Chapter 4: Chapter 4, Regna Ferox
I tried. I tried finding something else, but bad habits were hard to break. A few days later, and I went right back to bandit hunting. Was I still hoping one of them would get a lucky shot and end me? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. Plus, as much as I hated admitting it, I was now extremely good at putting down rabid animals.
I envied the people who could change simply because they want to.
I tracked down a camp of vermin not far from where the Border Pass used to be. Best guess, they were latecomers, summoned by the Plegian noble to join the (now defunct) coalition against the Silent Fiend. I counted them one by one, totaling their numbers to 24.
Two dozen bandits, and after using [Structural Analysis] on all of them I knew none were a match for me. They were little more than practice dummies for my newly acquired magic, so I walked straight up to the perimeter of their camp and Traced a tome of Arcthunder.
When the bandits standing guard noticed me, I didn't give them a chance to resist.
Drawing upon Morgan's history, skill, and experiences I channeled my magic into the tome and cast the spell. A bolt of lightning struck from the sky, smiting the pair of bandits. Their flesh burnt, blood boiled inside their veins, and their nerves were utterly fried. When they hit the ground, they did so as charred corpses.
Magnificent. The power to wield the elements in such a destructive way was downright addicting. I was tempted to call it fun.
Naturally, the crack of thunder alerted the rest of the camp. The locusts grabbed their second-rate weapons before charging forward to meet me.
"Kill the fox bastard! Don't let 'em fling 'nother spell!" the leader bellowed.
They were more than welcome to try. I dismissed my current tome and Traced another; the dark tome of Ruin. I rapidly chain-cast the spell 10 times in the span of five seconds. With each activation, willowy tendrils of dark magic shot from my hand and impaled a different target. But that didn't kill them, oh no. My magic then burrowed itself into my victims before setting off a volatile chain reaction within their very bodies. With barely any resistance to the arcane, these fools could do nothing but watch in horror as their bodies bloated like meat balloon before exploding in a burst of blood, guts, and gore.
It was a good example of why most dark magic was considered "dark".
"Naga's tits!" a bandit screamed, white as a ghost. "It's 'em! It's the Silent Fiend!"
The group's reaction was mixed. A majority of them immediately tucked tail and ran; some were too frozen from fear to move; the brave few grit their teeth and rushed at me.
I switched spells, using a tome of Waste to decrepify my attackers with a barrage of cruel magic that depleted their vitality and left them as emaciated and withered husks. For the bandits as still as frightened rabbits, I cast Elwind, dicing them into bloody pieces with blades of wind.
As for the ones who immediately ran … they were too far away. The spells I currently knew were good for mid-range combat, but I didn't have super long range siege-spells like Bolting and/or Meteor. Wait, did those spells even exist in Awakening? I'd find out later.
I Traced Chelsea's bow and sniped the fleeing bandits, leaving no survivors. One shot, one kill. No matter how fast they ran, begging and pleading for their lives all the while, they weren't quick enough to escape my range or mercy.
When they were all dead, I looted their belongings for supplies before going on my way.
The following day brought more bandits, and more deaths.
So did the next.
On the fourth day I hunted down a wandering pack of brigands attempting to flee to Plegia. The chase took two days and two nights, but by the end the plains of Ylisse were watered with fresh blood.
The following week was a quiet one. No mongrels to exterminate; no signs of them trapezing through the wilds. I took this chance to better familiarize myself with my current skills, practicing with all the weapons and tomes at my disposal. I wanted to be at my best when the hunt resumed.
But it didn't.
A month passed, and there wasn't hide nor hair of my prey. I expanded my search, traveling across swaths of the halidom, yet the results were the same. Where had they gone? I refused to entertain the insane notion that I'd killed every piece of garbage in Ylisse; that was simply unbelievable. Did they all flee to the neighboring kingdoms? It was a hypothesis worth testing.
If so, there were only two places they could've escaped to. The first was Regna Ferox, the colds lands north of Ylisse. The second was Plegia, the kingdom to the west of the halidom, and home of the Grimleal. I chose to visit Regna Ferox first, followed by Plegia. Sure, I knew Plegia's Mad King Gangrel wanted my head on a pike, but I was going to make the bastard work for it.
I made my way north, towards the continent's snowy northern lands. When the temperature dropped, I analyzed and Traced a winter cloak worn by a passing traveler. I eventually reached the Longfort, a massive Feroxi border fortress that stretched across and separated Ylisse from Regna Ferox. If my memories served me correctly, this gargantuan wall reached from one end of the continent to the other, going from east to west and literally dividing the region in half. The insane amount of logistics and resources it would've taken to complete this feat of engineering seriously impressed me, especially considering Awakening took place in a medieval-like era; no construction vehicles here.
Basically, Regna Ferox dominated the entire northern half of the continent, with Plegia in the south-western corner and Ylisse in the south-eastern one. Ferox was larger than the kingdoms of Ylisse and Plegia combined.
Plenty of land for bandit scum to hide away in.
The question now: how was I getting in?
In the game, Chrom, Robin, and the other Shepards were immediately attacked at Longfort when they came to Ferox for diplomatic purposes and needed to fight their way through. Did I have to do something similar?
Well, staring at the fortress wall sure wasn't going to get me through. I'll try diplomacy first, and if that fails … I'll leave that problem to future-me.
With my boots crunching against the fresh snow blanketing the ground, I held my Traced cloak tightly against my body to foil the northern cold and approached Longfort's closed lattice gate.
When I was several yards away from the base of the fortress, and booming voice above me demanded, "HALT!"
I tilted my head up. Atop of the yawning wall, and behind its embrasures, was a line of armored soldiers, all glaring down at me. I absently wondered if they were all as cold as I was.
The largest one yelled, "Begone, stranger! Outsiders are not welcome in Regna Ferox!"
"I seek passage," I replied, my voice carrying well in the frigid wind.
"Are your ears knotholes? Depart at once!"
"I seek passage. I can pay," I added, hoping money could buy my way through.
Turns out, it didn't. Now the lead soldier was glaring down at me with pure vitriol. "The weight of your coin pursue means nothing in Regna Ferox, fool! Only the strength of your arm, and I find yours lacking! MEN! Escort this soft-bellied jester from our doorsteps the Feroxi way!"
"HOO-AH!" the soldiers bellowed in unison, their voice booming like thunder. Together as one, they hefted their lances, took aim, and threw.
I was suddenly the target of a 100 pointed weapons, all raining towards me.
I entered Bullet Time, watching the flock of lances approach in slow motion. From what I could tell, only a handful had any chance of actually hitting me; the rest would miss by a mile. So using only the most minimal movements, I twisted, turned, and bent my body out of harm's way, causing those few lances to miss me by centimeters.
