Chapter 35.5: Life Goes On

“Sheesh, kid. What ta hell did you do to your blade this time?” Krothur asked, without any sign of anger, which was surprising considering he was always annoyed. He sounded almost resigned this time.

On hindsight, that might be because Tobias brings his sword almost every week for repairs, in various states of disrepair. And even if Krothur was the head Blacksmith of the Smithing Association of the city, Tobias was just that lucky to get to see him as often as he did whenever he did get his sword repaired.

“I think I smacked a tree branch.” He replied, with an expression which was a mixture between an apologetic smile, and an embarrassed wince. When the Blacksmith only glared at him, he nervously scratched the back of his head. “Yeah... I’m sorry for being an idiot who only knows how to damage my sword.”

“So first, you try to strike shields with your blade even if tat’s a bad, bad idea. Then after tat you strike your sword against chitin armor. Now, you telling me tat you smacked a tree?” Krothur asked again, with an expression of restrained annoyance. Tobias nervously nodded in turn. “... Whatever. You pay well, and you kinda respectful, so I’m repairing this blade for you... again.”

“I see. Thank you again, Mister Blacksmith sir.” He bowed down to show his appreciation, but the dwarven blacksmith only scoffed, and shrugged his gesture away.

“Yeah, unless you snap your blade in two, I can always repair it. Now get away from here before I get pissed at you.” Krothur waved him off, with some annoyance, as he turned back to his anvil and began to hammer away at his current work.

And of course, it didn’t need to be said at this point, but Tobias would probably get his sword back in a few days.

So with a respectful nod, he stepped away from the blacksmith, who was surrounded by anvils, countless metal mods, and brightly burning furnaces which looked like they were enchanted with magic and could probably melt down even the sturdiest metals.

Yeah... Definitely a high quality, well-equipped forge. It was little wonder why this shop was the most well-reputed forge in this city.

And that being said... That’s why most blacksmiths just preferred to join the Smithing Association, because of their high-quality facilities. Or something like that. But Tobias was sure he still saw a few independent blacksmiths around the city doing their own things.

He might visit them at some point to see what they offer.

And when he opened the door leading towards the shop-exterior of the forge, he only found himself facing Jacques, who held his saber with both hands delicately.

Both of them stared at each other with minor confusion. Tobias eyed the saber, and looking at the scratches and the subtle chips, he finally realized why his party Leader was here.

“Your saber needs repairing as well?” He asked, and his question was only met by a nod. “I see... Good luck, then.” And with those words, he swerved to the left to pass by his Leader.

“You already sent in your blade for repairs, right?” Jacques asked out, and his question made Tobias stop.

Tobias slowed turned to his party Leader, and gave a small nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“Was Krothur annoyed at you?”

Tobias blinked. “Well... yes. You know Krothur?”

“Yeah.” Jacques nodded. “Nice guy, but he has a tendency to get annoyed whenever I send in my saber for repairs. Keeps saying stuff like why I don’t properly maintain it.”

“Sounds like what just happened to me earlier.” Tobias agreed with a small, amused grin. That temperate dwarven blacksmith – something told him that among dwarves, he’s probably one of the more soft spoken, more patient people from his kind. “But yeah, good luck again.”

“Understandable. Have a great day, Tobias.”

And just like that, their conversation came to an end, as each of them finally walked their separate ways.

What an odd coincidence that Jacques also hopped past the sign that says ‘Keep Out and trespassed towards the inner forge.

Maybe Jacques was also rebellious like that, after all.

***

It was important to note that at some point, everyone in their party just decided to rent a large enough room for the four of them. Because really, according to Bastille’s calculations, that arrangement was cheaper than everyone renting their own rooms.

And besides, they had already grown close enough to that point, anyways.

Tobias figured out that if he had been with them for about... one month and a week by now, then the whole room-sharing idea happened about... a week ago.

Or in more accurate terms – that was a few days after Tobias and Stella went off to fight against that deranged Warlock, where Tobias got himself stabbed and nearly killed, and where Clara awakened as his (System) Keeper.

