Loremaster - A Progression Fantasy Adventure, page 52
Not bothering to correct her, Rowan darted forward and grabbed his friend, pulling him towards the exit. As they ran, he waved frantically at Droon, who seemed to understand as he immediately followed along, falling into formation as they sprinted out into the cool spring night.
“What did you do that for?” Dugan asked indignantly. “I could have taken that guy!”
“Yeah, I’m sure you could’ve,” Rowan panted. “But he had three friends circling around to get you guys from the back. And at least one of them had a knife.”
“Oh.” Dugan blinked. “Good call then.”
Behind them, footsteps could be heard, heavy and fast on the cobblestones as three men gave pursuit.
Dugan glanced backwards. “Are those the guys?”
Rowan chanced a look behind him. “Yup.”
With a simple twist, Dugan turned so that he was facing the pursuers and flipped both middle fingers in their direction. Their response was a collective outraged shout, mixed in with which were several choice statements about Dugan’s familial lineage.
Still easily keeping pace with Rowan despite running backwards, Dugan’s only response was another rude gesture and a cheeky grin. As much as Rowan hated his friend for antagonizing them further, he could not help but laugh as Dugan somehow jumped over a rock in the path that by all rights he should not have even been able to see with his back turned to the road. The whole situation was just so quintessentially Dugan that Rowan did not have it in him to be mad.
Even Droon wore a smile at their friend’s antics, and Dugan didn’t miss this as he finally turned around. “Shall we lose these jokers then?”
Feet pounding against the cobblestones, they ran, dodging past Karsolnian citizens out enjoying their city’s night life. Their months of training had blessed them with stamina far beyond average city thugs, and soon the shouts of their pursuers grew fainter behind them, finally fading into the distance as they left the main promenade and headed into the side streets. Twice, Rowan thought he heard guards calling out for them to stop, but he ignored them, pushing his friends to pick up the pace as they sped through the crowded streets.
“I think we’ve lost them,” Droon reported at last, looking over his shoulder as he made the observation.
“Good, keep running,” Rowan responded between pants.
Five minutes later, Rowan finally began to slow, bringing them to a halt in a small alley somewhere in the eastern heart of the city. “Alright,” he said, taking in big gulps of air as he spoke. “That should be good.”
“Ha… Ha… Whew.” Hands on his knees, Dugan stood up. “God damn. You really know how to run.”
“I got a lot of practice as a kid,” Rowan responded wryly. With a labored exhale, he stood up. “Glad to see you guys were able to keep up though.”
Dugan nodded. “I’m still not sure why we had to run though. They weren’t adventurers or anything like that. The three of us could have taken them even without weapons. No problem.”
Rowan looked at his friend like he had grown an extra head. “We had to run because,” he explained patiently, “there are no good ways to explain to a guard that we just knocked a guy out.”
“I’m a noble. It would’ve been fine.”
“But I’m not.”
With a shrug, Dugan conceded the point.
“Either way, we should be fine now, right?” Droon asked. “They’re not going to come after us or call the guards or anything, are they?”
Dugan grinned. “Nah. That’s why we came all the way out to Karsolnia. We can let loose tonight, then get back to our boring lives at Faebrook tomorrow. We’ve just gotta make sure we don’t go too far. So like, no murder or anything. But a little assault is probably fine.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “A little assault is probably fine,” he repeated slowly.
“I mean,” Dugan raised his hands defensively. “It was in self-defense. So it was justified. Plus I didn’t want to assault the guy. I was just going to fight him. You’re the one who whacked him over the head with a beer glass.”
“To. Save. You.”
“And I thank you for it, brother,” Dugan said congenially. Linking his arms with Rowan, he smiled a sly grin. “Now then, with that nasty business out of the way, what say you boys that we find ourselves a new place to grab a drink? All that running has left me entirely too sober…”
Sharing a glance, Rowan and Droon both heaved sighs, but they wore smiles on their faces. And so, onward they went, drinking themselves merrily into the night.
“Ugh…”
The first sensation Rowan experienced the next morning was pain, searing through his skull like a needle made of pure fire had been driven through his forehead. The second was regret, and he immediately swore to never again follow Dugan in his schemes as he dove for the wastebasket.
Clutching his head, Rowan rose from his bed and stumbled towards the bathroom, holding the wastebasket, where copious amounts of water were splashed upon his face to no avail. Availing himself of the other facilities, Rowan then stumbled back into the room and did his best to get dressed.
He was familiar with hangovers from his moonshine drinking days, and only once had the cure been something other than waiting for the pain to subside. Unfortunately, none of Darm’s hangover cure existed in the dormitory, which necessitated a trip out into the open grounds, where the sun beamed brightly down on the world below. Far too brightly for Rowan’s current tastes.
Fifteen minutes later, Rowan found himself sat at a corner table in the academy cafeteria, nursing a hot cup of tea and doing his best to keep his eyes firmly shut. As he did, memories started flooding back to him, fragmented recollections of the events that had transpired following their fight and subsequent flight from Gunnila’s bar.
