Death Smith - Book 2 - Chapter 12

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Fiery mark

One hour after returning home.

Late-March, 14 AR.

United Kingdom, London, Lance’s apartment.

“See? Zhe dog loves it,” Dieter said in a thick German accent, handing Oliver Walker another horn that had belonged to one of the Trihorn’s Lance had defeated and looted.

Lance had watched Oliver give the treat to little Hans, seeing the massive Rift-hound sniff it playfully before carefully grabbing the treat. It still amazed Lance how intelligent little Hans was. It knew when to be playful, and when to be calm around the young man. Dieter had told Oliver that little Hans could recognise the similarity between Oliver and Thomas. Therefore, little Hans would also see Oliver as a friend. That gesture alone had been enough to put a permanent smile on the thirteen-year-old’s face.

‘Oliver is doing well,’ Lance thought as he pulled out another horn from his pack and handed it to Dieter. Internally he winced, realising that each horn chewed up would lessen his spending power by hundreds of pounds. Still, Lance was desperate to placate the people in his apartment at this point. His axe-wielding entrance had startled most of the people in the room, although some of the Rifters had quickly joined Dieter by laughing at the absurdity of it all. The Rifters were guild members of Dieter, with Lance having met quite a few of them over the last few months.

‘This is a nightmare,’ Lance thought as he refilled several bowls with chips and other salty snacks. He flashed a grin when a Rifter made fun of his entrance, calling the scene ‘cute’. Lance had no choice but to laugh with them to play it off. That, or throw himself off the balcony. Basically, everyone in the room had figured out that Lance had just returned from a Rift. While Dieter’s laughter and comments had lightened the overall mood in the apartment, Lance could still occasionally feel Daniel’s stare burn holes into him. There were going to be words later, that much Lance was sure of.

Working up the courage, Lance stepped towards Daniel, who was talking with Oliver’s father. Daniel and Jacob got along rather well, with both having frequently spoken with one another ever since Daniel had saved Thomas and Lance back when they were still nurses. “Do you guys need anything else? Beer, coffee?” Lance asked, showing a calm exterior, although inwardly he was anything but calm. Jacob had been the closest thing to a father figure throughout Lance’s life, and Dieter had taken up the mantel of a mentor.

“Already have one. Kate beat you to it,” Jacob said, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder as he patted him playfully. “Why don’t you take it easy for a while? It is your birthday, after all. Besides, you have been busy the last few days, right?” He asked, his hand still patting Lance’s shoulder, although the mental weight of that touch suddenly increased tenfold.

“Quite busy,” Daniel added, his eyes fixed on Lance as if already visualising the sparring match he’d invite Lance to soon.

“Daniel was telling me about his new job within the GRRO. Suit and everything,” Jacob said, removing his hand from Lance’s shoulder as he made some room. The mere mention of the GRRO was enough to change the mood of the room somewhat, with every Rifter with a high Perception stat aware of what Jacob mentioned.

Daniel seemed to be aware of it, with him smiling awkwardly before he added his take on the matter. “It is just a temporary consultant job for now. The London branch needs more hands-on and general Rift experience. Nothing glamorous. Mostly adding with personnel training, help to better equip the facility for new Rifters and possibly work with the occasional investigation.”

“That’s great news. Right?” Lance asked, his mind searching for dozens of ways in which he could thank Jacob for bringing up this topic. Lance wasn’t sure whether Jacob had done it to make small talk or if he wanted to spare Lance on his birthday. Either way, Lance was at that point willing to swear a life debt.

“Yes, it is a suitable position for a former Rifter. But it is only temporary,” Daniel said, his eyes moving away from Lance towards Dieter, who was approaching them.

“A beer?” Lance asked, making his way past Daniel as Dieter joined them. The last thing Lance heard was Daniel asking for something stronger, as Dieter complimented Jacob for having such a wonderful son and stressing the value of family and loyalty.

Lance then grabbed a few of the empty beer bottles, cleaned bits of the broken horn little Hans had discarded, before he went towards the kitchen, seeing Kate sitting there on the countertop with an amused expression.

“Still alive? I figured your mothers would have torn you a new one,” Kate said, handing Lance a beer as she patted the spot next to her, noting that it was free.

Grabbing the beer, Lance moved next to her, leaning against the countertop instead of sitting on it. “Mothers? And your dad bailed me out by dropping a bigger bomb in the apartment.”

“Yeah, mothers. As in, I can smell the oestrogen and protective musk from here. They’d make a cute couple. And what might be a bigger bomb than a fool having lost his marbles and falling into another Rift?” Kate teased, showing a coy smile that was both reassuring and teasing.

“I never said I had marbles,” Lance argued.

Kate nodded once in approval. “You are friends with Thomas. I assumed as much.”

“Touché. Dieter is tearing Daniel a new one for leaving the guild and joining the GRRO,” Lance explained, taking a few mouthfuls of beer to collect his thoughts. He was grateful for her to speak about Thomas in present tense, emphasising that their friendship was still intact.

