The sky had gotten progressively darker during the training session with Harald and his small group of soon-to-be guards. James had gotten his ass handed to him by every one of them, but he adapted quickly. Despite his aching body and bandaged wounds, he learned to improve his stance and sword arm throughout the session.
Yet even with James’ significant progress, the trainees were still much more experienced and skilled. They had even developed into their own unique strategies and stances, mixing up their attacks and catching James off guard multiple times. In the end, the otherworldly man had a few new bruises and bandages, his backside numb as it can be.
‘On the bright side, at least you know to roll whenever you fall… soften the impact with the ground,’ Faust commented amusingly.
James sighed tiredly, not even wanting to argue with the spirit. He was currently resting, watching as Harald dismissed the trainees. Some of them expressed their thanks to James, while others waved goodbye as they left. By the time James had finished goodbyes, he and Harald were the only ones at the training grounds.
“Y’know…” James groaned as he stood up, rubbing his aching backside. “You didn’t have to pit me against every single one of them.”
Harald gave James a small smile. “And you didn’t have to hold back,” he pointed out.
“Hold back? You mean with the spirit?” James asked, wondering what Harald had meant.
‘I have a name,’ Faust reminded him in an ethereal grumble.
Harald raised an eyebrow. “Faust? No, not that.” He turned, gesturing towards the ring behind him. “Every one of those trainees were giving their all against you. I could tell it in their eyes, but you… You weren’t giving your all.”
James felt confused. “Harald, I’m pretty sure I gave it my all.”
The old veteran shook his head. “No, you weren’t. You might not realize it, but I do. I saw a glimpse of your full capability during the spars. Every time you readied for an attack, I saw that spark of violence and potential in your eyes. Yet at the very last second, where it mattered most, you hesitated and held back. Like with Kate. You had an open chance to strike at her side, to end the fight. You instead aimed at her leg, prolonging the fight for a few minutes.
“Or Dirk, whose strike missed you, leaving him open for a quick strike at his liver, which would’ve incapacitated him had you not instead backed off. Elena, her footwork was atrocious enough that even you saw the chance to sweep her, yet your kick barely had enough force to knock a toddler down. You can dismiss these examples as mere missed opportunities in the heat of the moment, but I know you saw those chances. Whether you knew it or not, you held back.”
The old veteran’s words surprised James. Now that he thought of it, he definitely remembered hesitating slightly whenever his opponent was vulnerable and open. James had held back and only went for the non lethal areas, avoiding most of their weak points. He blinked at this realization, looking at the veteran.
“Like Seamus, you have the potential… but your conviction isn’t there.” The veteran scowled. “That’s a bad habit, James. Hesitating before a vital strike is beyond dangerous. In a serious fight, it will cost you your life. Or worse.”
‘What’s worse than death? Actually… I don’t want to think about that.’
“I’ve seen young men back in the war hesitate during their battles. It never ends well,” Harald muttered as he walked off to the town’s edge, leaving James behind.
“Harald,” James called out, the veteran stopping at his words as the young man caught up. “I’ve actually been wondering about your time in the Outsider War.”
“What about it?” Harald almost snapped, his brow furrowing as he looked back at James. The young man stopped in his walk at the reaction he got. He decided to tread carefully on this topic.
“You’ve been living on this island for a long time, judging from what I’ve heard. I just wanted to know how someone with skills such as yours ended up here,” James slowly spoke, doing his best not to hit any sensitive subjects.
Harald grunted, his eyes focused ahead as the two men walked. “This island used to be a small base during the war. They stationed my troop in Yorktown. We used the island as a sort of guard post, defending it from any barbarians who tried to get past Valenfrost’s borders,” he started.
James listened intently, his eyes focusing on Harald as the old veteran told his story.
“Of course, as you can guess, the barbarians ignored this island. It wasn’t long until our command wanted us to ditch the island in favor of a better position.”
“So you came back here after the war was done? Or did you retire early?” James asked. He knew Harald had been on the island for years. From what he could gather from his conversations with Dahlia, the veteran had been living as a hermit for as long as she could remember.
‘Side question… Why was he a hermit?’
James got an answer in the form of a grunt.
“I was relieved from duty. I only came here because of a friend,” Harald answered simply. He said it with a tone a distressed person would use whenever they would say ‘it’s nothing’.
“A friend?’ James asked. He mentally chastised himself for uttering that question, knowing now that it was probably too personal for the veteran.
However, Harald didn’t seem to mind the question.
“Yes… a friend. He was a part of my troop, but wanted to stay here. Disobeyed orders and nearly got himself into serious trouble. Still, despite clear insubordination, they allowed him to stay.” He chuckled at the memory, the veteran’s lips gaining a hint of a smile.
