Heroist
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Renold naively believed that a hard workout would put him in a creative mood, help him collect his thoughts, and enable him to write a short note about Baldur and its inhabitants, but this proved to be a disappointing delusion. When Ilva, for some reason in an unusually upbeat mood, came to visit her brother, she found him sitting on the floor in the middle of his room, legs crossed, hunched over another crumpled piece of paper. Scribbled, balled-up scraps were scattered everywhere around him, a small bookshelf had been turned inside out, and the table was cluttered with open books. To Renold's left lay an open volume about Airisufir, which Ilva had lent him to read last week; to his right was an unfinished dessert.
Not expecting to see her usually composed and tidy brother in such a state, the girl froze in the doorway in astonishment, casting puzzled glances his way. However, for the first time, he paid her no attention; it seemed the writing work had entirely captivated his mind.
—Ummm, what do you have here? —Ilva tried to get his attention, but Renold only mumbled something incoherent in response.
The maiden then approached the motionless, slouching statue and poked the sheet of paper with the toe of her shoe, where he was painstakingly tracing unremarkable letters. —I said, what are you doing?
—Ah, what? Oh, hi Il. —Renold finally distracted himself, lifting his head for a moment and smiling at his sister. —Yeah, I decided to help Philip with an interview for the newspaper. Now then, where was I, ah yes: "of course, this is a misconception. In Baldur, one can encounter..." —he began muttering under his breath again.
—Are you writing about that backwater, then? —With a swift motion, Ilva snatched the sheet from under her brother's nose and began to study his scribbles with interest.
—Il, why the f.. —Renold suddenly grew angry, hurriedly rising from the floor and reaching for his work. —I'm busy, don't interfere. Nothing is working out as it is.
—Wow, you're praising them all so much. —His sister replied with the same growing indignation, her eyes scanning the uneven lines. —So, you intend to spend the rest of your life hugging forest monsters according to the old baron's precepts? Though considering his quirks, it won't be for very long.
—What are you talking about? —Renold frowned. —I'm just writing my honest opinion. You can write yours too if you want; it's an assignment for several people.
—As if I have nothing better to do. —the girl snorted. To be honest, she really didn't have any important plans, but naturally, she couldn't allow herself to show that. —Fine, fine, —she softened after a few moments, —write whatever you want, truth or not.
—Great. —The young man reached for the sheet again, but Ilva held it above her head. —But first, ask how my day went, —she added in a playful voice.
Renold, being taller, nevertheless froze in place, folding his arms across his chest. —Fine. How was your day?
—You won't believe it, I studied magic with Emilia! —the maiden decided not to prolong the answer, the joy overflowing in the sparkle of her eyes. —Of course, it turned out to be very difficult and no proper spells have come out yet, but look: she raised and held out her hands, then folded her fingers into some kind of sign and pointed them at the nearest wall. A thin stream of shimmering water flew from her palm, and like a tiny bullet, it pierced the wall, leaving a barely visible dent.
—Well, I'll be! —for the first time today, Renold was genuinely amazed. —That's so cool!
—Are you really happy?
—Of course! Do you know what that means? You'll be able to help me in battle. And I'll worry less that you won't be able to stand up for yourself. —Renold put his arm around Ilva's waist, lifted her, and spun her around.
Seizing a lucky moment, the young man snatched his essay and pretended to run away.
—Hey, that's not fair! —Ilva pushed him in the back with all her might, and they fell together onto the hastily made bed. —Fine, alright, I'll help your fantasies. Right, remove all the names from here. And the mention of magic.
—But why? It's just a short note.
—Just in case. Put a comma here, replace this word. There's a soft sign here. Horrible, where did you learn to write?
—Well, I was in a hurry...
—Indeed, no one in their right mind would accept this. And I also think you've completely strayed from the given topic.
—I got carried away, happens to the best of us...
***
Ilva spent the remaining time in the library, and Renold, having somehow finished his work, hurried back to the publishing house. And although his essay took on a somewhat readable appearance after his sister's help, he was not entirely sure that he had managed to convey all his thoughts in an accessible and clear manner; rather, the opposite was likely true.
