The Sixth School.

Chapter Seventy Eight: Oath of Office…

***On The Night Of The Attack On The Town***

Shalia pressed the paste-filled cloth against the man’s abdomen close to his liver. Her face was a firm mask even as she forced herself not to look away from the nasty wound that had been inflicted on the man’s stomach. She needed to see if the paste was effective or not. A foul stench was coming from the wound, and given that the man’s intestines hadn’t been punctured, Shalia knew that it was coming from the black gunk left on the wound by the monster that had caused the injury. Whether it was poisonous or not, she didn’t know, but she needed to clean it out quickly. The only problem is the man was fast bleeding out through the wound and this mixture she had concocted to help in clotting wasn’t doing a thing.

Shalia's heart dropped when the man started to shake violently, froth coming from his mouth and nose. The two guards that had stayed by her side even during this terrible night, were forced to hold the man down. In essence, it should have been to keep the man from causing any further harm to himself. Shalia, however, knew that the two were primarily concerned with keeping the man from harming her while in his death throes. Yes, that’s what they were. Despite her best efforts, this man was fast drifting past the point of no return. Eventually, the man’s struggles came to a stop even as he stilled with a death rattle.

Shalia's hands clenched tightly around the cloth full of paste that she’d been hoping would help the man. “H… he’s gone,” She declared even as she rose to her feet. Even though they were primarily concerned with her safety, the two men who were guarding her, couldn’t help but let out a sad sigh even as they pulled a white sheet over the now still body. Shalia found herself not looking in the direction of the more than twenty other similarly covered bodies in the receiving hall. This was a large hall where badly injured and patients in critical condition were first received and given emergency care before they were sent to a room to convalesce in once they were no longer in danger. On this night, not a single one of those that had been brought here had managed to make it past the receiving hall.

“I… I need some time,” She spoke, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. Not caring whether the two men had heard her or not, she stiffly walked out of the receiving hall. Blindly moving through the halls of the infirmary, Shalia soon found herself standing in the same room where the healer had always had her practice the preparation of several different herbs. Her two guards were left outside even as she closed the door behind her. As soon as she was alone, Shalia's carefully put-together mask cracked as she slowly sunk to the floor. A choked cry left her throat even as an overwhelming flood of pain, shame, and self-loathing washed over her like an unrelenting tide.

Over and over again, both her teacher and her father had told her that, one day the healer wouldn’t be here. Eventually, she would move on from this little town. And when that day came, Shalia would be left to occupy that role. For whatever reason, however, it had always felt like something far off in the future. Something she wouldn’t have to worry about for a long, long time to come. That day, however, had come far sooner than expected. No one knew where the healer was. The last that had been seen of her was when she flew over the town with Roka on some disc shaped like an arrowhead. An explosion had occurred a few hours later and a monster had flown off after Roka and her teacher. Roka later returned to report that their teacher was still fighting the monster and wouldn’t be returning any time soon. He’d been sent ahead to warn them of the impending attack.

She had been back home hiding when suddenly, a messenger came to the house shouting for a healer. It was known by everyone in town that she had been learning under the healer for almost three cycles now. There was no way she could have stayed hidden or feigned ignorance. In a small community such as this, everyone would know by the end of the next day that she had refused to come out and save lives if she remained hidden. Even if she was willing to suffer the ill will that this action would generate, her father couldn’t. She was aware of the fact that he was gradually growing weaker. If she turned the people against them through her inaction, then the other three families would take advantage and come after them. She just couldn’t be the cause of her father’s downfall, and so she stepped forward to play the role of healer.

All of a sudden, the very things that had seemed like a chore whenever her teacher assigned them to her, she now desperately tried to correctly remember. Which flower went with which root? What was she supposed to just warm and what was she supposed to boil thoroughly? Was she supposed to crush the stalks of the rock-berry plant, or was she just supposed to remove the outer layer? Was it the seeds or the skin of the thorn fruit that was poisonous? It was as if everything she had ever been taught had suddenly flown out of her head, leaving her a bumbling idiot who couldn’t tell a leaf from a flower. There was very little faith in Shalia that any of what she had concocted tonight was correct. Half of it was probably just a pointless mixture of different herbs, the other half probably more harmful than beneficial to even a normal person, let alone one who was injured.

