Making his way down the hallway and out one of the large oak doors, Acheron once again looked around at the exterior of the manor in awe. He had never imagined that buildings so grand and imposing could exist. The manor’s towering spires, intricate stonework, and ornate stained-glass windows seemed like architectural impossibilities to him.
Even having slept in it, Acheron found it hard to believe such a large building could exist, especially with such grandeur. The morning sun glinting off of its peaks and illuminating the most intricate parts of the stonework made it seem even more beautiful.
After his awe had faded a bit, Acheron made his way to one of the two guards standing on duty near the portcullis, “would you please lower the drawbridge so that I can get into the city?” Acheron asked of the guard.
“Most certainly young sir,” the guard replied, seemingly mistaking him for someone of importance, “will you be returning later?”
“Uh, I’m not a sir, just call me Acheron, and yeah I’ll be coming back soon, I just need to head to the church of the six first.”
Nodding, the guard headed into the gatehouse to begin lowering the drawbridge.
Expecting to find another crowd of people waiting on the other side of the moat, Acheron was surprised to see that nobody was there, turning to the other guard he asked, “Where did all the people from yesterday go? And what were they there for?”
“They were all shop owners who have been heavily hit by the lack of people entering the city,” the guard answered, “they wanted to speak to the duke. He agreed to have a meeting with them all later to discuss some work arounds which is why they left.”
Acheron nodded, before making his way over the drawbridge, as he crossed the moat he actually had time to pay more attention to this area as he wasn’t being rushed over the drawbridge to prevent the shop owners from crossing it.
Acheron nodded and made his way over the drawbridge. As he crossed the moat, he finally had the chance to take in his surroundings. Unlike before, when he had been hurried across to keep the shop owners at bay, he could now appreciate the details of this castle-like area within the city.
The walls made a rectangle that was about 450 metres by 650 metres, with the walls themselves being about 7 metres high. This was a pretty large space to be within a secondary layer of walls, which is why it held multiple important things like the city barracks, the duke’s manor, and the treasury.
Looking down, Acheron was that the moat, which was three metres wide, was actually just a deep ditch that was completely dry, and he guessed it was maybe four or five metres deep. The ditch may have been dry, but it was not empty, embedded in the ground in the ditch were stone spikes that jutted up viciously, Acheron really didn’t want to imagine falling into the moat.
Walking off the drawbridge and onto the cobbled stones of the city, Acheron began making his way to the cluster of six spires that rose high above anything else. The streets were even more bare, than they had been the previous afternoon, creating a stark contrast between the city of Ultu and his home village. His village would be awake and active at a time like this, with vendors setting up their stalls in the market and other getting up to begin work for the day.
Acheron wandered the streets in a meandering path towards the church, wanting to see more of the sprawling city. He received multiple unwelcoming stares but paid them no heed. The cobblestone streets were eerily quiet, only a few haggard people moving about, looking around warily.
Acheron was aware that there was a food shortage but was surprised that people would become so distrustful in such a short time, it made the city feel more oppressing and hopeless than it should.
Trying to ignore the more depressing things he saw, Acheron took in the sights of the city. The buildings stood tall and proud, their stone and wood facades adorned with colourful banners fluttering in the breeze. He passed by a blacksmith’s forge, the rhythmic clanging of hammer on anvil echoing through the air, a comforting reminder that the city had not been abandoned.
A group of merchants huddled together in a heated discussion, their wares displayed on wooden carts. The vibrant fabrics and exotic spices had likely sold for good money once upon a time would now likely remain unsold. Acheron paused to admire a particularly striking tapestry depicting a heroic battle, the threads shimmering in the sunlight.
As he continued his journey, Acheron enjoyed the vastly different sights that entered his vision. From a library with stained glass windows that depicted scenes of knowledge and enlightenment, inviting scholars and curious minds alike. To what was likely once a bustling marketplace that was now a shadow of its former self, with only a handful of vendors trying to sell their meagre wares.
Acheron’s eyes were drawn to a group of children playing in the now empty marketplace. They paused their game to watch him pass, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. He offered them a small smile, but they quickly turned away, resuming their play with a newfound intensity.
The walk was neither long nor short taking about twenty minutes, though by the time he got there, he sure was glad that it stood out so well amongst the city, as he would have surely gotten lost trying to find his way there otherwise.
