Inflame (The Completionist Chronicles Book 6) by Dakota Krout (best romantic novels in english TXT) 📕

Joe scanned the group, finding that he recognized none of the surviving Dwarves. He thought back to his party and shrugged lightly. He’d had fun with them, but clearly something had been very wrong with the training environment. If he got out of there and spent time around more highly-specialized professionals, Joe wasn’t going to be upset if he didn't already know the people he was training with; he liked meeting new people. The Officer started walking down the line, holding up a slate.

The powerful Dwarf would touch the slate to each forehead and mumble a few words. Joe could hear him clearly, as the Dwarf was not trying to hide what he was doing. “Leadership at the Expert level… locked until level thirty. No crafting; strategizing at Beginner ranks, starting at twenty-five… combat is the only way back for you. Disqualified!”

Just like that, the Dwarf he was testing was tossed toward the entrance of the small fort, and the Officer moved down the line. “Weapon smithing at the high Expert ranks, locked till twenty-three? Not bad… oh, a weapon-specific profession unlocked at twenty-five? Welcome to Candidacy!”

The Dwarf he was speaking to went pale, then was tossed by an unseen force deeper into the fort. The Officer continued down the line, “Disqualified… abyss, absolutely disqualified… disqualified, you’re in, in… huh. A human?”

“Yes, sir.” Joe saluted casually, knowing that the Officer was used to casual or blatant disregard for the rules from the troops. At least he was not expected to slam his forehead into the person testing him.

“Well… this affinity slate isn't going to work on you, now is it?” The Officer put away his testing device and pulled out a pad of paper and a quill with a grimace. “That shows us the skills and talents that can be regained over time if one of our people comes back to us. Sometimes it's just too far away to bother trying to regain it. Most of the time, in fact. How about you? Leadership skills? Crafting? What have you got that would make you a good Officer Candidate?”

“I've been learning how to create buildings, and-”

“How cute, humans making buildings.” The Dwarf snorted and struck a line through his paper. “Anything else? Don't you want to be an Officer? You seem like the type that would enjoy… I don't know, just sitting in a dark room and thinking for a few days straight?”

Joe opened and closed his mouth, trying to speak a couple of times, but not knowing exactly what to say. It was a bizarrely effective insult. “My base class is a Ritualist. I have taken up ritual-specific smithing, alchemy, enchantment, matrix creation, and my first specialization was as a Rituarchitect. I can bring up any building, provided I have the blueprints and materials, or bring down any building, given enough time. My second specialization was directly approved by my deity, and I am a champion of that same deity. I also have healing spells at a decent skill level.”

“You're a ritualist, you say?” The Officer paused, looking into the distance.

That same small voice reached Joe’s ears very faintly. “He might be after the Grand Ritual Hall. Boot him.”

“Well, sorry to say, I just don't think you offer-”

Joe cut the Officer off before he could get another word out, “One of the things that I built in the previous Zone was a Grand Ritual Hall. Artifact rank. It has the ability to upgrade to Mythical, provided I can meet the criteria to make that happen. Go ahead and let your boss know that I have no interest in stealing secrets from your Ritual Hall.”

Silence filled the air between them. Joe knew that the Officer was hoping for direction, and the other person involved was doing their very best to ascertain if Joe could hear them when he talked. Joe watched the silence turn slightly darker, and remembered that he had something in his ring that might work to sway opinion in his favor. Luckily he had none of the strange performance issues that had been occurring recently; the Dwarven automaton, ‘The King that Might have Been’, appeared in a heap on the ground.

The Officer stroked his beard and nodded consideringly as he stared at the damaged device. In the next moment, the automaton vanished, and a light gasp came across whatever communication channel was open. “Fine. Welcome, Candidate.”

“Thank you, sir.” Joe nodded and peered deeper into the Fort. “What’s next?”

“OCS.” The Dwarf grinned at Joe’s blank stare. “What, you don't know what Officer Candidacy Selection is? If you thought being a Legionnaire was difficult… well, you’ve got an interesting time coming at you.”

Joe felt a thump, and found himself flying through the air. It felt like he had been kicked in the behind by a giant, but he did not know where the attack had originated from. He hoped that somehow, somewhere, whoever had just done that to him had gotten a shadowy slap to the face. He landed flat on the ground, his chin bouncing twice on the cobblestones, and found himself staring at a pair of boots.

He lifted his eyes only to be greeted by a red, twirling mustache. “Looks like you are going to be the last recruit? Good. You’re making me nervous, listening in on my conversations and messing with my people. Let's use that to make the Elves nervous; what do you think?”

There was no time to answer, as she turned and started shouting in the direction Joe had flown in. “This should be plenty, gotta leave room for others. Well, what do you think it takes to become an Officer?”

The lady Dwarf scanned the others’ faces and nodded. “I'm glad no one answered. If you had, it would mean that our secrets are getting out into the world! Then we would have needed to determine if you were a spy, or just talking to spies! Ha!”

Each of the other Dwarves joined in