Chapter 28: Laying Plans For The Future
Landar
After our visit to the temple to meet Roland life largely went back to ‘normal’. Not that there was much normal about life in this strange world. But at least things fell into a routine.
Mornings consisted of helping Tabitha with chores for a few hours. Before heading out to join the morning gatherers group escorted by Tabitha and one of the city watch. Sometimes other adults came as well to help chaperone the younger kids.
The first time we went together was a bit of a fiasco. We spent most of the four hours outside the walls trying to find Roland. He had agreed to meet with us to help teach Tabitha some self defense moves.
Turns out the goodie two shoes had stumbled upon a pair of kids who had gotten stuck in a well. Yes, i’m not kidding. An actual collapsed well. Needless to say, he had spent the time playing Lassee and trying to save the brats before he met up with us near the end of our gathering time.
Tabitha practically swooned over his explanation, but I couldn’t help but just feel more annoyed. Couldn’t the guy have asked the watch to handle it? We had an appointment.
Bah, that was just the stickler in me. The kid had a good reason. He had saved two kids after all. He deserved a pass this time. He spent the little time we had left teaching her a shortened version of lesson zero of most self-defense courses.
How to run away.
“It’s always better to avoid a fight if you can. You never know when a random punch can hit you just right, and boom!” He smashed his fist into his open palm. “Your underground. All because of a stupid, unlucky punch. Best to always run away, or de-escalate if you can.”
Tabitha smirked, but I backed him up. “He’s right, sis. Even a weakling like me could throw a rock and totally, by chance, blind someone with it. Always better to run away.” I gave Roland a scrutinizing look. “Where did you learn that?”
“My master is a cleric. He’s experienced in hand to hand combat and he teaches a course on it. I’m basically just telling you what he told me. According to him, running away is an art form. First you have to out speed your opponent so you can get some distance between you. Then, you need to find a pace that’s reasonable where you can out endure your opponent. No matter how strong most people are, constantly running at full tilt will exhaust us. But the human body has much more potential for endurance than most people realize. If you train it, you can easily outrun most people just by keeping a steady pace.”
“Really? So, I’m just to run away from kidnappers then?” Tabitha looked annoyed.
“Yup. If you can.” Roland beamed a winning smile at her, and she quickly melted.
“Alright. So, what now?”
“We have about thirty minutes left.” I said as I examined where the sun was in the trees overhead.
“Perfect, just enough to get in a good run!” Roland doffed his heavy robes and underneath he was wearing breaches and a simple cotton shirt. It was as close to under armor workout clothes as you could get in this world. “Come on Tabitha, I’ll race you to the stream and back.”
My sister stared at him for a full three seconds before bolting towards the stream at full tilt.
“Hey! Cheater!”
I sat down and watched the two race back and forth as I gathered various pieces of wood and bark that I’d sell as kindling or work materials at the smith’s forge. It wasn’t much, but it also brought in a few coppers extra a week, money I gave to my mother. Something that was expected of a child who was trying to help his family keep from starving come winter.
After their third race, which Roland also won handily, they took a rest before heading back. Tabitha practically collapsed, heaving deep breaths.
“Try to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.” I said as I sat and peeled the bark off sticks. “It’ll help control your breathing more.”
Roland was also winded, but not nearly as red faced or struggling as Tabitha was. On our way back, they drank what was left in our water skins, including mine. Tabitha took it without so much as a please or thank you.
That’s just how older siblings operate in every world, I guessed. Taking your stuff without permission, or even so much as a ‘oops sorry’. I had to fight back a smile at the familiarity of it all.
The rest of the week went by without a hitch as far as the gathering went. Roland was punctual, which was good for him because late people always made my skin itch, in this world and back on Earth.
That allowed me to get my wood gathering out of the way quickly, as he and Tabitha would go on a run together to and back from the river for several laps. By the end of the week, my sister was right on his heels most of the way, only losing ground near the end when her knees were shaking and sides were burning.
Cardio sucks. It’s why I refused to participate. At least for now.
