Hack, Slash & Burn 2: A LitRPG Fantasy, page 1
HACK, SLASH & Burn
Book Two
Todd Herzman
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
HACK, SLASH & BURN 2
Copyright © 2023 Todd Herzman.
All rights reserved.
Written by Todd Herzman.
Cover Designer: Germancreative
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To my beautiful wife:
Thank you. Your support was what got me through.
Chapter 1
Calder sat at a corner table in the Broken Mug tavern, his back against the wall, nursing some ale. A fire roared in the hearth, heating up the common room. Winter had come fast this year, and snow was falling outside, though the fall in temperature didn’t much bother most of the inhabitants of Berring anymore.
He took a sip from his mug. The ale was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter, flowing down his throat and settling in his stomach, giving him a sense of warmth the flames burning in the hearth couldn’t provide. The ale was strong. The strongest he had ever tasted.
Luceen had brought it in from the Great Marketplace. Calder had almost protested at first. He hadn’t wanted to waste resources. Luceen had stopped him before he had gotten a word in. “We have just achieved a great victory, Calder,” she had said, glancing around at the aftermath of what they had now dubbed the Battle of Berring. “The people need something to celebrate with.”
Calder had closed his mouth and given a stiff nod.
Now, sitting at that corner table, sipping on ale strong enough even for his constitution—with his Stamina at 128—he was glad he hadn’t protested.
A week had passed since the Battle of Berring, and not a single Touched in the village had ventured into a Dark World to train. There would be time for that, but rest was important after what they had all experienced.
Calder’s leg jiggled up and down, foot tapping the wood floor. His gaze slipped all around the bar. The Broken Mug tavern wasn’t a place of business anymore. No money exchanged hands when ale was pulled from barrels, and the food they chowed down on was provided straight from the Great Marketplace, kept fresh in pouches of holding.
After the tavern had been rebuilt following the first orc invasion, when half the village had burned to the ground, the townsfolk had rebuilt the Broken Mug. Since then, it had become a communal space, shared and maintained by all.
Calder sipped his ale.
It wasn’t as though they had been doing nothing with their time since defeating the army of Darkness that had descended upon their small village. None of them may have travelled to a Dark World, but they had been travelling to the Great Marketplace.
With the help of Luceen, they had sold off all the loot gathered from the thousands of orcs they had defeated. It had taken some time, as no single merchant wished to purchase so much product at once, but they had received a staggering amount of gold for their efforts. Gold they had spent on reequipping every Touched in Berring and doubling down on the town’s fortifications.
Calder had a new sword, shield and armour to match his new level of 50. He glanced at the stats of each of his new items.
Equipped Weapons
Sage Sword – Level 50
Slot 1: Elemental Damage - +5 Fire
Slot 2: Elemental Damage - +5 Lightning
Slot 3: Attribute Boost - +5 Strength
Slot 4: Attribute Boost - +5 Agility
Slot 5: Attribute Boost - +5 Agility
Sage Shield – Level 50
Slot 1: Elemental Resistance - +5 Fire
Slot 2: Elemental Resistance - +5 Lightning
Slot 3: Armour Resistance - +5 Piercing
Slot 4: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Slot 5: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Equipped Armour
Sage Full Plate – Complete Set – Level 50
Slot 1: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Slot 2: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Slot 3: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Slot 4: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Slot 5: Attribute Boost - +5 Stamina
Calder smiled, marvelling at the number of slots each weapon held. As the weapons were of a higher quality, they were also able to be enchanted to a higher degree—hence why they provided +5 instead of the paltry +2 of his old weapons.
He wasn’t the only Touched to have reached level 50, either. Luceen had reached level 50 at the same time as him, and Peter and Yesna were fast approaching it. Calder couldn’t help but marvel at how much stronger they all were after that army had invaded.
How much longer would it have taken them to reach such levels training as they had been in the Dark World?
His smile fell away as his thoughts drifted from what they had gained and settled upon what they had lost—or rather, who they had lost. Calder glanced up at the stools in front of the bar, at one in particular, the one that Dodger would be sitting at were he still alive, and still a drinker.
Calder downed the rest of his ale in three gulps and wiped his mouth. Shutting his eyes, he let out a sigh, thinking of the ex-soldier, turned old drunk, turned sober Touched. Dodger had saved Calder’s life during the Battle of Berring. Then he had saved Kohl’s life and gotten a scythe straight through the head for his efforts. The man had changed his life around practically overnight so he could be of use to the town in its greatest hour of need.
And now he was gone.
Calder shut his eyes. Loss he was used to. Loss he could handle. He had lost his mother the day he was born. Later, he had lost his father. Then finally, his uncle. When he had been a soldier in the Lorilan Royal Army, he had lost everyone he had ever fought with.
Dodger was just another on the list.
Graham? Calder thought. Can you hear me, Graham?
Eyes still closed, Calder took a deep breath, concentrating as hard as he could, waiting to see if he felt or heard any sort of response.
