A Hymn of Blades

Erend focused his mind on the flashing text, a moment later, a list of skills filled his vision.

Proficiencies

Simple weapons Lv. 1

Martial weapons Lv. 1

Armor Lv. 1

Shield Lv. 1

Seems simple enough.

Active skills

Heavy strike Lv. 1 – Strike out with your weapon, imbuing it with additional piercing, slashing or bludgeoning damage, depending on the type of weapon you are using.

Heavy shot Lv. 1 – Fire off a powerful shot using a ranged weapon, imbuing it with additional piercing damage. Damage type can vary depending on the ammunition used.

Inscribe Lv. 1 – Inscribe an item with source, granting it powers in line with your attunement.

Pocket Lv. 1 – Open up a temporal pocket, capable of storing items and preserving them in the same state in which they were stored. Size and capabilities increase with levels.

Everything sounded usable enough, but he hoped some future skills would include some defensive options.

The proficiency skills implied that he had some skill with pretty much all kinds of weapons. While the skills made him versatile, they didn't elevate him to anything more than a rookie soldier. Albeit one especially good at carrying things. He sat for a bit longer, sorting out his mind.

First things first: The anchor hall has fallen, with our path to Genesis cut off we can’t expect any reinforcements coming soon. If we can manage to get to the military fort we should be able to shelter there, at least temporarily. However, if the rest of the island has fallen, the fort is bound to be next. Without reinforcements and provisions coming in from Genesis they won’t last long. I should probably find out what I can do to help, now that I have my class.

He shifted his focus to the skills. There was little he could test without a weapon of some kind, and he didn’t even know where to start when it came to inscription. Thus his attention landed on the skill Pocket.

He focused on the skill, finding that it radiated a pulse of source in a set frequency. He focused on the pulsing, and to his surprise he could replicate it before long. Replicating the frequency was another matter altogether, however. He sat there, minute after minute, trying to get a feel of how many pulses the skill radiated per set amount of time. At last, after more than half an hour, he had an epiphany. The pulses of source were greatly slowed down when he focused on the skill, dumbing it down for him, in real time they were something closer to vibrations than pulses. He mimicked the thrumming of source, feeling himself vibrate in tune with the skill. The vibrations spread out from within him until he noticed a disturbance in the air in front of him. A dim blue circle appeared, it looked like the rippling surface of water.

Erend looked around, on the nightstand, there stood an alarm clock. He picked it up, had a look at the time, placed it inside the rippling circle and cancelled the skill. He waited, counting the seconds in his head. After a minute had passed, he activated the skill again, and reached his arm into the circle, it felt like reaching his arm into a bowl of thick soup, he couldn’t manage to feel the clock.

Where is the damn thi– oh.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he felt the solid clock appear in his hand, he pulled it out and had a look at the time. As he had suspected, the clock showed the same time as when he’d placed it inside the skill.

That'll be useful! Well then, enough playing around, the others are probably waiting.

Erend got up and walked out of the room, taking in the sights. He really was rich, old Bernard. The house was decorated to the teeth, with fancy vases and paintings lining the walls. In the hallway lay a large bear mat, the poor things still had teeth and all. Even the wallpapers were annoyingly fancy, dark red with golden patterns making out some sort of flower.

Tacky.

He walked down a large spiraling staircase, fashioned of the same polished stone that the nobles preferred. Downstairs, in the living room, sat Charles’s parents; Peter and Mary, along with Bernard, Thomas and Elle.

“Erend! I’m so glad you’re alright dear,” Mary exclaimed. She immediately walked up to him and pulled him into a bearhug.

“Likewise!” Erend exclaimed in relief and returned the hug. Mary had been the closest thing Erend had to a mother since Therese disappeared. She was a stocky woman, with a warm personality. Somehow, she always managed to smell like cinnamon buns – and home. “How’d you make it out? Dad told me Charles brought you all here.”

“Yes dear, he ran back home to get us as soon as the rest of you were safe in this here house. A useless baker he is, my son, but a reliable young man otherwise. How’s your head?”

“It’s alright, thank you. After awakening my constitution increased by a bit, so the pain subsided pretty quickly.”

