The Pinnacle Warrior

“Before you step into the shop,” Olafson waved them off, standing in the doorway while Astrid fought to keep her face calm, “you need to get clean. Nothing’s gonna change if you take fifteen to twenty minutes to get yourselves halfway presentable. The stone building two doors down in that direction is Michel’s place, the closest thing to an inn we’ve got around here. Go there, get something figured out, and then come back.”

Astrid noticed the little grin teasing at the corner of his mouth, and wanted to call him out, but decided not to. Instead, she nodded once, turned, and stepped directly towards the building that he’d directed. The rest of the party followed after him, and Benedict spoke first. “I can appreciate that kind of teasing.”

“Sure, whatever,” Astrid waved him off, continuing the path forward.

“How do we know that he is teasing?” Muti asked.

“Because he is,” Skandr replied with a shrug. “And if he isn’t, that’s fine as well. Maybe he’s strangely averse to blood soaked adventurers wandering through his well-kept shop. Oh wait, that wouldn’t be strange at all.”

“He grabbed the corpse himself,” Astrid protested, though she knew the argument was weak. “Obviously he doesn’t have a problem with blood.”

“I don’t have a problem with blood when it’s out in the forest either,” Skandr reasoned, “but if I can tell people not to walk into my room and get blood all over everything, I’m going to do it without a moment’s hesitation. Yeah, maybe he also thinks it’s funny to make us wait, but I suspect that he probably just doesn’t want us to get blood everywhere in his home when we can just take a minute to get clean. Can you blame him?”

The party continued talking back and forth, Astrid knowing that Skandr’s explanation made too much sense to not be at least partially true. Of course, it was only a handful of seconds before they got to the next building, this one formed of twisting, living branches. After looking back and forth for a handful of seconds, Astrid sighed and knocked on the wall, unsure if it was anywhere near a door, and called out, “Michel! Olafson says that this is a place where we might be able to get a bath and maybe some room rooms. Can we talk?”

There was no answer for a handful of seconds before, a couple paces behind her, a door swung open and out popped who she figured must be Michel. He was a Human man with spectacles on his nose, but as the rest of him stepped out of the end, Ash was reminded that this wasn’t just a regular village. His shiny bald head and waxed mustache seemed to communicate the aura of an experienced, gentlemanly innkeeper. His build seemed to communicate the same thing, with narrow shoulders, and a slightly protruding belly.

Astrid could also feel the mana pulsing off of him as he smiled in a welcoming way, as well as noticing the intricate enchantments inlaid in the coat he wore. Whatever Class he was, it was powerful, and he was, at the very least, level 100.

“You’re looking for a place to stay are you? I can see that you are in need of a bath, though I will ask that you rinse off out here before you get into the bathroom themselves. That is a very large amount of blood to get caught within my tubs. However, if you’re looking to get some rooms, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have at least one to offer, so you’ll be fine on that front,” his words flowed naturally, his tone smooth and his face amiable. “Oh, and I’m sorry, my name is Michel Golem Artisan.”

Astrid blinked a couple times. She’d heard of golems, she’d fought a few as monsters, but somebody who made them? She’d never heard of it. Instead of continuing to think about that, though, she nodded and stepped forward, extending a hand towards him as she tried to be as polite as she could.

“I’m Astrid Warrior, nice to meet you. We’ll go ahead and remove our equipment before we rinse off, if we can then be directed to the baths?“ She phrased it as a question, unsure if she should be treating him like an innkeeper or something else entirely. Fortunately, his smile brightened as he nodded his head.

“But of course! Will you need water? Also, while I prepare your meal, I must ask, what tier are you? I don’t wish to provide too potent of materials to you and risk giving you harm instead of satiety.” 

“Steel tier,” Astrid confirmed not for the first time to residents of the town.

“Very well,” Michel stood tall and gestured to a place around the corner, where there was a stable. “Over there will be a fine location to have some measure of privacy as you clean yourselves. I will open the door in the back and prepare your meal while you do so. Am I to understand that you have business waiting for you with Olafson?”

“Yes,” Astrid confirmed as she walked in the direction that the man had directed, a bit overwhelmed by the constant subject changes and questions. “We probably won’t want to eat until at least an hour from now.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” Michel laughed. “It won’t be ready for at least an hour anyways. Now, once you’re done getting yourselves cleaned from the worst of the filth from your delve, I will direct you to the baths. Are there any of you that would prefer to share a bath or would you each prefer your own room? If that is the case, you may need to wait for turns.”

Astrid glanced at Muti and Felix, the latter of whom blushed. Muti spoke for both of them and she said, “I see no need to hide our bodies from one another. We have often bathed near and with each other over the past years.”

