III
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Arc III Chapter 8
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27th Anima Lunar VIII AAC 753
Aurora was pleased, but she had hoped for more. Learning local architecture was all well and good, but not exactly what her heart had desired.
“Do you have anything else to show me?” Aurora addressed her fluffballs.
Her loyal subjects nodded, and led the way, guiding her to an abandoned storage room. An ancient wooden door reinforced with metal plating blocked her path. Despite centuries passing, the wood showed little signs of rot.
Her fluffballs looked at her with hopeful eyes.
...
...
...
Aurora had a hunch what they wanted from her. “Let me guess, there is something inside the room?”
Her fluffballs danced in confirmation.
“And you want me to open the door for you, don't you?”
“...” Her fluffballs collectively averted their eyes, unwilling to meet her icy glare.
Aurora narrowed her eyes. They were using her as a glorified door opener. Once again, she felt deceived by her subjects! She was being used by a bunch of lazy bloodsuckers. After all, it was her who fought the giant hairy spider, while they were hiding behind a corner, shivering in fear!
A series of swift kicks resolved the issue, dispatch the door with ease. One. Two. Three. Four. Amplified by her mana, her legs breached the door. Unable to resist her onslaught, the hinges failed the door, and the dust of centuries greeted her, together with a large stack of ... lightning ... crystals.
Her fluffballs were dancing in joy, and started to nibble on their delicious crystals. They were hungry, and the crystals provided them with nutritious aether.
...
...
...
Aurora didn't share their enthusiasm for crystals, as her mood deteriorated considerably, only to be replaced by an icy glare. Her subjects abused her trust in the most heinous way imaginable! This was lèse majesté! This was high treason! This was unforgivable! Her pride demanded justice, punishment, executions, exile! Her fluffballs brought her all the way here just for some stupid, nonsensical crystals! Ungrateful rascals, only thinking about themselves and their voracious appetite! The sticky cobwebs, the spiders, the bugs, the dust, all for naught.
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Aurora crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. Her eyebrow twitched. Her fluffballs summoned her divine wrath, and now, they shivered in fear. Rightfully so. Hell hath no fury like a noble girl deceived. “You know your crime. How do you plead ...”
Her doll interrupted her raging tirade.
“What, you found something?” Aurora looked at her doll in surprise.
Her doll nodded, pointing behind her.
Aurora followed her doll's gaze. Among all the rubble, among fallen stone and destruction, her eyes spotted a shimmering object. It was the shimmer of polished metal reflecting the incoming sunlight. The entire hall was littered with the remnants of weapons and armours. This hall was a battlefield.
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Quick on her feet, Aurora scavenged the ancient battlefield. Aside from terminology and temporal factors, an ancient battlefield was not much different from a contemporary battlefield. Just fewer rotting corpses, and more skeletons, but their purpose remained the same. In the end, rich looters were happy looters. The dead had little use for their former belongings, which would be put now to better use, namely enriching a poor little girl with limited funds. Their most gracious sacrifice shall never be forgotten. At least, not until tomorrow.
Aurora offered a short prayer, a moment of silence for the deceased, a gesture of solemn respect before lining her deep pockets. Might their restless souls find peace in these accursed ruins.
Afterwards, Aurora engaged in merry looting and plundering, assisted by her doll, in a display of superb teamwork. Her doll served as her scout, tasked with identifying worthwhile targets, while Aurora scurried across the battlefield. Skeleton after skeleton was marked, investigated, and stripped of all valuables. Jewellery and coins, gems and precious metals, were preferred due to weight and space constraints. Her pockets weren't as deep as she would wish for, and her satchels were already reaching their limit. So little space. So much loot.
Thus, a greedy girl was forced to make though choices, but desperate times called for desperate decisions. The vast majority of loot turned out to be worthless junk, as the majority of weapons and armour fell prey to an insidious enemy, rust. Exposed to the sun and the elements and not properly maintained for centuries, corrosion made short work of all the weapons and armour. The tooth of time turned even the hardest steel into worthless scrap, but not all was lost. Fortunately, gold and silver cared little about rust.
The defenders fielded a sizeable force composed of militia and professional soldiers, of rich and poor, of commoners and nobles, a force composed of light and heavy infantry intermixed with mages and archers. A composition that was a solid choice considering the nature of the ruins, ideal for narrow corridors and bottlenecks. Infantry and mages were always a good choice. The former offered solid defensive, the latter powerful offensive capabilities.
As their name suggested, the light infantry was lightly equipped. Protected by their shields, light mail, and linen, they were armed with spears, sword, axes, maces, bows. It was them who formed the bulk of the defending forces, and also the bulk of the cannon fodder. They were men who carried little of value. Just some rusted copper and bronze coins here and there. Small coin used by the common man.
The heavy infantry by contrast proved more worthwhile. Clad in full heavy mail, these men formed the backbone. They were warriors. They were soldiers. Men equipped and trained for war, led and commanded by the fallen sons and men of nobility who now rested among the dead together with their men. Gold and silver, coat of arms, crests, and emblems adorned their armours. Much to her delight, the nobles and officer of old didn't hesitate in the least to display their wealth and status on the battlefield, even in death. Ostentatious jewellery of all kind, precious rings, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, they were everywhere. Aurora took them all, even their gold teeth. Nothing was safe from her thieving fingers.
Their earthly possessions aside, it was also their weaponry that attracted her curiosity. Their weapons were clearly different from the rest. Unlike their rusted counterparts, the arms of nobility stood the test of time. Unlike steel and iron, the metal showed no sign of corrosion or degradation.
Her hand retrieved one such weapon, a short sword. Light and nimble, the blade glimmered silver under the sun. The sword was forged out of a metal, out of an alloy unknown to her. The alloy resembled silver, yet it offered the hardness and resilience of steel ... Mythril.
A single word occupied her mind, as memories of the past resurfaced. The metal was mythril, the metal of legends, light in weight and famous for its high mana conductivity, valued by smiths and forges across the realm, easily worth its weight in gold. Her father taught her so ...
As usual, a headache accompanied her flickering memories, but this time, at least, her past knowledge proved useful. Despite all her shortcomings, her former self was still a noble, and thus versed and educated in various matters.
Aurora injected her mana. As expected, the blade responded well to her actions. Her mana encountered little resistance. Her memories didn't lie, mythril was indeed an excellent conductor, and an excellent catalyst. No wonder that the metal was sought after by mages and nobles alike.
Following her inspection, her newest acquisition disappeared in her satchel. Her short sword barely fitted. Fortunately, her blade was on the shorter end even among short swords to the point of being able to be considered a dagger. After all, she had little interest in her new sword being requisitioned by a certain moody adventurer. The blade was her find, her sword.
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image [https://i.imgur.com/JQv5P9L.png]
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