Chapter 26: Calm before the Storm

Sleep was weird; Tobias felt himself get dragged into the abyss of eternal darkness and finality of life – and then get yanked back into the world of the living. It was like a person living their entire life normally, then one day their senses get robbed from them, and the next hour they get them back.

Well... that was just a fancy way to admit that sleeping yesternight was an ordeal by itself.

He tossed and turned, and felt his eyelids glue themselves shut from being closed for too long, before sleep finally claimed him for who knows how long. He wondered to himself why it took so long, before realizing that hearing the voice of Death must have made him somewhat paranoid.

The sun was filtering through the dark curtains, and he knew that it was morning once more. So with a particularly tired yawn to himself, he got up from his bed and prepared himself.

He briefly looked at the room he currently resided in; there was a bed, and there was a few hooks to hang clothes off, and there was nothing else. The hooks contained two coats; one was his original dark blue colored coat, hung alongside the similarly-colored scarf, and the other hook contained his sleek, hooded, almost black coat. He should really get something else to wear – it was the end of spring, and it was starting to get warm.

He slipped his belt on, and wore his dark blue coat, securing the buttons. He idly searched around his sword, before reminding himself that it still wasn’t quite repaired yet. So instead, he slipped the sheathed dagger where his sword normally was, and parting aside the coat, he wrapped the sheathed throwing knives around his right thigh.

Pouches set in place, gear secured, preparation complete; he set out to start his day.

His first stop was to get food. While the Guild’s kitchen food wasn’t terrible; it was pretty good actually, he just didn’t exactly feel like eating there without his party. Maybe those people, even that Archer who seemed to get ticked at the slightest things, grew on him. No, not maybe. They definitely did.

He wondered if it was alright for him to make friends like this... Would his goal not slip off from his mind, before he eventually forgot about it entirely...?

No, it was impossible. He was Tobias first before he was an Adventurer, and his goal would be to grow strong enough to get Marcus back. His friends – no, his party... They were only means to an end. Without a party, it would be impossible for him to get any priority on Magical Dungeons, after all.

So he shook away his thoughts, and moved to find a place to eat. Clara’s extensive gastronomic knowledge rubbed off on him much to his chagrin, so he tended to know where the finest eating spots where. And with a sigh to himself, he headed to one of them.

Maybe something heavy for breakfast would be good...

In the end, he went to a shop specializing in roasted steaks. He could somewhat hear his wallet give the littlest cry, but it went unheard. The steaks were too tender, too perfectly roasted, too good... too perfect – the smallest dent it placed on his personal budget was nothing.

Second stop was to claim his sword from the blacksmith. The blacksmith said that it would be done in two or three days. Well, it was already due, then was it not? Especially right when he really needed it the most later on.

So with naturally honed footsteps and sharpened instincts, his footsteps never crossed any of the lines the square tiled roads had to offer.

***

“Hello. I have come to claim the sword I sent in for repairs.” Tobias said, looking at the shirtless blacksmith who was hammering away at a metal against an anvil. He wasn’t the short, yet bearded, muscular man that he talked to last time. He was taller, and still fairly muscular in his own way.

“Wait... how did you get here?” The blacksmith said, his hammer briefly paused in the air as looked up at him.

“I slipped past the door behind the counter.” Tobias replied. The blacksmith blinked.

“You... slipped past the door behind the counter...?” He asked, his voice drawled out with some minor confusion.

“Yes.” Tobias replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “I entrusted my sword to a short man who had a great, brown, braided beard and whose hair was the curliest I have ever seen.”

The blacksmith blinked again, as he wordlessly slammed down his hammer with a loud, sharp ‘tink’! “Short man... great braided beard... curliest hair...” Then his eyes widened. “You mean the great dwarven blacksmith Krothur?”

“Is that his name?” Tobias asked, idly rubbing his scalp as he felt his pores begin to sweat. It really was warm inside a blacksmith’s forge, and his dark blue coat and scarf didn’t help in the slightest. “Well, I think that sounds like him alright.”

