Alden sat beside the corpse with gentle tears streaming down his face. It was his first human kill. A man he never knew and a criminal besides, but a human nonetheless. He had thought he might vomit, as he’d seen in so many movies and shows and novels, but instead he felt cold and hollow, and then the hollowness had been filled with aching grief.

“Done with the hazing?” Osbit had said to Frenna after the fight was over.

“Never,” she replied.

Only three more criminals had opted to fight after that, each choosing Alden, no doubt hoping he had grown tired and weary enough to take advantage of. Too bad for them, then, that Alden had brought mana potions.

Victory

Through Skill and effort you have slain your foe!

Reward: 175xp.

Victory

Through Skill and effort you have slain your foe!

Reward: 150xp.

Victory

Through Skill and effort you have slain your foe!

Reward: 150xp.

Skill Up

Through the continued use of magic the Magic Control Skill has advanced to Rank D

Reward: 50xp, 1 bonus point to Intelligence.

They had been nothing impressive, each weaker than the last, and by the time the last one stepped forward Alden had felt no hesitation as he cut the man’s head off. But now remorse filled him, clawing away at the recesses of his mind. There was no choice, he told himself. It was Frenna’s doing. She made the decision for me. It was kill or be killed.

Yet the cries of the dead raged in the back of his mind, uncaring.

He silenced them and stood. The bodies were to be moved outside, where Mikel had already dug their graves. None of those kidnapped were present, and he didn’t know if he should feel relieved or not at that fact.

Picking up the bodies proved impossible for him. Each of them weighed as much as himself at least, and their limbs flopped about as he moved the bodies. The largest of them, a fat man almost as round as he was tall, would require all three of them, or else Frenna. Passing a glance her way Alden killed the thought. She would not budge from the group of survivors, too delighted in tormenting them.

“Maybe I’ll just kill you all now, save the Baroness the trouble,” he heard her say. The criminals cowered further against the wall, letting loose desperate shrieks.

Alden dragged the heaviest of them he could manage first, the journey long and slow, the muscles of his legs and back protesting with every step.

Outside was wet and bright, the spray of cold water soaking him further. His boots squelched in the mud as he dragged the body to the river’s bank.

The graves Mikel had dug were shallow; no more than three feet deep, they were all he could manage with what little time the day had left them with. The soil was dark, almost black, and the air was tinged with an earthy smell.

“Need help?” Mikel asked.

“With the fat one,” Alden replied. “Might take all three of us.”

“I’d bet.” Mikel spat to the side.

Alden rolled the body into the shallow grave, letting out a sickening crunch as it landed. “Is Frenna always like this?”

Mikel shook his head. “Just for the newbies. Some don’t quite take to killing, but that’s part of the work. A soldier who doesn't kill is like a farmer who doesn't shovel shit.”

“This is a twisted way to go about it.”

“Aye, I’ll agree to that. Now drag the other rotters over before she catches us slacking.”

When they had finished the sun was inching towards dawn. They would stay the night, by Frenna’s orders; the cave was safer than any camp. Alden had volunteered for the first watch, and sat at the center of the criminals operation to best view the entrance and the captives.

The traffickers's operation had been the start of something large, that much was easy to see. The walls were lined with crates and barrels, and several tables had been set up, each of them littered with glass flasks, pestle & mortars, and metal tins. Enough to make a hundred doses of Graftia a day, so long as they had the leaves.

Graftia was technically the name of the plant itself, but its only known purpose was as a drug. Brown and green, the leaves were long and slender and had a strong, sour smell that clung to the air and clothes alike. The smell worsened when it was processed, and already the traffickers had produced nearly a thousand doses ready to ship. Enough for the entire barony.

Alden sighed silently. Between the prisoners and the drugs, tomorrow would be rife with work. He longed for a vacation of some sort, perhaps a journey to another city, or even just resting at an inn for a few days. Did soldiers even get vacations? He’d never asked.

He turned his attention to his status.

Alden Lyons

Age: 24

Health: 290/290

Mana: 175/175

Level: 5

EXP: 600/1600

Money: 10 gold, 60 silver, 45 copper

Rank: None

Titles

None

Stats (15 points remain)

Strength: 19

Intelligence: 27

Wisdom: 15

Dexterity: 14

Agility: 13

Endurance: 14

Luck: 20

Charisma: 21

Skills

Diagnosis Magic Rank F

Healing Magic Rank D

Observation Rank F

Elemental Magic Rank F

Magic Control Rank D

Swordsmanship Rank D

Horsemanship Rank D

Aptitudes

None

Special Abilities

All-Maker

Leadership Lv 1

He had made decent progress since becoming a soldier, as his fights showed, but when he thought of Frenna and Peren his body went cold. The gulf between them was far vaster than he had ever expected.

He should have expected, though, if he’d cared to think about it. Knights were landed individuals, a mere step below the barons they served, and one could only become such through impressive skill and deeds. Even the weakest knights were on par with high level D rank or low level C rank adventurers. Berns and his group had only been F rank adventurers, albeit on the cusp of D rank. Still no more than a step above commoners, however, and Alden had been even lower still.

Looking at his Stats, Alden wondered at how to distribute his 15 points. His physical Stats had grown from hard work and continued victories, and would no doubt continue to grow as he trained and fought. His mental Stats grew as well, from time to time, but they grew slowly. It would be best to devote his points to them, he felt.