After about an hour of exercise and tag games where my sister learned to evade capture, Roland spent the next hour showing her how to break grips. Part of that was how to injure people who were trying to force her to go anywhere against her will.
The last hour was reserved for magic training. We started, of course, with basic mana manipulation. It took almost that entire first session for Tabitha to grasp the basics of just feeling and becoming aware of her mana. But once she did, she took to it like a natural.
“Thats impressive.” Roland said. “It took me almost a week of meditation to be able to touch my mana pool.” That gave me added context. Tabitha might not have been a genius level mage, but she was certainly naturally skilled.
By the end of the fourth day, she had learned how to infuse things with her mana and had learned a formal prayer spell Roland taught her called Faith’s Barrier.
When I tried it, nothing seemed to happen.
“Focus on the emotion. Cling to it,” Roland said as he tried to coach me through it. “On the rightness of the action and how it fits into the will of the gods. Otherwise, all you’re doing is trying to impose your own will on the world.” Roland said as I concentrated on my mana and willed it into my hands, where he told me to put it.
No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t do it.
“It should be effortless once your mana is available and your will is one with the Gods. Those are the two parts to any spell prayer. The offering, and the subversion of our own will for that of the divine.”
I had no idea what he was talking about.
I could feel the emotion and feel the desire to help others as he described what I should be feeling. But I just couldn’t get it to work, no matter how hard I pushed or focused. I growled in frustration and forced both fists into the ground, grounding the mana into the dirt so it didn’t harm me.
That was something else Roland had taught me. If a spell was going to fail, it was best not to try to reuse the mana. Just ground it, and save yourself from spell feedback. Something I hadn’t experienced yet, but he assured me while not deadly, could stun your mana channels so they didn’t function for a little while. A particularly bad incident could stunt your growth or force you to recreate your channels.
“Hold on. Landar?” My sister sat next to me in the dirt. “You never had the chance when you were younger to learn the prayers. And even now, your time is spent working to catch up health wise to the other children your age.”
“Yes. But what do the prayers have to do with it?”
A light came on in Roland’s eyes as Tabitha smiled up at him. “See? I told you there was an element missing.”
“You don’t know the prayers. That makes a lot of sense. Normally, a child is taught the prayers of the gods when they are young. At least the first liturgy or two. It’s how most people learn to read and write. You would be midway through those teachings if it wasn’t for your illness and need to recover. You don’t know the specific will of the gods, so you can’t connect to it. I’ll have your sister sit with you and teach you some of the basic prayers starting tonight. They’re not too difficult, but they can be time consuming.”
With that, I gave up on my efforts to become a holy, light wielding hammer of justice. At least, for the moment. From the way they described the need to connect my will to that of the gods, it sounded far more than just knowing the words. I’d have to learn an entire theology. One I only have vague impressions of from my time on this world, and from the weak memories I had gained when I inhabited Landar’s body. And one I wasn’t entirely sure I could agree with.
I had never been a churchgoer back on Earth. Yeah, technically I was a Christian. My grandfather saw to that when I was a teen, and got baptized. I think my problem was I was too aware of just how some aspects of the different parts of Protestant christian theology made God out to be some kind of evil overlord, psychopathic puppet master, or mad scientist. Who set his ‘children’ up for failure, only to then punish many of them for their inevitable failure.
That wasn’t my vision of a moral, divine entity. So, I had largely drifted away from active church going in my late teens, and once I was deployed, it had been something I just never went back to. While I deeply respected those who did have a faith back on Earth, that didn’t mean I could find that same level of comfort or ‘rightness’ in any of them I had experienced. And I wasn’t about to start lying about that stuff just to gain a bit of power.
I was disappointed, but I had other things I could do while my sister and her fiance did holy magic. I focused on my core, manipulating the mana it contained, and trying to learn about its properties by infusing my body with the ‘life’ mana.
Let’s see, the dwarf said that life mana is also known as chie in other places on this world. What I remember of chie in eastern traditions, was that it’s the lifeblood of the universe. Something universal, and it can be broken down into two forms. Yin and Yang. Life and death, positive and negative, void and substance. I think.
