The Adventurers Feast

"Argggggghh!"

He could have called for help making the task a whole lot easier.

"Fuuuuuuuuuc-Grrrrrrrrrr!"

But he didn't want anyone seeing him in this state. He didn't want to show such weakness.

"Graaaaaaaah!"

The fact that he had healed a little over the top of the branch made it even more painful.

"Gaaaaaa-AAAAAARH"

To the point he felt like passing out.

Plop.

But he endured through his last ounce of sheer fucking will.

"Huff… Hufff", beads of sweat dripped from his forehead, his fairly skinny body excreting a whole lot of moisture.

On the floor spread an abundance of blood, surrounding the fairly thick branch sprawled on the ground, yet Silas's priority was to stuff his gaping hole with the remainder of his spare shirt wraps, using his hand wraps as well as anything else to tie it down. He was no medical expert, but he knew using such dirty rags was by no means sanitary. But considering he healed his wounds naturally, he wondered if he was immune to such infections.

'Fuck, I don't want to think about it', he was already under such pressure, he wanted to just pass out there on the bed. He figured potions or doctors could be bought if necessary, but external help was only his last resort.

He finally huffed his last puff, his breathing slowly regulating over time. He got up from the bed he sat, leaning on the stick he had put to the side before the whole endeavor. Before his leg was numb, but he could struggle to move it. Now it was painful whenever he so much as leaned forward, the struggle more intense as he forced himself to move to the end of the bed.

'Ffff-perhaps I should just buy a potion? No', he didn't want to waste unnecessary amounts of money. And he would document the speed until such an injury recovers.

'Until then…', he would hide any traces. With that thought, he willed for the blood to move.

All the blood on the floor started floating up and he clutched the sphere in his hands, as the entire room drained of the blood spillage, the remainder of the blood seeped through his finger creases. He lifted the once impaled branch with the same arm, held under his armpit, the other already in use with the crutch. He then managed to open the door, and continue forward.

Following the feat, he left outside without a word, the sounds of his crutches creaky thuds were not enough to drown out the tumultuous banter drowning out his presence downstairs. On exit he discarded the clean branch, and threw his blood traces to the side with a splatter.

He soon found himself following the main road towards the market square, finding the same shop for his clothes that he had approached the previous day, on the verge of closing. All other market stalls along the way had been well and truly closed, but it seemed some of the building businesses including the one he stood in front of, could afford to remain open a little longer.

After the quick shopping spree, stood adorned in a new hand wrap and brown tunic, while 73 points lighter in his pouch. He contemplated just leaving to his dorm, but realized he needed to express his goodbyes otherwise miscommunication could lead them astray. It would likely be a week before they next meet after all, maybe 2 if he only wanted to come by for his payment. But regular check ins were a better approach for recent investments.

Following that thought, he made it back to the guild, realizing how the long table his slaves were at was now almost completely full, the room as a result, a whole lot more rowdy. But as he limped his way over, he noticed the glares from other tables, their attention not just on him, but the table he was about to join. Even so, he was used to such looks of scorn.

'But it's odd, we were never looked at this way last night. Is it due to the people sat at this table?', but there was only one way to find out.

Creak.

He pulled out a stool, one of the last available ones. It was next to a man he recognized, a man clad in stone. Sat adjacent to the man a few heads over was Thaite, Ferlein and Galgael on the opposite side. He couldn't see Dromund from where he sat, hidden by tens of people sitting in the way of the row.

"Oh it's the weakyling", the stone man spoke as Silas sat, "here", he passed a plate of food over.

"It's on us"

"Why?", he couldn't accept a free meal, not if it had strings attached.

"Why not? I'm giving you a free meal, just take it- ayack. Stop it", he muttered disgruntled.

A girl sat next to him pulling on his ear. Silas was sure it didn't hurt considering he had tried his best to do so the other night, and he assumed the stone to be lacking pain receptors. Although reminded of last night he couldn't help but clutch his face and sigh, remembering his embarrassing display. He didn't like losing control of himself.

"Don't mind him, his intentions mean well", a pleasant voice entered his ears, his face tilting out from his hands to peer at the lady.

She was the fox girl that waved at him this morning, her pink eyes peering at him as she gave a natural smile.

"Free food is a tradition we adventurers have when a new group enters our ranks, the house doesn't pay for it of course, just all of us", she gestured at the length of the table they sat at.

'Just like a minority group encouraging new members against choosing a hostile faction, but why is there such discord between the adventurers and the mercs?', his head tilted as he continued to peer into her animalistic eyes.

"He just means to- bleh"

The stone man pushed her face away, his firm grip covering most of the side of her face.

