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Book 5: Chapter 31 - Weapon (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 03:55:50 +0000 UTCAt the moment of your first breath, you wept as the world stood in joyful wonder. Strive each day to weave benevolence with thoughtful action, so that in the twilight of your final hour, those you leave behind mourn their loss as you find serene delight in your farewell. Let your words be the gentle ripple that spreads unity, and the echo of your deeds the steady vessel that carries kindness to all shores. When the last lamp dims, may your spirit rise in quiet fulfillment, while the tears of those you cherished speak of a life fully sown and richly harvested.
- The Book of Wise Tellings from the Land of Streams.
Thankfully, my little ruse led to the blame for the elf’s disappearance being laid squarely at the feet of Malik and his incompetent guards. Since I was far from the scene—at least on the surface—I had no apparent motive for freeing her, particularly as I was the one who had brought her in the first place.
I snickered to myself. The knife-ear would survive for generations underground, acting as a font of knowledge for the burgeoning race of new ratmen, distinct from “normal” Beastkin.
Like all worthwhile endeavors, I made sure to have a plan—if it could even be called that. It was more of a countermeasure, reliant on one thing: myself and Larynda. By making ourselves indispensable, I hoped to secure my position in the grand new order. Dissension among the Holder Houses was threatening to tear Al-Lazar apart at the seams before it could even address the threats beyond its walls, so the fledgling government needed a victory. It needed a champion, and I could fulfill that role.
Farzan’s grand strategy was simple: allow the attackers to grind themselves against our walls, slowly wearing them down. However, there was a flaw to this line of thinking. For the besieged to claim a victory, the enemy must abandon the siege, or a relief army must arrive. No such army was coming. Al-Lazar stood alone, and not even its vast wealth could buy fresh allies to this fight. This storm of events and convenient coincidence reeked of years of careful scheming—or possibly the hand of the Divines.
Despite the city’s weakened state—plagued by internal strife, a complacent military, and the complexities of regional politics—Al-Lazar remained formidable. Its enemies would not take it without a fight, and I intended to win that fight, even if I had to slaughter all of the city-state’s foes personally.
To that end, I made several requests. One was to take up temporary residence in one of the towers with Larynda. In surprisingly short order, another request was fulfilled by the city’s craftsmen. It arrived at my spartan quarters in the tower: a long rod of dark metal, exactly my height. An Identify spell confirmed what it was:
Adamantine Longbow
Durability: 9999/9999
Beside it lay a coil of metal wire rope, made of the same heavy metal, intended as the bowstring. Next to that was a barrel filled with solid steel arrows fletched with Gryphon feathers, along with a large black leather quiver. It was the lingering memory of Enkidu that had inspired me to request such a weapon.
Inside a separate case was one very special projectile—a last resort if all else failed.
Even with my considerable Strength, stringing this new weapon was challenging; I had never done it before. I asked a Raqib for a demonstration on how to string a “normal” bow, since he lacked the Strength to assist with mine. He was surly—many of that middling rank often are—and surprised that I did not know something so “basic,” but he was polite enough not to push me too far. Together, we managed.
Contrary to modern depictions of archers in many games, wielders of powerful warbows needed considerable training and Strength. The effete-looking archer is very much a myth. The bow was very much a “masculine” weapon, as higher draw weights were simply unsuitable for anyone lacking the muscle to use them.
Once atop the tower, I tested whether I could fully draw the monstrous weapon. Though I could manage it, I could not draw it quickly, and doing so drained a prodigious amount of Stamina. Nor could I hold the draw for long—it strained my reserves with every second. It was almost comical how “gamified” this world felt at times. Not to mention, proper archery relied heavily on instinct and years of experience, and I had neither the time nor the spare skill points to master it overnight.
So, I demanded a few animals already slated for slaughter. The test subjects were massive, six-legged bison-like creatures—heavier and bulkier by far than any normal cattle. Firing my new bow at them demonstrated its terrifying power. Blood and bone splattered as the arrows tore great, gaping holes through their bodies, killing them instantly and embedding themselves several meters deep into the stone behind.
Though the quality of cuts from these kills would be dubious at best, I continued until I achieved what I was looking for:
You have killed Unknown 5 experience gained.
You have learned Bows (lvl.1)
You have gained 1 Strength.
You have gained 1 Dexterity.
If I lacked the necessary skill, I would brute force my way to it. I understood enough about the system to manipulate it in a crude fashion now.
Still, level one in Bows only signified the most basic understanding of the weapon. To help counter this, I attached a small long glass to the bow as a crude sight, allowing me some semblance of accuracy without years of practice. The downside was that I had to lift my visor to use it, creating a vulnerable spot. Also, my strategy would be to target flying formations rather than single targets. It was a gamble, but I hoped my Luck attribute might help.
Nonetheless, some practice was better than none. I tried to intercept stones lobbed by catapults from the battlements. At first, it was exasperating—I missed all but one in twenty shots. Yet my experience with crossbows was not entirely wasted. Nor for that matter was my skill with other weapons under Fen’s flawed tutelage. It had taught me concentration and focus if nothing else. Soon, I began to anticipate the stones’ trajectories, leading my targets and started to score more hits. In the process, I gained another point in Strength and another level in Bows.
