Entering the gorges and valleys of the mountains, overshadowed by the peaks and flanks of the mountains, eased the feeling of constant danger I had experienced in the forest. [Favorite Terrain: Mountains] activated and once again I needed not to fear my surroundings as much. It was not a cure-all for the dangers of the wilderness, but the comfort and understanding of the terrain around me was a major shift. Unknown dangers were not half as bad if you knew from where they could be coming from.

The meeting with Weirderbeast hung over the group like a bad dream, consuming all our thoughts and anxieties. We had been used to the chaos and the dangerous, but that creature had been something else. I still shuddered involuntarily, thinking about the monster.

The others felt the same way, and our march was a silent one. What is a man to do against a foe like that? Carve into the flesh with arrow and sword? It would take days to reach the middle, even if it would not move. And there was no guarantee that there would be something in the middle that, if pierced, would kill the whole thing. Like a heart. There must have been hundreds of hearts in the amalgamation of creatures that was the Weirderbeast.

We used our time cavern hunting. Exploring all the small nooks and crannies I could sense in my immediate surrounding to see if they would lead further down, which they often did. There were much more caves than I had expected.

“This is a damn maze.“ Grim spat, as we looked from outside the entrance into another cracked rock, that led to a gully finally leading into the pitch-black darkness of a proper cave.

“It makes somewhat sense.“ I said, trying to figure out if this cave would lead in the same direction the last one had led. “The Broken Lands are not far away. The surrounding lands would have been affected as well as the land got torn asunder.“

“That explains the cracked rocks and craggy mountains. But what about all those caves?“

“How would I know? I am not an expert.“ I defended myself.

“Well, you are the expert among us.“ Kara frowned.

“And I do not know the answer. The labyrinth below the Abyss of Ravenrock is a whole different world, but some of it had been dug by magmawyrm. Maybe this is something similar? Something using the natural gulleys to dig further?“

“Like what?“ Grim asked.

“Like insects?“ Kara chimed in, but I could only shrug. It was just as likely that a forgotten civilization had dug into the mountains for precious ores, before being destroyed by the death of the dragons and the birth of the Wyld. I could not tell which cave was natural or dug by creature or man.

One merit of finally reaching the mountains was that I finally could lower my guard when it came to camping for the night. We did not know if the rules of the Wyld still applied, that is if Nightmares roamed the darkness and hunted most of the other predators, so that the light of a fire was enough protection, but even the open space was enough to not be afraid of ambushes and lurking beasts.

I knew that my companions needed the rest more than I, but I just had to make them take a guard shift so that I could go about my business in the Limbo.

I waited for Grim to settle in to sleep, and Kara do her thing with the spirits - she was confident they would warn her of any dangers - and meditated, entering my Demesne almost instantly.

Lily was of no help, sadly, although as always a font of motivation and well wishes. She had been busy learning what she could from the older wisps at the Afterlight and monitoring what little information we had about the Free Knights of the Wyld from afar. Mostly that they were still alive.

According to her, we had received one or two prayers over the last days I had spent in the forest. She assumed that some of the knights had begun using ‘Raven‘ as part of some kind of expression, which the system counted as prayer. The probings and attacks on the Demesne had increased as well. As it grew in density of spent Essence, it would increase the visibility in Limbo. As it were, she supplied me with a steady income of small amounts of Essence, hunting the probes in the Web of Lies inhabiting the Mastiff of Dread herself.

There was no reason to go slacking off now, as I had the whole night to work with, and so I gladly worked my mental muscles out facing the Betrayer, as ever intent of teaching me control and precision and more important than everything else: to make deliberate and good choices in combat, where instinct had taken the reign prior to his tutoring.

“I would have your counsel if you are willing to give it to me.“ I said as I made Kingsbane disappear and my time with the Betrayer was nearing its end.

“Ask and I will decide whether to laugh at you or curse you, Ravenspawn.“ The Betrayer was wiping the blade of his sword, a mannerism he couldn‘t even shake off in death.

“I face an enemy beyond anything a mortal mind can fathom, even words fail to describe the horrors I have seen.“

“Do they though? Or should you read a book and come back when you have mastered the art of giving a proper report?“ He raised his eyebrow at me.

