Ment
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Looking back, I realize how foolish and naive I was in my youth. I hope, I truly hope, that I have improved at least a little in this regard, drawing closer to my ideals of knighthood, even if I have adapted those ideals to real life.
Born into a fairly wealthy family in N, I was a rebel from childhood: listening to tales of a glorious past, of valiant knights, hunters of monsters and dragons, was never enough for me—I wanted to see the action myself, on the stage, and preferably as the main character. Onolad Vanora Darvening, my father, tried to hammer into my little red-haired head the simple truth that instead of fantasies, I needed to receive a lady's education and enter into a profitable marriage with a nobleman of suitable status. Of course, since times were no longer so primitive, this could be done quite consciously and by my own choice, but society expected exactly that of a girl. The fate looming on the horizon was somewhat constricting; I wanted to escape reality somewhere, and Romsan's forge on our estate became a wonderful secret hideout for me.
Romsan himself was from I, so in addition to my parents' stories, he knew many other things—about a past that was amazing to me, in which there existed one special hero, distinguished not only by strength and valor but also by the ability to create true masterpieces from iron, teaching this to many people of antiquity. That very hero became my inspiration for life.
The idyll was short-lived; soon, an invasion of enemies deprived me of both my father and my mother, Ancoretta Miura Darvening... She was a kind-hearted and incredibly beautiful woman; she loved charity work and sponsoring the arts, but now it seems to me that her appearance was mostly tinged with some sadness. Probably, it was no coincidence that no nanny ever stayed with us for long, and no coincidence that my mother told me so many fairy tales—she devoted herself entirely to her only child, apparently being not entirely physically healthy.
That same invasion also took from me my blacksmithing mentor, Romsan, but during the first battle of my life—a fight for my and other people's freedom—I survived and won, even though I was still a teenager. Of course, the reason for the victory was not my personal strength, but solely the valor of Romsan and the others who fought then, but still...
By that time, I had no home, nor any future that any people I knew could provide me. I gained freedom from the standard girl's fate, but that freedom came at too high a price, and nothing was left but to go wandering. And so I ended up in I, or rather even in K, where I spent most of my time pointlessly bothering people. But about everything, in order. The details of the following memories seem important enough for self-understanding that I will increase their detail from roughly this point onward...
(It's unclear how to count experience for the introduction, given the fictional characters. Suppose from 1 to 6 entries.)
There was plenty of interesting stuff in K. First of all, there was a forge, created especially for people like me. The blacksmith who worked there regularly didn't say a single word to me the entire time I trained in smithing there, making simple things like rings (for some reason, it's believed you should train on iron daggers, and I did that too, but that's nonsense... The ratio of rough to fine work in a dagger is far worse than in small metal items). Be that as it may, that forge was special, so my awareness of my craft improved significantly then.
Soon after, I happened to see a large crowd gathered in the square: in K, all serious news was announced pompously and publicly, with loud shouts matching the general mood. And this time, the people were honoring N, a warrior of the "VS" legion, for exposing and executing a traitor from another legion named D. At least, that's how Grandmaster L presented the story; the problem was that absolutely all participants in this story were likely rather unscrupulous people. In L's case, no matter how exceptionally talented he was, a sorcerer's power should not determine his role in politics, yet in essence, his authority was precisely a result of respect for his might. I'm sure he understood that perfectly well. N seemed to be in cahoots with L, playing along beautifully: I'm sure, being a competent warrior, he himself didn't believe in the circumstances of his being honored for supposedly killing the murderer of the strongest heavy-armored soldier in the country. It's strange that no one noticed this absurdity.
The third hero of this scene was T, another obedient executor bearing the formal title of marshal. Of course, from these notes it might seem that I'm somehow condemning all these people, but not at all—they were simply doing what they considered useful for the country. The only thing that left a bad taste in my mouth was the method; I realized it was good that I was not a politician myself.