The last one was thrown far later than the others, flying directly for my jugular. Not a problem. I leaned out of the way, then snatched the thrown weapon out of the air before it struck the ground.
Time returned to normal as the snow settled around me. My heart ache slightly from my prolonged use of Bullet Time, as it was better utilized in short bursts. Looking around, I saw I stood amidst a forest of lances, all impaling the snowy soil around me. I noticed something different about their design. These weren't iron lances; their shape was more aerodynamic.
A quick [Structural Analysis] told me why.
[Javelin, Rank: D]
A light spear designed primarily to be thrown due to its reduced weight, although this comes at the cost of its overall toughness.
Might: 2
Hit Rate: 80%
Critical: 0%
Durability: 25/25
Magic Cost: 1
[<Javelin, Rank: D> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
Ah, so that's why.
Glancing back up at the soldiers atop of the wall, I saw shock threatening to overcome their military discipline. Guess it wasn't everyday they saw someone Matrix their way through a storm of projectiles.
Since diplomacy was now definitely out of the question, I readied myself for violence. I wouldn't kill any of them, as they were just doing their jobs, but if I had to rough them up then so be it.
Readjusting my grip on the javelin, its previous wielder's training and memories flowed through me. As soon as they were mine, I assumed the proper stance, took aim, and returned the weapon to its sender. It arched through the air, towards the top of the fortress; the loud soldier barely ducked in time as it knocked his helmet clean off his head.
With the soldiers stunned by my theatrics, I considered my options. My first thought was using magic, but I doubted Elfire was hot enough to melt through the metal lattice gate, nor could my Elwind cut through it. In that case—
"You … who are you?" the mouthy soldier demanded, barely keeping his voice from trembling.
"Just someone who wants passage," I replied.
"Why? What does Ferox have that you seek?"
"I don't know for certain if your country has what I'm looking for, but that won't stop me from making sure."
"And that would be?"
"Prey."
The soldier's eyebrows shot up in realization. "It's you … the Huntsman!"
I cocked an eyebrow. Who?
"… pardon?"
"By the gods, you're the Huntsman!" the soldier laughed, his hatred and hesitation vanishing to give way to pride and admiration. "The lone wanderer who tracks, hunts, and exterminates the dregs of Ylisse! Ha, ha, ha! It's a true honor to meet you, Huntsman! Regna Ferox would be honored to host one as distinguished as you!"
"… say what now?"
"Open the gate! OPEN THE GATE!"
The air was filled with the cacophony of groaning wood and grating steel as the lattice gate before me steadily rose, opening the way forward.
Wary, I slipped around the javelins dotting the area (pitying whoever had to clean this up) and entered the mouth of the Longfort. Inside the wide stone chamber, heated by many burning braziers, I was greeted by the soldier who'd I been speaking with before. Judging from his heavy panting, he must've rushed down here in a hurry, his full body armor clattering noisily with every step.
"My greetings, Huntsman!" the soldier said with a wide, toothy smile. "I am Commander Angus, leader of the 5th company stationed here at Longfort, and loyal soldier to the true Khan of Regna Ferox, Khan Flavia!"
Oh yeah, that was a thing in Ferox. There were two rulers, Khans: the East-Khan and West-Khan. The one bestowed with absolute sovereignty was decided in a grand fighting tournament. I always thought it was a cool way to chose a leader, and had a laugh imagining presidential candidates duking it out in a cage match to see who would sit in the White House.
"How do you know I'm not a pretender?" I asked.
"Because here in Ferox, pure strength speaks louder than empty words! Anyone could claim to be the Huntsman of Ylisse, and they would have been felled by our spears! Yet here you stand, unscathed! How could you be anyone but?"
A seriously simplistic way of viewing things, but at least it worked out for me.
Nevertheless, I scanned the general with [Structural Analysis].
NAME: Angus, the Iron Wall of Ferox
AGE: 42
CLASS: General
LEVEL: 2
EXP: 79 / 100
HIT POINTS: 49 / 50
STRENGTH:22
MAGIC: 0
SKILL: 19
SPEED: 9
LUCK: 4
DEFENSE: 24
RESISTANCE: 8
STATUS: Elated, Proud, Impressed
Not bad stats. If the two of us fought there was no way I was winning a contest of brute strength. I'd have to make some distance and bombard him with magic.
"Well, thank you for letting me in," I said, grateful I wouldn't have to fight my way through Longfort and be branded an enemy of Ferox.
"Not at all, not at all! As I said before, Regna Ferox is proud to host a warrior of your caliber!"
"If it's not too much trouble, can you answer a few questions?"
Angus was all smiles. "By all means, ask away!"
"How do you know about me? I've never been to Ferox before."
"How could we not?" Angus laughed, giving me a jolly slap on the shoulder; it hurt. "The dregs of Ylisse have been throwing themselves at Longfort for months now, seeking passage into our hardy lands. Naturally, none could slip past the shield of Ferox, and plenty were captured and tossed to our interrogators. Ah, they stories they screamed, about a silent demon that preyed on their worthless hides, as a tiger would hunt a rabbit! They made for the most thrilling tales! Now, word of your exploits are sung by all the bards in all the taverns across Regna Ferox! Even our mighty Khan envies your achievements! Many, such as I, have been wondering when the great hunter of bandits would grace our gate, and here you are! Wuah, ha, ha! Today is a great day indeed!"
So the bandits of Ylisse have been trying to flee the country, but those heading north were stopped by the Longfort.
On top of that, it seemed like I was famous here; didn't expect that.
Coughing awkwardly, entirely unsure how I should be reacting to my infamy, I asked, "Does Ferox have its share of native bandits?"
"Bah! They're frilly-skirted cowards that would easily be felled by a true Feroxi … but they're as tenacious as cockroaches," the general scowled, stroking his shaving chin. "They flee at the first signs of trouble, rabbiting into bolt holes they've dug up across our great nation. Our Khan would deal with the spineless vermin herself, but they scatter at the mere glimpse of her magnificence!"
I nodded, digesting the information. Sounds like I had plenty to keep me busy. "Thank you for telling me. I'll see what I can do."
"Of course!" Angus said happily. He extended a hand, and since it would've been rude to turn him down we shook forearms. That sure made his day, like a fan who'd gotten a celebrity's autograph. "I expect nothing but the best from a warrior such as yourself! Have a pleasant stay, and good hunting, Huntsman!"
I accepted the general's words with a tilt of my head, and made my way into the snowy lands of Regna Ferox.
~
I hated Regna Ferox!