I probably got a lot of that wrong. But let’s test it out.
I started infusing the life mana, or chie, into different things and found it much, much more difficult to express outside of myself than mana. I had mana channels, though they were rudimentary things I had brute forced into existence over time.
What did he say about it again? Spiraling mana and chie channels? Well, I’ve started the spiraling in my legs. But that’s the only place. Maybe I need to start that with the life mana as well?
I did just that, little by little pushing dense life mana down my legs, wrapping it around and opposite the
I also spent that time working on my journal ability, and improving it. Though it wasn’t until I was able to get back to the temple every day that I could really focus on it. So most of my time was focused on learning new ways to manipulate my mana, and how mana interacted with various kinds of material.
Experimentation proved dangerous on a number of occasions, with pieces of wood splintering in my hands, or rocks of different kinds bursting like grenades. So I learned to do most of my experimenting from behind sturdy cover.
After gathering wood each day, and our little training sessions, it was around noon when we started heading back. I usually tried to visit the blacksmiths on my way home to keep my promise to infuse a vial of oil for him. I found that as I did, it was getting easier. Though at first it wasn’t very noticeable. By the end of the second week, I barely felt winded leaving the crafters work space.
Doing this allowed me to save money, and it rarely took very long. Only a few minutes while the other two looked on. Roland seemed impressed by what I was able to do. “You’re turning into a skilled little mage, my friend.”
“You think so?” I asked that first day as we left. I was exhausted and my knees shook.
“I know so. You’re only what, twelve years old? Academy trained noble brats can do what you do, but they’ve been given every advantage in life, and access to tutors who specialize in such things.”
“And I’m a peasant.”
“A high-ranking peasant.” Tabitha said defensively. “Father and mother have worked hard to earn our position.” Tabitha glared at both of us.
“True. I didn’t mean to disparage their hard work.” Roland said. “What they have accomplished, and the family they have raised, is truly a miracle given the struggles they’ve endured. The Gods willing the city would have more citizens with their sense of civic duty and personal virtue.”
This kid’s going to talk himself into an early grave if he’s not careful, I thought as I watched Tabitha’s expression grow darker. She didn’t like the tenor of the conversation, that was for sure.
“What is it then, that they lack?”
“What do you mean?”
“My parents. It sounds like you think they lack something of value. That being their child was some kind of burden. So, tell me what it is.”
Tabitha’s voice and that oh so deadly tone that all men eventually learn to hear. Like a deer in the woods listening for dangerous wolves. When you hear that tone, you listen and try to run away.
Someone had trained Roland well.
“Oh, I apologize. I must have misspoke. All I meant was, your parents have done a wonderful job raising you two. And in turn, you both have done well by them. You are a strong, honorable family. And I would be pleased to be joined to it.” After a moment, he seemed to realize what he had just said, as his face turned almost as bright red as his hair. “I mean, eventually. If we prove a good match.”
“Why not now?” Tabitha said, her voice still carrying the hint of that dreaded tone. But this time it was less hunter stocking prey, and more cat playing with a ball of yarn. “What makes you hesitate?”
“I uh. . . well, you see—”
I rescued the poor boy. “Tabitha, be kind.” She giggled and Roland looked confused as we made our way back home.
After that first day, the two were practically inseparable. By the end of the week, I had to force my way between them to help them keep their hands to themselves in public. Honestly, I felt more like I was watching my daughter than I was my older sister.
Being an adult in a child’s body is a really weird experience some times.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
***
For a time, afternoons were pretty straightforward. I would follow Roland to the temple where I would study, primarily focusing on improving and building my vision of just what I could do with the mental journal ability. Or as I learned, it was more a spell. A spell designed to be attached to a meridian once I had those available. Once it was attached to a meridian, it was technically considered an Ability. Why, I still wasn’t sure, but the process was supposed to make using the spell easier.
While I studied and fiddled with the spell, Tabitha and mother would do the chores she normally would do in the mornings.
It was getting later in the summer, and the weather was growing cooler sooner in the day as I sat in the temple library. Roland had helped me find better texts to read and eventually just got permission for me to enter the library under his supervision.
