The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

Over the course of the next six days, Bold Arrow managed to delve the Silver Vault an additional three times, making shorter and more efficient runs of the second floor with each delve. They still hadn't been able to clear the entire floor in one day, but they were getting closer to that goal. Though much to Blychert's disappointment, the party had agreed to take off every other day from delving the dungeon. While this was certainly in the spirit of rest and making sure that everyone had properly recovered from their time spent below, it was also because everyone in the party had other jobs and tasks that needed tending to as well.

Everyone, it seemed, but Blychert.

On the days that Bold Arrow couldn't be together, Bly often found himself wandering the city wards, training with Bartolo, or tinkering with his own spellcraft. Ever since his musings about the Pale Lady the other day—though more specifically her ominous and altogether uncertain connection to Sage—had yielded an equally confusing series of questions, Bly had begun to wonder if the key to unlocking whatever it was that eluded him lie in divination magic.

He wasn't much of an expert on the subject. Given that his only two divination spells were of the basic level and of the common variety, dealing in detection-based effects, there wasn't much to work with when it came to crafting new spells. Perhaps, had he come to this realization while Alice was still around, he might have been able to gather enough insights to begin constructing something that suited his needs.

Bartolo was not a diviner, not by any stretch of the imagination. Blychert supposed he could still try to ask him, but that would come with its own series of interrogations that were better off left alone before Bly was ready to divulge any information about the answers he was chasing.

Still, he was very nearly level ten—no doubt he would be by the end of their next few delving days—and that was putting even more stress on Bly to figure out where he was going with his magic.

As a classless, specialization probably didn't mean as much to Bly as it did to his party members. Level ten was, by all accounts, one of those rites of passage that every classed was meant to celebrate; it was a moment to be proud of. A specialization was, after all, not just one's pledge to a certain class-based style, but the very foundation upon which the rest of their class would take shape.

Funnily enough, Bly had barely even thought about it since leaving Greygarde. He always figured that given his predisposition towards elemental magic, as well as a subsidiary root in summoning, he would become a prismatic. Prismatic sorcery wasn't equipped to be as hyper-aggressive as other specializations, such as stormwall and ascendant sorcery, but it was highly versatile. Bly always figured he'd be adventuring with Irvin anyway, who was plenty aggressive for the both of them, and thought that filling the damage-based support suited him best.

Of course, there was also the notoriety of it all to consider.

Spiritcaller, shadowblood, psion, blade pact… these were fascinating specializations, unique and with very powerful sorcery abilities of their own, but likely to draw too much attention. Pale sorcery was too invested in healing, dark sorcery was outlawed in too many nations to even consider, and grey sorcery was simply too much support magic for Bly's liking.

If he wanted to grow stronger while keeping a low profile, or as low a profile as someone like him could manage, prismatic was the way to go. It wasn't overly flashy, it would keep his mana base at a decent level without too much over-expenditure on the curve, and he could still dip into as many schools of magic as he liked.

The only problem he could possibly imagine was the scenario where his back was really up against the wall. Prismatic sorcery wasn't exactly known for insane spell combinations with high damaging yields, or even any scorched earth win conditions.

It was practical and adaptable to almost any circumstance.

It was safe.

But maybe… too safe?

"Bartolo would kill me…" Bly thought to himself, wondering for a moment just what the old sorcerer would really do if he were to specialize into something so antithetical to Bartolo's magic philosophy that one would surely have to guess if Bly was even his apprentice at all.

Pushing that amusing thought aside with a small grin, Bly ascended the steps to Saint Hagen's Priory. However, as he went to head inside, a note held beneath the large knocker caught his attention.

Removing it promptly, the parchment splayed, seemingly not sealed in any meaningful way, and it read thusly:

***

Hall Keeper's Notice

15 Deepautumn, 520 DE

All remaining relic hunts for this season must be concluded and signed-off by a primary handler—this in accordance with the revised Delving Rulebook, Inter-Party Competitive Rulings, Statute Three—prior to the 30th of Deepautumn. No unresolved relic hunt of any type may be carried over into the winter season without prior approval by the Adventuring Hall, and no less than two primary handlers. Unresolved relic hunts must be resubmitted for approval in the following season if pursuit is desired.

