Feydan
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Chapter 29 - Bruises
🕑 Added 2025-01-20 20:42:57 +0000 UTCRowan yelped as Annie whacked him across the back with a particularly large stick.
“Gods, spread it out a bit, would you?” he muttered, once again sitting under the tree in his backyard in nothing but his pants. “You know you don’t have to hit the exact same spot every time, right?”
“And when did you become an expert on body cultivation?” she asked, hitting him again. “Now stop whining. You’re throwing off my aim.”
“Fight back!” Silvia called out, lounging on a chair she took from the living room. “Make her work for it!”
Rowan grunted, a sharp crack echoing out as another strike landed across his back.
The day had started off well enough. He’d actually had a good night's sleep for once, his body too exhausted from yesterday’s events for his mind to wander. They had breakfast in the Hall, with Rowan talking about what Misk and his group tried to do to anyone who would listen.
And as it turned out, that was more people than he’d expected.
Crack.
“How long does this usually take?” Rowan muttered, suppressing the urge to rub his back.
The last few hours had turned the sharp sting of Annie’s swings into a steady throb, his body covered in angry purple bruises.
“Depends,” she said, taking more pleasure than Rowan thought was necessary in her task. “Could be anywhere between a few days, and a few weeks.”
He gritted his teeth through the pain. I’m really hoping it’s the former. Because I really don’t feel like spending weeks going through this.
“Do you require assistance?” Zoe called out, sitting next to Silvia and casually reading a book, not even looking up.
Annie ran a finger over the welts, drawing a low hiss from Rowan. “Still no blood. I’d say you have at least another half hour before you need it.”
Rowan glanced back at her. “I’m not a steak,” he muttered, standing up and wincing as a flash of pain shot through him. “And I prefer that my blood stays where it is. On the inside.”
“Don’t we all,” Annie shrugged, setting her whipping stick against the tree. “But better it’s me that bleeds you than Killian. At least you know I’ll stop.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.”
She poked him in the back, getting a yelp in response. “Stop complaining so much,” she smirked. “If you’re bitching this much about Skin Toughening, I have no idea how you’re gonna get through Muscle Strengthening, let alone Bone Refinement.”
Rowan shuddered. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”
He walked over to Zoe. The healer extended her hand and placed it on his arm, her eyes closing as a soft glow radiated from her palm.
“Healing Touch,” she whispered.
A soothing feeling washed over him.
It started with the soreness in his muscles, washing away the lingering ache and slowly healing the bruises covering his body. The effect only lasted a few seconds, but once it was done, Rowan felt revitalized. Like he’d spent the last few hours in a relaxing bath instead of being brutalized.
“You are quickly becoming my favourite person on this team,” he said, stretching out the kinks in his shoulders.
Zoe glanced up from her book. “Noted.”
He shook his head, an amused smile on his face. Having a healer on hand was proving to be exceedingly useful, and while Zoe didn’t seem to mind her role as a walking health potion, Rowan decided to do something nice for her once he could access the Vault again.
There’s bound to be a staff that boosts her healing somewhere in there.
He’d come to the decision that it was time to share some of his gear with the rest of the team. They already knew he had a storage ring, and they knew he had access to a large amount of gold. So showing off a bit more shouldn’t raise too many questions.
Rowan wanted them as strong as possible.
He’d grown close to them over the last couple of months. In a way that's only possible with people you risked your life with. Rowan didn’t want to live with the guilt if something happened to any of them, knowing that it may not have if he’d equipped them in gear worthy of their prowess.
Silvia’s new bow was finely made, but it was still just an uncommon rarity item. The same with Omi’s boots. The muffle enchantment on them was basic. It couldn’t be used for a long time, and it took quite a while to recharge. Annie’s spear and Nemir’s sword were slightly better, but Rowan was sure the Vault had upgrades for them.
That wasn’t even mentioning the different armors and accessories.
After Rowan geared them up, the Steel Fist shouldn’t pose much of a problem.
