Ya cannie simply let go a history son, jus’ like that. It clings to ya. Grips on with wee lil claws, digs into ya flesh and gnaws at ya. Deciding ta let go don’t leave ya unencumbered and free to move on, it jus’ means that ya have the full weight of the past hanging off ya tits instead a bundled in yer arms. And nobody wants that, laddie.
- Excerpt from ‘Wisdom from my Travels’ by brother Ferdinand Genitivi
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I surged across the ring, spear leading the way as I drove my enemy back, delighting in the fierce joy of my entire body obeying a single purpose. My spearpoint darted low and then high, an unceasing barrage of peppering strikes causing Vera to commit herself entirely to defending her torso and legs.
Her blade wove an impressive defence, but she had no time to counter with strikes of her own, leaving me in control of the fight. I committed to a straight lunge, bunching my legs and propelling myself towards her, twisting at the last moment to slam my shield into her with the full force of my momentum behind it.
She was sent sprawling, and the tip of my spear followed her, staying only inches from her neck until the moment she left the ring. I managed to pull myself back in at that point and slow myself enough to keep both feet firmly within the boundary. A savage joy still burned in my heart and a grin stretched across my face as I stared down at my defeated foe.
For her part, Vera just chuckled and sat up, hand darting out to grab the haft of my spear near the tip and yanking herself to her feet. She’d obviously stopped limiting her attributes through, as I was pulled off my feet and fell to the ground, while she managed a graceful landing. Our positions reversed, she grinned down at me and offered her hand while I heard Jorge clapping from behind.
Seeing the warm, genuine smile on her face, I deactivated my aura skill, noticing that everyone else had done so too – Vera’s strange burning skill, Nathlan’s truth detection domain and Jorge’s mysterious ‘everyone be chill’ aura, as I had begun thinking of it as.
She pulled me to my feet and led me over to the campfire, offering an apologetic look as she spoke.
“Sorry for the scare Lamb, no hard feelings – Jorge thought you might be struggling to get yourself a weapons skill because you lacked the intent to do so. We thought if we riled you up enough then it might help, and it seems to have worked if that last exchange was anything to go by.”
I looked up at her in surprise, trying to read anything in her face that might indicate lingering anger or contempt. “So that was all just a show? The whole ‘what right have you by which to judge me, puny man?’ …that was all fake?”
I tried for a joke, but I was still uncertain and she could clearly sense my anxiety.
“Yep! Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be pissed if try to lecture me about the morality of my actions while you know so little about…well, everything…but it would be uncharitable to assume the worst without giving you a chance to talk it out. I understand that you might have reservations about killing, especially if it’s people and organisations that you don’t know about. We still need to have a chat, but as long as we both keep an open mind, I doubt we’ll have issues.”
She smiled at me, and her left arm twitched slightly. I had the distinct impression she was about to ruffle my hair, and I was eternally glad that she had decided against it. While the affection would be nice, I was still feeling very much like a scolded child, despite her assurances her anger was feigned. Hair ruffling would be a step too far, even for my irreverent self.
“Right, tea.” She said, as she beckoned Jorge and Nathlan over and set about putting the kettle to boil again. Nathlan actually clapped me on the shoulder in a surprisingly brotherly manner – clearly the new class was doing wonders for his mood.
“Congratulations on the new skill! What is it like?” He asked. My reply was drowned out by the loud groan as Jorge settled down next to me on the grass.
Seeing both of our exasperated looks, he asked, “What?”
“There is no way you’re not putting that on.” I said, at the same time that Nathlan also commented, “Way too much that time.” He looked so genuinely crestfallen I decided to take pity on him.
“Look mate; it’s not been raining, it’s not a cold winter’s morning or anything, you’ve not been working hard yesterday, and there’s no big changes in temperature or humidity. There is no logical reason for your knees to hurt enough for that sound to escape your mouth, and you really should do better next time. Maybe pick up an acting skill or something?”
Nathlan backed me up with another nod, adding in “No way you’ve been around this long without an acting skill.”
Jorge tried to look hurt, clearly failing though as he replied. “Just how old do you think I am?” The indignation was so insincere I almost laughed.
