553 I Hold the Axe

“KILL IT!” shrieked Conman.

“I JUST WON trial by endurance and by combat!” I protested.

“Obey the voice of Loki!” he shouted. Someone repeated him, and the guards swarmed me.

A single swipe at the side of the tent, and I was through. Yup. Army camp, full of soldiers, all of whom recognized me on sight.

Not one of my more brilliant moves.

At least the clergy were at the outer edge of the camp.

I’d like to tell you I got away. But no, too many injuries and too little remaining health. No river or even a helpful tree to provide cover.

I took shelter in a supply tent, which was set on fire. They got me when I fled, coughing up streams of red, blackened by smoke. The Axe was forced from my grip, and all the injuries to my head immediately came back.

I didn’t recover my senses until after dusk, the stars twinkling high overhead. Someone had driven metal spikes through my hands and feet and tail, stapling me to a sloped shield of the type used to protect trenches from arrow fire.

.....

I looked left; I looked right. No sign of guards.

If I’d had to explain to a System what I was trying, it could have taken hours. Rather than close my wounds, I enlarged them, slipping my limbs free of the spikes. More their sloppiness than my skill, as I recalled it.

I only passed out once from the pain, when my second hand came free, throwing all the weight suddenly on my lower limbs.

The rest was a long skulk to the wall, and a climb that honestly should have killed me. Machicolations were life saving entrances to the walkway atop the wall. I lay there, panting, trying to figure out how I was alive, and how inept the enemy had to be...

Unless it was a trap. Too late now, of course. I was too exhausted to do anything but lay there. Every time I reached forth my mind to tap the stars for mana, my vision blurred and blackened.

Every.

Time.

<Silent Casting. Lucid Dreaming>

I stood above myself, on the wall. Not a dream, not just an illusion of freedom.

And off to the side, not even a clue that I’d been missed.

<System. List Curses.>

Nothing. My System remained silent. But I’d just USED my abilities.

I willed forth my Reticule, and nothing appeared.

Wait. If my System were down... had I just DONE all that? By myself?

“What’s that?” came a voice.

“Looks like a child.” a man said in reply.

Two sets of boot stomps came my way.

“What the fuck? That’s not a child.” First Voice said.

“Do either of you .. have water?” I asked.

I never did learn the names of either guard, which honestly should pain me more than it does. They dragged me to a healer’s tent at the base of the wall. They had water.

And knives.

With a lack of abandon born from not knowing what I was, they cut away the flesh they “couldn’t save”. Assholes.

They did enough damage that I passed out, still trying to explain to them exactly what I was.

In the morning, a nurse named Urnst tried calmly explaining to me that I had neither hands nor feet, and if I wanted to die...

“Not interested.” I said. “Just get me enough food, and I’ll be fine.”

Urnst wrung her hands. “Well, you see...”

They needed the bed. They needed their food. They needed every bit of medicine they could spare.

And nobody seemed to need me.

Well, that was fine. A quick transformation, and I had my hands back.

[You are away from the Axe. Focus on this message to summon the Axe to your hands.]

Ah! Okay, I was still using the Axe System.

I summoned the false Axe to my hands, and promptly dropped it. Most of my nerves were still raw. I let my form settle for a minute, and hefted the Axe.

It took both of my hands, now.

I didn’t feel powerful.

<Axe, what is my Might score?>

[Query not understood. Tutorial is HERE.]

<Axe. Query. Statistic. Might.>

[You have a Might score of five, maximum allowed for normal humans.]

And the Axe was suddenly lighter and more agile in my grip.

Okay. So I was inside a walled city. Under siege. Severely wounded. At just under two thirds my normal size.

I curled my toes.

And, I had an axe.

Okay, so the first thing I needed was food.

Damn it, there was an entire caravan of food out beyond the wall. A caravan I should have looted, anyway.

I did have an empty inventory. Compared to the one I’d grown in my main System, the tiny two stacks by two stacks of the Axe seemed insignificant.