It was so damn cold, all the damn time! I spent a month freezing my ass off in teeth-clattering snowstorms, dragging my stiff legs through several feet of snow, living off ice-cold rations, and sleeping in conditions so artic I almost always woke up with icicles hanging from my hair. It was only thanks to my Traced winter cloak and copious uses of my Heal Stave that I managed to avoid debilitating frostbite.
The only good thing I could say about the unforgiving weather was that enduring it bumped my defense and resistance by +1. Didn't know why, but I'd take what I could get.
While Regna Ferox held the most land of the three kingdoms, a lot of that space was empty tundras. It also made hunting for outlaws harder on the local garrisons, since Feroxi bandits used all that open space to their advantage. They dug underground boltholes for quick escapes and evading patrols, based their operations in long abandoned towns and villages that no longer existed on any Feroxi map, and usually wore semi-white clothes to help them blend in with the artic land's snowscape.
Unlike their Ylissean counterparts, these bandits had a measure of wit about them. I supposed they'd have to if they wanted to survive and thrive in these merciless conditions.
It's just too bad they weren't prepared for me. These bandits relied on their anonymity and hidden bases to survive, and my Personal Skill tore those wide open. With a liberal use of [Structural Analysis] on all their equipment, I could see the entire history of all their gear. Most importantly: when the owners of said gear carried them to their hush-hush hideaways. Once I knew where their favorite lairs were, hunting them down was child's play.
And if I went a tad overboard? What can I say, the constant cold weather was putting me in a perpetually bad mood, so I needed to vent.
Now, after finishing off a clan of brigands calling themselves the "Khan Killers" (ridiculous, seeing how none of them had fought a single Khan), I sat by my campfire, greedily soaking in as much warmth as I could. I thanked every god out there that I could Trace fire-based tomes, otherwise this trip would've been much more miserable.
The self-proclaimed Khan Killers were the last of the five major bandit factions in Regna Ferox; the rest had been slain by my hand. There were understandably less brigands in Ferox than Ylisse, as not many wanted to endure its harsh climate. All that was left were some scattered gangs here and there, more than half of whom had already been put to the sword by Feroxi fighters.
With the sun directly overhead, today was slightly warmer than most days. The biting winds settled to a cold breeze, and the dense snowfall died down to a trickle. Seeing how most of the bandits of Ferox were successfully dealt with, I felt it was time I returned to Ylisse, then made my way to Plegia.
I went on high alert as I heard snow crunching underneath marching boots; they were heading my way. Perhaps a survivors, seeking me out for revenge? I'd met a few bandits like that, all ranting about how I'd killed their friends and that they were going to make me pay for what I'd done. As if I cared. How many fathers, mother, sons, and daughters had they gleefully butchered for their sick amusement?
No, the steps were too light; not an adult's. A teenager? Some brigands did recruit the young, but not many. No, the one approaching was too young. What were they doing out here in the middle of nowhere?
I waited until a lanky boy stepped into my view. His frizzy black hair was matted with snow and tied into a sloppy ponytail behind his head. He wore robes resembling an armored kimono, but were a size too large for him. Over all this, he was draped in a thick cloak made from the densest pelt I've ever seen. Whoever this was, they obviously hated the cold as much as I did.
"Are you the Huntsman?" the boy asked, his voice just beginning to break into puberty, glaring at me as if I'd spit in his soup.
"Who's asking?"
"Fight me!" the boy demanded, throwing open his cloak and revealing a tattered sword sheathed at his waist; it wasn't an iron sword.
[Structural Analysis], here we go.
[Iron Katana, Rank: D]
A single-edged blade forged in the lands of Chon'sin. Their unique smithing techniques result in a blade of folded metal that is superior to its counterpart, the iron sword.
Might: 6
Hit Rate: 90%
Critical: 0%
Durability: 3/45
Magic Cost: 1
[<Iron Katana, Rank: D> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
My eyes bugged out beneath my Keaton Mask. What the hell was a katana doing in Awakening? Those weapons weren't introduced until Fates, the subsequent game! Then again, Chon'sin was kind of like the Japan of Valm, so I suppose it made a certain amount of sense.
Now who was this stranger from across the sea? [Structural Analysis]!
NAME: Lon'qu, the Pursuer of Strength
AGE: 13
CLASS: Myrmidon
LEVEL: 2
EXP: 95 / 100
HIT POINTS: 18 / 20
STRENGTH:5
MAGIC: 0
SKILL: 10
SPEED: 11
LUCK: 7
DEFENSE: 6
RESISTANCE: 1
STATUS: Tired, Nervous, Cold, Angry, Impatient
Lon'qu?! This was Lon'qu, the future champion of the West-Khan? Why the hell was I running into so many named characters?! First Robin, now Lon'qu! It's not like I was actively trying to find them, damn it!
"Draw your weapon, Huntsman!" teen-Lon'qu demanded, ripping his katana out of its sheath. "We shall fight, and I shall surpass you!"
Wasn't Lon'qu a calm, collected, slightly socially-awkward, woman-fearing badass in the game? Why was he such a hothead now? Ugh, don't tell me he's currently going through a phase! Damn teenagers … wait, wasn't I still a teenager too?
"Either sit by the fire in peace or go away," I grunted, not wanting to deal with this crap right now.
Lon'qu responded by kicking snow onto my campfire, dousing a good portion of the flames and extinguishing my source of warmth.
"Fight me!" he shouted again.
I felt a pulse of heat race across my temple. The source: irritation.
"This isn't going to be a fight," I said, slowly standing until I was towering over the little troublemaker. "It's going to be a lesson."
"Big words!" Lon'qu barked as he pointed his poorly maintained katana at me; the blade was covered in nicks and cracks. "Now draw your weapon!"
I scoffed. "Brat."
Lon'qu seethed until he was nearly jettisoning steam from his red ears. With a pointless roar, he slashed his katana at my throat. Using Bullet Time, I dodged just enough to evade the tip of his blade by a hair. To Lon'qu, it felt as though he'd tried to cut air, and failed.
"Slow," I snorted.
Lon'qu howled as he lunged, his katana held high above his head. I didn't dodge, instead opting to kick the kid full in the face. I obviously held back, but my heel still connected with his nose, and Lon'qu was sent tumbling backwards while his katana slipped through his fingers and flew into the air. I caught it easily.
"Weak," I continued, before tossing the kid his weapon, letting it land by his feet. The gesture obviously confused him, so I explained, "Why so surprised? Armed or not, you're too pathetic for me to take seriously."
