Before long, Faye found herself back out in the bright afternoon sun — one of those odd wintry days where the sun seemed brighter for how frigid the air was.
Following closely were the nervous Guild assistants who were now under Faye’s care. They had spoken only briefly, but they had little attention beyond perfunctory greetings. Which, honestly, Faye understood. They were under a lot of pressure. The task of organising a united defence of Lóthaven fell to these four people… and they were working on a large set of instructions with detailed contingency plan upon contingency plan.
Faye shook her head; she did not envy them one bit.
The Guard would need to listen to those four, implement the plans, and do it to a time schedule that would line up with what the Administrator and the rest of the Guild were doing… all without normal contact.
“It’s a shame I know nothing about engineering,” Faye muttered.
A squad of militia congregated at the edge of the square in front of the Guild hall. They wore similar mismatched armour to what Hoza had been wearing, two wielded spears and shields, one had a heavy two-handed mallet, and the final three had the typical short sword and shield combination that Maggie had left the Guild with.
They looked up as Faye and the Guild assistants approached. But they remained slouched around, some sitting on the piles of canvas bags that contained God-knows-what.
“You’re the militia assigned to the east gate mission?” she asked.
“Aye, that’s us.”
Each of the militia turned to her, looked her up and down, then with a laugh, one of them asked.
“So, when’s the real adventurer coming? Only, I’m getting bored sat on this here box.”
Faye pierced the man with a stare.
“And what exactly makes a ‘real’ adventurer?”
The guy shrugged, in a classic move that all wannabe cool guys everywhere had done at one point or another. Faye was actually amused that it transcended barriers like culture… and worlds.
“Someone with a class, for a start,” he said, laughing.
A couple of the other militia laughed, too. Faye noted them. The one with the two-handed mallet, however, took a step back from the others, shaking his head.
Faye considered the man before her for a moment. He was young, early-, or mid-twenties probably. He was not an adventurer, and he did not look like he was too comfortable in his armour, yet. He kept shifting his weight to shift the heavy doublet.
“What level are you, then?” she asked.
His laughter drew to a halt, and he looked at her like she had spat on his kids.
“What?”
She cocked her head to the side, smiling. “I’m sorry, I’ll ask louder… What level are you, then?!” she shouted, leaning into his face.
The colour leeched from his face, and he stood to square up to her. He was, like most people, taller than Faye and was clearly hoping that his size would benefit him.
“You’re not from around here, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt,” he said. “You don’t ask people that.”
“Really?” Faye said, looking around at the others. “You thought I didn’t know that? Your logic and intuition are pretty low, then, are they?”
The man took another step forward, so that he was basically staring down at her.
“What kind of class do you have that you’re disposable enough to be a member of the militia, but not useful enough for them to care if you die?”
The punch was slow, relatively. She could see it coming the moment the thought turned into action. Slow as it was, she could not expect it to hit lightly, though. Instead of blocking it, she slipped under his arm and came up beside him.
He threw the punch and stumbled as it missed her.
She just looked at him. He swung a wild haymaker, this time. Easily ducked. She came back to her feet with a shake of her head.
“Have you been in a fight a day in your life?” she asked. She was genuinely curious, too. Most of the boys she had known growing up were in enough fights by the time they were in school to at least know how to punch someone to hurt them.
The man, encumbered by the unfamiliar weight and shape of the armour, shuffled toward Faye. He held his hands out like a wrestler, open hands ready to grapple.
Don’t want that to happen.
He stepped forward, lunging for her. Faye easily jumped back out of the way, but she had not expected one of the other militiamen to jab her in the back as she landed. That distraction was enough for the first to come forward and slam his fist into her belly.
Of course, she was wearing her own armour and her attributes were not nothing. The blow lifted her from her feet, and the air gushed from her lungs, but by the time she had landed she had almost recovered. She slapped his next fist away, the sharp tap strong enough to completely derail his line of attack.
