Chapter 2
There was nothing.
Amidst the nothing, she floated.
The nothingness was as a river, its gentle current carrying her along.
She sensed others nearby – others that she thought she knew. Echoes of herself, eddies; ripples out of reach and out of view.
They intangibly drifted nearby, but she didn’t pay them any mind.
Why was that? They were important. Or at least she understood that they should be.
But there were other things: more important things…? Yet she didn’t know what they were.
She only knew that she was annoyed. Annoyed for…why? What was it?
She was annoyed for somewhere between an instant and an eternity, and the gentle sensations of the current did little to soothe her.
A tendril of something appeared somewhere to stretch out towards her.
She snatched it impatiently, disregarding all that was left behind…
Her eyes fluttered open. Leaves came into focus. Wind filtered through the canopy, uncaring of the vague sense of annoyance stirring in her heart. Over her body: a cool, damp sensation. She sucked in a breath and instantly regretted it. A thousand needles gripped her body and squeezed.
“How are you feeling, La–Ludmila?”
She could barely hear Themis’ voice through her ragged coughing. Lifting her arm unsteadily, she rested it on her chest, trying to work the pins and needles away. Under her fingers, she felt something soft where her armour should have been. Someone had removed it, and she was left in her arming doublet. Ludmila turned her head to the side, towards the Cleric seated beside her.
“Di–”
Ludmila’s throat seized, and dry coughs filled the air. She moistened her lips and worked some saliva down before trying again. Even then, the muscles of her jaw protested.
“Did we win?” She asked.
Themis made a sound through her nose.
“You must be the only one that says that sort of thing immediately after returning from Lord Surshana’s domain,” she rolled her eyes. “He must spin you around and push you right back out the moment you pop up.”
“That may be the case,” Ludmila conceded, “but…did we win?”
“Of course we did,” the Cleric smirked. “You’re always the only casualty of your own crazy plans. The rest of those letches wanted to hang around and gawk at you, so I chased them away.”
“Thanks.”
It wasn’t something she would have worried about half a year ago but, after enjoying a degree of privacy in her home and being subjected to the continued admonishments of Aemilia over what an acceptable appearance was, a small sense of shame had crept into her self awareness.
Laying where she was, she turned her head from side to side to examine her surroundings again. It was a forest – well, it was supposed to be one. The stone columns all around them were made to resemble trunks of trees, while vines covered the magically lit ceiling overhead. Sprigs of moss and brush covered the floor, and the wind…well, she wasn’t sure where it came from, but it was probably just the natural flow of air in the now extensive Adventurer Training Area.
They were several dozen metres away from where she had met her demise: the final confrontation for this particular setting was a Demihuman ambush. The would-be ambushers were detected well in advance and, knowing where the trap was laid, Ludmila decided to simply spring it. The party’s mana was barely touched and their reserves of consumables were still in plentiful supply, so a solid defensive line was to meet the ambushers and the rest of the party would overwhelm them.
Except, once again, she had failed to hold her part of the line. Still, looking at the pristine state of Themis’ equipment, it would seem that the rest of the plan had been a clear success.
“So…” Themis said, “What was it like?”
Ludmila frowned at her.
“Being dead, I mean,” Themis clarified quickly. “Do…do you remember anything? From the other side.”
“Nothing at all,” Ludmila shook her head. “Shouldn’t a priestess know more about this sort of thing than a noble?”
“Well, I know what’s been recorded, but I can’t help but ask. The other time I was around, I was a bit preoccupied losing my wits over watching your head get squished.”
“Who raised me? I don’t see anyone else around…”
“It was Lady Pestonya, as usual,” Themis answered. “She left to tend to everyone else after that.”
Ludmila brought herself up on her elbows and was greeted by the sight of a suit of armour lying near her feet.
“I just had that made…” She muttered.
The suit of Brigandine, fashioned by one of Smith Mesmit’s associates, was folded in on one side at a right angle. Ludmila distinctly remembered being folded right along with it.
So much for upgrading my armour.
To be fair, the suit itself had survived: it was just the person inside that had not. She had seen enough of Kovalev’s work repairing tools, parts and other pieces of metalwork to understand all that needed to be done was to fix or replace the warped plates and the armour would be serviceable again. She had purchased it in hopes that it would help alleviate her ongoing defensive issues, but it was evidently insufficient. What was she going to do now?
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“We’ll have to carry that out of here,” Themis said. “I’m sure you’ll be getting quite the reception as well.”
A sigh escaped Ludmila’s lips. That was the worst part about dying. Whenever she did, all of the benefits that she conferred to those under her vanished as well. Everyone felt it, too. The degree varied, from the tenants out in Warden’s Vale having a vague, nearly intangible sense of her absence, to her household instantly realizing what had occurred. It was as if someone conveniently informed her entire demesne that their liege had died, every single time. It was extremely mortifying at best and produced some worrisome results.
