"That was . . . something special." Rashtvice stood still as the crowd dispersed, trying his hardest to process the events of that short exchange. "Did uh, did you catch anything Len?"
"They were too fast for me." Len shook his head, his eyes flitting from the discarded training lance to the trail of blood that lead to the defeated. Cholst was bleeding quite a bit, a six inch long incision on your forearm would do that, but Len didn't think it seemed that deep. "Will he . . . will they be okay?" He had almost forgotten how Trebar also cut himself, an almost identical wound.
"They should be fine, I think. They might be bleeding a bit, but the wounds are surface level. It'll probably scab up after about a half hour with a towel over it." Rashtvice was no stranger to injuries and blood. He had been wounded more times than he could count, and he had wounded others twice as often. "Do you think Trebar cut him there intentionally?"
"What?"
"The forearm, the shallow wound. Do you think he was out to do that from the start?" Rashtvice hadn't really been able to see what happened during the duel past the first few exchanges, but he felt it to be incredibly strange that it was even possible for a duel to first blood at such a high level to end without serious injury.
"Maybe? Lord Trebar seems like he would have the skill, but couldn't they have arranged for that to happen in the first place?"
"Do you think Cholst would have accepted that?" Rashtvice did not believe Cholst to be the type of person to give in, even if it was for appearance's sake. He was just too proud.
"I don't know, maybe? Why does it matter?" Len didn't seem to care that much.
"It doesn't really, I suppose, but I do find it odd that it was only that deep. Duels between skilled and powerful individuals usually end with somebody getting a serious wound, even if they stop at first blood. Holding back so as to not kill your opponent puts a serious damper on your chances of winning, so the fact it ended without a lost limb is . . . strange? Suspicious?"
"Is it really? Wouldn't they both be holding back?"
Rashtvice kept his eye on the victor, Trebar, as he tried to think of the answer to his own question. "Holding back doesn't really mean much. Eventually you get to the point where you and your opponent's weapons are moving too fast for you to stop them. Slowing down as you approach an opening can give your opponent more than enough time to close that opening or block your attack."
Len scratched his head. He understood the point, but that seemed like more of a sword on sword issue, two weapons defined by agility and speed at the highest level. Surely a swordsman would be able to pull it off against a lancer if only because he had more options, wouldn't he?
"It wouldn't be that surprising if Trebar outclassed Cholst by a large margin, but they already sit at the top, they're rivals." Rash brought one of his crossed arms up to scratch his chin. "Unless . . . unless they really are that far apart in terms of ability? Len, do you know if Cholst has ever bested Trebar?"
Len shook his head. Forgetting the fact he was a first year, Len was also isolated from that sort of information. Even before he was recruited to Donovan's squad by the Captain he was sort of a recluse.
"What am I saying? You've only been here a few months, you wouldn't know." He reprimanded himself for forgetting such information. "I'll have to investigate."
Rash came to the conclusion that somebody else would know. That seemed rather obvious, especially given Trebar's relative fame, but he was not the brightest. Asking someone was probably the first course of action somebody would take, but he praised himself anyways. If he could have, he probably would have gone with a substantially less diplomatic (and effective) option.
"Why don't you just ask them?"
Len's suggestion came like a bolt out of the blue.
"What?"
"Just ask them about it? They would know better than anyone else wouldn't they?" Len looked a little nervous after saying it, obviously thinking he might have said something wrong.
He had done no such thing of course. Even if it was inappropriate to ask, Rashtvice would not have reprimanded him for it. It was a far better idea than asking around randomly.
"Kid, you're a genius." He pointed at Len before analyzing the situation. Uncouth as he might be, he knew it was not a good idea to barrel through crowds to ask people minor questions. Seeing as Trebar was currently surrounded by a congratulatory conglomeration, Cholst was going to have to be first. "Come on, let's go talk to Cholst."
- - - - -
"Are you okay Lord Cholst?"
"I'm fine ladies, it just needs some time to scab up." Cholst smiled at the trio of women in spite of his bloodied forearm. Despite the obvious fact they were trying to court him, he could see they were genuinely concerned. Perhaps he would consider it. "I have to say, he got me pretty good this time around. Do you think he was mad at me?"
It was a small joke to lighten up the mood, his way of demonstrating that he was fine. Joking aspect aside, the question was rhetorical, Trebar was unquestionably livid he just wouldn't show it. He never showed it. He might frown or crease his brow, but he would never explode in rage like Cholst occasionally did. Cholst could count on a punishment of some sort, probably by way of Donovan.
