The Pinnacle Warrior

“My father’s name is Savraba. He was born into slavery under the control of the Hordes. When he was a young man, he snuck into his owner’s place where they kept the mana crystal that allowed for people to be bestowed a Class. After getting himself a Class, he returned back to his pen to gain levels for a time, at least until he could make his escape. It took him years of being treated like an object and subhuman until he finally got high enough leveled to escape.

“His owner sent his raiders to chase him, and he only barely escaped to the borders, where soldiers on the Bulwark, my mother among them, saved him and killed the raiders that followed him.”

Astrid finished, looking Muti in the eye. She allowed the anger in her bleed out, to show the unfairness that her family had experienced. Muti’s face was unreadable, but after Astrid didn’t say anything else, she asked, “What is the reason for your hatred? Your father is strong. Why is this a reason for anger or hatred? I would congratulate him if I met him. It is nearly impossible for a Human to escape the Hordes’ lands.”

“Your people held him as a slave, tortured him, killed his parents for the crime of being born in the plains the Hordes inhabit!”

“His parents were weak. He is strong. What is the problem?” 

“Somebody shouldn’t be a slave because they’re weak! A child shouldn’t be beaten and scarred and made into an object! Nobody should have their freedom stolen from them like that.”

“All children are property of the Horde, just as all children here are property of their parents.” Muti shrugged. “Children are too weak to make decisions for themselves. Those who reach adulthood and are yet too weak to protect themselves are not given freedom. There is little difference between slavery and childhood, and there is no difference between the weak and slaves.”

Astrid blinked slowly before turning to look at Skandr. His face was twisted into a look that Astrid thought she could understand as anger and disgust.

“There is something that is troubling you that I do not understand.” Muti said. If her face and body language weren’t so open and honest, Astrid might have thrown herself at her party member.

“My father was enslaved by your people! I’ve heard of the hard labor and mistreatment they suffer at your hands, though only what little he was willing to burden me with! I learned about how he was stripped from his parents’ sides as a young boy, that his mother was made to help keep the pens stocked with more slave children! He had to fight for every crumb and crust from the age he could walk, and he watched his friends starve. Doesn’t that make you feel anything?”

“It is a pity, yes. If there was sufficient to feed every individual in the plains, then that would be an easier life to live. That is not the life that is presented to any inhabitant. Every child born in the plains, Human or Barbarian, Kin or Walker, animal or monster, each one fights for survival from the day that they are born. The Hordes are victorious. We have laid claim to the lands, and we will do what we must to ensure we continue to survive. I have never kept that a secret from you.”

“My father suffered at the hands of his master for decades! He was beaten and starved, wounded and hated!”

“Until he was strong enough to take his fate into his hands!”

In a wordless scream of rage, Astrid threw herself at Muti. The Rogue fell into the familiar stance, ready to fight. Astrid knew where her wounds were, and she pressed the attack into Muti’s left shoulder and upper arm. Though she was more experienced, Muti was far from recovered from her near death experience. Skandr’s shouts for calm were a dull roar that Astrid didn’t understand. 

With Blunt Weapons Mastery, Astrid knew just how to strike her enemy where it hurt the most. Fist in the eye socket, to the wounded arm, to the belly, and the throat. Knee to the sternum. Hammer blows to the back of her head. 

Muti lay bloody on the ground when Skandr’s Lightning Bolt struck Astrid in the chest. She shuddered where she stood, then came back to herself. Her companion, someone she’d sworn to be companions to, to be friends with and support in her goals, was bleeding on the ground because of Astrid’s stupid rage.

“Muti…?” Astrid’s voice quivered as she spoke. The Barbarian looked up, blood flowing from her nose and mouth. Her jagged teeth had ravaged her lips and the inside of her mouth and she grinned. Not a fake smile, not an angry or vengeful or any other emotion. No, Muti smiled like she’d been given the greatest gift. She tried to laugh, but her breath wheezed instead. With her eyes swelling shut and her own blood covering her face, she wheezed out, “Your knuckles. Are weak.”

