Chapter 184: Outlaws (Patreon)

The increasingly crimson light of season’s cracked face bathed the old stone fortress in an ominous ambiance, the mostly crumbled fortifications were still blanketed with the evening's rainfall, and the old and abandoned structure shimmered as if soaked in the blood of an ancient battle. An owl watched Leif from the peak of a half destroyed tower, occasionally flying away on silent wings, only to return minutes later with still wriggling prey in its sharpened beak. 

The derelict fortress was heavy with an intangible sense of history, it lingered on every fallen stone and seeped out of every crack. From what Leif could tell of the location, what his esoteric senses told him of its past, the fort had once been a border outpost, guarding against incursions by a rival nation. But the building was in the centre of an imperial province, and whatever country it had once belonged to was long gone, likely forgotten to time. 

Leif sighed and leaned back against the cracked wall, bits and pieces of white wood lay sprawled out before him, loosely grouped according to their shape and purpose. His current project was creating armour, he had already created and been wearing a breastplate, pauldrons, greaves and the like, but he wanted to combine them into a large, more complete suit. Leif wasn’t an armourer, and without a model to base his creation on it was like trying to finish a complex puzzle while blind. He could effortlessly shape the individual pieces however he wished, but putting them all together in a manner he was pleased with was beyond his skillset. 

Segments would get caught on one another, joints would lock up, and the method by which he was holding everything together couldn’t hold up to the strain of even a basic test, the whole suit falling apart within minutes. He needed a template to work on, that or more time to create and plan a proper blueprint for his project. It didn’t help that his storage ring was full, and carrying around an incomplete suit of armour wasn’t the most convenient of prospects. Leif had melted down his progress every morning, and reassembled it in the evening. It was inefficient, but it didn’t take too much time. Besides, he was getting better at shaping fine, intricate details with [Wood Manipulation], so the practice was helping regardless of his lack of actual progress. 

In an adjoining courtyard that had once been separated by a stone wall, now a pile of loosely strewn about rubble, Lucia practised her swordplay. A shimmering amber clone of the girl performed an echo of the same movements, and she used it like a mirror to see what she was doing well, and doing wrong. She performed a set of thrusts, swipes, parries and steps against an invisible, imaginary opponent, then she called for Leif to swap the projection to what she had just done. 

He waved a hand, mostly for show, shifting the replay of the past with little effort. Focused on such a small area, and targeting only a single moving part, Leif could maintain [Sympathy from Experience] for hours, and keeping the skill active took little direct focus on his part. Lucia was otherwise silent as she trained, her brow knit in concentration as she repeated what Hera had taught her back in the Academy over and over again. Eventually she wobbled over to where he was working, planting the tip of her wooden sword into the ground and leaning against what was once a stone support pillar for balance. 

“You’re getting better.” Leif said, not looking up. 

“Thanks. I still need to figure out the end of the form, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Is your comprehension skill aiding you, or telling you to do something else?”

“I think it's a bit of both. I’ll figure it out soon though, probably. How’s the armour thing coming along?”

“Less successfully than I’d hoped, but I know what's holding me back from making progress.” He explained. “I attended a lecture back at the Academy about the theory behind layered defences like armour. Most people, adventurers and the like, don’t wear the stuff, and for good reason. The armour can restrict movement and weigh down the wearer, but the real reason why so many choose to forgo the protection it offers is that the armour can interfere with skill use.”

“I remember most of the soldiers in Pherin used to wear armour.” Lucia said, taking a swig of water. 

“Yes, well. Most soldiers aren’t at an overly high level, and their skills are fairly simple because of that. Even then you’ll rarely see someone in more than a chain shirt or a breastplate like I have here.” Leif said, nodding to where the wooden section of armour in question lay. “Proper armour, full plate and other heavy variations are far rarer. I knew a guy in Ahle-ho who could conjure heavy armour, but he had a class dedicated to metal magic.”

“So it's not worth it? Are you going to give up?” 

“No, it is worth it, assuming you can overcome the downsides. Proper armour can grant a massive survivability increase to the wearer, but again, the problem is that it can interfere with skill use. You need armour that’s properly aspected to the powerset of the user, fire infused metal, water aspected scales and so on. But even then there can be issues, but the solution is to enchant the armour and then have the wearer attune to it, that way you can ignore most of the compatibility issues.”

“But attuning to an item takes up a skill slot.” Lucia said.