Finally, being able to view the cathedral without obstructions in his view he had to admit that it was even more amazing than the duke’s manor.
it loomed before him, its spires reaching towards the heavens. It was a beacon of hope in an otherwise tense landscape, its grandeur untouched by the recent hardships. As Acheron drew closer, he could see the intricate carvings that adorned the entrance, depicting scenes of divine intervention and world altering battles.
The large wooden doors at it’s entrance stood open, inviting anyone to come inside and offer their pleas to the sovereigns. Acheron took a deep breath, he hadn’t truly thought that Kaiya was the one who had allowed him to reincarnate but each step he had walked through the city had slowly changed his perspective.
It was possible that one of the sovereigns had actually given him this ability and he was both hesitant and eager to find out the truth. He had never been very devout towards the sovereigns and so didn’t know what he would do if he found at that it had been one of the sovereigns.
Steeling his nerves, Acheron made his way into the cathedral, leaving the empty streets behind. The interior of the cathedral was a stark contrast to the outside world. It was filled with the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows on the stone walls. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of incense.
A large number of people knelt at each of the six alters spaced out in the circular room. Every alter was of different colour and material, each one representing one of the sovereigns with depictions of their mighty power carved into the alters. The carvings almost seemed alive, with the depictions seeming to move and play out fantastical and breath-taking events. The sight was quite beautiful, and Acheron wondered what kind of skill could do such a thing.
Leftmost sat an altar, crafted from a lustrous silvery metal, which was elegantly draped with soft blue cloth. Intricate carvings adorned the altar, depicting scenes of mighty forces clashing against far weaker and smaller ones. Enclosed by the chaos and destruction, a defiant figure stood resolute, bearing a resplendent shield. Her presence alone warded off any harm, safeguarding those she deemed worthy with unwavering strength and grace. Siyana, the sovereign of protection.
The next altar seemed to be made from living wood, with a canopy of green leaves gracefully draped over it, mimicking a natural cloth. Intricate carvings adorned the altar, depicting scenes of transgressions and redemption. Through the turmoil and regret, a serene figure stood with open arms, offering solace and absolution. Her presence radiated compassion and understanding, guiding the repentant towards a path of forgiveness and renewal. Kaiya, the sovereign of forgiveness.
The rightmost Alter was crafted from gleaming black obsidian, draped with dark, velvety cloth. Intricate carvings adorned the altar, depicting scenes of life and death intertwined in a macabre dance. In the heart of the chaos and shadows, a patient figure stood waiting, wielding a scythe that shimmered with an eerie light. His presence commanded both respect and fear, guiding souls to their final rest with an unwavering hand. Abaddon, the sovereign of death.
The next altar, moving towards the centre, was roughly hewn from a dark, and rugged stone. The very altar seemed to create a mood of bloodlust and violence in its near vicinity. The draping on this altar was a deep crimson, almost resembling blood flowing from its edges. The carvings adorning the altar, depicted scenes of epic battles and fierce warriors locked in combat. Above it all was a formidable figure standing tall, his very presence crushing all those who opposed him. Terror and dread filled those that stood against him, but those who followed him found victory through strategic brilliance and unyielding might. Agnar, the sovereign of war.
Directly across from Acheron was the last two altars, they were side by side and were the most impressive of all.
The left altar of the pair, was crafted from pristine white marble, exuding an aura of purity and enlightenment. The draping on this altar was a shimmering white, almost glowing with an ethereal light. Intricate carvings adorned the altar, depicting scenes of scholars in deep study, ancient tomes, and celestial beings imparting wisdom. Directing the pursuit of knowledge and enlightenment, a regal figure stood, her eyes filled with infinite understanding. Her presence radiated authority and intellect, guiding her followers towards the pursuit of truth and the mastery of knowledge. The altar belonged to none other than Anura, the queen of the sovereigns and the sovereign of knowledge.
