The Sword Saint Also Has A Succubus Class

Erik, as Vale discovered, was a farmer's son with grand aspirations to become an adventurer—a not-so-uncommon goal among men and women from any walk of life in this world, Vale assumed. Bestowals were rare, especially for commoners who lacked formal training and subsequently the skill necessary to draw the System's attention, but they could technically be given to anyone.

What seemed to be the persistent quality in those who received classes, or a Bestowal as locals put it, was skill. In any field, just about. A person could become a [Blacksmith] or a [Tailor] or a [Knight] or a [Wizard], but it required drawing the System's attention through merit. At least, most often it was merit, but the exact cause for a class could sometimes be opaque.

"Also hereditary," Suzi said. "It's pretty common for a [Witch]'s daughter to become a [Witch], if trained by her," she said, plainly finding it strange she was explaining such simple things to Vale, though happy to fill her in nonetheless. "Even if that daughter isn't that skilled, not to say I wasn't, but it was easier for me for sure. The odds are higher the better you are at what you do, and it also becomes more likely the closer you get to eighteen—Bestowals prefer adults. Though you can get a class earlier. There's too many factors. And heck, sometimes classes drop out of the sky with no rhyme or reason."

"But anyway," Suzi said, "Erik's a wannabe adventurer, and hoping for a class, so he's been practicing a lot. He's the closest thing to an adventurer Silverdale's got, besides old man Alan, who's been retired for thirty years and would break a hip trying to swing a sword around nowadays. Was pretty good in his prime though, I heard, got up to level twelve." She snorted. "Which is not anything, really, but for Silverdale it is, and his Bestowal faded with his age. So yeah, Erik's the best fighter we got."

"I see."

"Sorry for rambling," Suzi said.

Had she taken Vale's response as a lack of enthusiasm? "No, please, I'm learning a lot. I'm just thinking about it, too." Hence why she'd given an idle, distracted response. "He's your best fighter? Not you?"

"Well, fighter in the archetypal sense," Suzi said. "Like with a sword. I could turn him into a frog pretty easily, it wouldn't be much of a fight between me and him, but I've got magic so that's kind of cheating."

"Why a frog?"

Suzi blinked. "Witches turn people into frogs, it's what they do." After a second, she added, "Plus frogs are cute."

"They are?"

"What! Of course they are! Have you seen a frog?"

Vale had seen frogs, and cute wasn't the first word she would use for them. "And this Daniel person?" she asked. "Is there anything I need to know?"

"You're avoiding the question," Suzi accused. But she let it slide. "And nope, it's not like you're going to meet an actual magistrate or something, Dan's just a respected guy, he settles a lot of town disputes and such. Silverdale's not big enough to have a real leader. Only reason we should go and talk to him is to find out if anyone learned more about the Affliction stuff, since he would know, and so you can say hi as a matter of good manners."

Vale hummed in agreement.

They found Erik at his family's farmhouse: he was a gangly young man of around eighteen or nineteen, with long wiry limbs but not much real bulk to him, not like Ganrik the blacksmith. On being told about the situation by Suzi, his eyes lit up and he ran off to grab his sword, which apparently he was a proud owner of. Vale and Suzi headed for Daniel next; Erik would meet them at Ganrik's.

"Spent the better part of a year scrounging up to buy that thing, I heard," Suzi said. "Maybe a wannabe, but he's serious about it. Also got some lessons from a soldier up at Ironlake, so he's not totally clueless. Has even killed a few monsters, and boy, were his parents mad when they found out." She shrugged. "Not that I would know how good he is really, I haven't seen him fight."

They found Daniel next. He was a tall clean shaven man with brown hair and gentle but firm brown eyes. Vale could see on first glance why he was the town's unofficial leader. He had that aura about him.

After making introductions—like everyone else, his eyes lingering on Vale's wolf ears—they set off, speaking as they headed to Ganrik.

"A quest," Daniel said. "I'm not sure whether to be happy or afraid. This is even more serious than we assumed."

"Already seven people asleep and not waking up," Suzi said. "It's pretty dang serious as is."

"I know that," Daniel said firmly. "Of course I know that." Suzi seemed briefly abashed. "But a quest might mean whatever's out there is beyond your ability to put down, Suzi, even with help. The System doesn't just hand them out. We might need to ask the city."

"That could take weeks," Suzi said, "and the quest says the Lurker is feasting on them. It's probably draining them while they sleep. It needs to die by tomorrow."

And only so late as then because the sun would be setting before long, and even to Vale, hunting in the dark would be unwise when so unfamiliar with the terrain and the nature of their enemy. There were also preparations to make. They'd be setting out early the next morning.

"What's your plan?" Daniel asked. "How are you going to find it? You aren't going to just wander around? The Caelvarn Forest is huge."

"Of course not," Suzi said. "We're gonna draw it out."

This was news to Vale, and her ears twitched in surprise.