One after the other, people had been brought to her, all in critical condition. The fight out there was so bad that nothing less would see one withdrawn. Men had been brought in, some with mangled limbs, others with their intestines hanging out, and still others with such grievous wounds that it left one wondering how someone could still draw breath after suffering such an injury. One man came in with three ribs sticking out through the skin and a fourth one angled in such a way that she suspected it had already pierced the man’s lung. And yet, the man had struggled for an hour or so before succumbing. One by one they had come. Yet, again and again she had failed to save them! More than twenty warriors of the town had met their end under her care!

Shalia’s tears flowed down her face, her nails digging into her palm, and her teeth clamping tightly on her lips to keep from crying out loud and being heard through the door. She felt like there were eyes in the dark looking at her in mockery. A pretender, a spoiled brat that had only been playing at being a healer. She could feel fingers pointed at her in the dark, the specters of those who had fallen blaming her for their untimely demise. Why? Why did she step forward if she knew she couldn’t help them? Why did she give them a false hope that they could be saved? Why did she make a mockery of their bravery and sacrifice? The worst part was that, even though a small part of her knew that all this was just in her head, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Soon enough the news would spread, none of those that had been brought to her to save had lived. She would be seen for the fraud that she was.

A part of her wanted to blame Roka for not being here. He was, after all, her fellow student under the healer. He should have been here to help save the lives that she had been unable to. However, even she who was here, away from the fighting, had heard of his valiance in battle through the patients and the men who brought them in. They spoke among themselves, and to her on rare occasions, about the incredible warrior that had taken to the front line of battle to defend the warriors of the town whenever they were being overwhelmed by the unrelenting wave of monsters that kept coming at them without reprieve. If he had chosen not to fight and instead come over to play the role of healer, then chances are that ten times the number would have died. He had saved countless more lives out there than she had in here.

Another target that she reflexively wanted to blame was her teacher. With her, however, it wasn’t because she wasn’t here. No, Shalia wanted to blame her for how easy she had made it look. In her time as the woman’s student, she had seen people brought in with such serious injuries that she had written them off as dead. Watching the woman in such situations, however, there was barely even a ripple on her face as she received them and, as if it was nothing, pulled them back from the grasp of the beyond. Whether they were bleeding out, had broken bones, had been mangled by some beast, and so on, it made no difference to the healer. Nothing could faze the woman. In her complete naïveté and utter stupidity, Shalia had assumed that it would be the same for her. That no matter how bad things got, she would be able to breeze through it as if it were nothing. Her lips twisted into an ugly smile of self-mockery. She had succeeded in keeping up a mask of calm, what she had failed to do was save her patients while she was at it.

Just as she was sinking deeper into the mire of her guilt and shame, a loud knocking on the door behind her resounded. Given that she was on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, with her back against the door, Shalia could both hear and feel the urgency in the knock as she felt the thuds on the wood go through her. She didn’t want to respond, she didn’t want to watch another person die at her hands. She didn’t want to once again fail. But just as she was about to let her forehead sink back to her knees again, her brain finally processed the words being shouted on the other side of the door. “It’s the Town-head, the Town-head was badly injured. He needs help immediately…

***Present Day***

Greg sat at the dining table, a bowl of thick, steaming broth set before him and his guests by his mother. On one side of the table to his right, was the healer, and on the other side was Olivia, who was catching the two of them up on the events that had taken place in the time they had been away from town. Greg couldn’t help but reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn’t frustrated with Olivia. He couldn’t have handled the situation any better had he been present. This was especially true because Greg wasn’t even a tenth of the fighter that Olivia was. She had defended the town from being wiped out and if he had to bear the false image of being a great warrior as the cost for that, then he was more than happy to. It wasn’t even her handling of the politics of the town that bothered him. Olivia had managed to hold together the defense of the town through a precarious situation where the town could have easily turned on itself instead of the external enemy. Turning the greed and ambitions of the three families into motivation for them to defend the town even harder was a masterful stroke on her part.

