Chapter 2: Part 2: The Djävul

Been doing a whole lot of making do lately. Maybe too much, if he was being honest with himself. There just wasn’t much in the way of Relict's work to be found anymore; certainly not enough to live anything like comfortable. It was barely enough to be self-sufficient.

Some weeks, not even that.

So Sebastian had been taking on odd jobs in the meanwhile, trying to be resourceful. Learning the extra skill here and there to fill the gaps in pay just enough that he could patch the gaps in his armor.

Like this little trick. He had picked it up from the boar hunters of the Langra Mountains. Dead simple really: pointy end goes towards the target, other end braced in the ground. Target meets pointy bit, problem solved. Easy-peasy — assuming you could find some idiot willing to stand in the path of over six thousand kilos of rampaging monster coming straight at them.

Enter one skint Relict with a bad attitude and an apparently even worse sense of self-preservation. Funny how the noble types would happily offer more for a nice tasty boar to grace their feasting table than they would pay a Relict to clear out a monster chowing down on their serfs.

But Sebastian needed this job. It had been the only one since the égautor back in Lyvana, and that had been two, maybe three weeks ago now?

The monster hunting business just ain't what it used to be.

Time was the world had been full of them. All sorts of nasty things roaming the land; hiding in every hollow, jumping out of every shadow, lurking in the mist.

At least, that was how the old stories went. The tales and songs of those early days when humans were still a young race. Still building the villages and towns that would eventually become the great cities in the east.

Before they had managed to spread like weeds, able to lay claim to territory stretching from coast to coast and all the arable land in between. Back when anyone foolish enough to venture too far from their settlements would all too likely find themselves easy prey for all the creatures that already called those places home.

Of course, that was before they'd quite figured out this whole magic thing.

But they were a resourceful race, humans. Built their walls high and strong; found, borrowed, or just plain made weapons to defend themselves with.

Made the first Relicts too, at least according to the history books Sebastian's instructors had set them to reading. Dry, dusty old tomes that sucked every bit of interesting right out of the subject matter. Pages filled only with lists of names and dates and places that Old Thamas seemed to think it absolutely imperative for Sebastian and his fellow trainees to memorize before they were fit to go out into the world and hunt what few monsters there were left.

Too many lordlings knocking about these days, each with their own personal standing armies. Soldiers trained at great expense to fight just sitting around idly drinking up the Jarl's coffers until they were needed.

Much better to send them round to take out the local beasties.

Made for good training. Good peasant relations too when they marched through the villages in their spiffy new tabards all bearing their Jarl's crest and colors; armor polished and gleaming, the guards all waves and smiles.

It was a system that seemed to keep everyone satisfied. Just so as long as you weren't a Relict trying to earn enough coin to make speed for the Langra Mountains before the end of autumn; before it was time to head back to Eldfäst before the weather turned and the way became impassable until spring.

So…everyone that mattered, really.

But Sebastian had never understood how a little parade seemed to make the people doing the actual work of the region feel all safe and protected. Not when they were the ones out working the fields, exposed and vulnerable. Meanwhile their Jarl sat behind the nice thick walls of his fine expensive manor, counting out their taxes and weighing whether he really needed to hire that Relict at an insultingly low price or if risking a few more peasants going missing wasn't the more economical option.

Smug bastards.

Sebastian had seen the Jarlsguard as they had pranced through one town he had just cleaned up of a nest of greblings for. Villagers practically threw them a feast just for showing up.

Meanwhile, once Sebastian had turned in the heads or fangs or tails or claws — or whatever proof his clients required to verify the beast was slain and the job done — he was promptly shown the town gates.

Armor busted up, still all over blood and monster bits too. All that and only a meager handful of coins gained for it all if he was lucky.

Lucky, ha.

At least he had finally stopped bleeding on the walk back from that particular job.

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Small mercies, right?

That had...that had not been an easy night once he had eventually found somewhere safe to make camp and cleaned up the worst of it in a chilly stream. He hadn’t had the energy to hunt himself up any dinner after the day’s efforts, so it had just been the last bit of trail jerky and a few nuts he had discovered knocking around at the bottom of his bag. Cold, sore, hungry, angry — no, it had not been a good night at all.

And if he was unlucky?

…Well.

Wouldn't have to worry much about anything after that, now would he?

Not ever again.

The djävul’s warbling roar shook the nearby trees as it began its charge, breaking into Sebastian's line of thoughts and focusing his attention right where it really should've been this whole time. On the monster in front of him, here and now.

Sebastian shifted his stance, keeping the tip of his spear aimed for the thing’s heart, or failing that, at least its soft underbelly.

He had already taken out three bieshts and one other djävul using this same method, and he was feeling pretty confident about it at this point. Much easier than all the thrust, spin, parry, shoulder roll, repeat about a bajillion times he used to do. Less wear and tear on the armor, less wear and tear on the Relict too.

He watched the djävul charge, waiting, timing it carefully for the moment he would need to dodge out of the way...

Just

about

th —

But just before the critical second, the creature flailed, slipping, its front arm shooting out from under it at an awkward angle, its eyes suddenly wide and startled.

Sebastian tried to lunge the fuck out of its way but the thing had kicked out its back leg to try and right itself, causing it to turn; rolling in the same direction as the scrambling Relict.

Sebastian cried out as the weight of the djävul's body crashed into him, the creature thrashing and snarling in its confusion. One of its massive antlers smashed into him, catching him at just the right angle that the full momentum from the creature’s final charge flung the flailing Relict up in the air and into the side of a nearby tree.

Hard.

Sebastian doesn’t remember much after that.

 

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Author's Notes:

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