The bi-annual Delver's Festival will be held on the 14th of Frostfall. Refreshments, games, and the chance to win an exclusive, rare magic item from the royal armory await all who participate. Delving emblems are required for registration into this special competition, but all are welcome to participate in the festival.

The seventh floor of the dungeon will be closed for inspection until the 18th of Deepautumn. All parties that fail to adhere to official regulation will be subject to penalties and fines per the Adventuring Hall's discretion. Parties with outstanding quests on the seventh level of the dungeon during this downtime period may be entitled to compensation. Party leaders, please consult with a primary handler if this affects your party. I apologize for this inconvenience.

Happy delving!

Keeper Tharkel

***

"Hm. Guess this one's for Xander…?" Bly scratched his brow, not sure what a relic hunt was, but certainly intrigued by the sound of it.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Rolling the parchment back up, he continued on inside, hoping to find his scheming party leader anyway. Well, he was technically here to practice spellcraft with Vineta, but he had half a mind to speak with Xander about some more… personal topics, at least as far as his class was concerned. Bly was certain there was more he could to with his transmogrifier ability than he was currently, and he wanted to pick Xander's brains about it, maybe even find some time to run some experiments.

The swordsman had said, "whenever you need a sword. No questions asked." on that day back in the Gleaming Caves. This wasn't exactly the same, but it still counted!

But much to his disappointment, the priory was vacant. The long, empty sound was sort of off-putting, especially given the overcast sky which did little to add much color to the already rustic temple interior. Bly heard the shuffling of feathers overhead, who was pretty certain there was more than just one bird in here than what Xander had mentioned.

Bly's boots echoed against the stone softly. But as he crossed the floor, the ominous quiet turned quite drastically, as the cloud cover broke overhead, allowing soft rays of afternoon light to pour in through the western-facing windows, giving the nave area a vibrant, warm sort of atmosphere in the moment.

Like the lighting of a candle on a dark and dreary night, there was an immediate sense of hospitality. Any unnerving presence in the priory was instantly replaced by intrigue and wonder. Bly found himself glancing at the muraled walls and rune-carved pillars, wondering for a moment about the history in this place.

"You lost, boy?" A haggard, gravelly voice broke the silence suddenly, startling Bly, who jumped back slightly at the sound.

Turning, Bly faced a gray-haired man with long sideburns and a great, bald patch in the middle of his head. He wore simple, brown robes, not of mage ilk, and quite resembled the monastic folks who sometimes came through Darskaart.

"Well?" The asked, more than a little impatiently, "If you've come lookin' to steal or to vandalize, rest assured that anything of value is long gone."

"Prior… Halfgan?" Bly asked unsurely.

"Hm?" The man seemed to frown, "What's it to you?"

"I'm… a friend of Xander's." Bly chose his words carefully, "I'm a member of his party, actually."

"Never seen you before." The man shrugged dismissively, who continued down through the nave as he spoke. Bly only realized just now that he was carrying a wooden bucket that seemed to be filled with water, because it sloshed around as he carried it, "Course, I don't much care either. Nothing honest ever came out of a dungeon, only a fool's fantasy. You ask me? It's a hole where liars go to die."

The prior stopped behind the large table, stooping down to the floor where he got down on both hands and knees. Grunting and groaning, he set the bucket aside and rolled up his sleeves. Then, removing a soaked cloth from the bucket, began to scrub the floor.

Suddenly uncomfortable, both by the prior's choice of words hitting a little too close to home and by the awkward silence, Bly thought it best to begin making his exit at once. I f Vineta wasn't coming, he could talk to Xander about class stuff another day. For now, it was time to bail!

However, the prior spoke, "So, what kind of liar are you, boy?"

"Ugh…" Bly sighed. It would have been easier to simply bail. Instead, Bly proceeded forward, the sounds of scrubbing echoed the entire time. As he moved around the other side of the table, he finally got a glimpse of what the prior was doing.

Despite the rest of the priory's rather dilapidated appearance, Bly's eyes widened at the breathtaking mural displayed across the floor. The light pouring down from above struck the mural in such a way so as to make it seem as if an orb of light were filled in the center of it. Colors of all kinds swirled around it, a blazing mixture, and the outline of three figures stood around the orb in unison. A robed figure wielded a pale-white staff, an armored figure bore a massive, blue shield that stood to nearly as tall as they did, and the third figure drew back the string of a bright red bow.

