Book 2: Chapter 34: An Encounter with the Crows

Book 2: Chapter 34: An Encounter with the Crows

In the art of warfare, victory is not simply a matter of winning a single battle; rather, it is a sustained effort that encompasses the entirety of a conflict. A battle may indeed be decided by who wins the field on a given day, but the outcome of a war is ultimately determined by a more fundamental principle: the willingness of a side to continue the fight.

A wise strategist understands that there are many factors that can influence the outcome of any campaign, and even the most carefully-crafted strategy is no guarantee of overall victory. Unexpected events can turn the tide of the conflict in an instant.

And yet, despite the many uncertainties of war, there is one constant that can never be overlooked: the power of determination. To succeed in war, a wise leader must cultivate this spirit of determination within his people. He must inspire them with a sense of purpose, a belief in the righteousness of their cause. He must instill in them a sense of discipline and loyalty, so that even in the face of adversity, they will not falter.

In the end, it is the side that possesses this indomitable spirit that will emerge victorious. For though battles may be won or lost, war is ultimately a test of willpower. And it is the side that refuses to ever admit defeat, that refuses to give up the fight, that will ultimately prevail.

- The Principles of Conflict by General Damien de Savant circa 234 AC.

When I had been a slave in the mines, I had positively thrown myself into work. Now, as we waited for Gelgor's company of the Crows to catch up to us, I did so again. I helped wherever I could, no matter the task, in my pursuit to grind up some experience and perhaps new skills. Whether this was gathering up Ruar dung for the fires, or helping to change a wheel of a wagon, no task was beneath me in my bid to reach my next level. The people of the Raven were deferential to me at all times, and with no little surprise on their faces to see what they viewed as an ‘Honored One,’ to be going about such humble tasks.

One of the chores I frequently engaged in was splitting firewood, and I spent hours hacking away at wood with a borrowed axe. I made sure to Power Strike each and every time, waiting for the ‘cooldown’ of the skill to finish before launching another strike. Power Strike could still be used during the ‘cooldown’ of the skill, but activated this way it used a lot more Stamina. After what seemed like an eternity, I was given a much-welcomed notification.

You have learned Power Strike (lvl.3) You have learned Axes (lvl.2)

The caravan might be at rest; however, that did not mean that I could escape my lessons. Under Arik’s instruction, I learned how to control my mount, Mouse, more with my knees and legs, and I gained a better seat in the saddle. Unlike the others, Arik’s treatment of me was no different than before, and he was as gruff as always. Perhaps it was a cultural thing - a teacher holding a position of authority over a student, rather than just a mere instructor. More importantly, my diligence and perseverance rewarded me with an increase in my newest skill.

You have learned Riding (lvl.2)

Perhaps it was due to the combination of my armor pieces, my recent increase in Riding, or for some other mysterious reason that escaped me, but I also gained a skill level in Medium Armor. It all seemed so very arbitrary at times.

You have learned Medium Armor (lvl.3)

I also took the time to continue with my journal, recording some of my thoughts and experiences thus far in this new world. It was a way for me to deal with some of the as-yet-unpacked emotions I had been carrying around. I had come far in this world, and had overcome challenges that would have broken a lesser man. I felt proud of myself as I wrote. The journal also served as a reminder of promised vengeance. All would be crushed under my iron heel! Hah! A man could dream after all. Also, in a moment of vanity, and remembering Durhit, I decided to name the journal after one of his more-colorful curses.

All of this and, surprisingly, writing the journal, earned me a modicum of experience. However, it was still not enough to get me to the next level, the next height of my power.

One evening, feeling that the menu for my list of skills was getting a little cluttered, I decided to brave the pain to strike off the Herbalism skill.

Icy daggers stabbed about inside my brain and forced me to my knees, but as it turned out, this was what it took to finally get my Pain Nullification to the next level.

You have learned Pain Nullification (lvl.3)

I remembered shaking, and hoping that no one noticed my temporary moment of weakness. I remembered taking quick, desperate lungfuls of air before stilling my breath. Distancing myself from that moment, I boxed the memory in and reviewed my Status. My path to power.

