I stepped back from the shaking iron bars, eyes wide. ‘What are you doing?’ I shouted.
Val furrowed her brow. ‘I thought you wanted to get out of here?’
‘I didn’t know you meant now!’
‘What, do you have a spa treatment booked in that I don’t know about?’
‘I… I…’ My head spun to the door. ‘What about the guards?’
Val shrugged. ‘Dunno.’
‘What do you mean “dunno”?’
She shrugged again. ‘Haven’t planned that far ahead.’
‘You haven’t…’ I began to repeat. ‘That’s literally the next step!’
As the two sets of iron railings crashed to the ground, the dungeon’s heavy wooden door swung open. The dwarven guard stood on the threshold to the room, eyes wide, clutching an axe. ‘How?’ he demanded of us. ‘Those cells are warded against sorcery. How can you…’ He shook his head, fixed his gaze on Val, and then stepped into the room.
‘Right, what’s next?’ Val asked me.
‘What! Why are you asking me?’
She shrugged. ‘Just thought you might want to have some input at some point.’
The guard, correctly assessing Val as the biggest threat and not myself, made for her, swinging his axe high.
With another twist of her hand, the room began to shake once more, before the stone walls cracked, giving way to long, winding tendrils. No, not tendrils. Roots.
The plant roots grabbed the dwarf’s hands in mid-swing, bringing the axe to a halt.
‘Well?’ Val asked, looking at me and nodding to the bound guard.
‘Honestly, unless you want me to identify him, I got nothing.’
‘Fair enough,’ came the response, and Val turned her attention back to the guard, yanking his hand against the tendrils that bound it. Another root split through the wall and looped around the ring of keys on the dwarf’s belt. ‘I got more where that came from. Enough to tie you up from now til the end of days. So, the way I see it, you got two options: get in this idiot’s cell, let us lock you in, and remain quiet, or…’ Val looked to me.
‘Or we kill you,’ I said.
Val furrowed her brow for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I was looking for a little more artistry of imagination, but, sure, that.’
The guard looked from Val, to me, and back to Val again. ‘I’ll get in the cell,’ he mumbled.
‘An excellent choice.’ Without giving the dwarf any option, Val’s roots lifted him off the ground and placed him in my old cell. One of the tendrils threw the ring of keys to me, which I managed to catch after only a few seconds of frantic fumbling. Val raised an eyebrow at the sight, but gracefully did not verbally comment on it.
‘Alright,’ I said, finally finding the correct key for this cell and locking the door. ‘That’s one guard. What’s next?’
‘What’s next is I get my stuff.’
Val led us out of the dungeons and into a long stone corridor, which was, thankfully, devoid of any further guards. We kept low, crouching, as we gently made our way down this room, making sure not to make a sound with each step of our—
I tripped, tumbling into Val’s back, and she blinked at me as I used her shoulders to recover. ‘What was that?’ she whispered. ‘Are you literally a child?’
‘I’m level two right now; you’re going to need to cut me some slack,’ I whispered back.
‘Oh, and next week you’ll be, what? Level fifty?’
‘If everything goes according to plan, I won’t be far off it.’ That was a ridiculous act of hyperbole, of course; even with the Legacy of Sisyphus status effect, I wouldn’t be growing anywhere near that quickly. But in a few months? Maybe my level wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing.
We reached the end of the corridor with no further issue, and I hung back while Val poked her eyes around it.
Stealth — +40xp
‘Ooh, nice,’ I mumbled, receiving an irritated glance from Val as a result.
We waited for a few moments longer, and finally my new acquaintance turned to me. ‘Alright. I think we’re clear.’ She led us down the winding, turning corridors of the castle like she either had a skill assisting her, or like she knew this building already—I couldn’t tell which—and finally brought us to a storage room.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Val’s eyes lit up as they landed upon a silver necklace inlaid with a gemstone as black as night—one that glowed with a gentle green aura.
‘Is that—’ I started, but then I was distracted by a sight of my own. ‘My stuff!’ I hurried for the pile on a rickety wooden shelf, one that held my trusty ornate dagger, my remaining throwing knives, and a small glass vial which may or may not have contained poison.
‘Good,’ the supposed sorcerer said. ‘I suppose you’re gonna be a tad more useful now?’
I ignored the jab and strode across the room for my dagger, picking it up with one hand.
Item Equipped — Blade of Samal
Blade of Samal — +70% to damage when unnoticed by enemy. Suitable for poison coating.
Warning: you do not meet level requirements to effectively wield this item! Requirement: Knifework — Level 22
‘Gods,’ I spat.
‘What now, peasant boy?’ Val asked. ‘Someone scratch your fancy blade?’