“Fine. It is a creature built out of hundreds, thousands of others. It is huge, strange, and dangerous. It is nothing I can fight with a sword and I have nothing else in my arsenal to employ against it.“

“You are quite right. It is nothing you can fight with a sword.“ The Betrayer smirked arrogantly. “There was nothing in our lands I couldn‘t have fought with Whisper in my hands.“

“And why would that be, pray tell. What is a sword against a creature of that size?“

“And once again, the rotten and spoiled line of the Raven displays his lack of greatness.“ He rolled his eyes. “It does not matter, because you are a lifetime away from the finesse of the blade required, and may never reach it. I would not bet on you, either way. But remember what I did as you so impertinently summoned me to clean up the mess you made with the Wyldling and the darkness?“

It was a hazy memory, everything had gone by so quickly. I remember the moment with the Betrayer in my mind, him swearing to fall on my own sword if I dared to summon him again. I remember the image of the transformed [Shaman], the beast he had become, threatening to take my life along with all the others.

And I remember the sword, the force the Betrayer made my arm exert, my shoulder shattering under it. I remember my muscles tearing as Kingsbane whipped through the air in one clean, precise sweep.

There it was. The memory I had not dared to remember, because it had seemed too...esoteric to be true. Kingsbane had cut Barak Bloodbraid, but more than that...it had cut everything. Most importantly the spiritual connection the Shaman had with the forces of darkness rampaging through his body. It had severed his ties, instantly ending the transformation as the supply of power was cut away.

“The cut.“ I said, deeply in thought as I made myself recall the memories.

The Betrayer snorted. “Now you see it? That is what a master can do with a sword. And let me remind you that it is no Skill of the gods, may they burn in the Evercold Hells, as I have lost mine and could not use them in your body either way. It is just a lifetime of mastery and a blade fitting for a master.“

I was impressed, truly, but I would be damned if I showed that to the awful man in front of me. “So what, you would have cut my enemy apart? And how would that information even help me?“

“I am not here to help you, whelp. I am here to train you in the art of the sword. I would have cut the thing apart, yes. And the name of the technique is not ‘the cut‘ you insolent brat, it is the swing of serene severance. But you have neither the brain to understand the beauty of it, nor the eyes to see the weakness of the enemy, let alone the handling of the sword, the precision or the muscle to bring it into reality. You have the sword, at least, although you are not worthy to wield it.“

There was a truth to it. I had neither of those things. But was there a way to make the system generate a Skill like that? I guess not, because for the system to accept my training I would have to level in my only system generated class, [Lord Protector of Ravenport], and that would not happen in the short term.

The Betrayer was a dead end, after all. I left him after he was done gloating, denying him the satisfaction of acknowledging the master he was with a blade in his hands.

But the power of the - what was it?- swing of serene severance, was based on a mortals technique. There was no way that sheer mastery with a sword could cut the ties of a man with his divine energies, was there? It had to be something slumbering in the dark steel of Kingsbane. Maybe you needed to be a master to swing the sword like that, one blow to end all fights. But maybe Kingsbane alone was enough to give me an edge that I could use.

I was due telling its story to the Storysmith anyway, I had just been too preoccupied all the time. I made my way over to the Gate, mentally going over my checklist for things to achieve once I was in the Fulcrum.

Someone else found me instead. It was not an instant thing, as different notes got exchanged beforehand, I was notified by the powers that be in the Fulcrum, and warned several times that I was expecting a visitor, but minutes after I had entered my private cabin in the Fulcrum, someone requested entrance.

It was the Skillsmith I had requested and forgotten about. I had barely time to settle in the seat at the table in my naval cabin as he entered, looking around, his gaze lingering on the big raven on its perch.

He was a long and thin man, hidden behind robes, and he wore a mask not unlike the one I had. As he turned to face me, it started to move, first small vibrations under the mask, but finally, everything shuttered and a second later I looked into the happy, smiling face of a blonde human man with very few distinctive features in a smooth and fair face.

“Ahh, you must be Raven, looking to forge Skills, I see.“ His voice sounded off, just for the fraction of a second, before it found the right rhythm and tone of brightness and youth.

“I am. And I have not expected you so quickly. I am ill-prepared for your visit, as I have been assured a Skillsmith was a busy man and hard to get hold of.“

“It is so, it is so.“ He waved off. “Fortune brought me here, and fortune let me see your notice right when I did not come to a mutual agreement with a client. So, luck it is that brought me to your door. And I like to work with lucky people - old rule of mine.“ He smiled a brilliant smile with the evenest teeth I ever did see.

I was a bit taken aback, and I had neither thought about the situation, nor prepared, nor really had the time, but he was here and that was a stroke of luck indeed. One I could not pass up on.

“What do you need? And excuse my rudeness, but how can I address you?“

“I am called Heron, and the question is not what I need,“ he heaved a coffer onto the table, playing with the latches, “the question is what do YOU need.“