Chapter 27 - Adrift (Patreon)

“Thank you for the dinner, Mother,” Zamira said. “It was most excellent.”

Her Mother nodded in return, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. Father went on about how it was the tastiest meal he’d had in months, which would have had more impact if he didn’t say that every week at every dinner, but Mother soaked in the praise and smiled a little bit wider.

“Ah, Zamira, a question for you,” her Father suddenly said. “Are you well? You’ve been more quiet than usual. I understand that the Village defense is soon, and that must be weighing on your mind, but is anything else amiss? You can always open up to us, if it would help. We’ll be in your corner no matter what.” Her Mother said nothing, but Zamira didn’t miss how she was glancing back at their conversation out of the corner of her eye.

I’m regretting my decision to become a Ranger, Zamira thought. And should we repel the Infected and survive the battle, I’m considering changing my class to Swordmaster and starting anew, consequences be damned.

“Not to worry,” Zamira said. “I’m tired, is all. Will have to turn in soon and hope that the gates of dreamland welcome me in earlier than usual.”

Working up the courage to be honest with her family was turning out to be more difficult than anticipated. She’d thought that after her heart-to-heart with Keira, being honest with her parents would come about as a matter of course, but one act of bravery did not so easily lead to another.

“Are you sure?” Her Father looked at her with naked concern. “Have your friends been unfair to you? Is it cramps, perhaps?”

Her Mother’s shoulders shivered with suppressed laughter. Zamira raised her eyebrows by a hair. “Father, with lines like that, it’s a wonder that you ever managed to woo Mother.”

“I’m well aware, but that doesn’t change my worry for you.”

A bit of the tension in Zamira’s gut uncoiled. She still wasn’t ready to confide in them, not just yet, but she knew that when the time came for her to bare her secrets, they would be there to offer comforting words and helping hands. As they always had.

--

“Nice day outside, isn’t it?” Tarric said. “How have you been? How about those Infected? Um...nice day outside, isn’t it?”

The wall of his room stared back in disappointment.

Tarric scratched his head and groaned. How the hell do people manage to pull this off? His thoughts were tinged with frustration. Just...walk up and start talking about the most inane things and make it sound like an actual conversation? Make jokes that come close to the line of being offensive without ever crossing it? What secret ingredient am I missing?

His solo practice sessions to improve his social skills had not been nearly as fruitful as his combat training. Most of the time he was able to endure the consequences he reaped from letting his mouth move faster than his mind, but as of late, he was starting to get sick of it. While he might never be the best of friends with the others, it would be nice to be able to feel like someone other than Vul’to welcomed his presence, rather than tolerated it.

He didn’t have high hopes for that. The next time they all met, he would say something grating again, and the round of disappointed stares would poke at his self-esteem. Same old, same old.

Well, in the end, there was nothing he could do except practice more and hope for the best. No matter how embarrassing that practice was.

He cleared his throat and put on his most amiable tone. “You’re looking spry today. Sleep well? Hunt any good animals recently?...Gods, give me strength...”

--

Again.

Alia took a Deep Breath and returned to her starting position. She immersed herself in quiet. The ranger trainee sparring grounds were empty outside of her, the dual-swords in her hands, and the sun starting to crest below the horizon. It suited her purposes perfectly; this was a type of training that worked best without the barest hint of a distraction to break her concentration.

She closed her eyes, cleared her mind, and transported herself away from the Village and back into the Dungeon. A battle was raging. Keira was trying to cripple one of the Bestial Chimera’s legs to hamstring its mobility, but the tyrant’s absurd strength allowed it to bat away her greatsword like it was a stick. Alia and the other trainees were keeping the second Chimera at bay, but their swords and arrows were doing little more than annoying the monster. They were rangers in an enclosed environment with no cover and little room to maneuver, and Keira was fighting something physically stronger than herself for the first time in who knows how long. It was a disadvantaged fight on both fronts, and out of fucking nowhere, giant spiders had just started to climb up from underneath the holes in the floor.

One more Deep Breath put Alia back to full Stamina. She visualized the scene with as much clarity as she could, inserted herself in the moment, and asked herself the same question she’d asked hundreds of times since.

