Battleforged
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Chapter 502 - Eating with the In-laws
🕑 Added 2025-02-17 03:00:01 +0000 UTC
A short time later, Eric left Luigi’s shop whistling an off key tune, grinning from ear to ear and more than pleased with his arrangement, thinking he looked quite fine in his stylish waistcoat that didn’t ruffle at all in the breeze, reinforced as it was, and complimenting the silk vest graced with a veritable explosion of lace, buttons, and ruffles such that one could easily discount its slightly odd shape and stiffness, especially contrasted with his high collard linen shirt and cummerbund, all of it flashing with glistening golden threads and topped off with a well padded tricorn hat that would hopefully protect even his foolish head.
Ivan was giving him the strangest look. “You gave him a coin in a small bone box. A coin that blazed with the heat of a forge, felt only when you lifted the lid to that box. A box that I suppose is similar to the sheath you used for your former spear, and he heaped those treasures upon you with his blessing.”
Eric nodded. “Disappointing to hear that vapor pressure works differently here, but steam punk is well and good in Orlin’s kingdom so… yeah. He effectively got a perpetual energy machine to power one of the dwarven king’s furnaces or kilns, in return for excess product he’s having a damn hard time selling here anyway. Of course the point isn’t to make a sale, but to prove my words and my worth to a powerful, touchy king… who, it turns out, might just be a family friend. Assuming he doesn’t just try to slaughter me outright for my you-know-whats.” Eric shrugged. “I guess we’ll see.”
Ivan blinked at this. “Just who are you, really, lad?”
Eric winked. “I think you pretty much guessed it yourself.”
“A faerie prince, bringing together your lost flock of fey courtiers to take over Winter’s Realm?”
Eric chuckled, ignoring the odd and measuring looks his jaunty air earned him by the couple well-to-do passersby gazing at him with their tricorn hats and cashmere waistcoats that lacked the armored lining of the outfit he now wore.
“You know what? That’s close enough. Let’s go with that.”
He then tapped his thick, silver-tipped walking stick onto the cobblestone road. “So, how do I look?”
Ivan snorted. “Like a buffoon of a French courtier trying to fit into British aristocracy… and failing miserably.”
Eric positively beamed. “Perfect! Just the look Liugi and I were going for. All the frills and lace and puffed-up excess one could hope for.”
Ivan solemnly nodded. “One would never know that your vest is a cuirass of finest dwarven steel underneath all the silk and lace, that the skull cap under your tricorn would ward off an axe blow, even if your neck breaks from the force of the strike, or that your waistcoat is basically brigandine armor.”
Eric nodded. “And the sword cane is actually a quality steel saber, even if a bit straighter and narrower than I prefer. It can slice open wrist or throat with an effortless flick, and delivers point as well as any rapier.”
Ivan smirked. “And for some reason I wasn’t at all surprise to see that you actually had good form when you attacked Luigi’s padded dummy in back. Though I was surprised to see you lunge so well with the fifty pounds of steel you’re presently wearing.”
Eric chuckled. “True. But don’t get it twisted. My muscles are screaming for sustenance. I am absolutely famished!
Ivan nodded. “Your appetite is fortuitous. Grandmother Agdelina would be quite offended if anyone leaves her house without breaking their fast.”
Eric blinked at this, swallowing his suddenly dry throat. “You mean Agda’s grandmother? The one who…”
Ivan snorted. “Yes, Eric. The one who served as midwife to her grandchild and took care of a weakened Agda too ashamed to come into town. The one who taught her a mother’s lessons after my own wife passed. The one who made sure that Emily was properly baptized and recognized by the church, and no one dared say a word against the midwife who brought so many little ones into the world, and not a single child lost this past year, when normally a third fail to thrive.”
Eric flushed, lowering his head. “Understood.”
“Good. We will speak to her with nothing but deference and respect. I will let her know that Agda’s at the college and that it’s time for the two of them to make peace.” The man sighed, shaking his head. “The storm has already past. No use crying over ruined crops now. The seasons turn, so best we prepare for the spring to come.”
“And by spring, you mean Emily?”
Ivan’s step faltered for just a heartbeat. He gave Eric a searching look, before his hard lips curved in a bleak smile, words barely a whisper that carried not at all. “Understand that much already, do you, prince of the Winter Court?”
Eric winked. “Strictly a free agent, but sure. So, what do you think dear Grandmother Agdelina’s cooking up for us?”
Ivan gave him a pointed look. “Whatever it is, we will give our thanks and ask for seconds.”