[STATUS] Calling:Gilgamesh lvl.11 Paladin/Reaver

Strength: 27

Dexterity: 22

Constitution: 39

Intelligence: 21

Wisdom: 22

Charisma: 13

Luck: 18

SKILLS & PROFICIENCIES

Pain Nullification (lvl.3)

Power Strike (lvl.3) 10

Endure (lvl.3)The origin of this chapter's debut can be traced to N0v3l--B1n.

Stealth (lvl.1)

Curse of Entropy -20% to all starting attributes.

Mark of the Paladin 10% resistance to Dark/Holy magic. 5% resistance to Physical.

Touch of the Void 10% reduced resistance to Holy/Fire magic, 20% resistance to Mental Effects, 15% immunity to Mental Effects.

Experience to next level 3187/3202

Health285/288 Stamina62/63 Mana16/16

I had made no gains to my base attributes, but I was pleased with the increase in my skills. Close, I was so close to getting to level twelve. Only a mere fifteen experience points from my next power boost, and one more step down the road to my apotheosis. Whatever should I spend my bonus points on next?, I wondered, as I reported in to take my turn at the watch.

*

Waiting for Gelgor was mostly uneventful, but finally, it was time. I was stationed behind Laes, on foot, to welcome a small party of mounted horsemen who approached the Ravens’ caravanin the early hours of the morning. Leading them was a figure I recognized at once to be Gelgor. I had overheard the people of the Ravens talking about his distinctive appearance, and there was no mistaking that it had to be him. At this range, he looked like a blob of an orange that had found itself a strong enough mount to carry it. However, I saw that he carried himself well on his horse, despite his prodigious size.

As the small band drew closer, I could see that Gelgor’s escort consisted of professional soldiers. Their gear was uniform, and their eyes were watchful and serious. Each had a long lance cupped at their right stirrup, and at their waists was their choice sidearm. They were all equipped with iron nasal helms and well-crafted iron lamellar trimmed in bronze. About their armor they wore an orange sash that designated their allegiance. Gelgor himself was armed with nothing more than a smile.

I could not help but be reminded of a similar scene from not too long ago. Yet, unlike that encounter, where tension filled the air, the stillness that comes before violent acts, this time felt different. Rather, I felt it to be more forced and routine. More akin to a regular family meeting—tolerated, but not eagerly anticipated. On the surface, it certainly did not have the feel of another hostile encounter.

Hopefully, this meeting would not end in bloodshed. Despite that being the best outcome, I still entertained the stray thought that it could be a welcome chance to gain a few more points of experience. Prepared for it, even. Patience, I chided myself.

“Hello there, Laes of the Ravens,” greeted Gelgor the portly caravan master, a fixed smile on his lips and only the barest of edge to his voice. I could not help but notice that his jowls bounced in time to his mount's gait before he finally came to a stop.

At this distance, I could see that his face resembled an ugly and overly-friendly pug. From the pockmarks on his face, it seemed that, once upon a time, Gelgor had a bad case of acne. Good looks, it seemed, were not one of the prerequisites for the position of caravan master.

“Gelgor Badawi,” Laes returned, with only the barest inclination of his head, his voice formal and controlled.

Gelgor smiled at this. “We meet under an auspicious sun, indeed. Most auspicious. I hope this day finds you well, Master Laes. I presume you wish for us to travel together once again? You always were one to skimp on adequate protection.”

“As always, Gelgor, you have the way of it. The path has been most dangerous of late, and I fear that there are many perils left on the road,” offered Laes.

Laes’ counterpart sniffed at this. “Of course, the way would be safer. For you, of course. The banquet on display for the scavengers of the plains—that was your doing, I presume?” Gelgor asked archly, more of a statement than a real question.

To his credit, Laes did not even bat an eyelid. “Not of my choosing,” he replied flatly.

“Of course, that is the way of things. Better that the scavengers feast on their honorless corpses, than yours and mine. The rules of the long road. I have something that might be of interest to you. News reached me just before my departure. News of an escaped slave, brought back to life through dread ritual and magic. And, sightings of the first folk, the Warders of the Woods. Elves of a different cut of cloth. You would not perchance know anything of this?” probed Gelgor as he looked with great interest at one of his nails.

