filled with training equipment. Well, it really looked like a torture room, but Jonathan didn’t comment.

“Right. You two are strong, but relatively unskilled. I only sensed a high Journeyman level of skill from you two.”

“How did you know that?” Jonathan asked, concerned if there was a skill that could detect mastery.

“Experience.”

“Ah. So you want to increase our mastery by fighting us?” Jonathan asked.

“No, I want you to fight each other. Without the benefits of your strength.”

“How?” Hushar asked.

Arkanon reached out and pulled a lever on the wall. Suddenly, Jonathan let out a gasp. His body felt weak and far smaller. As he moved, he realized that he was back to his base human stats. Hushar stumbled as he felt the same, and suddenly, both men were as weak as the day they were born. Well, maybe not that weak.

Arkanon stood there, unaffected. Then Jonathan realized that the man was simply so used to the effect that he did not react.

“This is both a tool for effective training, and a way to ensure that nobody takes advantage of your weakened state. Anyone who comes in here, even me, will be reduced to this state. Any weapons or spells discharged in here will also be reduced.”

Then he walked out of the room, leaving the two fighters behind. Jonathan turned to Hushar, and shrugged. They might as well get as much out of this as possible.

Jonathan sidled forward, his hands raised and at the ready. Hushar drew his sword, and held it in a tight, two handed grip, struggling somewhat with the weight. Even with his heavily muscled body, most of that had been supplemented by the System. Now that he was forced back to his base state, his weapon had become somewhat unwieldy.

Meanwhile, Jonathan actually felt the weight of his armor inhibiting his movements. It seemed that the weight of the suit had been reduced somewhat as well, but it was still very heavy. His movements were slowed, and he was forced to adjust. This was how Arkanon expected him to train more efficiently.

He rushed forward, and almost fell over as his armor tugged him to the floor. He snarled, and awkwardly rolled to the side, out of the path of Hushar’s greatsword. The weapon clanged against the ground, with its wielder unable to fully control it. Jonathan circled around, and sent his fist hissing towards it. At least, that was his intention. It barely moved fast enough to make a noise when it impacted Hushar’s flesh, let alone hiss through the air.

The burly Uthraki took the blow in stride, and countered with his sword, whipping the hefty weapon around. The motion was too slow however, and Jonthan simply blocked with his armored arm, relying on his opponent’s weakness to stop the attack from doing much damage.

Hushar growled low in his throat, and threw his weapon to the side. He cocked back his fist and punched, finally using his enhanced musculature to his advantage. This time when Jonathan blocked, he was rocked backwards on his feet. Hushar was far stronger than he was in his base state, and only his reluctance to part with his sword had prevented him from gaining the upper hand. Although, now that he was fighting as a pugilist, he was in Jonathan’s domain.