Unyielding was an appropriate title for Kiran. The woman wasn’t stubborn as much as uncompromising, unwilling to even slightly change her plan for “fixing” Hallvar.
It started with a piece of paper and instructions to write down their attributes like on the guild card.
str 7 ∙ awa 14 ∙ cha 5
agi 6 ∙ con 9 ∙ int 11
dex 12 ∙ end 17 ∙ luc 5
What approval might have been earned for their endurance, awareness, and luck was rapidly drowned in surprise, disappointment, and resolve. Kiran looked at the numbers with a thousand-yard stare, the 7 strength and 6 agility burning a hole in her mind.
Her initial idea was to help Hallvar sort out which class they were suited for in the week it would take for the rock incident to be completely forgotten. Usually, this consisted of looking at stats, asking about preferences for battle style – forward melee, rear long-range, or a mix – and trial and error.
Kiran didn’t scrap that plan as much as bury it 6 feet under, dragging Hallvar outside and shoving a felling ax in their hand with detailed instructions.
Chop down small trees, chop up small trees into logs, carry logs from forest back to cabin, use different axe to make logs into firewood. Repeat.
Hallvar was delighted to learn that there was a map function in the system, with a singular pin to use for navigation. They marked the cabin and went to work, though their enthusiasm dwindled significantly after the first tree fell. Even with straps to tie the smaller logs together for transport, it was backbreaking work.
Their hands were shaking by the midafternoon, but Kiran did not relent. A 17-endurance did not quit early, not on her watch. Today’s gain of 1 strength was meager compared to the goal, doubling to a 14 or 15 minimum. That was the baseline of a successful melee adventurer, after all.
The next task was simpler – foraging and checking traps. If Hallvar wanted to survive as an adventurer, knowing what could poison them was key. Kiran emphasized that she could teach them how to trap small game, but if large beasts and humans were the prey, the guildmaster knew much more.
When the traps yielded only a rabbit, Kiran marched the adventurer to the nearest river, teaching them how to make a forked spear out of a green limb. The water was cold and cutting, it slowed the already weary Hallvar more which made spearfishing a near impossible task.
There were no inklings of a scene from a romance novel on the horizon. No blushing maiden or charming gent watched the adventurer chop wood or fight against the rush of the river. No descriptions of glistening sweat or sought-after manliness.
No, Hallvar just ached as Kiran watched with the keen eye of someone grading a paper, calling out corrections from afar.
This treatment lasted a few days until Kiran felt both the firewood and stats were adequately bolstered.
Bringing a low strength or agility score up a few points was simple; it only required repetition of an applicable task, the kind “normal” folk had to endure in labor or hunting, anyways.
➳ ➳ ➳
⇧ str 9 ⇧ ∙ awa 14 ∙ cha 5
⇧ agi 7 ⇧ ∙ con 9 ∙ int 11
dex 12 ∙ end 17 ∙ luc 5
➳ ➳ ➳
Kiran set the boy on a series of tedious tasks in her garden before she strapped her vulleig – named Esta – to the wagon for a journey to the capital.
The kid made friends with the beast over time, feeding Esta vegetable scraps from dinner. Hallvar said it looked like a mule fucked a tapir, which meant nothing to Kiran. Further explanation led to tapirs being fat boars with a long, fatter nose, and mules were oddly shaped horses.
Which, if that was indeed the case, Esta did look like a mule fucked a tapir.
She was a good, patient work beast and Kiran’s sort-of companion since retirement. The vulleig knew the way to the capital once Kiran pointed her down the correct road. Though a very long trip by foot, the journey only took a few hours by wagon.
Though Kiran didn’t lie, she twisted the truth to gain access to some practice weapons and shields from the knight order.
Her “old friend” had a “step-son” who wanted to join the ranks, but he needed practice before attempting.
The administrator on duty was impressed that Kiran the Unyielding would teach anyone; Kiran rapidly shut that down with some measure of aggravation and a not-so-exaggerated complaint about feeling obligated to help so the kid didn’t accidentally off himself.
She browsed the market for trinkets of interest and foreign goods before reluctantly heading to the adventurer’s guild. It was on her way out, regardless.