“You claimed to be ‘as old as the mountains’ literally yesterday.” Nathlan said with a deadpan expression, and that did get a laugh out of me. Jorge looked away with his nose in the air, flipping his long braid over his shoulder and putting all his inconsiderable acting skills to work to embody the attitude of a disgruntled noble.
He subsided after a few breaths and turned back to me. “Aright, in all seriousness, tell me about the skill.”
Nathlan leaned forward in anticipation, and I even saw Vera stop her pouring to listen in. I examined the system notification in my mind.
Skirmisher of Antiquity – Passive. From the Abbasyth rangers to the outriders of the Sylruks, the ancient world is littered with the footsteps of skirmishers. Warriors who launch into battle without warning, whirling in and out view and engaging only on their own terms. You wield one of humanities first weapons – the spear – and combine its versatility and aggression with the steadfast protection of a shield. Draw on the knowledge of the ancients with a path well-trodden throughout history, and leave your own mark on the tapestry of time with your weapons in hand.
Nathlan whistled as I finished reading the description out to them, and Jorge grinned. “Not bad that, lad. Worth the wait I reckon,” he said.
“I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I really understand the full ramifications of it. It’s pretty light on actual usable information compared to some of my other skills.” I said, looking up and hoping for some guidance.
“Aye lad, and that’s a good thing. Generally, the simpler the skill, the more straight forward the description. The system tends to get a bit more…flowery?...with its language when the skill is more powerful or broad. Not sure why that’s the case but just accept that it is. Your skill sounds promising.”
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. How come I didn’t get a simple spear and shield combination? I didn’t think we were aiming for something like this.” I asked, wondering if Jorge really had been playing me when he discussed our plans for my weapons skill all those weeks ago.
“No, I genuinely was trying to get you something simple to begin with – you could always level it and upgrade once you reached level 10 if you had the option. No, this was unexpected, although not unwelcome. If I had to guess, it’s something to do with the different styles I’ve been trying to teach you. At least the ‘antiquity’ bit – I’ve stayed away from more modern spear arts. It’s an interesting point actually…”
He leaned forward, becoming a little more animated. If I didn’t know better, I would be tempted to mistake him for Nathlan with the suddenly lecturing tone of his voice and explicatory gestures.
“So, the system isn’t exactly new, but we do have records of life before it – only been around for a couple millennia or so. Before that there was no system and as far as I know, while magic was powerful – enough people managed to reach apotheosis to create the pantheon we have today for example – it seemed to be much rarer and less widespread. It seems armies were much larger and less specialised back then, but many empires and cultures had strong warrior traditions that led to formalised weapons arts. I have drawn on some of these to teach you what you currently know, hence all the ‘ancient’ stuff in your skill description.”
He looked up at me quickly and barrelled on before I could intervene, not that I would have done so. “The reason for this is that the modern weapon arts are completely unsuitable for you. Most solid warriors create their own path anyway, so the only formal weapon arts that currently exist are for training relatively large and homogenous forces – nothing on the scale of ancient pre-system armies, mind you. The Crimson Lions are a good example actually – for a variety of reasons, they need to churn out a large number of high-levelled warriors quickly, and so they lean on existing attribute and skill distributions that are known to work well together and have relatively well-defined paths to obtaining them. They can therefore rely on a single weapon art to train many warriors, as they all have similar attribute allocations and skills, and so all move in similar ways. Do you see?”
I nodded as I tried to piece together the information. “You’re saying that I needed a specific martial art tailored to my attributes and skills, and that modern ones would clash with the foundations I have already built. Why would ancient arts be any better though?”
“Because they were designed for classless, un-levelled people. ‘Un-enhanced’ as it were. Most of the weapon arts I’ve shown you bits of – the ones created by and for humans at least – don’t require exceptional strength, flexibility or grace that you might not possess. They are foundational in the truest sense. Obviously, I will work with you to create your own path that draws on your existing strengths and pushes you forwards, but this way we’ve managed to retain the link between you and your path.”
“You keep mentioning path – what do you mean by that? Are we not talking about just a combination of skills and attributes and fighting styles?”
