The Classless Sorcerer's Self-Stealing System

[V2] Chapter 7: In the Halls of Saint Hagen



The next morning was a slow and sleepy affair.

For one thing, Blychert hadn't been expecting the wave of exhaustion that hit him to do so with such unforgiving force. All that travel seemed to have caught up with him finally, and hell if he wasn't feeling it by the time Bartolo yanked the window curtains wide open, surely allowing for no less than the full wrath of dawn to come bearing down on where Bly had been clinging to the final, fleeting seconds of a good night's rest.

They ate a decent breakfast downstairs, joined in part by a motley gathering of people who seemed to also have early days ahead of them. Bly was too tired to even remember that he wasn't overly fond of porridge, instead slurping down the warm meal with his eyes still only half open.

By the time Bly and his master set off for the north of the city, the sun had begun to find cracks between the buildings, through which its light shone across the streets in many fractal rays. As for the streets themselves, they were already packed with people. If the evening prior seemed crowded, today was nothing short of a jam. Bly found it especially difficult not to accidentally run into anyone, but the few times he did were only met with passing glances of mild irritation.

It wasn't surely more than two candle marks later that the last of the streets fell behind them, and the wide, rushing waters of the Hvenes River stood before them. Easily seven or eight hundred feet across at its widest point, a single bridge spanned the waterway on their right, and a much larger one far away downstream to their left did the same. The smaller one seemed to only bear those on foot, walking between the north and south sides of the city, while the larger one boasted many buildings of its own, and could have easily passed for a main thoroughfare itself surely, which was reasonable given that it seemed to lead straight to the massive castle itself.

Morning magic practice was routine thereafter.

Bartolo had found a quiet spot for them in a park on the north side of the city, a few blocks north of the river, and they spent the next hour or so practicing. It was nothing strenuous, not like usual, and Bly had a sneaking suspicion that the old sorcerer was taking it easy on him today. He couldn't be certain, but the exercises were by and large of a simpler variety. Thus, it was midday by the time they wrapped up, and they proceeded back to the Half-full Flagon shortly thereafter.

Stopping for a quick bite to eat at one of the many street vendors selling cheap, but delicious food, Bly made even quicker work of his bath once they reached the inn and proceeded to dress himself rather hastily in one of his many pairs of mage robes. He couldn't help but think that his hair was getting a bit too long, but there was nothing to do about that now. Thus, with his bangs still wet and sticking to the sides of his head, he cobbled together his things and made for the door.

"Make smart decisions out there, you hear me?" Bartolo said from the small desk in the corner of the room, "And be safe. I may not be back for supper this evening, so don't wait up."

Bly furrowed his brow, wondering just what the old sorcerer was up to, but thought better than to ask. He'd find the time to speak with Bartolo about things another time. Today was about one thing and thing only.

It was just after midday by the time Bly made his way back across the river. A sea of clouds had rolled in overhead, and a small chill too, dampening the golden sheen of the river as he walked northeast along the riverwalk.

Between Xander's written instructions and Bartolo's own guidance, Bly was certain that he had come to the right place. Though as far as a priory was concerned, it was a tad on the shoddy side. It was a dark brown colored building, where those on either side of it were gray. The roof slanted heavily to the west, and it was definitely missing a few shingles, and at least one windowpane in the front. However, a little, albeit heavily faded sign sat just above the door read 'Saint Hagen Priory' and Bly knew he was in the right place at last.

Smirking somewhat, Blychert ascended the steps, took the worn knocker into one hand, and banged on the door.

A muffled noise resounded from the other side, too unintelligible to make out clearly, though there was definitely a commotion of some kind. Sure enough, the noise grew closer and closer to the door, perhaps some kind of shouting? Bly wondered if he shouldn't just let himself inside to see what was going on, but the door lurched at the same time, and a familiar face greeted Blychert suddenly.

"Uh—Trelen?!" Xander stammered, as if he wasn't the one who'd send that letter asking Bly to come all this way in the first place. In any event, the swordsman's hair was splayed in every which direction, and his face and clothes were covered in a good helping of dust.

Blychert's brow furrowed, though he grinned somewhat, "Are… you okay? You're kind of covered in dirt."

"Hm?" Xander's brow creased in response, and he looked over himself for a moment. Sighing, he chuckled slightly, "Oh… yeah, you know me, never better! But come on, hurry up and get in here. I don't want that bird getting out again…"

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Xander glanced up and over his shoulder, almost as if he were expecting an actual bird to be staring back at him from the ceiling somewhere. But he simply shrugged and stepped back so that Blychert could enter.

"You'll have to excuse the mess." Xander's voice echoed from farther along inside, "Prior Halfgan wasn't too keen on converting the chapel into a party headquarters, but he's got a soft spot for ol' Xander. Said I had to do all the work myself if we wanted to use this place as a party hall for Bold Arrow. Since we've got new recruits, I kind of figured it was time to step up our game and stop using Bredic's grandparent's house as our meeting place. Place is pretty dirty though, let me tell you. You wouldn't believe some of the shit I've found up in the loft…"

"Woah…" Bly murmured, stepping through the small hallway and entering the chapel proper.