There was a nice carriage and horses out by the stables as Kiran approached. A driver waiting in the shade let it slip that the Court Mage Morozov was waiting for her, hoping to catch the former knight before she went home.
Kiran’s head snapped around, catching a glimpse of a bird as it flew into the window of the guild. That tricky fucker.
She didn’t know who was worse – Anton or Viktor.
Kiran gathered her bag and spear and tromped inside, already irritated. The staff immediately sent for their guildmaster. Kiran was curious to see the elven woman from Hallvar’s little sketchbook.
The boy worked for most of the day, yes, but in the evening, he sat by a candle or the window to catch the setting sun, either reading or drawing. Sometimes both, as if taking notes.
Kiran lacked remorse as the boy’s temporary grandma, glancing through the pages of the book to see what caught Hallvar’s eye. Stella. Stella did.
The knight was escorted upstairs, where she rolled her eyes at the pomp and decorum of Anton’s greeting.
“Save it for the nobles.”
Anton was undeterred. “I heard you were visiting the city and hoped to reminisce before you disappeared off to the wild once more.”
The mage even lounged with a sense of authority. He was seated in an armchair across the desk from the guildmaster, another seat awaiting the retired knight.
“Oh, did you?” Kiran pointedly looked at the open window. “I swore I saw a bird fly in. Did you catch and release it, Viktor? How kind.”
The guildmaster had learned to appreciate the brutal honesty of the former First-Knight. In the past, she gave her cutting insults to the ex-spy to his face, rather than interfering with his food or drink, or ‘losing’ any requests he made like the other knights preferred. Any ship in a storm.
“He wants a favor,” Viktor added bluntly.
“Good,” Kiran took her place in the plush chair. “I’m here to talk about one too. You kids first.”
The two men shared a look of subtle puzzlement. They both trusted Kiran for a variety of reasons, but it was still a strange thing for her to come to the guild for… a favor from Viktor?
Anton took his time, regaining his composure and picking his words carefully. “We have a situation that requires an outside hand.”
The knight nodded and knitted her brows, conveying her sarcastic attitude without words.
“You are aware that a meeting like this in daylight has to indicate some measure of urgency and secrecy, correct?” Anton already cast several spells to prevent eavesdropping.
Ever so sharp, Viktor cut in after the Court Mage.
“Cyciphos lost a hero. The Guild found him, then he disappeared after a quest. If we feared retribution before for accusations of kidnapping a hero, I’m certain letting one die in the forest could lead to torturous death.”
Anton chided Viktor, and the pair erupted into bickering about critical information and who got to explain what as Inquisitor or Guildmaster.
“Did you kidnap a hero?” Kiran asked, as someone who absolutely kidnapped a hero. She was rather pleased to have the upper hand in this discussion.
“No, we did not.” Anton was quick to make that correction, knowing that the truth was the only thing that could save their hides later.
“We took him in and ensured he could earn money and survive. The problem is that we did not report our discovery, and Cyciphos will not see that as a kindness but a betrayal.”
“Stella took him in,” Viktor corrected. “I merely gave him a guild card.”
Kiran was quick to strike at her opponent’s point of weakness. “And took them gambling. They complained about it at length last night.”
She basked in the bewilderment and confusion radiating from the two men. They thought themselves so fucking clever, playing their stupid games and trying to kill each other for the sport of it.
“I don’t blame you,” Kiran continued before the information sank in, a cheeky grin on her face. “Your boy has luck 5. I’m surprised they didn’t kick you out.”
After a riotous exchange of words, the three experts worked out the details of this strange arrangement.
The Court Mage would send word if the rock incident became a problem. In the meantime, Kiran would train the hero in the safety of the forest, far away from soldiers and princesses alike.
Once the knight felt that Hallvar was smart and capable enough to avoid dumb trouble, they could return to the guild, where the guildmaster would ensure their relative safety.
Then, it became a waiting game for the Queen’s return.
Kiran offered to vouch for both the Court Mage and the guildmaster, but the offer was meaningless until the moment conflict arose.
“And send books,” she added, standing up from her chair to leave. “The few I own won’t be interesting on a second and third read.”
➳ ➳ ➳
new hero skill unlocked
rote reading
requirements: read 10 books
class: scholar
Books read to 95% completion are archived within the system and may be searched for information. This skill applies to maps and educational diagrams. Indexes may be omitted.