The final altar, was crafted from gleaming amethyst, exuding an aura of mystery and power. The draping on this altar was a rich, deep purple, almost shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Intricate carvings adorned the altar, depicting scenes of arcane rituals, mystical symbols, and sorcerers wielding immense power. Amidst the swirling energies and ancient spells, a majestic figure stood, his eyes glowing with arcane knowledge. His presence commanded authority and reverence, wielding forces capable of terraforming the planet with a mastery so profound it warped reality. To this being, magic was as mundane as walking was to humans, who could wield such power but Galdur, the king of the sovereigns and the sovereign of magic.
The place was far more decorated than their own church they had in his village, it had only had one altar due to their scarce funds and it was nowhere near as impressive as those before him. He had to admit that the cathedral certainly inspired feelings of devotion and subservience. His very body almost seemed to be screaming at him to kneel before his superiors, Acheron of course didn’t budge, he had no proof they had ever done anything for him, so he wasn’t going to do anything for them.
Looking around, Acheron saw over forty people dressed in the different coloured robes of the sovereigns. These were all priests to the different sovereigns, and he had to admit, the number of them was incredibly surprising. Their own village had only had a single priest due to the requirement of being a priest.
The requirement was quite simple, one needed the blessing of one of the six sovereigns. A blessing wasn’t just the favour of one of the sovereigns but was actually held part of their jurisdiction. What this meant is that a blessing would provide one with an ability similar to a skill that was in line with the concept that the sovereign embodied.
For example, a priest of Siyana might get a blessing that meant any defensive skills were twice as effective when they were protecting someone. Or a priest of Agnar may have been given jurisdiction that would break any weapon that collided with their own. Blessings didn’t just provide an ability though, they also allowed a sovereign to directly communicate with the blessing’s holder.
Acheron made his way towards the altar of Kaiya, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. He approached the altar, where a priest with green flowing robes stood, his eyes closed in meditation. The priest opened his eyes as Acheron neared, a look of compassion covering his face.
“Welcome, traveller,” the priest said, his voice gentle yet firm. “What brings you to the altar of forgiveness in these troubled times? Do you seek forgiveness? Or perhaps healing?”
“I have a question that I want to ask Kaiya.” Acheron stated clearly.
The priest’s raised his eyebrow at Acheron, “her highness is not someone that you can just have at your beck and call, how about you ask me, and I’ll do my best to try to answer your question. If it is important enough her highness may speak to me and tell me the answer herself.”
Acheron shrugged, “alright but can we go somewhere more private, it’s not exactly something I want everyone to hear.”
The priest winked at Acheron knowingly, “ah, it’s like that is it? Very well, follow me.”
Acheron wasn’t sure what the priest was talking about, but followed the man to a door that was behind the altar. They made their way through a couple winding hallways and a staircase, before coming to a blank room with only two chairs.
The priest motioned him in before closing the door and taking a seat himself. “This room has anti-eavesdropping enchantments, no one but the two of us and the gracious Kaiya will hear what is said in here.”
Acheron nodded, before stating his question. “I was wondering, was it lady Kaiya who brought me back to life?”
“WHAT?!” The priest almost yelled, standing up in his chair and looking at Acheron disbelievingly. “You must tell me every detail of this event, both the before and after!”
Acheron was a bit surprised about the priest’s reaction, wasn’t Kaiya the sovereign of forgiveness and redemption? A second chance at life certainly sounded like it was something she would give to someone. Although then again, Acheron hadn’t paid much attention in church, so he could be wrong.
“Well, it started when I was wandering through the forest outside of Ultu…” Acheron said, providing a similar recount of events to what he had told the duke.
Once he was done recounting the events the priest sat in silence for a moment before his eyes widened and he stared at Acheron, “I cannot believe the tale you have just told me, and yet her highness spoke to me right after you finished. It has been many years since I have heard her voice, I thank you for this boon.” Tears were in the priest’s eyes and Acheron shifted on his seat impatiently.
“So, what did she say?” Acheron was quite eager to hear Kaiya’s words, after hearing how rare it seemed for the sovereigns to directly speak to their priest’s he knew whatever she had to say must be significant.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, the priest cleared his throat, “her highness told me that it is true that your body has gone without a soul for a brief period a few days ago but that she can see no way as to how your soul re-entered your body. She says that none of the other sovereigns have done anything either and that she truly does not know how this might have happened.”
