by M E Robinson
Right, there’s still that, Eric thought, bringing up the stat page for Grimarok’s sabre.
[Grimarok’s Sabre - Unique Sabre]
Attack: 12-24
Durability: 100/100
Requirements for use:
Journeyman 1 Swordsmanship
Effects:
Damage of all slashing skills increased by 15%
Damage while mounted increased by 15%
Description: A hobgoblin war sabre that was wielded by Grimarok of the Blood Worg tribe. The sabre is well balanced for use while mounted but could use rebalancing for use by non-hobgoblins. The sabre is crafted using the finest goblin metallurgy techniques and was dowsed in the blood of an Alpha Worg, creating a fine edge that will never dull.
Eric’s jaw nearly dropped. The weapon was perhaps the best item he’d ever seen, and certainly the best item he’d ever held since arriving in Novanalba. The unique ranking alone guaranteed the sabre’s quality, and the stats below confirmed it.
Looks like I definitely can’t give up on swordsmanship now, Eric thought, a wide grin splitting his face. While the battle certainly hadn’t been easy, and the loss of so many fine fighters stung, the gamer within him couldn’t help but be ecstatic when faced with the rewards, and the best were hopefully still to come. Closing the stat page, Eric quickened his pace. It would do him no good to dally in the village and potentially miss the award ceremony.
Lucy wasn’t home when Eric arrived, or at least that was the conclusion Eric arrived at after standing on her doorstep for several long minutes. Shrugging his shoulders, Eric departed Tonbura, headed back to the militia encampment just outside the gates.
Griffin, Mark, and Rob had all revived and regrouped with Ryan and Jun, looking no worse for the experience, especially once Jun gave them back the items they’d dropped upon their death. Gio had also returned, having successfully destroyed a camp along with the platoon he’d been assigned to.
“I’m telling you, the Realm of the Gods is amazing. Elysium is peaceful, sure. But the Realm was incredible,” Griffin was saying.
“I can’t believe you guys got to go to the Realm of the Gods. That’s sick,” Ryan said enviously.
“Yeah, I definitely want to go back some time,” Griffin replied.
“If you want, I can send you,” said Eric, fiddling with his Quickwind Dagger.
“No, I’m good,” Griffin replied hurriedly.
“Still, I wonder what allowed us to go there instead of Elysium?” Mark wondered. “I mean we began in Elysium. Or I did at least. But then after a few minutes a portal opened up which allowed me to enter the Realm.”
“We performed a funeral ceremony for you guys. That’s probably what did it,” Eric explained, as Ryan and Jun nodded to confirm his words.
“Huh, well I’d say it’s something to explore. But I don’t really want to have to die just to try it again.”
Chatting as they moved, Eric and the rest of the group began to explore the camp, looking for a way to kill time before sundown. Luckily, there wasn’t long to wait before the sun began to set. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, a bugle’s call rang through the camp, causing heads to snap up as they looked towards the source of the sound.
Making their way towards the bugler, Eric and the others discussed the possible rewards they could be given as they followed the rest of the camp towards the sound. As they left the camp, the bugler came into sight, standing alongside two other figures on a tall platform in the middle of the plains surrounding Tonbura. Large banners bearing the same symbol as the one engraved upon Eric’s militia badge hung on either side of the platform, fluttering gently in the evening breeze.
As the last of the stragglers arrived, the bugler stopped playing, turning to give one of the figures a salute before descending from the stage. Stepping forward, the figure addressed the crowd.
“Brave fighters of the militia. Today, you have accomplished much! The enemy’s bases have been smashed, their forces scattered, their plans foiled. You have driven them before you, and not shirked back when duty demanded more of you than ever before. Now, you stand here today, not as militia, but as victors!” Alistair roared, earning a roar of appreciation from the crowd.