“When I was discharged, he persuaded me to come here. This fishing town in the middle of gods knows where.” The veteran’s smile faltered a bit, his eyes focusing on something. “Then again, I do quite like it here,” Harald admitted. “It’s peaceful.”
James turned to see what Harald was looking at. It was the darkening sky, the gray clouds up above parting a little to show off the starry purple sky and its two moons. Two moons that had once watched over the otherworldly man back when he arrived here. The same celestials that oversaw his death. James faintly recalled what Dahlia had called them.
Luna and Callisto, the sister moons, glowed in the purple and orange sky. If one were to allow their imagination to take hold, the two celestials faintly resembled eyes. An almost divine gaze that watched upon James and Harald’s walk.
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Seamus watched Haggard downed a second mug of ale, a small burp escaping the bearded man’s lips as he slammed the tankard down.
“C’mon Seamus, just one drink! Mead, Ale, anything as long as it’ll get you buzzing and going!” Haggard guffawed. He had been trying to get Seamus to drink, but the young man refused every time, only sticking to his cold mug of cider.
“No, thanks, Haggard, I’d rather not end up drunk and destroying the furniture like you had a couple of days ago.” Seamus remembered the night, shivering as he recalled the drunken mess Haggard had caused.
“Damn right,” the tavern woman spoke up across from them, giving Haggard the stink eye. “Do you have any idea how scarce we are on stools and tables? You should, since you destroyed most of them!”
“Hey, let’s calm down a little. I told ya I’ll pay you back!” Haggard raised his hands in defense, doing his best to ease the tension between him and the agitated bartender.
Seamus sighed, turning his head away as he did his best to ignore their arguing. Dahlia was nearby, a couple of seats away as she sipped on her tankard of what Seamus could assume was water. She had been here long before Seamus, writing in what looked like a journal. The shaman had hidden the journal once Seamus had glimpsed it, his eyes spotting what looked like drawings and runic symbols next to some writing. He couldn’t make out anything before the shaman closed it and hid from view.
Dahlia had spoken little since Seamus, Haggard, and Felix entered the tavern. Instead, Dahlia had been focused on her journal, her hand scribbling into it. She had hid it from Seamus, doing her best to hide her writings and drawings.
‘I wonder what she’s hiding?’
The young man dismissed that thought as soon as it materialized in his head. He knew better than to poke around in someone else’s business, especially since Dahlia was the one who helped with his alibi and even gave him refuge.
Seamus’ thoughts were cut off once he felt a strange presence in his peripherals, his eyes moving to focus on the two new patrons walking into the tavern. He dismissed his instincts and sighed a breath of relief at the sight of James and Harald. Seamus did not know why, but James had the tendency of setting off alarms in the young man, even when he wasn’t looking at the blond man.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
It was the same feeling the marauders gave off, but not as severely. His father, Yorn, had called it a natural alarm. Seamus didn’t know how it worked, nor why it did, but his ‘alarm’ could set off his instincts whenever they detected a danger or potential threat to Seamus.
It was not completely foolproof since it failed to set off when he was captured by the marauder woman or when he was caught by the guards during his escape. It even went off when there was no danger to Seamus, such as with James or his own father.
James was the unique one, however. Seamus couldn’t pinpoint it, but the otherworldly man was… off. Out of place. Foreign. Seamus’ alarm could even detect him whenever James was out of sight. Seamus had tried to dismiss it, but something inside him bothered him constantly.
‘Take him out. You have the means to do it.’
Seamus shook that voice away, forcing it down. The other voice in his head had been there since he had killed those marauders and seemed to only get worse as time went on. It sounded just like him, but much more bloodthirsty, much more violent. Seamus wasn’t sure how that side of him manifested, but he sure as hel would not give into it.
‘Get the hell out of my thoughts… You have no place here.’
He shut it up as he looked back at his cider.
Just as Seamus drank, he felt a hand hit his shoulder, making him choke a bit on his drink. The one responsible for the unexpected hand was none other than James, who grinned at the bewildered young man. James sat down on the stool left to Seamus, his grin faltering a little once he noticed the spilled cider.
“Ah, sorry for that,” he apologized, to which Seamus waved off.
“It’s alright, just be a little careful next time, alright?” Seamus sighed. He couldn’t help but smile a bit at James, who was already drinking out a tankard. Seamus noticed how Dahlia perked up at the sight of James, who in turn noticed the shaman. Both of them shifted to greet each other, which turned into talking.