Acheron felt a strange mix of disappointment and relief upon hearing those words. It meant that the sovereigns were not the ones to give him his strange ability and yet it meant that there was something else which he didn’t know of that had done this to him. Something whose intentions and background was completely unknown.
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“She says that you should make the most of this second chance and that if you wish to try to find out more that you could go to the queen of the sovereigns. Although she also told me to warn you that the queen of sovereigns will not give up until she discovers the truth even if you no longer wish to know.”
Acheron nodded, there was a small possibility he could obtain more information from Anura, but it would be at the risk of becoming a test subject for Anura to trial on in an attempt to find out what had caused his situation. After thinking about it he decided not to, for now at least, maybe when he was strong enough that they couldn’t hold him captive then he would visit Anura for answers.
“I am satisfied with what I know, no need to dig deeper,” Acheron told the priest who was sitting on his chair waiting patiently, “would you please show me the way out?”
Following the priest, Acheron was led out of the winding hallways and back into the main cathedral. Exiting the cathedral, Acheron wondered what he should do next. There wasn’t much to do in the city due to the lack of people around, but he didn’t really want to impose himself on the duke and his family again.
‘Well, I guess I could take the duke up on his offer to be a lieutenant, at least for now’, Acheron thought, ‘he did say something about taking on missions, maybe they’ll include fighting.’
Having made a decision, Acheron once again began a trek towards the duke’s manor. Just like the cathedral it was easy to find due to its tall spires and its central location within the city.
As he walked, Acheron pondered on what the priest had said, from what he could tell Kaiya wasn’t even aware that his soul didn’t belong in this body, only thinking that he had died before coming back to life in his own body. This also made him wonder how Ash had actually known that his soul had entered the bandit’s body, and he decided to ask here how she had actually gotten that feeling.
On his walk back to the duke’s manor Acheron walked a more direct path, causing it to be a quicker journey than it was to the cathedral.
Acheron came to the moat and after calling out to the guard on duty was quickly allowed to cross. He inquired of the guard as to the dukes whereabouts, but they were not aware of his location, so he decided to search for the duke inside his manor.
He assumed the duke would be in the main hall, as that was where he had last seen the man, but the hall was empty. Not wanting to be impolite by searching through the house, Acheron waited awkwardly for someone to pass by.
Eventually, a servant entered the great hall, setting out cutlery, possibly for breakfast. This surprised Acheron, as it was likely 8 or 9 o’clock, quite late for breakfast by his standards. However, he wasn’t particularly hungry, thanks to [Physical Exertion], which reduced his need for rest and extended his stamina.
“Do you know where the duke is?” Acheron said, surprising the servant who had assumed they were alone in the hall.
“AH!- Oh it’s you, I uh, er… I don’t know where the duke is, sorry, but Lady Ash or the duchess may know.”
“Great!” Acheron said, “Where could I find lady Ash?”
“She’d be asleep right now, but if you wait for an hour she should come out for breakfast.”
Acheron groaned, “how about the duchess, is she awake?”
“My apologies sir, but if she follows her normal routine then she won’t be up for at least another two hours.”
“I guess I’ll just wait then,” Acheron sighed defeatedly. Moving to one of the corners furthest from the dining table, Acheron sat down and closed his eyes. He wasn’t exactly the most patient person, normally preferring to be up and doing something useful but after spending 31 days in a completely blank room a couple hours in an intricately decorated hall was nothing.
To his delight after only half an hour of waiting, the duke came through one of the side doors and sat down in his throne like seat. He immediately saw Acheron sitting in the corner staring at him and called out, “what exactly are you doing?”
“I was just waiting for you, m’lord” Acheron said, shifting uncomfortably under the dukes stare, “I came to a decision about your offer.”
“Already?” The duke asked looking surprised, “well what did you decide Acheron?”
“I’d like to accept your offer to become a lieutenant.” Acheron said firmly.
“Brilliant!” said the duke, smiling broadly, come with me then and I’ll take you to someone who can show you around the barracks and get you settled in.”
Acheron followed behind eagerly as they exited the manor into the square, before turning right and heading towards a squat rectangular building. He had already guessed that this was the barracks and the duke’s next words confirmed this, “These are the barracks, you’ll be sleeping here when you’re not busy doing other stuff, now, are you aware how the command structure works in an army?”
