Loremaster a progressi.., p.4
Loremaster - A Progression Fantasy Adventure, page 4
“He’s telling the truth, Tethis,” Darm said from the front. “Kids like him get attacked all the time. It’s likely he just had some food or coin on him and someone else took an opportunity to get it. Hell, some would even do it for fun. Happens every day.”
“Hmph,” Tethis snorted, leaning back as she observed Rowan seriously. “Fine. What are your talents, street rat?”
For a brief moment, Rowan considered lying, but the look in Tethis’ eye chased the thought from his mind in an instant. There was a limit to the number of things he should hide. And she already knew him to be a thief; his reputation wouldn’t get much worse if he told her about the rest of his skillset.
“Sneaking, stealing, and running away,” Rowan told his inquisitor. “Those are my main talents. I’m especially good at running away. Fast.”
“Not yesterday, you weren’t,” Darm said with a booming laugh.
“What about lying?” Tethis demanded, ignoring her partner’s interjection. “That’s not one of your talents?”
“No,” Rowan responded truthfully, thinking back to his attempts to find real work. He’d even resorted to pretending to be a farmer’s son who had a basic education but whose family had fallen on hard times. The merchants had just had their guards beat him harder. “Truth or lie, it never mattered. No one believes street trash,” he finished bitterly.
“Indeed,” Tethis replied.
There was silence at this declaration, neither Rowan nor Tethis seeming to know what to say to further the conversation. As Rowan glanced awkwardly around the carriage, Darm turned around, the reins going slack as he faced Rowan.
“In that case, how about you join us?” Darm asked.
“What?!” Tethis shocked voice rang out, her head whipping around to face her companion. “Have you gone mad?”
“No more than I usually am,” Darm replied, waggling his eyebrows at her. “You’ve been talking about adding another to our party for this trip up north. Well, here he is.”
“I meant a trained fighter!” Tethis protested. “Not some whelp who recently met the wrong end of a letter opener.”
“You would never trust a trained fighter,” Darm retorted. “You only trust me because I basically saved your life. This is a boy with absolutely nothing going for him. A raw, uncut stone with no allegiances or affiliations. You take him in, train him, and he’ll be forever grateful to you for both saving his life and giving him a purpose. There’s no way he would betray us after that.”
“And if he did?”
“Then you can only blame our shit luck,” Darm chuckled. “You don’t have to recruit him right away. Why not give him some training? We’re still a month out from Karsolnia. Train him a little, see how he does. If he doesn’t perform up to your expectations, then kick him out in Karsolnia. I’ll give him a few coins to get him started, and he can begin a new life far away from Taureen.”
There was silence for a moment as Tethis considered this.
Rowan’s heart skipped a beat. Karsolnia? He’d only heard stories; it wasn't much different to Taureen. But with a few coins and a fresh slate, maybe, just maybe, he’d have a chance at a different life...
And that was only the result if he didn’t impress them. They were talking about training him. He didn't even dare to hope where that might lead...
The possibilities made his head spin.
“Fine. But if I’m not satisfied with his progress by Karsolnia, he’s done. No matter what you say in his defense,” Tethis said finally.
“Fair enough,” Darm chuckled. Looking back at Rowan, who was still in a state of shock, he smiled kindly. “No need to accept right away. We’ll let you ride with us tonight, and if you don’t want to, then we’ll drop you off at the next city we stop at.”
Nodding mutely, Rowan attempted to process what had just happened, while doing his best to ignore the daggers Tethis was shooting his way. This all felt too good to be true, and at any other time, he would have been exhilarated. Now, however, exhaustion washed over him, muting all other emotions.
He had nearly died, then somehow woken up alive, and now been extended an invitation to join an adventuring party. None of this would ever happen to a street rat such as himself, so realistically, he was probably dead, and this was all just the delirious dream of one caught between life and death.
However, dreams were the one thing that all men both rich and poor could enjoy, and Rowan did not intend to leave one so pleasant as this. If in the morning, when he awoke, the dream revealed itself to be real, then he would deal with the situation as it presented itself, but for now, his body needed rest.
With that thought, sleep overtook Rowan, his head lolling against the padded seat of the carriage.
Chapter Three
“Wake up.”
Tethis’ cold voice brought Rowan to wakefulness, tearing him out of a dream about sweet hot apple pies. He had stolen his first from a merchant hailing from the western provinces, and the memory of the taste had tempted him ever since. He had sometimes risked more than he should when that sweet scent caught his nose.
Raising his head, he gave his waker a bleary look, his hand instinctively reaching for his waistband where he normally carried his knife, wondering for a moment just what was going on.
“Get up,” Tethis told him. “Throw on some clothes then meet me outside.”
So it wasn’t a dream. Rowan thought, the memories all flooding back to him. I really did almost die but got saved by a halfling and an elf.
That explained why he was here, but not what Tethis wanted with him. From his current knowledge about the haughty elf, it could be anything. Although Darm had told her to train him, there was no guarantee that she would listen. From what he had seen, Tethis seemed to exist in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction, ready to lash out at anyone that drew her ire. Given the current situation, she was as likely to be calling him for breakfast as she was to be leading him to a shallow grave.