Seamus looked around the tavern. There were more people now, which wasn’t strange, as Harald’s class of trainees usually visited the place. The drifter, Haggard, was actually talking to one trainee, probably about fighting. That wasn’t surprising, as the unusual man was fixated on such things. Harald, the veteran, was drinking nearby as well. He was speaking to a specific trainee, one Seamus knew.
Kate Rowan soon noticed his gaze as she turned to confront him. Seamus quickly turned away, focusing on his drink as he tried to look natural. He had been avoiding the young woman since the day of that raid, doing his best not to engage in conversation with her. Kate hadn’t been the type to give up, however, as she had pursued and tried to corner the young man. Lately, Seamus had been successful in these attempts, but it seemed as if tonight would be the night she would confront him.
James had noticed this, his eyebrow raising, before he moved a stool towards Dahlia, leaving an empty seat next to poor Seamus. Seamus turned to stare daggers at James but quickly softened his expression as Kate sat in the newly vacated seat. The former shopkeeper was in her training clothes, which were old and baggy clothing that had signs of wear and tear.
Kate herself looked as worn out and tired as her clothing, signifying her training. Seamus wasn't sure why she joined the guard training, but he hoped it wasn't because of him. His actions during the raid still haunted him and the thought of it inspiring Kate bothered him.
“Hey,” Seamus started, his meek voice barely audible throughout the tavern’s noises. Kate seemed just as hesitant as Seamus to speak up, her eyes wandering at the rest of the tavern as she spoke up.
“Hey,” she managed back before seeming to gather up her confidence. “Care to explain why you’ve been avoiding me?” She pressed finally, to Seamus’ dismay. The young man in question shrank a bit before he gathered up his own confidence.
“Well… I just have been so busy with helping the town that I—”
“Please don’t lie,” Kate interrupted, an annoyed tone in her words. “You’ve been avoiding me, hiding from me, even having your friends make excuses for you.”
Seamus cringed at the accusations. They were true. He had James and Dahlia cover for him and even lie to Kate about him. Not that he had any ill feelings towards her. Seamus only wanted to forget about what happened. The smell of guts, the feeling of oily blood, and the adrenaline rush he experienced after it all. He wanted to bury the memory deep in the recesses of his mind.
“Is it because of what happened?” Kate sighed, brushing away a strand of brown hair as she continued. “Seamus if you—”
“Please don’t mention that day,” Seamus finally spoke up, his hand clenching the tankard in his hand. “You can talk to me about anything else, but please… Don’t make me remember.”
Seamus’ voice was a bit more pronounced, shaky even, letting Kate know he wasn’t in the right state of mind for that conversation yet. Kate seemed to get the message, her head nodding as she turned to the other side of the bar. Seamus sighed in relief, turning back to the bar as well.
“I’m sorry for making you remember…”
“You’re fine,” Seamus answered back as he sipped his cider. He decided it would be best for the both of them if he stopped with his antics and habit of avoiding confrontation. Both of them sat quietly, sipping at their drinks as the tavern’s patrons bolstered loudly around them.
Seamus could still hear James and Dahlia’s voices over the commotion, their argument catching the attention of Kate and a few others.
“How many times do I have to tell you? You can’t just run off and train with Harald in your state! Do you have any idea how much worse your wounds could’ve gotten?”
“C’mon, it’s not that bad. One day of training can’t hurt.”
Seamus watched in amusement as Dahlia smacked the back of James’ head, continuing to berate him for not taking better precautions of his own health. Kate turned to Seamus, a similar amused look on her face.
“Your friends seem interesting,” she commented.
Seamus shrugged. “Yeah, I know. Still, those two saved me, so I can’t complain.” He smiled a bit at the two, who were calming down now that James had apologized and Dahlia had lost steam.
Kate looked back at Seamus, putting her new tankard of cider down on the bar. “That’s right… You and that blond guy are new to Yorktown, right? Both of you got here roughly more than a week ago. Omitting what happened ten days ago, what do you think of our town?”
Seamus pondered over her question, thinking back to his first day here, how he nearly starved before some random asshole nearly beat him to a pulp. Seamus also recalled the looks most of the townspeople gave to him as well, how they disliked his own presence. The same went for that annoying councilwoman, who nearly made Seamus an outcast. Seamus was about to mention these negatives to Kate but then glimpsed at the rest of the tavern.
Haggard was currently showing off that enormous hammer he always kept on him, the trainees from Harald’s class admiring the weapon. Harald himself was talking with Felix, both of their noses red with drink as they conversed. Dahlia and James were currently smiling and drinking mead together, their laughs occasionally being heard from their side of the bar.
