Chương 58: Ealdorman

After the game of Lord's Grid, a Dupe named Quickhands distributed a bottle of wine that he claimed to have acquired through legitimate means—though the others insisted I didn't question it. Well, there were a few senior sappers who had been watching our game, and Lieutenant Owl emerged from the crowd, but he didn't say anything. Quickhands wasn't from the squads under Owl's command, anyway.

We stayed up later than we should have, drinking a little, though most of us had high enough Vitality that it barely buzzed us. Still, the crowd seemed intent on pretending. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, or the campfire we'd made. When I asked Lieutenant Owl if we were allowed to be doing this, he said, "No rules against it, lad. Drillmaster Rib wants you in good spirits, anyway. It's best to let you celebrate a good game of Lord's Grid than to have you rampaging through the taverns of Winworth.

But I do expect the men from my squads to be in the barracks by eyerise." Eyerise was the time of night, some time between nightfall and midnight, when the largest storm of Welkinmere peered over the horizon. Later, I found Shatter in the crowd, and he said, "It was a good game, Levi! But one day, you're going to have to play me?"

"You're good, are you?"

"I'm learning!" he replied, raising his voice over a distant pounding drumbeat. Someone was hammering on a barrel with a baton.

"You probably have more games than I do!"

"And you have more Focus!" I snorted.

"It evens out, then. Soon, though. Not tonight!" Slowly, a few more drinks slipped out of the woodwork. I didn't even know where they were coming from (maybe some of the soldiers had storage and spatial manipulation arts that they were using) or why. It was just one good game. Shatter said, "They take Lord's Table very seriously, Levi. And you made an entertaining game. It compounds on itself."

"So it would seem!" Even though there still wasn't enough alcohol to get any of us drunk, some of the Dupes began singing anyway, and I found myself back with my squad, Brawl's arm over my shoulder. I joined in, as best I could. I don't remember how late we stayed up that night. If only Elf was here. I would've loved to pick his brain about who the topic of many of the songs—Mad Mestyn—was.

The rumour was, he was a mercenary who'd fought for the first Warlord, during the Unification of Gate, and he was who our bodies were based off. I wasn't sure how much stock to put in those rumours, though. The next morning, I was a little tired, but we didn't speak of our little party, and none of the other sappers did either. Business returned to usual—though I had to get better at the Lord's Grid, that much was certain.

~ ~ ~ We trained for the rest of the week, and our Labyrinth run was as standard as it could be. Delving down, hunting monsters, and trying to sneakily acquire some Skills without compromising the mission. This time, we focused on Brawl. He hadn't spent much time in the library, and we still hadn't decided what the next Skill merge we would try to get him was, but we could always acquire more fodder for him.

Upon returning to the surface, we received our first stipend of Presences—from last week's run, fully processed and counted out for us, plus our extra weekly ranking bonuses. So, naturally, I consumed them instantly, painful rush of power be damned. When I checked my status after returning to my room, I found that I'd increased my Presence to six points, but my ranking had fallen to number five. That wasn't acceptable, I decided.

I knew I couldn't stay at one rank forever, but it still created an instinctual twinge in the back of my mind that told me I was performing worse, or something had gone wrong, or that my methods were being rejected. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. We'd have to be more careful about acquiring Skills in the Labyrinth, then, but at the same time, I wasn't going to abandon the advancement of me or my squad just because my ranking could suffer. I had to do both.

But it also begged a new question, which I brought to Sage later that day. I asked her, "How does the System know our SAP ranking and our army ranks?" She chuckled.

"I had been pondering that, too. The first Warlord created the System at the same time as he made the Dupes—and he made it just for Dupes to use. You can't make the System function without resonance nodes. Otherwise you just have the Path, and the Path certainly doesn't care about what the military of some irrelevant country ranks you as." I shrugged.

"How widespread is the Path?"

"As far as we know? It spans far beyond our world. The most powerful Path-walkers can ascend beyond this world and leave it behind."