“Everyone who participated in today’s assault will be justly rewarded for their service.” This got an even bigger roar of appreciation as the militia stomped their approval. Motioning for quiet, Alistair continued. “However, there are those who went above and beyond in today’s expedition. Fighters whose acts of valour, heroism, or sacrifice in the name of Novanalba and her people shall be awarded. Earlier, I conferred with the captains of each platoon and together we determined who shall be recognized. With that said, let me begin by calling Private Karaina Fireheart of Whitewater Platoon to the podium.”
With a cheer, the militia parted as a redheaded woman advanced towards the stage. Climbing the steps, she stood in front of Alistair, her hands clasped to her sides.
“For engaging three goblins alone and buying time for the platoon’s healers to get to safety, Karaina Fireheart will be awarded twenty Sricks, and allowed a brand new weapon of her choosing from the militia stores. She will also be promoted to corporal,” Alistair intoned, handing Karaina a small sack of silver and clasping her hand, before stepping back and giving her a salute. Following Alistair’s lead, Wavesun did the same, shaking her hand before stepping back and snapping a quick salute.
As Karaina left the stage to raucous applause, Alistair called up another fighter. Slowly going hoarse from all the cheering, Eric’s thoughts began to wander. Most of those recognized were awarded a handful of silver and a new weapon. Those who’d done especially well were given a promotion to corporal, and one lucky corporal had even managed to be promoted to sergeant. As Alistair continued to call new names forward, Eric let out a yawn. It had been a long two days.
“Finally, there are five individuals who truly exemplified what it means to go above and beyond in the name of duty. Firstly, from Crowsea Platoon, I call forth Private Jun Shinzir and Private Astrid Feathershot.”
Snapping to attention, Eric cheered as Jun and Astrid walked forward, both climbing the podium together.
“During the battle, Crowsea Platoon was ambushed by more than half a thousand goblins, led by three hobgoblins. Disregarding their personal safety, Shinzir and Feathershot came to the rescue of myself and the Novanalba Elite Scouts 7th Division. Using their archery skills, they managed to relieve pressure from the scouts, and gave me the openings I needed to defeat the two hobgoblins I was facing.”
At this revelation, a wave of sound swept over the crowd, shocked cries piercing the air as they attempted to process the information that Crowsea Platoon had faced off against three hobgoblins and more than half a thousand goblins.
Motioning for silence, Alistair continued.
“As a reward, both Shinzir and Feathershot will be awarded eighty Sricks each. They will also both be promoted two ranks to Squad Commander, and each shall receive the Novanalban Medal of Courage.”
A great cheer went up at this announcement, led by the 7th Division scouts. Many of them had been saved by Jun and Astrid’s arrows, so their attitude towards the two was far warmer than that of the other militia.
As the cheers died down, Alistair moved forward to hand them their medals and shake their hands. Jun was nonchalant, as if this was an expected result for him. Astrid on the other hand, had a guilty look on her face not unlike a puppy, worried that it was about to be disciplined.
As Alistair stepped back, Wavesun moved towards Astrid. Shaking her hand, Wavesun leaned forward. “We know that Shinzir was the main architect of the plan. However, don’t discount your own contributions. He would not have had the same impact alone. So don’t feel bad. Raise your head and accept it proudly,” he whispered softly.
Lifting her head, Astrid stared at Wavesun wordlessly for a moment, before giving him the tiniest of nods. With a smile, Wavesun moved back and saluted her, as cheers cont
inued to ring out.
As Jun and Astrid left the stage, Alistair stepped forward once more.
“Next, I would like to call Corporal Tanix Reveil to the stage.”
With a surprised look, Tanix headed to the stage. Surprisingly, his sleeve still hung empty, it seemed he had not been able to get his arm healed during the time before sundown. Arriving in front of Alistair and Wavesun, Tanix saluted, standing steadily in front of the militia captain.
“During the fight, many of Crowsea Platoon’s members were killed in an ambush. However, there were those who were struck, but refused to yield. Standing alongside their companions even while suffering from the most grievous of wounds, Corporal Reveil exemplified this noble spirit, fighting in the thick of combat even after the loss of his arm. His willingness to fight onwards was an inspiration, raising the morale of the entire platoon as he fought on even while crippled. As such, Corporal Reveil will be awarded fifty Sricks, he will be promoted to Squad Commander, and he will be awarded the Novanalban Medal of Sacrifice.”
