Lone: The Wanderer

Book 3: Chapter 1: Release and Farewells

Lone looked down at the hand that had stopped him. "Something wrong, Thron?"

The prison guard stayed silent for a bit before he scrunched up his face and said, "Ah misjudged ya. When ya came in 'ere 'alf ah year ago, ah thought ye were some disgustin' animal keen tae steal the culture ah others."

Lone pursed his lips. "Eh, that's only wrong in that I wanted to share in the culture, not steal it. Well, and the fact I'm not an animal."

Thron snorted. "Aye, aye... Ye've changed ma view ah ya. Ah'm almost sad this'll be the last day ah see ya. What cunt comes in 'ere and takes almost exclusively the suicidal missions? 27 years cut doon tae less 'an 'alf ah year!"

Lone grinned. "I'm called Immortus the Immortal for good reason."

"Nae enuff o' ah reason tae get needlessly cocky. Ye've yet tae beat Hilda the Hammersworn in a duel, now 'aven't ya?" Thron replied as he moved his hand away and kept leading Lone through the complex.

"That's only because I'm not allowed to kill her or incapacitate her. She used to blast entire chunks out of my body before my armour got strong enough to stop that nonsense, but if I try the same to her, she complains and winges that she doesn't want to pay the healer fee. A stingy guildmaster is what she is," Lone grumbled.

"Haha! Ye say stingy, ah say wise. Ye ever gonna tell me what that skill even is 'at makes ya so unkillable?" Thron asked.

Lone shrugged. "Surprised you haven't asked sooner. It's pretty simple. It's basically just what it looks like; infinite regeneration."

"Is 'at related tae 'ow beastkin dinnae age?" Thron questioned just as they had reached the door to the warden's office.

"Nah, completely different. Well, it was fun knowin' ya, Thron. Don't be such a hardass on the next foreigner stuffed in here, eh?" Lone said.

Thron grunted and shook his head. "Only if they make it possible tae reclaim six kriegs an' thirteen urds in little less 'an six months. Oh, an' only if they kill one ah the nasty feckers 'at try an' sneak ootta the Deepwinds."

Lone shivered. "That mission was a mistake. It wasn't particularly hard but... well, let's say levelling Eldritch Resistance is perhaps my least favourite activity of all time."

"Saved ah lotta lives by daein' it though, an earned yerself enuff respect fae several lifetimes combined," Thron pointed out before he knocked twice on the warden's door.

"Come in," Zilben Hesgresind, the warden of this prison, called.

Thron unlocked Lone's ardartian shackles and muttered, "Useless feckin' things. Bet the bastard coulda broke 'em if 'e wanted tae," as he walked off to go about his other duties.

Lone cracked his wrists and then entered Zil's office. "Ah, Stoner Heeth. Didn't expect you to be here on my last day. We holdin' a little farewell party or something?"

The grumpy old mage got up for his seat and passed Lone a small pouch. "Ah ken it's nae much, but ah cannae leave ah debt unpaid. Ye've helped me lessen mah joy of enforcin' mah scriptures while also aidin' in me finally rankin' the bastard skill up. That's all ah wanted tae say."

The elderly dwarf hobbled out of the office with a poorly hidden smile on his lips.

Lone raised an eyebrow as he began tossing the pouch of coins up and down before taking a seat across from the warden. "He's right, this is a fuckin' useless reward."

"How much money did you earn from killing just Urundartka of the Deep? Ignoring however much you've earned from the one SSS-rankers, two SS-rankers, and hundreds of monsters equal to that of an S-ranker?" Zil asked.

"The horror alone? It was worth five ruby-gold. That was from the guild, but the greater council awarded me this massive fuck-off blue sapphire. Still not sure what I'm gonna do with that," Lone said nonchalantly. "From the number of coins I can hear and the weight... 50 gold coins? Quite a lot considering his wage."

"Quite a lot indeed," Zil agreed before he signed something on his desk and then nodded. "You are now officially a free man, Lone Immortus. I do have an offer for you, however."

