Book 1: Chapter 19: Allusions to aftermath.


    Night ruled the skies above before we returned to the farm. Ish tried to cheer me up, of course, but my mood remained pensive the entire ride. Raffnyk -and by extension me- had been yed like a fiddle. Even if we had avoided crisis, that didnt feel good. Ish did her best, truly. The orc girl offered up usible exnations, all of which I was too distracted to really appreciate.


    Well see, She chewed on her lip as we rode along. It makes sense, donit? The Verdant Dawn, being outsiders, wouldnt have a specific <strong>Subject</strong> ss. Being foreigners, they wouldnt be informed of her death anyhow.


    I suspected this was a ploy to bolster my mood, but listened anyway.


    And what of all these other signs that should have been so obvious? The bells being tolled, the g over every house? I threw back half-heartedly. I myself had not been aware of these traditions, but I was not strictly from this ce either.


    I dunno if they ever mentioned it, but the Verdant Dawns <em>homnd</em>, if it can be called such, isnt a <em>kingdom</em>. Part of why Iroonmoor dislikes them, I suspect. Its more of an elected council of people. Those rarely die in office, and the system doesnt ce any great stock on their deaths. Nor has thisnd, Uth, had a monarch die in half a century now.


    Ironmoor gambled on a simpleck of knowledge, and nearly seeded. I returned quietly. It was a chilling thought. A reminder that despite being massive, strong and -with Gareks memories- experienced, I was not infallible. I had let myself get swept up in the rush and feel of danger, and nearly watched friends die.


    We traveled the rest of the way in silence.


    Ish led the horses to pasture once we returned to the farmstead itself. For once, I was d to hear Gols whines as the beast wandered over and peeked into the cart. With the jumbled mess of politics, rtions, feuds and strife outside, there was something reassuring in his simple-minded hunger.


    The cart could stay loaded tonight, I decided. The jars were covered anyhow, and everything else was sealed.


    Lerish seemed to appear almost in front of me, but I was too tired to be startled. We exchanged greetings, and tired as I was, I only half-heartedly invited her to stay for supper. She still epted. Soon, we sat before a crackling campfire, me clumsily slicing meat and vegetables into a pot. Lerish puffed away at her pipe, her face as a grimace as she inhaled the crystal smoke.


    Ish wandered over, bade us goodnight and walked off down the road.


    Unusual. Lerish remarked at thesss back.


    It was an long day. I grunted. Not a good one either?


    Share? She asked, and I did. She stayed quiet throughout, leaned back against a tree with her legs crossed and one arm behind her head. I didnt downy my own oversights and mistakes, but conveyed exactly what had happened to her as she asionally nodded along. Supper was ready to serve by the time my story was done, and the huntress graciously epted a bowl.


    People underestimate the snake. Iroonmoor. She grunted and blew into her soup. Man didnt be baron by being stupid. Calcted gambles always go well for him. Too well. Think he has a Skill that sways oues in his favor. Cant confirm. Knowledge like that is secret. Secrets that people die for. But Ive seen people with it before. I suspect he has a few levels in <strong>Gambler</strong>.


    Eager to not be reminded of my own failures this day, I instead chose to chase down this path of conversation.


    Ish mentioned this as well, a while back. I questioned between sips of soup. Why is it that having more sses seems to be regarded as negative?


    Mmm. Lerish shrugged. The higher your level, the better your Skills. A single Skill in level thirty to forty is infinitely more useful than a dozen skills from one to twenty. Having multiple sses splits level growth as well. Already slow enough at higher levels, but with multiple sses it bes a drag.


    She hacked and coughed after speaking that long, and grimaced between inhtions of her crystal haze.


    Has to do with how levels grow. She rasped. Killing beings that are part of the System grants you growth. Depending on <em>their</em> own growth in the System. Universal way of advancement for every ss. Doing ss aligned tasks also brings growth. But thats a down-trickle.


    borate.


    She did so, after a few more moments of silence and long pulls of her pipe.


    Your highest-leveled ss will split its growth with the next highest ss. But the reverse isnt true. So while killing will split experience across all sses, doing things in the highest ss will feed the next highest. She grunted. Its generally not worth it to have multiple sses. Past level thirty, most sses slow to a crawl. But every new Skill is massive potential.


    Gareks memories contained none of this information. This being my first real look into the System, the information fascinated me.


    For instance, what would you suspect Baron Ironmoors level to be? I asked.


    Lerish shrugged.


