Tales Of Grimea Read online

  When class was over, Glint and Sung as well as another girl called Éclair went over to where Natalie’s room was. Those in the first rank, like Glint and the younger youth from Shöno’s southeastern reaches, lived in two man rooms outfitted with restrooms and had shared bath facilities with the rest. Natalie, being in the third rank, lived with four others, but luckily she was a well liked individual and had managed to get herself excellent roommates. Thus they found her playing cards with Emilia Klough, a rather big girl who had an abnormal fascination with dresses. It was extreme enough that she added a skirt-like finish to her armour, which Glint had thought did nothing but waste valuable metal until he saw her on action one day.

  Quicksilver, under Alfjötr Christon’s rule, had adopted a slightly abnormal approach to teaching. It was a coupling of extreme care with providing the tools for survival, as well as savageness with making sure these tools were employed. When Glint and Emilia were both still fifth rankers, they had been sent alone into one of Mount Ash’s canyons with the goal of hunting greybears. Glint, who had fought mutated wolverines and even one of Sklaver’s Trials once (albeit with aid) had anticipated an easy fight, but that was not the case. Even though greybears were naturally occurring beasts, they were still far larger than normal ones, and lived in a much harsher climate. It had taken the support of his companion, who reached down and grabbed her flowing metal skirt, pulling and transforming as she did until there was a blade whip in her hand. She used the weapon to great effect, distracting and eventually blinding their foe in a display that was more like a twirling dance than anything else. Glint had then darted in and stabbed the beast through the heart with a long sword pulled from his armor’s chest plate. He’d learnt later that many in their guild preferred to specialize in one weapon, and that hers was that whip. When asked about it, the girl had said her frame didn’t really leave much space for dancing around all graceful. She’d also shown Glint that her infamous high heels, which everyone had thought useless in armor but happened to hide projectiles.

  Of course, it had turned out later that the two were set up to fail, and that a higher ranked student was waiting to save them. Glint almost smiled at the memory of Maester Seymore Jambe rolling his eyes that day. “Heya, Glint!” said Emilia without looking up from what was probably a winning hand. As much as Natalie loved playing cards, she was horrible at lying and therefore always lost against her best friend.

  “Hey, Emilia,” said the boy. He hadn’t seen her for a while, since she’d spent this entire past month at home, and he’d been in Hindshelm the month before. Her ruddy cheeks seemed even more full than when he’d last seen her, and there was certainly more meat to the rest of her than earlier. “How was Ya’ab?” he asked anyways. He’d never been there, and her stories were always a pleasure.

  “Same old, buddy,” she replied lazily, putting down a bad hand after Natalie folded. The redhead laughed to herself as Emilia smiled in what Glint thought might be politeness or plotting. He could never tell with that one. “Didja have fun in your house?”

  “Yeah, but my old bed is too small. I needed to stay at an inn, what with the baby and all.” In fact, Glint had worried that his family, now newly active parents, would not be used to having a twenty year old Glint making a fuss around the house with his new brother on top of everything else. Of course, he hadn’t mentioned any of that to either of them, for he knew Horst and Marie would have scolded him vehemently.

  “Glint Stryger!” Natalie leapt from her spot, her freckled face showing telltale signs. The warrior almost poked her little scrunched up nose before he caught himself. “No more hiding, where’s the portrait? I swear, if I don’t see little Baldur soon I’ll talk to Mister Cole and you’ll be stuck eating leftovers for a week!” Glint remained quiet for a few seconds, unsure of himself. He’d managed to find a man to paint the little boy, but he was so far away that their mother couldn’t come with. Due to that, the youth had been forced to sit there the whole time and hold his seven month old brother. It would still make her happy, but… “Come by later,” he told Natalie, “I’ll give it to you then.”

  “Ugh, fine. This one here,” she said to Emilia, “Has be-“

  “Avoiding giving you the portrait despite knowing full well how excited you are to see his little brother, which is a bad move on his part because you are literally friends with everyone he relies on to have his days function normally and also because the two of you are barely separable at sword point, let alone because of a forgotten gift which I told you he’s unlikely to forget?”

