I laid into the swamp oak with the gleaming blade of a woodsman’s axe, watching the groove in the trunk grow ever-wider as chips of wood cartwheeled through the air. I pulled the axe away and swung again, my shoulders burning, my hands raw—even with gloves on—as I sent one more mighty blow into the gnarled swamp wood. The tree wobbled, teetering uncertainly for a moment, unsure how it was going to fall, before finally keeling over with a whip-crack of snapping wood. “Timber!” I shouted, quickly backtracking. The felled tree slammed into the ground, sending a quiver up into my achy feet.
I paused, dropped the axe, then ran the back of my hand across my forehead, wiping away a trail of sweat threatening to drip into my eyes.
“This is the worst, Jack,” Cutter muttered, tossing his axe to the vegetation strewn floor before ambling over to me, drawing a flask from his bag. He drank with great noisy glugs, clear water splashing down his chin and onto his rough tunic. After almost a solid minute, he pulled his face away and held the flask out to me. I grimaced, eyeing the spit covered nozzle, and shook my head. He shrugged, killed the remaining water, then stowed the bottle back in his pack. “Suit yourself, friend,” he said, before uttering a horrific belch that left my hair standing on end.
“But seriously, Jack. We’ve been chopping trees and building stupid guard towers for four days. Four. Bloody. Days. Working our hands to the bone while mosquitos turn us into bankquet meals. How much longer do you plan to keep this up, eh?” A scowl turned his lips down as his face darkened. “Because I signed up for adventure, mead, and piles of easy gold, Jack. Piles of gold. Do you know how much gold I’ve turned up chopping down trees?” He paused, letting the obviously rhetorical question linger in the air. “Zero, Jack.” He held up his hand, fingers curved into a big fat “O.”
I sighed, pulled my own water flask from my pack, and took a drink to buy some time while I thought. The water ease my parched throat and hit my belly with a cool splash. After a beat, I slopped a little water into my palm and doused my face—anything to beat back the crushing heat. And it was hot in the Storme Marshes. Worse than summer in inland California, and the humidity left me feeling constantly sticky and gross. “Just until Abby gets here,” I finally said, screwing the lid of my flask back in place.
He rolled his eyes. “Look Jack, I know you’ve got a thing for her, but just use the stupid Faction Seal already. That Seal is practically a license to conjure gold from the air. We could be Kings, Jack. True, we’d be Kings in this backward, mud-hole, but even in backward mud-holes, Kings aren’t expected to cut down trees like common laborers. I want you to close your eyes and picture beautiful woman surrounding us, feeding us exotic fruit while we lounge in a tub full of gold marks. Sound good, eh? That could be us, Jack. Storme Marsh Kings.”
“We’re not gonna use it until we have a chance to talk with Abby,” I said again, voice firm with resolve. “This Seal belongs to her just as much as it belongs to me, and I’m not going to stab her in the back. Besides, unlike you, I’m not interested in sitting around in a tub of gold. I like to work.”
“How do we even know this Osmark bloke hasn’t already gotten to her, eh?” He asked, side-stepping my objections. “You ever think ’bout that? It’s been almost a week since she sent you that message about going to Alaunhylles. A week. If she’s been taken prisoner, how long before she gives us up? Rats on us. And believe you me, if they have her, and really put the screws to her, she’ll rat. Everyone talks under the torture’s blade, Jack. Everyone. Can we really afford to wait around much longer?”
“We’re going to give her more time,” I replied, feeling a tendril of unease creep up from my gut. I didn’t want to admit it, but I’d been thinking a lot about Abby’s fate. In her PM, she’d mentioned going dark for a few days—and Cutter was right, it had been a week. I’d been trying to get a hold of her twice a day, every day since I’d found out about the Faction Seal, with no success. Worse, we were only two days away from Asteroid-impact back IRL, which meant Osmark and his goons would be making their play soon, if they hadn’t already. I rudely shoved the uncertain thoughts away.