It was rustic, certainly, adorned in various faded iconography of what Bly could only assume was the Triskelion that Bartolo had spoken about. He wasn't terribly familiar with religions outside of Greygarde, but it certainly piqued his interest. Frankly, anything that was opposed to the Church or the Guild was fine by him, at least to an extent.

However, there were no pews or an altar of any kind. In fact, most of the chapel floor looked like it had been converted into a makeshift training facility. There was a large wooden table where an altar might have been, behind which Xander now stood clearing clutter of various kinds.

Bly stopped at the foot of the small steps that led up to the table and looked at Xander.

"All of which is to say," Xander looked around for a moment, and then looked at Bly with a proud smile, "We're getting there."

"Sure seems like you've been busy," Bly peered around himself for a moment, "Anybody else help you at all?"

"Eh… when they can." Xander admitted. He moved around the table and descended the stairs, "Everyone's been kind of jammed up with their side jobs, er—I guess their main jobs, to help out too much. But hey, now that you're here—"

"You want me to clean?" Bly rolled his eyes, "I should have figured you'd weasel me into this."

"Hey, brothers in arms." Xander clapped Bly on the shoulder, "We fight together, we do chores together. Like a team."

"Convenient…" Bly grumbled but really couldn't bring himself to stay annoyed for much longer than a few seconds.

"So, you going to tell me what you've been up to the last few months? Or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Bly smirked, "Take a seat."

Thus, Blychert must have spent the next several candle marks or so recounting the last few months to Xander, quiet though they were. He talked at length about his recovery, about his training, and just about the simple pleasures of enjoying Kelvalder while he could. Reluctantly, he shared some of the information that had been keeping him restless; about the Pale Lady, his father, those visons… it was good to get it off his chest, not that he expected Xander to have much of an opinion.

"Sounds rough…" Xander pondered aloud, a serious tone of voice at that, "And these visions have been happening since the dungeon?"

Blychert hadn't been expecting the swordsman to react poorly, or anything like that. In any case, Xander wasn't one to take anything lightly if it seemed serious, Bly had learned that the hard way. Still, it was deeply strange to have someone other than Bartolo or Alyse to talk to about things of a more peculiar nature.

"Yep." Bly nodded, "Or at least, they got a lot more frequent when all that stuff was going on. It kind of went quiet for a while, you know? Or I guess, it still is kind of quiet. Like whatever it was… moved on. But it lingers. I can't really explain it that well."

"Hmm…" Xander rubbed his stubbled chin, but sighed, "Beats me, man. Bredic's the superstitious one, you'll have to pick his brains about it. I can't really say myself. Sure you're not just imagining things? Maybe some kind of… sensitivity to ley lines? I heard that's a thing, you know."

Blychert rolled his eyes.

"What? It's a decent guess!" Xander insisted, but Bly wasn't having any of it, "Don't look at me like that. It is too. What you actually need is a good physician. Trust me."

"And I'm guessing you know one?" Bly was willing to indulge the stupidity a little bit, "What would I even tell them! That some strange lady in my dreams was telling me to go on a quest or something like that? Yeah, real smart idea Xander."

"That's why you haven't told the others?" Xander asked more thoughtfully, "Your old lady? That old man?"

Bly nodded.

Hell knew where Alyse was, but he was getting around to telling Bartolo. He was. Wasn't he? It was just… it was too much to put on the old sorcerer, especially when he already worried about Bly. And now that Blychert was getting back into the spirit of dungeon delving, or at least hopefully, he was going to have even more to worry about.

Bartolo didn't need that kind of pressure, he didn't deserve it either.

"Just don't keep it bottled up too long, take it from me." Xander said, and then stood to his feet from where they'd been sitting around the long table in the former chapel, "But hey, that's for another day. You're here now. That's all that really matters. And now, we can actually get some work done."

"…Like what?" Bly asked skeptically.

Xander grinned, "Grab a broom."

"Hm." Bly grunted amusedly. Folding his arms, he asked, "Does this mean I'm officially a member of Bold Arrow now?"

"Ah, hell, come on… don't be so stupid." Xander shooed, already walking elsewhere in the priory, "You were a member of this party two months ago… dumb ass. Now help me a clean a bit more, then we'll go scrounge up the others. Grab some dinner somewhere. I'm starving…!"

Bly smirked, but elected not to respond to the banter for now, as the swordsman turned and wandered down another hall and out of sight. In any case, Bly could spare the time to help. This was his party leader, after all. And, presumably, his new party hall. Besides, he still owed Xander for practically carrying him out of the dungeon.

Looking up into the crude ceiling, a bird fluttered across from one stone joint to another, and Bly wondered for a moment just who Saint Hagen was. If he didn't know any better, this was the place where Xander had stayed with Norman. Which meant? This must have been where Norman served.

Bly's eyes narrowed.

He hoped to prove a worthy successor to this place, whatever came of it. But for now… sweeping! Though it would be over Bly's dead body before he elected to use a broom.

And anyway, what good was magic if you couldn't use it for chores?


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