Astrid looked down at her fists, where the skin was flayed from her bones. Then, she looked down at Muti, who, again, was still smiling and looked like a cat that’d gotten the cream. 

“You’re insane. I don’t think there’s any other way to put it.”

“I am not insane. I am a Barbarian, I am your bloodbound companion, and I concede to your rage, to your strength, and to your leadership. Astrid, may I stand?”

Disbelieving, the Warrior bent down and offered a hand to Muti. Surprisingly, the Barbarian took it this time, and she struggled to her feet. As soon as she had found her footing, she wiped gingerly at her mouth and eyes.

“You have learned. This is… impressive enough. There are still things to learn though.”

“I just did my best to beat you to death with my hands in a fit of rage, and you’re approving of this?”

“Why would I not? You have shown your strength and your determination and I was not strong enough to stop you from doing what you felt you needed to do. And, as my Bloodbound companion, as one who has sworn to stand beside me on my peaks and walk beside me through my valleys, it is good to see what you are capable of. You pursued victory over all, and who would I be if I did not approve of that?”

For the second time, Astrid‘s mouth hung open. Then, as she struggled to gather herself, she said simply, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Perhaps I will need a draught or two before I go to rest, but I am not harmed. It would appear to me that I do not understand the importance of a father for you. Perhaps you could explain that to me, that I may better understand why it is that my words have so angered you?”

Again, Astrid could not simply understand what it was that drove Muti to be so calm and accepting of what had just happened. What she had just done was significantly worse than what had nearly gotten her thrown out as a delver in Stahlstadt, but Muti was treating it more as a friendly disagreement than any of the accidental or perceived insults that Astrid had given her over the past months.

“Wait, do you know what a father is?”

“Yes, I know how children come to be. A male and a female mate, and after a time, if they are fertile, then the female lays eggs, gives birth, or otherwise produces the spawn. The father is the male.”

Skandr, standing in the corner and looking absolutely gob smacked, threw up his hands. “Really? This is what’s happening now? We’re going to talk about the way that children are made and born when literally less than a minute ago you were on the ground getting kicked in the face? What in the hell am I missing?”

Astrid shrugged, even more confused now that Skandr was calling attention to it. Muti spoke with a genuine smile, “This is information that apparently I must know to better understand why it is that I cannot speak about fathers the way that I did now. Astrid, you have shown willingness to adjust the way you speak and treat me in accordance with what I wish. Is this not meet for me to do the same to you?”

“Well, I suppose that takes that conversation away from that. My father is a man who has always treated me well, has held me when I am sad, and has taught me with patience in all that I do. He cared for me, loved me, and… I don’t know, he’s my papa.”

As Astrid said the words, she felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She enjoyed the letters that she sent back and forth with her parents, but now, she missed them more than ever.

“What do you speak of? This ‘father’ or ‘family’ is something that I do not know that I have ever experienced and it appears that my previous understanding is woefully misinformed. It does sound to be a good thing, and I hope that… he is well?”

More than well wishes, Astrid heard the tentative attempt at a diplomatic exchange of words. This was Muti attempting to adjust to this paradigm shift that simply did not make sense to her. Astrid was struck with the realization that, more than anything, Muti did not understand the idea of a family, and the way that a parent would treat a child was something that the Barbarian had never experienced.

“I guess I could put it this way. What you said was a disrespect to one of the two people that I hold in highest esteem in my life. It felt like you were cheapening his suffering because of the way that you spoke of slavery. To me, to be enslaved is one of the worst things that could occur.”

“I agree with that.” Muti nodded slowly.

“To have my freedom, my autonomy, my very self to be taken away from me is something that I would not be able to go through without losing who I am.”

“Yes.” Muti nodded more firmly, agreeing again with what Astrid was saying.

