Morgana: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.4)

by Iliev, Neven

  “Hahaha! Haha… Haaaaaaah.”

  The intelligence officer calmed down a short while later with a long, drawn-out sigh.

  “He read me,” he said with a hint of admiration in his voice, staring off beyond the horizon.

  No, you’re definitely misunderstanding something, Boxxy retorted inside its head.

  “He totally saw through me, didn’t he?”

  Definitely had no idea what you were up to.

  “This is like he accepted our gratitude without taking our gifts!”

  You can shove your gratitude up your ass. I just wanted the shiny things.

  “I bet he even told you something like, ‘You need this more than I do’ or, ‘Use this to better protect yourself and those you love.’”

  Nope, it was just an excuse to let Keira keep the shiny thing.

  “He’s testing me in return, I know it!”

  The only thing I want to test is your flavor.

  “Something like, ‘Let’s see if you value your people or your things!’”

  Things are more valuable than people though. Unless they’re shiny like Fizzy. Or tasty like Snack. Ah, but those technically aren’t ‘people.’

  “Not to mention he has a dryad bound to his service!”

  That’s mostly because she’s an idiot like her mother.

  “This Sandman likely has a much keener mind than I originally assumed. I bet there’s a deeper intent behind every move he makes.”

  No, see, the whole reason I’m doing this is to get you to pay me for eating tasty things.

  “Have it his way, then. Decanus Morgana, you can keep that blade as a token of your benefactor’s goodwill.”

  Okay, I like him. I’ll eat him last when the time comes.

  “Use it with pride!”

  Oh, right, time to get back into character!

  “B-but, sir, I don’t even know how to use a sword!”

  “Then you will learn,” Silus said matter-of-factly.

  “B-b-b-but this is too much! I can’t possibly accept-”

  “You will wield that blade and you will like it. This is an order, not a request, Decanus!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Now that that particular matter was settled, Boxxy decided to put some distance between Keira and Sandman.

  “Ah, sir, I almost forgot! He said to give you this.”

  The catgirl dug around her pockets for a bit before bringing out a blue, cubic Comm-crystal.

  “Oh, he left us with a way to contact him, huh?” the elf mused. “How very generous. There’s just one problem.”

  The item’s inner-blue glow flickered pathetically like a candle in the breeze, a clear sign that its other half was out of reach. There was no mystery as to why that was. Silus recognized this model as a relatively cheap one that anyone could buy. It worked much the same way as the military-grade Comm-crystals his recon teams were issued, but only had about a tenth of the maximum range. Of course, it wouldn’t be able to reach the other one, which was presumably more than twenty kilometers away atop a dryad’s hylt tree.

  In actuality the other Comm-crystal was ‘out of range’ because it was in Boxxy’s Storage, but Underwood’s concern was something else entirely.

  “Decanus, did he give you a password?”

  It was impossible to activate the item on their side without speaking the necessary keywords. They could respond to any communication attempts, but not initiate them.

  “Er, no, he didn’t. Sir.”

  “So that’s how it is, huh? ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you.’ As expected, a careful individual.”

  The man once again stared off into the distance as if he just saw a mountain he has to climb. This overly dramatic gesture caused Boxxy to silently label him as a moron who got needlessly motivated over unimportant things. A few moments later, Underwood turned his attention back to Keira.

  “That will be all. Good work today, Decanus.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Also, I suggest you actually learn how to wield this,” he said, gesturing to the rapier on his desk. “Using it as just a decoration for your waist would be an insult to the weapon and its makers.”

  The news that the Empire would siege the fort within the week had already circulated among the troops. Thankfully, the Sandman’s actions would likely set them back for several days, giving the Republic forces much-needed time to prepare. It wasn’t a lot of time, but more than enough for Keira to grasp the basics of swordplay. Knowledge and techniques that would otherwise take months could be learned in mere days through the miracle of Skills. The teenage girl wasn’t going to become a master swordswoman in a week, but she’d at least be able to put up a fight if someone cornered her.

  “Yes, sir,” Keira saluted. “In that case, do you happen to know if miss Hilda is around?”