The cause of Greg’s frustration was the fact that whichever family he chose, the other would immediately become his enemy. Now, while they couldn’t do anything to him for fear of retaliation, both from himself, now that he had the image of an exalted warrior and his teacher, the same was not true of his family. Sure they might fear him, but people have been known to do stupid things out of either anger or humiliation. He needed to be smart about how he picked whoever would lead the town next, otherwise, it would more than likely become a nuisance in the future.

“I’m curious, why did you make self-sacrifice the precondition for becoming head of the town?” He asked

A smile crossed Olivia’s face. “You mean, given that I asked you to do the exact opposite and leave your teacher to die, why did I turn around and ask the opposite of the ones that want to lead this town?” She bluntly voiced the underlying question. Being connected at the level that they were, Greg knew that Olivia was perfectly aware of the fact that he was still displeased with her over the fact that she had been so willing to abandon his teacher to her death while they got away. Greg’s expression didn’t shift in the least, feeling no shame over his displeasure and seeing no need to deny her words, blunt as they were.

“Like I said before, Roka, Olivia was right to ask you to run. Losing your li…”

“That’s okay,” Olivia cut off his teacher who was speaking up in her defense. “The reason is simple, Roka. I’m willing to have them abide by the principle of self-sacrifice because I couldn’t care less about any one of them,” she stated succinctly in a voice so cold it was a wonder fog wasn’t coming out of her mouth. “I didn’t save any of them because of the goodness of my heart. They could have been animal feces right now and it wouldn’t have made a difference to me.” These weren’t just words. Greg could both hear it in her voice and see the complete indifference in her eyes. “I don’t care about your teacher either,” She went on to say, clearly unbothered by the fact that the healer was seated just across the table from her. On her part, his teacher didn’t seem surprised let alone ruffled by the statement. “To the degree that she is beneficial to you, I am positively predisposed toward her. But should we ever find ourselves in a situation where it’s either you or her or any other person for that matter, I will pick you! Every! Single! Time!” Olivia stated, uttering the last three words with absolute finality.

That is, until your true self shows up, right?

These were the words that almost made it past Greg’s lips in a burst of anger. It took every bit of self-control that Greg could muster at that moment to keep from just saying them outright. He, however, was uncertain what reaction this would garner from his familiar. Would she admit to it? Would she summon her true self instead? Would her true self modify the system in some way Greg couldn’t detect? Or would she just take it away altogether? In his presently weakened state, Greg didn’t think he would survive another takeover by Morpheus so close to the last one. If Olivia’s true self came down, he would be completely at her mercy. No, provoking Olivia or her true self by revealing that he was aware of the charade, wasn’t a smart thing to do currently.

But while the words never made it past his lips, both the statement and the emotions attached to it provided him a moment of clarity. In truth, this was Greg’s greatest issue with Olivia. Ever since Greg learned of Olivia’s true nature all those months ago, it had bothered him. Even though she’d never done anything to harm Greg, he’d never been able to quite fully trust her. It was as if there was some wall between them that couldn’t be breached no matter how much he wanted to. It’s only today that everything had clicked into place and he finally understood the reason why. He had, after all, used a hive scroll before and made several copies of himself. When casually interacting with them, it would be next to impossible to tell which was a copy and which was the true him. His copies had feelings, personalities, and thoughts just like any real individual.

The only problem was that, all that went out the window as soon as Greg gave an order. In other words, no matter how real a copy or avatar of an individual appears to be, they are still beholden to the whims of the one who created them. All this to say that, Olivia wasn’t a real person. Like the copies Greg had made of himself, she was a copy of someone else. And while she might swear to high heaven that she was loyal to Greg and only to him, that in itself couldn’t possibly be true as she had no free will in the matter. As soon as her true self asked her to do anything, even things that would be detrimental to Greg, she’d comply without a moment of hesitation. This, in turn, called into question everything that Olivia did as Greg couldn’t be certain in whose best interest the familiar was acting. Whether it was his, or that of her true self? He didn’t know.

