It was the day after their Lord moved out of the village when Cairn walked out of his own house. Standing at the porch of his house he watched the six spearmen (and woman) going through a series of techniques and sequences that their Lord, in his profound wisdom and magnanimity, had gifted them. Each one earnestly dedicated themselves to the form, their Lord’s training drilled deep into their bones over the last month.
Lord Azrael had honoured them with his presence and his teachings, staying in their village during the duration of the training, despite his evident reluctance. Cairn had often seen him looking at the forest wistfully and vanishing into the forest during his own time, returning only to sleep and train the spearmen (and woman) to much success.
During the last month the villagers’ wounds from their encounter with the wolves had healed (both figuratively and literally) and the spear squad threw themselves into mastering the spear with everything that they had. The other villagers too dedicated themselves to their respective tasks with renewed zeal.
Lord Azrael had imparted in them the importance of strength, dedication and training, as well as deep insight into training in their everyday life. Every task became a part of something greater. Even something mundane, such as building the Lord’s house became a way to hone one’s strength. One that all of them whole heartedly participated in.
Even some of the non-combatants aided the Lord in its construction, when they weren’t tilling the new fields, or caring for a herd of milking bullas that they had captured from the plains. Nobody wanted to suffer from their own weakness again.
The Lord had deemed his task finished though and had retreated to his own completed abode. Cairn understood it as a way of showing the villagers that they had to rely on themselves.
With the Lord moving into his own residence, he moved out of Cairn’s. Perhaps it should not be so, but Cairn was just glad that he had his house back. He was honoured that the Lord had stayed in his humble home, but was glad to have it back. He did not begrudge his Lord the stay in his house, nor his stay in the village, but despite his reverence for his Lord he was still glad to be able to live in his own home once more. It was difficult to describe and created a conflicting emotion in his heart.
Lodging with Hugh had been enjoyable. After all they had been inseparable friends for years, but an old man such as him enjoyed his privacy.
Thinking of the Lord and his house Cairn turned his thoughts to the building’s design. Cairn had visited the Lord’s new house several times during its construction and been intrigued in its design.
Built out of stone and wood the building consisted of two separate rooms, with even the internal designs being unusual. As far as he knew most villages were built of wood, due to its abundance, while stone was saved for forts, cities and castles. Cairn had only visited a city twice in his life. Once as a child and again before he became village chief.
The closest of these was nearly a month by foot, but the scale of them still awed him in his memories. It humbled him that Lord Azrael had chosen their village over such a city to lord over.
Walking out to the stone stele in the village square he bowed his head deeply towards it, out of gratefulness and respect for their Lord. Their Lord had given them much. A new home, a new village and a new life. Cairn would see to it that he honoured the debt and repaid it. He would ensure that their village became worthy of their Lord.
As he rose from his bow the spear group finished their training and waved to him as they set off on a hunt. Every day they would set out and return, some days more successful than other. Though the Lord still brought them game, it wasn’t enough to smoke for the winter months. The hunters made sure that they would survive. Afterall, only the strong survived.
Cairn raised a hand in recognition and watched them wander off. It was also a good chance for them to practice with their newfound strength. The lord would not find them lacking again.
With a sigh he gazed out to the other lake shore, where their Lord resided. He rubbed an aching joint. If only he were ten, no fifteen years younger. Then he too could join them in protecting their Lord’s sanctuary.
Their Lord had commanded that nobody was to approach the other lake shore, and should any others try, be that villager or stranger, they were to stop them. It was clear that there was something there that their Lord valued. It pained him that he would be unable to join in with an active effort. Running a village, especially one starting up again had its own set of problems. He would contribute by supporting the villagers, so that they in turn would be able to help the Lord.
With a sigh Cairn headed back towards his house. It only made sense for their Lord to raise them in strength if he had something to guard there. He simply hoped that they would be strong enough when the time came and not disappoint their Lord.
***
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Azrael woke in his own bed, throwing off the covers and stretching. Outside the birds were chirping and dappled sunlight traced lazy patterns on his floor, as it streamed through his bedroom window.
He got dressed with a new spring in his step, before waltzing into the main living quarters. Humming a jaunty tune he threw open all the shutters, feeling very much alive.