“That, and the cost of properly made armour is too much for the average person to even dream of affording. There’s an opportunity cost, and most people don’t want to pay it. Or perhaps they can’t. Either way, with the materials I’m using there shouldn’t be any of the normal issues, I’m physically strong enough that the weight won’t be a problem, and it shouldn’t interfere with my skills because, well, it’s made from one of my skills. Obviously I won’t be able to enchant it, but in theory I won’t need to. The problem is that I’m not skilled enough to make the damn thing.”

Lucia yawned, then shook her head as if to clear it.

“Tired?” He asked.

“Mhmm, but I’m not done yet. I’m just taking a break.”

“Make sure you pace yourself.” Leif warned.

“That’s why I’m taking a break.” She pouted. “Hey, is that one of your compressed orbs? Can I see how it works?”

Leif called the sphere of gilded wood in question into his hand with more than a little effort. It was dense and heavy, practically vibrating with potential energy. “Sure, we can test it together. These things were scarily potent with just normal wood, and with the unique properties of the material I can do some interesting things.”

He stood, empowering his [Might] to ease the burden of carrying the condensed sphere. If he didn’t have his spatial ring, travelling with such weapons would not be practical. The orb hummed, the golden cracks crisscrossing its ivory surface gleaming as he fed a trickle of vitality into it. Leif and Lucia exited the fort by climbing over the remains of what had once been a gatehouse, then the scion set the orb’s state, and prepared to throw it. 

The trick to making the detonation as potent as possible was a sudden influx of vitality that made the hundreds of twisted knots within the sphere all try to grow simultaneously, the resulting violent expansion dealing a massive amount of blunt force damage to anything unfortunate enough to be caught in its radius. [Surge of Life and Growth] aided in this process by directly influencing whatever he healed with the skill to grow. 

Leif activated the skill in question, and the orb flashed gold. His will clamped down, preventing the expansion to come as he twisted back and threw the now vigorously vibrating sphere into the night. It flew five, ten, then fifteen metres, the further away it got the less influence Leif had over its structure, then It detonated with a sudden crack and a brilliant flash of golden light. Spasming branches lashed out in every direction, surging outwards with more force than they ever had before. A twisting and uncoiling limb of wood smashed into the ground, kicking up a massive pillar of dirt and loose chunks of grass, only to alter its course and surge upwards with blinding speed, right towards where Leif and Lucia were watching.

Leif cursed and grabbed Lucia, pulling her away and down. She cried out but the sound was overshadowed by the crash of growing wood shattering the golden shield Leif conjured to protect them both. A sharp and heavy impact to Leif’s back sent them tumbling into the old fort. Leif landed hard in a pile of rubble and rolled to his feet, reaching out with [Wood Manipulation] to seize the wildly flailing branch and hold it in place. He mentally wrestled with it as it writhed in chaotic patterns, with every second the twisting wood lost a little bit of energy, and he gained more ground. Finally, though in reality the process had taken less than a breath, it froze, quivering with unspent energy an inch from the right eye socket of his mask. Out in the darkness beyond the fort the world was ripped to pieces, the constant sounds of violent crunches and earth trembling impacts resounding for another ten seconds, then everything went still and silent.

“Gods.” Lucia said after several seconds had passed. “That was close.”

“A fair bit more than I expected.” Leif said, releasing his hold on the branch as the vitality causing it to grow and expand faded away. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Just… just shocked I guess.” She groaned, picking herself up off the ground, dust and stones falling out of her hair and clothes as she shook herself clean. 

Leif brushed himself off, his eyes never leaving the branch before him. The test hadn’t gone to plan, but if his assumptions were correct about what would happen next… 

The branch drew back, slowly twisting and snaking in the exact reverse of the path it had taken while growing. It shrunk, gradually at first, then picking up speed. Leif followed it up out of the fort, and watched in awe as hundreds of branches flowed back together from where they had torn up the land, shrinking back down, gathering together and then folding and knotting themselves into the same pattern they had been in prior to the detonation of wood. Within less than two minutes, a glowing sphere of ivory wood was laying in a crater of its own creation. 

“Wow.” Lucia said as she stared, wide eyed, down at the orb. 

“It’s both good and bad.” Leif said, crossing his arms. “Good in the sense that this massively reduces the upkeep on the technique. Bad in that I can’t control the expansion if the wood moves that quickly and with that much force. Also bad, somewhat, is that if I want to create difficult terrain for opponents to navigate through, this type of orb isn’t able to do that for very long.” He paused considering. “Though I guess I would just need to remove the lock placed on the bomb with my skill prior to throwing it.” 

“How many of these can you carry around?”

“Including that one, I have two more in my spatial ring.” 

“Of course you do.” She huffed, stomping back into the fort. 

“What?” Leif asked, somewhat confused.

