Joining the War (2/2)
The merchant and his crew are just packing up when the caravan boss hears the officer tell Haalfrin to go back home. The merchant's eyebrows furrow in displeasure.
He puts down his work, stomps over to the officer, and wags his finger in his face, "Oi! Haalfrin here is the best and most fearless fighter I've ever seen. This miserable, losing kingdom could use some soldiers like him!"
Not giving the officer time to talk back, the merchant pivots on his heels and takes off with his crew for the front gates – leaving this war-torn city behind them.
The officer stares at the retreating merchant for a few seconds then turns back to Haalfrin. He scratches his head and glances down. "Yeah," the officer offers with a slightly quieter tone, "No point at all in turning away a willing sword, anyhow. Are you part of any mercenary's guild at least?"
"No," Haalfrin answers curtly.
The officer clicks his tongue and says, "The army might not take you at all, then. Most of the different regiments are the private armies of the local lords. The king also hires soldiers from reputable mercenary guilds. There's not much of a spot for lone wanderers to join anywhere."
Haalfrin puts his hand on his hilt. "I'll just join a mercenary guild then."
The officer gives a couple of names to Haalfrin but ultimately recommends one guild to him. "Garrik Aldomaar. He's some duke's 4th son, and he's got a good reputation with the generals."
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After Haalfrin wanders around a bit and asks the local soldiers for directions every now and then, he arrives at a large building that used to be a prestigious tavern in the upper-class district.
When Haalfrin walks up to the door, he sees two guards looking at him warily. Well, at least they didn't try to stop him. These kinds of places don't usually stand on ceremony, so Haalfrin just walks right in.
The first thing he notices is that scores of men are lining all the benches and tables. It's probably lunchtime for them since they all have steaming hot bowls of stew in front of them.
As Haalfrin is walking up to the front counter, he hears some of the mercenaries whispering, while glancing at his tattoos.
"What's a southern barbarian doing out here?" one of the men jeers under his breath - just soft enough to pretend like he was being discreet, but just loud enough for Haalfrin to hear.
Haalfrin takes a quick at the man and thinks, "Well, the Kareen clans certainly run into a lot of mercenaries on our raids; a lot of these mercenaries here probably lost friends to us over the years… or at least, they lost people to the other clans; I don't recognize them."
Thinking of this, Haalfrin cools his anger and brushes past them.
"Still," Haalfrin grumbles silently as he puts on hand on the front counter, "I'd rather they just take a swing at me and be done with it. This passive-aggressive taunting is annoying, pathetic, and cowardly."
This thought makes him angry again. Haalfirn has always been a judgy person... and in his mind, being stupid is a bigger crime than being his enemy.
A gruff, middle-aged, bartender-looking man is in the middle of cleaning out a tankard when he glances to the side and sees Haalfrin waiting for him. "What's up?"
Haalfrin guesses this man isn't with the mercenaries; he's likely one of the civilians who had wisely chosen to stay due to the guaranteed batch of customers.
This is Haalfrin's assumption he made instantly after taking his first look at the innkeeper. The man doesn't have any muscles, and his skin looks like he spends most of his time inside. Since the Alasta citizens are largely pale white, you can always tell when they're outside a lot; white people tan easily.
"I'd like to talk to the guild master… or whoever's in charge of accepting new recruits," Haalfrin says as he points his thumb over his shoulder at the mercenaries behind him.
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A moment later, Haalfrin is standing in front of a desk in the largest room in the inn.
Despite the polite knock Haalfrin gave before he walked in, guild master Garrik still looks up from his bowl of stew at Haalfrin with an expression that seems to say, "You're interrupting my meal. Go away!"
Haalfrin, being as thick-skinned as he is, ignores the guild master's displeased look.
Garrik quickly glances at Haalfrin's tattoos and remarks, "Why aren't you with the rest of your clan? Well, whatever. I don't know which clan you're from, and I don't care either. My Aldomaar guild isn't making any alliances with any southern barbarians."
In Garrik's view, the Kareen's reckless fighting style always gets far too many of his men killed. Plus, they're just a bunch of backstabbing, greedy ruffians anyway.
Naturally, Haalfrin gets personally offended at this, and his instincts tell him to kick the snot out of this guild master for insulting his people.
'Still,' the lonely Kareen thinks, 'I need to join a guild. Getting on these people's nerves over a hurt ego is a bad choice. Plus, it's just generally a horrible idea to antagonize people in power when you have none yourself anyway.'
The moment this thought flits past his mind, Haalfrin swats it away. 'Hey, what's there to be afraid of?' he thinks, 'I'm trying to die anyway!' As he realizes this, his heart beats in excitement, and he feels his blood turn hot as it's pumped full of adrenaline.
'Ah,' Haalfrin thinks, 'being unattached to one's life really free's a man from society's restrictions!'
He curls his fist, ready for a confrontation.
Of course, Haalfrin can see the magical tools on Garrik's body, and he knows how to recognize a mage when he sees one. 'When I meet my clan brothers and sisters on the other side, I can just say I was defending the clan honor and was slain by a powerful mage. They'll be proud of me for sure!'
The guild master tries to shoo Haalfrin away again… But if he hadn't been so dismissive of Haalfrin, he'd have seen the crazy look in the Kareen's eyes. He could've at least pulled out a knife or prepared a spell…
And so, the guild master is caught completely unprepared when the barbarian lifts a leg and kicks hard against the desk, knocking the middle-aged man clear out of his chair.
The guild master doesn't even bother shouting out his dismay. He only thrusts his hand forward and uses the quickest spell any mage can use now – telekinesis – on the desk as he throws it back at Haalfrin.
Something Haalfrin knows about mages is that any physical-based magic needs the mage to make a physical move with their body. The force they make with their movement, like a punch, jump, or a… thrust forward from a prone position is multiplied by their magic a few times.
Another way of putting it is that magic is the art of redistributing energy. You make kinetic energy with your body by moving, then you pass that energy through your soul.
A mage's soul is multiple times larger than a normal human's, so kinetic energy is multiplied when it passes out on the other side in the form of a spell – now changed and altered in a new form more useful to the mage.
However, just as it becomes harder to hold up a rock the further it is from your body, the weaker your spells become the further away they are from the target. (This is why mages are usually close-quarter combatants, while ranged mages slinging fireballs are extremely rare and are super specialized in that talent.)
The desk is a little out of arms reach for the guild master, and thrusting out with your hand won't make much force.
Thus, when guild master Garrik throws the desk at Haalfrin, it doesn't make the Kareen go splat on the wall; instead, it just knocks Haalfrin off balance and forces him back a little – giving the guild master time to get back on his feet.
Garrik looks at Haalfrin with furious eyes, yet he still acts rationally – well, rationally ENOUGH.
Knowing there's an attacker in such close quarters, Garrik chooses to stick with telekinesis and partial body strengthening spells to amplify the force of his telekinesis; after all, if his arms are stronger, he can grip things harder with his other spells too; that's why body strengthening spells is the most crucial thing for a mage to learn when they embark on the magical path.
And so, after Garrik puts his body strengthening spell up almost immediately due to his decades of diligent practicing, Haalfrin really loses all chance of properly resisting after that.
… And a moment later, the body of a tall Kareen tumbles out the window on the second floor.
From that height, Haalfrin could have crushed his skull or broken some bones, but maybe some god was keeping an eye on him; against all odds, Haalfrin lands right on his feet. His momentum makes him stumble forward… but he's still all right.