"So it's a universal power?" I pressed my tongue against my molars. If Earth was part of this universe, then wouldn't that mean that Earth also had the Path? Did it matter if Earth had no one who was capable of using magic, though? Obviously, not everyone was capable of using magic, but maybe Earth had even less people.

"Yes, as far as we know," Sage said.

"Those who ascend rarely return to explain things to us, though."

"Right," I replied.

"But the System is incredibly narrow, then."

"Incredibly. It's just a method of manipulating the Path to standardize the advancement of the Warlord's army. It seems natural to me that they could add little extra additions such as your ranking, which the higher-ups like the Drillmaster can manipulate."

"I guess so. How does it run, then? Is there like…a computer somewhere?"

"What's a computer?"

"Right, sorry. Silly question."

"Only the Warlord and his closest advisors know how it works," Sage said.

"Now, you better stop asking about this before you make everyone more suspicious than they already are. You're not in the clear yet, and the Subtle Men are still out and about. They might be listening right now." I nodded.

"You got it." ~ ~ ~ The next day, a convoy of riders arrived early in the morning. We were sitting in the mess hall, scarfing down as much breakfast as we could, when a horn sounded. Something had to be up, because the Drillmaster wasn't present. Usually, he was at least around, watching us eat, and he'd give some vague announcement.

"What's going on?" I whispered. There were other soft murmurs of confusion rushing through the room—it wasn't just me. Brawl shrugged, and Anchor shook his head.

"Couldn't tell you," Anchor said.

"That's my father's horn," Sage replied. I raised my eyebrows.

"Hm?"

"The Ealdorman?" Anchor asked.

"Yes, him," Sage replied.

"I know his horn. Ealdormen are supposed to sound their personal horns whenever they enter a castle."

"Alright, you lot!" came a voice from the end of the mess hall. Lieutenant Owl hopped up onto the Drillmaster's plinth.

"You have two minutes. Leave your plate where they are. I need a general muster out in front of the hall. Squad formal positions. On the double. I'll mark out an aisle down the central approach which we must keep clear. Sergeants, you are responsible for organizing your men."

"Yes, lieutenant!" a chorus of agreement rose throughout the hall, and we all rushed to our feet. We didn't have any armour or equipment, and there was no time to gather any, so we simply did our best to make ourselves presentable, then gathered out in front of the mess hall. Lieutenant Owl had mounted a horse and trotted back and forth along the road in front of the keep, demanding a path be kept open. But we all remembered our formation drills—apparently, there had been a lot of that at Homecamp.

I was probably the least experienced, but a few of the druids also struggled. Regardless, Anchor and Brawl knew what was expected of us, and we'd practiced formation drills here, too. I wasn't completely green. We made a square with the four of us, taking up a position behind another squad, and faced the road as it approached the keep. I stood on the front right, where all sergeants were expected to stand. And then we fell silent.

The portcullis of the inner wall opened with a scrape of metal on stone, and a group of five mounted men rode through. Four of them wore shimmering, enchanted armour and helmets with horsetail plumes, and they carried great warbrands at their hips. They were thegns, and I recognized Sir Aldhelm among them. I couldn't pick out their tier, though—they didn't wear ranking pendants like we did. An older man, appearing in his late fifties, rode at the head of the column.

There was nothing special about him, except his shield. Instead of a standard raven, it was yellow, and it bore a complex coat of arms. Sage was purposefully avoiding his gaze. That had to be the Ealdorman. The Drillmaster stood in the road, waiting to meet him. As the Ealdorman dismounted, the Drillmaster said, "Lord Ceonwin. It is a joy to have you on our grounds. To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"I have returned early from my tenure at Eraen-Kalora to help handle the orc incursions," Lord Ceonwin stated.

"And I will need your castle as my frontal command post. I won't interrupt any of your training, but this castle is the safest, easternmost fortified bastion. It is an invaluable headquarters. There is a Black Captain in the area, and we are expecting another large incursion any week now, and we must be ready to handle it."

"As you wish, my lord," the Drillmaster said with a bow.

"We will make preparations for you immediately."