It wasn’t, though. The [Construction] sub-module had [Lumbering Tools] and [Carpentry Tools]. Combined with my spells to [Merge Wood] and [Shape Wood], I could earn a living fixing up wooden items. Like shields, for example.

I was no class-bearing Shieldsmith, but I could do well enough. Cups, canteens, buckets, a stool... nothing ornate, but my level of Carpenter paid for itself during that week.

I should have taken more time to assess the man who came to lurk over me. He was tall and broad and clad in mail, his boots ornate, covered in wolves. About his shoulders, a mantle of wolf skin headed his red cloak. His vest was white, with the red Axe of the Tidelands decorated it.

“Help you?” I asked. He didn’t look like he needed a shield.

His upper lip curled. “I am told that you are the worst soldier ever to walk Achea.”

I shrugged. “I’m hardly the best.” I said. “Pankratios and Arminger, both level one. Hunter, if you want to throw in my stealth class.”

“And yet,” he said, “THAT is the enemy copy of the true Axe.”

I blinked, but held my tongue. What did he WANT?

“You are also Truthspeaker.” he said.

“I am.”

“What is your response, were I to tell you I need that axe?”

I chuckled. “Turn your own System off first.” I said. “It’s not sentient, but it doesn’t play well with others.”

If anything, his disdain grew visibly. “I need that axe, and a man to hold it.”

I looked around at the walls. “You seem to have no shortage of men. I eat more than three of them. By raw numbers, it’s a loss for you to recruit me.”

“Raw numbers.” he repeated. “Can you summon that axe to your hand?”

I summoned it, hurled it into the street, called it back again. “A parlor trick.” I said. “Anyone who learns how to use this tool can do the same.” historical

“No.” he said. “That is a Champion-level ability.”

“Not for this axe.” I scoffed.

“Tell me you don’t have access to champion points, then.”

“I... have access to champion points.” I admitted.

“Then by the power invested in me by Hortiluk and the Red Tide Empire, sir, you are conscripted into military service. Can you use a bow?”

“Hunter.” I said. “I know the basics, but I don’t...”

“You’ll have time to learn them. Follow me, I’ll get you to your sergeant, she can get you a uniform and a bow... if we have any that match your size. Honestly, I expected you to be taller.”

“Used to be.” I said.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Gathering my wares.” I said. “It isn’t as though...”

He scattered the cups with a sweeping kick. “Leave them. You’re in the Guards of the Empire, now. You don’t have time for wooden nick-knacks.”

.....

I sighed, putting the stool into inventory. “If you believe that, clearly you’ve never stood watch atop a wall.”

“Who told you that you’d get such a comfortable job?” he asked. “If you eat like three people, then best you’d learn to fight like three men, as well. Welcome to the Mountain Skirmisher Auxiliary, I’ll introduce you to sergeant Pale Ram.”

“Pale Ram?” I asked. “That’s a goblin name.”

“For a goblin sergeant.” he said. “She’ll be the one in charge of you. Be of use to her, and maybe you’ll survive a week or two. Most of your fellows will be kobolds, a vicious and heartless bunch to be sure.”

“I request a different assignment.” I said. “Kobolds and I don’t get along well.”

“No.” he said. “We need that axe cleaving enemy soldiers, which means we need you cleaving enemy soldiers. That means you’d best get past whatever problems you have with kobolds, since you’re going to be sleeping surrounded by them.”

Laughing gods, one day I will find you and we shall have words.

We walked to the temple, once dedicated to Montu.

It was true; from atop the figure of Montu, the visage of Hortiluk scowled down at me. I scowled back.

“Come along.” my recruiter said to me. “She’s this way.”

“By the sally door next to the kitchen.” I said.

“Precisely so.” he said.

“We were warned you needed more food than was practical.” the voice of a goblin female came from ahead. “You have until sunset to cook and eat whatever your System can hold. Eat like you won’t be back here for a week.”

“Because I won’t?”

“Because you won’t.”