  “Well, yes…” Emilia was the only one who could halt Natalie Hearth’s infamous cascade of words. Sung was busy looking from the window while pretending not to peer at the collection of stuffed animals the blonde haired girl kept on top of her bed.

  “You know how he is,” said the nineteen year old, raising an eyebrow. Glint realized that she really liked dark eyeliner, which he’d not noticed before. “Just let him be. You three are literally some of the people I hate least, but calling you all quirky would be an understatement.”

  For a few seconds Glint was confused, because he’d thought that Emilia enjoyed being with them quite a lot, but then Natalie flitted over, fast as death, and hugged her friend tight. “Awwww! I’ve always wanted to hear you say that! I love you too, princess!” What? But, that’s literally not what sh- oh, I get it.

  Emilia, although she didn’t seem enthusiastic about the hug, turned a little to the side to face glint in her seated position on crossed legs. She winked and waved him over. At first he froze, then moved over to join them, heart beating wildly. Sung joined in enthusiastically. The blonde girl laughed, and even Natalie’s other roommates laughed from their beds, where they sat. The four decided instead to take place on the red yellow rimmed rug and play cards for a while, putting some fun into it by allowing cheating if you aren’t caught. Emilia won almost every match nonchalantly, although the tanned Sung managed to use his overwhelming speed and dexterity to peek at her cards while making her laugh a couple of times and sneaked a couple of wins in that manner.

  After lunch, which was comprised of multiple types of meats and breads prepared by Mister Cole, Glint and Sung headed over to the Inner Court. They made their way towards it, crossing the front courtyards with its three stairways, passing next to the many suits of armor hung along the walls. Glint tried to read out the names as they went, for many of these had belonged to members of Quicksilver who had distinguished themselves in service or died in service. “Wish we could end up here someday,” murmured Sung as they passed a suit of armor that had belonged to the seventh master of Quicksilver. A portrait hung above it of a rather feminine looking man, with a plaque below which read Lord Reta of Cornhill, dubbed Leadbite. At the armor’s elbows, thighs, forearms and sides there were grooves with what seemed to be mouths sprouting out of them, teeth still looking sharp. The chest plate had a demonic face on it, with another grinning maw where the man’s stomach would have been. Glint shuddered, turning his eyes over to admire Quicksilver’s choices in warm furnishing, full of soft rugs and chandeliers and polished deeply colored wood. “As long as we make the world a better place, I’d be alright with being forgotten.” Still, the thought of fame was nice, and there was no reason to give up one thing for the other just yet. The warrior hadn’t forgotten the mission taken from Azrael Windslayer, after all.

  Being second and first rankers, the students were given their own spot to train, although it was nothing as impressive as the one granted to second circle warriors, and they were supervised by one to boot. It was Maester Seymore, who happened to have a headache that day and told the thirty of them to simply split into groups of three and fight two on one, rotating as they did. Sung luckily caught Ori heading their way out of the corner of his eye and grabbed someone to complete their three, who turned out to be Flait Leoreo.

  Flait was a quiet sixteen year old with brown messy hair, blue thoughtful eyes and a large frame. His laziness was reflected in his
fighting style if not in his ranking, for the youth had been in the guild for as long as he’d lived and was just as good as the rest. His father had died protecting Quicksilver, and Lord Alfjötr hadn’t had the heart to turn him over to family, and so had hid his entire existence from them. Glint groaned, because he hated fighting against spikers, but didn’t know much about the youth himself. “So,” he sighed, “Who should go first?”

  “I say old men first,” cheered Sung, clapping Flait on the shoulder. The two were old friends. “What do you say, buddy?”

  “…Okay,” answered the giant of a boy. Glint was not short, but marveled at the second ranker’s height. He thought about releasing another sigh, but felt shy of the newcomer.

  Then all thoughts of sighing were gone, for Maester Seymore looked around to make sure everyone was ready, put a hand through his greying hair, then exclaimed, “Go!” whilst clapping his hands. His gauntlets bearing the crest of a pitchfork caused a sound like a thunderclap.