Finally, R, the chief of the guard, chimed in, speaking about the disbandment of a rebel legion and also giving a list of associated criminals; he was perhaps the only sincere person among all the others, though without any evidence. But on the other hand, it's hard to believe that all those attacks on innocent people that were announced were simply fabricated.
The decline of knighthood appeared to me as something undeniable when I entered "The Knight's Honor" in that city. It turned out there was honor in exactly one knight, Endarion, and he basically sat around all day just guarding it, doing nothing much. All the other glorious warriors from N had simply vanished somewhere, leaving the poor fellow alone. Despite my requests and his own boasting, Endarion refused even to train me then, although he gladly set aside a spot for fencing in the backyard of "The Honor."
A competitor to my beloved free forge was Halgard's Forge, where they sold equipment of exceptional quality. I never saw Halgard himself, but I spoke with his apprentice, and also with an orc who was a customer and introduced himself as Shushuk. I bought a belt from them, quite useful. From Halgard and the apprentice, that is, not from Shushuk.
Later, I grew bold enough to sign up for a combat tournament in the coliseum. A novice, underage wandering knight in a potentially (and quite realistically) deadly competition? Foolish? But no, I managed to roughly assess what awaited me by betting and watching previous fights. I essentially had only one serious weakness compared to my future opponents, and I soon decided to fix it using the method I knew.
To prepare for forging a new sword, I went to the Perpharium, a place where potions were sold. And not just potions—it seemed they had them for absolutely any situation; I hadn't seen anything like it in other countries. The saleswoman, whose name I didn't know, found something for me called "Kinetr" (don't be surprised, diary, I loved memorizing the names of what I consumed in liquid form back then). Afterwards, I used the potion to forge "Cobra's Strike", a specially shaped sword that was harder to dodge than normal attacks, thus closing my weakness in imprecise movements.
At the Znanium, I bought a potentially useful book with k- techniques, which a bald, bearded stranger, clearly working there, gave me. It cost much more than my potion, and in the end, I never had time to read it: appreciate the irony, little diary.
Among other memorable minor events, the orc Shushuk once showed up at "The Knight's Honor" with a minotaur's head. I don't know where he got it, or why he thought he'd found a suitable place for such trophies. I had no time to ask; I invited everyone to watch the arena fight, and that was that. Shushuk stared at my back for a long time for some reason; I hope he wasn't offended by my lack of interest in the little minotaur...
Fight 1. Red Fury (my alias) used an assault and killed the samurai Ravan... Sorry, buddy. The truth was, I could have struck softer, giving you a chance at healing, but I never gave anyone an advantage in real battle... I think you would have done the same to me if you had any trump cards and could win.
Another fight. A gray-haired, sturdy heavy-armored soldier Marius fights against a shooter Satyr, practically my countryman. I'm rooting for the first, but I place my money bet on the second—a simple calculation: a gun is too convenient a weapon against a warrior who has lost his agility. Fortunately or unfortunately, my thoughts were confirmed, and Marius lost (but survived).
Temple of R. An interesting place I stopped by between fights. In a dark, huge hall lit by candles sat someone, a man of unknown age with terrible scars, who promised that his god could grant some wish or allow me to see the future. I ran away from there as soon as I heard that strange offer.
In the next round, Satyr started by shooting dead Luna, a nimble warrior-assassin. Well, in my opinion, the latter had chances, but she was unlucky. Then I beat Zigzag, piercing the armor of the red-haired giant with one powerful blow. He survived. Even quite intact. But I humiliated him, laughing that he was too weak, and took his equipment....................... I don't know why; it's just some kind of shame. Honestly, he seemed like a nice guy to me, and later I returned all his gear, finding him in the tavern. I even offered my smithing services, but he was broke.
The next event I remember well, partly because it was unpleasant, and partly, probably, because we women are vengeful creatures. Namely, my competitor Satyr refused to duel me, because "he does not wish to fight a psychopath who came with the sole purpose of killing people."