He had no memory of them coming back to Faebrook, but clearly they had since he had woken up in his own bed. The only question was how. Because he had zero recollection of paying for a carriage, or even riding in a carriage at all. Not that it really mattered, so long as they’d made it back. But it did raise an interesting question.
Gods above, how much did I drink?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rowan hurried through the hidden passage, mindful not to make too much noise as he aimed for the sliver of light visible at the end of the tunnel. A handful of gold coins jingled in his pocket, his pay for accompanying the Frost Blades on the dungeon they had just completed.
Under normal circumstances, the Frost Blades would not have returned to Brass-tier dungeons, their party having reached the Silver rank after their encounter with the climber in Rowan’s first ever dungeon. However, today Dillo’s cousin, a first year in Hafgufa, had tagged along for the purpose of learning how to be a proper vanguard, and thus the party had returned to their old stomping grounds for one run.
Naturally, given Rowan’s continued friendship with Fiin, he had been invited to porter for them, and he had gladly taken the opportunity. The Frost Blades were still one of the best parties he had ever partied with, and with their skill level, a Brass-tier dungeon offered little danger so long as there were no anomalies.
Of course, there had been one downside to today’s run, and that was time. For Rowan, time was currently his most valuable resource, and there was never enough of it for all the things he had to do in a day. Because the Frost Blades had been using the run to help Dillo’s cousin with the upcoming final exam, their dungeon run had been a lot more leisurely than normal, the entire party chipping in to give Sallo, the cousin, tips on how to successfully complete a dungeon.
Fortunately, Rowan had also learned a lot from this, his keen ear listening closely as Dillo had explained how to manage a group of monsters so that they would not overwhelm the party, or Jaro and Patri’s advice on formations that would allow the slayers to maximize their damage output.
Fiin had even taken it upon herself to give Rowan some advice on how to execute his duties as loremaster, something that was much more impactful in the depths of a dungeon than it had been in the musty library where they usually discussed such things.
Still, the run had taken longer than normal, and Rowan now found himself without much time to finish the two assignments he had left to do this weekend. Assignments that were worth a good chunk of marks in History and Dungeoneering. Given the current state of his grades, these were not marks he could afford to lose.
Thus, he used the secret passages to quickly traverse the academy, making up for lost time in the only way he could. The tunnel he was in right now was one of the four he had found since starting his search for them, a search that was currently on hold due to the number of other activities he had to attend to.
A larger passage, the tunnel he was in right now was one of two passages that Rowan had found that bore evidence of recent use. The dust beneath his feet was not as thick as it had been in the first he had found, and it showed signs of footsteps that from a glance appeared to have been made no less than a day before.
Initially, Rowan had been surprised when he had discovered this fact, fearful even that perhaps he was doing something he was not supposed to and would soon be found out and punished for it. But he had quickly calmed down. There were several pairs of footprints in the dust, and from the looks of it, they had been made at different times, with some of them so faint that they had almost disappeared, while the most recent were almost as fresh as Rowan’s own.
This meant that the tunnel was known to several people, all of which found it appropriate to continue using it as a means of traversing the academy. Since they were doing it, he could too, probably.
It did not hurt to be safe, so Rowan always exercised caution when he entered the two passages that were in use, checking for any signs that others were inside before committing himself forward with soft footfalls. He was doing the same right now, his movement soundless as he ran through the passage, making for the other exit which came out in the grounds near the Draigwyn dormitory, where it was hidden behind a canopy of vines that hung down behind a statue of a mustachioed former headmaster.
There was no one around when Rowan emerged from the passage, and he brushed the frozen vines aside, dislodging some snow which fell lightly onto his coat. Sliding past the statue with its elaborate mustache, he dashed over the grounds towards the dormitory and its promise of warmth.
He was only a scant three feet from the door, his hand already outstretched to open it and propel him into a world of fireplaces and linens when the door swung open to reveal the form of Morgana, her gaze upon him as he came to a stop.
“We need to talk.”
Rowan’s eyes strayed to the sliver of light emerging from the cracks of the door behind her, the telltale flickering indicating the presence of a warm fireplace. “Can we talk inside?”
“I’d rather talk where there’s no people around.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow at this, which caused Morgana to scowl. “I’m not asking you out if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I assure you,” Rowan replied dryly. “I was thinking no such thing.”
Morgana harrumphed but let the matter drop. “Follow me.”
Obliging, Rowan followed her. They did not walk far, stopping about thirty feet from the dorm, in the shadow of the academy walls where the wind could not reach them. Satisfied that they were secluded enough for whatever it was Morgana wanted to talk with him about, Rowan turned to her.
“So, what’s this about?”
“It’s about the party,” Morgana replied, shaking off some snow from her cloak. As she did, Rowan spied the hilt of her sword poking out from beneath her furs.
“The party...” Rowan echoed. “What about it?”
“We need to do extra training.”
Rowan frowned but did not reply. Taking this as a sign, Morgana continued.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed it as well. Our party isn’t working well together. We’re lagging behind the others in Combat class, and if this continues, I’m not sure we’ll pass our final exam.”
“The dungeon,” Rowan said softly.
“Indeed. I know you enter them as a porter, so you should understand me when I say that with things the way they are, we’ll struggle to complete even the easiest Brass-tier dungeon within the time limit.”
