47. Commander of dregs

“Raise a toast to Earon,” Fane echoed throughout the Withering Vine, or rather, what was left of it. One side of the building had collapsed during the fighting, with rocky rubble from the dwarven siege weapons still present.

Mugs rose alongside Fane’s, clashing briefly before being brought to mouth. They were mostly soldiers that had fought at the outer wall, with a few officers that had come to pay their respects, such as Caesil.

Earon and his compatriots had paid the dearest price, and his dealing with two of the giant serpents had turned him into a hero. And no one was going to complain about the city’s biggest tavern going to his, and his companion's use.

That, and the fact almost all the ales in Caedstad were being provided on Fane’s purse.

Earon had made a short speech, thanked everyone who fought, and retreated to a secluded booth, where just he and Lexi sat, though Fane intended to join once he had finished making the rounds.

His finger rimmed the edge of his ale, and he stared blankly from the window. Once the siege had been broken a few Ryefolk had come in seek of refuge, and Earon had been once again reminded of the troubled times they faced.

He wanted to collect his small band and immediately and head there. But they, and himself for that matter, needed rest.

“You okay, Earon?” Lexi said, leaning toward him, her hand hovering over his for a second, as if to offer comfort but it retreated as he turned his head from the window and toward her.

“It's hard to appreciate this victory when hearing tales of woe from my people,” Earon slumped and stared down at his foaming ale.

“We’ll leave soon, and help them,” Lexi lowered her head in an attempt to catch Earon’s eyes and smile, though his glassy glare didn’t seem to notice.

“I know.”

Swaggering over, Fane clashed flagons with drunken soldiers before sliding into the booth beside Earon, squeezing him between the window in the process. “What a celebration!”

“The soldiers deserve it,” Lexi said with a flat smile, but her eyes never left Earon.

Fane’s arm wrapped around Earon’s shoulder and he clashed flgaons with the unmoving warlock. “Why is he so glum?”

“It’s the-“

“I can answer,” Earon said, straightening. He explained the situation in the Rye and his fears for his people to Fane.

“I see,” Fane said, trying not to sway as he put on a thoughtful face. “Well, I can’t do much for Ryefolk, but I can help you, old friend.” Fane tapped Earon’s back. “I’ll put aside coin for your party, weapons, armor, whatever. We’ll call it your share as the last remaining Witch Hunter.”

“You think Iliana is?”

“Who knows, but either way, she doesn’t seem to be collecting her share, so it may as well go to you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Earon said, drifting back to the window and opening his status screen.

Warlock – Level 14

***Skills & Abilities***

Arcane knowledge (10)
Rune Crafting (Body Transmutation) (8)
Mana Sense (10)
Channel Mana (16)

Polearms (10)
Navigator (4)


Riding (2)
Survivalist (3)
Block (7)
Resistance (4)
Physical Resistance (3)
Brawling (10)
Tracking (2)
Dark Sight (8)
Stealth (3)
Throwing (15)
Dodge (10)

***Spells***

Magic resistance (8)
Zap (7)
Featherweight (12)

He had greatly increased his spells, multiple abilities, and skills, gained two levels, and generally felt more powerful after surviving the siege of Caedstad, but it still felt a little hollow.

The following day, the defenders of Caedstad were gathered in the large square below the Gates of Caedstad. The duke was still in seclusion, and all kinds of rumors had begun to circulate. But there was too much to be done.

Caesil celebrated the warriors for their heroic efforts, and even promised each of them ten silver coins from his personal fortune after the kingdom was saved – the reality was, most wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy that prize.

Everyone seemed to want to shake Earon’s hand and pat him on the back. His status as an apprentice wasn’t lost on them. What he had achieved was nothing short of a miracle, and some were even hailing him as the coming of the first human demigod in over a millennium.

It all seemed a bit much to Earon, but he understood where it was coming from. These people needed hope. And there was no guarantee anything besides a demigod would win back their kingdom, not with the open scars funneling new monsters into the kingdom at will.

Fane came through, arriving with an entire wagon full of newly crafted weapons and armor, which must have cost a fortune considering the difficulty there was bringing things into the city. He had also provided four horses to help, which was all he could spare.

About two dozen soldiers, more than Earon remembered escaping the wall, stood in front of him once they broke away from the main group. Tyan had officially accepted his new rank of lieutenant to Earon. On paper, it was a demotion, but his former position, within Caedstad's garrison was more formality than anything else, and the rank of a soldier in an actual army at war had always been held in higher regard.

A dozen others, even some from Caesil’s own retinue, had asked to be transferred to Earon’s command, and after everything he had done for the city, the other commanders allowed it.

Earon had been happy to walk, but Tyan had insisted that the commander take a horse. Two others were used for their wagon, and the third was loaded up with other supplies.

He had also offered Lexi to ride with him, but that wouldn’t be practical over long distances, and she had willingly chosen to walk with the troops.

Two apprentice priests had also joined them, mostly as healers, though they did have a few combat spells that they could use if necessary.

It was barely a company, let alone an army, but Earon looked on with pride as the scruffy bunch fixed their armor and tested their new weapons.

Prelate Caesil gathered up his own men, only a dozen paladins still standing amongst them and a hundred or so knights and men-at-arms. He would travel through the Gates of Caedstad and use the Clain Barren to pass through an ancient tunnel and reach Ome from the other end. He had explained that his chapter often used it for crusades into the Clain and that elite paladins guarded the hidden passage.

Earon, on the other hand, would take the road through the Rye. His main concern was saving his own people if he was being honest. But he had agreed to push on to Ome, however he could.

Whilst the main road to Ome would likely be the most dangerous, two other commanders had been promoted following the High Priests and Jiax’s deaths.

So, Earon, along with two other commanders and their armies would be marching the road together. In all, the small army would comprise about two hundred or so soldiers.

Alongside the defenders that were remaining in the city, a handful of residents that still remained in Caedstad waved them off, cheering the victorious soldiers and Earon as they exited the city.

“So, you never did tell me how you survived the serpent,” said Earon as they marched the road of the Yarges, somewhere near the middle of the procession of soldiers.

“You already forgot about the cantrip I bought, didn’t you?” Lexi said, looking up at Earon atop his steed, trotting beside her with dead eyes.

“I uh,” Earon scratched his neck.

“If it isn’t about you, and your own growth, you really don’t pay that much attention, do you?”

“No, I mean, I kind of remember... something about a fake shadow or something.”

“Kind of,” Lexi growled. “It can create a mirrored version of the caster. I used it to trick the serpent. Used up all my reagents though.” she shrugged.

“I might be able to help you, Caesil handed over quite a few to me that he raided from the city. Sort of in thanks, you know?”

“I’m not going to turn away free reagents. I can’t wait to show you the actual spell I’ve been learning, though.”

“Oh, so you do know a spell now?”

“Yeah, it might not be as fancy as some of the things you do, but I think it's pretty neat.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” Earon said with a smile.

Dark, clouds rolled overhead, but no storms brewed. In the distance, beyond the forests of evergreens and beneath the Wise Men, smoke billowed across the lands.

The soldiers tensed as they looked on. They had already been through enough to grow nerves of steel, but no one wanted to charge straight back into battle against the monsters of the Scarworld, no matter the bravado they displayed when celebrating their victory.

It was clear many already wished they had stayed back behind in Caedstad, save Earon, whose sights were firmly cast in the direction of the Rye.