Another reason why they all decided to share a common room is so that nobody commits a ‘Tobias move’ and get themselves killed (but really, he figured out that it was most likely so that they could all keep an eye on him).

The chronological events – is sometimes a blur to think of in hindsight, but that was why it was important to keep notes, isn’t that right, dear Author?

So now, Tobias found himself back in their room, with absolutely nothing to do.

He looked around himself to scan his surroundings for the umpteenth time, just to see if anything was amiss in the room.

The wooden shutters for the windows were open, and similarly, the curtains were drawn, as they fluttered with the refreshing, surprisingly cool summer breeze.

Three wooden-framed beds with perfectly tidy, red linen sheets were right there, dispersed throughout the room in its four corners – except for the one he was resting on. The white, straw-stuffed pillows were also perfectly aligned, except for his, as he was leaning on it, against the wooden wall behind him.

On some corner of the room, there was an undecorated, square wooden desk – one that Bastille often used, as he used lanterns to study and read things during the night.

Sneaking a glance or two, Tobias sometimes found that he was reading books filled with all manners of shapes, with lines intersecting through them, and countless mathematical formulas.

Other times, Bastille just read books which seemed like novels instead. Tobias’ sharp eyesight allowed him to read a few of those sentences and paragraphs... And Tobias had to admit, that he had some really nice, high-brow literature tastes.

...

That was a lie. Bastille liked to read romance novels whenever he thought no one was watching. Underneath those books of ‘geometry’ and ‘physics’ or whatever those were, Tobias could see some pretty... curious titles right there.

But in Bastille’s defense – he did have great taste with picking out these romance novels. Like Tobias had once picked up a (pretty shoddy, pretty hastily-assembled together) book, and began to read it.

... In the end, he finally realized what ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ meant. But that was before Bastille found him.

And a surprisingly not embarrassing, nor tense argument later... Tobias was forced to swear an oath to never, ever tell anyone about it. So Clara and Jacques – they never suspected a thing from their resident Sorcerer. But that oath was taken in exchange for ‘reading’ those romance novels on top of a request for something else...

But then again, he was already finished with the strange, exotic adventures of Anastasia (a female lead in a romance book? How strangely fitting; more writers should do that) and the mysterious, marvelous Grey. It was terribly page-turning, and each chapter was much more intense than the last. But that wasn’t to say that its... raunchier parts were no less intense than its plot.

Because Tobias had to admit that such thing was amazingly well-written. Somehow. Some. How. An infuriating, head scratching mystery on why exactly it was so well-written, despite the fact that it was practically... ‘lewd as fuck’, as Bastille put it once.

There really was a great mystery behind that book. It was ahead of its time; almost as if it wasn’t supposed to be written at the time period they were currently in, and should have been reserved for future generations instead...

...

Anyways, that was Bastille and the story of the small desk in the corner of their room. Moving on to Jacques, who also used that desk every now and then...

Jacques simply wrote letters. He just literally wrote letters every now and then.

Tobias didn’t know what they were containing, or who they were addressed to – but the recent revelation about things gave a bit of context to whatever Jacques was doing.

He did briefly mention that he was a noble at some point, so it would only be logical to assume that he had sent these letters back to his home.

Now... if only Tobias’ family lived in a city – or even a town, really, then he would be able to send letters to them, telling them how he’s been and things like that. But no. Unfortunately, they lived in a village in the literal middle of nowhere, so it’s not that simple.

So there was that, he noted with a bitter sigh. Now, moving on to the next topic he had in mind...

Tobias wasn’t sure if Jacques also had his own secret stash of romance novels lying about. He only seemed to read books about war, politics, and economy. But Bastille did write a draft/book about war, which he named the Art of War, which he said was originally written by Sun Tzu...

Who was Sun Tzu? And why was he named after the Sun?

More questions only sprang out. So Tobias abandoned that thought before he delved too much unto it.

...

Moving on, then.

