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A Soldier's Life - 77 - A Sense of Foreboding
🕑 Added 2023-09-30 20:54:58 +0000 UTCChapter 77 A Sense of Foreboding
The oblivion pill worked. I woke early, and it was probably my best sleep since arriving in this world. I was even up before Konstantin for once. I quietly packed up my things with my glow stone for light. I moved to a fire with some coals. I stirred them and added some dry wood to get a little fire going in the chilly pre-dawn air. I was surprised when Delmar came out of his tent, sat next to me, and added some wood of his own.
“How is your training with Konstantin progressing?” He asked as the wood started to burn into a healthy fire.
“I am learning a lot. He is quite knowledgeable,” I replied.
Maybe my tone was flat, or it was how I said it, but Delmar laughed, “That well, huh? I argued against it. Even though we do not have potions for you to carry, we should be using your space for something. Hell, every man here is now carrying an extra twenty pounds of food.”
His statement made me feel guilty because I could easily carry every backpack in the company. It was quiet for a moment, and then I asked, “You said only you and Konstantin had blades that could injure the specters?”
In response, Delmar drew his long blade. He was one of the few men in the company who carried a blade over thirty inches. My own preferred short sword blades were around twenty-eight inches. He handed me the blade, and the blade alone was just short of three feet, maybe thirty-five inches. It was also much lighter than it appeared. The steel looked polished, and the blade was well cared for.
“That is a dungeon blade. You can not see the runic work unless you heat the blade in a forge, but trust me, it is a magical blade,” Delmar said fondly. “Back when I was delving into dungeons, it was given to me. It only has one enchantment on it: durability. The blade never dulls or tarnishes. Makes cleaning a breeze,” he chuckled, and I returned it to him. “Any type of runic blade is magical and will strike creatures that exist ethereally, like the specters.”
“How do I get one?” I asked, and our quiet conversation got a short, loud chuckle from Delmar.
“There are no master arcane weaponsmiths in the Empire capable of making a runic blade. The last one was Master Bacchus, but he died before I was born.” Delmar put the blade into the sheath. He thought for a moment and looked at me seriously, “There are three ways to get a runic blade, Eryk. Kill someone who wields one and take it. Delve a dungeon and earn one from a dungeon reward. Or travel outside the Telhian Empire and find a master weapon smith who can forge one and pay him a small fortune.”
“So they are valuable then? How much would one cost?” I asked, hoping to get some comparison to my amulet that was valued upwards of six thousand gold.
“Very valuable. I am not a trader, and too many factors equate to a blade’s worth, but most end up in the hands of the First Citizens or their personal legionnaire guards. A simple runic dagger might cost you a hundred gold. A blade,” he tapped his sheath, “a thousand.” My jaw hung open because that was the reaction I knew he wanted.
“Is Konstantin’s blade the same as yours? A durability enchantment?” I asked Delmar since he seemed so talkative.
“No,” came a gruff voice from behind me. I jumped at the sound. It was Konstantin, and he sat at the fire with us. “My runic blade was forged by an elven smith a millennia ago. It is designed to overcome the defenses of the undead.” I was disappointed he did not draw it to let me look at it as Delmar had. He usually used a practice blade or wrapped his blade when we practiced. Konstantin put some ham on a stick and began heating near the coals.
There was an awkward silence, and then Delmar asked, “You never told me how you came by your blade, Konstantin.”
Konstantin grunted, “The first option. Killed an elven Ranger when I was with the Hounds. Took her blade. Had it appraised in the city, and it had a maker’s mark for the elven smith. Guess he was famous or something. It is a good blade,” he finished with a grunt. The grunt was a signal he did not want to talk further about the origins of the blade.
“Is that why you wanted to go into the ruined elven city? To test the blade against undead ghosts?” I asked, piecing some things together. Konstantin had warned me about being fooled by the beauty of elves, and he just admitted to killing one. Maybe there was a story there.
Konstantin took the smoking ham and ate it. He then answered my question, “Some magic blades thirst for what they were forged to do. Mine is like an itch that needs scratching.” He abruptly stood, “Since you are up early, Eryk. We can walk the perimeter together.” Konstantin obviously did not want to discuss it further.
I positioned my pack against a tree so I would remember where it was. Once the whole company woke, I did not want my pack mixed with another by mistake. I followed Konstantin, and he started to descend the hill. “Konstantin, should we be heading out there? Just the two of us with the dire wolves so close?”