Lon'qu grit his teeth so hard I could hear them grinding. He was spitting mad now, snatching up his katana as he carelessly rushed at me yet again. I caught his wrist while avoid another sloppy attack, then threw him over my shoulder, slamming him against the snowy ground.
"Gah!" he cried as he hit the surface. Although the snow cushioned some of his fall, it didn't mitigate all of it.
Still, I wanted to keep the kid on his toes, so I dropped an axe-kick towards his face. The brat barely rolled out of the way in time, though he was struggling to remain on his feet, the wind having been knocked out of him.
"Predictable," I drawled, dusting some loose snow from my shoulders in a clearly dismissive fashion.
"S-Shut … up!" Lon'qu screamed, trying once more to slit my throat.
His katana was so dull I easily caught it in one hand while flicking the twerp on the forehead with the other. He stumbled backwards, but I released his sword to let him gain some distance.
"Are you done wasting my time?"
"N-Never!" Lon'qu sputtered, gripping his weapon with both hands as his rage fueled his resolve to new heights. "I refuse to cease until I surpass you!"
"Why me?" I asked irritably.
"Because you're strong!"
The hell kind of answer what that? Fine, whatever. If the kid wouldn't answer my questions, I'd simply take them from a difference source.
"Trace, on." My fake-magic circuits lit up as an iron katana—Lon'qu's katana—appeared in my left hand. Ignoring the kid's gasp, I searched the weapon's history.
I saw a boy living in the slums of Chon'sin.
He had a friend, Ke'ri, and their friendship flourished.
The boy grieved as he failed to protect Ke'ri, her life claimed by bandits.
He began pushing away others, fearing companionship with him would put them at risk.
The boy swore on his sword and soul to become strong, so he would never feel the pain of loss again.
Shame drove him from his lands, as he stowed away on a ship to arrive at the cold lands of Regna Ferox, where only the strong survived as the weak were whittled away.
He challenged many fighters, many warriors, and emerged bloody but victorious.
The boy learned of a great hunter—a Huntsman—and sought them out to prove his strength.
I glanced up at Lon'qu, the boy from Chon'sin, and felt my brow furrow. His past was so similar to mine it wasn't even funny. Weren't coincidences like these supposed to happen to main characters in fictional stories? So why the hell was it taking place for me? I mean, did Lon'qu from the game even have a backstory like that? I never got around to unlocking all his support conversations, so I couldn't say for sure.
But one thing was for certain: whatever ire I held towards him had fled along with the cold Feroxi winds.
"T-That's … that's my …!" Lon'qu stammered, his eyes constantly darting from his sword to my Traced replicate.
"Eyes on me," I said, bringing the sheathed katana to my waist, and letting my left hand hover over its worn handle. Then, I widened my stance before coiling my body until it was like a taut spring ready to burst free. "It's time for a lesson. I'm only showing you this once. Burn it into your brain."
Having searched the rest of the katana's history, I saw Lon'qu was skating by on his talent and unique weapon alone. However, talent alone would only take him so far, and his iron katana was reaching the end of its life. If Lon'qu kept going the way he was, he'd meet his end sooner rather than later.
Right now, this was all I could do for him. I was going to borrow a technique I'd only read about, but could I actually pull it off? My current strength, speed, and skill already exceed those of an average human's, so I felt confident.
"Come," I taunted the boy one final time, easily sending the teenage ball of angst and pride into a rage. He came at me with yet another overhead swing, as if doing the same thing over and over again was supposed to yield a different result.
The instant he entered my range, I exploded into motion. My hand latched around my katana's handle and drew the blade with such speed it was a blur of motion. Using Bullet Time, I accurately directed my quick draw not at Lon'qu, but the base of his katana's blade.
There was a loud clang as metal met metal, and Lon'qu's sword snapped in half.
Lon'qu completely froze as he stared down at his broken blade.
"Battōjutsu, the art of the quick draw," I said, allowing my Traced katana to fade.
"How … how did you … but I … did I …?" Lon'qu rambled. Huh, I think he was taking his loss a bit harder than expected. Well, better he taste defeat from a foe who has no intention of killing him.
"You've got talent brat, but potential's nothing until it's realized."
Then we heard clapping.
Lon'qu spun around like a startled cat, but I already knew our guest had been there. I'd heard them quietly approaching a while ago. But when I turned to see who it was, I damn near threw my mask at my feet out of frustration.
I'd recognize that bald, eye-patch wearing, giant of a man anywhere. It was Basilio, West-Khan of Ferox. Behind him was a contingent of Feroxi soldiers, likely his personal bodyguards.
"Well said, Huntsman!" Basilio lauded as he approached us, his bronze skin practically shining with vigor. He was nearly a whole head taller than me.
"Khan Basilio," I greeted. Lon'qu was astonished to be before one of Ferox's leaders and … scurried behind me? Damn it, brat! Why're you hiding there?!
"Ah, you've heard of me! Well of course you have! Who wouldn't recognize this handsome mug? Bwaha, ha, ha!"
Gods, he was as boisterous as I feared he'd be.
"What brings you here?" I asked amicably.
"Whoa, straight to business? C'mon, Huntsman, live a little! In fact, why don't I invite you and the pup to my place? We can break bread, share a few drinks, and regale each other with tales of our feats! And when the pup's asleep, I can introduce you to Ferox's finest women! Trust me, the ladies of Regna Ferox have no equal! They're just as likely to stab you as they are to bed you!"
"Yes, you would know all about that, wouldn't you, oaf?"
Great, more visitors, and I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who they were.
"Ho! Is it not the lovely young lady and her entourage we passed on our way here? I would've offered if she wished for companionship … until I recognized it was you, Flavia! Bwa ha ha ha!" Basilio bust a gut laughing.
"And I can only thank you for sparing me from your buffoonery," Flavia, East-Khan of Ferox snorted as she stepped into the clearing with her own minders. She wore interlocking plates of form-fitting crimson and pearl armor that protected her vitals while leaving other areas exposed for increased mobility. Her skin tone was a shade lighter than Basilio's while her mellow hair was kept out of her eyes thanks to a band that let it splay out behind her like a halo.
Why, why was I running into so many important people today?
When Flavia's gaze found me, her full lips spread into a predatory smile.
That was all the warning I got before she leapt an absurd height into the air and came crashing towards me with her greatsword drawn and ready.
My battle instincts kicked in. Tracing a pair of iron swords, I crossed them to form an X and caught Flavia's blade. Our weapons clashed, and my arms were rattled to the bone intercepting the strike. I quickly delivered a kick to the Khan's stomach, but she blocked it with her knee. Even so, I successfully pushed her away. A good thing to, because when I glanced down at my swords I saw a deep crack spreading across both of them.