“Ah lad, that’s a question for later, I think. I promise to go through it when its relevant, but for now it will just complicate things. Focus on levelling that skill, and your others, and we’ll talk again when you’re ready.”
I turned to Nathlan, asking “Was he needlessly cryptic with you as well when you first met?”
He chuckled and replied, “Oh by the roots, yes! It was infuriating! But I’ve realised that he just likes to cultivate the wise old master persona because without it, he’d just be old.” He shrugged. “I can’t blame him really.”
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Jorge raised a fist in mock anger and sighed in defeat. Vera then came over with tea for everyone, and we settled into a few moments of small-talk, letting the heavier topics drop and just enjoying each other’s company. I still felt a little on edge around Vera, unable to fully let go of the idea that at least some of what she had shown me was genuine. Eventually, as if reading my mind, Jorge brought the conversation back to the Crimson Lions.
“So, just to reiterate that that little dust up was planned by everyone except Lamb, so let’s all just reassure him that we’re all on good terms before we move on.”
He paused, and there was a chorus of ‘poor baby’s and ‘aaawww’s in a very patronising manner. I grinned and threw a few pebbles, and we all settled down again when Jorge began to speak again.
“But it did bring up a good point – the Crimson Lions. Now we” he gestured to himself and Vera, “were hoping that their involvement in the foothills of the Unclaimed Peaks earlier was a one-off fluke and it would blow over once we moved away, but it’s clear it wasn’t and won’t. We’re still being tracked somehow, and we expect to run into more within the month. Given that, it requires a more thought-out solution than just extra vigilance and the odd violent ambush every month or so, but we want to get your thoughts first. Obviously, you can’t make an informed decision without knowing the backstory to all of this, so Vera has agreed to speak about her experiences. This is mostly for your benefit Lamb, although Nathlan – some of this might be news to you as well.”
He sat back and gestured for Vera to take over. She let out a long breath before grimacing and starting her tale.
“I don’t like speaking about this part of my life much, but here goes; I was born in the Sunset Kingdoms – near the border between the Sultanate and the territory that would become known as the Western Marchlands, following Duke Ryonic’s rise to power. I was raised in a town called Reedholme. It was nice, and most of the men and women worked either in the marshes or servicing the needs of the workers and the town in general – blacksmiths, cooks, cobblers – you get the idea. My own little slice of utopia.
“Turns out it wasn’t all that great, as I found out. There was a group of towns throughout the area that had banded together to negotiate with the previous lord over working conditions and such, similar to the things I mentioned earlier, Lamb. The old ruler of the Western Marchlands was amenable as it turned out, and we had won many concessions that helped make my childhood such a dream. It was a struggle though, with the towns and workers constantly vying to maintain their conditions, while some of the lower noble houses below the lord tried to remove those same concessions to line their own pockets. Things were stable for many years apparently – I was a child back then remember, so this is all second-hand information from my… - anyway, things were stable, if not easy.
“Then there was some sort of big war out in the wider world beyond the Sunset’s – beyond even the DragonSpine’s if you could believe. A few of the lessor nobles sent off their scions; their sons and daughters, their fighters etc. I was a teenager by this point, and things were good – didn’t see the Lord’s men, or even the nobles’, that often. They were weakened, and wary of enforcing their rules too harshly given the loss in status and power they’d experienced with this doomed venture.
“As all good things are want to do though, it passed. Duke Ryonic – ‘course he wasn’t a duke back then, just some sort of cardinal, I think? Never did bother to learn the title system, different in every bloody kingdom anyway – yeah, so Ryonic comes home, having achieved some ‘great victory in battle’, the normal noble stuff. He’s classed up though, that’s the important thing. Now the Lord wasn’t the only triple-classed person in the kingdom, and things get tense. Skipping past a few years of noble politicking, and Duke Ryonic wins the shortest civil war I’ve ever heard of with a 3-day campaign, and ends up taking control of the Western Marchlands. Must have been planning it for a while, as he’s instantly accepted by the other kingdoms in the Sunsets. The Sultanate was an early supporter apparently, and they’ve been close ever since.