Spinning to face the other militiaman, who was even fingering his knife, Faye’s hand found her dagger, drew it, and coated its blade in mana in the blink of an eye.
Just before the second militiaman stepped forward with mischief, or worse, in his eye, Faye’s dagger flickered into flames.
“Come get skewered, boy,” she said. Then, holding out a hand to point at the first man, she added, “And you, move an inch and I’ll cook you alive.”
Both men drew back instantly.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“H-how’d she do that?!” one of them said, looking at the one who had started the trouble. “You said she were unclassed!”
“She was!” came the retort. “A few weeks ago, I saw it with my own eyes. She was as unclassed as my own daughter.”
Faye drew back the mana that she’d used to coat the dagger. A part of her noting with relief that it had worked on the shorter blade just as easily as on her sword.
“I was unclassed,” she admitted. “I’m not now, though. Faye Weaver,” she said to the others present, looking around at their faces. “You may not know me; you may have heard of me. I honestly don’t care. Right now, I’m the one in charge and we’ve wasted enough time as it is comparing dick sizes. We’re to take these four,” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder to the Guild assistants, “across the Primalist barriers, to the Guard’s barracks. We will then continue on to assess the eastern gate.”
“We are on a schedule,” one of the Guild assistants added, with a venomous look at the idiots who had started the fight. “A schedule more important than either of you two imbeciles. If you antagonise the Adventurer further and she leaves you to the bloody thorn loving Primalists, I’ll swear on my own life that she did everything she could to save you. They’ll give her an award.”
Faye turned to appraise the speaker. It was an older woman, her hair streaked with small bands of grey, tied back into a bun. The Guild assistant nodded at her.
“By your lead, Adventurer.”
“Thank you. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Lower Administrator Gria, the pleasure is mine. Now, really, we are on a tight schedule.”
Faye nodded. She could get on board with that.
“Alright, people, let’s get moving. I’m on point, the Guilders come behind. Spears, to the back, swords along the flanks. Mallet, you’re up front with me.”
The militia did not grumble, much, as Faye barked out the orders. It was almost the same as corralling the idiots in martial arts classes. Prove to them that the shorter, prettier girl was capable of kicking their arses and they became mighty pliable.
One of them even became one of the better students, she recalled.
Gathering up their shields and weapons, the men and women moved to where Faye had told them to go. Then, without further ado, she led them out of the square and east, towards the first Primalist barrier.
----------------------------------------
Faye called out, angrily, “Shields! Protect the Guilders!” as she slashed left and right with the jian-style sword the Quartermaster had given her. She was using it in both hands, whipping it from one side to another in a split second.
Another two briars fell apart.
Congratulations! You have defeated multiple [Lesser Briar]s.
Experience awarded.
Faye did not care about the measly briars, except that for each one that got through to the Guilders, the chance that they were actually hurt increased massively.
She was acting like an emergency response unit, rushing to where the fight was strongest every moment. The militia were doing their best, but they simply were not fighters. They would charge forward to kill monsters, leaving a gap for other briars to get into the Guilders.
“Regroup!” she shouted.
She had just seen the Primalist that had ambushed them at this barrier. The first two had been simple affairs. Faye had broken through the brambles with flames and channelled everyone through basically before any true defence could be mustered.
It seemed that the Primalists had been retreating to this point ahead of their group.
The Caller stretched her hands to the sky. Faye activated [Mana Sense] for a moment, watched for the tell-tale signs of the spell the Caller was making use of, then flicked the skill back off.
“Gria, scatter!”
It was all she could instruct before the Caller was ready to attack. Tendrils of purple-blue lightning gathered around the Caller’s hands, before flashing forward in a blinding flash, despite the sunlight.
For a moment, Faye’s vision vanished. She flicked [Mana Sense] back on, however, and navigated by the shapes of mana auras she could sense.
