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PW Chapter 23: Rescue Mission
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 04:18:02 +0000 UTCAfter the second draught, Astrid’s hands started to jitter. It’d been a possibly stupid choice, but if she had to choose between an unnatural need to move or falling flat on her face at the first signs of resistance, she knew which she was going to choose. The taste in the back of her throat was deeply unpleasant, but she’d take that over the constant taste of blood that’d been her companion for the last several hours. Looking out the windows, Astrid couldn’t believe it wasn’t even noon. They’d left before sunrise in the late spring, and now, she was about to go back out there before lunch.
Well, before she normally would have eaten lunch. While Grom had sent someone to get her a spare arming cap and helmet, she’d sat down with a makeshift stew of jerky and trail biscuits boiled in lightly salted water. The meal was no ambrosia, but Astrid would have sworn that the Duchess’s finger had touched it, with how quickly the meal helped her feel some measure of energy once again. Once the thick broth was empty of all solids, she threw it back and drank nearly as quickly as she had with the draughts.
Then, fed and having taken some of the Apothecary’s products, all Astrid had to do was to stand, put her arming cap and unfamiliar helmet on, and clarify to Guinevere where exactly her husband had gone.
“The closest moonleaf has had trouble growing,” the Apothecary sobbed, “which is why Bertrand went instead of me. He’s level 4, so his attributes are high enough to take care of himself against a single warg. After all, he’s a Laborer, so he doesn’t have Skills to fight but he’s real strong! I just mean—”
“Guinevere.” Astrid stopped her from continuing to speak. As the panicked, rambling woman looked at her, Astrid lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Tell me where he is most likely to be right now.”
“Directly behind the store, there’s a small path that leads through the couple homes behind ours. Then, it leads into the forest. He followed that in.”
“Great. I’ll go bring him back if I can.” Astrid nodded as reassuringly as she could. Then, she turned her attention away from her “client” and asked aloud, “Who’ll accompany me to save a man?”
Nobody responded.
She looked at Svana, Pursene, and Bjorn. They didn’t respond. Looking at Lariche’s party, Astrid saw that every one of them were avoiding her gaze. The highest leveled delvers around, and they refused. Astrid thought for a second, then, with a grimace on her face, she added, “I’m sure Guinevere will be happy to reward whoever returns with her husband with reduced prices at her Apothecary shop.”
When nobody answered after that, most turning away in shame or mere unwillingness to begin a conversation, Astrid looked back at the distressed wife who begged, “Please, Astrid. Please, he’s my—”
“You don’t need to beg.” She shook her head as she patted Guinevere’s shoulder. “I’ll go, if I’m alone or with a troop of a thousand. I hope I can help.”
The unfamiliar helmet didn’t fit her nearly as comfortably as her old one, but Astrid tied it under her chin, armed herself completely, and walked out the inn’s front doors. As soon as she was out, Grom grabbed her arm. She was sure he was still inside, and the sudden appearance took her by surprise.
“He’s almost certainly dead.” He spoke without preamble. “You’re risking yourself for a corpse.”
“Or,” Astrid yanked her arm out of Grom’s unresisting grip, “I’m going to save a man. Someone who’s desperately hoping for help and salvation.”
“You don’t need to do this.” Grom insisted, his face impassive.
“Maybe nobody’s telling me to. But I’m that woman’s only hope for her husband. They’re not even 30 yet. THey have a whole life in front of them, and I can restore that. So I’m going.”
Grom nodded slowly. “I wish I could send Stark with you, but he’s already gone to get some Iron parties here to deal with this tragedy. I have to stay here in case more of the level 9 and 10 Bosses show up. With their Dungeoneer out of commission, I’m the only one who can deal with those if they get here. Beyond that, I can’t assign anyone to risk their lives to accompany you on this. I’m sorry, but I hope you understand all these things.”
Astrid nodded, though she recognized the lump in her throat at the selfishness of others and the circumstances they were in. She turned to walk away, but Grom spoke up.
“I approve of what you’re doing, for what it’s worth. I think that this is the essence of delvers, and I’m proud of you.” That lump in her throat grew as Grom pulled her arm back and quickly unbuckled her shield from her left arm. “You probably know the reason why we don’t give enchanted, engraved, or high tier equipment to Bronze delvers.”
“They get reliant on them.” Astrid answered, unable to believe what she was sure was about to happen.
“Yeah. It’s not pretty, because even though we’ve got Skills, they don’t take care of everything. Plus, you’ve gotta practice with your Skills for them to get upgraded eventually, so it’s doubly hurting yourself. But look at me, getting distracted. Anyways. For this, I’m happy to lend you my primary shield. I can use yours while you’re gone, and when you return, I’ll get this one back. Is that alright?”
