Six Days: Siege

Chapter 113: Six Days: Siege

On Weddan, there wasn't very much that happened. By the time they arrived at Yasashiku's residence, it was already evening, and the sun hung low in the sky. There were few clouds, and they didn't expect any rain at night, but decided to have a meal in the house anyway, since it was something they missed after camping for almost a page.

Since it was the first day with Mercury and him now truly living together, he decided not to push his student too far. Simple meditation on the hammer after dinner was enough. He decided he would not begin forging quite yet, too. After all, he was old, and hurrying himself was a habit he had dropped many years ago.

Rather than that, he dedicated his attention to the food. Having a proper stove made a world of difference, and since he had a cold storage area, which used runic channels to have pieces of metal which attracted heat more strongly on one side, he also had fresh ingredients.

As a small celebration, he decided to grill some meat. He hammered it, though much more softly than he would the metal of his forge. Instead, he hit it just hard enough to make it tender. Additionally, he prepared some tea, which he had sorely missed on their journey.

Only a short while later, he left the kitchen satisfiedly, calling Mercury from his room to have dinner.

"How do you like it here, Starlight-kun? Are you happy with your room?" Yasashiku asked.

"More than happy, thank you teacher," the mopaaw nodded along, enjoying the meal.

"And how have your studies been going?" the old blacksmith asked again, leading to a grimace on his student's face.

"Poorly," he admitted honestly. "I don't feel as though I am making much headway."

"Hm, I see," Yasashiku murmured, drinking a sip of tea, then placing his cup back down. "Why do you think that is?"

Mercury sighed at the question, and Yasashiku eyed him closely for it. "It's because I don't understand the hammer well enough," the mopaaw said, but in response, he only received a frown.

Usually, Yasashiku would be happy about that answer, but it seems this time his student was just parroting him. "What is a hammer, Starlight-kun?" he asked.

"A tool, sensei."

"Correct, technically," Yasashiku agreed, yet crossed his arms. "Then what is a hammer to you?"

"Right now?" Mercury asked.

"Yes, right now," the old man nodded. He would try a new approach for his four-legged disciple.

"It's... unwieldy, I suppose?" Mercury shrugged his shoulders a little.

"Yes, it is, isn't it. What else?"

"I'd say it's almost like... an obstacle. Something to overcome," the student replied, racking his brain for more answers. "It's heavy, clearly, because it needs to be. And I suppose it's made in a shape that lets it hit things, one that doesn't suit me."

"Very good. You're correct, it doesn't suit you at all," Yasashiku smiled, stroking his beard. "Now, what would a craftsman do with something that doesn't suit them?"

The old man watched as a candle seemed to grow alit above his student's head. "You change it, obviously."

"Right," the teacher nodded. "Now then, what shape would a hammer that befits you be?"

"Well, it would be heavy," Mercury said. "And good at hitting things. I should be able to lift it easily, and bring it down quickly. But it should also be compact, easy to carry around, somehow."

"Those are certainly good observations. Now then, how would you go about making something like that?" Yasashiku asked.

"I suppose I'd need to find suitable materials first?" Mercury answered, feeling insecure.

"Indeed you would. You cannot make something from nothing. Now eat, before the food grows cold, and spend your time thinking what exactly such a hammer would look like," Yasashiku said, but even as he bit into the meal, his smile didn't waver.

This new student of his had exceeded expectations. Honestly, most people he accepted started with far easier tasks, but the mopaaw had been persistent about staring at the hammer, trying to figure things out. And obviously, it had paid off.

But that result couldn't come simply from looking at a stationary hammer. Rainfall-kun had spent some of his meditation thinking about how it would be used, being brought down upon hot metal, and shaping it. Without that image, the essence of it needing to be easy to hold would not have come.

The old man was quite proud now, watching his newest disciple eat while lost in thought again. Perhaps he was trying to figure out what to make his hammer from, or perhaps he was trying to grasp its shape first. The order of operations now mattered little, he simply had to understand how to put together a hammer that was useful, one that he could swing.

For a moment, the old man shook his head. Seriously, what an interesting fellow Alexander-san had introduced him to. This new disciple of his seemed to almost learn three things from being taught just one, which already showed not just talent, but also monstrous curiosity.

Yasashiku smiled. With a little time, this disciple of his would make a very fine blacksmith.

