Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (essential reading .txt) 📗

send shivers down her spine, she could’ve sworn that there was malice in the young man’s eyes, akin to that of a wild, cornered animal. But the moment she blinked, it was gone. She convinced herself that it was nothing more than a play of light and shadows. After all, there were but two sconces in the hallway, the lights of which were paling with each moment.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We’ve been itching for an adventure for quite some time now.”

“Speaking of which, you haven’t told me what we’ll be doing,” Ash said.

“And how was I to tell you when you started partying the moment we turned our backs to you? You spent the entire night hanging out with shady people, drinking more than you weigh, and dancing on tables! And then you grabbed the nearest wench and dragged her to your room!”

Ash frowned and scratched his chin. All he remembered was the taste of rum. Normally, his vice was tobacco, not strong spirits, but there was just something about rum that was irresistible to him. His eyes would fog up and he’d lose all sense of self the moment he smelled its sweet notes in the air.

“I hope this won’t happen again,” Mary warned strictly. The tone of her voice implied that she wouldn’t hesitate to teach him a lesson if he fucked up like this one more time.

“No, no, I’ll behave myself while we’re on the road.” Ash nodded immediately, casting an embarrassed glance at the far end of the hallway. “I can’t say the same for when we make a stop in some tavern or inn...”

“We’ll not be stopping.” There was malice in her tone now. Her chestnut eyes flashed dangerously. “We’re an independent combat unit. We have food, tents, horses, and all the necessary supplies to live on the road for quite some time. As for you... You’ll have to rent a horse. We’ll subtract the cost from your share.”

Ash nodded, still scratching his chin. He had always wanted a beard, but he had never been able to successfully grow one. From his previous, and quite unsuccessful attempts, he had learned that facial hair of any sort looked ugly on his handsome face, so he preferred to always be clean-shaven. It did make for a good disguise, however.

Mounts, in his opinion, were an unnecessary luxury. Especially quality horses; not the kind farmers used to aid them in the fields, but horses that were bred and trained for long travels and speed. Such mounts cost anywhere from seven to eight silver coins on the black market. That was a considerable amount, taking into account that one gold coin equaled thirteen silver ones.

“No need,” Ash said and shook his head.

“Say what now?” Mary looked at him in surprise. She doubted that he could afford a mount on his own. Judging by his clothes, he probably had no coin on him and had to beg for food on the road.

“No need,” Ash repeated.

They both approached the stairs at the same time. Ash moved to the side to let Mary pass. She shot him a glare, thinking that he was pretending to be courteous so that he could stare at her ass. Smiling to herself, she decided to pay him back during training.

Ash, however, had no such intentions. With a careless smile on his face and hand in his traveling bag, he thought about other, more important things. Absentmindedly, he twirled another locket between his fingers. It differed from the one just given to him in that it was golden and had an emblem on the back, and not on the front. Etched into the cold steel was a mask depicting a laughing demon devouring a screaming child. Underneath it was an inscription: “We do not pardon, we do not punish, we kill. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. As it should be.”

This was the banner under which the Foul Legion had fought, the commander of which was once Ash himself. As to why he kept this rusty trinket... Well, it was good to know one’s root; to know who you once were and what you had become.

“Men!” Blackbeard waved his hand, attracting both Mary and Ash’s attention.

Pushing her way through the crowd of early birds, she joined him at the table and took a good sniff of the steaming porridge that had been placed in front of her. She was about to reach for the jug of water when she remembered that she ought to let Ash know which route they’d take. He ought to know what was in store for them.

She was just about to fill him in when she noticed that he was nowhere to be found.

“Where...?”

Tul sighed and pointed somewhere behind his back. She followed his finger and wished that she had minded her own business. Ash was sitting at the table with a group of merchants, cracking jokes, and hitting on the baron’s girlfriend. The title bought with quite a large sum of money no doubt, had no other use other than to make its bearer seem more important than they actually were.

“I’ll kill him,” Mary hissed.

Having had enough of Ash’s arrogance, she got up and marched through the crowd, parting it as easily as a hot knife would butter. The mage seemed oblivious of the presence behind him, as he continued cracking jokes.

“...and then I realized that I put salt instead of sugar into that nobleman’s tea! I thought I was done for, but, fortunately, there was this guy who spoke the Eastern dialect. I gave him two coppers and asked to tell the nobleman that kings overseas drink salted tea as it’s considered a delicacy worthy only of the highest nobility. Luck must’ve been on my side that day as the man drank the tea and even thanked me for teaching him something new!”

The merchants burst out laughing.