He was really hoping Don would go light on him.
"Was the duel not his way of settling his grudge?" What appeared to be the leader of this little group offered her thoughts on the matter.
"Maybe you're right, maybe I'll go to bed tomorrow with a few more bruises than normal. Only time will tell, right?" A slight grin and solid eye contact. Even when he wasn't trying he could make himself appealing, and their giggles were proof. "So, tell me, where are you three from? Judging by your dresses, I'd have to wager that you are close."
Giggles and smiles. They were simple reactions, but they did wonders to rebuild his self confidence. Losing a duel in front of a crowd had a tendency to bring him down.
"We are from the Bulsarzian Empire, the same as crown Prince Merndil."
"We room together at the academy!"
"We decided to wear the same dress together when we all received invitations."
Cholst made sure to smile at each of them as hey spoke. "So you aren't sisters, color me surprised. The three of you seem to get along swimmingly. How did you meet?"
"Our families are pretty close."
"Her father suggested that we go together so we would be safe."
"I was scared about going alone."
So they were something like a package deal. If Cholst only had to go by how young they appeared, he would guess they were first years. Their story confirmed that for him. Cholst wasn't one to take advantage of younger or less mature women, but they clearly approached him with that sort of intent in mind. He had no qualms with their appearance, they were quite pretty when compared to the average, so what sort of man would he be if he refused?
"How sweet." He wasn't going to accept their advantages immediately, that would make him look desperate. Instead he would lead them on and accompany them home. They had probably made some sort of pact to do it for the first time at the same time. That was just the sort of behavior he expected the less confident noblewomen to have. "I know I said I'm not feeling any pain, but I would feel bad about bleeding all over the host's floor. Do you think you could go and get me a towel or cloth to wrap around my wound while I talk to my friend here?"
They wanted him, didn't they? The least they could do was work for it. It would give him the time to handle Len as well.
"Of course!"
"Anything you need."
"Should we get one for Lord Trebar as well?"
Cholst nodded his head in thanks. "I am certain that he would appreciate it, but I have a feeling that Nemo is handling it as we speak. She doesn't like me much, so I'll have to ask you to take care of me." The three of them seemed to receive a burst of energy as he said that, clapping their hands lightly as they made a hurried walk towards the door.
"I wish ladies would talk to me like that."
"HA!" Cholst couldn't hold that laugh back. "All it takes is some practice."
"Practice and a pretty face."
"Thank you for the complement." Cholst gestured to the other seats at the table. "Feel free to take a seat Len. You too Rash."
Len meekly nodded his head in thanks. Cholst didn't need to be a genius at reading people to understand that Len was being dragged around against his will. It probably wasn't malicious, Donovan would throw a fit if it was, but Rashtvice was definitely ignorant to his resistance.
"I'd like to get to the point if you don't mind. I don't want to leave those ladies feeling awkward while we talk it out."
"Of course, of course. I only really have one question anyways, though I worry you might be a little bit sour on it." Rashtvice prefaced the topic with something of an early apology.
"Eh, don't worry about it. I'm not so ill natured as to get mad about a slight offense." Cholst looked down at the pool of blood on the floor, moving his foot away so it wouldn't get bloody if the puddle expanded. "Don't insult my mother though."
"That's a given, yeah." Rashtvice looked at Cholst for a few seconds before remembering why he was here. "So, uh, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but have you ever beaten Trebar in a duel?"
"No."
"Really?" Rash didn't know whether he should have been more surprised at the contents of the reply or the speed at which it came. "Not even once?"
"Well, I might of landed a hit or two on him during practice spars, but those don't really count. He wasn't giving it his all in order to give me an equal opponent, so I can't really say I beat him."
"Is he really that much better than you?"
"Ouch!" Cholst feigned a chest pain for a moment. He had already come to terms with the fact he was beat, but it still hurt to have it said to his face. "-but yeah. In a full on fight I wouldn't stand a chance. There are only eight people I know of that could possibly beat him in a fight."
"Who are they?"
"You want to know?"
"Who wouldn't!?"
Cholst smiled to himself. Who was he kidding? Why would a fellow battle junkie not want to know who the top dogs are.
"I'm also a little curious." Len asking him was a little less expected.