What should I do?

Alia swung at an imaginary enemy, dodging its attack with catlike grace and carving it into neatly-cut ribbons that crumpled to the Dungeon floor. Not good enough, she thought. In her mind’s eye, she was too slow to stop a second and third enemy from ganging up on Zamira, too slow to warn Tarric as the Chimera took advantage of his distraction, too slow to stop Vul’to from taking the hit meant for Tarric…

She returned to the starting position, and began anew.

Again.

Alia played the scenario out in her head for the umpteenth time, pushing her mind and muscles to the limit. Every time she thought of a tiny little advantage she could have given herself, she honed in the idea and put it into practice over and over until the difference had been carved into her muscle memory. And then, when the hypothetical situation inevitably went to shit, she took everything from the top.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Dual-Wielding Level Increased! 7 → 8

Alia’s eyes snapped open. By now the sun had long since sunk below the horizon; what little light there was that still illuminated the training grounds came from Light Orbs dotted around the perimeter. Alia reread the system message in muted disbelief before dismissing it and sheathing her swords.

Dual-Wielding Level 8. It was, in every respect, a monumental achievement. Her Dexterity still only met the Prerequisite for Dual-Wielding Level 4; to get all the way up to Level 8 despite that barrier was a testament to her dedication. It represented years and years of forging herself into the best Ranger she could possibly be. She doubted that anyone else in the Village – except for the Human, who didn’t count – below the age of 200 had broken a Prerequisite to that degree.

A week ago, she would have been overcome with self-congratulations and fawned over the system message for the next few days. Bragging to the other trainees may have been involved. Now, however…

Alia thought back to the Dungeon Crawl. What had she done, really? Kill Baby Spiders that any half-wit with a rock and a sling could have? Cut into the second Bestial Chimera’s neck before being tossed on her ass like a fool? The real bulk of the work had been performed by Keira, the Human, and somehow Orn’tol. She could accept the first two outperforming her, in the sense that she was an apple being compared to their bullshit-flavored orange, but Orn’tol? The boy had only been a ranger trainee for two years and had already mustered up the nerve to wade into danger with the poise of a war veteran. She had personally seen him stand his ground as he let the Bestial Chimera get close enough that he wouldn’t miss the two arrows fired straight through the beast’s fucking eyes. It was the shot of his life, but Alia knew, without bluster, that she could have done the same had she put herself in that position. Which she hadn’t. How much differently would the fight had gone if she’d taken greater risks?

Reasonably speaking, she knew that she was being too hard on herself. That particular Dungeon would never have been tackled by the trainees if Riardin had any inkling of how truly aberrant it was. Keira had held up because she was at a suitable Level for the task and the Human’s biggest contribution had been a Rare Skill that, according to him, was powered by ‘crippling fear’, whatever the hells that was supposed to mean. Orn’tol...had stepped up. No getting around that. But for her part, she’d done as well as could be expected. Didn’t drop, got the people who did drop over to the safety of the tower, kept the Spiders at bay until help arrived. Wasn’t that enough?

Alia barked out a harsh laugh. No, of course it wasn’t enough. She prided herself on being the most Skilled of the trainees – more Skilled than some of the full-fledged Rangers, even. Were she and Keira at the same Level, Alia knew that she would win in a fight where stat disparity wasn’t a factor. She’d spent the better part of two decades watching the Warrior go off looking for trouble in Ixatan, and rolled her eyes every time, wondering if this would be the day where the firebrand finally got herself killed picking fights instead of improving herself with training and taking the slow-but-steady path to power. Alia had always been so sure that the gap between their Levels would eventually close, and when that day arrived, she would show the fruits of her dedication. Because no one in the Village was as dedicated as her.

Had she been going about it the wrong the entire time? Instead of training day and night, should she have gone out with Keira to slay monsters in deep Ixatan like some sort of bloodthirsty animal? The future wouldn’t wait for her to take the slow-and-steady path anymore. A reckoning was upon them all, and she wasn’t strong enough to make a difference in its outcome. Not a major one. That honor would go to the Rangers, and Keira, and at this rate, the Human.