“Trust me, friend Ivan. That won’t be a problem.”
They walked at a fast clip through the nicer section of town, a part of Eric surprised find himself heading not toward one of the more rundown area but to what was perhaps the nicest section as they strode past beautifully kept two and three story colonial homes with slate tiled roofs, gorgeously blooming autumn gardens, and surprisingly clear window panes that Eric suspected were dwarf imports. The doors were of stout hardwood with brass or even silver knockers, and the properties all looked well-cared for.
Ivan’s look was oddly self-conscious as he straightened his collar, brushed off his jacket and tapped the muck off his boots before a particularly imposing edifice, before finally gathering the college to grant finely polished brass knocker on the imposing oak door before him a firm double tap.
He then stepped off the front step to wait by Eric’s side at a soldier’s rest, his bayoneted rifle still in hand, only in that moment looking the tiniest bit awkward and out of place.
Precisely twenty seconds after knocking, the door opened to reveal a prim-looking young woman in a pretty lilac dress, hair done up in a bun, who gave the barest of curtsies before stepping back and welcoming them in.
“Please come in. Lady Agdelina is expecting you.”
Ivan’s features tightened but he said not a word, merely dipping his head and gesturing for Eric to follow his lead as they both entered the foyer where they received pointed looks from the servant, who gestured to two pairs of felt slippers. “If you would take off your boots and leave your weapons, the lady bids you welcome.”
Eric blinked at this but Ivan was already slipping out of his boots and leaving his gun on a rack obviously designed for that purpose. Per the man’s pointed look, Eric left his sword cane in what looked like a brass umbrella stand, save for the collection of rapiers, small swords, and sabers contained therein... or hanging on a sword rack adjoining the door.
Ivan then deliberately lowered the steel bar into its latch, securing the reinforced door from all but the most vigorous of assaults.
Eric felt a certain measure of relief. If they were surrendering their weapons, it was good that the main entranceway was secure, and he had noted as well the wrought iron bars elegantly securing the windows as well.
Much to his surprise, the felt-lined leather shoes that were practically slippers fit him perfectly. But considering the Enigmatic nature of their hostess, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised at all.
Yet despite Ivan’s shift in demeanor, Eric still found himself taken aback after walking down a long hardwood corridor into an impressive dining room lit up by both windows and chandelier, Eric’s eyes gravitating both to the polished oak table near groaning under the weight of gustatory delights that included roasted foal, swine, and venison, freshly baked loaves and bowls of clotted cream, and several tureens filled with chicken and vegetable soup.
Yet what truly caught Eric’s gaze wasn’t just the desperately craved-for sustenance. It was the obvious matron of the house wearing a v-necked dress of silk and lace. Her features were prim and free of makeup, but she looked surprisingly young for a clan matron, hard lines around the mouth the only sign of her advanced age. Even her hair had only a few strands of white that seemed to blend right into the string of pearls accenting her straw gold mane.
Eric felt an odd frisson when her piercing blue eyes met his own. Eyes he recognized from a certain midnight working in realms of dream and regio, before she turned to Ivan.
“Why have you waited so long?”
Ivan opened his mouth but no words slipped free, gazing slack-jawed at the woman before barking something sharply in what Eric surmised was a Russian dialect.
This earned a snort. “This day is the least of it. But never mind. You’re here.” She gave Eric a particularly pointed look. “Please sit and eat your fill. A growing boy like you needs all the meat on his bones he can get, no?”
Eric flushed at the knowing look she gave him, but didn’t hesitate to bow his head and take a seat, a quiet servant nearby presenting him a steaming hot plate absolutely filled with delectable portions of steaming hot victuals.
Eric’s mouth was watering. The scents of perfectly roasted meat tormenting his nostrils. He stole a quick glance Ivan’s way, receiving a tight nod as the man prepared his won plate.
“Go on, eat your fill, boy,” their hostess said. “Ivan and I have much to discuss and you’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”
This made Ivan pause. “What do you know?”
This earned a glare. “Eat first. Then we talk.”
Eric needed no more invitation than that. No matter the odd tension he felt in the air, sensing that things were rapidly coming to a boil… no matter how odd it was that Agdelina’s eyes seemed to read him so well… from the first bite of perfectly grilled pheasant to the crackling skin of perfectly fried pork, Eric allowed himself to be carried off into culinary paradise as he ravenously devoured the entire plate of delightful victuals before him, pausing only to drink down a surprisingly refreshing pint of table beer, only lightly fermented, as was proper in this time and place.
