Nectar
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🕑 Added 2024-08-08 12:28:53 +0000 UTC< Previous | ToC | Next >
Alaric raised an eyebrow, and Ethan noticed something—was that a hint of amusement in his eyes? Or was it something else? Ethan couldn’t quite put his hand on it.
“A spar, you say?” Alaric said.
Ethan nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes, I could use the practice, and I’ve heard of your skills. It would be an honor to learn from you.”
Alaric's hearty laugh filled the room and put Ethan at ease. “No offense, Lord Theodore, but you’re too weak. But sure, we can try, even if just to see the difference.”
Ethan’s smile didn’t waver. “I appreciate your honesty. Let’s see how far I can push myself.”
Alaric stood, still chuckling, and clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Very well. Let’s head out. We wouldn’t want to break anything valuable in here, would we?”
They made it behind the mansion.
Ethan and Alaric stood facing each other. To say that Alaric’s relaxed posture contrasted with Ethan’s focused stance would be an understatement. Ethan had bitten more than he could chew, and he knew that. Still, he wanted to cross blades, even if just to see how far he needed to climb.
They drew their swords—wooden, obviously. Alaric had outright refused to draw his real blade, to which he apologized for doing so—for it was a great offense to the one denied. But Ethan didn’t quite care, so he didn’t mind. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves.
“Ready?” Alaric inquired; his tone still light but his eyes sharp.
Ethan nodded. “Ready.”
His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Alaric lunged forward, his sword aiming for Ethan’s right shoulder. Ethan deflected the attack with a swift upward parry, stepping back to create distance. Alaric’s follow-up strike came from the left, forcing Ethan to pivot and block with his sword held horizontally.
Alaric’s strikes were relentless.
Ethan barely managed to keep up, his movements more reactive than proactive. When Alaric swung his blade in a low arc, aiming for Ethan’s legs, Ethan leaped back just in time to avoid the blow.
Sweat began to bead on Ethan’s forehead as he strained to parry and dodge Alaric’s attacks. He brought his sword up to deflect a downward strike, the force of the impact reverberating through his arms. Gritting his teeth, Ethan sidestepped and attempted a counterattack, thrusting his sword towards Alaric’s midsection.
Alaric sidestepped the thrust with ease, his sword coming around in a wide arc. Ethan raised his blade to block, but Alaric’s strength sent him stumbling backward.
Regaining his balance, Ethan saw an opening and swung his sword in a horizontal slash. Alaric deftly ducked under the attack and retaliated with a swift strike to Ethan’s side.
Ethan twisted his body, the blade barely grazing him, and retaliated with a quick jab. The tip of his sword nicked Alaric’s arm, causing the knight to momentarily falter. Sensing an opportunity, Ethan pressed forward with a series of rapid strikes. His sword clashed against Alaric’s.
Regaining his composure, Alaric parried a high strike, spun on his heel, and delivered a powerful backhanded slash. Ethan ducked under the blow, but Alaric’s next strike came too quickly.
In fact, Ethan didn’t even see it coming—his sword was knocked from his hand, and he fell to one knee, breathing heavily.
Alaric lowered his sword, a look of genuine surprise on his face. “You made me use mana,” he said. “That’s quite a feat at your Level, Lord Theodore.”
Ethan looked up, smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Alaric offered his hand, helping Ethan to his feet. “You should. It is meant to be a compliment. You have potential, Lord Theodore. With more training, you could become quite a formidable [Warrior].”
“Oh, haha, about that—” Ethan scratched his head. “I’m a [Mage].”
Shock washed over Alaric’s features. “I—I see, Lord Theodore. That is indeed impressive, then, for a [Mage]. [Swordsmanship]... It’s very unusual for a [Mage] to have it. I am impressed.”
“You flatter me,” Ethan chuckled.
Before they could delve further into the conversation, Roland approached them. “My Lord,” Roland said, bowing slightly. “A letter has arrived. It bears the seal of the Baron of Westford, Ashton.”
Ethan’s expression darkened slightly at the mention of Ashton. “Thank you, Roland,” he said, turning back to Alaric. “It seems I have some pressing matters to attend to.”
Alaric nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. “Duty calls, Lord Theodore. But I must say, I would love to spar with you again.”
“I’d like that, Sir Alaric. Your training would be invaluable.”
Alaric clapped him on the shoulder. “Then it’s settled. We’ll make a warrior out of you yet, [Mage] or not.”
Ethan grinned. “I look forward to it.”
With that, Ethan bid farewell to Alaric and turned to follow Roland. As they walked through the corridors of the estate, Ethan’s mind was full of questions. “What does Baron Ashton want now?” he asked.
Roland glanced at him with his expression unreadable. “I have not read the letter, my lord. But I suspect he will ask for assistance given the far spread of the plague.”