Acheron shook his head, “I haven’t ever been a part of an army so I don’t know much about them.”
The duke nodded as if he hadn’t expected to hear anything different, “I’ll give you a quick explanation now, at the bottom is soldiers, they just do what they are told, then there are lieutenants such as what you will be, they each command a squad of nine soldiers. Every five lieutenants have a captain who commands them, this is the normal grouping you would fight in during war and is called a platoon.”
The pair reached the door that led into the common room of the barracks but the duke stopped him from entering.
“This is as much as you need to know, but I’ll explain the rest for you just so you know. Multiple captains are then commanded by a colonel who is of the second highest rank, these groupings are called companies. A general commands the colonels and leads the entire battalion of troops with strategy and planning. That’s about all there is to it, except don’t try to tell someone who is bronze rank or higher what to do because it could easily end in your death.”
Acheron was surprised to hear that he would be in command of nine people though he wasn’t too worried. The chance that he wouldn’t kill himself trying to get stronger in the next few months was pretty low, meaning that he then wouldn’t have to worry about command.
As he finished speaking, the duke opened the door to the common room, and Acheron was immediately overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices, the pungent mix of sweat and leather, and the sight of soldiers bustling about in various states of activity. The common room was bustling with soldiers, some playing cards, others engaged in animated conversations, and a few polishing their weapons. The room wasn’t very large, meaning that the large number of people inside made it into quite a cramped space.
As everyone in the room saw who had entered there was silence, then a single soldier wearing a red surcoat that held the symbol of the duke in the centre along with four golden interlocking rings over his right pec stood up. “To what do we owe the pleasure lord Marquadt?”
“Nothing serious, Ronald, you and your men can go back to what they were doing, but first can you send captain Roderick to me.”
“Sure thing”, the soldier said, gesturing towards a tall, stern-looking man standing near the fireplace. “That’s captain Roderick, I assume that the man next to you is the new lieutenant?”
“He is indeed”, the duke said nodding, “captain Roderick if you would be so kind as join us then we can allow colonel Ronald to return to his business.”
The captain followed behind them quickly as they left the common room, “Roderick, this is Acheron, our new lieutenant. Acheron, he’ll be your immediate superior and will help you get settled in, so if you have any problems or questions ask him.” After that, the duke excused himself, leaving Acheron with Roderick.
Captain Roderick looked Acheron up and down, his expression unreadable. “Welcome, Lieutenant. Follow me, and I’ll show you everything you’ll need to know about.”
As Acheron followed captain, he was shown all the amenities of the barracks, including a cafeteria that served semi-edible food, a flat training ground with a couple battered looking training dummies, a storehouse with anything you might need when travelling, and the room where he would be staying. It wasn’t a one-person room but rather a ten person one, where he would share it with all his squad mates, inside were five bed bunks and ten small chests beside the bunks that were clearly for personal belongings.
When they entered the room, they were the only ones in there, Acheron had been told that this was due to his squad mates having been given a task to complete that would take a couple days.
“Who are my squad mates?” Acheron asked curiously, wondering what kind of people he had been assigned.
“I’ll introduce you to your platoon members later”, the captain Roderick said as they left the building, “for now we should probably head to the armoury and get you a set of armour and weaponry. Do you have any skills to boost your strength?”
“Yeah, I have [Upper Body Strength].”
“Good, it’ll make this much easier for you then.”
…………
It had taken three hours, but Acheron was now fully equipped, with a steel spangerhelm, a coat of iron chain mail, thick pants, heavy boots, and a red surcoat displaying the duke’s crest along with two interlocking golden rings. Upon asking, he had discovered that the golden rings symbolised a person’s position in the command structure, with one ring being a soldier, two a lieutenant, three a captain, four a colonel, five the general, and six the duke.
The armour was quite heavy, making Acheron quite glad that he had [Upper Body Strength], but he thought that the added weight would be worth it for the extra protection he would now have. He did have [Durable Body] but at iron rank it wasn’t enough to match up to a set of normal armour.
After being sorted out with a set of armour he was then led into a warehouse whose walls were lined with all sorts of weapons. There were one and two handed swords, spears, maces, flails, hammers, axes, crossbows, daggers, staves, halberds, and many more odd-looking weapons.
