by M E Robinson
For his part, Eric spent much of his time solo, exploring various caves and other landmarks throughout Stillwood Forest. Whenever his friends logged off, he would do his best to make his way back to Tonbura where he holed himself up in Lucy’s library and devoured the knowledge contained in the books within. True to her word, Lucy refused to teach Eric new combat spells, instead teaching him various spells meant for everyday use. While some of these spells came in rather handy such as the Ball of Light spell, which summoned an orb of light above the caster’s shoulder, others were less so, such as the Pointer spell, a spell which merely shone a thin beam of light from the end of the caster’s wand or hand.
Despite Lucy’s refusal to teach Eric new combat spells, his magic was still improving by leaps and bounds. As he made his way through the library, Eric learned the concepts of magic that Arthal had been unable to teach them. As a result, his knowledge of basic magic theory had grown. His spells were becoming harder and harder to interrupt mid-combat as he learned more about mana circulation and the fundamentals of magic itself. While the levels of his various spells - such as Wind Dart, Wind Blade, and Arcane Strike all remained stuck at the apprentice level, only occasionally leveling up after a fight - the level of his Arcane Magic was soaring under Lucy’s tutelage.
The rest of the group was getting stronger as well. Griffin had become Tom’s apprentice, working alongside Seryllia and two other players to develop his blacksmithing techniques. Interestingly enough, blacksmithing training had also increased his skill as a tank, as he learned to better utilize his armour and weaponry. Tom also occasionally imparted some bits of knowledge from his past as a mercenary, stating that a true blacksmith should understand how to use his works, not just how to make them.
Mark continued to visit Maria at the church and would occasionally join Eric in studying at Lucy’s. Unlike Eric who’d managed to take Lucy as his teacher, Mark simply paid for the occasional new spell, stating that he was better served donating his money to the Church of Leralitas in order to increase his favourability with Maria and Leralitas. He’d managed to learn a few more healing spells and was on his way to becoming a devotee of Leralitas.
For his part, Rob had already taken on a magic teacher by the time he’d arrived at Tonbura Village. Unlike Eric, Rob’s teacher was part of a group of Novanalban mages called the Rimestone Circle. The Rimestone circle appeared to be one of the most popular mage organizations for players in Novanalba to join. After paying a flat fee, they were taught various combat magics with a heavy focus on earth and water magic. Also unlike Eric, who had to visit Lucy in order to receive tutelage, Rob could visit any member of the circle and be taught magic. Although there were no members of the circle in Tonbura, there were several representatives in various towns and villages nearby. As a result, Rob often left Tonbura, heading for a nearby village where he and many other players were taught magic.
Jun was primarily concerned with hunting monsters. Perhaps as a Korean, he had a natural inclination towards grinding, but out of their entire group, Jun spent by far the most time travelling around Stillwood Forest, murdering any monster he encountered. His archery skills had levelled up significantly, already in the higher stages of the Journeyman level according to him. He’d also become close friends with Craig, who appreciated his enthusiasm towards archery, as well as his willingness to spend vast amounts of money on good arrows.
Ryan spent most of his time accompanying Jun on his expeditions. His skill with swords was improving, and he’d recently joined a group of swordsmen on the forums who were intent on mastering the sword in Fate. This meant that any time Ryan wasn’t out hunting with the group, or accompanying Jun into various dangerzones, he was practicing swordsmanship with a few other individuals in the fields outside Tonbura. While Eric hadn’t actually confirmed it, he was fairly sure that most of the group were anime fanatics, given the remarkable number of players dressed in long black coats and using two swords.
Gio was as lowkey as ever, simply leveling up and accompanying the group on their quests. Somehow, he’d managed to obtain quite a few hidden quests from the various women of Tonbura village, and he’d even been admitted into a group of all-female players who frequently invited him to go hunting with them, a fact which made several members of their group extremely jealous.
As for Jaime, Eric had no clue what he got up to. Apart from doing his best Leeroy Jenkins impression whenever he came questing with the group, the man was an enigma. Mark claimed to have met him on a few separate occasions in the village pub, and Griffin said that he was often salivating over various oversized and overpriced weapons hanging in Tom’s forge, but apart from that the group knew nothing else about him. However, so long as he was a passable tank, none of them really minded.
Just like that, a week passed.
Chapter 19
Inside the militia barracks of Tonbura village, two men were staring at a letter sitting on the table between them. One with an expression of nervousness, the other with a look of grim acceptance. Reaching forward, Alistair picked up the document on the table in front of him. As his eyes passed over the lines on the letter, the expression on his face got steadily graver. From across the table, Owin watched the captain’s expression nervously, as if afraid he might explode if he said the wrong thing.
After what seemed like ages, but had probably only been a minute or two at most, Alistair put the page down and looked up at Owin.
“This is the final decision from high command then?”
Owin sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“Do they not understand that this is a direct threat to the northern part of the kingdom? If we allow the goblins to set up a series of forward operating bases, then they will rip right through the meager defenses of the northern villages. There’s no way a bunch of adventurers and barely trained militia can stand against a horde. We need a defensive line set up now!” Alistair shouted, slamming his fist violently on the table.