The first time she had died, she returned to the Adventurer guild: only to find her Human retainers in the city gathered in the reception area. Aemilia was brandishing a broom like a poleaxe, threatening to tear the entire building apart if the receptionists didn’t show them directly to their mistress. Ludmila walked into the guildhall with a bemused expression on her face at the scene and was subsequently buried by sobbing maids. After returning to the manor, she found a pile of panicked messages from Warden’s Vale. Dying appeared to be quite disruptive, so she decided that it should be avoided if possible…and then she died again.
“How many times is this now,” she asked, “five?”
“Something like that.”
She hated dying. It was a strange thing to be thinking, but there it was nonetheless. It wasn’t even the dying part that annoyed her, despite being cut in half once, run through and bludgeoned to death in various ways. No, what annoyed her was the idea that she had lost what she had worked so hard to gain. And regain again. Life could be returned, but not time.
Ludmila died twice in a row on the first weekend back in the Adventurer Guild, then trained hard to restore her lost strength. Then she died again. The process repeated once more until now: where she lay on the cold stone floor, recently dead yet again. The sense that she was behind where she should rightly be kept driving her forward, but something was clearly wrong with what she was doing.
“At this rate,” Ludmila mused, “I wonder if people will just get used to it.”
“This probably isn’t something one would want to ‘get used to’.” Themis gave her a sidelong glance as they started making their way back outside, “If it happens too much, they’re going to start accounting for resurrection failure. Then it’s back to those boring Copper and Iron sessions for you.”
“I guess that’s ample motivation to avoid death,” she said, “but I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”
Themis appeared to have nothing to offer in reply, and they returned together to the surface in silence. Once they were out under the clear evening skies, Ludmila withdrew a mantle from her bag to pull around her shoulders. In doing so, she was reminded that she didn’t actually have to carry all of her equipment in her arms. The damaged armour, along with her weapons and shield went into the Infinite Haversack on her right hip.
“That’s such a convenient item,” Themis noted as she watched everything vanish into the bag. “I wonder if more will start showing up soon.”
Ludmila had two of the magical containers, both taking the form of a large, dark leather belt pouch. One was placed where a quiver would normally rest upon her hip, while the other balanced out her belt on the opposite side. After a fresh death, their combined weight was quite noticeable, though training would gradually lessen the burden again as she regained her strength.
It wasn’t the only thing that she noticed a change in as she died and trained and died again. Her agility, conditioning and perception differed; as did how well she could hide her presence and all sorts of other things she never really put much thought into until now.
“I’ve asked around,” Ludmila told her. “Apparently they’re out there, but it’s pretty rare to find something like this for sale. It makes sense, considering how convenient they are: they aren’t something someone would resell like other magic items.”
“I see,” Themis said. “Hehe…I’m glad the cathedral is right on the main plaza – I can see all the stands that sell to Adventurers from the entrance.”
“Didn’t Bishop Austine give you an earful for that last week?” Ludmila said, “You ran straight out the door to buy something from the market in your temple vestments.”
“Hmph,” Themis was not dissuaded. “Being an Adventurer was his idea in the first place, and the scriptures do not prohibit shopping!”
They laughed together and returned to E-Rantel in good humour. Along the way, Ludmila scanned the skies to the horizon: when they were heading towards the training area on her first day back to the guild, two Frost Dragons skimmed low over the ground. One looked like it was struggling mightily to stay aloft. Judging by its rotund appearance, it must have been Lady Aura’s new companion, Hejinmal. The second Dragon, a lithe Adult who had gracefully descended to Hejinmal’s altitude, fell into formation beside him.
They were so close to the ground that Ludmila could overhear their conversation as they slowly passed overhead. Eventually, they picked up in speed and altitude, disappearing into the northern skies. It was a novel sight, and she thought that maybe the reports on the Frost Dragons were not wholly accurate. According to the documents provided by Lady Shalltear, the enclave had been forced into existence by a single Ancient Dragon: the White Dragon Lord, Olasird’arc. Without his efforts, they would have not come together, as their kind was solitary by nature; exhibiting the pride, vanity and selfishness attributed by lore to Dragons in general.
The pair that had flown over them, however, seemed more like a pair of siblings – a fretful sister watching over and lecturing her brother. It felt like a reflection of herself, not too long ago, haranguing her own family over their often irresponsible and reckless behaviour. Perhaps they weren’t as strange and unknowable as was claimed.
Entering through the northern gate, they crossed a peddler headed out of the city and Ludmila felt a twinge of envy. Warden’s Vale still needed to complete two or three more villages before merchants would consider her demesne worth the detour, so her tenants still had a while yet to wait before they could enjoy the same variety of goods as the other territories.