But by the same token, however, wasn’t he a hypocrite? He was skeptical of Olivia and her true self, suspecting that they had plans of their own that wouldn’t necessarily be to his benefit. The thought of him being used and then disposed of when he was no longer useful, didn’t sit right with him. However, apart from the fact that he was currently in a weakened state, Greg was unwilling to provoke Olivia because there was a very real chance he might lose the system as a result. Greg wasn’t deluded in the least about the fact that, without the system, he probably would have died several times over. And that is to say nothing of all the benefits that having such a powerful system accrued to him. Losing such a boon, especially while he was still so weak, would be worse than losing a limb! In other words, he was willing to make use of Olivia and the system her true self had created, at the very least until he was powerful enough to stand on his own.

They were both using each other for their own ends. An arrangement that was almost certain to end in disaster! Still, what could Greg do but forge ahead despite this…

***

Greg stood calmly before the gathered townspeople waiting for the arrival of the heads of the two families that had tied for the lead in this competition for the position of Town-head. His posture was ramrod straight, chest out with hands calmly held behind his back. But while everything about him outwardly appeared confident, Greg was doing all he could not to squirm under the looks of awe and respect that he could see coming from the men of the village. When Olivia had told him that she had earned the awe and respect of the men while wearing his face, what Greg had been expecting was a few nods of acknowledgment and pats on the back. He’d thus been completely unprepared for the almost reverent regard that the men of the town showed him whenever he encountered them. Even young boys stood straighter when he passed by. More than once, fathers had mentioned in passing that they’d be willing to have their sons come under him as students and learn from him. Whatever Olivia had done, it had left an impression in these people’s hearts and minds that wouldn’t be forgotten any time soon.

Greg had been forced to take off the DISCERNING ring to keep from being overwhelmed by the sensation of lust coming from the women, especially the younger ones. They may have not been on the front lines of battle, but the tale of ‘his’ deeds had probably already been told and retold a thousand times over. And considering the game of telephone that had probably taken place between one telling and the next, Greg dreaded to imagine what they thought him capable of. Still, it was a boon that Greg fully planned to take advantage of. Whatever fantasies of a dashing warrior these women had concocted in their minds, he was more than willing to indulge fully.

Standing beside him, was his teacher. Greg felt quite guilty for having the healer come out to be by his side instead of letting her rest and recover from her injuries. It had, after all, just been a day since they got back to town. She would probably need a few weeks to be back in tip-top condition, and though he didn’t let it show, the same was true of him. Her quiet presence, however, was a subtle show of force on his part. Regardless of how the day ended, one party would ascend to leadership and one would be going home empty-handed. Which family would be which? Greg didn’t as yet know. Greg, however, knew that tensions would run high. The disappointed party even turning violent wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility. Hence why he’d asked his teacher to just be present. Someone might be willing to put his newly gained reputation to the test. None among the three families, however, would be willing to cross his teacher.

The first of the three families to show up at the gathering was the one that had failed the challenge to kill as many of the attacking monsters as possible, the Ember household. After securing his protection, the Town-head’s wife had no problems telling him about the history of the three families and why they held the regard and esteem that they did. Greg had been surprised to learn that the town wasn’t as bereft of magic as he’d initially thought. None of the three families had proper mages to them. That, however, didn’t mean that they had lost all the knowledge related to their heritage. True, in the mage world, they didn’t amount to much, but in the mundane world, they were a cut above the normal people.