Ethan’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Of course he does. The Baron always comes crawling back when he needs something.”
***
They arrived at Ethan’s study. Ethan took a seat behind his desk, and Roland handed him the letter. The seal was unmistakable—an ornate ‘A’ encircled by vines, the emblem of the Baron of Westford. Ethan broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the neatly written words.
As he read, his smile grew colder.
“Lord Theodore,” the letter began, “I humbly beseech you to hear my plea. My lands have been struck by a terrible affliction, one that has taken hold of my people. The local [Healers] are powerless against it. I have heard rumors of a cure that you may possess, one that could save my people from this suffering. I beg of you, Lord Theodore, to provide this cure. I am willing to offer whatever you deem necessary in exchange.”
The letter was signed with Ashton’s full title—and holy hell was it dripping with false humility.
So, the mighty Baron Ashton finally comes groveling back, he shook his head. The thought brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction.
But as tempting as it was to deny Ashton outright, Ethan knew he could use this to his advantage. The Baron was desperate, and desperation could be exploited. Ethan could name his price, and Ashton would have no choice but to pay it.
“What do you intend to do, my lord?” Roland asked cautiously.
Ethan glanced at his steward, his mind already formulating a plan. “I intend to sell him the cure, of course.”
And pay the tax money I owe.
Roland nodded. “Shall I prepare the necessary arrangements, then?”
“Not yet,” Ethan replied, folding the letter and setting it aside. “There are a few matters I need to attend to first. And not like the cure is ready anyhow. Jack will have to travel himself to undo the transformed people. Although I’m nearing completion as well with the water filtration system, it’s nowhere complete.”
Nodding, Roland left the study.
Ethan sighed, rubbing his temples. “So much to do, so little time,” he muttered.
***
The following days settled into monotony.
The kind of days that blurred together—each one indistinguishable from the next.
Each morning, he would wake up early. As the days went by, his breath fogged more and more as he stepped into the training grounds, where Alaric waited. Their sparring sessions had become a daily occurrence. Alaric pushed him to his limits, forcing him to refine his skills, to blend his [Swordsmanship] with magic. Though Ethan was a [Mage], the physical training was just as crucial. Alaric’s guidance was invaluable, and every day, Ethan could feel himself growing stronger.
In fact, he’d managed to level up [Swordsmanship] to Level 8, and [Basic Rune Creation] had also leveled up to Level 9 given his routine of creating rune motes and specific runes needed for the water filtration system.
After the morning’s rigorous training, Ethan would spend time with Wynd and Opie. Once playtime was over, Ethan would retreat to his workshop, where the real work began. The runes he had been crafting—each one of them was designed with a specific purpose in mind for the filtration system he was developing. The task required intense concentration; one mistake could render the entire rune useless. But Ethan was meticulous.
The filtration system was a project that had consumed much of his time and energy. The wells in the village had been tainted, the water unsafe to drink. The system Ethan was designing would purify the water, removing impurities and restoring it to its natural state. It was a complex process, one that involved both magical and mechanical components. He spent hours in the workshop, hunched over the table, making adjustments, and testing prototypes. His progress was steady.
In between these tasks, Ethan worked closely with Bishop Ezekiel. The Bishop was a stern man, but his knowledge of purification magic was vast. Together, they refined the spells needed to cleanse the tainted wells, preparing for the day when the filtration system would be ready for installation.
As the days passed, Ethan began to notice the signs of the approaching winter. The days grew shorter, the air crisper. The leaves on the trees had turned from vibrant green to shades of gold and crimson, and soon they would fall, leaving the branches bare.
Winter was coming, and with it, a new set of challenges.
The filtration system needed to be completed before the first snow, or the villagers would face the harsh cold without access to clean water.
Or, heck, good warmth during the winter.
Despite the pressure, Ethan found comfort in the repetition of his tasks. There was something satisfying about the routine, the way each day followed a predictable pattern. It allowed him to focus, to drown out the noise of the world, and to lose himself in his work.
In the afternoons, after his time in the workshop, Ethan resumed his studies with Derrick. Derrick’s lessons covered a wide range of topics—all regarding magic, of course—and Ethan absorbed it all.
It was during one of these quiet, studious afternoons that Jack burst into Ethan’s study, his face alight with excitement. The door slammed open, and Ethan looked up from his book, startled by the sudden intrusion.
“Lord Theodore!” Jack exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve done it! I’ve succeeded in undoing the crystallization on one of the afflicted!”
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Comments
Tycho Green
I get the impression that you didn’t take your time to think things through when you planned your story. Probably planned for two or three months tops before starting to write. I will leave the Patreon for now. Keep at it, keep improving.
