Weapons lined the walls—swords, spears, axes, halberds, shields. The standards of the army, but he even saw a trident sticking on the far wall, looking more like a display piece than an actual weapon. A few soldiers occupying the shop looked up at it while others glanced at them.
A few whispers of the Gravewalker entered his ears. Kesh grinned next to him.
“Not long before you get the title,” he said. “Our own meat shield. I would have loved that with the trolls.”
“You all are too sure the title will make me undying. What if the title gives me some other traits?” he asked back, looking over a pair of daggers.
“Like what?”
“Maybe the ability to bring men back to life. You know, a necromancer. Then I can have you all as undying meat shields.”
Kesh’s grin faltered. “The army will throw you out if that's the case. Or worse, kill you.”
Rayne smiled. “They are already trying hard for that. Anyway, let's see if Master Lander is available.”
They walked up to the counter. A scrawny soldier yawned, sitting on a chair and only briefly glanced at them. Behind him, through an open flap, they could see sparks flying around as apprentices worked on more weapons for the army.
The troll war had broken a lot of them.
“Is Master Lander available?” Rayne asked as the soldier took another yawn.
“Why do you need him?” he asked, drowsy eyes looking at him.
“He made my armour. I'm looking for a new sword and shield to go with it. My current one is just the basic set given by the army. Not exactly suited to me.” Rayne pointed at the troll armour he wore.
Once heavy, it now fitted him like a second skin. Partly because of him wearing it every day, and partly because of the gains in his stats.
The soldier's eyes went to his armour and brief recognition flashed in his eyes. He stood up. “You the Gravewalker?”
Kesh nodded before he could. “Yes, he is. Where's Master Lander?”
“He's too busy to come here for every single thing. What are you looking for?” he asked. “Anything other than the basic sword costs you coins and even materials.”
“I made a lot of gains.” Rayne smiled. “But mostly in troll and goblin materials, and I haven't really gotten any coins from them yet. But do you make swords from them?”
The soldier's smile fell. “Then, you might not get a good one.”
Kesh raised an eyebrow, placing his hand on the counter. “What do you mean?”
The man pointed at all the other soldiers gathered in the shop. “Every soldier here came with the same request, saying they killed trolls and want something out of their portion. But there are two things they don't understand.”
“And what's that?” Rayne asked.
“First of all, troll or goblin skin doesn’t make for good swords.” He pointed at his armour. “Good armour perhaps, in the hands of someone like Master Lander. Swapping those materials for weapons won't help you at all.”
Rayne frowned, already not liking where this was going. “What's the second thing?”
“That you won't get as many coins as you think,” the man said coolly. “No one killed a troll alone. Even if people think you did the risky work and deserve the higher share, others will chip away. Let's say the army managed to sell one troll's body for a gold. How much do you think you will get? Less than 10 silver. There's the cut the army takes for its coffers, and then the soldiers get the leftovers.”
“What about the goblin materials?” Kesh clenched his jaw. Rayne knew he was hoping for a big haul for all the suicidal things they had done to kill trolls.
“Even worse. There were so many killed. The market rate for their materials isn't a lot in the first place. Only their teeth and blood are anything useful, and when there's abundance, even the army finds it hard to sell. If you had gotten any monsters with poison, you would have earned a lot more. Alchemists and mages pay good coins for extracting their poison.”
Rayne and Kesh met eyes, and both thought the same thing. They had left so many arcspider corpses back in the tunnels. They would have surely paid enough for a new set of armour.
But they couldn't go back to get them. Even if the warlord was dead, Rayne didn't want to experience breathing in the tunnels again, not knowing where a monster would jump out from.
“So, what now?” he asked, words coming out more bitter than expected.
“I can show you some swords and shields that would cost you in silver, but they aren't much better than the basic ones. Soldiers still get them though.” The man offered, and a bit reluctantly, they nodded.
It turned out those swords were even worse than Rayne had expected. They were heavier than the basic sword, and didn't swing as well in the air. Mostly the works of apprentices getting sold for far more than they deserved.
Any good ones were too pricey for them. And the soldier refused to trade any troll materials for them.
There was one sword and shield that Rayne fancied that he saw on the wall. Made from something called red iron, it was light and sturdy. Exactly what he had been looking for, and made by Master Lander himself. But it was 6 gold. A fortune for the current him who didn't even get paid by the army.
Everything he earned was in monster slaying. Kesh wasn't much better. The army only paid 10 silvers a month to the new recruits, which in his words was barely a living.
Getting a cut from the monsters made up for it though, and was the major reason young people signed themselves up for a life of blood and death. Other than the glory hunting.
In the end, both of them stepped out of the workshop without getting anything, and a bad reality check they didn't need days after the troll war.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The afternoon sun beat down on them worse than the reality of being poor soldiers, and Kesh stomped his feet on the ground in anger with each step.
“Couldn't even buy a sword better than a piece of scrap,” he muttered, spitting on dirt. “Our party performed the best. All that risk killing the trolls and we get the same rusty stuff the other soldiers get. You nearly died, and Edran didn't even bother giving a reward.”
Rayne gave him a sidelong look. He felt the same disappointment and anger as him, but also was sure of underlying politics that had made Edran unwilling to give him any extra rewards.
He was almost sure just the troll armour had ruffled some feathers.
He didn't voice them out though. “Maybe the haul from the trolls would be better.”
“I don't know,” Kesh replied, looking up at birds flying through the fort. “I just wonder why we even bother fighting if the army treats us like this. Any good mercenary team would have been far more fair.”