He didn’t stop but said, “The wind is blowing this way,” he indicated with his hand. “We will smell them long before we see them. Besides, we are just circling the base of the hill to look for tracks.”
I did not know where his confidence came from about not being attacked, but I followed his lead. As we circled, I noticed we never left the sight line of our sentries on the hill. Konstantin pointed out a lot of small animal tracks, but it appeared nothing large approached the hill we camped on. We returned to the top of the hill after circling the base twice. Once for Konstantin to point everything out and once for me to do the same.
The company was ready to move, and Castile addressed everyone, “We should be at the edge of the dire wolf territory. Our goal is to make forty miles today so we can make forty miles tomorrow and rest in Duchess Victoria’s Castle tomorrow night.” She got some cheers from the motivational pre-march speech.
Konstantin motioned me to him, “Eryk, you are out front, just like yesterday. Do not get more than fifty paces ahead and retreat if you sense or see danger. I am going to serve as the rear sweeper. We may be moving out of the dire wolf hunting grounds, but something still does not feel right.” He looked back down the road toward the ruins of the elven city of Caelora.
We separated, and I was on my own after only three days of training. Yes, we were on a level paved road that ran fairly straight. But I was out front and would be the first to encounter a threat. I knew there were worse things in this world than dire wolves and gnolls. A few hours into the walk, I spotted some old wagons in the woods just off the road. I waited for everyone to catch up. Konstantin arrived, and we both moved into the woods to explore the wagons in a clearing off the road.
There were three wagons, all weathered and damaged. Konstantin moved slowly, found a few small bones in the leaves, and looked into the wagons. There were some sealed pottery jars and rotting linens. Castile, Delmar, and Adrian joined us. Konstantin grunted, “Not dire wolves, or there would have been more damage to the wagons. Not bandits, or they would have taken everything. I am guessing whatever happened here, it was about two winters ago.”
“So, an old merchant caravan?” Castile asked while looking into the decrepit wagons.
“Most likely. They circled the wagons for the night. Whatever took them, it was in the night. At least six horses—maybe as many as twenty men by the bones and rusted weapons in the area. Scavengers dismembered the bodies. Even though the site is old, I suggest we get far away from here before making camp,” Konstantin advised. He looked uneasy at the mystery.
Adrian suggested, “Maybe it is time to drop supplies to move faster?”
Delmar countered, “No, we are a large enough group that we are scaring off most threats. The supplies are needed; we can give double rations today to help lighten the men.”
“Do it. And have some men search the wagons. If they didn’t take the trade goods, maybe there is a lock box somewhere,” Castile ordered.
Firth and Wylie joined Konstantin and I as we searched the wagons. Everyone else was on the road eating. I found a plain gold ring on the ground, still around a finger bone. I sent it to my dimensional space without telling anyone. Firth found the lockbox under some rotted boards in a wagon. We brought it to Castile and forced it open. Water had damaged the documents, making them mush. But there was a fair amount of coin. “The fates must be smiling on us,” Castile murmured.
The chest contained twenty-six large gold and a huge assortment of smaller coins in gold, silver, and copper. She fished out some jewelry and four essences from the moldy mass of paper. I recognized them as two minor strength essences, a major fortitude essence, and a major constitution essence.
Adrian said softly to Castile, “The two strength essences should go to the new legionaries, Quentin and Remus.” Castile nodded and handed them to Adrian, who went to deliver them.
Castile handed the major essence of the constitution to Delmar, “Although I hate to reward bad luck, give this to Donte.” Donte had a small fortune of coins left when his backpack washed overboard from the barge. “It should take the sting out of his loss,” Delmar turned and left on his delivery mission. Castile held the essence of fortitude in her hand for a few moments, considering. Then she placed it in her mouth.
Castile turned to me, “Seems I have use of your dimensional space. You can store the lockbox there until we reach Sobral.” She closed it and handed it to me. I nodded and sent the box to my space.
We returned to the road, and Castile addressed the company, “Fortunas has smiled on us. I will be able to meet your enhanced pay and replace your lost legion gear.” Grunts of appreciation came from the men. I could see Wylie explaining what she meant to Quentin and Remus by increased pay—a way to buy their loyalty. I could already tell the essence gifts were well received. They had both fought hard on the aqueduct and deserved the reward.
Brutus looked on enviously, but his time would come. Brutus and the missing Flavius were the only other new members of our company. Castile would have some work to do to earn their loyalty.
As we scouted ahead, Konstantin walked next to me, and I asked, “How were the wagons undiscovered for so long?”