As Grom spoke, he pumped his arm quickly and his dark metal shield, the same size as her own tower shield, appeared on his arm. With sure movements, he removed it and placed it on her arm.
“You know how to use a shield. This one is just like any other, it just does a little more. You can push your mana into it to make it push something back, and it’ll grant you a couple attribute points when you’re wielding it. Finally, do you have a potion?”
“Yeah.” Astrid patted her pouch, the jittering feeling from the draught growing stronger and stronger the longer she remained still. Grom looked at her and sighed.
“How close is Quick Recovery to coming back?”
“Half an hour?” She shrugged, her armor clinking as she did so. “A bit less.”
“I don’t love that—hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s a lifesaving Skill, but you’ve gotta have it off cooldown for it to save your damn life. It’s not weird that I want to be sure you’re as safe as we can manage. But good luck. Come back soon. If you go more than a kilometer into the forest and don’t find him, come back. It’ll be too late for him, and a corpse isn’t worth anything when it’s been eaten by monsters. I mean it, if he’s that far out, the wargs will have found him, and if he hasn’t returned, he’s dead.”
Astrid pursed her lips, nodded once, and jogged off.
She checked her Status as she went, and was amazed to see that the shield didn’t give “a couple” attribute points. +7 to Power and Fortitude was more than she got from a level! While she ran, she practiced pushing her mana through the shield to make it repulse whatever was in front of her, though to limited avail. Different from the talisman she’d used earlier, all the mana that the shield demanded was her own, supplying none of the cost for itself. As such, after a single successful attempt, she could feel that she’d nearly exhausted herself and decided not to test any more.
Looking forward, Astrid quickly found the path that Guinevere was referencing and followed it past abandoned homes and quiet yards. With the inhabitants of the small town gone, Astrid felt her confidence drain. All alone, if she was overwhelmed, she would die. There was no two ways around it. This was stupidity of the highest order. If another warg past the first watershed appeared, then she would die. And here she was, running into danger, into possible death, for a woman who she had nothing more than a passing relationship with.
“Damn right I am.” Astrid growled to herself. “That’s why I wanted to be a delver, and if I run away from something dangerous now, then I'll always run away. So I’m not going to start doing it now!”
The well-trodden path quickly morphed into what was little more than a game trail. Astrid followed it along for a time, listening for anything that might warn her of a person or a monster nearby. There were a couple signs of something coming by, but nothing that Astrid pegged as a sign of Bertrand’s passage, so she ignored them. Instead, she continued deeper into the forest. There were sure to be signs of his passage somewhere nearby! Then, she could save him and bring him home, to let his wife shout at him and hold him and be relieved.
That was what a delver did.
A scream pulled her from her musing and Astrid sprinted forward, following the voice as best as she could without tripping. Somewhere ahead, there was a person suffering, and she could help alleviate that suffering. The branches in front of her were nothing to slow her rush, and it wasn’t long before Astrid found her target. Bertrand held a branch in his hand and swung it wardingly at two wargs. The man, leaning against a thick tree, was already bloody, and the corpse of a third lay nearby. His own blood flowed freely down his arms and covered his hands, and his face was streaked with tears.
With how dirty the man was, it almost looked like Bertrand had rolled in bloody mud, but that wasn’t why she was here. Astrid roared her challenge at the wargs as she rushed forward. Her shield smacked one away as she swung her hammer at the other, but the second dodged her attack. It lunged at her, and when she tried to ward it off, it took her by surprise.
“No!” she screamed as the warg buried its jaws in Bertrand’s belly. She swung her hammer at the creature, and pulled it away. It yelped and fell to the ground as she had to decide. Give him the potion right now, or kill the monsters first?
Too much of a risk of dropping or spilling the potion. The monsters needed to die. Now. Her hammer killed the malicious one that’d disemboweled Bertrand. Flecks of flesh hung from its jaws as she dispatched it.
Warg slain. 8 Experience gained.
That didn’t matter. The other, that’d been hit by her shield, pushed forward. She didn’t care if it managed to strike a small hit on her, and instead, allowed the monster to close in her guard. There, with a scream, she fell down with her bracer against its spine. With all her weight and strength driving the attack, it broke. A quick swing of her hammer dispatched the monster.
Warg slain. 7 Experience gained.
There was no need to pay them any more attention. She whirled around and looked at Bertrand. His face was a pale green, and he’d sagged to the ground.