“Here you can pick a weapon that we’ll teach you how to use, try and pick one that feels comfortable and suits the skills you already have.”
The sheer number of weapons seemed ridiculous to Acheron, his lack of knowledge about the weapons and the large variety made it almost impossible for him to decide on a single one. However, he hadn’t forgotten what his first and only weapon proficiency skill was, [Scythe Proficiency].
“Do you have any scythes?” Acheron asked hopefully, not seeing any before him despite the immense range of different weapons.
For the first time, there was a change in Roderick’s stoic face. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then a hearty laugh escaped his lips. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and his shoulders shook slightly with mirth. The sound was warm and genuine, a stark contrast to his usual stern demeanour, “hah! That was a good one, but seriously what do you want to wield? I assume it’ll either be a sword or spear, although maybe you’d be interested in something like an axe?”
Acheron shook his head seriously, “why can’t I use a scythe? I already have [Scythe Proficiency]!”
Roderick looked at Acheron in bewilderment, “you’re serious? Scythes are horribly optimised for battle, they require you to pull towards you or swing it wildly to cut someone, aren’t very good at defending when someone charges at you and have horrible balance.”
“It doesn’t matter, I can just get skills to make up for those downsides, but I am going to use a scythe.” Acheron said resolutely.
“You can’t just get skills that easily, you’re gonna die before you get the skills you need to make up for its downsides! How about you choose a sword and shield, they’re highly effective don’t have any large downsides comparatively.”
Acheron shook his head, reminding Roderick very much of a child who did not want to go to bed.
Roderick sighed, “whatever, it’s your choice, just don’t haunt me when you die. We’ll have a look in the back to see if we anything close to what you want, but I can’t make any promises.”
Acheron nodded, satisfied that the captain was no longer trying to change his mind and followed the captain deeper into the warehouse of weaponry. The further in they went the stranger the weapons upon the racks lining the walls seemed to get, there were shields that had long spikes jutting out from opposite edges, disks whose outer edge had been sharpened to a razor’s edge, a weapon that seemed to be two daggers attached by the end of their hilts and a sword whose tip had been bent downwards.
Finally, as they were nearing the end of the strangely long warehouse, Roderick stopped, he was standing before a single weapon that had a piece of metal inscribed above it. The weapon that he stood before looked like a long pole with a curved blade attached to the end. It was close to 2 metres long, with the blade on the end of it making up almost a quarter of its length. The curved blade oddly enough was not curved outwards but rather curved slightly inwards, the blade almost resembled that of a scythe turned 90 degrees.
“This is about as close as you’ll get to a scythe that is actually slightly feasible in battle and even then, it doesn’t perform very well against armour. It’s called a war scythe and was used by peasants at one point when they were revolting against their oppressive ruler. They were of course unsuccessful, considering that most didn’t even have combat related skills, while their opponents included bronze and silver rankers. It eventually made its way here to our collection where it has been collecting dust for centuries or even millennia, you’d be the first to pick it up since then.”
“Millenia? How can it be so old without falling apart?” Acheron asked curiously.
“There are anti-decay enchantments all over this building preventing any of these weapons from rusting or falling apart. There are weapons far older than that in here, and they still look the same as when they were first brought in here.”
Acheron’s mind was blown by the revelation of just how old some of these weapons were, let alone the warehouse itself which had held them all this time.
Staring up at the weapon, Acheron could definitely see its similarities to a scythe, in fact the blade even looked to have been repurposed from a scythe. It wasn’t exactly what he had been thinking of, but he would make it work, he wasn’t new to hard work and wasn’t afraid of it either.
He reached out and grasped the handle, feeling the weight of the war scythe in his hands. The wood was worn smooth from age, but it still felt sturdy. As he swung it experimentally, he could feel the balance was slightly off, but nothing he couldn’t adjust to. The blade gleamed dully in the dim light, a testament to its long history. He imagined the peasants who had wielded it before him, their desperation and determination.
“Not the most elegant weapon,” he muttered to himself, “but I’ll make any who see it tremble in fear.”
He turned to face the captain Roderick. “Thank you. I’ll prove that the scythe is a good weapon, just you watch.”
Roderick nodded, a glint of approval in his eyes. “You better, else I’ll have it melted down into scrap and made into something more useful for combat.”