“Not that weird really, that’s kinda how it is in the Sunsets – There’s a new territorial dispute every few years and regime change is common. Part of the reason the local councils are so strong – your average peasant can expect three or more different rulers in their lifetime with ease, and the councils help stabilise the political situation so most of the minor nobility see them as quite important. Would be a lot harder to launch a successful coup if you had to keep all the loyal administrators alive after all, and they’re used to workers doing everything for them anyway.
Jorge coughed then, steering her back on track gently. Vera looked chagrined and spoke again.
“Right, yeah sorry. Get trapped down memory lane sometimes when this comes up. So, Duke Ryonic was a hard bastard – instantly started clashing with the councils, demanding higher output with lower investment, higher taxes, the whole deal. Problem is though, after near enough a decade of the good life, none of the workers want to go back to the old way of doing things. The negotiations turn to arguments, the arguments turn to protests, the protests turn to clashes and before you know it, we’ve got a new civil war in the Western Marchlands.
“We were naive though. We’d seen regimes come and go without much interference from the other kingdoms, and assumed this would be the same. We’d fight and overthrow the Duke, run things ourselves, and the other territories would leave us alone as long as we abided by the higher-level agreements between the kingdoms.
“This was different. First the Sultanate joins against us, and then Escribar. No help from any of the other territories for us, but plenty of material support for the Duke. He crushes our little rebellion utterly. Slaughtered towns down to the last child, burned forests down – it was a bloodbath. Turns out the thing we were missing is previous regime change was carried out by other noble houses mostly, and occasionally an outsider – petty warlords pushed out from the more civilised empires on the other side of the DragonSpines. The other kingdoms couldn’t abide a nearby kingdom run by workers, with strong links to the other territories – might give their own workers ideas, apparently. Too dangerous, too subversive. Too much hope for a better life.”
The bitterness was palpable, and I winced in sympathy. Looking around, both Nathlan and Jorge were also feeling the same, judging by their expressions. I could see Nathlan rhythmically squeezing the hilt of his blade, knuckles white from the strain.
I knew little about his background, but I did know he was some sort of nobility originally. The fact that he had ended up travelling alongside my two other companions spoke to some sort of schism with that past. I hoped he hadn’t been deposed by a revolution – that could be awkward. But then if he had, I doubt he would be siding with Vera on this, which he clearly was.
As for Jorge – who knew really? As much as he liked to play up the mystery, he truly was inscrutable in many ways. I was only starting to scratch the surface of my understanding of this world, but a system title appeared to be a powerful boon if mine was anything to go by, and I doubt they were handed out freely.
Vera looked up, and I was shocked to see tears in her eyes. She’d always come across as hard as nails, stoic and stone-faced. The only time I’d seen something different was when the mask slipped and she let her anger shine through, and neither of those states seemed to indicate a willingness to show weakness. She dashed them aside and continued on after a shaky breath.
“The councils backed down after three towns were burned and their fields salted. They tried to sue for peace, sent a delegation of all the local leaders to Ryonic Castle with terms. As far as I know, their skeletons still hang on the walls to this day. The resistance crumbled after that, and things got bad for a few years. Most of those who stayed and endured the worst had something to live for. Children, parents – loved ones to protect.
“But some of us had lost everything, and we weren’t content to suffer. A few of us younger ones resisted further, left our lives behind to live in the wilds and begin a campaign of guerrilla warfare against the Duke and all the nobles supporting him. We looked beyond the Western Marchlands to Escribar and the Sultanate, aiming to punish all who had supported that genocidal war.
We knew the land better and had little to lose. We were as brutal as they had been to us, and for a few years we seemed to be making progress. The Duke came after us himself many times, and those were the times we lost significant numbers. 3rd tiers are regarded as a province-level threat for a reason. But the standard rank and file of the nobles and the Duke were just not able to match us after years of brutal war – we had powerful combat classes and were gaining levels at a rate they couldn’t compete with.
“That was the problem though – just like in the first war, we were a threat not just to the current regime of a single territory in the Sunsets, but to the whole Sunset Kingdoms themselves. So they sent in the Lions after us. The Crimson-Fucking-Lions, all of them 2nd tiers, and experienced ones at that. Fighters we couldn’t compete with on an even footing, and after a few years against the Duke and his forces, there were less than a hundred of us left. The Lions had six or seven times that number, and we had no chance. Some of our number tried to run, not sure how far they got and good on them if they ever made it out. The rest of us stayed, and that’s where it all went to shit.