➳ ➳ ➳
⇧ str 10 ⇧ ∙ awa 14 ∙ cha 5
⇧ agi 9 ⇧ ∙ ⇧ con 10 ⇧ ∙ ⇧ int 12 ⇧
dex 12 ∙ ⇧ end 18 ⇧ ∙ luc 5
➳ ➳ ➳
Hallvar didn’t have time to swear as they parried an arcing slash from Kiran’s sword, failing to take advantage of her open guard and earning a bash from her shield for it.
They fell on their ass, huffing as they dropped their practice axe to the ground.
The sword at their throat was expected. Though it was wooden, embedded with metal at the core for proper heft and weight, it still sucked to be on the receiving end of a trouncing.
Kiran tapped them on the elbow with the wooden thing. “Elbows in, you’re not flying.”
Hallvar glared upward at the old woman for the 17th time in a row, standing only after a blade threatened to poke their sore sides. “Do I eventually get better at this? Isn’t the point of the system to make things easier?”
The knight raised an eyebrow at Hallvar, scoffing openly at the silly question. “I forget you’re dumb. Yes, you will get better.”
“I’m not dumb—” Hallvar retaliated, picking up a guard stance and attempting to attack. It was easily fended off and they were smacked on the head by the practice sword.
“That wouldn’t happen if you kept your shield up properly,” Kiran reminded the adventurer.
“At worst, I’m ignorant.” Hallvar replied sullenly, rubbing the inevitable knot under their hairline. “And I can’t help it.”
“Again.”
“The question?”
“The match.”
The unfortunate thing about their high endurance was that the capability to push through pain and stress was misinterpreted by Kiran as energy and willingness to fight.
Not that Hallvar didn’t want to kick her ass.
They just couldn’t.
The first sparring session was all about memorization. Feet move like this, arms stay up, focus on the tip of the blade not the handle.
Dancing wasn’t Hallvar’s strong suit, but they tried, nonetheless.
Kiran replaced their sword with an axe after another day of exhaustion, lamenting that the lumberjack chores caused Hallvar swing a sword incorrectly. Swords were meant to slice or stab, not chop.
An axe was easier. Hallvar didn’t have to imagine running a blade’s edge across an opponent or maximizing thrust.
But now Kiran the Tormenter wanted Hallvar to learn defense. They knew how to step, how to avoid tangling their feet, but doing four-step practice drills only worked if your opponent also followed the drills’ order.
“Block!” The supposedly retired knight yelled, lifting her shield arm up to demonstrate. “Block, pivot, hook! It’s the entire point of melee with an axe!”
Hallvar understood the explanation plenty; they had trouble following the orders physically.
Block the attack. Pivot into an attack with the axe. If blocked, hook the shield.
It sounded simple, but Hallvar learned very quickly that TTRPG rounds were only 6 seconds for a reason. 6 seconds sounded way too long, now that Hallvar was in the thick of it.
Hallvar lost another series of clashes, earning a scolding when they dodged in a way that broke the flow of combat and opened them up to attacks.
“It will take years to memorize this,” they said sharply, gesturing with their shield. (The impulse to gesture with the bladed weapon, even a practice one, had been quickly snuffed out by Kiran’s ire.)
“I know you probably train here from birth, but I don’t have the muscle memory. I’m pretty sure you didn’t plan for a roommate for years, so how does any of this work with the system?”
Kiran stopped, dropping the point of her blade which signaled a pause in combat. “Muscle memory?”
Hallvar groaned. Another one of these otherplanar anachronisms. Or whatever the term was, Hallvar wasn’t a linguist.
“Muscle memory? That’s something you don’t understand. Really? It’s when you do something enough times that your body remembers it instinctively.”
Kiran seemed genuinely puzzled by this concept. “It’s not by instinct or memory. The system assigns proficiency.”
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The adventurer set their weapon and armor against a tree, pulling down a waterskin hung from a branch. “That means nothing to me.”
Conceding an official break, Kiran joined them. Her expression indicated that she was thinking hard, trying to explain a system concept to an outworlder without a system.