“I wonder that every day,” he replied. “I’m just thinking how we will afford good gear going forward. We will need some before the orders to march to the frontlines.”
Kesh nodded grimly. “I know. I have heard that dungeon outbreaks are one of the worst things the army faces.”
Rayne didn't reply. The rumours of them marching for the frontlines had spread the next day after the celebrations. He didn't know a lot about dungeons, but he did have an idea.
Bran had also told a few things about them, and not one of them had been good. He wanted new gear for precisely that, but it seemed like his luck had run out after getting the [Lesser Regeneration] skill.
Their steps took them past some barracks and tents with only a few soldiers moving past them in regular patrols. The fort felt almost empty at this time of the day, and Rayne wondered if everyone was just inside their rooms, playing cards.
He would certainly like that.
But as their steps took them past some training grounds, the clash of steel rang out in their ears. Alongside them came cheers and shouts of names that made them pause.
They looked at each other in confusion.
“What's going on?” Rayne asked.
“A squad doing a training session?”
“The sounds are too loud for that. Let's check it out.”
They quickly made their steps towards the noises that brought them to the largest training ground in the fort. And what they saw made their eyes widen.
A large group of soldiers occupied the training grounds, standing in a wide circle. They shouted and cheered at the sounds of steel clashing in the centre. Rayne propped himself up on a side bench to take a better look and saw two soldiers sparring.
But they were too aggressive and serious for it to be a normal spar.
Even as he watched, a soldier cleaved the blade on the other’s shoulder. Blood drew instantly as the man grinned and moved forward for the next strike.
“Rayne, take a look at that,” Kesh's voice drew his attention back and he saw him pointing on the other side.
Several large boards were placed there, propped against crates. Few men stood in front of them, talking among themselves, voices drowned in the sea of cheers.
Rayne jumped down from the bench, moving with Kesh to see what the boards were about. As they reached closer, he saw names scribbled on the board with chalk in neat columns. They were all names of soldiers, and he recognised a few.
There were numbers written beside their names.
“What do you think this is?” Kesh narrowed his eyes at the boards.
Before he could reply, a familiar voice came from behind and Nate grabbed both of their shoulders, a grin flashing across his face.
“You two finally got time to come participate in the ranking bouts.”
“Ranking what?” he asked.
“Bouts, spars, the competition to decide who has the biggest balls,” he replied. “Captain Edran finally gave permission to hold it to give the soldiers some entertainment. A gift for surviving the troll war, I believe. They have been at it for a few days now. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it before.”
Rayne took another look at the boards. He had been occupied with more ledgers the past few days. Axel had sent it to him so he could stay in the room to recover and do some work at the same time, at least those were his words.
He had only finished it yesterday night and hadn't come out for more than an hour a day for a sparring session with Bran.
“I believe I did hear of it,” Kesh replied. “But I just forgot. Bran hasn't been easy with his training, and I have mostly been joining the card games in the mess hall. It came up there, but I thought it's just a small thing.”
Nate patted his shoulders enthusiastically. “You couldn't be more wrong. It's one event where you can make a large haul with your bets, and if you manage to become a ranker, the few women in the camp would be looking at you like you are their knight in shining armour.”
“Have you participated?” Rayne asked, looking through the boards to search for his name.
Nate grimaced. “Once. I lost. But the guy was one of the rankers. I didn't even bet on myself.”
He pointed at the third board where his name was on the 96th position. Below his name were more crossed-out names that Rayne assumed were people who could no longer fight.
“Rankers? What's that?” Kesh asked, brows drawing together.
The cheers erupted in the wide circle then and he guessed that the fight was over. Quite a few people seemed to have bet on the right man.
“The top fighters. They are in the top ten. Their fights are the most intense as well as the best silver-maker if Lukara decides to be generous. Look at the first board.”
Rayne did that and slowly went through the names of each man on the board. There were 25 of them, but he only took notice of the first ten. And he was more than surprised to see some familiar names.
- Korus
- Ardan
- Fredrick
- Johnson
- Haroon
- Kundan
- Jason
- Fabio
- Bran
- Dyle
He expected Ardan and Bran to be there—they were two of the best fighters he knew. He also recognised Kundan from his first night as Rayne, but Fredrick's name shocked him.
The noble brat had never looked like he had even an ounce of courage and fighting skill. Yet his name was third in the rankings.
Nate seemed to realise what he was thinking. “He's not bad, Fredrick. Noble lords are given sword lessons very early, so their weapon mastery skills are always good, and a lot of men also don't want to go too hard on him. Offending a noble isn't worth some coin. Hence, he's at the third.”
“Where are the squad leaders?” Kesh asked.
“They don't bother. Even their deputies don't. It's too beneath them. It's mostly for the common soldiers to have fun, get a reputation, and make some good coin,” Nate said, then looked between the two of them. “So, how about it? You two are interested. I still have some good coin left to bet.”
Rayne took his time to reply, thinking back to the conversation in the workshop. He looked back to the circle of soldiers cheering and clapping. He needed money for better gear, and he didn't have permission to go hunt monsters out in the wilds right now.
He was a sitting duck till the next quest, and Rayne didn't like that.
“Okay, I'm in.” Nate's grin stretched at his words. “But I need information.”
“About what?”
“About all the good fighters you have seen. Their strengths, weaknesses, and overall profile. If I'm doing it, I'm going to do it right.”
***
Author's Note - I'm sick and recovering, so there were no chapters recently, but I'm trying to get back to schedule.