On the second day, while I was reading about methods, skills, and abilities that involved examining other people, High Priest Sigvald came and sat next to me in one of the study rooms off the main library.
He said nothing, just picked up a book of his own and studied, writing notes down on a pad as he went. After about an hour of studying in silence, I found I was distracted by his scratching on what sounded like sandpaper.
“Do you know the mental journal ability?” I asked, and the scratching stopped. He peeked over his massive tomb and looked me square in the eye. “You know, the mental ability?”
“I know if it, yes. But I regret that I have not yet mastered it. Why?”
“Really? But it’s simple. I thought you temple types were supposed to be good at magic?”
Sigvald choked back a snort, covering it with a cough. “Well, some of us are. But most of us priests and priestesses in the grey are servants of one type or another. Craftsmen or women who give of ourselves so those few of us who have some skill with theology and theurgy, what’s commonly known as faith magic, lead the others in spells and magical services.”
“And you don’t have that skill?” I asked, and his eyes narrowed. I couldn’t tell if it was from a smile or suspicion. His glorious mustache and face were still hidden by the book propped up in front of him opposite me.
“I have some skill in theology. But theurgy escapes me.”
“Whats the difference between the two?”
He sighed and closed his book, setting it to the side. “I see you are still filled with questions.” He looked at a small water clock at the head of the table that showed it was nearly four in the afternoon. “I have a few minutes. I can indulge you for a bit.”
“Great, thank you. So what’s the difference?”
“Theology is understanding the mind of the Gods.” He tapped the temple of his skull. “Theurgy is understanding their will. The reason behind their laws and rules. A master of theology like myself will understand the laws and rules our Mother and Father have set forth. While a master of Theurgy will understand her will in a situation, the laws might not cover, by understanding the underlying principles of the moral philosophy that upholds and supports those laws and rules.”
“So ones a judge or lawyer,” I said as I gestured towards him. With the other hand, I gestured towards Roland, who stood on guard in the corner wearing his full armor, a wooden club at his hip. “While the other is like a close friend of the king. Able to tell what their will would be in a situation despite their absence, even if they couldn’t fully articulate the reason why.”
Sigvold bowed his head slightly. “Just so young, master Gaudhaus. Though there is much more nuance there, I think you understand the distinction. In order to lead holy magic rituals, one must be a theurge. In order to lead the church of our goddess herself and to rule on religious cases, one must be a master of theology.”
I thought about that distinction, but it kind of hurt my brain a bit. “If you know her laws, then what’s stopping you from understanding the reasons behind those laws? Surely the Mother, the greys patron if I remember right, is not a goddess of some fake world where everything is ideal all the time. She must have reason and rhyme to her choices of laws and rules. Right?”
“That’s correct. And many who are master theurgists, also make a study of theology, and vis versa.”
“So, why can’t you do magic, then?”
His simple smile drifted to a neutral expression. “That is a matter of some debate. I understand her law, and I think I understand her will. When I express it to others who are capable, they seem to agree with me that I am on the right track. But . . . for one reason or another, faith magic alludes me. That, however, does not mean I can’t do magic. I am on my own, a rather accomplished mage. It is my profession before I joined the grey and is how I give back to our goddess through service.”
I shook my head, confused. “That just makes me more confused. Mental Jounraly is not that difficult of a spell.”
“Mental journal, the spell that can be turned into the magical ability, is typically taught at a young age.” He explained. “My mind is now more solidified than it was when I was a child. Therefore, mental magic has a harder time . . . attaching itself to it. My thought patterns are more solidified, which offers me a modicum of protection from some types of mental magical manipulation. It is seen as one of the protections the Father and Mother granted humanity when we overthrew and drove off the unholy beasts who once enslaved and abused us for so long. But it also means beneficial mental magics I am unfamiliar with, prove difficult to learn. Do you have other questions? Perhaps about your current research project I can assist you with?”
Sigvald’s smirk returned, and I nodded. “Yes actually. Does that mean as we age, spells are more difficult to learn in general? As they require new ways of thinking?”