Owin nodded miserably. “That’s what the First Prince argued. But General Polefax argued that if we have the otherworlders help then we should be fine. So long as they can repel the goblins for now, the Kingdom can send reinforcements once the army is freed from their current deployments.”
“Their current deployments? What’s keeping the army from moving north to support us?”
“Recently, there have been new reports of incursions from the south. Supposedly Rohadil has been raiding our caravans in the Yamorth region, and there was also a major skirmish at Fort Highwater between the Third Legion and Eirewick forces last week.”
“Damnit, Eirewick is attacking? Why?”
“They’re setting up for invasion. There’s a lot of unrest in the Kingdom. Their crops had a bad year and they’ve been experiencing raids from the monsters we chased west four years ago,” Owin explained, spreading his hands helplessly.
Alistair swore. “I told General MacPike that it was a bad idea to chase them away instead of subjugating them. What’s his opinion on the matter? He’s always supported the First Prince.”
“He agrees that we need to strike now. But because he’s the one responsible for the unrest with Eirewick, his opinion is being mostly ignored by the King.”
“And the King wants us to deal with the goblins alone? With only the otherworlders and the militia? Has he gone mad?”
“The King’s hands are tied. The army needs to repel the Eirewick invasion and hunt the Rohadilian raiders. The navy can’t send help either due to recent merfolk attacks on merchants. The only forces left are the militia, any adventurers or mercenaries the kingdom can afford, and the otherworlders,” Owin explained.
Alistair sighed, “Is there any good news? Does the kingdom plan to support the effort? This wouldn’t be so bad if we had any fucking funds. Does the King plan to increase the militia’s funds back to what they used to be?”
“The First Prince managed to get one concession: the Seventh Scout Corps will be aiding in the effort. And the Seacove Aca
demy is sending some of their senior students to act as field commanders to help them gain real battle experience,” Owin replied.
“Better than nothing. Alright, you’re dismissed. I’ll convey the contents of the letter to the council,” Alistair said heavily.
Snapping a salute, Owin left the office, leaving Alistair alone with his thoughts. Staring glumly at the letter, Alistair sighed. Grabbing a crystal from his desk, he brought it to his mouth.
“I’m calling a council meeting. Be at the hall for noon. This is urgent.”
A series of confirmations filled the room as the various members of the council responded to his summons. Putting down the crystal, Alistair picked up the letter once more and scanned the contents one last time. Committing the letter to memory, he conjured a flame, burning the letter and watching as the ashes slowly drifted to the floor.
As the letter disappeared, a single word came to Alistair’s mind unbidden.
“Shit.”
Checking the time, Alistair raised himself from his chair. The overcast sky and heavy autumn drizzle made it difficult to tell the time of day, so he’d been watching the time carefully ever since he’d called the council meeting. Sweeping the various papers and letters he’d been writing off the table and into a drawer, he locked the door to his office as he made his way to Flen’s hall.
The streets were lively despite the dull weather. Players and villagers alike hurrying by, all on a shared quest to stay as dry as possible. A few people tossed out greetings to the grizzled militia captain which he returned gruffly, hiding the small smile that appeared as various villagers thanked him for his service.
This is what I need to protect. What we need to protect, Alistair swore to himself, nodding to an elderly lady knitting under the cover of her front porch. Standing up, the lady made to hobble over, but Alistair rushed forward, motioning for her to sit down.
With a contented smile, the old lady presented him with a knitted scarf. “Thanks for allowing my grandson to stay home these past few days. It’s been such a relief having him around the house, what with him being a new father and all,” she said.
“It was the least I could do. I know that it’s difficult for your family without Donal. While Darian has a duty to the militia, allowing him to look after his new child permits him to do his most important duty: that of a father,” Alistair replied, smiling gently at the old lady in front of him.
“Well, we’re thankful. I knitted you this scarf, I know it gets a little chilly in the barracks so I hope you’ll wear it,” she said, pressing the scarf into his hands.
“It would be my honour. Tell Darian to come find me when he decides on a name for the boy. I’ll bring a naming gift.”
“I’ll do that. Don’t let me take up too much of your time now, I know that you’re a busy man,” she replied with a smile.
Bidding goodbye to the old lady, Alistair continued to make his way towards Flen’s hall, now outfitted with a brand new wool scarf. Reaching the hall, he opened the door, letting himself in.
Flen’s hall was well lit, despite the dreary light coming through the windows, the torches provided a cozy atmosphere under which the council had gathered. Lucy appeared annoyed as usual, lazily leaning on her elbow as she conversed with Maria. Tom and Craig were engaged in an animated discussion with Burgess about trading, while Flen was sampling a sandwich that had just been placed in front of him by his wife, Moira.
Moira was a slightly heavy set, red-haired woman, with features that could be described as plump. She was famous as the village cook, running the village’s only tavern. Flen had provided much of the venison and other meats for the tavern back in his days as a huntsman, and this had allowed him to strike up a relationship with her. Years later, the two had married, and Moira had gone from being the village’s cook to the village’s mother, always happy to cook a meal or provide a cold villager with shelter for a night.
