Slayer Anderson
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The Hand We're Dealt - Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2024-07-30 10:24:54 +0000 UTCMy magic flared as I brought forth a blue flame into existence, a circle in the palm of each of my hands casting the spell twice simultaneously. The manifestation of the effect burst into existence and I coached it into a pair of long daggers held in a reverse grip.
“AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!”
I spun, one of the luminous blue 'blades' slicing through the man's torso even as his undead flesh turned to ash. Something within me rang like a bell and I ducked, crouching as I felt something slide through the air where my head had been. Instead of turning to confront my new attacker, my hands moved to shove the fire in them behind me blindly, another echoing scream confirming I'd hit cleanly even as I was moving again.
My head on a pivot, I was breathing harshly as my eyes scanned the surroundings.
It was a dark road in the middle of some wood in upstate NewYork we'd been pushing through to try and made the next small town where an inn would be. The sun had just fully set and the moon was now rising, a thin sickle of white against a cloudy starlit sky. My breath was making just the slightest cloud of vapor in the unseasonable night's chill, the glare of the blue firer in my hands illuminating and warming the air around me even as the innate construction of the spell shielded me from the heat.
“Professor? Was that all of them?” I asked, still scanning our surroundings.
“If we missed a few, then they've certainly learned we're not easy prey,” van Beek grumbled, and I relaxed minutely as I turned to see him standing with a tall staff that bore a large blue stone atop it. The wood was gnarled, twisted, and bore a scar reminiscent of a lichtenberg figure. I wouldn't be surprised by the fact that it was truly 'lightning struck wood,' one of the timeless classics of old tales.
But then, the classics are that for a reason. A grain of truth in an ocean of exaggeration.
“You did well,” the Professor commented, his eyes narrowing as he looked me over. “Is this the first fight you've been in, Henry?”
I nodded, then grimaced. “The first one where my life was at stake, sir. Children are prone to... roughhousing when adults are preoccupied, after all.”
The older man grunted with a nod. “Hmm... you have good instincts, then. And that spell of yours is particularly interesting.”
'Interesting' was one way to put it, I suppose. I don't know what I'd precisely done when I was crafting the spell I was now using, but it was a particularly robust piece of magic given the reading I was doing on [Fundamentals of Magic] using my Sacred Gear. Most spells weren't really meant to do more than one thing and, given a generous definition of 'one thing,' my spell was in line with that assertion.
Only, not really.
Because inasmuch as 'make fire' was one thing, it was fundamentally different than, say... a fireball spell. One of the simplest offensive spells that existed allowed you to create a ball of flame at a certain heat and intensity, throw power into it until it got to be the size you wanted, and left piloting your new munition to the caster's discretion.
In other words, you poured magic into a spell matrix and got a standardized effect with slight variation based on how much energy the spell had.
Oh, there were plenty of different mechanisms behind each part of the spell. For instance, I'd read about a dozen different variations on how to make the fire alone. Some spells summoned elemental fire, some combusted gasses in the air, some conjured burning fluid and set it alight... the last of these was an unusually complicated spell, but the exception here proved the rule. The conjuration of the liquid wasn't a separate element of the spell matrix. No, it was integral to the formula and already on fire when it was brought into existence.
My spell, on the other hand, was orders of magnitude more complex.
I could control the shape of the fire, the temperature, the cohesion, the strength, its ability to spread, and so much more.
That wasn't necessarily a good thing in most instances, but when one was set upon by vampires during a late night journey through the woods, being able to cast a spell that could be applied to various different combat situations was better than nothing.
With one last look around us, I flexed my fingers and extinguished my weapons, almost instantly being hit by a wave of tiredness as I yawned widely.
The Professor snorted and gestured to the carriage even as the other men of our little caravan began peeking out from the windows and where the drivers had taken cover underneath the vehicles. His voice slightly less harsh, my mentor allowed the softly-glowing magic circle underneath him to fade as he spoke, “Go. Rest in the carriage. If there's further trouble, I'll see to it.”