And finally, Clara never used that desk. She didn’t read anything – she didn’t study anything – and she most certainly didn’t write anything.

Which was strange, considering the fact that she is actually capable of reading and writing. She looked like she was the kind of person to read a novel or two.

... Maybe she just wasn’t the sort of person who liked reading?

Then again, Tobias himself didn’t really read too much, aside from a few books as exception. So who was he to judge?

... Now that he thought about it, he knew nothing about Clara.

He knows that she’s really kind, sweet, and oddly excited about food, but she can also be mean, somewhat childish, and can throw a really good elbow here and there if she gets too annoyed (mostly at Bastille). But apart from knowing who she is, he didn’t know anything about her.

... Maybe he should spend more time asking her questions at some point. If she’s perfectly fine with giving him touch-based gestures like pats and back rubs, then she must be perfectly fine with being asked a couple of questions, right?

... Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know anything about everyone. He just had a solid grasp of their personalities but... He didn’t really know their histories, and the stories that made them the persons they were today...

Huh. Maybe he really was a village bumpkin like that, after all.

Well, that only meant he needed to correct that, right?

***

Tobias ended up leaving their room – after he closed the window shutters and locked the door with his key copy, of course. It would be shameful if all of their belongings went missing just because he forgot to lock it.

... On hindsight, aside from his two coats of similar design, his dark blue hand-knitted scarf, weapons, pouches, money, and few spare clothes, he doesn’t really have much in the way of belongings...

Well, that didn’t really matter right now. It only meant he was able to travel lightly, then.

So he left the building where they had rented their room – Jacques had a lot of connections like that – and stepped towards the streets. Now that he was actively observing it, he could see that aside from the square stone tiles that he was so fixated on, it really was a beautiful city.

With grand, three-stories tall, wooden and stone buildings everywhere and the odd potted tall plant here and there, it gave the city a much modern sight in comparison to his home village.

The sky was cloudy, so that meant it wasn’t as hot as summer would typically dictate it to be.

There were people walking by who wore outfits ranging from the humble tunic and trousers, to some oddly well-adorned, yet fairly light dresses worn by middle class women who wanted to wear something fancier than normal.

This city... really had its fair share of people from different walks of life, didn’t it?

... Enough staring.

Now, then... where would his friends be? He wanted to actually befriend them, after all...

Or so he said to himself. But really, he doesn’t have any idea on how to do so. Would it be terribly awkward to just walk up to them and ask their history or something?

... He decided that yes, that would be terribly awkward.

... But would he let some terrible awkwardness stop him from getting to know his newfound friends better?

Of course not. He was Tobias, and whatever he wanted to do – he would do it.

Even if it was going to be the most terribly awkward thing he’s ever done, and his legs seemed to mildly shake with nervousness...

...

On second thought... maybe he shouldn’t do this...?

No. That was the easy way out. He steeled his resolve once more.

He decided, that he would ask his friends –

“Tobias, what are you doing out here?”

That voice... Tobias very carefully, very slowly turned around and came face to face with Bastille. The Sorcerer looked at him with some minor confusion, no doubt from the fact that he was just standing around without doing anything.

And it probably wasn’t often where he wasn’t off training, or doing something of value, Tobias noted to himself with an internal sigh.

“Bastille... You’re my friend, right?” He asked carefully and slowly, hoping that he didn’t let his nervousness catch to his words.

The Sorcerer tilted his head with confusion – almost as if he was staring an entirely new person he had never met before. But then he just shook his head, and then nodded. “I mean, yeah, but why though?”

“I...” He paused, before he thought to himself. How should he go about phrasing it? Think, think, think... And in the end, he found the words he was looking for. “I wanted to ask for your life story.”

Bastille stared blankly at him.

...

Of course it would be awkward. Tobias knew that such a question was only foolish, and too straightforward to the point of bluntness. So he coughed awkwardly, and shook his head.

“Yeah... My bad. Please forget about it.”