Breathing in the fresh forest air, he enjoyed the way the breeze passed him by to explore his house. Outside the sun had already been up for a few hours, but he didn’t care. For the first time in a month, he didn’t have any responsibilities. Leaving the shutters open he moved to the kitchen built into the wooden benchtop, lighting up a little woodfired stove, with a [Fire Bullet]. Contained in a stone box, the fire heated a stone plate above, effectively becoming a primitive stove. Genius! Well, it was a little slow to heat, but he didn’t really mind. He was in no hurry.
The entire stove, box and plate, was made of a single piece of stone and made possible with his newest skill [Stone Shaping].
[Stone Shaping]
Even the eternal, the infinite and the unbreakable are subject to change.
Through the power of your mana you may change the form of stone.
The skill he’d gained at the quarry a few days ago, while experimenting if he could split stone along a precise line. Flooding the stone with his mana he’d tried to force the two halves apart, like magnets, along a precise line. His idea had worked – to a degree. The result had been this skill. While it didn’t have the stone-splitting qualities he’d tried to achieve it the skill required him to completely saturate a stone with his mana, before he could begin to mould it into shape. The larger the stone the more mana he needed. The denser the stone the more mana he needed. And the more complex the shape the more time, energy and mana he needed. At his low level it was a very limited skill, but allowed him to create small simple things. Interestingly enough though, the skill was not absorbed into [Elemental Mana], leading him to believe that only skills that directly used mana to create elements, such as [Fire Bullet], got absorbed into his unique skill.
Walking outside he filled a stone kettle with water from a barrel outside, beside his door. The kettle one example of his new skill. The cups, plates and bowls in his cupboard were another. Making these items had levelled it up quickly, along with his [Crafting] skill. It seemed that using skills didn’t interfere with the leveling of others. It built upon the idea of skill synergy, but that was an interesting though for another time.
Preparing a simple mix of oats, nuts and forest berries he added hot water to it, to create a warm porridge. He really wished he had honey, but with autumn slowly beginning to claim the forest, the bees seemed to have gone into hiding.
Slipping into the chair by his table, he looked out of the window towards the lake. Such places of natural tranquillity were rare in the world these days, where even after the global warming crisis and immigration due to rising sea levels many people only thought about profit. Though the international reforms had done much in the way of alleviating the crisis, spots like these, completely untouched by the hand of man, no longer existed. How people could destroy something like this was a mystery to him.
Blowing onto a spoonful of porridge he opened his status. Lately he’d been getting this nagging itch at the back of his mind, like he was missing something. He couldn’t pin it down, so he pushed that feeling away, instead concentrating on his other problem. He had free time. No obligations, no responsibilities, no problems. So, with free time to spare, he decided to test something today.
Status
Name: Azrael
Class: Runist (Lv.2), Sorcerer (Lv.2), Lord (Lv.2)
Race: Human
HP: 140/140
MP: 170/170
STR: 15
END: 14
DEX: 14
AGI: 14
INT: 17
WIS: 14
Titles:
{Sinner}, {Heretic}, {Master of Status}, {Rune Master}, {God Watched}, {Lord of the End Forest}.
Unique skills:
[Status], [Elemental Mana]
Skills:
Weaving (Lv.2), Crafting (Lv.9), Spear Arts (Lv.17), Mana Sense (Lv.14), Mana Manipulation (Lv. 22), Soul Sense (Lv.3), Mana Control (Lv.19), Dramatic Flair (Lv. 2), Stealth (Lv. 8), Calm Mind (Lv. 6) Lord’s Domain (Lv. 1), Lord’s Insight (Lv. n/a), Leadership (Lv.6) Stone shaping (Lv.7).
Focusing on his title {Rune Master} he gently touched it with his consciousness. He could feel something within him and approached it hesitantly. The previous excruciating pain from the sudden influx of information was still etched into his memory. Though, instead of the pain that he was expecting, he felt that he was slipping into a whole new space; a library of stars, where each star was a different rune.
Each one radiated power, forming a complex web that he knew might take him years, or even tens of years to truly understand. Reaching out with his consciousness he gently reached out to the closest rune.
A tingle ran through him as the knowledge of the rune came to him, as if it had always been there, simply waiting for him to remember.
As understanding flooded into him he began to flit around from one rune to the next, like a child on Christmas. First one, then the next and then another. With each new rune he felt new ideas bubble up from within him. He laughed with a forgotten childish excitement, his breakfast forgotten.