He paused in his gluttony only long enough to fill his plate with freshly baked scones slathered with cream, truly feeling like he was in heaven, the awful gnawing ache in his stomach and muscles that he had grown so used to over the last two days only now abating.
Of course there were consequences to gluttony, yet when he looked up he didn’t even have time to whisper the awkward question before the same servant as before beckoned him with a knowing nod.
“This way,” she whispered, and he didn’t know whether to be dismayed or grateful to find himself in a spacious bathroom with a toilette that looked both ancient and modern, clearly making use of a plunger and indoor plumbing, and clearly not of any modern design.
“Imported from the motherland. I trust you know how to use it?”
A flushing Eric quickly nodded under the maid’s pointed look.
“Good. Then let me help you out of your armaments.”
Eric didn’t think his cheeks could blaze any brighter. How the heck did this girl even know? But of course. Enigma. So thick it was practically ether here.
A force that could suppress even a Contender’s potency and arts… a force that no doubt conveyed countless secrets to those who understood its ways.
And most importantly as far as a now mostly naked and desperate to distract himself as he took care of business with the maid only now stepping free of the chamber… this shadow realm was absolutely incredible for wicking away plaque, like freshening a stale bedroom with a cool winter breeze, blowing all the funk away.
So quickly.
Doing in hours what it might otherwise take months… or years to accomplish.
“Fucking priceless. So who cares if someone’s eyeing my moves? It is what it is, and I’ll take full advantage, and say thank you twice for an absolutely incredible meal,” Eric muttered to himself as he tidied up and washed his hands with soap that smelled a bit more like lye than he was used to, but otherwise allowed him to emerge from the bathroom fully kitted and refreshed… because he wasn’t going to let the poor girl dress him, especially when he now felt his Strength all but tingling as added power seemed to flow into his sinews.
He gave a satisfied nod. Luigi was right to give him a little extra growing room, since his physique would naturally increase in biological muscle mass until he hit his natural limit, and any Strength beyond that was Terran potency infusing his frame, whether boosted by System shenanigans and levels or cultivation and Spiritual Energy engorging his physique. Clearly, though, he hadn’t quite reached maximum natural physical size. Not yet. But he was getting pretty darn close.
The serving girl was so bold as to actually give him a sniff… before smiling.
“Good. You’re not an idiot. Come. The meat pies are ready.”
Eric blinked at this. But no matter how off-putting the words… upon catching the scent of those freshly baked meat pie brimming with beefy goodness and the rich iron tang of bovine vitality, and Eric was eagerly feasting upon the double portions placed upon his porcelain plate while their hostess engaged in a rather lively conversation with Ivan.
All in Russian, Eric not understanding a word. Not until Ivan spoke his piece at the end.
“It doesn’t matter, she’s still your granddaughter! And the seasons must turn, grandmother. You know this.”
Eric blinked at this as the last bite of perfectly seared liver soaked in broth delighted his tongue.
Eric inhaled, wondering if it was time for him to interject with his own two cents.
Until Agdelina’s glare froze him solid, looking suddenly more threatening than Luigi’s doubleshot. Yet all she said was, “You should try the apple pie, Eric. Fit for royalty, I’d say. Melanie, my cook, made it with distinguished guests in mind.”
Eric swallowed, took a fresh sip of his refilled beer while too many eyes stared at him, and happily did just that.
The serving girl flashed him a hard smile when another plate full of delightful deliciousness disappeared.
“Finished?”
Eric frowned. “Hmm… surprisingly, no. I think I still have more room for pie.” He frowned at the massive display of food still untouched. “And roasted pheasant. Definitely more roasted pheasant.”
The serving girl blanched, yet Agdelina did naught but give a pleased smile.
“Good. A growing boy needs to eat.”
Eric caught her gaze. He couldn’t help but grin. “I should thank you for an unusually invigorating meal.”
Surprisingly, this earned a chuckle. Low and throaty. “Indeed, boy. At my table, you are welcome. At my table, sustenance will nurture your body and mind like no place else.”
Eric nodded, knowing better than to push his luck even as he refilled his plate and ate his fill again. And again.
Using the bathroom twice more and now all but certain that it was the help of the enigmatic essences of this place, carefully calibrated in Autumn’s heart, the season of harvests, after all, to nurture his mind and body far more quickly and efficiently than might otherwise be the case.
Infusing him with Strength and Vitality in a few short hours that would otherwise take days to claim as his own.