They made their way through the city, along the wall that separated the Demihuman Quarter from the common area. Cutting through the central district, they came across Aemilia, who was scanning the main promenade with a worried look on her face. Their eyes met, and her lady’s maid quickly walked over to meet them.
“My lady,” she lowered her head in a curtsey, “just now – did…did you…”
“Die?” Ludmila filled in for her, “Yes, quite thoroughly. You should see what happened to the new set of armour that you fancied me wearing so much.”
Ludmila unfastened the Infinite Haversack on her right hip and produced the damaged Brigandine. Aemilia’s eyes grew alarmingly wide.
“Wha-what are they making you fight?” She said tearfully, “Death Knights? Dragons? T-this is too much, my lady!”
“It was an Ogre, actually.”
Aemilia looked at her incredulously, then back to the armour again.
“An Ogre did this, my lady? But this is plate–”
“Brigandine,” Ludmila corrected her.
“Are Ogres really that strong?” Aemilia asked, “I thought they were something Iron-rank Adventurers frequently hunted as bounties. Did they use magical weapons?”
“It was just a stick,” Ludmila replied. “A hickory staff – just like the haft of my spear. The Ogres we fought are much stronger than the ones you usually find out in the wilderness.”
Thankfully, no one else trained Ogres like the Bloody General did in Carne. The dimwitted Demihumans were usually easy to deal with, but their being proficient in combat made these ones another thing entirely.
Aemilia was silent for several moments, giving the armour a long look.
“How strong are Adventurers, my lady?” She asked, “This was supposed to be the exam for Gold-ranks – how strong are they if they are Adamantite, or even Platinum? If an Ogre can do this…”
Her maid had a sort of blank expression as she spoke, as if doubting everything she thought she understood. Ludmila couldn’t blame her.
The common person was far removed from the world that powerful Adventurers saw. To most, they were simply the focus of fanciful tales and a part of the world that was beyond the realm of common sense: one that they would never experience themselves. How could a city labourer accept that a slip of a girl could bend tempered steel into knots with her bare hands, or that a fully-armoured man could leap straight up city walls and hop from tower to tower like some overgrown child at play? Such individuals were exceedingly rare and generally not available to frivolously demonstrate their abilities at a whim to all and sundry.
Even Ludmila, who was born to an Adventurer lineage, did not truly understand the meaning of what ranks beyond Gold entailed until she had directly experienced it herself. No amount of instruction from her family or observing others had prepared her for it. The members of the Adventurer Guild that had recently approached or achieved Gold rank, holding the notion that they had finally qualified for the expedition teams, had their pride beaten out of them in turn. Gold was merely the beginning: the bare minimum of what was required for their work.
"The Adventurer training sessions are matched to the participants,” Ludmila explained to her. “I was supposed to be able to fight that Ogre directly, but I was swatted aside like a down pillow instead. Until I figure out what I’m doing wrong, I won’t be able to advance.”
“I see.” Aemilia turned her gaze down to the cobblestones, then raised it again to look at the damaged armour, “Let me take care of that for you while you conclude your business with the Adventurer Guild, my lady.”
Her Lady’s Maid held out her hands to receive the equipment, but Ludmila returned it to her Infinite Haversack.
“It’s alright, Luzi,” Ludmila told her. “Everything that goes in here doesn’t increase my burdens. I’ll drop by Mesmit’s Forge later.”
Aemilia lowered her arms and frowned, bestowing upon the magical container a glare that one might have reserved for an enemy. Ludmila shifted on her feet, feeling a bit guilty for depriving her of her duties.
“Did we receive any messages from home?” She asked.
“We did, my lady,” Aemilia replied. “It seems that the Linum sisters sent one on behalf of the entire harbour, then we received a number from the farming village.”
“Please let them know right away that everything is fine: we cannot leave them worried like that.”
“Of course, my lady,” her maid curtseyed again. “I will see to it immediately.”
Aemilia paid her respects to Themis before turning away to head back to the manor.
“At least your household didn’t lay siege to the guildhall this time,” Themis said after they reentered the common area.
“Ah…don’t remind me,” Ludmila replied weakly. “I have enough anxiety as it is wondering what they’ll say about the session today.”
“They were pretty dumbfounded the first time,” Themis said, “though I guess some of that might have come from having to deal with your retainers. Guess we’ll find out in a minute…”
Having the words come from a Cleric of the god of death and judgement did not soothe her worries in any way whatsoever.
They entered the guildhall to find Merry waiting for them inside, near the bottom of the stairs. She jerked her head in the direction of the second floor before heading up without a word. Ludmila exchanged glances with Themis, the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach growing even more pronounced. When they reached the top of the stairs, not only were the proctors and the guildmaster awaiting them around the conference table, but Lady Aura, Lord Mare, Momon and Nabe as well.
“Oh Lord,” Themis intoned under her breath. “Watch over your faithful servant in her hour of judgement.”