"Triskelion…" Bly murmured, wondering how he'd missed seeing this the first time he'd come here. He supposed he'd only been cleaning the front of the nave, and it hadn't been nearly as sunny that day, but even still.

"What was that?" The prior turned, asking.

"Oh, uh—nothing." Bly waved his hand, but in second guess, gestured towards the mural, "I was just thinking, that must be the Triskelion, right? Your… gods?"

"Hmph. Not from around here, then…" The prior grunted. Setting the rag back in the bucket, he pointed at the staffed figure, "Friirek, the Farseer. See that she wields Gunmgarel, the Snow Scepter." Then, pointing to the archer, he added, "That is Kyrdic, the Blood Hunter. He is the master of the bow called Hjalfrach." Finally, he pointed to the shielder, "And Majnehl… the Undaunted. Aevarne was—is his charge, the mighty Frostwall."

Frostwall? Bly thought to himself. So, the city was named after the relic of one of its deities? Or was there more to it than that?

"Together, they form the Three." Halfgan said, and then etched the orb with his finger, "Quelling the chaos of the maelstrom, which ever seeks to devour the lands of our ancestors. Or so… it used to be so."

"Used to?" Bly inquired.

Standing to his feet with a long groan, the prior turned and looked at Bly. After a lengthy pause, he replied, "You never answered my question, boy. About the kind of liar you are?"

"Oh—" Bly frowned, thinking of what to say for a moment, "I guess… not a very good one."

"How so?"

Sheesh, this guy is really laying into me. Bly furrowed his brow. However, not wanting to disappoint the person who was letting them use this place as a party hall, Bly endeavored to satisfy his question. Thus, he shook his head, saying, "My master would probably tell you that I wear my heart on my sleeve, and—you know, have a hard time keeping my nose out of things. That means… I don't know, I have to tell lies, sometimes. I don't want to, but… it's the only way I know of to keep the people around me safe—safer, maybe is the better word. Because I know who I am… er, sort of. Still figuring a lot of that out actually. But I do know I'm prone to butting into bad situations. Even if I lie, at least I can still help."

"Hm. A liar who's honest with himself? Not the most ridiculous thing I've heard…" The prior shook his head slowly. Setting down the bucket, he rolled down his sleeves and stepped forward. The man smelled of incense, and slightly of wine, as he said, "Then be sure that you do… help. I can tolerate liars; I can even trust them, sometimes. But this city has enough troublemakers. I trust you won't be one of them."

"I'll do my best, sir." Bly bowed slightly.

"If you intend to stick around, just call me Halfgan." The prior groaned, already starting down the aisle, "I'm a working man, no sirs here. Just peace, and quiet—when there aren't children running around swinging swords and spells in every which direction, anyway…"

"Trelen!" Vineta's voice pierced the interior chamber.

Turning, a sense of relief washed over Bly as he saw the theurgist approaching, stepping past the prior as he left.

"Took you long enough." Bly rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, "That guy grilled the hell of me."

"Oh, don't mind him." Vineta shook her head, "The only one he doesn't give too much of a hard time is Lisel. That's probably because he doesn't much care for mages—me and Bredic—and Norman and Xander gave him a headache practically all of the time with their antics. Also, I don't think he's quite forgiven any of us for what happened…"

Curious at that, Bly asked, "What do you mean?"

"Hm? Oh, well…" Vineta stammered a bit, her expression dropping, "It's silly, but Halfgan had forbid Norman from delving with us any longer. And that day… the day of the incident, I mean, I guess Norman had gotten it in his head to make up some story about where he was off, instead of his regular duties. He probably didn't want to upset Halfgan. He never did. Idiot…"

"No kidding," Bly shook his head, gesturing to the rest of the chamber, "And he still lets you use this place? Even after that?"

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure the prior was well and truly gone, she then murmured, "Xander's like a son to him, you know? Just as much as Norman was. But he knows Xander will never quit, not anymore. He must know that. So, who knows? Maybe the old man just doesn't want to make the same mistake. Pushing Xander away from something he wants to do, that is. Or maybe someone close to him, dying, softened him a touch. Eh… but enough about that! Shall we get to some spellcraft? We'd better work while we have good light above us."

Bly nodded belatedly and moved to begin prepping their work area for magic.

If he didn't know any better, the past was going to eat everyone alive. Whether or not that included him? He supposed that would depend on how good of a liar he actually was.