"Draw it out?" Daniel asked.

"Gonna stop by Mirabelle's," Suzi said, "and collaborate on something. A witch and an apothecary can do quite a lot working together, you know." She hummed, then seemed suddenly fidgety. "We, uh, will probably need someone's blood, though. One of the victim's."

Alarmed, Daniel asked, "What for?"

"As the bait," Suzi said. "And not too much of it, just enough to drench a cloth with. It's the most reliable way of drawing out a hunter that I can think of, using one of its victim's blood, and doing some… you know, witch-y stuff, to make it into bait."

"Witch-y stuff," he repeated.

"O, my arts are dark and mystical, simpleton," Suzi said. "I dare not tell you what I have planned, lest your ears bleed and you spend the rest of your life gibbering and waking from night terrors."

Daniel gave her a dry look. "It won't hurt them?"

"Of course not," Suzi said.

"Then you can take it from my son."

A brief silence fell over them, not least Daniel, at the reminder that the mysterious Affliction was more personal to him than even Suzi, who merely had a friend asleep.

They arrived back to Ganrik's not long after, and Erik was already there. There were also a number of other people who had come: a surprising amount, at least fifteen.

"Seriously?" Suzi said. "We weren't throwing a party, Erik."

Erik's face reddened. "I just told some people on the way over, and they were interested."

Suzi rolled her eyes. "You don't mind?" she asked Vale.

"It's fine," she said.

Though she would have preferred the event to have as few people as possible. She didn't like attention, especially attention focused on her use of the blade. At the same time, she was used to it. It wasn't like this would be the first time a crowd had watched her duel—and other duels hadn't been a polite match against a boy who barely knew how to hold his weapon, but against other disciples of Sword Saints, where the result of the match affected her Master's reputation. Duels with thousands of spectators, the grand finales of Empire spanning matches, in which Master had told her straight to the face that he expected and wanted her to win. Even just remembering those bouts produced ten times the anxiety that this little gathering did, obviously.

Though, strangely, the idea of having those curious green eyes on her was a lot more flustering than it should be. Suzi would be standing off to the side, a member of the crowd that was silently judging her. What would she think of what happened? Why did Vale want to fidget, thinking about it?

Ganrik walked up to them.

"I didn't mean for this to be a whole ordeal," he told Vale. "I just wanted to see the blade in use."

"It's no problem," Vale said again.

"This won't end with any injuries, will it?" Daniel asked her. "These aren't blunted sparring blades, and Erik's—" he glanced sideways at the boy to make sure he was out of range, though dropped his voice anyway. "I won't say anything about your ability, Miss, but his control might not be up to the task."

"Neither of us will be hurt," Vale said. "I swear it on my honor."

Daniel blinked, and Vale was vaguely aware her response had been a little too serious for what was warranted. She did that sometimes, she knew.

"Alright," he said. "Still, you're certain you can manage not just yourself, but him too, if it comes to it?"

After giving a straightforward oath, some might have been offended at the man's persistence, but Vale recognized the good-hearted concern in his eyes.

"I could fight ten of him and ensure none of us were injured," she said. "We'll be fine."

Daniel's eyebrows raised at that, and even worse, Suzi broke out into a huge grin.

"Yeah, Dan," she said. "She could fight off The Ancient Monarch, one-handed, blindfolded. What's Erik going to do to her?"

"I didn't mean—" Vale started with a blush. "Just, I promise neither of us will be hurt. It'll be a friendly spar only."

"I'll trust in you, then," he said with a nod.

She walked up to Erik. The brown-haired boy seemed immediately nervous. He'd gotten that look as soon as he'd found out she was Bestowed, and even more so when Suzi had explained she was good with a sword specifically.

His eyes, like everyone else's so far, lingered on her ears, and flicked to her tail as well. She'd been places where animara were rare, but she was getting the feeling they were all but a rumor, here: known of, but no one had actually seen one in person.

"You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah, let's do it," he said eagerly, then visibly reined himself in. "I mean, uh, yeah, sure." He shifted in place. "Can I ask what I'm in for? You've got a Bestowal, I know, but what sort? And what level are you?"

She considered how to answer. From context, she had learned that telling a person one's class was not uncommon, but also perfectly acceptable to keep to one's self. "A swordsman class," she settled on. "And only level two. But I've been training for a while, and my class came late because of… certain circumstances."

"You're even better than a normal low level Bestowed, is what you're saying," Erik said.

"There is no shame in losing to me," Vale said. That had been what she'd been trying to get across; she wouldn't elevate his perception of her out of ego. Frankly, she'd rather none of this had happened in the first place. "It'll be me testing you, to see how capable you are, not a real fight."

Some might have frowned at that, some might have grown sour and told her not to underestimate them, and some yet might have slumped their shoulders.

Erik grinned, which raised her estimation of him significantly.

"Cool," he said. "Kick my ass. Master Raimond said that's how you get better."