"Alright, alright, if you two are so curious then I feel like I have to. Let's take it from the top, so strongest to weakest. First up goes without saying, the Arboreal Maiden. It's a little boring, I know, but the number two doesn't even come close. I'll tell you right now in case you haven't already caught on, never piss her off. She is the Steward of the Great Csillacra for good fucking reason, and she has an immeasurably long history to back it up.
Next up, the Marshal of the Sanctum, Grand Elder Larson. I don't really know much about him besides the fact he is the second strongest, but the Marshal is always an incredibly powerful and experienced person. I've heard rumors that the Arboreal Maiden does something to them or provides them assistance somehow, but that obviously hasn't been confirmed. Just know he is also not to be trifled with.
Below him is the Marshal's replacement, their successor, for many of the same reasons as the Marshal.
Fourth on the 'can kick Trebar's ass' list is one of the Bishops of the Holifanian Theocracy. Don't ask me who it is, I don't know his name, but apparently that's the guy who trained Trebar in the first place.
There is another person from the Theocracy, a god that is in their service, but I haven't heard much about him beyond the fact he lives there and would be problematic for Trebar to fight.
Six and seven are pretty close, but I'd argue that General Scuptin from the Vrie Horde and General Arrelois from your Empire are on the list too. They have a reputation as terrifyingly competent commanders, but from what I've heard they are menaces on the battlefield too. Is that true?"
". . . normally it would insult me that you placed one of those scumbags from Vrie on par with Sir Arrelois, but he always said Scuptin was his rival. What do you think Len?"
Cholst really wanted to laugh at the listless Len. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were unfocused, but the most entertaining part was definitely the way his head continued to move backwards.
"He's that strong?"
"You . . . you didn't know? Isn't he your foster father?"
'Y-yeah, but I never really asked him about that. I just sorta assumed he was the guy who sat in the backline and shouted orders." All of the sudden the level of deference even the crown prince had shown to him made a lot more sense. "Is he really that strong?"
"He's the strongest man in the Empire."
Len returned to his daze, trying to process that information.
". . . Anyways, I know this list doesn't include a lot of people like gods or whatever, but I'm only repeating what he said to me. There are definitely a great many more who can threaten him. One of those people, the last on this list, is that bastard of an individual I am unfortunate enough to have to call my father."
Rashtvice recoiled at that bombshell. "Your father was bastard born?" A king being the son of a bastard didn't give a good look and could do untold damage to a family's reputation.
"No, he, no. Grr. He isn't actually a bastard, I was insulting him." The vitriol in Cholst's voice jumped to unbelievable levels. "My country is called the Ilfalian Regency Council right now for a reason. That reason because the fucker killed my mother, the queen by birthright, and ran away like a little bitch."
cakeonfrosting Yo, cake here, back at it again with another chapter!
Once again, I'm demonstrating some of the debauchery that is Noble culture through Cholst. This time I'm building him up a bit though. For those of you who are not versed in government terminology, a Regency Council is a group of people who temporarily take over the running of a kingdom or other such monarchal government when the ruler dies and their heir is not yet old enough to rule. Usually this council is made up of the upper nobility, but it isn't impossible for the old ruler's trusted advisors or spouse to take the role given the fact they don't have their own territory to manage and are already pretty familiar with running the country.
As you might be able to guess, these councils sometimes resulted in coups or rebellions, so they aren't particularly desirable. Then again, the alternative is having a five year old rule, which is even more stupid.
Anyways, I feel like giving you all a little bit of a reward for 1000 readers (yippee!) and 10 reviews (also yippee!) so I'll reveal a few inconsequential secrets and what not to you over the course of the next few chapters. These aren't story breaking mind you, just some character name origins, inspirations, and maybe a look at something I made a while ago (which I will start to implement soon). Some of these have probably already been mentioned in the comments at some point, but for those of you who finished the chapter before those comments came in or who skipped the comments entirely it might be a little bit entertaining.
To start with, I think it would be nice to give you all the link to the song that the Final Martyr, Ranger Montint Roguess, Montaug, asked for. It is pretty short, a minute and a half, so if ever this story makes it onto the big screen I would prefer a longer version, but this is the song that inspired his character. - > Waltz of the Dandelion < - [Artist - Krezzi]
(at time of writing it only has 22 views, at least four of which are me, so I have absolutely not idea how I was recommended it in the first place)
Some more lore to sign off with, Len's name is actually super stupid. It's a bastardization of the word 'Lancer'
Lancer -> Lan-cer -> Lan Cerr -> Len Cerr -> Len Kerr
"That was . . . something special." Rashtvice stood still as the crowd dispersed, trying his hardest to process the events of that short exchange. "Did uh, did you catch anything Len?"
