Chapter 15: Condolences

The next morning, I had a headache, and I realized that I’d forgotten to bandage the new cut on my shoulder. It hadn’t been too bad, but I’d been getting used to it. And maybe there was a touch of still not seeing the body as my own.

That poor shoulder had taken such a beating. I needed to start trying to block with something else.

But, regardless, it was a good thing I’d slept on the floor of our room instead of the beds. Sure, they were probably cleaner than the floor, but I didn’t want to bleed on the taverner’s hospitality.

As the others slowly woke up, I rushed to wrap the wound, then gathered up all my equipment and loot, tucking as much of it into the strap of my kit bag as I could so I didn’t have to carry it in my arms. I’d lost my old spear, so I kept the orc-made one for now, even if it was crooked and had a rusty head.

“The ogre’s Presence is yours,” Shave told me. He waved over the taverner, who insisted on giving us a free breakfast as well, before turning back to me and handing over the ogre’s Presence. “I talked with the others, and they all agreed. It should belong to you.”

“Thanks.” I took it and crushed it between my fingers, letting the power infuse me. With all the Presences I’d consumed lately, I thought I knew what to expect, but this one was so much stronger. Fire burned in my chest for a few seconds, and I gasped for air. One second I was standing, and the next I was on my hands and knees.

After a few seconds, the fire faded, and I stood up. I nearly bumped my head on a tavern table, but just narrowly avoided a collision.

“On the Pillar, lad,” Shave said. “You’re not supposed to use it all at once.”

“A word of warning would’ve been nice,” I grumbled.

“I’ve been forgetting that you’re an Atoning lately,” Shave said.

“Is that good or bad? I mean, that you’ve been forgetting.”

“At the moment, it simply is.” Shave shrugged. “You’ll find many things in the world like that.”

“Right.” Once I caught my breath, I said, “So, the Labyrinth, then. I had a few questions. Why don’t we ever use them to train? I mean, we should be able to, right? Why not take over one and use it? We could fight each other inside the Labyrinths and stuff.”

“That’s exactly what the sappers do,” Shave said. “Castle Urcia is built right overtop a Labyrinth entrance.”

“And not us?”

“There are practical problems. See, Levi, the System still largely determines our growth. The more work we put in, the greater it rewards us for victory. If we were to simply spar in the Labyrinth, it wouldn’t recognize that as greater or lesser effort than sparring outside. It’d see it as the cheap trick it is. It only works if we are truly fighting for our lives, against real monsters that have the capacity to kill us.”

“So then how do the sappers do it?”

“They have more resources at their disposal. They are able to seed their Labyrinth with captured monsters, and they use it for training and testing. But it’s difficult, and the average Dupe is expendable.”

I grimaced. “Is the fighting that bad up north? That they can’t spare any resources to help us down here? I’m sure if we improved the lower-tier legions, it would help a bunch, but I don’t really know…”

Shave reached into his kit bag and retrieved a map. It wasn’t a map of the world, and moreso just of a western continent. On the right hand side, to the east, was a massive swath called the Bane-lands, where the orcs came from. But from what I’d gathered, it was home to plenty of other monsters, too. A vast river flowed north to south, separating it from Gate, which was to the west. There were a few smaller nations even farther west of Gate, but I wasn’t too interested in them at the moment.

Shave pointed at a southeastern region of Gate and said, “This is where we are. A Domain called Sud-Seaxe. And then…” He dragged his finger north along the border river.

“That’s not the stream that passes through Slowbend, is it?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Shave replied. “It is the Thelea river. If we follow it north, we’ll pass the old Thelathemar watchtower, then even farther north is the bastion-capital, Eraen-Kalora. Only some hundred leagues from the border. The fighting is most intense north of Thelathemar, and that is where the Warlord diverts our resources.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“But if the orcs open up a new front in…Sud-Seaxe, what then? I mean, we won’t be able to defend it.”

“Perhaps the Warlord has information we don’t. Don’t be impolite.”

I took the hint and didn’t push the subject. Instead, I asked, “What’s the scale of the map?”

“I doubt it’s as precise as you’re used to,” Shave replied. “But riding hard, it would take you three weeks to cross all of Gate from north to south. Of course, your horse would surely die of exhaustion before then, so it would take longer in reality.”

“I see.”

Before I could ask anything else, the taverner arrived with our breakfast, and I ate in silence. The others trickled down and ate a meal of their own, too. But after a few minutes, I couldn’t restrain my curiosity. I asked, “Has a Dupe ever become a thegn?”

The others laughed and shook their heads. Shave said, “Not once.”

“How do you become one?”

“They’re powerful Path-walkers who get land granted to them by the royal family, an Ealdorman, or the Warlord,” Ticks explained. “It’s usually not much—enough for an estate or two—and they always serve in the army, coordinating a few battalions.”

“King or Warlord,” I said. “Who’s really in charge?”

Elf shrugged. “The king hasn’t been seen in public for many years. The Warlord is officially the War-Commander of the Expeditionary Force Against the Bane. Appointed by at the end of the Dark Age. But it’s a mouthful, and everyone just calls him the Warlord. Now, we’re serious, Levi, you need to stop questioning him. You do not want people to think you’re working against him.”