But which ones? Wisdom was an obvious choice. It directly aided his mana pool and helped him with his decisions. And, though he had no proof, he believed it had something to do with the nearly invisible threads he had seen. Gold and green, the first had led him to wealth and the second had led him to developing his Skills. If increasing Wisdom allowed him to see such threads more clearly it would be the obvious choice.

Then there was Luck or Charisma. Luck was, of course, a mysterious force, but unreliable at such a low level. How much would he have to increase it for it to become as readily useful as the other Stats? He couldn’t chance it.

Charisma, on the other hand, was stranger still. He focused on it, bringing up its description.

Charisma

The quality of swaying others. With higher Charisma, the chances of persuading or beguiling others increases.

A powerful Stat, had he been in a position to use it. But, as a common soldier, he was not. Not yet.

That left Intelligence.

Intelligence

The quality of gaining and using knowledge. With higher Intelligence, learning speed, thinking speed, memory recall, and other mental abilities increase.

He stared at it a moment, thinking. It was the most powerful by far, had he had the time to grow it. But, as he looked upon its description, he dismissed it out of hand. It did not confer to him anything direct, as his physical Stats did, nor did it aid his mana pool as Wisdom did.

He dismissed the description and brought up his Status once more, looking upon its values. Resolute, he allocated his points.

Alden Lyons

Age: 24

Health: 290/290

Mana: 235/235

Level: 5

EXP: 600/1600

Money: 10 gold, 60 silver, 45 copper

Rank: None

Titles

None

Stats

Strength: 19

Intelligence: 30

Wisdom: 27

Dexterity: 14

Agility: 13

Endurance: 14

Luck: 20

Charisma: 21

Skills

Diagnosis Magic Rank F

Healing Magic Rank D

Observation Rank F

Elemental Magic Rank F

Magic Control Rank D

Swordsmanship Rank D

Aptitudes

None

Special Abilities

All-Maker

Leadership Lv 1

He could not completely dismiss Intelligence out of hand, and so had distributed 3 points to it. The rest he put into Wisdom, watching as his mana grew.

There was no physical sensation that came with the growing pool of power. Nothing to indicate that he had grown other than the numbers that hovered before him. Still, he knew the power was real.

He sat idly the rest of the time until Osbit relieved him of guard duty.

Laying on the hard rock floor, Alden felt his bones settle. Even through the leathers and chainmail he wore he could feel the roughness of the rock floor; it sapped at his warmth, the opposite of a fire, and it was all he could do to keep from shivering.

Fitful sleep claimed him after a time. He awoke many times in the night to various sounds. Dripping water, the first time, from the ceiling of the cave. The second time was screaming, so loud he jolted upright only to see that nothing was amiss. It was only a nightmare, he told himself. Sleep did not come easily after that, but it came.

The third time was the worst of it. His mother’s voice, saying something, but as he awoke the words slipped from his mind. Grief filled him then, as if his heart was being squeezed by icy fingers. He wept silently and slept no more that night.

In the morning they collected the crates and barrels of drug paraphernalia and settled them into a corner of the cave. The prisoners escorted safely outside, Alden cast fire magic and burned the crates. The flames were hot and purple, and the smoke that rose from the fire was putrid and choking. It was the safest method of disposal they had; Graftia broke down in the presence of heat, becoming no more than bitter paste.

They left the cave and watched as smoke bellowed out from behind the waterfall. Once it ceased they checked the insides once more, then left.

On horseback they rode, the prisoners walking single file behind, barefoot and naked except for a simple sack. With thick rope the prisoners were leashed together, with Mikel as their holder. Frenna had them ride at decent speed, forcing the prisoners into a jog.

With no more caves to check they reached Addens shortly after midday.

They came into Addens slowly. Dirt and blood marked every prisoner’s feet and legs, what was left of them; two had collapsed on the way, and Frenna had them killed rather than give them rest.

She had no mercy for criminals, it seemed, and he could not blame her. Still, the sight of men bleeding beside the road did not put joy in his heart.

As they came into Addens past the gate Alden saw the shine of full plate armor ahead of them, along with a line of prisoners not unlike their own. The knight turned to face them and Alden saw that it was Peren, back from his own mission.

“A good haul, I take it?” he said to Frenna.

“Very good, Peren. A thousand doses burned and those responsible either dead or prisoner. And you?”

“The same,” Peren said, face suddenly sour. “A thousand doses? Are you certain?”

“At least, perhaps one to two hundred more. Why?”

“We found the same.”

The two knights fell silent, each raising the signal for their soldiers. Stay quiet. Say nothing unless necessary. It was a bad omen, to say the least.

Together they marched the prisoners through the streets. Townspeople stood at the sidelines, letting out a mix of cheers and viscous remarks to the line of criminals. Some threw rocks or pieces of wood, with one smacking hard against a prisoner's head with a sickening crunch. The man fell, and when Alden inspected him he saw that the man’s head had been caved in completely, bits of blood and bone and flesh spilling out.

“He’s dead,” Alden said.

“Did you see who threw it?” Frenna asked.

“No.”

“It doesn’t matter, then. Unstrap him and move on.”

As Alden undid the ropes binding the dead man he looked up to Peren’s group, inspecting them. They were not much different than the group they had caught, and had been treated much the same. It was what they deserved, he told himself. Kill your mercy, it has no place in this world.

Yet amidst the group he saw a familiar face and the thought was dashed. Large and bald headed, a scar running across the top. Berns.

Alden wished for mercy to prevail.