But nothing came. Not a whisper.
He opened his eyes and sighed, staring into his drink.
Since the level 200 Orc Destroyer—the Avatar of Darkness—had banished Graham with a single word, the ghost had disappeared. With the ghost went the link, which he and the others had all grown to rely upon.
At heart, Calder was a practical man. He knew how important that link was to their efforts, but he found himself missing the Spirit Construct more than the link.
Luceen had never heard of anything like this happening before, so she hadn’t been any help.
Calder still hoped that the ghost would return, but he didn’t want to let anyone go on a mission without a working Spirit Construct.
“You look deep in thought.” Peter slipped onto the bench across from Calder. The Ranger wore light, leather armour, and though his bow wasn’t in his hand, his quiver was still over his shoulder.
Calder’s right hand was still wrapped around the empty mug of ale. His left hand fell to the hilt of his sword. None of the Touched in the village walked around without their weapons. Some held them in their pouches of holding, but mostly they wore them freely. No one had discussed why. If danger came, they would have ample time to get their weapons and pouches from their homes, after all. Yesna had once more cast a protection spell around the village, preventing portals from being created within it or too close nearby, and they all had Proximity Scanners that would notify them of a threat well before it reached them.
Calder found wearing his sword comforting, and he was sure the others felt that way as well.
Calder grunted at Peter. “Thinking about our next step.” He looked at the ex-Imperial Soldier, who also happened to be a prince. And not just any prince—he was the damned Crowned Prince of the Talna Empire, the only living heir to the throne.
Peter had changed a lot since the day Calder had met him, which really hadn’t been all that long ago. When Calder had first met the man, it was not long after he had fled from the palace in Dranador, where he had been held on house arrest by his father—the emperor. The man had wanted to see the world, to do some good, and thought the Talna Imperial Army would be the place to do it, and had joined up without anyone knowing who he was.
He soon found out the Talna Imperial Army wasn’t where one did good things.
The young man had deep brown hair and was at least a head shorter than Calder. He had long shaved off the failed moustache that had struggled to colonise his upper lip, though a thin beard was trying to make its way onto his chin.
Apparently gaining a Weapon Stone did nothing for one’s ability to grow facial hair.
Peter raised an eyebrow, looking down at the mug still tight in Calder’s hand. “Looks more like you’re contemplating another drink than thinking about our next step.”
Calder glanced at a barrel behind the bar. “A man can think on more than one thing at once.”
“They can?” A woman walked up to their table. Her bootheels clicked across the sawdust strewn hardwood floor. She wore robes of a deep purple that hugged her waist pleasingly, her hips swaying as she moved. Calder’s eyes lingered on them perhaps a moment too long. His gaze darted up to find Luceen giving him a lopsided smile, one of her eyebrows twitching up. “In my experience, men tend to have a one-track mind and severe tunnel vision.”
Peter smirked, scooting over on the bench to give the Mage sp
Luceen’s face turned serious as she sunk into her seat, leaning her staff against the table. “So what is our next move, Avatar of Light?” The Mage wore a crescent moon necklace with matching earrings, and her dark brown hair was tied in her characteristic intricate braid.
Calder tilted his chin up. “I’m still not sure how I feel, being called that.”
“It’s what you are, isn’t it?” Luceen glanced behind her at the door. “Yesna is on her way.”
Calder glanced at his Proximity Scanner. On the mini-map, he saw a blue dot heading toward the tavern. “I’ll get a round for us all.”
He pushed off the table and headed toward the bar, stepping behind it to pull three mugs of ale from three different barrels, each denoting the amount of Stamina the drinker of the ale should possess. The alcohol Calder had served in the past couldn’t match a Touched’s constitution. The ale within these barrels, on the other hand, was enchanted to do just that.
If a human without a Weapon Stone—someone non-Touched—were to drink from any of these barrels, Calder had to imagine it would be tantamount to consuming poison.
That brought his thoughts back to old Dodger. For some people, any strength of ale is like poison.
He didn’t fill a mug for Yesna. Though the Mystic and Turan Priestess would occasionally partake now she was Touched, Calder only brought her a drink if she specifically requested one.
A good tavern owner learns to respect their patrons’ sensibilities. Not that he was a tavern owner anymore, or had even been one long enough to get good at it.
Calder headed back to the table, carrying the three mugs together without a tray, something he had learnt to do well before he had inherited the Broken Mug from his uncle. By the time he slipped back onto his bench, Yesna was already sitting beside his spot.
Yesna, who had been a mother figure to Calder while growing up, no longer looked her age. Since taking up a Weapon Stone, she looked half her age—as young as Calder himself. She wore grey robes of a cut that looked similar to her old priestess robes, and her red hair was tied up in a bun. The Cleric raised an eyebrow at the drinks, then looked over at Peter. “You were about to say something?”
