Rimelion: The Exploiter

After our sparring session, I leaned back against the mountainside, not noticing the ships until the unmistakable sound of sails snapping in the wind reached my ears. The sight took me aback—the Duke had sent over thirty ships, their sails billowing proudly in the breeze as they approached the harbor.

The Duke's fleet split, some heading to the harbor and others anchoring in the river's center, with only a few ships docking. Our friend, the harbormaster, greeted the delegation while dockworkers scrambled to load supplies onto the ships. What really caught my attention, though, was the way they used whips to prod along with their strange creatures—a bizarre blend of pig and horse. Fellow whip users!

Amid the bustling activity, Don stepped up to a soldier guarding the delegation and loudly announced our business. His shout caught the attention of an older captain, who approached us with a warm smile that put me a little at ease. "I heard about you two! You're the knight, right? And you must be the young healer Teorn mentioned. Go on in; we've got a room ready for you."

Startled, Don dropped his sword with a clatter, then quickly saluted. "Yes, sir!" Only the lessons from the palace kept my expression from face palming and die from embarrassment by association.

With a flick of his wrist, the captain gestured to a nearby soldier. "You! Escort them to the cabin near the kitchen."

The soldier responded with an elven salute and motioned for us to follow. As I took in the size of the massive ship, I felt the wooden boards creak underfoot as we made our way into the hold. Our room was small, with two bunk beds. Don scowled at the sparse furnishings, but I didn't care.

Players never had to sleep in the game, I reminded myself, so at least I wouldn't have to worry about him invading my bed at night. But ending up with these perverts as a girl? Rotten luck. I'd have preferred a magistrate from the capital—a true gentleman.

Ignoring Don's grumbling, I started enchanting my gear. The Tiara's success had been a nice boost, though its fire resistance wasn't all that useful for me. My skill in 'runecrafting' had improved with practice, but my enchantments averaged a modest seventy percent.

Maybe I had a touch of talent. Hopefully. After all that work, I'd managed to gain two intelligence on everything... except for the robe.

[Robe]
Enchanting: +6 INT

[Whip]
Enchanting: +2 INT

Our cozy little room was filled with the persistent smell of old wood, which didn't sit well with my nose. The clatter of Don's armor hitting the floor broke the silence, and I could see the boredom in his eyes—perfect for my plan.

"Let's do some real training, Don," I said, giving him a quick pinch in the side. He groaned and dropped onto the edge of the bed, examining his armor. That's for my butt, amateur.

"You won't need armor for this. In fact, it's better without it." I grabbed his hand and dragged him up to the deck. He started to protest but quickly quieted, trailing after me with his eyes firmly fixed on my backside. Typical. We reached the upper deck, where the captain's voice echoed as he barked curses at the sailors. Dodging the flurry of activity, I led Don to a secluded corner by a bench, away from all the bustle.

"So, Don, you're a knight," I began. "Your shield is your best friend—it keeps you alive. Its purpose isn't just to block strikes; it can also distract your opponent, block his view, and redirect his blade."

His expression was blank, though his eyes were less interested in my words than in my posture whenever I leaned forward to demonstrate. His grinning face betrayed exactly where his focus was. This brat!