Astrid chuckled and gestured to the Barbarian as she said to Michel, “I suppose that’s your answer. We wouldn’t mind a warm bath, regardless of who’s close to each other.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “It is always nice to see new faces around here. Now, I will leave you to your bathing.”

With that, he stepped back into the building and the party stepped around the corner to enter the stable area. There, Astrid, Muti , and Felix dismissed their equipment while Skandr and Benedict stripped down to their breeches. Having not paid much attention for a while, Astrid was surprised to see the Bard and Wizard both covered in lean, corded muscle. Both of them noticed her noticing, and Benedict made an exaggerated show of flexing.

“Not just some skinny pretty boy now, am I?”

Astrid laughed and raised her hands in apology. “I just haven’t noticed whenever you were changing until now,” she explained. “It’s usually dark when we do that, so… sorry.”

Even as she apologized, Astrid glanced at everyone else. Beyond growing tougher, each person bore the marks of delving. The scars weren’t nearly so noticeable on Benedict, Skandr, and Felix, at least to her eyes. On them, scars had faded from angry pink to mostly smooth skin, though Astrid’s eyes were drawn to Muti. Her body was covered with scars, at least as many as Astrid’s, but the mana tattoos from her boon that she’d constantly been experimenting with pulsed in three different colors with the rhythm of her heartbeat: ice blue, pure white, and inky black. They were remarkable, and Astrid almost found herself mesmerized by them.

The conversation largely died as they pulled the water barrels out of storage and started pouring ladlefuls of water over themselves again and again. In just her breast wrap and loose shorts, Astrid couldn’t help looking at her own body. Just like with the rest, she was usually dressing in the dark and using her equipment Skill when she wasn’t changing out of her underwear. Now, she saw the patterns of scars up and down both legs, across her stomach, and covering her arms. Each had healed remarkably well, between her Skills and Benedict’s ministrations, but she felt no small amount of embarrassment at the thought of how much her body had changed. Her thoughts of finding a lover seemed to die at the thought of wearing a dress and going on a date where every bit of exposed skin, except for her face, had patterns of thick scars.

“You are beautiful,” Muti said, pulling Astrid out of her thoughts. When she looked at her friend, the golden-haired woman was squatting low as Felix poured generous amounts of water over her head again and again, the water running rust brown onto the ground. “The testament to your life is a wonderful thing to behold.”

“What now?” Astrid asked, pulled from her thoughts.

“The scars,” Muti confirmed. “Very few can be found on your back or on the back of your legs. You are someone who confronts danger, who stands before others and offers your own safety to allow others protection. There is no history of cowardice on you, only bravery. All of you is a testament to your willingness to sacrifice yourself. It is inspiring.”

Astrid smiled at that and nodded her thanks to Muti as she resumed cleaning her body, eventually pulling a finely carved wooden scraper from her pouch and scraping the worst of the muck off of her body, neglecting her intimate parts in front of others.

Nearly 10 minutes of washing and cleaning passed in relative silence, though each person allowed another to ensure their backs were clean, taking a wet rag and scrubbing away there.

“It’s a little weird that we have a man called a Golem Artisan running some inn here, right?” Benedict was the first one to ask. “I mean, obviously we’ve all learned that this is a town full of outcasts who are strangely powerful, but I’ve never heard of anybody who can make golems.”

“It might be something that comes after Tinker,” Skandr guessed, “but you’re right. Even so, it’s not like we’ll do anything about it. Do I think it’s weird that there’s this town capable of destroying every other town I’ve ever seen just here in the middle of nowhere? Yes. I don’t have any complaints about it, though. I mean, it’s helping us right now. Apparently, there’s a guy who has contact with people outside of here, so it’s not entirely unknown to the rest of the world.”

“But it’s weird,” Benedict insisted, chuckling a little bit as he shook the water out of his hair.

“And all of us are weird,” Felix rumbled. “Who cares?”

“I don’t really care, I just felt like somebody had to say something.”

“Consider it said, then,” Astrid shrugged as she stood up and walked toward the end. “He said he was going to open the door back here, right?”

As soon as she said as much, a door that she couldn’t see at all popped open without a noise, and an inviting glow of firelight emanated from inside. Astrid shook her head and led the way in. There, a somewhat small common room spread out before them, with three rectangular tables, each one ringed with chairs. Before they could even look for anywhere to sit, or maybe where the real baths were, a creature made entirely of wood leaned forward. It had the shape of a featureless man and wore a waistcoat over a white shirt and black slacks. It held a hand out toward a hall just to their right and, without anything else to react to, Astrid followed the direction.