“There’s a blacksmith who’ll sharpen your weapon for you free of charge just outside the inner walls, he’s been serving the duke for fifty years and is the most skilled blacksmith in the city. It shouldn’t be hard for you to find him; his shop is called the ceaseless hammer and is the only single-story building around the inner walls.” Roderick said, giving Acheron some much appreciated information.
“One last thing,” Roderick said, noticing Acheron’s impatience, “there’s one more place that you’ll need to know about, it’ll likely be a hotspot for you so make sure you pay attention.”
Roderick left the warehouse with Acheron in tow and headed back towards the common room, however, he didn’t enter it but rather went over to a board that was held up by two posts. On the board many pieces of paper were nailed onto it, each with words written onto them.
“This is the mission board,” Roderick said, pointing to the board, “when you’re not doing tasks assigned to you by me, you’ll be completing missions on here. Missions are posted by some of the duke’s staff, the missions mainly include culling monster numbers and safeguarding the main roads, but they can be different.”
Pointing to a specific piece of paper, Roderick turned to Acheron, “do you know how to read and write?”
“Yes.” Acheron confirmed, while he hadn’t learnt many things from the lessons he had been forced to take as a kid, one thing he had learnt was how to read.
“Good, as you can see each mission on it is guaranteed to have at least three pieces of information. The first is the details of what the mission is, as you can see this mission here says to eliminate a small pack of kobolds that have wandered onto some farmland. The next piece of information is where, as you can see the location where the kobolds were last seen is marked on this map. You can use the map and compass that you’ve been provided with to make your way to the location. The last and most important thing is the difficulty, this will tell you how many people and what rank will be needed to safely complete the mission.”
Acheron listened intently to Roderick’s explanation, already picking out contracts that he could do as soon as he was ready.
“Well that’s it,” Roderick said, moving to re-enter the common room, “I’ll let you get settled in until your squad mates return, then we’ll start doing some drills.”
“Wait!” Acheron called out, “when will they return?”
“They should be back within four or five days, so don’t get too comfortable, I recommend you familiarise yourself with your weapon before then.”
Acheron nodded, planning to do just that.
After saluting the captain, Acheron immediately headed outside of the inner walls, straight for the blacksmith who could sharpen his dull blade.
As Roderick had said, it wasn’t hard to find and soon Acheron stood before the blacksmith’s shop. Unlike the buildings around it, it had an open front, allowing a clear view right into the smith’s workspace. The building itself was mainly composed of weathered and soot-stained stone from years of forging. A tall chimney protruded from the roof emitting plumes of smoke, right above where a glowing forge sat.
Hanging along the walls and laying across workbenches inside the building were an assortment of different tools such as tongs, chisels, and hammers. The floor was covered in a layer of fine black dust, a mixture of ash and metal shavings.
In the centre of the building was a sturdy looking anvil, it top polished smooth from being beaten thousands of times. A hunched over man stood working over the anvil, hammering away at a lump of metal, the rhythmic sound of hammering metal echoing through the building.
The man looked ancient, his face a map of deep wrinkles and darkened skin that told stories of countless years spent at the forge. His posture was hunched, as if the weight of time itself had bowed his back. His eyes, though clouded with age, still held a spark of wisdom and experience. A long, white beard cascaded down his chest, so lengthy that Acheron was amazed it didn’t catch on fire as the old man worked the forge.
His hands, gnarled and calloused, moved with a practiced precision, guiding the tools with a grace that belied his age. The veins on his hands stood out like rivers on a weathered landscape, each one a testament to a lifetime of hard labour. Despite his frail appearance, there was a strength in his movements, a resilience that spoke of a man who had spent decades mastering his craft.
The old man’s attire was simple and practical: a leather apron, scorched and stained from years of use, and heavy boots that thudded softly on the dusty floor.
Standing just outside the building, Acheron waited patiently as the old man continued his repetitive work, each strike of the hammer shifting the lump of metal’s shape by only the slightest fraction. Though the working was slow, Acheron was quickly captivated as details began to appear within the lump of metal, first it was the vague shape of a bird, then a slight protrusion where its beak should be.