Grinning to myself, I was starting to suspect this monster of a bow was a siege weapon in its own right, given how it pulverized targets.
Meanwhile, the sea had receded, beaching completely the fortress ships, yet the elves had not mounted a new assault. Instead, I noticed shimmering disturbances in the distance—portals, a soldier informed me, that led to the Trials of the Goddess. These portals were another source of Al-Lazar’s wealth.
At first, I thought the elves’ reluctance to attack was fear of my earlier show of force. But I was quickly disabused of that notion: where the sea once lay, a new threat was forming.
Vast legions of Mer assembled just beyond the reach of Al-Lazar’s war engines, anchored by towering elven fortress ships. At this distance, they looked no bigger than swarming ants, yet already it was clear Al-Lazar would be hopelessly outmatched in open battle. Among their ranks, Larynda pointed out the Sea Hydras, half-tame warbeasts boasting regenerative powers to rival my own. Locals called them “Sevensnakes,” an obvious name for creatures that might bear as many as seven heads. Though they appeared diminutive from afar, I knew would be the size of behemoths.
Fortunate, then, that I had a weapon fit to challenge them.
I borrowed a long glass from one of the watchers on the wall and trained my gaze upon the Mer. Odd folk they were—too similar to humans by far. Aside from skin tinted in watery hues of blue or green, and hair that fanned like gills, they could have passed for one of us. The resemblance truly unsettled me, making me squeamish, for in Al-Lazar, Mer flesh was considered a delicacy.
Their soldiers wore a deep indigo armor—curiously reminiscent of heavy plastic, for lack of a better word. Form-fitting, it looked infinitely more comfortable than my own heavy harness, they called it Coralith. It required the touch of the sea to remain intact, without saltwater it would soon degrade, and was a curious substance lighter than steel but just as strong. I noticed patches of older, faded Coralith on a few veterans, their once-dark armor dulled by time.
Yet my attention soon wandered from any threat they posed to the fortune they represented. Across that vast host of Mer, I saw wealth beyond measure—so many bodies clad in the material, so much plunder to claim. And since one-fifth of all spoils would be mine by right, I felt my lips curl with raw greed. My mind stirred at the thought, already counting coins not yet won. That, and of course, the God-metal Mithril that I would harvest from the elves.
“What are your thoughts?” I asked my ward as we stood upon the yellow-stone parapets, gazing out across the sands where ocean life lay dying under the desert sun.
“We might be in a bit of a pickle,” she replied, shrugging as though the matter weighed no more than a feather.
“We can leave, if that is your wish,” I offered. I did not look at her, my eyes lingering on the horizon.
“That’s a dream at best, and we both know it,” she said. “I’m no child, and I don’t need kind words to shield me. We’ve as much chance of leaving here as of sprouting wings and flying away on the wind.”
I allowed myself a small laugh. “If I could capture a few of those eagles from the elves, perhaps the story would be different.”
She rested her hands on the crenellations, drumming her fingers as she stared out at the world beyond the walls. “I doubt there’s a beast alive large enough to bear the weight of all your coins. And that, I believe, is why you fight.”
“That is true. I fight to fend off worry,” I said, my tone as dry as the stones beneath us.
She frowned. “Worry?”
“Wealth shields a man from it,” I explained. “At its simplest, coin spares you from fretting over a roof above your head or a meal in your belly. With more of it, you need not trouble yourself about tomorrow. Taken to its farthest extreme, it even buys you protection from those who would steal your fortune in the first place.”
She pursed her lips. “So isn’t it all rather pointless?”
“Tell that to the folk in their palaces, who never lift a sword or face beasts from myth and legend. Or to the poor souls keeping watch on these walls. It matters.”
“I suppose,” she said, her voice trailing off. “Yet it still seems so…”
“It is one of those burdens you would rather have than not,” I sighed. “I would sooner fret about an overstuffed purse than lie awake with naught to my name. But that is not truly what I meant to ask. Will you stay here and fight with me?”
She set her jaw. “I am a Guild member. It’s my duty.”
“Come now,” I teased, though I regretted it almost at once. “You joined only so we could root out that devil who warped men’s minds. The Guild is but a cult devoted to an evil Goddess.”
I saw the hurt in her eyes and felt my breath catch.
I frowned. “I did not mean it like that.” I had forgotten that some truths were best unspoken and I needed my weapon to be without doubt.
She exhaled, turning her gaze back to the horizon. “No, you’re right. But all I ever wanted was to help people. I know I haven’t always been right, and I’ve had to do…things. Still, in my own small way, I want to make the world better. Some matters are greater than even you or me.”
“Lofty goals,” I said, managing a faint smile. “And I cannot deny they are difficult. On that point, though, I would disagree—I would burn this city to ashes if that was what it took to keep you safe.”
Her eyes widened, just for a beat. “That’s as difficult as a man hoping to live forever, I reckon,” she countered, looking away.
I laughed, the sound echoing. “You have got me there, Larynda. Should we succeed, we must try for one of these Trials,” I lied, not wanting to step into the shimmering portals in the slightest. “What adventure and treasure should we find within? What challenges that we must overcome together.”
She turned back to look at me, her usual smile returned to her.
