Chapter 234: Hunter of Lords

Jorn staggered into the kitchen, arms laden with the day’s catch: Rabbit and wild potato.

He quickly skinned the rabbits and set the soft furs aside. He could make some mittens and hats with them later. He gutted the wild hares and removed their heads, tossing the offal in a waxed bin and dumping the rest in a pot, setting it to boil over the fire the other children were in charge of keeping going.

There was a strange woman visiting their orphanage today. Word was she was recruiting for Vassals for some hoity-toity Lord in The Tower.

The excitement had consumed the entire orphanage and all the other children were crowding around the visitor in the main hall.

Jorn could hear the commotion from the hall as he hauled the guts and skins out to the garden.

He’d gotten a look at her earlier when she first arrived: She looked like an older-sister type. Blonde hair, a little plump, about the age of most of the young mothers in the town.

None of my business. Jorn thought, burying the guts in the garden before heading to the store-room and beginning the process of getting the skins ready for tanning. The orphans would need warm clothes in a few months. Lily would need warm clothes.

Jorn shook his head.

Jorn didn’t really consider himself an orphan. Not in the traditional sense of the word. His father had only died recently, and his mother had tearfully given him up to the orphanage…ten minutes down the road from their house.

…As a tax dodge. He still saw her most days for dinner.

There was a bit of raw feelings towards his mother for that, but Jorn had decided not to take it personally. He understood the math, the money would go back into their house, and this situation gave him a lot of freedom, because both his mother and the headmistress thought the other was keeping their eye on him.

He had witnessed first hand how much two dozen kids ate every day, and had decided to make himself useful. His father was a hunter and he’d taught Jorn a bit about hunting and trapping. Enough to…well, not enough to get by, but enough to not be a burden.

One pelt clean. He set it aside and started scraping the next, his gaze wandering up to the bow on the wall. His father’s.

He’d brought it with him from his house, out of some reflexive need not to be separated from his father.

He couldn’t draw it, of course. Father was a Hunter with a Strength of a whopping thirty four! He told stories about the fourth Floor and how he was facing death at every turn, one of a Party of intrepid Climbers determined to surpass the wall of the fourth Floor and make names for themselves.

His father had such a gleam in his eyes when he began his tales, but then his expression always turned morose when he came to the end of the story.

“And then Rachel got sick and an eel took off Greg’s foot.” Jorn said, reciting the ending word-for-word.

Jorn understood his father did better than most. Most Craftsmen stopped on the second Floor, and most soldiers stopped on the third. Father had gotten to level 17. That was something.

Jorn sighed and shook his head. His own bow was drying on the other side of the room. The poles had spent the entire winter drying out. Soon it would be time to shape them and attach the string.

Once that was done, all he needed to do was pick the best one and head to the Hunting Ground with his father’s arrows and hunt some good Sacrifices.

Once he got his Class and some levels, he’d come back and set up shop as an independent hunter.

The right pelts were worth a fair amount of money and any hunter above level 10 could easily earn a good living.

His mind, though, turned towards his father’s stories about the magical lands beyond the swamp.

The land of giants.

The never-ending ocean.

The blood-sucking jungle.

The city of the dead.

Jorn wanted to see them and prove Father wasn’t a los-

Jorn shook that out of his head.

That was a stupid, dangerous dream. Can’t feed people if you’re dead.

He understood that there was a fair amount of danger involved in going to the Hunting Grounds with nothing but a bow, but if he didn’t get a Class, he couldn’t support a family.

Real men have a Class, at least level 15.

Some other Hunter might move into town, bigger, stronger, and more handsome, and then…

“Hello there.” A voice interrupted Jorn’s musing.

Jorn was startled, but he was able to muscle back a jerk. His father had coached him not to make noise of big movements, especially when you’re startled. Made you look like prey.

“Good afternoon,” Jorn said, glancing up at the young woman beaming at him.

Her gaze was scanning the store-room, landing on the dioramas.

“Did you make these?” She gasped, moving past him to study the little figurines fighting monsters.

They were figurines made from the tiny mouse bones in owl pellets, battling a skeletal raven made to look like a dragon. One of the bone Climbers had an oversized bow.

“Well…yeah, they’re just for telling stories to the young ones.” Jorn said, uncomfortable at the sudden interest.

“Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Anna.” She said, offering him a hand.

“Jorn.” Jorn took her hand and caught a whiff of flour from her as they shook hands. Her hand was strangely firm, as though it’d been carved out of wood.

“Keep going,” she said, motioning for him to keep scraping his pelt before she grabbed a nearby crate and dragged it over, using it as a stool.

Jorn shrugged and kept working.

“I’ve finished the interview for everyone else, and the headmistress told me there was one more I hadn’t met yet.”

“Me.”

“Yep. I’m here to recruit a-“

“It’s okay, I’m not suited for it.” Jorn said.

“Did you hunt the rabbits in the kitchen?” She asked.

“Trapped ‘em.” Jorn replied.

“Why?”

“Because I can and kids need food.”

“And you just decided to hunt on your own?”

“Nobody complained.” Jorn said.

“Do you have many friends, Jorn?”

“Not really.”

“Why’s that?”

“Idunno. They just make me uncomfortable.”

Jorn glanced up an saw that Anna was smiling like she’d discovered some hidden treat.

“What?”

“I can’t tell you the exact details before you sign a contract, but I’m recruiting for something like…a hunter.”

Jorn straightened from where he’d been scraping the pelt and looked at Anna.

“A hunter?”

“On the tenth Floor, we need a Vassal to venture out into the wilderness, clear out monsters, protect the local farmers, and earn Influence for the Lord.”

Jorn blinked. The tenth floor and above was where god-like entities with Abilities that defied logic waged epic battles for the fate of mankind. And she was just some baker girl.

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“Pfft. Tenth Floor? That would have to make you level fifty.”

“Level fifty-three, actually.”

“But you’re…” Jorn wordlessly gestured to her unassuming older-sister persona.

“A girl?”

“Normal.”

“Why thank you. I try very hard to be.” Anna preened as though she’d been complemented.

“I don’t buy it.”

Anna scanned the room until she spotted his whittling knife. She took the knife and grabbed the tip between her fingers before winding the blade around her fingers like a spool of thread.

Twang!

The knife shuddered as she released it, having been rolled into a spiral.

“Hey!”

“Oh, sorry.” Anna put the rolled-up knife between her fingers and straightened it back out.

“…Okay, let’s say you are level fifty-three.” Jorn said. “What do you need me for?”

“William Oh doesn’t really…like taking Vassals. He’s only got a handful at the moment, and none of them are dedicated to clearing land and earning Influence. We’re looking for a loner for our Stronghold. Someone with a good head on their shoulders and the initiative to do their job even without supervision. It seems like you fit the bill.”

“…William Oh?” Jorn asked, eyes wide.

“Yep. You see, Influence is earned when Vassals defeat monsters and gain XP. A small portion of it is siphoned away and converted to Influence. Now, if the Vassal is already at max level for the Floor, the ratio is a little-”

“The guy who punched a hole in The Tower? The demigod who outran Ouroboros?”

“That’s made up. He is pretty great tho-.”

Anna hissed moment and clutched her temple.

“Ow.”

“Are you okay, miss?” Jorn asked, rising to his feet and taking a step forward in case he had to catch her.

“I’m fine. Some of me just accidentally left the connection open when they died. I hate it when they do that.”

“Ummm…what?”

“Oh, me and Lord Zodiac are fighting a monster on the Eleventh Floor right now that could turn the entire human race into mindless husks if it wins.”