World Witout Wizards: Guard

The game will continue in 3... 2... 1... Awakening

"Michael, get up, lazybones! The roosters have crowed for the third time!" Dad was shouting from the first floor. Rubbing my eyes and gradually waking up from a nightmare, I waved away a MESSAGE. It updated my daily job again.

What the hell? I am eighteen and I do the same tasks every day: chop firewood, carry it to the forge and watch over it all day. This has been going on for years.

My father kept calling me, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm here! I'm coming!" I shouted, putting on old homespun overshirt. It was small, the sleeves didn't reach my wrists, but the mother promised to make me a new one for my birthday.

There are two quests for the conversation, four quests for the craft and three for the farming according to the Messages. I'll be busy all day again...

Jumping down the stairs and grabbing my bag with a simple lunch, I followed my father.

"Have a good day, Sonny," mother waved. I didn't reply. Why? What the hell? I know she loves me; I love her too. How can you not love your parents? Anyway, she shouldn't call me that so loudly, the others might hear and mock me!

I followed my father and noticed that old John wasn't happy. He was looking at his interface, reading his wife's and clients' assignments and the village chief's tasks. The blacksmith thoughtfully stroked his plaited black beard with thick, calloused fingers.

The villagers often called us the half-dwarf family, but my folks weren't offended. My father was the only skilled blacksmith in the village. He even took orders from the northern capital Urakotta. It wasn't easy to get a sturdy blade, forged by skillful hands and reinforced by elven magic, in which mom excelled.

I couldn't easily figure out who I was. I inherited my father's broad shoulders and gray skin, and my mother's family's tall stature. I wonder why my father didn't teach me his craft. My peers became grooms and hounds. I even had to beat up a couple of neighborhood teenagers to stop them from teasing me. It worked for a week. Then four of them grabbed me when I was carrying firewood and beat me up.

"I'm going to get the firewood," I shouted to get his attention. My father only nodded silently. What the hell!

The woodpile was right around the corner. I went out into the yard slowly. There was no need to hurry, all my daily duties had been arranged.

I was tired of this f.u.c.k.i.n.g magic. Anyway, people lived this way not only in our village but throughout the whole Empire.

When demons seized the throne and established dominion over the entire continent, each man began to see the MESSAGES. Maybe it was all a lie, though. Thousands of years had passed since the demon invasion. No one knew what really happened.

Anyway, if someone broke a law or got into a fight, a MESSAGE for him and the guards appeared. I began to see these writings in my early childhood when I couldn't even read. I saw them in two languages. My mother didn't believe me when I told her about it and advised me to learn the alphabet.

Then my now deceased teacher told me that people had spoken different languages before the unification of the worlds, each nation had its own dialect. She defended a stray beggar who accidentally came to our village. One of the Black knights cut both women in half with his two-handed sword, and then dogs tore them to pieces.

I dreamed of being a knight. Everybody would respect and obey me. I'd be fed and watered in every house I came into. If someone didn't obey me, I'd just hit him on the head with a gauntlet. All the girls would want to be with me. Although it would be better to be a warlock as our village chief, to assign tasks to other people and relax. If someone did not fulfill the task, the magic itself would punish him, or the Black guards would come and put things in order.

Perception Check

Base 0

Bonus 0

Dice Roll 3

Requirement 2

Success

I raised my head and froze with delight. The Empire's battle airship flew through the sky, spinning its blades. They regularly flew over our village, so I knew that this elongated 'sausage' was actually a huge mechanism moving in the air thanks to science and magic. Probably, they again bombed the orc settlements in the steppes, so that they wouldn't reproduce that fast. This meant there would be clashes at the border. The orc survivors would come to take revenge for their murdered relatives.

Dexterity Check

Base 0

Bonus 0

Dice Roll 2

Requirement 4

Failure

"Oh!" A small stone hit me right on the head. I looked around and saw a couple of neighborhood ragamuffins – greenish short-cropped hair full of sawdust, always dirty half-orc faces with narrow eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, asshole, are you going to collect firewood and stay in the forge all day?" Jacob, the eldest of the bullies, chuckled.

