PATRIARCH FOWL
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Casual Heroing, Chapter 171
🕑 Added 2023-08-23 19:18:34 +0000 UTCNext chapter comes out Thursday, August 24th!
WHO'S GONNA CARRY THE SWORDS?! 🤺🤺🤺
3/7 chapters this week!
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Chapter 171 – Walking
When I look at the bare-chested man in the mirror after cleaning myself and having my hair braided by Magister Mulligan, I must admit I’m giving off some Rollo vibes. The old man shaved the sides of my head and put the rest of my hair in a long braid decorated with small metal rings.
“Vanedeni tokens,” Magister Mulligans explains. “You will not hide your affiliation to my people, Joey Luciani. This shall be a matter of great pride, but it will also be dangerous for you to make such a statement.”
“I’m going into a racial duel with someone who wants me either dead or out of their city forever.”
“When you show them what you are now capable of, you shall expect more dangerous people to come and knock at your door.”
“Hopefully, some of them will be hot chicks,” I say, checking my shaved face in the mirror. “Nice shave, by the way. Have you got a [Barber] class too?”
“The Vanedeni must learn how to shave others and decorate their hair. It’s part of our culture, young Luciani.”
I bite my tongue to avoid dropping the G-word on the old man and getting zapped to death.
“Well,” I sigh, “it’s time, right? I should start going.”
“You are still early, and there’s another matter we have to take care of.”
I look at the distant temple at the end of the colonnade and then at Magister Mulligan.
“Are you going to show me what’s in there?” I point at the edifice.
“No. You would die a horrible death if you tried entering. You are not prepared and won’t be for a long time.”
“Huh, so the death machine I faced before was what, an introduction course? Getting Killed 101: An Introduction to Death?”
“Your frustration might come from believing that this one was a hard trial—this is just the beginning of your journey, young Luciani.”
“I’m willing to help people and defend myself, but I’m not going on any quests to save the world. You know that, right?”
“Spare me your platitudes,” Magister Mulligan waves his hand in front of me and, with a snap of his fingers, summons the giant Vanedeni sword he gave me. It’s battered, but the extremely powerful enchantments on top of it are already repairing themselves.
“[Greater Heaviness], [Greater Repair], and [Greater Sharpness]. Extremely basic enchantments that you have barely unlocked to their inferior stage. Your Mana is not pure enough.”
“What?”
“You asked me about the Enchantments before. This is the answer. These are the Enchantments on the sword.”
“Wait, what do you mean, ‘their inferior stage?’”
“True enchantments, the kind that these Elves would expect to find on Relics, have to be mastered like any other skill. You can’t just wield the most powerful relic,” the old man tips the huge hat on his head, “and expect to use its full power. If the Enchantments are inscribed by a master of their craft, the same is true for even more basic ones. Their complexity would surprise you. Enchanting, Joey Luciani, is much more complicated than many can imagine. That is why true [Enchanters] are [Archmages] as well.”
“And [Archmage] is the best class, yes, yes. Why are you telling me this now? I could have used the superior version against the puppet.”
“It would have hindered your potential,” Magister Mulligan smirks. “But I thought you should know about it for the future. Try and get a feeling for the Enchantments the way you would do for a spell matrix that you are about to trace. However, you will have to find the rest by yourself because there’s another reason why I brought the sword here. Extend your wrist over it.”
The old man extends his own arm, and, by now used to his odd ways, I do the same.
Before I can realize what’s happening, I feel a stinging sensation on my wrist and see some blood drip on the sword. The same happens with the old man’s wrist. The old me would instinctively pull the hand away, but the new me has had to tame pain on an entirely new level. This is nothing compared to what facing even the beginning stages of the puppet felt like.
“The Vanedeni believe that being ready to fight and fighting are just half of the work needed to aspire to uphold the great glory of our past,” the old man says, letting our blood slowly drip on the sword. “Being a Vanedeni comes at a cost, a price rendered thrice in blood.”
“First,” he moves his hand closer to the sword, “the blood of your teacher or father: the wisdom and lineage that guides your path.”
Without hesitation, he gently nudges my hand nearer to his. “Second,” he adds, his voice gaining gravity that resonates in my chest, “your own blood, marking the personal sacrifice and commitment necessary for the journey.”
Then, a faint spark flutters at my wrist, and I glance down to see the wound has already sealed itself.
“Third, marring the viscera of the Earth and taking the burden of ambition will be the blood of your foe...”
…
Are you sure about this, Joey Luciani?
“It was good enough for Jesus; I’ll make do.”
When I take my first step down the stairs in my apartment building, the wood creaks slightly and flexes under my weight. The sword attached to my back weighs like a motherfucker, but I need something to remind me of what this is all about, to remind me of the burden I need to carry.
I take a deep breath and make my way out of the place while drawing silent gazes from the few tenants that were hanging around the railings.
When I get out on the street, people immediately turn toward me. Some laugh, some just point. Going around with a more than two-hundred-pound sword on your back can have such an effect, I suspect.
I take a deep breath of Amorium’s air – the city that has, well, welcomed me so far. Something is different, though. Not the way some racist Elves look at me or how I can hear some comments directed at me, probably anxious about me dueling and losing—perhaps dying. What’s different is how I see these people. Now, I can see the ears standing out, the slightly sharper features, and the more generous body proportions of the women.
It’s very clear to me that this isn’t home, that it has never been home.
I miss home, I smile bitterly.
My boots clack on the road as Magister Mulligan starts speaking to me.
They have probably omitted it from their history, but the Vanedeni resolved two out of three of their Civil Wars. We helped the Elves establish fairness. Feel free to remind them if needed.
“Nah, I don’t need to,” I whisper to myself. “If they want to hate, let them hate.”
Are you interested in receiving an update on your friends?
“Unless someone got hurt, I’m good,” I reply. “I’d rather ask them myself.”
Good, good… are you sure you don’t need anything, Joey Luciani? You are acting weird.
“Because I decided to wear a sword on my back?”
A rather unwieldy sword. You struck me as the lazy type, young Luciani. I don’t understand why you would want to tire yourself out by carrying the sword up to the arena.
“Who’s going to carry the sword if not me?” I shake my head.
Only silence comes as a reply from the inside of my mind.
Good. I need to focus.
Comments
tonright
I expected something to happen this chapter lol
wholock202
Look I’m not saying your a tease but……….. come on man let’s see some ACTION lol love the heaviness of this moment but I’m not sure about the Jesus reference is it about him carrying the cross to his death ?
