Chapter 80 - Gamble

The next day, a group made up of five Knights, Grace, and Tim the Ranger headed straight for the nightmare dungeon. Grace was level eight, Alfred and Miles level seven, Tim was level three, and Stephan had chosen three level five Knights at random to join them.

“Do you think they’ll be all right?” Muriel asked.

“They should be.” Stephan said. He wasn’t certain, but he had an inkling that the optimal growth was achieved in situations that conformed with your class the best. Ranger turning an enemy into a hedgehog and Knights fighting desperately to protect the Saintess who is busy healing and blessing them seemed like the right approach. Staging the whole thing and having Stephan act the guardian would almost certainly diminish or negate any gains they would gather on their own. In the end, he would have to trust them, and better to start early, so they grew both as class-holders and as people.

Marshal Harrington had said the Paladins were historically too conservative and defensive. Risk-averse, he called it. Perhaps by taking a calculated risk here and there, he could help his followers grow. He hoped the gamble would pay off.

“They will return by evening, assuming you marked the path for them,” he tried to sound relaxed despite worrying about them quite a bit.

Still, he had a gut feeling they would manage. Three of the Knights wore mail armor, and they all carried shields and spears with swords as their secondary weapons. Stephan explained the basics of how to hold a formation. In a tight corridor five men could form a spear wall, assuming the patch was straight and long enough. With a bowman and someone to heal them added, they should wrap it all up without a problem.

“I left clear markings on trees with chalk,” Muriel said. “They’ll find it unless they are blind.”

Stephan’s heart was beating fast. He was risking a lot, but if he remembered correctly what Old Tod had told him about Brighthollow’s Nightmare Hollow, the monsters would spill out once they reached level ten. Since Newhope was smaller, the levels should be lower. And the group that had just left should be able to handle a level twelve enemy or someone even more powerful.

He tried not to think about it as he drilled the Knights and Sentries over the course of four hours. Then, after lunch, he went to train with Muriel in the wilderness. It was just the two of them, and the woman kept them in the area through which the others had passed. She forced him to read the tracks left that morning by the party which had headed out to clear the dungeon, all the while asking weird questions.

Which person exactly had made this print? What about that? In which formation did they march?

“Steve!” Muriel admonished him. “Pay attention. Who was at the front?”

“Tim!”

“Yes, of course it was Tim, but I want you to show me his—”

“There’s Tim!” Stephan shouted. “Is everyone all right?”

Muriel snorted in exasperation, but abandoned the lesson.

“Of course they’re all right—” she stopped talking at the sight of Alfred’s soiled mail armor. The links were painted a rusty red of dried blood, his face sporting fresh, pink skin.

“I’m fine,” the young man said bravely before anyone else could utter a word. “Lady Grace healed me.”

Stephan looked at him carefully. He couldn’t tell for certain what caused the injury, but the pattern of the blood splattered suggested a claw. One that had struck him on the cheek and tore all the way down, nicking the throat.

Still, the man beamed, and Stephan swallowed what he was going to say, his voice instead taking a praising, encouraging tone.

“Did you clear them all?”

“Nine,” Alfred said, puffing out his chest. “There were nine monsters, and we slew them all.”

“The three of us all got a level each,” Grace said, “Tim got three, Jon, Hob, and Rob got two.”

Stephan’s throat grew tight. He gave them a small bow, just enough to hide his pained face.

I almost sent one of you to die.

“Good work! Thank you for keeping the Saintess safe, everyone. Thanks to your efforts, Newhope should be safe from now on as long as the Sentries clear the dungeon once a month. No new monsters should escape the cave.”

They have to grow. Things will get worse before they get better.

“You should head back to the fort and celebrate. Muriel and I will catch up with you shortly. But first, we’ll scout out the dungeon’s layout, so I can make a map of it for those who will be tasked with cleaning it in the future.”

Grace seemed as if she wanted to say something, then lowered her gaze.

“Take care,” she whispered.

The two groups split, going in opposite directions. A minute later, with them out of earshot, Muriel spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The girl, the fact you nearly soiled yourself when you saw Alfred was bloody, the weather…”

Stephan eyed Muriel.

“What do you think about the weather?” he asked slowly.

“Pretty normal for this time of year.”

Stephan waited for her to say something else, but that was it.

“Muriel,” he broke the silence, “you’re free to say whatever’s on your mind.”

“You shouldn’t be leading the girl on. Tell her if you’re interested or tell her you aren’t and be done with it. Whichever you pick will be better than watching her dance circles around you, trying to draw attention. It’s frustrating.”

Stephan sighed. “I’m not interested. I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to care about anyone for a long time.”

He sighed again. “You’re right. I should tell her. I’ll die alone. That seems to be the Paladin’s lot in life.”

Facing that truth was uncomfortable. Perhaps he could try spending one of his future lives as a common man, settling down with a family, but no. Even that was too terrifying to consider.

And by the time my final life comes along, will I even have a heart? I’m already tired, and it’s just the beginning.

Muriel’s shoulders drooped slightly. She is interested too. And yet she called Grace frustrating while she doesn’t dare make the move herself.

“As for Alfred being bloodied.” He hesitated. “Yes, I felt, feel worried and guilty. I can’t help it; that’s who I am. And while I am hesitant, they need to grow; better to risk their lives now against limited danger than letting them out on the battlefield unprepared. Our time is short. Historically, I’ve read about minor nobles’ deaths going unnoticed for weeks, sometimes months, while competent heirs outmaneuvered their older siblings, but Daniel the steward told me Eldric is expected to appear for a raid come mid-fall. We could let him join them, but the risk is too great. We have around three months to take over the entire region.”

Stephan stopped and rubbed his temples. “Grace gives us a measure of divine legitimacy before the people, one which we can leverage against the brigand king, and with enough Knights, Priests, and Healers we will have the power to fight against superior numbers. The problem is time.”

It’s always time. Events unfold much too fast. It’s because I’m weak. Once I grow stronger, I’ll just ask Harrington to lend me his armor, and I can win this war all by myself. What if I move the eastern army and all its forces down south? We could create a new kingdom here, with Eleanor at the helm, and then slowly reclaim the north. That’s not that bad of an idea…

“You stopped talking, Steve. Did you think of something?”

Stephan inclined his head slightly. “Perhaps. But it’s too soon to discuss. I need to grow stronger before I can test it.”

He clenched his fist, knuckles popping. A part of him approved of the plan. He could leave the unreasonable ones, the greedy, the warlocks, and demon worshipers behind. Let them all fight it out and live in the filth of their own making while he reforged the kingdom in a land of Commoners. The only thing that bothered him was the righteousness of it all. If he moved people south, the north would suffer.

Isn’t the south already suffering?

“One step at a time,” he said aloud, even though he didn’t mean to, but went along with it. “Let’s see what’s in that dungeon. The one near my town was easy enough to navigate, but there was a chamber one might miss if they weren’t careful. Have you ever visited Treetop’s Nightmare Hollow?”

Muriel shook her head. “We have Sentries for that. Again, while Trackers can fight with a bow and most of us learn how to wield a dagger, that’s not our primary purpose.”

Stephan flashed a confident smile. “In that case, stay behind me. I’ll do the fighting. And I’ll find the hollow myself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I should hang myself right now if you haven’t learned how to follow marked trees, Sir.”

Stephan chuckled. He pretended not to see Muriel’s hurt and led the way into the forest. Every thirty paces or so a tree sported lines done in chalk, and if he failed to follow such an obvious trail, well… he should hang himself instead of letting Muriel shoulder the blame for his failings.