The hall had two closed doors that she considered opening, but an open door at the end of the hall caught her attention, and she went there. Inside, five separate tubs, each one about a meter and a half tall and just as wide, lay waiting for them. As she drew closer, she could see the faint wisps of steam curling off the surface of each tub, and she, without further thought, walked up the steps on the side of one, took off her underwear, and allowed herself to sink into the water.

She groaned in involuntary relaxation as she settled up to her neck in the water. Faint splashes let her know that every other one of the tubs was quickly filled as well, the rest of the party settling in.

“The cold doesn’t bother me very much anymore,” Astrid wondered aloud, “but the warm water always feels divine. Any idea why that is?”

Nobody else mustered up a real answer and Astrid allowed the silence to settle over them, simply enjoying the water that, after fifteen or so minutes, didn’t seem to be reducing in temperature at all. Finally, the relaxation and the cleaning were done, and she couldn’t bear to wait any longer before going to see Olafson and know whatever it was that he had to offer them. She stood and walked out toward the door of the room, where they’d left their spatial pouches. She quickly dressed, not in underlayment to prepare to get into her armor, but just in casual clothes, and the rest of the party followed suit not long thereafter. Benedict, of course, continued grumbling as he always did, but he followed suit before long. As they walked out of the baths at the end of the hall, the golem butler, or whatever it was, stood.

“We are going to go to Olafson’s now,” Astrid said to the thing, looking and seeing no doors out. She had no time to fear, though, because a door in the common room immediately opened wide. Michel’s voice called out from somewhere deeper inside the building that he would keep the door open until they returned, and the party stepped out, their spatial pouches on their hips and their faces rather confused.

“He’s a nice sort,” Skandr said with a shrug.

“I don’t think anybody can argue with that,” Astrid said simply. They didn’t talk any further about him, instead quickly making their way to the trading post, where the door was wide open, and walking in.

The main counter across the center of the room on the other side was empty, but Olafson stood behind it with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m glad that you remembered to bring your pouches,” the Craftsman said. “You still have the most valuable materials with you!”

“We’ll show you the valuable materials the second you show us what you’re offering us,” Astrid snorted. “You’ve kept us waiting long enough. I want to see what you so happily left us wanting to know more about.”

“Fair,” he laughed as he reached under the counter and grabbed a bundle about a meter long and put it on the countertop. “Muti, this is for you. A pair to what you already have, though made for piercing and with a trick besides.”

As soon as he said it, Muti stepped forward, grabbed the bundle of cloth, and ripped it off of the weapon inside. It was inside a scabbard, and she pulled it out, revealing a black metal that had faint silver inscriptions along its center.

“It’s a material called midnight mithril,” he explained. “It’s good at two things: holding its edge and amplifying mana supplied to it. If that’s Power-aligned mana, great. If that’s whatever magical stuff you’ve got going on with your tattoos, it should work perfectly. Anything else should work as well.”

“Thus the first blade is made to be a physical destroyer,” Muti clarified, “and this one to amplify my Skills.”

“Exactly,” he nodded as Muti stepped back and started moving the blade in her left hand, testing the balance and reach.

“Yours is the next simplest one,” he said, looking at Astrid. He grinned as he pulled her item out, this one not bothered to be wrapped in anything. Instead, Astrid could immediately lay eyes on the hammer. The haft was made of a manasteel so infused with mana that she struggled to recognize it as what it was. Instead of a dark gray, it was nearly black. The head, though, was even more strange. Instead of being made of metal, it was a stone, looking something like granite. Many different specks came together, the primary color being black, though it had plenty of spots of white as well.

Astrid reached out and took the haft, hefting it. Her current hammer weighed something like forty kilos; this one weighed almost twice that, she estimated. She felt a slight strain in her shoulder as she started to pick it up, but she quickly accustomed herself to it, twisting her shoulder and settling her stance better.

“You’re probably used to a relatively unenchanted weapon,” he said as she looked at it. “The bulk of the effect in this hammer doesn’t come from any enchantments, it’s from the stone itself. It’s called tajat’matakh in my people’s tongue, but most people call it echo stone.”

“Fancy name,” Astrid said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Long explanation cut down to a demonstration,” Olafson said with a shrug, “swing it in front of yourself. Fast, but not so fast that you lose control of it.”

She did so, and when the weapon flashed in front of her face, she quickly understood the name.

“Does it do what I think it does?” she asked, nearly bouncing on her heels as she swung it back and forth in front of her face.

“Depends on what you’re thinking,” Olafson shrugged. “If you guess that it hits multiple times with a single hit, then you’d be right.”