Rowan’s eyes swept over the trio of [Knight] hopefuls, curious to see if he would need to encourage them to speak or if they’d gather the courage on their own. Interestingly enough, it was the spear wielder who chose to speak out.
“My name is Fia. Just Fia. My family isn’t wealthy or anything like that, I was just lucky. I got an uncommon heart card, one that makes any spear-based combat card stronger. I thought they’d turn me away because, well, you know, spear. But then the baron ended up bringing me here.”
Rowan smiled wryly, looking at the girl with more than a little pity. If he had caught a ton of criticism for being a hero forced to wield a ‘weak’ weapon like a spear that didn’t have high-end attacking card options, she must have been in an even worse position.
After all, [Spearman] was typically considered a class best suited for large groups, not solo powerhouses. The class went in the direction of quite a few good team combat-based upgrades. Then again, the more Rowan learned about the system, the more he came to suspect that the established upgrade path for the spear class was more a result of people’s attitude about the spear than the other way around.
Both Olivia and her mother mentioned having to create or rediscover classes on your own. If no one was interested in the spear because it was weak, couldn’t that also mean that it just needed a larger or more talented pool of people to help develop it?
Regardless, Rowan didn’t allow himself to become too swept up in the theorizing and focused again on the conversation at hand. “So, when you heard about the opportunity to work with a hero that uses a spear himself, you said yes?”
The girl nodded with a light blush and refused to meet his eyes. “Yeah. I mean… If anyone can help me become at least somewhat competent with the class, it’s you.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Rowan wasn’t sure if he should encourage her. As he’d told them already, his combat style was more than a little problematic. Still, having heard all about her motivation… “Fine, then. Pick the regeneration card, got it? Can’t help you if you don’t.”
Rowan focused on his newest card, and it eagerly provided its power. Just like that, the girl winced as a system window popped up in front of her, providing her with the option to accept her designation as a [Knight] and select her preferred copied card.
“Thank you! Thank you so much! I’ll make sure you don’t regret this!” She squeaked out, then devoted herself to finalizing the process.
Rowan turned his attention to the shield and hammer wielding boy. “What about you? What’s your story?”
Put on the spot, the boy looked like he’d rather avoid the topic for as long as he could. Eventually, though, he did speak up.
“I’m… I’m not entirely human,” he admitted, gesturing at his body. Rowan had actually been wondering, to be fair. In spite of supposedly being thirteen years old, the guy looked like he could snap the hero in half.
“That’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. You do know that I have two wolf kin in my party? They’re more reliable than almost anyone I’ve met,” Rowan ventured, trying to reassure the boy before he bolted for the door because he looked about ready to do that. “How about you share your name with us?”
The boy flushed, looking mortified that he’d forgotten. “Greg. My name’s Greg. My ma named me. My dad’s… not around. He was a halfling too. Troll. People don’t really like that combination, and he was way more obviously a mixed blood. We had to move from our previous home, but then he left so we could live in peace. I… I want to find him, some day. It’s not his fault. None of it’s his fault.”
Greg said that, but Rowan noticed the way he’d hunched his shoulders, the way he tried to squeeze himself into the groaning sofa under him. While the boy didn’t resent his father, Rowan strongly suspected he resented himself.
Though, that did leave one question that needed to be asked. “Trolls have excellent natural regeneration. Did you happen to inherit that?”
The boy looked relieved that his family history would not be discussed anymore, but he didn’t seem much happier to talk about his natural gifts. “Yes. I can keep regenerating, but, well, it pulls a strain on my body. I’ll eventually pass out, when I don’t have the energy to keep healing.”
Rowan hummed, impressed with the selection of recruits the baron had found for him, in spite of how their age made him feel. “What about your heart card? The baron mentioned all of you have good card synergy.”
“Mine lets me absorb part of any damage I take and temporarily store it as a charge, then unleash it when I attack. It’s rare tier too, so it’s pretty decent,” the boy stated proudly, hope slipping back into his expression.
Apparently, healing until utter exhaustion wasn’t something Greg was proud of, simply because it came as part of his lineage. Rowan wanted to scoff. He would have killed to have such an ability naturally, especially back when he first arrived in this new and terrifying world.
