"Are you sure you're alright?"
I frown while I'm sitting in the corner of the tower platform, my back pressed against one of the railing's supports. This is the fifth time Thorpe has asked me that. The old man keeps glancing over at me every few minutes and it's starting to get on my nerves. But I'm trying my best not to show it. He has every reason to be worried.
Forcing my attention upward to meet his concerned gaze. "I'm fine. I already told you. The smell was getting to me, that's all." The obvious lie at least comes out a lot more confidently than the last three times. But it doesn't help that my first answer was 'I don't know'.
Thorpe of course can tell it's a lie. But I'm hoping he at least gets the point I'm trying to get across.
"Mr. Thorpe, I do believe young Miss Perro has made her status clear. How are our troops managing?" Lord Felix interjects while writing in a leather-bound journal. His words should put me a bit more at ease, but he doesn't look very convinced with my answer either. But at least he is giving me the courtesy of waiting to question me later. And I can tell it's taking a lot of restraint with the deep lines between his brows.
Thorpe keeps his eyes on me for a few seconds more before finally sighing and turning his attention back to the field. If the old man was only emotionally exhausted before, he is certainly physically exhausted now too. He looks almost sickly. Pale and gaunt, his hands trembling in a way I've never seen before.
Ugh. Now I'm getting worried about him.
Thorpe takes a moment to scan out across the field, the sounds of shouting and the screeches of a few Jackelopes echoing over to us. But nowhere near the amount we had been dealing with before. After Thorpe's insane attack, the horde of rabbit monsters scattered in all directions. Thankfully most of them went back into the forest, but a fair few still charged out towards us.
Old Guard rests his hands on the railing, his shoulders relaxing somewhat. "Good. Doesn't look like anyone else is wounded. They're just cleaning up stragglers now."
Ser Steppan moves up to the railing with Thorpe and lifts a brow. "In your professional opinion, where do you think most of them will end up?"
Thorpe gives a low hum in response. "Not sure. Depends on how many of the brood mothers got away from the Warren. Might take a while for them to regroup. Safest would be further west, north of the Ardennes. But that's just safest in comparison."
The [Knight] nods, reaching up to give the old man a light pat on the back. "You did well, old timer. There isn't much else we could have done."
The old man takes in a deep breath and holds it for a long moment before releasing. "I know. It just hurts to see all that hard work crumbling. Spent the first several years up here just culling the invasive predators and corralling some of the more docile ones closer to us." He scoffs. "Got rid of that Manticore just to free the Jackelopes up to breed more. Everything looking for meat would have plenty already. No reason to come anywhere near us."
His head lowers and hangs a bit loosely, nearly pressing his forehead to the railing. "I—I saved her from that thing. And now I just killed her." He mutters, his tone carrying quite the sorrow. But he picks his head back up with a sharp inhale. "Anyway. We'll wait for the stragglers to clear up, and then we'll go assess the body."
Steppan nods, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword at his side. "Let's just hope her honor guard scattered with the rest."
The two men continue to stare out past the wall, observing the light skirmishes coming to an end. Lord Felix is still off to the side writing in his booklet with a very fancy-looking pen. The nobleman's incredibly expressive brows telegraph his likely more than frustrated mood.
I pull my knees up against my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs to hug them closer. Feeling just as frustrated. An unsettling weight on my stomach. Something akin to fear. Because I know I have to check. And I know something changed on it. But unlike my stats increasing, I can already tell that whatever I just got is definitely not normal.
The words utter almost soundlessly under my breath. "May the blinded see…"
______________________________________
[[LEVEL-01]]
//Name: Liore Perro
//Age: 12
//Class: [Farmer] -> [Knight]
//Status: Healthy
[[STATS]]
//Strength: 2
//Dexterity: 3
//Intelligence: 3
//Perception: 3
//Stamina: 3
//Resilience: 3
//Magic: 2
[[PASSIVE]]
[Primeval Awareness] -> [Ears]
[Slayers Aspect]
[Favored]
[Battle Theory] -> [Sword Theory]
[Threat Detection]
[Mana Sense] = [Weak]
[Mana Storage] = [Minor]
[Secrets] = 1 Charge
[[SKILLS]]
[??????-??????]