I needed to talk with Abby. She was smart. Smarter than me. All I wanted was to keep my head down and live my new life as drama-free as possible. International politics and multi-million dollar conspiracies weren’t for me and I wasn’t ready to be some sort of V.G.O. King. Abby would know what to do, though. She’d have a plan.
Cutter frowned and rubbed at his temple, as though my stubbornness were actually giving him a migraine. “Jack, don’t be a moron. Listen, I understand you want to be loyal to your ‘friend.’” He used air quotes, as if he didn’t actually believe friends existed. “Gods know I wouldn’t do that,” he continued, “I always put myself first, but I can understand why you would do that. But, let’s not forget you have a mandate from a goddess to start your own faction. How could Abby possibly be mad at you, when a literal divinity appeared and told you to use the bloody thing? That’s just common sense, you stubborn dirt-clod.”
“No, Cutter,” I replied, flatly. “I don’t care what Sophia—or whatever her name really is—says. One, I don’t hang my friends out to dry, and two, I’m not sure I trust her. She openly admitted she wants to use us as pawns, and I’m not interested in exchanging one dictator for another. Besides, it doesn’t even make sense to use this thing yet. I understand physical labor doesn’t exactly appeal to you, but do you really think I’m just going to turn myself into a feudal land baron and no one’s gonna notice?”
He frowned and ran a hand through his dirty blonde locks. “Ah yep,” he finally said with a nod. “That’s pretty much how I picture things going. You become Faction boss, and the skies will part and rain gold coins down on our heads in a deluge of wealth.” He smiled, eyes hazy and distant as though envisioning the downpour.
“You’re smarter than that, Cutter. Just think about it,” I said, tapping one finger at my temple. “Once we activate that thing, it’s going to be like setting a bonfire as big as a mountain, letting Osmark know exactly where we are and what we’ve done. And then? Then they’re going to come for us. And not just them: anyone who catches a whiff of easy money is going to flock to our doorstep with their hands out. So, it makes sense to get our ducks in a row—to get Yunnam as ready as we can and come up with a solid plan—before we go and do something reckless.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“Ducks in a row—I’ve always wondered where that saying came from,” Cutter mused, rubbing at the five o’clock shadow adorning his chin. After a moment, he threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, Jack. Fine. I guess your stupid code of ethics and your stupid logic make a sort of twisted sense. But when we do form a Faction, I expect to be compensated handsomely for my unwavering loyalty. I’m thinking Grand High King of the Thieves, eh? Maybe you could get me a crown made of so much gold it’ll hurt my neck to wear. I think I’d like that.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. He was something else. “Just get back to work, Cutter. This new outer wall isn’t going to build itself,” I said, snatching my axe from the ground, then heading over to the next tree ready to come down. The palisade encircling Yunnam-proper consisted of a simple wall of sharpened logs, about fifteen feet high. Not terrible, but nothing even close to the kind of defenses Rowanheath boasted. And even Rowanheath had fallen to the Ever-Victorious Viridian Empire. Chief Kolle had explained that the jungle itself—with its marshy waters and myriad of deadly beasts—were actually Yunnam’s best line of defense, but in my opinion we still needed to do better.
So, after discussing my ideas and concerns with the Chief, the town had elected to build a sturdier, secondary wall out of the black, swamp rock so prevalent to the area. But first, we needed to clear the trees back.
I threw my weight behind the ax, carving into another trunk, this one belonging to a twisted weeping willow.
“Hold up,” Cutter hollered, jerking a thumb toward something behind me.
I lowered my ax and turned to find Chief Kolle and his mask-wearing daughter, Amara, striding toward us, skittering along the outside of the palisade.
I offered the Chief a hesitant, tired smile, then headed over, Cutter trailing behind me.
“Hey, Chief,” I said with a wave. “What brings you out here? Inspecting the progress?”
“Looking for you, actually,” he replied with a nod, “though, I do have to say things are coming along nicely. You’re keeping our craftsman and builders busy, but they’ve got a sizeable portion of the outer wall already done on the other side. We’ll need more rock and spider webbing soon, but if we keep up at this rate, we’ll have the new wall up in two weeks’ time. A little longer to get the guard towers in place.” He rocked idly on his heels. “What I really came to talk to you about is your training,” he said after a pause.