“Let me see if he left anything in the storeroom.” The blacksmith said, and with a grunt, he stood up. Then he walked off, and disappeared over the corner.

He disappeared for maybe a minute, maybe two, but he did return eventually. In his hands was his sword. He was about to wonder how the blacksmith managed to figure that out, before noticing that a small paper was attached to the sheath. He idly snatched it, and began to read.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

To whoever’ s in charge of ta forge. Give t’is sword to ta kid who has steel-like hair, and looks polite enough and is askin’ for it. If he mentions me and literally pops outta nowhere, then you’ll know tat’s him. Oh, and tell him it’s fifteen silver. Supposed to be twenty, but felt nice today. - Krothur.

“Well... you look like the person in the description that Krothur left for this... So I’ll just give it to you, I guess.” The blacksmith said, awkwardly stretching out his arms to give the sheathed blade to Tobias.

“Send my regards to him. And thank you.” He accepted it, and pulled out a pouch. Ten silver somewhat put a dent in his balance, but it didn’t really matter. If a blacksmith said he was a great blacksmith, then that meant that it would be some pretty serious repairing, right?

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome.” The blacksmith received the coins, and placed it in a pocket somewhere behind him. Then he sat down, and the constant pace of ‘tink, tink, tink’ continued.

What a nice guy.

***

His belt had multiple loops; so at the end of the day, he managed to fit both sword and dagger by his left side. It felt... strange to walk with two weapons occupying the same side, especially with the way they seemed to clang against each other with each step. So with some minor contemplation, he adjusted it slightly.

The sword was sheathed by his left side, and the dagger was sheathed by his right side. He can draw the sword with his right hand quickly, while the dagger could be drawn by both hands, even his right, although it would end up with him gripping it in reverse. Well, that didn’t matter too much. What mattered was they no longer banged against each other every step.

That being said, the dagger did remind him of the previous few nights. His meetings with Witch and Magician, even though the latter had already left – it was almost too surreal. The past month, he had spent with his party as they did mostly harmless... alright, not quite harmless quests, as they literally killed beasts and monsters. But the sense of adventure and life was quite different from the air yesternight.

He had almost forgotten that humans were innately... selfish. He had been helped by many figures by now, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to reach this far without any of their help. And now that there’s a party, or even association out there that’s attacking people for their own personal gains – that was almost a slap to make him face reality, if nothing else.

His hands clenched themselves at that thought, before letting out a sigh and relaxing himself. He began to walk towards the Guild. Mostly to check on his party members to see how they were doing, but also to keep an eye out for any suspicious individuals, and to see if Witch has any new information for him.

He stepped inside the stone building which served as the Guild. As usual, there were adventurers about; some adventurers were by themselves, while others talked about with other adventurers in small groups, no doubt their own parties. For today, he was part of the former, but he knew it wouldn’t last that long.

Slipping past these adventurers and crowds, he only made to climb the stairs. The wood was polished – almost shiny enough to reflect his silhouette, and the stair handles were chilling to the touch – a sign that nobody really used them too often.

And with silent footsteps, he entered the room where the recovery room was. As usual, it was white, far too sterile with its lack of details or decoration, and filled with beds, some of which had their curtains drawn to provide some measure of privacy to its inhabitant.

But just on the opposite corner from where his party was situated in, he could see a man kneeling down next to a bed. He was gripping a hand, although from the distance and the way the curtains were angled, he couldn’t see who it was. The man seemed to talk to whoever was behind the curtains, but Tobias decided that it wasn’t quite his business.

So instead, he turned the other way, and walked to where his party was.

The first thing he noted, was that Bastille was sitting right in the space between Jacques and Clara. He was already good enough to walk? Then again, exhaustion didn’t seem too bad of an injury compared to lack of blood and a couple of broken bones.