"They were too fast for me." Len shook his head, his eyes flitting from the discarded training lance to the trail of blood that lead to the defeated. Cholst was bleeding quite a bit, a six inch long incision on your forearm would do that, but Len didn't think it seemed that deep. "Will he . . . will they be okay?" He had almost forgotten how Trebar also cut himself, an almost identical wound.
"They should be fine, I think. They might be bleeding a bit, but the wounds are surface level. It'll probably scab up after about a half hour with a towel over it." Rashtvice was no stranger to injuries and blood. He had been wounded more times than he could count, and he had wounded others twice as often. "Do you think Trebar cut him there intentionally?"
"What?"
"The forearm, the shallow wound. Do you think he was out to do that from the start?" Rashtvice hadn't really been able to see what happened during the duel past the first few exchanges, but he felt it to be incredibly strange that it was even possible for a duel to first blood at such a high level to end without serious injury.
"Maybe? Lord Trebar seems like he would have the skill, but couldn't they have arranged for that to happen in the first place?"
"Do you think Cholst would have accepted that?" Rashtvice did not believe Cholst to be the type of person to give in, even if it was for appearance's sake. He was just too proud.
"I don't know, maybe? Why does it matter?" Len didn't seem to care that much.
"It doesn't really, I suppose, but I do find it odd that it was only that deep. Duels between skilled and powerful individuals usually end with somebody getting a serious wound, even if they stop at first blood. Holding back so as to not kill your opponent puts a serious damper on your chances of winning, so the fact it ended without a lost limb is . . . strange? Suspicious?"
"Is it really? Wouldn't they both be holding back?"
Rashtvice kept his eye on the victor, Trebar, as he tried to think of the answer to his own question. "Holding back doesn't really mean much. Eventually you get to the point where you and your opponent's weapons are moving too fast for you to stop them. Slowing down as you approach an opening can give your opponent more than enough time to close that opening or block your attack."
Len scratched his head. He understood the point, but that seemed like more of a sword on sword issue, two weapons defined by agility and speed at the highest level. Surely a swordsman would be able to pull it off against a lancer if only because he had more options, wouldn't he?
"It wouldn't be that surprising if Trebar outclassed Cholst by a large margin, but they already sit at the top, they're rivals." Rash brought one of his crossed arms up to scratch his chin. "Unless . . . unless they really are that far apart in terms of ability? Len, do you know if Cholst has ever bested Trebar?"
Len shook his head. Forgetting the fact he was a first year, Len was also isolated from that sort of information. Even before he was recruited to Donovan's squad by the Captain he was sort of a recluse.
"What am I saying? You've only been here a few months, you wouldn't know." He reprimanded himself for forgetting such information. "I'll have to investigate."
Rash came to the conclusion that somebody else would know. That seemed rather obvious, especially given Trebar's relative fame, but he was not the brightest. Asking someone was probably the first course of action somebody would take, but he praised himself anyways. If he could have, he probably would have gone with a substantially less diplomatic (and effective) option.
"Why don't you just ask them?"
Len's suggestion came like a bolt out of the blue.
"What?"
"Just ask them about it? They would know better than anyone else wouldn't they?" Len looked a little nervous after saying it, obviously thinking he might have said something wrong.
He had done no such thing of course. Even if it was inappropriate to ask, Rashtvice would not have reprimanded him for it. It was a far better idea than asking around randomly.
"Kid, you're a genius." He pointed at Len before analyzing the situation. Uncouth as he might be, he knew it was not a good idea to barrel through crowds to ask people minor questions. Seeing as Trebar was currently surrounded by a congratulatory conglomeration, Cholst was going to have to be first. "Come on, let's go talk to Cholst."
- - - - -
"Are you okay Lord Cholst?"
"I'm fine ladies, it just needs some time to scab up." Cholst smiled at the trio of women in spite of his bloodied forearm. Despite the obvious fact they were trying to court him, he could see they were genuinely concerned. Perhaps he would consider it. "I have to say, he got me pretty good this time around. Do you think he was mad at me?"
It was a small joke to lighten up the mood, his way of demonstrating that he was fine. Joking aspect aside, the question was rhetorical, Trebar was unquestionably livid he just wouldn't show it. He never showed it. He might frown or crease his brow, but he would never explode in rage like Cholst occasionally did. Cholst could count on a punishment of some sort, probably by way of Donovan.