The old man returned the metal to the forge and heated it up once again, working the bellows with practiced ease, once it was hot enough the man used tongs to bring the metal back to the anvil. The clang of metal on metal once again returned and even more detail formed before Acheron’s very eyes, wings were moulded to be in flight and the body was shaped to create a sleek form.
It was mesmerising, almost seeming magical to Acheron, it seemed that the way the smith was hitting the metal shouldn’t produce the effects it was producing and yet his eyes were not lying to him. It was as if the very metal seemed to want to move into the shape of a bird in flight and the smith was just helping it achieve its goal.
The changes came slower rand slower as the shape of individual feathers began to become visible on the bird, more and more detail was added until Acheron could hardly distinguish it from a real bird. At that point the smith placed the bird in a cauldron of water where there was an audible hiss, that broke Acheron from his stupor.
Only now did he realise that he had been watching the smith at work for multiple hours, he was just about to step forward and speak to the smith now that he was done but the smith spoke first.
“What do you want boy?” came the voice of the elderly man. His voice, was a low, gravelly rumble, like the sound of stones grinding together. It carried a weight of authority and knowledge, commanding respect without demanding it.
‘Boy?’ Acheron wondered confused, ‘I’m pretty sure this body is at least thirty.’
Speaking to the man Acheron said, “I was told that you would repair my weapon for free, and so I came to ask you to sharpen this.” He handed the war scythe to the old man who took it easily.
“A new lieutenant, are we? Well, I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not as good as I used to be so you’ll have to be a little bit patient with me.”
“Not as good?” Acheron asked in disbelief, “that bird you made was amazing! I don’t even know how you did that; it was so realistic!”
The old man chuckled, “I appreciate your attempt to cheer me up but it’s ok, I have come to terms with my fate, all things must come to an end even those which seem eternal.”
Acheron didn’t say anything, he didn’t entirely agree with the smith but didn’t want to argue.
“Hmm… this weapon, where did you get it?” the smith asked turning to look at Acheron curiously.
“It was in the warehouse where they keep all the weapons, it was near the back and apparently was used for-”
“I know what it was used for”, the smith interrupted sombrely, “I was the one who made it, I still remember the farmer who asked me to turn his scythe into a weapon, he was determined to change the oppression they were locked in, poor fool was killed by a silver ranker.”
“You made it!?” Acheron practically yelled disbelievingly, “that thing is centuries maybe even millennia old! You can’t have made it!”
“Do you know nothing boy?” The man asked, annoyance creeping into his voice, “ranking up skills increases your lifespan, though the effect at bronze is unnoticeable. Yes, I made the weapon, what I want to know is why you chose it, there are plenty of better weapons in that warehouse.”
Acheron had of coure been told about the lifespan extending affect of upgrading skills but had always been told that it never amounted to anything significant. He didn't know who to believe but wasn't going to anger the smith by challenging him about his statment so he ignored it. "I don’t care about better weapons”, Acheron said, “all I need is a scythe to fight my enemies.”
The smith nodded, “You sound just like the one who asked me to make that weapon, I offered to make him something more practical, but he refused, said that in the end he was a farmer not a warrior.”
Acheron could definitely agree with that sentiment, he would get revenge for his parents and then he could settle down and return to farming.
Moving to the forge the smith dipped the blade into the forge, and began heating it up, sensing that he might be waiting awhile Acheron sat with his back against a wall and made himself comfortable.
Not five minutes later the smith called out to Acheron, “boy! I’ve finished with your scythe, stop lazing around and come grab it.”
Grumbling about the smith’s stern words, Acheron got up and made his way to the smith who was holding out the war scythe for him to see. Moving to look at the blade, Acheron could clearly see a difference in sharpness, running his finger along its edge easily drew blood, despite [Durable Body].
“This is amazing”, Acheron said, “thank you.”
“It is no effort for me, just fulfilling a vow to an old friend.” The smith said, smiling sadly, “do me a favour will you? Take care of that weapon for me, it may not be the finest, but it has a spirit of its own. Treat it with respect, and it will serve you faithfully.”
Acheron nodded, feeling a sense of connection to the weapon and its history, he had been a peasant trying to rise up against overwhelming odds and knew just how hopeless such a task was. But now, both he and it had a second chance, and he would be sure that they succeeded in their endeavour.