“Oho, awakened, have we? Smith or warrior?”

“Warrior. It just made more sense in the situation, and Charles said he thought I’d make a kick-ass one.”

“True enough. I think you’ll be a wonderful little warrior!” Mary said and pinched his cheek. “Come dear, let’s get you something to eat! Charles and Cordelia should be waking up any second now, so I’ve prepared a hot stew for us all, to celebrate.”

“Pfft, celebrating in these circumstances,” scoffed Bernard in the distance, sneakily peeking at the streets behind the covers of a curtain.

“Oh, shut it you. I’ve had just about enough of your complaining. The circumstances may not be ideal, but that’s all the more reason to celebrate, we have to see the positives in this damned day,” she said while staring daggers at the old man, instantly shifting her mood when she turned to Erend. It was quite scary she could flip her mood like that, “Come now dear, this way. Don’t let the gloomy Gus sour your mood.”

Erend threw Bernard an understanding glance before he followed Mary to the dining room. Sometimes she could be loving to a fault, just like his own mother had been, his real mother, not the pale woman – though she seemed alright.

“Here, sit,” Mary said and patted the seat of a lavish chair. Erend did as he was told and sat down with a grateful smile.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“Nonsense, what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?!”

“Someone like my mother,” Cordelia announced as she entered the room. “Mind if I have a seat too?” she looked crestfallen. The long day must have gotten to her, and it was still barely lunchtime.

“Of course! Come, come. Pretty girls like you need to eat, otherwise you’ll freeze come winter.”

Cordelia laughed at Mary’s antics, “I suppose that may be true enough, now that I’ve lost my house and all.”

“Aw, my sweet girl, it’s just temporary. Here, warm your mood with some food.”

With a nod, Cordelia accepted the bowl of hot stew. As she felt the first spoonful enter her mouth, a content smile spread across her lips, reaching all the way to her eyes. “You’re a cook?”

“Best in town, honey!” Mary said with a wink and flashed her biceps. Quite the strange pose a cook.

“It’s delicious, thank you.”

“Thanks for helping me get here,” Erend said after downing a few mouthfuls, assuming she’d helped carry his unconscious body to safety.

“Oh, it was nothing. Charles did most of the heavy lifting. I was mostly useless... I’m glad you’re okay though.”

“Yeah... for what it’s worth I don’t think you were useless. It was rough out there.”

“I suppose.”

“So, what do you plan on doing now? Are you going to look for your parents?”

Erend felt a pinch in his side. He jumped in surprise and looked for the culprit, standing there was Mary, her strained smile did little to hide the bulging vein almost bursting from her forhead.

“Erend, dear. Let’s think before we speak.”

“What?” Oh, right. The nobles’ district was the first to fall. “Oh... I’m sorry, my head’s still a bit of a mess.”

“It’s alright, really. I’m sure they’re okay, somewhere. For now I think I’ll stick with you guys. Going to the fort seems like the most sensible thing to do. Maybe my parents made it there too.”

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Although she said she was alright, she was obviously anxious about the whole thing, who wouldn’t be? Thankfully Charles made his appearance just in time to keep Erend from making any more social blunders.

“Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he said as he regarded Erend with a haughty sneer.

“Didn’t you drag me in?”

“Well then. Me-ow.”

“...”

The room fell into a silence, even denser than before.

“No? Yeesh, tough crowd...”

“...Well. I’ll go tell the others you’ve all woken up. Take a seat for now Charles,” said Mary, excusing herself. Erend noticed that her neck was turning red; she was blushing in place of her son.

Charles sat down next to Erend, whispering; “I really thought that would be funny... Couldn’t you have at least faked a laugh? Now I look like an idiot!”

“In retrospect, I probably should have. Didn’t think the mood could get any more strained,” Erend whispered back.

Before they could continue bickering, Cordelia cut them off, “You know I can hear you both, right?”

Charles sat up straight and clapped his hands together before exclaiming; “Oh! Cordelia! I didn’t see you there. How was your nap?”

“We’ve really not known each other long enough for you to behave like this. It’s unbecoming of you. But it was nice. How was yours?”

