The elf whore was lying, Sage thought as she brought up her up her buckler, catching the oncoming broadsword with it. The resulting impact had her stumbling back several steps, but she quickly managed to catch herself.
There was no way Sylphia had not told the Sheans why Sage elicited her services. The Church of Life’s influence in Ysh was great, and the fact that they lost an individual revered by many in their midst was no smaller matter. No matter how inept the Sheans were, their fanatical personas would not half-arse a search so badly that they would go easy on someone who clearly had information about the culprit.
In order to set their eyes elsewhere, the brothel madam would definitely have offered them information they deemed satisfactory enough to back off. It is what Sage would have done if she were in the same position. Screw confidentiality, survival came first. There was no honour among thieves; everyone who operated even partially in the shadows had a similar mentality. There was no way Sylphia was any different.
After regaining her balance, she rushed forward with her buckler poised ahead of her, catching another blow from the broadsword. This time, she ground her boots deep in the earth to lessen the recoil. It worked; taking the hit this time only pushed her back a step, allowing her to rebound quickly. She rushed forward with her shortsword raised and swung at her opponent.
Unfortunately, Isaac sidestepped before the blow could connect; countering with a blow of his own, catching her in the side. She uttered a short cry as she felt her ribs crack, the result of which caused her sword to drop to the ground.
It was the third day since they had left Rupheus. Because she had decided to pose as a combatant going forward, she commissioned the pale knight to teach her how to use a sword.
It seemed easy in theory. Back in her old life, she had dabbled in mix-martial arts. Sword fighting was basically just that but with knives.
Learning to wield a sword properly is not about thrusting forward or slashing sideways; it is about one’s stances, their forms, the ability to anticipate your foe and devising an appropriate response. Isaac’s unenthusiastic and obnoxious lecture stated all this and much more; she had stopped paying attention midway. A lot of the points he made held similarities to what martial-arts instructors taught on Earth. The anticipation part she already had a good grasp of; after all, she had been able to avoid many of the dreary bastard’s attacks during their actual fights. How hard could it be to incorporate that into counteracting with a shield and sword?
It turned out to be very hard.
Their first sparring match saw her battered with so many blows that she ended up with welts all over. Isaac was clearly more invested in this part as he did not miss an opportunity to strike at her, probably wishing they were using their actual weapons instead of the dull ones she had created via [Transmute]. Seeing his smug face continually grow smugger as more blows landed on her, she failed to keep her anger in check; causing her to order him to stop before bashing him with her weapon multiple times.
That first spar had been a bad experience for everyone barring Nyx, who appeared to have enjoyed the carnage. Sage was not above owning up to her faults though, even if only to herself. Since then, she had made sure to keep a tighter lid on her temper while becoming more earnest in her desire to learn.
If she really thought about it, learning a how to wield a sword would not only benefit her while she played the part of a combatant, but also in actual situations where someone countered her magic. There existed an 8th Order spell called [Anti-Magic Field], which was often used against magicians by those who preferred close combat. Of course, usage of such a spell was extremely rare considering the fact that the one initiating the spell would have to have an enchanted item capable of casting the spell or be an 8th Order sorcerer themselves. The latter was even unlikelier since [Anti-Magic Field] affected the caster in the process, and no sane mage would neuter their opponent at the cost of themself.
Dammit, she thought as she bent down to pick up the sword, wincing in the process. She cast [Heal Undead II] on herself before jumping up and initiating another attack.
The reason she had been able to dodge the knight’s attacks during their fights was because she had been distancing herself from him then. As a spellcaster, being in close proximity to an opponent was not smart; thus creating space was the name of the game. However, a fight could not be won by continually dodging; if one wanted to win, they had to attack. For a swordsman, that meant getting within the opponent’s range.
Should I use a bow instead? She asked herself as Isaac managed to knock the sword out of her hands once more. On Aran- barring magic- it was the most popular ranged weapon. Maybe copying the half-elf was the better path for Sage, because this shortsword-and-buckler gig was not going well.
“That’s enough,” she said just as Isaac’s sword was about to strike at her chest. The bastard really had not had the intention of stopping even after disarming her.
With the sparring session finished, she threw the buckler down and walked over to the carriage, where the cat and the child were sharing a raw rabbit.
Because of the nature of her race, the undead child needed constant feeding like a human. When the familiar caught the critter earlier, Sage had told Mylah to set up a fire to cook the rodent; as she had grown up in an inn, the girl had to at least have some cooking experience. However, the girl in her stuttering voice had replied by saying she actually preferred raw meat. The statement did raise her eyebrows but she let the child have her way. Now, judging from Mylah’s elated expression as she tore through the rabbit, she had not lied; she probably enjoyed it more than the steak from that renowned tavern.
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Sage tried not to think about whether the child use to have the same preference when she was human.
“Here,” Isaac said, pulling a handkerchief from nowhere and wiping the child’s face of bloody smears. “You should not eat fast like that; it messes food everywhere.”
Whether he was bothered by the fact that Mylah had been consuming a raw meat or not, he did not show it; not that she gave a shit about his feelings on the matter. What she did care about fact that he was taking care of the child, which she had already iterated she was not going to do.