Rowan nodded. Much as he hated to admit it, Morgana was right. Although things were progressing, their party was indeed lagging behind when compared to other first-year parties. To start with, they only had four members instead of the usual five, so they were already at a disadvantage compared to others. A single injury might not cripple other parties, but for them, it would be devastating, which meant that they needed their teamwork and execution to be top notch. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
Droon was acceptable as a vanguard, but had a tendency to panic when he was overwhelmed—a tendency that he had not yet managed to shake despite both Rowan and Dugan doing their best to help him with it. On defense, he was fine. But his offense was lacking, and he was unable to contribute to thinning enemy numbers in the same way the more talented vanguards such as Dillo or, much as Rowan hated to admit it, Varna were.
Morgana did not really need to be mentioned. Her abilities were top notch and her execution was flawless. The problem lay in her teamwork. Her coordination with Droon was shoddy due to Droon’s lackluster skills, and although she did her best, it was clear to Rowan that she hated working together with Reinne. Thankfully, she seemed able to put her biases aside and do so, but it was a reluctant acquiescence, and their party suffered for it.
For her part, Reinne was average or slightly above average in everything she did. Her swordplay was excellent, and she made for a fine slayer, but it was tough to tell if she would be able to rise further if the situation called for it.
Thankfully, she was fairly easygoing, and had no qualms with her place in the team; though, she did seem to delight in taking any opportunity to antagonize Morgana, something the fae girl refused to take lying down. Half of Rowan’s job as leader seemed to be mediating for the two, while the other half was figuring out ways to get them to work together for the benefit of the team.
As for Rowan himself, he felt that he was performing adequately as a loremaster. His contributions in combat were not quite at the level of a slayer, but they were above several of the less-talented loremasters he had partied with. When it came to the actual duties of a loremaster, he was more than capable, thanks in large part to Fiin as well as his own experiences as a thief.
Indeed, individually, every member of Nightshade was decent at their role. It was as a team that they fell apart, and thus, it was as a team that they needed to practice. The only problem was finding time to do so, and convincing the remaining two of the necessity.
“Rowan?” Morgana’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present.
“Sorry,” Rowan apologized. “Was just thinking about what you said.”
“You agree then?”
“I do,” Rowan acknowledged. “The way we are, we’re going to have trouble making it to the boss room, let alone defeating it. I’m just not sure the others will agree to training. We’re all pretty busy right now with assignments.” Especially myself, he added silently.
“If you tell them to do it, they will,” Morgana replied. “Droon would probably do whatever you say, and Reinne can’t ignore your orders since she’s the one who voted to make you leader.”
Rowan frowned. “I’d rather not force them. Our party atmosphere is already strained enough as it is.”
“We need to do something,” Morgana insisted.
But her eyes did not meet Rowan’s, instead glancing down and to the side. Did she realize that she was the reason for their dysfunctional party? Or perhaps she was just embarrassed to have been rebuffed. Whatever the reason, Rowan seized the opportunity.
“I’ll ask them,” Rowan re-iterated, “but no guarantees. Like I said, we’re all busy with assignments. If they say no, I’m not going to force them.”
Morgana wore a frustrated look. “Don’t you care about your grades?”
Rowan’s gaze narrowed. “I do, yes, and it’s because I care that I’m telling you this. So long as we don’t fail the exam at the first hurdle, we’re not going to fail the class. We can’t afford to sacrifice our other grades just to make sure we get a perfect grade in the final exam. Now then, I’ve got assignments to work on, so if there’s nothing else, then I’ll be going.”
Morgana pursed her lips, but offered no rebuttal. Taking this as a sign to leave, Rowan did so, leaving her standing under the eaves of the academy for a moment before she too turned, heading in the opposite direction from Rowan and the dorm.
The dorm was just as warm as Rowan had hoped, and he quickly peeled off his coat and furs, savoring the heat from the flames on his skin. Allowing himself a few moments to bask in the warmth, Rowan moved aside to allow a fourth year to pass, his eyes snapping back to focus as he began to look for his other party members.
Despite what he had said, Rowan hoped that Droon and Reinne would be amenable to participating in extra training. Although he had told Morgana that they would pass the course even if they didn’t ace the exam, that didn’t mean he would be happy with barely skating by over the pass line. Or worse, under it. If he wanted a good grade, they needed to do well in the dungeon exam.
Reinne was by the fireside, a lucky break given her propensity to spend time in the girls part of the dorm. Around her were her friends, Tianna, Aidan, and the other members of Tianna’s posse, all chatting about the latest gossip—some third year who’d asked a girl from House Turul out.
Reinne was curled up against the couch, not sitting on it like the others, and Rowan waved at her to catch her attention. Seeing that he wanted her, Reinne nudged Tianna, saying something that Rowan didn’t catch before climbing to her feet and coming to see him.
“Did you need something?”
“Yeah,” Rowan replied. Quickly, he sketched out Morgana’s plan, doing his best to sound convincing as he did. The only thing he omitted was the originator. Something told him that it was best if Reinne did not know that Morgana had been the one to suggest this.