“I’m going to train more.” 

“I’m not sure you should be comparing your abilities to what I can do.” 

“So what if I am?” She called over her shoulder. “I want to get stronger, so I’m going to train.”

Leif shook his head as he watched her go. He wouldn’t discourage ambition, but the girl had a habit of not realising when she had hit her limit, he would need to make sure she didn’t train to the point she fell asleep while standing. It likely didn’t help that he was a bad influence himself, not needing to rest anywhere near what a normal person would. Leif glanced down to where the glowing orb still lay in its crater. In the dark of night, it was hard to make out just how much destruction it had wrought, but he supposed he would see in the morning.

===

Not ten minutes later Leif’s plans for the night were ruined. He spotted torchlight coming over a nearby hill, a snaking column and around twenty flickering flames heading in the direction of the fort. He peered into the night, trying to make out who was approaching. It was futile, he couldn’t tell, though he could make some guesses. It could be a band of soldiers, hopefully imperial, but they could potentially be from the republic. This far inland it was unlikely, but he wouldn’t dismiss the possibility out of hand. What was more likely however was that they were a band of refugees. Another possibility was adventurers, some sort of expedition sent by a local noble house for one reason or another. 

He reached out with his aura and telepathically told Lucia of the approaching group, and to find somewhere to hide in case they were a threat. She didn’t reply, but she did scamper off into one of the destroyed towers. Leif dismissed the projection she had been using to practise her swordsmanship, and the fort plunged into total darkness, even the faint red light from season was blocked by passing clouds. 

The group of approaching torches slowed, then stopped once they were within three hundred metres from the fort. A single flame continued forward at a steady pace, but Leif was cognisant that there could be more coming his way, it wasn’t as if perception skills that improved one’s eyesight enough to see more clearly in darkness were particularly rare. As the lone torch drew closer, the clouds parted overhead, and Leif could make out the stocky figure of a lone man ascending the hill leading up to the fort. 

“Who are you?” Leif called down to him, and the man froze, his hand lowering to the blade at his side. 

“I am Kurt, a traveller, and those with me are refugees fleeing the conflict raging to the west. Are you the source of the flash of golden light? We saw it from afar and came to take a look.” He replied, his voice a deep baritone, and his accent was sharp, but nothing Leif recognised. 

Likely not from the republic. He thought, willing vitality to gather in his upraised hand, his fingers emitting an amber glow. The man, Kurt, shifted as he saw Leif, but didn’t otherwise react. He had the rippling musculature of a seasoned warrior, and from the scars the torchlight revealed running along his forearms, no stranger to combat. 

“Forgive my caution, but you don’t look like a refugee.”

Kurt inclined his head as if acknowledging the point. “That is because, personally, I am not. But my charges most certainly are. My profession is what one might call a sellsword, or perhaps a mercenary. I, and some of my companions have been hired to escort a group east.” He shrugged. “And you? Who might you be?”

“An adventurer travelling north, likewise trying to avoid the war.” Leif said. “How many do you travel with?”

“Our group is over thirty, though four are my people. You?”

“Me and one other.”

There was a stretch of silence as they both analysed one another, both using skills to determine more information about the other, and both receiving nothing as their auras deflected the testing probe. The impression Leif got from the man was that of a cold, still campfire, though one who’s coals could return to life at any moment. There was a quiet strength to Kurt, and if his appearance hadn’t given it away, his aura had the sharpness of one who had fought, and survived, a multitude of battles. 

“Well. if you were seeking the source of the light, you found me. I was testing an application of a skill.” Leif said.

“I see. That is… good to hear. Our group was just about to make camp when we saw your display. It wouldn’t have done to have settled in for the night with a potential threat lurking around.”

“Well, me and my companion don’t have any supplies we could share, but you’re more than welcome to join us for the night.” Leif said. “Assuming there’s no trouble.”

“No trouble. You have my word, friend. Some of the refugees are cranky, but that isn’t due to a lack of supplies. We haven't been on the road long enough for any to become sick, though several are on the younger and older side of life.” 

“The fort is safer than out in the open, especially with the nearby forest. I won’t turn away those in need. You can bring them here.” 

Kurt nodded, then turned, waving his torch in slow circling motions. A distant torch returned the signal, and a minute later the group was on the move, slowly trekking the final stretch to the fort. The sellsword relaxed his posture, then closed the distance between himself and Leif with confident steps. As he drew closer, Leif noticed the grey complexion of the man’s skin, then the strange way his cheekbones jutted outwards. 