“How was my swordplay today?’ she asked him.
He left the kerchief with the child before turning to her with a neutral face. “Terrible.”
“It’s just the third day,” she responded, killing the urge to snarl at his reply. “In time I will master it.”
He shrugged reflexively “Maybe you will. But you don’t have much talent with the sword. You should consider switching to another weapon.”
“I’m bad with a sword?” She responded, a little haughtier than she intended. “The only reason I failed to land a hit on you all these times is because you have a better physique. If we were on equal ground, or had I the better physique, I would have had the upper hand.”
The bastard harrumphed, pushing mist out of his mouth. “Somehow, I doubt that,” he muttered.
Sage wanted to retaliate, but she held herself back. There was no reason to get into a quarrel because of a small matter. What she had to do was improve her swordplay to the point where she could beat the shit out of him. Unfortunately, that would take months to achieve. By then, she would have already either found a method to increase her undead physique, or developed one. At that moment she would withhold it from the bastard just so she could use it and beat the crap out of him with her bare hands!
Speaking of physiques, she walked over to the front of the carriage- where she chased away the child and the cat- and sat down before turning back to the knight. “How are physiques improved?”
“What?”
“You’ve improved your physique before,” she clarified; “how exactly does the process work? I know the basics, like consuming herbs and going through an exercise and diet routine; but I don’t know the details. Can you explain it to me?”
The pale knight appeared to think about it for a while before shrugging, though with a frown. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything there is to know,” she answered, ignoring his attitude. “For starters, what’s the herb you eat before starting the workout plan?”
“That’s Aether Grass,” he replied at first, but shook his head as soon as the answer left his mouth. “No, the Nutritionists mix Aether Grass with other substances to bring about a different effect. They call the modified version by another name, Idyll Grass.”
Sounds like the name of a happy drug, Sage thought, but nodded nonetheless without verbally commenting.
She was familiar with Aether Grass. Apparently, it was grass found in Feyheim, the realm of Shea; an ingredient capable of healing anyone who ate it while boosting their strength for a period. Though said to be common as weeds in the fairy realm, it was an extremely rare substance on Aran, such that it had taken the geezer years to track it down in order to complete his ritual.
It would probably be wise to check those Netherkin summoning notes again. Perhaps there was information of use in them.
“What are the effects of this Idyll Grass?” she asked.
“It poisons the body.”
That reply was nowhere close to the one she expected. “What?”
“From what I know, there are several variants of Idyll Grass,” the knight began to explain; “each of which is toxic to the body. However, it also has the side-effect of stimulating the type of muscle growth which is vital for physique improvement. Once consumed though, it is a race against time where you either propel your body to new heights, boosting your immune system and flushing out the toxin; or succumbing to it and dying.”
“That sounds dangerous,” she frowned. “Why would people go through with it?” In comparison, a sorcerer’s Advancement seemed way safer. Maybe she was lucky to be an undead after all.
“If you follow the Nutritionist’s plan and stick to it, completing the training won’t be a problem,” Isaac replied sternly. “The vast majority of those who are unable to complete their training and die in the process are those who go to unqualified Nutritionists or those who try to get a nutrition plan from illicit places. Some of those places don’t even get the make the Idyll Grass properly.”
So anyone buying from that Harn guy is basically fucked? Although Sage had wanted to buy the plans for reference instead of usage, it was well that she had decided not to purchase from the man in the end.
“Is every plan supposed to be personalised?” She asked, remembering the nutrition plans from her old world.
The pale undead nodded after a pause. “Different people have different reactions to the same substance; also, based on an individual’s mass, the dosage of Idyll Grass they need to eat for optimal effect would either have to be increased or decreased. The wrong amount is always fatal.”
“I see why some people skip that shit to purchase an Elixir of Strength instead,” Sage said after a minute in contemplation.
She turned away just as he uttered a scoff. “And just how many on Aran have access to that avenue?”
She chose not to respond, her gaze fixed on the road ahead of the coach. The area they were passing through was flat with no trees, which made it easy to spot another carriage from a distance. That they travelled a road from one of the country’s biggest cities to its capital meant that it was a usual occurrence to meet travellers on the way. It was why she had not rushed the hellhurst to make it to Io; that and the fact that the wagon would probably not be able to endure.
Seeing that other wagon was getting closer, she put her mask on and looked at Isaac, who had already slipped into his helm.
“Our break’s over,” she said to him. “Time to leave.”
There was no response from him, but he did leave to go and get his horse; which had taken its free time from pulling the carriage to freeze some of the grass in the surrounding. Hopefully, the oncoming carriage would not spot the ice.
When Isaac started leading the horse to the wagon, it gave an unhappy neigh though it complied nonetheless; but not before shooting Sage the stink-eye. The damn equine was still stuck-up on their first encounter.
By the time Isaac finished fastening the horse back to the cart, the other carriage was already less than a hundred metres from them. Sage walked over to the open side of the carriage, where the girl and cat had migrated to after she chased them from the driver’s seat, and told them to scoot inside before entering the coach and closing it. Shortly after, their wagon began to move.
Sage let out a breath as she heard the other carriage pass by them.
If they kept up their current pace, they would reach Io just before sunset tomorrow.