Having said this, Alistair stepped forward, affixing a medal to Tanix’s robes as cheers resounded through the plains. As Tanix departed the stage, Alistair called forth Owin, much to the scout’s surprise.
“The leader of the goblins in Lichfrost Forest was Grimarok Bloodwolf, a noble of the Bloodwolf clan. Leading his forces into battle, Grimarok’s mount, an enormous Blood Worg, was slain by Lieutenant Keeneye despite great personal risk. As such, he will be awarded ninety Sricks, the Novanalban Medal of Courage, and he will also be promoted to Captain.”
Once Alistair finished talking, he moved forward towards the dazed looking Owin, affixing the medal to his front before shaking his hand as the dumbstruck scout saluted. Below the stage, the scouts were cheering crazily, as they watched Owin’s shaky salute.
As Owin left the stage, Alistair stepped forward once more.
“For our final award, I would like to call Corporal Erick Kystfyr to the stage.”
As if they’d been expecting this, the rest of the platoon turned to look at Eric, opening a path for him towards the stage. Giving them all a smile, Eric passed Owin, who merely rested a hand on his shoulder before passing by. Climbing the stage, Eric saluted Alistair and Wavesun before standing at ease, waiting for Alistair to continue.
“While Captain Keeneye slew Grimarok’s mount, he was grievously wounded in the process. As a hobgoblin lord, Grimarok’s power does not need to be mentioned, and under his command, the leaderless militia of Crowsea Platoon were poised to fall. However, Corporal Kystfyr took command of the militia, leading them in a counterattack as he personally engaged Grimarok. In the end, he slew the hobgoblin lord in one-on-one combat.”
At this revelation, the crowd was silent, shocked murmurs spreading like wildfire through the gathered troops. Waiting a moment for this information to sink in, Alistair continued.
“However, that was not all. Even despite the ragged condition that he and the rest of his men found themselves in, Corporal Kystfyr still led them to the aid of the 7th Division scouts, relieving the pressure they faced as Kystfyr’s forces engaged the goblins flank despite great personal losses. Corporal Kystfyr did not shirk his responsibilities as a leader, but led from the frontlines, encouraging his forces to give it their all even against overwhelming odds. As a result, Corporal Kystfyr will be awarded one gold Galley, the Novanalban Medal of Courage, he will be promoted two ranks to Sergeant, and finally, he will be knighted.”
This time, the sound could not be contained. The roar of the crowd dwarfed any noise they had made up to this point, as various members of the militia expressed their shock and disbelief at this scene. Even Eric found himself flabbergasted. He’d been aware that he’d accomplished a rather impressive feat by slaying Grimarok, but he’d never expected this to be the result.
Approaching Eric, Alistair unsheathed his claymore. Out of the corner of his eye, Eric caught Wavesun who was subtly motioning for him to kneel. Bending down, Eric knelt, his head bowed forward as Alistair approached. Absentmindedly, Eric thought to himself that being knighted had much the same feel as a public execution, not that he’d ever experienced either.
“Erick Kystfyr, for your valourous and honourable conduct in the service of Novanalba and her people, you have gained the right to be knighted. Do you swear to uphold the laws of Novanalba, and safeguard her people against those who would break them?” Alistair intoned, his voice carrying a solemnity that seemed to wash over the crowd.
“I swear,” Eric replied.
“Do you swear to never brook with traitors, but to act honourably on all occasions, regardless of the threat to your own life?”
“I swear.”
“And do you swear to fight when Novanalba calls you to her service. To raise your banners or those of your liegelord and ride to the aid of your kingdom and her people?”
“I swear.”
Grasping his sword, Alistair struck Eric on the shoulders with the flat of the blade, causing him to wince as the blow struck him.