Her greatsword was dangerous. Well, she started this fight, so she'd better not complain if I profit off of it! [Structural Analysis]!
[Silver Greatsword "Arbiter", Rank: A]
The personal weapon of East-Khan Flavia, forged and further customized to her specifications. Its blade is half-a-length longer than the average silver sword, and its extended handle allows it to be wielded with one or both hands. It was given the name "Arbiter" because of how Khan Flavia prefers to mediate disputes: with the business end of her sword.
Might: 13
Hit Rate: 95%
Critical: 15%
Durability: 50/50
Magic Cost: 1
[<Arbiter, Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
I nearly licked my lips beneath my mask. Flavia's greatsword was easily the best weapon I'd scanned into the Catalogue, and was in perfect condition as well! If she wasn't attacking me, I might've kissed her for this opportunity.
Now, what about Flavia herself?
NAME: Flavia, East-Khan of Regna Ferox
AGE: 25
CLASS: Khan
LEVEL: 8
EXP: 7 / 100
HIT POINTS: 46 / 46
STRENGTH:24
MAGIC: 5
SKILL: 26
SPEED: 24
LUCK: 19
DEFENSE: 21
RESISTANCE: 10
STATUS: Interested, Excited, Eager
Wait … her class was Khan? What the hell? Since when? I blamed crazy dimensional buffoonery. Still, one glance at her overall stats told me everything I needed to know: she was strong, surpassing me in every attribute save for magic and resistance.
"You okay there, Huntsman?" Basilio called out good-naturedly, nonplussed by his fellow Khan's actions, as if being attacked by Flavia was a daily occurrence. Lon'qu also backed away, watching my confrontation with rapt attention. "That mad witch is a feral one! Want me to lend you my axe? Might help you banish her to the deep depths from wench she came!"
The personal axe of the West-Khan? Why, I'd love to have a copy for myself, thank you very much. But first, I needed to deal with Flavia. According to her status she wasn't angry with me, meaning this was … a test?
"And I think you missed a spot shaving this morning, oaf!" Flavia snarked in return. "Why don't you come over here and let Arbiter give you a trim?"
Fine, if she wanted to play then I'd oblige. A bit of exercise would help warm me up.
I let my dented iron swords fade away, then intoned, "Trace, on."
Flavia squinted as my false circuits flared to life, before her eyes enlarged in astonishment as a Projection of her greatsword, Arbiter, appeared in my right hand. Damn, it was heavy, and she'd been swinging it around in one hand like it weighed nothing.
"Well, crap. He might already have my axe," Basilio mumbled to himself.
Despite being unfamiliar with the weapon's weight, Arbiter's accumulated experiences showed me how to best wield and compensate for its additional mass. It was a sword with an incredibly rich story, and those were the best kind.
I sprinted forward, my Traced Arbiter lashing out with all the might I could muster. Flavia hurriedly blocked my strike with her greatsword, her arms trembling ever so slightly from the blow.
From there, the two of us engaged in a dance of steel and skill, constantly switching between attacking and defending as we tested one another. We remained light on our feet, utilizing our speed to force an opening before striking with precision-guided strength. Our bout swept all across my campsite, forcing our spectators to shuffled out of the way more than once lest they get caught between our blades.
For Flavia, it was like she was sparring against a mirror image of herself, one that knew her moves and techniques so intimately they were reading her like a child's picture book, and vice-versa. She almost laughed with excitement as she became more and more absorbed by their duel, as her chances of fighting such a worthy opponent were few and far between.
As for me, I was barely hanging on. In terms of close combat, Flavia outmatched me in every aspect. The only reason I'd hung on for this long was because I knew her fighting style inside and out, allowing me to block, parry, and counter moves that would've otherwise hewn me in two. That, and liberal use of Bullet Time.
But as Flavia became more invested in our duel, I knew my defeat was an impending certainty if I stuck to course.
So when Flavia committed to a horizontal sweep of her greatsword, I switched tactics. Abandoning her fighting style, I leapt over her sword threw a jumping kick aimed at her head. Despite catching her flat footed, the Khan still managed to bring up the small shield covering the length of her left forearm to block it.
That was fine, I half-expected it anyways. Instead of falling, I used Flavia's arm as a footstool and leapt into the air directly above her. Flavia snapped her head up to keep me in her sights, but that was a mistake. With the noon sun at my back, the Khan flinched as its harsh rays briefly blinded her. That all the opening I needed to commit myself to a forward vertical flip, slashing my greatsword downwards with all my might and weight.
Sensing danger, Flavia threw herself to the side to prevent her skull from being split open. Instead, my Traced weapon struck the scarlet pauldron over her left shoulder with all the force of a hammer, knocking Flavia to one knee.
I'd executed the Helm Splitter, a technique Link used in Twilight Princess, and something I'd been practicing since the events of Border Pass.
When I landed behind the fallen Khan, I immediately spun around to take advantage of this opening. It was not meant to be, as Flavia swiftly twisted on her heel with speed and reflexes that transformed her into a whirl of motion. Her Arbiter stopped at the side of my neck, the same time mine paused a finger's width away hers.
I grimaced. Her attack started after mine, but they both reached their intended targets at the exact same time. Yeah, she was definitely faster than me when she wanted to be.
The two of us stared down at one another, neither so much as twitching; me at her thrilled smile, and her at my blank Keaton Mask. Behind me, I could hear Flavia's guards moving into position to cut me down at a moment's notice.
Flavia was the first to withdraw her sword.
"Splendid!" she praised, slinging her greatsword over her uninjured shoulder. "You are every bit the warrior your fables claim you to be! I am impressed, and more than happy to conclude our spar with a draw!"
I could tell she meant every word, so I allowed my Projection to disperse into a shower of emerald light. I was grateful my Keaton Mask hid my face, because I was sweating bullets. My heart was pounding away at my ribs like a jack hammer, and it took all my willpower not to collapse from exhaustion. Victor the Berserker might've been the only foe who came close to killing me, but my "spar" with Flavia was by far the toughest battle I'd been in.
I needed several seconds to steady my breathing from harsh gasps to uneasy pants.
"You flatter me," I said slowly, feeling my sweat saturate my clothes. Ugh, I was going to need a bath, and the thought of dunking myself in an ice-cold river was not appealing. "I only achieved as much because you were holding back. Our bout would've ended differently otherwise."
"Bah! Dispense with the humility, I find it ill-fitting for one such as you!" Flavia said, waving my words away. "You are strong! You are skilled! Take pride in that!"
"Such sweet honeyed words," Basilio mock-sighed as he approached. "Why do you never whisper such sweet nothings to me, Flavia?"