“Very fruitful!” Charles said with a smile. “Did you get a class you like?”

“Yeah, I think so. I got Novice arcanist. I know dad would be thrilled that I got a magic class.”

“Woah! Can you throw fireballs and stuff now?” Charles asked with wide eyes.

Cordelia covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hide a chuckle, “No, at least not yet. But I did get a skill called source bolt. It says it lets me throw a concentrated mass of source, but I don’t know how effective it will be.”

“Sounds useful enough, congrats!” said Erend, showing his most earnest smile. Cordelia had grown in his eyes, maybe he’d gotten the wrong impression of her initially.

“Waa, I wish I got a magic class... But I shouldn’t complain! I’m became a scout! The coolest class of them all,” Charles said with a large grin, “Did you get anything Erend?”

“Yeah, Acolyte. Some variant of squire.”

“What? Isn’t that a rare class?” Cordelia interjected.

“It is. How’d you know?”

“It’s quite famous on Genesis... I’ve never heard of someone who’s not a noble getting it though. You are a commoner, right?” she asked, the skepticism in her eyes was practically glowing.

“I am,” Erend responded instantly. Well, I guess I do have some royal blood if what Elísitrá told me is to be believed.

“What so special about it? Is it some kind of super amazing class?” Charles asked.

“I’m not sure. I just know it offers a lot of freedom in choosing how you develop,” Cordelia added with a shake of her head. “A few years back, when the Duke was still expanding his territories, his armies fought against a religious order of some sort, on a secondary plane. The order had a substantial force of acolytes that quickly became renown for being a nightmare to deal with. You could never really expect what you’d face. The order still lost though, eventually.”

When she noticed the two boys nodding along, intently she quickly added, “Don’t take my words at face value, it’s all based on hearsay.”

“Sounds about in line with what I’ve understood of it. Except the story,” Erend added.

As the discussion died down the others entered the dining room. Mary walked in front, seemingly arguing with Bernard over something – they apparently did that a lot. Peter and Thomas cooperated in carrying a large box, filled with bottles of wine, atop the box sat Elle, laughing manically.

“Faster, faster!” she twittered.

They all sat down around the large oak table. Thomas picked up one of the bottles and tried to make out the text on the etiquette.

While Mary was busy lecturing the old man about something, Bernard casually looked over to Thomas and said, “It’s a good one, fifty years old or so. Normally I wouldn’t drink it for a few years but seems a waste to leave it wasting away here,” then he turned his eyes to the people around the table and asked, “Shouldn’t someone stand guard?”

“And what would that help? We’re unarmed anyway and wouldn’t get far by running. We’ll have to place our hopes in the town guard,” responded Mary, him not listening to her had visibly irritated her. Erend half expected to see steam shooting out of her nostrils as she breathed.

Thomas sat silently, in thought, then he nodded along, “She’s right. Hopefully Albert returns with news soon.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Bernard snapped back; he seemed on edge.

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

“Then we do the best we can with what we have.” Erend voiced his opinion. “Staying here is no better than going to the harbor.”

Mary slammed her fist in the table, “Enough about all that!” she shouted.

Bernard tried to voice his disapproval but was silenced from just a look by the stout woman.

“First, we enjoy the food, then we plan.” She turned her attention to the three teenagers. “Children, congratulations! Welcome to adulthood, may your awakening be a blessing. We are all very proud of you!”

Bernard muttered something under his breath but nonetheless he raised his glass along with the others.

The clinking of glasses was a pleasant sound. It signaled the start of lunch, for Erend and Cordelia, it would be their second lunch, but they didn’t complain. They all drank, and let the food silence them.

Minutes passed before Charles couldn’t bear it any longer, “So, dad, mom. I’ve become a scout! Can you believe it?”

“Oh yes, barely! My wee lad, a scout. Hopefully you fare better in that line of profession than you would in mine!” Peter laughed heartily and gave Charles a pat on the back. That seemed to ease the solemn mood in the room.

“Peter, Charles told me you’re a baker?” Cordelia said, her noble mannerisms shone through when she tried to act properly. It made her look haughty more than anything.

