Act One: Native Winter Arc

  Volume Two: Frost & Fable

  Deepautumn, 520 DE

  Chapter 1: Daily Regimen

  Blychert wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find once they’d left Kelvalder. But after more than a week’s worth of travel by sleigh, and with no end of journey in sight, he was sure that the endless boredom was going to kill him long before any B-rated dungeon ever had the chance.

  And if that didn’t do him off, well… Master Bartolo’s vicious training regimen was certain to get the job done before much longer!

  “Shield up!” Bartolo shouted further afield, the faint glow of his ‘Spectral Wisps’ spell illuminating dozens of small, ethereal fragments of light hovering just up above his head.

  It was only midday, but the overcast sky provided little in the way of sunlight. Thankfully, that meant Bly had little to-no-trouble making out each of Bartolo’s wisps individually. Given no sudden or unexpected deviations in Master’s strategy, Bly was certain to wrap this practice session up right here and now.

  “You can do it, Trelen!”

  For half a moment, Bly’s attention shifted unexpectedly to the far side of the empty field in which they practiced. Squinting, he studied the little cottage they’d being staying in for the last couple of nights curiously. Smoke rose from its chimney, and lights warmed the windowpanes, but all its occupants were currently standing on the squat porch in front of it, undoubtedly watching Bly and his Master with great interest.

  Blychert couldn’t help but smile, his gaze settling on the little boy jumping frantically in place. He waved his hand in response to the vote of confidence, however called for it was.

  “No distractions!” Bartolo’s voice scolded at once.

  Already on the back foot, no thanks to Bartolo’s last barrage, Bly quickly collected himself and planted his boots into the snow. Steadying his breathing as best he could, he thrust his arms outward and reached deep into his mana pool, muttering, “Shield, twofold lattice.”

  With a mental gesture, Bly hastily redistributed the mana flowing into his dominate spellcasting hand, allowing the energy to move freely into his off-hand as well. The ensuing expenditure resulted in a duplicate casting of the first barrier spell, immediately providing him with double the width of his standard shield spell.

  Not a split second later, the onslaught of spectral fragments ushered forward, pelting Bly’s shields at lighting speed. Each glowing wisp exploded into dazzling light upon impact—one after the other, some two or three at a time—nearly destroying at least one of his shields, but both stood firm in the end.

  At that moment, a flash in the back of Bly’s mind suddenly reminded him of that day; of that fight he’d had with the wight in the depths of the Gleaming Caves.

  A shiver ran down Blychert’s spine.

  His defensive work that day had to be perfect, there was no doubt that he wouldn’t have survived otherwise. Maybe Xander could have scraped by, but not him. He didn’t take Master Bartolo’s training for granted, given how demanding it was most of the time, but he still couldn’t help but think sometimes that it was nothing compared to the real thing.

  It was nothing like coming face-to-face with your own mortality.

  “Heh—” Bly smirked, his mind clearing almost at once, and he shouted in taunt as the last of the wisps faded, “Hey, think you can throw something a little stronger at me? I mean, I wouldn’t want the kid to think you were taking it easy on me!”

  Bartolo straightened his wide-brimmed hat and crossed his arms, “Easy, huh? Is that so…? Well, I suppose if your adoring audience simply cannot do without… far be it from me to deny you a lesson in humility, my young apprentice. Now, ready yourself!”

  Bly winced, immediately regretting the decision to go full exhibitionist.

  Well, at least little Jalster was going to get to see something truly spectacular. Whether or not Blychert was to be the subject of that spectacle, only time would tell—the next few seconds, to be more exact!

  At any rate, Bly was feeling confident.

  He felt stronger than he was those few short months ago, fighting for his very life in the dungeon. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt more attuned to skills and abilities, and more certain of his aptitude for sequencing spells together in a pinch. He just felt… felt like more of a sorcerer than he ever had before.

  However, he still wasn’t taking any chances with Bartolo pulling a fast one over him; not on this one.

  “System command: activate ability, x-p transmogrifier.” Blychert issued the command, and the familiar flash of his sage terminal responded in kind. Small lines of system hieroglyphs sprung to life across the translucent pane that allowed him access to the sage system at all, as he added, “Execute mana replenishment.”

  He didn’t need much magical energy, just a small, extra squeeze to get the job done.

  Thirty yards away, Bartolo’s outstretched arms swayed in a circular motion. As if beckoned by his spellcasting, portions of the cloud cover siphoned down into the field and began to swirl above Bartolo’s head. It wasn’t much to make a noticeable difference in the sky, but it was certainly enough to put Bly on his toes.

  If there was one thing he knew about Bartolo, it was that the man rarely used elemental magic, if ever. And if he did find reason to, well… woe be to the target!

  “Okay, alright, I’ve got this. I’ve got this, right? Yeah, no sweat… crap.” Bly mumbled to himself, his confidence waning with each passing second.

  In any event, he had no choice but to commit to it now. He would never hear the end of it from Bartolo if he backed out at this point! Well, he wasn’t going to hear the end of it anyway, not after what he was about to do.

  And that was probably worse than just letting himself get smoked by Bartolo’s elemental magic. And yet, that was a problem for a few minutes from now.