- - - - - -

After Weddan came Lokdan. That much made sense, however what didn't was the intense anxiety felt by someone very close to Mercury. However, that person was not, in fact, Yasashiku. Instead, they were much more sneaky.

They slept outside the house, hidden in the bushes nearby. One of them even hid in the mud of the pool, and again other were always on the move, or melded together with something in the surroundings. At any rate, they were hidden.

Of course, they weren't hidden because they were anxious, nor were they anxious because they were hidden. All of these people, sticking close to Mercury were anxious, because they had heard the story of one of theirs, someone who had applied one of many tracking spells. And they were scared since they finally received word from their fellow watcher.

"Beware," his letter warned them. "The target's mind is strong. His will does not break. And it is sensitive."

"Beware or he might find you."

Those words alone were scary enough, but worse yet, the letter had arrived after that sender long since wasn't shadowing the target anymore. Their employer, a figure whose name was not known to any of them, had unfortunately withdrawn from the whole affair. The letter the other spies had received was one sent from a place of professional courtesy, rather than compassion.

But the words in the letter had made them more careful, their spells more subtle. None of them targeted the mind in any shape anymore, all of them simply kept track of various body parts. His skin, his lungs, his liver, his heart. Of course, this meant that there was a chance they would lose him, should he shed all of that, but given his current tier, that much seemed unlikely.

Still, despite knowing all that, those who were tailing Mercury were more careful in their job by Lokdan, because they had no choice.

- - - - - -

Time passed, and after Lokdan came Freydan, and it was an important day for Stormbraver.

Avery was woken up early in the morning, the smile he had from his sweet dreams vanishing almost immediately. The church bell rang.

Not melodically, when it announced the time, but hastily, one beat after another, almost shaking the ground beneath it. The guild master got up with conflicted feelings. It had long since been clear this day would come, another attack from the north, and a more decisive one this time. They'd brought some of their heroes, and Avery knew that he'd have to take on at least one of them.

Which meant that he had no time to lose before they would be appearing at the walls. Immediately, he leapt out of bed, and went to don his battle gear. It went on smoothly, every motion practiced a dozen times, every strap pulled tight and every joint well maintained.

Avery Beckham was, after all, many things. He was a gourmet of bread, a defender of Stormbraver, he was a popular public figure, he was friend and co-conspirator against count I'htar, but before all of that, he was the master of the Godseekers' Guild in Stormbraver. And as such, he was a fighter.

After only a few minutes, his armor was already on. The emergency battle supplies he kept in his inventory were ready, his potions stocked up, and the same went for food and water. Within just ten minutes of waking up, Avery was perfectly in gear and prepared to head out.

Not everyone was that quick, though, and some seekers would need more time. Until then, he would have to hope that the city guard would be prepared to help, and with a little luck, he'd find Kaga, Lucia, Iris and Esmeya on the frontlines as well.

Since time was in short supply, Avery couldn't warm up very well, but he still attempted to strike an optimal balance between running speed and exhaustion, making his way to the walls rather quickly, outside of which he saw the face of a woman he hoped not to find here today. The 'Crimson Queen', Scarlet Inagra, was hovering in the air, supported by a blinding cloud of plasma.

"Mothefucker," Avery whispered to himself, frustrated. This woman had razed multiple small towns to the ground, and acquired a bunch of exp to show for it. She was unhinged, and dangerous, and seeing her here meant that this was a fully serious assault this time. He really couldn't catch a break.

Looking around, Avery saw the city's archers already engaged in battle, shooting down at the enemies. The wall shook, when the battering ram struck against the doors, but mages stood behind it, constantly knitting the wood and magic back together. There were early bird seekers, the ones that slept in their battle gear, and the ones who decided armor was for the weak out on the fields, hacking and slashing at the northerners.

And of course, there was Lucia, on the battlements, staring at the floating Crimson Queen.

Avery walked up to her. "Thanks for ringing the bell," he said, receiving a nod in reply. Of course it was Lucia, as an expert archer, her eyesight was leagues ahead of pretty much any other person in town.

"Can you take her?" he asked again, nodding towards the floating hero of the northerners.

"I can," Lucia nodded, her face grim. "But not without damages. How good are your seekers at making barriers, Beckham?"

He grimaced. "Not good enough. Try to stall her until Esmeya is around, she should be able to mount proper defenses. I'll tell Rondo, then be on the ground."

"Alright, break a leg."