“I don’t know how to explain this to you. I need a… a neutral talent. What’s something you’re good at that’s not combat or magic?”
Hallvar resisted reply with ‘everything else’ and instead picked a topic. “I guess I can research well. Or drawing, that’s a better choice.”
Kiran rested on a stump, looking over her garden and cabin in the near distance as she explained.
“Artists – the subclass of Artisan – are the people known for drawing or painting, whatever artsy thing they do. They’re skilled at art, but they’re not the only people in the world who can draw.”
This was easy to understand so far.
“To draw, I have to practice a long time. It doesn’t come naturally to me. Once I start to understand how to… make the lines look good, to look like an object instead of a squiggle, then the system will assign a proficiency.”
Hallvar understood most of that information. “So I have a proficiency in drawing?”
The system responded on cue, throwing a sentence into the adventurer’s mind.
Confused, Hallvar repeated it aloud. “System features appear as the individual learns of their existence?”
“Oh, yeah,” Kiran replied, wiping sweat off her neck. Keeping up with the boy was easy but it wasn’t effortless. “Forgot you’re… ignorant. Usually, kids get that message once they start understanding what the system is used for.”
With a grunt, Hallvar explored the new system content; they did have proficiencies in several things.
The proficiencies were broken down into lists:
Art, then drawing as type of art. Leatherworking, with skinning and processing. Wildcrafting, which was foraging, spearfishing, trapping, and woodcutting.
Hallvar felt irritated at the gambling proficiency.
“So… do these get better? Or am I supposed to practice them more for advanced, expert level proficiencies?”
Kiran took her time once more. It was a mind-bending task to explain native concepts to this foreigner.
“It’s… I could get really good at art without being part of the artisan class. But I gain nothing for it. If we’re talking about the fighter class, adding proficiencies and continuing to practice earns skills and abilities related to combat. The same goes for artists, but art instead.”
“But an artist who learns combat will never get fighter skills.”
Hallvar stared at the ground, watching a dark-colored beetle root around in the leaf litter as they thought. “So, that’s why [ hero skills ] exist?”
“What?” came Kiran’s quick reply.
They pulled up the [ hero skills ] page and recited the text for the retired knight. She seemed much more interested in the conversation now.
“You can learn non-combat skills from other classes? That’s unimaginable. In a good way, I think. Do you have any now?”
The pair continued to discuss proficiencies and potential [ hero skills ] over the remainder of training. It made the effort more bearable, though Hallvar sported plenty of bruises by the end.
➳ ➳ ➳
new proficiency earned
combat
➳ defensive melee
➳ offensive melee
➳ weapon: axe
➳ ➳ ➳
⇧ str 11 ⇧ ∙ awa 14 ∙ ⇧ cha 6 ⇧
⇧ agi 10 ⇧ ∙ con 10 ∙ int 12
dex 12 ∙ end 18 ∙ luc 5
➳ ➳ ➳
The old lady became less rigid in her scheduling once Hallvar showed interest in improvement. It helped that practice and effort held tangible payoffs, not just bruised ego and body.
Hallvar remembered going to the gym for merely the glimmer of physical improvement! It seemed like a distant memory, a weird horror story in retrospect.
The mornings were set aside for combat.
Hallvar could avoid injury now, but he could sense when Kiran shifted from tutor mode into real combat. She refused to allow Hallvar to gain any hits. They were merely thankful her tutelage didn't mean beating the shit out of them.
Yet Hallvar felt that lesson was on the horizon, waiting to pounce. It was not a matter of if, but when Kiran would take the kiddie gloves off.
They were given free time to spend as they pleased, unmonitored.
The old woman didn't care if Hallvar took dinner on-time or later, as long as they showed back up eventually. She promised to train the boy, not watch them like a nanny. Hallvar needed to learn how this world functioned, which required independence.
Kiran was sure the King-Consort’s constant attention on the heroes did nothing good for their development.
Perhaps she did not have kids of her own, but Kiran knew a 20-year old Anton learned from getting his ass kicked, not by shieldbearers and healers following in his shadow.
She remained friends with the Court Mage and the guildmaster namely because of her excellent asskicking services over the years. They needed sense knocked into them, even still.
Accustomed to the work, Hallvar continued the necessary chores, checking traps and bringing back meat, fish, or foraged things.