It was the least he could do. Even if Annie seemed to enjoy her current task, she certainly had better things to do. They’ve been at it for hours, and would be for hours more, all for the benefit of his own advancement.
Nemir and Omi finished their spar.
“Ha!” the swordsman shouted as he nabbed a napkin from Omi’s back pocket, holding it proudly. “Guess I win.”
A black line covered his forearm, which the rogue was quick to point out. “That would have slowed you down. No way you could have grabbed it,” he said, setting the wooden dagger on the table.
Nemir chuckled. “It was your idea to give me two strikes per limb. And besides, my Vitality isn’t low. I’d be able to take a hit.”
“Well no need to point it out,” Omi muttered, pulling out a chair and sitting next to Silvia. “Is he fighting back yet?” he asked, nodding towards Rowan.
“No,” she sighed. “And hearing him yelp stopped being fun half an hour ago.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. “Well excuse me for not amusing you enough,” he slipped on a shirt. “Do you want pain filled whimpers like Annie?”
“Actually, I was more going for agonized groans. Or really any kind of wail,” she said, pouring herself a cup of some kind of juice.
While Rowan might not have liked the act of advancing his body, he certainly enjoyed the environment in which he was doing it.
It was a far cry from sitting under a tree for hours on end, and after a week straight of doing just that, this change was exactly what Rowan needed. In more ways than one.
Just half a day had passed since they started, with his soul steadily improving as the sun moved across the sky.
And Rowan wasn’t so sure that his trait was the only reason why.
Ulio’s performance had a definite impact on his healing, which just confirmed Rowan had no idea how his soul actually worked. He’d never had to deal with something like this, and the books he read as a youth didn’t delve too deeply into the topic.
What few mentions there were consisted mostly of references to soul soothing potions, for after a mage advanced. But alchemy had never been something Rowan took much interest in.
Not that he thought he’d need it. With the speed his soul was recovering, it might only take a few days for him to heal up.
I’d really like to get this done by then, he thought, watching as the others chatted amongst themselves. I have a whole new affinity, and I barely even touched it.
But as he watched the team interact, Rowan realized he wouldn’t mind more of this.
It wasn’t like he couldn’t work on his magic next to them. The only reason Rowan hadn’t done that so far was because he did that on the Plateau, but it wasn’t like it was some secret process.
For most mages, that mainly consisted of study, meditation, and a short period of casting. Mana was easy to spend. It was getting it back that was the problem.
The vents had been Rowan’s way of negating that bottleneck, yet he couldn’t do that with Wind. He’d certainly be able to lower it with his seemingly endless supply of mana potions and his ability to meditate while under their effects. But it would be a far cry from perpetually casting.
Rowan came to a decision, grabbing the team's attention. “How would you all feel about moving in?” he asked, taking in their reactions. “You’re all in the Hall, and I’ve seen those rooms. They’re not all that great.”
“This is too big for just me,” he gestured at the house. “Last I counted, there were seven guest rooms. More than enough to fit all of us. And if I’m being honest, I’d feel better if we stuck together. At least until Killian and his group come back.”
Rowan looked at Zoe. “You’re welcome too, but I understand if you refuse. You haven’t really known us for all that long.”
She nodded. “I am staying at the temple, and the head priest has requested I remain there while in Litwick. However, I do appreciate the offer.”
He looked back at the team, not knowing what answer to expect.
It made sense to him, and he hoped they saw it the same way too.
Silvia broke the silence, an excited smile on her face. “Gods, yes!” she clapped her hands. “I was hoping you’d ask us that!”
She clammered to her feet, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. “We’re doing this. And I’m using my one alloted authority bean to—”
“You made those up,” Omi pointed out.
She ignored him. “—to make it official.”
The archer actually fished out a bean from her back pocket and chucked it away. “There. All done.”
Rowan stared at her for a moment before bursting out laughing.
Annie shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, while Nemir just chuckled.
“Who are we to argue with that?” she shrugged, sitting back in her chair and taking a plate from the table. “Guess we have a base now.”
Omi quickly stood up. “I have to use the bathroom.”