He was really hoping Don would go light on him.
"Was the duel not his way of settling his grudge?" What appeared to be the leader of this little group offered her thoughts on the matter.
"Maybe you're right, maybe I'll go to bed tomorrow with a few more bruises than normal. Only time will tell, right?" A slight grin and solid eye contact. Even when he wasn't trying he could make himself appealing, and their giggles were proof. "So, tell me, where are you three from? Judging by your dresses, I'd have to wager that you are close."
Giggles and smiles. They were simple reactions, but they did wonders to rebuild his self confidence. Losing a duel in front of a crowd had a tendency to bring him down.
"We are from the Bulsarzian Empire, the same as crown Prince Merndil."
"We room together at the academy!"
"We decided to wear the same dress together when we all received invitations."
Cholst made sure to smile at each of them as hey spoke. "So you aren't sisters, color me surprised. The three of you seem to get along swimmingly. How did you meet?"
"Our families are pretty close."
"Her father suggested that we go together so we would be safe."
"I was scared about going alone."
So they were something like a package deal. If Cholst only had to go by how young they appeared, he would guess they were first years. Their story confirmed that for him. Cholst wasn't one to take advantage of younger or less mature women, but they clearly approached him with that sort of intent in mind. He had no qualms with their appearance, they were quite pretty when compared to the average, so what sort of man would he be if he refused?
"How sweet." He wasn't going to accept their advantages immediately, that would make him look desperate. Instead he would lead them on and accompany them home. They had probably made some sort of pact to do it for the first time at the same time. That was just the sort of behavior he expected the less confident noblewomen to have. "I know I said I'm not feeling any pain, but I would feel bad about bleeding all over the host's floor. Do you think you could go and get me a towel or cloth to wrap around my wound while I talk to my friend here?"
They wanted him, didn't they? The least they could do was work for it. It would give him the time to handle Len as well.
"Of course!"
"Anything you need."
"Should we get one for Lord Trebar as well?"
Cholst nodded his head in thanks. "I am certain that he would appreciate it, but I have a feeling that Nemo is handling it as we speak. She doesn't like me much, so I'll have to ask you to take care of me." The three of them seemed to receive a burst of energy as he said that, clapping their hands lightly as they made a hurried walk towards the door.
"I wish ladies would talk to me like that."
"HA!" Cholst couldn't hold that laugh back. "All it takes is some practice."
"Practice and a pretty face."
"Thank you for the complement." Cholst gestured to the other seats at the table. "Feel free to take a seat Len. You too Rash."
Len meekly nodded his head in thanks. Cholst didn't need to be a genius at reading people to understand that Len was being dragged around against his will. It probably wasn't malicious, Donovan would throw a fit if it was, but Rashtvice was definitely ignorant to his resistance.
"I'd like to get to the point if you don't mind. I don't want to leave those ladies feeling awkward while we talk it out."
"Of course, of course. I only really have one question anyways, though I worry you might be a little bit sour on it." Rashtvice prefaced the topic with something of an early apology.
"Eh, don't worry about it. I'm not so ill natured as to get mad about a slight offense." Cholst looked down at the pool of blood on the floor, moving his foot away so it wouldn't get bloody if the puddle expanded. "Don't insult my mother though."
"That's a given, yeah." Rashtvice looked at Cholst for a few seconds before remembering why he was here. "So, uh, I don't know how to say this without sounding rude, but have you ever beaten Trebar in a duel?"
"No."
"Really?" Rash didn't know whether he should have been more surprised at the contents of the reply or the speed at which it came. "Not even once?"
"Well, I might of landed a hit or two on him during practice spars, but those don't really count. He wasn't giving it his all in order to give me an equal opponent, so I can't really say I beat him."
"Is he really that much better than you?"
"Ouch!" Cholst feigned a chest pain for a moment. He had already come to terms with the fact he was beat, but it still hurt to have it said to his face. "-but yeah. In a full on fight I wouldn't stand a chance. There are only eight people I know of that could possibly beat him in a fight."
"Who are they?"
"You want to know?"
"Who wouldn't!?"
Cholst smiled to himself. Who was he kidding? Why would a fellow battle junkie not want to know who the top dogs are.
"I'm also a little curious." Len asking him was a little less expected.