I've already forgotten how many OS I have etc.
!Ilva reads about Limme Madrigal on the second OS
!Renold eats food and on the second OS reads Airisufir, levels rapier to 7, armor to 4. Also, I think you didn't give me 200 exp for the training (or a free level instead of it?)
Not expecting to see her usually composed and tidy brother in such a state, the girl froze in the doorway in astonishment, casting puzzled glances his way. However, for the first time, he paid her no attention; it seemed the writing work had entirely captivated his mind.
—Ummm, what do you have here? —Ilva tried to get his attention, but Renold only mumbled something incoherent in response.
The maiden then approached the motionless, slouching statue and poked the sheet of paper with the toe of her shoe, where he was painstakingly tracing unremarkable letters. —I said, what are you doing?
—Ah, what? Oh, hi Il. —Renold finally distracted himself, lifting his head for a moment and smiling at his sister. —Yeah, I decided to help Philip with an interview for the newspaper. Now then, where was I, ah yes: "of course, this is a misconception. In Baldur, one can encounter..." —he began muttering under his breath again.
—Are you writing about that backwater, then? —With a swift motion, Ilva snatched the sheet from under her brother's nose and began to study his scribbles with interest.
—Il, why the f.. —Renold suddenly grew angry, hurriedly rising from the floor and reaching for his work. —I'm busy, don't interfere. Nothing is working out as it is.
—Wow, you're praising them all so much. —His sister replied with the same growing indignation, her eyes scanning the uneven lines. —So, you intend to spend the rest of your life hugging forest monsters according to the old baron's precepts? Though considering his quirks, it won't be for very long.
—What are you talking about? —Renold frowned. —I'm just writing my honest opinion. You can write yours too if you want; it's an assignment for several people.
—As if I have nothing better to do. —the girl snorted. To be honest, she really didn't have any important plans, but naturally, she couldn't allow herself to show that. —Fine, fine, —she softened after a few moments, —write whatever you want, truth or not.
—Great. —The young man reached for the sheet again, but Ilva held it above her head. —But first, ask how my day went, —she added in a playful voice.
Renold, being taller, nevertheless froze in place, folding his arms across his chest. —Fine. How was your day?
—You won't believe it, I studied magic with Emilia! —the maiden decided not to prolong the answer, the joy overflowing in the sparkle of her eyes. —Of course, it turned out to be very difficult and no proper spells have come out yet, but look: she raised and held out her hands, then folded her fingers into some kind of sign and pointed them at the nearest wall. A thin stream of shimmering water flew from her palm, and like a tiny bullet, it pierced the wall, leaving a barely visible dent.
—Well, I'll be! —for the first time today, Renold was genuinely amazed. —That's so cool!
—Are you really happy?
—Of course! Do you know what that means? You'll be able to help me in battle. And I'll worry less that you won't be able to stand up for yourself. —Renold put his arm around Ilva's waist, lifted her, and spun her around.
Seizing a lucky moment, the young man snatched his essay and pretended to run away.
—Hey, that's not fair! —Ilva pushed him in the back with all her might, and they fell together onto the hastily made bed. —Fine, alright, I'll help your fantasies. Right, remove all the names from here. And the mention of magic.
—But why? It's just a short note.
—Just in case. Put a comma here, replace this word. There's a soft sign here. Horrible, where did you learn to write?
—Well, I was in a hurry...
—Indeed, no one in their right mind would accept this. And I also think you've completely strayed from the given topic.
—I got carried away, happens to the best of us...
***
Ilva spent the remaining time in the library, and Renold, having somehow finished his work, hurried back to the publishing house. And although his essay took on a somewhat readable appearance after his sister's help, he was not entirely sure that he had managed to convey all his thoughts in an accessible and clear manner; rather, the opposite was likely true.
I've already forgotten how many OS I have etc.
!Ilva reads about Limme Madrigal on the second OS
!Renold eats food and on the second OS reads Airisufir, levels rapier to 7, armor to 4. Also, I think you didn't give me 200 exp for the training (or a free level instead of it?)
Whatever