And the second thing he noted, was that the same Sorcerer finally noticed him, and looked up at him.

“You look like shit.” Bastille said. His word filter was nonexistent after a week of working with Tobias, but then again he was always the snarky one. “Seriously, have you even been sleeping right?”

“I’m fine.” Tobias replied, shrugging with his trademark shrug. “Glad to see you’re back to your usual self. How are they?”

“You got your sword back.” Jacques pointed out at the sheathed weapon.

“And you really look tired.” Clara added, with narrowed and concerned eyes.

“He always looks tired.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Tobias said again, his eyes meeting each of them for a brief time, before moving on to the next person. “I came to see how you guys were doing, glad to see you’re up and about now.”

“Yeah, my body’s still sore, but at least I can move now.” Jacques replied, then he shuddered. “But the last time I tried to get out, the Cleric came rushing in the door and literally tried to prevent me from standing up. It’s almost as if she knows.”

“Wait, you too? That also happened to me.” Clara said, stroking her chin as if contemplating something. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. It’s been a long time since we had a break like this.”

“Yeah, actual hell. Whoever thought that beds could be this soft.” Bastille patted the bed Clara resided on, his hand sinking on the mattress. “You’d think you’re in heaven when you wake up from these beds.”

Everyone else nodded at that remark, patting down their own beds and letting out blissful sighs.

And just like that, they began to chat with each other again. A remark about their latest quest here, an absolutely terrible bed joke there (“I guess you’d be lying if you said these beds weren’t nice.” “Shut up! That was terrible.” “Now, now, let’s try to keep ourselves quiet.”) and Tobias felt... something.

Calm, like the surface of the ocean when winds aren’t cast overhead. Focused, like he can notice the slightest movements of even ants. Determined, like he can brave the odds against Death.

That last thought was a joke. Please don’t kill him, Death.

“Marcus, are you alright?” Clara’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed to focus on him. “You’ve been staring at nothing for a while now.”

Indeed. These people he only came to know a month ago... The way they looked back at him every now and then to see if he was still there following them. The way they shouted at him whenever he did something dangerous and stupid, which was similar to the way he shouted at his younger siblings when they did something like that. They were his allies and friends now, weren’t they?

They weren’t just means to an end...

It was simply too hard to deny it at this point... He could feel his resolution waver, as he looked at them. It was fine, right? It wasn’t like he couldn’t balance his duty, and having friends.

And so, he nodded. “I’m doing fine,” He said, as when he did, he felt the edges of his lips turn just very slightly upwards. There was no denying it. These guys... were his friends, no matter how guilty the word was to him. “I was just thinking to myself for a while.”

There was silence. Nobody said anything, and everyone seemed to only stare at him.

“Is he...” Bastille whispered, trailing off as he gazed at Tobias’ face with such scrutiny that even he felt somewhat embarrassed.

“Feeling melancholic...?” Jacques finished, although his voice was muted and dampened, as if the slightest noise would remove the rare occurrence.

“That’s rude.” Clara said, crossing her arms with a huff. “You guys don’t notice when he does that? He actually does that a surprising lot.”

“Mhm.” Tobias hummed, nodding. But by now, his very subtle smile was gone, replaced by a neutral expression of contemplation. “Definitely an Archer’s sharp senses, alright.”

“Clara’s watching Marcus carefully. Do you think she likes – gah!” Bastille pointed out, before being silenced through a sudden elbow hitting his side.

“You have the right to shut up now.” Clara groaned, her face just contorted to one of annoyance. Jacques let out a loud chuckle to himself, while Tobias simply settled for a chuckle and a wry grin.

It was at these times, where they all talked like friends... it was the calm before the storm.

Because beneath his calm, indifferent facade, only lied a burning anger towards the people who had hurt his friends like so. It was no different than the time that the real Marcus had died – but now, he knew that he could do something about it.

And now that the calm will soon pass... only a storm will follow in its wake.