And even if the looks Ivan and later Agdelina were giving him had transformed from smug knowing to surprised disbelief… Eric wasn’t just recovering from what should have been a near fatal injury. He was also benefiting from a Gold-Tier benefactor who believed in evolution in the most primal, savage sense. Where peril must be faced and overcome, and the fruits of victory would be savored for all the generations to come.
Until one finally fell.
But for now, with Terran and System title boons both further boosting the boons he had earned with both skill tier achievements, cultivation levels and natural treasures consumed… he wasn’t just a youth recovering from a bit of missing flesh. He was a Contender promised over 40 Strength and nearly an equally amount of Vitality, even in this realm. And he was somehow certain that the titles and attributes enhanced here would most definitely carry over to the surface, even if it was, percentage-wise, just the mildest of increases.
The boons were still his, and he would claim every last one that he could.
--___________________________________________________________--
Eric Silver – Rank 2 Death’s Disciple.
(Note! Multiple boons enhancing attribute gains!)
Physical Characteristics
Strength – 23 (42.95)
Vitality – 26 (37.1)
Finesse – 20.25
Quickness – 25 (33.65)
Appearance – 36
Mental Characteristics
Scholarship – 14
Percepton – 18.5
Willpower – 15
Charisma – 13
Potency Pools
Arcane Potential – 18
Mana Pool – 192
Spiritual Energy – 24
Qi Pool – 264
Soul Reserves – 21
Skills Recalled
Saber – Rank 8
Spear – Rank 10 (Ancestral Strike! - Strike with the power of all your ancestors!)
Stealth – Rank 8
Unarmed Combat – Rank 5
Find Weakness – Rank 5
Acting – Rank 3
Negotiation (Intimidation) – Rank 4
Runic lore (Blood Runes) – Rank 11
Blood Mastery – Rank 11
Flesh Sculptor – Rank 8
Heat Surge – Rank 6
Infravision – Rank 7
--_____________________________--
Agdelina gave Eric a pointed look. “Our guest blossoms like a true winter rose,” she said at last, with the tiniest of nods for Eric’s beaming features.
Ivan nodded his agreement, it clear even to Eric that now they’d be speaking in English, and included in the conversation. “Indeed he does. Benefiting from a most generous table. For no sick man under your care is doomed to waste away. That’s all but written in the clouds.”
The matron gave a tiny smile. “Indeed. It is. Of course our guest here benefits from far more than the vigor and vitality of youth and a cleanly mending wound.”
Eric blinked at that. It wasn’t a question, but he could sense the unspoken query in her gaze.
Slowly, he nodded. For a heartbeat it seemed that her eyes had lit up with something beyond complacent expectation, but the light of vindication was gone so quickly, Eric wasn’t sure he had seen anything at all.
“This one is grateful to be a guest at your table,” Eric solemnly conceded. “And you’re right. This meal has done far more for me than invigorate my body such that the last of my aches finally parts.”
“Fascinating. And what boon, precisely, has my carefully thought out meal brought?”
Eric smirked at that. “It has allowed me to come more fully into my own. Far faster than would otherwise be the case.”
Agdelina nodded. “Of course. You’ve hardly been here long enough for you to come into your own at all.”
Eric swallowed, before dipping his head. “This is true,” he conceded.
“And that truly is a puzzle, lad. Because winds that normally reveal so many hidden truths… reveal very little about you. Or the other odd void to my senses that now walks our circles.”
Eric blinked, not quite sure how to respond to that.
“Someone else?” Ivan asked.
Their hostess nodded. “Someone odd. Someone who doesn’t quite belong. Much like your friend.”
“Do you mean Luigi?”
This earned a snort. “I don’t mean the dwarf, no. For however odd their clan might be, he is still like us. And the ways by which he walks the wind knows well enough, even if that realm is closed off to us. As for our odd friend here, who looks so very much like an ancient queen of legend… I fear his tale is too old for Enigma to safely contain.”
Ivan blinked at this, looking as caught off guard as Eric felt, before shaking his head and sighing. “It’s no longer safe here, Agdelina. You know that, yes?”
The woman flashed a bitter smile. “Cowardice, Ivan? I would never have expected it from you.”
The man stiffened, glaring at their hostess. “I’m no coward, as you damn well know. But even I can taste the tension in the air. The people are getting restless, and the woodland peril only grows.”
“A peril that I sense has been dealt with rather permanently, much to my awe,” Agdelina dryly stated.
“Perhaps,” Ivan conceded with a nod. “But I’m no fool. I still feel the weight of a storm about to break.”
Agdelina took a thoughtful sip of her tea, staring intently at Ivan and Eric both.
“Eric. A fascinating name.”