The books helped immensely.
Though Hallvar remained unaware of Kiran's deal with the two idiots in the capital, the adventurer profited from it. Their interest in plants and beasts was well-noted; books on wildcrafting and the natural world arrived at the end of the first week.
Though this kind of memory came naturally to Hallvar, they could search “small, red flower” in the system to pull up an archived text about the plant in question. If they read multiple books on the subject, the system compiled it into one listing for the plant’s name.
It was a fascinating feature, a search engine built from personal knowledge.
Soon, Hallvar couldn’t recount how many days it’d been since they last slept in their own bed. They were certain it was more than a week, though unclear if the two-week mark passed already.
Though their bedroll in the cabin was comfortable enough, Hallvar happily slept in a hammock outside on dry nights. There were tinctures that ward off bugs! And the chill of the forest at night was easily solved by woolen blankets.
Kiran wondered if the boy would choose landwise as their class, with how much time they spent outdoors. Perhaps that was a function of her isolated cabin, but the thought crossed her mind regardless.
Their discussion of classes waxed and waned. It often flared up during sparring, if Hallvar complained about weapons or combat in general, but the boy kept their inclinations secret.
The truth was that Hallvar didn’t know what they wanted to do.
Magic existed in the same vein as combat. One had to learn the basic measure of magic before they could gain proficiency. That’s what the book on magic said, anyways.
Kiran couldn’t provide the basis of a magic education; landwise skills weren’t considered magic, but channeling natural energies. It made Hallvar’s head hurt.
She suggested asking a guild mage for help, if Hallvar wanted to try magic. They had no idea when they would return to the adventurer’s guild, so if Hallvar was supposed to pick a class soon, they guessed it wouldn’t be mage.
➳ ➳ ➳
This quest from the old knight sucked.
Every ounce of respect Hallvar held for Kiran was slowly draining away given how she sent them to battle a raddepex.
What was a raddepex? Great question. It was a five foot long, many legged rodent with batlike wings for optimal ambush ability from high cave walls.
And there wasn’t one raddepex, but three. Three nightmare bat-rat insects with fangs and pincers, capable of taking a plum-sized chunk out of your flesh.
Hallvar knew, because it fucking hurt.
They weren’t armored well. The beard of the mattock crunched through the exoskeleton of the horrors, killing it readily.
The problem was speed. These fuckers were fast and could maneuver anywhere in the cavern, gliding and crawling everywhere.
Hallvar clipped the wing of one raddepex, sending it careening into some stalagtites. Stalagmites? Whatever. The beast was injured and flopping around, giving Hallvar ample time to sever its head.
The final raddepex wasted no time, scaling the distracted adventurer to reach a vein to chomp. It would be funny if the intention was to suck their blood like a vampire bat, not bleed them to death.
Hallvar broke their learned stoicism to shout in horror as the creepy fucking legs poked up their sides and spine. They slammed back into the cave wall, attempting to stun or dislodge the thing.
It fell with a nasty hiss and clatter, but it couldn’t regain its bearings before Hallvar lodged their axe into its abdomen. It twisted and chittered, trying to bite the axe handle to get free; Hallvar stomped on its back and pinned it for an easy decapitation.
The old bitch wanted raddepex innards for some landwise shit. With Hallvar’s luck, it was probably for fertilizer. Scratch that, it was definitely for fertilizer.
They were loaded up into a leather bag which was treated like a waterskin, sealed so the leaking guts wouldn’t escape and drip everywhere. Hallvar felt like they had a beast’s stomach hanging over their shoulder. It squished with every step.
Hallvar didn’t know what to think of this [ territory ].
On the one hand, the entry alert from the system was helpful. There were no fences or magical borders to the territory, but Hallvar noticed some oddities to indicate boundaries still existed. Half a fallen tree remained on the regular side, while the [ territory ] side was completely cleared, as if refreshed or reloaded in a game.
On the other hand, so many beasts simply wandered around here. Hallvar saw some green-yellow ostrich beasts in a herd… flock as they entered.
There were raddepex in this cavern, of course. And some weird fish, but Hallvar couldn’t catch a good look at them aside from understanding the fish weren’t entirely fish-like.