[Leap Stride] + [Spring Kick]
[[CLASS QUESTS]]
[Plant A Seed]
______________________________________
My eyes widen as I scan the window, my heart beating ever louder in my eardrums.
If it were just the stat increases, both being pretty significant already, then I wouldn't be worried. But even with one of my hidden skills obviously being unlocked, there is more to be concerned about immediately.
My window is different.
I slowly move my hand forward to poke at the edges of the ethereal writing before me. The lines are usually neat and simple, a perfectly bordered rectangle. But now the edges look like they're becoming grainy, like they're deteriorating. And at the corners, multiple little angular lines are webbing out like cracks in glass.
It's unsettling.
I mean I've never seen anyone else's window before so it's hard to say if this might be normal or not. But something tells me this definitely isn't.
Finally peeling my eyes away from the strange defects in my window, I settle my attention on the most pressing issue. My new passive. One of the last two I got during the incident that was still hidden from me. And judging by the title and what preceded me getting it. It definitely has to be a weird one.
But with some brief apprehension, I press on the skill.
_________________________________________
[Primeval Awareness]: A blockage has been cleared. One or more of your senses has been opened to the Primeval world.
[Ears]: Your sense of hearing has been opened to the Primeval world. Your ears have been tuned to sounds and speech beyond average senses. You may now hear what is unheard.
_________________________________________
Oh yeah. That is definitely weird.
But I guess I already know what it can do. That voice I heard before was abundantly clear. And no one else seemed to hear it but me.
Was that actually the Den Mother?
My eyes travel upward toward the railing at that thought, just to lock eyes with Thorpe who must have been staring at me. His concerned expression tells me everything I need to know about what turmoil he must have seen on my own face for the past few minutes.
I grimace slightly at him and offer a passive wave of my hand. To which he sighs in response, shaking his head as he returns his attention outside.
My shoulders relax somewhat, looking back down at my window to read through the painfully vague description again. At least it doesn't sound bad. And I hate to feel uneasy about something that might be useful. So far all of my weird skills have been. But they also make me stick out a lot. And not in a way I ever wanted to. And it could even be dangerous in front of the wrong people.
But it's nothing to worry about right now. I'll fill Thorpe in later tonight when we're away from the others.
Although, I say that, the worry is still there. Because even just in my peripheral vision, I can see Lord Felix staring at me over his little booklet. Scribbling god knows what.
_____________________________________
The crunch of grass, snapping of twigs, and the clink of armor are about all I hear while we trek through the forest towards the den mother. The creak of the Meld's root floor accompanies every step. The two [Scouts] from Ethel's band are leading the pack. Barton and a woman whom I just learned a bit ago is named Wuinn. Trailing behind them is their mentor, Aaric, the group's Hascan [Ranger].
Myself, Thorpe, and Lord Felix are in the middle with Ethel and Steppan on either side of us. And four of our village [Guards] are taking up the rear.
It took about two hours to clear out the stragglers, take stock of the wounded, and secure the perimeter. And now the sun is starting to set.
Today has been a long day. I was supposed to be getting a little vacation, but so much has really piled onto us. It feels like we just can't catch a break.
A tap to my left shoulder draws my attention up to Ser Ethel, the sallet of her fluted helm lifted. Her handsome face marred with dirt, blood, and her own sweat, and yet she still has that warm smile across her lips. "I heard what happened. You gave that bastard a run for his money, yes?"
My cheeks warm at the compliment. I'm still not so sure I did that much to him. "I kicked him pretty good. Steppan did most of the work, though." I respond, scratching my cheek.
