Maximum Intimidation Knight In a World Full of Mages-Chapter 32 : This thing could murder me in two strikes

It was . . . menacing. At least as menacing as a tiny rock golem could look. Pebble-skinned and squat, it sported two thick arms that bulged with biceps so massive they looked like tree trunks grafted onto the body of a garden gnome. A round little torso made of glistening, mineral-packed sludge wobbled as the thing moved, like a pudding trying to impersonate a fortress. Its legs were stubby, almost comically short, so that the immense upper body seemed perpetually off-balance.
Fine. It did not look menacing.
Anabeth, however, was oblivious to my internal debate about its intimidation factor. Her focus was entirely on the creature itself.
“Observe, Sir Henry!” she chirped. “Durand’s structure is far more stable than initial attempts. The mineral composition is exceptionally dense, and the aetheric binding is remarkably potent.”
Durand took its first tentative step in her hand. It wobbled like a sack of rocks on stilts, then pitched and teetered like a toddler learning how to walk.
Anabeth said, “That’s just a small imperfection. Nothing to worry about. It’s part of the charm.”
I watched the golem’s leg churning with the kind effort that definitely did not speak of stability.
‘And what is this thing used for?’
, I tried to ask.
[Speech Override: ACTIVE — CERALIS: Intimidation Restructure —]
I said, “What does it do? Does it swallow mountains whole? Does it bathe in the blood of slime kings? Does it roll through the dungeon leaving only chaos in its wake? Does it bend the laws of physics just to make sure no treasure is ever safe? Does it whisper secrets to the walls before tearing them apart? Does it stare into the void until the void wets itself and begs for mercy?”
“Oh! He can’t do
any
of that.” Anabeth laughed. “But this is my most offensively forward-leaning construct to date! He can aid us nicely in battle!”
Nicely,
she said.
Yes. A creature built like an unstable meatball with arms.
As I urged Silvermane to turn down the forest path, I was already thinking:
What is this small gravel-child ever going to do—
Thunk!
Durand lost balance the instant the horse turned. One massive bicep slammed straight into my back.
[-32 HP]
Your HP: 23/55
I lurched forward in the saddle, wheezing. A sharp metallic tang hit my tongue.
Am I bleeding? Thirty-two? This thing could murder me in two strikes.
How?
I swiveled my head toward the golem.
[Lesser Stone Golem (‘Durand’), Slimetouched — Level 15]
HP: 360/360
STR: 72
END: ???
DEX: ???
Skills: ~8 Aetheric Skills]
Note: Unlock Appraisal to appraise attributes of superior creatures.
I turned my head slowly, painfully, to look at Anabeth. She had said ‘offensively forward-leaning.’ That didn’t begin to cover it. That was like calling a hurricane a ‘stiff breeze.’ The creature she’d summoned could have been a guardian, a champion, a terror on the battlefield. And she’d made it from slime cores.
How powerful actually was she?
She just smiled brightly when she saw me looking. “Oh dear. Durand
is
enthusiastic, isn’t he? I suppose I may have overcompensated slightly. I’m dreadfully tired now, actually. But I cannot wait for us to reach the next town. I’ve never been to Elderstead before! And certainly not alone with a man!” She giggled like that detail mattered. “I heard they have splendid honey-buttered briar loaves, you know. And river-churned cream. And—”
She kept talking.
And talking.
And talking.
Something about Elderstead’s midspring pastries. Something about the market square having ‘elm benches that sometimes drop glowing pebbles.’ Something about the proper way to fold travel cloaks to ‘avoid respect-loss among seasoned adventurers,’ which was absolutely not a thing.
I tuned out somewhere around the third ‘briar loaves’, but still kept half an eye on Durand. I did not trust that bicep.
Only then did the forest path begin to widen ahead, and the dusk light split through the treeline in purple bands.
Civilization. Thank the Saints.
The trail curved one last time, and Elderstead finally materialized.
It was much smaller than Dunsvale, but still managed to sport a full wooden palisade, a reinforced front gate fully lit with torches, and two guards who looked like they’d been waiting their entire lives for someone to justify their posture.
Anabeth clapped. “I thought only mid-tier towns bothered with guard rotations!”
“Most don’t,” I muttered. Unless something had been raiding them lately. Which was a concern. The last thing I wanted was to stumble upon some local crisis and immediately get drafted as the nearest able-bodied idiot in armor. I would have happily enlisted my assistance had I had actual strength to back myself up, but I didn’t.