My hand began to stray slowly to the hilt of my weapon. I had faced worse odds than this before. However, peace would reign for a while longer as Laes answered him quickly.

“Elves, as you know, are uncommon, but not exactly rare. You speak of them as if they are legends and myths that walk the lands again. We both are too old for this. You yourself, have traveled with the long-lived ones before, as have I. They are just people, though much longer-lived. Heavens, Gelgor, your grandfather’s head scribe was one of the dark-skinned ones. Also, we both know that those who would do business with the free city of Al-Lazar do not travel with, nor trade in, slaves. There is no one in my company that bears the brand. I would have you kindly cease such spurious talk—it could get my writ of trade revoked,” Laes answered a little heatedly.

“As you say, as you say. But, Laes, I would have you know that these were no common elves. The local guards of Ansan were spouting nonsense that two of their number were able to fight off half the city, set fire to the other half, and escape into the night. What their business was in the city is still a mystery. Mixed in with all this mess, this little snippet caught my attention - a rather renowned slave concubine of a prominent Vessel family has escaped. A precious family treasure, for she has been in their possession for many generations, and yet she is still as comely and youthful as any spring maiden. Of elven stock, with hair like fine spun gold, eyes of jade, and skin of pure ivory. Worth more than a king’s ransom, or so they say. This would not have anything to do with your sudden departure from the city?”

“Master Laes, was just...” Khalam began to interject before he was immediately cut off by Laes with a look.

“I see that even such a man as yourself can fall prey to the lure of idle gossip,” Laes answered, his expression ever so slightly strained. “You come to me with less than news, less than rumor. The gossip of bored women. Perhaps, it is because I simply wished to arrive ahead of the Weeping - earlier than is usual. Still, no matter, as your good friend, I offer you, Gelgor Badawi, the guest right of the Ravens. I will indulge your penchant for idle rumors over tea. Perhaps we might be able to talk of matters that are more profitable.”

“Very well, Laes. I see that, as always, you lack even the smallest shred of romance. What you dismiss as idle gossip and fancy is the spice that keeps our lives interesting. It would not kill you, Laes, to live a little. I really don’t see what my sister saw in you,” sighed the obese man. “Nonetheless, I shall surrender myself to your honor and hospitality,” stated Gelgor, with a knowing glint in his eye. He dismounted, handing the reins over to one of the drudges. Eyes down, the worker accepted them, bowed respectfully, and led the mount away.

Soon after, the rotund man barked a command to one of his men in High Quassian, a language with which I had only limited familiarity. The man was of medium height, dark-bearded, and had an orange turban wrapped around his helm. The man nodded once to Gelgor, acknowledging the order before galloping off back in the direction of the Crows.

The rest of Gelgor’s honor guard also dismounted and passed their mounts to Abas Yar and his assistants, who led them off to be fed and watered. They soon began mingling with the rest of the Ravens in friendly conversation. Backs were patted, and stories were exchanged, and from what I could gather from the snippets of conversation, Gelgor’s guards had many of their friends and extended family among the Ravens.

After about half an hour, Khalam touched me on the shoulder and drew me aside. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But now, you are a healer, a prodigy from one of the temples, and the red one is your lady wife. The pair of you are seeking lost relics of your goddess, and thus have joined the Adventurer’s Guild,” he whispered in a quiet voice. “Laes feared that this journey would be more dangerous than usual, and chose to hire some adventurers to supplement his usual escort. The tight bastard that he is, he only hired those of the bronze rank. You can remember this?” he hissed.

“I think so...” I replied, uncertainly.

“You had best be sure, for Gelgor, despite his outwardly friendly manner, is a snake. He would sell his own mother for a few coins, if she was still alive. Now, I am not saying not to talk to the people of the Crow, but I would ask that you not get overly-friendly with them. Best you keep that in mind. Now, repeat to me your story,” the Guard Master insisted.

Once I could repeat the story to his satisfaction, he made me promise to tell my comrades of this latest twist. I would do as Khalam advised, but the lies did not sit well with me.