  “I believe she’s out on patrol. She should be back within the hour.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  She hesitated for a moment before picking up the weapon, then left the office with another salute. With her gone, Silus slumped back into his chair with a vague smile.

  “The dwarven instructor from the Knights of Elena, huh?” he muttered.

  He had intended to point Keira to one of his subordinates for training, but realized that would have been a poor decision. The man in question was a soldier first and a teacher second, which made him rather unsuited to be the beastkin’s instructor. Adventurers had to be taught by other adventurers, after all. Even if their Jobs were the same, their perspectives and frames of mind were completely different.

  For instance, one was a disciplined, seasoned veteran who had more or less mastered the art of melee combat, while the other was a violent, swearing drunk of a woman with a penchant for needlessly breaking things.

  “… Oh.”

  And Silus had just sent an impressionable young girl with a known taste for explosives straight to that monster of a woman.

  “I just hope the fort survives until the Empire gets here…”

  Part Three

  “Nope, not happenin’!”

  Hilda’s response to Keira’s request for training was as negative as it was sudden, not to mention loud.

  “Uh… Err… Huh?”

  It surprised the redhead to the point where she couldn’t articulate words and instead only made stupid, confused noises.

  “Ye can’t go demandin’ a new Job like that willy-nilly, ye silly git!” the elderly dwarf crossed her arms.

  Okay, perhaps, ‘Hi, miss Hilda! Please teach me how to Warrior!’ was not the best way for Keira to frame her request. Especially not when she made it the instant she saw Hilda entered through the fort’s gates with her patrol.

  “Er, that is, the training fee-”

  “It ain’t about the gold, ye bloody fool!”

  The two’s high-volume conversation attracted the bemused glares of many soldiers and adventurers alike. The gathering audience was something neither the dwarf nor her would-be disciple seemed to be conscious of. One of the spectators, a member of Hilda’s guild, judging by his blue Knights of Elena tunic, stepped in.

  “Yo, Boss-Lady!” he called out to her. “You’re doing the thing again!”

  “Huh?! Oh, right. Oy! One of you lot go grab Jessie and tell ‘er to come at the usual spot!” she shouted and someone ran off somewhere. “You there, kittyface, come with me!”

  The fully-armored Hilda motioned for the catgirl to follow her to a slightly more private space. The two of them made their way through the space between the fort’s inner and outer walls and onto the large, flat training field next to one of the soldier’s barracks. They went over to a corner between the building and the fort’s wall, where Hilda finally took off her helmet. Her face was wrinkled, her hair was gray, and her skin was rough and craggy, but her piercing green eyes held enough fiery vigor to make the undead want to willingly return to their graves.

  “Alright, lassie, first of all, who are ye?”

  “A
h, uhm! Decanus Keira Morgana of the 1st Scouting Battalion!” she answered with a salute.

  “Ye been playin’ soldier a bit too much, methinks.”

  “I’m Keira, an adventurer from the Hidden Arrow guild.”

  “And don’t ye forget it! Ye need to have some self-respect for yer roots if ye don’t wanna lose yerself out there! Now then, ye’re one of Faehorn’s lot, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then ye should know full well Ranger and Warrior Jobs have terrible compatibility.”

  Hilda was talking about how the two vocations were almost entirely mutually exclusive. Attributes, Skills, Martial Arts, weapons, armor—everything one Job demanded was useless for the other, and vice-versa. The roles they played both in and out of combat were also completely disparate. One could argue that a Warrior’s Iron Grip Skill could be used to apply part of one’s Strength (STR) Attribute to the damage of ranged attacks, but a single wheel does not a cart make.

  “I do but, okay, I think I misspoke,” Keira explained “I want to learn how to use this effectively.”

  She unsheathed the beautiful mithril rapier from her belt. Hilda wasn’t surprised in the slightest, as she’d pretty much guessed that was the cause of that ridiculous line she was greeted with upon the return. It wasn’t like the catgirl tried to hide it, and the dwarf already had a habit of picking out every sword, axe, dagger, spear and mace in her vicinity. It was sort of an occupational hazard.