This family of mind mages, for example, had slain a lot more of the attacking monsters than the town’s mundane warriors. To think of them as weak simply because they couldn’t keep up with the other two families would be a grave mistake. Their affinity for mind magic meant that their warriors were so coordinated that whether they attacked or retreated, one would be tempted to think that it was a single organism on the move. This made for a deadly fighting force when up against normal people or beasts. Unfortunately for them, the beasts that survived the second refining by the abyssal mana from the convergence were no ordinary beasts. Despite their impeccable coordination, the members of this family were still similar to mundane humans in terms of their physical capabilities. This made it so that they couldn’t kill the beasts as fast as the two other families, knocking them out of the running for the leadership of the town.

While they joined the watching crowd, two more groups approached. On the right side was the Aria household. Greg couldn’t help but note that most of them looked like they’d been carved from marble, with chiseled, well-defined bodies. They were a minor branch of some mage clan of Body-enhancing mages. They weren’t buff like the stereotypical gym bros, instead, they had a lithe form that gave off the impression of a coiled spring. At any moment, they could break out with several times the power one would have otherwise expected of them. Even their women, while being much curvier than the men, were still more toned compared to the other women in town. From the reputation they had built for themselves, the members of this family clung to the ethos of might makes right and were very quick to settle their issues through fighting.

In combat, members of this family usually made use of their formidable physical prowess to overwhelm any opponent they came across. Most of their members preferred blunt-force weapons like clubs and maces to bladed ones like swords. With the former, each blow that they managed to land would almost certainly crush organs and break bones. Not to mention, one required far more skill than brawn to be maximally deadly with a blade. A blunt weapon, on the other hand, couldn’t bring out its true power if there wasn’t enough force behind the swing. Picking this class of weapons for the Aria family, was simply them playing to their advantage. As was demonstrated by the fact that they were the ones in the lead for most of the competition until somehow, the Valla household caught up.

On the other side, a man was being pushed forward on a wooden wheelchair. Despite his inability to walk, the man didn’t look any less imposing and dignified. His sharp eyes made everyone they fell on feel a certain sense of pressure from the man even without the threat of aggression. Niya, the man’s son, was the one pushing his wheelchair forward. While he wasn’t anywhere near as stern as his father, he too had put on a resolute face, not squirming under the gaze of the whole town. Greg had asked Olivia how it was that the members of the Valla household managed to catch up to the seemingly more formidable Aria household. The answer had been unexpected, though not surprising.

Cursed weapons.

Given that they were descendants of a sorcerer, the fact that they’d made use of curses to enhance their fighting prowess wasn’t all that shocking. The part that had been surprising to Olivia, was how powerful the curses on the weapons were. As a result of how twisted it already was, abyssal mana tended to have a strong resistance to curses and spells of such nature. That the weapons the Valla household produced were powerful enough to harm the monsters attacking the town, spoke to how potent the curse on them was. According to his teacher, the weapons had probably been in preparation for several cycles before the recent crisis. This was probably part of their preparation for seizing leadership of the town. If Olivia hadn’t found a new way for the three families to compete for leadership, these weapons would probably have been used against those belonging to the other families.

“Before we begin,” Greg spoke up, loud enough to be heard by all, once the two men were standing before him. “Let us observe a moment of silence for the brave men who stood uncowed in defense of their families and this town even to their last breath,” he instructed. Any residual murmurs there had been in the crowd, immediately died out as everyone went silent. Greg didn’t miss the pain that showed in the eyes of some in the crowd. Greg even noticed a tear flow from some of them. A boy a few years younger than he was turned away from his two younger brothers and his mother, not willing to have them see his tears. By all indications, he was the eldest, and with their father gone, he probably felt that he needed to be strong on behalf of the rest of his family. “They smile upon us from the beyond knowing that their sacrifice will not be forgotten,” Greg continued after half a minute of silence. “Their memories shall be honored, and their families taken care of.”

“Also, as we come together to usher in a new Town-head, I’d like to take a moment to recognize and honor the bravery of the former Town-head, who even now is slowly recovering from the injuries he sustained while fighting the monsters that sought to decimate this town. We are not disposing of him because he is hurt. We are not replacing him because he has been weakened by this event. Instead, we are passing on the mantle to the next person, knowing that the former Town-head has given all that he could, and we couldn’t in good conscience ask anything more of him. He is what all future leaders should aspire to,” Greg laid out.