  By the time Glint readied his stance, Sung was upon him, a flying roundhouse kick almost catching the warrior on the temple. Glint took it on his forearm instead, wind-milling backwards as his friend and roommate landed on the stoned floor multiple times, springing off it each time with another kick. The boy leapt with a lightness that made him seem as if he could float on air, and Glint worked hard to fend off his rapid attacks. One got in and Glint’s vision went white with pain, for the strikes came fans of lightning, an ability Sung was especially good at. His anklets glowed a pure white, and clinked each time he left the ground. After a couple of aerial blows more, the younger fighter, who was slimmer than Glint, began to switch things up with smooth sweeping leg transitions and lower kicks here and there, making him seem like a an ice dancer one instant and a bird the other. His bare feet hissed against the ground as he got faster, almost overpowering the warrior with sheer speed, and his white cotton tunic flapped. Glint’s ribs were hit a few times and he winced as his body began to go numb.

  As Glint blocked the kicks, he worked hard to find an opening to turn. If he and his armor were allowed to become one, his opponent would have no chance against him, lightning kicks or not. The energy within him crackled almost audibly, and his bracers sang in his ears. All of his attention was on the younger boy, and suddenly he had a rhythm going. Before Sung could change tactics, the warrior reacted, for he could tell a lower left sweep would be followed by a straight leg aimed right at his midsection. Glint chose to kick upwards, letting momentum carry him upwards into a flip. The younger boy, a competent fighter in his own right, was startled for a second, but that was more than enough for Glint to get out of range, soaring backwards and away for a few feet. In that time, he let his armor engulf him fully, spreading like liquid metal from his forearms to his entire body. As he landed, his barbute formed around his face, leaving eyes, nose and mouth exposed. He breathed relief, for a storm ran through his body and his metal and there was nothing to fear. Then a shadow fell over him and the warrior realized that he’d miscalculated.

  With reflexes boosted by his armor, Glint rolled away like a blur just as a thunderous crash echoed where he’d been just an instant earlier. Getting back to his feet, the youth saw Flait get to his feet slowly, the rocky ground sunken and destroyed for feet around where he’d attempted to land on Glint. The warrior was outfitted from head to toe in large amounts of metal almost black, and Glint could tell that the color was due to impurities, unlike others. Such metal was less effective than the warrior’s own purified silver, but Flait simply had absorbed so much that it made the matter moot. Spikes rose from his shoulders, and his gauntlets were especially thick, which explained the destruction at his feet. The helmet was brick like and unadorned, although it reminded Glint of a castle’s keep. The young man wondered at the strength needed to move such a construct. His mind raced and for a moment, he thought it was possible to lose to this combo of dedicated strength and speed. Sung came then, now clad in his thin ribbed ornate armor and boasting a metal staff in hand which he used in accordance with his lightning and feet, but the warrior relaxed after a few exchanged blows. Almost no one in the first circle could boost armor like he could, and so he let the lightning roar. He couldn’t shoot it or employ the energy like Sung could, but the energy crackled deep in his bones and lent Glint strength, speed, and raised his senses to superhuman levels. The warrior could deal with his foe’s strikes much better than earlier, and slapped them away with impunity, still retreating but confidant in his abilities at last. His opponent’s lightning strikes could barely be felt at that point, although his arms still smarted from earlier. When his friend stepped back Glint went on the offensive, conjuring a single bladed curved short sword from his left shoulder. Immediately he went into a dance with it, spinning as he went with most strikes coming from his foe’s left flank. As Sung panicked and the wide spin turned Glint’s blows into a forward moving tempest, his attention to the right waned. Seizing the opportunity, the warrior stopped suddenly and reversed his spin, stepping in with his left leg and rotating his hips. His left fist smashed into Sung’s Armet with enough force to not only knock the boy out cold, but also to send him flying a few feet. Glint didn’t linger to hear the thud, for he was slightly disoriented and Flait was charging him, fists ready to move with precision and overwhelming force.