Tirza—a rather interesting representative of some belief I don't understand, but she broke all stereotypes about such believers. At least she didn't consider weakness a vice; she had composure and common sense. In the arena, she was slow but impenetrable; for instance, in a fight against the archer Primula, Tirza calmly stood and endured until the swift-footed shooter ran out of all ammunition.
My next fight was against Artelix, a pensive fighter with an artifact katana. There were two difficulties: Artelix was faster and more agile than my previous opponents, and I couldn't avoid his counterattacks. Not so terrible, since I have regeneration, but there was a second difficulty: the gray-haired warrior collected my blood with his katana and became healthier and more dangerous from it. Plus, he had many attacks, some critical... A terrifying opponent who nevertheless decided to surrender to me for a simple reason: he couldn't reliably catch me, nor could he kill me with a counterattack, while I might get lucky, even if it would take a lot of time.
The fight against Tirza I lost, surrendering last. Between her regeneration and mine, hers proved stronger, and nothing could be done about that. More precisely, I could have taken a risk and switched to a different fighting style without running away, but I didn't do that then, thinking that second place was also a good result compared to the danger of losing my head, since the opponent was clearly more serious than Artelix.
After this, Finance Minister S allowed Tirza to give a speech, quite fiery and befitting a winner, but I didn't listen to the end. Another bout of foolishness on my part, mixed with a bit of resentment—I went to the tavern and cried there... And Artelix, whom I didn't even notice at first, so quiet was he, that same opponent of mine, tried to console me with some words, or maybe set my head straight—hard to say; it's quite possible he just found it unpleasant to share a room with a sobbing fool. "It's becoming harder and harder for traditional warriors to exist." "None of this has any meaning." Probably, said in a different tone or by a different person, this could even be considered an insult, but no, that samurai genuinely spoke from the heart then. I even wonder what became of him.
The political situation was getting more complicated, and my time in K was coming to an end...
There seem to be about 43 entries marked in red.
Immediately 400 experience points in the arc.
Born into a fairly wealthy family in N, I was a rebel from childhood: listening to tales of a glorious past, of valiant knights, hunters of monsters and dragons, was never enough for me—I wanted to see the action myself, on the stage, and preferably as the main character. Onolad Vanora Darvening, my father, tried to hammer into my little red-haired head the simple truth that instead of fantasies, I needed to receive a lady's education and enter into a profitable marriage with a nobleman of suitable status. Of course, since times were no longer so primitive, this could be done quite consciously and by my own choice, but society expected exactly that of a girl. The fate looming on the horizon was somewhat constricting; I wanted to escape reality somewhere, and Romsan's forge on our estate became a wonderful secret hideout for me.
Romsan himself was from I, so in addition to my parents' stories, he knew many other things—about a past that was amazing to me, in which there existed one special hero, distinguished not only by strength and valor but also by the ability to create true masterpieces from iron, teaching this to many people of antiquity. That very hero became my inspiration for life.
The idyll was short-lived; soon, an invasion of enemies deprived me of both my father and my mother, Ancoretta Miura Darvening... She was a kind-hearted and incredibly beautiful woman; she loved charity work and sponsoring the arts, but now it seems to me that her appearance was mostly tinged with some sadness. Probably, it was no coincidence that no nanny ever stayed with us for long, and no coincidence that my mother told me so many fairy tales—she devoted herself entirely to her only child, apparently being not entirely physically healthy.
That same invasion also took from me my blacksmithing mentor, Romsan, but during the first battle of my life—a fight for my and other people's freedom—I survived and won, even though I was still a teenager. Of course, the reason for the victory was not my personal strength, but solely the valor of Romsan and the others who fought then, but still...