"Alright, alright, if you two are so curious then I feel like I have to. Let's take it from the top, so strongest to weakest. First up goes without saying, the Arboreal Maiden. It's a little boring, I know, but the number two doesn't even come close. I'll tell you right now in case you haven't already caught on, never piss her off. She is the Steward of the Great Csillacra for good fucking reason, and she has an immeasurably long history to back it up.
Next up, the Marshal of the Sanctum, Grand Elder Larson. I don't really know much about him besides the fact he is the second strongest, but the Marshal is always an incredibly powerful and experienced person. I've heard rumors that the Arboreal Maiden does something to them or provides them assistance somehow, but that obviously hasn't been confirmed. Just know he is also not to be trifled with.
Below him is the Marshal's replacement, their successor, for many of the same reasons as the Marshal.
Fourth on the 'can kick Trebar's ass' list is one of the Bishops of the Holifanian Theocracy. Don't ask me who it is, I don't know his name, but apparently that's the guy who trained Trebar in the first place.
There is another person from the Theocracy, a god that is in their service, but I haven't heard much about him beyond the fact he lives there and would be problematic for Trebar to fight.
Six and seven are pretty close, but I'd argue that General Scuptin from the Vrie Horde and General Arrelois from your Empire are on the list too. They have a reputation as terrifyingly competent commanders, but from what I've heard they are menaces on the battlefield too. Is that true?"
". . . normally it would insult me that you placed one of those scumbags from Vrie on par with Sir Arrelois, but he always said Scuptin was his rival. What do you think Len?"
Cholst really wanted to laugh at the listless Len. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes were unfocused, but the most entertaining part was definitely the way his head continued to move backwards.
"He's that strong?"
"You . . . you didn't know? Isn't he your foster father?"
'Y-yeah, but I never really asked him about that. I just sorta assumed he was the guy who sat in the backline and shouted orders." All of the sudden the level of deference even the crown prince had shown to him made a lot more sense. "Is he really that strong?"
"He's the strongest man in the Empire."
Len returned to his daze, trying to process that information.
". . . Anyways, I know this list doesn't include a lot of people like gods or whatever, but I'm only repeating what he said to me. There are definitely a great many more who can threaten him. One of those people, the last on this list, is that bastard of an individual I am unfortunate enough to have to call my father."
Rashtvice recoiled at that bombshell. "Your father was bastard born?" A king being the son of a bastard didn't give a good look and could do untold damage to a family's reputation.
"No, he, no. Grr. He isn't actually a bastard, I was insulting him." The vitriol in Cholst's voice jumped to unbelievable levels. "My country is called the Ilfalian Regency Council right now for a reason. That reason because the fucker killed my mother, the queen by birthright, and ran away like a little bitch."
cakeonfrosting Yo, cake here, back at it again with another chapter!
Once again, I'm demonstrating some of the debauchery that is Noble culture through Cholst. This time I'm building him up a bit though. For those of you who are not versed in government terminology, a Regency Council is a group of people who temporarily take over the running of a kingdom or other such monarchal government when the ruler dies and their heir is not yet old enough to rule. Usually this council is made up of the upper nobility, but it isn't impossible for the old ruler's trusted advisors or spouse to take the role given the fact they don't have their own territory to manage and are already pretty familiar with running the country.
As you might be able to guess, these councils sometimes resulted in coups or rebellions, so they aren't particularly desirable. Then again, the alternative is having a five year old rule, which is even more stupid.
Anyways, I feel like giving you all a little bit of a reward for 1000 readers (yippee!) and 10 reviews (also yippee!) so I'll reveal a few inconsequential secrets and what not to you over the course of the next few chapters. These aren't story breaking mind you, just some character name origins, inspirations, and maybe a look at something I made a while ago (which I will start to implement soon). Some of these have probably already been mentioned in the comments at some point, but for those of you who finished the chapter before those comments came in or who skipped the comments entirely it might be a little bit entertaining.
To start with, I think it would be nice to give you all the link to the song that the Final Martyr, Ranger Montint Roguess, Montaug, asked for. It is pretty short, a minute and a half, so if ever this story makes it onto the big screen I would prefer a longer version, but this is the song that inspired his character. - > Waltz of the Dandelion < - [Artist - Krezzi]
(at time of writing it only has 22 views, at least four of which are me, so I have absolutely not idea how I was recommended it in the first place)
Some more lore to sign off with, Len's name is actually super stupid. It's a bastardization of the word 'Lancer'
Lancer -> Lan-cer -> Lan Cerr -> Len Cerr -> Len Kerr