  “Shards of winter's night, craft your bulwark and arise.” Bly began. The drawing of mana was instantaneous, as he spoke the incantation. Letting the energy flow through him, he continued, “Upon the frostbite that whispers, may this biting cold reign, and let stir your design. Let these bitter winds blow, weaving frozen calamity unto itself… wall of ice!”

  He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he’d only ever cast this spell on a handful of occasions, not the least of which was against Glemberfang. It was only thanks to his channeling practice with Alyse, and to an extent with Vineta, that he was confident at all in his ability to even stay upright after letting a spell of such a weighty cost let loose.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  But at the end of the day, it was still all or nothing with this one.

  Ice-laden magical energy surged forward with tremendous power, splitting mana into manifold layers as it stretched across Bly’s vision, building up into a solid wall of ice.

  Not a moment later, Bartolo’s storm spell pierced the wall on the opposite side. The sound was deafening, as lightning punctured its way through the massive sheet of ice. For a moment, Bly wasn’t certain that it would even hold, and he bit his lower lip in anticipation, reading a swift shield just in case.

  But it never came.

  The wall of ice held, and Bly was still standing.

  “Phew…” Bly exhaled wearily, bending over slightly at the slight dizziness his theatrics had suddenly caused him. Bartolo was going to kill him. But for now, he was unable to resist throwing a thumbs’ up in Jalster’s delighted direction.

  “Trelen!” Bartolo’s voice echoed from somewhere beyond the ice wall.

  “Well, can’t say I didn’t see that one coming…” Bly scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He smiled though, as he raised his arm, “System command, disengage all abilities.”

  Master Bartolo couldn’t be that mad. Could he? It was a fair and honest block, after all. At least, as far as a classless sorcerer was concerned, it was. And that was all that really mattered, at the end of the day.

  ***

  “Aww, but do you really have to leave?” Jalster whined, clinging to the sides of the sleigh as Blychert helped Fjrodi load the rest of their things, “It was so much fun having someone to play with! Please? Can’t you stay a little longer?”

  Bly’s punishment for cheating, or so Bartolo had insisted, was to pack up all of their things. But for the life of him, Bly was certain that his master just used it as an excuse to sit by the fire and drink warm cider.

  Bartolo really wasn’t the spiteful sort—it was a clever, if not a touch flashy, use of elemental magic—but he was certainly the delegating type.

  “Sorry, Jal,” Bly frowned, turning to face the chubby-faced, brown-headed boy a moment later, “Storm’s passed, and we’ve sort of got places to be. Although, I enjoyed playing with you too.”

  “I wish I could go.” Jalster mumbled, “I won’t be anything like you probably when I get my class. I’ll probably be stuck here forever!”

  Blychert smiled, remembering being that age fondly.

  Jalster and his family really did live out in the middle of nowhere, only associating with anyone that traveled up and down the main road, which couldn’t have been many. Mister Ingmersen was a furrier, so it made some sort of sense for him to live away from the towns and cities. Still, it must have been hard on Jalster not having anyone around; no friends.

  In any case, Irvin had been the same exact way with all of his older brothers when they left Darskaart. Hell, even Bly had gotten a bit jealous of the crop of adventurers that set out each year. So, he had at least some experience with what to say.

  “Hey, don’t sell yourself too short.” Bly patted the younger boy on the head, “Take it from me, you never know where you’ll end up. Hell—oops, sorry—I mean, you could end up with a really powerful class, you know.”

  Jalster perked up, “Really? You think so?”

  “Er…” Bly mumbled, noticing Fjrodi’s disapproving glance out of the corner of his eye. The sleigh driver really was a no bullshit sort of fellow, and so Bly backtracked, “Maybe not. But you never know! I guess, uh… what I’m really trying to say is…”

  “Chin up, boy.” Fjrodi’s deep, Calvergian accent interjected, “You focus on helping your Ma and Pa now, and your sisters. Leave all that adventuring nonsense by the wayside. You’ve got a sharp eye, and you already shoot well. If it comes down to it, you’d make a fine hunter or furrier—finest you’ll find in Calvergia, best believe it.”

  Adventuring nonsense…? Bly furrowed his brow, not sure of when he agreed to being the subject of an example.

  “Mhm.” Jalster nodded, his eyes lighting up somewhat by the driver’s words, “I practice every day. Just like you, Trelen!”

  Fjrodi’s tall, muscular frame stepped into view from the front of the sleigh, and he glanced down at Jalster expectantly. It was hard to tell what the grizzly fellow was expressing, given the bushiness of his dark beard, but he seemed to be smiling, “That’s a good lad.”

  It was at that moment that Master Bartolo stepped out of the cottage, adorned in his travel gear and winter articles, followed by mister Ingmersen himself.

  “Can’t thank you and your apprentice enough for all your help fixing the barn, Master Jilvarlok.” Mister Ingmersen said, extending his arm to shake Bartolo’s hand, “With that storm blowing over, it would've been a nightmare for the animals. I thank you kindly.”

  Bly rolled his eyes.