“So, my dad dropped this hot potato on Daniel’s lap, while most of his former guild members are all in the same room?” Kate asked, watching Lance nod before she chuckled. “Legend,” she finally offered, her gaze shifting towards her father as her eyes softened.

“How is he holding up?” Lance asked carefully, internally still conflicted, and guilt-ridden.

“A stone pillar but crumbling here and there. Oliver is doing great. His friends are over nearly every day and dragging him off to get into trouble. Pesky lads, but filled with love and healing,” Kate explained as she finished her beer and placed it next to Lance’s. “I think seeing Oliver doing alright and occasionally being happy is helping dad as well. Mom is…”

Lance kept silent when Kate did so too, knowing full well that he did not have any answers. Besides, he did not want to ask any further questions about it, lest he lost himself in that dark place inside his heart. So, Lance simply stood there next to her, feeling both bad and strangely alive at that moment.

“Do you think you can spare a moment in a few days? I wanted to talk with you about something important to me, about…” Kate explained before she stopped talking and jumped off the countertop when her father walked in.

“Discussing the wedding?” Jacob asked with a smile before Kate playfully nudged her father in the ribs, leaving the kitchen afterwards to grab a seat next to Oliver.

“Thanks for tonight… for this,” Lance said to Jacob, seeing the man clean up a few of the empty bottles before taking a spot next to Lance.

“No need to thank us. We needed a reason for a drink just as much as you did. Besides, a family takes care of one another, right?” Jacob asked, although it sounded more like a statement.

“Right,” Lance said, the words unsettling him, but he also needed to hear those words.

Jacob watched Lance for a moment before he continued. “So, how are you holding up, lad?”

“Good. The Rift went well. The other Rifters took good care of me and the Rift itself was a straightforward one,” Lance said quickly.

“You know I wasn’t talking about the Rift,” Jacob said, placing his hand on Lance’s shoulder as he squeezed gently. “I will not tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. Had the roles been reversed, Thomas would have done exactly what you are doing. Perhaps even more so to channel his loss and feelings into something he could punch. Perhaps I would too, had I been younger.”

The two men kept quiet at that, both remembering Thomas in the way they wanted to. Lance’s high Perception wasn’t required to feel the pain that Jacob was carrying inside. Lance felt the man’s hand slide off his shoulder before patting Lance on the chest, near his heart.

“Lad, I don’t know what is driving you at this moment, nor do I want to know what it is. Wield it, for now. Use it as fuel but take care not to cling to it too long. A fire that sustains a soul ends up burning it up to where only ash remains,” Jacob offered before he grabbed another beer and steered Lance back to the living room.

* * * * *

“Ein schöner Mann,” Dieter said proudly, pointing his phone at Lance and the tailor. The tailer was busy helping Lance out with the finishing touches. Daniel, who was on the other end of the call, was smiling from behind his desk, clad in his GRRO outfit. Today was the 30th of March, two days after Lance’s birthday. Although it was a Saturday, there were few people in this shop within the Workshop.

Lance felt a bit embarrassed at being called good looking in German, but even he couldn’t refute the fact that his new Rifter outfit was a thousand times better than the horrible outfit he had used in his previous Rift. Most of his body was now covered in a protective steel mail shirt, with leather armour placed over it to better secure, and to lessen the reflective nature of the steel. Protective fingerless Sap gloves offered protection to his hands and increased his damage output in hand-to-hand combat, the steel knuckles making sure of that. Protective combat boots, steel shin and knee guards protected his lower body, reducing as little mobility as possible, while allowing Lance to shrug off minor blows there. The tailor had fastened a steel pauldron on Lance’s left shoulder, adding more defence while leaving Lance’s right side as flexible as possible.

“So, how does it feel?” The tailor asked, watching Lance move left and right, jump, and make a few jabs to test out the equipment.

“Light, not too restrictive,” Lance said, looking at his gloved hands and making a fist, feeling the protective fabric caress his hands. “Fantastic.”

“You have a strength rank of thirty-something. A bit of leather and steel will not slow you down,” Dieter said, aiming the camera at Lance as he moved closer to him. “It is machine-made, not Rifter made. So don’t expect it to stop a dragon.”

“Rifter made?” Lance asked.

“He means that a Rifter with a specific class made the item. They are typically more durable and incredibly expensive,” Daniel said, his voice flowing out of the speaker.

“But the upgradable slots are well worth it. Speaking off upgrades,” Dieter said, a smile holding up his hand to silence Lance for a moment as he retrieved a large mace from his inventory and handed it to Lance. “There we go. A proper birthday present.”

[Item transfer complete.]

Lance struggled with the weight of the mace. Although it was a one-handed weapon, it was heavier than most two-handed weapons he had practised with in the past. ‘What the hell is this thing made of?’ Lance thought, running a hand over the black steel material and tracing a line over the many dents and ridges at the side.

“My old weapon, back when I only had a dozen Rifts under my belt. Now, now. Don’t get too attached to your gear. You’ll outgrow them in no time,” Dieter said with a smile before he pointed at the core of the weapon. “I bought it for two hundred thousand, give or take. Expensive back then, but you’ll see why. Check out the slots.”