  “Yer conviction is lackin’, lass,” she said in a damning tone. “Ye don’t go around gettin’ a new Job just ‘cus you got yerself a new toy to play with.”

  “No, but see, I’m no good when something gets up close to me. I mean I got claws and stuff, but that won’t work on trained soldiers… What I’m saying is, I’m not trying to master the sword. I just need to be proficient enough so that I’m not instantly dead if someone snuck up on me.”

  “… Okay, that’s better. Ye’re still not cut out fer a Warrior, though. Ye’re better off learnin’ a Rogue’s trade.”

  “That won’t help me take down opponents that come at me head on, though.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but Rogue Skills had too much overlap with what the Mimic Job was already capable of, and this seemed like a sound enough argument.

  “Aight, fair ‘nuff. Still, ye don’t really need a Job if it’s just swordplay.”

  It was an undeniable fact that the Sword Mastery Skill could be learned by anyone, even monsters.

  “Miss Hilda, please stop testing me,” said Keira indignantly. “We both know a Mastery Skill by itself is meaningless.”

  Even if one knew how to swing a sword around, it was hardly enough to qualify them as a competent swordsman. They’d get demolished instantly by someone who had the right Attributes and Skills to support their fighting style.

  “Fine, fine!” the dwarf threw her hands in the air. “Leave it to that old shoe strap to get all the sharp ones,” she mumbled.

  “Shoe strap?”

  “Never mind that. Listen ‘ere, kitty-”

  “Keira.”

  “Keira, right. I appreciate yer enthusiasm and all that, but yer just not cut out fer it. Ye don’t have the right build, the right foundation to be a Warrior. Yer arms are like noodles and yer body’s too light.”

  Even if anyone could become a strong Warrior in theory, some were far better suited than others. The Job required one to forge their own body into a weapon, but the quality of said weapon varied greatly depending on the base material, so to speak. Yes, Attributes had the power to make one far more athletic than they had any right to be, but there were certain biological limitations they could not overcome. One such example was that a beastkin female would always be inferior to a human male when it came to muscle mass, endurance, and stamina. That difference would only grow wider as both individuals advanced as Warriors.

  In short, Keira would need to be a massive tower of a woman like Lola if she hoped to go toe-to-toe with the Empire’s footmen.

  “Then, what about being a Berserker?” the redhead suggested.

  “Same thing. Actually, that one’s an even worse match for ye. Yer way too happy-go-lucky to work up the right sort of temperament one needs to really master the Job.”

  “I can get angry when I need to!”

  “Do not lump a Berserker’s unyielding rage with yer petty tantrums, child!”

  The dwarf shouted with a voice dripping with bloodlust. It carried this supernatural weight around it that made one’s blood freeze over. Although Hilda was a Warrior instructor, that didn’t necessarily mean she was a Warrior herself. She simply knew everything there was to know about the Job. Her actual occupation was that of a Level 100 Berserker. An occupation that, as she demonstrated, came with a few quirks.

  “It is fury that burns as bright as the sun, yet is also black as the darkest abyss. It rises up from the depths of our souls, tryin’ to consume us, beggin’ to bathe in the blood of those around us—friend and foe alike. In some ways, our worst enemy is ourselves.”

  Boxxy legitimately felt a degree of fear and pressure it hadn’t experienced in a long time. This feeling was amplified tenfold in Keira’s reaction as the catgirl shrank back from the terrifying dwarf, shivering and sweating profusely all the while.

  “But we don’t just let that side of us run wild. We cannot let it. So, we harness it, control it, nurture it, and direct it. It’s a grim and violent path that muddles the line between men… and monsters.”

  The oppressive atmosphere slowly waned away as Hilda reigned in her boiling rage.

  “Think ye can manage that, girlie.”

  “N-n-n-n-no… ma’am…”

  That was the truth from the bottom of the shapeshifter’s heart. Even if Boxxy knew anger, the sheer pit of malice it just saw brought new insights into Kora’s perpetually violent nature. Being a Berserker was something that ran far deeper than just a collection of self-destructive Skills.