Steppan scoffs from the other side. "Don't be humble. I told you before, I probably would have lost if you hadn't mollywhopped the bloke through a wall first."
Ethel gives a low hum towards her secondary. "Was he truly that skilled?" She asks, sounding like it's more for confirmation than doubt.
The male [Knight] sharpens his brow and nods. "He was supremely skilled. If he had both of his weapons, I likely would have been wounded or worse. Every strike guided towards my joints and I doubt the mail would stop them if my shield didn't." He states honestly, without a shred of grace for his own capabilities. "A [Highwayman] through and through. And he was no simple clanner either. Judging by the ink I saw on him, he's definitely from the Salted Coast. Maybe even from the Sea of Savor itself."
Ser Ethel definitely doesn't look happy with that answer but can't do much but accept it. "He certainly can't be alone. Which means we might have a gaggle of blasted [Bandit] purebloods skulking around this whole area."
Thorpe clears his throat before butting in. "And we will discuss how to deal with them after we put this mess to bed. So zip it for now."
Lord Felix nods in approval, tilting his head up as if he's above the conversation. "Agreed. We shall acquaint one another with our respective knowledge over a grand dinner that I am proposing thusly." The portly nobleman states matter-of-factly before his shoulders slump and he sighs more honestly. "I think a bit of merriment would do us all very well."
''''Agreed'''' Everyone states in unison, including me.
The two scouts ahead of us slow to a halt, Barton raising his hand to signal us to stop as well. Far ahead of us, a collapse in the meld forest's root floor exposes true dirt beneath, forming a bowl-like crater. This one is dotted with pretty sizeable boulders from what I can see. But there are also some big silhouettes nearby that are hard to make out exactly what they are.
Barton gives a nod to his partner and Wuinn, whose cloak is coated in what could only be described as half of a bush, lowers to a crouch, and becomes almost indistinguishable from the local foliage. Of course, other than the fact that she's moving incredibly quickly away from us at a speed that makes my knees ache just thinking about it.
I almost ask what's going on but Thorpe cuts in with a hefty sigh. "Her guards are still with her. That's what I was afraid of."
Ethel's brows raise in astonishment. "Could she really have survived that?"
The fact that Thorpe doesn't immediately answer tells us everything we need to know. "She's a tough old gal. Pure white and not a dark spot on her. Can't even imagine how much tenure she's got." His tone comes out even sadder at that fact.
The [Ranger], Aaric, clicks his tongue without looking in our direction, his eyes gazing forward toward where the den mother should be. "Vah'yam. Likely centuries old then."
A cold chill runs down my spine at the foreign phrase. Tarfyr's face flashes through my mind. I bite my lip and try to fight back my curiosity. But it wins out by a wide margin. Moving myself forward next to the gruff [Ranger]. His long curly straw-blonde hair is tied up in a loose bun. His armor is the lightest of Ethel's group so far. Wearing just a tunic, trousers, boots, and a leather jerkin. His arms from his shoulders are almost entirely bare save for some archer's bracers. The hide of which looks well beaten by years of whips from a bowstring. A gray fur cloak hangs loosely down his back and his finely shaped bow is looped over his midsection by its string.
It takes a moment for me to draw up the courage to speak up, feeling rather intimidated by the imposingly tall figure radiating an animalistic energy. "Um. Excuse me, Mr. Arric?"
The [Ranger] shifts his eyes to me first before his head follows. My blood runs cold momentarily as I notice that his pupils are slitted much like a cat's. But they seem to dilate again as they fix onto me.
His brow raises. "Yes, Miss Liore?" His accent is much lighter than Tarfyr's was but the roll of the R's is unmistakable.
My lips press tight for a moment before I can psych myself up enough to ask. "Uh, silly question. Just curious. I've met another Hascan before named Tarfyr. And he also said 'Vah'yam'. I've been wondering what it means?"