It took Lance a few minutes to figure out what Dieter meant, with Lance having to open several additional screens of information about the weapon until he found what he was looking for. ‘A crafter has filled three out of the three slots. A mana crystal core, Red-stone casing and a black wood handle,’ Lance noted, going over each of the upgrades to see what their uses were. The black wood offered more flexibility to the handle, allowing more kinetic force to be produced while protecting the Rifter’s hand upon impact. The Red-stone amplified heat while the mana crystal could store Magicka or transfer it to the Red-stone, increasing the heat of the weapon. Compared to a regular person making a mace out of the materials, a crafter could imbue the item with far more beneficial traits.

‘Sort of like a boiling mace?’ Lance thought as he forced more and more Magicka into the weapon, seeing the core heat and the metal showing a red hue. He held his hand above it and could feel the heat coming off it, like a small bonfire. No doubt it would hurt when pressed against exposed flesh, allowing the wielder to burn someone after smashing a mace in their ribs. ‘This lacks any sort of finesse. I see why Dieter purchased it,’ Lance concluded as he noticed his Magicka dwindling, showing that the weapon drained a lot of Magicka.

‘Does this mean that Ash has slots as well?’ Lance thought for a minute before he noticed Dieter staring at him. “This is way too much, Dieter. I mean… a birthday present is a few pounds or more, not something equivalent to buying an expensive car,” Lance said, his mind finally wrapping itself around the whole price tag of the weapon. He knew that more expensive Rifter weapons could be worth hundreds of thousands of pounds or more, but to get one as a gift was something else.

“Don’t be like that. It is a gift. Besides, it was worth that much when I bought it years ago. Back when there were fewer resources and even fewer Rifters classed as smiths or crafters. The weapon is quite Magicka hungry, and the damage output isn’t worth it at higher levels. Still, it is a boon at your level. That and you can turn it into a heater in an emergency,” Dieter said with a grin as he pointed the camera towards Lance, showing Daniel’s face.

“My present will be more modest and practical. But I must get back to work. We’ll talk later, alright?” Daniel asked Lance and waited for him to nod before closing the call.

Lance then moved back towards the mirrors, inspecting his new outfit while he did his best to ignore Dieter, who was buttering up to the tailor, asking for a discount for the ‘light of Ipswich’. That bit Lance hated, seeing as Dieter was referring to the article that a local journalist had published after the white clovers had cleared the Rift in Ipswich. Posted in that article was a picture of Lance basking in the light with his gaze towards the sun.

‘I’ll never live this down,’ Lance thought before he shifted his attention back towards his new outfit and weapon.

[You have retrieved an item from the inventory.]

A satisfied grin appeared on his face as he stood there, with a shield and mace in his hands, feeling the heat coming from the mace as he charged it with more and more Magicka until it became almost too hot to handle. Filled with renewed purpose, Lance then joined Dieter in the negotiations, for once not feeling bad about spending most of his earned profits.

‘Things are looking up!’

* * * * *

At the same time, in a different country, a woman answered an incoming call. “What do you have for me?” the woman asked, her voice calm and composed. A stark contrast to what the blade she had wielded had just done.

“Information about the three marks. Two of them have been active. Uploading the data now,” a distorted voice conveyed to her through her earpiece, one hidden by her black hair that matched her dark features.

A device formed in her hand as she sat down, ignoring the fact that her impromptu seat was the corpse of a man someone had contracted her to kill. She slid the blade back into the fleshy scabbard, ignoring the horrible sound it produced. Her eyes scanned the information that she had received, weighing her options.

‘Target one hasn’t moved. The older brother knows better than to let him off the leash now,’ the woman thought, as she watched the picture of the man, irritated to see his attractive features again.

‘Two has made some irregular moves, working closely with the GRRO branch in France. Atonement? He has become a liability,’ she decided, not bothering to go look at his picture again.

She took her time reading the information about the third target, seeing several medical documents suggesting trauma, information regarding his social circle and a recent article about him clearing a Rift in Ipswich. ‘A shame. Three could have had a peaceful life, had it not been for those eyes,’ she thought, seeing past the lofty words of the article and the young man’s shoddy equipment. ‘Those eyes contain not the coldness of loss or the joy of renewed purpose. Fire burns within in those eyes.’

“What do you want to do?” the distorted voice asked without a hint of emotion.

“Two and three need to be dealt with. Offer the twins a contract to deal with it. Tell them they’ll get a similar payment as they had in Madrid,” she said, her words condemning the lives of two individuals.

“Someone employed the twins elsewhere at the moment,” The voice stated calmly.

The woman clicked her tongue once before she replied. “Tell them that Kira will owe them a favour, each.”

“Understood,” The voice said before the line disconnected.

Her fingers slid around the handle of the blade, gripping it tightly as she twisted the blade inside the body, slicing and tearing. It irritated her it had come to this. ‘All because a spoiled brat wanted to impress his older brother.’

“The twins will take care of these loose ends,” Kira finally said, retrieving her blade before she stood up and finished her own bloody task that day.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2022 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2022