“No no nonono.” Astrid said as she fell to her knees next to him. Then, seeing he was still breathing, she pulled out the potion, unstoppered it, and poured it into his mouth. Bertrand’s throat worked slowly, and once she’d emptied the drink down his throat, she pulled off his shirt and bound it tightly around his belly. A dozen other minor wounds patterned his body, and they faded back into his skin as the potion worked its magic. The ugly wound in his stomach puckered closed, but not entirely, and he whimpered in pain as Astrid bound him with the remains of his shirt.
“We’re going. Hold on tight.” Astrid commanded as she put her hammer in its loop in her belt and gathered him into her arms. She held him almost entirely in her right arm, almost like an infant, and kept the shield prepared on her left just in case it was necessary for her to protect themselves. With her Power and Fortitude boosted, she could just manage it, but with each step, Astrid was reminded that, for the past five or six hours, she’d been on her feet, running, fighting, and nearly dying. Carrying a fairly large man in one arm as she sprinted back to the inn was far from an easy task even in the best of times.
Even so, she ran. There was nothing else to do. Bertrand’s haggard breathing continued in her ear, and Astrid repeated reassurances that she believed less every second.
“You’ll be ok.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“The potion will make sure you make it.”
“I’ll bring you to Guinevere.”
Only that last one garnered any reaction from the invalid, and he mumbled something she couldn’t understand. Even so, any reaction was better than none, so she repeated random nonsense, hoping to keep him lucid enough to stay conscious and be able to be saved. Each step seemed to grow shorter as her legs burned and her lungs heaved, Astrid's shoulder and forearm drooped, but she held the dying man, though her hopes grew. After all, the inn was right there! Her vision swam as she couldn’t manage to get enough air. Even so, that was her goal, and she’d come close enough to get help.
“Help!” She shouted as loud as she could muster. It wasn’t much, but there were only a couple of seconds that passed before someone came out and took the man from her arms. Her vision tunneled, but she still spoke. “Gave him a potion. Bleeding. Help.”
Then, someone else came and picked her up. She fought to put her legs under herself and assist whoever was carrying her, but she was too weak, and her legs refused to listen. With no Quick Recovery ready, there was nothing she could do but to just wait for her body to recover. She heard as they came into the inn, where voices were raised and words were spoken. None of it was intelligible, and mere seconds later, Astrid lost consciousness.
***
It was a little while, but not too long before Astrid struggled back to a semblance of wakefullness. She’d been laid on a table near the corner, where a pillow was placed under her head and her helmet and cap removed. The light hurt her eyes, and Astrid groaned as she lay there. Someone came up and lightly patted her hand.
“You awake?”
“Mmm.” Astrid grunted back. She wanted to go back to sleep, but in a moment of clarity, she remembered Bertrand and Guinevere. Despite the pain, she sat up and opened her eyes. It took her a moment, but not far away, Guinevere was slumped over her husband. Astrid stood, ready to go over to congratulate the woman on a task completed and a life saved, but then she noticed the tears streaking her face, and Bertrand’s immoble chest. Not breathing.
“No.” She whispered as she stumbled forward. “But he… I gave him a potion… we have healers…”
“It wasn’t enough.” Guinevere replied, her voice leaden and torn. “At Bronze? There’s only so much… we can…”
The newly widowed woman couldn’t finish the sentence, instead breaking down to hiccuping sobs. Astrid wanted to join her, but instead of allowing herself to wallow in misery and self-recrimination, she lay a hand on Guinevere’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.” Her lip trembled. “I tried. I did… everything I could… I… I failed you. I’m sorry.”
Though Astrid received no response, Guinevere did grab Astrid’s hand. She expected to be pushed away, to be shouted at. It might have made her feel better, or allow her to truly fall into her own emotions. Instead, though, the Apothecary pulled Astrid closer, pulled her hand down until the Warrior knelt beside her. Then, once Astrid was close, Guinevere threw her arms around her neck and sobbed. As they both allowed the emotions of the day to wash over them, they spent an immeasurable amount of time locked like that, just allowing themselves to be miserable together.
Comments
No_Creative_Name
You’re the goat. I’ll be editing things again. Thanks!
Silerus
After all, he’s a Laborer, so he doesn’t have Skills but he’s real strong! I just mean—” Here's a quote from chapter 15: Her husband was the intelligent man that’d come to Percival’s assistance, a Craftsman who’d completed most of the fine work in the village. Her husband shoould be a Craftsman, nor a Laborer, I think, unless it's a general term for craft-focused classes. Looking at Lariche’s party, TJ saw that every one of them were avoiding her gaze TJ -> Astrid