The [Ranger] cracks a small smile. "Not a silly question at all. Vah'yam means 'praise her' or 'bless her'. It's in reverence to the saintess of beasts." He answers calmly. "It is a common phrase on the Beast Isles."
The weight on my mind lifts and my curiosity drives me ever forward. "Oh! So do Hascans—worship her?"
Arric lifts his hand to tilt it back and forth. "Yes and no. Worship might be a strong word. And the saintess herself dislikes it." The [Ranger] chuckles and shakes his head. "But as much as she dislikes it, it cannot be unsaid that she is the reason we Hascan's are set apart from the rest of the Grand. She connected us with nature. Blessed us with the Beast-type classes and words of the mother tongue so that we can pay our respects."
My brows knit together at the explanation, my mouth opening to ask more but Ser Ethel clears her throat. "Arric. Be careful of what you say. You are skirting close to heresy again, and in front of nobility as well. Don't fill the poor girl's head with hearsay." The [Knight] barks sternly, her eyes glancing towards Lord Felix rather nervously.
The Hascan frowns slightly but shrugs. "Aye, Captain."
The nobleman though seems rather unbothered by the exchange and perhaps just as curious as I am. But does at least give a light nod. "Yes, perhaps we should avoid confusing young Liore with the 'unique' Hascan culture." He muses before tilting his head down slightly. "Just as well, our friendly shrubbery is returning."
All of our attention turns forward to see Wuinn appearing from the ground, raising to a full stand as the cloak of leaves and twigs flattens out down her back like quills on a porcupine.
She approaches with a decent bit of sweat on her forehead, which she clears off with the back of her arm. Taking a full breath like she had been holding it. "All five of the bucks are still there. Standing like statues, they are. But she hasn't moved. And if she's still breathing I certainly couldn't tell. She's as still as can be. The damage the spear caused—well, you'll see."
Ethel sucks in a breath and looks over to the nobleman. "I think you should stay here, my lord."
Steppan grunts as he folds his arms over his chest. "He should have stayed at the village when we told him to."
The nobleman gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "I refuse to be kept sequestered. We have plenty of highly capable people here, so I thought it prudent to see what we face firsthand. But I shall keep myself well distanced."
Ethel sighs heavily. "My lord, these bucks are strong enough to make drakes think twice. If we're fighting them, I need Steppan with us. You'll just be a liability, no offense."
Lord Felix huffs through his nose and strikes her with a hard stare. "No offense meant, then none taken. You forget, I am not some hapless babe. I am nobility, I can very well defend myself if needs must." He states in a tone that radiates confidence despite his stature and portly shape.
Ser Ethel growls under her breath, looking as though she might be at her wits' end already with her charges' behavior. "Regardless, I refuse to leave you undefended—"
"Ethel—it's fine." Thorpe cuts in, placing a hand on her pauldron before turning his attention to me. "Liore, stick to Lord Felix like glue. Nothing gets near him. If it comes down to a fight, just keep him on the fringes, and if things get too dicey you have my permission to drag him."
My eyes widen at that and Lord Felix purses his lips a little in agitation. "Oh, okay. I'll protect him." I answer, standing myself up straighter.
Ethel still doesn't look too pleased, her teeth gritting. "I don't know if she would be sufficient…"
Thorpe lifts his hand to stop her. "We are dealing with monsters that are as big as a carriage and can go from 0-100 in a millisecond. We need all of our focus forward. With Liore's [Threat Detection] skill, if one of them even flinches in her direction, she'll know about it."
The [Knight] exhales through her nose, staring hard at Thorpe who looks back very assuredly. Her eyes then trail down to me with a loft of her brow. To which I answer with an apologetic smile and a thumbs up.
Ethel's head tilts back to let a groan out into the air. "FINE! I am trusting you with this, old man. Don't make me regret it."
Thorpe chuckles, giving her a wry smirk. "If there is anything in this world I am most confident in—it's her."
My lips form a thin line as my cheeks burn.
Thorpe…
Please don't.