  “Aye, didn’t think so. Anyway, on the opposite end of the spectrum are Monks. But ye lack the sort of discipline and peace of mind to make good use of that, either. Being a Paladin is right out.”

  “I- I see… So, I guess I’ll have to seek out a Rogue trainer after all…”

  That wasn’t necessarily the case. The doppelganger could get what it wanted originally if it used a random disguise for long enough to obtain the Warrior Job as a fresh-faced recruit. The only issue was that this course of action would need to wait until Keira got back to Azurvale.

  “That won’t be necessary, lassie.”

  Hilda’s words threw its scheming mind completely off-track.

  “Ye see, I had a feelin’ this is where we’d end up. Fortunately fer yer scrawny arse, I know a Job that’ll suit ye just fine!”

  The dwarf turned her head to the side and beckoned over the woman who had been standing nearby like a sore thumb for the past while. She had auburn hair, brown eyes, a very slim figure, and wore extremely light armor bordering on plain clothes. She bore a large scar on her right cheek, and her otherwise plain face placed her somewhere in her early thirties. She was also human, which immediately prompted Boxxy to start releasing calming pheromones to counteract its Butcher of Humanity Perk. It didn’t seem to work too well though, as she still eyed the catgirl with a sharp glare. The shapeshifter silently wished for a way to turn that blasted effect off, but such a method was unlikely to miraculously appear out of thin air.

  “This here’s Jessie. Ah, don’t mind that mean look of hers,” said Hilda. “She can’t help it.”

  “Oh, so she’s actually nice once you get past it?” asked Keira hopefully.

  “Nah. She’s still a massive cunt, but it’s best if you try and ignore it.”

  “Watch your mouth, you old bat,” the woman growled. “I’ll rip your damned tongue out if you don’t.”

  The dwarf rolled her eyes at the befuddled catgirl as if to say ‘case in point’ before turning her attention back to the matter at hand.


  “Anyway, Jessie’s got an attitude problem, but she can give ye just the Job yer lookin’ fer.”

  “Just so you know,” the woman glared at the catgirl even harder, “if you want training, you gotta pay up.”

  “Ah! If it’s money, then-”

  Keira reached for the coin pouch she had prepared in advance, but the woman snatched it out of her hands. She dumped the coins inside onto her palm, picked out a total of 200 GP and then haphazardly tossed the pouch at the catgirl’s feet.

  “I appreciate your patronage,” she said with a rotten smile.

  She had no idea just how close she was to getting herself killed. It had taken every last drop of Boxxy’s self-control to keep it from lashing out, ripping her arm off, beating her half to death with it, and then eating her still-twitching corpse whole. While it inwardly congratulated itself on not brutally murdering the woman, the dwarf moved in and punched her colleague in the gut, forcing her to keel over and drop the gold. Being struck by that heavy-looking metal glove was no different from being hit by a giant hammer, and it very nearly knocked the woman unconscious.

  “Oy!” Hilda shouted at her. “None of that!”

  She bent over, picked up the scattered gold and returned it all to Keira with an apologetic tone.

  “Sorry ‘bout that. She’s a bit of a twat, but she’s still the only Blade Dancer trainer we have on hand at the moment.”

  “Ah… thanks…. What’s a Blade Dancer, though?”

  This was not a Job either Keira or Boxxy had heard of before.

  “Well, it’s probably best if I show ye. C’mon, Jess, let’s have a little spar fer yer new disciple’s benefit!”

  “Koff, koff!” the woman sputtered. “I’ll get you this time, ya old bat!”

  Jessie scrambled to her feet while coughing profusely. She stabilized her breathing and pulled out one of the two swords on her left hip. It was a sabre—a type of one-handed sword with a long, thin, and slightly curved one-sided blade. It was quite similar to the rapier that started this whole thing, except that particular treasure of a weapon was straight, and more needle-like. Jessie assumed a one-handed stance with her right shoulder pointed forward and her left arm behind her hip. It almost looked classy, if not for the sour expression on her face.