Hallvar spotted rabbit, squirrel, and bird equivalents, of course. A world where humans developed in the same way as Abby’s home probably didn’t stray too much from the evolutionary greatest hits.
They checked the map and began the trek toward Kiran’s cabin. The [ territory ] was interesting, but Kiran practically bludgeoned the warning into their head that [ territories ] contained beasts she didn’t want to encounter. For Hallvar, whose stats were doing better but middling? A true monster would be a death sentence.
Their nasty bag sloshed as Hallvar trudged along, keeping an eye on their surroundings. Their awareness helped prevent simple errors, like walking into a path of a fantasy rhino or failing to notice a fantasy wolf pack.
But, this was Hallvar. What would their day be like without a touch of [ unique skill: bad luck boon ] ?
The adventurer skirted a clearing to keep under the treeline, trying to avoid notice.
Their intense focus shattered as Hallvar nearly shat themselves from the wet, heavy thump from their right.
A carcass of a vulleig splattered in the grass, immediately torn apart by the landing flock of gryphons. Hallvar was inclined to call them a murder, because that was certainly what they did to the livestock beast.
The mythical monsters roared and swiped at each other, feathers and hackles raised to see which of the four beasts got the best bites.
Hallvar was stunned, which only made the eye contact with one of the blood-soaked gryphons more terrifying.
choose your class:
The system prompt pushed insistently into their thoughts, like a neon-lit sign.
What? Now?
In a more peaceful moment a few days prior, Hallvar perused their class options. The interface listed fighter, mage, landwise, beastmaster, artisan, and scholar. They ascertained that some classes were only available with pertinent experience, i.e. Hallvar would not be offered physician unless they tried to become one.
Today, the system provided one option.
class: beastmaster
Travel with companion beasts as you journey across Aestrux to find your destiny. pick this class? yes | no
The gryphon squawked at its mates, and two more sets of brown-yellow eyes turned Hallvar’s way.
The system filled every neuron in Hallvar’s brain with the stupid notice.
choose your class:
class: beastmaster
Travel with companion beasts as you journey across Aestrux to find your destiny. pick this class: yes
Hallvar took a step back, confused by the system and trying to figure out if they could outrun four flying leopards. The answer was an obvious no.
The system notice flickered and became much simpler.
choose: beastmaster
pick this class: yes
Out of options, Hallvar selected yes.
One of the gryphons leaped over the carcass, only to shriek at them and fan out its wings. They shouldered a smaller gryphon out of the way to return to feasting.
Hallvar sat on the ground where they fell, raddepex innards leaking gently next to them. None of the beasts were looking at Hallvar now.
bad luck boon
5% chance failed
new passive skill: shared land
Your threat level is lowered significantly until you initiate aggression or combat, allowing you to observe uninterested beasts or pass by peacefully.
This skill does not prevent beasts from perceiving you as a predator or prey.
Negated by beasthunter subclass.
status: passive
suspend? yes | no
The adventurer sat motionless until their heartbeat pounded a little slower, grateful and morbidly curious. The gryphons were beautiful and horrifying, beaks and talons rending flesh with ease.
The near-death experience made it hard for Hallvar to look away.
Yet, they did, standing ever so slowly and walking with calm intention until they could no longer see the gryphons shoving their birdy heads inside the vulleig’s ribcage and belly.
Hallvar broke out into a run, opening the map and getting the hell out of this fucking [ territory ] before it killed them.
➳ ➳ ➳
new active skill: bull rush
Your strength and agility are set to 150% for a duration of time, which increases by 1s per use. Effects are extended to companion beasts.
Duration: 10s
Limit: 10m
new active skill: tame beast
A percentage chance to tame a targeted beast into a companion beast.
Affected by luck.
➳ ➳ ➳
By the third instance of spearfishing, Hallvar had no funny commentary to make about training montages in ice cold waters. This river was fed from alpine glaciers and it ran cold, which promised a bone-chilling temperature farther north.
The half-hearted bitching about feeling like they were in an anime or a martial arts movie dwindled when the reality of it set in. Hallvar needed to spearfish or dinner would have less meat; it was a universal constant that hard training required a lot of protein.