Konstantin had obviously been thinking about it and had a response, “This old trade road is probably only used by the desperate merchants. The elven ruins and dire wolves are probably not the only threats. Most merchants will hire a barge or head west, then north, to reach the capital if they can not afford to use the portals.” He paused, “still, it is perplexing that those wagons were relatively undisturbed and just weathered for years.”
I noticed Konstantin’s pace had increased, pulling the legion into a faster march behind us. It must be his way of showing some fear of the unknown. We walked late until sunset, and Konstantin directed everyone to a clearing far off the road. He had everyone walk single file and focus, stepping on stones. Konstantin’s own tension did not help the company as they set up camp.
“Come, Eryk, I will show you how to obscure our tracks from the road,” Konstantin took me back to the road. That meant I was going to have to set up my tarp in the dark. The lesson was like reverse tracking. Konstantin pointed out things that showed our passing and how best to hide it. “It will not fool an experienced tracker, but hiding the trail will help you learn how to move unseen yourself. This,” he held up a jar of powder, “is spores from a myconid. It is a fungal monster. If you breathe them in, your nose will flare up, and you cannot smell anything for days. Your nose will also run like a river.” He handed it to me. “Go back from the direction we came and lay a trail across the road. Use about half the jar, and do not breathe it in.”
“Is this for the dire wolves?” I asked.
“No, we made over forty miles today and are likely out of their hunting territory. But any creature that tracks by scent will be foiled by this. Hurry before darkness comes,” Konstantin went into the bushes to rejoin the others, and I was left on the road. I jogged two hundred yards down the road, laid a thin line across the road, and then returned. I almost missed where we turned off but carefully made my way back to the company.
There were already eight men on sentry duty. Lirkin did not even start a fire and handed me a ration bar. Brutus came over and helped me set up my tent in the dark as I ate. “Everyone is on edge,” Brutus said softly.
“Fear of the unknown, or maybe they know what it is and do not want to scare us,” I suggested of Konstantin and the leadership.
Brutus looked around at the settling darkness, “Whatever it is, I do not like these woods. It feels like something is watching us.”
We finished getting my tarp up, and he returned to his own just a few steps away. I settled onto my wet bedroll. I kept on my cuirass and put my helm nearby with the glowstone inside. I had to remove my boots and socks to let them air out. I healed my blisters and one blackened toenail. I decided to forgo the oblivion pill tonight. After Brutus had said it, it did feel like something was watching us.
Comments
Erick Thiemke
When I think about the Gladius I think of shield walls and a stabbing weapon. Also the Romans were short, under 5’6” where Eryk is over 6’ so a longer blade makes sense. When I was doing the spit balling early in the story I was thinking he would be wielding two short swords and have a spell form for time that allow him to accelerate time on his person, making him a whirling dervish
Otto Kovar
you do not have to do it all at once. Keep it vague and omit the details and add them over the story. Here a hunting sword. A short single edged blade. Later on: this antler grip really fits me well and has a nice grip to it. At a light spar: The tip curves to a wicked point, redirecting my strikes makes it really useful and may deliver some devastating wounds. later at a campfire: Used this sword for quite a while now, never sharpened it once. Taking a closer look i spot some wierd looking script along the spine. Nice detailing. Also i like this bronze colored handguard, really helps one catch the blade in a scuffle.
Erick Thiemke
this is good. not sure if readers want me to spend a few paragraphs describing the blade they are using. it could be from any era.... Maybe in a rewrite of the earlier chapters I can include it.
Otto Kovar
makes sense
Erick Thiemke
71 cm is the 28 inches so it is close. I was actually only addressing this as someone was concered with the MC favoring a short sword and did not have good reach. so i was aiming for the longest short sword possible :)
Otto Kovar
also the most used short sword in the history of mankind was the gladius and that is 45–68 cm in blade length
Otto Kovar
how about the oakshot typology, it is widely used to differentiate which sword form was popular throughout the middle ages up to the late renaissance era, there are also other typologies, depending on which region one might focus i think the oakshot type xiv is the closest to the term short sword, though in other typologies that might differ https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oakeshott_typology
Erick Thiemke
this was what I referenced when writing that
Erick Thiemke
https://faitsdarmes.com/en/36-short-sword#:~:text=The%20short%20sword%20commonly%20designates,the%20shape%20of%20the%20rapier.
Otto Kovar
your 28 inch short sword is kind of longsword length (they had a 80- 110 cm blade) even if you meant total length i doubt the handle is longer than a foot, i bet that was just a typo