“My training?” I asked with a frown. “What training?”
He guffawed and crossed his beef-slab arms. “Grim Jack, just because you passed you initiation ordeal doesn’t mean you know everything there is to know about being Maa-Tál. True, you achieved your specialization as a Shadowmancer much quicker than most, but you still have more to learn. Much more. Not to mention, you have an obligation to the Dark Conclave and the Shadow Pantheon. You may be a future Faction ruler, Jack, but for now, you’re also the lowliest member of our order, and I’ve got a job for you to do. Something to get you out, practicing your skills, and, more importantly, something to take your mind off this missing friend of yours. This”—he uncrossed his arms and twirled one hand in the air—“this, Abby you keep talking about.”
“But the wall,” I replied weakly, pointing at the jagged line of trees still waiting to be cut.
“Grim Jack,” he said, “if you’re going to lead, it’s important to learn you can’t do everything on your own. You need to be able to delegate responsibility. We have many hands capable of chopping down a tree or moving around a pile of swamp rock. We have far fewer who can harness the Umbra and conjure the power of shadow. So,” he paused thoughtfully, “where do you think you are more needed?”
I grumbled, glowered, shuffled back and forth on anxious feet then stole a quick look at Cutter—a giant, smug smile nearly split his face in half.
“Okay,” I finally said, resigned. “I guess my Shadowmancer duties are more important.”
“No,” the Chief replied, sternly. “Not more important. Just different. As a leader, you must learn that every part is equally important, and every job must be done just so, or things falls apart. Even the greatest general, needs men to command, and even the sturdiest wall will fall if built improperly. Now, as to your assignment. In order to better defend Yunnam, I want to construct Arcane Shadow Cannons on each of the guard towers. They’re powerful weapons, which can launch deadly balls of shadow energy at any hostile force seeking to harm our land. Building them, however, requires a specialized mineral called Raw Darkshard Ore.
“Not far from here,” he said, “there is an old mine shaft, abundant with the material we so desperately require. An ancient remnant from the bygone days of the Nangkri Dynasty, resting in the hills less than a half a day’s walk from here”—he said, pointing due west.
“Seriously?” I held up a hand to stop him. “For my initiation ordeal, you had me track down and kill a nearly-indestructible Forest Giantess, and now you’re sending me on an ingredient gathering quest? An ore grind?” I asked incredulously.
The Chief shot me a sly smile. “As I said, there are no unimportant jobs. Not even ones that may seem mundane on the outset. I think you’ll find this quest a bit more challenging than you imagine. You see, Raw Darkshard Ore can only be gathered by Shadowmancers, because Shadowmancers alone may open the way to the Shadowverse, where the ore is located. Unfortunately, the ore is also viciously protected by the ravenous Void Terrors, who subsist off the material. Perhaps”—he thumbed his nose with a knowing look in his eye—“you will find something more than mere ore there. Something extremely valuable for your career as a Maa-Tál. If you’re interested, my daughter would happily show you the way.”
A quest screen popped up in front of me:
Quest Alert: Gather Raw Darkshard Ore
Chief Kolle requires Raw Darkshard Ore in order to construct Arcane Shadow Cannons, needed for the defense of Yunnam. There is a natural source of the ore in the Ancient Darkshard Mine, half a day’s walk from the city. The ore is guarded by the ravenous Void Terrors of the Shadowverse.
Quest Class: Common, Class-Based
Quest Difficulty: Moderate
Success: Gather 100 pounds of Raw Darkshard Ore. Amara must survive.
Failure: Amara dies while on the mission.
Reward: 15,000 EXP; schematics for Arcane Shadow Cannons; increased reputation with the Dark Conclave and the Shadow Pantheon.
Accept: Yes/No?
I read the quest over. I always hated the endless ingredient gathering assignments RPGs often offered, but it sounded like there was a twist here if I was wise enough to see it. One I couldn’t afford to pass up—especially if it kept my future Faction base safe from potential invaders. I reluctantly accepted.