“Yes sir,” I nodded, my head drooping with the action as I fought to keep my suddenly-tired body moving. It wasn't quite what I'd term exhaustion, but it wasn't too far off, reminding me of the all-nighters I'd occasionally pulled in another life for various reasons.
“Well, good show,” Reginald Simons called, his face somewhat pale as he opened the window to call out to us. “You especially, Young Henry. I daresay Professor van Beek chose rightly by you, hah!”
As the man's nervous chuckle wore on, I gave him a slight smile that was ruined by another large yawn. The other man in that carriage seemed to have enough of Simons and gave him a shove as I caught a bit of his face when he rose up to do so. “Stay down, you fool! There might be more out there!”
Even as I finished staggering towards the carriage I shared with the Professor and heaved myself inside, I mentally awarded de Jaager points for common sense and reasonableness. While I laid down on the cushioned carriage bench, and felt my eyes close heavily, I could hear my mentor conversing with the drivers and the clink of coins while they settled the horses down for the last leg of the day's trip.
The next thing I remembered was being shaken awake by a large, worn hand. “Wake up, boy. Time to get into the inn. You'll just be bait for all sorts of nastiness out here.”
I rasped something out, cleared my throat, and tried again. “Yes, Master. I'm up.”
He grunted, moving out of the carriage with lumbering steps even as I followed him groggily. An errant thought had my Sacred Gear appearing within the pocket of the coat I was wearing, it's comforting weight having quickly become a balm against the uncertainty I was now facing in my future.
We made quick time out of the night and into a large two-story building which seemed to be on the edge of a ragged huddle of houses that passed for a 'town' in this day and age. I'd be able to get a more accurate look in the morning, but even accounting for my sleep-addled mind, I'd be shocked if there were more than fifty permanent residents.
The inside of the building wasn't quite what I'd pictured, having apparently been properly finished with wallpaper and furniture that was more than just raw timber benches and tables. Instead, the whole place presented a warm and homey respite from the dark night outside. I found myself pushed towards a bar where I clambered up into a seat in front of a bowl and mug.
“Sorry, love. Just some leftover stew we put back on the fire when we saw you driving up,” a voice stated and I blinked, looking up to see a woman in a heavy robe busying herself about the bar and coming towards me with a pitcher. “Here, a lad like you doesn't need anything strong, but a small ale will put some hair on your chest in a few years.”
“Thank ya'kindly, ma'am,” I nodded my head and picked up the food gratefully to shovel it in my mouth, chewing only minimally as it rapidly occurred to me that I was very hungry.
“Oh, he's got quite the appetite,” she chuckled, the woman looking over to Professor van Beek. “Here's yours, sir. I've got a pair of rooms upstairs for you and your friends and the drivers have already set up in the bunks next to the stables. Awfully late to be getting in.”
“We ran into some trouble on the way,” the Professor replied obliquely, and I could see the two other college men sitting down nearby at the bar as well. “Just a little excitement with some brigands, but it seems we scared them off well enough.”
Taking a break from shoveling food into my mouth, I picked up the large mug and watched as the Professor patted his right hip where one might holster a pistol.
“We've had a few people go missing on the roads lately,” the innkeeper admitted worriedly, sweeping brown hair over one ear. “An ugly thing when people turn away from the Gospel like that. I hope they learned their lesson this time and either mend their ways or pull up stakes for somewhere else.”
Meanwhile, I refrained from grimacing at the taste of the 'small ale.' It was... certainly something.
When people talked about children drinking alcohol 'back in the day' during my past life, this is what they really meant. In fact, it was what most people drank on a day to day basis, being something like what the modern world would call 'near beer,' or things that had little to no actual alcohol content. The upside was that the fermentation process created an anaerobic environment that starved most pathogens of the oxygen needed to live and reproduce. Also, while it didn't have much alcohol in it, it usually had some, and even a little bit of alcohol could serve as an analgesic to dull the aches and pains of a hard day's work.