  He still couldn’t get over how ridiculous his master’s fake name was. But then, he supposed it suited the rest of Bartolo’s curious, if not altogether eccentric mannerisms.

  “Please, just Jilvarlok to you and the missus. And really, it’s I who ought to be thanking you!” Bartolo removed his hat, and accepted the furrier’s handshake in kind, “It’s a peculiar thing where the roads might take you. You had need of repairs, and we had need of shelter. I can’t think of a more neighborly and altogether good-natured trade.”

  “Indeed, mister, uh—pardon, Jilvarlok.” Mister Ingmersen replied.

  But before he could get in another word, Jalster ran straight up into his father’s leg, shouting, “Trelen says I might get a really really powerful class one day! But mister Fjrodi said I should help you and Ma for now. So that’s what I’ll do, and I’ll practice my archery every day! Oh, and also, and also—”

  “Good heavens,” Bartolo sighed, “I apologize on behalf of my apprentice for putting such fantasies in your boy’s head. I assure you, that boy often speaks before he thinks. His heart is in the right place though.”

  Mister Ingermesn chortled heartily. He then scooped up his son as if he were no heavier than a wooden bucket, and looked directly at Blychert, smiling, as he said, “Thank you for being so kind to my boy. What do you say to Trelen, Jal?”

  “Uhm…” Jalster mumbled nervously, “Uh… thank you for playing with me!”

  Bly couldn’t help but think he’d gotten the better deal out of all this. And so, with small smirk directed at his master, he bowed his head slightly, and said “It was my pleasure.”

  ***

  It wasn’t before much longer that the sleigh was packed and set on the road heading south once more. Jalster had run the entire length of the field in chase, shouting and waving merrily all-the-while. For as long as he could keep it up, Bly waved back and cast a few harmless basic spells in tandem.

  Soon, however, they really were out of sight of the Ingmersen homestead, finally out of the clutches of the first of a very nasty autumn snowstorm. Bly couldn’t help but wonder how the folks of Kelvalder had held up. No doubt they’d managed just fine without him, but he still liked to think they could’ve used him in in a pinch.

  “Well, they were nice people.” Bartolo said all of a sudden, as the sleigh began to pick up speed, “Good, decent folk. Hard to come by these days. I can’t imagine it’s easy for them all the way out here.”

  “Can’t imagine, or can’t picture doing it yourself?” Bly teased.

  “Hm…” Bartolo grumbled, glancing across towards where Bly sat, “Don’t think I’m letting you off easy for that bit of trickery you pulled off. How are you supposed to master the art of barrier magic if you refuse to follow my regimen?”

  “Hey, I comply just fine!” Bly denied it completely, “You’re the one who refuses to challenge me with anything more than wisps. Throw a couple more of those storm spells at me, and I guarantee I’ll have no choice.”

  “We’re working on your fundamentals.” Bartolo shook his head, “Honestly, boy… that woman and her methods have gone straight to your head!”

  “Leave her out of this.” Bly replied sharply, turning to face the wilderness, “She didn’t do anything I didn't agree to.”

  He didn’t think it was fair to blame Alyse for the way he felt about training at all. And anyway, he’d spent so much of the last year training in the dungeon, it was hard to fall back onto more baseline practice like the stuff Bartolo wanted him to do. Hell, he was just itching to fight something for real most of the time. Alyse had nothing to do with any of that. In all honesty, it was probably Bold Arrow’s fault.

  But it wasn’t even their fault; not really.

  They’d just… sparked something in him that was already there. Who could really be at fault for that?

  “Either way, we have a lot more to get through before we arrive in Frostwall.” Bartolo insisted, “Can’t blame the man who taught you everything—”

  Bly smirked, interjecting all at once, “Almost everything.”

  “Almost everything, yes…” Bartolo seemed reluctant to agree, “Almost everything you know, for wanting you to be as safe as possible once you start delving a dungeon of the Silver Vault's rating. Is that so wrong?”

  Well, even Bly couldn’t be upset with that.

  “No, and I know…” Bly shrugged, turning back to face his master, and nodded, “Sorry, it won’t happen again. Alright?”

  “Hah!” Bartolo chuckled, “As if I believed that. You’re a lot of things, Trelen, but obedient has rarely ever been one of them. Take it from me, you’re going to get into far more trouble than I’m capable of preventing. A good barrier spell—no, a well-practiced one—is really all I can do to stop you from getting yourself killed. We wouldn’t want that girlfriend of yours to think I was a terrible teacher. Would we? Isn’t that right, Fjrodi?”

  “Right you are, good ser.” Fjrodi nodded from the front, “Right you are…”

  Blychert blushed.

  Without Alyse around, it seemed like it was Master Bartolo’s turn to be the death of him!

  However, Bly smiled shortly thereafter, thinking about it and his friends of Bold Arrow over in his head. At least something things were never going to change. Though if one thing was bound to change, Bly wished for their travel days to end sooner rather than later. He knew they had quite the ways to go yet, but it didn't hurt to hope.

  He was going to be reunited with friends soon enough. He was going to Frostwall, simply put.

  And that, for now, was going to have to be worth the wait... regimen and all.

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