Hoping that it wasn’t the second one, Rowan threw off the light cotton blanket that had been draped over him, wincing as his side twinged where the knife had entered. Although Darm had healed him, the wound still throbbed. Not in a painful way, Darm had seen to that, but his body was keenly aware that it had been stabbed, the sensation reminding him that it had only been a day since someone had attempted to turn him into a street rat skewer.
Donning a shirt and pants that had been left at the foot of the bench he had been using as a bed, Rowan left the carriage, not keen to be late for whatever Tethis wanted him for. If she was going to kill him, he’d prefer that she at least be in a good enough mood to make it quick. The thought of the many things she could do to him with that warhammer of hers was enough to make Rowan shudder, even in the warmth of the early morning sun.
The carriage had stopped at a small lake not far from the road; small, twisted trees eagerly sucked the nutrients from the soil as they crept horizontally over the waters of the lake. Next to the lake sat Darm, a trio of fish roasting over a small fire in front of him.
Seeing Rowan emerge, he waved cheerfully, a greeting that Rowan awkwardly returned. Smiling at this, Darm suddenly jolted as a kettle above the fire started to emit steam. Pointing at it, one of his rings flashed briefly, the kettle levitating off the small scaffold it had been placed on and moving to Darm’s side.
So he is a mage, Rowan realized. He had already known this from Darm’s comments about healing him the day before, but seeing it in person was a different matter entirely. Levitation was not a skill just any magic user could employ; it required training, something that was out of reach to street rats such as himself, fortunately for the local merchant stalls.
A dozen yards away from the fire stood Tethis, her forearms bare as she swung her warhammer. Medanas was hot this time of year, the sun baking the earth in the day, and the moon bringing only slight relief at night. Despite the early hour, a light sheen of sweat already covered Tethis, her graceful movements at odds with the savagery of her strikes. Most importantly though was the badge that shone on her belt: a Platinum adventurer’s badge.
So she is an adventurer. And not just any adventurer, but a Platinum-ranked one. The only thing Rowan knew about Platinum-ranked adventurers was that they were even more highly ranked than their Gold counterparts, and even nobles treated them with respect. This was all he knew about them, but it was all he needed to know. A street-dweller knew not to mess with even the lowest ranked adventurers, let alone those who stood at the very top of their profession.
Unconsciously, Rowan’s back straightened. The power wielded by the elf before him was not lost on Rowan, but he remained mute, silently standing by the side as he waited for Tethis to address him. He knew she had seen him approach, having caught her eye briefly a moment earlier, but she had not acknowledged the fact, and he was not about to press the issue. Not with a Platinum-ranked adventurer.
Upon seeing Rowan, she did not pause, but instead finished her current set. Putting her warhammer down, she wiped the sweat from her brow, before tossing a large branch from beside her to Rowan. Catching it, Rowan stared at the stick for a moment in confusion, his gaze flitting between it and Tethis who was staring at him with a calculating look.
“Ummm…” Rowan began, but Tethis cut him off.
“Fifty pushups,” she ordered.
“But—”
“No talking back.”
Deciding it was best to just obey, Rowan dropped to the ground, putting the stick beside him as he began his pushups. Two minutes and twenty pushups later, Rowan’s arms were in agony. As a sneakthief, he had a thin, wiry build. His lack of nutrition meant that he had never really built up any major muscles beyond those needed to run away from angry merchants and townsfolk, and this had never been more obvious to him than now. Tethis was not exactly helping matters either, barking orders at him whenever his butt dropped too low or his stance faltered too much.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually closer to ten minutes, Rowan collapsed, not for the first time as his arms gave out.
“Fifty,” he said weakly.
“Sit-ups next,” Tethis ordered, cradling a cup of the hot liquid that had been brewing inside Darm’s kettle.
With a groan, Rowan rolled over, doing his best to catch his breath as he stared at the blue sky above. For a moment, he briefly thought about running off, perhaps even trying to grab some valuables to trade to a passing merchant for a ride... but he dismissed those thoughts. Real opportunities were something he had never been afforded. Now the opportunity of a lifetime was being dangled right in front of him—all he had to do was seize it.
For once, he wouldn't run. Not if there was even the slightest chance that this pair would be true to their words and let him join their party. Before, he had always felt that that opportunity would present itself. Only as he had lay dying had he realized that that opportunity was never going to come to those who waited. If he wanted to change, then he needed to seize the opportunity that was being presented to him. With a second chance at life, he was not willing to return to obscurity. Not even in a new city, not even with coins in his pocket.
He wanted to become an adventurer, to finally do something with his life.
So he endured.
“One,” Rowan began, slowly performing his first sit-up.
After sit-ups came squats, followed by running, lunges, and some horrible foreign exercise Tethis called ‘burpees’.
Collapsing on the ground, Rowan winced as muscles he hadn’t known existed made their presence known through a series of spasms and constant, burning pain.
Is this hell? Rowan wondered. Did I die after all, and this is the afterlife I was given? As Rowan considered this possibility, a whistling sound filled his ears. Rolling frantically to the side, he barely avoided the stick that had just slammed into the dirt where his head had been only a moment before.