By that time, I had no home, nor any future that any people I knew could provide me. I gained freedom from the standard girl's fate, but that freedom came at too high a price, and nothing was left but to go wandering. And so I ended up in I, or rather even in K, where I spent most of my time pointlessly bothering people. But about everything, in order. The details of the following memories seem important enough for self-understanding that I will increase their detail from roughly this point onward...
(It's unclear how to count experience for the introduction, given the fictional characters. Suppose from 1 to 6 entries.)
There was plenty of interesting stuff in K. First of all, there was a forge, created especially for people like me. The blacksmith who worked there regularly didn't say a single word to me the entire time I trained in smithing there, making simple things like rings (for some reason, it's believed you should train on iron daggers, and I did that too, but that's nonsense... The ratio of rough to fine work in a dagger is far worse than in small metal items). Be that as it may, that forge was special, so my awareness of my craft improved significantly then.
Soon after, I happened to see a large crowd gathered in the square: in K, all serious news was announced pompously and publicly, with loud shouts matching the general mood. And this time, the people were honoring N, a warrior of the "VS" legion, for exposing and executing a traitor from another legion named D. At least, that's how Grandmaster L presented the story; the problem was that absolutely all participants in this story were likely rather unscrupulous people. In L's case, no matter how exceptionally talented he was, a sorcerer's power should not determine his role in politics, yet in essence, his authority was precisely a result of respect for his might. I'm sure he understood that perfectly well. N seemed to be in cahoots with L, playing along beautifully: I'm sure, being a competent warrior, he himself didn't believe in the circumstances of his being honored for supposedly killing the murderer of the strongest heavy-armored soldier in the country. It's strange that no one noticed this absurdity.
The third hero of this scene was T, another obedient executor bearing the formal title of marshal. Of course, from these notes it might seem that I'm somehow condemning all these people, but not at all—they were simply doing what they considered useful for the country. The only thing that left a bad taste in my mouth was the method; I realized it was good that I was not a politician myself.
Finally, R, the chief of the guard, chimed in, speaking about the disbandment of a rebel legion and also giving a list of associated criminals; he was perhaps the only sincere person among all the others, though without any evidence. But on the other hand, it's hard to believe that all those attacks on innocent people that were announced were simply fabricated.
The decline of knighthood appeared to me as something undeniable when I entered "The Knight's Honor" in that city. It turned out there was honor in exactly one knight, Endarion, and he basically sat around all day just guarding it, doing nothing much. All the other glorious warriors from N had simply vanished somewhere, leaving the poor fellow alone. Despite my requests and his own boasting, Endarion refused even to train me then, although he gladly set aside a spot for fencing in the backyard of "The Honor."
A competitor to my beloved free forge was Halgard's Forge, where they sold equipment of exceptional quality. I never saw Halgard himself, but I spoke with his apprentice, and also with an orc who was a customer and introduced himself as Shushuk. I bought a belt from them, quite useful. From Halgard and the apprentice, that is, not from Shushuk.
Later, I grew bold enough to sign up for a combat tournament in the coliseum. A novice, underage wandering knight in a potentially (and quite realistically) deadly competition? Foolish? But no, I managed to roughly assess what awaited me by betting and watching previous fights. I essentially had only one serious weakness compared to my future opponents, and I soon decided to fix it using the method I knew.
To prepare for forging a new sword, I went to the Perpharium, a place where potions were sold. And not just potions—it seemed they had them for absolutely any situation; I hadn't seen anything like it in other countries. The saleswoman, whose name I didn't know, found something for me called "Kinetr" (don't be surprised, diary, I loved memorizing the names of what I consumed in liquid form back then). Afterwards, I used the potion to forge "Cobra's Strike", a specially shaped sword that was harder to dodge than normal attacks, thus closing my weakness in imprecise movements.
At the Znanium, I bought a potentially useful book with k- techniques, which a bald, bearded stranger, clearly working there, gave me. It cost much more than my potion, and in the end, I never had time to read it: appreciate the irony, little diary.