“A few running battles, and we were eventually cornered between a couple of large companies at Sternbridge. We fought to the last, and a few of us got some pretty powerful class upgrades. I hit 3rd tier in that battle and lost my mind. Some sort of berserking class, but when I woke properly, I was surrounded by my dead comrades and two decimated, fleeing companies.”
She pulled a few stalks of grass from the earth and chewed on them absently, lost in memories and unwilling to leave them. We shared a few looks between us as she sat there silently, and eventually she returned to the present.
“So then I just got up and left. Fled through the wilds, avoiding civilisation until I had left the Sunsets. I couldn’t control my class properly – the rage would spring up uncontrollably. Jorge found me in the wilds. Not sure how, but he helped.”
Jorge looked at her, tenderness in his gaze. “I was travelling through a nearby town and heard reports from the local hunters. They were terrified a dragon had taken up residence in the nearby mountains. The local Dire-Bears and Ridgebacks had been thin on the ground, and they’d found some corpses recently. Only thing they couldn’t think of that could cause that carnage was a dragon, so I go off to investigate, and find this hefty lump of congealed-“ He cut off as Vera choked out a laugh and pushed him over, dashing more tears from her puffy face.
I hesitantly spoke up once the two had settled down. “So…have you ever thought of going back?”
Vera shook her head, rubbing the heel of her hand into her eye again as she did so. I was impressed she was even showing such vulnerability given her background, but she clearly wasn’t comfortable with it either, trying to settle into that impassive mask again.
“No. I can’t. It’s taken me near enough a decade to change and rebuild my class – iron out the berserking tendencies and gain enough control that I can be functional within society. Even then though, I can’t go back to somewhere with so much…unfairness? Inequality? I don’t know. But it will be too much, I know that. I might even be able to kill the Duke by this point, but it won’t end there – never does, does it? Besides, there’s nothing left for me there anymore anyway.”
I nodded, taking care to pick my words carefully, and show my empathy. As much as the previous fight had been mostly staged, it still didn’t feel that way to me, and I knew she was delicate at the moment. I didn’t want to put my foot in my mouth and ruin this chance at showing my support.
“Okay. So how do we deal with the Lions? Do we know why they are after you now?”
Jorge broke in at that point. “They’ve tried a few times before to take her out, more common in the early days when we travelled together. We left more of a trail back then – Vera had a hard time letting go of unsavoury behaviour, and had a…let’s say, a direct approach to conflict resolution. You have to understand that the Crimson Lions are the premier power in the Sunset Kingdoms – they are the glue that holds together the whole thing together.
“There isn’t much that the various territories and rulers can agree on, but the Lions are their way of achieving their shared goals. Vera here is a very public stain on the legacy of the Lions. Their largest public engagement in a century, and they left the field in panic. They won in the end, but the wound she gave them is a deep one.”
Vera butted in, shooting a reproachful look at the older man. “It wasn’t just me – you know that.”
Jorge’s tone was calm and conciliatory, and I felt his aura blanket us with a smooth weight, reassuring and warm. “I know, but as far as they know, you are the only survivor of Sternsbridge. In their minds, you are a thorn, a splinter that has yet to be removed. They cannot move on until you have been killed, and this failure gnaws at them. The younger ones are keen to prove themselves by besting you, and the veterans need to prove that they do not fear you. It’s been a vicious cycle, compounded by the fact that you have shown no interest in returning. In the eyes of many, you beat them and walked away.”
He turned to address me and continued, “As for why they are after her now specifically? We don’t know. We can find out though, and that’s what we wanted to discuss.” His gaze became focused, and I found myself leaning forwards. Nathlan was still gripping his sword beside me, but it felt more like he was waiting to draw it and charge at the enemy. Clearly, we were both keen to aid in Vera’s vengeance, and I had to admit to myself I couldn’t help the thrum in my blood at the chance to fight the people who could inflict such misery.
“Now that you’re both up to speed with the streamlined version, let’s talk about the plan.”