All without the downside of actually getting drunk.
Even if people did drink to drunkenness in this day and age, it was still far from socially acceptable and heavily stigmatized. Even moreso than in the twenty-first century. Public intoxication was a sign of a moral failing that threatened the fabric of the community in the here and now. Small ale and other such drinks like it filled the niche of being both safer than most available sources of water, easily stored, and able to ease the load of brutal pre-industrial agricultural work.
It just... didn't taste all that good.
Well, no... it tasted like piss.
God, the past fucking sucks.
It might be my present, now that I existed in this time period, but part of me would always regard the world around me as underdeveloped and more than a little primitive. The worst part of all of this was that I'd slowly gotten used to it, as awakening my Sacred Gear had shown me. My time in the orphanage had been spent, when not doing chores, desperately attempting to amuse myself in a way that wouldn't get me branded as some sort of hooligan or delinquent.
Thankfully, I'd scrapped my plans to create a board game after seeing one of the older boys being paddled for bringing dice into the orphanage. Playing cards were similarly taboo as well, both being instruments of moral and spiritual corruption that seduced one into gambling dens and brothels. There wasn't any innocent use for such temptations of Satan and the bulk of society acted on that understanding.
I shook my head as I tore off a piece of cold, stale bread and used it to mop up the last of the stew before chewing through the tough, dark grains and washing it all down with the remainder of my drink.
Truly, hunger is the best spice.
Especially when spices other than salt cost an arm and a leg, when they could be had at all.
“Thank you for the food, ma'am. It was very good,” I stated, pushing my bowl and mug forward as tiredness began to creep back into my mind.
“You're a sweet one, dear. Take care now and help your master with his things,” the innkeeper smiled, taking the dishes and leaving me alone with the three older men.
“You heard the woman,” Professor van Beek growled around his own food before waving an empty spoon towards the luggage at the door. “Take that to the room, boy. Use the outhouse if you need it, then wash your face and hands. We'll be in bed soon, no time for horseplay. Early start tomorrow to make it back to Hanover.”
“Yes sir,” I nodded respectfully, trudging off to do what must be done.
Magic indoor toilet, magic indoor running water, magic washing machine... one day. Oh, one day.
I put my dreams of vengeance on my current situation aside as I pushed through the incredibly nasty experience that was using a nineteenth-century outhouse before managing to get myself and Professor van Beek's luggage into our shared room and making a beeline for the cot that had been set up off to one side, practically ripping my shoes and coat off before collapsing onto it and falling dead asleep. Some part of me was vaguely aware of a door being opened and shut, but it was a distant alertness that I couldn't be bothered to heed. With the level of energy I had left, it was either my mentor or I was already dead from whatever had crept into the room.
Thankfully, the latter wasn't the case as I was awoken by my sheet being torn free.
“Up, Boy! We're leaving before long!”
I shivered in the brisk summer morning, already wishing the sun would come up. I'd always been a child of the American south in my previous life. Upstate New York or New Hampshire were essentially foreign countries to me. Even with seven years' experience, everything still seemed too cold. That said, I knew I was going to have to get used to it, because I wasn't going anywhere close to the Mason-Dixon line until well after abolition if I could help it.
A fast breakfast and a quick loading of the carriages later, I was seated opposite of my master once again for a long day's journey, and felt there was no better time to ask.
“Is what happened last night common, Master?”
The older man's face twisted slightly as he looked away from the early morning scenery shrouded in mist and glanced over me before returning his gaze to the window. Just as I was about to resolve to no reply, he spoke. “More than one would hope, less than one would expect. The New World is mostly lawless wilderness, full of beasts and monsters that the native savages thought they could live in harmony with and thus did not properly cull. Credit where it's due, though, vampires are an Old World plague that followed us across the water, much like smallpox.”