Flavia scowled, looking ready to give the West-Khan that shave she promised. "How's this for 'sweet nothings'? Why don't you retire and let whatever yellow-bellied successor you have hidden away in your basement take over your duties as West-Khan? That way my reign will surely be a long and uninterrupted one, old man."
"O-Old man?!" Basilio sputtered. "Ogre's teeth, woman! I'm only 29!"
Was he? I used [Structural Analysis] just to be sure.
NAME: Basilio, West-Khan of Regna Ferox
AGE: 29
CLASS: Khan
LEVEL: 9
EXP: 1 / 100
HIT POINTS: 60 / 60
STRENGTH:29
MAGIC: 3
SKILL: 24
SPEED: 21
LUCK: 18
DEFENSE: 19
RESISTANCE: 8
STATUS: Content, Driven
"And yet your mug screams 40," Flavia scoffed, although I could tell there was little heat behind her words. Despite their constant needling, it was easy to tell the two Khans respected one another …
"Says the witch! How many young virgins did you sacrifice today to keep that youthful appearance?"
"Not nearly enough. Thankfully, it appears a fresh one-eyed offering has presented itself to me. Men, bring forth my cauldron!"
"Gasp! You did not just insinuate what I think you were!"
"Caught that, did you? Good to know your mind is still somewhat sharp; they say memory is the first to go with elders your age."
"And what would you know about letting another warm your bed? I doubt anyone's ever been able to prize you out of that armor long enough to find out!"
"Why you—!"
… most of the time.
Both Khans drew their respective weapons and clashed, hacking and slashing at one another as if they were seriously trying to kill each other. I thought their respective guards would've stepped in to stop them, but they didn't. Instead, most groaned like this was a common occurrence. A few were even taking bets!
I suppose when you lived in a nation where might made right, watching your bosses go at it was a frequent sight to see.
Well, since they were kind enough to give me a free show, I added Basilio's personal axe to the Catalogue.
[Silver Battle-Axe "Heartbreaker", Rank: A]
The personal weapon of West-Khan, Basilio. Forged to be as sharp and heavy as possible, this unwieldy weapon shines in the hands of Basilio's incredible strength. Its unbalanced build makes it difficult to properly swing, but one accurate hit is all Basilio needs to finish most fights. It earned the moniker "Heartbreaker" when the woman Khan Basilio was courting ended their relationship when she revealed he spent more time fussing over the creation of his axe than her.
Might: 18
Hit Rate: 55%
Critical: 30%
Durability: 48/50
Magic Cost: 1
[<Heartbreaker, Rank: A> has been added to the SYSTEM's Catalogue!]
Geez, that double-sided axe was monstrous. No wonder Flavia dedicated most of her efforts avoiding the damn thing, only engaging directly when she had to. I doubt I'd be able to use it properly without seriously bulking up first.
Lon'qu tugged on the sleeve of my cloak. The kid practically had stars in his eyes as he gazed up at me.
"You … you fought Khan Flavia," Lon'qu whispered, awed. Gone was his former hostility, replaced almost entirely by hero-worship. "The Khans are the strongest fighters in Ferox … and you fought her to a draw."
"She was holding back," I grunted, still feeling the lingering sting in my arms.
"That's not what she said. She said you were strong."
Stupid kid suffered from selective hearing. But it turned out he had his uses, because when his stomach audibly growled, the battling Khans ceased fighting. Basilio's battle axe was one motion away from cleaving Flavia in two, while Flavia's greatsword was an inch away from running Basilio's neck through.
"Sounds like the pup's hungry!" Basilio laughed, withdrawing his monster of a weapon.
"It seems we've been poor hosts to our guests," Flavia admitted, sheathing her greatsword. "Come. We shall adjourn to my castle and have a feast fit for the ages!"
Basilio was quick to protest. "Hold, woman! Why are we going to your den of evil? Mine is far more suitable!"
"Yours is a week's ride away on horseback, while mine is an hour's walk away," Flavia scolded. "And do not forget, I am the regnant Khan! So when I say we're going to my castle, the only thing I want to hear from you is 'Yes Khan, right away Khan!' Or is that too advanced for your old age?" While Basilio stammered incoherently in irritation, Flavia marched up to me and Lon'qu and said, "Now come! We have meals to dine, casks to break, and stories to trade!"
Without waiting for either of our opinions, Flavia picked up Lon'qu and threw him over her good shoulder while grabbing me by the back of my cloak and dragging us both away.
Behind us, Basilio shouted, "Wait right there, you damn witch! Quick, men! After her! There's no telling what she'll do to those innocent lads once they're out of our sight!"
~
If past-me had any protests about accepting Flavia's hospitality, it was because he was a massive moron. Current-me held no such regrets, not while I floated in a huge tub of perfectly heated water, groaning in contentment as its soothing warmth seeped into my aching bones and relieved pains I didn't even know I had. After I'd thoroughly scrubbed every inch of my body, I remembered what it felt like to be clean. The areas I couldn't reach, like my back, were washed by a handmaid Flavia provided.
Yes, she was in the bathing chamber with me, and yes, she was naked too, letting me see she was built like an amazon was wasn't afraid to use the dagger strapped to her thigh if I did anything uncouth. Not that I did anything but stare, which she couldn't see due to my mask.
Was I still wearing the Keaton Mask as I bathed? Why yes, I was. I'd been wearing it for so long that taking it off felt odd, though I did briefly remove it long enough to wash my face.
After I enjoyed my first bath in forever, long enough for my fingers and toes to prune, I stepped out and dried myself. The handmaid offered to help, but I told her I was fine; didn't want her to see my awkward erection. A different servant brought me a set of spare Feroxi clothes, before leading me to the dining chamber.
That stood out to me: the Khan's servants didn't dress in maid or butler uniforms. They wore loose leather outfits that were easy to move in yet still provided a measure of protection, and they were all armed with daggers, swords, or axes. It was like every single person working in Flavia's castle was ready to throw down at a moment's notice.
Everybody gathered in Flavia's throne room, although I think it'd be more accurate to call it a sparring ring. Was it so if anyone questioned her rule she didn't have to go far to beat the crap out of them?
Several of her manservants rolled in a large round table and set it down in the middle of the ring. After the chairs were set, the handmaids brought in the food.
My God, it was delicious. The salted pork was mouth-wateringly greasy, the marinated slabs of roasted steak sprayed juice with every bite, the fried vegetables were brilliantly seasoned, and the beef stew's broth was so thick it was like drinking gravy.
I loved it all, especially after chewing on nothing but cold jerky for a month.