We approached the gate. I checked my skill again and realized that Voice Reclamation was no longer on cooldown. If necessary, I could reclaim my voice for this interaction, ensuring my commands carried clearly and with just enough authority, without risking another accident like last time, when careless resonance nearly turned the guards into stone.
One guard actually drifted his hand to a spear as he saw me in armor with a stone golem dancing behind me.
“State your—” the other guard began.
I stared at him.
[Silent Authority Activated]
The guard froze like someone had swapped his spine for a rod of cold iron. His pupils contracted.
“R-right,” he said, voice suddenly thin. “Of course. Travelers. Evening check-in. Gate entry permitted.”
The younger guard looked between us then at his companion, and decided this wasn’t the moment to question anything. He lifted the gate-bar and wished us a good time, and there was that.
What? I didn’t even mean to activate Silent Authority. Oh well. At least I hadn’t had to waste my precious Voice Reclamation skill and be stuck in eight hours of agonizing cooldown, all while wondering if Ceralis had decided to chew up my vowels again.
Anabeth beamed at them, entirely oblivious to whatever psychological devastation had just occurred. “Oh! How splendidly polite! Thank you, gentlemen!”
Task Completed: Commitment to the Path (Path of the Earthen Aegis)
Boon: New Active Skill: Static Surge (Level 1 — Lightning Spell)
Effect: Channel an electrical static into a metal conduit to deal upward of 30 ATK on top of existing damage
Cost: 5 AP
Cooldown: 30 seconds
Ah. What a delightful skill. If only I actually had the AP to use it.
We passed beneath the gate and into Elderstead proper. The town wasn’t bustling—dusk had mostly cleared the streets—but there were still a few vendors packing away stalls, a smith closing his shutters, and what looked like the world’s most exhausted pair of donkeys pulling a cart laden with baskets of river reeds.
I was less focused on the scenery and more focused on not falling off my horse. But then something caught my eye.
A storefront, plain and quiet, but with a golden sextant painted above the door, and shelves inside that glittered with scroll cases, astrolabes, compasses, and charts.
A chartmaker’s atelier.
A cartography shop? Here?
Right. Supposedly, this was the one thing Elderstead was actually known for. The one thing travelers, adventurers, guild hunters, merchants, and nobles actually cared about. Not honey-buttered briar loaves nor glowing pebbles. This.
A chartmaker.
No wonder they had guards.
Most people didn’t realize why maps were so valuable. They thought it was about landmarks and villages. But no. Accurate mapping meant knowing where dungeon rifts tended to open, where monster migrations crossed roads, where old ruins still slept under the soil, and where the
untapped resources
lay: ore veins and whatever aetheric gold mines there were.
If you had the right map, you could become rich, powerful, or dead in record time.
The Kingdom had even tried to monopolize cartography decades ago, but it had lasted roughly three months. Turned out chartmakers were stubborn, independent, and often armed with the kind of esoteric directional magic that made arresting them extremely difficult. Also, guilds were rather powerful in this realm. I had not yet been strong enough to gain entry into one, but I wanted to. Kingdom jockeys wouldn’t be able to bully me the way they had bullied the Knighthood at the dawn of its cycle.
Speaking of maps . . . I still kept the aetheric stone that gave me the cartography task in my pannier. I reached for it, and immediately, the task information flashed in front of my eyes again.
[TASK RECEIVED: Battlefield Logistics I]
Objective: Sketch a basic map of your immediate surroundings, including enemy position and ally placement.
Boon: +60 EXP
Skill Unlocked — [Cartography, Level I]
Effect: Grants the ability to accurately record geographic and tactical information of immediate surroundings. Enables the creation of basic maps, including landmarks, terrain features, and notable hazards.
I could do this. The task wasn’t to redraw the entire continent, just my immediate surroundings. Still, a chartmaker in their own atelier could teach me a thing or two. How to orient maps with local aetheric anomalies and what kind of landmarks mattered inside a town. This Cartography skill would be crucial to rebuilding the Knighthood, as I might actually be able to map out where Mostenstein was once I’d gathered enough information.
I squinted through the atelier’s window, and moving among the scrolls and compasses was a man. Slightly stooped, spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, ink stains running down his sleeves like a badge of honor.
That had to be the chartmaker. No one else would treat maps like sacred instruments, no one else would handle astrolabes and sextants with that careful reverence.
[Stamina: 55%]
[Status: Slightly hungry]
[Maximum Intimidation Active]
Surely I could get him to assist me with just a bit of ‘persuasion’.