Seamus’ grudges against the town slowly dissipated as he watched the tavern’s patrons talk and laugh. His lungs released the breath he had been holding, his disdain and stress losing its steam. It was a scene he had seen before, despite this being the first time this tavern had been full since before the raid. He smiled a bit at Kate as he turned back to the bar, sipping his cold cider.
“Honestly? It reminds me a bit of home...”
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Luna and Callisto shone brightly in the partially cloudy sky of Valenfrost, snowflakes still falling down from the sky as Bron stood guard. He shivered slightly in the frosty night air, his old ripped clothes doing very little to protect him from the elements.
“They have the gall to put me out on guard duty, but can’t supply me with any damn protection? Fuckin’ arseholes, the lot of them.” Bron was more than a little pissed at his fellow bandits. The anger mainly stemmed from the fact that they’ve been at sea for little more than a month, their supplies dwindling by the day.
The ship beneath his feet rocked against the black waves again, nearly knocking the lanky elf away from his post. He steadied himself, cursing all the gods that placed him in this position. Bron then sighed, knowing full well that this was actually his own fault. He was the one who left his old crew back at Vindis for a chance to join up with a couple of bandit crews with two ships.
They have been doing well at first, the first couple of weeks going by swimmingly before the sea stopped giving them ships to terrorize. Then, after a couple more weeks, they encountered Yorktown. They planned to raid the town, but changed their mind when they saw a Northern Marauder's ship attacking another ship.
They were lucky enough to avoid confrontation but were also confused on why the damn Marauders of the North were here. Bron knew well that they usually roamed the north of Valenfrost, which is why his crew had chosen the southern islands. The fact they were here meant that Bron’s crew were in danger of encountering something bigger, like an Orc clan or the nearby Jarl’s ships. It was only natural that something as dangerous as the marauders could beckon something greater than or equal to them.
Bron shivered at the thoughts of leviathans or sea serpents showing up. He was afraid of the deep ocean, which wasn’t an ideal fear for someone who spent days at sea. The ship rocked again, causing the elf bandit to hold on to the nearby railing.
“Damn waves,” he commented, gritting his teeth as he stood up straight again. The falling snowflakes had lessened in the last hour, which relieved Bron. He really hated it whenever snow piled onto the deck, making it slippery and nearly impossible to move correctly.
Something then caught Bron’s eyes in the distance. The bandit squinted and focused on the steady movement in the night. He was nervous at first, worried that a sea serpent had possibly found their longship. That terrifying thought was whisked away when he noticed a small orb of light. Upon focusing some more, he saw something peculiar.
Two foreign ships sailed through the black waters, a candlelight spell guiding the lead vessel. The magical orb illuminated the ships and the surrounding waters, giving them visibility but at the cost of exposing them in the night. It wasn’t uncommon for some ships to use them, but merchants usually avoid using magical light when traveling through dangerous waters.
Bron’s heart skipped a beat when he noticed that the rear ship had a familiar emblem. It portrayed a seven-pointed sun encased in an ornate circle, with elegant paint strokes on the hull. It was the emblem used for royal Lumen ships.
Bron grinned. This was a merchant ship from Lumen, no doubt. It was probably heading towards Vindis to avoid paying taxes at Norum’s ports. While rare, some merchants were dirt cheap when it came to expenses. It also meant cheap guards and little protection. Bron knew this well, as one of his first plunders was also a clueless Lumen ship. These vessels were easy pickings.
The bandit crept to the hatch nearby, opening it to slip under the deck. He tried to wake up the captain of the group, who groggily told Bron to kindly fuck off. Bron eventually woke up the captain, however, informing him of the two ships he spotted.
“One of them is a royal merchant ship, I suppose. The other one is unknown,” Bron explained as the captain got dressed and prepared. “Should we go and… relieve them of their valuables?” He asked finally, just as the captain tightened his leather armor.
“Of course we will Bron. What bandits would we be if we didn’t?” The captain grinned as he grabbed his ax, holstering it as he gestured for Bron to wake everyone else up.
It didn’t take long for both ships to get ready; the crew scrambling to get armed and dangerous. Their sails unfurled as they prepared themselves, both ships now pursuing the targets ahead. The black waters parted for the ships, sending sprays of salty water onto the deck.
Bron reveled in this feeling, his heart beating in his chest as the rest of his fellow men prepared to board the first ship while their other ship came up to the second one. Bron stood next to his captain as they neared the ships, their hands on their weapons.
‘This is going to be one hell of a pull,’ Bron thought with a grin, just as his ship scraped against the Lumen vessel.