The briars were swarming like a living carpet of thorns, each one waving their arms of vines as a human neared them. Faye sliced through one or two nearby as she moved. The shapes of the Guilders were scattered, just as she had told them, but one of them was weakly vibrating in her mana sight.
The Primalist, positively covered in purple-blue motes of mana after their lightning attack, was still standing atop a mound of thorny wood. But even as Faye moved around to come at the defensive position from a different angle, she saw that the Caller was working more spells.
Her vision was blurred after the blinding light, she had to assume that the system had something to do with it, because she had looked away at the moment the mana had been released.
Dropping to a knee, she lifted her left hand, pointed it at the mass of lightning mana motes she could sense.
[Scorching Lance].
The thick bar of flames that she knew had erupted from her outstretched hand was visible as a densely focused stream of dark red and deep orange motes of mana. The lance of mana streaked away and merged with the purple-blue mana around the Primalist.
She heard a scream.
A moment later, the Primalist’s mana dispersed. As it did, the blurring effect on Faye’s vision vanished, too.
Ah, some kind of sustained spell? she wondered.
Looking up at the Caller, Faye waited until she moved to stand again before sending a barrage of [Fire Darts] streaming up to the top of the barrier. Each one landed in a steady pop-pop-pop of detonating energy and flames, and along with the penultimate one, Faye heard the notification ping.
Ignoring the notification itself, though, she turned and went to work harvesting the free experience from the lesser briars that were still trying to swarm the others.
The militia were finally doing what they were supposed to be doing and were protecting the Guilders. The one with the mallet was doing fantastic work clearing areas for the Guilders to step into. She had warned them early on that getting cornered was a bad idea.
She helped the militia mop up, and as the final few briars died, one of the militiamen spoke up.
“I don’t think I’ve seen someone so versed in the sword and magic.”
It was not one of the idiots that had started the argument back at the Guild, so she nodded to him.
“Aye, I’ve been told that most prefer to specialise.”
“What made you split your focus?”
It seemed an innocent question, but Faye sensed the direction behind the words. She was curious what he would say.
“I trained in the sword for years. It was only recently that I had the chance to learn magic… I jumped at the chance. The system just gave me something that made that choice a little easier, is all.”
The man nodded. He had yet to sheath his sword and he looked at it with a weary expression. “I don’t think the fighting is something I will ever get used to.”
“Why is that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Never enjoyed it. I’ve been content with my calling. It’s difficult to follow, at times,” he chuckled as if it was a great joke, but Faye did not quite get it. “But, at the end of it all, I love what I do, and I am not made for this.”
Faye nodded. “Not everyone is. That’s why there are folk like me. What is it you do?”
The man looked up with a smile. “I am a carpenter, by trade. I create sculptures in my spare time.”
“Why aren’t you with the other crafters, then?” Faye asked. She had seen some of them, back at the Guild, frantically working on one project or another. “If that isn’t a rude question.”
The carpenter smiled, “No, not at all. Most people ask the same. Truth is, I put more focus on my sculptures than I do the craft.”
Faye nodded. “Hence your question.”
“Exactly. You’re doing it. Most people tell me I’m stupid for trying.”
“Now, take this in the spirit of the conversation,” Faye warned, “but if you are already crested then aren’t you too late?”
Here, the man shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
The others were back to their feet and were looking ready to move on. Faye left the carpenter to his thoughts and walked through the others in the group, checking they were all okay and could move on.
“Alright, folks, we’re moving. We’ve got a schedule to keep, after all.”
Faye kept an eye on each of the members of her group. She knew that she was able to move much further, much faster than most of them, particularly the Guilders. Forcing them to march when they were too tired would be disastrous, but she had the sneaking suspicion that they would rather keep to a strict deadline and fall down completely exhausted at the end of it than waste time getting there now.
Before moving onward, Faye let ignited mana run up and down her blade, burning away any of the sap from the briars left on it.
“Only four more to go, team!”
Faye laughed at the team’s groans and pushed onward through the thick briar, her flaming blade cutting a path through the barrier.