“So, saying that the person who I respect most, next to my mother, was a coward for having been born into a situation that he could not control was something that angered me more than I realized it would.”

Muti slowly nodded, not fully agreeing with the sentiment, but seemingly truly beginning to understand. “So… If I am to speak with people about their families… I should not call them weak?”

“That’s as good a place to start as any I suppose. Now, what other questions do you have?”

***

It wasn’t long before Astrid was completely done having these conversations with Muti. The end of the conversation came when Muti asked, “and why do children not challenge their parents for leadership?” when she was asked that, Astrid threw her hands up and said that she would explain more at a later time. Muti was fine with that. Skandr wasn’t.

“Look, she’s OK with what you did here. Good for her. Frankly, I’m not. If somebody calls your father weak or a coward, am I going to have to rip you off of an unconscious or even dead body? I’ve seen that you’re angry, and that’s a normal emotion, but this? This is terrifying. I don’t know if I want to be around you if random words are going to make you get like this. Someone saying the wrong thing to the Barbarian is enough to make her prickly, but nothing like this. Merely talking to you is going to make you nearly kill someone who, need I remind you, today you swore to be companions with? I just don’t get it.”

The calm that Astrid had allowed to fill her drained away. She couldn’t disagree with the words that Skandr had said, and she didn’t know what she could say in response. That she had gotten better? That she hadn’t gotten as angry for other things that people had said to her? This was an embarrassment, and not a particularly ringing endorsement for her ability to stay near other delvers.

“It is merely communication! We were able to communicate in a way that we could not before.”

“Maybe that’s how it is for you, that’s not what it was for her. That’s not what it is for me. So, I need you to give me a better explanation Astrid. Why in the hell should I trust you to keep your head cool and to keep me safe? I’ve accidentally hit you with my Skills and spells before, how close was I to being assaulted like Muti was when that happened? Can you give me an honest answer?”

Astrid stood silently, unable to come up with an answer.

Muti looked between the two and huffed out a sigh. “There is so much about you people that just does not make sense. Perhaps, there are things that I should learn about you, and I see that there are things that have value for you and your people. They are things that allow you to gain strength that the Hordes are unable to, but anger is emotion made pure!”

“And do people drink pure distilled alcohol? No!” Skandr rebutted. “Look, Muti. I understand what you’re saying, but we are not in the plains of the Hordes where Astrid‘s reaction would have merit. Here, she is our party’s leader, and we are relying on her to interact with other Humans in a way that will serve us as a party. What she did just now? That would destroy any relationship that we have with any other delver, and could very easily, or even likely, get her thrown out of the Guild entirely. That means she would no longer be able to delve, and chances are, with that record, that she wouldn’t be allowed to do anything that would get her more experience and levels, at least while within the borders of Humanity’s Bulwark.”

“He’s right. You’re right, Skandr. I don’t have a good explanation about what I might do. Maybe you should be our leader.”

“That’s not really what I want to do.” Skandr shrugged as he said it, though his shoulders were tense and he avoided eye contact. “”I’m not much of a leader, and I don’t want to have to learn to be one. But I’m going to need some justification to continue to delve with you in even the short term, much less the long-term, if this is how I can expect you to blow up when honor, strength, or some other stupid thing gets challenged.”

Astra didn’t have any response to that, but she nodded slowly. “You’re right,” she repeated in a whisper, “you’re right.”

Skandr stood there in the middle of the room for a time before stepping next to Muti. “Let me know if you need any help, and I’ll help you out. Now, I’ll see you both in the morning, though I don’t think we’ll be ready to delve anytime soon. Just let me know.”

As he walked through the door, the silence of the space settled over Astrid and she groaned as she refocused on her surroundings. Several minutes passed, and Muti bowed her head to Astrid as she walked out of the room. While Astrid‘s head filled with explanations, excuses, and extenuating circumstances, her knuckles ached and told her to rest.