"I've told you before and I'll tell you again, I'm leaving the Farwinds. I have plans and I've been here too long as it is already. If it's an emergency like you're about to lose a vital krieg to an eldritch monstrosity, contact me through the guild, otherwise, no, I will not become a war dog for the council," Lone stated plainly.

Zil sighed. "Eldritch Resistance is so rare... Do you even want to hear our offer?" Zil asked in an almost pleading tone.

Lone got up and cracked his neck. "The only thing I want right now is my freedom, which I've just earned. I'm not gonna sell it back to you guys. I like you, but I don't like you that much. The dwarven war against the Deepwinds is not my war. Just tell your superiors to drop it, yeah? There's a reason Eldritch Resistance is so rare."

The small gnomish man nodded solemnly. "Personally, I'm just glad you got rid of at least one horror, needless to mention how much help all of your missions have done for the dwarven kingdoms as a whole. If only all prisoners participating in militaristic enlistment were as capable as you."

"I'm glad you were my warden, Zil. If we ever meet again, here's hoping it's in a pub where we're equals, eh?" Lone smiled before he left the office.

With a relaxed pace, he exited the building and accepted the warm hug that came his way from a certain blonde woman over a foot shorter than himself.

"Where to now?" Soph asked him excitedly.

"Well, I think the guild. We need to say goodbye to Hilda and Hamish at the very least. After that... I need to say goodbye to Wilbur," Lone said, a hint of sadness marring his words.

Soph stiffened in his arms and smiled wryly as she pulled away from him. "R-Right... Uh, to the guild then!"

It hurt him more seeing Soph trying to be considerate given she clearly knew Wilbur's condition better than he did. She could sense the dying dwarf even now while Lone had been forbidden by his scriptures to even so much as get close to the master steamforger's workshop.

It had already been a long day but Lone could tell it was only going to get longer from here.

As soon as Lone and Soph entered The Adventurer's Guild they were greeted warmly by a good chunk of the present adventurers.

Mugs were raised and heads were nodded, to which Lone smiled and nodded back. With no particular rush, he approached one of the vacant employee desks and asked, "Where's Hamish?"

"Ah, Immortus. He's in the training room with wee Breena. Um, I know it isn't my place to ask, but is taday really your last down doon here?" the employee asked.

Lone nodded. "I'm a free man as of today and I've business topside, sadly. Could you get Hilda to come down to the training room? I'd like to say goodbye to her at the same time as Hamish."

"Of course, of course!" the man happily replied before he donned a rueful smile. "You'll be missed."

"More like my strength'll be missed. What'll really be missed is me being able to ignore plate requirements to do ridiculously high-paying jobs," Lone joked.

That earned him more than one or two chuckles.

"Well, I'll be in the training room, so send Ol' Hammersworn my way as soon as you can," Lone said.

Not long later, he and Soph found Hamish and Breena. The two were sparring while Hamish constantly commented on the young foxkin girl's form and skill usage.

The two noticed Lone and Soph's presence immediately and stopped what they were doing.

"So this is it, aye?" Hamish asked as he arched his back and cracked his neck. "Cannae say ah'm nae ah wee bit disappointed, but eh, who am ah tae complain? Ah can brag aboot bein' companions wae the one an only Immortus the Immortal in 'is foundin' years."

Lone chuckled. "I'd be careful about that were I you considering my list of enemies will only grow with time."

"Assumin' ya cannae kill 'em the moment they make the mistake ah crossin' ya. Or assumin' she wilnae dae it fer ya," the dwarf said, gesturing his head to Soph.

"He's right, Lone. I won't give any other would-be Hamish's the chance to prove themselves useful to you," Soph said as she handed Breena a mug of water she'd brought with her from the main hall of the guild. "Not now that my barrier magic is so much stronger."

Lone shook his head at that. "A tool is only as useful as you allow it to be."

"Oi!" I'm nae tool!" Hamish rebuked.

"I dunno, you've been pretty useful thus far. While she hasn't gained any levels, Breena's gotten a lot stronger since you decided to dedicate your free time to teaching her," Lone remarked.

The door to the training area opened and Hilda walked in. "Nae farewell party? Just ah cold-'earted goodbye an' 'at's it?"