"Stop it Vixen", he had enough of having his ear pinched all this while.

"You stop it Dale. You're rubbing off all my makeup! You've no idea how much it costs!", she clutched at his grip and tried to pull it away to no avail.

"You don't need that stuff, yer plenty beautiful without it"

"That's…", Silas heard something shuffle, so he couldn't help but lean back as her 4 tails wagged.

'I'd thought foxes were similar to cats. Why does her tails wag like a dogs? And she's 4 of them… Doesn't that make her the highest rank of commoners in her race?'

But the stone man seemed to acknowledge the act as well, as he finally stopped pushing away her face. He put his finger to his cheek, rubbing it and speaking, while she served to perform the same action, checking how much of the thin layer remained. All while her cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"You er, you're doing it again"

Which caused the smile blooming on her face to stiffen, as she clutched at her tails behind her, forcing them to stop.

"Ah, ahem", she coughed, trying to retain her dignity.

But her mesmerizing appearance was blocked as the man's chiseled stone face entered the fray, his head leaning down to fill Silas's space. 

"But if you won't eat…", he ushered, applying a hand to Silas's shoulder. His other reaching over the table, his face in the way of the object that he grabbed.

"Have a drink instea-"

"Get your hands off me", Silas spoke after flinching. Upon the man's contact with his skin, his body couldn't help but tremble.

"I won't fucking say it again", he tried to swat the man's hand away, but it proved a futile effort as the man's face stiffened.

"I was just trying to be poli-"

"Dale, you heard him", Vixen seemed to have come to his rescue once more.

"Haaa", Dale lifted his hand from him, putting both in the air as if he had done no wrong.

"Sorry about that, he can get a little touchy"

"And he can get a little grumpy", Thaites voice went unnoticed due to the many conversations disrupting him as he was a distance away, the closer target Vixen however, couldn't help but turn her attention.

"Cheeky", she responded.

And as Thaite noticed her attention he couldn't help but glance at Ferlein from the corner of his eye, then switching to his tankard of beer before opening that mouth of his.

"Could you get me a cup of water? I'm suddenly really thirsty"

Her attention was short lived however, as Dale's booming voice responded to hers.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"What?"

"To be touched by me that is"

"Uh, no", she giggled, leaning forward while ensuring Silas heard her.

"While he's rock hard, down there he remains… Stiffly rigid… And not, um, firm"

"What the hell, it's a medical condition okay?", he laughed but Silas assumed it was to mask the hint of sadness he detected within his voice.

"My blood can't circulate properly cause it's uh… Too heavy down there, shall we say"

"No let's… Not say that", she squinted and took a sip of the tankard in her hands, her cheeks flushing red as her lips parted from the tankard, "kyah".

Dale couldn't help but perform the same action, and slapped Silas on the back, insisting on the cup in front of him with a cheerful expression.

'Is the dullard stupid, or is the alcohol making him daft'

Silas's body jolted forward and back as the man patted him from behind, his face stiffened within every clap. But he couldn't help but peer at the drink in front of him, the root for the emphasis the man placed upon him.

'People get addicted when they have a past to drown out. I'm no better than them, but I will not become the same as… Him. It did feel good to unwind for once, but that lost me control, and put me back into an unfavorable situation. I'm not losing myself to it again'

As his thoughts concluded, his anger reached its peak, the last of the man's slap propelling his body forward once more. His blood boiled, and his hands curled into fists.

Bam.

He lashed out at the table, his fist smashing down with a thunderous thud. He caused a scene, and many at the table looked over to him.

"I told you not to touch me. Do you have ears? Or is your head as dense as your skin"

"Dale's head is as empty as a rock"

"No, as empty as a stone, you idiot"

"I'll put yooou down again, stahp annoying 'de masta"

"Bwahaha"

The drunken ramblings continued to fester around him, as if amused at his outrage, mocking and teasing him. Silas winced at the freeness of thought they all displayed. He felt ridiculed, his fists clenching tighter as a result. But his heart calmed as he finally realized that the man he taunted had stopped patting him, his hands finally keeping to himself.

"Man, you don't gotta be so rude about it", Dale rubbed his head, but his eyes squinted as he suddenly sneered.

"Unless you're looking for a fight again"

"Ohhh, Dales gonna fight again", someone at the table exclaimed, and Dale flexed his muscles in response.

"Dale calm down, don't go about causing a mess again", Vixen slapped his head however, diffusing the clamor immediately as a reaction.

"The mercs are already annoyed by your antics yesterday", she peered at some of the men staring from other tables.