  Luckily there was enough space between the two of them and the nearest wall, and so Glint backed away from the man, pulling out a second blade as he did. He used both to deflect blows, employing the time in between them to whip at the behemoth’s right knee. One particular strike was ill timed, and Glint deflected it wrong. Pain blossomed in his right wrist, and he needed to use some of his lightning for an emergency heal, wincing, but powered on. Before they could reach the wall his opponent’s blows had lost much of their weight and he had staggered to a halt, still throwing punches and doing his best to ignore Glint’s attacks. Still blocking, the warrior focused on the knee with abandon, and eventually it touched the ground. At that point they were the last group still fighting. “I… yield,” gasped Flait with a raised pillar of an arm, and Glint plunged both of his blades back into his chest before helping the man up. Those around applauded, for some groups had finished early. Maester Seymore came over, his hands glowing. He placed an arm on Flait and the man winced, then sighed with comfort before letting his armor retreat back into an ornate blackish shoulder plate with a castle engraved upon it. Glint looked on in wonder, for Seymore Jambe had a wonderful ability which allowed him to save many lives, but he never bothered with removing the pain and discomfort associated with accelerated healing. The grey haired man chuckled as he saw how far away Sung was then said, “That ought to teach him that speed isn’t invincibility. How hard did you hit him?”

  “A few teeth, sir, but he was fast enough to jump away. His jaw should be okay.”

  The man whistled. “The bastard is too talented for his own good. How about your own scratches?” He’d noticed that Glint’s armor was still in place. The warrior hesitated, for he remembered Sung’s aversion to harming others. However, Maester Seymore’s look brokered no arguments. Many enjoyed annoying the man, but all knew to listen when he was serious and solemn, like now. Glint let his armor melt into his bracers and shook the man’s luminous hand. Tingles flooded him, causing an itch, but within a few seconds the pain subsided. “Tell him when he asks, and thank him for a good fight,” bade the man from Glint, and he nodded in return. Everyone knew how much Jambe cared for Sung.

  When he was sure that the two were alright, Maester Seymore went over to get a bucket of water. It was snowing then, and so Sung gasped immediately and began to shiver when the bucket’s contents were promptly dumped onto his face. “Dear merciful Odin!” he shouted, then looked around with his arms around his knees. “Oh, oh Odin, my mouth hurts.” The boy spat, and two objects fell out. Maester Seymore laughed.

  “Exactly right,” he called out to Glint, putting his thumb and index finger together. In spite of himself t
he youth laughed, and even Flait chuckled. Their teacher then healed Sung, although he spent the least amount of time on him due to the boy’s already remarkable healing abilities. Glint didn’t doubt he’d have two new teeth by the time morning came. Reminded of the time, he glanced upwards, craning his neck to see the sky, for Mount Ash encased their guild from three sides, with castle walls shielding the last. It was a natural defense from both enemies and blizzards. The sun was naturally still almost fixed in place, but had moved a little to the east. Around seven thirty, then. Maester Seymore rushed his students to complete their fighting rounds, but Glint’s group didn’t encounter any delays, for neither Sung nor Flait were able to put up a fight in the format Glint had endured and conquered. He played a supporting part in both fights, allowing each to have a leading role. Against Sung Glint delayed the boy enough for Flait to leap in and restrain the Shönian and did something similar with the green eyed man, although Sung was able to surprise the three by demonstrating the drawbacks of Flait’s armor. Sung’s lightning seemed to go right through and the man fell almost immediately with a cry.

  With their sparring session over, the students were healed up yet again by their teacher, who proceeded to give a few general pointers about positioning and using your strengths to their fullest. “Being an all-rounder is great,” he said, “But if you see a weapon and it fits your hand, by Sklaver, I say grab the bugger by the throat and don’t let go.” The students laughed, but knew the lesson would prove invaluable one day. With that, the class was dismissed and made their way towards the castle’s front, where many of the dorms and classes were situated. Behind the inner keep, second and third circle warriors slept, ate and worked.

  Glint and his two companions were joined by another man, this one older and grizzled. “Boys,” he greeted them in a measured tone, and the company parted to allow him place in their midst. Serk Olafson was a man who excelled in theories, and although he’d shared Quicksilver after his prime, wisdom seemed to be his constant companion and made up for the man’s fifty something years. He touched a finger to his nose, looking at Sung. “Just like I told you, no?” he inquired. The boy gave Glint a nervous grin. “I asked him for a few tips on fighting you. That’s why it went so well in the beginning. But mister Olafson was right: I just can’t’ get around you with speed. I don’t get it. Would you be able to take him?” The question was directed at Serk, who looked at Glint thoughtfully.