‘...I can’t wield it,’ I eventually said, relenting and embracing the wave of mockery that was sure to follow.
‘You can’t…’ Val started, then her eyes widened with mirth. ‘You can’t wield it!’ She laughed, stopped, and then laughed again, this time with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. ‘What did they do to you?’
I pressed my lips together. Hard. ‘I said I’d tell you when we got out.’
Val held up her palms in surrender, and didn’t press the matter further—but this didn’t stop her getting a little more of a chuckle out of it.
I wedged the blade back into its sheath and wrapped the belt around me; even if I couldn’t use it right now, I would be able to soon, with any luck. And few blades had served me as well as this one.
At least I’d been wearing party clothes, I supposed. If I’d been wearing my light armour, I would barely have been able to move, being that I wouldn’t have the level requirements for it. I’d be walking around naked in this moment, and I suspected that would’ve tipped Val from pitiful aid to absolute despair at my existence. Not that the light armour had found a better fate, being that I’d left it at an inn in Plainside—one that had almost certainly been burned to the ground.
‘You good?’ Val asked, adding the last of her possessions to her person.
I shrugged. ‘Good as I’m gonna get. Would’ve liked a weapon, though, if we’re breaking out of here.’
The sorcerer nodded to the door. ‘There’s a kitchen across the corridor. You know, if knives are your thing.’
I stuck my head back out into the hallway, and—content that there was nobody around to spot me—dashed across into the kitchen. It was a small room, clearly meant for preparing servants’ meals rather than the baron himself, and as such was kept in—I imagined—a condition must less fussed over. Pots and pans were drying on the counter, alongside, helpfully, a wide selection of cutlery.
I picked up the largest knife—one with a long, deep blade.
Item Equipped — Basic Cooking Knife
Basic Cooking Knife (Blunt) — +2% to quality of prepared food.
Warning: you do not meet level requirements to effectively wield this item! Requirement: Knifework — Level 3 or Cooking — Level 3
‘Gods damn it,’ I hissed again, and thanked my lucky stars that Val wasn’t in the room to witness this. ‘I was level 36! 36! I…’ But there was no use despairing; what was done was done, and I couldn’t change a moment of it.
Maybe not wielding an item effectively wasn’t the end of the world, I figured, and tried waving the cooking knife around. The basic cooking knife. It was surprisingly end-heavy to my touch, and waving it around I—
I dropped the knife.
It fell more quickly than I was able to react to, and it shot towards my shoes. I braced for pain as the knife pierced them, and then, finally, released a sigh of relief as the blade managed to slide between my first and second toes.
Well, that was that question answered, at least. Best find another weapon for now. I searched the rest of the cutlery on offer for another knife. For something that I might be able to wield. For something—
And then I saw it: a humiliation to end all humiliations. A butter knife.
I picked it up.
Item Equipped — Basic Butter Knife
Basic Butter Knife — +2 to quality of prepared food. -85% damage when used as a weapon.
My heart sunk. Was this what I was reduced to? Wielding a butter knife? Hardly something that was going to stop another guard, once we ran into one. Maybe I could play it off, I figured—make them believe that I was so effective with a knife that all I needed to wield was a butter knife. ‘You couldn’t dream of what I can do with one of these,’ I tried aloud, and then was mortified to find that Val was standing at the door.
She looked from me, to the butter knife, and back to me again, then opened her mouth as if to say something. But no words came out; apparently the sight before her was too ridiculous for even her to comment on. And then, just as I thought that Val maybe wasn’t the kind of person who would kick a man when he was down, she burst into laughter.
‘Don’t,’ I said.
This only seemed to make her laugh harder.
‘Don’t. I went through a very traumatic—’
This seemed to be doing no good.
‘Stop laughing!’
But all I could do was wait for her to tire herself out—which, as it happened, took a great deal longer than I expected.
‘Time we got going?’ the sorcerer finally asked, wiping tears from her eyes, and then muttering something about butter knives under her breath.
Keen to move on from this horrifically embarrassing incident, I nodded. Maybe I could find a way to level up my knifework, in all this.
Butter knife firmly in grasp, I followed Val out into the corridor. Hooray.
"Styk"
Level 2 Peasant
Base Stats:
Vitality — 0
Intelligence — 5
Dexterity — 0
Strength — 0
Wisdom — 7
Charisma — 0
Skills:
Identification — Level 4
Stealth — Level 0
Abilities:
Basic Identification (Identification) — Discover basic attributes for a particular object or person. Ability scales with [WIS] + [INT].
Active Effects:
Legacy of Sisyphus:
XP gain increased by +400%