Among other memorable minor events, the orc Shushuk once showed up at "The Knight's Honor" with a minotaur's head. I don't know where he got it, or why he thought he'd found a suitable place for such trophies. I had no time to ask; I invited everyone to watch the arena fight, and that was that. Shushuk stared at my back for a long time for some reason; I hope he wasn't offended by my lack of interest in the little minotaur...
Fight 1. Red Fury (my alias) used an assault and killed the samurai Ravan... Sorry, buddy. The truth was, I could have struck softer, giving you a chance at healing, but I never gave anyone an advantage in real battle... I think you would have done the same to me if you had any trump cards and could win.
Another fight. A gray-haired, sturdy heavy-armored soldier Marius fights against a shooter Satyr, practically my countryman. I'm rooting for the first, but I place my money bet on the second—a simple calculation: a gun is too convenient a weapon against a warrior who has lost his agility. Fortunately or unfortunately, my thoughts were confirmed, and Marius lost (but survived).
Temple of R. An interesting place I stopped by between fights. In a dark, huge hall lit by candles sat someone, a man of unknown age with terrible scars, who promised that his god could grant some wish or allow me to see the future. I ran away from there as soon as I heard that strange offer.
In the next round, Satyr started by shooting dead Luna, a nimble warrior-assassin. Well, in my opinion, the latter had chances, but she was unlucky. Then I beat Zigzag, piercing the armor of the red-haired giant with one powerful blow. He survived. Even quite intact. But I humiliated him, laughing that he was too weak, and took his equipment....................... I don't know why; it's just some kind of shame. Honestly, he seemed like a nice guy to me, and later I returned all his gear, finding him in the tavern. I even offered my smithing services, but he was broke.
The next event I remember well, partly because it was unpleasant, and partly, probably, because we women are vengeful creatures. Namely, my competitor Satyr refused to duel me, because "he does not wish to fight a psychopath who came with the sole purpose of killing people."
Tirza—a rather interesting representative of some belief I don't understand, but she broke all stereotypes about such believers. At least she didn't consider weakness a vice; she had composure and common sense. In the arena, she was slow but impenetrable; for instance, in a fight against the archer Primula, Tirza calmly stood and endured until the swift-footed shooter ran out of all ammunition.
My next fight was against Artelix, a pensive fighter with an artifact katana. There were two difficulties: Artelix was faster and more agile than my previous opponents, and I couldn't avoid his counterattacks. Not so terrible, since I have regeneration, but there was a second difficulty: the gray-haired warrior collected my blood with his katana and became healthier and more dangerous from it. Plus, he had many attacks, some critical... A terrifying opponent who nevertheless decided to surrender to me for a simple reason: he couldn't reliably catch me, nor could he kill me with a counterattack, while I might get lucky, even if it would take a lot of time.
The fight against Tirza I lost, surrendering last. Between her regeneration and mine, hers proved stronger, and nothing could be done about that. More precisely, I could have taken a risk and switched to a different fighting style without running away, but I didn't do that then, thinking that second place was also a good result compared to the danger of losing my head, since the opponent was clearly more serious than Artelix.
After this, Finance Minister S allowed Tirza to give a speech, quite fiery and befitting a winner, but I didn't listen to the end. Another bout of foolishness on my part, mixed with a bit of resentment—I went to the tavern and cried there... And Artelix, whom I didn't even notice at first, so quiet was he, that same opponent of mine, tried to console me with some words, or maybe set my head straight—hard to say; it's quite possible he just found it unpleasant to share a room with a sobbing fool. "It's becoming harder and harder for traditional warriors to exist." "None of this has any meaning." Probably, said in a different tone or by a different person, this could even be considered an insult, but no, that samurai genuinely spoke from the heart then. I even wonder what became of him.
The political situation was getting more complicated, and my time in K was coming to an end...
There seem to be about 43 entries marked in red.
Immediately 400 experience points in the arc.