“Wait...” Bastille slowly began, as he blinked to himself and rubbed his eyes. Then he stared at Tobias. “Am I hearing right? Are you actually curious about my life so far?”

“... Don’t you think it’s weird how I know about your lessons in science more than you?” He replied, and then gave a small cough, and continued in a whisper; “And your... uhm... specific tastes?”

To his credit, Bastille only nodded back just as seriously, not even finding it shameful in any way or form. Probably because they were both in the know about those things, or something like that.

“Well then. Now that you’re finally curious, let’s talk about my history, then. And in the meantime, I got a new book. Wanna see?”

And just like that, the more-enthusiastic-than-usual Bastille (which is saying a lot, because he’s usually calm and collected) and the nervous Tobias (which isn’t obvious, because aside from an awkward frown, he still looked the same as always) made their way to their room to talk.

***

Bastille sat down on the desk. Literally on top of the desk, and Tobias only stared at him with some minor confusion. Tobias on the other hand, was currently seated in his own bed.

He gave an idle hum to think to himself. Then his eyes widened, before he clapped his hands together. Alright, he knew where to start. “You see, it all begins with the story of Oda Fumio...”

“That’s one weird name.” Tobias interrupted.

He glared at the silver-haired guy. “That’s my name, Tobias. Or was I should say.”

“Ah.” He hummed, before he bowed his head. “My bad, my bad. So why do you call yourself Bastille now?”

Bastille smiled. This was the best part. “That’s because I died.”

And there. At his statement, Tobias’ face morphed into something resembling obvious, blatant confusion, as his parted mouth let out a small, lost, ‘huh’. He blinked once, twice, before looking back at him. “... Excuse me, what?”

“Now that’s the reaction I was looking for!” Bastille laughed. When Tobias only continued to stare at him with confusion, he coughed to clear his throat. “Anyways, I came from another world. Then I died. Then I got reincarnated here.”

Tobias only continued to stare at Bastille with such scrutinization, he actually felt himself gulping and wondering if he somehow ticked off the silver-haired guy.

“... You’re not joking...?”

“... This time, I’m not joking.” He promised, as he let out a nervous breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“... I see.” Tobias only nodded. “Is that why you believed me when I said Death told me to get stronger so I could possibly get my friend back?”

“In a nutshell.” Bastille shrugged. It seemed like he was safe now. “A lot of people believe in Gods, and as for me... A Goddess appeared to me and told me I could be reincarnated here. It’s gonna take some pretty special mentality to not believe in Gods after that one, chief.”

“Gods, huh...” Tobias muttered lowly. Bastille wondered if he ticked him off again, before he only continued. “Did they grant you a blessing of some sort? Is that why you’re a strong Mage?”

“Short answer, yes. Long answer condensed to save time and brain cells, my knowledge has something to do with it...” His companion stared at him with a confused expression, and he only shrugged in turn. “Anyways, as I was saying... I was Oda Fumio... Wait, now that I think about it, do you want to hear the story of Bastille, or Oda Fumio?”

“I wanna hear both stories.”

“We’re in here for a long time, then.”

“... Yeah.”

Well, that’s what he wanted, then. So Bastille began his story once more, and this time, he wasn’t interrupted. Thankfully.

Otherwise, they would have been there for a really long time.

***

So Tobias managed to compile Oda Fumio’s life story like this. He was a person born in a country named ‘Japan’, which was supposed to be an archipelago in the far, distant east where the sun rose first – or that’s how Bastille described it.

It was from another world, apparently. But somehow, that just made some semblance of sense...

Oda Fumio was born to a poor family who was buried in debt, so when he was a student at a schoolhouse, he studied incredibly hard to the point where he achieved top scores, and even achieved rank 1 on the national exams at some point (Tobias wasn’t sure what national exams were, but reaching the top rank on something is pretty amazing nonetheless).

And a few years after that, while Oda Fumio was applying for College (which was apparently a step-up compared to normal schoolhouses), he was reviewing on his way to the College building. That’s when he got hit by a truck (which is really just a mechanized carriage, according to him).