By the end of the second week, Hallvar sat on a flat rock in the middle of the broad river, watching the natural world around them. It no longer felt like a training montage, but an act of survival.
No, not even that. It was a pleasant coexistence.
Plenty of flora and fauna lived near this river. Birds flying overhead, sometimes big ones with multiple wings. Fish with unusual but familiar scale patterns. Tawha wolves – a pack canine with broad, square muzzles and a deer-like tail – visited the edges to drink, though they maintained distance from the human. A dark-colored feline thing passed by more than once, though Hallvar couldn’t discern anything outside of lynx-like shaping.
Hallvar wondered if their new class affected their feelings toward the natural world, or if the existence of those feelings was what allowed the class selection to begin with.
Beastmaster.
Hallvar could complain that it wasn’t what they would have picked, if given the choice, but they distinctly remembered the excitement Abby held for big feral pets in video games.
It was a half-truth, then. In a world of magic and swordfights and impossible things, Hallvar didn’t picture themselves as a pet owner. Not at first, at least.
Now they had to figure out what kind of beast they wanted to make into their companion.
Their new skill [ bull rush ] was interesting. 150% strength and agility for a short burst of time – a skill that changed how Kiran sparred with the adventurer.
Hallvar was careful not to explain the new skill. Its activation was invisible and subtle, explained as a sudden willingness to fight. They did trust Kiran. It wasn’t about trust, though.
They felt a weird guilt from reading various books on Aestrux’s system and cultures. Kiran was right; people did look down on landwise, when the class could easily be as powerful as any other.
They did the same with beastmaster. In block-printed illustrations, beastmasters were harsh and coarse, the ignorant peasantry, the stableman laughing at a noble being kicked by a horse. Or the rough, rugged hunter who wore skulls and bones.
Hallvar wanted… wanted time to prove that they made a good decision. There was weight to being a hero; the history books were very specific about how heroes only happened once in a dynasty.
They felt that if beastmaster was the correct choice for their life and desires, regardless of how the system forced the decision, then Hallvar needed to be good at fighting, at the class itself before they told anyone.
Kiran knew something changed, but she didn’t ask questions. If Hallvar wanted to have their secrets, they could. The bursts of energy did make combat more interesting.
While nothing could be described as Hallvar gaining the upper hand, Kiran was impressed by some of their attempts – parries turned into attacks, a hooked shield being pried away with enough force to make Kiran stumble.
Hallvar’s improvement led to more strenuous sparring. The old knight pushed into more aggressive combat, forcing the boy to defend quickly and successfully.
She wanted to keep the hero under her wing until Hallvar could go toe-to-toe with her, but that was a selfish thought. They couldn’t be cooped up here forever. And Kiran wanted her privacy back.
After Hallvar returned with fish for dinner, they made a simple request.
Tomorrow, Kiran would ride to the capital to return the sparring equipment and bring back the hero and borrowed books to the Adventurer’s Guild. She could pick up her supplies for the month and return home, free of her babysitting duties.
Hallvar’s request was that they be allowed to make the journey on foot, alone.
The wagon ride took a day of travel for a round trip, leaving just past sunrise and coming back near dusk. To walk to the capital meant two or three days at minimum.
Kiran made a cursory effort to convince Hallvar to use the wagon, but she could see the boy was determined.
She brought out a map for them to study, pointing out a town built at the borders of a [ territory ]. There, Hallvar was given strict orders to buy a waterskin at minimum, with the suggestions of a proper axe for protection.
The mattock served Hallvar well, but it was built for labor, not for combat. A properly weighted axe with a back point and a top point would be optimal.
In the morning, Kiran gave them one last instruction before riding away with Esta pulling the wagon.
If the Adventurer’s Guild didn’t hear from Hallvar in three days, Kiran would hunt Hallvar down herself.
The last thing she needed was a pissy Court Mage and a high-strung assassin breathing down her neck because the boy decided to play in the woods.
Hallvar waved her off, opening their system map to begin their journey. Traveling alone may not be the smartest move, not when a comfortable wagon was available.
Yet, the hero would do it.
In the two months in Aestrux, nearly every major event in Hallvar’s new life had been guided by someone else – someone saving them, someone helping them.
It was time for Hallvar to take the reins.