"Would be a waste of time," Lone replied. "Not like I'm going anyway forever. I'll be back soon enough."

"When ya think ya can beat me?" Hilda taunted with a grin.

"I can already beat you. I'll be back when I think I can beat you without maiming or killing you," Lone shot back. "And when I think I can help you surpass your wall."

"Aye, aye. Well, Skill Instructor Hamish, let's feck off, aye? The young fox has business tae attend tae," Hilda said a bit dismissively but she couldn't hide the appreciation in her voice for Lone.

She then approached Hamish and slung an arm over his shoulder and walked him out of the room.

"She's surprisingly tactful when she wants to be," Lone remarked. "Have you said your goodbyes, Breena?"

The girl whose 15th birthday had recently just come and gone nodded. "Um, I said goodbye to Mister Hamish before that last spar and, um, I said goodbye to Mister Fits'war with Mistress Sophie during our l-last shift."

"The tailor shop owner? Well, I need to say goodbye to my own former employer now too, so let's go do that then we can be on our way to Golden Pass City," Lone said as he walked.

Soph and Breena were clearly keenly aware of his emotional state so he appreciated them not asking questions or stopping him in any other way. The less time he had to think over if he wanted to risk sealing his MP again to save the dying Wilbur against the old man's wishes, the better.

Lone took a deep breath and then knocked on the door to Wilbur's now closed blacksmithing and steamforging shop-slash-forge.

He was keenly aware of the council agents keeping a very close eye on him as he did this. Even if there was no longer any enforcement scripture magic preventing him from visiting his teacher, the greater council clearly didn't want this visit to be anything more than a simple farewell.

"One minute!" a feminine and exhausted-sounding voice called from within.

Lone recognised it as belonging to Rella the Pygmy Rabbitkin, the independent healer who he had earned his first and only world skill from.

"I could have sworn the council said no one would disturb him anymore now that he's done with his epitome landmark invention..." he heard her whisper as the large brass door clicked and whirred, signalling it being unlocked.

It swung open and a surprised look overcame the face of the short rabbitkin with grey hair. "You? What're you doing here?"

"I'm a free man as of today so I wanted to... well, say my final goodbyes to Gramps. Is he... awake?" Lone asked, a twitchy kind of nervousness dripping from his every word.

"Free?" Rella asked in a confused voice. "You worked off a 27-year sentence already?"

"First mission I took after the obligatory one knocked off 50%. Did a bunch more missions that reduced it down to seven years and then that eldritch horror burst out of the Deepwinds and destroyed two kriegs before I could put it down. A 99.9% reduction will lead to freedom pretty quickly," Lone explained.

"Fuck. That's intense. Well, whatever. Yeah, he's awake. Come in I suppose," Rella said before moving out of their way, letting Lone, Soph, and Breena into what was once the place Lone worked as a salesman.

"Uh, me and Breena will stay here. I don't think he'd like it if we crowded his room considering his... uh, condition," Soph said, clearly alluding to Wilbur's health which she could make certain guesses on with her Mana Sensing.

Lone nodded seriously and followed Rella into the back, entering the adjacent house's living room where the statue corpse of Wilbur's wife could be seen. From there, Rella led Lone to Wilbur's bedroom but just before they entered it, she stopped him.

"Whatever you do, don't agitate him or excite him. His condition had deteriorated rapidly since your court case. Damned idiot won't stop using his portable forge even if it goes against his doctor's wishes. It's killing him but if his heart rate goes too high, he could drop then and there," Rella warned.

'Portable forge? I don't hear any sounds that would suggest steamforging or even normal forging is going on. All I hear is very faint breathin- ah, there's a wet cough. Gramps...' Lone nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Then in we go," Rella said before she opened the door and led Lone inside.

Lone almost gasped at the sight that awaited him. Wilbur was unnaturally skinny and his face looked hollow, but even as he coughed up blood, there was a fire in his eyes that eased into a glowing warmth when he saw Lone.

"Now ya choose to visit, eh? Ungrateful little bastard," the old man grumbled.

Lone smiled at that. He let Rella occupy the only chair in the room while he closed the door and leaned on the door. "First thing's first, there are 13 council agents both watching and listening to us right now, so keep that in mind."