In truth, the reason the man was still bedridden was because of the potion he had taken to amp up his strength. Both Greg and the healer had visited the Town-head almost as soon as they had gotten back to town. At the time, he was still bandaged up and in critical condition, but a few healing spells from his teacher had set the man right. Now, all he was dealing with was the weakening aftereffect of the potion, which would leave him out of commission for almost a month.

From what Olivia had later told him of the night the man was injured, Shalia had been completely unable to come to her father’s aid. After a rough night in which she’d been unable to save any of the twenty-plus patients that had been brought to her, Greg could understand why she’d be afraid to tend to her father. For all her pretentiousness, Greg knew that Shalia was really close to her father and was a bit of a daddy’s girl. If he died at her hands, it would completely wreck her. Luckily for them both, it was Olivia who had come to the man’s rescue and so consequently, she was also the one who had brought him to the infirmary. Noting the state Shalia was in, Olivia had taken charge, telling her what to do and when. To her credit, when someone else took charge and gave her direction, Shalia was nothing if not efficient. Working together, they stopped any bleeding, dealt with the worst of his wounds, and applied the appropriate medicine where necessary. By the end, the man was still in bad shape but not in danger of dying soon. 

“All the men of this town fought bravely in the face of almost insurmountable odds. Remember that night, not with fear, but with pride. Remember it as the night that when death came calling, you didn't shake in fear! You did not turn and run! And you didn’t go quietly into the night! Instead, you held the line and drove it back!” Greg watched the men swell with pride at this new retelling of that night’s events. He was perfectly aware that, if Olivia hadn’t been there, they would have all been overrun regardless of how brave they were. Still, he saw no reason to point this out and instead chose to lift their spirits. “Among those who answered the call of duty, the house of Aria and that of Valla distinguished themselves above the rest. Showing themselves to be both courageous enough to lead the charge in the face of danger, and strong enough to crush their foes, however many they may be!”

At this point, Greg lifted his right hand, palm facing upward. Greg took out a smooth, round, black stone marked with several runes from his storage ring, causing it to appear on his palm. Ignoring the sounds of surprise, Greg held it between his thumb and index finger and held it up for everyone to see. “This is an oath-keeper stone. Its purpose is simple. Any oath taken while holding this stone must be upheld. If one breaks the oath, this stone will pass judgment on the oath-breaker,” He explained. “Lest any of you doubt the truth of my words, I will demonstrate. I swear, that immediately after taking this oath, I will start singing. If I fail to honor this pledge, I will go blind for ten breaths of time,” he spoke loud enough to be heard by all. Immediately after the oath was taken, the black stone dissolved into a black cloud that flowed around his hand before coalescing into a complex tattoo on the back of his palm. 

In the silence that followed his oath, Greg heard gasps from the crowd before him even as his vision fogged up till everything went white.

After a long discussion yesterday with both his familiar and teacher, this was the solution they had come up with to settle the dispute between the two families. His teacher had asked if he had oath-keeper stones in his shop. When they found that he did, she demonstrated their use using the very same example that Greg had just used. Greg had been just as alarmed as the crowd seemed to be when he watched his teacher’s eyes cloud over until they were completely white. The key thing to take note of when taking an oath using an oath-keeper stone is to always specify what the penalty will be. If one neglects to do so, then punishment is left up to the stone, in which case it’ll be completely random. One might find that the consequence of breaking a trivial oath is immediate death. By the same token, one might break a serious oath and suffer only a slight itch that quickly passes as a result. It’s essentially gambling with one’s life to not specify the penalty that one will accept if one fails to uphold the oath that one takes.

Ten breaths later, when Greg’s eyes once again cleared up, he could see the shock in the eyes of the crowd, but most of all, in the two men before him. Looking at the back of his hand, the tattoo that had formed there had once again vanished. With a smile, he turned to look at the two family heads once more. It was time to see which of them was willing to stake their lives to get the position of Town-head…

***