The man clearly noticed Leif’s gaze, because he smiled and spread his free hand. “Nothing against my kind, I hope?” 

“You’re a demikin?”

“Yes.”

“No, I have nothing against your kind. Some of my closest friends are of more exotic ancestry.”

The man huffed, working his jaw, then held out a hand. Leif took it, and they shook. Kurt squeezed more than was strictly polite, but Leif’s grip wasn’t lacking for strength or rigidity. His eyes widened, then the sellsword grinned. “Good to see you’re not one of those slack wristed adventurer types. Though I suppose if you’re out here on your own it's to be expected.”

“Got something against adventurers?”

Kurt shrugged one shoulder as he drew back his hand, he glanced back the way he had come, responding as he did so. “Far from me to overgeneralise a group, but I have my… issues with the larger institutions and those they work for. Not too fond of those like me, you understand?” 

“So you became a sellsword instead?”

“Aye, similar work, less consistent pay, less oversight. Not the life I necessarily would have chosen, but it's not the worst. How about yourself? I don’t think I recognise that style of clothing, and masks aren’t overly fashionable around here outside of festivals.”

“I joined a guild in Ahle-ho, a city to the north west. They have a branch in the empire. Well, the war started and I’m trying to get back to my family.” Leif said, technically not lying, but stretching the truth with how vague he was being.

“Ahle-ho? That’s one of the free cities, isn’t it? You’ve come far to find yourself in the middle of nowhere.” 

“It’s been a unique journey, I’ll give you that.” 

The group of refugees had reached the base of the hill and were beginning to climb. Leif sensed Lucia slinking along the wall, out of sight of Kurt. She materialised at his shoulder a moment later, the torchlight dispelling the effects of her [Fade] skill. 

“Hi.” She said somewhat stiffly. 

Kurt raised an eyebrow, then dipped his head in greeting. “Young lady, I would like to thank your… companion here for accepting me and my group for the night. I am Kurt, a hired guard.”

“Lucia. Uh, good to meet you I guess.”

“Are you two family?” Kurt asked, his eyes lingering on Lucia’s sheathed blade. 

“Not related, no.” Leif said. “But we share a common goal and destination.”

“I see.” The man said. 

The sound of murmured chatter reached Leif’s ear as the group of over thirty finally arrived at the fort. They were indeed a tired looking collection of humans, their ages spanning from younger than Lucia, to needing a cane to hobble along. Among them were a handful of armed figures, and as the refugees climbed into the fort, one such person detached from the larger group, gracefully stepping over to Kurt’s side.

“Well well, what do we have here? Two generous souls?” 

It was a tall woman with a darker complexion than the refugees she guarded. Her sharp eyes gleamed, the smirk stretching her lips playful, almost mocking. She leaned against Kurt, and the man in turn wrapped an arm around her bare waist, pulling her closer. She was slender, with several notable tattoos and piercings of various colours and designs. From what Leif could tell, she looked fully human, though as demikin bloodlines diffused over generations it could be hard to tell the difference. 

“This is Maline, my partner in crime, so to speak.” The demikin said, earning an amused tutter from Maline. “She’s the love of my life, but don’t tell her I said that, she’s incorrigible.”

“What happened to your arm?” Lucia said, and Leif winced at the blunt question. He had noticed the woman’s… lack of a right arm, but he had the tact not to immediately ask. 

“Aren’t you a cute little thing?” Maline asked, leaning forward with a sly grin. “Hmm, I suppose a story wouldn’t hurt.This little nub was a reward for a job done quietly, subtly, and without detection. Alas, my employers were fools and gave away the game, probably due to a guilty conscience. I couldn’t evade the law forever, and when they caught me, they figured a light maiming was in order. To make me worse at my job, you see.”

Lucia’s eyes grew wider and wider as Maline talked, and Leif sensed the regret bubbling inside her at having asked. Maline, for her part, didn’t seem offended. In fact, she seemed to relish the look of increasing discomfort on the girl’s face. 

“Don’t worry. In the end everything worked out fine. I left the city alive when my employers did not. I met a charming family man to call my own, and the all powerful system even threw me a bone to help out with my… disability.”

As if in demonstration, green energy swirled from the stump at her side, it was noxious and gave off a sharp impression of deadly corrosion. The toxic smoke stretched behind Kurt’s back, and a hand tipped with sharpened, oozing claws, materialised over his shoulder, snaking downward to rest against his upper chest. The demikin didn’t so much as flinch as a faint sizzling sound came from where Maline’s conjured fingers met his skin. 

“You’re scaring our hosts, dear.” Kurt chided. 

“Don’t worry, I only use my power on bad men.” She demurred huskily.

