After meeting with Cindy, I, exhausted by the day's trials, headed to bed. As I launched myself into my mattress, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that I still had a soft bed to sleep on. Closing my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.
I awoke with a fright, shooting up and once more knocking my head against the ceiling. Yet again, I was floating in my sleep. It might be a problem, but it wasn't a significant concern as long as I had a roof to sleep under.
Stepping outside through the windows in the back, I surveyed the settlement slowly growing around me. The fence was long since complete and was in the process of being reinforced with metal, and watchtowers overlooked the many gates around the protected area. Already, I could see areas of ground cleared and leveled in preparation for construction. The forge around the back of the hotel puffed with smoke and heat, and the ringing of hammers was constant as the small cluster of crafters worked away.
Despite the previous week's chaos, I could see groups of people walking about, having conversations, and even laughing. It felt like civilization had already returned after the end of the world.
Touching down on the soft ground, I started making my way to the south gate when a flash of light out of the corner of my eye made me stop. Turning to look, I found Taylor pressing both palms against the large tree sandwiched between Garcia’s store and the new fence. I hardly noticed her, primarily due to the leaves and vines covering most of her body.
As the magic left her body and entered the tree, energy pulses cascaded into the living wood, pushing growth and life into the branches and leaves. With each burst of magic, the tree grew another centimeter. It was already substantially larger than before, and it had a magical glow that I used to only see in trees brought by the waves.
After a minute of watching, I realized she would keep going like this for a while yet. Unwilling to interrupt, I decided to make my way out of the camp and get some more training in. The threat of the Cultists was still imminent, and I didn’t have time to waste.
It was the dawn of the sixth day; the next wave would occur in only two more days, and the attack on the cultists would happen tomorrow night. Tomorrow morning would be filled with scouting and planning, so today was my last chance to gather strength. Thoughts of the oncoming conflict drove what little warm feelings I had from my body, forcing my feet to move quicker.
With my stats looking good and my skills developing well, my stumbling stone was fighting experience, and I planned to get as much today as I possibly could. First, though, I needed a replacement for my unfortunate machete.
Moving around the store and heading to the front, I was shocked to find the whole floor cleared of supplies. Elena Garcia swept the floor with a ratty old broom, pushing clumps of Texas dust into a pile in the center. Other than that, the entire building was empty.
Looking up from her work, Elena gave me a slight wave.
“Hey Vic. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Elena. I’m looking for a new machete; do you know where they moved all the tools?”
“Oh, sorry, Vic. All the tools have been moved into the hotel- er, guild hall- to be distributed for work.”
“Guild hall? Well, thanks for the help.”
After a brief nod and a smile of thanks, I left the store and started moving to the guild hall, still shocked by how quickly everyone seemed to adjust. Once inside the hotel- now guild hall- I passed by Daryl and Rupert, the ex-cops now armed to the teeth in their medieval finest, giving them a nod of acknowledgment as I went. Both carried long spears and had rudimentary leather armor covering their chests, making them the first people in the camp I’d seen wielding actual traditional weaponry.
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The hall was a mess of people busily moving about. Even though it was extremely early in the morning, a line of people was already forming in front of the counter manned by a single beastkin girl. Stepping in line, I settled in to wait when a puff of hot air and a hand on the shoulder made me twist around.
The first thing I saw was a maw of razor-sharp teeth, polished white with care, over a red-scaled serpentine face. Donny looked good and had obviously increased his stats over the last few days. Donny wore relatively little clothing, leaving his scaled chest and arms bare. He looked bigger, and his muscles were more defined, rippling beneath his armored flesh.
“Hey, Vic. It’s good to see you.”
It was nice to see a friendly face. Despite living in such close proximity, I had been spending the last several days mostly in isolation, save for my evening reports with Cindy.
“You too, Donny. It feels like ages since I last saw you.”
“It does,” he agreed.
Turning his gaze, Donny shifted to look at my belt, pointing to my left hip where my sword used to be.
“Looks like you’re missing something. I saw you walk into the storefront; were you looking for a replacement weapon?”
“Yep. I take it you can give me a hand?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a toothy grin, “follow me.”
As he turned and marched out of the guild hall, I followed on his heels, moving around the side of the building to where the forge sat. Entering the crafting area shoved up against the side of the building, I couldn’t help but gasp in shock.
The forge area used to be a small space covered with tarps to keep the sun away, with collapsable tables haphazardly piled with tools. Now, there was a large permanent structure with a shingled wooden roof.
Grey stone walls around chest height rose around a large square area, with the roof covering everything. In the center of the roof was a stack that billowed smoke; a large central forge placed beneath it. The ground was paved with smooth stone, on which sat four massive crafting stations, each occupied save one, which Donny happily dragged me to.
“So? What do you think of the new forge setup?”
“Donny! It’s unbelievable! How did you do this? I was here, like, two days ago!”
“Ha! Great, right? One of the crafters started with earth-shaping magic. He quickly leveled it to stone magic and was able to construct this in around a day. Impressive, no?”
Not knowing what to say, I could only bob my head in agreement. This magic had the potential to change just about everything.
Turning around to his workbench, Donny retrieved a long bundle of cloth before twisting around.
“Now, I know you were looking for a machete, but I think I might have something better.”
As he whipped off the cloth covering, a grin rose to my face.
“May I?”
Holding the bundle out to me, he gestured for me to take it.
Wrapping my fingers around the smooth wooden handle, I drew the blade of my first real sword out of its sheath, and my inner child cackled with glee. I knew I must have looked like an idiot, but I couldn’t help it.
The shortsword was rather simple; it had a three-foot blade with a fuller running down the side and a simple steel crossguard to protect my hand. The sheath was made from leather and was designed to be fastened to a belt. It was surprisingly light, considering its length, and I could immediately tell that its balance was more in line with what my Swordsmanship skill expected.
Looking back at the Dragonborn Blacksmith, I could see that he was pleased with my reaction.
“Did you make this just for me, Donny?”
“I did. We’re not sure why, but we think magic doesn’t play well with materials from before the second wave. Once we melt or reforge them, we have no problems, but most of the tools we gathered at the start have been destroyed over the past week. Anything mechanical running at this point is a pipe dream. I knew your machete would break eventually and wanted to make sure you had a replacement ready.”
Leaning over and giving him a brief hug in thanks, I could feel his body tense in surprise.
“Thanks, Donny. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I should go give this thing a test drive.”
Letting out a chuckle, he shooed me out of the forge. Stapping the sword to my waist, I rose into the air, turning west. It was time to hunt.