“That’s pretty great, I’ll admit. I value your ability to heal yourself more. You clearly picked some kind of defender class, right? That will be invaluable for you. Anyway, I suggest you pick my Gluttonous Banquet card, it’ll serve you well.”
Rowan sent the boy an offer of knighthood too and then turned to the final applicant, whole smiled at him wanly.
“I don’t really have a sad backstory, I’m afraid.” The boy started with a joking tone that almost covered up the nervousness lurking underneath. “My name is Desmond Baker, and my father is one of the baron’s officers. I’ve been taught to use a sword my whole life, and I think I’m good at it.”
Rowan nodded along, then prodded the boy for more information. “And your heart card?”
The swordsman paused and tried to hide a wince before continuing. “Rare tier. I can, well… If I keep attacking, it lets me keep hitting harder and harder. The catch is, I can’t stop chaining hits without penalty. If I take longer than two seconds, the effect drops. And…”
“And?” Rowan didn’t like the way the young man didn’t want to continue his explanation.
“And I can’t really control it well. The strength of the blows continues to grow, but my ability to deal with the recoil or even wield that strength doesn’t grow in concert with it. If I keep it up too long, my arms snap.”
Rowan leaned back into his seat. “Pick the regeneration card,” he ordered, then sent final member of his newly acquired knights an invite, too.
He really didn’t know what else to say. The baron had, whether he planned on it or not, played him. Each of the trio was, in one way or another, flawed. Each of them could be made so much more powerful with Rowan’s help.
The spearman needed his advice and help to get her class off the ground and deal actual damage. The defender needed his Gluttonous Banquet if he wanted to last longer in battle and properly leverage his lineage. Meanwhile, the swordsman needed his regeneration card if he wanted to survive his own heart card.
Briefly, Rowan wondered what was wrong with the other two he’d decided not to accept before discarding the thought. No second guessing here. Each of the three in front of him were going to need grit and determination if they wanted to grow more powerful. Getting hurt was going to be an inevitability in their futures, not something that could be avoided.
No matter how potentially promising the other two were, if they were going to fold at the first step, Rowan wasn’t going to go back on his decision.
Rowan felt the exact moment each of the three finalized their decisions. There was an odd jolt that traveled through his body, and then he was aware of them.
Fia was a bundle of anxiety and expectation, hope blooming freely in her chest to the point Rowan had to fight back his own smile.
Greg was still wound tight with shame and doubt. It felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop every second now. He expected the knighthood to be cancelled, and to be asked to leave.
Finally, Desmond was pure anticipation and relief. Likely, Rowan guessed, because of finally having a way to deal with the injuries his heart card could so easily inflict on its user.
Be that as it were, the hero was thoroughly drained from all the interactions, in spite of a newfound strength blooming within his body. “That will be all, for now. You three can head off to the barracks. Look for Clarke when you’re there. He’ll help you settle in.”
The trio recognized the dismissal for what it was, and with a few final words of thanks, filed out the door. Belatedly, once they were already out of sight, Rowan realized he didn’t actually tell them where to find the barracks.
Oh well, that should be an interesting experience all on its own for them, Roan thought, before he was thoroughly distracted by his favorite alchemist plopping herself onto his lap.
“Well, what do you think of them now that you’re done getting to know them a bit better?” she teased, laying her head on his chest and looking up at him with a small smile.
He took a second to wrap his arms around her and get a bit more comfortable before replying. “I really don’t like how young they are. Past that, though… yeah, they have potential. I mean, their heart cards really are good for them. Even I don’t have a straight damage boost heart card like Fia.”
And didn’t that feel annoying to admit? Sure, he was deeply thankful for what his heart card could do for his mental health. However, Keen Spear definitely left a lot to be desired in a whole variety of ways, and Rowan couldn’t help but wonder what he could have done with a more damage-focused card.
Could he have moved away from his near suicidal battle style? Maybe he could even have contributed to the fight against the very first epic he encountered, rather than be stuck watching as Kayla obliterated it.