“Uh, okay.” Lucia said, taking a careful step back and behind Leif. “I believe you.”

Leif silently watched the display, though in truth his attention was more focused on the reaction of the refugees. They were tired and weary, but when Maline showed off her ability, Leif sensed a rising amount of disgust, wariness and even fear. It was noticeable, but he didn’t think it indicated a larger problem, nor an outright cause for concern. 

“Should we prepare a fire, boss?” A younger man shouted from within the fort’s main courtyard. “Or is it too late for us to bother?”

“We’ll make full camp.” Kurt called back, detaching himself from Maline’s embrace. “Find a spot if you would, then I’ll light this place up.” 

“Sure thing boss, give us a few minutes.” The other mercenary said, jogging over to a fourth person who was already helping to clear away space by shifting rubble with some sort of skill. 

“Assuming that’s okay with you, of course.” Kurt said to Leif. 

“It’s not my old pile of rubble, you can do what you like.” 

“Good man.” The sellsword said, clapping the scion on the shoulder. The man paused briefly, then continued on, Maline trailing close behind after giving her hosts a wink and a blown kiss. 

Tired refugees were gathering in small groups, unpacking their carried belongings and trying to make themselves comfortable. Leif saw a middle aged woman trying to round up her two younger children who seemed more interested in exploring their new environment than staying still. An elderly couple were glancing wearily around them, seemingly less than keen to be staying in the fort for the night. 

“You couldn’t find somewhere a little less derelict? Goblins and other foul creatures could sprout from the dust and shadows at any moment!” The man loudly complained. 

Leif watched, taking a few steps away for privacy as he sensed the worry coming from Lucia. “I don’t like them.” She whispered as she deftly hopped over a section of loose stone. “They remind me of… I don’t know, the kind of people I used to avoid on the streets.” 

“They’re a bit rough, but I doubt that they were lying about their purpose.” Leif responded telepathically. “I think they really are mercenaries, and their charges really are refugees fleeing to the east. I just don’t think that's all they are.” 

===

The sellswords had quickly gathered a pile of dried wood in one of the central courtyards. Kurt knelt next to the soon to be bonfire, holding out a callused hand and creating a stream of heated ashes, then he snapped his fingers and everything ignited all at once, the merrily dancing flames illuminating the dark and jagged interior of the fort. Lucia watched impassively as the place she had been using to train was requisitioned into temporary accommodations. Leif could tell that she was nervous, even as he made his way to where his armour project was still laid out on the ground she stuck to him like a shadow. 

“What's all this?” Came an upbeat voice. “And why is it glowing?” 

Leif glanced up to see the man Kurt had directed to prepare the fire. He was on the younger side, likely in his early twenties, and he had an unruly appearance with wild scruffy hair and clothing with an endless series of patches and stitches. 

“A project I've been working on.” Leif answered.

“Oh yeah? It kind of looks like armour. My uncle was a blacksmith, but he used to spend all day hammering nails into shape instead of making something cool like weapons. Probably why he drank so much. Is that metal? I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m Slayde by the way. Member of the Greyband company, that’s me.”

“Leif, and no, it's special wood I’ve prepared.” He said, calling a small unconnected plate into his hand, then tossing it to the man. “Greyband? I assume that’s the name of Kurt’s group?”

“Yeah, that's us. Kurt’s the boss man, we do what he says and get paid for it. We’re helping folks now, which is nice I suppose.” He spun the gilded wooden piece of armour between dexterous fingers, then he brought it up to his nose and sniffed. “ Oh wow, this is wood, cool beans. Interesting texture, how’d you get it into this shape without cracking it? What kind of magic is making the golden cracks? Why are you wearing a mask?” Slayde said, rapid-firing each question with no breath in between. 

“Curious, aren't you?”

The man rubbed the back of his head, his grin showing missing teeth. “Sorry mate, bad habit, yeah? I just like to know things, you know?” 

“Slayde? We need you on the perimeter, you have the first watch!” Called Kurt, the grey skinned man coming into view. 

“Right, sorry boss!” Slayde said, activating some sort of skill to dash away, taking the piece of armour with him. Leif mentally reached out and tugged it from his hand with [Wood Manipulation], and the man stumbled, glancing back sheepishly. 

“You keep interesting people in your employ.” Leif told the mercenary.

Kurt grunted. “He’s an alright kid, got his issues but he’s reliable enough. We’re doing a late dinner around the fire, children get extra servings if they want. You’re welcome to join us.” 

Leif gaze Lucia a questioning glance, and the girl shrugged noncommittally.