“Then I, Lord Alistair Crowsea, Fourth Earl of Crowsea, do hereby dub thee Kystfyr, Knight of Crowsea. You shall be presented with a parcel of land, new weapons, armour, and a mount of your own, and you will be conferred the title of Sir. Now rise, Sir Kystfyr of Crowsea!”
Climbing to his feet, Eric was met with a wave of cheers, as the militia whistled and shouted, applauding like never before. Striding forward, Wavesun shook his hand, giving him a peculiar smile before returning to his place.
Once the cheering begun to die down, Alistair stepped forward once more.
“Now then, the award ceremony is over, but the night is just beginning. Thanks to your efforts today in securing our great victory, Novanalba is safe once more! To show its thanks, the kingdom has provided its valiant warriors with a feast!”
As if to prove Alistair’s words correct, the aroma of roasted meat began to waft over the crowd from the direction of Tonbura. There, cooks and other figures scurried between enormous fires that had been lit near the tents behind the gathered crowd.
Alistair smiled. “Tonight, leave your wounds and your worries aside, because the food and drink is on the king’s dime. It’s time to drink, feast, and be merry! Militia, you are dismissed!”
With a loud cheer, the militia began to stampede towards the tents, looking forward to a night of drinking and fun. Giving Alistair a salute, Eric left the platform, headed towards his friends who were eyeing the tents eagerly as they awaited his return. Scanning the tents, Eric smiled in anticipation. Somewhere around here, there was a scout that owed him a drink or three.
“A great victory, eh?” Wavesun asked as he watched the militia depart.
Alistair said nothing, simply sheathing his claymore as he climbed down from the platform.
“They’re going to find out the truth sooner or later,” Wavesun pressed.
“There’s no benefit to them learning it now,” Alistair replied. “Any of them who were paying attention are probably aware that four platoons failed to return. Tis best that they drink and be merry for one last night. Worrying about these matters will only harm them.”
“And what of you? Will you be accompanying them in their feasting?”
“Someone has to worry about these matters. If the king won’t, then I will,” said Alistair, with a steely glint in his eye.
“He’s not going to be happy that you knighted the half-elf. He’s already wary of the otherworlders. He’ll see it as you starting your own faction. Perhaps even as the seed of a rebellion.”
“I gave him forty years to be a proper ruler. Forty years I’ve been Earl of Crowsea and I’ve done nothing with my power. Well, no longer. If the king refuses to help the people of Novanalba, then I will,” Alistair spat, his voice dripping with venom.
“So long as the king has the second prince whispering in his ear, he won’t support the commonfolk, and he’ll never support the otherworlders,” Wavesun said heavily.
“He is shor
tsighted and foolish. For too long, Novanalba has suffered while the king allows the nobles to plunder the labours of her people. No longer.”
“Careful,” Wavesun cautioned, “that’s treason if the king hears.”
“As if he’d leave those gilded walls of his,” Alistair snorted. “Don’t worry, Wavesun - I won’t go against the king. But I refuse to stay silent any longer.”
At this, a huge grin broke out across Wavesun’s face. “Finally! My father’s been waiting years for you to say those words. He’d almost given up hope.”
“It may yet be too late. The Ironfrost Horde is on the move. We failed to thwart their plans today, and even if we had, I fear the Ironfrost King has more up his sleeve,” Alistair replied darkly.
“Is their king really that terrifying? I thought he was only a prince during the last war.”
“He’s far smarter than his father was, and also far more cunning. His followers also adore him. If he’d been in charge of the horde during the last war, Novanalba may no longer exist today.”
Falling silent, Wavesun regarded Alistair’s back as the old commander walked forwards.
“Do you have a plan then?” he asked at last.
“The otherworlders are the key to all this. If the king won’t make use of them, then I will. But first, we need to draw as many other nobles into our faction as we can. I can’t support a force of the size required to withstand the Ironfrost Horde with just the resources of Crowsea. For that I’ll need the help of our fellow nobles.”
“Well I’m glad to hear you’ve at least realized you can’t do it all alone,” Wavesun commented dryly. “Any you had in mind?”