"Come with us to the inn. They say a skald came. He'll tell stories and news about different countries."

"Go away," I tried to sound confident, feeling tired of the daily routine. The travelers came rarely. In the best case, traveling salesmen or caravans came to us once a month. But the father wouldn't be pleased...

"Get away, slackers. I'll be an apprentice and you'll come to me all your life for nails and tools."

"Hey, dirtbag, you want us to burn down your shack?" the kid shouted and sniffed. He had already clenched his fists, but the elder looked around and jerked him aside, bowing. I put a few pieces of wood in the bag woven from bark and understood why the other boys fell silent.

The village chief entered the yard and looked around haughtily as if there was only dirt around. His younger apprentice Lysandra followed him without raising her head.

"Where is John?" Oulsast Dark asked through his teeth.

"In the forge, your grace," I said, keeping my head down. People said this rule had to be followed. People weak in spirit could die from one look of a warlock.

"Why are you lazing around?" the village chief hissed again.

I felt the coldness in his voice; one word from him and I could be not only be whipped but even skinned.

"No, sir, I'm gathering wood to make coal for the forge. The fire should be hot and smooth."

"All right," he said with satisfaction, then suddenly yelled, "Lyska! Why are you staring at that village idiot? Would you like to be a slave again instead of my disciple?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I was wondering how useful his blood might be."

"Really? Good. Let's go."

The girl followed him, and I could only see their feet. I wanted to kill the chief for being so bossy. He'd better have his guards around. I didn't mean these little creatures sitting on his mantle. I meant real guards who could disperse the darkness, those who obeyed the Emperor. One of these Golems stood like a statue in the middle of our village and was a local landmark.

However, I had to gather firewood. Picking up my bag and sighing heavily because of the weight, I reached the forge. Lysandra was waiting for me nearby to my surprise. When she saw me, the girl smiled warmly and put her finger to her lips. Why were the others afraid of her? Because she was a warlock's disciple? I've been a blacksmith's apprentice since I was twelve.

"Hello, Sonny," she said.

I snorted sourly. Was she teasing me? Okay, we could have a normal chat later.

"Dad, I brought the wood," I dropped the bag on the floor next to the second stove.

"Attaboy," the blacksmith said angrily. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I thought I'd wait for you until winter. I'm talking to the chief."

"What about other tasks?"

"Get out of here," the village chief hissed through his teeth, and I decided to obey. It was none of my business what they were talking about. I was going to do something interesting. Anyway, a pleasant companion was waiting for me on the street. The girl was flipping through a thick volume with a bullskin cover. The iron-clad cover crackled slightly as she turned the pages.

"How are you?" I decided to talk to her.

"So you decided to start talking again?" the young warlock raised her eyebrows. "You didn't even say hello."

"Well, I just…" I forgot all the words when I looked at her figure. Oulsast was a nasty half-demon. But I had to admit, he made all his disciples and slaves dress like s.u.c.c.u.b.u.ses. Apparently, he couldn't afford real ones, so he did that.

"Do you like me?" Lyska asked playfully, leaning forward so her cleavage would reveal everything. I had to cover my eyes with my hand.

"You know the answer."

"Certainly. I blow your mind and you're even willing to talk to me."

"You're not happy with this."

"For sure, I am," the girl sighed, hiding her book in the bag.

"They'll talk for a long time. A steam engine was sent from the capital. God knows what it is. Do you want to go to the river quickly? The water is warm, it's a working day. There will be no people there."

"What if your boss comes out before we get back?" I hesitated. While there was free time, I needed to use it.

"Only my back will suffer," the girl shrugged, "It's up to you to decide. We can stand here and wait for them to finish. Or we can go to the river for a swim. Or to the inn; they say a scald is there. I'm tired of books and my head hurts."