His self-doubt was abruptly ended when Olivia twisted in his arms and pulled herself up to kiss him. For a few blissful seconds, there were absolutely no thoughts in his head at all.
“I understand why you feel that way,” she finally whispered when they parted, a gentle look in her eyes. “But there’s very little we can do about that. They need to fight. To grow. If they really wanted to pursue whatever ambitions or dreams they have, they would have ended up in similar situations regardless.”
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The hero groaned and lay his head on her shoulder, pulling her closer. “I know. I know. I really don’t like this world sometimes. Then again, you’re in it, so…”
She giggled and wound her fingers into his hair, pulling him back so she could kiss him again. “Aren’t you sweet! Guess I need to remind you why this world can be nice.”
—
As reluctant as he was to run away from Olivia’s kisses, Rowan did do so eventually. There was plenty to do, after all. Classes with her mother, training with the soldiers, prep work for future expeditions. On and on the task list went, so he headed towards the training grounds and she split off back to her lab.
For all her grousing over not getting to spend more time with him, Olivia did love spending time with her experiments. Especially lately, considering the fact that she hadn’t managed to do much yet with the new, exotic materials they’d recently acquired.
She still had the flesh of a draconic creature, as well as the blood and some materials collected from several of the epics they killed while rescuing Blake. They hadn’t managed to take as much as they would have liked in their reckless escape from the scene, but something was better than nothing.
So, Rowan’s favorite alchemist had more than enough tasks of her own.
Meanwhile, Rowan was no longer able to ignore the feeling of strength, no matter how subtle, that had taken root in his chest.
For the first time in a very long time, Rowan took a thorough look at his status.
Rowan Clairfont
Level 63 Spear of Unity
EXP: 900,000/3,000,0000
Mana: 65/65
STR: 68* (+3)
VIT: 15 (+3)
DEX: 68* (+3)
PER: 23 (+3)
INT: 13 (+3)
WIS: 14 (+3)
Deck (6/6):
* [Heart] Keen Spear (Epic, Passive)
* [Class] Knight Designation (Epic, Passive)
* [Class] Reaping Spear (Rare, Active)
* [Class] Blood Siphon (Uncommon, Passive)
* Natural Renewal (Epic, Active)
* Gluttonous Banquet (Epic, Passive)
Blessings:
* Awakened Blessing of the Stalwart Hero
Bound Weapons:
* Spear of The Blood Well
The first thing that stood out was the fact that he finally, finally, had more mana to play around with. And he would have gladly invested more in his intelligence stat if he had any points to spare at all.
The second thing that demanded his attention was the confirmation of what he feared, and one of the main reasons why he’d avoided pulling up his entire status recently: Blake wasn’t giving Rowan the extra stats which he should have gotten from designating the hero as a [Knight].
Particularly annoying was the fact that he should have gotten at least eight or so stats in both his strength and wisdom, the two stats that [Holy Paladin] prioritized.
Still, even with all that, Rowan couldn’t deny that he was starting to feel excited. Already, just from designating level one [Knights], he got an extra three points in every stat. That was an equivalent to stats he could gain from nine levels.
I really need to hurry up and find more knight candidates. Even if they’re not particularly exceptional, the stats alone will help me immensely. To say that Rowan wasn’t tempted to just venture into the barracks and start making [Knights] would have been a lie.
The only thing that stopped him was knowing that such reckless behavior would be a waste. If he could pick out or train competent fighters and then give them an extra card from his own deck, they’d be far more useful in the long run than any immediate boost to his own stats.
Rowan was so caught up in his thoughts, and so used to venturing to the training grounds set aside for his use, that he was barely aware of his surroundings. Only when he finally set foot inside the walled-off section of the manor grounds did he realize there was already someone there.
Desperate shouts of frustration filled the air as Blake drove a practice sword into a training dummy, again and again. Frustration burned in his eyes, and his face was fixed in such a rictus of frustration that Rowan was tempted to back off and leave.
It was only their friendship and the tears streaming down Blake’s cheeks that kept him rooted in place, silently watching as the other hero finally faltered, sword slipping from cramping fingers, and collapsed to his knees.