"Multiple, hopefully not mine though," Avery replied with a wry grin, then ran off again to go about his business. He approached the old guard captain, Rondo, while Lucia remained still.

Iris was not next to her at the moment, the aide already on the ground, taking down important targets while scouting for the enemy commander. She felt the fire bubbling up within her, as she looked at the most prominent hero in front of her.

Scarlet was simply floating there, on a cloud of burning, molten air. She was not attacking, not because she couldn't, but because she was issuing a challenge. A challenge to her.

It was arrogant. Aggravating. Insulting. Infuriating. Lucia took a deep breath in and out, but the air only fanned the flames inside her. To see that someone wanted to challenge her for a title she would rather not have, a title she truly wished to shed sometimes, and now that the chance was upon her, she would be defending it?

Ironic.

[The individual 'Scarlet Inagra' is attempting to issue a challenge for your alias, 'Walking Disaster'.]

The system let her know as well. Lucia would fight here, for a title she never wanted, a city that shouldn't matter to her, people who didn't all believe in her order. And yet she knew she would fight, because it was right, because this was a place with good memories, because there were people she cared about who lived there.

Taking a second deep breath, the air around Lucia started to distort. The latent heat from miss Incinerator in the air was making it less clear, but very soon, her heat matched it. Ever so slowly, flames appeared around her right hand, a bow appearing within it, one made of light and fire, of righteousness and retribution.

She saw the face of the woman who challenged her twist into a smile as she nocked an arrow with her right hand. Scarlet created a shield of flames to defend herself, while Lucia drew back the bowstring, watching as the fire bent.

Why was she so angry? The high priestess could answer that question easily. There were plenty of reasons to be upset. The disrespect of the challenge, the irony of it all, the fury she felt when a place she might call home was threatened, the fact that Iris had to fight at all!

None of those were the actual reason why Lucia was angry though.

After a third breath, her bow glowed brighter, her arrow turning from yellow to white hot. Her hands were steady, her eyes directed towards her opponent's head. And she released the bowstring, with all the wrath she had inside of her at that moment.

The fury she chose to feel.

- - - - - -

On that Freydan, the fields in front of Stormbraver burned. Esmeya Raventhorn, the greatest mage in all of Stormbraver had barely managed to stop the fight in the skies from incinerating the people fighting down below. Parts of the stone battlements had melted, and brave, foolhardy people had kicked down molten stone on the northerners.

As any battlefield, the area in front of Stormbraver was filled with screams and blood and fire.

The mage sighed, exhausted. She looked at her company, some of the brightest in her tower, the adults at least. Some of the mages had died, one of her very own students among them. The vice master of the tower still stood proud, taking over for her as Esmeya almost folded in on herself.

Akuhl Trivela was her name, a short woman with light blue hair, and eyes so cloudy one could mistake them for being purely white. Still, she was the vice master for a reason.

With a wave of her hand, Esmeya floated a step backwards, gently landing on a soft surface, on which she began meditating to regain her magic. The air was full of mana, and a storm of it was current moving as Akuhl began her casting.

Almost immediately, barriers sprung into existence. It was the short woman's specialty. Shields of ice and force and wind, which appeared at seemingly random spots in the air, only to block arrows and magic projectiles, one after another. She was using her exceptional mental prowess to completely optimize mana usage, only casting small barriers against targeted attacks, and the effect was clear.

Stormbraver's defenders died less, and the northerners died more.

One man however profited in particular. Somehow, guild master Avery Beckham noticed that command over the mages had swapped to someone with greater defensive prowess, and decided to step up and cull the enemy army a little.

The steam around his body increased, and if one was down on the ground, it felt as though he had grown taller, every muscle on his body seeming to push up against his skin. He exhaled thick smoke, with a sigh, quickly grabbing into nothing and pulling three potions form thin air. Then, he drank them all at once.

Instantly, the shadow over his viser lifted, and with it, the passive version of <Bloodlust> in his eyes activated, a constant drain of his health. But as his eyes bled, the magic in the potions knit them back together.

Avery roared.

He imbued the scream with a Skill, and all around him, enemies fell to their knees. Then, he seemed to vanish, the arrows that Akuhl had been blocking suddenly drifting through empty air. The only thing that was left behind in his wake was a trail of smoke and broken bones.

Those who had kneeled down from fear? Their necks were snapped, sometimes a single kick took multiple of them down. Spears raised against Avery were shattered by kicks faster than what should be possible, and when Akuhl sometimes failed to block an arrow, Avery simply caught it in mid air.