He started making his way inside as Silvia’s eyes widened. Utilizing every single point of Dexterity she had access to, she burst upright.
“Don’t you dare,” she said, her tone menacing.
Omi smirked in response. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The biggest room is on the third floor,” Rowan pointed out, and that was enough to get them moving.
Omi burst into the house, practically flying up the stairs and out of sight, Silvia following close behind.
“Was that really necessary?” Nemir snorted.
Rowan shrugged, his lips curling upwards. “They’ve been cheering for my blood for the last few hours. Let me have my fun.”
Annie stood up, walking to the open door. “First floor?”
“Yup. Second door on the left.” Rowan answered. “Even has an attached bathroom.”
She sighed, wagging her finger at him. “Like I said, schemes.”
She walked into the house, casually making her way up the stairs. Zoe closed her book and stood up, following after her without a word.
Nemir set down his mug, refilling both his own and Rowans. “And what’s on the third floor?”
“Mostly storage.”
He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “How long do you think until they figure it out?”
Rowan smiled. “Hopefully just long enough for you to snag a room for yourself too.”
Nemir waved him off. “I’m fine with whatever is left,” he looked at Rowan with a thoughtful expression. “Thank you for offering,” he finally said. “We’ve been talking about doing something like this for a while, and this place looks perfect. Walled off, a big yard to practice and spar, and close enough to the Hall.”
He tapped his finger against the table. “How much?”
Rowan frowned. “Huh?”
“How much gold?” he asked. “A house this big couldn’t come cheap.”
It took him a moment to realize what he was asking. “Oh, it isn’t mine,” he said. “I’m just renting it.”
Nemir arched an eyebrow. “And you’re paying for that with kind words, are you?”
In truth, Rowan didn’t exactly know how much it had cost him. He gave a pouch of gold to the mayor's clerk when he’d first gotten to Litwick, and he told him it was his for the next year.
Supposedly, it was the house of a Silver-rank. One that didn’t spend all that much time in the region. But Rowan hadn’t really asked, and neither had he cared.
It was his turn to wave him off. “I honestly don’t know how much. And besides, I’m not taking your gold. In fact, I officially name myself team treasurer.” He looked around. “Where’s that bean?”
Rowan started to stand up, but Nemir pulled him back. “No need to get the bean involved,” he chuckled, a knowing look flashing across his face. “You weren’t lying, were you?” he asked softly.
“About what?”
“Having a dragon’s hoard,” he said, gesturing at his ring. “Are you sure you should have said that? A storage ring by itself is more than enough for people to get greedy. And if word gets out, it might spell trouble.”
Rowan sighed. “It’s already out. If Misk knew, that means others do too. No point in denying it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “But the question is; are they capable of taking it from me?”
Rowan doubted it was over. When Killian came back, he would definitely have something to say about what happened.
He didn’t seem like a man who’d take his name being dragged through the mud lying down. And out of the two of them, he’d been in Litwick much longer. A Silver-rank with a team as large as the Steel Fist was bound to have friends. One’s Rowan would rather not meet for at least the next few days.
Annie walked back out into the yard, her jacket nowhere to be seen. “The tubs are enchanted,” she said, crossing her arms. “Is there a reason you’ve never mentioned that?”
“You never asked,” Rowan shrugged.
She stepped around the table, walking up to where she left her stick and picking it back up. “Alright, break’s over,” she declared, slapping it against her palm. “But seeing as you gave me a good room, I might just go easy on you.”
Rowan snorted, standing up and taking off his shirt. “For some reason, I doubt that.”
He stepped onto the grass, making his way to the oak and kneeling down. Rowan turned his back to her, getting ready for what most likely wouldn’t be an all too enjoyable few hours. But despite that, he couldn’t keep a smile off his face.
His soul was healing, his friends were close by, and he didn’t have to worry about an angry Silver-rank pounding on his door.
Right now, things were good.
And finally gaining a skill would make them that much better.
Annie swung at his back.
Then she did it again. And again. And again.