To say that Rowan was caught up in indecision would have been an understatement. The desire to help his friend warred bitterly in his chest with the knowledge that he likely didn’t want to be in such a state.
Thankfully, Blake took the pressure of making a choice from him.
“I know you’re there.” Blake’s voice was practically a whisper, barely loud enough to reach Rowan. “Saw you on my way down. You might as well stay.”
Bitterness. That was the main emotion that tinged the statement. That, and an unhealthy dose of self-loathing. Rowan ventured closer, approaching the way he would a wounded animal. Of course, he scolded himself for that just moments later, then plopped himself into the dirt right next to his friend.
A glance at said friend’s hands revealed that they were raw and bloody. Rowan had no clue how long he was out there, but he was apparently proficient at tormenting himself. At least his borrowed regeneration card was already working hard to fix the problem.
“What happened?” Rowan asked. It was a simple question, but encompassed so many others he’d rather have asked.
When he spoke again, Blake’s voice was remarkably calm. “I saw you. With those kids. [Knight] hopefuls, right? Did any of them pass?”
“Three. The other two gave up too quickly. Can’t take them out there if they’re going to quit on me the first time something tries to put them in the ground,” Rowan answered without much thinking, then had to fight down a cringe when he realized how it might come across.
The other hero gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, that checks out. Hey, Rowan? Do you think I’m weak?”
“Where’s that coming from now?”
“I saw you testing them. I didn’t stick around until the end, but they were good. You might not have been taking them very seriously, but they did push you. I saw that, so don’t bother denying it. Do I ever do the same, when we train together?”
They only started very recently. It took several days for the other hero to even regain enough mobility to be able to start. However, Rowan hesitated to answer his actual question.
The truth of the matter was that the answer was a resounding no. Blake wasn’t utterly horrible or anything like that. But he fought like a beginner. His attacks were sluggish, his skill nothing to write home about, and the less said about the quality of his stances the better.
It was like someone put Blake through a couple of swordsmanship classes until he was able to copy how most of the moves should look, and then called it quits.
“That bad, huh?” Blake ventured when the silence stretched. “Yeah, you don’t need to say anything, I guess. I know you’ve been trying to help me fix that, you’re not exactly known for your subtlety.”
“I don’t know a whole lot about using a sword,” Rowan said lamely, trying to use it as an excuse for his lack of comment. It was true too. He had no clue how to help his friend without bringing in an expert. All he could do was fight and let him figure things out on his own.
Blake scoffed, then leaned back on arms that were still trembling from his exertion. “Yeah, no. Stop that. I just suck. You know I suck. I know I suck. We all know I suck. Guess that’s why I got my ass handed to me so badly.”
Rowan wanted to protest. To point out that, from what the other hero had mentioned, he could use blessings, miracles, and other priest spells that he relied heavily on in combat. But then, wasn’t his class supposed to be focused around weapons combat and supported by those spells?
Rowan didn’t know a whole lot about paladins, but he was pretty sure of at least that much.
“We can train together. If, well… if you don’t mind, I can ask the baron to help. Or maybe Bron. Or any one of my sword wielding officers. Better the first two, really. They know a whole lot about the sword, but the latter can keep things quiet if you prefer that.”
“You really think they’d train me? I mean, I drank with Baron Sutton yesterday, but that was more down to your engagement than anything else. Congratulations again, by the way.”
“Thanks.” For at least a moment, a smile spread across Rowan’s face. Every time he was reminded of his new pre-marital status a warmth blossomed in his chest. It was just slightly blunted by their current conversation. “And yes, I think they will, if we ask.”
“Even though Mirabella’s family stole their lands and title?”
Rowan hadn’t expected that question. His head whipped to the side so fast he could swear there was a crack in his neck that made his regeneration card kick in. “What?”
Blake laughed, even if it was a bleak, humorless sound. “Again, Rowan, I’m not blind. I asked her when I noticed all the tension. I know she comes from the Treagon family, but she’s really not like that, I promise.”
Rowan had a guess that something like that happened to the Suttons. He released a weary sigh, then let himself fall back fully. When he thumped onto the ground, Blake joined him a second later.