“Definitely works for me,” he said with a smile.
“Charming enough, certainly. Though I note you neglected to give your family name?”
Eric took a thoughtful sip of his beer. “Silver,” he said at last, the flinch in Agdelina’s gaze unmistakable. “Eric Silver.”
“Fascinating. Many silver smiths in your family, then?”
Eric grinned. “Not a one.”
“And your mother’s name?”
Eric smirked. “I suspect you already know, honored hostess.”
Agdelina’s elegantly sculpted brows furrowed. “I will not be toyed with, child. This is important!”
Eric blinked at this, before dipping his head. “Aurelia.”
The woman blanched. “Aurelia Silver. You would dare declare yourself the scion of the Winter Queen?”
Eric sighed, in a moment of whimsy compelling a few drops of blood upon his palm which blazed into furious hot life.
Before seeming to wilt under Eric’s intent focus, the brilliant orange light turning to a soft blue.
Then a blue so bitter and cold that Ivan and Agdelina were actually shivering, their breath coming as steaming puffs in the air.
“Pleas have a care, honored guest, lest you ruin the repast,” Agdelina breathlessly whispered.
Eric blinked, shaking himself free out of the trance he had almost slipped into, the frozen flame disappearing as if it had never been.
Only a few drops of blood, crystallized by bitter cold that very few could possibly fathom.
“I’ve certainly been called worse,” he said with a playful smile before the horrified countenances now staring at him with such desperate intensity. “Looks like I just unlocked another one of my Essences. Sweet!” He winked. “Thanks for allowing me to sup and rejuvenate myself in such a friendly, accommodating abode. Anywhere else where the spirits are more frantic and less… forgiving, and I think doing that would have been far tougher.”
“There can be no doubt,” Ivan said in a surprisingly rough voice.
Agdelina solemnly shook her head. “None, whatsoever. Aurelia’s emissary is amongst us once more.” Intent blue eyes locked with his own. “What is it you seek, Prince Eric of Clan Silver?”
Eric gave her his best smile.
“Exactly what you fear, of course.”
Her features blanched. “You seek the key.”
“If it’s gold, half metaphor, and unlocks the secrets I’m after, then yes. Yes, I do.”
The matronly woman flashed a bitter smile. “And if I refused?”
“Grandmother!” Ivan hissed.
“Silence, child!” Agdelina snapped, eyes snapping with heat. “We risk existential peril beyond your ability to comprehend!” She flashed Eric a hard smile. “And our guest has broken bread and salt with us. Nurtured his body with our blessing. He is faerie. For him to break the sacred covenant between guest and host would be absolutely anathema to his people!”
“Or any Contender really, yeah,” Eric conceded readily enough. “But at least we now know that you have the key… or you know who does.”
She paled, then glared, crossing her arms. “It’s not as easy to retrieve as you think, boy.”
Eric snorted. “Of course it isn’t. But that’s not the question, is it? The question is what magnificent boon could possibly be worth the golden key you possess?”
The woman’s eyes twinkled at the challenge as she folded her arms. “You would tempt me, then?”
“Of course! Since I’m totally not about harming the family of people I care about, honey is 100% the way to go. But before I try enticing you with a manor and as many acres of farmland as you could possibly desire, before I try to tempt you with the opportunity to study or teach at an arcane academy that will soon by the preeminent center of arcane scholarship in the entire Sylvan kingdom—here on Earth, at least… before I offer to see to the needs of your entire family and secure accommodations within one of the many grand villas decorating the heart of Arcadia’s capital, so that all may live idyllic lives in a glorious faerie kingdom with all the wondrous boutiques, shops, cafes and eating halls you could possibly want to visit, with a perfect view of the arcane academy and the royal palace glittering prettily in the light of the setting sun against the backdrop of Lake Eerie, now far warmer than the New York winters your used to, trust me… before I try tempting you with all that and more… let me ask you this: Why do you fear so deeply surrendering the key to me?”
The woman glared at him for long moments before sighing. She turned to the patiently waiting servant. “Have the children been seen to, Mary?”
The girl bowed her head. “All have fled, per your instructions.”
“Good. Then best you follow suit.”
The girl paled. “Now, mistress?”
The air rang with the sound of furious fists pounding against the knocker.
“Agdelina Petrova, you are wanted for questioning! You will present yourself at once, or face the consequences!”
Chapter 503 - Redeeming the Sinners
Comments
Goldfish2
People just can’t let Eric be.
Trevayne
Somebody is going to face consequences. I am not at all sure it will be Agdalina though.