The old man took out a flask from his coat and drained a bit before capping and returning it. “Vampires are the locusts of our world. Numerous, possessed of animal cunning and great strength, but little more than pests when compared to devils, demons, the fallen, and other more obscure pagan creatures. Do not think just because you acquitted yourself well last night that you are remotely able to stand on your own two feet yet. Offering challenge to a magical beast or creature of the night will surely see yourself dead to foolhardiness in quick order.”
“As you say, sir,” I nodded, shivering inwardly at the thought of fighting more... well, of anything, really. Combat wasn't especially something I was familiar or comfortable with. In fact, I'd been surprised at how well I'd done last night. “Mr. Simons and Professor de Jaager... do they know about magic?”
It was an interesting question with a more interesting answer, one that would tell me what the protocol was in a situation dealing with normies. In DxD they'd usually just hypnotized the person into forgetting, but that was a very different age. Here and now...
“They know enough. Enough to want to know no more,” van Beek replied with a grunt. “Don't speak to them of the affairs last night, nor the drivers. Neither have any interest in being involved in our affairs any more than we have interest in them doing so.”
Which probably means it's handled on a case-by-case basis and there isn't any formal procedure or rule. Which is pretty much what DxD depicted, really. It was one thing if some rando found out about the Moonlit World, but if they had an unknown pre-existing supernatural connection then they'd be allowed to remember.
“Bring out your Gear,” van Beek commanded suddenly, and I snapped the book into existence in my hand out of reflex. “Have it look up the fundamentals of magic, like you've been doing. Read a chapter and I'll test you on it. You should be recovered well enough to do a bit of light training. Hopefully I'll have you trained up to the point you won't be a complete bungler in my lab.”
“Yes sir,” I nodded, hastening to do as he instructed and flipping through to where I'd stopped last time to begin reading.
As the carriage rocked back and forth, bouncing with each pothole and misplaced stone along the dirt roads, we drew ever closer to our destination...
~~~
This weekend was exhausting. So glad it's over.
I won't bore anyone with the personal drama, but suffice to say things have settled back down now and my new laptop is fully updated and loaded with all of my personal files. This is, in fact, the first story chapter written on it! So, that's awesome! No rollover chapter for the public this time, though, seeing as how I'm trying to build up a backlog for this one.
That means that all of you have access to it for an extended time!
My next update will likely be another Code Geass Quest epilogue OR a Winning Peace update. I'm partially done with both of them, it just matters which crosses the finish line first. Either way, I should post something with the monthly poll announcement for August.
In the meantime! Rock on, stay awesome, and thanks for all your support!
Comments
Anonykor
What a great story. I was reluctant to read it because of the DxD setting, but your setting and time period is a fresh take
Slayer Anderson
By the 1800’s, even the early part of the century, chess was beginning to grow in popularity and be learned by the lower classes. The problem is less that it’s not well-known, though it was far from its modern spread, and more of a general pervasive belief that ‘games’ were at best wastes of time that took the player away from productive pursuits like farming or crafting. At worst, they were morally corruptive and led to gambling and excessive drinking.
Slayer Anderson
Thanks, the short version is that a friend’s grandmother passed away last week abruptly, though not unexpectedly (she was in a care ward), and he needed help with some stuff. Between that, migrating data and finishing the laptop setup, and my brother visiting, the weekend was a wild ride.
Jeffrey Gassenheimer
Source of income? My guy, Chess was known as the *kings game* because you had to be a feudal aristocrat to have the time to care about it in this era. Unless you’re a well off person in a large city, or a feudal lord, you’re a subsistence farmer who may not even be literate. Who the hell is gonna be buying board games.
godUsoland
Hmm, no Board Games? Damn, that would have been a great source of money. Maybe create a Simple War Game or Strategy Game, or bring one over from somewhere far away from what people are used to. Instead of Chess, maybe make Checkers or Go? Those shouldn't trigger any gambling fear
godUsoland
Glad your life settled back down! Sounds like you went through a lot. Looking forward to that WP Chapter! :)