“I know I probably shouldn’t get wrapped up in all the politics and dislike her myself, but it’s kind of difficult when both my in-laws and my fiancée feel so strongly on the subject. I do promise they’ll stay civil. And yes, I think Kayden would train you even with all the drama.”
What Rowan failed to mention was that Kayden Sutton was far more likely to dislike Blake due to his patron goddess. As one of the very few followers of Aristaeus left among the noble ranks, the literal chosen one of the light goddess was likely to rub him the wrong way.
Still, Rowan was pretty sure the man wouldn’t say no. He was set on protecting the kingdom first and foremost. An incompetent hero could not properly assist with that task.
“Well, if my opinion counts for anything, I don’t blame you for that. Just, please try?” Blake asked. “She’s probably my favorite member of my party. Never tried to marry me, doesn’t get crazy overprotective, she’s just… there. And helpful.”
Rowan felt the need to groan. He’d already known that the woman was Blake’s favorite. Knowing his friend, even with how dense he typically pretended to be on the subject, Rowan suspected he was actually tempted to start a relationship with the Treagon.
That’s what the last few days of observation told him, at least.
“I’ll try. For you. Now, no avoiding the subject anymore. What happened here?”
It took several long moments for Blake to respond. When he did, he just sounded tired. “I’m not sure I can do this, Rowan. My swordsmanship is a mess. My magic’s barely there and I can do nothing with it. Even my connection with my goddess is cloudy and weak, at best. My stats too. They’re not working.”
“So, what exactly are you trying to say?” Rowan asked, his heart hammering away in his chest. He really didn’t like the way Blake was talking. He sounded far too resigned.
“Maybe I should go back to the capital. Maybe they can, I don’t know, fix me? Or if they can’t, maybe I can join the church fully. I don’t think I’d do so badly as a priest. Or maybe I should just go out into the frontier and see what happens.”
He said it like a joke, but the amount of self-loathing imbued in those last words let Rowan know exactly what his best friend was hoping for.
In less than a second, Rowan was on his side and looming over the other hero, a scowl etched on his features. “No. You’re not going to say shit like that again. You’ll feel helpless and you’ll hate it, sure, but if you suggest you want to commit suicide one more time I’ll-!”
He cut himself off, his stomach roiling as he fought down the anger and fear. The pained expression on Blake’s face broke his heart, but served as a great reminder that blowing up at him wasn’t going to fix a single thing.
So, Rowan pushed his depressingly low intelligence and wisdom stats as far as they could go. How can I fix this? Such a simple question, with seemingly a simple solution that was immediately apparent: Blake felt useless and weak. All he had to do was make it so Blake wasn’t useless or weak.
Of course, that would demand a bit of a gamble.
“You know what, Blake? That’s actually a great idea,” Rowan lied through his teeth, fear hammering away inside of him. “Why not go out into the wastes? In fact, we’re going tomorrow. Together. I’d rather you didn’t bring your party along, but I’ll understand if you do.”
“Rowan?” Blake asked uncertainly, but the Stalwart Hero was already walking away, thoughts tumbling through his mind.
Blake’s stats weren’t working. His class was all scrambled, and his level was lower than it was supposed to be. In fact, even his deck was locked away behind errors and whatever system nonsense happened when the corruption that had taken root in the hero was violently removed.
Removed by Rowan’s spear going through Blake’s chest.
The Stalwart Hero shook away the guilt, nausea, and disgust with his own weakness. He’d done what he had to. The alternative was letting his best friend become a corrupted demonic creature, or even a true demon outright.
Besides, there was one thing they could focus on, one thing that was giving him hope: Blake still had an experience bar.
So, what would happen if they filled it?
Would it jostle his stats into action? Would it give him back a fraction of his former strength? What if they got him all the way back to epic?
It wasn’t going to be necessarily simple, but with the hero blessing experience boosts, it wasn’t exactly an unreachable goal, not with Rowan’s entire party at epic now.
The only trouble was, he didn’t want to dangle that hope in front of Blake. If they tried and they failed, something told Rowan that his best friend would be utterly crushed.
And the Stalwart Hero wasn’t sure he could pull him back from that particular cliff.