Maybe that was my mistake, she thought, with a sneer. Not being born Human. The fucker’s already got higher total stats than any one of us, Keira aside, and for all I know he’s got Swordsmanship Level 12 or some bullshit and just hasn’t told anyone. If only it were so easy for the rest of us.

Her righteous fury petered out all too quickly. No, while the Human was cheating, he was still putting in an...adequate amount of effort in training, and he never lorded Fast Learner over them. Considering how shameful she’d acted when he’d suggested using the Amulet to share Fast Learner with them, there was a limit to how angry she could be at his inborn advantage without sinking into total hypocrisy. Which only made things harder. One less acceptable target to vent these feelings on.

“Fuck,” she sighed. “I just don’t know what else I could have done.” The more she went over the scenario in her head, the more she confirmed to herself that – outside of enacting a suicidal last-ditch effort like Orn’tol had – there wasn’t much she could have done differently in the Crawl. Which was actually worse than simply making a mistake. It meant that she hadn’t prepared for the Crawl as effectively as she could have or should have. Years of training and effort that weren’t wasted, per se, but were fundamentally flawed in their execution.

Years that had been given to her. Years that her mother, and father, and siblings would never have.

She knew she was being hard on herself. But she had to be. There was no one else left to be hard on her, to give her the kick in the pants one needed to achieve their goals if they ever lost motivation. And if she wasn’t putting her absolute 100% into her life, and squeezing the most out of every second of every day...

Then why was she still here, when they were not?

Approaching footsteps jolted her out of her thoughts. Alia turned to identify the source, and when she did, groaned loudly. Fate, you are a cruel and petty bitch, I swear…

“Who’s there?” The Human asked, a little concerned.

“Are you blind as well as dumb?” Alia answered.

He frowned and scratched the top of his ridiculously-colored hair. “So it’s Alia, then. I would recognize that catty inflection from a thousand paces. And in case you forgot, I don’t have magic Elf eyes that come with built-in nightvision. You – look, nevermind. I’m just here to let off some steam. That’s all.”

“Fine. As luck would have it, I finished my exercises not long ago. I’ll be taking my leave; the training grounds are yours.”

The Human waved lazily at her and hefted his training sword. Despite herself, Alia delayed her departure and observed the Human train. If you could call it that. He seemed to be practicing some imagined fighting form, at least superficially, but for the most part swung his sword haphazardly and with the grace of an ogre, content to expend energy for the sake of expending energy.

She told him as much.

“That’s about right,” he replied, sullen. “Couldn’t sleep. Want to get tired so I can sleep.”

That was all he said in return. It left Alia with a bitter aftertaste. Where was his biting retort? It was one thing to trade barbs with someone who had enough of a spine to bite back. This just felt...unbecoming, of her.

And by Lothren’s grace, why did he look so damn sad?! He’d been the big hero of the Dungeon Crawl, the Merfolk hadn’t discovered him, and he had built up enough good graces among the Village that elves were apologizing to a Human. He had no right to look so downtrodden, so…

...lonely.

Alia ground her teeth together. Clearly, this was a person who needed someone to be hard on him.

“I’ve seen enough,” she spat, striding over to the Human. “You’ve made enough of a mockery of the training grounds. Ready yourself: we spar. Take your place and ready your blade.”

The Human sighed. “Do I get a say in this?”

“After watching your lousy attempts at solo practice? No.” Alia narrowed her eyes. “And space out your feet by another inch. They’re too close together; it’ll make it more difficult to lunge or leap at the right moment. And relax your shoulders and thighs, much for the same reason. Your mobility will be stunted if your muscles are always so tightly-wound. You flex when you need to, and only then. And also...”

–

Vul’to gazed up at the moon, calming and beautiful, and smiled. The upcoming battle was weighing heavily on his mind, but taking time to wind down was important. No one could fight at their best with constrictive anxiety chaining down their arms and legs. Finding peace and comfort in the smallest of things is what would keep a ranger going through the toughest of times.

He closed his eyes and basked in the moonlight. Hopefully, the others were having as pleasant a night as he was.