Peter grabbed his mug and took a grateful sip, nodding his thanks to Calder as he did so. “Calder was about to tell us what our next step would be.”
The eyes of each of his party members fell upon him. He let out a sigh, took a sip from his drink, then placed it back on the table in front of him.
He hadn’t entirely puzzled out their next move, though he knew he couldn’t let their break from training go for any longer. A week off might not seem like much in the grand scheme, and he still felt that the entire town had deserved it, but there were far too many things left to be done. We’re only just getting started.
Calder looked at Luceen. “We need to start training again, and before we can do that… we need a working Spirit Construct.”
The table went silent at his words. Each of them had grown fond of Graham, the Spirit Construct who had originally invented the Weapon Stones. Despite him having had a poor, fractured memory of his life, and that he often failed to give pertinent information because he had forgotten it… the man felt like a member of their team. Even if he happened to be a man that was long dead.
Peter stared at the table, his forehead creasing. He opened his mouth, then shut it.
Yesna cleared her throat. “Graham… isn’t coming back, then?”
Calder worked his jaw. Shook his head. “He hasn’t yet.”
Yesna inclined her head but didn’t say anything more.
Luceen had an odd look on her face.
“What is it?” Calder asked.
“Spirit Constructs are expensive, Cal.” The Mage held her mug in both hands, though she had yet to take a sip of the rich liquid within. “I don’t think that’s something we can afford.”
“We have thousands of gold coins!” Peter blurted.
Calder glanced at the man, then looked back at Luceen. “The little prince is right. The haul we got for selling all that loot… you’re telling me it isn’t enough?”
Peter muttered something about not being a “little” prince under his breath.
Luceen shrugged. “Maybe if we sell the soulstones—”
“We aren’t going to do that.” Calder gripped his mug too tight, then stopped himself—as strong as he was, he might crush it within his grip. He let out a breath, not realising how tense he had become at those words. “We need those soulstones, Luceen. You know that.”
The Mage frowned. “We can gather more soulstones.”
Calder shook his head again. “I know, but…” He sighed. He had plans for those soulstones. Plans the others only vaguely knew about. His gaze slid around the tavern, looking at the other Touched he had helped create and thinking about what they—a small number of Touched—had managed to do. Imagine how much we could do with a thousand Touched. A million.
“I know a Spirit Construct is important…” Peter trailed off, looking unsure when Calder snapped his gaze toward him. The man cleared his throat. “But should we really not be training just because we don’t have one?”
Rather than respond right away, Calder sipped his drink. Perhaps the Ranger was right. Maybe he had been delaying their training too long without a legitimate reason. “Then we start back first thing tomorrow. All Squads but one will head to the Dark World.”
The others exchanged glances, but didn’t argue with him.
One squad would be more than enough to ensure that those non-Touched in the village—the children under the age of eighteen—would remain safe in the event of an orc attack, though Calder doubted there would be one.
Calder had been sending scouts out of the town every day since the Battle of Berring, and there hadn’t been a single sighting of orcs within the area.
The party pulled food from their pouches of holding. Food that was somehow magically kept hot and fresh from simply being within those pouches, as though time stopped for any item within them. They ate and drank in relative silence, one of mourning.
For Graham.
Calder’s leg still jiggled up and down. He was itching to get back into the fight. But not only that, he wanted to know what else was happening in the world. They may have defeated the army that had come for Kashan, the capital city of Lorilan, but there were countless other countries around the world.
What had happened to each of them?
When Calder had polished off his food, he looked at each of the others in turn until his gaze rested upon Peter.
The Ranger and prince raised an eyebrow at Calder. “What?” He wiped his mouth. “Is there food on my face or something?”
Calder smiled. “No. But while the other squads are training, you and I will be on another mission.”
Peter swallowed a bite of his food, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. “I’m not going to like this mission, am I?”
“No.” Calder smiled wider. “Probably not. We’re going to be checking in on your father.”
The prince shut his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “Sometimes I hate being right.”
Chapter 2
Calder had Yesna and Luceen fold into two of the lower-level Berring squads. Though he could have taken them along with him, he didn’t want to bring too many people on this mission.
It was far easier for two people to infiltrate somewhere than it was four.
Calder woke Peter up just before dawn.
During the time when the town was being rebuilt, the villagers had been staying in the mayor’s house, as it was the largest and most defensible place in Berring. Though the villagers had since gone back to their rebuilt homes, feeling safer now many of them were Touched, Calder and his party had remained in the mayor’s house, as there was plenty of room available.
Peter rubbed his eyes, rolling over in bed.
“Rise and shine, little prince.”
Peter’s eyes snapped open. He glared at Calder. “I’m not a fan of that title, and considering your plans for me, I would think you would treat me with more respect.” Venom seeped into the man’s words, though there was a glint of humour in the Ranger’s eyes.
Calder grinned. “I do respect you, Peter. I just have an aversion to royalty. Especially Imperial royalty.”