    Hard to tell. Wager hes a higher level <strong>Warlord </strong>than <strong>Baron</strong>. Spent years on the northern campaigns. Plenty of experience killing. Suspect he has a few levels in <strong>Gambler</strong>. Wars a risky business, but things seem to go in his favor. Unless he found a way to consolidate his sses, I''d wager him to be mid-thirties in <strong>Warlord</strong>, mid-teens in <strong>Baron </strong>and mid-teens in <strong>Gambler</strong>. If he has it.


    ss consolidation? I asked, interested. I have never heard that term.


    Doesnt happen much. She grunted. You need some massive feat. That uses both your sses. Combines them into one. Most people already dont take more than one ss.


    Interesting. I nodded.


    If you say so. She grunted. What now?


    Your ns. She borated a momentter.


    I shrugged.


    Stay here. Farm. Do my damnest not to get mixed up in all this. Im already in deeper than I like. I tiredly grumbled. I just want to grow my crops, experiment with my nts, raise livestock. But now I cant even sell product because of my <strong>Tax Evader </strong>status.


    Maybe not on Ironmoorsnd. Lerish suggested. But youre not far from his borders.


    She grabbed a loose stick and leaned forward. With a flourish, she drew a round oval in the dirt.


    Not urate. But close. Think of this as Ironmoorsnds inside the kingdom. She stabbed at a part towards the middle. This is Hullbretch. The edge of the settlednds.


    She moved the stick left and gestured at the empty space. This over here has far more towns and viges, with the city of Koth on the border.


    With that, she brought the stick back and poked a dot past the halfway-point of Hullbretch and the border.


    This is where we are. Right on the slopes of Mount Redtip. Once you leave Ironnmoorsnds, your <strong>Tax Evader</strong> status bes nulled. Find towns not far from the border and sell your goods. I suppose.


    With that, shepsed back into silence and began to eat her soup.


    Thank you, Lerish. I sighed. This information is arge help.


    She shrugged and waved me off.


    Fuck Ironmoor. She grimaced. Enemy of him is friend of mine. Mostly.


    You seem to have a past with him. I remarked.


    Worked for him, long ago. Things went bad. She gestured at her chest. I have him thank for my torn lungs every morning.


    Shepsed into silence, and I didnt ask further questions. After a time, she stood, thanked me for the meal, and walked off into the brush. Gol wandered in and flopped down in her ce. A massive downgrade inpany, I had to say. Still, I wasnt in the mood to be angry with him today. For all his faults, thezy beast wasnt actively scheming my downfall. Was he?


    Iy awake in bed a whileter, unable to sleep. For all its ws and fuckups, today had been an important day. Its events had closed doors for me, but also opened others. In spite of everything, I saw opportunity.


    A camp of Raffnyks riders here on Redtip would need supplies, and I found myself in a prime position to offer some. Milk for one, and perhaps vegetables and wheat down the line. I still needed an alchemist to sell my goods to, but if that failed, I would have to find separate uses for them.


    And so I turned restlessly long into the night. My mind whirled, thinking of new ideas and purposes for the deadly nts that grew in my fields.


    The most relevant was that I could possibly make either acid or spore grenades. But that would require care and some ingenuity. Still, those could perhaps be a source of profit, and I would have potential buyers nearby.


    What Lerish had said about sses and levels gave me much to chew over. I effectively had three sses now, with <strong>Bloodstained Berserker</strong>, <strong>Farmer, </strong>and <strong>Mason</strong>. But it seemed I didnt have to worry about any growth from <strong>Farmer </strong>bleeding down into <strong>Mason</strong>. And even if it did, it seemed that the ss wouldnt actually gain any levels unless I did tasks that rted to it, given that Garek had such a disproportionate gap in his levels. Despite his memories indicating he had taken <strong>Mason </strong>at a young age.


    There was a vague sense inside me that if I used the ss and its skills just for a little while, it would level up. But I didnt want that. I was close to the next level of <strong>Farmer</strong> and wanted to focus on that as much as possible.


    And I would do just that. In the morning.


    The time between sleep and awakening came far too quickly, and with a grumble, I stumbled out of bed. I had fed Gol yesterdays leftover soup, and I didnt trust him enough to leave any meat over the fire while I did chores. With a yawn, I stumbled outside, blinked as the dawn sunlight struck my eyes, and went off to visit the cows.


    The mandrake incident had made them even more resistant to my approach. Something that <strong>Cloven Crash</strong> was forced to remedy. But soon, I had a field of frozen cattle behind me and a full pail of fresh milk. With a sigh, I heaved open the door of the storage shed where we had moved the milk to and stopped.


    A cat-like creature sat on its hind legs, half a jug of empty milk in front of it as it blinked up at me with big round eyes.


    That was officially when I decided to no longer take things well.