Basilio downed an entire mug of mead, and broadcast his satisfaction with a massive BELCH! Flavia didn't mind. In fact, she down two mugs with nary a wink before shooting her fellow Khan a smug grin.
Lon'qu ate like a starved wolf, scarfing down whatever he could get his hands on and scattering crumbs and morsels everywhere. No one minded his nonexistent table manners, not in Regna Ferox, though I did notice how Lon'qu claimed the seat farthest from Flavia while shuddering whenever a handmaid drew too close. His gynophobia was alive and well.
"So!" Basilio shouted, slamming his mug against the table and rattling several plates. "You never actually told us your name, Huntsman."
"No, I didn't," I agreed as I continued to eat. My Keaton Mask was tilted up far enough to expose my mouth, but left everything above that obscured.
When I didn't answer any further, Basilio shrugged. "Hey, you do you."
"And how has your hunt been?" Flavia asked while cutting herself a slice of meat with a knife so large it belonged on the battlefield.
"Eventful," I grunted.
"So I've heard," Flavia said as she enjoyed her meal. "You tracked down Regna Ferox's vagrants to their hidden dens better than a blood hound, and—from the tales the few survivors have told—massacred them with the ferocity of a scorned dragon. I must say, you truly do live up to your reputation, Huntsman."
"Didn't even know I had one before coming here."
"How could you not? You, a lone warrior, waging a one-man war against the endlessly blight on our kingdoms, never asking for anything in return! Your story is the stuff minstrels sing about! Be proud, for your tale will no doubt be immortalize into legend!"
That felt … wrong, like Flavia, and the rest of Regna Ferox, was making me out to be someone I wasn't.
"Well I say he needs to work a little bit harder before the gods learn his name," Basilio said as a servant refilled his mug. "Unlike me! Let me tell about the time an assassin snuck a pack of feral bears into my private chambers! I had to beat them into submission with nothing but my fists and good looks!"
… there was so much wrong with that sentence I didn't know where to start.
"A pack of bears?" Flavia snorted. "Last I heard this tall tale, there was only one of the beasts."
"It's my story, woman! And I'll tell it how I see fit!"
"I say slaying bandits by the hundreds is a far greater accomplishment than defeating a lone animal," Lon'qu said through a mouthful of steak.
Thanks for sticking up for me kiddo, but it's not necessary.
"Bah! They might be great in numbers, but most of those punks are nothing but an untrained rabble," Basilio snorted as he took another swig. "You need a true test of mettle, Huntsman! How can you expect to push yourself to greater heights without a worthy adversary to whet your skills against?"
Flavia's abruptly flung her knife at the West-Khan, embedding it in the headrest of his chair; an inch above his bald head. Basilio hadn't even flinched. "Are you insinuating my blade is too dull to sharpen the Huntsman's fangs, oaf?"
Basilio scoffed, grabbing the thrown knife and hurling it back at Flavia; she caught it between her fingers without batting an eye. "The two of you were both holding back, and you know it."
Flavia hummed, flipped her cutting knife in her hand, and returned to dicing her meal to bite-sized pieces.
I'm sorry, but I really was giving it my all during that fight. Can you all please stop overestimating me? And what's with all the nonchalant murder attempts at the dinner table? Were all Feroxi dinners like this, or was today a special occasion?
"Well I won't have you boring me or my guests with your fictional fables," Flavia scoffed. "Now my battle with Tynad the Terror is a story fit for the regnant Khan's halls. Ours was a confrontation that truly set my heart ablaze! His spear matched against my sword, where the slightest mistake, the smallest misstep, would have spelt either of our—!"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard this enough times to rot my ears off," Basilio interrupted to the East-Khan's ire. "Tell me something original, why don't you? Or is the witch's bag running out of tricks? What of you, Huntsman?" the West-Khan asked me before Flavia could bite out a riposte. "Surely the mighty hunter has a tale to share."
I was suddenly the focus of everyone in the throne room. Basilio was eagerly watching me with his one eye, Flavia paused her dining to give me her full attention, and Lon'qu was practically bouncing on his seat as he waited for me to start. Even Flavia's attendants were standing stock still, as if they were afraid the slightest sound would be an affront to my tale.
Did I have to? I didn't even know what I'd share. Yet from the way Flavia, our generous host, was keenly waiting for me to start, it'd be rude to disappoint her.
So with some reluctance, I set my utensils down, fully fitted my Keaton Mask over my face, and began. "This happened …" how long ago was it again? "… two months ago, I learned the bandits of Ylisse were combining forces to deal with a common enemy: me. I'd become a problem for them, so several different clans were gathering their forces at the Border Pass between Ylisse and Plegia."
Basilio whistled in appreciation. "Got those chumps running so scared they were actually willing to work together? Ogre's teeth, now that's an achievement."
"How many were there?" Flavia asked, intrigued.
"Maybe a thousand or so," I replied.
Lon'qu dropped his fork, his mouth agape.
"Hold on, you're yanking my tassets!" Basilio protested. "There can't have been that many!"
"I wager it's the opposite," Flavia said, studying me carefully for deception. "The Huntsman is far too humble for a warrior of his caliber. He may be downplaying their numbers."
I shrugged. "Either way, there were a lot of them. The entire mountain was crawling with the bastards. I'd never seen so many in a single place. Still, they're bandits, and not the brightest of the bunch. A single disguise was enough for me to walk amongst them undetected. My plan was to find their leaders, quietly eliminate them and put a torch to all their supplies, and watch the rest of them tear themselves apart."
"Even with those numbers, an army they are not," Basilio said, nodding in approval. "No training, no discipline. Once no one's holding their leashes, those dogs would bite anything and everything to establish a new peaking order. A sound idea."
"Finding their leaders was easy, as they'd all gathered together near the top of Border Pass," I continued. "But as I eavesdropped on them, I discovered there was more going on. A noble from Plegia was among them, and I learned Plegia was sponsoring the bandits of Ylisse, providing them with weapons, food, and coin to wreak havoc across the halidom, all in exchange for a set percentage of their spoils."
"You know what this means, Flavia?" Basilio said with utmost seriousness; not a trace of his prior humor present. "War, one of conquest. You don't send in a raiding force to soften up your target just to pick daises with them later. Might be a year from now, might be a decade, but those Plegian punks are going to start knocking o Ylisse's front door."
"And?" Flavia said, disinterested. "Why would the matters of Ylisse concern Regna Ferox? They might be our neighbors, but we're far from allies."
Basilio slammed a fist against the table, making all the dishes jump. "Damnation, woman! This is serious! If Ylisse falls to Plegia, there's a damn good chance those Fell Dragon worshipping hicks will set their sights on Regna Ferox next!"