Sigvald’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Yes, and no. You are a rather astute young man, I must say. Learning new types of magic at a more advanced age is more difficult. However, learning new spells within a familiar type of magic, like, say, fire magic, for instance, wouldn’t suffer from age. Neither would learning spells in a similar field, or a more advanced application of that same type of magic. For instance, fire leading to plasma, leading to general heat manipulation and control. The principles applied on one, as long as they are applicable to another, are universal. But learning new principles grows more difficult with age. Yes.”
“So as we age, we grow more siloed. Interesting.” I met his eyes and found them sharp and discerning, looking deep into my soul as if searching for something hidden there.
“Yes. Just so. Roland has told me of your quest to learn magic enough to protect your family. That is a noble goal, but one that will prove dangerous. Magic of all kinds, holy, arcane, runic, and especially wild magics like those found among the elves that defy categorization, are not easily mastered. And before they are, they are dangerous to not only the student, but everyone around them.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Be careful, child, not to dig too quickly into the lore, else you will find things that can harm you should you try them before you are ready.”
I nodded. “Yes sir. Thank you.”
He sat back in his chair and nodded. “Good. Well, should you need help with anything particularly difficult, seek me out. When I have time, I would be happy to assist you.”
He got up and picked up the papers he had made notes on, then stopped. “Before I leave, child. Tell me. Have you been able to cast any spells yet?”
I thought about how to awnser, before finally deciding to be honest with him. Sigvald had been nothing but helpful, and between him and Mother Margeret, the grey was one of the few organizations in the city unwilling to achieve power at any means. I shook my head. “I’ve used a few ability spells, and tested some basic forms of enchantment. But, no complex spells yet.”
His eyebrows rose even further. “Already know ability spells. Impressive for one with such limited means. I take it Mental Journal is one?” I nodded. “That would explain your question, then. And he knows?” He asked, motioning towards Roland. I nodded again.
“Good. Roland knows how to keep his mouth shut about such things. Particularly if it involves family. But do not trust others with this knowledge. You and your entire line seem to be remarkable specimens. If that knowledge got out to the nobility, you’d both be in . . . very bad situations rather quickly despite the protection of the grey. Many houses would risk our wrath for a chance at extracting your bloodlines’ potential. With things as they are in the kingdom right now, the desperation of the low nobles will only grow. As will that of some institutions. Do you understand?”
I wanted to ask him about the situation in the kingdom, but it wasn’t my place to be concerned about politics. Not yet, anyway. I was too young, and my interest would be noted as odd and potentially intrusive. I was already on the church’s radar; I didn’t need to be seen by anyone else as a potential threat. Though I guessed he was referring, at least, to the Blue Priesthood at a minimum with the comment about institutions. They were one of the groups Sigvald had warned us about directly, after all.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He made to leave, then stopped again, bent down and examined the title of the book I was reading. “Interesting. I think I know where you are going, and this one won’t help you. Try this.” He walked over to a small shelf that looked forgotten in the corner and grabbed one of the dusty books off it, then handed it to me. “This will help you more. I know it’s how Margaret learned how to use her blessing without being overwhelmed. But be careful. Mental magic, beyond the most basic of aids and scribe abilities like Mental Journal, are considered taboo by many. Elves and others have used them for a long time to take slaves. ”
As he walked away, I could have sworn I saw him wink at me, but I can’t really be sure.
It didn’t take long for the book he handed me, titled “Realization of the Mundane”, to prove useful. It contained instructions for a small mental construct that automatically categorized information as I learned it. It also added to my total storage capacity by a few hundred words, which was nice.
It took me the rest of that afternoon to add it into the Mental Journal construct, but when it was finished, I found I could look at Roland and as I concisely acknowledged pieces of information about him; it stored that information a type of basic wiki in my head.
Name: Roland
Profession: Cleric of the Gray Priesthood, Trainee
It wasn’t much information, but honestly, I didn’t want to fill it up with basic information I could get just by looking into my actual memory. The fact he had red hair and freckles didn’t need to take up space in my nascent mental computer.