“Proud owner of the Hoven Bakery at your service milady,” Peter answered and didn’t seem to mind her tone.

Instantly, her mannerisms fell away, “Oh! Charles never told me he was a Hoven! My family orders cake from you at least once a month, I’m Cordelia Carlyle.”

“Aah, a Carlyle! One of the best customers I’ve got,” Peter said, explaining to the table. “Thanks for the patronage. I’ll bake something for you and your family when we meet them at the fort,” Peter added reassuringly.

“I think we’d all very much like that. Thank you.”

“What classes did you two awaken to?” Bernard asked. His mood seemed to have lightened, probably thanks to the wine.

“Novice arcanist,” said Cordelia.

Bernard went wide eyed for a moment, then said, “Makes sense, with you being a noble and all. Congratulations. I’ve met many a people who’ve gone far with the same class. What about you Erend?”

“Acolyte,” Erend gurgled out with his mouth full of stew. Apparently awakening and receiving stats made you absolutely famished.

Bernard let out a whistle as he sloshed around the wine in his glass, “Another uncommon one. Maybe our odds of getting out aren’t so bad after all!” Bernard’s comment resulted in a sharp glance from Mary. “Sorry,” he added meekly and continued to make love with his wine.

The rest of the lunch went on under a small chatter. The mood had turned merry, despite their dire situation.

While they were cleaning up, the creaking noise of the large wooden door at the entrance alerted them to someone entering the house.

Thomas went to see who had entered with Erend, Charles and Cordelia in tow.

At the entrance stood Albert, breathing heavily, his hair disheveled.

“Man am I glad to see you guys,” he managed to blurt out between ragged breaths. “There’s absolute mayhem in town. I’ve managed to find four other guards who’ll help us get to the fort, but there’ll be more civilians as well.”

“Can we do anything to help?” Cordelia asked.

“They’ve all awakened to martial classes,” Thomas added.

“In that case, yes. Just make sure to stay behind us trained guards. First, we’ll need to find you some gear. I only have my one axe. What do you need?”

The question blindsided Erend. He had proficiencies with weapons of all kinds, but no real indication to what he should be good at. In the dreams he’d used a spear, but only because it was easy to use.

Charles responded first, “A bow, or a short sword, or daggers. I’m a scout.”

Albert nodded along and looked over at Erend, “And you two?

“I can use a bit of everything, but I don’t really have any certain specialties. Easy to use weapons would be best, and a shield,” Erend said, not daring to use a sword again before learning how to.

“I don’t need anything. I’m a novice arcanist.”

“Alright. We should be able to find enough gear then. Our chances should improve significantly if more people have awakened. For now, we’ll go to meet the others. Are you ready to move right away or do you need time to prepare?”

“No, we’re ready,” Bernard said as he emerged from the dining room. He wore a backpack and a sturdy pair of boots that he hadn’t worn before.

Did he have those stashed away in the dining room?

“Alright, follow me,” Arthur said and beckoned them outside.

The market square was eerily silent, the stalls devoid of any activity. Normally the market would be jam-packed at this hour. Erend couldn’t remember ever seeing it this empty. In a few stalls, produce sat neatly stacked into pyramids, in others, they littered the ground. It seemed the merchants had been underway preparing for the day when the city was attacked.

As Erend soaked in the stillness, he caught sight of a pair of eyes, peeking at him from inside a house.

“There are people in the buildings!” he exclaimed. “Shouldn’t we bring them?”

“We’ve got enough to deal with as is. If they haven’t tried to make contact with anyone yet they’re probably content with waiting out the attack in their homes,” Albert explained.

“There’s no way they’ll make it out unscathed! They massacred tens of innocents down at the harbor,” Erend protested.

“I know, and they know too. It’s not our decision to make. I and a few other guards asked around in the district when you were knocked out, they’ve made up their minds.”

“Can’t we do anything to change their minds?” asked Cordelia.

“Maybe, if we had the time. But the sad reality of things is that we don’t.”

“Bu–” Cordelia started.

Albert interrupted her with a bark, “Enough! Both of you. The others are just up ahead, let’s go.”