While other tables were similarly rowdy, theirs was the most rumbustious as a natural result of their superior numbers. Those numbers however didn't match the sheer amount of people totalled from every other table.

"I only fought before cause I thought he'd be one of them, well that amongst other things. But he hasn't changed, he wants to fight again as adventurers. It'd be wrong if I don't oblige"

Silas's calming heart started beating faster again as he glared at the taller, more muscular man. But the fox girl spoke once again, as she brought up a topic she knew would distract him. Dale never turned his attention to Silas as a result.

"How's your brother been doing, how would he think of this behavior?"

"My… Brother?"

"Yes, how's Dave?"

'Haven't I heard that name before?', but there were few names worth remembering within his life, fewer still from favorable encounters.

"Davie wouldn't care about this"

"No, but you wouldn't be setting a good example for him had he heard of the fights you've caused"

"Bah! That fucking addict lives for fights, it's why he chose to stay with them rather than me"

"I know", she calmed him by rubbing his arm, "but he will never be convinced if you don't prove it's different living here".

"Damn it", he muttered, his face grimacing.

"Damn it, you're right"

"I'm always right", she rubbed his back and soothed.

"No you're-"

"I'm always right", she repeated.

'Hm, well with the family drama aside… I should say what needs to be said and get going', he didn't like being around so many people, but he first took a bite of the steak on the plate in front of him.

After finding the meal to be decent, he stayed around only to satiate his appetite, but as people around him tried to mingle he decided to instead get up and finish things. The atmosphere was loud and rowdy, and while he felt included last night, with a clear head he would rather be able to hear himself think.

So without further adieu he walked over to get Thaite's attention.

"I know with age comes wisdom an' all, but how do you tolerate that bastard?"

"Ah, ye just got a biased perception of 'em is all"

"No, I really don't. I'm just surprised you can tell me that"

But the dwarf proceeded to ignore him, "Ay? Well… Have ay ever told ya 'bout the story of my army days?".

"Er, No? We haven't really met that lon-", but Silas clutched at his shoulder, ready to express all that needed said.

While he leaned into Thaite's ear to be heard in the loud atmosphere, the dwarf continued prattling on unaware as he cheerfully indulged in tales and drink.

"Well, back I'd say maybe 30 years ago, mind you I was in service 60 odd years ago… I'd this commander that was a real right prick…"

"Thaite, here's the key to room 107, it's colour coded if you're illiterate. Actually, give it to Dromund later, but It'll do you this night so gather everything there by the end of it. I'll be coming back in a week so be sure to have everyone sorted by then, we'll be heading outside again, just don't slack off in the meantime"

Before Thaite could even get a word in, he left the guild taking his points and bag of clothes. He left the weapons behind, as it would aid in his slaves generating an income. While he had already bought a room for them this morning, they would have to figure out the rest on their own.

Following his leave, out on the street he walked, behind a secluded building he sought. Thereby he exchanged his peasant attire for his grayed and fashionable school clothes, most similar to a suit with golden tips, lining and decor as well as a black tie. It was exceptionally formal for school wear, exceptionally fancy as a result. The perfect attire for nobles, for such egotists to stand out from the crowd. One should feel honor dressed in such attire. One who has positive feelings for the school that is.

…

Silas carried his bag with his recently purchased clothes. He faced no troubles entering the academic area, easily entering his dorms. Upon entering his room, he shut the door behind him, sighing as he could finally breathe out a sigh of relief.

It was only at home could one feel safe, where he could let loose and delve deep while ordering his thoughts. He placed his crutch at the end of his bed, tumbling on top of his sheets. He sniffed himself, acknowledging that he needed a shower. But there was one thing he needed to do first.

Following a sigh, he sat upright on his bed. In a world of magic, how does one cultivate? He had a lot of knowledge in that regard. Knowledge only acquired through reading. But cultivation needed a lot of practice, not the procrastination that separated the weak from the daring.

In this world, cultivation was separated between the body, and the mana heart. One could become martial artists or mages as a result. But while one path was open for all, the way of the mage was a secluded route applicable only by the chosen ones. And those chosen were decided by their affinities at birth. 

Gifts were separate from affinities, they were guaranteed to make you succeed no matter what. Take himself for example, without wielding magic or having much experience in strengthening his body, he could take out a monster, albeit with some help, a league above his own rank. But that was not all that gifts entailed, subjectively more importantly, they guaranteed an affinity following an element that matched their gift. This meant even the weakest of gifts would help on their path of pursuing strength.