***
It was that same day, a Friday, or Fifth-day as I was coming to remember to call it. On my way home from temple having finally learned a few more potential construct add-ons to Mental Journal, I was walking along when the sudden silence on the street made me pay attention.
It was growing darker earlier, but we still had a good hour before sunset, and Roland had walked me most of the way home past the more dangerous parts of town. Normally, Roland would have walked me the whole way, but he said he wanted to check in on a patient who lived nearby. I told him I would be safe. After all I only had a few blocks to go before I made it, and I was in my own neighborhood. People knew me here, knew my family.
And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that I had been left to the wolves. Something about the scene bothered me, something was off.
I looked around but found no one and nothing. The small pop-up market stalls that usually dotted the roads were empty or abandoned. The street was empty, even as it was being cast in a reddish light from the slowly setting sun.
Dusk in this world tended to last almost an hour, which I found strange. On Earth, it only lasted maybe fifteen minutes, if you were lucky. I usually liked it, but now it felt like an omen of things to come.
A sound caught my attention, and my hand went to the hatchet on my hip. I gripped the metal head, ready to pull it out at a moment’s need, as walked forward towards my home. I turned the corner and found my apartment building near the other end of the street.
I was in sight of home.
I felt a sudden wash of relief run over me. Until the sounds of hooves on stone reverberated over the cobbled street.
I stepped aside, out of the way of the main road, and onto the small walking paths that merchant carts usually set up on. As I turned around ten men on horses, wearing heavy plate mail that shone like the sun, looking for all the world like the knights my father had hunted beside, turned the corner. They carried a flag I hadn’t seen before, and among them rode a pair of priests in red robes.
They dismounted in front of our building and began setting up several small tables with reams of paper I hadn’t seen before. “Get the neighborhood roles out.” One of the priests said. “We need to reach five hundred notices by the end of the night or we won’t reach our quota. Understood?”
The knights and men-at-arms agreed, and began a dizzying frenzy of work.
Conscription? What the hell is going on?
A powerful hand gripped my shoulder, then another went over my mouth before I could scream. “Calm down, son.” It was Tomas. “We need to get home before the conscription starts.”
I didn’t realize the political situation had deteriorated towards war; I thought as he released me. I followed closely behind him as we walked briskly towards our apartment complex. The knights and priests didn’t bother us, which I thought was a good sign.
When the door to our apartment closed behind us, I found my family had been waiting for me. They all sat around the table. On the table was a large bundle of cloth covering something.
I sat and waited for them to start. It was my father who broke the silence. “The kingdom is at war, son. It’s not publically announced yet, but the archduke will take care of that tomorrow at Sixth-day. But most of the city already suspects.”
“That explains why the streets were empty. Okay. How will that affect us?” I asked, looking at all of them in term. They all wore stoney expressions.
“You’re too young to be conscripted.” Mother said, as she wrapped me in a hung around my shoulders. “But—”
“But what? Father, did they conscript you into the army?”
“No,” he shook his head slowly. “My service in the city guard means I’m already part of the defenses. It also means your mother is immune from forced service as well. But. . . Tabitha.” My sister shuddered slightly. “Tabitha is the right age. As an unmarried woman, with real potential, she could be conscripted.”
“But that’s not really what we’re worried about,” Elsbeth explained.
“Roland. They may take Roland.” Tabitha’s eyes brimmed with tears and the entire world shifted for me.
It made sense. He was the right age, had the right training, and could heal and use faith magic. He would be a great help in the war efforts.
“Who are you fighting?”
Tomas grimaced. “The elves to the east of the kingdom. They have decided they no longer wish to be neighbors with the woodsmen and farmers there, and have attacked villages. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“The king is a master of diplomacy, and a friend to the elvish prince. If anyone can smooth this over before it escalates out of hand, it’ll be him.” Elsbeth said, but it was clear she wasn’t confident in her proclamation. “Barring that, we must have faith.”
They were talking like a war between the elves and our kingdom might not end in a victory for us. I had thought the kingdom was massive, and our neighbors were small or weak comparatively. It was a foolish American assumption. One only reinforced by the dogma I had grown comfortable hearing from the priests on Seventh-day.