"Then they'll be met with Feroxi steel and fury! If they want our land, they'll have to pay for every quarter inch with a barrel of their own blood!"
"What if they've got the means to circumvent your little toll? Gangrel's the Mad King, not the Stupid King! If he commands his armies to march against us, it'll be because he believe he can seize our nation from us! But we'd know all this if you hadn't withdrawn all our spies from their kingdom!"
"Spies are a coward's weapon!"
"And Khan's greatest resource!"
The two Khans of Regna Ferox leapt from their seats to bare their teeth at one another, the tension burning between them damn near tangible. They were close to coming to blows again, but this time their respective guards were visibly worried.
Lon'qu, who didn't give a whiff about national politics at his age, ignored them and asked, "What happened next?"
His innocent inquiry snapped the Khans out of their impromptu staring contest. Sharing a huff of annoyance at their fellow Khan, Basilio and Flavia returned to their seats, much to the relief of everyone else.
"Nothing much," I said. "I killed the leaders, killed the rest of the bandits, and went about my way."
I wasn't going to bring up meeting Robin and Morgan, nor would I even hint about the Fierce Deity's Mask's existence. Information about its powers could not become widespread. I'd gotten Anna to swear she'd keep my secret even if she was offered all the gold in the world, and could only hope she'd stick to her word.
"What, that's it? You get us all excited, then end your tale like that?" Basilio grouched, reaching for another mug of mead. "Huntsman, you really need to work on your storytelling, because that was terrible."
"I admit, I expected more," Flavia added, arms crossed, "like how you led your quarries to a narrow chokepoint and used the terrain to constrict their movements, allowing you to slay them all a handful at a time."
"Yeah, like that!" Basilio then slumped in his seat. "Ogre's balls, you know it's a cold day in Regna Ferox when I agree with the witch."
Flavia smirked. "Perhaps you're merely learning your proper place, oaf."
"Ha! You're not getting this sweet brown arse that easily! C'mon, Huntsman, how'd you really do it? Got a secret weapon stashed in one of your sleeves?" More like it was hanging from my belt. Even so, I kept my silence, letting Basilio drop the subject with grace. "Well, can't blame you for keeping it under wraps. We've all got one of those."
"Oh do you now?" Flavia said, grinning at her fellow Khan. "And why have you never used it to take the sovereignty from me?"
"I'm simply waiting for the perfect opportunity! Just you wait, witch! In the next Grand Tournament, my champion's going to cut yours down by several sizes and finally remove your rusty arse from my chair!"
"Ha! I'd pay good coin to see that! What second-rate sellsword have you hired this time?"
Lon'qu leaned over to me and whispered, "What are they talking about?"
"Ferox might have two Khans, but only one of them holds the ruling power at any given time," I explained. "Which is why, every few years, Ferox holds a tournament to determine who that Khan will be. Both select someone to be their champion, and the champion who wins allows their Khan to be the ruling sovereign until the next tournament."
"Are the champion fights a one-on-one?"
"I … don't know." In the game, both sides had multiple fighters with them.
"The battle between champions is," Basilio confirmed, overhearing us.
"Then how can you call it a tournament with only two fighters?" Lon'qu asked.
Flavia laughed in good humor. "Because there are others! The Grand Tournament is the largest event of our nation, only taking place once every three years! Hundreds of thousands gather to witness history in the making, and it wouldn't do to have them all leave after a single bout, no matter how important! That is why there's a pre-tourney, a contest of strength, wits, and skill where anyone can sign up, and hundreds are placed in a bracket until only one winner remains!"
Lon'qu was enraptured by the prospect of participating in such a momentous event; a chance to test and improve what skills he had.
"Do people die in this tourney?" I asked.
Flavia looked at me as if I'd asked if water was wet. "Of course. While it is customary for fighters to surrender if they cannot continue, slaying your opponent is still an acceptable means of attaining victory."
I was glad my Keaton Mask hid my grimace. Of course killing one another in a fighting tournament was seen as alright, as this was literally a different world with different cultural standards and morals. It was why nobody here was batting an eye when they learned how many bandits I killed. Death was a common aspect of life here, and many were glad it was the ignoble scum who met their end and not the innocents simply trying to live their lives.
"When's the next Grand Tournament?" I asked, moving my thoughts along.
"You're in luck. It takes place in 10 days, at Arena Ferox, and will be a week long event," Flavia said, taking a sip from her goblet. "The pre-tourney will be first, and will take the majority of the week. The winner collects 20,000 gold coins and a lifetime of fame for them and their family. The last fight on the seventh day will be the battle between our champions." Flavia threw a patronizing smirk at Basilio. "I hope you've already chosen your champion, oaf, otherwise you'll be searching the streets of Ferox for some poor fool dumb enough to face mine."
Basilio scowled, ready to spit a retort, but stopped himself. Instead, his remaining eye glistened with a mischievous twinkle.
"Oh, I think my new champion's going to make yours work for it," Basilio grinned. "I hope you've been keeping my seat nice and warm, because in a couple weeks I'm going to be sovereign Khan once more!"
"Bold words, oaf. I'm almost looking forward to what's to come; almost," Flavia said with a challenging smile. "But as I'm currently the regnant Khan, I've actual matters to attend to. Huntsman, Lon'qu, do know I enjoyed this evening immensely. Oaf, get lost."
Without further ado, Flavia stood up and marched out of her throne room, her personal guards shadowing her every step. A team of servants entered to clean up the table and escort us to our rooms.
But before I could get far, Lon'qu planted himself in front of me.
I tilted my head, and waited for him to speak. He obviously wanted something.
"Will you be at the Grand Tournament?" he asked.
"I don't plan on attending, but I'll stay long enough to watch the battle between champions," I answered. Because why not? I found myself curious. "Afterwards, I'll be leaving. Why?"
"Then I ask of you"—Lon'qu bowed, bending forward at perfect right angle—"to allow me to accompany you on your journeys!"
~Current Stats~
NAME: ???
AGE: 17
CLASS: ???
LEVEL: 5
EXP: 9 / 100
HIT POINTS: 28 / 28
STRENGTH:15
MAGIC: 10 (-1, Projection)
SKILL: 13
SPEED: 11
LUCK: 0
DEFENSE: 11 (+1)
RESISTANCE: 12 (+1)
~Current Skills~
PERSONAL SKILL 1: Projection, Trace Version
PERSONAL SKILL 2: N/A
PERSONAL SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 1: Too Angry To Die!
SKILL 2: N/A
SKILL 3: N/A
SKILL 4: N/A
SKILL 5: N/A
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone