Chương 18: Proposals in the Town Hall

By sacred seal of the Saint-Monarch upon the Throne of Relikov, let it be known throughout all provinces, marches, forts, mines, villages, and road-holds of Ostravia: In this year of 935 AN, after the sealing of the Unholy Rift by the Third Hero and the grievous lessons paid in blood by our people, a new branch of the Ostraviskaya Armiya shall be formed under Crown, Church, and Winter Law.

This branch shall be named the Zachski Treschin, but to our allies across the sea, it shall simply be known as the Rift Sealing Corps. Its sworn duty shall be the detection, containment, assault, and closure of all spatial rifts opened by the Tyrant of Vyrmgaard or any demonic art descended from his malice. Its soldiers shall carry spatial restoration blades, starbrass bells, leadfall masks, and the authority to command evacuation, quarantine, fire-cleansing, and relic requisition wherever needed.

Let no governor hinder them. Let no mayor delay them. Let no coward bargain with a rift. Where the sky is torn, they shall stitch it shut. —Founding Decree of the Rift Sealing Corps, Issued by Saint-Monarch Andrey the Third Twenty minutes later, the 'Rift Sealing Corps' of Zimnerudik led Orland, Kazimir, and Miriyela Doch Kamen… whatever her name was towards the town hall.

Of course, this was after Orland had lent his bloodreturn flask to the injured soldiers, allowing them to collect blood from the slain elkkin demons and convert them into lesser healing potions for anyone who needed them, including him. It was also after the uninjured soldiers had gone around ordering the townsfolk to remain indoors until the air cleared.

After all, the lead storm may be thinner inside the town, but swirling currents of metal flakes still scraped against shutters, rooftops, and exposed skin whenever a bad gust of wind blew them in. Most windows were now closed and boarded, while every doorway they passed had faces peeking through cracks. The town hall was the only unoccupied building for travelers to stay in, so that was where they went. The lesser healing potion really doesn't work very fast, huh?

He rubbed his bruised right arm as he followed the soldiers, grimacing. Guess it's still better than nothing, but… I shouldn't have had to block that club with my arm in the first place. If I were just a bit stronger… He clenched his jaw and tabled the thought for now. The town hall itself stood beside a junction of the town square, facing the mine hill through several tall windows that were now mostly broken. It wasn't fancy. Not like Belograd Manor.

There was no polished marble, no golden lamps, and no ridiculously expensive furniture. Once they entered, Orland was relieved to see it was just a large wooden hall with a stage at the far end, several tables shoved around the middle, and old banners with crests he didn't recognize hanging from the rafters. Cold air slipped through the windows while soldiers quickly hammered boards over them from the inside. Still, it was warm enough.

More soldiers lit the four hearths along the walls and hung dim lanterns from the rafters, filling the hall with orange light. Compared to the tree hollows Orland and Kazimir had been sleeping in for the past three days, this place was godsent.

"... My name is Captain Nikolai Baranov of the Zimnerudik Rift Sealing Corps. On behalf of my men, I must thank you—and your companions—once again for your intervention," the soldier Orland had saved from the first demon suddenly said, stepping before him and saluting.

"Please, take a seat around a table first. I will give you a full report on our situation." Orland almost asked who counted as his companions—because one of them had proposed marriage five minutes after appearing and the other still thought he was a criminal—but the captain was looking at him with too much desperate respect, so he gave a stiff nod instead.

"Uh, of course," Orland said, deepening his voice a little.

"Report away, Captain." Kazimir gave him a tired look, probably because that sounded stupid, but Orland ignored him and walked to the centermost table in the hall. He dropped into a chair opposite of Kazimir, who sat lazily with one leg stretched out and one hand rubbing at the metal brace over his injured knee.

Then Miriyela plopped down on the chair right beside Orland, and since she was nearly twice his size, her chair creaked and threatened to snap immediately—but it didn't, allowing her to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with him. Orland scowled up at her.

"Sit somewhere else."

"I will not," she said defiantly, folding her hands before her on the table. Her veil still hid her entire face, but somehow she sounded like she was smiling proudly behind it.

"We are a party now, yes? You are the Hero, I am your prophesied companion, and in the future—""No. No 'future' anything. Go away."

"Prophecy disagrees. You and I, we share a fate stronger than blood."

"I don't care what the prophecy says. Move your giant shoulders before you crush me into soup."

"But the Hero is more than sturdy enough to sit beside a Princess of Kamengrad!" She laughed.

"Think of this as training for our marriage! One day, you and I shall—""Chisel me blind, dwarf," Kazimir muttered, rubbing his brow.

"Just sit farther away before the boy starts swinging. He's no qualms against hitting women, I fear." Miriyela whirled on the man immediately.

"And who are you to command me, grey wolf? I do not know you. You are not one of the six prophesied companions. You carry no crown as far as I can see, no royal blood as far as I can smell, and no oath of blessed gathering as far as my spirit senses. Why are you travelling with the Hero at all?" Kazimir clicked his tongue.

"Because I was told to follow."

"Then you may be untold."

"Try it, dwarf."

"You would call me again by that name?" Miriyela leaned forward slightly, armor creaking.

"I am Miriyela Doch Kamenrody Kamengradskaya, Sixth Princess of Kamengrad, Dwarven Daughter of—""And I'm Kazimir Kharinov, who-gives-a-shit. Just pick another seat, shut the fuck up, and stop ordering your seniors around."

"Seniority is not determined by age in dwarven culture, but by fighting spirit. Unsheathe your blade, grey wolf! We shall—""Pointless. And a princess who thinks nothing of frightening her hosts is no princess at all." Kazimir shook his head, jerking his head at Nikolai—and the other soldiers around the hall in various states of terror listening to their arguments. Then Kazimir looked at the anxious Nikolai, giving the captain a firm nod.

"Excuse us, captain. Please give us the briefing. What's going on here?" Before Miriyela could shoot something back, Nikolai cleared his throat, visibly relieved to have something normal to do.

"R-right. Yes. Um… approximately one hour and sixteen minutes ago, the starbrass bell in our Corps building rang once, followed by eight rapid rings in succession," Nikolai started.

"That indicates a Common-8 grade rift has opened somewhere inside Mine Zimnerudik." Orland scowled and leaned away from Miriyela in his chair, trying to look like he understood how bad that was. Judging by Kazimir's slight frown, Common-8 was bad enough.

"We are still determining the exact location of the rift," Nikolai continued, reaching under his coat to produce a rough map of the mine. He showed the layers of winding tunnels to the three of them, and once again, Orland pretended like he knew what he was looking at.

"Based on the direction of the first demonic emergence and the mana pressure pattern we felt near the entrance of the mine, we believe the rift is deep within the fourth or fifth lower shafts—the deepest points of the mine. That makes sealing the rift… difficult. We can't just rush in and cut it closed without clearing all the demons from the tunnels first." If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Are all the demons elkkin?" Kazimir asked, squinting at the map. Nikolai nodded.

"All Common-7 to Common-8 elkkin demons, from what we have observed. But that was only the vanguard wave. There may be stronger demons deeper in the mine, especially near the rift itself. If we do nothing, the rift will gradually widen and climb in grade, and we anticipate its growth to be one grade per week it is left unsealed." With that, Nikolai turned to look at Orland with both hands clasped behind his back, eyes bright with hope and fear.

"Great Hero. There are thirteen Rift Sealing Corps soldiers stationed here, including myself. However, four have been wounded badly enough to be useless for combat, and three more are lightly wounded and incapable of movement. We can hold the surface for a while with proper barricades, but entering the mine to seal the rift ourselves would likely be suicide." Orland stared at Nikolai. Nikolai stared back at him. Then Kazimir kicked him from under the table, and Orland whirled to glare at the man.

'Say something, idiot,' Kazimir seemed to say with his mean look. So Orland straightened in his chair, gulped, and turned back to Nikolai with a small smile.

"You called for a… great slayer?" Nikolai blinked. Kazimir kicked him under the table once again before nodding sternly, making sure every soldier in the hall could see it.

"What the Hero means is, of course. We shall seal the rift for the good men of Zimnerudik," Kazimir said hurriedly.

"We are the Hero's party, after all." Nikolai's face lit up. Several nearby soldiers, still hammering boards over windows, breathed extremely loud breaths of relief. One of them even muttered a prayer under his breath.

"That is… fantastic!" Nikolai said, a wide grin splitting his face.

"Thank the gods! I've sent word to headquarters in Relikov City many, many times. I've been telling them rifts have been opening more often in the south, even near small mining towns like ours, and that we need more men, more blades, and more supplies to hold our ground—but now that the Hero himself is here, we are saved! Perhaps fate hasn't forgotten Zimnerudik after all!"

"Well, you'll have to provide us with a spatial-restoration blade," Kazimir cut in before Nikolai could get too giddy.

"We don't have one. The Hero lost his, and so did I years ago."

"Of course, the blade will be provided!" Nikolai said at once, touching the sheathed, bluish-green knife sheathed at his hip.

"But, um… when do you all intend to enter the mine?"

"Tomorrow morning." Orland glanced at Kazimir.

"Tomorrow?"

"If you were braver like the Hero, we would go in right now," Miriyela grumbled.

"Personally, I wouldn't go into a demon-filled mine at night when they're stronger with all the night-mana they can absorb from the great mana leylines, but let's just call it experience from a former Bratstvo Morosov," Kazimir muttered, looking back at Nikolai.

"We'll need proper rest tonight. Food too. If possible, butcher the elkkin demons and give us their hearts as well." Nikolai's eyes widened.

"You're… Bratstvo Morosov?"

"Former."

"Oh, heed not the words of sir who-gives-a… whatever," Miriyela snapped, whirling on Orland.

"Let us go in and seal the rift tonight, Hero! Why should we wait for morning? The two of us combined can overcome any—""Kazimir's right," Orland said, waving his hands around.

"The night-mana and the… great mana leylines and… yeah. Why fight now when we're at a clear disadvantage?" Miriyela stared at him, stunned, but Kazimir scoffed out a laugh, looking at Nikolai again.

"You heard the Hero." Nikolai immediately saluted. So did the soldiers around the hall, almost in unison.

"We'll get right on that," Nikolai said.

"Food, demon hearts, and the restoration blade will be brought here within the hour. You may use the entire town hall as your quarters tonight. I know it isn't in the best of conditions after the attack, but we'll keep guards posted outside so you may be well-rested for tomorrow's delve." Then Nikolai looked at Orland nervously.

"I hope this town hall is… satisfactory as lodging, Great Hero?" Orland looked around the hall. Four hearths. Dimly-lit lanterns. Round tables, sturdy chairs, three puffy beddings laid on the front stage by the soldiers, and while the windows and wooden boards were still being fixed to stop letting in the cold wind, this was a pretty big hall—and it was his. All his. His mouth split into a grin.

"I can really have this whole place tonight?" he asked.

"Just for me?"

"Um… Nikolai looked confused.

"Yes, Great Hero. If it is to your liking—""Great." Orland cracked a grin again.

"I like it." That seemed to make Nikolai happy. Or maybe just relieved. Or maybe both. The captain saluted quickly again before herding his men toward the exits, barking orders about food, the spatial-restoration blade, and all of the slain elkkin demons still lying on the streets outside. Within moments, the soldiers all filed out, leaving only Orland, Kazimir, and Miriyela in the hall. There were things they probably needed to talk about.

Kazimir, at least, had begun unwrapping the seven Altars strapped to his back and spreading them out across the table, but more than the new relics they were going to get from the demons' corpses, Orland was interested in the puffy beddings the soldiers had laid out on the stage. He waddled over, spread his arms, and threw himself face-first onto the center bedding. Softness swallowed him, and he immediately groaned in happiness, burying his face in the bedding.

His bed back in the Belograd Manor was too silky with too much perfume to make him feel at ease, but this bedding was different. It was just warm wool stuffed thickly, and the faint smoky smell from the hearths around the hall gave it an earthy scent as well. It was natural. It was familiar. The wooden boards covered with fox pelt that he'd slept on for most of his life were similar. It's just right. I think… I'll take a nap first…

and then— Someone cleared her throat at the foot of his bedding, making him roll over and open one eye, irritated. Miriyela was there, having lowered herself onto one knee with her warhammer planted into the ground beside her.

"Fifth Hero," she said calmly.

"Please reconsider my marriage proposal."

"Nah—" he began.

"As I have spoken, I am Miriyela Doch Kamenrody Kamengradskaya, the sixth and last princess of the greatest dwarven nation in the world, Kamengrad," she said, ignoring him completely.

"I was prophesied by Naghari the Sage and affirmed by the Curator Church as one of six companions destined to gather at your wandering hand. You bear the mask of the lion, and you wear the Star-Element Gauntlet. You are the Hero. If you were to marry me—""I don't care," he grumbled, rolling onto his side so he could find a good sleeping position for tonight. The pillow was decently soft. Maybe he wouldn't have to rest his head on his arm like usual.

"I just wanna kill demons and get to the Tyrant. Will being the…

'King of Kamengrad' or whatever help me with that?" Miriyela's proud shoulders stiffened slightly.

"Well… not directly, no."

"Will it make me rich? Will I get relics from your kingdom?"

"Not at the moment." She hesitated again.

"Due to… certain circumstances, Kamengrad's vaults are currently inaccessible even to me. But our vaults do contain many ancient relics, so—""So no relics right now, and no money right now."

"Yes, but—""Not interested. Come ask me later," he said, waving her off.

"Actually, don't come back later. I already have a close-range fighter in my party, and I don't need another one."

"That man?" she said, glancing back at Kazimir spreading his Altars across the table lazily.

"But …he is nobody. Who is he, anyways? I am supposed to be the resilient frontliner of the party—the very first vanguard to the Hero's position as the grand mage—not that old wolf, whoever he is. Why has he taken up my role?" Orland shrugged.

"Don't care. I picked my guy, so you don't gotta be here. Go find some other party to join up with." With that, Miriyela remained on one knee for a moment longer, completely silent. For his part, though, Orland was trying not to show how anxious he was by biting his teeth. It'd be easier if he could read her expression to guess what she was thinking, but that weird veil was covering her face, making her utterly indecipherable. If he had to guess, she was probably irritated. Very, very irritated at that.

Even still, there was no way he could back down here. If she really was one of the Hero's prophesied companions—mentioned in his 'fate' or whatever—then traveling with her would definitely mean more trouble, more watching eyes, more questions, and more chances for someone to realize he wasn't actually the 'Hero'. Kazimir's already trouble enough, so please just go away. Please please please please please— Miriyela exhaled, standing up slowly.

"... Did you choose that man because you fought him and tested his strength in battle?" she asked quietly. Orland glanced at her as nonchalantly as he could.

"Uh… yeah?"

"Did he defeat you?"

"Nope."

"So if I defeat you, you will allow me to be your vanguard. And then we can discuss our marriage again." He blinked. Unfortunately, he was a bit slow on the uptake, so he opened his mouth to ask her to repeat that. But by then, the giant dwarf had already lifted her warhammer, and it was already coming down on his head.