I resolved then to pay closer attention to the politics of this world. Something I had hoped to avoid until I grew older. And much, much stronger.
“Alright. So, to prevent Tabitha from getting conscripted, she’ll marry Roland as soon as possible. Then, we’ll find a service for Roland to perform that won’t take him from the city. The city will still need guards, healers, and priests. I’m sure the army would rather have experienced clerics rather than newly minted ones.”
“The king has called on the archduke to levy ten thousand troops, son.” Tomas’s voice was quiet, but it hit like a hammer. The entire city held maybe thirty, or forty thousand people in it all together.
“Conscription will empty the city of anyone capable of fighting, or acting as some form of support, like nurses or healers. You’re too young, your mother is needed to watch you, and I am already in service. Your sister might be protected if she married Roland, but almost all the Grey is going. Clerics, priests, everyone but the elderly, and the very young.”
I sat there, stunned into silence. Winter wasn’t close, but it was coming faster each day. Fall had just begun. If my rudimentary understanding of the Kingdom’s size was right, even if the army marched halfway there, and then returned, there wouldn’t be enough time for them to finish the fall harvest.
The death toll, even if diplomacy resolved the issue, would be immeasurable.
On top of that, the grey would be so far diminished in its power, even for a short time, that no other group would think twice before trying to kidnap a commoner like Tabitha. Hell, her value as breeding stock would only increase as noble houses might very well lose an entire generation to the fighting. With that added pressure, even the Gem-cutters guild and their wealth wouldn’t be able to deter that kind of greed.
“So . . . what then?” I asked, confused and disgusted by what was going on.
My father grinned slightly as he reached a hand out to the bundle and removed the cloth. “From your friends, the dwarves.”
The cloth was pulled back to reveal two items. The first was a finely crafted mace nearly twice the size of one a normal sized person would use. It was clearly intended for Tomas, and it radiated cold and power.
Tomas picked it up and held it in his hands lovingly. “I can feel . . . something in here. Trying to guide me. The dwarf said that if I ever got into a fight, I should listen to it. It’s protective, and cares what happens to all of us, I think. This will go nicely with my club.”
I snorted. “Thats not a one handed weapon, father. You should replace your club with it.”
He smiled and shook his head. “I’ve been taking your example to heart, son. My nearly perfect physical foundation? Well, the Knight Commander of the watch on the noble side of the wall owed me a favor after that little hunt of ours. I asked him for help perfecting it. This?” He hefted the mace. “Lighter than a feather to me now that I’ve done it.”
Elsbeth’s eyes shone with love and interest as she watched him. Tomas’s muscles bulged as he lifted the finely crafted metal monstrosity. “He’s been keeping that a secret from you kids for a few days now. Wanted to surprise you on your naming day, Landar.”
“Speaking of surprises.” My father reached in and grabbed the second item in the cloth, pulling it back and revealing a red ax that seemed to gleam in the light. “The dwarf said this is for you. Another hatchet, to go with the one you already have. Said it had something called runes carved into it.”
I lifted the ax with both hands reverently, only to reveal a small booklet under it. I grabbed it and started leafing through.
“Its instructions on how to improve my hatchet to be more like this,” I said, pointing down to the dwarf made ax. “And look.” I turned the booklet around to reveal three symbols that were clearly of dwarven make. “They’re runes. He’s given me the rune for sharpness, hardness, and mana projection.”
“What does that mean?” Tabitha asked as she took the booklet from me and read through it herself.
“Not really sure. But it sounds like they’ll be a big help in me infusing my weapons from now on.”
My mother shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel about our twelve-year-old boy having weapons like this.” Tomas wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Landar is of an age to need a tool both for work, and for self defense.”
“Defense against foxes and hungry racoons. Not weapons made for war.” She protested as she leaned into his embrace.
“True. Tell you what. I’ll give the boy some instructions on how to use them safely.”
“That would make me feel better. Still—”
“Honey. He’s the right age. We can’t coddle the boy.”
She sighed and hugged him tighter. “Alright. Just be safe.”