It was with such affinities that one drew in mana to their mana heart, expanding one's limits in order to grow and upgrade their cores. As a mage, that mana could then be expelled through the runes written on pillars that emerged after creating their cores. But that required someone to have an affinity to go through all of that. Without an affinity, one couldn't expand on their mana hearts, only passively recovering what they had to start with.

This meant that while everyone had a mana heart, few could actually cultivate it, though luckily one could form holes in their mana heart, expelling the mana within their bodies instead. This was the way of the body cultivators, to give strength to their bodies and use them as a weapon to bolster their physical capabilities.

The only problem with this was that it was slow and dangerous. One had to naturally recover their mana as well as first allow their mana heart to heal before injecting mana through their muscles once more. If too many holes were made, it risked exploding, all hope at cultivation lost as a result.

But that was not all there was to it, since the stronger and more varied of affinities, the more exponential one could gather mana into their hearts or to heal it. This meant that the stronger the affinity, the faster one could rise to the peak of either path, yet the choice would have to be made between mage or martial artist. Because while both could be chosen in theory, the mana heart could not be cultivated while the heart healed from improving the body.

While both paths were possible, they both infringed on each other. Such that it was better to cultivate one to the peak instead, or dabble in both but pick a main. It was common for talented body cultivators to upgrade their mana heart cores to the second rank first before directing all effort in pursuit of their body. Having the capability to perform simple spells just made life easier after all.

He had also practiced body cultivation, it being the only thing he could do. He often had to wait a week before his heart recovered to being capable of enduring strengthening again. But he was different now. He had a strong affinity with metal.

'And what a coincidence that is', he sighed in his heart.

His family had a special technique of body cultivation, it was why they were feared and respected despite being new. It also gave rise to wariness from other families, their political reach stagnated as a result.

But in order to endure such techniques one needed to have an affinity in metal, no matter how small. And he was born with none. Being discarded was the only natural result.

'But it's different now. If only I had at least been taught it', but the only one that knew of it now was his sister, or maybe his cousin and uncle if they were still alive.

He sighed again, 'I need to make do with what I have. I can't be lenient, I have to make the most to catch up with everyone else'.

Yet time was ticking. An adolescent's body provided faster natural results. Before one's body could reach their max maturity, their bones and muscles were more susceptible to muscle strengthening, and even mana stimulation for mages. It helped that all races were on the same level, all of them having the same age that their bodies halted to mature at. Even an elf, the longest of longevity of all mortal races would only cease their aging to match the rate of their longer life at the peak age of 21.

Yet his thoughts moved past that, becoming more curious of his future. While both paths now stood wide open for him, he could only choose one to bear at the moment.

'Now that I've an affinity, I could choose to become a mage like I dreamt of in the past… Though I don't remember everything I've read, I may need a quick reminder in the library tomorrow. But what path should I ultimately choose? Neither will allow me to outclass the training and latent talent of my higher ranked peers in either category. No, the only thing that separates me from them is my gift, so I must fight on the field of the gifted. That means I should choose whatever path best suits it, and would magic even allow it to work?'

He recalled how much strain controlling his blood had on his mind. It caused him to be weary and lightheaded at a much faster rate than he had originally anticipated in the forest. Controlling magic would be that much more to concentrate with all at once, but would magic attacks even allow for him to use an opponent's blood?

'No, I can't be sure. I shot the arrow and Galgael wasn't affected until I plunged it in with my own hands. And my ability lets me summon a blade for a reason, I must only be capable of using the blood with something I've inflicted physically, or with the blood ability as well', but he sighed again.

'It seemed my path was already decided then, but what weapon should I master? A club or hammer or anything blunt won't cut and produce as much blood as a result. A mace or flail won't cut as deeply, while a chain is more of a blunt weapon… A spear could work, but its pros are in reach and cons in close quarters, meanwhile my blood attacks can work mid to long range rendering it ineffective'

'Brawling is too close and won't make people bleed as easily but a knuckled weapon or claws could work. Only that they are similar to daggers or sickles in being too small to really deflect any longer blade appropriately, while also being a little unorthodox and troublesome to find a proper trainer. So a sword it is. But then I've still got the single or 2 handed variety, or subtypes like a scimitar, saber or rapier'

Yet after another moment of quiet contemplation, he chuckled.

"Hm hmm, of course that's been decided too"

His family was one raised by the sword. It was through the use of a simple kind, one mass produced to be used by common soldiers. That was the origins of his family after all. They had special techniques revolving around it that had elevated them into such a high position in the first place. Of course he never learnt these techniques. But while his parents may very well be dead, there was one who had inherited their teachings.

'It seems I will thus become a swordsman, and my time spent with my sister may need to be lengthened'