"Issat so?" Wilbur grumbled. "Rella, pass me the bag."

"I'm not your lackey, I'm your doctor," Rella grumbled even as she grabbed a metal sack of some sort that was made up of several wire-connected brass plates.

Wilbur took it from her and smiled. "This is for ye, laddie."

"Is it steamforged?" Lone asked as he gingerly took the bag from him.

"Aye, so is most ah the stuff in it. An' ah don't give ah flying fuck if its illegal for ye to have it. It and its contents are yers, no one else's. If our eavesdroppers don't like that, too fuckin' bad. Just try an' take it from the hands of an eldritch slayer!" Wilbur yelled at the walls.

"Don't shout, it isn't good for you," Rella chastised.

"How do you know about that but Rella didn't?" Lone asked in jest. He stored the bag in his Dimensional Storage and said, "And yeah, don't get too worked up. No one will try to take it from me. They might send people after me to get it later, but they'd need an X-ranker to even make me take them seriously."

Wilbur smiled. "That's reassuring... Laddie... could ah make a request o' ye?"

"No!!" Rella exclaimed. "I've already told you I won't allow it! It's stupid!"

"Ah, shut up, ye," Wilbur waved her off before he entered a coughing fit.

Lone crossed the room and put a hand on the old man's back. "Full Body Diagnostics."

"What?!" Rella shot up out of her chair. "There's no way you got granted that skill from Altros!"

"I can learn any skill used on me that isn't racial, bloodline specific, or unique," Lone said as he slowly pulled his hand away from Wilbur. "Gramps... you've got a month, maybe two left."

"Any skill...?" Rella muttered before shaking her head. "With his constant forging, that month or two will keep shortening. After your trial, he initially had about a year and a half left but look at him now."

Wilbur laughed. "Ah won't be doin' any more forgin'. Ah'm done, in all senses of the word. I'm ready to rejoin my wife. I've done what I needed to do... I just wish the council wasn't so..."

He didn't need to finish his sentence for Lone and Rella to understand what he wanted to say.

Lone pursed his lips in frustration. "Do you want to live? I could cure you completely. It might seal my magic again, but I've rebuilt an entire soul before so I think I'll be ok-"

"Reseal? You have magic?" Rella muttered under her breath though Wilbur seemed to ignore those facts himself.

The dying man had raised a hand to stop Lone. "Ah'm ready to rejoin ma wife. Ma request that Rella stopped me from asking ye? Ah don't want to die in ma sleep or in a crumpled heap as ah cough ma guts out."

"You want me to...?" Lone's shock wasn't exactly hidden at the absurd request.

"Aye. Ma epitome project was completed four months ago and ah managed tae finish everythin' ye needed between then an' now. Laddie, ah'm ready. Ah know it's ah burden to put this on ye, but it feels right. Every wakin' moment is filled with endless pain," Wilbur explained.

"I can fix that!" Lone exclaimed.

Wilbur smiled sadly. "Not that kinda pain, laddie. Ah've been feelin' this pain fer over 50 years. She's waiting for me. Ye've ah lover of yer own, eh?"

"Sure, but I wouldn't want to die to see her if she was already gone. She'd kick my ass if I did that," Lone thought. 'Besides, there's no way she'll die. I have a contingency for that.'

"Aye, ah felt the same. Ah 'ad work to do, a shop to run, expectations to meet. Ah pushed through for 50 years but then this disease really started to kick in an' then yer trial put ma loyalty to the council in question..." Wilbur laid down in his bed and muttered, "Do ye still have it, Laddie? The thing ah gave ye?"

'What? He hasn't given me anything except wages and steamf- ah. Gotcha,' Lone thought before nodding. "Sure. I keep it in my adventurer's pouch."

"Ah thought as much. Ah could smell it on ya," Wilbur chuckled before he coughed again. "Please, ah've not the strength to do it myself an' Rella refuses to tell anyone of my wish. It has to be you. Give a dyin' old man some honour in his last moments, eh?"

Lone closed his eyes and exhaled, letting Meditation do its work. After a few moments, he had made a decision.