“Never leave your weapon behind,” Tethis’ voice rang out from above him.
Weapon? Rowan thought frantically, doing his best to puzzle out the meaning behind Tethis’ words. She’d taken his knives hadn't she? Casting around, his eyes fell upon the stick that she had tossed him earlier, still lying in the dirt where he had left it. Dodging another of Tethis’ swings, Rowan threw himself toward the stick, wincing as his injured side skidded along the ground. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the stick, rising and facing Tethis with it as she approached.
Seeing his stance, Tethis snorted, swinging the long branch she held horizontally in an almost careless manner. Raising his stick, Rowan parried the blow, catching it just in front of his chest. Before he could celebrate this minor success, he was thrown backwards, a fresh pain in his throat telling him just where Tethis had caught him. Rolling over, Rowan coughed, hacking up a glob of phlegm as he attempted to relearn how to breathe.
How is this training? This is torture! Rowan thought indignantly.
“Don’t just watch after you block,” Tethis told him, standing over him with a bored expression. “Move out of the way or counterattack. Again.”
This is what it takes to be an adventurer. Begrudgingly standing up, Rowan grabbed his stick, facing Tethis once more. An hour later, every part of him was covered in bruises, the stick having been broken on three separate occasions by Tethis’ powerful strikes. The woman clearly had no concept of holding back or taking it easy. Every action she took was serious, as if the opponent she was facing was a veteran of many battles and not a recently deceased street thief.
“Come get breakfast!”
Darm’s voice saved Rowan, pulling Tethis away from her victim just as she was preparing for another strike.
“We’ll resume in the afternoon,” Tethis informed him matter-of-factly. “Make sure to keep your weapon with you.”
Staring at the branch in his hand with disgust, Rowan sighed, following Tethis toward the fire where Darm had prepared a delightful array of seared fish and fresh bitterleaf tea. Taking an appreciative sip from the mug he had been offered, Rowan felt some of the pains from his session with Tethis slipping away.
He had never had the opportunity to try tea before, it had always been out of reach for him. But he recognized the smell and could see why the noble shops always stocked so much of the stuff—it was delicious. Nursing the mug, he took a bite of the fish Darm had cooked, reveling in the taste. Despite being just an ordinary river trout, the fish had clearly been cooked with some sort of spices, creating an indescribable blend of flavor that Rowan eagerly devoured.
When his fork clanged against the plate, heralding the end of the food, Rowan looked at it with great sadness. The meal had been delicious, but it was also a reminder that this was not his world. The best Rowan could usually afford was some stale bread, rotten fruit, or if he was very lucky, a thin don’t-ask-what's-in-it meat stew.
Occasionally, he’d stolen better fare. But as much as he’d have liked to partake, good food without bite marks could be sold for decent copper. Rags didn’t last forever, knives dulled, and even a decent sleeping spot required a regular tithe to whatever gang considered it their territory. No, such delicious food was not meant for mere street rats.
Soon enough, Darm and Tethis would grow tired of him, and then he would be abandoned, forced to fend for himself once more.
Unless I can prove my worth to them. If I can make myself useful, then maybe they’ll keep me around, and I can continue to learn what it takes to be an adventurer.
Rowan nodded to himself; it was a good plan. The only problem was that there was very little he had to offer, especially to two accomplished adventurers such as these. He would just have to hope that his dedication could sway their hearts. And maybe he’d take over dish duty too. Rising to his feet, Rowan grabbed his plate and moved to take Darm’s. With an understanding smile, the halfling handed it over, nudging Tethis to do the same.
As Rowan set to scrubbing the dirty dishes, Darm stood up. “Right, let’s get this show back on the road. Karsolnia’s a good continent away, and if I get in the habit of wasting time, I might never shake it, so let’s go!”
Following Darm’s lead, Rowan helped pack up the campsite, bundling everything away into the carriage as they set off once more.
Thus began what would become Rowan’s routine for the next few weeks. In the morning, they would make camp, Darm cooking as Tethis tortured Rowan with tree branches and exercise. In the afternoon, they would stop for lunch, where Tethis would force Rowan to practice various martial forms, moving his body into various positions which resembled a slightly violent dance.
On the first day, she had attempted to get him to resume the morning exercises, but Darm had put a stop to that after Rowan had thrown up the contents of his breakfast all over the ground, telling Tethis that she was being too harsh with him. Afterwards, he had given Rowan a double serving of lunch. That had been an excellent day.
In the evening, they would set up camp, Rowan helping Darm to stable the packbeasts that pulled the carriage before Tethis inevitably pulled him away for more training. Fortunately, night was also when Darm would heal him, using various magics to soothe the many aches and pains that Rowan picked up throughout the day.
Had Darm not been there, Rowan imagined that his injuries would have been quite severe. The human body was not made to endure such grueling training. And while he was fit, Rowan had never been so consistently active during his days as a thief. It was a training regime that could only be achieved with the assistance of magic, a highly skilled instructor, and a trainee with a burning desire to become an adventurer.