And now, after that happened and Oda Fumio died, he got an offer from a Goddess whose identity he did not disclose, and then he got reincarnated into this world of magic and mysteries. According to him, the world they lived on was called a ‘Fantasy’ world.

... Tobias didn’t get what was so fantastical about the world he lived in, though. Magic and monsters existed, sure, but then again a world without magic seemed so... impossible? Like how were humans and other sentient races supposed to fight against this world of monsters? They would have been killed long ago without any magic!

But Bastille told him not to worry about it too much, saying that their world didn’t have monsters. No magic, and no monsters... What a strange world, indeed.

And now that Oda Fumio became Bastille, that’s when his life in this world started.

Bastille was born to a normal, loving, average family... Well, except for the fact that his father was a really great Sorcerer, who also happened to be a great father figure and an even greater teacher.

So at the age of three or something, Bastille managed to cast his first incantation-less, wand-less fireball ever. Which he insisted was absolutely amazing at the time.

“But... weren’t you mentally older than that at the time?”

“Haaah... Tobias, just accept it. I came from a non-magical world, okay?”

“... Okay.”

And after he had done such a feat, his Father had decided to teach him everything about Sorcery. But there was a problem; Bastille could only cast Fire spells. No amount of training, studying, or anything could allow Bastille to cast any spell other than Fire-based spells.

But in exchange for that, Bastille’s fire spells – were on a league of their own.

For example, his Fire Spark is equivalent to another Mage’s Spell Fireball – or so he boasted about himself. And apparently, Fire Spark is only a Tier 1 Spell, while Fireball is a Tier 3 Spell – which Tobias understood, at the very least.

Because really; Three is greater than One, therefore, it must be better.

And when he reached seven years old, he had mastered all Fire-based spells that his father had taught him. When he was nine years old, he could develop his own spells. And when he was twelve years old, with his parents’ blessings, he decided to leave his home and make a name for himself or something like that.

While he was waiting to be seventeen years old so he could apply for the country’s prestigious magical academy, apparently.

“Oh, and this Grimoire I have... It’s a relic that my father gave me.”

“Huh... What does it do?”

“It gives me almost unlimited mana to work with.”

“... That’s kinda overkill, don’t you think?”

“Yeah... It kinda is.”

“...”

So the story continues. After leaving home, Bastille went off in a journey. Traveling around the country, he eventually managed to meet Jacques. And then they’ve been best friends since ever.

“Did you infect him with your studiousness?”

“I wish I could say I did, but the truth is... That guy was already studious to begin with.”

“... I see...”

“So how was it, Tobias? Pretty epic story I got, right?”

“I guess it is epic, not going to lie.”

“Hehe, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me about my life.”

“... huh?”

“I mean it’s going to be weird and all if I just told you about my life story without you asking about it, right?”

“Well, yes... But more importantly, if you’re like, thirty or something years old mentally right now, why do you still bully Clara?”

“... She reminds me of my little sister, okay?”

“I understand...?”

“Don’t look at me like that, sheesh! And besides, I know not to take it too far.”

“That’s good, at least.”

“This is strange though. Even if I’m thirty-something years old mentally, I still feel like my physical age right now.”

“That’s probably because you never really aged past your teenage years, then?”

“... And since when did you grow that smart, Tobias?”

“I remember a quote Jacques said once. ‘Surround yourself with wise people, and you shall be wise’... Or something like that.”

“... That’s a very roundabout way to compliment me, but I’ll take it.”

“So... Oda Fumio, huh?” Tobias muttered. A brilliant idea struck him, and his lips curved into an amused, teasing grin. “Should I call you ‘Fumi’ from now on?”

Bastille stared at him.

Then he facepalmed. “That was pretty cringe, Tobias. You can shut up now.”

“What does ‘cringe’ exactly mean anyways?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake... How do you not know that – oh, right.”

And so, after that conversation, Tobias and Bastille hung out a lot more often.