The guild master growled as he tore through the battlefield, seeming more beast than man. Close to him, knees grew weak, and brave men buckled, until eventually, he kicked and was stopped by a sword.

Slowly, his gaze rose, from the original target of the attack, to his new foe. A man, clad in heavy steel. A hero, very clearly.

"'Lightfoot' Avery Beckham, it's an honour to meet you on the battlefield!" the man yelled. He wore a helmet, but some strands of long, blond hair poked out beneath it. His sword was as wide as a human head, and long enough to seem unwieldy.

In a moment, Avery took in everything about this man, and made a decision. His visor darkened, and the bloodlust he exuded stopped, no more fear spreading around. It was because he could tell, this hero had aura abilities, ones to bolster morale. He would have made a good commander, but decided to instead try his hands at fighting. What was his fame?

764. Recently risen then, probably from this very war.

"I will end your glory today, northerner," Avery growled.

"That's the spi-" but before the other man's answer finished, Avery's kick met his blade, shaking the man's arms and ringing his head like a damn gong.

Avery didn't waste his time on banter. "<Asswhooping>," he simply called, using one of the moves the system acknowledged, and then the other moan moved to defend his lower body, Avery's foot crashed down on his shoulder, enhanced by all the might of his stamina and multiple potions.

He usually liked young talent, but this one he would stifle in the bud.

- - - - - -

Eventually, on Satyrdan, count I'htar found himself in his office. But the location mattered much less than the situation, really, because he was in trouble.

Behind his very back, things had gone poorly. The battle cost many lives, on both sides, but Stormbraver still stood. That much was good. No, what troubled him within the reports which were found among the enemy army by three people. A seeker named Marcel, a mage named Guila, and the aide of the high priestess, named Iris.

Somehow, the three of them had managed to sneak behind enemy lines. Marcel and Guila cast illusions, and Iris silently cut down anyone who got in their way. And they had unearthed documents which did not paint count I'htar in a very stellar light.

In fact, the light they painted him in was rather poor. He hadn't left a papertrail himself, but apparently, the northerners had not been quite as clean. Most of it was likely due to the difficulties and complications that simply came with waging war. Overall, the reasons mattered very little.

It was found that he had supplied gold to the army of northerners, as well as information about the state of Stormbraver. The king of the northerner army had found out his name, apparently, and made sure that he would die a dog's death if they were to lose the war. That situation was very much what he currently found himself in.

Truly, it was a moment that tipped the scales against his favour horrendously. His alias of 'Golden Count' still remained, but a new one appeared next to it. 'Stormbraver's Traitor'. He sneered at it.

Really, it was funny they called him a traitor. After all, he never held any loyalty for this city in the first place. His only loyalty was money, and the exact same went for the people he hired. Mercenaries, the lot of them. They would do anything for coin, and the thing he would need them to do next was to get him out. He could restart somewhere else, with a new identity.

"Kaga, come in," he called, and without delay, the woman stepped into his office.

"I need you to get me out of this city. Bag all my funds and let me take them into my inventory. You will be paid a tenth of my wealth upfront, and another fifth of all of it upon arrival," he said.

Then, he looked at the documents on his desk again, trying to decide where to go. However, the woman in front of him did not move. Slowly, his head moved to face her again, an unsettling smile always plastered on her face, and her hands crossed behind her back. He knew that she understood the urgency.

"What are you doing? Get to it," he repeated himself, waving his hand, as though to shoo away a fly.

Then, there was a long pause in their conversation as Kaga's smile grew deeper. In fact, the old count was almost sure he could hear her heart beat in excitement. His eyes focused, and he broke out in a cold sweat as he caught a glimpse of her hands. She was clutching them inside each other to stop them from shaking.

Was it excitement? Laughter she was holding in? It mattered little.

"MOVE!!!" the count cried, his desperation now clear in his voice.

"No," Kaga answered calmly, extending one of her shaking hands to the side. "And neither will you."

With a grin as bright as the sun, the naginata appeared within her hand, and the tip touched against the count's chin only a moment later. He heard footsteps down the hall.

"Good work, nutcase," the voice of a receptionist called.

And moments later, guard captain Ronco stepped into the room.

"Coun I'htar of Stormbraver, you are hereby under arrest and trial. Would you please come along with us?"