“Alistair! Glad you could make it,” Moira said warmly. “Hold on a moment, I’ll grab you a sandwich. Pork or beef?”
“Pork’s fine, thank you, Moira,” Alistair replied, sitting down at the table as Moira left the room.
Looking up, the corner of Lucy’s mouth curved upwards, a mischievous grin upon her face. “So, Alistair. I see that somehow, despite you being the one to call the meeting, you still managed to be the last one here. How did that happen?”
“I got held up on the way here. Had to briefly discuss militia duties with someone. It’s all resolved now though,” Alistair replied, setting his coat and scarf down on the chair.
“Is this important, Alistair? I mean obviously it’s important, but is it urgent? I had to leave a few of my apprentices alone to manage the lunchtime devotion,” said Maria, turning her large eyes towards the militia captain.
“I’m afraid it is. More urgent than you know unfortunately. I’ll tell you all as soon as Moira returns.”
Moments later, Moira made her way back to the hall, a fresh pork sandwich lay on a plate which she set down in front of Alistair. Thanking her, Alistair bit into his sandwich with gusto, savouring the meal as he stared gravely at his fellow council members. Swallowing his bite, Alistair set the sandwich down and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that I have bad news. The Kingdom has decided upon a course of action in regard to the goblin threat.”
“Took them long enough. We’ve been waiting all week for that,” Lucy muttered under her breath. Tom nodded slightly, as if to agree with her.
“And? What’s the plan, Alistair? How many legions are they sending?” Flen asked, looking expectantly towards his old friend.
Alistair sighed. “I’m afraid that we should have simply swept up the bases ourselves when we first discovered them, or at least attempted to. The Kingdom has decided that we must attack the bases ourselves.”
“Ourselves? What about the army?”
“The army is busy with other matters. They’re only sending a scouting unit and a few commanders to help plan the assault. We’re to use the militia and the otherworlders for the assault. We have two days to plan the assault - we attack on the third day.”
At this announcement, the table went silent. Burgess’ mouth hung open in shock, and even Lucy was speechless for once. Flen groaned.
“They want us to use the otherworlders and the militia? The militia is barely enough to keep the villages safe. There’s no way they’re going to be able to conduct a frontal assault on a goblin base. And the otherworlders are still new to this world, are we sure we can trust them?”
“The otherworlders are more reliable than ye think, Flen. I’ve been trainin a few in me forge, and some of them are pretty tough. They should be able ta account themselves well in a fight,” said Tom.
“Aye. The otherworlders have impressed me with their exploits so far. And we have no choice but to rely on them to aid us in the assault. If we send the militia alone, we’ll lose more than half our force. But if we do nothing, there’s a high chance the goblins sweep southwards, and then Tonbura Village will be just one of the many that will be swept up in their brutal assault,” said Alistair.
“What do the rest of you think? Should we trust the otherworlders to help with the attack? Are they strong enough to contend with goblins and worgs? Or even worse, hobgoblins?” Flen asked, turning to the remaining council members.
Maria looked pensive. “I’ve taught a few otherworlders some healing spells. My fellow devotees of Leralitas can accompany the militia and heal the wounded. But I won’t allow them to aid in the fighting itself, most followers of Leralitas don’t receive combat training - we leave that to followers of Maser and other more battle-focused gods. The otherworlders can help with combat healing, but I have no idea how proficient they’ll be.”
“What about you, Craig? Lucy?” Flen asked, ignoring Burgess as he turned to the remaining two council members.
Craig rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “There are a few good archers. Two have stood out to me. But one I haven’t seen in a while - I b
elieve she left for another village. The other is still here though, and there are enough good archers to form at least one archer unit.”
“I’ve only taken a single student. The rest of the otherworlders that I’ve seen I’ve simply taught a few spells to. None stand out,” Lucy reported.
Flen sighed. “So no mages. But at least it seems that we’ve got a promising group of otherworlders to work with. What’s the Kingdom’s plan, Alistair?”
Taking out a map, Alistair laid it out on the table, placing a pair of candlesticks on its corners to keep it from furling back up.
“There are several goblin bases that we’ve been made aware of. The Kingdom wants each village and town to deal with the bases in their area. Villages slightly further south are to send militia to reinforce the more northern ones. As for the northern villages, we are expected to create several different platoons of roughly thirty to fifty members each, with each platoon taking on a single base on their own. Tonbura has three bases in our area, which means we need to create three platoons.”
“How are the platoons going to be constructed? Last I checked, there are only forty villagers in the militia. Are we going to create an entire platoon of just villagers? Or divide them among the otherworlders?” Flen asked.
“Divide them among the otherworlders. The Kingdom wants the otherworlders to be the vanguard, taking the brunt of the enemy’s assault. I’ll be taking command of one platoon, while members of the Seacove Military Academy will be taking command of the other two.”
“How are ye plannin to choose otherworlders? Jus take any who ask? Or is there a selection process?” Tom asked, staring pointedly at Alistair.
